“I ask that you keep in mind what I have said about Elves. They may seem strange at first, but consider that, at times, they are as much outsiders in this world as you. If you ever meet one, try to be the friend to them that you wished you had when you first arrived here…. Unless you manage to encounter one of their Elders. I doubt anyone can instill decency into those arrogant pricks. ”

  — Excerpt from ‘The Outworlder’s Handbook’ by Aegian Castellanos

  Loss wasn’t pleased by the arrow that took him in his throat. Nor would he say he wasn’t a bit upset that the first person he saw in Aether only knows how long decided to place said arrow through his throat. Then again, he couldn’t find it in himself to blame them. The last stream he had managed to wash himself in had been two, maybe three, days back and he could only imagine he was looking horrific. And if his journey through the forest had taught him anything, it's better to stab first and then ask questions later. There were some truly despicable monsters out there.

  He remembered the fight with the wolves fondly now. At least that had been a straightforward introduction to the denizens of these woods. Nothing could compare to the horror he had felt after the encounter with the rabbit. Oh no, Loss thought with a shudder, nothing could be worse than that rabbit.

  Looking down the game trail he had hacked his way onto he could see that it started to widen in the direction the elf had fled. Figuring that must be as good a place as any to head towards, he set off down the trail at a nice and steady pace, watching the trees around him with the vigilance he had learned was essential over the course of his journey.

  He hadn’t been walking long when he spotted them surrounding him in the tree tops— more Elves. Each was armed with a bow almost as long as they were tall. They must have thought themselves sneaky, their cloaks blending with the dull browns and vibrant greens of the trees. Loss couldn’t help but think they made a shallow mimicry of some of the forest creatures he had seen as he left the deepest reaches of the woods. And if he had learned to see even those, then what hope did these Elves have of sneaking up on him.

  Still, he made no indication that he had seen them. He wasn’t eager to take another arrow through the throat. While the flesh grew back, the mind remembered, and that pain wasn’t something he relished if it could be avoided.

  “Halt!” he heard chime out from a woman at their center once they had finished their encirclement. Stopping, he turned his gaze upwards in a slow, cautious motion. He was careful to not make any sudden moves that might set them off. He took in the sight of the Elves and their bows pointed at him before focusing in on the one that had called for him to halt.

  She cut a sharp figure, her cloak billowing from her shoulders and golden hair floating on the same breeze. She had beautiful features, the type that would make fools out of men. Granted, all elves had stunning looks, so in hindsight she wasn’t all that special.

  “Who are you to part the Veil and enter Nature’s Solace?” she said in a voice like a minstrel's harp. At this question, the forest grew hushed all around. Birds stopped their chirping, mice stopped rustling, and even the trees stopped their eternal sway. Stillness took over. Loss was sure this was going to go great.

  And then it was there.

  The world became more as the Aether stirred and rose up. Reality whispered, providing the answer that he himself was unable to speak.

  Loss.

  A bow slipped through the grasp of one of the elves, their shock so great that they lost their grip. It fell, plinking off branches on the way down before it let out a sharp crack as it split in two against the roots of the tree.

  The snapping of the bow caused the world to return to normal, the noises of the forest returning as if they had never left. The Elves aimed their bows once more on Loss, even while they reeled from what had just transpired. More than a few elves had tears in their eyes.

  The woman leading the elves harped her discomfort, the music of her voice less confident now, “You’ve been named by the Fae of all creatures? I can’t help but wonder what sort of Bargain you made that they would do such a thing. Never have I seen them do this.” Below her, Loss lifted his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug as a way of answer, still conscious of the bows aimed his way.

  “Whatever the case, the other Elders will be wanting to see you so we can decide what to do with you. Can’t let a human run around Nature’s Solace unattended, especially one we know nothing about. We will hear your tale and pass judgment.”

  Loss sincerely doubted she would be hearing his tale, but it isn’t as though he was able to voice his objections. He hoped they had something to write with. He made to start moving again along the road but was instead greeted by an arrow jutting from the ground at his feet. He sighed, then looked up again.

  “And leave the sword.”

  With that the woman turned and her merry band of Elves faded from sight as they moved down the road, melding into the trees. Loss looked at the sword that had gotten him through these past few… he wanted to say weeks but couldn’t be sure. Its edge was still keen as the day it had been made. He hadn’t thought a sword of wood would hold its edge very well, but alas here it was. He had thought that it would burn when he set fire to it, desperate to escape its constant presence.

  He had been wrong.

  Loss threw the blade away into the undergrowth with a smirk. He knew that wouldn’t be enough to get rid of it.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  —-

  It wasn’t long before the game trail turned forest road opened up before him yet again, this time revealing to him the site of the elven city of Nature’s Solace. A breathtaking sprawl of woodwork centuries in the making, houses grown directly into trees, some more ancient than any nation of man. They had a knack with nature— the Elves— able to guide the Aether that permeated living things.

  The beauty of the city was offset by its current state as a ghost town. The only soul in sight was the same elf that had shot Loss, shifting his weight between each foot in a nervous fidget. He kept his eyes fixed on Loss, not wanting him to somehow pull a disappearing act in the empty thoroughfare.

  Loss nodded to him as a way of greeting. He drew closer and the elf introduced himself. “Greetings Sir– I mean Mister– Loss!” There was the slightest hint of a giggle in the air, the Aether around them stirring at the name. It was faint enough to leave Loss wondering if he had imagined it. The elf’s sudden flinch before he continued let Loss know he hadn’t. “I am Thaladir, this year's Watcher of Nature’s Solace. I apologize for my actions earlier, I just– you seemed rather grotesque when you first emerged from the woods.”

