All text ©Ian Cavanaugh, 2012
The Dream of an Elf, Part 1:
From the ground, it was a forest, whose various redwoods of all shapes and sizes dominated the skyline. If you looked closely, you might be able to barely distinguish some ropes. You might be able to hear a few conversations, the hustle and bustle of a small town. But there is not much else, besides the natural sounds of the forest. The chirping of a bird in the distance. The skittering of a nearby squirrel. but not much more. If you looked down, from the sky, you would see nothing but leaves. The trees are everywhere, unavoidable. Nobody can really see anything, from either top or bottom.
If, however, you were to attempt to view from the point of view of ‘on top of a branch,’ you would discover a very different place from a mere forest. You would see a massive city, the trees carved hollow with all sorts of houses built around them. Rope bridges and ladders connect every part of the forest together, and the animals of the forest somehow never seem to come there.
Here is the land of one of the last great Ancestors on Gaia, the Elves. Hunted by the gods for daring to create their own pantheon, filled only with gods from their own people. They had few allies among the main gods, but the allies that they had were enough to protect them from all forms of scrying or any other method of remote viewing, and so they live on even now in their city.
All that remains of a great race, that once spanned the canopies of all the forests of the land of Gaia, is a single city of barely five hundred thousand people. The elves are a dying race, but that’s not something that you would notice just by looking at them. They were a tricky lot, enjoying parties and adventure, but they were proud of their heritage. All that remains now is that pride. Today, the last survivors of a great race die...
Today is the day that the people of Killeghymn die...
********
A young boy wanders to the market to try to sell fish caught from an area that is far outside of the forest. Very few people know where, exactly, the fish come from, but they all agree that they are very good.
The market district of this city is constantly busy. As the boy wandered, he could hear the din of people talking. Looking to his right, he notices that he is walking by Old Man Nuith’s booth. Nuith was presently dealing with a young kid who was only coming to this section of the market district for the first time, and was trying, unwisely, to haggle with Nuith. After driving away the kid, he turned to look at our boy.
“Hail, Little Arnai, do you know when you father’s returning today?” Nuith asked him.
“I’m not sure at the moment, but he said that he would be back before the Feast of the Night.” Arnai responded.
“Tell him that I want to talk to him tomorrow, okay?” Nuith told Arnai.
“Sure, no problem.” Arnai said. “Do you want a fish?”
“No, thank you, Arnai.”
Sighing, Arnai turned around and continued walking. He exchanged greetings with many more of the older men, most of whom were wondering where his father happened to be.
Arnai told all of them that he really didn’t know, but that his dad will be home before the Feast of the Night that night.
Arriving in the center of the city, where, for a reason that few people besides the elders and his parents knew, Arnai went to his house. Normally speaking, people from the Center of Killeghymn are nobility or other important people, but Arnai doesn’t think that they are anything like that. Many of the younger men tend to go hunting for exotic animals outside of the city, the only difference is that his Dad is older.
“I’m home!” Arnai called. No answer. He walked into their living room. On the table was a note, made from torn... paper? That can’t be right. Elves don’t use paper anymore...
Written on the table, in the small, carefully controlled letters of his mother, was the following:
Arnai,
If you’re reading this, then the meeting took longer than I thought it would. Sorry about not being home to greet you. Put the fish that you didn’t sell into cold storage, and then I have been given special permission to allow you into the capitol building to come and see me. Whatever you’re wearing is fine.
Love,
Mommy
Arnai put down the note. He took the fish over to the cold storage, and placed them in it, closing the lid. Turning around, Arnai left the house and walked over to the consulting district of the Center. From there, he walked over into the biggest tree, which was easily over three hundred feet in diameter. Completely hollowed out, it had massive, elaborate halls leading into the central area where the government meets and holds council.
Sitting around the table were many old men and women that Arnai didn’t recognize, a couple that he did, and his mother. Everyone on the table turned to regard him. Arnai heard murmurs of,
“So that’s his son...”
“So this problem is his fault?”
“Be quiet! We don’t want to make him mad...”
Arnai sighed. He was used to those sorts of conversations.
“There’s nothing wrong with him! What the hell’s wrong with you people?” A man yelled. He slammed his hands on the table and stood up suddenly, just to accentuate this. Looking closer, despite his initial thoughts, there was one comparatively younger man on that table. He recognized this man as his uncle, Aelthar.
“Ferasaia’s... my sister’s husband is not a monster!”
“That’s a lie and you know it, Aelthar!”
The fighting resumed. Arnai looked over to his mother, Ferasaia with pleading eyes. She seemed to be able to sense this, even as she had her back away from Arnai and dismissed herself.
“Mommy, I don’t understand. What’s happening?”
“I don’t really get it either, but I can tell you this, Arnai.” His mother began with an amazingly calm and soothing voice.
“Once your father gets here, this will aaall sort itself out.”
