Elsbeth and Sim (Tales from the Emerald Mountains)

by Rhett DeVane

  “So? I am a girl.”

  Elsbeth clipped strings from the jacket in her lap and held it up. If she had some kind of sewing machine, the stitches would be tighter. Right, like they even made machines for someone her size. Still, the coat made from denim scraps and owl down would keep her warm.

  “I wondered about something Benjamin said to you.” Elsbeth struggled to keep her voice even.

  “Hmm?” Taproot transferred the cooked cakes to a platter and spooned more batter onto the skillet.

  “About ‘your little people.’ ”

  Taproot waited a moment before he answered. “I hoped you hadn’t heard that.”

  “What did Benjamin mean?” Elsbeth joined him by the hearth.

  “There are more like you and Sim.”

  Her mouth hung open. “I thought we were—”

  “The only ones?” Taproot slid the last huckleberry cake to a plate and removed the skillet onto a rock to cool. “Try one. Fresh and hot.”

  When Elsbeth bit down on a small pinch of cake, the flavor of berries and honey melted on her tongue. “This is really good.”

  “Thank you. My secret recipe.” Taproot wolfed down four cakes and took a sip of tea.

  “What about the others? Tell me. Please.”

  “There’ve been in the past those who left the lowlands and happened upon my valley.” He chewed thoughtfully. “Older than you and Sim. Much older. But with the same desire to remain in the Emerald Mountains forever. I might have changed a few.”

  Elsbeth’s pulse quickened. “Where are they? Can I meet them? Do they live nearby? What are their names? Do they look like us?”

  “Whoa. Easy. That’s a lot of questions.” Taproot settled onto a sitting rock and propped on a down pillow. “Can’t say for sure how many. Could be close to a hundred by now. The two main branches started from Dena and Zachary. One female, one male. Both clans live over the mountain passes, deep in the forest.”

  “Can we go there?” Elsbeth leaned closer.

  “Been decades since I took that journey. Most of the news from the deep mountain clans comes by way of the travelers.”

  “Travelers?”

  Taproot nodded. “Every now and then, one comes along who doesn’t like to stay in a single place, so he or she travels between the clans bringing gifts, news, that sort of thing. They don’t often stray down into the foothills—too close to the lowlands. Yet, one passes by from time to time.”

  Elsbeth quivered. “We have to find them! They’re family, sort of. Don’t you see?”

  “That’s important to you.” Taproot studied her.

  Elsbeth held her arms wide. “I want a huge family more than anything in the world.” Tears blurred her vision. “It’s not that I don’t love you and Sim, though he makes me stupid-crazy sometimes. And all the animals, they’re great. It’s just . . . I remember only a few things about my family. One day, the pictures in my mind will vanish forever. Gosh, does any of that make any sense?”

  Taproot held Elsbeth’s chin with the tips of two weathered fingers. “I’ll make sure you have a family again, my dear. Count on it.” He leaned back. “But for now, locating those deep mountain clans is out of the question. The passes are no doubt thick with snowdrifts and impassible until the spring thaw.”

  “Can we talk about it then? Can we, Taproot?” Elsbeth jiggled in place, the sadness forgotten for a moment.

  “We’ll see.” He stood with a groan and shuffled to a cabinet where he stored jars of herbal liniment.

  Elsbeth’s lips curled up and she took a sip of tea. We’ll see—she recalled that reply from before, with her parents. She could usually get them to yield if she persisted, like water smoothing the edges of a stream rock, a little at a time.

  Sim bounded into the room, his packs dragging behind. “What smells yummy?”

  Elsbeth watched Sim dive into the sweetbreads.

  Taproot harrumphed then winked at Elsbeth. “Good thing you and I had our fill. The wolf has arrived.”

  The best word Elsbeth could think of to describe the intensity of Taproot and the animals was with one she recalled her father using for her mother’s winter preparations: dither. The mountain man dithered from one oak or hickory tree to the next, gathering acorns and nuts like a greedy hoarder. The squirrels chattered so fast she barely had time to understand one word before they charged to the next and the next.

  The storerooms bulged with sun-dried fruits, nuts, and berries. Honey crocks lined the shelves in the underground apartments, along with water jugs for times when trips to the well and stream would be impossible. With the sun setting earlier over the treetops, they picked up the dizzy pace as if driven by some hidden prod.

