Completed The Most Wily of Creatures

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Come my friends and sit down with me
With the fire a'glow
The story will grow
Let us tell tales as tall as trees


​

Memories from an Autumn Past


Just outside the walls of the Astenvale Monastery, Elinyra gathered bundles of dry wood for what would soon be a crackling fire. The fire was a long-held tradition, though it would also be a welcome warmth for those who gathered here; for the first faint icy breaths of winter had begun to nightly whisper its silent lullaby - a song familiar to the plants and animals of the Vale. For them, now was the time to prepare for the onslaught of cold and snow, to feast now before all was gone, or to finish the cycles of their lives.

But for those who would be sitting around the fire, now was a time for the sacred and timeless art of storytelling.

The druid had only been at the monastery for a scant month now, buried in libraries and research for days unending. She'd found her moments of escape in ritual, song and story. The latter she found sometimes drew an eager audience from the younger squires after their hours of toil and training. She told of her people and their history, of their myths and spirits. In their turn, the squires told their own gathered tales of heroic knights and terrible monsters, and of the legends of the Vale. It was the closest to an Eistfydd - the sharing of arts, songs and stories - she'd had since well before she left the Falwood, and it was the best company she could ask for.

She had informed the squires of her plans for a real gathering through word of mouth. One of the squires, Mara, had volunteered for that task while Elinyra prepared the clearing they would be using. A ring of stones for a firepit sat in the middle of the clearing with plenty of open space around; a few scraggly-branched trees scattered around as the forest's presence, and pleasant places to set up tents and bedrolls. It had been quite a bit of work to get some of the knights to approve sending their squires out for an overnight trip just for the sake of telling tall tales, but most had been agreeable. Elinyra might even see one or two chaperones, ever on the lookout for trouble (though trouble from the woods, or from the squires themselves, she wasn't certain).

In the spirit of a true Eistfydd, some snacks were sitting out in bowls: seeds, hazelnuts and dried wild berries, dried apples, popped corn, crackers. It was a humble selection, but the monastery was also preparing its larder for the coming winter. Elinyra purposefully left out the traditional meads and wines, though she had managed to procure a few jugs of young apple cider from the village. She didn't expect they would last very long.

The air stirred as the sun leaned down to kiss the far hills and treetops in a show of pinks, purples, reds and golds painted across wisps of clouds. Elinyra called to a touch of flame, the spark of fading summer, to help her start the neat stacks of branches and logs. With effort, with even a hint of some instinctual fear, she managed. The spirits here were more stubborn than most.

A wisp of smoke rose from the bundles of dried grass and bark at the foot of the wood. Elinyra took a seat on one of several chairs set around the fire and inhaled the scents of wood and flame with a serene smile. She retrieved a wooden flute from the bag of supplies she'd brought and started to play a simple tune. In the deepening shades of evening, the trees' shadows gathered to dance to the haunting, echoing notes.

The story was here, waiting to be told.

 

[Hector]

Hector let out a long breath. Felt his heart beat faster, and stronger behind his ribs. A gulp. The cold biting against his nose and at the tips of his ears.

"Come on then, Hector," he said to himself.

He had faced down foes. Ranged through the wilds. Completed a few real quests. There was no need to feel so nervous about a little training session now, was there?

But here was a chance to learn of the Wylds. Not from a Knight of the order that had raised him, but from a Druid of a distant forest. An elf of the Falwood.

How he had read the stories. Those woods most ancient. Beset upon all sides by the expansion of ambitious humanity.

Part of him. Part of his own story. His own roots twined there with human history. Ambition. To craft. To change. To feel the urgency of time press down upon you. The hurt of bones, come change in sudden shifts. Quick growths. Deep pains.

But there too the soft ease of sense. Each breeze felt across the skin. Along the length of ears so sensitive to the sounds of each whisper and twist. The stretch of supple green limb, and the flutter of happy leaf.

Light left unseen by the eyes of many. Winds wen unheard by most.

A rise and fall of lungs push and pull. He would learn of the story. He would follow the deep dig of old roots. Find plume of smoke and bright flicker of flame.

Upon the open ground, the sound of sweet song did carry. A tune, heartfelt and deep in its pang, a sweet ache that rest between the tender spots of joints and rib.

Hector came to sit at one of the open seats, and nod with small smile toward the Druid. Felt his blood rush, and his cheeks flush with warm feeling. His eyes averted, and he would wait for the song to end as other squires came to sit there too.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Amelia Hawthorne]

The warmth of Amelia's cider cup was a welcome boon against the crisp air that was finding its way into her tunic, despite how close to the fire she sat.

In fact, Amelia had been sitting there since Elinyra had finished setting up, for fear of being late.

Shocking, she knew.

But as the space began to fill up, the scholar felt the chill chased from her limbs. Laughter and warmth began to litter the space once again after the remnants of applause for the singer dissipated.

