by Ivory Autumn
Andrew smiled and tried to laugh, but the movement caused him excruciating discomfort. Instead of laughing, he cried out in pain.
“Everyone, leave!” Drogan thundered. “Go, shoo! Get out of here!”
“No…” Andrew managed to gasp. “It’s okay. Don’t go.”
Drogen flashed his friends a look that told them the exact opposite, so they all exited the room, reluctantly. That is, except for Ivory. She sat quietly in a chair by Drogan, watching as he helped Andrew eat. If Drogan wasn't careful, Andrew's lips would freeze the broth in the spoon before the boy had a chance to swallow it.
“Come on,” Drogan said. “You've got to finish this broth.” He held another spoonful up to Andrew's lips, but the broth dribbled out of the side of Andrew's mouth and turned to ice as it hit the bed cloth. Andrew caught his breath, holding in an agonized cry.
Drogan set the spoon back into the bowl and frowned. “Come on. You need to eat more than that. Ivory, why don't you tell him so.”
“Yes,” Ivory said. “Please, Andrew, eat.”
Andrew looked at Drogan and Freddie with such a look of pain that Drogan sighed in defeat. “Alright, you win. But I'm coming back in an hour, and we'll try again.”
Drogan then pulled Andrew's blankets down, so that Andrew's bare torso could be seen. The skin around the wounds were icy, swollen, and purple. While Drogan redressed the wounds, he talked gently, trying to take Andrew's mind off the pain.
“I knew your father quite well. He was a good man, much like yourself. We used to talk a lot. When times were better, your father would visit Boreen when he traveled from Levwood. Lucky for you, you get to see Boreen, firsthand. Most elves don't get to travel out of their homelands, these days. Boreen's kind of a special city.” He smiled when he said that. “It's called the city of the captive rainbow. You see, a long time ago, a full-fledged rainbow rose above this place, when it was raining. Before the rainbow could fade, an enchanted echo of a Curleelew roped it. The rainbow bucked and kicked at first, but the Curleelew's echo was stronger, and the rainbow finally settled down with a crash, right here in this very place. And it has been a magical spot of land ever since. The weather here has always been a continual springy summer, with odd bouts of rain, all year-round. The ground here is extremely fertile. The people here are as rich as kings, because of the high gold content in the rocks. The Curleelews built this city right over the rainbow, and that’s why the streets glow and the water fountains fill with color when it rains. It is
a most amazing sight to see. You could say this city is the pot of gold over the rainbow, instead of under it. You see, Andrew, most all Boreenian's are Curleelews. You could say we are sort of elfish, in our own right. We are half man, half elf, and we live longer than most folks do. Some of us are lucky enough to have gifts, same as elves. Although, I think the gifts are dying out more and more. Sadly, many Curleelews are starting to take their gifts lightly, using them for dark purposes, in order to leave Boreen without being killed. They do terrible things in exchange for their lives. But those who are still true, don’t leave, because it will mean death if they are discovered by the Barnacles. Soon, I think the rainbow’s power won’t be enough to hold the Barnacles back from our cities. Let's hope we shall never see that day. Perhaps, if we are very lucky, you will change things for the better.”
Drogan finished dressing Andrew's wounds. He smiled as he gazed at the boy. Andrew's eyes were closed in deep slumber.
“Yes,” Drogan murmured. “Sleep. Though the whole world awaits for you to awake the slumbering people, who do not know they are slaves. Sleep for this short while, and rest. For who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
The next morning, Andrew’s eyes fluttered opened. He smiled, hearing the pattering of rain pelting the roof.
Drogan suddenly burst in to the room, panting excitedly. His long, gray beard was slung over his shoulder as if it was a white scarf, his hair was dripping wet.
“It's raining!” Drogan panted.
Andrew raised his eyebrows in question. “So?”
“Don't you see? Boreen's rains heal. I must take you out to bask in it, so that you can feel its healing touch and enjoy the beauty of the rainbow city.”