  Sim stabbed each acorn with his knife blade, yelling yah! when the sharp tool pierced the seed’s dark brown skin. Boys were basically weird. For her part, she trailed behind, picking up any smaller nuts the others missed, stuffing them into a hip pouch.

  The rabbits were busy carving two underground rooms, connected to Elsbeth and Sim’s homes by winding tunnels.

  Elsbeth jogged beside Taproot. “What’s with those new caves?”

  “Necessary rooms. You’ll understand later,” he mumbled.

  The old elf spoke less as the fall breezes turned harsh. He ordered Sim and Elsbeth around with short barked commands, then disappeared into his hollow without the usual invitation for hot tea and story time.

  Elsbeth propped her hands on her hips and aimed her comment toward anyone within earshot. “I don’t know what’s up, but fall sure makes everyone grumpy.”

  Taproot hoisted a full bucket of hickory nuts. “What’s up, princess? First hard snow, that’s what’s up. We don’t get food stores in place soon, they’ll be buried under drifts so thick we’ll never find them.” He sniffed the air. “It’s coming. I can smell it.”

  Winter in the city wasn’t such a big deal. Sure, she couldn’t go outside often. Once the soldiers came, no one much wanted to go out anyway. Then there was the horrible time she had lived in the alleys until they captured her and sent her to Westside House. As long as she bundled up and the steam heat clanged the radiators, she managed.

  As though he read her thoughts, Taproot said, “Snow might not be a problem for the lowlanders, but it is up here. If we don’t have enough food to eat, or fuel for the hearth; we won’t live to see the spring.”

  Elsbeth watched him trudge away. A line of squirrels trailed behind.

  Sim appeared beside her. “What’s got your scales in a bunch, Lizard?”

  “This whole winter thing.”

  “It’ll be great.” He drew his knife and stabbed the air. “Living in a cave with all kinds of time to practice my sword.”

  Being cooped up with nothing but rows of books wasn’t so bad. But her two neighbors? A grouchy elf and a boy whose idea of fun was collecting rocks and playing like he was some kind of swashbuckling pirate?

  It was all too much.

  Chapter Fifteen

  By the crude calendar Sim marked daily— scratches on the dirt wall by his hearth —he figured it to be mid-April. In the city, the first spring leaves would be popping out. He had no clue when the mountain winter loosened its grip.

  Sim studied a line of stones, chose three, and placed them in a row on the table rock. One, a dark gray, water-smoothed oval, reminded him of the moon during the recent lunar eclipse. The second, a jagged shard of pink quartz, captured beams from the skylight and scattered white arcs across the cave walls. The third, his favorite, was black as dump dirt.

  “She’ll like the pink one.” He palmed the quartz and slid it into his pocket.

  A present might put Elsbeth in a better mood. If he had anyone else to spend time with, he might be able to ignore her ups and downs. Taproot hadn’t appeared in over four months and the animals hibernated, so no visitors. Period. Just him and Lizard the Lousy, only Sim wouldn’t dare call Elsbeth that to her face.

  “Spring better come soon,” he mumbled.

&n
bsp; Maybe he could tickle her until she got over herself. It could work. If a present of one of his most prized rocks didn’t help, he’d consider it.

  On the way out, he grabbed a pottery mug. Elsbeth could always be cajoled into making herbal tea. Even deep underground, the cold managed to seep through. The small vented hearth fires kept the apartments tolerable, but Sim pulled his overcoat close to ward off the chill of the tunnels.

  “Hey!” he called out before he pulled back the cloth door flap. “I’m coming in!” Sim paused until he heard her muffled answer. When he entered, the scent of herbs filled his nose. Elsbeth’s place always smelled better than his.

  “What’s cookin’, Lizard?”

  Elsbeth looked up from a circle of fire-heated rocks where a small pot steamed. “A tonic. I found the recipe in one of Taproot’s books. Supposed to help wash away the winter blues.”

  She’d better cook up enough to bathe in. He plopped down on a sitting rock and held his hands to the hearth’s warmth. “Sounds good. I’ll take some.” He reached in his jacket and handed over the mug.

