by K T Durham
She frowned and bit her lip. She had a dreadful feeling this was not going to be easy at all. But where is this Mount Organoth?
Over thousands of years, the geography of the land has changed. Mount Organoth is no longer found on any map known to humans. The land now goes by another name, one which I do not know. You must do some investigating yourself and find out where Organoth blue amber could have come from, Ellanor. Names of places may change, but deep roots are not easily touched by the tides of time. What used to be Mount Organoth may have survived to some degree.
Elly groaned, fear and anxiety gripping her. Stop being so cryptic, Greymore! Gaya is enormous, and this is urgent! I don’t even know where to begin. Please, surely you can just tell me where to find it? We can’t waste any time. I need to get home!
Greymore emitted such a deep, disapproving rumble that she jumped. Ellanor, I cannot simply give you all the answers.
Elly squeezed her eyes shut. You expect me to find this . . . this Organoth blue amber by myself? Greymore, I’m sure Grandpapa and everyone else wants me to get home as soon as possible. Why don’t you just tell me exactly how I can get home?
Ellanor, I may possess much wisdom as a Royan of Alendria, but I am not a fortune teller, and I am not an instruction manual that lines out every step of the way for you. You have to get out there and do the work, too. I am also limited in what I know about the human realm. I know what the portal is made of, and where it came from, but I do not have information on how it works. The connection that I share with the Tree has been greatly diminished now that we are cut off from Alendria. Also, it appears that much information related to the human realm was removed from the intelligence repository of the Tree when the portal was sealed over a hundred years ago, including information about how the portal works, possibly to prevent elves like you from crossing over. Hence, this is all I can tell you.
Elly sank down to her knees in despair. She sure was in deep, deep trouble.
Then there was a rustling behind her. She froze and slowly turned around.
There in the grass stood a rotund, fat-cheeked hamster with ginger-brown fur. He looked dishevelled and out of breath, as though he had been running. He had fixed his large black eyes on Elly, baffled.
Then the hamster squeaked and scratched behind one ear. “Well! What do we have here?” he exclaimed in a small, high-pitched voice. “You look like a human, but why on earth are you so tiny?”
Elly looked at the hamster warily. She supposed he looked harmless. So she smiled and bowed. “Hello, Mr Hamster,” she said politely, as though talking to hamsters was the most normal thing. “My name is Ellanor, but everyone calls me Elly. The reason I’m so tiny is because I’m not a human. I am an elf from Alendria. It is nice to meet you.”
You can imagine the hamster’s shock when he realized Elly had actually understood what he was saying. Humans never understood him, of course—they just liked feeding and stroking him, and he was more than happy with that arrangement. What was even stranger was that he could understand every single word she was saying. Whenever humans talked, he couldn’t understand any of their gibberish.
It took the hamster some moments to master himself. Then he straightened and returned the bow clumsily. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Elly the elf! My name is Hobbes, and I am lost.”
Hobbes scrambled over to Elly and recounted what had transpired that morning.
Master was the kindest little boy, and Hobbes just adored him. For as long as Hobbes could remember, he had been living in a green-lidded plastic cage, where he enjoyed his days eating his favourite snacks, sleeping in his little pumpkin house, and running on the treadmill whenever he fancied some legwork. Ah, that was the life!
Master loved playing with Hobbes, and every Friday and Saturday he would take Hobbes to the neighbourhood park, where he would read a book on the swing while he petted the hamster on his lap. But that particular Friday morning, Master wasn’t home; he had gone off somewhere the previous night. His mother had taken Hobbes to the park instead.
Hobbes belched and rubbed his swollen tummy; he’d had far too much to eat. “We were having such a grand time! She fed me my favourite snacks, took me out of the cage, and petted me for a long time while she sat on the swing, throwing bread pellets to those fat pigeons. She looked a little sad, though. Then she put me back in the food bowl, filled to the brim with yoghurt cookies. I was so happy! The next thing I knew, she had vanished. I was all by my lonesome.”
