((How In The World Did I Forget To Include This One? -- If you have read it, Chapter 1 & 2 is also what is in "The Story of the Story". But I wrote this nearly real time to the roleplay it was based on. I did that to try to encourage others to join in ... and it worked, sorta. But honestly - this was written as a welcome back gift to the main character of the story.))
Chapter 1 - A Chance Meeting
There was something about the thought of it that made him quick to accept. Sure he loved Karamoon, and wanted nothing more to help with healing the land, but what could he do? It seemed that this darkness that has taken the land is one for the wild or the mages to heal. He was just a human, he had no powers of magic, and he barely understood what had caused this land to do what it did. None of the new knights were a match for any of the keep demons, and surely if he took up arms he would be dead soon himself. He held the title of counsel, but it was meaningless in the shell of the town the demons have left. All that was left for him was his business, and there is no need for a merchant … not in this land … not now.
So, when Miss Wen asked him to find something … specific … his first thought was to another merchant he had met once or twice. It was too easy, actually. The idea of a night in a warm water port not far from Karamoon sounded as at least a welcome release from the darkness. He jumped on a small boat and in a few quick hours he arrived in Carmarthenshire.
Business done with the Carmarthenshire merchant, he chose to take this opportunity to explore this land. He wasn’t expected back to Karamoon before morning, surely … so why not.
Everywhere the land felt and smelled fresh from a summer rain. His ears still keen from his hunting days head fae languages and creatures about, but never felt the danger he would feel in the Karamoon wilds. Carmarthenshire would be no replacement for his home, but it was a wonderful escape.
Then all at once as the path would though the land; the hills flattened, the ground opened, and in front of him a circle with a fire pit. There in this circle, he could see two elven women in conversation. Thoughtless of interrupting him, he seemed compelled to greet these women, maybe hoping just for nice conversation.
“Greetings” he called to them, just within ear shot.
One elf, finely dressed, unfamiliar, warmly smiled and greeted him as a stranger with a quiet “Vedui”. The other … the other, was different … the other, didn’t wear the same fine clothing, instead wore something more with her connection to the wild … the other acted recognized his voice, jumped to her feet, and ran to him happily … above all else, the third was no stranger, no stranger indeed.
Chapter 2 - Choosing to Keep Her Joy
In no time, Arturos and the woman were surrounded by her kin, as the two of them fell back into the happy chatter they have known as longtime friends. At the urging of the one dressed in more fine clothes, the one called Maya, he told the story of the day they first met – when they were both younger, when Arturos had much more bravado, and the wood elf’s heart was much easier won. As the story continued, more elves entered the circle, each friendlier than the last; until it seemed an entire village hung on his every word. When he finished, another story was started by another man. But Arturos had no ears for him. Once the dearest and closest to him, the one that had left Karamoon so many months before, now sat like a dream from just across the fire.
She was happy here, even a stranger could see that in her eyes. The only sadness she had was the question about her missing falcon companion, Evan. They had left the circle to search for the bird, and with that the chance arrived for her to tell of her travels. She talked of what she had learned, what she had seen, who she had met. All the things she had told him, he had heard of previously. For as long as he knew her, she yearned for fellow wood elves, now she was surround by kin folk. All of what she had dreamed for … she had now. It had made him so happy to hear, her joy made him forget all that he sailed from just that day.
But it was she who brought the darkness of that land back to his mind. She stopped to ask for news of Karamoon, the rumors the people. She spoke specifically of the missing Vasa; the magistrate who left the port to their own service; and of Smog whom to Arturos has been missing longer than the wood elf. As she asked more and more questions, he fought in his mind, what to say. If he told her of what it is like, if he mentioned the darkness – her joy would end, she would certainly leave Carmarthenshire and people. He couldn’t have that. He wanted her to be happy; he always wanted her to be happy.
There were no lies told, she knew him to well to try such a tactic. Some questions were left unanswered. Others, he focused on small things. He spoke of the new wild folk, the growth of Brokton’s children, news of Timmie and Dracky’s engagement. She laughed and smiled, blissful within the new news to her, and he felt satisfied his tactics may be successful; until he can leave her here in the morning so she can continue happily here.
Slowly the sky fell darker, and the two old friends retired to her home up in the trees. A treehouse, she always wanted a treehouse. They did their best to talk well into the night, but as it seemed always the case for them, her yawns and closing eyes took her to dreams first. Smiling quietly, Arturos rested his head, and breathed in the warm air now happy for this break.
Chapter 3 - The Diary, The Cube, The Island
The fresh air of the morning woke him, his mind still rested and relaxed. It took him no time remember the night before, and wasn’t surprised to see she was already awake and off; something he had grown used to many months ago. There was a slight chill in the air, which reminded him to put on his cloak– he would certainly need it when he returned to the ungodly snows of Karamoon. Stretching himself, he stood and stepped out of the tree house to the platform high above the land. Laughing to himself, he was glad for this place, if not for the one thing he thought the night before … she always wanted a treehouse.
He scanned the land, looking for his friend, maybe to say his farewell and sail back to his home. He wouldn’t leave this place without seeing her once more, he felt he needed that just for himself. But she was no where to be seen from up high. None the less, if he waited, he would surely see her walking along a stream or flipping down a hill or climbing a tree … if he was patient he would see her.
As he looked around a bit, he spotted a small bench, with a book placed on it. She did mention she had learned more than letters, but words now, and writing; maybe this was hers. When Arturos opened the book, he needed the bench to sit. This wasn’t just a book, it was her book … it was her words … well written words, clearly written words. She was writing a diary, it appeared somewhat new with only a few pages full. She spoke of her concern for the missing Evan. She spoke of the other elves in this land, holding them highly. He stopped sadly, reading of when she wrote of a dream of Karamoon covered with blood, knowing well of what he keeps from her.
The last entry was strange; it talked of a cube and a button. She intended to show the one he met the night before, named Maya. Regardless, it seemed her curiosity would surely get her to press this button someday. Arturos stood from the bench and sat the diary down in its place. Doing so he spotted … behind the bench and almost tucked against the stairs, a cube with a single button. Surely it was the same cube as the curiosity to press the button grabbed him just as quickly; and with the impatience of his human race he reached and pressed it.
In an instant, he was consumed as if by a storm. Wind, thunder, lightning crashed around him and the world went out from under his feet. His body twisted, holding himself together as best he could, but thought that the gods have chosen this time and this way for his end to come. When all chaos have reached its peak, the air began to slow, thunder quieted, and his feet found solid footing below him. As things came clear he stood before a small wall. Looking around, he had no idea how he arrived here, knew not where he was, and thought of no way to find his way back to Karamoon. So he climbed the fence to see what this land had to offer.
In no time, he stood by a stream fed by two waterfalls off the hill. Lampposts directed him further across the hills. This land was warmer, and he draped his cloak over his shoulder. If Carmarthenshire felt elvish, this land looked elvish. Crystals reached up out of the ground, mushrooms grew big and full, and everything around felt enchanted as blessed by druids. But the human nature in him continued to ask the needed questions of how he would leave this place, and what will happen to him here.
After exploring the whole island, he draped his cloak over a large crystal and laid back against the foot of a tree. Rubbing his forehead lightly, closed his eyes, lifted his head up, and made a silent prayer to the gods for something to let him know he will not be forsaken in this land. He open his eyes, and there … why hadn’t he noticed it up there before.
Laughing, almost knowing what was to come, he called up a greeting. Then the voice, still so familiar came down “Arturos?”. She always wanted to live in a treehouse.
Chapter 4 - Time Was
Time was … he once thought he was an elf. It isn’t true of course. If he was an elf, he thinks, time would be of no consequence. It would pass like the moons and seasons, over and over again, thousands of times over. Days, weeks, instances move by like nothing – all parts of a life that to him would be a thousand forevers. If he was an elf, the need to accomplish so much in a morning, or a day … or something of his own lifetime. Wounds born from life, whether skin deep or to the heart would be cut, heal over, cut again and slowly be forgotten. If he was elf, he wouldn’t think of such things anyway, as it would be his existence, his life. Before he met any elves, he knew no burden at all from time; but with knowledge brings realization.
He thought of this again, busy moving across the small island. He had firewood to collect, see what animals lived her to be hunted (if she would let him), and as a last resort what he could use for a fishing rod – but by the gods he hated fishing now more than ever. Time was … he used to do this with her, him running errands to keep the tent in the outlaw camp until such time he would see her smiling face again.
Arturos never regretted learning the differences between elves and humans. As he walked back to the treehouse he looked up at that one who taught him nearly everything of elves. She sat on the rail of a high deck, her red hair moving lightly in the breeze and she smiles in quite meditation. So much the woman had taught her over the months, most she probably thinks he forgot or ignored; but there is little he would forget about her. Time was in those days long ago to him, he did all he could to remember everything about her. Time was when there were no secrets to keep from her. Time was … it wasn’t so difficult to stay happy.
Time was … climbing the rope to the treehouse would seem easier to him than his merchant flabbiness. Gasping for air he pulls himself to the rail near relching for air. “I tried the small boat down there,” he said between breaths, “but it seemed too old to move ... the gods, we'd be lucky if we can ever get off this place”
She made only the slightes move from her position, turning her head with a grin. “In a hurry?” she said sarcastically over her shoulder. She seemed calm, relaxed, and at peace with all time.
He yammered out a reply, “Ahh ... no ... it’s just that, well ... someday I would like to leave this place”.
