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0.4
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Hemlock was no stranger to camping out.
It felt nostalgic in a way.
He and his friends used to sneak out at night to sleep under the stars, away from the smothering parents. Feasting on wild berries that probably did them more bad than good, telling stories and tall tales they’d heard around a small campfire.
How long ago had it been since he did this?
Fifty? Maybe seventy years?
On the turn of his first century, such boyhood fun became less and less plentiful as he and his friends found their places in the world of adults. Some of them joined the hunting parties, scouting deeper into the Greenhold than usual, while others took up the path of magic and wonder, becoming keenly aware of the world around them.
Some became ambassadors, keeping the peace with their fellow clans.
For the given definition of peace, that is.
As for him?
Well, he never quite figured out what he really wanted.
It wasn’t like elves needed to work in order to live. Their affinity for the bounties of nature kept them well fed and healthy. Thus, what other Clans might consider backbreaking labor, his brethren took to as simple hobbies to occupy themselves while counting days as if they were grains of sand.
Hemlock did… a lot of things.
Took to gardening and medicine.
He’d learnt the basics of scouting, before leaving that apprenticeship behind. Too much fighting and risk to one’s own life tended to be repellant even to beings with lives as long as their own. Even so, the young man never committed to anything, content to just live in his little shack doing whatever he wanted to abate the boredom that plagued his Clan.
‘What a strange day.’
Until today, that was.
Where to even start?
Between meeting the strange man known as Ghoti, interacting with him, and then running from a fire breathing Mana Beast, Hemlock thought he might have aged an entire century over the course of a few hours. Only now that he had the time to breath and take stock of things, did he notice how far his day had veered off into the unknown.
It was… interesting?
Nay, it was exciting.
Something he could actually tell his family and friends over and over again for the next decade and not get bored of.
“You seem happy.”
Hemlock chuckled lightly.
“Yes, it would seem so. Strange, isn’t it? I could have lost my life today, yet can’t help but feel… elated.”
The armored man sat across from him, hands stretched over to the simple campfire they’d put together, a small rabbit Hemlock caught… or what had been left of it… hung over the pit, meat sizzling under the crackling drywood.
“It’s pretty simple, I reckon.”
“Yes? How so?”
“You were bored out of your tears and finally got a taste of something new. Ain’t nothing complicated about it. Like catching cabin fever during the winter or having nothing but bread and water to eat for a while. It gets stale and all you wanna do is step outside for a bit and do something different. Get yourself a nice meal.”
“That is… certainly one way to go about it, stranger.”
The armored man snorted.
“Just stranger, ey? Thought you’d be more comfortable after I wrestled that oversized pig for ya?”
“I meant not disrespect-”
The armored man tossed him the waterskin.
“Just pulling your leg, Eartips. You gotta learn to unwind.”
The elf sipped from the water, finding it more tasteless than usual. Then again, water was the definition of tasteless.
“Not the… free spirited kind, my friend.”
“That much I can tell. Not the type to stay put, bored out of your mind, though.”
Hemlock took another tip.
“Speaking from experience?”
“Never was never the type to keep still for long. Suppose the call to adventure is louder than common sense.” Pulling a small waterskin, the armored man took a long sip before sighing with contentment, utterly relaxed despite being in the middle of nowhere, with little food and a stranger for company.
Hemlock bit his lip.
“You wanna ask something?”
Rolling his eyes, the elf sighed.
“It would be improper.”
Ghoti waved him off.
“Way I see it, you already answered some of my questions. So why not ask some of your own, we can make a game out of it. Either that or we can play some daring games. I saw some berry bushes down by the river if you wanna try your luck.”
The elf could see the merit of the proposal.
It appealed to his highly rational and not at all childish glee at the prospect of finally being able to quench the thirst for knowledge that’d plagued him for the best part of the day without compromising the Clan’s image as impartial wisemen.
Truly, this Ghoti was a man of unparalleled insight.
Annoying as it could be.
“I would be… amenable to your proposal.”
His companion nodded.
“Good, so let’s get introductions out of the way. I am Ghoti, my favorite food is wild game stew, I am currently twenty seven. My hobbies are walking through elf woods and wrestling giant pigs.”
Hemlock chuckled at the joke. But the introduction already gave him something to sink his teeth into.
Twenty seven years, huh?
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
That would make him pre-pubescent… had he been an elf. Which meant he wasn’t one of his clan, obviously, though he’d been holding out hope that he might have been a relative in some way. Other clans could lead such short, meaningless lives marred by violence and terror.
He wondered how this one could be so upbeat, living as he did.
“I am Hemlock, a Herbologist of the Woods Clan. I am currently 157 years. Like you, I enjoy my walks, though I’m less partial to the giant beasts. I tend to garden most of the time, and I suppose I enjoy my tea.”
There.
Not too much. Not too little.
He even included some added parts about himself so as to give more information than he received as a gesture of good faith.
“Woods Clan, huh. Does that mean there are other clans around here?”
Hemlock puffed his chest in pride.
