The Human

When the world was young there was a wood. This was not just any old wood. This wood was the greatest wood that ever was, the mother of all woods before the heat consumed the land. Only one other wood in all of Leiann could compare to the immensity and mystery of this wood. But that forest grew far off in the distant east where for long only wild men walked, and it does not come into this tale. The forest in this story was sparsely peopled for its trees were so congested in places and the air so uncommonly thin that seldom would any Human venture there, unless at great need or driven by curiosity. Not to say that it was altogether unpopulated. There was an abundance of life to be found there, mostly four-legged, small, insignificant and unaware of what was passing in the busy world outside.

There was, however, one race of strange creatures that had dwelt under the roof of the Mother Wood for years beyond count. They were called Imps. As their name suggests, they were a tiny people of no great stature or girth, being indeed no larger at full growth than a newborn child of the Human race. A very unique breed were they, standing upright on two thin legs much like the other primary races (Humans, Grigóri, and Eikas) but also winged and able to take to the skies if they chose or need forced them. But the Imps are a reclusive people, as they have always been, rarely leaving the confines of the wood, and the Uppa (“Giants” as the word translates into the familiar speech; so did they call the other races of the world) frightened and intimidated them. It is believed that they were the first of all the primary races to appear in the west of the world, and when the first forbears of the Humans sprouted legs and ventured into the old realm the Imps were already there. They were lovers of trees and all things that grow and bear fruit, for which reason they chose in the beginning the great wood to be their domain.

Now this wood was known by many names: Stefónia by the Grigóri, Achthuil by the Eikas, Minhiníath by the Humans, and many other names besides. But to the Imps and Nymphs, their female counterparts, the wood was known simply as Tût (“Home”). Their dwellings differed from family to family, depending greatly upon each family’s mood and preference. Some had a penchant for the roots of trees and therefore would build their houses in the midst of them, living virtually underground with only one entrance carved into the trunk of a great tree and a staircase or ladder leading into the earth. Others liked the trunks themselves and so would build their homes around them, the very trunk itself being the central pillar with all the living area surrounding it. Then there were others who preferred the heights and the winds that sing in the leaves, and so their houses rested upon the highest branches. These last were also the greatest friends to birds and all other good creatures with wing, and their dwellings were always teeming with them and filled with their merry voices from sunrise and sunset.

Now the love of the Imps for the trees was a trait handed down from generation to generation since the beginning of time, and parents would begin to instill their tastes in their children at an early age. So if the parents were root-lovers the children would be also, and it would be difficult to coax them away from their play - digging holes and tunnels and secret little alcoves in which they would hide their treasures of the day. Or if they were trunk-loving parents so would their children be as well, and they would go around their village scanning every houseless trunk they could find - surveying it, touching it, listening to its inner voice of which they had a keen understanding - and only the mealtime whistle could draw them back home. And if they were parents fond of the eaves their children would also inherit these traits, and the young ones would laugh as they glided from bough to bough - singing with the birds, basking in the sunlight that poked through the green roof above, dancing cheerfully in the wind as it rustled the leaves. No matter what the family’s preference, the life of an Imp sprout was a happy one.

But not all Implings share the likings of their parents. As is the case with youngsters of every race that has ever been upon this world or any other, there are some whose minds differed from those of their sires. This is a story of one such Imp who strayed from the path that his begetters had paved for him, who found his own way, walked his own road, and did something far greater than any other Imp ever dared or wished to do. It is a story about how one Imp set out from home and took a journey, and as the years afterwards lengthened and the destruction of the west drew near his deeds were found to be crucial in the big scheme of things and of great importance in regards to the events that would transpire during this time, and he is now counted among the greats of the old world.