“I have no wants or needs at the moment,” she said in response and proceeded to lean forward just a bit. Looking down at the ground, she pressed her lips together and allowed just a bit of moisture to move from her mouth until it began to make a little hanging.
Confused lightly, he watched her “Yes .. yes ... amazing place, good energy ... just ... like to go home someday.”
“Someday oneday another day sunday..not this day.” As she spoke, the droplet hang from a thread now growing longer enough to reach below her feet.
Worried of the questions that will come, and the closeness of such time away from Karamoon, he paced back and forth. “Well, I do have business soon …”
“Oops” she interrupts. Her spit nearly reached the ground, when it broke and dropped. Keeping grip of the railing with her legs, she leans forward, far out, to see where the spit landing. Just as she leans furthest as she could her weight shifts and she spins around railing. In an instant, the grinning girl with eyes as wide as saucers laughing is now looking back at Arturos, laugh happily … and above all else, upside down. “Weeee,” she screams hysterically looking at the world from this new view.
Time was … not so long ago as he thinks. How he could see a young hunter could fall madly in love with such a creature. Time was … he thought such things like the differences between elf and human were not so different, when such a love could happen. Time was so little different than now; but ... Time was … so long ago that it was different.
“Come we go and dance,” she calls, spins back to right-side up, and scampers down the rope. Arturos reaches to the rope to humor this old friend, to spend the day dancing rather then working, to remember when he was younger. As she ran to the dance circle, the gods reminded him of his age again – as his weak hands slip and he plummets to the ground.
Chapter 5 - Sunset on the Peace
There were bards throughout the land that knew guitars, flutes, squeezeboxes; but if one would mistake him for a bard, it would be on the drums you would see him. Banging out a rhythm, Arturos watched the elf dance happily spinning on this circle. Her laughter was enchanting enough in her happiness but the dancing brought it out even more. It was the second day on this land, and now the sun set bringing darkness, a change in light that was foretelling of what was to come.
At first, Arturos thought it was the wind, maybe bird call. Then it came closer, and more like a language. It called “Somebody?” as if help was easy to find. All at once the voice was right next to the circle and from a low rock a head appeared. It was the one they called Lailana, whom when Runa left the Karamoon tried her best to be an Elder in her absence. Quickly, Runa jumped happily to meet her old friend.
“How are you Lailana,” she called.
In as fast as it took Arturos to make the decision to stay silent, the silence was over. Lailana sighs ''Well stuff changed''
Runa gave an alarmed look to Arturos, “What changed?”
Arturos Gustafson looks to Lailana hoping to salvage this last chance and shook his head at her.
Lailana looks at Arturos surprised and asked ''You didn’t tell her?'' She sighed and said sadly ''The Keep killed Venovara and now the land is dead'.”
By the time Arturos turned to Runa, she had already fallen to her knees. He held his breath, seeing the pain seep into her mind, watching the happiness he fought to keep slide away.
Quietly, the woodelf asked, “Say that again.”
Forcing a smile, Lailana replied ''It can be solved, we are working on it.”
Seeing Runa on the ground, Arturos spoke quickly, trying to find other options to see different ways from letting Runa get wrapped up in the darkness back home. "Yes yes ... it can be solved ... lets find a way from here ... and Runa, you can go back to the shire ... and we can take care of karamoon ... all will be happy."
Runa’s pain changed, in an instant to anger. "You didnt TELL me?" she started to shout. "You had all this time, and YOU DIDN’T TELL ME? And, now you think I can go back to the Shire?" Shouts louder " And be there all HAPPY ???"
He shook his head in response, “You We're all happy ... before I came along, before this news ...”
"YOU dont understand ANYthing if you think i could be happy knowing this!" she interrupted rising to her feet and stepping towards him angerly. Her face was turning red with fury.
In so much time, in so many arguments, he never got angry, and now … he was. “That the BLOODY reason I kept it from you!!”
Lailana, no longer able to keep herself calm, spoke up as well, ''well you left us, we didn’t leave you!"
Alrunia Ahn stops and turns to Lailana "What? I said I would go on a journey, I didn’t leave you ONE single moment! I send a message and Smog knew also where I was!"
Lailana laughs ''Smog? Smog? I haven’t seen Smog in months!''
“What? He went back to Kara... to let you know. And Dos … and Evan …”
He spoke, still sternly, “We haven’t seen them … either … there was no news.”
Runa looked around, confused, shaking slightly. Her legs looked weak under her as tears ran across her red cheeks, “You can’t believe that i was able to leave Kara ... not seriously!" She turned, stepping over the rocks away from the circle.
Arturos’s rage was still evident. He needed to release it, angrily. Looking to Lailana he opened up. "You fool ... She was Happy here!! She was at peace"
Growling, spitting at his feet ‘‘No YOU were. She can stay if she wants but I AM GOING BACK. I have a mate and children! They need me there!"
“But don't you see? Now she knows, she'll go back .. Karamoon is dying, and if it dies she'll surely die with it.”
''You’re an ass for keeping her ignorant. She’s not a child. I know she’d rather die with it then don’t know about it.”
He throws his head back, shaking it. “you didn't see her there in the shire ... you didn't see her here. I may be an ass ... but I was looking out for her, she deserves a better life than that hell back I Karamoon.” He stomped off to the woods, staying out of sight of the women.
And as it did, the darkness of night was complete.
Chapter 6 - Only Words
Her voice resonated across the circle. There was energy to the notes that made the crystals hum with her in harmony. The sweetness of her words so often never rang so, so melodic over this place, it made all four of them close their eyes to feel it.
The rest of the night was a constant argument. Runa angry at Art for what he didn’t say; Art angry at Lailana for what she did say; and Lailana just angry at being at this place with no way home. For a short period, they stayed away from each to stew over such things. But this island was too small to hide, and when each passed another words flew.
She sang of a distant land. The way the summers were warm and long. The autumns bring life renewal and color. The winters bring stillness, restfulness and healing. The springs bringing hope.
It was the boat that set off the biggest argument. Arturos had seen a boat earlier, he know he did. Now the women didn’t believe him, blaming him. If he would have said something when they were in Carmarthenshire, they could have easily been to the port there and within hours, they would all be home. It was his fault, it was all his fault. And that was the last he could take.
She sings of a place they go, where there is mostly quiet. Flowers and butterflies … a rainbow lives beside it. From the hill, a waterfall pours and washes across a pond. Huge trees shade the people there – but they are all still warm. She sings of the laughter, of the animals, of the humming bees. She sings of the caves, of the crystals tune, of touch from the crystals and the happiness and safety it brings.
He did it – he did it of his own choosing – he did it knowing her anger, but that would days or weeks. He had many homes his life, he loved all of them, and Karamoon was no different. When Karamoon died, he would leave that place and find someplace new to love. Surely she would be no different; elves could be any different like that. Yes he knew she could bond with the land with her home; but he knew she had a new land now; and he was sure she would forget of Karamoon in no time.
She sang of the entire land. She sang of the dark places, and deeper more of the keep. Her voice rang of its evils but how it also belong there, belonged in their lives. She sings of the games she played with others in a canyon. She sang of the towers and of mages. She sang of walls protecting a port. She sang o f the games she played there.
What a fool, a stupid stupid fool he was. After all the arguments, after all of this time, after all the curious explorations, after all the secrets kept, after all chance meetings. After everything he had done among the elves, it was still as if he didn’t know her at all. Her words spat at him of how she missed her home, how no land would replace it. She fired at him the angry words speaking the bonds that she would hold. Her words promised to do everything to heal the land. Her words made clear if the land would die she would not wish to go on living. Her words echoed through the island of how she longed and missed everyone and everything about the land. Her words spoke of the longing for Karamoon and the only happiness is when she thought of going back. But these were only words he thought.
Her voice echoed all around them as she sings for the queen and the heart of the land, calling it all alive. She called for to them to see the hills and canyons and trees of this place; to see all of its landscape, and to feel its life bursting from joy and strength.
Elphaba had also touched the cube by now and found them as Runa took them all to the dance circle. Two to the drum, the third to ground, Runa stood in the circle, and gave them proof of what she so long for these many months, and how strong that love is. And she did this without any tricks or illiusons. Only words.
She sings now more silently, caring, like a mother would sing to a child. There is a feeling around the four of freshness of lightness and slightly of cold. Runa stops singing, and she see these dear friends. Runa stops to sing, they open their eyes, and they are home.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
The Story of the Story
((Big Kudos go to Maya Carfagno for allowing me to godmod her on the way to writing one of my favorite stories in my life))
- The Story of the Story -
Writers would dream of summer's eves like this. The setting sun, giving way to the moistness that hangs through the grass and moss in these woods enriching the air with a smell of earth, of growth, of life itself. It would be like this for many days thought Maya as she inspected the preparations for this evening's affair. The fire was already lit, but was not needed so early on such a warm night; but Maya wished the night to last well beyond when the fire's warm glow would indeed be needed. This was a night perfect for a grand story, one that would reach through the sunset, through the ages evens, and be as grand as the land of the Eldalie ned i Trannail is beautiful. If a talesman would work their magic for most of the eve, or for days to come, she would not mind in the least. She loved such stories, if only to give her the chance to learn something new, to see the world through new eyes. Her body was far from nearing its end, but a story yet unheard was rare and like magic to her soul. This day, she sent word to her kin to share with them such an eve, and her love for the story and the pride for her fellow elf will carry her though as long as the tale takes.
