Disclaimer: The following document fragment is presented from an in-character perspective, it should not be taken as the truth of the setting.
Context: The Elb are the aliens humanity became most acquainted with, not to mention ones that are fascinated by humanity. Unfortunately they are also rather strange… strange enough to become the basis for many mythological creatures in the past, like elves and some youkai. This time we’ll look at someone who spends time with the Elb, during a holiday of sorts.
Today was quite exciting, Sunshine invited us to participate in one of their ceremonies. The first such offer we ever got. They took us to a shallow parallel where their enclave was located. It was quite fascinating to see their buildings and handiwork.
It’s easy to reject them as Luddites, of a sort. Though we know, they have no problems operating our technology. The way they weave and prune trees until they grow together is quite striking, though. A meticulous and time-consuming process, no doubt. The exteriors of the buildings were thus woven together from living trees. There was an intricacy to it too, the placement of the branches felt deliberate with repeating patterns. Not too dissimilar to more ornate basket weaving but on a much grander scale and using still living trees. The way the wood was fused together made me wonder how long did it take to build it and exactly how many different trees coexisted here, building this structure.
A common misunderstanding is that our Fair friends exclusively use only living wood to build. In truth, they were just as good with shaping cultivated plants as simply woodworking. That, of course, led to its own questions – how did they produce the tools? I’ve seen some exquisite obsidian knives and swords crafted from some sort of xenoplant, but neither really seemed like a workman’s tool.
The door to the building was, in any case, an example of the more familiar woodwork – an intricate construction made of many different layers of wood. Unsurprisingly it depicted a tree running along the middle with its branches dividing it into irregular cells, each filled with its own iconography. I hope to one day study it in detail as the carvings were quite remarkable. Which I could be wrong, I do believe I’ve seen a few familiar scenes and creatures. The branches were also carved in Soul Dendric. Too intricate to decipher on the fly.
Inside was somewhat dark, at least for my human sensibilities. The walls were still living, but the floor was smooth, laid down from irregular stone tiles in various colours, joined together with some sort of resin. At least that’s the best assessment I can give right now. It was striking how the tiles basically grew into the walls. You could also notice a distinct rounded impression running along the floor. It seemed that the floor was old enough to be worn down by the fair folk inhabiting this enclave.
The light was pretty sparse, and it was the typical teal-coloured chemical lamps we’ve come to expect. I had one such lamp at home, a gift from Sunshine and Rainbow, after they insisted on taking my cell phone for “examination.” The furniture here bore the usual trappings of what we’ve come to assume to be their aesthetic preferences. Lack of symmetry, intricate knotting and weaving of the elements. A certain disregard for order and optimal space usage.
I should also mention the smell. It was not unpleasant, though somewhat unusual. Herbal and sharp, but without the sort of musty, earthy smell, I expected to feel. Later on, Sunshine told me that they do not like the smell of rotting plants much in the way humans do not like the smell of rotting meat.
From the entrance, we were taken to the adjacent main chamber. A large, circular room with the floor considerably lowered, and a natural dome weaved over it. I think I counted twenty-one of our fair friends here. As it was fairly dark, their eyes glowed in that cat-like way, though tinted with a mix of blue and gold. That’s how I knew most of them were looking at us. Out of the twenty-one, only a total of seven had dolls. And out of those, two were so large they dangled their dolls around from their branches. Here I stopped to ask Sunshine a question I’ve not managed to get a good answer to so far.
“Sunshine, friend, what are we celebrating?”
“The birth of a god. Howard, friend.”
“A god? What sort of god?”
“A false god we disowned many years ago.”
“Was the god… evil?” my assistant interjected, but I figured what the answer would be, no, they do not think in those categories.
“No more evil and no more good than anything is. Velichkov, friend.”
“What happened then?”
“There was a time when we worshipped this god, and then we stopped.”
“But you still celebrate their birth?”
“It is a tradition.”
That is as much as I managed to get out of Sunshine before Rainbow and Lake approached. They took us closer to the middle and sat us down on the cushions on the floor. Just us, though, as the fair folk do not have a habit of sitting down. Lake quickly explained to us that since we are not “of their kind,” the enclave elder will perform a dance for us. And furthermore that Lake will translate for us, or at least try.
Before the dance started, they treated us to some fruit and water, which I was happy to recognize as probably not xenoplans. I will make a note to my editor correct me here were I to die of food poisoning*. I think it was a gesture of sort, especially after we promised not to bring iron with us.
*) Editor’s Note: Howard did not die from food poisoning due to the consumption of strange fruit, at least not after this specific expedition.
The story was presented to us using song, dance, and music. I’m not a fan of fair folk art, there is undeniable artistry to it, but the acoustic range isn’t exactly what I’d call pleasing to the human ear, especially due to the abundant use of their high pitched flutes.
The myth, which is what I assume this to be, according to Lake goes as follows.
Long, long ago, in the twilight before Mother Sun established day and night and the Fair Folk were still only acorns on Mother Tree’s branches…
Mother Tree herself experienced ennui and sought to find something that would make her eternal existence less monotonous.
Thus she uprooted herself from the Corpse of the World and began to travel the lands looking for anything to entertain herself.
She scaled the highest maintains to see what was on the other side and traversed distant lands where she battled with Maggot Lords and drove them back.
Yet wherever she went, all was the same, the forest was still and silent save for the cries of the mindless things, but not filled with song as it is now.
Desperate to find something that would make the march of eons more bearable, Mother Tree found Lord Fire sleeping in a mountain.
Finding herself short of any further ideas, she called out to Lord Fire and demanded that he entertain her in dance.
As flame is known for its dance, even if it is death to the trees, and Lord Fire was the greatest flame of all.
The flame then erupted from the mountain and offered to dance with Mother Tree, but it also offered something more.
Death, and in death release from Mother Tree’s endless ennui, that she accepted, eager to finally conquer her suffering.
And thus Mother Tree and Lord Fire danced through the land, many trees and many flames joining them in the dance.
In the end, Mother Tree came to rest in ash, Lord Fire exhausted and barely still lighting up from her body.
The great Mother then thanked Lord Fire and ceased to be, in her place, a vast field of ash seeded with many acorns.
From those acorns came the Fair Folk, each holding inside a spark of Lord Fire, while their bodies were that of Mother Tree.
After that, we were taken on a procession outside to a nearby clearing where several fair folk bodies were burned. I’m quite sure they were long dead at that point, but well preserved. I asked Sunshine about that later, if it was a funeral, but the answer I received back was cryptic.
“No, it is not a funeral. We offer ourselves to the Corpse of the World so that new life can come from us. Howard, friend.”
It sounded much like a funeral and made me wonder what they think we do with our own dead when we bury them in the ground. I refrained from asking any more questions, Sunshine has a tendency to brood if I ask too many of them in the wrong way. Instead, I decided to keep enjoying this as much as I could and wished I had more with me than an old plastic tape recorder.
Esoteric Musings... 