Scanning the crowd quietly, the squire caught eyes with Hector and waved with hesitant yet brief friendliness. She had not spoken to him in some time and found the squire to be amicable enough. Amelia appreciated him for how passionately he took his place within their Order, his convictions something she found kinship with. Her own being something she was often teased for in their depth and intensity.

Elinyra Derwinthir Hector

 

[Mara Tillerman]

Mara felt anxiety swell in her chest as she came down the narrow path into the clearing. Looking around, she saw by the sparse turnout that she hadn't advertised the druid's event very well. That disappointment was quickly balanced by the relief that she wouldn't have to vie for a good seat by the fire... or compete for treats.

She helped herself to the lineup of snacks and drink before finding a spot at the edge of the group to sit. She saw Hector waiting eagerly for something to happen and Amelia sipping on spiced cider. Chewing on a piece of dried apple, Mara still wondered what exactly Elinyra had planned. The druid, in her mysterious way, had both hinted at a training exercise and a story. In Mara's experience, the sort of stories related to training were always in the theme of how someone had hurt themselves in some dramatic fashion.

Mara wrapped herself in her coat to stave off the chill evening breeze and waited. She hoped it was a story about monsters. Or dragons. Or pirates. Or better yet, pirates riding dragons!

 

[Innis]

The sun was starting to set already, and Innis was running late. She was hastily throwing things into her pack that she didn't need, and stepping right past essential items.

"Hurry up Innis, we're going to be the last ones there," Winry, another squire a couple years younger than Innis, called out from outside her dorm room.

"Almost ready!" Innis' hand stopped at the bottle of plum wine on her shelf, something that Josai had helped her brew earlier that summer. It wasn't that kind of party, was it? Most of the squires were old enough to have a glass of wine at dinner, and basically every celebration from here to Wend involved imbibing spirits in copious amounts... but maybe an elf from Falwood didn't do that sort of thing... Innis shrugged, and shoved the bottle into the folds of her blanket, nestled safely in her pack. If it wasn't needed, she didn't have to take it out.

"C'mon -- I'll leave without you!"

In response, Innis pushed open the door of her room and stared down the redheaded girl standing outside. "No way you would go off on your own." She slung her pack over one shoulder and stepped past Winry. She could hear the crunch of gravel as the other girl followed behind. "You're too scared of the dark."

"I-I'm not afraid of the dark..." Winry skipped a few steps to catch up with Innis, and walk beside her on the path. Her gloved fists were balled up determinedly as she swung her gait wider. "But... you'll still tell me if if you see a ghost, right?"

"Of course, Win."

---

They were the last ones there, but to her relief, it didn't look like anything had started in full swing yet. Offloading her pack, Innis plopped down next to Mara, because she seemed to be the last in line, and there was still room on that log.

The fire was crackling bright, and above the sound of it a sweet tune floated. She saw the faces of her fellow squires warmed by the firelight, Hector and Amelia. But she didn't greet them just yet, as she was busy catching her breath. Her elbows rested heavily against her knees, and she was slouched over as her shouldered heaved. Innis gave a watery sniff, as gupls of the cold air started to make her nose run.

Winry had made them run the last bit, unwilling to miss even a small piece of the promised night.

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

The song ended on a sustained low note. Elinyra set the flute down and smiled at those who had gathered around the fire. Most of the faces she recognized, though she was just as happy at the sight of new ones.

"Welcome! I am glad that you all have come out this evening to share in my fire. Please get some treats and make yourselves comfortable!"

Still she felt the firm press of nervousness, although she had rehearsed this many times in her mind beforehand. It was one thing to participate, it was quite another to lead. Elinyra took a few moments to find her inner quiet, to let the voice of the evening breeze interject in trickling laughter through the red leaves.

"I think - no, I hope - that you have come out here for some rest and fun after all of the hard work and training you do every day. But I warn you that this, too, will be a form of training: for the mind is your mightiest weapon, and the imagination can be both your greatest ally and greatest enemy.

"There is a well within you from which springs myths and wonders, inventions and heroes - as well as monsters and dragons, nightmares and fear. I invite you to drink deeply of this well tonight. To have the courage to make this journey together, to face your monsters and emerge as the hero you are destined to be."

She paused to let her words sink in. She couldn't be sure whether her audience would be excited by the idea, or were groaning en masse at the abstract old symbolism. She could only keep smiling and roll with the momentum she was starting to build.

"Tonight I would like to tell you the story of Fione and the most wily of creatures."

The fire crackled with a bluish hue as Elinyra cast a handful of powder into it. She closed her eyes, letting go of herself to take on the mantle that tonight required. When she next spoke, she was no longer Elinyra - she was the storyteller.

"Once there lived a frail child in a tiny village tucked away in one corner of a vast and spirited land. The child's name was Fione - a lord's name, for they were destined to one day rule their people.