Her only concern that eve was for any pesky intruders. The circle of logs and stumps around the fire was fairly near the market and village. It was not out of the question for a gnome or human to get lost in the trees and homes of the elves. Sure, some of these turned out to be troubadours or the poor wandering bard whom could tip her curiosity with a lyric; but besides a few trusted friends, it was rare an elf would bring the proper respect for such an event. They lacked the patience for such beauty, lacked the culture to appreciate it. She did not fault them for that; it is what they were as she was what she was. But an overzealous dwarf sniffing beer could easily end a daylong story, and this was too nice of a night for such interruptions.
Time would pass as the fire ring filled; Maya was not surprised by this. There was no need to rush this eve. Tea was available, and punch, and fine Elvish spring wine; that alone would bring the appreciative ones when they are ready, and those just coming for the story will ensure to not miss much either. But the patience of her kind allows Maya to allow the time to pass, watching the leaves dance on the summer wind, listening to chattering of the tree squirrels, or just exchanging kind words with her kin who had arrived already.
An early one was a wild elf, arriving to the shire just a few seasons prior. Runa, Runa of the Wilds she is sometimes called, was a curious one. Maya had only met Runa within the previous year, spotting the wild elf as she ran through the woods of Carmarthenshire. The two bonded over their connection to the nature that surrounded them and became close. As they drew closer, Maya felt heartened by Runa's openness to her, the wild elf was typically more private; not so much to elves like her, but to those of other races. Strangely, though, Runa until just the days before this night had seemed to be away for over a season. Her return had brought a concern over a lost bird she called Evan, a Falcon that had been her companion for some time; as well as a puzzle (a box and a button); but this eve, Runa seemed to return to her more private nature. Like many of the newcomers, Maya directed the wild elf to the ready drinks, and Runa seemed more than satisfied to taste her drink then to look for answers. Runa was in good spirits, seemingly relaxed again around her kin. By the time Maya and Runa were about to find a soft place to sit, others had settled in to the ring. The idle conversation was nothing of any great depth. A simple greeting, a kindly chat about simple activities, but no great story yet -- none ready to offer up a tale yet.
This was likely due to the ruckus that was starting up behind them. It was undoubtedly human, stomping around in the trees, wandering about aimlessly as if they had no idea where to go. The noise was moving too quick to connect to the woods, and too quick to notice they were heading in the wrong direction. Many sitting in the ring smiled quietly to each other, waiting for whoever was out there to smell the fire or notice the clearing. Sure, humans were impatient, but in this case it will either wander away fast or find the fire fast. Sure enough, a man came over the hill with a satchel slung over his shoulder. The man was clearly human even though the dark red hair billowing madly from his head covered the round ears, his trimmed mustache and goatee were easy to spot. He seemed oddly dressed here, even for a human. His clothes were finer than one would wear in the woods, and maybe too heavy for the warm summer eve; but she wasn't one to assume that humans would know the proper thing to wear in the woods -- this one surely spent much of his days in towns. Maya immediately thought offering the man a drink would be the proper thing to do, as he surely would be thirsty in such heavy things walking about in these woods. That is likely what brought him here as well; but he appeared friendly enough, kind enough to show respect towards her and the other elves. Maya greeted him as she would any other, the man giving a greeting back to them as well.
It was Runa that seemed to react to the man, but not at all how Maya suspected. Runa gasping suddenly, and quite happily, when seeing the man, exclaimed "Arturos!"
Stunned seeing the elf, the man looked surprised to her in return. Blinking, his natural reaction to such shock replied “Runa?”
Maya smiled softly towards the two, feeling more at ease about this intruder. Leaning to another elf she says quietly, "Old friends, it seems."
Both showed agreement to Maya's words but it was clear to her that they were more focused on the other, more so than any casual acquaintance.
Runa was nodding madly, happy with her surprise. "What brought you here?"
"I ... I," he stuttered, "It must be a dream that has ... that is the only place I have seen you of recent."
Runa jumped to her feet, spinning around, grinning wide. "No Dream. Real Runa. Flesh. Blood. And Sharp Tongue to go with it."
The man started to laugh, slapping his leg as he does. Runa seemed no longer to contain herself and ran to the human, jumping up and wrapping her arms and legs about him, nearly pouncing the man. The man caught the elf, but stumbled back slowly at first seeming to catch his balance then falling to the ground behind him, Runa still wrapped in his arms. The two continued to laugh, she scratching at his hair, he trying to hold her steady above him. She asking of news hungrily, he just is going on about his happiness to see her finally.
Maya couldn't help to be intrigued by the two, especially from the typically private elf. The human did not seem to be too old, which means their friendship was relatively short seeded. But the roots grew deep, very much deep. Runa seemed alive in the arms of this man, and he smiled like the world was set anew. How could he have bonded to her so deeply, how had she let him to draw close. Maya's curiosity lit a bit of a fire in her interest, and she found a way to feed it. With a laugh she stated, "It seems we have our first tale -- come you two, tell us the tale of how you met. Or your greatest adventure together. Whatever you like."
Runa lifted up still sitting on top of the fallen man, the cheeky smile on her face towards Maya, spoke happily "Aye, we could indeed tell the one tale." She looked down to the man, shrugging slightly with a bit of a question "or another."
His eyes connected to hers, "How we met. That was a good story."
Runa sprung to her feet, and offered a hand to the man. "Come, have a seat and tell it." Together they moved next to the fire in a soft patch of grass. They sat very close, good friends, comfortable with sharing their space with one another, curious to see from a human. Maya settled back against a log, taking care to watch the two with growing curiosity, happily, almost eagerly, waiting to see what has connected the two.
The man let his eyes move around the ring to the gathering elves modestly. "So ... how we met ... it is probably best to tell more of that day. By the keep as well?" He turned to Runa, his face awaiting permission, "Shall we not?"
She gave him a smirk, nudging her side. "Bah ... if you are happy to tell it, than for me it is."
And in there the grand story was to begin, Maya lifted her wine and drank it quietly.
The man starts in, “There once was a young hunter," he said rising to his feet in front of the fire. The bit of modesty still was showing in his face. "He just arrived in a strange island, into a strange wilderness. He, so new to the land, had no place to sleep but the side of a stream.”
Runa watched the man, her knees curled up next to her childishly, but she edged on the ground un-elvish like with her impatience for the story.
The man straightened his arm out in front of him, like one would when drawing a bow. “One day while practicing his craft,” he continued, “A strange gentlemen approached asking the young hunter to look after an elf.” As he spoke he moved to stand next to the wild elf, a smile coming to his face. “This elf was new to the land herself, and while had many years on the human was young.”
The wild elf chuckled, impishly, her feet dancing on the ground child innocently. “A VERY young elf ... indeed"
“The hunter was quick to realize that while she was wiser than he, the newness of this place had affected her, leaving her awkward and a fair bit shy.”
Maya placed her hand on her chin, leaning in to the words. While the man spoke, her fellow elves were arriving for the storytelling. They greeted her kindly, but her attention remained on the tale, and the way the two hung on such a story.
“So,” the man offered calmly to the growing crowd, “these two spend the day exploring the land ..."
Grinning happily, Runa added “I wish to mention on this pint: this huge rat really looked scary," she held her arms outstretched showing the size. It seemed far bigger than any rat could be, nearly unbelievable. The man held his arms out as well, parroting the elf and nodding agreement with her. "And," she continued, "We ran! We ran as far from it as we could.”
Maya couldn’t help but to laugh, "Well you would know what size seems natural. A wise decision." The gathered elves chuckled at her words, smiles on their face in agreement.
“Aye,” said the man sheepishly. “We were not at all brave when facing the rat ... but that makes the rest of this story more comical”
Runa grinned blushing a bit while listening to the man’s story.
The man’s face turned more serious bringing the tale to turn with it. “As the sun set and the skies began to darken after this long day, the two and some of their new friends came to a long bridge over a deep valley. This bridge was the type ...” he paused to look around the gathering “… you have seen it surely the kind that lowers and raises? And it would lead to a keep ... a large castle building ... that seems to have a look of evil, and darkness.” His hands curled and scratched the air, his teeth bared as he spoke; the man's eyes almost darkened themselves.
Runa swam her arms through the air, and breathily added “Fog around, scary noises."
Maya nodded, her eyes growing in interest. She knew them as brooding evil places, human places.
“Well,” he said comically dancing around like a court fool, “these two and their friends stood there at the end of this bridge quietly. They knew not what lay across that bridge, but engaged all that passed. Meeting new people."
Runa nodded happily.
"That is," he said, “… until the bridge lowered."
Runa gasped at the words fearfully, convincingly. Maya couldn’t help to gasp slightly herself. She looked concerned now, for whatever her kin remembers of this story worries her now.
“Across this bridge comes a man, in strong, dark armor," the man continues. "In his hands he carries a large sword.” Dominantly the man walked towards Runa, his stature lifts so as if he looms over the elf.
“Overly large,” Runa exclaimed frightfully.
“Seeing this small group at the end of the bridge he approaches, making mean angry faces,” as the man speaks he mirror words, his own face skewing, snarling, “He sees them. He Approaches Them! Angry … DARK … And Menacing.”
