3A blanket of mist settled over the hills and valleys of Baeddan. Cool breezes swept in, stirring the long thriving grasses atop the bluffs. Arien Dewen watched the small country side town, littered with people busying themselves with work. As his green eyes darted from his small cottage to the horses he was supposed to be watching over, the wind painted his cheeks the color of a newly opened rose. It brushed grass up against his pant leg and tickled his hand. A smile stretched across his face. Glancing further down the hillside, a horse galloped, nipping the flanks of another. Their manes blended into one giant wave of colors, mixing browns, blues, red, blacks, and whites together. Their bodies pressed closely together, staying warm for the next wind as the fights settled down. With hooves still trotting in place, a long legged stallion tossed his head and whinnied. Then as if they never stopped, the wave of manes and hooves cast off again, deep into the white mist.
Sighing, Arien picked up his leather bag and roved down the hill, not going anywhere particular, just following the herd. Along the way, a group of sheep grazed looking like puffy clouds floating in mid air. His father would probably tell him to sheer the sheep tomorrow to put into the shop. Finally, the man got close enough to see the horses again. Taking his seat once more, he settled back down into the grass. This time, the memory of last night's dream played on and off in his mind. The odd thing about it was the dream felt like he was actually standing there, listening to the words coming out of the people's mouth and smelling the exuberant flowers blooming near by. In the dream, he appeared to be in the Garden of the Elves. Calling to him was a girl, telling him he could do the impossible. She had told him directly the safety of the entire land, north to south, east to west; would need his help using the gelidfire. The world as he knew it would be destroyed in a brutal battle between the good and the bad. She had said that with his use of the Blade of Fire and Ice, he could defeat the evil ruler. Then as if nothing happened at all, she left in the garden fading slowly away as he came awake. What if that wasn't a dream at all, but some means of contact? He didn't know much about the race, but he would like to find out if they could appear in dreams. As a boy, he'd heard stories of average men outgoing journeys and rough times because a dream came to them about traveling.
A smirk crossed Arien's face for a second. What was he thinking? This was all absurd. He wasn't even sure if the lands were even in danger and if they were, you'd think he would have heard more about it. How delirious would his parents think he was if all of a sudden he left the house saying that a girl came to him in a dream telling him to go fight in some world and that everyone's fate lies in his hands? It would be least likely for anyone to actually believe him.
Although, he had had strange things happen to him before. Whenever he got angry, really angry, and focused on one thing, it lit on fire or turned to cold ice. One time a few years back, he had been mad at his father and stared at a hay bale in furry, ready to kick it. Instead of having his foot cut into it, the bale started on fire, then quickly went out and turned to ice. Once he figured out that he could do that, he would test the gelidfire by focussing on small things like matches, pieces of parchment, and other tiny things that could be put out easily. After those few encounters and a couple of others, he just decided to spread out his anger when it came. Maybe that was what she was talking about when she said he could use the gelidfire…
The sound of kicking hooves brought him back to reality. One horse got too close to another's hindquarters, resulting in a kick. Watching closely for sliced hocks; Arien was soon disappointed by seeing no scratches. He ran his fingers through his soaked brown hair, then stood up. The sun was setting soon and his father probably wanted him to do some housework. Before setting out though, he grabbed his and his father's horses. They could stay in the barn tonight for his father needed a fresh horse to go hunting on tomorrow and if the dream was true, he could just have a horse waiting just in case.
Mounting the tall gray, Arien gathered up a rope and laid it loosely over the other horse. Snorting in protest, his father's palomino wanted to stay with the rest. Giving the lariat a firm tug, the gelding finally followed. The young man gave his horse the cue to gallop and they sailed off down the grassy hill, muddy water splashing up from every stride. The mist became a firm rain now, drenching him to the bone, his hair turning dark brown. A veil of blackness covered the city signaling that evening had come. No star dared to show itself though, for dark blue clouds swirled over head, mixing like a strange soup. Now he could feel the cobblestones under his horse's hooves as they streaked down the street in a blur.
Thunder rolled over the bluffs, shaking the ground. More rain pelted down, making sure to blind Arien so he couldn't come home in time for dinner. By the looks of the sky, he could tell a storm was forthcoming, most likely arriving by later tonight. By the time there was so much water put into the fur of the horses and Arien's clothes, the sight of his cottage came finally into view. Reining in the horses, he dismounted and placed them in their small paddock. He strode inside the house, discarded his boots and shed his cloak. A puddle was created around the welcome mat once Arien took his place at the dinning table.
His mother placed a bowl of soup sided with bread at his place, then served his father and then herself. A gruff figure walked into the room, then pulled out his chair. Scratching his gray beard, he gave Arien a cautious eye, then grunted.
"You watch those horses, boy?" he asked, picking up a spoon and dipping it into the soup.
"Yes, Sir. No sign of any hock damage though. It can't be the other horses and it can't be the ground. I checked the place over this morning and it was free of thorns and brush. Even the fence is new and patched up." He watched as his father groused and then took another bite. Thinking deeply, he ran a hand down his beard and then glanced questioningly at his son.
