Here are the elements for February:
Something or someone falling from a high place
A question of trust
First vague signs of spring
Baby booties (I know, the elves might not actually call them this :P )
All works must be related to Elfquest, whether canon-based, original character, alternate universe, or whatever. Writings must contain all six elements. Art can either contain all six elements, or illustrate one of the writings.
This one will be a challenge! Hope we get lots of entries! :D
One-Eye. His lifemate's musical use of the new name made it
seem true. Living as he did, in tune with the wolves,
he sometimes forgot that his tribename had changed,
even though he seldom could forget the condition it
represented. Learning to hunt again, to aim true
with his new perception, was still a challenge.
If not for his trusted bond, he wouldn't have
judged that distance correctly the last time
and would probably now be called "One-Less".
In his mind's eye, he recalled that leaping
jump after the prey. Stongbow had been just
about to shoot the stag. Being out in front,
One-Eye's mount felt the rush of the chase and would
not give ground to make way for the arrows.
One-Eye also was eager to score a kill; wanted very
much to provide the meat for his cub-to-be and
prove that he was still capable to Clearbrook.
The easing of the White-Cold could be felt by
all the forest, the renewal and energy returning
in bursts that were undeniable. The deer ahead
turned slightly, angling so close that One-Eye's
knife arched to plunge into the neck, but One-Eye
had misjudged and his momentum wasn't going to
stop by meeting flesh, but rather he was tilting
off his wolf! His arm still in mid-swing, his
torso shifting his weight, he recalled the
panic and his immense relief when he was spared
from stabbing himself by the sudden
motion of his ride.
The unspoken communication
was perfect. No send, no gasp, nothing but
pure instinct had told his companion what to
do. The racing paws left the soggy trail with
such speed and power that the blade in One-Eye's hand
connected with the haunch of the deer after all.
It was not a killing blow, but it saved One-Eye
from toppling to the ground on top of his own
weapon, and it left a clear shot for Stongbow.
The bleeting stopped before it had even begun
as the arrow pierced the windpipe of the buck.
In the light rain that followed, the elves
laughed with him as he claimed first blood,
helped him carve his portions and patted his
wolf. Every one of them knew how the animal
had helped him compensate for his damadged senses,
but instead of pity, the pack felt joy at their
interdependance and pride at their cooperation.
The laughter was healing, the extra devotion
was worth an eye.
In the now again, his lifemate repeated his
name. "One-Eye?" her gentleness as she
touched his shoulder on his good-side evidence
of how she also adapted out of love.
The tiny bits of hide she held were shaped
to cover a cubling's feet. The sparkle in
his one remaining eye was bright enough.
That was fantastic! it's not often we get a tale about One Eye and his struggles after his eye was taken! You win at life.
She had betrayed him, for centuries untold. Had quietly and subtly usurped his rule, had worked horrors behind his back, in the shadows.
Recently, she had saved his life. Had saved him even as Tenspan died with a Troll spear in his breast.
Recently, she had begun to atone for her deeds. Their folk concieved and carried babies and then came to her to have them delivered. The Palace housed members of all four known tribes, their numbers increasing one by one as the snows melted away to make room for the brief Northern New Green.
Rain instead of snow, now. The laughter and cries of little ones mingling with the howls of Wolfriders, the rowdy laughter of Go Backs, the songs of Sun Villagers and Gliders.
And through it all, he was starting to build trust for her again. He loved her still, and she loved him. Her love was healthy, now. Pure.
Voll smiled and played a little trilling tune on his flute, feeling under his hand the kicks and flutters of his child. Winnowill stopped stitching together tiny little buckskin boots to pat his hand, sleepy and content.
Redemption suited her, Voll thought.
And it was true.
Nightsea and my Lady Arill, those two stories made my lunch taste twice as good! Thank you so much!
I am gonna try to do something for this month... if not, then I will try for next month. I haven't really had a urge to draw for about a month and a half. Sucks, but it's true.
Wow! I loved those stories..Um lets see how this turns out?
