CHAPTER 2
The Way of Things
It was George’s turn to laugh, but he was too weirded out to do more than force a smile. “Elves? More likely it was Mary and Johnny from next door, I figure.”
“So, you met them already also? Excellent! They’re good kids. Don’t know what I’d do without them. I was going to ask them today to meet you at the station tomorrow, before tomorrow became today. Not family, of course, but Mary is certainly top-notch. The elves merely put up with Johnny, but they genuinely like Mary. She’s very special; that’s why she’s living next door of course.”
George couldn’t decide if his uncle was simply putting him on about many things that he said, or was truly a total lunatic, but he did agree with his uncle’s positive assessment of Mary. “What about the elves?” he prompted.
“They’re a big help too, of course, though sometimes their sense of humor leads them to acts of mischief.”
“The elves are a big help,” George repeated. He struggled to keep a straight face.
“Certainly. Couldn't do without them.”
“What are they helpful with?”
“Now that’s the really big question! I better build up to the answer gradually, or you’ll be confused.”
“I’m already confused, about a lot of things. For instance, excuse me for saying so, but you seem to be a lot younger now than you were at the funeral.”
“Of course I am. Very perceptive of you. Sometimes I’m even younger, but only in emergency situations. Being young ages me quicker, you see, especially when I am not here at home. That might at first seem like a paradox, but if you think it through, it makes perfect sense. Any other questions?”
George was more confused than ever by Harry’s answers, but he decided to keep trying. “What about the crow that’s been following me? Is it a friend of yours, like Mary says?”
“Friend is perhaps too strong a term. She’s an ally, at best; but that’s another big question better left until later, young man. You had lunch yet?”
George shook his head no. The very mention of food suddenly drove other issues from his mind. “I haven’t even had breakfast.”
“OK, first things first then.” He led George back into the entrance hall. “Here, let’s get you out of that backpack. We’ll leave it here by the stairs for now; I don’t think anyone will bother it, especially since it reeks of your mother's essence, and everyone here respects her greatly. Let’s work our way back to the kitchen. We’ll see what’s left in the fridge after the elves got through with it, and I’ll explain the way of things just a bit.”
George took off his backpack and Harry laid it at the foot of stairs that led up to unknown heights. George was further perplexed. How did Harry know that Mom had given the backpack to him? Also he didn’t think that anyone else lived with Harry, so who could possibly bother his backpack? The elves that raided the refrigerator?
He wanted to ask Harry but the spry oldster was already disappearing down a dimly lit hallway that reminded George a bit of the strange front walkway that had tunneled through exotic foliage as it lead to the house. On the walls were old landscape paintings that displayed forest and jungle scenes, some of them unearthly weird, including landscapes that featured purple trees and double suns. Every few feet the hallway made a sharp turn as it skirted closed doorways leading to unknown rooms. The hallway also branched off into other hallways, labyrinth like. From the outside the house had appeared to be only surprisingly huge, inside it was impossibly gigantic.
After several twists and passing more than a dozen closed doorways and intersections with other hallways, Harry opened a door that led into a crowded study. Sunlight entered through a small iron barred window, and revealed walls with built-in bookshelves packed full of books, most of them very odd and ancient looking. Book covers were of leather, cloth or even wood or metal. Some books were round instead of rectangular in shape.
A few of the oldest and strangest looking books had an odd ‘feel’ to them to George’s new senses, fully as odd as the crows, though different. It was not the nasty feel of his dead Mom and Dad either, but a definite, shimmering, vibrant strangeness that wasn't at all unpleasant. George recalled that Johnny had said something about elf books. Could he have been serious? Some books had English titles, but most seemed to be in foreign languages. Centered in the room were a table and two comfortable looking chairs that were piled with books and papers to the point that as chairs they were rendered unusable.
Most attention getting, there were about a dozen incredible sculptures sitting on the floor, each two to four feet tall, of legendary creatures. There were trolls, dragons, elves and many others. Many of the best figures were so real looking that George would not have been too terribly surprised to discover that they were, after all, alive.
