Appearances Can be Deceiving

 

She stood on the hill, unseen, her fair skin and dark hair, braided with dozens of tiny braids and bells, blended in to the rocks around her.  Barely audible were those bells, a tiny tinkling of sound on the breeze…but -he- heard them.

 

And so he looked up and saw her there, unlike any he had ever seen, her eyes the color of the amber and topaz jewels in his trunks, her leathers looking as soft as any of the bolts of silks in his wagons. Was THIS one of the deadly barbarians he had heard so much about? THIS was his guide? The one to lead him through the pass and to the plains where the small tribe of elves was seen last?  He laughed, laughed until he saw the giant sword strapped across her back.  Not possible. How could one so slight of build and lithe of stature possibly wield such a weapon?  Why, it had to be bigger than…..well….him!  He rubbed his grizzled beard, thoughtful.

 

She approached silently, looking him up and down and seeming to dismiss him immediately.  Above her head, a half dozen black birds circled and cawed in raw voices.  A dark omen? The lass seemed to dismiss them as a threat, just as she had him.  We shall see, he thought.

 

“You are the master?”  Her tones were soft, her words clipped as she spoke the unfamiliar tongue. Again, how could she possibly protect his caravan, this was ludicrous, but an idea was forming in his mind, if all these barbarian wenches looked as she...

 

“I sure am, Sweets. My you look good enough to bring a dozen buyers.”  His hand moved to touch her cheek, and then he froze. It wasn’t her sword, still in its place at her back, that caused him to do so. It was the fine cold of her dagger, pressed against his throat.  “Just making an observation.” He dropped his hand, stepping back away from her, her eyes speaking confusion for a moment.  Good.  She doesn’t fully understand the language. This could work to his advantage.  “Ok.  Lead on scout.”

 

The maid gave him a curt nod, moving from him to look over the small grouping of wagons, even as he continued to look her over. By the gods her feet were even bare.  Did she eat her meat raw as well? Possibly.  So little was known of her kind.  Grugach. The wild elves. Just how wild?

 

Ravensong’s skin was crawling. She could feel his gaze upon her, and did not trust the look in his eyes. She was supposed to bring this human to her people? It made no sense.  They offered jewels and silks and soaps for an alliance.  No alliance was needed.  What were the elders thinking?  She listened to his foreign tongue as he barked out orders and the wagons began to move again, and then she moved as well, darting along and beside them, leading them through the treacherous mountain pass and into the glade below.

 

Her tribe was a small one, perhaps 95 at most, spread over the small grassland in multicolored tents.  The caravan ground to a halt, and elves and men spoke, and moved in an uneasy silence.  Ravensong looked on as wagons were uncovered and chests were opened….all wagons but one.  Curious. Her people milled around, gazing at the wares, but Raven smiled, each of her people looked so innocent, but she knew where blades were hidden, what skills they possessed. If this was more human trickery, it would be the humans caught by surprise, not her tribe.

 

Day wore into night, the fires lit and revelry beginning. During the day the hunt had returned, bringing elk and bear. The aroma was tantalizing as the meats were rotated on spits and cooked in pots, and the merchants offered any who would have it, odd ales and brews.  Raven too participated, merry in dance and song, but still that wagon called to her, a dark and shrouded mystery.  Slowly, she crept away.  Impetuous she was called. Well, all right then. They knew her best after all.

 

Silent footfalls, the young barbarian crept to the wagon with a blanket of night enshrouding her.  Pulling back one of the flaps, she entered the dark wagon, and the sudden cold of warning crept into her very bones.  There were bundles and bundles of blankets, but as she watched, they moved, revealing men in armor, moving so slowly  that they might have been a dream. Slow enough that no armor clinked, no sound was made as they reached for blades. The sound of song and laughter from outside continued.   With wide eyes Ravensong moved backwards, her mind screaming a warning, and suddenly, her back contacted….armor.

 

 

The brigand moved with lightning speed, clamping his hand over her mouth, his other about her waist as he dragged her backwards, her left arm pinned, his foul stench filling her nostrils.  With a sudden movement she flung her free arm behind her, fingers gouging eyes. He dropped her, and the air was filled with two screams, his of pain, and hers of warning.

 

The dance changed, the songs became deadly. Armored men rushed to take on the warriors, but only the men. Foolishly, they did not watch the women. So in the end, it was the humans who littered the grasslands with their limp bodies, their stench, and their red blood.  As the sun rose, the elves began yet again to pack their belongings and prepare to find new lands.  Ravensong knelt beside one of the fallen human brigands, soft tears falling from her cheeks to the broken form beside her, her prayers for his soul murmured to her secret goddess.  Torin, clan chieftain, stood beside her, and bent gently to grasp her elbow and lift her to her feet.

 

“Time to mourn is over.  Their souls have been properly sent, and now it is time to go. Time, for you to go Ravensong.  Your Wander is upon you.”

 

She looked up, startled.  “I am not to follow the path?”

 

“Your path has moved from ours now.  It’s time for you to learn that all humans are not as you judge them.  But you cannot see that here.”  He looked at the battle-torn fields, watching as pyres were erected, for both elves and men. “There is one you must seek out.  A half elf. They gypsy, Cattalinia.  Join your story to hers.  Learn from her and those you must journey with, for your Wander is upon you.”

 

Ravensong nodded mutely, rising and gathering her items to her. She took the barest necessities; a light backpack, her great sword…and….boots.