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LITTLE THINGS - Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2023-11-26 18:58:41 +0000 UTCOakwood, aside from being a generally excellent building material, was also the name of the easternmost town in the country.
When elves build a community, they start by looking for forests. To be an elf is to be at home in the woods, whether that means underneath in the undergrowth or high above in the treetops. When they find a suitable home, they find the exact center of the forest and plant a seed. The sapling that sprouts is cared for by every elf in residence, and the town exists for as long as the tree lives. When it grows big enough, it might even be hollowed out and converted to a town hall.
Some say that the Elf Queen’s palace was built into and around a colossal willow tree larger than some mountains, but even many elves thought it was just a myth.
Oakwood’s Great Tree was, obviously, a venerable oak of some centuries. It wasn’t quite thick enough to become a building itself yet, but a number of smaller structures were built atop its branches.
When a huge disaster created the Deadlands, Oakwood was right on the edge of the disaster’s effects. Many were killed by the sickness that was imbued into the earth, and the edge of the forest was still a graveyard of dead timber. The then-king of Lisiin was closer to the border than the elf kingdom, and so it was human soldiers who arrived with aid. And then, when they began building the border wall, the citizens of Oakwood helped out, more than willing to assist in blocking that dreaded blight off from the kingdoms. More humans came, and even some dwarfs, to help with construction. Dwarfs cut the stone for the bricks, elves grew timber for support, and humans footed the bill and kept the Deadlands’ monsters at bay while the wall was being worked on. And they all helped put it together.
When all was said and done, it took fifty years to completely cut the Deadlands off from the rest of Lisiin, and by the time it was over, not everyone wanted to leave. Today, there were almost more humans than elves in Oakwood, and there was even a dwarven fort underneath it. Everyone was dedicated to guarding the wall, because the things on the other side were enough to give the men who stood guard nightmares.
It wasn’t always easy-going. Humans lived shorter lives than dwarfs, who in turn lived shorter lives than elves. It wasn’t easy growing older while your friends at the pub stayed looking young, and the reverse was even harder. Even still, some people made it work.
Amelia was proof of that.
The horse pulled the cart through the town’s gate as Amelia poked Jaunt’s belly. The fat meatball of a squirrel chirruped weakly.
“Dad, you need to make Jaunt exercise. There’s no way he can climb trees like this.”
“Like this?” her dad said, pointing at an oak sapling as they passed it by. He waved at the elf planting it. “Probably not, but he doesn’t need to. He can still move when he wants to and that’s what matters.”
The squirrel huffed and rolled over, swatting Amelia’s poking finger with his tail. He tried to get up, succeeded on the third attempt, and scurried surprisingly fast to crawl up Dad’s back onto his shoulder.
Llew faux-gasped in surprise and listed to the side, nearly sending Jaunt tumbling, and the squirrel chittered angrily while his master laughed. He calmed the animal down with a scratch to his noggin.
“Home sweet home,” Llew said cheerfully. “I’m off to the butcher’s. I’ll meet you at home later on, alright?”
“Aye, Dad. Hup!” She hopped off the cart. A moment later, Jaunt jumped down onto her shoulder and nearly fell over. “Gah! Dad, what are you feeding him?!”
He laughed. “Go relax, Amelia. Jaunt, keep an eye on her for me?”
“Chrr chtrr.”
“Yes, I’ll get a juicy pear for you you glutton.”
“Chrp.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “See you later.”
Llew snapped his reins and the horse trotted off, leaving Amelia alone with the squirrel.
Jaunt scratched under his chin and gave her a half-lidded stare.
“What are you looking at?” she asked, annoyed.
“Kp.” He turned around, putting his tail in her face.
“Oh what do you know--plbt!”
She sputtered, bringing a hand up to brush the bushy tail away. Someone laughed and she looked up.
An older woman leaned on a fence, watching. “Don’t tell me your old man has you talking to the squirrels now too?”
“No,” Amelia said immediately, shoving Jaunt off her shoulder to his outrage. “I still can’t understand what the little meatball says.”
“Oh, don’t worry dear,” the woman assured her. “I’m sure you’ll get it someday.”
Jaunt kicked her boot and scampered off. “I’m not sure I really want to know what he’s saying, Mrs. Walden.” They both watched him try to jump on Mrs. Walden’s fence before the old woman took pity and went to help him.
“Still, it would be fun, I think,” Mrs. Walden pondered. “Getting to talk to animals! Elves are so lucky… though I’d also take a green thumb,” she chuckled. “My garden’s not much to look at.”
Amelia nodded politely, letting her eyes wander. She made eye contact with someone across the street. The trio of elves immediately looked away and wandered off.
One of them shot her a nasty look.
“...Are you alright, dear?” Mrs. Walden asked softly. She ran a hand across Jaunt’s back.
“Hm. Oh. Yeah.” Amelia watched them go until they turned the corner out of sight. The elves wore armor with Oakwood’s leaf emblem. They were probably going on guard duty.