Most had the same strange texture as the oddest books. He touched them but still couldn’t determine what they were made of. He wanted to ask Harry questions about them, but after scribbling a few words into a notebook that was balanced on top of one of the piles of books, the old man was again spryly walking down the adjoining hallway, and George had to dash to make sure that he didn’t lose him.
They passed several more closed doorways before the absurdly long, twisting hall led into a huge kitchen. An old gas stove and a small ancient refrigerator were at one end of the room, along with a sink cluttered with dirty dishes, while surprisingly large brass pots and pans hung from all the walls. A tiny wood kitchen table with half a dozen matching chairs, much too small for even children, sat in a large open area near the big fireplace at the other end of the room. The ashes inside it and stacks of wood nearby indicated that it was a functioning fireplace.
“Expecting a little company?” George asked, emphasizing the word ‘little’ and nodding towards the doll sized table and chairs. There was something else about them that stood out; they had the same oddness texture as many of the old books and statues in the study.
Harry didn’t even crack a smile at his nephew’s attempt at puny humor. “Only you are expected. I sense that the elves left this morning immediately after dealing with you. Probably won’t be back for weeks. It’s far too dangerous for all of us to be here together very long or very often. Besides, they usually have plenty of serious situations to attend to back in their own home world.”
Harry opened the old refrigerator and looked inside. George could see that while the lower shelves were completely empty, the upper shelves were full of odd old bottles and jars, boxes and bags; very few items looked like food. Some items had the oddness ‘feel’ to them. Though he didn’t see anything that looked edible, Harry reached deep inside and pulled out a can of Coke and handed it to him.
“Good, thought there might be some of those left, on an upper shelf squirreled away from searching elf eyes and short arms. And this too.” He reached in deeply again and fetched out a McDonalds’ paper bag with a burger and some fries in it that he handed to George. “Johnny bought this for me just yesterday, it should still be OK,” he explained. “At least I think it was yesterday; the blasted elves messed with that whole question, didn’t they? Them and their blasted time-warping spells! I don't think that anyone should mess with space-time that way, do you?” He reached down into the fruit drawer and retrieved an apple for each of them before closing the refrigerator. “Let’s sit down,” he suggested, gesturing in the direction of the tiny table and chairs.
George first thought that perhaps Harry meant for them to use the tiny table as a low bench that both of them could sit on, but when he turned to look at it he nearly fainted. The table and chairs were massively normal in size: hand carved well finished dark wood, shiny and clean, hundreds of pounds worth. He would have dropped his lunch if he wasn’t starving. As it was, he could only stand blinking and gawking as his head spun.
“It’s elfin furniture of course,” Harry explained. “A bit startling when you first encounter it, I suppose. You’re the first human being born of Earth I know of besides
me to see elf magic, by the way, except for your Mom; at least in modern times. If you hadn’t passed their little test on the front walkway it wouldn’t have changed size for us at all and we'd be sitting on the floor. Elves are pretty fickle about contact with humans. Not safe of them to contact humans in their homeland any more, of course, and I think that view carries over to Earth for them. They've been screwed over too many times by traitorous humans over the centuries and humans are too easily detected by the Horde. They dinged you with a touch of their elf powers this morning; that explains why the elf objects respond in your presence. You felt dizzy for a moment when they zapped you, I wager.”
“It changed size!” George said, stupidly, still gawking at the table and chairs. “It got bigger!”
“Normally the table and chairs are elf sized, of course, but they grew to human-size to accommodate us. It has another very useful trick. Put your food on the table and sit down.”
Numb, George did what was asked, though he was uneasy even being in the same room with a magic table and chairs. They now appeared perfectly normal in size and design, but he still sensed their innate oddness, and he had just witnessed them grow from toy size to normal human size. Moreover, the chair he finally sat in was unusually comfortable, as though it had been made to specifically fit him. That, and the fact that Harry sat down with him, made George feel a bit more at ease.
“Now eat your food,” instructed Uncle Harry.
George picked up the burger. To his great surprise, he found that it was warm! He bit into it and found it to be just the right temperature and fresh tasting!