“Indeed! Though we do not often interact with outsiders, the Woods Clan maintains relations with the elders of the Flower Clan, that is to say, the Fairies that tend to the great gardens to the south.”
Ghoti’s head tilted to the side.
“I was under the impression that elves were a type of fairy.”
The young elf coughed awkwardly.
“Well, I admit that there is some overlap. Both of our clans have an affinity for the bounty of nature, and our magic is similar. I suppose that if you squint really hard, a fairy might look like a really small Elf, if you discount the winds and the antenna.”
“Antenna?”
What? That part was what confused him?
“Yes? They use those to communicate over vast distances.”
“So… like insects?”
Hemlock winced.
“Try… not to call them that to their faces, they are a bit… sore on the subject. We’ve had to stop no less than thirteen wars over the course of the last thousand years because the Goblins won’t stop insulting them. It’s a serious issue.” One which became a constant thorn on the side of his clan, as the Goblin Villages and Fairy Courts continued fighting took attention from the real battle for survival in the Greenhold.
“Ah, that much I can understand. We’d have troubles back home if you could go to war over every single insult.”
Now that was interesting.
“Where do you come from, Mr. Ghoti?”
The young man beside him considered the question, taking a bite from the now roasted rabbit.
“Well… if you are asking where I was born then it would be Rudibalm. It’s a small farming district, not much other than that. Most folks only care about making sure they get enough crops to feed themselves and make some money.”
“And yet here you are.”
He nodded.
“Yet here I am. Sometimes you get kids like that, who dream of doing more than what they’re taught. Sometimes they wander into dangerous places and pick up things they aren’t supposed to. Sometimes they get lucky and get to go out and do interesting things, learn new tricks.”
“Sometimes?” Hemlock asked.
“Other times they just die. I just got lucky I had more muscles than brains. And well… someone looking out for me.”
‘Someone looking out for you, huh?’
The young elf thought back to his youth.
Did he have someone like that back then? He was the youngest child by a few hundred years. His siblings were either grown or long gone, not particularly interested in babysitting. Some of them had important jobs. Others plain didn’t care about a layabout who just spent his days on idle curiosities.
His neighbors, maybe?
He learnt interesting things from them. But did they care about what he’d do with that knowledge?
“You had a mentor?”
Gothi laughed.
“Ah, that’s one way to call her. She’s just this violent noble who caught up to me after I stole her sword. Beat me up until I learnt how to hit back, and then left saying that her ‘job was done’ or some tripe like that. You know, typical heroic stuff. Those folks are just living in another world.”
Hemlock rolled the word over his tongue.
Heroic.
That… certainly was a way to describe a violent brigand. Not that he could judge, every Clan had their own view on what a Hero was. And for Woods Clan, that meant being the wisest and most knowledgeable. What Gothi described was more along the lines of what their cousins, the Orcs, were like.
Ruthless, brutal. With no regard for others.
Was this the kind of land this well meaning stranger came from?
“What about you, though?”
He snapped back to reality.
“What about me?”
“Yeah, you didn’t say much about your home. You just said there was a village nearby.”
That’s right. He hadn’t planned on taking Gothi anywhere near the village. At least not at first, when all he knew was that this strange fellow who radiated a disturbing feeling of nothingness was nearing his home. Assuming him to be an enemy, he’d tried to lead him away to another clan’s territory.
Which didn’t work out.
He could try again tommorow, but with that Mana Beast prowling the woods, it would be hard and possibly get them killed.
Which meant…
“I didn’t say much because I thought it would be best if you saw for yourself.”
Gothi perked up.
“Oh, we’re heading to your place?”
Hemlock smiled thinly.
“I can’t exactly let that Mana Beast rampage. My Clan needs to know about it, and I would like to pick up a few things before we head out. Leaving without weapons and supplies would be… unwise”
That was a lie.
He hadn’t planned to bring the man near his village at all… until he proved he was willing to risk himself to protect him from danger.
It would be the height of shame to not reward those efforts.
Besides… he couldn’t wait to see the other’s reactions to him.
“You’re planning something.”
The elf smirked.
“Do you disapprove?”
Looking up from the fire, Gothi seemed to stare at him through the visor of his helmet. It was still hard, being around someone he couldn’t understand in the deepest, most important manner. But he found that he was learning how to decipher this strange being and his mannerisms.
And in his expert opinion… he looked pleased.
“Going to play a prank on your folks, eh?”
He swore he could see the skin under the shadow of the helmet curve with mischief.
“Something like that.”
“Knew I’d get to you eventually. We’ll make a proper human out of you yet, Eartips” He took another bite out of the simple roasted rabbit, much to Hemlock’s distaste, before laying back against the tree with a yawn.
Human, huh?
What a… simple name. But it seemed to fit the strange companion he’d found himself growing more accustomed to by the hour.. Maybe he’d ask him more about his kind later when they weren’t as tired.
What songs did his people sing?
What did they call the stars?
‘I have so many questions.’ laying on his side, the elf closed his eyes, focusing on the crackling of the campfire.
How could he stomach that rabbit, anyway?
Wild stuff like that had barely any mana.