Dryad Eyes, part 34.
This 2,044 word entry was cowritten by the always amazing queenthespade. Enjoy!
The Wind whipped across the craggy peaks of the Gateway Mountain Range, running alone their spine and delving deeply into gullies into which no living being save the birds themselves had ever strayed. As it spun about, swooped down, and raced up the sheer face of a cliff closer to the human settlement, it found itself playing with the hair of a woman. She drew the air deep into herself as the Wind passed, and a surge of recognition, like the chime of a bell, rang through it. As it continued on its way, it pondered. As it blew snow down onto that one, single settlement that nestled itself in the folds of the mountains, it pondered some more. By the time it reached its grandchild, riding through the streets on an elk, it had made a decision.
Eyrenya, bright and beautiful as a sunny day, felt the bite of the cold, just as did anyone else, but it did not have the same effect on her. Part of her Wind Nymph heritage was a tolerance for weather, in all its forms. She still wore a cloak, though. She liked the feel of it against her back and shoulders, and a little part of her, the part that was just a little bit vain, thought that it looked rather nice with the rest of her outfit. Also, people tended to stare at her more when she did not wear one while riding about in a blizzard. Of course, they tended to stare anyway, since she rode on the back of an elk. In mid-giggle, she stopped short and brought Xing to a halt as well. Grandfather, the Wind itself, who had been murmuring about the buildings of the city, was now speaking directly to her. That, in itself, was not so very odd. The two of them tended to have long, in-depth conversations with each other. Still, however, there was an urgency in his tone. Well, she reconsidered; it was less an urgency and more an imperative.
After listening for a moment, she hung her head and sighed. "Aww. I was going to hang out with my friends..."
Silence, then, to every local ear save her own.
"Oh. Okay. If you're sure. Should have time for some breakfast, a quick round and a song or two, then."
Patting Xing gently on the neck, she urged him on. Through the snow, the mud, and the occasional partially cleared street, they made their way to her favorite tavern, 'The Rusty Pump.' Grandfather had told her approximately when she would be needed.
-----------------
Later, when the wan sunlight came from directly overhead, or at least as near to it as one could tell considering the thick cloud cover, Eyrenya departed the southernmost gate of Keeper's Gateway. Flurries of snow swished and swirled along the frozen ground in an intricate winter's dance. It inspired her with a tune, and she began to play her pipes, casting the playful and lilting notes forward to greet those whom she had been sent to meet. Somewhere ahead of her, one of those someones stopped in her tracks. One deceptively powerful arm, hastily thrust out and to the side so that it blocked the path of her companion, brought that one to a stop as well. It took a moment of stillness, listening carefully to that cheerful music, and then her face brightened noticeably.
"Eyrenya?!" Ytyrra called out, her questioning voice carrying through the heavy, cold curtain of climate that hung between herself and the musician.
The Wind Nymph paused in her playing, as her name drifted to her ears through the snow. It surprised her. Grandfather, in his enigmatic way, had not bothered to tell her just who she was being sent out into the storm to meet. That, however, was a voice she knew, and she knew it well.
"Grandmother?!" Urging Xing forward faster, she headed toward the voice in the storm. Grandfather, who did not share a particular relationship with the other in spite of the matching names, guided her directly to the mother of her mother.
Lifting a hand in the air when the young woman began to appear through the snow before them, Ytyrra surged forward as well. Her companion, Amiendyn, was close behind. A smile lit the Eldest Sister's face. True, she had expected, hoped, to see Eyrenya during her official visit to Keeper's Gateway. Reality was so much better than any possibility, however. Love for her family, both immediate and extended, was, perhaps, her one most defining trait. As she drew closer to the mounted Wind Nymph, the formal greeting that Ytyrra spoke was a bit more intimate than it would have been under almost any other circumstances.
"I am glad to see you, Little Sister, and glad again to find you well!"
