Sigurd
First Post
Radwe is a forlorn elf.
Words Endure
The big old farm house smelled of rich meals, dust, and mountain breezes. The roof timbers had long lines of engraving, in elvish, thanking the forest for her trees and wishing good fortune on the family hearth. Radwe sat easily among these timbers, clearing dust and renewing the prayers.
She had come across the homesteader, carefully gathering fallen timber. He was a bear of a man with a mop of deep brown hair, broad shoulders and a ready laugh. Radwe liked him and his pudgy wife. They made her feel safe and accepted. Radwe helped them pick the house location, build fences and eventually, the house. He was an amazing man, and they filled the house with laughter and hope.
Carefully, she adjusted a small oval window marked “RADWE” in large rough letters. The window had been a gift. With a wet rag she wiped years of soot from the little glass lens. Radwe lavished attention on the little portal. “This is your window, you can always look to the forest and be ready to go any time you want and here's a door key so you're never locked out."
The small window sparkled but she could see no forest, only a spreading countryside of farms and villages.
Finally with a whispered incantation the last of the prayers glowed for an instant, shed its dust and recovered years of neglect. “I'm almost done here.” She called down.
“Oh thank you! We could never have climbed all the way up there!. Said a man by the hearth.
She let herself down to the room below with practiced confidence and familiarity.
“You have your father's strength Jason! You've done wonders with the place. I appreciate you letting me set some things right for you. Your dad and I... Well your dad always wanted this place to be the best it could be.”
Behind Jason a slim woman held her child protectively. “I thank you, Elf, for whatever you did..” Jason's wife knew nothing of rafters and carved prayers and almost nothing of elves.
“Radwe, I still can't believe its really you!”
“Well it is, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner... very sorry.”
There was an awkward silence in the room.
“Jason, can I talk to you for a moment alone?”.... It was Jasons wife.
Radwe looked at the child hiding in his mothers skirts. His hair had a familiar shade of deep brown but everything else about him was unrecognizable. He was thin, not broad. He had his mothers features. “He's afraid of Strangers” his mother had apologized. Still, the child was healthy enough.
“Don't worry. Jason I really have to go again...”
“But you just got here?”
“I'm sorry but I saw something from that window, I can't stay.”
….
Later, Radwe climbed the quiet path to see her homesteader.
“Your, great grandson, is well and the house is secure.” she said with tenderness. “but I don't think they care very much about the forest.”
Then she took the small brass key from her pouch and buried it by his headstone.
The lock had probably changed anyway.
Sigurd
Words Endure
The big old farm house smelled of rich meals, dust, and mountain breezes. The roof timbers had long lines of engraving, in elvish, thanking the forest for her trees and wishing good fortune on the family hearth. Radwe sat easily among these timbers, clearing dust and renewing the prayers.
She had come across the homesteader, carefully gathering fallen timber. He was a bear of a man with a mop of deep brown hair, broad shoulders and a ready laugh. Radwe liked him and his pudgy wife. They made her feel safe and accepted. Radwe helped them pick the house location, build fences and eventually, the house. He was an amazing man, and they filled the house with laughter and hope.
Carefully, she adjusted a small oval window marked “RADWE” in large rough letters. The window had been a gift. With a wet rag she wiped years of soot from the little glass lens. Radwe lavished attention on the little portal. “This is your window, you can always look to the forest and be ready to go any time you want and here's a door key so you're never locked out."
The small window sparkled but she could see no forest, only a spreading countryside of farms and villages.
Finally with a whispered incantation the last of the prayers glowed for an instant, shed its dust and recovered years of neglect. “I'm almost done here.” She called down.
“Oh thank you! We could never have climbed all the way up there!. Said a man by the hearth.
She let herself down to the room below with practiced confidence and familiarity.
“You have your father's strength Jason! You've done wonders with the place. I appreciate you letting me set some things right for you. Your dad and I... Well your dad always wanted this place to be the best it could be.”
Behind Jason a slim woman held her child protectively. “I thank you, Elf, for whatever you did..” Jason's wife knew nothing of rafters and carved prayers and almost nothing of elves.
“Radwe, I still can't believe its really you!”
“Well it is, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner... very sorry.”
There was an awkward silence in the room.
“Jason, can I talk to you for a moment alone?”.... It was Jasons wife.
Radwe looked at the child hiding in his mothers skirts. His hair had a familiar shade of deep brown but everything else about him was unrecognizable. He was thin, not broad. He had his mothers features. “He's afraid of Strangers” his mother had apologized. Still, the child was healthy enough.
“Don't worry. Jason I really have to go again...”
“But you just got here?”
“I'm sorry but I saw something from that window, I can't stay.”
….
Later, Radwe climbed the quiet path to see her homesteader.
“Your, great grandson, is well and the house is secure.” she said with tenderness. “but I don't think they care very much about the forest.”
Then she took the small brass key from her pouch and buried it by his headstone.
The lock had probably changed anyway.
Sigurd