Doeskin listened to the warm rain that was making a soft tapping sound against the roof of her hut. The fact that the rain was no longer freezing cold, but in fact very warm was indeed the first sign that the time of cold was soon to end. The healer moved to her hut entrance, pushing aside the heavier curtains that had been put up to keep the cold out, and spied at the other huts.
It was misty outside, a soft fog had rolled off the ocean, and out of the forest to cover the village in the before morning hours. She gave a small smile at the quiet before she noticed something. A bit of distant laughter, small and light. At the very edge of the village she could see three small figures heading for the cliffs seeming to carry bundles with them.
The healer frowned as she stood and pulled on her warm furs and leathers on. Despite the warm rain, the air itself was cold, made colder when you are wet and the water has cooled against your skin. She pulled up the hood of her heavy cloth cloak her father had given to her, for a moment smiling at the soft fur as it rubbed her soft cheeks and her chin.
She set out from the house, following after the three small figures. She had a good idea of who they were, and more then likely she was right. The ground was soft from the night rain they had received, making it muddy as she walked. Though her feet slipped as she followed after the three, she did not make as much sound as they did running through the puddles!
in another few minutes the rain let up, and the sky brightened with threats of the oncoming sun. The healer smiled as she looked up towards the sky. It held every color from the fiery hues of falling leaves, to the softest and faintest colors of pale roses. She shook her head, a bit irritated at how she had come lately to find that she was often easily distracted, and found it hard to concentrate on anything.
Her hand fell to her stomach as she paused. She had lost sight of the three up ahead, but she could still her them running along. They were close to the cliffs now and she knew where they were going. The morning brought the song of birds, calling to one another and chirping themselves awake in the morning. Other then Doeskin and the three smaller elves she had pursued out of curiosity, the others in the village would find this a lazy morning and find it hard to wake up.
She was brought out of her thoughts, and listening to the music of the bird-song by a slight feeling of nausea, which had followed a swift kick from the child growing inside of her belly. This had been the reason for why she was not asleep so early this morning. She found that as soon as she laid to rest the child had decided to start kicking it's mother, only to fall back to resting when Doeskin was up to move. The same now had happened when she had stopped to listen to the birds.
She remembered her reason for being out in the morning and followed the sounds to the cliffs leisurely now. She came out of the edge of the trees and found her earlier suspicions to have been right. There sat three of the village's trouble making cubs, her own niece SnailShell, Wolflight and WolfPride. The two girls were wrapped in a blanket staring out over the ocean and the light that reflected off it. Besides them WolfPride looked over his shoulder and stared at the healer.
The boy was so surprised to see and adult had followed them that he had meant to step back, but his foot slipped! Both feet suddenly went out form under him and he began to slide down the cliff. He cried out in surprise, and found his wrists clutched by his sister and their playmate.
The two girls were struggling to pull him up, if her fell from the cliff he would more then likely die, rather then if he had simply slipped on one of the paths leading to the beach below where he could of slid down safely. Doeskin dashed forward towards the girls, to grip his arms and lend her strength to the smaller girls.
It took a few minutes but the three of them managed to pull him up from the edge and onto the cliff itself. Wolflight was busy yelling at her brother, her pale skin was plastered with mud and looked just as dark as his own skin.
SnailShell looked up to her aunt. She was trembling int he cold air afraid that the older girl would betray the trio's secret of how they had snuck out to go watch the sunrise. In truth the three did this everyday, but this was the first time any of them had even -fell- like that. "Doe...your going to tell aren't you?"
Doeskin reached out and softly rubbed her neice's short brown hair, which was already wet and cold. "Not if you don't tell that I followed." The girl smiled and pounced on her aunt, hugging her tightly around her neck and kissing her cheek. The two were as close as sisters in truth, since SnailShell's mother was too busy to look after her younger child, SnailShell was sent to live with Doeskin and her father.
"Lets get home and cleaned up sweetheart. Father should be up by now." She stood and looked over to the twins, both of whom were busy wrestling in the mud in yet -another- fight between the two of them. SnailShell spied the fight and shook her head, she knew those two would be at it for hours like that until they got bored and decided to go home. Turning away she took her aunt's hand and lead her off towards the village.