Eyrenya regarded the woman before her as Xing came to a halt. The elk snuffed at the stranger. For her part, the Wind Nymph in question was not sure exactly how she felt about this meeting. Her feelings for the Eldest Sister of the Dryads were mixed, being all rolled together in the complicated mess that had to do with her mother, and her mother's death. Still, however, Ytyrra was family. Slipping down from Xing's back, she took a few tenative steps forward. Then, abruptly, she flung herself at her Grandmother, clasping her in a tight embrace.
"I'm glad you're doing well too, Grandmother," she answered, speaking the last word with a certain measure of emphasis.
Ytyrra returned the embrace. Her heart went out to the younger woman, her granddaughter according to the familiar familial formula of other cultures. She read people well, a skill that she had developed in her role as the Eldest Sister, and had not missed the uncertainty in the Little Sister's gaze. Ytyrra knew that Eyrenya's heart was conflicted. It behooved her to ease the suffering of her Sisters, granddaughter or not, but she did not, and had never, quite known how to approach this one. They were too different, in every way that did not have to do with stubbornness. That was not a bad thing, in-and-of itself, but it was the source of an entirely different kind of conflict. Perhaps it was also the source of the strangely soft spot Ytyrra carried for this particular child. She loved Treyp, and looked forward to that meeting equally, but it would be a very different version of the same feeling that touched her then.
Pushing Eyrenya back a bit, the Eldest Sister cupped her face with her hands and smiled for her the warmest smile she could muster. "Grandfather sent you, yes?"
The Wind Nymph nodded. "Yeah. Even he likes to keep his secrets, though. He didn't bother to tell me it was you. Why are you here anyway? This is a long way from Camelot."
Eyrenya stared up, into the older woman's dark eyes. They were older still. So like the eyes of her own mother, were they, but something in them hinted at all that they had seen. Generations upon generations of hardship, struggle, and everything else that living entailed. It was rare to see lines upon a dryad's face. They were there, however, if one looked closely enough. This woman had known joy, also, and had laughed as often as she had cried.
"I came to speak with my son," Ytyrra answered at last, inwardly wincing even as the words tumbled from her lips. She feared, briefly, that she might have sparked anew the old argument over how one of them should call the other. Eyrenya favored the other side of her heritage, her father's side, Grandfather's side, and had never embraced the Sisterhood that existed among the Dryads. On one hand, the Eldest Sister understood. On the other, she could not quite bring herself to relieve the younger woman of the title. 'Sister.' It meant so much to Ytyrra. Her son, Geran, was something else altogether. His was, obviously, a unique case. Why, or when, she had begun thinking of him as 'Son' instead of 'Brother,' she could not say.
"I have a message for him," she went on. "And we are here to see Treyp as well, considering all that she has been through of late."
Taken aback by that last statement, Eyrenya furrowed her normally smooth brow. "If you just got down here, how'd you know about what happened to Treyp?"
"I am sorry, Little Sister. We have chosen this time to make our presence known." Ytyrra inclined her head, hoping that the gesture would lend weight to her apology. "We have, however, been here for near to three weeks."
"I see." Once again, Eyrenya was not certain just how to feel about the situation that had presented itself. She was not angry, exactly. At the same time, it all seemed more than a little strange to her. Having no desire to dwell too much on the subject, she shifted her gaze to the other Dryad. "And who..."
The Wind Nymph's voice trailed off. Again, her brows furrowed. Something about the girl, the way she looked, tugged at her memory. "I don't recall your name, but I could swear that we've met before."
"Perhaps you saw me in passing." Amiendyn suggested, even as she averted her eyes. Her emotions, not well concealed at all, had ranged from curiosity, to exuberance, to mild outrage over the course of Eyrenya's conversation with the Eldest Sister. Now, her disposition darkened, and she wilted beneath the attention that had been turned upon her. It was easier, of course, for Amiendyn to place the Wind Nymph. Eyrenya had not been in disguise at the time. However, it was a time that the hotheaded Dryad, presently, had no wish to remember. "I have visited the city a few times already."