Mrs. Walden put her hand over Amelia’s, and she jumped, turning to look at her again. “Amy dear, you know, your mother used to get those looks too. She wasn’t popular for her choice of suitor.”
“Um.”
“And your father got in more than a few fights as well, though those didn’t last long.”
“Wait, really?” Amelia asked, having not heard that before. “But Dad hates fighting.”
“Oh, he never started anything but he definitely finished them,” Mrs. Walden laughed. “Your mother was a beauty, you know, all the young boys were hoping to snag her, so when she went for an elven lad…” She tittered to herself. “I call him that, but really he’s older than me, you know.”
“Right.” Amelia picked Jaunt up and held him in her arms. “It was a long ride, Mrs. Walden, and I think I want to get home.”
The older woman looked up. “I suppose it is getting late… As you wish, dear. Have a good evening, and don’t let them get to you!”
“You too.”
Amelia started walking up the street, not really in a hurry. There was still plenty of light left in the day, but she still didn’t have anything to do but go home.
At this time of day, the archery ranges would be taken by soldiers, and she… didn’t really have anyone to look for. There wasn’t anyone else her age in town… not humans, anyway.
She sighed. “Jaunt, I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”
The squirrel huffed, then crawled over her front onto her shoulder, ignoring her protests. He made a curious sound and fished around in her quiver.
“Hey, get out of there--you’re making a scene,” she complained, seeing someone cross the street to avoid her. Jaunt pulled an arrow out and handed it to her. “What? Oh.”
It was the one she found in the bush.
“Right, this one… What about it?”
The squirrel mimed hammering something, then chirruped a question she didn’t understand.
“I think it was pretty obvious how it was made, Jaunt.”
He stomped a foot on her shoulder, shaking his head.
Amelia’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re saying.”
Jaunt sighed, then jumped down, grabbing the arrow in his mouth as he went.
“Hey! What are you doing?!”
-------------------
Jaunt led her on a short chase through town. She must have looked really silly chasing after a chubby squirrel like that, to her embarrassment… but it wasn’t like it was the strangest thing to see, she reflected as she passed some such sights by. Mr. Carn’s flytrap garden, for example. He had a knack for the things, and they kept the local insect population down. Amelia could swear that they stared at her sometimes, even though they didn’t have eyes.
Most of her focus was on the chase, but in the back of her mind she noticed something weird.
There were a lot of soldiers in town today. Like, a lot a lot. Humans, elves and even dwarfs, all in full armor and going around looking serious. There were always some around, since Oakwood was technically a military stronghold, but most of the soldiers stayed on or near the Wall.
Jaunt finally let her catch up outside the fletcher’s hut.
“You know…” Amelia gasped, “If you wanted to go… here… you could’ve just said.”
He threw the arrow at her head. Feathered-end first, thankfully.
Taking a moment to get her breath back, she looked the arrow over one more time. “I guess I am a little curious what Mr. Fletcher can make of it,” she mused, turning it over in her hand.
She opened the door and froze.
Her dad was there, which was surprising enough. He was done selling their haul already?
But the guard captain was there too, and most alarmingly was the mayor. The mayor who really didn’t like her.
Behind his counter, Mr. Fletcher was the first to notice her. His eyes widened as they made eye contact, and he waved her away before the others saw her.
She ducked behind the wall.
“Hm? What are you doing?” the mayor asked testily.
“Uh, the door opened on its own. I think the hinges need replacing,” Fletcher lied.
“Of course it does,” he said in a disgusted tone. “Must be human make.”
The captain made an offended sound. “I am standing right here.”
Silence.
“...Sir.”
“Trust me, I am painfully aware of that fact.”
“Mayor Thorndyke,” her dad began. “You can’t actually be serious?”
“I would have thought you’d be in favor of this, Llewellyn. Weren’t you complaining about a dearth of arrows for your hunts?”
“I don’t need arrows to hunt, they just make it easier.”
“And I’m sure we have more than just archers on the Wall as well.”
“Listen, you pompous--” the captain bit out, but Mr. Thorndyke cut him off.
“We wouldn’t want your swordsmen and… pike… men, to get rusty, would we? It might even be good for them in the long term.”
“You can’t just ban us from buying arrows!” the captain exclaimed.
Amelia blinked. What?
“When was the last time you went to the Wall?” he continued. “You don’t have any idea how many arrows we go through keeping those beasts at bay.”
“Maybe if you actually killed one instead of just driving them off, you’d be able to recover some,” the mayor said pitilessly. “At the rate you’ve been buying them up, surely you have a wealth of unused ammunition to draw from? If not, then it’s your own fault for not rationing them properly.”
Amelia heard the sound of steel, and her father gasped.
“Whoa whoa, stand down Gerald,” Llew said.
“We need to restock!” the captain barked. “We lost most of ours when a dust devil attacked the North Mist Tower. And for the record, we did kill it!”
“Then you should have recovered them, Gerald.” Thorndyke intoned. “My hunters need those arrows to feed your troops. Not every hunter can be as skilled as Llew, and even he’s been having difficulty recently.”