"Oh, and Doe?" Doeskin looked down to the younger elven female with a questioning look. "Did you ever get that present from Abyssfern? You know? those baby slippers he was making?" She absentmindedly poked at the slight bulged of her aunt's tummy, which was followed by a kick at the same area. Doeskin swatted her hand away lightly before rubbing her side a little. "Yes, he made them himself rather then having the tanner do it for him." SnailShell tilted her head looking up at the trees as they walked though the forest. "Why? I know he's your friend...but isn't the baby you know..not his?" Doeskin looked down to her niece and smiled a little at the blissful ignorance of a child. "He might not be the father...but he still want to be there for the baby and me." SnailShell shrugged and turned away bouncing off ahead already bored with the conversation, to her adult things, and romance was not nearly as fun as playing tricks with the twins!
My new home
I’m running away. My parents would have me marry Nunkah but I, a mere 15 year old girl, could never marry a man so much older than me, let alone one as brutal as him. Oh yes, I saw how he treated his brief wife Shuna. I’m glad she managed to get away and trust me; I’ll never suffer what she did. I’m simply not strong enough, for me it’s getting away or die.
So I’m running through the forest faster than I’ve ever done before. As soon as my parents wake up and discover I’m gone the entire village will send the dogs after me to try and track me down. My lungs are aching and I can hardly breathe, yet I don’t stop. I never believed them when they said fear gives wings, now I do.
“My parents”, how stupid am I, when I say “parents” I mean “father” my mother is dead, fell from a high tree when she’d climbed up to gather eggs, the branch supporting her had snapped, nothing could be done. She would never allow me to get married to a man like Nunkah.
It’s raining but I don’t care. Maybe, a hopeful voice says in my head, maybe the rain will wash away your tracks so the dogs can’t track you. Maybe the rain is your friend. Soon I am drenched but what does it matter? Better drenched and free than dry and captured any day.
The sun is rising in the east, normally I love sun-raise but now it’s a threat; telling me my fleet soon will be discovered. Help me. Somebody help me.
I’m starving, the sun is high on the sky and miraculously no one has come yet, perhaps I was right about the rain. Still, I haven’t eaten since the precious day and there’s no food to be found. My father is greedy and locks all his food away everyday; I know where it is but I can never get to it unless he orders me to cook.
I’m walking, slowly, dragging my feet along. I’m wet, cold and hungry. For the first time I almost regret leaving. Back in the village I’d get a warm bed and food everyday. Here I am just a lost child.
The night had fallen on again when I hear it; a choir of howling wolves, music so unlike any I’ve ever heard before. At first the sound sends a shiver down my spine; my father always told me to watch out for the wolves, told me they are vicious beast there would kill anything moving. Then I remember; Shuna told about the blessed spirits, allied with wolves. Maybe it’s them I hear. Besides, I know now who the vicious beasts are. It’s my father and Nunkah.
Carefully I sneak towards the sound. Maybe they’ll kill me when they see me; maybe Shuna is the only human to be blessed with the change of living amongst them. Still, dying out here is better than living back there.
I can see them now, the spirits stand hand in hand, the golden-haired chief exactly as Shuna described, holding the hands of the auburn-haired healer and the silver-haired stargazer.
Suddenly the howling stops and I know they’ve seen me. I close my eyes and wait for the lethal arrow, it never comes. Instead I feel soft hands on my cheeks, opening my eyes I see Shuna standing right in front of me and finally I give away to the fear and cries. Cries like I haven’t cried since my mother died.
They give me food and the tanner Moonshade supplies me with some clothes I can use until me own has dried. Smiling I reach into my back and find the small boots I used to wear when I was a child. Why I brought them I don’t know, it just feels right to give them to these kind spirits.
The next morning little Chitter, daughter of Moonshade and Strongbow, says she has something to show me. Smiling I follow the little bundle of energy to a small clearing in the trees. There, in the middle of the snow, stands a single flower.