  “I have no clue how it tastes, but you can be my first victim.” Elsbeth dipped a generous scoop from the pot and filled his mug.

  Sim sniffed, shrugged. “Over the lips, past the gums, look out stomach, here it comes!” He took a swig before he could change his mind, then gagged.

  “Bad?” Elsbeth winced.

  Sim dropped the mug and held his hands to his throat, then sprawled backwards onto the floor. He kicked twice before pretending to pass out.

  “Sim!” Elsbeth rushed to his side and shook his shoulders. “Can you hear me? Wake up!” When he didn’t respond, she grabbed a jacket and dashed toward the tunnels.

  Sim jerked upright. “Wait! Wait! Jeez. I was joking!”

  Elsbeth slammed to a stop, whirled around and snorted back across the room. “You!”

  “I was only trying to have some fun, Lizard. Ease up.” Sim reached for the cup and took another long drink. “It isn’t half-bad. Not good, but not half-bad.”

  “I ought to slap you silly.” She frowned down at him, her arms propped on her hips.

  Sim pulled a face, one that usually made her laugh. She didn’t budge. He jumped to his feet, danced around with his legs and arms flying in all directions. Still, nothing from Lizard the Lousy. Sim pulled his coat over the top of his head and crouched down, doing his best to imitate a wild animal gone completely crazy.

  Elsbeth’s mouth twitched.

  “I saw that!” Sim circled her, jabbing at her ribs. “Laugh, Lizard. C’mon. I know you can do it.”

  Sim hit a ticklish spot and Elsbeth broke into giggles. He joined in, until both of them rolled on the floor with joy-tears streaming down their faces.

  When they finally stopped, Elsbeth took a deep shaky breath. “Wow. I feel better.”

  Sim reached in his pocket and presented the quartz. “This is for you.”

  “A rock?”

  “Not just any rock. One of my top three faves.”

  She studied the pink quartz. “Um . . . thanks. It’s pretty, for a rock. I’ll use it to—” Her eyes scanned the room “—hold books open so I don’t keep losing my place.”

  “Good. Glad you like it.”

  Overhead, a few meager sun rays filtered through one of the bottle skylights.

  Elsbeth sighed. “I’m sorry I’ve been so—”

  “Crabby, surly, grumpy?” Sim supplied. “Irritable, prickly, out-of-sorts?”

  “You’ve been reading that dictionary of Taproot’s, I see.”

  “Never hurts to improve one’s mind. You’re not the only one who can read, Lizard.” He dipped another cup of tonic. “This stuff kind of grows on you. Hope you make some more.”

  “I will, since it’s a spring tonic. And spring will come soon, I hope.”

  Elsbeth peeked down at the curious pendant around her neck, an odd piece of jewelry made from a discarded moth cocoon. Before Taproot had crawled into his hollow in the late fall, the old elf had instructed her to collect two tears within its silken walls. His words: At a time when you feel the great joy of life, catch the mist from your soul of souls. Wear it next to your heart. She did as he asked, only she wasn’t sure if the two tears she had collected reeked of joy.

  In a few weeks, the pendant changed from a rough off-white cocoon to a smooth blue oval crystal. Elsbeth noticed a shadowy glow at its center. She searched the medicine books for clues to its meaning, but found nothing.

  Elsbeth made her way back from one of the necessary rooms. Now she understood why the rabbits had dug the additional caves. In the city, she never thought much about bathrooms. She went in, did her business, and left. When she and Sim made the transition to the forest, they learned where to relieve themselves. Always, Taproot taught, far enough away from their water source to avoid contamination, covering the spot with earth to aid their leavings’ return to the soil. What they excreted helped plants grow. Elsbeth found the whole thing a little revolting.

  The underground bathrooms smelled worse than the dump on a summer afternoon, despite a liberal sprinkling of Taproot’s special powder. The reason for the winding tunnels became clear, too. The odor didn’t leach into their living quarters. Thank the light for that.

  When she reached the common chamber beneath the main entrance, her shoes sucked into thick mud. The earthen floor was soggy with standing water.

  “This is the end! It’s not enough to be stuck down here for months. Now I suppose we’re going to drown.” An icy mass plopped on her head, sending her sprawling.

