The Melding - Chapter Three

My dear Fetsu,

I’ve been considering our last conversation that took place before I left for this child’s game. You were defending the stance that men and dwarves were equal to races of longer lifespans for the sake of the argument (or so you claimed).

To continue my argument, I have been studying the races’ mythologies, and even there, our superiority or their (the dwarves’ and men’s) lack is obvious. Of course, I would never be as presumptuous as to attempt to teach you on elven mythos. You are very well versed, but just so I may build the foundation of my argument, I must briefly cover it. As you are aware, elves are descended from being of another plane of existence who in days of old (and arguably even today) meddle in affairs of this reality (or world, life, whatever term you’d prefer). You and I are children of a greater people we cannot even comprehend. The dwarves and men were made by well-meaning but impulsive individuals of the Coulombe, the High Race. In the large picture they are merely intelligent creatures who have a similar form to us. The animals here were created by the Coulombe and so were the dwarves and men while we were born of them.

Elven religion is merely the elven perspective, so I will move on to dwarves who are, I suppose, the closest to us. They believe each race came from a different element. Dwarves from fire. Men from water, particularly the ocean. Elves from the wind. Dwarves are of the opinion that the races and their differences are supposed to create a whole when put together. It’s rather unclear whether this coming together is merely the races joining forces and becoming peaceful or is more literal as an elf-dwarf-man mix. There are drawn pictures of the coming together in the form of one individual, and that individual is largely elven in form. The body and legs are very long. Ears pointed. How could an individual that supposedly represents peace have more elven features than human or even dwarven ones? The answer is clear. We are the race with superior features.

Finally, you have men. They believe that they were sent here as this world’s saviors. It’s just like those arrogant idiots to think they had been placed here to lead the other races to the afterlife. If you study their depictions of the sacred being that made them, it is a very tall being with long limbs, in other words, a rough depiction of elves. Man’s own mythos seems to show that they were made by (and thus underneath) elves.

I cannot wait to hear back from you and see your rebuttal. I’m sure it will be entertaining. To be frank, it’s dull here. On your advice, I brought Pylune as you advised to prove to her and the elves that we are one Voice. Of course that’s not true. She’s so slow. Oh well. Enough about that. Do tell me how our Hands are doing. I already miss being there.

Trying not to die of boredom,

Edon

.

She sat there weaving grasses together with smooth efficiency. He couldn’t tell what was going behind the constant movement and the soft humming. Was that a rocking song? Was she trying to send him a message? He opened his mouth before shaking his head and turning away from her. If she was going to hide messages in little songs, it was a silly game that wasn’t worth playing. She could just come out and say it.

Resting his hands on his hips, Edon sighed. Pylune was a mystery he had no time to solve. He looked out from the balcony on the second floor, frowning down on the hustle and bustle that was hidden by the tents. Elves were supposed to be calm and collected down to the last one. He made it his purpose to make sure the other races weren’t aware of how much work went into the appearance of no effort.

He ran his hand over the railing made of living wood. The entire tent was a living plant made by his ancestors when they lived in the forest, long enough ago that there was no elf to remember such a time. Any hole in the bark protecting them healed within a day. With a little binding and careful attention, the same went for the branches making up the interior. A gong rang, resonating through the tent and elves suddenly scattered. One took her place in the corner of the large floor, sitting on a stool while she played a lute. The tent was suddenly quiet with only murmurings of conversation heard in the open rooms. Those whose work could not wait left the main tent all together, moving to another one.

Edon leaned on the railing and waited, expecting Maya to stride in. When she entered, he only recognized her by the lift of her chin. The weight of centuries crashed down on him as he took in her silver hair braided and wrapped around her head like a crown and the staff – her weapon of choice once upon a time – she leaned on to walk. This, he thought to himself, is why elves are termed as isolationists. We make connections with the mortals, and they leave us.

He waited for her to make her slow way up the stairs by herself, knowing Maya well enough to be aware that meeting her halfway to help her up would insult her. She’d also know she could use her age against him. He only addressed the dwarf when she looked out over the tent with him, catching her breath with short pants she tried to keep as silent as possible. “It has been a long…” He paused to do the math.