Eyrenya's eyes narrowed slightly. She was fairly good at reading people too. A good bard had to be, in order to gauge her audience and discern what it was that they wanted to hear. This girl was lying. It was as plain as the nose on her face.
Tilting her head every so slightly, the Wind Nymph listened. Her eyes did not quite focus on anything as she consulted Grandfather, asking him what he knew of this young Dryad, what he remembered of her, and where it had been. In answerance, she received brief flashes, impressions. The girl... no, woman... dressed in very different attire, emptying a bucket of refuse somewhere in the city. Another time, standing out in the snow, her own personal scent, something like almonds, vanilla and cinnamon, wafting in the breeze, catching the attention of a man. Then she was sitting near an open window with the sounds of laughter and music emanating from within. She looked outside, a lonely expression on her face going unnoticed by all save the Wind.
When finally it clicked into place, Eyrenya blinked a few times. Her expression softened a little, and she gave the Dryad girl a friendly smile. "Well, no matter. I'll bet you haven't been up to the Keep yet. I can give you and Grandmother here a tour on the way to Geran."
"Now that is an invitation we can hardly refuse," a grateful Ytyrra murmured. She placed a comforting hand on Amiendyn's back. It was, of course, her duty, her blessed right, to soothe the pain of her sisters. All of them. Always. Unlike Eyrenya, whom had clearly made some educated guesses of her own, the Eldest Sister was privy to exactly what it was that plagued the younger Dryad's thoughts, and her heart ached in sympathy. She wondered, briefly, if her reassuring action might fill in further gaps, coloring more clearly for the Little Sister the picture that was Amiendyn. That would not be the worst thing ever. Perhaps, just perhaps, it could lead to an unexpected kindness at an opportune moment. "This is Amiendyn. She and Treyp were quite close, when they were small ones."
"Thats wonderful!" The Wind Nymph's smile was genuine. Turning, with a guiding hand resting on Xing's shoulder, she began the trek that would lead them through the snow and back to the imposing fortress, that was Keeper's Gateway. "Treyp could use a good cheering up."
The Wind whipped across the craggy peaks of the Gateway Mountain Range, running alone their spine and delving deeply into gullies into which no living being save the birds themselves had ever strayed. As it spun about, swooped down, and raced up the sheer face of a cliff closer to the human settlement, it found itself playing with the hair of a woman. She drew the air deep into herself as the Wind passed, and a surge of recognition, like the chime of a bell, rang through it. As it continued on its way, it pondered. As it blew snow down onto that one, single settlement that nestled itself in the folds of the mountains, it pondered some more. By the time it reached its grandchild, riding through the streets on an elk, it had made a decision.
Eyrenya, bright and beautiful as a sunny day, felt the bite of the cold, just as did anyone else, but it did not have the same effect on her. Part of her Wind Nymph heritage was a tolerance for weather, in all its forms. She still wore a cloak, though. She liked the feel of it against her back and shoulders, and a little part of her, the part that was just a little bit vain, thought that it looked rather nice with the rest of her outfit. Also, people tended to stare at her more when she did not wear one while riding about in a blizzard. Of course, they tended to stare anyway, since she rode on the back of an elk. In mid-giggle, she stopped short and brought Xing to a halt as well. Grandfather, the Wind itself, who had been murmuring about the buildings of the city, was now speaking directly to her. That, in itself, was not so very odd. The two of them tended to have long, in-depth conversations with each other. Still, however, there was an urgency in his tone. Well, she reconsidered; it was less an urgency and more an imperative.
After listening for a moment, she hung her head and sighed. "Aww. I was going to hang out with my friends..."
Silence, then, to every local ear save her own.
"Oh. Okay. If you're sure. Should have time for some breakfast, a quick round and a song or two, then."
Patting Xing gently on the neck, she urged him on. Through the snow, the mud, and the occasional partially cleared street, they made their way to her favorite tavern, 'The Rusty Pump.' Grandfather had told her approximately when she would be needed.
