Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Morrow’s Ballad

“Willow and creek, a great maiden’s den

Silver and horn, her love and ken.”

“What is that song, Bertha? I have never heard you sing it before.” The two sisters were hand-in-hand marching towards the prophet Gipuse. Since their depart from Rising Hills, the ancient one had at least joined their troop and took responsibility of educating what could the god of ashes can offer to his children.

“They held their hearts and bore life

Offered home thee and everyone had forgotten.” Her little sister went on. Bernadette gave no reprimand as usual. Nor could anyone in their family was able to. Ever since she was a wee baby, Bertha had always been idle and feeble of mind. “Forever did they joy and all, forever not will they flourish and glow.” The elder sibling could only tighten the protection she held on top of her sister’s, although the lovely songs Acerola makes hardly comforted the anguish in the forester’s head.

“By fire and blood will it end,

But by devotion and forgiveness will it mend.” As they neared the small gathering of other Frontier children, so did the stares of pity. Bertha’s song of course had ended but the cowering whispers also began. Dressed in their commoner’s frock, long to the height of their ankles, it was a struggle for Bernadette in keeping the urge to tear the apron off, sad to be able to reveal the growing sweat between her thighs. But she will deal the accursed material for her sister’s sake, for her father’s sake.

“Hush now!” said one older child towards them. It was a Gatherer, if Bernadette was not wrong. The tiny height of Weres Gatherer was perfect for digging mushrooms in tight spaces but the echo in her censure made up for it.

The earth sitting crowd settled down as Gipuse had lumbered towards their circle, his nephew, Quillen, assisting his creaking wake. For the Foresters, it had been a routine to them to sit closest to the priest, as he had always insisted.

Settling to stand amongst them, Gipuse stomped his staff onto the ground twice before greeting, “Ho, children of Hashlon,”

“Ho, servant of Hashlon!” the crowd responded the priest’s gruff call.

Gipuse’s eyes scanned the young Frontiers before settling a radiant small on her sister, his gray eyes fading into mist.

“Ah, Bertha. I’ve been looking for your sweet smile. I have word and command from Hashlon, dear Forester, and it is with this folk must I announce your new role.” Gipuse had hardly disguised his excitement, especially for an old one as him.

When he said this, Bernadette even took notice of Quillen’s quivering of his supporting length against the priest, the small opening of his lips betraying both hers and his surprise. The other children’s heads went around and about, wondering what the prophet had been reviled to in relation to the odd Forester girl.

Gipuse immediately thrown his hands high as Bertha gave not but a single response to the prophet’s words. “Children of Hashlon! A new seer is in your midst!”

 

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“Did you know of this? I would feel betrayed if you did,” Quillon’s shorn dark hair glistened with the sweat on his forehead in the afternoon sun.

“No. And dah would never announce it to the Frontier.” The two old friends were both standing beside Gipuse’s large tent, the only persons allowed the closest to where Bernadette’s parents, Bertha, and the Colonel were thrust into.

Quillon’s lips thinned, he was betrayed still. “Hashlon is your god as well, Barn.”

“So is Firstrah and Realise. I thought Realise was your god and Hashlon was Crescent’s,” Bernadette replied unenthusiastically.

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“I had no choice with Gipuse alright. My family would have left me for dead if he had not offered the aid.”

It was Bernadette’s turn to feel sad. He, her and their far away Crescent had been inseparable back in Rising Hills. The Little Gods, they were once called. Crescent was Mister Sander’s son but was quite the opposite. While the accountant had loved to stay in his house and taught the children there to read, Crescent was off in the woods with the Foresters, claiming to becoming a knight if he had trained from the best in their town. Hashlon was also the god of war. Firstrah was the goddess of fertility and marriage, whom how the people relate Bernadette’s boyish size and behavior, she did not know. And Realise, whose Quillon poured his mind and soul into reading what Mister Sander’s shelves could offer, was the god of knowledge and wealth.

Their recent argument had lapsed into silence. Bernadette knowing how her and Quillon missed the rascal so much, it had hurt just to mention his name. They were still loitering around the stretched leather tent when the droplet of a whisper called out from nowhere, “Fegahum.”

Bernadette spun and was caught between shock and awe at the presence of the tall warrior. He was wearing a long green cloak but the argent of the sword poked out from the clothed window where it hid a silver chest plate. The man had his long pale hair loosely tied and that made his long ears profound.

For the third time of the day since she had her dream, Bernadette was spell bound by the intervention of the most unlikely of events. And the third time was she not able to respond, especially now with an elf.

“Barn, who is that?” Quillon whispered from behind her stone footing.

“Fegahum,” the elf started again, “You—” when the opening flap of Gipuse’s tent flipped out Bernard.

“And I had promised to speak with you later, ranger. I thought you adhere to the exchange of oaths,” Bernard hurriedly said.

“I had agreed to speak with you in another time, Forester, but not to your daughter,” the ranger-elf said with the same smooth voice before returning his attention to the still Bernadette.

“Fegahum, you have until sunset with me to experience the oath you were offered.”

“Hold, ranger!” Bernard hissed then drawn and channeled his gaze to the cowering Quillon witnessing the entire exchange.

The ranger sighed. He sighed. “Humans…” he said and reached out a hand to Quillon. There was not but a second before the boy fell to grass asleep. “He will forget this. Fear not, he is safe.”

The sound of her friend crumbling to the ground tossed Bernadette out from her stupor. She made her hands into fists and bit into fear as she lay her anger towards the elf. “How could you?”

“There is not enough time, come,” without glancing back, the ranger twisted and was now walking towards the forest edge.

“Dah!” Bernadette took to her father. “What’s going on?”

“The fae are, Sapling. Now, don’t forget what your mama said about giving them a piece of your mind.” Bernard could only smile and cheer on for his daughter. “I was informed of what they did to you and how’d you helped rather despite of it all. I’ll know you will do great more things, sapling.”

“But… he’s an elf! A lone elf at that!” Bernadette was almost at the break of tears.

“Forester! Are we to be prejudiced now? Go! Before I’ll tell your mah I will eat your share of dinner.”

Other than her heart as the biggest of Bernadette, so was her passion for her mother’s cooking. So, with great despair for the meal and fear for her sleeping friend, she followed the stranger ranger into Aluwein.

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