“Help to heal me?” Andrew wondered, his eyes wide. The purple circles under his eyes seemed as permanent as his pained expression. Ever since the Barnacle's bite, any water that touched his skin turned to ice. The water he drank slowly froze in his throat, making him constantly thirsty. Even the pleasure of having warm tears fall down his cheeks was gone. He wondered if perhaps Drogan wanted to turn him into a big icicle.
“Yes!” Drogan sang, happily scooping Andrew's light form up into his arms. “Boreen's rain is the only rain you're permitted to sit out in, as long as you like.”
“But…won’t it…” Andrew asked, cringing in pain as Drogan moved him, “freeze me?”
“No, no,” Drogan laughed. “It won’t. I’ll bet my beard on it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“Do you think it will heal me enough so I can use my gifts again?”
Drogan stared at Andrew in surprise. “Who told you that you don't have your gifts anymore?”
“Do I need someone to tell me they’re gone, for me to know it?”
“Hmm,” Drogan sighed, nodding. “Well, whatever you heard or feel, is a lie. Your gifts can never entirely be taken away from you for good. The Barnacles may drink what you currently have in your body, which, in most cases, kills the majority of elves. But, your gifts are more than blood, or water, or power or strength. Your gifts flow from the deep inner strength inside of you, inside the wellspring of your soul, with divine purpose. They come from who you really are. The gifts that are manifested physically, in any elf's life, are just outward signs of inward strength. And you, Andrew, have much strength.”
Andrew closed his eyes and smiled. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
“Then I will help you regain it,” Drogen said, taking Andrew out into the pouring rain. In a deep voice, Drogan started singing. “Boreen’s rain is the best for all ills. It will take away the cold, when you’ve got the chills. If you’re too hot, it’ll make you feel cool. If you’re craving chocolate, the rain will taste like that to you.
If you’ve got a scratch, it’ll itch your back.
If you've got a canker, or a hangnail or your just plum tuckered out, it'll ease your backache and you will forget what you were worried about.
Boreen’s rain’s got a soothing power,
if you're feeling grouchy---it’ll wash away the bad glower.
If you’ve got a hurt, it’ll sooth the wound. For this place is a place of renown, and death to the sorry, unexplainable frown. If you’ve got a nasty wart, with a hair as long as a tree, it'll make it fall off and the hair will be chopped free.
Boreen’s rains reflect the rainbow’s light, and if you’re feeling lonely, it will make you feel all right.
Boreen's got a pot o’ gold hidden deep, where the rainbow never grows cold, and if you‘re not young, you’ll stop feeling old.”
Andrew listened in disbelief as Drogan’s old voice steadily became younger as the rain fell on the old man’s face and into his mouth. After he finished the song, Drogan set Andrew gently down in a green hammock, between two trees, by a star shaped pond. Then, Drogan helped Andrew take off his shirt, so that his wounds were open to the pouring rain.
The rain felt liken nothing Andrew had ever experienced before. Amazingly, the rain didn’t freeze when it touched his skin. The instant the rain fell onto his weak body, it felt like the captive pain and emptiness inside of him gradually melted like hot butter, into the ground. It felt as if a window had opened up inside of him that let in new air, and pushed all the stuffy, stale air out.
As the rain fell into his eyes, he blinked back tears of gratitude. The water was warm, so very warm. He hoped that this shower of warmth would never end, would never go away. What kind of rain was this? He wanted
to laugh, he wanted to dance, he wanted to shout. Every sorrow, every bad memory was washed away in an instant, and he could only think of things that made him smile. Andrew laughed without pain for the first time in a long while, as he watched his
friends come out into the rain. They looked peaceful and happy as they stood with arms outstretched, welcoming the soothing rain on their skin.
He lay still, with the rain falling over his hard, frozen, skin, enjoying its melodic sound. It sounded like spoons delicately tapping against china. He feared to move, lest he break the spell the rain cast over him. It was a kind of rain Andrew had never seen or felt before. Instead of clear water, each drop was a different, transparent color. The rain covered his chest causing steam to rise off it.