Short, easy to read and to understand. that means its also easy to imagine her running through the forest in fear of what could happened if she was caught. I liked the story very much! I can only see a few mistakes, but we all make those don't we? Not like I'm anyone to talk about making grammar mistakes though, its my worst subject when trying to write. Over all, please write more, I enjoyed it.
Hmm... and I actually thought it was quite long... Glad you liked it...
Maybe it seemed short because I tend to read things quickly when I like them? I'm looking forward to your next story.
I have enjoyed all these very much. Nightsea, the beauty of the tribe's love for One-Eye warmed my heart. Your writing style is so immediate, so poetic, I always enjoy reading anything from you! :D
Lady Arill, you characterize Winnie and Voll so wonderfully always. I do wish it had been like that! The element of "falling from a high place" was only implied in Tenspan's death, so I almost missed it-- but it worked!
Asinas, I like Doeskin a lot, and I love the way you have described the scenery, especially the sunset. Your descriptions of Doeskin's pregnancy were very well done-- it really brought it back to me, how it feels!
Redhead Ember, that was intense and beautiful. I really felt for the girl, and I could really picture her flight from the way you described it.
Tymber, what can I say? Another terrific episode! I felt so sorry for Suncaller-- and for Shadow, caught between a rock and a hard place like that. He's a wise chief-- I'm very interested to see how he's going to get himself out of this!
Mine is almost done; I'm hoping to post it this afternoon or evening. :)
Two-Edge lay on the floor of the crumbling Palace, staring at cracked walls he did not see. His broken feet throbbed, but he scarcely felt it. His game was over. His last, best game-- and he had lost. Troll was to have overcome elf, or elf, troll-- but neither had happened, and his two fractured selves still clashed and fought within him, their conflict overwhelming his mind. He did not hear the voices speaking quietly above him, The first was soft and sympathetic; the other, though not unkind, was pensive and calculating.
"What can his cruel mother have done to him, Brownskin? If she were here, gentle Leetah would not hesitate to heal him!"
"Well, she's gone, 'Door', with the Wolfriders to the Forbidden Grove-- and that leaves us to solve this unwelcomed riddle ourselves. . . perhaps to our advantage!"
Door. The silent rockshaper and the twisted mistress who held him in her sway-- these were the ones Two-Edge's staring eyes saw, despite the voices above him that did not match.
Then hands were pulling carefully at his bandages, and he jerked his feet away with a strangled cry. "Hush!" said the sympathetic voice. "Be still, Two-Edge, and I will fix these. You must have found a way to wrap your own wounds-- or was it the trolls?-- but the wrappings are soaked and dirty." An elfin hand with fewer fingers than it should have had stroked his brow. "Be still and let me help."
"If it was the trolls, it would only have been 'cuz he was no use to them if he couldn't walk," a third, harsher voice said.
"Perhaps," said the voice. "But Picknose is no Guttlekraw, young Go-Back."
The words still did not register, but as the broken hand touched him, something within the tortured half-troll loosened. How much time had passed since he had felt a gentle touch? His body began shaking with sobs as the fingers plucked at his feet. "Mardu, would you please bring some clean, dry bandages? Thank you."
"Spiders," Two-Edge gasped. "Rats." He twitched at the feel of imagined bites.
The gnarled hand touched his brow again and rested there softly. "Shoo, pests! Get away from him! There, I have driven them off, Two-Edge. They are gone."
This time the words registered. Still sobbing quietly, Two-Edge lay still and let his bandages be changed.
Music. Two-Edge opened his eyes. Someone was playing a flute outside his crumbling window. He raised himself on one elbow and looked around.
He was still in the Palace, lying on a platform in a room by himself. Furs under him, furs over him-- someone had taken care he should be comfortable. Who? Was it the one whose missing-fingered hand had dressed his injuries last night? Or the one whose power had floated his feet just above the floor to make it easier for the other to work? That sensation had been strange, but it had also lessened the pain. Afterwards Two-Edge had fallen into an exhausted sleep, too deep for dreams. For that he was grateful.
It was the music, he realized now, the rippling notes outside his window, that were soothing the clashing selves within him, clearing his fractured thoughts.. Water dripped outside, falling from the turrets and ledges above. The warmer part of the year was approaching, bringing thaw. The snow outside would be growing crusty with the slow melt. Two-Edge swung his legs over the side of the platform and put them on the floor. The pain forced a cry between his teeth.