“The dark one does not want them there, that was most clear, and most obvious.” As the man talks, he starts to walk about the circle, his steps slow and deliberate. “He says to them ... he says ‘All Fairies and Fae must leave here now!’” He holds his hands in a way to seem like an invisible sword is in his hands; his eyes gazing to each elf in turn. He moves like this dark man might move, he looks over the elves like one most evil might.
Maya gives a bit of a chuckle on the story and Runa’s seemingly hanging on each word accentuating a timidness she expresses that seems unlike the wild elf. Maya can not help but to feel the tension grow amongst the gathered as they listen closely.
“He seems to be focused on the wild elf most of all. He started counting ...saying he would dispatch them surely if they stay much longer." The man moves towards Runa now, and extends his finger point towards her as if a sword itself comes from it. "To emphasize the point, he brings forth his blade, reaching it towards the point at her, readying to run her through.”
Runa raises her face to the bard, her eyes wide, convincingly scared of what evil may be brought down on her at this time. But very visibly, while in mid-fright almost paralyzed with fear, she gives the man a wink.
The human can’t help but to smile and wink back to the elf, and in doing so changes his demeanor, crossing his arms, putting his hands in his pocket. But his voice continues to tell the story, “Now, this hunter … it’s at this time he remembers the one who introduced him to the wild elf. Remembered he said to protect her. So, he decided to act. He pulls his sword!!” From his pocket his hand comes forth but grips only air, jumping into a fencing pose minus the blade. “Mustering up all the bravery he had in his heart, he points it at the dark one. “LEAVE HER ALONE”, he calls to him flashing the sword at this warrior.”
“A much Smaller sword, though.” Runa adds with a laugh.
Standing at guard, he says "Rusted as well."
“And dull,” she adds.
“Could not cut cheese.”
Maya put her hand to her laugh, stifling a giggle, watching the man act out the looming fight.
“Well ... as brave as such a hunter, it immediately brought the attention of the warrior to me ... I mean to the hunter. The warrior aimed his blade at the hunter and gave him two choices ... run or fight.”
Runa, jokingly looked to the elves about and sarcastically offered, “And stupid one chose ...?”
Unphased the man bravely continued, “He Chose the Fight. The hunter stood his ground, and struck first at the warrior ...” saying as such, swinging his arm downward across his body, “a glancing blow that bounced off the warrior's armor.”
Some of the elves leaned back from the swing, as if ducking it themselves.
He moved his arm up and slashed thought the air, “The dark warrior then returned with a blade of his own ... swinging it towards the hunter dressed only in his leathers. Cutting him immediately and deep.”
Runa bit her lip, listening close.
"They traded blows", the man swinging his arm back and forth. He would lean to avoid phantom swings. "They traded words." He would slash in the air with his hand, causing some of in the ring duck back from ghost blade. "The warrior most of all bellowed."
"Run or Die!" Shouted Runa for the Dark One.
The man leaped and landed with his feet planted in front of the fire. His back was to Runa. His hand still ready to strike to the unseen warrior. His breath coming a bit hard, his shoulders drooping weekly. "The brave hunter ... fighting for the honor of the wild elf, standing in view of his new found friends, doing what he could to show the greatest of what bravery he had ... he did ... he did the only thing he could think of doing ..."
Runa leaned forward, smiling, eagerly. When she looked about the circle, all those in attendance did the same - wide eyed and breath held.
"The hunter ... Ran!"
The elves laughed delightedly, Maya included. "Oops," said an elf to the left of her.
"He ran as fast as his feet could take them. Bloodied in pain, he limped to the healer's hut to his own remorse," the man said with a smile on his face. His movement no longer reflected the hunter, as he stood upright and walk to take a seat on the ground next to Runa.
Runa shifted slightly, pulling her legs up to hug herself around her knees. Grinning madly she continued, "He left the poor innocent wild elf all along at such a dangerous place. With only the winds to protect her."
"Twas a crushing blow to the young lad. Even if she survived, she would surely not seek out such a coward ... twas what he thought." The man took the remainder of Runa's tea and drank it down with a heavy swig. He even drank like a human, take what is not his and quick to pour the liquid down his gullet, as if he had not the time to savor the drink or care where it comes from.
Maya was amused at how close the two sat to each other, the closeness seemed so natural. "And what of the brave hunter and the wild elf? What became of them?" she asked seeming to know the answer herself, "You say she would not seek him out?"
Runa turned to the man with a smirk. She gave him a wink and blew him a kiss. The man seemed to take this as a sign to speak with a wide grin, "we shall say ... that was not the case." Turning his head back to the audience around them he nodded politely, "and that is the story. Now ... where I come from, if one tells a story, he listens to the next, so who is next?"
Those around the audience stopped to applaud quietly, appreciative of the tale. Maya was not excluded, smiling warmly to the pair. The human blushed slightly from the response and raised the empty cup of tea as if to drink again, but seemed more like it was purposefully to hide behind it. A bit of modesty unlike many of their kind. Runa, still grinning from the story beamed from the attention, laying her legs flat on the ground and patting her knees happily. Their reactions almost exaggerating the differences in the two, and still bonding them at the same time. Maya chuckled to her self, thinking now that surely the story continued onward this battle. But this day, more would not need to be pressed, so Maya softly applauded and heralded, "The Brave Hunter and the Wild Elf!"
Shortly, Maya took on the responsibility for the next tale, inspired by the previous. As she did, the human stayed true to his word and listened respectfully. Runa seemed less patient, prodding him from time to time, a whisper asking for news. It was not long they left the fire ring to their own means. Maya could only think that the old friends had much to share and much to learn of the other's doings. Let the old friends go, she thought. There are still stories to be told.
-End-
Writers would dream of summer's eves like this. The setting sun, giving way to the moistness that hangs through the grass and moss in these woods enriching the air with a smell of earth, of growth, of life itself. It would be like this for many days thought Maya as she inspected the preparations for this evening's affair. The fire was already lit, but was not needed so early on such a warm night; but Maya wished the night to last well beyond when the fire's warm glow would indeed be needed. This was a night perfect for a grand story, one that would reach through the sunset, through the ages evens, and be as grand as the land of the Eldalie ned i Trannail is beautiful. If a talesman would work their magic for most of the eve, or for days to come, she would not mind in the least. She loved such stories, if only to give her the chance to learn something new, to see the world through new eyes. Her body was far from nearing its end, but a story yet unheard was rare and like magic to her soul. This day, she sent word to her kin to share with them such an eve, and her love for the story and the pride for her fellow elf will carry her though as long as the tale takes.
Her only concern that eve was for any pesky intruders. The circle of logs and stumps around the fire was fairly near the market and village. It was not out of the question for a gnome or human to get lost in the trees and homes of the elves. Sure, some of these turned out to be troubadours or the poor wandering bard whom could tip her curiosity with a lyric; but besides a few trusted friends, it was rare an elf would bring the proper respect for such an event. They lacked the patience for such beauty, lacked the culture to appreciate it. She did not fault them for that; it is what they were as she was what she was. But an overzealous dwarf sniffing beer could easily end a daylong story, and this was too nice of a night for such interruptions.
Time would pass as the fire ring filled; Maya was not surprised by this. There was no need to rush this eve. Tea was available, and punch, and fine Elvish spring wine; that alone would bring the appreciative ones when they are ready, and those just coming for the story will ensure to not miss much either. But the patience of her kind allows Maya to allow the time to pass, watching the leaves dance on the summer wind, listening to chattering of the tree squirrels, or just exchanging kind words with her kin who had arrived already.
An early one was a wild elf, arriving to the shire just a few seasons prior. Runa, Runa of the Wilds she is sometimes called, was a curious one. Maya had only met Runa within the previous year, spotting the wild elf as she ran through the woods of Carmarthenshire. The two bonded over their connection to the nature that surrounded them and became close. As they drew closer, Maya felt heartened by Runa's openness to her, the wild elf was typically more private; not so much to elves like her, but to those of other races. Strangely, though, Runa until just the days before this night had seemed to be away for over a season. Her return had brought a concern over a lost bird she called Evan, a Falcon that had been her companion for some time; as well as a puzzle (a box and a button); but this eve, Runa seemed to return to her more private nature. Like many of the newcomers, Maya directed the wild elf to the ready drinks, and Runa seemed more than satisfied to taste her drink then to look for answers. Runa was in good spirits, seemingly relaxed again around her kin. By the time Maya and Runa were about to find a soft place to sit, others had settled in to the ring. The idle conversation was nothing of any great depth. A simple greeting, a kindly chat about simple activities, but no great story yet -- none ready to offer up a tale yet.
This was likely due to the ruckus that was starting up behind them. It was undoubtedly human, stomping around in the trees, wandering about aimlessly as if they had no idea where to go. The noise was moving too quick to connect to the woods, and too quick to notice they were heading in the wrong direction. Many sitting in the ring smiled quietly to each other, waiting for whoever was out there to smell the fire or notice the clearing. Sure, humans were impatient, but in this case it will either wander away fast or find the fire fast. Sure enough, a man came over the hill with a satchel slung over his shoulder. The man was clearly human even though the dark red hair billowing madly from his head covered the round ears, his trimmed mustache and goatee were easy to spot. He seemed oddly dressed here, even for a human. His clothes were finer than one would wear in the woods, and maybe too heavy for the warm summer eve; but she wasn't one to assume that humans would know the proper thing to wear in the woods -- this one surely spent much of his days in towns. Maya immediately thought offering the man a drink would be the proper thing to do, as he surely would be thirsty in such heavy things walking about in these woods. That is likely what brought him here as well; but he appeared friendly enough, kind enough to show respect towards her and the other elves. Maya greeted him as she would any other, the man giving a greeting back to them as well.
