Private Tales For the Heart I Once Had

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

"What is my name?" Elinyra once asked Seed Mother.

"You have the earth and sky, the plants and beasts; all that the First World has to offer. What need have you for such a thing as a name?" the spriggan answered with a laugh.

The nameless elf travelled the valleys and hills of her home - the place she called Tir Na Nog. She asked the wandering creatures, the growing plants, the mossy stones and the blue-grey sky,

"What is my name?" But none of them knew.

She asked the whispering pools, for they knew many things, but they would not tell her; None but a gossiping pair of magpies who heckled her.

"The Stag knows, but you will never catch him!"

She set off then to catch the elusive beast, but no matter how fast she ran or how well she hid, she could never reach him. Without her name, she could not remember herself. Without a name, she was truly lost.

---

A low fog rolled across the forested valley, shrouding the world beyond Elinyra's immediate surroundings. She stopped to stare out at the trail that vanished into the clouds only a few yards ahead of her. She knew better than to trust the shifting paths that presented themselves; such things were more often trickery than honest earth - lures into danger - and the dangers had been increasing of late. Larger, more aggressive creatures were emerging from the wilderness, and they were just as real as the enormous cloven track in the moist soil beneath her feet. The wapiti's tracks had become more conspicuous, almost as if her quarry was leading her around rather than trying to escape her.

Mother had warned her not to follow his tracks, but she wouldn't listen this time. Something had changed between them since Elinyra's rebellious act of welcoming a visitor into Tir Na Nog. Now she knew Mother would do nothing to stop her - for she had grown afraid of the nameless guardian. Of the shroud of darkness buried in her soul.

Twisted, porous tree trunks glowed in a soft indigo hue courtesy of the surrounding bioluminescent undergrowth; a sheen that seemed to saturate the misty air and further hinder her sight. It was times like these that she relied more on the senses she shared with Tir Na Nog's plants and animals. A skill she'd lately been honing in her hunt, though it seemed the others would tell her precious little.

How many days had she been following this trail through terrain both familiar and strange with most of her home packed on her back? But for times to rest and gather food along the way, she had lost track of time. Time, among other things that she should be minding.

My feet for one, she thought as her sore legs halted their march. At the base of one of the trees, a soft bed of moss tempted rest. She sighed wearily, knowing full well that beneath the patch was a nest of carnivorous insects. Instead, she stretched out her hammock between two sturdy trunks a safe distance away, kicked off her boots, and settled in for a nap.

Where is my name?


Quacey

 

[Quacey]

So near yet far
Prancing through the mist.
Is that who you are?
Or just the gist?
Feet sticky with tar,
I offer you my fist.

Things had played out a little differently for Quacey than usual. He had felt it as always. A gentle at first tug towards a poor lost soul in need of aid. A seeker of guiding light in a realm of darkness. The shepherd or the lantern. He did not know which he was called to be just yet. He did not know if there truly was a difference. All he knew was he had just put his twins to bed when the call came.

With a sigh and one last look at his hearts he answered.

The fae never knew where his grand duty took him. All he need do it follow the tugs with his feet. And eventually he would be where he needed to be. The same routine. The same outcome. Either he found the lost soul or they found him. After it was just doing what he could and accepting if they got what they needed to find their path once more.

This time took him to a strange place of mist. Of fog. Of misdirection and illusion. A place of weird winds and waters. A shame then that it was he who entered. It was all fruitless trickery. An attempt at using honey sweet words to sway a deaf man. He just ignored everything around him and followed his primal instincts marching ever closer to the one in need.

And soon enough the lost little lamb was found.

Quacey approached the woman sleeping in her hammock beneath the tree. His eyes quickly studying her over. Mortal. An elf if he remembered what her kind were called. Something felt off about her. He could not place what it might be. She slept so he chose to let her rest. It was important even for those who lived as long as his own kind to rest so was likely doubly so for a mortal.

Instead the fae just gathered up the fallen materials required and made a fire no far away. He pulled up a log on either side of the fire then sat down at one. Out came his journal and he began to write. Normally a poem came to him before events. This time it came to him after finding the lost.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

It wasn't the smell of smoke nor the crackling of burning wood that woke Elinyra with a start; rather it was the vague but pressing sensation that something was amiss. The forest whispered its discomfort and fear to her. Once she bolted upright to investigate her surroundings, she quickly recognized the source of its agitation.

Fire. She almost didn't spot the flame's tender, so intent was she on the searing curls of hungry flame. At first glance her blighted half recoiled in instinctual fear. The surrounding trees and plants subtly leaned away from the danger almost in concert with her own reaction.