His name was Lemlë of the village of Sûhta in the south of the Great Wood. He was the only son of a litter of three. His was a trunk-dwelling family of no great prominence or repute, being brought up in a household of pirc diaksi (“mixed-picking” as it translates roughly into the familiar speech). For you see, his mother Aplë came from a family of trunk-dwellers and she was very fond of the bases of the trees that rose above the earth. But his father Lemo was a leaf-lover, and he only chose to dwell on the ground for the sake of his beloved wife. He moved down from the boughs after marriage, but his longing for the heights never left him. He kept his old home in the treetops, and there he would take his family to dwell in the springtime to watch the new leaves shoot into bloom. This compromise Aplë made with him because of the sacrifice he had made for her, and though she loved not at all to be up so high this tradition they continued every spring.

It was during one of these sojourns in the high house of Lemo when their first and only litter came into the world. The first to emerge from the womb was the only boy of the bunch, and they named him Lemlë following the customs of their kind. Though in appearance he resembled his mother the more, in mind he was the son of his father. From the start Lemlë shared his father’s fondness for the leaves, and he always loved springtime more so than any other season. Lemo began to teach him the ways of the heights at a young age - instructing him in the moods of trees, the music of the wind, and the strange speech of birds - and as Lemlë grew he would spend more and more time up above than he would down below. His mother was not pleased with the amount of time her young son spent above, and she spoke against Lemo’s influence. She understood not their fascination for the heights, and though she loved them both dearly she cared not for their preferences and wished for them to remain grounded where no harm would come to them, thinking the branches too flimsy whereas the earth was firm and unyielding. To her wishes both father and son assented in seeming, but whenever they could they would return to Lemo’s old house, slinking past Aplë and her daughters Ula and Pearl who also shared a dislike of the heights.

There came a time during the autumn of Lemlë’s twenty-eighth year when his father brought him to the high house, and they sat on the roof in the morning sun and talked. The birds were singing in the boughs and a cool wind was blowing softly from the north. All of a sudden there was a great noise as of the rushing of wings and the squawking of hurried voices. The birds were dashing away from the wood heading north. Then Lemlë turned to his father.

“Where are the birds going, Pûlo?” he said.

“They make for the hills,” his father replied. “Have you not been listening to their words? Winter is coming. They go to the dwelling places in the north where they say the Fathers of all Birds await them.” Then he took Lemlë to the highest boughs of the tallest tree and pointed to the distant skies. “See?” he said. “There they go. Beyond the Wood lies the ancient home of the King of the Air, and all his subjects flock to him at this time of year.”

“The King of the Air,” Lemlë repeated. “Have you ever seen him?”

“Not I,” said Lemo. “But he is there. He guards the skies and protects the wingless ones who are doomed to live on their feet.”

“Does he guard Tût also, Pûlo?”

“Oh yes, my son. He loves the Wood and watches over it always, so say the birds that visit us. We are cousins, we and them, and all those who bear wing. Why do you think we can understand their speech when those of the Uppa cannot?”

“But I thought that we were all cousins, coming in the beginning of the same seed.”

“Yes,” said Lemo. “So you have been listening to the birds after all. Yes, all creatures in the beginning came from one people and we once walked the same path together. But time and difference of mood and long wandering have changed them, while our kind has remained veritably unchanged. The Uppa remember not their origins, for they have brought too many other cares upon themselves and have much else to ponder that they feel is of more relevance. Many grievances lie between the various houses of the Uppa, and all sense of history beyond that of their own kingdoms is forgotten. But that does not deter the King of the Air from his watch. Still he protects them from afar.”

“Do you think the King of the Air will ever visit Tût?” Lemlë asked his father, his wide eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“I cannot say. Who knows the mind of the King save the King himself? But perhaps one day he shall grace us.”

“I would like to see him,” said Lemlë. “I would like to see his hills.”

“Oh, Lemlë,” said Lemo with a smile. “But there are many sights to see in the world, many things that would astound you besides the hills of the Sky King.” He pointed to the east. “Did you know that out that way there are mountains? The birds speak of them sometimes. They say that the size of our trees is as nothing compared to their heights.”