It was Runa that seemed to react to the man, but not at all how Maya suspected. Runa gasping suddenly, and quite happily, when seeing the man, exclaimed "Arturos!"
Stunned seeing the elf, the man looked surprised to her in return. Blinking, his natural reaction to such shock replied “Runa?”
Maya smiled softly towards the two, feeling more at ease about this intruder. Leaning to another elf she says quietly, "Old friends, it seems."
Both showed agreement to Maya's words but it was clear to her that they were more focused on the other, more so than any casual acquaintance.
Runa was nodding madly, happy with her surprise. "What brought you here?"
"I ... I," he stuttered, "It must be a dream that has ... that is the only place I have seen you of recent."
Runa jumped to her feet, spinning around, grinning wide. "No Dream. Real Runa. Flesh. Blood. And Sharp Tongue to go with it."
The man started to laugh, slapping his leg as he does. Runa seemed no longer to contain herself and ran to the human, jumping up and wrapping her arms and legs about him, nearly pouncing the man. The man caught the elf, but stumbled back slowly at first seeming to catch his balance then falling to the ground behind him, Runa still wrapped in his arms. The two continued to laugh, she scratching at his hair, he trying to hold her steady above him. She asking of news hungrily, he just is going on about his happiness to see her finally.
Maya couldn't help to be intrigued by the two, especially from the typically private elf. The human did not seem to be too old, which means their friendship was relatively short seeded. But the roots grew deep, very much deep. Runa seemed alive in the arms of this man, and he smiled like the world was set anew. How could he have bonded to her so deeply, how had she let him to draw close. Maya's curiosity lit a bit of a fire in her interest, and she found a way to feed it. With a laugh she stated, "It seems we have our first tale -- come you two, tell us the tale of how you met. Or your greatest adventure together. Whatever you like."
Runa lifted up still sitting on top of the fallen man, the cheeky smile on her face towards Maya, spoke happily "Aye, we could indeed tell the one tale." She looked down to the man, shrugging slightly with a bit of a question "or another."
His eyes connected to hers, "How we met. That was a good story."
Runa sprung to her feet, and offered a hand to the man. "Come, have a seat and tell it." Together they moved next to the fire in a soft patch of grass. They sat very close, good friends, comfortable with sharing their space with one another, curious to see from a human. Maya settled back against a log, taking care to watch the two with growing curiosity, happily, almost eagerly, waiting to see what has connected the two.
The man let his eyes move around the ring to the gathering elves modestly. "So ... how we met ... it is probably best to tell more of that day. By the keep as well?" He turned to Runa, his face awaiting permission, "Shall we not?"
She gave him a smirk, nudging her side. "Bah ... if you are happy to tell it, than for me it is."
And in there the grand story was to begin, Maya lifted her wine and drank it quietly.
The man starts in, “There once was a young hunter," he said rising to his feet in front of the fire. The bit of modesty still was showing in his face. "He just arrived in a strange island, into a strange wilderness. He, so new to the land, had no place to sleep but the side of a stream.”
Runa watched the man, her knees curled up next to her childishly, but she edged on the ground un-elvish like with her impatience for the story.
The man straightened his arm out in front of him, like one would when drawing a bow. “One day while practicing his craft,” he continued, “A strange gentlemen approached asking the young hunter to look after an elf.” As he spoke he moved to stand next to the wild elf, a smile coming to his face. “This elf was new to the land herself, and while had many years on the human was young.”
The wild elf chuckled, impishly, her feet dancing on the ground child innocently. “A VERY young elf ... indeed"
“The hunter was quick to realize that while she was wiser than he, the newness of this place had affected her, leaving her awkward and a fair bit shy.”
Maya placed her hand on her chin, leaning in to the words. While the man spoke, her fellow elves were arriving for the storytelling. They greeted her kindly, but her attention remained on the tale, and the way the two hung on such a story.
“So,” the man offered calmly to the growing crowd, “these two spend the day exploring the land ..."
Grinning happily, Runa added “I wish to mention on this pint: this huge rat really looked scary," she held her arms outstretched showing the size. It seemed far bigger than any rat could be, nearly unbelievable. The man held his arms out as well, parroting the elf and nodding agreement with her. "And," she continued, "We ran! We ran as far from it as we could.”
Maya couldn’t help but to laugh, "Well you would know what size seems natural. A wise decision." The gathered elves chuckled at her words, smiles on their face in agreement.
“Aye,” said the man sheepishly. “We were not at all brave when facing the rat ... but that makes the rest of this story more comical”
Runa grinned blushing a bit while listening to the man’s story.
The man’s face turned more serious bringing the tale to turn with it. “As the sun set and the skies began to darken after this long day, the two and some of their new friends came to a long bridge over a deep valley. This bridge was the type ...” he paused to look around the gathering “… you have seen it surely the kind that lowers and raises? And it would lead to a keep ... a large castle building ... that seems to have a look of evil, and darkness.” His hands curled and scratched the air, his teeth bared as he spoke; the man's eyes almost darkened themselves.
Runa swam her arms through the air, and breathily added “Fog around, scary noises."
Maya nodded, her eyes growing in interest. She knew them as brooding evil places, human places.
“Well,” he said comically dancing around like a court fool, “these two and their friends stood there at the end of this bridge quietly. They knew not what lay across that bridge, but engaged all that passed. Meeting new people."
Runa nodded happily.
"That is," he said, “… until the bridge lowered."
Runa gasped at the words fearfully, convincingly. Maya couldn’t help to gasp slightly herself. She looked concerned now, for whatever her kin remembers of this story worries her now.
“Across this bridge comes a man, in strong, dark armor," the man continues. "In his hands he carries a large sword.” Dominantly the man walked towards Runa, his stature lifts so as if he looms over the elf.
“Overly large,” Runa exclaimed frightfully.
“Seeing this small group at the end of the bridge he approaches, making mean angry faces,” as the man speaks he mirror words, his own face skewing, snarling, “He sees them. He Approaches Them! Angry … DARK … And Menacing.”
“The dark one does not want them there, that was most clear, and most obvious.” As the man talks, he starts to walk about the circle, his steps slow and deliberate. “He says to them ... he says ‘All Fairies and Fae must leave here now!’” He holds his hands in a way to seem like an invisible sword is in his hands; his eyes gazing to each elf in turn. He moves like this dark man might move, he looks over the elves like one most evil might.
Maya gives a bit of a chuckle on the story and Runa’s seemingly hanging on each word accentuating a timidness she expresses that seems unlike the wild elf. Maya can not help but to feel the tension grow amongst the gathered as they listen closely.
“He seems to be focused on the wild elf most of all. He started counting ...saying he would dispatch them surely if they stay much longer." The man moves towards Runa now, and extends his finger point towards her as if a sword itself comes from it. "To emphasize the point, he brings forth his blade, reaching it towards the point at her, readying to run her through.”
Runa raises her face to the bard, her eyes wide, convincingly scared of what evil may be brought down on her at this time. But very visibly, while in mid-fright almost paralyzed with fear, she gives the man a wink.
The human can’t help but to smile and wink back to the elf, and in doing so changes his demeanor, crossing his arms, putting his hands in his pocket. But his voice continues to tell the story, “Now, this hunter … it’s at this time he remembers the one who introduced him to the wild elf. Remembered he said to protect her. So, he decided to act. He pulls his sword!!” From his pocket his hand comes forth but grips only air, jumping into a fencing pose minus the blade. “Mustering up all the bravery he had in his heart, he points it at the dark one. “LEAVE HER ALONE”, he calls to him flashing the sword at this warrior.”
“A much Smaller sword, though.” Runa adds with a laugh.
Standing at guard, he says "Rusted as well."
“And dull,” she adds.
“Could not cut cheese.”
Maya put her hand to her laugh, stifling a giggle, watching the man act out the looming fight.
“Well ... as brave as such a hunter, it immediately brought the attention of the warrior to me ... I mean to the hunter. The warrior aimed his blade at the hunter and gave him two choices ... run or fight.”
Runa, jokingly looked to the elves about and sarcastically offered, “And stupid one chose ...?”
Unphased the man bravely continued, “He Chose the Fight. The hunter stood his ground, and struck first at the warrior ...” saying as such, swinging his arm downward across his body, “a glancing blow that bounced off the warrior's armor.”
Some of the elves leaned back from the swing, as if ducking it themselves.
He moved his arm up and slashed thought the air, “The dark warrior then returned with a blade of his own ... swinging it towards the hunter dressed only in his leathers. Cutting him immediately and deep.”
Runa bit her lip, listening close.
"They traded blows", the man swinging his arm back and forth. He would lean to avoid phantom swings. "They traded words." He would slash in the air with his hand, causing some of in the ring duck back from ghost blade. "The warrior most of all bellowed."
"Run or Die!" Shouted Runa for the Dark One.
The man leaped and landed with his feet planted in front of the fire. His back was to Runa. His hand still ready to strike to the unseen warrior. His breath coming a bit hard, his shoulders drooping weekly. "The brave hunter ... fighting for the honor of the wild elf, standing in view of his new found friends, doing what he could to show the greatest of what bravery he had ... he did ... he did the only thing he could think of doing ..."