But she finished for him, “Century and a half, Voice.” He was happy to hear the same crisp snap in her voice he remembered and see the wry smile that made his lips turn up with hers despite his best intentions. “Those who have no years to waste are careful to count them.” She looked around the tent, fine silver eyebrow arched up, her forehead wrinkling more than it already was when her face was at rest. “You’ve put on the show for little old me?”

She glanced at him without turning her head to face him head on, and with her glittering eyes hooded and her half smile accentuated by the waves of fine wrinkles on her thin skin, Edon thought for the first time that age made some people beautiful. Maya had a mysterious, wise look that made him stare. He wondered if, perhaps, the lack of aging he experienced would keep him from ever achieving that. Maya was mature and in control of herself. He felt… stuck.

Shaking his head to rid himself of such thoughts, he waved her to the room he had just come from. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He paced himself beside her, making sure not to rush her as they crossed the threshold into the quiet room. Pylune watched them, unblinking. He wanted to tell her to sit up straight and get her hair out of the ridiculous haphazard braids she’d absently weaved into her hair that morning at breakfast, but he only smiled. “This is my eternity mate, Pylune.”

Pylune continued to stare, silent.

“Um…” Edon cleared his throat. “Pylune, this is the Golden Tor, leader of the dwarves and an old friend of mine. We met during the elven-dwarven peace talks. Our fathers brought us both to teach us.”

Standing, Pylune crossed the room and stood before Maya, far too close. She loomed over the dwarf, but to Maya’s credit, she merely tilted her head up, eyes curious. “…May I?” Her fingers hovered over the Golden’s braid. She ran a gentle finger over the silver hair when a hesitant nod of consent was given. “This is very good. Do you do your hair or do you have a maid do it for you?”

“I used to do it myself, but it’s gotten so that I can’t keep my arms above my head that long.”

Maya’s frank admission of the effects of age, impressed Edon, but Pylune was starting to worry him. He had been expecting her to sit in her corner without saying or doing much other than her obsessive weaving.

“Are you very old for a dwarf?” Edon winced at the question and dared to glance at Maya.

Bemused grin in place, the dwarf nodded. “Yes. I am coming to the end of my life.

Pylune nodded. “That is the natural way of all things. Even those who think they will never die must face it. I can see you are graceful in your acceptance… Golden.” She glanced at Edon, and he wasn’t sure if it was in rebuke or apology as she asked, “Would you mind showing me how you did this? I would like to replicate it if you would allow me to.”

Maya’s eyebrows rose. “This is a markedly dwarven hairstyle.”

Her fine features sharpened with interest. “This is why I’ve never seen hair like this before.” Then she fell silent, remaining where she was, eyes resting expectantly on Maya’s face.

Feeling left out, Edon began, breaking the awkward silence, “Pylune, I think the Golden and I are going to-”

“Do you mind if I show her how to work this braid first, Voice?” Maya’s voice was easy, but there was a sharpness to the question. Her will was to show his mate the braid.

Flattening his lips together, unhappy that he’d been interrupted, he shrugged. “Of course.”

Maya sat down where Pylune told her to. “This won’t take long, Voice. I’m sorry. I know we have important things to discuss, but I want to get to know your eternity mate.” She smiled up at the odd elf as she undid her braid with deft, practiced fingers. “I didn’t even know you had joined. Shame on you for not letting an old friend know.” Her voice was light and teasing. She seemed undisturbed by Pylune’s sharp gaze as she shook out her hair. “You start over your ea-”

“Just do it, Golden. I’ll be able to replicate it if I can just watch.”

Edon watched the strange sight, unsure of what to do. Graceful despite her calloused hands and stocky form, Maya highlighted the gawky disjointed movements of Pylune. The elf’s arms and legs seemed to long and thin. Her chin was sharp as was her long nose. Her eyes were a disturbing shade of pale green, almost white it seemed. Set in her face, tan from many habitual hours in the sun, they seemed misplaced as if they had chosen the wrong face to live in. He hated her. It wasn’t the strong hate he knew when someone wronged him, but it was a slow, abiding hate he hid and held close to his innerself, clinging to it when she made him question every solid fact about himself or the world he’d ever taken for granted.

“It was a pairing of the water,” he said and looked out.

