Dreams

Lyleth and Dury lived in a tree house set on a gentle slope, just outside of Mispoint. Many expatriates of Mispoint might have fantasized about the tree house. If they’d had more than a passing chance to do more than peek at the floor.

The front of the house bore signs of a child, with little hand marks on the windows and sculptured toys on the ladders that lead to every room. Dury was a messy little girl and Lyleth would not have her any other way. Just to the north of the front room, was the dining area; it was a small area and readily bore the signs of a teething child. Teeth marks adorned the wooden legs of the table and chairs, there were cured pieces of soft wood with her imprints on the table and scattered across the floor. Bits of the mornings break fast littered in a wild array across the wooden floor. Lyleth had learned rather quickly not to keep a rug in the room. As Dury would often trip on her newly found legs as she tried to climb the furnishings. The dining room had quickly become a playroom for Dury, as she could build her own tree house from the tables and chairs.
The kitchen looked grim, even with the sun streaming through the opened top half of the window. Lyleth was on a ladder painting little stencils and the kitchen was full of paint buckets. Whilst she’d been preparing the meal, Lyleth had looked at the walls and made the decision that they needed freshening. The table was cluttered with half empty pots of jam, the local Mispoint news and scribed parchments from her friends. Dury was having a nap on the floor, amongst the wreckage of break fast. Her long red hair plaited and a comforting end being sucked by a zealous little mouth. Her skirts, layers of them, cushioned her gnome-sized body as she slept in peace, the string of amethyst crystal beads firmly clutched in her fist, their song playing ever so gently on the breath of the sleeping Dury.

Pale yellow walls and black woodwork would hide the marks of a child, Lyleth thought as she finished the last stencil of a rune around the window. The script read ‘Yea sis grant this home slil, cha, and ort. Ixt our ousd and imbue us with evt. Ewn us with irt and allow the ght to uned ion through a ine ein with fuf. Lig our tre and dar fty ect from its door.’ (Loose Translation – Dexterous self grant this home vitality, energy, and constraint. Protect our destiny and imbue us with movement. Partner us with separation and allow the warrior to communicate disruption through a gateway indestructible. Futile strength our defence and knock back fertile births from our door. You will need to read the Gnomes runes to understand this more fully.)

Lyleth stood back admiring her scribing when a wild squeal and a flung out arm, clutched into a fist slammed sideways into her ankle. Eyes wide with outrage Dury turned over and stood, stomping away, her smeary wet face, not reflecting the sudden flush of strength that had flooded her small body.

“Glorious mother of a pestilent gnat, molesting an earlobe! Where did that come from?”

Lyleth called after Dury’s retreating back. Dury turned and Lyleth peered at her face, there was a flicker of fear, even a dope could see that. Lyleth dropped her brushes and ran forward. Forgotten now were the plans of flowers on the windowsill, dried herbs to be hung from the branch encased ceiling and spices on the dresser. It was alarming. ‘Why did she strike me? What made her cry?’ she thought as she chased a now happily squealing Dury out of the house and down the ladder to the garden. ‘Dury never cries.’ Lyleth’s mind reminded as she scooted down the ladder.

Lyleth knew there was something about her daughter that she did not understand. Through her friends, she had found out that Dury was a true Halfling, her mother human and father Elven. Educating herself on her daughter’s behaviours and traits of her race was a priority. Through other Halflings, Lyleth ascertained that Dury would have an increased life span and she would age slower than her counter parts. This had benefits for not only Dury, but for Lyleth. It meant Lyleth would have her daughter around longer and as a child for a blessed amount of time. Though Lyleth dreaded the Teen years, she knew she would have to learn to muddle through all the dilemmas that presented themselves. Nevertheless, it meant that Dury’s non Halfling friends would grow faster, marry sooner and pass away, before she would. This saddened Lyleth and she decided early, that Dury would need to understand death and its finality.

Dury’s minute voice broke Lyleth’s revere, “I’m sorry!”
Lyleth beamed at her quickly, flashing a toothy smile that always made Dury grin and chuckle.

Together they tussled at ground level. Long forgotten was the dream that had frightened Dury, only to Lyleth. It niggled at the back of Dury’s mind, she could recall some parts, but not what had actually frightened her from her sleep, making her strike her mother with such fury. Her body still felt the savage strength that she had used and called forth. Many times Dury had felt small changes; she’d seen the effects of her own wishes, the rustle of a breeze on a hot day, the stirring of leaves when she had to assist with cleaning the yard.

Even within her own playing, her dolls would puppet around, following Dury’s instructions in the tales, dances, and songs that she made up. Her child’s mind, expanding on the truths of her tales, it was also the trait of her mothers upbringing. Embellishing on a tale was a gnome habit and it had rubbed off in Dury.

It was early Tazar the northwesterly weather would be on them, four months of wind and water. With scant spells of sharp, scintillating sunshine that thrilled Dury and tempted her outdoors, snatching play whenever Lyleth was not watching.

Often the boundaries would blur and Lyleth would let Dury play in the rain and wind. Frowning in concern and realising that her daughter grew during these months more than any other time. She’d pull out her sewing needles and start making adjustments to Dury’s clothes. The roads and paths to and from the City would be covered with the wild creepers and they would spill onto the roads, snaring unsuspecting feet, pulling them into the boggy marshes. The walls of the City would turn a moss green and boats on the river Vour would accumulate and open a river bazaar. Even small fish would suddenly appear in pools, which would normally be dry.

It was raining when Dury came into the tree house, heading for her room. Lyleth looked up and saw the slanting silver ropes cascading down the eaves of her house, falling to earth and ploughing up her garden. During this weather, Lyleth would pull some levers within her home and the roof would curl downwards, like a hat covering ears. Otherwise, her walls would grow soft and become covered with moss. Dampness would seep into their home, and life would become a stinky mess.

“Dury, I hope you’re changing out of those wet clothes.” Lyleth called as she went back to her sewing.

© Findbotr July/August 07