by Ramsey Isler
“Let’s play a game,” I told him.
Piv seemed delighted. “What kind of game?”
“Well, it’s an odd little human game,” I said. “It’s called Truth or Dare.”
“Curious,” Piv said. “What is a dare?”
“A dare is like a challenge to do something brave, or foolish.”
“Why would I want to do something foolish?” Piv asked me.
“Because it’s fun,” I said. “And isn’t fun the purpose of all games?”
“Quite correct,” Piv said. “So how do we play?”
“Well, it’s very simple really,” I said. “We take turns. On each turn, one of us asks the other a question: Truth, or Dare? And then we have to pick one of the two options. If you pick truth, you have to truthfully answer a question I ask you. If you pick dare, then you have to perform a daring task I propose. If you refuse, there’s a penalty.”
“And what’s the penalty?”
“Well that’s up to the players to agree upon before playing,” I said. “I propose that if we refuse a dare, we’ll have to tell a truth instead.”
“Delightful,” Piv said. Then he pointed a stern finger at me. “You must promise to be truthful.”
“I do promise,” I said. “And do you promise to do the same?”
“A Kith never lies.”
“We’ll see about that,” I said. “Since this is your first time playing, you get to go first.”
“Ahh,” Piv said. “Truth, or dare?”
“Truth,” I answered.
Piv paused for a bit as he considered a question. “Do you regret not having a wife?”
I have to admit, the question hit me like an unexpected right cross to the chin (I used to box in the Army, you know). I never thought Piv even cared about my personal life. But his very pointed question showed that he at least had some curiosity about my loneliness.
“Yes,” I told him. “Sometimes I do wish I had gotten married.”
“Why didn’t you?” Piv asked.
“Ah ah ah,” I told him as I wagged my finger. “You only get one question per turn.”
“Drat,” Piv said. He crossed his arms and pouted.
“Now it’s my turn. Truth, or da—”
“Truth!” Piv said before I could finish. From his giddy grin I could tell he was quite pleased with his choice.
“Okay then. Have Kith ever killed humans?”
Piv’s smile disappeared instantly. I’d never seen him look that serious before. Piv usually loved surprises, but I knew he hated that one. I fear that our relationship may have suffered irreparable damage in that moment, but I had to ask. I had to know.
“Yes,” he said.
A part of me died then. It was a small part; a childish part. It was a piece of hope that I had clung to for so long, hope that the elves I’d fantasized about for so long were truly pure and innocent and the embodiment of all that humanity could never be. But that was a dream, and that sweet dream was replaced with bitter reality. In truth, I was not surprised. But I was very, very disenchanted. Yes, disenchanted is the best word to use because I had been quite enchanted by the elves. My time with Piv had proven that many of the good stories were true, but now I knew that many of the bad ones were accurate as well. Elves were indeed quite familiar with killing. But, killing doesn’t always mean murder. Maybe the Kith had a reason to kill. Perhaps it was self-defense.
“Who was it?” I asked.
“Ah ah ah,” Piv said as he mimicked my earlier finger gesture. “You only get one question per turn.”
“Fine,” I said. “Your turn.”
“Truth, or dare?”
“Truth,” I said again.
This time Piv was ready with his question. “Why did you ask me if Kith had killed before?”
I had half-expected this question, but hoped he wouldn’t ask. I found myself struggling for a succinct answer. “I need to know what you really are,” I told him. “It’s your turn again. Truth, or dare?”
“Dare,” Piv said. I wasn’t surprised. The clever little elf would not give me a chance to pursue my questioning further. No matter. This played into my scheme perfectly.
“Fine then,” I said. “I dare you to ask the other elves to let me spend time with them.”
Piv recoiled as though I had raised my hand to strike him. He instinctively bared his sharp eyeteeth and looked at me like I was a madman.
“You promised to play by the rules,” I said. Then I laughed. It was a feeble attempt to lighten the mood and calm Piv’s obvious discomfort. But my efforts were unnecessary. Piv’s expression was already shifting from distaste to amusement.
“You are a clever man,” he said. “Your games are always so much more than simple fun.”
“I’m glad you appreciate them,” I told him.
“But your dare does cause me a fair bit of consternation,” Piv said. “The others tolerate you, but they don’t like you.”
“I am aware of this,” I said. “But dares aren’t meant to be easy, or safe.”
“Always an adventure,” Piv said.
“Always,” I said.
June 6th,
When I was a rambunctious child with a little head full of fantastical dreams, my mother would constantly tell me an age-old maxim: “Be careful what you wish for.” Today I’m reminded of her admonitions as Piv made good on his dare, and he took me to meet with his friends again. It was not what I expected, although I suppose I was foolish to expect anything from these beings.
Unlike like last time, Piv blindfolded me before he led me to the new meeting spot. This time the rendezvous took place at night, which made me even more apprehensive. Even with the blindfold on I could feel the darkness closing in on us. I wasn’t afraid; I’d spent countless hours in the dark while hunting for Piv. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if Piv’s friends would act differently in the nighttime since they are nocturnal creatures.