“The table instantly warms food up,” explained Harry. “Actually cooks it instantly if it needs cooked, and then instantly cools it to eating temperature. It also keeps drinks warm or cold and ice cream frozen. Seems it even makes stale things taste fresher. Very handy; I don’t even own a microwave.” Harry noticed his nephew’s puzzled look. “I’ve read about microwaves, and computers, and what-not. I simply have no use for them. I am rather fond of electric lights, of course, but usually I use elfin lights that are cleverly made up to look like electric lights. Those turn off and on with a mere thought and that's pretty handy.”
“But Uncle, it doesn’t make any sense! How would a table know which items to keep warm or cold? Can it read instructions from a box, or from recipe books? Does it Google information off the internet?” George ran his hand over the table’s smooth surface. Except for the odd strangeness his new senses picked up, it seemed like ordinary wood. “And how does it make things warm or cold? It doesn’t even feel warm here where the burger was sitting! Microwaves maybe?”
Harry looked amused. “Good. I can see that you understand some logic and science fundamentals which don’t even fully explain the workings of this universe, let along things from another universe. I’ve long pondered how the table works. Maybe Plato was more right about the nature of things than most modern thinkers give him credit. Maybe things have an identity that is part of them that can be assessed by elf tables, such that it is not required that directions need be attached to them.
"But I think it much more likely that the table taps into the mind of whoever puts the item on the table. The elves can make even non-living items sort of come to life, such as this furniture and other things in this house that they have furnished. But regardless of the details of the mechanisms employed in human terms it is certainly magic, George, and I don’t have plausible science answers for magic. I’ve come to simply enjoy it. Magic is far better than any microwaves. Try your Coke.”
George picked it up. It seemed even colder now than when he placed it on the table. “This is totally impossible,” he remarked.
“Perhaps impossible from a classical thermodynamics standpoint, but a one in a trillion chances statistically possible in terms of statistical mechanics. I think the magic mucks with the probabilities of both quantum and classical mechanics somehow, but not in any way that is understandable by Earth-science. Of course, if that is what is truly happening, I don’t know why the magic doesn’t accidentally destroy the entire fabric of everything. The only thing I can figure is that in the scheme of things magic must be a mere subtle local temporary tweaking of the otherwise stable laws of physics of the universe in which it is practiced, or the results could be disastrous. Perhaps not going too far is something that has evolved into the magic. Or maybe normal quantum mechanics and all other laws of physics in each universe are an inherently stable situation, such that minor changes made to it are necessarily only temporary and local. Maybe the changes are mere minor distortions, and don't really break the normal rules.
“Of course the elves haven’t any idea what quantum mechanics is, they simply will things or spell things to happen and it happens. They think logically, but probably haven’t had a practical need for our style of science or technology for countless generations.
“By the way, you shouldn’t bother to tell anyone about all this stuff, George. You could, but unless it’s directly witnessed, it won’t be believed anyway. People would most likely haul you off in a white straight jacket to a funny-farm. Only you and I are cleared to witness this sort of thing; that’s part of the elf-spells. You’d never convince anyone else of any of this.”
“I still don’t know if I believe it, and I saw it myself,” George remarked, between gulps of warm burger and cold Coke, though he didn’t know anything about quantum mechanics either, whatever that was. “Please tell me more about the elves. Why did they come here?”
“They have a huge problem in their own world, and they need our help and vice versa, as otherwise their big problem will inevitably come here and destroy all life on Earth. In addition, there are other problems inherent to our own world that have also required my attention from time to time, and the elves have helped me with some of those. In sum we help each other survive in a very dangerous Multiverse. I’ve been working on this whole business for most of my life, and it's quite a challenge.” He took a bite of his apple. “OK, I suppose that pretty much sums it all up.”
To George it only added more questions. “But exactly what have you been working on?” George asked. “To help elves, for example."
“I'm trying to figure out a lot of things that might have to do with saving us and the elves. It’s too hard to explain at this point, though I can see that you’re a smart lad. We’ll begin your formal education in such matters tomorrow. In maybe six months I’ll be able to explain everything in somewhat greater detail. Years later, after you've been educated in Earth science and philosophy, you'll be able to understand the big picture much better.”
George shrugged and let it go, though he was disappointed. It was the sort of adult explanation, or rather lack of one, which every kid in existence was used to getting.