“Maybe if you’d let the cowherds settle down here--”
“We are not cutting down our forest just to replace them with sterile grassland!” Thorndyke spat. “It was bad enough letting you build your farms!”
A long silence, then Captain Gerald sighed. “I don’t have the energy to argue this point yet again. First the dust devil, then we find out someone snuck past the Trinity gate during the emergency, and now I have to deal with you? Ugh… You’re having trouble too, Llew?” he asked, trying to change the subject.
“Huh? Oh, well, not as such,” her dad said. “I’ve just been spending more time helping my daughter with her archery.”
Amelia hissed under her breath, and beside her Jaunt mimicked her.
Thorndyke made a disgusted noise. “Ah, yes. For a while there I had managed to convince myself she didn’t exist. Llewellyn, I truly don’t understand why you bother.”
“Sjin,” Fletcher warned. “Don’t go there.”
“You’d be much better served training up an elven apprentice. A mere human won’t live long enough to reach your level of mastery.”
Her father didn’t respond for a long moment. “...Sir, I respect you greatly, which is why I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear a word you just said.”
“Actually,” the captain said, albeit reluctantly.
“Gerry.”
“I don’t agree with him per se,” Gerald started, giving off the distinct impression he’d rather cut his own tongue off, “But are you sure Amelia is suited for hunting?”
“What do you mean?”
A pause. “I know that it’s different for elves, but a human girl her age should be learning how to--”
“--Be a good wife?” Dad interrupted. “Is that what you were going to say? Because if that’s what you were going to say, let me say that I didn’t marry her mother for her delicate nature or skill in cooking.”
Fletcher snorted, and Amelia had to resist the urge to get closer. Dad almost never talked about Mom…
“No, Elizabeth Scourier definitely wasn’t a traditional woman,” Gerald admitted. “But you’re trying to raise her like a human, and if you have her in those brown rags, smelling like blood from hunting… I’m just saying that there are certain expectations she needs to meet if you want her to be… normal.” He at least had the grace to sound apologetic for saying it.
“Not that she’s in any danger of that,” Thorndyke sneered. “You can’t put half an orange and half an apple together and expect to get a new fruit out of it.”
“...Mayor, you need to leave.”
Amelia flinched. Her Dad never sounded like that where he thought she could hear.
“Yes, I think I do. I’ve concluded my business anyway. Fletcher, do not sell any more arrows to the soldiers.”
“Sir--”
“That’s final.”
Amelia backed up, hiding behind the corner of the building as Thorndyke walked out with a slight limp. To her dismay, he turned to walk in her direction. He passed her by without ever looking her way, but his ears twitched as he went.
“Half-breed.”
Amy stood there, shocked.
Jaunt climbed up her leg to her shoulder and nudged her cheek.
“Chr?”
She didn’t acknowledge him. Instead she just turned towards home.
------------------------------------
Their home was on the outskirts of town, facing the Wall. It was a variation on the standard elven home, and actually one of the older houses in Oakwood. It had been constructed by her grandfather out of rough earthen brick, with soil piled on top of the roof and a tree planted atop the whole thing.
Three centuries on, the tree was fully grown and its roots had all but replaced the bricks. It was more like a burrow than a house, but it was home.
Or, at least, she’d like it to be.
Her room was mostly above ground, and even had a window. Unfortunately, the view wasn’t great.
The trees were thin out here, right on the edge of the dead tree zone, and her room looked out at the Wall. It dominated the horizon. From where she was standing, it was an expanse of grey stone formed by grey dead wood, with only a sliver of blue sky visible above it.
She closed her curtains and tried to put everything out of her mind. She didn’t want to think about Dad, or Mom, or anyone else in town who looked at her with either pity or contempt.
Instead, Amy skinned a rabbit.
Her lucky shot was a pretty big one. There was enough fur to make a hat or two, or maybe a vest if she was smart about the cutting.
Dad could track a target and shoot a deer dead, but he always sold the carcasses off because he couldn’t stand cutting them up. He liked animals; it was an odd thing to say about a hunter, but it was true. He could take pride in a clean, painless kill, but the messy stuff afterwards was too much for him.
He claimed it was an elf thing. Amy had an easier time of it though…
Jaunt went off somewhere. The squirrel had a nest in their tree’s branches, he was probably there.
She set the rabbit’s meat out to drain. The left foot she set aside, mostly intact, to turn into a charm, when she heard something somewhere in the house.
Dad wasn’t home yet. He always announced himself.
It was probably Jaunt trying to get in the pantry again, she figured, so she got up to stop him. Dad might be willing to let him get fat, but Amy wasn’t.
She passed through the kitchen to the pantry closet. It was on the edge of the house, and one of the only rooms that was still mostly brick. It made it harder for bugs and mice to get to the food, but sadly Jaunt was smart enough to work the doorknob, and heavy enough to push the door.
The door was closed, though, and he never let it swing shut behind him.
Amy opened the pantry. The brick wall was partially collapsed.
A goblin was eating their potatoes.
