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The Redemption of Erâth: Book 2, Chapter 9

Chapter 9: A Journey Begins

Come the morning, Brandyé was anxious to return to Ermèn, for Sonora had returned empty-clawed. After a small breakfast he set out through the woods, and Elven accompanied him.

“I very much want to meet a man who lives under a tree,” said Elven.

“He will likely tell you that you will die of ill fortune, or that you will make one from the mushrooms that grow in his den,” replied Brandyé, and the two laughed – it was a merry sound, ringing out among the needles and leaves, and it seemed to somehow brighten the morning.

It happened that it was not as far from the Dotterys home to Ermèn’s as it had seemed the night before, for they had arrived within half an hour. It is also possible that neither of them made much of the time, for they spent the walk deep in conversation, each feeling that there was much time to make up for.

Ermèn was not in when they arrived, and so they sat upon a log and continued to talk. They talked of adventures, of the past, of the present and of the future, and before he knew it Brandyé had hope in his heart, for against all odds he had been reunited with loved ones, and deep in the back of his mind he wondered if Elỳn’s prophecy might be true.

There was one subject they did not speak of, of course, and Brandyé was relieved at this. So many times had he revisited Sonora’s death alone that he had no wish to revisit it in Elven’s company.

So it was that they were in a most pleasant mood when from the woods came, “Ah! You have a friend!”

Both looked up to find Ermèn leaning upon his staff, a peculiar grin upon his face, and a peculiar thing in his pocket. “Who is this?” he asked.

“My name is Elven,” he said, “and I am glad to meet you.”

“I am glad to meet you too,” said Ermèn. “I trust your family is well?”

Elven started at this, and said, “How do you know of my family?”

“How indeed?” said Ermèn, and Brandyé knew they would get no answer from him on the matter.

From his pocket Ermèn drew forth a small furred animal, and Brandyé saw with curiosity that it was a kind of small rodent, similar to a mouse. “I have brought a present,” Ermèn said, and Brandyé thought it was a most peculiar present until with a flutter Sonora the falcon descended upon them, and settled on the ground only a few paces from them. Ermèn lightly tossed the vole to her, and with a squeal and a squawk the bird dove into her breakfast.

Elven was shocked and Brandyé appalled, but Ermèn only said, “A falcon needs her food, as do we. Shall we have tea?” He then pushed upon the hidden door in the tree, and stepped downward and into his home.

“What strange person is this?” Elven whispered. “He knows of things he cannot know of!”

But Brandyé merely shrugged and said, “That is his manner, and nothing will change it. I doubt very much you will get a straight answer from him today, yet somehow you will learn something also.”

They then followed Ermèn into the tree, and at the foot of the stairs Ermèn’s home was as well-lit, warm and comfortable as always, and it was a welcome relief from the chill morning air. Ermèn already had a pot boiling over the stove and mugs on the table, and so Brandyé and Elven sat. A fresh loaf sat on a board and Brandyé offered his friend a slice, though he did not tell him what it was made of. “What an odd taste,” said Elven. “But pleasant. What is it?”

“One of Ermèn’s peculiarities,” Brandyé said, and made no further discussion of it.

“Have you and your kin been here long in the forest?” asked Ermèn.

“Since last winter,” replied Elven. “We thought ourselves alone – we did not even see a footprint from you. Brandyé tells me you have lived here long, though – why did you not approach us?”

Ermèn raised his eyebrows. “Did you need me to?”

Elven of course frowned at the question, but said, “I suppose not. Still – it seems rude.”

“Oh!” said Ermèn, and Brandyé smiled for it was a departure from his usual “Ah!”. “I did not mean to be rude. But – how could you think it rude if you did not know I was here?” […]

Read the complete chapter here.

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The Redemption of Erâth: Book 2, Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Further Tales by the Fire

It was as much an impossibility as were Brandyé’s inexplicable journeys to lands far away (or dreams, as Ermèn called them), yet Brandyé could not deny the senses that told him the friend whom he had not seen in almost five years now stood before him.

The light was fading swiftly, and Brandyé could see few of Elven’s features, but he saw well enough the short and grizzled beard, the hair so much longer than he had last seen it, and above all the life in the eyes that was ever in his memory. Elven was shawled in a thick cloak, black as his own though made of cloth and not hide, and Brandyé was astonished to see a short blade at his side, for he had never known Elven to bear a weapon.