There was a pause that could have merely been a breath. “How long has it been since a ruler participated in that ceremony?”

“Three rulers before myself. Partnership morphed into a bargaining chip, and I don’t agree with that, but I was advised to find someone soon, and I certainly hadn’t fallen in love with someone, so I left it up to fate.”

“Pairing of the water is not fate.” Pylune’s voice was soft. “I am surprised a dwarf knows of the ceremony at all. It’s sacred.”

Edon stiffened. It wasn’t often a comment he made in the spiritual vein was reprimanded, no matter how subtle.

“Oh,” Maya said, seemingly unaware of the tension between the couple, “I don’t know the details. I only know it exists, and there’s a spring. Trances are involved and sometimes coupling. Sounds like a great party.”

Laughing, Pylune nodded. “A great party… I suppose that’s a way to describe the pairing of the water if a party includes a choice you can’t remember making becoming permanent and holy ritual.”

Maya cleared her throat. “Yes… Well… That’s a crown braid for you.”

The elf went back to her weaving in the corner of the room. “Thank you for showing me.”

Edon brought a chair beside Maya’s and sat beside her. “Two of your sons are missing.” He sat back as she, laced her fingers together, her staff on the ground beside her.

“Ah… yes. My heir and my youngest.” Sighing, she stared over his shoulder, obviously remembering something else. “I assume you wouldn’t have come at the boy’s call if you weren’t affected too.”

“Only rumors. My people are so spread out among the plains, a pattern hides easily. I’ve been reading over ancient documents. A sudden outbreak of violent paranoia has happened before too when we were still living in forests, but there’s no mention of the other races. I thought… Maybe it was an illness only elves received until the letter from Augnik.”

“We have legends of evil eating away at a dwarf’s brain, but I took no stock in them. I thought they were metaphors.” Edon watched her age before him, her shoulders bowing in under a heavy weight. “I killed by sons, Edon. I gave them poisoned mead and rocked them to sleep as if they were babes, but I had to set an example...”

She straightened suddenly. “And the boy king may pretend his father is merely busy with affairs in the kingdom, but we all know the old king is as good as dead.” Shaking her head, her eyes focused on him. “This is not an epidemic. This is an attack. The races have been completely isolated until now. There is no way the disease jumped from race to race.”

“An animal could have brought it to us all.”

She scoffed. “What animal visits my mountains, man’s coast, and your plains?”

“Maybe one animal migrated to one area transferred it to another migratory animal and it spread to the third race.” Edon squinted at the stretch of logic, unable to be too offended by Maya’s eye roll since he felt it was somewhat warranted. “You think an invisible enemy attacking us with madness is a better explanation?”

The Golden frowned. “I can see the elves are going to refuse to act until they have no choice.” The challenge was thrown, but she looked as if she had just asked about the weather.

He could feel the pink flush move up his face in a wave of heat. “I refuse to run around trying to find an enemy because you need something to behead.”

“Let’s just sit here until we’re all sticking knives into each other!” She closed her mouth, tightening the corners of her lips until her cheeks were scored with deep wrinkles.

They looked into each other’s eyes, and they each saw the fear and the pain without saying anything other than what had already been said.

“I always assumed we would meet when there was trouble between races, and I planned on siding with you, but this…” She leaned down to pick up her staff. “I think it’s every race for themselves.”

Edon stood as she got to her feet. “The nymphs…” He frowned as she nodded.

“Worries me too. I know nothing about them.”

“They are footnotes in legends, a helping hand if the hero is in a rough place.”

She paused as she got to the balcony. “I’m glad to have seen you before all of the hullabaloo starts.” Smiling, she patted his arm. “I’m not ashamed to admit this was more of a pleasure visit instead of getting real business done. It’s good to know where you stand.”

He followed her to the staircase. “Can I see you back?”

She glanced back at the room they had come from and shook her head, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening in amusement. “When I married Relk, I told him I had a good elven friend from my childhood. I did not tell him your name, and I didn’t tell him any details. He and I would prefer it that way.”

Edon felt like a child being laughed at for something he didn’t understand, but he took a step away from the stairs. “Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll see what everyone knows and decide if a plan can be made.”

Already making her slow way down the stairs, she glanced back at him. “Yes. I’m sure it will be so easy.”