He sniffled and shook his head sorrowfully. “She must’ve made a mistake… must’ve slipped her mind somehow.”
Elly felt very sorry for him. “Don’t be too sad, Mr Hobbes. She’s probably going to come look for you soon.” She smiled sympathetically and patted his back.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him that he may very well have been… abandoned.
Back in Alendria, she had read about such things happening in the human realm. It was not uncommon for animals to be abandoned by their masters. Elly found this shocking. Such things were unheard of back home. In Alendria, elves and animals shared an unspoken bond and lived alongside each other peacefully. She could not imagine abandoning Marlow. No matter how stubborn he got at times, he was fiercely loyal to her, and she trusted him with her life. He was part of their family.
Elly then noticed that Hobbes had fallen quiet. She looked at him, and saw that the hamster was trembling like a leaf and staring past her with bulging eyes. She swivelled around and gulped—about ten feet away stood a large black and brown dog, growling and glaring at them with bared fangs, ready to pounce.
Hobbes was generally afraid of cats and dogs, but most of all hungry German shepherds. His teeth chattered as he stared helplessly.
Elly stretched out her hand to him. “Hurry! We’ll hide up the tree!” she urged. Before the panic-stricken hamster could respond, Elly grabbed him by one of his paws and shot up towards the branches. At that moment, the German shepherd leapt forward with a vicious snarl. Hobbes was squealing like a piglet, writhing in abject terror as Elly tried to keep her grip on him.
The dog halted at the base of the tree and barked with frightening ferocity. Thankfully, the branches offered plenty of leafy coverage to conceal two small creatures. The canine’s master, a young man with dark dreadlocks and wearing bright orange sneakers, cupped a hand over his mobile phone and glared at his dog, wondering what all the ruckus was about. “Get back here, Borris!” he called. He was trying to convince his girlfriend on the phone that he hadn’t partied at the pub last night, but it wasn’t going very well.
Borris ignored him and barked incessantly.
Now that they were safely out of reach, Elly breathed a sigh of relief as she settled carefully on a sturdy branch. Hobbes had almost passed out from fright.
The man was calling to his dog again. “You silly chap, stop barking up the wrong tree! The police will come and take you away for causing such a racket! Come, let’s get going!” There were stomping footsteps followed by some whimpering; then the barking subsided. Borris had given up and trotted away with his master, whose girlfriend had moments ago angrily hung up on him.
A family of ladybugs on a leaf nearby regarded Elly and Hobbes warily. The terrified hamster clung to the branch as he gazed at Elly in fear and wonder. “Y-you c-can fly!” he stuttered. But then again, she wasn’t really human. What did she say she was again? He cocked his head and looked at her quizzically. “But where are your wings?”
Elly blinked, then laughed for the first time since she had crossed over. The hamster had shaken her out of her despondency. She smiled at him. “Back home in my world, everyone can fly, except newborn elflings. Elves can fly from the time we start to walk, at two months old. Most of the animals can fly, too. I have a griffin that flies as fast as the wind! I wish you could meet him,” she said wistfully. Her heart ached as she thought of Marlow and her family.
Then it suddenly dawned on her that, despite the circumstances, she was actually having a real adventure, not the pretend games she often played with Aron back home. She felt a tingling sensation in her fingertips; her heart was beating fast, and though she was still afraid, especially for her family, she also felt something else—a strange, unfamiliar sense of exhilaration.
Greymore rumbled. What you’re feeling, Ellanor—that’s one of the true markers of an explorer. Deep down, you are an adventurer. Despite your shyness and your self-doubt, you have the heart of a true explorer. Though right now you are terrified, part of you recognises this as an adventure. Am I right?
Elly frowned. Yes, that may be true. But right now, I would give everything to make sure my family . . . and Aron . . . are safe.
Then she felt a tug on her dress. Hobbes had gingerly put a paw on her skirt. “What should we do now?” he squeaked, praying that birds wouldn’t suddenly swoop down and whisk him away.