After eating, Uncle Harry gave him a quick tour of the house. Most rooms were similar to the first library-type room that they had visited, full of strange old books and other things: carved figures, notebooks overflowing with hand-written papers, nooks full of fossils or shiny gems, old bones of long dead animals, empty bird eggs, and snake skins. They spent several minutes in a study on the second floor that was overflowing with particularly exotic objects, with Harry reading books and writing in his notebooks while George poked around, examining oddities and asking questions.
"Is there any particular order to these books and other things?" George asked. He wasn't a neatness fanatic himself, but simply felt that arranging things in some sort of order was often a rather practical thing to do.
"Not really," said Harry. "This elf book library and museum could especially use an actual librarian, I suppose. I just haven't had the time to bother with arranging things into a proper order."
“What is this thing?” he asked, as he picked up a shield-shaped object that when stood upright was nearly as tall as himself. It was rough surfaced, dull green and stiff, and a couple of inches thick, but it bent slightly when he pushed down on it, and it weighed only about ten pounds. It
s lower edge was actually so sharp that he nearly cut himself. Most peculiar of all, it glowed much like the crows had.
“Besides valuable elf books and statues some other odds and ends have collected here, George," Harry explained. "That's a dragon scale, though a very small one.”
“Sure thing,” George responded jovially. “Don’t know how I could have missed that.”
“I’m serious, that is a dragon scale. Not very much to it, once it’s separated from the dragon, but it’s still much stronger than any earthly material.”
George looked at it with much greater interest and respect before moving on to the inspection of other wonders.
“What kind of writing is this?” he asked, as he opened an ancient looking book. Inside were hand-painted images of dragons, and weird scribbling that looked nothing like English.
“Chinese translation of an elf book on dragons. Only a few hundred years old. Not really much use, since I have the original in elfin. Some of the inserted Chinese thoughts about dragons are entertaining, however.”
George reached for an even older looking little book that had the oddness glow. “Elfin books like this one?”
“Right! It’s part of the elf collection on semi-permanent loan from their home world of Narma. Books aren’t safe in their world anymore, so they brought many of them here for safe-keeping, as well as to aid in my research. How did you know?”
“It glows. Something like the kitchen table and chairs, but different than the dragon scale and the crow that followed me after the funeral.”
Harry’s eyebrows rose. “Great! You’ve been coming into your skills then, even before arriving here and getting some elf powers.”
“Mom said she’d let you know and that you’d explain it to me.”
“When did she say that?”
“Two weeks before the car accident.”
Uncle Harry winced as though struck with pain, and then nodded his head. “I see. How was she going to contact me? Do you know?”
“I’m not sure. Couldn’t she just phone you?”
“I have no phone,” said Harry.
“Then I suppose she’d write you a letter.”
“I received no letter. Would it have had a return address in the corner?”
George shrugged. “I suppose so. The post office requires those now.”
“I see.” Harry looked very troubled.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Nothing that can be fixed now.” The old man forced a smile. “So then, what do you think of my books?”
George opened the little elf book that he held. It was full of meaningless scribbles. “You can read this stuff? It looks like nonsense doodles to me, and they seem to move around on the page, changing as you look at them.”
“Those are very astute raw observations for a beginner. Yes. I read more than a dozen languages, including of course elf. Most of the Earth languages I know are arcane variants however. Nothing contemporary like French or Russian. Those would be pretty useless for what I do.”
George was impressed; he never could have imagined his Uncle Harry to be such a nerd. Other kids called George a nerd, but Harry was obviously a dozen times more nerdy. He wandered what acts of genus Harry expected of him. “What sort of education do you have planned for me?”
“I estimate that it could take roughly five years to bring you fully up to speed on my research, but we probably don’t have that long. First you’ll get some more rudimentary summary information on the way of things, and we’ll lay some groundwork academically by having you learn how to read elf writing, for example.”
“Information on the way of things? What about regular school? It starts in a couple of weeks.”
“That will be a fairly useless distraction from an intellectual standpoint, but it can’t be helped. You’re already enrolled in the local high school. Some ordinary Earthly interests must be maintained until you are an adult.”
“I don’t see how I can learn both the regular stuff and the elf stuff at the same time.”