Runa leaned forward, smiling, eagerly. When she looked about the circle, all those in attendance did the same - wide eyed and breath held.
"The hunter ... Ran!"
The elves laughed delightedly, Maya included. "Oops," said an elf to the left of her.
"He ran as fast as his feet could take them. Bloodied in pain, he limped to the healer's hut to his own remorse," the man said with a smile on his face. His movement no longer reflected the hunter, as he stood upright and walk to take a seat on the ground next to Runa.
Runa shifted slightly, pulling her legs up to hug herself around her knees. Grinning madly she continued, "He left the poor innocent wild elf all along at such a dangerous place. With only the winds to protect her."
"Twas a crushing blow to the young lad. Even if she survived, she would surely not seek out such a coward ... twas what he thought." The man took the remainder of Runa's tea and drank it down with a heavy swig. He even drank like a human, take what is not his and quick to pour the liquid down his gullet, as if he had not the time to savor the drink or care where it comes from.
Maya was amused at how close the two sat to each other, the closeness seemed so natural. "And what of the brave hunter and the wild elf? What became of them?" she asked seeming to know the answer herself, "You say she would not seek him out?"
Runa turned to the man with a smirk. She gave him a wink and blew him a kiss. The man seemed to take this as a sign to speak with a wide grin, "we shall say ... that was not the case." Turning his head back to the audience around them he nodded politely, "and that is the story. Now ... where I come from, if one tells a story, he listens to the next, so who is next?"
Those around the audience stopped to applaud quietly, appreciative of the tale. Maya was not excluded, smiling warmly to the pair. The human blushed slightly from the response and raised the empty cup of tea as if to drink again, but seemed more like it was purposefully to hide behind it. A bit of modesty unlike many of their kind. Runa, still grinning from the story beamed from the attention, laying her legs flat on the ground and patting her knees happily. Their reactions almost exaggerating the differences in the two, and still bonding them at the same time. Maya chuckled to her self, thinking now that surely the story continued onward this battle. But this day, more would not need to be pressed, so Maya softly applauded and heralded, "The Brave Hunter and the Wild Elf!"
Shortly, Maya took on the responsibility for the next tale, inspired by the previous. As she did, the human stayed true to his word and listened respectfully. Runa seemed less patient, prodding him from time to time, a whisper asking for news. It was not long they left the fire ring to their own means. Maya could only think that the old friends had much to share and much to learn of the other's doings. Let the old friends go, she thought. There are still stories to be told.
-End-
Home
((Someday I dream of a full book about the life of Arturos. This will be the last chapter.))
I don’t know if this is real, or a dream. But I know I am home. Lately I have a hard time figuring out much of anything. Every where I turn, something seems wrong, everything I do seems not what I remember. Sometimes, what I am most sure about appears to be not what it seems in the least.
This cave is cold, it is dark, but most of all it is small. Smoke hangs near the ceiling, barely visible against the light of the cooking fire nestled across the room in the corner. I must use for a fireplace, something cooks there now I just can’t seem to remember what. The candles about the small bed I lie in flicker against the drafty cold air that licks against the wet walls. I must have lit them to read, but I don’t see any books in the bed next to me. I don’t see it on the table by the candles either. I am not quite sure what I was doing to light the candles, but something tells me they are too much of an expense to have going without some reason. Besides, they fail to let my eyes adjust enough to see anything that well.
That may not be the fault of the candle that I can not see. It may be my eyes that fail me too. The way I feel right now, it seems there is little left that hasn’t failed. When I lift my shoulders up to look around this room, my back twinges. I feel throbbing in my foot, and when I look down at it, I can see the sock that contains it seems bigger than the one on my other foot. My hands stiffen, and I fight the urge to grip and re-grip the fingers arthritically. I realize this shell of a being I am in is as old as the trees; and it takes every ounce of my being to try to shift in some way to where I can rest again. Almost to emphasize this, my chest starts to burn, and I cough with the lungs of the oldest of old.
It was an onion. I cook an onion in a kettle. I remember that now. But I have no idea how I am going to get there to get that thing or how I put it there in the kettle to begin with.
It is all too grey to me. Slowly, things start confusing me. How did I end up to be so old? It seems I was just making cheese, now this. It must be a dream.
How did I end up in this place? Where is this place? What magic is it that brings me here.
My hand shakes. I can’t seem to breathe right. It all confuses me, it starts to scare me.
My hand reaches to rub my arm, sliding up until the skin touches an area where hair no longer grows. I look down at the skin and see faded black markings; the tattoo of a youthful boy. One who saw himself as a fisherman for the rest of his life, and tattooed his arm to show community with his fellow fish hunters. Only weeks later to end up in Karamoon. Then Ravenscraig. Then Dee. Then … well, I am not sure where I went. But I know this tattoo. This must be me, this must still be my body. This coughing, hacking, old body is the same of that youthful boy that curses me now from some other place.
This cough, this air, it scares me. Not even the touch of my own arm seems to comfort me to think I am the right place. I close my eyes and begin to recount, the way they taught me as a boy to do. We were taught to recount our lives, when we are about to die. It is supposed to let us know what is important in our lives. But I do it to calm myself. It seems I have done this too many times, and now when I recount, I can see again what my mind seems to lose grip on. Once again, I feel the calmness of knowing my life was lost to my memory. Things start to become clear to me now, and my breathing is within my grasp.
The candles were as long as I remember when the door open, blowing one out. I know I must have slept; but must not be too long as they would have burned down for sure. I know I slept as things were different than before. Maybe it is the cold. The door opening made it colder, but the cold of this place, it seems more so even before the door started to open. The door was opening, because someone was knocking on it, and it wouldn’t stay closed with that impact of fist to wood.
I tried to get up. I succeed, but with some cost. I was slowly able to grunt my way to put my feet on the cold stone floor. Doing so brought sharp pains to my hip. It felt locked like my leg was locked into my pelvis. It felt like bone ground on bone. It hurt worse than any dagger plunged into my side, any spell burning my flesh, any of what seems like a hundred different evils cast down on me; none of that felt as bad as what this felt like in my hip.
Fighting to hold back a cry of pain, I call out “Door seems to be open, come in and greetings”.
The way I press my hands into the side of the bed, the way my legs hang over the side of the bed, the way I bend my back to try to revive the muscles at the side of the bed; my eyes are forced to stay to the stone floor. So it is her bare, scared feet I see first.
Normally, in my youth, or whatever time it was since I last saw her, I would try to contain my joy in the presence of the elf. My desire to leap into her arms is tempered by this poor shell of a body. I want to spring forth, but I can only lift my head to gaze on the elf’s eyes.
It is the elf, Runa. She was the elf that embraced me as many times as she cursed me over the years. She was the elf that seems to be a constant for season upon season when it seemed nothing was truly constant at all.
She is the stoic elfin presence now as much as she was back in those days. Her auburn hair darker, the braids less orderly, the cloths surrounding her softer, the twigs in her hair & the rings in her ears are different but as understated as ever; but all these things were just slight variations of the Runa of my past, no different than possible if you missed someone for a few moons. In those green pools that look over what was once her human, I can see now how badly I have aged. She doesn’t hider her sadness and pity. I am sure all the wrinkles, the faded parts of me, what is disappeared from my life; reads from her gaze upon what I have become. As much as she hasn’t aged creates a contradiction to that broken old man who could not even raise himself from the bed. But seeing her now, just as she ever was, it gives me comfort.
I swallow, my nature fighting the urge to break my emotions free, as I shake my head and speak, “How … how long has it been?” Words that one could speak to any old friend, but an answer that I can’t give myself.
She lifts a cheek to give a smirk, “I know nothing of time, man. Have you learned so little in your old age?”
My laugh, as light as I intended it, hisses and whistles through my lungs. “Same sharp tongue, tis good some does not change in us.”
Her smile brings light to this dark, cold room. She stands in a soft dress no different than what she would have worn in the summers. Maybe it is just I that feels this cold, it is too dark to see what else could be outside that door, and I can’t remember any more what season falls on this world. She does what I am not able to achieve, and steps closer to me to put her fingers into my still rough and thick hair. “You have turned white on me, man,” she says in reference to my locks.
I give a light moan, the soft pleasure of her fingers stroking my hair, my eye closing as the light scent of honey comes through the dank. I let this touch linger for some time. I start to forget this pain. Start to forget this body. But finally I need to look upon her.
Her eyes come to mine, her motherly eyes. You can see Gaia’s presence there as she says softly, “I found you.”
I don’t know what she means. I can’t fathom what she looked for me for. But it raises a joy in me I can grasp onto. The weakness of the old man’s emotions clench down on my throat. I try to cough to clear it, but the coughs are harder, too hard just to clear the air. I put my fist to my mouth and hold fast the breath as I try to spit out. “There is boiled onion on the fire,” I say between breaths, “if you are hungry.”
Her hand slides over my cheek, brushing the longer, whiter whiskers of my chin. “I thought that smell was your socks. You have no cheese?” she asks with a smirk.
I shake my head, as a flash of an answer comes to my tongue. “Tis an extravagance these days, but I would offer it if I had some.” Something in my mind flashes of how I got to this point, something about loss, something of poverty; something that sits on my soul with sadness and dire pain. Something in me that suggest I deserve this hollow of a cave. But as she moves to kneel down in front of me, there is a stronger force in my head to forget what I only now started to remember.