At the sound, someone who had been just outside the doorway came hurrying into the room. It was the ancient, wizened little rockshaper, dressed like a Go-Back and hobbling with a stick, whom Two-Edge had captured as part of the game that had gone so horribly wrong.. A different sort of cry, almost a whimper, came from Two-Edge's throat, and he fell back onto the furs.
So it was this one-- the one who had trapped him in rock, who was responsible for his condition-- and the black-haired floater who had mocked his plight-- whose voices had talked over his head last night. And that misshapen hand, curled over the top of the walking stick, was the hand that had touched him.
This was the one Picknose wanted him to capture. But Two-Edge had no plans to aid either trolls or elves further. . .
"That's right, lie back down," said the rockshaper cheerfully. "No walking till those feet are better. I've sent one of the Go-Backs for some meat and broth. A good meal is what you need now."
Two-Edge lay still, staring at the elf under lowered brows. "What do you want of me? What is your game?" he growled.
"Want?" The litle elf gazed at him in surprise. "Why, nothing. Nothing at all-- except that you rest here and get well."
The half-troll shook his head. "You have to have a game, rockshaper. Everyone has a game."
"I don't." The little elf paused, still gazing at him. Then, softly, he said, "But very well-- I do want something. I want you to call me by my name. I am Ekuar."
Ekuar. He remembered the name, though the trolls had seldom used it. And he'd known, at the back of his mind, that this was the same one who had crouched, starved and nearly naked, in King Greymung's deepest tunnels. But this elf, gazing at him with confidence and compassion, hardly seemed the same being.
Why should Greymung's slave care for the Master Smith? Why should the one who had trapped his feet in stone now want them healed? It made no sense.
Two-Edge stared at the ceiling. Outside the window the flute music went on. Laughter and joking voices rose above it as the Go-Backs enjoyed the warming weather.
"Very well," the elf said, as Two-Edge's silence stretched the air taut. "I will leave you to rest and eat. Until later, friend."
Friend? Something within him twisted. Trolls had friends-- other trolls. Elves had other elves. Two-Edge--
"Go away," Two-Edge said.
Ekuar sighed. But he went away.
When the music outside ceased, the rats and spiders returned. But so did the little rockshaper, drawn, it seemed, by Two-Edge's cries. The rhymes were gone, and all the games were dead. Nothing stood between the half-troll and his visions of murder and cruelty now; and his two warring selves were reduced once again to begging his dam to let his sire live, or at least to tell him what she had done with the remains. But through his torment, over and over, a maimed hand stroked his brow, a soothing voice assured him he was safe. This would relax him enough for exhaustion to send him to black forgetfulness for a time, till dreams woke him screaming, and it all began again.
Two-Edge opened his eyes. Music was playing once more. The little rockshaper, looking tired, was standing there, gently smiling. Next to him was a grinning Go-Back carrying a bowl that steamed gently. Another sat on the floor, sending rippling notes from a flute. Two-Edge's stomach pierced him with hunger, and he sat up, reaching for the bear stew.
"Good!" Ekuar said. "It took us two days to realize that you had felt better when music was playing. You must be very hungry."
Gobbling the food, Two-Edge did not speak for a few moments. Then he mumbled, with his mouth half-full, "Why are you doing this?"
"Because we owe you, Master Smith," said the Go-Back, grinning. "Best war we ever fought-- and we won! The fawns of our fawns will dance and sing it, and it's all because of you!" He reached out and poked Two-Edge in the shoulder with a mittened hand. Two-Edge steadied his bowl and scowled at the elf. But it was the Wolfriders, not the Go-Backs, who had ruined his game. The hot stew warmed his insides, soothing the fear and confusion that still trembled under the steadying music.
Ekuar was gazing at him. Two-Edge swallowed a mouthful, and asked again. “Why are you doing this, elf?”
The maimed rockshaper came closer and spoke in a low voice. “Because I know what it feels like. To be a prisoner.”