  “Ugh!” She pulled herself from the muck and stared up, angry and filthy. A patch of blue sky peeked through the burrow opening. Laughing and crying at once, she crawled upward and poked her head into the outside air. Armies of tender green growth marched between small mounds of melting snow.

  “Whoop!” She scampered to Sim’s apartment, yelling as she ran. “It’s here! It’s spring!”

  Sim flipped the door flap back. “Lizard. What’s up?” His gaze took in his friend. “What’d you do, take a mud bath?”

  “No, silly. It’s from the melting snow!” Elsbeth danced. “Grab your coat. Let’s wake up Taproot.”

  “Think that’s a good idea?”

  She grabbed Sim by the hand. He snatched his jacket from the back of a sitting rock and managed to pull it on as she dragged him toward Taproot’s emergency tunnel entrance.

  A grumpy, half-asleep Taproot stuck his head from his cavern. “What’s all the fuss? Enough to wake the dead.”

  Elsbeth threw back her head and sang, “It’s spu-ring!”

  Taproot followed them from the hollow log. “Suppose so. You could’ve let me sleep in another month or so.”

  “But it’s so pretty outside. Look at all this green.” Elsbeth watched Sim dash from one clump of grass to the next, wielding his knife like a sword to nip the tips from the tender blades.

  The old magician scratched and stretched. His wrinkled clothes hung in loose folds. “Hate to see myself this time of year. Skinny as a cattail. Which reminds me—I’m powerfully hungry. Now see what you and Sim have done?”

  Later, they shared a breakfast of dried fruit, nuts, and a few assorted greens Elsbeth had found near the spring—three friends meeting again after a long absence.

  “Hard to believe, we’ve been here nearly a year,” Sim said.

  “Elsbeth shoved my books into her memory, but what did you do with yourself, Sim?” Taproot leaned back and emitted a loud belch.

  “I learned about my rocks, a little about each one—granite, feldspar, quartz. Pretty cool, huh? Oh, and I read this book on how to make knives and spears.” Sim pulled a flat stone from one pocket. “This is chert, a rock kind of like flint, with quartz and silica in it. I knapped the edges off with another stone to form sharp sides and a point.”

  “Industrious of you, Sim. A piece of deer antler will knap flint, too. Be happy to show you.” Taproot turned to Elsbeth. “I see you’re still
wearing the pendant.”

  “I even wore it when I bathed. That was a challenge, keeping it from getting wet and soapy. What is it?”

  The mountain elf’s eyes sparkled. “You’ll see. Soon enough.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Flowers and dewy ferns circled the clearing near the place where Mrs. Grumly’s cabin once stood. The forest had inched forward, covering the charred timbers with tendrils of new green. Only the blackened rock chimney remained. Elsbeth watched Taproot skitter from the hollow to the table rock. Bowls of salad and herbal broths sat in a circle atop the table and water-smoothed sitting stones dotted the ground. The old magician’s eyes twinkled each time he looked her way.

  “What’s all of this?” she asked.

  Taproot stopped in front of her. “It’s a nice evening for a celebration.”

  “What are we celebrating?”

  “Oh . . . ,” he drawled, “lots of things: Spring. Friends. New beginnings. The life light of the universe, the same light that makes us shine as who we are.”

  Elsbeth tried to imagine light flickering through her. Was it the same as the sharp energy that tore the skies during thunderstorms? Or more like the gentle glow of fireflies?

  Sim appeared and threw a double armful of foxfire onto the ground. “This enough?”

  Taproot nodded without looking his way, intent on the odd-smelling liquid he decanted into a tall pitcher. “Fine.” He turned and disappeared into the hollow.

  “What’s up with him?” Sim asked Elsbeth.

  Elsbeth shrugged.

  Darkness engulfed the valley as the animals filtered into the clearing. Many they hadn’t seen since before the first snow. Sim sprawled on a sitting stone, whittling an oak twig. Curls of wood collected at his feet.

  A hush fell when Taproot swept into the clearing. “Welcome dear friends!”

  He sat his baskets down and raised his arms to the star-dusted heavens. “Blessed is the light,” he sang. “The light is with us. We celebrate life. The light and the life are one. We are the light. We are one.”