Uncle Harry smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll have help. The elves have already given you more energy and capability.” Without further elaboration he walked to a window and motioned George to join him. “While we’re here on the second floor, this is a good place to look out at what is in back of the house.”
George noted that there was a fifty-foot wide strip of grass, similar to what was immediately in the front of the house. Beyond that, an incredibly dense forest, topped off by extraordinarily massive old-growth trees, rose perhaps two hundred feet to block the view. Trunks six to eight feet in diameter were visible, and their spreading tree limbs reached out almost to the house.
“I own nine-hundred acres, all of it old-growth forest except for the lawn immediately surrounding the house and the flower garden area in front. Mostly it's populated by species from Earth, though many found here are not normally indigenous to this area. My property doesn't get freezing cold in the winter, you see. A few Narma species grow here, but the light isn't quite right for them, and the microbiota and associated chemicals in the soil don't optimally support Narma plants and microscopic critters needed in the soil. Fungi are critical also. There is no winter here but it still gets too chilly for most Narma life-forms. My plot of land is actually part-Earth and part-Narma in nature, but mostly it is of this universe."
“Johnny and Mary figure that you’re rich," said George, "owning all that land and trees.”
Harry laughed. “Not unless the elves can induce the trees to grow cash. Which they probably could if they set their minds to it, but there more important things for us all to be doing.”
“They were thinking of logging, or at least their dad was.”
“That man says he’s a welder but he’ll do anything for money. No way! Logging my woods could have dire consequences for this world and for Narma. The forest life anchors the Portal connecting our world to Narma.”
“That elf world called Narma sounds familiar.”
“Earth fiction authors have picked up on it over the centuries, due to elf visits. It’s one of the simpler elf names for the universe that the elves come from. The name actually refers specifically to their planet, which has portals leading to Earth and to many other places. This particular forest is special. The life force of this forest results in one of a few areas on Earth that can stabilize the location of a portal that connects our worlds, and that’s just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.” Harry pointed out the window to the towering trees. “We have to try to keep people from our world out of there; it’s too dangerous in many ways. So keep your eyeballs peeled and let me know if you see any unusual activity.”
“What sorts of activity?”
“Mostly Earth type activity in the form of trespassing humans or domestic animals. But also tell me about anything from the other side that looks dangerous.”
“Other side?”
“From Narma, of course. Also be alert to strange creatures of Earth. A lot of Earth beings of power are drawn here; Evil ones at times. Mostly, just look for stuff that’s out of place. Stuff that glows like an elf book is usually neutral, though not always. True Evil can often be told right-off. Stuff that glows Evil has a different feel to it. If you sense Evil, stay away from it.”
“Like Mom and Dad after the accident.”
Harry took a deep breath. “So you sensed that also. I’m sorry George, very sorry. If I had known there was an immediate threat, I might have taken steps both for them and for you. I'd have gotten you here quicker, for example, or at least explained things so you would understand what was happening. As it was, when I sensed the Evil in their bodies I reasoned that my very presence at the funeral put you in further danger, so I beat a hasty retreat and stayed away. Besides, I can’t leave this place much anymore, I’m getting too old. It took me several weeks to fully recover from merely going to the funeral for a few minutes. I’m sorry that these past three months have been so hard on you.”
&nbs
p; "What is Evil anyway?" George asked. "Is it what they talk about in the Bible?"
"It may have led to what is talked about in the Bible and other places, but it's real stuff George, not simply an idea."
“What does it mean, that Evil glow that my folks had?”
“Among other things it means that their deaths weren’t an accident.”
George felt like he had been sucker punched in the stomach.
“The elves and their friends have enemies, lad,” Harry explained. “Forces of Evil native to this world, and Evil allied to beings of Narma.”
George’s head was spinning. “Something Evil killed Mom and Dad?”
“I believe so, yes. Your Mom would have easily avoided any incidental contact with Evil. Only a deliberate well executed attack by a being that dealt skillfully in Evil could have overcome her. She was the target."
“Because of this elf business?” He dropped the little elf book he had been holding onto the floor. It didn’t glow Evil but it suddenly seemed Evil to him anyway.
“In a sense. I’m sorry, George.”
