Not The Tree – part 4 : The Cavalry

In Alfheim, all is not as it seems.

 

Vivian took a bag out of the back of her silver SUV, printed with roses on a green background, and loosened its drawstrings. It was surprisingly colorful for someone who wore nothing but black, aside from red hair.

“What are you looking for?” I asked. We were parked at the entrance of a snow carpeted forest in the late afternoon.

“Ah, there it is.” She slipped an unusual silver ring on, it being made of three interlocking bands that could move freely. “And please Susan,” she turned to me, “don’t ask about every single thing I do. Five hundred dollars covers Melissa’s soul retrieval, not teaching you how it’s done. If you interrupt me at the wrong time things could go really badly for all of us. Okay?” Her smile seemed a bit strained, and there were dark circles under her eyes. I bit my tongue and resisted the urge to tell the young woman she needed more sleep. I’m a nurse, what can I say?

“Okay,” I answered, re-arranging my red scarf to better cover my neck and then pulled the purple beret lower onto my ears. They didn’t go together, or with my dirt stained white coat, but second-hand beggars can’t be choosers. It was also too tight, and I felt a bit like the Michelin Man.

I watched her continue to ruffle through the content of her bag, and really hoped she could do this job. Our coven had barely managed to scrape together enough to cover her fee. There would be no second try.

Not The Tree – part 3 : A Simple World

‘Better not to over-pledge, as a gift demands a gift’

I was unusually clearheaded when I woke this morning. “My name is… Shining Song?” I whispered. My bed felt like a layer of moss. Where was I ? Alfheim… I’d been journeying to find the World Tree and ended up among the elves. After delicious feasting and delirious dancing, my host Ársalf asked how I was going to repay his hospitality. Having nothing of value, I’d been working off my debt for years.

Sitting up, I looked around. I was in a tiny dark room with smooth-rounded whitish walls and ceiling, light streaming in from under a roughly woven curtain. It had taken me weeks of work to pay for that curtain! Standing, I bumped my head. Right, I had to stoop. Pulling the curtain off its two wooden pegs, I looked out the small round window. The weather was perfect, as always, golden light streaming between the leaves of our tree home. I folded the small woolen cloth, then the larger blanket that had cost two months of work.

Sighing, I swept the pile of dead leaves into a corner with my hands. Why my floor was littered with them, I had no idea. Then I dressed, tying a strip of white cloth around my breasts, a larger square around my waist as a short skirt, and ran fingers through my tangled brown hair. These were all I had here, beside the clay chamber pot and wine-jug.

Not The Tree – part 2 : A Bleak World

One does not simply walk out of Alfheim…

I knocked on the door and waited, snow crunching under my feet as I shifted, and stared at the little cardboard sign over the doorbell: “BUZER NOT WORKING, KNOCK.” Running steps were heard before a middle-aged woman with overly large glasses and short mousy hair opened the door.

“Hello!” she said, “I’m Susan, you must be Vivian Goodwin. Please come in.”

“Thank you”. As she took my coat and led me down the corridor to the small living room, I asked: “Is she here at least?”

“Oh yes, just in the bathroom, she’ll be joining us shortly. Won’t you have a seat?” she said as she gestured to the white futon. It was a poor choice of color, judging from the black cat hairs lining its edges, and from its lumpy worn-out appearance I guessed it was a hand-me-down. Fortunately, I was wearing black jeans and a black top so the fur wouldn’t show much.

Not The Tree – part 1 : A Silver World

One does not simply walk into Alfheim…

Slowly his head turned, scanning from side to side for intruders. A chore it was, but someone had to watch the Tree whose blessed branches shaded the entire city of Upspoke. Too many Outlanders relied on its magic to world-walk into Alfheim, and it was far better to appoint Guides around it than to risk letting strangers wander freely. His task was to catch them right away, escort them to whatever business they had, then make sure they left without making too much of a mess.

Ársalf[1] was not alone of course, sitting bored on a mossy rock, chin resting on his fist. No less than three Guides were stationed at all times to greet visitors, each one responsible for watching nine of the great roots. Though he ran like the wind, it took him three minutes to run all the way around the massive trunk[2]. Its base was so large it seemed like a flat wall from up close. Yet ancient as it was, the Tree of Tribes was a mere sapling compared to the mighty World Tree Yggdrasil.

A shimmer to his right caught Ársalf’s attention. At once he started toward it, purple moss squishing beneath his feet with a rising scent of lavender. The shimmer became a transparent woman whose lower-half was hidden by the giant root between them, as the visitor walked along its length toward the Tree.

He broke into a run as the shape became solid, jumping atop the waist-high root into a crouch beside the her. What little sound he made was covered by the soft music of wind chimes, thus he has a chance to inspect her unnoticed. Her blue dress and long brown hair were irrelevant, it was her aura he was interested in.

Thus he noted a light-blue life-glow extending a thumb’s width from her skin, and the usual whitish bubble around her reeking of mortality’s decay. She’s definitely human, he thought. No glamour, not a single shred of it. Have these barbarians no shame?