Rainbows appeared everywhere in the city. Even the star-shaped pond, near Andrew, had more than a couple of rainbows playing color tag over it.
Drogan let out a happy sigh, feeling a wash of youth flood over his old bones. For an instant, he felt young and happy again. He danced around in the rain, as his hair, and his long, gray beard, turned brown. He began to skip and run as if he was a small child, jumping into the puddles and splashing.
Not long after that, the rain stopped, and a hush fell over the city of Boreen, like a sigh of sadness at a farewell of someone beloved.
Drogan stopped jumping and his beard that had turned brown, went a little grayer, but not entirely gray as before.
Andrew gasped as the cold and pain slowly returned to his body, but not with quite the same intensity.
“Don't worry, my friend,” Drogan consoled. “It'll rain again, and soon. When it does, you'll be the first person out in it!”
~~~~
Chapter Twenty-five
Farewell Feast
Weeks passed and Drogan religiously took Andrew out every time it rained. And every time Andrew would come back feeling a little bit more healed, and a little more whole than he had before.
The nights in Boreen were beautiful ones. The trees there glowed dully at night and the crescent moon-shaped leaves would chime in the wind, like small bells, cheering Andrew, helping him to sleep more soundly.
Finally, the day came when Andrew no longer needed Drogan to help him out into the rain. He could walk about without much pain. Still, he was much too weak, especially for a lad of sixteen, and he ate much less than he used to, even though he was always hungry.
Andrew spent much of his time out in the gardens, waiting for it to rain. When it did, he would lay flat on the ground and soak up every drop that he could. The emptiness inside him still hadn't left. He figured that it would probably never leave, so, he tried to get used to it.
All too soon, the day came when Lancedon said that it was time to leave the beloved city of Boreen, and make their way to Danspire, despite Andrew’s weak condition. The king of Boreen feared that the city would become unsafe if Andrew lingered there any longer. Lancedon had tried to get the people of Boreen to rally behind them and join them on their journey. However, the fear of the Barnacles was too great. They dared not, as with the Twiskers, The Fallen had been careful to keep all trapped by fear.
Andrew mourned when he heard that they were to leave the city. He had learned to love Boreen. It was not only a lovely place to be; it was safe and felt almost like home. Every day he spent there made the thought of parting from it harder than he wished.
The next evening, they dressed in the white, loose-fitting shirts and silky green capes of the Curleelews, attending a feast in the halls of King Rylee’s castle, with the many lords and ladies of Boreen.
Andrew liked the Curleelews. He liked their elegant way of speaking. Everything about them was beautiful, clean, and good. The close they wore was softer than sealskin. Their manners were extremely gracious. Their way of living was extravagant, and joyous. They lived each day in thanks. He felt, in a way, that he belong there. Yet for all this, he knew they wanted him to leave.
Before the feast began, King Rylee gave a speech and told all in attendance of his son, prince Sterling’s desire to go with Lancedon to Danspire, in search of his wife that had been taken captive by the Sontars. After he had finished his speech, the crowd cheered. Many Boreenians were glad that king Rylee's son was going with Lancedon, and hoped that Sterling would find his lost wife. Lancedon was glad for his company. Sterling was a strong man, and a great warrior. He was tall, with wavy hair, and a strong jaw. There was a calm nature about him. His movements mirrored a graceful panther. His eyes were discerning, and spoke of a deep sadness and longing. He had a small son at home, who would miss him, but Sterling had been sad and melancholy much too long since his wife’s disappearance. Many supposed that this journey would be healthy for him. That is, if it didn't kill him.
Andrew’s friends ate from the plenty of king Rylee's table, which was filled with the choicest foods of Boreen. There were humble pies, that hummed a merry tune while you ate them, and Un-humble pies who insulted you from across the table. There was rainbow water that made your eyes turn different colors while you drank it, and dark chocolate cake that asked you to eat more of it while you were still chewing your first piece.