“Because you want to save elves my parents were murdered?” Rising anger held back his tears.
“There’s more to it than that; much, much more," said Harry. "What we see as Evil is a real thing. I think of it as a sort of rogue disruptive energy pattern that fundamentally opposes life. Sort of like a super virus. Elves can tweak the laws of physics in a positive way, but Evil simply disrupts everything it touches. Some beings with magic powers can make use of Evil to further themselves, but it's both intoxicating and degenerative, like a bad drug. In the end nothing good ever comes of it.”
“I don’t want anything to do with it. I want to go back to the foster home.”
Harry shook his head and sighed. “I can’t blame you for feeling that way, but I can’t protect you for long if you leave here.”
“Protect me? You didn’t protect Mom and Dad!”
“I’ve always done what I could. But particularly since I’ve grown quite old, away from this place I’m very weak. This place is a stronghold, a sort of fortress of solitude and good built by elf magic. I always wanted you and your folks to live here with me, but they wanted a normal life for you.”
“So now you’re saying their deaths were their own fault or mine? For not living here with you and your elf friends?”
“No. The elves can’t live here; they can only visit for brief periods. It was the fault of some Evil tainted being, not me, and not the elves, that your folks died. Your Mom and Dad can’t be blamed for wanting a normal life for themselves and for you. At least for a while.”
“A while? What do you mean?”
“Eventually your parents would have brought you here themselves.”
“Why? Why would they ever bring me into this elf business if it’s dangerous?”
“Because they were good people: the best. Because as much as they loved you, they knew that you may be our only hope.”
“Me? I’m someone’s only hope?”
“Yes, you. You may be everyone’s only hope. Everyone on Earth and on Narma and surrounding star systems. I’m too old to finish what I started. I need your help, George; we all do.”
“My help? Mine? But I’m just a kid!”
“Being a kid lasts much shorter than you think. Sort of like a summer vacation, I suppose. I promise to explain everything to you as soon as I can. But you should know that it’s not only the elves and us that are in danger, it’s our whole world too, that is to say Earth and other places of this universe. Our galaxy and billions of others, eventually.”
“Danger from what?”
“From lots of things. Narma things mostly, but Earth things too. The worst things are often tainted with Evil.”
George shook his head. This was all too much. He had hoped this new home would be a haven from things that threatened him, instead he seemed to be in a hundred times more trouble than he ever could have imagined!
“We’ll talk more later. I’ve already told you too much too soon; far more than I intended. Your poor young head must be spinning like a top. Let me show you your rooms. Maybe that will help.”
George didn’t understand how rooms could possibly help how he felt until he saw them. There were three adjoining rooms, a sizable bedroom and two even larger rooms, and they were all completely full of things that he immediately recognized. He ran from room to room, looking, touching, and holding each remembered item before moving on to the next one. It was all his things from the old house: clothes and books, magazines and toys, his computer, CD player, CDs and even his bicycle! There was furniture too, his own bed and desk and drawers, and much of the living room furniture. Special things, such as his violin, plastic models, and journals, and his rock and leaf collections!
Best of all, there were many of his parents’ things, some clothes and CDs and old fashioned vinyl records, their favorite books and music, Dad’s fishing gear, Mom’s clarinet and Dad’s trumpet. There were several infinitely precious boxes of family photos and videos. It wasn’t everything from home but it was the most important things.
His anger was gone now, displaced by memories both good and terrible, but above all by a sense of renewal, or at least partial renewal. Much of what was him, which he had thought to be lost forever at the auction, was here in these rooms!
He wanted to thank Uncle Harry but the old man had disappeared, so he went looking for him. He found the oldster in the third study he searched, taking notes as he read an elfin book. “How?” George asked, quietly.
“Your folks and I had the mechanics of it set up before you were born; the fake auction and so forth as well as my adoption of you. It was all a back-up plan that we hoped to never use. Not actually very sophisticated from a human standpoint, but demons and most other bad guys we need worry about usually aren’t very sophisticated in that respect. The plan included several features to protect you from dangers of a non-human sort, of course.”
“Like the crow?”
“She was an addition; a very badly needed and appreciated addition, as it turns out.”