"Thân!" she cried as she bolted from the hammock, nearly tripping over herself in the process. Her first thought was to find water to douse the fire, but surprise froze her in her tracks. Another aspect of this scene was wildly out of place - the man sitting next to the burning pile of deadwood, writing calmly in a book.

"Urth y cerrig! Who....?!" Her gaze drifted surreptitiously to her bow, which was lying beside her quiver beneath the head of the hammock. She wasn't so quick to believe every Otherworlder was an enemy anymore, but she'd learned never to have her weapons far out of reach.

The man, tall and muscled and fair, appeared somewhat like someone from the Otherworld, but there was something about him that struck her as suspiciously familiar. An aura, a scent, something altogether more obscure... she couldn't be certain what it was, but it gave her an undeniable feeling of deja vu.

"Your fire is unwelcome. I suggest putting it out before you anger something," she said in a steady voice, once she was able to finally overcome instinct with sense.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" she demanded.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Nothing to do but wait, Quacey began to pay attention to his surroundings more closely. Where had he found himself? A misty forest. A land of secrets. A place no eyes could see the truth of things till you were upon it. The mortals feared such realms no matter where they were from. The unknown always hide as many dangers as treasures. Perhaps more dangers if he trusted his own experience.

But this place did not bother him. He never put as much trust into his eyes as others. He had other ways of perceiving things and the tricks of his fellow fae were more familiar than strange. The way the plants responded to his fire and the general energy about him told him he was in another's realm. A reason to remember his manners. He would take issue if someone arrived at his home and made a mess, especially now that he had his children to worry about.

Suddenly the woman woke up. Her first response was confusion and concern. A question then a statement and then more questions. His gaze went to her for a silent moment. Rather casually he pushed dirt over the top of his fire to put it out. A couple of pats to ensure it would smother followed.

His focus going back to her. He gave her a bit of a bowing nod as he said, "I am Quacey and I am here because I am needed."

The fae motioned towards the log across from him. An offer to join him peacefully on equal grounds. The large fae would likely still physically tower over her, but who would expect him to sit in a hole just to even things out in such a way?

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Elinyra studied the man for a long moment after his introduction. Of all the beasts and kith from the Otherworld who'd wandered into Tir Na Nog, this was the first to show no fear of its cunning landscape. If anything, he seemed quite at home here. She wasn't sure whether she should be worried, but she certainly found herself unnerved by his casual attitude towards the forest.

Stranger still was how the woods reacted to him. The forest of Tir Na Nog was in essence a sentient being of its own right, its creatures only parts of a greater whole. Now that the fire was extinguished, the forest's spirit seemed... complacent, almost. As if it recognized that he held some authority. Or perhaps it was just curious.

She took up his offer to sit on the log once she'd retrieved her bow and quiver. She offered no reasoning for arming herself, but neither did she string the bow. Despite the fact that he was a towering figure compared to her, she looked up at him with more curiosity than fear. Not all small things were harmless, after all.

This wasn't the first time an Otherworlder had felt obligated to come into this land. The guardian wondered if this one, like the last, had confused the disparity of their foreign nature with some sort of disease needing a cure.

She would get to his reasoning soon enough, but there was a question she felt compelled to ask first:
"Do you understand where you are?" she asked as a thin sliver of dissipating smoke rose between them.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

The large fae sat and waited as the strange mortal woman remained guarded with him. Wise decision. His gaze remained upon her studying her over. There had been many mortals he had met in his life time. She was under conditions he had yet to see amongst her kind. Curious. Was it related to her becoming lost or simply an aspect of who she was as a whole?

While the forest was taking an interest in Quacey, he held none for it. Yet another realm of yet another fae. Often he traversed boundaries and borders of his kin. One just needed to respect their rules and remember to act as a guest should. And they should remember to act as a host least conflict erupt. An outcome none would desire.

Her one and only question was a bit odd. One that got a bit of a frown from him. His eyes went to her own.

"Can one truly understand where they are at ever? It would be akin to understanding another. An impossible task as there is always aspects held back meaning we can only ever understand parts of others yet never the whole."

How cryptic of him. Was his poetic side holding root delving into the philosophy of the soul?

No. Quacey was merely feeling slightly annoyed by the order of this meeting. It had been some time since he last met with a mortal and often forgot they did not follow the same rules as the fae. Best he remind her of proper manners in a more gentle rather than aggressive way.

