Elia

Elia: “Mum I don’t want to,” Elia said staring up at Isabrell. Her mother towered over her by several feet.

Isabrell: “The lads staying and that’s final. You fetch lumber with em and get out of me way”. Isabrell tightened her black apron and then began to chug a large leather lung, water drizzled down her neck onto her apron.

Elia: “But— “.

Isabrell: “No more babbling young lady. Works to be done. Come back before dusk”. She then threw the water pouch onto her daughter’s chest.

Isabrell: “Fetch water while you’re out girl”. Isabrell then walked out of the storage room into the main workspace.

Isabrell went through the entire encounter with her daughter without meeting the young woman’s eyes. It was like that most of the time. Elia knew why. But she couldn’t admit it to herself.

Elia sat there in the cramped room. Loose metal parts and tools covered the oak shelves. Several baskets of charcoal sat beneath the lower shelves, giving the room a distinct smell of black smoke.

Elia: “Damned dress,” she said as she patted the charcoal residue from her dress. It was a plain dress made of woven wool. She sat up from her stool and made for the back door.

Elia: “Boy!” she shouted. Hurried footsteps approached her.

Theus: “Y-yes. Are you ready. Your mum said we’d be— “.

Elia: “Mums not in charge right now. I am. Grab the wheelbarrow and axe”.

Theus: “O-ok, Eli”.

Elia: “Boy. It’s Elia. Got it”. She threw a glare at her new incompetent plaything. Or as her mother said ‘aid from the Baroness’.

Elia: “Follow me boy. You’ve got work to do”.

Theus: “Has your mum always been a smith?” Theus asked as the two trudged through the woods. It was easier for the boy to maneuver the wheelbarrow in the woods despite the mud in the village making it almost impossible. He said it was because the trees were thirsty or something dumb.

Elia: “Yes. She be a smith, like her father, and his father before him. I’m to be a smith when I come of age,” Elia said smirking at Theus.

Theus: “That’s some sponcibility. My father is a hunter. I don’t know if I could ever kill them critters like e does”. Theus was several paces behind Elia. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Grey mud covered his leather boots and soaked his trousers up to the knees. Every few minutes he had to rush up to Elia as she outpaced him to continue their “conversation.”

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Elia: “I see one,” she said, intentionally ignoring Theus as he began to open up to her.

The two rolled up to a fallen tree. Its trunk stuck up at an upward angle as the rest of the tree slid down a decline in the semi-hilly forest. Its root complex was suspended in the air higher than either of the two. Its trunk was big enough to have one’s hands together if they hugged it.

Elia couldn’t remember the last time her mother hugged her.

Theus: “Looks like last night’s rain slid the tree from under the hill. Poor thing”. He knelt by the hanging roots and began to mumble a prayer under his breath.

Elia rolled her eyes and grabbed the axe. With her feet planted and her right hand pressed against the trunk, she slid down the muddy hill to the smaller branches beneath. She found an outstretched branch and buried the axe head into its connecting joint.

The tree absorbed the force with vibration and Elia heard mud from the roots crumble to the ground above her. She heard sir pious stir from his prayer as soil covered his head and shoulders.

Theus: “Elia no!” he screamed while scrambling down the hill on all fours. He shot up with his momentum and grabbed her raised arms poised for her second swing.

Elia: “Get off me boy!” she cried, struggling to escape his grasp. Her grip began to slip from the slopped mud Theus carried with him down the hill.

Theus: “Please no! It’s sacred! We can’t use this one!” Theus begged. He was practically climbing her to grab the axe.

Elia: “No one cares bout no damn willow boy!”.

Theus: “We can't! The willow tree is sacred!”. His ascent covered both in mud.

Elia could feel her grip on the axe slip into his control. What an idiot. He didn’t know how dangerous he was being.

Elia: “Fine!” she screamed; letting go of the axe.

As the axe dropped, so did Theus as he leaped for it. He tumbled to the ground and Elia simply stepped back remaining on her feet.

Elia: “You are insane boy! You could have hurt me!” she berated, shoving his shoulder over to scream at his daft face.

Elia saw his face. It was white, mouth agape. He looked at her with eyes bulged. She looked at his now-turned body. The axe… no.

The wooden-handled axe stood upright. The metal head was lodged into Theus’s right ankle. The bottom corner of the axe stuck out of the bottom of Theus’s boot. Blood dripped out of the new hole in the boot.

He looked up at her. His eyes began to well with tears. He was no different from an animal caught in a trap, injured, afraid, scared. He whimpered. His eyes told Elia all she needed to know.

Theus: “I didn’t mean to. I’m-m, I’m sorry”. He kept looking at her. She was disgusted.

Elia: “Daft boy. You can’t play with weapons boy. Our lives are worth more than that willow boy. Stupid boy…” She continued with the insults. She tried her best not to lay into him, but it was hard with him being so pathetic.

Elia sat down by Theus and began fraying her wool dress.

Elia: “Shove this down yer boot boy. It’ll mop all that disgusting blood. Bout the only use for this damned dress”. With several strips already covering the wound, Elia yanked the axe out with her boot pressed on his leg. His scream was pathetic.

Elia: “Keep it up with soaking the blood boy”. With the axe in hand, Elia approached the fallen willow tree. She turned to look at the whimpering child.

Theus: “P-p-p-please, d-d-d-don’t”. His crying made it hard for him to speak anymore. “The Willow-w-w-mo-th-th-er is all I-I have left”.

She buried the axe into the same branch she attempted to cut minutes before. It fell to the ground with only the second swing.

Elia: “Everyone knows the Willowmother is dead. You have nothing”.