  Loss gave him a half shrug, a motion he was already beginning to enjoy, before gesturing at the emptiness of the city around them.

  “Ah yes,” Thaladir hastened to answer the unasked question, “The citizens are all waiting at the Grove, where the Elders hold council. Normally, most wouldn’t bother with the meetings unless they were seeking to curry favor. However, given the circumstances, I'm sure you can understand.”

  Loss did understand. He’d be pretty interested too if a man named by the Fae took an arrow to the throat, then got back up and kept walking into town.

  “Now, follow me. It isn’t far.”

  Thaladir set off down the road, Loss falling into step beside him.

  —-

  Loss isn’t quite sure what he expected the Grove to look like, but if someone had asked him, he certainly wouldn’t have said that it was the stump of the largest tree to ever exist.

  He had seen some great trees in his travels through the woods, ones that at their base were wider than a town square. Then, when he had reached Nature’s Solace, he had seen the even grander trees in which the elves had built their homes. Even those couldn’t compare to the tree which had left behind this stump.

  A fleeting thought crossed his mind, that the entire Colosseum of Tarth could have fit inside this stump. He wasn’t sure why he knew that, with his memories spotty as they were, but he was sure it was an apt analogy. While he may have lost his memories in the Bargain, it seemed his knowledge remained.

  Thaladir led him into a tunnel bored into what he had begun referring to as The Stump in his mind. He heard the distinctive murmur of a crowd echoing outwards from within. When they walked out of the darkness of the tunnel and once more into the light, Loss took in the surrounding stadium, for that is what it was. Benches seemed to have been molded out of the wood like puddy, and seated in them were the citizens of Nature’s Solace. Looking at their number, Loss couldn’t help but try to count them, and in doing so he began to understand why they hid in this city of theirs, shrouded from the rest of the world.

  The great race of the Elves, masters of nature, and second only to the Fae in understanding of the Aether (Not that they would never admit it) numbered less than five thousand strong despite the millenia for which they had existed. Loss would wager there were villages in Estin that had a higher population than that, it was no wonder elves were so uncommon outside of the Verdant Green. It felt strange, seeing this few people in such a massive stadium. It wasn’t right.

  He was broken from his thoughts by the sharp clack of a gavel. Silence spread through the crowd in response. in their tall chairs were the Elders of the elven race. The elves that were there from the beginning, or the ones that had survived the years. He felt he should have had some sense of majesty being in their presence, but he wasn’t really thrilled with the greeting he had gotten.

  Loss couldn’t tell you how old they were, and the elves fiercely guard stories of the origins. Not a single one of their immortal faces showed a wrinkle of age. It is as though upon reaching adulthood they became frozen outside of time, having slipped the noose death places on us all at birth. “The Council of Elders recognizes this…. Loss and are prepared to hear him speak.”

  Loss laughed then, an odd experience given that no noise left his mouth. He hoped they had brought a quill.

  —

  It was less than an hour later and Loss now sat at a table in a dwelling within one of the great trees that, until he had arrived, had been sitting abandoned. It was filled with gaudy, hand carved, furniture that was sporting an obvious personal touch— a remnant of the previous owner, whomever that may be.

  It had taken a few minutes of pantomime back at the Stump before the elves realized the Fae had taken his voice, and, upon this realization, most of the crowd had dispersed. No sense sitting around waiting for his story when he couldn’t even speak, especially when there was revelry to be had elsewhere.

  The Elders sent a runner, poor Thaladir, to get him something to write with. It was then that he had recounted his tale via pen and parchment. He told them about the Bargain he had made, and how the Fae had deigned to name him in their tongue. This all seemed to alleviate their concerns, they’d mostly been worried he might have a way of leading other people through the Veil around Nature’s Solace.

  It was a powerful work of Aether, the Veil, and it had more layers than most trees had leaves. The Elves held a competition amongst themselves each year to see who can add the most intricate layer to it. That had been happening for centuries now and, well, it was safe to say anyone the elves didn’t want in their city never could seem to find it.

  Once they found out he was just some fool that had bargained with the Fae (and been signed like an artist might a painting), they quickly lost interest in him and instead turned to what to do with him. They didn’t want some human running around their sheltered city. It was a bit degrading, with some of them even suggesting they just kill him and throw his corpse in the woods. Some of the Elders argued against that choice though. Not out of any concern for Loss’ wellbeing, it was obvious that didn't matter to them, but more because they didn’t think killing him would be possible due to the Bargain he had struck.

  They had still been deciding what to do with him when they sent him away to the house he now found himself seated in. One of the Elders had complained about his smell- he was still unwashed from his time in the woods and, therefore, still coated in blood and gore- and the others had quickly agreed. They were even kind enough to provide him clothing, the sort that a member of the Senate would wear back in Tarth, asking nothing in return. Given what he had seen so far, he was sure this wasn’t out of any sense of hospitality. If he had to guess, it was a set of clothes that had fallen out of style a century back that they never got around to throwing away. Not that he would complain, silk wass silk after all and Loss wasn’t one for fashion

  He had been instructed to sit here in this elegant prison until they could figure out what to do with him. Loss wasn’t too worried though, by the wording of the Bargain he figured he had all the time in the world now. If the elves wanted to spend months or years arguing about him, the outcome he expected given what he had seen today, then he would spend his time getting some much-needed relaxation after what he had gone through to reach this city.