by P D Dennison
Darkness was upon them. It became as if a moonless within the wood. The noises of the forest fell silent; Kaldrinn barely noticed a rustle beyond their own footfalls. None had even taken a second thought at the dangers Kaldrinn had expressed. They simply plodded on and worked through the tangle as best they could. Kaldrinn remained watchful, but he kept himself silent to it, his eyes ever weary of the trees in the distance and the shadows that moved about them. He knew there were eyes watching throughout the ancient wood. Forms moved and shifted between the trees. It seemed as though creatures would peak out and around the great trunks at them, but he made no mention of these things to the others.
They’d followed the river as best as they could as it kept the path along the water’s edge slightly more clear than attempting the much more treacherous path that lead through the heart of the wood. Across the river they could see the thick of the Faerie Wood. All the companions were quiet except the three men out front who where cutting through some particularly nasty bramble to allow for the passage of the horses.
Postgaar could have sworn he’d seen someone. He stopped and looked out into the dark shadowy wood again to be sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. A girl, young and pretty off in the distance beckoned him to come closer. Postgaar had never before laid eyes on such beauty. Without another thought, he dropped his axe and walked toward her. She peeked out from behind a tree a ways back in the wood. The path seemed much clearer in her direction. He’d become so smitten with her beauty that he walked away from his friends. None but Manya even took note of it.
‘Where are you going, Postgaar?” she asked him.
There was no answer. Not even an acknowledgement that she’d spoken.
“Postgaar?” She spoke more loudly this time thinking he couldn’t hear over the axes of the other men. She simply shrugged it off and let him go.
After days without incident, it became common practise for one of the group to wander into the woods a ways to relieve themselves.
Postgaar walked through the thick of the woods toward her. She sat on a small hillock under a large Elm. He fell fully under the magick of the Dryad’s charm walking on, smiling like a drunkard.
“Good day, mah’ lady.” He bowed with a great flourish and the Dryad let out a giggle.
A dwarf could be a comical sight on a good day to a Dryad and this one with his fiery red hair and dumbfounded smile was especially humorous.
“Who are you?” she asked him.
“I’m Postgaar Fireaxe of Stonehammer Keep and who might ye’ be?”
“I am Nyxia, lady of this wood, and you are hurting my trees with your axes. I would ask that you find another way to where ever it is you are going that does not require your passing through my wood and cutting at my trees. They are my children and you are hurting them.”
For just a moment, the magick faltered and Postgaar felt like himself again. He staggered back a couple of steps as the magick let go briefly. He looked about and could see his friends chopping away at the thick of the Elms that barred their path. He even spotted Manya, but she seemed to take no notice of him even though she turned her head to look out in his general direction. She looked right through him. The Dryad’s magick made Postgaar, Nyxia, and the great Elm she sat beneath invisible to Manya and the rest of the companions. If they’d even had the good sense to look about for their friend as Manya tried to do, they’d have seen only dark, dense woods. The magick grabbed hold of his mind once more. Postgaar had succumbed to Nyxia’s spell fully.
“Come with me, Postgaar. We must speak with your friends and see what we can do about this. Which one of them is your leader?”
“That one.” He pointed to Ravak. “The big lad there.” He mindlessly walked over to Ravak with an ear to ear grin on his face. His head swayed gently with the intense ancient magick the Dryad used to twist his perception. Postgaar tapped Ravak on the back and looked up at him smiling like a dullard.
Manya walked over. She could see the woman and Postgaar as they approached. She sensed magick at work, but was unsure of its nature as she’d never experienced the likes of it before. The magick gave off an intensely arcane sensation to the trained mind. She felt the magick of nature as the woman came to a stop near the group. It set her mind at ease for the moment as she’d been taught that practitioners of nature magick inherently tend toward the lighter side of the spectrum of good and evil, but some, the fae folk in particular tended to be mischievous.
Postgaar cleared his throat. “Good lady and gentle sirs, it is with great pleasure that I introduce to ye’ Nyxia, the Lady of this ere’ Wood.”
Manya laughed out loud and quickly shot her hand up over her mouth. She turned red, quite embarrassed at her outburst, but she found Postgaar funny at the best of times and this indeed, happened to be one of his better moments.
Each member of the group took her hand in greeting. All the men stood there with drool in the corners of their mouths and love in their eyes at Nyxia’s great beauty as the Dryad’s magick slowly crept into their unsuspecting minds. Even Manya found herself taken aback by the lady’s comeliness.
Nyxia spoke first as the men were all too entranced with her beauty and charm.
“For Ages, these woods have remained my home. I have been commissioned by the god Freey as steward to the Danthar, protecting and caring for all that live within and pass through. This he commanded at the dawn of the First Age. Freey is god over all the Faerie Wyrld of Aalfheim, and also to all the fae creatures here in the Land of Shaarn.
In this Age, we seldom see men, dwarves, and elves in these parts. What brings you so very far from your home, Barbarian?” she asked of Ravak.
He said nothing, but grinned mindlessly. The mind of the Barbarian, especially his late generation had become so far removed from the wyrld of magick that he had no defense at his disposal to fend off the mystic charms of a Dryad. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words escaped him completely. All that came out was an awkward hollow sound from the back of his throat. He turned red, shook his head, and smiled again.