Eventually Piv stopped me and removed the blindfold. I found myself in a part of the forest I did not recognize. The other Kith were there already. I knew this because I could see their eyes shining in the dim moonlight. But I could barely make out their bodies. They were shadowy forms standing just out of arm’s reach.
“You are a strange man,” said one of them. I recognized the voice. It was Chiwatha, the somewhat-friendly Kith I’d met last time, and the only one who had given me his name.
“Well, I don’t deny that I’m strange,” I said. “But which of my many eccentricities are you referring to?”
“In the past, many came to us seeking to learn our ways,” an anonymous voice said. “But you are the first to have convinced one of our own kind to ask on your behalf. Very strange. Very.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said. “If you extraordinary folk think I’m strange then I must be something special indeed.”
“Strange is not always good,” Chiwatha said. “Especially for humans.”
“I don’t think you know us as well as you think you know us,” I said. “Otherwise, why would you have been so easily forced to hide in the woods and run from us?”
The world around me shifted immediately. The bright, shining eyes before me narrowed to slits. I heard a hissing like a dozen ornery cats preparing to strike, and I knew I had insulted the Kith. They swirled around me faster than my eyes could track. The air filled with a buzz like countless hummingbirds beating their wings.
It was wonderfully terrifying.
I wasn’t sure what they would do next. I prepared myself for a number of different outcomes. A quick death wouldn’t be a problem, really. Death is a bit of a bother to think about while you’re alive, but I imagine once you’re dead there’s not much to worry about anymore. There was also the chance that the Kith could also just let me go, take Piv with them, and never allow me to see any of them again. That would be disappointing, but I’d learn to live with it. Torture, however, was an unpleasant possibility to ponder. These ancient creatures probably knew a n
umber of ways to make a man suffer for days.
While I was pondering my fate, the furious buzz around me gradually slowed. The glowing eyes reappeared as menacing orbs of light in the darkness. Then, the Kith began a debate.
They spoke in a language composed of sounds that varied from warbles to whistles. It was not like hearing men speak; it was more like listening to songbirds. They sang to each other for some time, energetically. Then they turned to me.
“What do we get in exchange for teaching you our ways?” Piv said to me.
“I will teach you the ways of my world,” I said.
“We know your ways already,” another Kith said. “We have watched you for a very long time.”
“Really?” I asked. “So you could build one of my magic talking boxes yourself?”
“No. I could not.”
“See?” I said. “Even Piv, who has become quite adept at tinkering with human tools, couldn’t build one on his own. You still do not truly understand the ways of the modern world. We change very quickly. To you, a hundred years is nothing, and in the past it may not have been enough time for the big people to really do anything different. But times have changed. Our world can shift dramatically in mere months now. We have advanced more than you can even imagine.”
Another voice said, “Why should we care?” I recognized it as Snooty.
“You need to understand humans better if you’re going to keep trying to avoid us,” I said. “And you can only hide for so long. One day, someone else will find you, and they won’t be as understanding and kind as me.”
There was a long silent pause then. All I could hear was the faint music of the leaves rustling in the wind. Then the warbling began again; the Kith were once again embroiled in debate. But the tone was different this time. It was less malicious, and more contemplative. The next words I heard were spoken in English, by Chiwatha.
“You will live with us then,” he said. “And we will live with you.”
June 20th,
I’ve learned a lot this week. There’s so much that I can hardly remember it all. But I dare not take notes in the presence of the Kith. After their tale about the Grimm Brothers, I don’t think they’d appreciate another human snooping around them and writing down everything he saw. My journal remains a secret from them all, even Piv. Better safe than sorry and all that.
So, here are the new things I’ve learned thus far, in no particular order (my mind rarely remembers things in sequence anyway):
– Not all the Kith live in caves. Although many prefer a home in a rocky cave like the one I found Piv in, there’s a great variety in Kith domiciles. Some of them burrow dens in the ground and sleep like bears. And others, to my great surprise, find underwater caves in lakes and live there. I find this fascinating, as it seems to validate many Germanic tales of mystical creatures living in lakes.
– The Kith version of English (and I assume this is true for other languages) is an eclectic mix of words and phrases they’ve picked up over the centuries. I’ve noticed this before with Piv, but now that I’ve spent more time with other Kith it has become quite clear. Their assimilation of our language comes in bits and pieces cobbled together from children, senile hermits, and lost soldiers they’ve encountered over their long lives.
– Most Kith can’t read human languages very well; a travesty that I have earnestly begun to remedy. Many of them know the basics of reading and writing, but more advanced words and sentence structures escape them. I found this odd since they speak quite well (they have a remarkable knack for mimicry). So far it has been a simple matter to get them to match the words they know how to say with the written reads they’re learning to read. Kith are quick learners, as Piv has proven already, so I have no doubts they’ll all be quite literate soon.
– The other Kith have begun to look up to Piv with a sort of admiration. The Kith have a completely non-hierarchical society, with no concept of social or political leaders that I can discern. But Piv appears to be the closest thing to a chief that they have. They value his opinion highly, and look to him to teach them things when my attempts to merge human logic with Kith logic fail. Piv himself seems not to care at all about his new position as mentor.