“I am not hungry,” she says to me with a smile. Her hands slowly work a sock to roll down my good leg. I expect to feel the cold of air, but find it warm. Her fingers take their time, stopping to touch the light dark hair on my calves, bringing back just the hint of feeling to them again.
“Need not be modest, Runa. I may be old, but I would offer what I have.”
As she rolls the other sock down my left, its thread thin and dirty, the foot inside reveals itself to be like the other. Not swollen as I saw before. Not throbbing. Not in the least as dead as it felt before. Without the sock in place, my feet look as alive as they were in my youth. She seems not to notice as she balls the socks, and tosses them to the fire. “Never understood why you wore those,” she says to the burning socks.
“Hey,” I try to protest seriously, “I need those to keep warm.”
Her long braids slide back over her shoulders when she shifts to gaze up to me from the floor. Her smile appears kind, dare I say with a feel of hope. “Not anymore,” she says quietly. She stands, lifting my legs until they are out in front of me. Effortlessly, she helps to turn my body to lay again in the bed.
Effortlessly for her. The sharpness of the pain in my hip flares, and I suck hard into my lungs. But once I am turned, the pain lessens. Her touch is soft on my skin. Something flashes into my head at that moment, but it’s not so clear. “It has been years for us, since we have seen each other, hasn’t it.”
She shifts the pillows around me, helping me to rest. She sits onto the edge of the bed as she does, tending to me. “Have I changed so much for you?”
I slowly shake my head. I lean back against my pillows to lie softly, and my back doesn’t fight these old bones. “Quite the opposite, it as if you are the same that I knew; but … it has been …” my breath gets the best of me. All this movement, this effort, this excitement to see her; more than I think my body wants to handle.
As I settle back, she turns and lays herself back against me as well. Her head softly tucking into my shoulder. “Rest your mind, man,” she says in a soft manner. She reaches for my arms, and wraps them around her body until I embrace her. She rests in my arms, in a way that takes me back to days long long ago. But seems as familiar as the time at this very moment. I have a memory of her doing this before. I have a memory that she would climb into my lap and pull these arms around her. I would be her wrap, he bed, her place to rest. It would be those brief moments in time, those too short of nights, those glances of time when she would be MY elf.
“How …” I said as sleep starts to near me, “how did you find me? Why have you come?”
Her words, her final words as I drift away dance on the air, spun free into the my mind like butterflies and fairies on the wind. “I have come to show you the way.”
Her body warms me. The chilly of this cave seems to not be there anymore. It is still moist, but no longer cold.
I can smell her as well, with her body so close to mine. But it is not just the honey, but of trees, of grass of the earth.
Her cloths are soft, but memorable. Leathers, soft soft leathers. Like those I used to wear. When I hunted in the wilds. But its not what she wears is it, I wear it now.
The candles burn brighter. Maybe it is that the door is still open and morning comes.
More than morning, it is daytime. It is summer.
It is the grass, and trees, and all that grows forth around us.
It is those days, the beautiful wonderful days.
There are flowers that rise, there are ferns, there are the flora growing around me.
I am surrounded by the spirits of the wilds.
I am surrounded by the energy.
I feel it surround me and take me.
I am free.
I am happy.
I don’t know if this is real, or a dream. But I know I am home.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Looking Back
Arturos looks back at the city.
Spring winds from the south were strong, catching the tide was easy for the old ship hands. She wasn’t a fast ship typically, but this old wooden hall took to the sea with enthusiasm. Not long after the sun turned orange to yellow, they were out past the sand banks and heading north for trade. All of the crew, flushed by the way their beloved boat found its legs early all looked ahead, excited and happy.
All except Arturos, Arturos looked back.
The wool would have been sheared in Koehldbae. They will have the docks filled, and this ship will load up the cargo in short order for the trade. It was a route that seems as expected as the great seasons shift. Tis was his duty to look forward to this, to make this trade happen, to bring coins enough to his homeland that they can afford to last another year, to feed their children, keep the older ones warm.
Tis was his duty to look forward, but he looked back.
The Captain wasn’t quiet about his concerns with picking him up in Dee. You could not ignore the cannons and walls built high. The seas were filled with rumors of wreckers on Dee’s shores. Sure, the Captain was happy the guard was doing something about it, but its hard to feel safe as yet. As he stood next to Arturos, as the ship moved from the dock, the Captain talked, Art listened. The Captain talked about the war that looms there. The Captain said that Arturos wished to be home, to be fighting by his compatriots, to defend his city for what is right.
Art looked back, but it wasn’t for that.
Art would return to Dee, this was only a few days, this was only for trade purposes. Surely the people in Dee will know he will return, but this departure, so quick and so unannounced, it may be seen wrong. So many people assumed to think what Arturos wanted recently. So many will likely think he leaves now to night fight against Sjofn. With the way she treats him, he would rather be there to see where he body ends up … just to make sure she was dead.
Looking back, sometimes it feels to Arturos that few really seem him.
Danara does.
Well
Danara did.
They knew the day would come when what they were could not continue. They talked about it, tried to ignore it. The evening before … that was the day. If one was to look forward, Arturos would know this is the true future for them. She will rise in the pack, she will be unchallenged to stand as Kylerra’s Beta. Danara will be strong, she will be independent. She will be free of the questions of her loyalty. None would see her as a human lover, or see her as any but truly embracing her Garou nature. Most of all she will be happy. She will find trueness in herself. She will find what greatness she is capable of. She will find a mate, a true love, a male like herself that would make it possible to be herself.
If Arturos could see the future, he could see what is to come, and he is sure it will be much better than what lies behind him.
But today …
He could only look back.
Spring winds from the south were strong, catching the tide was easy for the old ship hands. She wasn’t a fast ship typically, but this old wooden hall took to the sea with enthusiasm. Not long after the sun turned orange to yellow, they were out past the sand banks and heading north for trade. All of the crew, flushed by the way their beloved boat found its legs early all looked ahead, excited and happy.
All except Arturos, Arturos looked back.
The wool would have been sheared in Koehldbae. They will have the docks filled, and this ship will load up the cargo in short order for the trade. It was a route that seems as expected as the great seasons shift. Tis was his duty to look forward to this, to make this trade happen, to bring coins enough to his homeland that they can afford to last another year, to feed their children, keep the older ones warm.
Tis was his duty to look forward, but he looked back.
The Captain wasn’t quiet about his concerns with picking him up in Dee. You could not ignore the cannons and walls built high. The seas were filled with rumors of wreckers on Dee’s shores. Sure, the Captain was happy the guard was doing something about it, but its hard to feel safe as yet. As he stood next to Arturos, as the ship moved from the dock, the Captain talked, Art listened. The Captain talked about the war that looms there. The Captain said that Arturos wished to be home, to be fighting by his compatriots, to defend his city for what is right.
Art looked back, but it wasn’t for that.
Art would return to Dee, this was only a few days, this was only for trade purposes. Surely the people in Dee will know he will return, but this departure, so quick and so unannounced, it may be seen wrong. So many people assumed to think what Arturos wanted recently. So many will likely think he leaves now to night fight against Sjofn. With the way she treats him, he would rather be there to see where he body ends up … just to make sure she was dead.
Looking back, sometimes it feels to Arturos that few really seem him.
Danara does.
Well
Danara did.
They knew the day would come when what they were could not continue. They talked about it, tried to ignore it. The evening before … that was the day. If one was to look forward, Arturos would know this is the true future for them. She will rise in the pack, she will be unchallenged to stand as Kylerra’s Beta. Danara will be strong, she will be independent. She will be free of the questions of her loyalty. None would see her as a human lover, or see her as any but truly embracing her Garou nature. Most of all she will be happy. She will find trueness in herself. She will find what greatness she is capable of. She will find a mate, a true love, a male like herself that would make it possible to be herself.
If Arturos could see the future, he could see what is to come, and he is sure it will be much better than what lies behind him.
But today …
He could only look back.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Return of the Hunter
((From Early 2009 - is a personal favorite because it ties the original way I played Art to ways played him over time. Out of context, this may not be as interesting - but still a keeper))
In the morning he digs through some crates, mindlessly digging through the clothing he has purchased from many ports. His hand touches a piece of fur and holds fast. It feels like something that is like a dream, like a memory, but in a way what he still is.
Every where he turns, the horns blow, the drums beat, the hearts grow stronger. War comes to this land. No longer are many to ignore what the Northerners have done. No longer can so many fight separately. Come soon, a fight will come far greater than any recognized.
Standing in his well tailored jacket, Arturos, looking across a frozen patch of rye. He fights to think of the spring planting. He fights to wonder what has happened to the livestock. He fights to think of Jill Frost, of Morrigan, of vampires, of lycans. Instead, each time he closes his eyes he sees friends, eyes glazed over ready for a fight. He tries to think with his soul to be clear, to be focused towards those problems that threaten him every day. But he can not deny the vision of them falling in the red snow.
The Northerners continue to force themselves on us. Each of us in a way have been threatened by them. Not all can fight, but those who can … they must make a decision. To ignore what they do or to join the army.
He finds himself running through the wilds, gaining speed across the open paths and down the hill. The buck in front of him runs hard as well, cutting back and forth down what it is familiar with. Arturos, sweated hard within the jacket, slipping on his boots with smooth well tanned leather.. His sword drawn, he pushed his body past the pain to get this creature. It had been months since he hunted in Karamoon, but the chase was on, but regardless he hadn’t forgotten what was key.
