There once was an elven family that lived in the Deathspirals. They were a happy family, a father, a mother, and two children. They lived fairly deep in the Deathspirals, closer to Imladris than they knew. The father was a warlock, and a very good one at that. The mother was a necromancer, and was equally powerful. Their first child, a girl, was too young to start training under any type of magic, but the other child, who at this time was about ten years old, was old enough, and he was fascinated by the awesome mind power of the Sorcerer. The trained as often as he could, and began showing signs of having an incredibly strong mind.
When this small boy was about 14 years old, the family decided to move a little closer to Wolvesdale, and try to get away from the wyverns that were often coming and destroying their house and their land. They loaded up their bags, and began their short journey. They reached their destination later that same day, and set up tents and unpacked everything they needed. The boy and his father went out to chop some wood to make the new house. A few days after this move, all the wood had been gathered, and they were ready to begin building their house.
The house was about half way finished, and they were working on it very diligently. The elvish boy was doing most of the work, being as young, strong, and able as he was. Suddenly, the ground began shaking, and rocks began rolling. An earthquake was coming, and the family had no where to hide. The boy was iside the unfinished house, and didn't have an easy way to get out. Rafters came falling down upon him, and he was squashed. The family all got away, and got their most prescious possessions safely away as well.
After the earthquake, the family wept for the loss of their son. They had been devastated, and they missed him severely. One day, as the family finished their house without their son, a cleric wandered through the Deathspirals happily. The young girl had heard about clerics, and that some of them having powers to return the dead. They followed the cleric through the Deathspirals and finally caught up with him.
"Can you revive our fallen son?" asked the family to the cleric.
The cleric smiled happily as he said, "Well, yes I could do such a task, and I would be happy to do so, for a fee. 15,000 gold coins for the resurrection of your lost son."
The family cheered happily as they noticed that 15,000 gold was almost their entire savings. They didn't care, they payed the cleric and he set off to find a suitable body for the boy's soul to reside in.
Later that day, a kobold and the cleric walked back up to the house.
"I'm home, and I'm back!" yelled the kobold.
The family looked puzzled, and asked who the kobold was.
"He's your son," replied the cleric, "I found the first thing I could and moved your son's soul into it's corpse. It just happened to be a kobold that I found first."
The family argued with the cleric, saying that he should've known to look for an elf, but the boy just stood back, and looked over himself. Suddenly he walked up, and moved his family back. He grasped the cleric's hand, and shook it proudly. "Thank you, I like my new body."
The family was astonished; they would've never guessed that the son was enjoying his new life. They didn't know what to say.
"Glad to be of service," said the cleric as he smirked at the family. He strode off back into the Deathspirals and left the family alone.
They all went inside, and talked. They informed the boy about the 3 years that he had not been with them. The girl was now a wizard-in-training, and the family was poor, but they had each other. They lived happily for another year, and the kobold proved quite useful, being much stronger than elves.
On the 18th birthday of the kobold, he waved goodbye to his family. "I must venture, and find new lands. I am now a true sorcerer, and yet I must learn much more. I will be back, most likely, someday. Until then, I hope you all live well, and prosper in life." He walked away, he had gone to
become an adventurer.