"Might I have the pleasure of knowing whom I am speaking with? Seems rude and unjust for only one of us to introduce themselves before discussing the current affair."

Hopefully she took the obvious hint there. Why mortals felt the need to hide their secrets was frustrating. If it was true then speak it. If it needed to remain mysterious then don't draw attention to it by being so obvious with its hiding.

Regardless, they just needed to get past this early mistrust so proper discourse could take place. There was no guiding by lantern light if the one being guided refused to open their eyes.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Her expression softened to one of curiosity at his unexpected response. At first she found the statement carried a dangerous naivety, a sentimentality that had no place in the wilderness; but on second thought, perhaps it was very fitting. She often felt that she understood so little about the mysteries of her home, and by extension about herself.

She couldn't understand her visitor's sense of etiquette any more than a caged bird could understand the construction of its prison. She briefly stumbled over the question of her name - partly because she was still musing on his first thought, and partly because she had none yet to give.

"If it is my name you seek, then I'm afraid I have yet to catch it," she replied in a low voice with a glance to the trail where she'd found the Stag's cloven tracks. She wondered if the beast was getting farther away the longer she sat here... or if it mattered at all in this apparently unceasing chase. If it really was a creature she chased, or just a rainbow's end.

Yet she felt she should offer Quacey something. "Know that I am a daughter of Tir Na Nog: A guardian of its mountains and dales and wooded hills." Her gaze met his with a determination that couldn't completely hide the supernatural enchantment beneath. She told the truth, as far as she knew. What she didn't know, and couldn't tell, was how much more there was to the story than what she remembered.

"If that knowing satisfies your curiosity, Quacey of the Otherworld, what is this 'current affair' of which you speak?"

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Clarity upon her circumstances already. She lacked a name and when one lacked a name they lacked a sense of self. This set all but a precious rare few adrift upon unfamiliar waters. She could be one of those that could guide themselves back to shore, but he felt she was in need of a lighthouse to avoid the rocks.

The title she gave him meant little to him. No doubt it was important, but he was unaware of Tir Na Nog. Obviously it was where they were, but why it was important was currently out of his mental reach. So instead he decided it best to address her question.

"I am not satisfied, but that has nothing to do with my curiosity nor yourself. I never will be so long as I am away from my children."

Quacey paused and thought about his precious babes. Sweet currently in their innocence. How big of handfuls would they be when they were grown? If like he and their mother then likely would fill every hand in Twinhome.

"As for our current affair, that would be your lack of a name to give to me."

A strange topic to bring up with a stranger. One he was too numb to ponder by now. Did the smith and baker pay attention to the heat of their crafts? Aware of it yes, but pay it any heed? It was the same for him regarding addressing such deep rooted problems.

"I am here because I am needed. I guide those lost and seeking their proper path once more."

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Soft fingers of mist swirled about the surrounding trees; tiny droplets suspended in the autumn air, foretelling rain. Rain was rare in Tir Na Nog, but the last few days had ushered in storms, bringing muddy earth and bone-chilling dampness with them. Elinyra found it doubly unwelcome because it had several times washed away her trail.

"You wish to guide me? To my name?" she asked skeptically. His offer of assistance struck her as being more out of some sense of responsibility than kindness. She wondered why it was important for him to help her at all; surely this was not at Mother's bequest.

She glanced at the wapiti tracks leading into a dense grove of stocky, lace-leafed trees. It wouldn't cause any harm to tell him, even if she had her doubts that he could help her.

"The beasts who will speak to me say that only the great Stag knows my name, but it moves though the forest more like this mist than any animal. Are you to guide me to it?"

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Guide her to her name. The stag held it. More like mist than any animal.

Quacey pondered upon her words. Seemed rather strange to him that another held her name. It was not their name but her name. No one else could hold it from her. It seemed more as if she just didn't remember what it was and someone was playing a trick upon her because of it.

"Are you certain this Stag holds your name? If the beasts do not know it then why would this Stag? If it evades you then it means it does not have what you seek."

The large fae picked up a stick and began to etch out something upon the ground with it.

"Names hold no meaning. They are an empty vessel till given meaning. Many believe themselves to be the vessel that is empty till filled with purpose. This is not true. We always hold meaning and a purpose. We do not need something beyond ourselves to provide it. If we feel hallow it is because we have forgotten to look within. To understand what is there. People expect a fire when what we hold is a silent pool. Provide a drop and it begins to ripple. Provide more and you produce waves. Movement is seen as a sign of purpose being provided. It is nothing more than a sign that you had forgotten how deeply your meaning goes."