“Really?” said Lemlë in wonder. “Taller than the trees? I would dearly love to see them!”

“Oh, but you mustn’t go there. The birds speak of that place with dread, saying that there is danger that way. Bad birds live there, evil cousins that prey on the weak.”

“Oh.”

“Only when the black wings are no more may we perhaps venture that way. But there are other places, Kehta,” said Lemo, seeing the disappointment on his beloved son’s face, “other places not so dreadful. You know of the Pyuppa that dwell just south of Tût? They come inside sometimes and bask in the freshness of the Wood. I hear they have other dwellings far to the south and west, and they live in cities with shining walls.”

“Shining walls?”

“Yes, and they sparkle like the dew on the leaves in early morning. You would love it there, I deem. I see you always looking to the horizon, gazing off into the distance, far away from Home. The others of Sûhta would think ill of that, judging you a wayward soul. I once longed to leave the Wood, to visit foreign lands and see how the Uppa lived. But that kind of thinking is frowned upon, and few share my longing.”

“I do not share your longing, Pûlo,” said Lemlë thoughtfully. “I would indeed love to see the lands outside of Tût, but I dread what I would learn of the Uppa. Always at strife with one another they are. Even we in the Wood hear the rumors of their waning friendships.”

“Alas,” Lemo replied. “That is indeed the way of things out there, so the birds say.”

“Why can they not live together in peace, Pûlo?” asked Lemlë. He loved his father very much and deemed him very wise, which in fact he was.

“I know not, my dear kehta,” Lemo answered. “Only by living among them could we ever hope to learn their minds. But that, I judge, is a thing impossible.”

Many other things they talked about on this day. Lemlë never forgot this conversation with his beloved father, and the words of Lemo stayed with him for the rest of his life.

Now Lemlë had many friends and he was often among them. At the dawn of spring just over a year after the talk with his father, he was playing in the trees east of his home with three of his closest companions Hiki, Renu, and Juno. The four had been very close since birth, for Hiki and Juno were Lemlë’s first cousins, sons of his father’s sister, and Renu lived in a tree “down the branch” from Lemo’s high house. On this day they were playing “tracker”, which was ever a popular game among young Imps and Nymphs. It was Juno’s turn to be the tracker, and as he covered his eyes and began counting to fifty Lemlë, Hiki, and Renu ran and hid. As Lemlë sat perched on the roof of a tiny hut between two thin braches his eye caught something far down below on the forest floor, something that shimmered like silver as a beam of sunlight reached through the treetops and touched it. Very enamored, he bounded from his hiding place and quietly sneaked over to see what it was, curious but also keeping his mind on the game, cautious not to make any noise for fear of being discovered by Juno. Suddenly as he drew closer the object came vividly into view, and what he found startled him. No longer concerned with the game, he let out a shriek and stumbled backwards.

Lying on the ground was the body of a man, a Human no less, which was seldom seen in the Wood. He lay face-upwards with his back resting uncomfortably on the ground. His neck was bent forward at a severe angle, and the back of his head was against the trunk of a mighty tree. His face was haggard and filthy, bruised and broken and displaying terrible cuts. Long dark hair, wild and unkempt, fell in matted strands onto his chest. Tall grass covered the earth at the tree’s foot, but piercing through it Lemlë’s eyes beheld thick green armor trimmed here and there in silver. It seemed at one time to have been shiny. Now it was dark and dirty, showing signs of hardship and long travel. A broad sword lay unsheathed across his waist, and his right arm was wrapped around a large helmet at his side. The sunlight still shined upon it, and the helm glittered like a bright star amid the grass. Lemlë had never seen one of the Uppa before, and his first sight of one both fascinated and terrified him. He hid behind a tree a few yards away, staring relentlessly in wonder but not daring to come any closer.