-----------------
Later, when the wan sunlight came from directly overhead, or at least as near to it as one could tell considering the thick cloud cover, Eyrenya departed the southernmost gate of Keeper's Gateway. Flurries of snow swished and swirled along the frozen ground in an intricate winter's dance. It inspired her with a tune, and she began to play her pipes, casting the playful and lilting notes forward to greet those whom she had been sent to meet. Somewhere ahead of her, one of those someones stopped in her tracks. One deceptively powerful arm, hastily thrust out and to the side so that it blocked the path of her companion, brought that one to a stop as well. It took a moment of stillness, listening carefully to that cheerful music, and then her face brightened noticeably.
"Eyrenya?!" Ytyrra called out, her questioning voice carrying through the heavy, cold curtain of climate that hung between herself and the musician.
The Wind Nymph paused in her playing, as her name drifted to her ears through the snow. It surprised her. Grandfather, in his enigmatic way, had not bothered to tell her just who she was being sent out into the storm to meet. That, however, was a voice she knew, and she knew it well.
"Grandmother?!" Urging Xing forward faster, she headed toward the voice in the storm. Grandfather, who did not share a particular relationship with the other in spite of the matching names, guided her directly to the mother of her mother.
Lifting a hand in the air when the young woman began to appear through the snow before them, Ytyrra surged forward as well. Her companion, Amiendyn, was close behind. A smile lit the Eldest Sister's face. True, she had expected, hoped, to see Eyrenya during her official visit to Keeper's Gateway. Reality was so much better than any possibility, however. Love for her family, both immediate and extended, was, perhaps, her one most defining trait. As she drew closer to the mounted Wind Nymph, the formal greeting that Ytyrra spoke was a bit more intimate than it would have been under almost any other circumstances.
"I am glad to see you, Little Sister, and glad again to find you well!"
Eyrenya regarded the woman before her as Xing came to a halt. The elk snuffed at the stranger. For her part, the Wind Nymph in question was not sure exactly how she felt about this meeting. Her feelings for the Eldest Sister of the Dryads were mixed, being all rolled together in the complicated mess that had to do with her mother, and her mother's death. Still, however, Ytyrra was family. Slipping down from Xing's back, she took a few tenative steps forward. Then, abruptly, she flung herself at her Grandmother, clasping her in a tight embrace.
"I'm glad you're doing well too, Grandmother," she answered, speaking the last word with a certain measure of emphasis.
Ytyrra returned the embrace. Her heart went out to the younger woman, her granddaughter according to the familiar familial formula of other cultures. She read people well, a skill that she had developed in her role as the Eldest Sister, and had not missed the uncertainty in the Little Sister's gaze. Ytyrra knew that Eyrenya's heart was conflicted. It behooved her to ease the suffering of her Sisters, granddaughter or not, but she did not, and had never, quite known how to approach this one. They were too different, in every way that did not have to do with stubbornness. That was not a bad thing, in-and-of itself, but it was the source of an entirely different kind of conflict. Perhaps it was also the source of the strangely soft spot Ytyrra carried for this particular child. She loved Treyp, and looked forward to that meeting equally, but it would be a very different version of the same feeling that touched her then.
Pushing Eyrenya back a bit, the Eldest Sister cupped her face with her hands and smiled for her the warmest smile she could muster. "Grandfather sent you, yes?"
The Wind Nymph nodded. "Yeah. Even he likes to keep his secrets, though. He didn't bother to tell me it was you. Why are you here anyway? This is a long way from Camelot."
Eyrenya stared up, into the older woman's dark eyes. They were older still. So like the eyes of her own mother, were they, but something in them hinted at all that they had seen. Generations upon generations of hardship, struggle, and everything else that living entailed. It was rare to see lines upon a dryad's face. They were there, however, if one looked closely enough. This woman had known joy, also, and had laughed as often as she had cried.