Ellanor, you must first disguise yourself if you don’t want to attract undesired attention. You must blend in and transform into human proportions so that we can make our eventual return home less cumbersome. Remember to keep your hair down so that your ears are concealed.
Elly self-consciously tugged her long hair and ruffled it. She hadn’t thought about her leaf-shaped ears…
Now, open me up.
Elly did as Greymore said: she opened up her Royan; and there, on a crisp white page, was a red balloon.
Inflate this! Greymore commanded.
“They never told me you would be so bossy,” she mumbled. Then she drew in a deep breath, and with a mighty huff she expelled all the air she had from her lungs into the balloon. There was a popping sound.
Hobbes’ mouth dropped open. With every expelled breath, Elly grew bigger and bigger and bigger.
After several moments, Elly found herself gazing down at the hamster, who now looked so small he could fit into the palm of her hand! She was now so big that she was straddling the branch, which didn’t look so sturdy anymore. She better get off before it broke under her weight.
Hobbes fell back on his bottom in terror and shrank from her. At that size, Elly didn’t look so harmless.
But she smiled down at him. “Mr Hobbes, I will not hurt you! I am sorry you are lost, just like me. I would very much like your company. Would you please join me? We shall go on an adventure!” She bent down and cupped her hands.
Hobbes gaped at her. He was not fond of the outdoors, and he disliked anything remotely adventurous. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were, before he had been left behind by Mother. He missed Master so very much.
But he had nowhere to go. He didn’t know how to get home by himself. He might as well go off with this strange girl as get eaten by predators that were absolutely everywhere . . . snakes, birds, dogs, cats, squirrels… He shuddered.
So Hobbes nodded reluctantly. “Alrighty, then!” He scrambled up onto Elly’s cupped hands, and she put him carefully inside her right pocket. He was relieved to find that it was deep and rather cosy. He twisted this way and that, and finally nestled into a comfortable position.
Elly was about to fly down the tree when her Royan gave a mighty tremble, startling her.
No flying, Ellanor! You are now supposed to behave like a human. Do what a human would do.
“Oops! Sorry.” Smiling sheepishly, Elly swiftly clambered down the tree, agile as a cat. Once she reached the ground, she surveyed her surroundings carefully.
She was in some sort of grassy clearing, surrounded by a white picket fence, where a ghostly white mist hovered. There were swings, a slide, and a couple of wooden tables and benches. Near the swings was a wooden sign shaped like a log, with Berry Grove Park engraved on it in fading gold lettering.
There was nobody around. It was a Friday morning, well past eight o’clock; children had gone off to school, adults to work. Several chubby pigeons were waddling about on the sodden grass looking for food morsels.
She looked around, stumped. She was officially lost.
Where should I go?
You need to decide, Ellanor. After all, you are an aspiring explorer. Trust your instincts.
She grimaced. My instincts? A whole lot of good that did me. I got completely fooled by the goblin. I don’t think I’m qualified to use my instincts.
You have learned from your experience with Edellina, have you not? With hardship and pain come growth and gain. Life is not about avoiding the storm, Ellanor, but learning how to dance in it. It’s the little failures and pitfalls in life that can help you grow. Uses all your senses. You will know what to do.
But she was so afraid. I don’t trust myself, Greymore. Not after what happened with Edellina.
When you were with Edellina, you were not listening to your instincts. You knew there was something wrong, but you did not quiet your mind and listen to your conscience. Edellina—the goblin—took advantage of your trust, your naivety, your childish curiosity. A part of you didn’t want to believe Edellina would deliberately lead you to danger, because true friends would not do that.
Elly fell silent as she thought about what Greymore said. It was true. She had wanted to trust Edellina with all her heart, because she wanted to believe Edellina was her true friend.
She sighed. All right, I will give this a try.