At that moment he heard soft but quick footsteps behind him, and before he knew it Juno came and slapped him on the back. “Tracked you!” he yelled and then laughed loudly. But Lemlë made no move. In fact, he did not appear to acknowledge that his friend was there. “What’s wrong?” Juno asked. He followed Lemlë’s gaze, and suddenly he saw the body of the Human lying there and he gasped. “Uppa!” he squealed and quickly hid behind the tree with Lemlë. “What is that doing here?”

“I don’t know,” said Lemlë, still not taking his eyes off the man. “I think it’s dead.”

“You go find out,” said Juno.

“Me? Why me?”

“You found it.”

“So what?” said Lemlë.

“So go see if it’s dead or not.”

“What are you two doing?” said Renu who had snuck up behind them with Hiki. “Is Lemlë ‘it’ now? Or have you tired of the game already?”

“Look,” said Juno as he pointed toward the body. Renu gave out a quick shriek and then quickly covered her mouth.

“I just found it like this,” said Lemlë. “How did it get here?”

“I don’t know,” said Juno. “And I don’t want to know.”

“We have to tell somebody,” Lemlë whispered. “We have to let someone know what we’ve found.”

“You’re right,” said Juno. “You stay here. I’ll go get somebody.” And without another word Juno turned and flew away with Hiki following close behind.

“I’ll go too,” said Renu, and she quickly dashed away.

“Wait!” Lemlë called as loud as he dared, fearing to rouse the strange man. “Wait! Don’t leave me here by myself!” But it was no use. The three had gone.

Lemlë turned back to the body and sighed. After looking at it for some time and waiting impatiently for his friends to return, he could take it no more. Slowly he crept out from behind the tree. Then with all the caution and stealth of a cat he moved closer and closer to the fallen Human. Every step he took seemed labored, and he cursed the dry grass, for try as he did he could not keep his feet from making noise. But the stranger made no move, not even a twitch. Finally he was face to face with the Human, and with all the courage he could muster he lifted up his tiny arm and softly tapped the person on the head and then quickly jerked his hand back again. The Human made no move. He leaned in a little closer. He could hear no breathing. Now he leaned in closer until his ear was only a twig’s length from the man’s nose. There! Was that a soft breath he heard? There it was again! The man was alive!

Lemlë quickly backed away. But the Human showed no indication that he heard him or even sensed his presence. “It may not be dead,” Lemlë thought, “but it is as close to death as one can get.” Cautiously he lifted his arm once more, and with a quick jab he nudged the Human’s head again. Suddenly, to Lemlë’s surprise and shock, the Human’s eyes opened and he inhaled heavily. Frightened to no end, the little Imp stumbled, fell, and began to crawl backwards as quick as he could on his hands. The Human heaved and convulsed violently, and as he did so a spittle of blood trickled down his chin. Lemlë watched him, trembling with excitement and terror. The man, finally sensing some other presence, slowly turned his head. His eyes landed on Lemlë, and the Imp child shrank and cowered like a frightened animal. The man opened his mouth to speak. His words were mixed with fits of panting and painful coughing.

“You are…” he said. “You are…an Imp?”

Lemlë said nothing, for the fear of the man stayed his tongue.

“Do not fear,” the man said. “Please…come closer, for my eyes…they are darkening.”

Wonder filled the little creature, for he could understand his speech. Reluctantly Lemlë rose and shaking he stepped forward. As he drew closer he looked into the eyes of the stranger. Blue as the sky in spring after a fresh rain was their color, and not even the pain and dirt and blood could mask their splendor. Suddenly, as if a veil had been lifted from between the two, Lemlë saw through all the wounds and the grime, and he saw the loveliness, the magnificence, and the beauty that this man surely once possessed. A great man tall and strong he must have been, Lemlë thought, but now shrunken and eroded with fatigue and grief. Slowly Lemlë’s fear began to fall away from him.

“Ah,” the man said softly. “You…are an Imp indeed. Thank the stars…for giving me…this rare chance.”

