by RG Long
So, she and a team of elves were making bread for the refugees. She had certainly done harder jobs for worse bosses. The little bakery they had been put to work in was overflowing with flour and with workers. Blume had volunteered to help just to have something to do. She was now covered head to toe in white powder and unable to quiet her racing mind with the work at hand.
The worst part about it was that she wondered if this had all been her fault. They had come to Irradan in order to find out about her magic. And the demons that had assaulted Ruyn. They hadn’t seen any demons yet. At least, none of their group had. Now all that was left was Blume’s magic and the great tree of legend.
One that even Ferinan didn’t know where it was.
“Hey! Girl! Are you going to stand there all day or help us make this bread?”
“Oh!” Blume exclaimed, and began furiously kneading the dough that was in front of her again. It was not to the baker’s liking.
“No! No!” he said, coming over to her and snatching away the dough. “You’ll make it so hard it’ll crack their teeth. You’ve helped enough. Run along.”
Blume thought to argue and demand that she be allowed to stay and make bread, but then she realized she would rather be elsewhere. Try as she might, her heart just wasn’t in it. She took off the apron they had let her borrow and hung it on a peg by the door as she left the kitchen and walked out of the shop towards the main street.
Once outside, she dusted herself off and looked around.
Everywhere she looked there were Wood Walker elves, either gathered into groups and sitting anywhere a spot might be available, or walking slowly up and down the street, pointing at everything and either reproachfully shaking their heads, or holding open their mouths in wonder.
It seemed the population was split on whether or not it was right for them to be in city built by hands and not by the forest.
“Blume!” came a familiar voice. She turned in the direction of it to see Ealrin and Wisym coming up the street, looking haggard, but resolved about something.
“Done making bread?” he asked as they approached her.
“You’re covered in flour! Did any get on the bread?” Wisym exclaimed as she brushed some off of Blume’s shoulders.
“Enough,” Blume said, trying to smile. “I don’t think baking is for me.”
“I didn’t know why you wanted to help,” Ealrin said, shaking his head. “Come on, we’re talking about tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Blume asked, looking up at him warily.
“We’re sailing again,” he said as he turned to walk back toward the docks. She ran up beside him, curiosity peaked.
“We literally got here this morning,” she said as she caught up to him.
“And you heard Micah; they’re in no mood for us to linger. They’d rather we put our efforts towards a different goal.”
“Finding them a magic tree?”” Blume asked, already knowing the answer.
“And getting the Wood Walkers out of here,” Wisym said. “They were not keen on any suggestion to keep them close by.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Blume asked as they made a turn and the sails of many ships came into view.
“Elen’s working on it now,” Ealrin replied.
Blume raised an eyebrow at him.
“Elen?” she asked.
“And Silverwolf,” Wisym added.
This was too much for Blume.
“And you two are just letting them hash things out?” she asked.
“Holve’s involved,” Ealrin answered.
“Of course he is,” Blume said with a sigh. The old man was crotchety sometimes, but he was wise and had kept them alive on more than one occasion.
“Strategy,” she said under her breath.
“What?” Ealrin asked.
“Nothing,” Blume replied. “Let’s go find out the plan. And let’s hope that bread ends up edible. I’m starved.”
THE BREAD BLUME FINALLY got a hold of was not, in fact, very edible. Seeing as how she felt it would be ungrateful not accept the food, however, she forced herself to swallow each bite she gnawed on. From the sour looks around the warehouse they had commandeered for both meeting place and temporary shelter, the quality of the food was much the same.
Elen stood in the middle of the elves gathered here. From what Blume understood, this was one of two warehouses they were using to house the elves. Wisym was delivering the same speech over at the other long, stone sided, thatched roof structure. Several crates and barrels were stacked all over the place and, in some areas, nearly to the ceiling. Elves took up every available spot within. Tall poles that held up the roof were doubling as hammock anchors where some elves took up space that Blume considered unavailable.
Two or three elves shared a hammock to listen to Elen’s words. Blume wondered where they would all sleep tonight. There didn’t seem to be any more space.
Guards dressed in white and black stood at the doors, looking both stern and, every so often, glancing at one another worriedly. Blume could understand why. She had heard the captain ordering them to ensure that no goods were stolen or used without permission. That might have been fine for a company of soldiers watching over a few thieves. This was twenty guards keeping the peace between two hundred Wood Walkers.
The numbers just didn’t work in the Death’s Gate militia’s favor.
“Fellow Wood Walkers,” Elen’s shaky voice rang out over the loud talk that was echoing throughout the room. “We face a difficult future.”
“They’ve had a difficult past,” Ealrin said, whispering into Blume’s ear. She smiled slightly, but the entire meeting made her uneasy.
Blume was aware of the glares that Elen was seeing. Many of the Wood Walkers exchanged looks and shook their heads. Some turned their eyes upward, rather than look at her.
What had Elen done that earned her such disdain from her own people?