Two-Edge froze, staring.
"Better now?" said a voice.
Ekuar turned. "Yes, Brownskin. You were right! The music is helping!" His smile glowed. The flute-playing Go-Back sitting on the floor raised an amused eyebrow, but did not stop. The other Go-Back snorted.
It was your idea too, rockshaper-- not just Rayek's," he said.
"True, my friend," Rayek said with a smile at Ekuar. Then he fixed intense golden eyes on the half-troll. "Two-Edge. When you are well, I want you to take me to Blue Mountain."
Two-Edge's insides twisted. Return to his mother? No!
But Ekuar had turned to face the black-haired one. "Brownskin, can you not wait until Two-Edge has had more time to rest?" He sighed, eyeing the impatient expression on the other's face, and laughed ruefully. "I suppose not."
"The secrets of Blue Mountain," Rayek said, his eyes not leaving Two-Edge's. "No one knows them so well as you."
"Secrets?" Two-Edge's spinning thoughts grasped the word like an anchor-rope. This was something he understood. The games need not be over yet. There were still . . ."the secrets of Blue Mountain! Yes!" He chuckled a little. The dark floater was no friend of Winnowill's. It would be fun, showing him how to trick and thwart her. "I will take you there," he said.
"But not yet. Not for a long time yet," Ekuar said, glancing at Rayek. "You have barely started to heal!"
Rayek squared his shoulders and nodded. "True. Not till your feet have knit themselves back together, half-troll. Then we will go."
Two-Edge gave him a long look, then handed the empty stew bowl back to the Go-Back. "Yes. Then we will go."
He slept, then, and in his dreams, instead of his mother killing his father, she was weeping in frustration at the sound of Rayek's laughter from one of Two-Edge's secret spy holes. He woke chortling, finding only darkness and silence surrounding his bed. No music. But the rats and spiders did not return. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Four eights of days went by. One morning, carefully pulling himself along on two stout wooden sticks the Go-Backs had made, Two-Edge left his couch for the first time. Following the sound of a cheerful elf voice humming a cracked tune, he found himself entering a large room. A stone table in the center held a strange, small figurine holding a round stone plate aloft in two stone arms, surrounded by other, more roughly shaped figures. Ekuar sat at a stone bench, a needle in his only hand. In front of him a hand of stone, shaped from part of the bench, held a small bit of furred leather in its grip. Ekuar took a stitch in the leather, then turned, smiling.
"Two-Edge! It is good, friend, to see you up and about!"
"What are you doing?" Two-Edge said.
Ekuar laughed. "Making baby foot-coverings! The Go-Back chieftess is going to have a child-- and it may be Brownskin's!"
"A child?" Two-Edge raised his eyebrows. He supposed the creature would need clothing-- but why did Ekuar seem so happy about it?
"Just think! A little, baby Brownskin!" Ekuar chuckled, then sobered, looking at Two-Edge seriously. "But I fear it must delay your journey to Blue Mountain. Brownskin has sworn not to leave Kahvi till the baby comes."
"Hmm." Two-Edge rubbed his chin. Whatever game Rayek was up to, Two-Edge was willing to admit to himself that the idea of not seeing his mother again yet was welcome. And there would be all the more time to plan his games. "I can wait," he said.
"Good!" Ekuar smiled. "Then you can see the baby, too!"
Two-Edge shrugged. He didn't understand this elf. Not at all. But it didn’t seem to matter.
"What's that?" he asked, gesturing towards the figures on the table.
"That? It's a game!" Ekuar looked puzzled as Two-Edge stared, uncomprehending. "Want me to show you how to play?"
Two-Edge looked at him. "What's it for?"
Ekuar blinked. "For? Why, nothing! It's just for fun!"
"Fun?" Two-Edge maneuvered himself closer on his sticks. He propped himself against the table and picked up one of the stone things. "And what happens to the loser?"
"Why, nothing!" Ekuar repeated. "You play again. Maybe the loser will win the second time." He smiled encouragingly, pulling himself up from his bench on his own stick and hobbling over. A sudden, strange amusement struck Two-Edge Two cripples, both on sticks, he thought.