“What happened to you?” Lemlë whispered.

Swiftly the man’s face changed, and there was more than pain in his eyes. There was anger there, and when he spoke his chest heaved. “Wolves!” he said, coughing up fresh blood as he spoke. “The Wolves came upon us…in the land of Grimbar.”

“Wolves?” said Lemlë.

“My men were…lost…and the King’s son also,” the man said laboriously. “Would that I had been more careful! We…only watched for Grigóri…and our…our eyes were blind to all things else.”

“What are wolves? I don’t understand.”

“The Wolves! The…Wild Dogs of the North. They are roaming…farther abroad every year.”

“You are hurt,” said Lemlë. “You need healing. Can you stand? I can take you to my father.”

“No,” the man replied. “It is…too late for me. I have…not long left. My wounds are too deep…and too many. I am spent.”

“Do not say that!” Lemlë shouted. “There must be something I can do.”

“Not for me. I am…spent. But…there is…something to be done. Something…that…must be done! My lord…he is in danger!”

“What can I do?” Lemlë asked. “Anything. I’ll do anything. What can I do?”

“You…must warn the King,” the man said, wheezing and coughing horribly. “Tell him… what has…become of me and his son.”

“What?” Lemlë squealed. “Me, leave the Wood?” He never would have expected such a request from the man, and the thought of going out into the wide world made him tremble anew.

“We…were traveling through Old Grimbar…and…were making our way south. The Wild Dogs…they attacked our camp at night. We fled south…into Grigóri country…and…and I was separated from the…King’s son. I…do not know…if he is alive or dead. May he forgive me…for I have failed him. You must warn the King! You must relay to him what I have said.”

“I can’t!” Lemlë cried, shaking his head quickly and backing away from the man. “I have never left the Wood before. I wouldn’t know where to go or how to get there.”

“You must…do this,” the man pleaded. His voice was steadily lowering now and his breathing was growing more labored. “I am…begging you…please. Warn the King. The future…of the realm…may depend on you. Here,” he said as he slowly raised his right arm. “Take my helm. Bring it before the King…as a token. Then…he will know your words to be true. Other gear…such as I have…will be too heavy for you…and I…have no smaller items of distinction to give.”

“How?” said Lemlë in distress. “How can I go? We don’t leave the Wood. We can’t!”

“But you must,” the man replied, his eyelids drooping, his voice now barely above a whisper. “I need you. Rodaras needs you. Praised be the Lifecore…whose compassion…has brought you…to me…at the end.”

And with those final words the man’s eyes closed, and he exhaled for the last time. Then he was gone, perishing under the eaves of Minhiníath whose soil he had ever since childhood wished to tread. His name comes into more tales than this one alone, and he was known throughout the old realm as a man both great and noble. For this man was none other than Meril captain of Tuláren and the mightiest of the escorts who accompanied Rodaras son of Durzahn on his fabled journey, from which only two returned alive.

Lemlë stood aghast, pondering with anxious thought all that the man had told him. For a long time he stood thus, still as stone, gazing at the lifeless body in horror while the sun began to fall. As the shadows of the trees lengthened and the darkness of night steadily grew all around him, still he remained there beside the fallen Human. He had never until this moment known death, for the Imps are a very long-lived people. To most death is only a word, and the fear of it has no impact upon their daily lives. This was Lemlë’s first vision of a corpse, and the sight terrified him. The man’s words were still running through his bewildered head, urging him to leave the Wood, begging him to take upon himself a long and dangerous quest. He looked upon the tall helm that lay quietly at the man’s side. The shining metal that had first drawn Lemlë to the Human shined no more. He lifted the helmet from the ground, finally willing his leaden limbs into action. It was quite large and heavy in the arms of the tiny Imp, much the same way that, say, a barrel would be large and heavy in the arms of one of the Uppa. He could hold it for only a few seconds before the weight of it dragged him forward and he was forced to drop it. “Impossible,” he said aloud to no one. “Even if I could find the courage to leave, I could not carry this thing so far. I am too small for such labor.”

