Legend of Anemo Eolic

Birthday

Forlorn cries echoed through the Tythea forest, in the kingdom of Hob, in Cathall. A human woman braced herself against a mighty tree, as the tightening bands gripped her sides, her body wanting to expel the bulk that she carried deep within her womb. Barely enough time to grab a lung full of fungus-scented air, she cried out. A ripping, inside her body, causing her to collapse in a heap, her forehead bruising against the ridges of bark, rivulets of blood dripping into her pain-glazed eyes, shakily, she reaches her fingers between her legs, gripping the bulk, pulling and pushing with her internal muscles. With a rush of air and a sodden plop, the half-human elven baby lay in silence, staring upwards to the canal of her birth.

The young human mother reached out as she fell to her side, blood gushing from the internal tears. As she touched her new child, not knowing its sex, the fire in her eyes dissipated. The babe, mewled, feeling the link, between mother and child break. Then it cried, it screamed. Filling its lungs with a mighty breeze, the child startled the Tythea forest creatures, its cries resounding, bouncing, back and forth against the bulky trees. Scrunched fists and kicking legs, a flurry of leaves kicked up creating a small tornado, which shifted the babe, closer to its dead, but still warm mother. Its small fingers reaching out, curling into pubis hair, the baby instinctively knew it required warmth for its own survival.

Hours past, the newborn lay snuggled against its cooling mother. Not a single creature ventured close, not even to sniff. Fear, from the child, kept the creatures away. Every time a smaller inhabitant came close, the baby would howl, stirring the air, with small flourishes, frightening the animals, good and bad alike away.

Mothers Sola and Witriss felt the child’s cries and distress; they looked across the woman’s circle and spoke gently to Mother Canola. Hoping that one of her children was in the area, but no, there was not. However, Mother Canola sensed a friendly force and with some gentle probing, directed the soul to the babe. The three Mothers stood by watching as a small gnomish female walked to the tree and the body.

Lyleth was undone in the instant she discovered the baby snuggled into her dead mother’s crutch. The sight touched a maternal cord she’d hidden for so long. Canola moved forward and picked up the babe, eyeing the child then looking across to Mother Sola, who nodded in confirmation. Mother Canola gave the babe a gift, mental and physical, the mental adding to her inborn natural abilities. Lyleth held out her arms, the babe made no protest as the transfer was complete.

Sinking to her haunches Lyleth inspected the child for any deformities. Finally, after the long scrutiny, Lyleth put a long shrimp like finger into the child’s mouth. The sucking proved, intuition, she was hungry. It was then that Mother Canola’s second gift appeared. A string of amethyst crystal beads, they twinkled and sang a small lullaby.

Harken ‘Roadius’
A child is borne
Harken ‘Bu’
A soul to strengthen
Harken ‘Canola’
A mind to learn

Hear the cry dear ‘Mother Siberlee’
Bless the child
With fitful sleep
Sleep little one
Sleep little one
Feel the arms of ‘Mother Siberlee’ in your dreams.

On a sleigh golden
Carry the dreams of a child
Into the cradle of silver
Spirit his/her bad dreams away.
Lull the little soul into pleasant dreams.
Sleep little one

Conceived with Quont’s lust
For days and days
So may you gain sleep quickly
Little one
Sleep in the blissful realms
Of Fae
May the dragons chase your
Bad dreams away.

© Limley the Bardic gnome.

Reaching into her backpack, Lyleth found her skin of milk. Gently, she dipped her shrimp fingers into the milk, encouraging the child to suckle it from her finger tip. Each time she brought her fingers closer to the babe, it began mewling in her direction. Lyleth’s, compact athletic body relaxed, as her light skin, warmed with natural feelings of tenderness, love, and desire. Her hazel eyes softened within a thin, high-cheek boned face. Her coarse, curly, medium-length, dark brown hair, hung down her face in unruly tendrils, as she settled into the routine of feeding the babe in a not so natural manner.

Lyleth knew she needed to mark the date of her finding the little orphan Halfling. She would also have to report the find to the Healers and Procets of Mispoint. Ensuring that her claim to the child was validated in the process. She’d marked the mothers grave with a grouping of rocks and compost, then took out her small blade and carved a sign into the trees bark. It was the runes, Ect, Sis, Uned, and Ewn. Showing that not only a death had occurred in this place, but also a birth and a gift from the ‘Gods’ had been given to a gnome. Within her own book called the Lies and Truths of Lyleth, she penned the date Troval, Perrine 80, in the season 621.

The baby lay peaceably against Lyleth’s back, jogging gently along, while a fascinating pattern of bare branches flickered through the slanting afternoon light. Mud flew up as Lyleth jogged towards Mispoint, making a gritty veil cover the baby’s limbs. Down her track at the back of her allotment, she quickly scrambles, through the thicket of brambles and into the rear yard of her Tree House.

Mispoint heights, is where Lyleth lives, her sunny little square of land is backed onto the Tythea forest and only an hour or two’s walk into the City of Mispoint. Her home is a large Verna Tree, its mighty limbs stretch across her allotment and there is adequate room for all size visitors in her home.
The main room has ample space, for visitors, but it is quite bright and sunlit. The walls are obscured entirely by floor to ceiling bookshelves, however, one wall is cheerily splashed in a drab white, a chilly wind comes through an open window, stirring the window curtains, lacy, and aqua, a sweet fragrance reminiscent of incense permeates the room and is stirred by the surprising gust from the window.
A simple country rag rug and an eclectic assortment of discarded furnishings that Lyleth has collected throughout Mispoint and City of Halfway Gorge adorn the floor in this room.

It is on one of the larger rocking chairs that Lyleth places the baby. Grabbing a couple of her scatter cushions, she ensures that the child cannot roll off, as she runs into her bedroom to gather some of her smaller clothing. The baby she knew had already attended to nature down her back, nonetheless, Lyleth attends to the needs of the child before her own.

The baby is so pleased to out of the backpack and off Lyleth’s back, she beats at the air with her small hands and crows with delight. Lyleth took stock of the situation, knowing that with a human child in her home, it would not stay clean, but really, she did not overly care. The Mothers Canola, Sola, and Witriss had blessed her with the gentle probing push to go into the Tythea forest and find the orphaned child. Lyleth’s life dream, silent and confidential was now hers, a wee one to look after, even if it grew into a gangly human.

“Now little one”, Lyleth chided as she put wrappings around the middle of the baby, “keep still. I’ll not have you making a mess on me furnishings.” She giggled as the child stopped wiggling and squirming. “You need a name!” Lyleth lent her head forward, blowing bubbles of air across the baby’s stomach, starting a riot of movement from the baby again. ‘Hhmm, my path is called Dury Lane and I found you just a ways from there. Therefore, I’ll call you Dury Lane.’

Her eyes sprinkled with delight as she felt a small nod of approval wave through the air. “Yes, it is meant to be. Your name little gangly one is Dury Lane!” leaning in she kissed the baby atop her head, and then scooped her into her arms as she went to attend to her immediate needs. Placing Dury in a wash basket, she knew the child would be safe.

© Findbotr July 2007