“You’ll have to excuse my companion here, good lady.” Manya had not fallen prey to the arcane wiles of the Dryad in the same way as the men. She hooked her arm into Ravak’s to show she didn’t want him wandering off with any strange ladies that lived in the Danthar and continued on. “We seek safe passage through your wood into the South. We’re in a great hurry to reach the Tower of High Sorcery in the city of Stromsgate. There’s a terrible evil that threatens the southern kingdoms of Shaarn and quite possibly your forest here as well. We aim to stop this wickedness, but must first return to the Tower. Please let us pass. We mean you no harm and seek only to do good.” With that, she gave a very courtly bow to Nyxia.
“Well said, sister. I believe you are on a mission to do good, but in your haste, you have done a great wrong to me and my children already without even thinking of it.”
Manya’s eyes widened as a look of shock crossed her face. “Pray tell what have we done to offend thee?”
“You specifically have done nothing, but your companions with their axes have injured or killed many trees over the last few days. It is my station to protect them and all the creatures that dwell within. When you cut into the bark of my trees, it hurts me deeply and hurts the forest, which is not just a collection of trees but an entity unto itself alive and feeling. That entity now suffers under the bite of your axes.”
Ravak had regained something of his senses at Manya’s touch.
“Mah’ lady, please forgive us. We meant no harm. Please tell us what can be done to atone for this wrong we have committed against you and your forest.”
“Shut up, Ravak.” Manya jabbed him in the ribs, but it was too late. The good Lady of the Wood waited on just such a slip of the tongue.
“There is something you can do for me and in exchange I shall have a guide show the path through the wood so you will not require the swinging of axes. But first, you all look weary and worse for the road yo
u have travelled. Come with me and I will feed you. You may bathe and rest for the night here under my protection. You shall stay in the village of Hagrathmark.”
“That is very gracious of you, mah’ lady, but we are in a great hurry and would not want to trouble you.”
“Your leader has already spoken and committed your company to my service. Now come. We will discuss your debt and how it can be paid after supper.”
“Supper,” exclaimed Postgaar. “Ye can’t go wrong with a good hot meal, now can ye, lads?” He smiled at them all and followed the lady into the wood away from the shores of the Sarandanus as the last light of the day drew to a close.
By the time they reached the village, which happened to be well hidden indeed in the very center of the Danthar, it grew to be midevening. The air felt cool and insects could be heard buzzing about along with the hooting of owls and the crowing of night birds. Hagrathmark, a gnomish settlement had grown to be quite the little village amongst the Elms of the Danthar. Some buildings were on the ground and many were up in the trees with little bridge-ways connecting them. Ropes hung down periodically, ladders too. There were a few staircases here and there which wound up the trunks of the gnarly Elms in a very curious fashion. In fact most of the construction could be described as curious to say the least of it. Gnomes are a very industrious little people, but being of the Faerie Wyrld, they often constructed buildings of misshapen proportions and dimensions that looked quite odd and out of place to the men and dwarves of Shaarn.
On the ground, it felt as though there were a discernible bustle amongst the gnomes. They were a people busy by design, being both industrious and inventive by their very nature. They were a tiny race with hustle. They’d already gotten word from a great horned owl that the Lady of the Wood approached with guests and they were to spend the night in the village.
The gnomes of Shaarn are not the gnomes of myth and legend similar in size and stature to that of a dwarf. They are a very tiny people standing not more than the height of a tall drink of water, but slightly fatter in the middle than the cup would be as gnomes like to eat. The men wore little tunics with broad girdles and most wore a hat of some sort, the most common variety was what you might now of as the Tyrolean which made them all look like little mountain climbers minus the lederhosen. The ladies wore full dresses, bonnets and aprons. Though the patterns on the material of the dresses varied greatly the cut and finish was always the same plumed shoulders, drawstring at the breast, and bunched at the waste by the apron then falling down to just above the ankle. Many of the gnome women went barefoot though some wore the little boots that all the men wore which appeared to be rabbit hide for the most part though some looked to be fox.
Gnomish folk scurried this way and that through the web of trees and walkways. Lanterns were being hung, a table being prepared and various other duties were being tended to as the companions approached the center of town.
The gnomes were famous for their tiny marvels of engineering. Without their ingenuity the gentry of the time in Shaarn would have been without the use of the gnomish privy which made times when one needed to relieve one’s self much more comfortable and much less smelly. The gnomish privy composted the waste and shot it out the back wall behind the toilet into a bin where after treatment it could be used as fertilizer for the garden. As a result of this wondrous invention, many of the Southerners had well fed and bumper crop producing gardens. In fact, some say that this invention may have ended the great famine at the dawn of the Second Age when the Tower Council lay in ruins after Graxxen’s treason.
A great fire burned in the middle of the village and many rabbits were being roasted on two very long spits over the flames. Gnomish men and women alike turned the spits and manned the basting pan that lay below the meat to catch the drippings. A great pot hung from a tripod over the flame. It steamed and bubbled away happily as a fat little gnomish woman stood on a stool next to it stirring with a great wooden paddle. Every so often a little pixie would flit by her and toss some herbs into the pot then whisper in her ear. She would nod or direct them to another chore.