"Could be those ratty dogs always running into the stock. I found one stocking one of our sheep, by the way you need to sheer them tomorrow. I'll take the wool to the market after your mother spins it. I have been finding our dog running with those mutts and I am afraid he'll get into the habit of killing our animals. Farmer Benjamin found three of his chickens dead, none of them eaten except for one. Those foolish animals have found enough food around here and are killing our live stock just for fun, it seems like."
"Or it could be a fox or…or maybe they jumped the fence and got into the raspberry patch down the road or…" Raising up his hand, Aaron Dewen stopped his son from saying anything else.
"I have had four horses go lame in the past three weeks. I don't think they are going to jump some fence to get back with their buddies when they fooled with the raspberries and hurt themselves. Plus our dog is supposed to keep foxes away, that is what they are for…protecting." Now tearing apart his bread, Aaron ate the soft middle and dipped the crust into the left over broth. "Discussion over, Arien. Now I want you to patch up the windows after you are finished eating. A storm is rolling in and we're predicting that it's going to be a big one."
Rising from his chair, the young man nodded then gestured toward his mother.
"Thank you for the great meal. May I be excused?" Nodding, his mother let him go outside.
He found the planks of wood over by the firewood pile, stacked up. Taking each one along with wooden nails, he pounded them into the sides of the windows. A couple of times the hammer hit his thumb, but once he got into the motion of hammering and taking the nails carefully from his mouth, he stopped missing and hit the target every time. Thunder shook the ground and a yellow streak of lightening broke out of the clouds and cracked to the ground. Hurry the process, Arien hammered faster to get the job finished. After a blue finger of lightening streaked across the sky and reached for the ground, he'd finished boarding up the last window. At last, he packed up the extra wood and stepped once more into his warm house.
A bright orange fire flickered in the living room, where his father sat, whittling a new pipe. His mother, Samarah Dewen, knitted a quilt, each patch being a bright color. Arien sat down on the cushions and leaned back. Something inside him said that he should tell them now of his mysterious dream. After all, his mother used to do a lot of traveling and his father always went on hunting trips around the middle lands. Perhaps he had come across books telling of Elves or even better, the gelidfire.
"You look weary, boy. Spill out what you're thinking because you ain't doing no talking and I know you've got something going up on in there. You always do and you usually say something with out thinking that gets you into trouble. Now you are using brainpower so it must be something big. Go on, lad." Pointing at him with the half-whittled pipe, his father gave him a wink, then laid back into his chair. Putting down her quilt, Samarah pinned the needle into the thread to see what her son had to say. Arien cleared his throat nervously, then proceeded.
"You know that one time when I set the barn half on fire and it froze solid? Well, I had this dream the other night. It wasn't like any other because it felt like I was there, in the Garden of the Elves. A girl came to me and told me that I must leave and save the land from destruction using the gelidfire. She knew I didn't have the power to do so, but she said that with the right friends I met along the way and the Duchess of the North, I would be able to do so. She told me to use the Blade of Fire and Ice for I have the power to do so. Frankly, I have no clue what is going for everything seems fine to be, but I was wondering if you think it was a silly dream or that Elves can actually send you messages like that?" Arien pressed his thumbs together; hoping his family didn't call him crazy.
" I wouldn't trust their judgement. Anything coming from that side of the country I don't want you involved with. They just don't want to get their hands dirty so they are asking innocent people to complete it for them. Always been stuck up and they will always be. Don't be mixing in with the affairs of Elves, boy. Nothings worse then finding out that they were using your life to get something they want."
"But she sounded serious." The young man pointed out quietly. His father rolled his eyes and scoffed.
"That's what they do. Trick people into thinking that they are the only ones to save the world and in reality you are only killing yourself so they can keep their precious ring of mountains and that weed patch they call a garden." Rambling off other insults, Aaron put down his carving knife and found this conversation unpleasurable.
"So, you are saying that they can talk to you through dreams though, right?" Arien asked with hope. Nodding, his father drummed his fingers on the rocking chair and started to mumble again. Keeping silent, his mother tried not to make eye contact with either of them, acting like she was interested in the threads of her quilt.
"What do you think mother?" he asked in a hushed voice. She lifted her eyelids and sighed deeply.
"This is your excuse for an adventure. Do what you must; you are a young man now. I think it might be good for you to learn the wonders of the world." She stated. A glimmer of hope shinned in Arien's eyes. He took his father's insults lightly, for Aaron wasn't exactly the first guy to jump in on anything. It usually took him time to make up his mind, although it was the opposite for Arien.
"Go to bed boy. I'll see it for you tomorrow that you'll wake up tomorrow to sheer the sheep and feed the animals. Farmer Ben wants you to count his chickens for him. Remember, don't count your chickens before they hatch and that reminds me, you'll have to count how many eggs the chickens have too." His father glanced at the piece of wood in his brown hand and then shrugged. "Before you leave, check with me first cause I have a gift for him."