by Renee "Kindrianna" Booke
[Editor's Note: click here to read Part I]
[Editor's Note: click here to read Part I]
“Well? Can you see me or can’t you?” the tree asked.
Othorion’s eyes were wide with a mixture of wonder and fear.
“Y-you can talk?” he blurted out. “I mean, of-of course you can talk. You’re an
Ent, aren’t you?”
“Indeed I am,” the Tree replied. “You may call me Mendleaf,
though some of the Animals refer to me as Loremaster Elm.”
“Mendleaf…” Othorion
repeated the name to himself in the hopes that he wouldn’t forget it. He didn’t
want to be rude to the tree that had just saved his life.
“That over there is Calmberry,”
Mendleaf explained, “She doesn’t talk much and does not like loud noises. And over there is Baldpine. Please try not to stare, for he is very sensitive about
his condition. If you can abide by these things I have told you, then you are
welcome to our grove.”
Not sure what to say, and overwhelmed by what he was seeing,
Othorion took a deep breath. His head was
still spinning from blood loss and this wasn’t helping. His vision felt like it
was going dark for a couple of seconds at a time, but then suddenly he’d be
awake again and still sitting in the hand of this magnificent creature.
“Forgive me,” Mendleaf said with a sigh that rippled through
his leaves. “I seem to have forgotten my manners. You are wounded and require
aid for your fleshy form.” The Ent reached up and plucked off one of his leaves
and handed it to Othorion. “Here you
are.”
Othorion took the leaf
in his hands, clearly confused as to what he was supposed to do with it. He
stared back at Mendleaf and raised a brow. “Erm…”
“Do you not know? Oh my, there is so much to teach you,” the
Ent lamented. “Gaia has blessed my leaves with her love for all living things.
They will heal your wounds.”
“I could never use such a gift upon myself,” Othorion replied, clutching the leaf tightly to
his chest. “Perhaps I can save it for a rainy day and pray my own potions and
methods will suffice.” He pocketed the leaf affectionately and began to tend to
his injuries, taking his waterskin and pouring the contents lightly over the lacerations
on his legs to wash away the dirt. Once he was certain that he had done his
best to clean out the wounds he patted them dry, stitched up some of the more
jagged injuries, and began to rub honey over them, covering them with cloth
scraps that functioned as bandages.
Mendleaf watched with great curiosity. No mortal creature
had ever refused to use his leaves before. “You know,” he said as he tilted his
head, “I believe garlic extract would work just as well. It is perhaps easier
for you to cultivate. Just keep an eye on the wound, those pigs can cause all
sorts of infections with their bites.”
Despite the unpleasant business of stitching up his own
wounds, Othorion was in good spirits.
“Thank you for the advice, Mendleaf. I hadn’t considered that garlic had such a
medicinal use. I’ve primarily been using it as a food flavoring.”
“Ahh yes, well, it does. I believe it was brought over from
Teng Hua originally. A little odd
smelling, but a very interesting herb nonetheless.”
That was how their friendship began. Mendleaf was eager to teach, and Othorion was
keen on learning everything there was to know about the forest. They met up
frequently for different lessons, and Othorion would always look forward to
leaving the village for the peace of the wandering grove. Mendleaf knew far
more than the different plants and their uses
and taught Othorion to speak to the Animal-kin as well as how to use Gaia’s
nature magic. Under Mendleaf’s supervision, Othorion learned that he could make
the plants bloom and conjure up fierce storms.
The Elven Ranger took these lessons to heart, effectively
becoming what many of the Elves refer to as their first Druid; and he used his
newfound power for the benefit of those within his community as he had all along.
As stories of his abilities spread, more Elves came to witness his magic
firsthand. There was a forest in the east where you could witness mortals
working the miracles of the Earth Mother, the rumors claimed. The Elven
population blossomed as a result, and their humble village became a city from
which they believed all things were possible. Life was not as difficult with
Othorion able to speak to the Animals and the Ents. The very forest helped them
build their homes within the trees, and they lived in harmony with the Ents and
Dryads. Suddenly the woods were not so hostile and frightening; the Elves had
allies and did not stand alone against the darkness of the night.
Othorion soon found himself acting as a leader and a mentor
to others far more so than he had been before. The Elves relied on him to aid
in their food growth, they relied on him for healing their wounded livestock,
sons, and daughters, and they begged him to make rain during droughts. He was
so indispensable to the Elves and
inspired them to such new heights that they began to call him their King, or, “Kaialan” as it was called in Elvish.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to do everything all by himself
with his new responsibilities as King, so he and Mendleaf handpicked several
others and began to teach them the ways of Druidism and how to access the power
of nature’s magic as well. This was how the tradition of Voraniss’ Druidic
Circle came to be. These early Elves acted as advisors and aids to King
Othorion, but mostly tended to the duties around the city that he once
performed that he no longer could. They were teachers, healers, and mystics
that brought the common peoples of Calandia hope, wisdom, and light.
Othorion lived for a long time even by Elven standards,
earning him the name Elderheart upon reaching his 10,000th year.
Under his guidance the Elves had entered what scholars believe was the golden
age of their civilization within Voraniss, rivaling even what the Giants were
busy building in the northern mountains. Out of respect for Othorion’s efforts
at diplomacy, the two races rarely clashed during this time period and were
content to leave one another alone and even occasionally engage in trade.
King Othorion finally passed away in November of the year
638, leaving no official heir behind. Mendleaf lost the last of his magical
leaves shortly after, taking on the moniker Autumn-Elm. After Othorion took his
last breath, witnesses claim that his body changed shape and shifted into the
form of a majestic stag. Legends suggest he fled into the familiar forest
surrounding Calandia where he dwells within Voraniss still as the Totem of the
Stag, refusing to move on until his true heir is found. Little by little, the
great Elven city began to diminish without Othorion’s leadership, and the
golden age of the Elves passed into history.
