Chapter 43

And so the stalwart band of adventurers provisions themselves and heads off into the vast, unmapped tracks of the Great Forest. Progress is somewhat slow, as there are no roads and few paths to follow. The underbrush is generally light, since the overhead canopy is thick and prevents much light from coming down to the forest floor.

The first few days of travel are somewhat uneventful. Once or twice, Jazel thinks she "feels" a dae faroth in the area, but the feeling is always fleeting and a search never turns up anyone.

There is a sense of unaging peace here, deep within the forest. The trees are old and stately, silent wardens of time and memory. As the adventurers pass, ponds unexpectedly ripple, leaves quiver, and the wind laughs, as the spirits of this place watch their visitors. Aaron, with his second sight, catches glimpses of them: silver-blue nyads with streaming silver hair lounging half-out of their streams, brown-limbed dryads stretched along tree branches like great cats, and diaphanous sylphs drifting slowly in the breeze. Catching his eye, the spirits beckon him, but the runecaster knows better than to accept the embraces of such creatures.

So Aaron was probably the least startled of all of them when a diminutive, gnarled mannikin appeared in camp one evening. "Merry met!" he called to the group at large. "We been watching thee, and thou seemst to be goodly folk. So I'm sent to invite thee all to our fest this even, under the full moonshine, if thou'lt come."

"Is this a 'bring your own wench' fest? Or does the host provide" quips Aaron. The word 'moonshine' bringing back fun memories of the Nettled Moose tavern. The first to answer with a clever reparte and usually also the first to wake up with a kodiak bear when the night before it was an armload of dryad. Pesky and mischievous are the huldrefolk and, like most of the women he knows, have a cruel streak. Nettles in ones cod piece are no fun either.

Tapping Feo on the shoulder Aaron whispers, "What's a 'goodly folk'? Should I feel insulted?" Somehow the fact that he is in the middle of all this tall timber, that has not been made into a ship, is making Aaron more edgy than normal. He belongs to the sea...not the earth....

Feo shrugged at Aaron and shook her head slightly, she didn't have a clue if he should be insulted or not. She didn't have a clue what they were even saying. So she turned and whispered back, "what is a 'dae faroth'?" Her tongue stumbling over the unfamiliar words. She frowned again and turned back with a speculative look, "What's a 'thou'lt'?" She had a slight suspicion it could be some kind of chicken or water bird but she hadn't sensed anything of the sort. She hadn't really sensed anything, a few animals here and there who scurried at her attempts to touch their minds and gain a bit of knowledge of the area.

"Thy lady companions are equally welcome," the small fellow said, turning his head slightly, "so if thou wishst to bring them, I'll not say you nay." He paced widdershins around the fire. "Tis of a certain some of our fair forest maids will be there as well."

"And as ye've asked two questions o'me, I'll ask twa o' thee. What be thy name, fair-haired man? And how is it that ye saw the forest spirits?"

"I'm Aaron to those that call me friend. That 'cheating no good swindler' to those that are sore losers at dice." His tone sinks into sing song as he shifts into the game of names.

"I am the Lore written on a Blade"
"The gulls cry to me in voices filled with the sea"
"I cut waves and free slaves"
"To my eyes that which is unreal becomes visible"
"Truth lay in my words and my eyes see no illusions"

Moving the long blade from his shoulder as he talks Aaron places the sheathed weapon, point down, in front of him and rests his arms on the cross piece. All the while he is chanting his eyes rove around looking for dryads....

Aaron sees no dryads at the moment; but then, tree-maids would probably sleep at night, even as their trees sleep without the sun.

Feo held back a sigh, everything could have been different if she had been alone but she wasn't and it grated a small deal that it was so. None of them even had anything interesting she could lay hands on! She coudln't help staring at the man, she had hardly a clue of most of what he said for his strange words. SHe preffered such things to be simple. Cael stared at the little man that had intruded on their campsite. For some unexplained reason, the intruder reminded him of tales of the desert peri, or spirits. Capricious creatures, with no inner flame, peri were to be avoided, as they constantly caused trouble and chaos for those who associated with them.

Then the little man spoke of 'forest maids' and Cael wasn't so sure. That term brought up an entirely different image, namely Thorn. One of his travelling companions from the first time he had arrived at The Rabid Wombat, Thorn had proven to be a good friend in the short time that he knew her, and he still wondered if her inner flame had been reclaimed by the trees, as her last words had indicated. This was still part of the Great Forest, was it not?

"Forest Maids?" Cael spoke hesitantly to the mannikin. "Will... will Thorn be there?"

The little man rounded on Cael. "Thorn? Ye know Thorn?" No sooner had the words popped out of his mouth than he clapped his hands over it. "Aaawg!" he stamped. "'Course ye do or thou would not have asked, and there's a question of mine wasted. And I have yet to answer thine." He glowered, displeased to be losing at his own game. "In spirit, she will most assuredly be with us. In form," he shrugged. "It's not for me to know."

Jazel was intriqued by the response of the group to the little man. He was a funny little creature that she felt sure she should know. Had her mother ever mentioned his kind?

Shaking her head in amusement, she looked to Cael. "Thorn? Another friend of yours, sir?" Then she turned to Aaron, "Too bad none of the maidens are about at night. I'd definitely be careful of what you sidle up to tonight."

Grinning, she nodded to the little man. "A bit of rest would do us good, me thinks. After you?"

The Great Forest is rumored to be home to a great number of spirits and sprites and fey creatures. The little man could easily be one of them, as he seems familiar with other forest spirits, and even knew that Aaron had seen them.

"Rest?" the little fellow chuckled. "Well, rest for the soul it is, even if tis not for the body. Come, come, I'll lead if thou wilt follow."

And so the group, intrigued and/or curious, follows the small man through the woods. He's very particular with directions - you must follow him left around the tree, not right, and under, not around, the overhanging grape vines. An aerobic twenty or so minutes later, he stops and gestures everyone forward.

Ahead is a small glade, lit by full moonlight as promised. Soft music made of liquid water-sounds and rustling leaves greets your ears, and a twirling mass of dancers moves gracefully to it in the center of the glade. There is no central fire, as one might expect from a human or elven midnight revel, but the air is pleasantly warm and delicately scented with growing things.

"Keep thy wrappers, if thou wilt," your guide says, looking rather significantly at Gwenh, "but none will look askance if thou do without them." And without further ado, he proceeds to remove his tiny tunic and trousers. "Dance if thou wilt, or elsewise revel as suits ye. I shall be finding sommat to drink, so if any wish it, come along with me."

End Book 4 (Incomplete)