********
Goldoak burst from his covers, sweating. This has got to stop. These dreams have got to stop. This one even had explanation in it. This is getting out of hand. Maybe if he just let the ending come...
No. He refused to be held back by the past. Not any more. Not any longer. This has got to stop. He promised Mother, he promised Father.
And he will not go back on his word.
If, however, you were to attempt to view from the point of view of ‘on top of a branch,’ you would discover a very different place from a mere forest. You would see a massive city, the trees carved hollow with all sorts of houses built around them. Rope bridges and ladders connect every part of the forest together, and the animals of the forest somehow never seem to come there.
Here is the land of one of the last great Ancestors on Gaia, the Elves. Hunted by the gods for daring to create their own pantheon, filled only with gods from their own people. They had few allies among the main gods, but the allies that they had were enough to protect them from all forms of scrying or any other method of remote viewing, and so they live on even now in their city.
All that remains of a great race, that once spanned the canopies of all the forests of the land of Gaia, is a single city of barely five hundred thousand people. The elves are a dying race, but that’s not something that you would notice just by looking at them. They were a tricky lot, enjoying parties and adventure, but they were proud of their heritage. All that remains now is that pride. Today, the last survivors of a great race die...
Today is the day that the people of Killeghymn die...
********
A young boy wanders to the market to try to sell fish caught from an area that is far outside of the forest. Very few people know where, exactly, the fish come from, but they all agree that they are very good.
The market district of this city is constantly busy. As the boy wandered, he could hear the din of people talking. Looking to his right, he notices that he is walking by Old Man Nuith’s booth. Nuith was presently dealing with a young kid who was only coming to this section of the market district for the first time, and was trying, unwisely, to haggle with Nuith. After driving away the kid, he turned to look at our boy.
“Hail, Little Arnai, do you know when you father’s returning today?” Nuith asked him.
“I’m not sure at the moment, but he said that he would be back before the Feast of the Night.” Arnai responded.
“Tell him that I want to talk to him tomorrow, okay?” Nuith told Arnai.
“Sure, no problem.” Arnai said. “Do you want a fish?”
“No, thank you, Arnai.”
Sighing, Arnai turned around and continued walking. He exchanged greetings with many more of the older men, most of whom were wondering where his father happened to be.
Arnai told all of them that he really didn’t know, but that his dad will be home before the Feast of the Night that night.
Arriving in the center of the city, where, for a reason that few people besides the elders and his parents knew, Arnai went to his house. Normally speaking, people from the Center of Killeghymn are nobility or other important people, but Arnai doesn’t think that they are anything like that. Many of the younger men tend to go hunting for exotic animals outside of the city, the only difference is that his Dad is older.
“I’m home!” Arnai called. No answer. He walked into their living room. On the table was a note, made from torn... paper? That can’t be right. Elves don’t use paper anymore...
Written on the table, in the small, carefully controlled letters of his mother, was the following:
Arnai,
If you’re reading this, then the meeting took longer than I thought it would. Sorry about not being home to greet you. Put the fish that you didn’t sell into cold storage, and then I have been given special permission to allow you into the capitol building to come and see me. Whatever you’re wearing is fine.
Love,
Mommy
Arnai put down the note. He took the fish over to the cold storage, and placed them in it, closing the lid. Turning around, Arnai left the house and walked over to the consulting district of the Center. From there, he walked over into the biggest tree, which was easily over three hundred feet in diameter. Completely hollowed out, it had massive, elaborate halls leading into the central area where the government meets and holds council.
Sitting around the table were many old men and women that Arnai didn’t recognize, a couple that he did, and his mother. Everyone on the table turned to regard him. Arnai heard murmurs of,
“So that’s his son...”
“So this problem is his fault?”
“Be quiet! We don’t want to make him mad...”
Arnai sighed. He was used to those sorts of conversations.
“There’s nothing wrong with him! What the hell’s wrong with you people?” A man yelled. He slammed his hands on the table and stood up suddenly, just to accentuate this. Looking closer, despite his initial thoughts, there was one comparatively younger man on that table. He recognized this man as his uncle, Aelthar.
“Ferasaia’s... my sister’s husband is not a monster!”
“That’s a lie and you know it, Aelthar!”
The fighting resumed. Arnai looked over to his mother, Ferasaia with pleading eyes. She seemed to be able to sense this, even as she had her back away from Arnai and dismissed herself.
“Mommy, I don’t understand. What’s happening?”
“I don’t really get it either, but I can tell you this, Arnai.” His mother began with an amazingly calm and soothing voice.
“Once your father gets here, this will aaall sort itself out.”
********
Goldoak burst from his covers, sweating. This has got to stop. These dreams have got to stop. This one even had explanation in it. This is getting out of hand. Maybe if he just let the ending come...
No. He refused to be held back by the past. Not any more. Not any longer. This has got to stop. He promised Mother, he promised Father.
And he will not go back on his word.