“Ferinan is dead. Our forest is burned and our homeland destroyed. We are a people without land or leader. And now we must face the difficult road ahead.”
Some murmured at her words. Others shook their heads. Blume noticed that a few of the elves nodded, however, and kept their eyes on Elen.
“We have been given a temporary stay here, but we cannot live among these elves. They are so unlike us and there are no trees here for us. So, we will go and find a new land to call our own. A place far from Wrents and from Enoth. We must find new trees to call sacred and new places to gather.”
“New trees?”
“Sacred trees other than our own?”
“Where will this be?”
The murmuring was growing louder and Blume feared that Elen might lose control of the crowd she was attempting to appease. Then Holve stepped in with arms raised, calling for silence. It came, but slowly.
“You’ve been given an offer by the elves who live here. They will help you survive until a new land is found for you. There is no better offer than life until you can make a life for yourselves. We will sail to find you a new land, a new place to call your own and to tend the forest of your choosing. And maybe one day, when peace reigns in the land again, you can return to your ancestral home and regrow what was destroyed.”
A low sounding ascent traveled through the room, but there were no cheers or applause. Blume supposed it was the best they could do for the time being. The elves had shelter at least. They also had food, hard to eat though it was. With winter’s wrath eventually coming to even Death’s Gate, Blume knew that it was better than they could have hoped for.
But she also knew what it was like to lose your home and be told it’s all going to be alright because you have a blanket and a fire.
She shuddered.
“We wish for elves from each gathering to come as a representative on the voyage we’ll take to find a new land. In this way, we can ensure that all are accounted for when we return to bring you to a new home.”
“I will go for Uthin,” came a voice.
“And
I for Eccott!”
Elves gathered around Elen and she nodded at each as they came forward.
“We’ll discuss our plans with the other elves who are also gathered like we are,” Elen said. “And know that. tomorrow, we sail to find a home that will suit us all. As best as we can find.”
It was at that moment that the doors to the warehouse burst open. Some elves scattered at the noise. The guards who had been chosen to watch over the gathering took a few steps back before regaining their composure and approaching the group that entered the warehouse.
Blume recognized one of the group, but the rest were new to her. Gorplin walked uneasily with the rest of the dwarves. His eye shifted from one side of the room to the other, until he finally came to look at Blume. She raised her eyebrow at him, but he only shook his head slightly. The gesture wasn’t noticed by his companions.
“I am Thane Ironheel,” said the dwarf at the lead. He was blonde-haired with red streaks throughout. He carried a giant two handed hammer, which we put in front of him as he spoke. “And I demand to speak to the leader of your elven kindred in order to demand your immediate removal from Death’s Gate.”
14: Irreconcilable Differences
“Alright, alright,” Holve shouted over the din of elves and dwarves. “I need to hear this madness again before I deem both of your sides insane.”
Blume thought that this was probably the nicest way Holve could summarize the last half hour’s hollering at one another. The Death’s Gate guards had completely given up and fled towards the beginning of the strife. She was certain they would return with reinforcements at any moment. So far, they had proved unnecessary.
The dwarves, led by the one they called Thane Ironheel, made it quite clear that the presence of the Wood Walkers was something they could not stand to bear. The Wood Walkers made it equally clear that those who would mar the earth and carve stone as these dwarves had done were reprehensible to them and worthy of being thrown into the sea.
It sounded as if the elves would have been happy to leave right then and there. If they had a place to go to.
“Why is it, again, Thane,” Holve said through gritted teeth as the dwarves were held at bay for the time being from their huffing and grunting. “That you and your people cannot abide to have elves living so close to you, when you in fact are hemmed in by elves and have been happily living together for a hundred years or more?”
More grunting followed this summation.
“We are surrounded by civil elves who appreciate what we dwarves are capable of and can do with the earth,” the Thane replied, fingering his hammer as he spoke.
“You defile the earth!” came a shout from the gathering of elves.
Blume saw Holve close his eyes and breathe deeply. It was easy to see how annoyed he was becoming as the minutes wore on.
“We use the earth!” a dwarf shouted back. “We respect what has been gifted to us and we allow the earth to serve us!”
Ironheel held up his hand to silence his own and allow himself the room to speak.
“It has been known to us for many years about the heathen elves living in the woods as wild people. They value the bark of trees more than the lives of their children. They would sooner put their own elders in danger rather than risk the burning of a pile of dead leaves.”
Blume had seen with her own eyes the way that the elves lived. She wasn’t sure that there was at least some truth in his statement. The elves, however, took offense at what was said about them.
Elen, who had been shaky when speaking to her own people, seemed emboldened by these words.
“We value what is given, as your own have said,” she replied. “And we treat the earth with respect, knowing that it is a living thing. It blesses those who take care of it and punishes those who seek to do it harm.”
She looked around at her people and lifted her hands.
“We have seen the earth torn asunder by men and dwarves and elves who do not care for the earth, only what it can give them. And we have seen them suffer drought and fire, famine and cold, because of their scouring of the land.”