The flags over the camp snap and bite in the chill. The curl of smoke rolls between tent to tent. May men raise a glass and laugh in the coming troubles. Many will not see each other before the coming days are out, but as with all wars the glory doesn’t come form winning, but with a good fight.
In his hands was not any piece of fur. A shirt … pants … leggings. The touch of them were like the finest of velvet under his fingers, thought it was just the touch of past happiness. He looked out the window to the setting sun and made his decision. There was a day we wore these with friends. Before he was an innkeeper, before he was a merchant; and well before he was governor; Arturos wore the clothes of a hunter. He will wear them once more.
In the morning he digs through some crates, mindlessly digging through the clothing he has purchased from many ports. His hand touches a piece of fur and holds fast. It feels like something that is like a dream, like a memory, but in a way what he still is.
Every where he turns, the horns blow, the drums beat, the hearts grow stronger. War comes to this land. No longer are many to ignore what the Northerners have done. No longer can so many fight separately. Come soon, a fight will come far greater than any recognized.
Standing in his well tailored jacket, Arturos, looking across a frozen patch of rye. He fights to think of the spring planting. He fights to wonder what has happened to the livestock. He fights to think of Jill Frost, of Morrigan, of vampires, of lycans. Instead, each time he closes his eyes he sees friends, eyes glazed over ready for a fight. He tries to think with his soul to be clear, to be focused towards those problems that threaten him every day. But he can not deny the vision of them falling in the red snow.
The Northerners continue to force themselves on us. Each of us in a way have been threatened by them. Not all can fight, but those who can … they must make a decision. To ignore what they do or to join the army.
He finds himself running through the wilds, gaining speed across the open paths and down the hill. The buck in front of him runs hard as well, cutting back and forth down what it is familiar with. Arturos, sweated hard within the jacket, slipping on his boots with smooth well tanned leather.. His sword drawn, he pushed his body past the pain to get this creature. It had been months since he hunted in Karamoon, but the chase was on, but regardless he hadn’t forgotten what was key.
The flags over the camp snap and bite in the chill. The curl of smoke rolls between tent to tent. May men raise a glass and laugh in the coming troubles. Many will not see each other before the coming days are out, but as with all wars the glory doesn’t come form winning, but with a good fight.
In his hands was not any piece of fur. A shirt … pants … leggings. The touch of them were like the finest of velvet under his fingers, thought it was just the touch of past happiness. He looked out the window to the setting sun and made his decision. There was a day we wore these with friends. Before he was an innkeeper, before he was a merchant; and well before he was governor; Arturos wore the clothes of a hunter. He will wear them once more.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The Demon Gave His Word
((Early 2010 - Based on a Specific Roleplay. The demons in question were targeting the Village of Ravenscraig to be destroyed, and they chose those of 'pure blood' to be a part of a ritual. Art was the first target. To encourage the rp, and to bolster my backstory, I created this.))
“Pure of Light ushers in the Dark,” he said.
I am the pure of light now. The dagger, long and twisted like a tree root, held over my arm; gleaming and harsh. The eyes of the demon wide and near glowing in anticipation of what comes. I fought the shackles on my wrists, kicked at the irons on the ankles, but they were too tight, too strong.
“Pure of Light ushers in the Dark,” his brother repeated.
I closed my eyes, clenched my fists, pressed out my legs; it was all I could to fight this coming doom. I growled and spat. The cold stone scraped against my fighting back. The cold moist air kept hanging the stench of decay coming from these two demons. As the blade touched my skin and started to cut I can feel the warm liquid begin to flow from my arm to their cup, and I knew my end was near. I was laid out like a pig for a slaughter; like so many animals I have hunted or farmed that I myself lay out and ended. I could see them in my mind, the look in their eyes of fear – that guttural fear coming out of me now. As I bled for these demons.
I am fear, and I am dread. The pain was light, the blade being sharp and the cut was well calculated. But that was my life being drained from me now, my end was near. Recount, they taught us when I was young. You must recount at your final minutes.
I am a Defender. Tis just a few brief moments ago. There was the ravine, where the demons surrounded me. They said if I went with them they would not harm me, I made them promise to end their attack on the village. The blue one gave his word. I thought I was saving the village from harm. That is why I was laid out. I was trying to protect, trying to defend.
The cup is half full already, must not dwell on this – there is a whole life to recount; there are blessings I have done, things that I must accept that are good in my life. Must recount what is good or I can not die in peace. That is what my teachers taught me.
I am a farmer. I did good deeds as a farmer. That is what I do. I tend the land. But, I gut pigs and sheep for food or profit. I am no better than those demons. NO! Recount.
They have their cup filled. They repeat those words.
“Pure of Light ushers in the Dark.”
The blue one speaks, he says that this is a point in the symbol; that it has now begun. The realization of all this starts to come to me. It is like the journals, it is like the scroll Maryld showed me. An army comes, their weapons of fear and dread; and there is little one can do to fight against that. It starts with my blood. It is me who has given the first of this.
Recount. The end is drawing closer. What was I before … I am a Governor, I tried to be the protector of Port Tarrund. I tried to bring peace. All there ever was brought war. I could not protect it; I ran off the failure, the poor soul. Tis a fool who thinks I could have protected Tarrund, the same bloody fool that thought one can protect this village. Now I have doomed it.
NO!! RECOUNT, Bloody Recount.
These demons step away now, they leave me laid out like a lamb on an alter, awaiting its final bloodletting. They discuss, and I can hear them. One wants to slaughter me, the one of fire. He also argues to offer me to the wampry who stood by and let me be bled. The blue one talks of giving his word to me. What word can you accept from a demon, my end comes, I know it is true.
I am the doom to Ravenscraig. I can only picture the village now, destroyed like these ruins here. I can see people … friends … gutted like pigs; gutted like I will be soon. It is at my hands, it is with my blood this happened. If I can free myself, I must warn them what I saw; but I can not undo what I did. If I can be free. But I won’t be free, I will be dead soon. Must recount. Must find the good I have done.
I am a boy. I think back to Kohlbae, and my youth. Those that turn on the boy then were children themselves. Those that hate the one that was not pale, was not light haired like a good child of Kohlbae; the boy’s red hair, tanned skin. How one’s own grandparents made one feel hated, that there was no hope for him in this world. That they could put hope in him, that he could be an elder some day – was a fool’s belief; as foolish as taking a demon’s word. What could he be, the son of an outsider, a wild woman – she was no child of Kohlbae, so how could this boy be.
They end their argument, the demons have made their decision, but I must recount, I have lost my senses.
She is the answer to all of this, isn’t she; the wild woman. The gods made me think of her. She is that peace for me. She is what I should recount. She is the one to remember when I die. But I do not remember her face, she was run off before my first season was over. How can I recount her.
They approach me again, the one with fire looking angry, but he keeps his distance. The blue one approaches, his claws, his coldness. This is it.
I close my eyes, and whisper quietly to the gods. I ask them for this one chance – I can not recount, I am not ready to die. They free me, I will find her. They free me then it is the one great thing I could do, to let her see her son before she dies. I make the promise to the gods. Let me live, I promise I will tell the village all of this I have seen, and I promise I will find her. I gave them my word.
The blue one reaches for my ankles. Tis too late.
The irons are removed.
At my wrists, now, the shackles are free.
I am able to cover the cut, I am able to stop the bleeding, I am free to go.
The demon kept his word.
The demon makes one last demand, to keep this silent, to not tell. But I am sure it was not the demons that let me live, but the gods. And I promised them something else.
And I gave them my word.
Ice on the Hull
((Early 2010 - Was more topical to issues Art was dealing with - but I was really happy with the imagry))
They never make the noise you think it does. Little floats of ice, looking as soft as snow. The ship runs up against it, and you hear the wood grind and growl to keep itself intact against the hard cold. It shakes you a bit. The hull has this new ironwood they call it at the stem. It looks to me that they just nailed a few blades to the wood. Aye, it seems to work, and they say this is the fourth winter they sailed in ice and without a single leak yet. Still, ice on metal, ice on wood – tis not what one wants to hear at sea. Ice always wins, and you wonder if it will be this time it will, or next.
By mid-day the ice will be behind us. By evening tide, I should see the lands of Ambrea again. Put this bloody trip behind me. We reached the northern islands, but that is all. You could see the ice shelf from there, nay going to find a ship heading to my homeland from there. As long as boats could make it to that place, it was always known that rarely a boat would get in – or for that matter, get out. Still do not know how the note got out of the bloody place just days ago. Still do not know if what is says is even true. Still do not what the bloody elders would send me this note, or why they bloody held it from me for these seasons, or bloody well why they think they can get from me now with it.
Still do not know why I got on that bloody boat to find out.
Seems I make strange decisions these days. Winter has that effect, I guess. Especially now that with no crops, with the farmhands, with the snow – with the demons and rift beasts and … – tis easier to hide in the farmhouse, sit in the warm tub, let the ground freeze and thaw.
Tis’ easy to think of things that makes one happy.
That is it most likely, the answer to those bloody questions. Or maybe just the one. If I can find that one bit of information. Nay … if I find her. I think that will make one happy.
Standing up here, against the railing of the ship, looking down at the sea, and I watch the ice move along. What is it that makes one think that this little bit of ice, that is so harmless. Watching it strike the hull, barely move at the weight of the ship, then groan against this what keeps us afloat. You wonder if the next time will be the time when the hull no longer holds.
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