"But this fate bothered Fione, for they were so small and fragile, and the world so big and dangerous. There were trolls in the mountains, kraken in the seas, dragons in the hills, all of which hungered for mortals of noble blood. What was one child against so many perils?

"With this question in mind, Fione set out one day to find the old wiseman who lived in a lonely cave in the hills. They packed their things, summoned their courage against the shadowy creatures that lived in the woods, and set off down the trail leading to the cave."


Hector Amelia Hawthorne Innis

 

[Hector]

Hector listened intently as the druid of the Falwood spoke on. His eyes wide and at attention, though he did idly nibble on the slices of dried apple, and sipped on the crisp apple drink. Spiced and delightful as it was.

When she spoke of the mind, and its power, Hector felt the spark of truth there in. How it grew in his chest and flickered about. Helped him feel sure of his agreement to the sentiment, as it was something he had held within him for so long.

Maybe that is what she meant by the well, and all that dwelled in it.

When come the pause, and her smile, he smiled in turn, eyes full of a pride he could not know showed flush across his face.

With the shift in flame. Its color and its heat, he drew in a deep breath, and looked about to his fellow squires. Amelia, Mara, Innis and Winry, did they all feel it too? His eyes drifted back to the Druid, as the night sounds played distant song around them, and the fire crackled warm with a flame's delight.

A thing that only knew to burn true and bright.

So began the tale of Fione, and Hector listened intently. Felt his heart pull, one way, then the other. His mind asked questions. But he quelled the queries, and let himself feel through the words instead. Felt the quiet come, and his heart ached for sound. For words.

So he spoke. As his eyes came closed, and Hector was the storyteller.

"And Fione stood at the cave, its mouth wide and open, its depths dark and impossible to see," Hector's brow scrunched, as he thought of the scene. "Fione felt cold, afraid and alone, as the cave yawned before them, and the shadows slithered and snaked at their feet," A gulp.

"But they stood tall before it, felt the bones in their hands, and the pump in their heart," he let out a breath. "For as dark as the cave was, the whole world beyond would be all the darker still if they did not go forth, so... step, after shaky step, Fione went forward, into that terrible dark,"

Amelia Hawthorne Innis Mara Tillerman

 

[Amelia Hawthorne]

Amelia absorbed Elinyra's words, finding a comforting resonance in the idea of exploring the depths of imagination. Agreeing with the druid that it could be an invigorating mental exercise. For stories, to her, were not just tales, but pathways to self-discovery. So as Hector began narrating Fione's tale, her mind began to weave its own additions, creating a rich tapestry of myth.

In her addition, a mystical creature named Eldrith, resembling a wise owl with feathers as dark as midnight, materialized at the mouth of the cave. Eldrith was a guardian spirit who oversaw the cave and those who sought wisdom from its depths, they spoke in riddles meant to challenge Fione's courage and wisdom.

Amelia's voice blended seamlessly with Hector's as she continued her story, "And as Fione treaded into the cave's depths, each step resonated with the rhythm of courage, and Fione faced the trials with an unyielding spirit."

A brief pause hung in the air, her words lingering, inviting others to contribute to the evolving narrative.

Elinyra Derwinthir Innis Hector

 

[Mara Tillerman]

Mara hugged her knees close, her gaze lost in the enticing danger of the fire as she listened to the story. She understood what it was like to feel frail. To be told by others what she was supposed to be and what she was supposed to do when she hadn't even a clue herself. The cave that stood before Mara's Fione was not simply a trial to be conquered, but a deep and inescapable part of herself; a place where ghosts dwelt.

There was a pause. She glanced up, startled. Oh, damn it! Was she supposed to say something here? She had never volunteered to participate!

"Um..." she squirmed uncomfortably under the scrutiny of expectant eyes, hoping in her reticence someone else would get impatient and speak up. But the Storyteller's invisible hat had passed to her, and there was nothing she could do to be rid of it but offer something.

"The guardian handed Fione a candle. 'Do not heed the voices long past. Look only to your own path. Keep your light alive,' Eldrith warned Fione once the trials were complete. Fione cupped one hand over the flickering flame, the only light they had in this place, and pressed on. Dark tunnels stretched out in all directions, and they heard echoing groans in these spaces - voices calling their name. Some made promises of wealth and fame, others told of Fione's doom.

"Fione couldn't tell how long they wandered, for the guardian had not told them which way was right. Feeling lost and alone, Fione tried many paths, turning back each time a gust of unseen wind threatened to snuff out their only way to see. They wanted at times to go back - but after awhile, there was no way of knowing which way they had come from. Um..."

Mara paused, wondering where this had all come from and how it ended up with the hero finding a wiseman.

"Oh! Then they felt a gentle touch on their shoulder, beckoning them down a tunnel they hadn't noticed before. The air was calm, and the candle shone bright as they followed their unseen guide."

Innis Amelia Hawthorne Hector