And of course, to the side and pecking at the ground was Elven’s falcon, and at the sight of her a swell of memories rushed upon his mind, and unbidden a tear came to his eye. Brandyé reached out a hand to touch Elven, and laid his fingers upon his face. “How can it be you?”

For his part, Elven seemed unable to speak at all, for he would only shake his head, his mouth open. For many moments they gazed wordlessly upon each other, until finally the falcon broke the silence with a impatient cry.

“Hush, Sonora,” Elven spoke finally, and it seemed the spell of silence was gone, for in a moment Elven had grasped Brandyé in a great embrace. “My dearest Brandyé! I cannot even begin to say how you have been missed! Oh – in all of Erâth, how is it we should both happen upon this spot at this same moment?”

“I have become a wanderer,” Brandyé said, for it felt true enough, though he had be with Ermèn for some weeks now. “I am here in these woods for lack of anywhere else to be. But what of you?”

“There is so much I wish to tell you,” Elven said. “I live here now, with both mother and father as well as Maria and Julia. We left Consolation nearly a year ago now, seeking a sheltered life from the rule of the Fortunaé.”

“What has happened?”

“The Lord Garâth is dead – Danâr now rules in his place, and his rule is cruel.” Elven looked once more about him, as though only just now realizing the closing dark that was upon them. “Come,” he said, “follow me. I will bring you to our home; it is not far.”

For a moment Brandyé hesitated, for he was reluctant to leave Ermèn to wonder where he was, but he realized that there was little other choice; he would not arrive at Ermèn’s before full night, and he did not wish to be among the trees unprotected. He rose to his feet as did Elven, and together they set out through the trees, Elven leading the way.

It was not long before Brandyé began to see a glow among the trees ahead, and they were soon upon on a small building of logs: a veritable home in the woods, though it was of rough construction and boasted no decorations of any kind. “This is our home,” Elven said as they approached. “It was built by father and I throughout the weeks of the summer, and has proved excellent shelter since then.” He paused at the door, which was made of several uneven boards fastened to each other by yet more boards, and hinged to the wall by, of all things, thick rope. “I do not know how mother and father will take you,” he said quietly. “We have not spoken of…of my sister since you left.”

Brandyé nodded. “I will understand anything they have to say.”

Elven pushed upon the door and it swung upon, and they stepped in, and Brandyé was presented with an astonishing, welcoming, and at the same time bittersweet sight. In many ways, the inside of Elven’s home was not dissimilar to Ermèn’s; he faced one large room, though it was considerably larger than Ermèn’s. There appeared to be in the walls no windows, though Brandyé later learned that they had smaller doors cut into the wall that could be swung open during the day. Nonetheless the scene was well lit, for many candles stood on tables and counters, were held by candelabra on the walls, and even hung from the ceiling in a crude chandelier. […]

Read the complete chapter here.

The Devil’s Details: Flatland and a Nine-Year-Old

Off the grid.

Off the grid.

A conversation about Star Wars turned into multiverse theory, the shape of the universe, and infinite dimensions this morning.

There’s a wonderful book called Flatland by Edwin Abbott Abbott. It’s essentially a discourse on the theory that there can be an infinite number of spatial dimensions under the guise of a delightful fictional story. A square lives in Flatland, where his entire world is in two dimensions.

Flatland Illustration 1

One day he meets a sphere, but of course can’t quite understand what he’s looking at: to him, he simply sees a line getting gradually bigger, and then gradually smaller.

Flatland Illustration.004

To help him understand the limitations of his two-dimensional universe, the sphere lifts the square high above his kingdom, where he can now look down upon all that he has, unto this point, seen only as lines.

Flatland Illustration 2.002

He eventually travels to a one-dimensional kingdom as well, before suggesting to the sphere that there could, in fact, be any number of higher dimensions, simply unobservable to our eye. The sphere rejects this notion as absurdity, and the square returns to his land, only to be accused of blasphemy for speaking of his adventures, and spends the rest of his life in jail. Fun stuff.

I tried reading Flatland to Little Satis once, but the language was too high for him. It’s a shame, because the concept within is presented in a wonderfully clear and understandable way.

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