"I came to speak with my son," Ytyrra answered at last, inwardly wincing even as the words tumbled from her lips. She feared, briefly, that she might have sparked anew the old argument over how one of them should call the other. Eyrenya favored the other side of her heritage, her father's side, Grandfather's side, and had never embraced the Sisterhood that existed among the Dryads. On one hand, the Eldest Sister understood. On the other, she could not quite bring herself to relieve the younger woman of the title. 'Sister.' It meant so much to Ytyrra. Her son, Geran, was something else altogether. His was, obviously, a unique case. Why, or when, she had begun thinking of him as 'Son' instead of 'Brother,' she could not say.
"I have a message for him," she went on. "And we are here to see Treyp as well, considering all that she has been through of late."
Taken aback by that last statement, Eyrenya furrowed her normally smooth brow. "If you just got down here, how'd you know about what happened to Treyp?"
"I am sorry, Little Sister. We have chosen this time to make our presence known." Ytyrra inclined her head, hoping that the gesture would lend weight to her apology. "We have, however, been here for near to three weeks."
"I see." Once again, Eyrenya was not certain just how to feel about the situation that had presented itself. She was not angry, exactly. At the same time, it all seemed more than a little strange to her. Having no desire to dwell too much on the subject, she shifted her gaze to the other Dryad. "And who..."
The Wind Nymph's voice trailed off. Again, her brows furrowed. Something about the girl, the way she looked, tugged at her memory. "I don't recall your name, but I could swear that we've met before."
"Perhaps you saw me in passing." Amiendyn suggested, even as she averted her eyes. Her emotions, not well concealed at all, had ranged from curiosity, to exuberance, to mild outrage over the course of Eyrenya's conversation with the Eldest Sister. Now, her disposition darkened, and she wilted beneath the attention that had been turned upon her. It was easier, of course, for Amiendyn to place the Wind Nymph. Eyrenya had not been in disguise at the time. However, it was a time that the hotheaded Dryad, presently, had no wish to remember. "I have visited the city a few times already."
Eyrenya's eyes narrowed slightly. She was fairly good at reading people too. A good bard had to be, in order to gauge her audience and discern what it was that they wanted to hear. This girl was lying. It was as plain as the nose on her face.
Tilting her head every so slightly, the Wind Nymph listened. Her eyes did not quite focus on anything as she consulted Grandfather, asking him what he knew of this young Dryad, what he remembered of her, and where it had been. In answerance, she received brief flashes, impressions. The girl... no, woman... dressed in very different attire, emptying a bucket of refuse somewhere in the city. Another time, standing out in the snow, her own personal scent, something like almonds, vanilla and cinnamon, wafting in the breeze, catching the attention of a man. Then she was sitting near an open window with the sounds of laughter and music emanating from within. She looked outside, a lonely expression on her face going unnoticed by all save the Wind.
When finally it clicked into place, Eyrenya blinked a few times. Her expression softened a little, and she gave the Dryad girl a friendly smile. "Well, no matter. I'll bet you haven't been up to the Keep yet. I can give you and Grandmother here a tour on the way to Geran."
"Now that is an invitation we can hardly refuse," a grateful Ytyrra murmured. She placed a comforting hand on Amiendyn's back. It was, of course, her duty, her blessed right, to soothe the pain of her sisters. All of them. Always. Unlike Eyrenya, whom had clearly made some educated guesses of her own, the Eldest Sister was privy to exactly what it was that plagued the younger Dryad's thoughts, and her heart ached in sympathy. She wondered, briefly, if her reassuring action might fill in further gaps, coloring more clearly for the Little Sister the picture that was Amiendyn. That would not be the worst thing ever. Perhaps, just perhaps, it could lead to an unexpected kindness at an opportune moment. "This is Amiendyn. She and Treyp were quite close, when they were small ones."
"Thats wonderful!" The Wind Nymph's smile was genuine. Turning, with a guiding hand resting on Xing's shoulder, she began the trek that would lead them through the snow and back to the imposing fortress, that was Keeper's Gateway. "Treyp could use a good cheering up."