Elly closed her eyes and clasped her hands together in prayer. “Freya, please look over me and help me see things with clarity,” she whispered. She breathed slowly and deeply. Listened to the sound of the wind. Sniffed the air. Then gradually she could not hear the wind or the rustling of leaves anymore, nor could she smell the grass. All her senses were on full alert, reaching out and seeking.
In her mind’s eye, she saw red and gold colours streak by; and a round, golden-brown bread bun emitting an unfamiliar and enticing aroma.
A voice piped up behind her. “Good morning.”
Elly nearly jumped out of her skin as she gasped and wheeled around.
There on the bench sat a diminutive, dark-skinned old woman staring up at her.
She looked rather bizarre, with thick, copper-red hair streaked with silver that was tied up into two cone-shaped buns on top of her head, which seemed disproportionately large for her small body. Her eyes were a peculiar shade of brown, almost yellow, and they looked oddly huge behind large glasses. She was wearing layers of clothes underneath some sort of golden-brown fur coat, beneath which a full floral-patterned skirt splayed out on the bench. She was so small that her black boots were dangling several inches from the ground. Her gnarled hands were folded neatly on her lap.
Elly stood there gaping stupidly when the lady’s fur coat seemed to shift by itself; her eyes widened as a small golden-brown ferret unfurled from the lady’s neck like a scarf. The ferret fixed its round, dark eyes on Elly, as though assessing her.
“H-hello,” Elly said uncertainly. Where had this old woman come from? She thought she had been alone in the park.
The old woman smiled, revealing a set of absurdly straight white teeth for someone who looked so old. “Good morning, dear. It’s so delightful to meet someone as young as you here at this time of day.” Her voice was oddly sing-song. Then she gestured to her ferret. “My friend is also pleased to meet you. You can pet him if you like; I promise you he won’t bite.”
Elly looked at the ferret warily. Hobbes squirmed, and she placed a hand protectively on her pocket. The old lady chuckled, then peered at her gold pocket watch. “Hmm, it’s still early enough for breakfast, little one. Are you hungry?”
Elly shook her head, then went red in the face when her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten anything since her birthday party. She was famished.
The old woman smiled. “Well, my dear, there’s no shame in feeling hungry. There’s a lovely little bakery down Cornwall Street there.” She pointed, and Elly saw the enormous blue
-coloured stone on her bony finger. “It’s one of my favourites. You should go there and grab a bite. Their pineapple buns are to die for.” The ferret seemed to be nodding in agreement.
Elly’s mouth watered. “Thank you,” she said, turning to look towards the direction she had pointed. “I’ll make my way there now. Would you like to come with me?” she asked hopefully, turning back. It would be nice to have some company.
The bench was empty. Elly blinked and turned this way and that. Where did the old woman go?
She didn’t have the energy to look around. She had to eat something. And those pineapple buns sounded too tempting.
So she started making her way towards Cornwall Street. There were dreary stone buildings all around, and many looked very old and blotched with dark stains like age spots, with fading colourful shop signs hanging from iron brackets. The sky was a dismal grey, and it was so cold that Elly found it difficult to recall the warmth back home in Evergreen. Noisy vehicles passed by on the roads, which were littered with things from broken bottles, crinkled newspaper, and plastic bags, to cigarette butts. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she surveyed the waste. People walked past her hurriedly with their heads bowed, their vaporised breath rising like steam. Some stared at her, wondering what a little girl like her was doing out in the frigid cold dressed in a summer frock.
As she walked, Elly realized that nobody in this realm really cared whether she lived or died. The thought made her feel awfully and utterly alone. She bowed her head and crossed her arms with a shiver; a biting wind was whistling down Cornwall Street.
Then she sniffed, catching a whiff of something… an unfamiliar, enticing aroma.
Where was it coming from? She let her nose lead her, and eventually she found herself standing in front of a shop that had a couple of fading movie posters taped shabbily on the glass windows. The aroma was so strong now, it made her dizzy.
Hobbes stirred in her pocket. Maybe he was hungry, too.