Gnomes are known to keep company with faeries, pixies, brownies and sprites and all the other mystical little creatures and beings of the ancient wyrld. This village was no different. Faeries flitted about the central square, pixies and sprites whizzing through the air above the fire leaving behind them streamers of pixie dust scintillating as it fell to the ground below. Wolves lay stretched out beside the fire along with bear and deer. A pair of large eagles was kin and friend to all that lived in the woods. Even though they hunted these creatures they lived in peaceful and serene existence together as one people. Just as Nyxia had told the companions, the forest was one entity and these gnomes and all that lived in the Danthar were living, breathing examples of that. It was quite the sight to behold for outlanders from the wyrld of men and dwarves who lived well outside the realm of faerie tales and the surreal lifestyle of the servants of Freey.
The central square of the village was set with streamers of vines that hung heavy with ripe grapes from tree to tree. The square itself had been constructed of hand shaped dead wood. Anything constructed by the gnomes appeared to be made of deadwood. They had all but cleared the area free of debris to build their little village.
None of the companions knew of such a village in the Danthar, nor could one find it marked on any map of the region. Most of the gnomish peoples of Shaarn lived far to the east in the ‘Gnome Hills.’
The meal smelled fantastic. The scent of roasted rabbit, rich and heady, filled the air. They could see potatoes and carrots being roasted on sticks along the edge of the fire by the children of the gnomes all laughing and giggling as they saw the men approach with Nyxia. None seemed in the least bit afraid and even the animals did not stir. The gnomes set out tiny, little tables and chairs with all sorts of little folk sitting at them drinking tiny little tankards of ale and mulled mead, smoking tiny little pipes of sweet musky scented tobacco. Gnomish men played little guitars, singing gaily at one table, while many of the other men slapped their tables to the beat of the happy tune their brethren played.
It overwhelmed the companions to see such camaraderie and happiness amongst so many different races, all brought together by these little gnomes under the rule of Nyxia. All the while, the darkest of evils lurked only days from their serene little slice of the fae realm.
“Children, listen!” Nyxia raised her hands to simmer them down to a dull roar. “We have guests this eve and I want you to extend to them the fullest of gnomish hospitalities. To the brownies, pixies, and sprites, no funny business! Let us welcome our guests with a bath and a good meal. We shall show them what true sylvan hospitality is.”
With that, she clapped her hands together twice and many little gnomish women hurried over and began scampering up the companions like climbing apparatus while still others pushed them toward various large curtained areas they’d set up for the companions to clean up in. The gnomes helped them undress and prepare for their baths. The gnomes made little tubs, very small for men, even smaller for one of the stature of Ravak. The gnomes misjudged the size of men as they had not seen one in many seasons, but the tubs did the job. All of the companions were bathed, scrubbed, and scented with sandalwood oil. The little ladies even tied several ribbons and bows into Manya’s ringletts. She not only looked beautiful, but it helped tie her wild mane down. She couldn’t thank them enough, doling out many a tiny handshake whereby she’d stick out her finger and the gnomish women would shake it with their full palm wrapped around the digit. Manya found it adorable. All the magick of the last few days had done nothing for her hair and it stood on end frequently, making her look as if it were more of a hurricane than the locks of a beautiful young woman. They took all of their clothes and set them each up in a fine white linen robe for the evening with the promise that everything would be laundered and returned fresh and clean the next morning. The gnomish ladies never had to remove stains of ghoul blood f
rom clothing before though they did have a special soap they used when the men got themselves into some goblin blood, which happened to be similarly black and sticky.
Everyone bathed and smelled fresh for the evening feast, they made their way over to the one relatively man-sized table set out for them. Many of the gnomes were already eating and drinking and talking amongst themselves. The animals joined in the feast. While the deer were given fresh rolled oats and berries, the bears and wolves ate of the roasted rabbit along with the crows, owls, and eagles.
Ravak had never seen such as sight as this and the stories he’d have for his father when he returned home would astonish the old man! He took a bite of the rabbit. It tasted succulent and juicy. He washed it down with a steaming hot cup of the mulled mead. Just as he set his cup down, Manya emerged from the blind the gnomish women had bathed and primped her behind.
He’d never seen her look so radiant. She wore a white gown such as his own, but they’d worked wonders on her hair, adorning it with ribbons, bows, and little flowers. She looked magnificent. For the first time, Ravak thought he might be falling for her. She looked of her station, the Drake Vardar, steward of the dragons of Shaarn, immortal and beautiful, worthy of respect and wise beyond the seasons of her tender face.
She looked around for her companions and found all of the men looking upon her with wide eyes, including her brother. She could see the love struck look in Ravak’s eyes and smiled shyly, blushing and lowering her head. She found her way across the busy square as quickly as one could with no shoes on her feet. Ravak was completely enamoured with her beauty. He rose and pulled out the chair next to him for her and she sat down, thanking him softly. He then poured her a cup of the mulled mead and Turynn passed down the tray of roasted rabbit with vegetables, of which she took a generous portion.