Freddie, Gogindy, and Talic were having such a good time that they stood up and started to sing and dance with Ivory. Ivory was wearing a pretty, green elfish dress that Coral had given her. It was delicate like a cloud, and it fit her perfectly. Coral had placed a golden circlet on Ivory's red hair that made her look very much like a young princess. Every once in awhile Ivory would glance at Andrew, and then turn away, blushing when she caught his gaze.
Andrew smiled at Ivory. It looked as if she wanted him to dance with her.
Envious of the attention Andrew was giving Ivory, the intrusive voice of the chocolate cake sang out. “Just take one more bite. Come on. Don't you like me?”
“Just ignore it,” Drogan said, pushing the platter of cake further away from Andrew. He placed a lumpy green-shaped thing onto Andrew's plate, smiling at his selection as if he was a bit too pleased with himself. “This should go down a lot easier. Now eat up.”
Andrew stared at the lumpy, warty, looking green thing, wondering why Drogen was so tickled with it. He poked the blob with his fork and the green thing made a sickening, “Ow…ow…OW!”
“What is this thing?” Andrew wondered.
“A picked-on-cucumber.” Drogan answered, chuckling as if he’d just named it and thought it very fitting.
“Huh?”
“Don't just look at it. Eat it!”
Andrew poked the picked-on cucumber again and this time, it began to howl. “Don't eat me, please! Why does everybody have to pick on me? Pick me from my vine and then pick me apart? I'm just a lowly veggie that didn't do anybody any harm. Why do you want to eat me?”
“This is insane!” Andrew cried, looking horrified. “I thought veggies were hard to eat before. Now I've got a talking one on my plate, begging me not to eat it. Drogen, isn't there anything on this table that doesn't make noise?”
“I knew that this talking food thing was a bad idea,” Drogan said, his mood darkening. “How Gogindy ever talked the king into this, is a mystery to me. Go ahead. Try to eat something else a little less talkative.”
Andrew sighed in relief, and placed the cucumber back on its tray. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” the veggie cried. “I am in your debt for life, I...” It was cut short as a Curleelew speared the unsuspecting cucumber with a fork and bit down on it. It let out a nasty screech and Andrew turned his head away in disgust.
“Why not try some corn,” Drogen offered. “All it does is tell corny jokes while you eat it. The gravy's not so bad either, it's just a little bit serious and a touch on the gloomy side.”
Andrew raised his brows and smiled crookedly. “I think I'll pass on the gravy.”
“Then, try some of the corn,” Drogan said, placing a buttery corncob onto Andrew’s plate. “I think you’ll like it.”
“Whatever you say,” Andrew sighed. He picked up a cob of corn, but
before he could take a bite, the corn giggled, and said, “Wait! wait! Before you eat me, can you tell me why the elf didn't like to go swimming?”
“What elf?”
“An elf,” the corn cackled. “It doesn't matter which one.”
“Oh, alright.”
“So,” the corn continued. “Why didn't he like to go swimming?”
“Um...because he, he...couldn't swim?”
“No!” the corn chuckled, fully pleased with itself. “Because, the elf didn't like to…to get…ha…ha…wet, ha, ha, ha! I got you on that one,” the corncob howled, laughing hysterically.
Andrew frowned at the cackling corncob, truly puzzled.
“I don't get it? What's so funny?”
“Ha, ha,” the corncob laughed. “He, he…doesn't get it!”
Andrew shook his head. “That joke wasn't funny at all.”
The corncob only laughed louder.
Drogan leaned closer to Andrew, whispered. “I told you, they tell corny jokes. Don't listen to them, and you'll be able to eat a lot faster.”
Andrew nodded and bit down on the corn.
“No, no!” the corn screeched. “I've got another really funny joke!”
“Another?” Andrew asked, stopping mid bite. “I doubt that.”
“Just listen, please!” the desperate corn pleaded.
“Okay,” Andrew sighed. “But this one better be funny.”
Drogen gave Andrew a look of disapproval, watching as Andrew kindly listened to every single dry joke the corn told. That is, until Drogen couldn’t stand it any longer and took the corn from Andrew and sliced the corn off with a knife, so Andrew could eat in peace.