It was at this point, as the hour of sunset was come, that he heard sounds behind him, soft but unmistakable sounds. Someone was coming at last! Finally help had arrived. Quickly he turned and squinted, for his eyes were not sharp in the darkness and never had been so. Presently a form stepped out from the shadows ahead, and he recognized it to be Renu. Blessed Renu! Of all his companions she was the one he had least expected to return, but at this moment he loved her more than all the others. Then he saw that the Nymph child was not alone. Another was following behind her. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice speak to him and a familiar face greeted him, and stumbling over the helmet he ran towards the person like a dehydrated wanderer who sees a stream ahead.

“There you are,” said Lemo. It was indeed Lemo that Renu had brought back with her, and Lemlë bounded forward and wrapped his small arms around his father’s waist.

“Pûlo!” Lemlë cried in relief, tears starting in his eyes.

“My poor child,” said Lemo. “You have had quite a scare, I see. What have you discovered here?”

“I told you, Mr. Lemo,” Renu shouted as she pointed ahead towards the Human lying at the foot of the tree. “See! It’s dead, just as we left it.”

“It wasn’t dead,” Lemlë said in a whisper, his gaze returning to the man. “He has passed now, but he was alive when you three left me here all alone! I talked to him.”

“You spoke to the Uppa?” Renu exclaimed.

“What did you say to him?” asked Lemo.

“Not much,” Lemlë answered. “Mostly I listened.”

“Then what did it say?” asked Renu.

“He wants me to go to the land of the Suppa and take that shiny hat to the King.”

“You?” Renu shouted in wonder, now completely flabbergasted. “Leave the Wood? That is nonsense. You cannot do that!”

“It was his dying wish,” said Lemlë. “How can I refuse? He said that the future of the Human realm depends on me.”

“What a strange chance that brought you here on this day, if chance it was,” said Lemo in a very low voice, “and in the very hour before his life faded away.”

“I don’t know,” said Lemlë. “But I feel I cannot stay here idle while the people are at risk out there. Can I shun a man’s ultimate request and yet live free of guilt?”

“I cannot answer that for you,” his father said to him. “This is a decision only you can make, but I judge that the decision has already been reached and you know what you will do without any advice of mine being needed.”

“But I am afraid, Pûlo,” said Lemlë.

“I know,” said Lemo. “And so am I. I am afraid for you. But this, I deem, is the fate that you have been granted. You must fulfill this man’s last wish.”

“But I do not know where to go,” said Lemlë as tears once again welled in his eyes. “I don’t know where to go.” This he repeated many times. He felt very small and confused, and as his sadness engulfed him his tears poured down his face like a dam that had burst. His father gently wrapped his arms around him and kissed his cheek.

“My dear kehta,” he said softly. “Yours will be a long road, and for that I am sorry. I cannot stop you, nor indeed would I try, for it seems to me that a great destiny awaits you greater than any others of our kind have faced. So can one read all the signs. I know not the way to the Suppa kingdom, and therefore my words are of little worth now. But let us go and speak with those who can help us in this hour of need. You remember what I told you about the Pyuppa?”

“Yes,” said Lemlë, wiping his eyes with his small wings.

“They are wise in all things. To them you must go and listen to what council they can offer.”

“But I have never left the Wood,” said Lemlë. “None of us have. How then can I find the Pyuppa, walking in the open with eyes that avail me no more than if I had none?”

“I will show you the way,” said Lemo with a smile. “That far I can accompany you. Not all of us are ignorant to the lands beyond our bounds.”

“Pûlo?”

“Come,” Lemo said. “Let us make for home. It is late, and your mother will worry if we do not return soon. In the morning we will seek the aid of the Pyuppa.”