Many elves nodded at her words. It seemed, when faced with a common enemy, the elves felt more united under this elf whom they had shown contempt for just a short hour ago.
Thane rose to his fullest height. Blume was sure he looked intimidating to other dwarves, but, seeing as how she easily matched his height, the effect was rather diminished on the tall and proud elves of the woods.
“You would have us lay down our hammers and preserve the earth, and for what?” he asked with disgust in his voice. “We would starve were it not for how we have engineered the earth to work for us. We don’t raze the land we work. We work with it and do not force our people to starvation in the name of preserving the earth.”
Blume stood up, recognizing both her age and height in this matter and seeing that neither were impressive to anyone. Still, she had a question she desired to ask.
She curtsied to the Thane and posed her query.
“Thane Ironheel,” she said in as dignified a voice as she could muster within herself. “You speak as one who has seen such hardships; yet, as I understand it, you’ve lived here in Death’s Gate for a very long time.”
The dwarf looked at Blume for a long time, considering her. She knew very well that he must think of her as a silly human child, for she knew how long dwarves could live.
“I have not suffered under the rule of such elves, it is true,” he said. “But the dwarven nation you see before you is much diminished from its previous glory. We were once a people who dwelled in the mountains all over Irradan. We lived alongside the elves who ruled the trees. We were happy to protect the earth as they protected their sacred forest. Then, the war between the elves broke out. The southern elves and elves of the woods split. Seeing their ways threatened, the elves of the Woods saw fit to purge the mountains of dwarven craft and influence.”
Blume held her breath as she listened. She hardly whispered a reply.
“They surely didn’t...”
“We were cut down and slain within our own mountains!” Ironheel shouted. “The forest loving elves decided we dwarves must have been worse than dirt, since they valued that more than the lives of my kindred.”
The dwarves around him handled their hammers and looked with disdain at the gathered host in front of them. Hatred and disgust was all around them.
“I will not see my people cut down by these heathens again,” he spat. “I would rather die holding my hammer and defending the small realm we have claimed since those terrible days.”
Holve turned slowly from dwarf to elf, understanding and pain etched in his face.
“Are these accusations true?” he asked Elen.
She shifted, though her eyes remained on the dwarf.
“I will not deny that my people sought to protect their beliefs with hatred spurned on by the rebellion of the high ones,” she said. “But I also believe these dwarves are forgetting their own part in the wars fought between us.”
The dwarves lifted their hammers. Some elves raised clubs of wood. Ealrin and Holve both jumped in between the groups. Blume put herself on Ealrin’s right, desperately wishing her magic had already returned to her and that she could Speak as she once had.
But there was still no gift within her now. Even after that fluke in the forest that had saved her friends. Nothing.
“Are you going to ignite the flames of hate between you both within an hour of meeting?” Holve shouted over the tumult was beginning to rise.
“There will be no need,” came a voice from the door. All eyes turned to see the livery of the city guard, surrounding the members of the Death’s Court. No less than fifty were gathered just outside the doors.
Micah spoke loudly.
“There will be no violence here, unless we allow it,” he said. “And, at the moment, I’m surprisingly not in the mood to see blood spilled.”
“WELL IT’S A GOOD THING there’s not a
lot riding on us finding the tree that we haven’t been able to for the last seven months,” Silverwolf bemoaned as the suns finally began to rise up over the horizon and each of the three groups returned to their respective places of rest.
Micah and the entire pirate court had intervened when they heard the dwarves of the mines and the elves of the woods were becoming antagonistic. Blume thought the whole charade was ridiculous. Not one of the elves, nor any of the dwarves for that matter, had been alive when the injustices spoke of by both groups were committed; yet, they held this grudge so deeply that they near refused to work together.
It took Micah threatening to withdraw his blessing and the blessing of the Court on Ironheel’s trade and turning the Wood Walkers back to sea without provisions to get either of them to listen.
And when they did finally listen, the entire plan laid out before them depended entirely on Blume and her friends to find the tree and the land surrounding it so that all could live at peace: the wood walkers in new territory and the dwarves in their old one.
And with the rising of the suns, they were set to leave.
“The stakes were already high enough, Silverwolf,” Wisym observed as they all walked slowly by the docks, the chilly sea air hitting them in the face. Blume thought the smell of the sea was invigorating and would waken her enough to at least walk back to the ship.
She had only once nodded off during the proceedings and, after that, taken to pacing so as to keep awake and hear the rest of what was said. And, as Wisym pointed out, if they failed in this task, the dwarves would revolt, the Wood Walkers would retaliate, and more than likely, their entire group would be held liable for Silverwolf’s offenses and be locked in a Death’s Gate prison.
“I work best under pressure,” Silverwolf said as she shrugged. “Now, let’s go find a tree.”
The company kept up their brisk pace until they arrived at the boat and found, to their surprise, two very different groups waiting on them. The only similarity between the two was the looks of loathing they gave one another.