– I’ve never once heard them argue, or insult each other even in a playful manner. They’ll insult humans at the drop of a hat, but never one of their own kind, no matter where they’re from or what they look like. It’s the most egalitarian society I’ve ever seen.
– The Kith continue to impress me with their mechanical prowess. I feared that Piv’s skill in the field was a trait unique to him, but now I’m sure that they all have the same talent. Even Snooty has proven remarkably adept at creating all sorts of gadgets with the rudimentary mix of electronics I have available. I’ve been explaining the underlying science behind the technology, and the Kith have amazed me with their ability to process the material. They’re very good with macrophysics, but the unintuitive aspects of particle physics and quantum mechanics have been much more difficult for them to grasp.
– Speaking of electronics (I know this is putting the cart before the horse but I warned you I don’t think sequentially), I retrieved a number of useful electronics tools from the Kith themselves. Over the years, they’ve collected many leftover and forgotten gadgets from lost campers and the like. The Kith value these trinkets as a magpie would lovingly hoard a bauble, and all of the equipment was in surprisingly good shape. We’ve got circuit boards, LEDs, vacuum tubes, insulated wire, transistors, capacitors, and more. There’s plenty for each of the Kith to experiment with.
– They are masters of trickery. One great example is their ability to seemingly disappear at will. They are very good at what initially seems to be something akin to teleportation. But a bit of careful observation shows this to be false. The Kith are no more capable of magic than any of us humans. They have merely adapted and evolved ways to fool us. One of Piv’s friends once pulled a disappearing act in one of my cupboards. Frustrated, I left the cabin, but I did not go far. I climbed up into a nearby tree, to do some bird watching to calm my agitation. To my surprise, after a few minutes, the little imp appeared out of the house and scampered into the forest so fast I almost didn’t see him. But I did see him. He had never left the house; he just made me think he had. These beings have an illusory nature. I’m not sure how they do it, but they can manipulate the senses of men, animals, and even insects apparently. Perhaps it is some kind of advanced telepathy, though it sounds ludicrous to even postulate such a thing. Maybe it’s a chemical trick, inducing some sort of controlled hallucination. Whatever it is, the Kith exhibit a fine control of it.
That sums up what I’ve learned so far, but I feel like I’m only scratching the surface. Also, recently I have had opportunities to speak with many of the Kith alone. Snooty in particular has grown more tolerant of me. The others seem to enjoy my lessons on technology, but their reactions are a mixed bag. They appreciate the knowledge I give them, but every new revelation on the ways of humankind also makes them more wary of us. Sometimes I fear I’m doing just as much harm as good.
But I had to do this. I had to know if, given the tools of science, the Kith would show signs of turning those gifts into tools of destruction as mankind did. Some of the old stories told of evil, malicious elves that could bring innumerable ills to villages and towns, but not all the old tales are true. I had to find out for myself. Could the Kith ever really be a threat to human society?
After all this time and study, I can say confidently that the answer is a resounding “No”. The Kith have no interest in revenge or conflict. They have no desire for conquest or material gain. They have no religious or political stances to promote or defend. They are satisfied with their simple lives. The Kith see the technology I have shown them as mere objects of intellectual curiosity and amusement.
I taught one of the Kith how to use a fishing rod. He found it amusing, but two days later I discovered that he went back to his old habits of swimming in the
stream to catch fish. I’ve shown the Kith all sorts of methods for creating fire and using lamps, but they almost always go back to their old methods. The only man-made tool they regularly use are pieces of glass they scavenge, which they use to make sparkling trinkets and toys that make the light dance all around them.
So they’re not a threat to us, but please don’t think that means they’re not dangerous. Oh no no no. They are quite dangerous if you cross them or invade their territory. I once attempted to figure out the location of their mysterious gathering place after I got tired of being led around with a blindfold on. I must have gotten pretty close because I quickly found myself on my back, and bleeding. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how long I was on the forest floor before I regained consciousness. But I spent many hours afterward tending to my wounds.
July 4th,
I’m going home.
It’s time, I think. The Kith have given me every reason to stay, and that’s exactly why I must go.
If I let them keep me, I’ll never leave. I’ll spend all my days in the company of the most remarkable and magical beings I’ve ever known or will know. I will grow old here, and die here. Little elf hands will bury me. It’s not a bad fate, necessarily. But it’s not the one I want for myself. Not anymore. I’ve found what I needed to find. My quest has reached a successful end. It’s time for my next great adventure.
But I won’t be going alone.
Piv has decided he wants to stay with me. At first, I flatly declined. It seemed counterproductive to what I was trying to accomplish by leaving. But he insisted. “Won’t you miss me?” he asked with the saddest puppy-dog eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Of course I will,” I told him. “But I can come visit every now and then.”
“Not enough!” Piv said. “We still have many lessons to go through.”
“I think we’ve both learned a lot,” I said.