“Is the crow from Narma?”
“Among other places. Her name is Jewel, At least that’s the simplest English translation. And she isn’t a crow, not by a long shot.”
“What is she then?”
“That part’s very complicated. Could really set your head to spinning. Let’s just say for now that she is a very powerful wizard and a free spirit.”
“A bird wizard?”
“When she wants to appear as a bird.”
George shook his head. “This is all way too weird.”
“You’ll get used to it in time, assuming you live that long.”
“But why us? Why you? And why me?”
“All excellent questions, my boy, but that’s another rather long story. Several stories, in fact. In a nutshell, a very small percentage of humans have the requisite abilities to work magic, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time to get sucked into this Narma business. For now, you might just as well simply accept it as the way of things.”
“The way of things? Is all this business explained better in your elf books?”
“To some extent. Much background information is, anyway.”
“Then I’m ready to learn how to read them right now.”
Harry smiled and nodded his approval as he cleared off a book-covered chair for George to sit on, and for the rest of the afternoon George was taught elfin language fundamentals.
Sort of. George expected to be taught elfin A-B-Cs and phonics, but the approach was radically different. “Elfin writing communicates more or less directly with the reader’s mind, if they have the requisite ability,” explained Uncle Harry, “physically looking at the writing merely provides guidance. With enough practice, an elfin book can be read without even opening it, which greatly reduces wear and tear on the pages and bindings.”
Harry stared at the elfin book he was holding. The page he was l
ooking at was covered with meaningless squiggles that were moving all around on the page, much as if they were a living swarm of insects.
“Only one human in millions can see their writing at all,” mentioned Harry, “but to read it will take more practice. At this stage you’re doing extraordinarily well merely to see the raw runes.”
“Can you give me a hint? Does the writing go from top to bottom and left to right like ours?”
“Certainly not. That wouldn’t help much anyway.”
“Why not?”
“The markings on the page can’t be literally interpreted as a simple linear sequence of words. They merely help form a gestalt that retains an imprint of the thoughts of the author. The reader senses the imprint projected from the page. Usually multiple pages at once, actually, as a gestalt that defines multiple meanings simultaneously. It's complex in much the same way that thought is complex, as it mirrors how thought is accomplished in the mind. It has to, or the mind would not read or understand it. It may at first seem less direct than human writing, but actually it's much more direct. Many of the statues here also contain much information in an even more sophisticated form, but accessing them is not as straight-forward as reading the books. Once you are further along you'll even be able to have enlightening conversations with some of the statues. But you’ll find that accessing both books and statues is a little like reading minds.”
"Reading minds?" George asked.
"Yes, telepathy is handy but comes with burdens. You'll likely soon be able to read minds and you'll find that to mostly be a big pain in the ass. But yes, reading the elf books and talking with elf statues is a skill somewhat similar to reading minds. Books are designed to be accessible and reading them is relatively easy compared speaking with statues and mind reading. The book messages are static, you should start with them. One must walk before running."
George was becoming even more confused. “What does this page say?”
“That depends largely on who’s reading it, or rather what their skill level is. For me that describes trolls at their traditional Spring festival, in great detail. The hope is that someday trolls will again have Spring festivals. This book will help them reclaim their heritage.”
“Wouldn’t it have to describe the same information for me?”
“Yes, but at a more elementary level, to begin with. As with human languages and reading skills, mastering this will take time. Your mind needs to be reshaped a bit towards elfin thought patterns. Reading this would be good for you for several reasons. Once your mind is thinking more like an elf the statues will respond to your presence, for example. And the skill will help train your mind for telepathy, when that happens for you.”
“And knowing about Troll festivals would help me how?”
“It’s excellent cultural background, for when you meet a troll.”
George laughed. “That sounds really cool, but how likely is that to happen?”
“Very likely, as it so happens.” Uncle Harry turned in his chair to look at the doorway to the hall, and George followed suit. Standing passively just outside the study and peering in at the two of them with huge brown eyes was the biggest, scariest looking man-like creature George had ever seen. It was taller than the doorway and so wide that George could only see perhaps half of it. “Meet Grog, Forest Troll.”
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White Dragon's Chosen Page 2