When he finished speaking he also finished drawing. It was a circle made out of what looked like vines with three tri-spirals giving it a roughly triangular look. Inside was empty. He held the stick out towards her.

"Fill the vessel with what you know of yourself. No detail too minor or unimportant. That is what makes you. That is what will give meaning to your name. Any name you chose to go by."

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Elinyra watched him draw in the wet soil in silence while she considered his words. She often felt that there was some deeper meaning behind her life here, but it always seemed just out of her reach. Like the stag, forever leading her in some direction she couldn't fathom.

"I don't really know how the stag has it," she admitted. "I only feel that we are connected somehow. As if the stag has a name that I also once knew."

She took the offered stick, tapping it in the circle's empty center, but she could only stare at his drawing for several long moments until something came to her; gradually, brokenly, like a tide sweeping in only to meet jagged rocks.

"I am a protector. I am..." some memories came to her - hazy and distorted, like something viewed through a sheet of rain, but glimpsed nonetheless. "... a guide, at times."

She recalled leading the qilin Xián Yuè through part of this forest when it was a great deal more hostile than it was presently. She never knew what had become of the beautiful faerie creature, only thought back to the moments of his cordial company.

"One called me huntress and druid. I remember it as if from a distant past. Felt it in my bones. Druid. I am a-"

She cut short when she remembered the carnivorous plant that had attacked them. Then a descent into a cold and lonely darkness that seemed to devour all of of the life around her. She remembered being shrouded in despair and anger - and a greater, older darkness that spoke with such familiarity.

"-a reaper," she finished coldly, as if spoken with another voice, or from a darker part of her mind.

Something clouded her thoughts, and she went quiet again, her eyes never leaving the symbol upon the ground. Maybe it was the way Quacey had described the idea, maybe it was just that the design itself brought to mind a place that she held especially dear.

"This looks like the Whispering Pools. I've searched many times for answers there, but found none that I understand. Perhaps..." she trailed off, wondering if it was a good idea to even mention it. The pools had become a place of sanctuary to her. Leading a stranger there was an uncomfortable thought.

She glanced up at him, studying his face to gauge his reaction. "They are a few days' journey from here," she explained with a dismissive shrug.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Like a disturbed pool with the sand beginning to sink and settle, Quacey watched and listened as the woman's mind went from haze to a better sense of clarity as she spoke. There was never any certainty what would and would not work when someone was as lost as she. His light could only illuminate so much on the way back to her path. Any number of roots and twisting branches could suddenly appear and block what once seemed clear.

But she held an idea. He had sat back silently to let her mind work in peace and it seemed to be the correct choice. A place she called the Whispering Pools was a few days from where they were and she seemed to hold hope that they held answers for her. Perhaps they did. Perhaps they did not. He knew only as much as she did about what may lay ahead for them. It was not his purpose nor place to know the answers. It was his duty to stay with her till she found her path or embraced a new one.

Quacey stood up. He brushed off his clothing then turned his attention to Elinrya. "The Whispering Pools then. If you feel they might hold answers then we should find out. This stag can wait. It will refuse to be caught regardless of when you chase it so chase what stays in place."

An odd thought that. Chasing what stays in place. Could it be called a chase at all if it did not flee? Was flight truly required for something to be a chase? Questions that didn't matter much right now. His concern was more focused on if they were going from the chasers to the chased.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Elinyra leveled her gaze at him for a moment. "Just give me a few minutes to gather my things."

She moved quickly, first taking down her hammock and then re-packing it into her pack; all the while she pondered if this was really a new path, or simply a distraction from her hunt. She found she was more inclined to believe the former, if for no other reason than out of simple weariness.

Hoisting her pack over her shoulders and securing it across her back, she pointed towards a a gap between two stands of close-knit conifers. "This way."

She said nothing for a long while while they passed beneath the wide, dark boughs prickly with needles, silent giants in the creeping mist. She expected she'd get only riddles in return, so she kept herself instead occupied studying the small creatures that scampered out of the danger of their feet. Only brief glimpses of scaled or furred forms, or the wet glint of eyes, met them from the things hiding beneath great twisting roots and fallen branches.

The morning mist that had lingered well past its time finally loosed its grip on the forest. allowing the ghosts of tree trunks to appear as a vast army around them. Or an enormous tribe - a family.

"Why did you leave your children to help me, if you find it unsatisfying?" she asked as she carefully hopped over a fallen log colonized by dainty mushrooms that glowed like tiny lanterns.

Quacey