Ekuar picked up a stone figure. "Shall I show you how to play?"
A game with no object. With no consequences for the one who lost. It seemed pointless. But-- "Very well," Two-Edge growled. "Ekuar."
"You called me by my name! Thank you!" Ekuar smiled like the sun coming out. They sat down together and began to play.
He was back in his treasure-chamber in the troll kingdom. Somehow a gentle rain was falling from the ceiling. Dirt and grime that had covered the walls, the weapons and armor, was washing down under the soft downpour, collecting on the floor, then running away through drain openings to leave only dampness behind. It was. . . nice. But Two-Edge found his eyes moving unwillingly to the statue of Winnowill in her stone cage. It began rising. It rose out of its cage, through the platform above. It rose past the secret, sliding panel he usually entered the room by. Two-Edge whimpered, then cried out, as the statue rose and grew to fill the top of the room, looming over him. He cowered against the wall, crying.
A hand touched his shoulder-- a maimed hand with three fingers. "You're having a bad dream, Two-Edge," a voice murmured. "Hush, now."
He did not awaken-- but the statue began to topple. Suddenly it fell, turning over and over, growing smaller as it tumbled. Two-Edge gasped as his mother's statue struck the floor, shattering into countless pieces. Relief swept through him. He opened his eyes.
Ekuar's concerned face was stooping over his. "Only a bad dream, Two-Edge," he repeated. "All is well."
Two-Edge paused, then slowly reached up, gripping the hand that touched him. "All is well," he said. "Friend."
*Note: The first two lines of dialogue in this piece are copied from the source story in Siege at Blue Mountain. The rest is my own work.*
Oh, Gazer, that was beautiful. Really it was. We do not have enough Two Edge tales around here, so this was a wonderful treat. And Ekuar's so sweet.^^
Thank you for sharing this with us.
yay! I checked back just to see if krwordgazer put her story in. That was wonderful-- so touching. :) You really conveyed Two Edge's instability and how it might have been balanced by Ekuar's kindness. i guess what they say is true, in this story at least-- to have suffered is to know suffering, and to be thus capable of empathy.
Thank you, boardmom!
A bit longer of a read, than usual from you
I saw you mention this story in another thread, Wordgazer. I'm happy to find it, it's been too long since I read one of your stories.
Ekuar is so sweet and it's great to read about him. I like seeing him from Two-Edge's pov. It shows how kind he is, but also how confusing that kindness could be to someone who isn't used to it.
krwordgazer, woow long story. I'll have to read the rest later (I started to read it, but its a bit busy right now irl to read it.)
*Blushes* thank you for the compliment. I tried my best to describe it, from what I can remember of when my sister was pregnant, and what Amy&Katie told me of their pregnancies. I myself have nto been pregnant, so it was a bit difficult. I'm glad you liked it!
Tymber- I'll admit I became very cross with you for that one. I really liked Suncaller already, and you killed him off! Other then that I loved the story.
Beautiful and true than truth, as usual Wordgazer. Just one thing: the events of "Siege" took place three years after the Palace War. That means Kahvi didn't get pregnant until about a year after.
Y'know, I've got to wonder how Go-Backs KNOW when they're expecting. There's not period for them to miss. Maybe it's an elfin "oh look, my body tells me it's growing a baby" thing.
Though certain later events in Shards would indicate they don't know immediately.
Just one thing: the events of "Siege" took place three years after the Palace War. That means Kahvi didn't get pregnant until about a year after.
Spoilers? Sword and the Searcher stuff:
Shuna stated it in Sword and the searcher didn't she? She was embarrassed by how the male wolves were acting during 'that time' and was 'exiled' to the palace for a few days right? I believe the quote was along the lines of "Its embarrassing, but how can I tell them? Elven women don't bleed." I know thats not word for word, but I have not read that story in a very long time.
As for how the Go-Backs know. I think its just a slight thing as noticing very small changes. Some of my older friends said that about the time of their third kid, they just -knew- in the back of their head when they were pregnant again.
Very nice stories, people :D