Beta reader: Dragonfly the Indomitable
SilentBanshee: The Watchers are starting to come into their own, I think.
Joee: I am afraid that a little twin story is well nigh inevitable, now that you have planted the idea in my brain. Thanks a lot!
Karri: This chapter may be bittersweet as well.
Chapter 6: Plot Bunny
Edwen Nana was busy arranging strips of venison over a frame that rested above a smoky fire. Truly the gift of meat from Tathar's parents had been a generous one! From time to time she called upon Laiqua to fetch more wood. For the most part, however, the elfling was occupying himself this morning by shooting at a wooden target. At length, however, he stopped and sighed.
"I don't think I'm getting any better," he said mournfully. "Although it is hard to tell. My arrows lack points and bounce off the target, so it is sometimes difficult to judge exactly where they have struck. I wish Nana would let me have real arrowheads affixed to these shafts rather than these blunt weights. Also, I am not altogether sure that I am holding my bow in the best possible manner. I wish I had someone to show me. Nana knows nothing of archery, and neither does Erynmaethor."
As he uttered these last words, a shadow fell over him. He looked up and was shocked to see a Watcher looking down at him. He was even more amazed when the Elf laid his hands over his and adjusted his grip. The Elf said no word, but he smiled down at the little archer. Once he had corrected the elfling's grip, he stepped back. Laiqua released the arrow—and it seemed to him that the arrow hit the center of the target, although, as the arrow did not pierce the wood, he could not be absolutely sure.
He nocked another arrow, and again the Elf made some slight adjustments to his grip. As luck would have it, at that moment Edwen Nana glanced over toward that side of the clearing. She saw someone very tall who appeared to be laying hands upon her belovéd laes. Seizing one of the sticks meant for firewood, she charged across the clearing brandishing the wood like a weapon. She covered the distance in only a few steps and began to belabor the unfortunate Elf about the head and shoulders. For once a Watcher broke silence.
"Madam—oomph—I was only—aaaah—helping the lad—oof—with his grip. I meant no—aiiii—harm!"
By now, cowering upon the ground, the elven warrior was doing his utmost to roll up as tightly as a centipede.
Laiqua was tugging on his foster-mother's skirt in a futile attempt to restrain her. "Nana," he clamored, "Nana, he is telling the truth! Look at his garb. He is one of the Watchers in the Wood."
Edwen Nana at last heeded him and stepped back, scowling.
"If he is one of the Watchers in the Wood, then what was he doing out of the wood?"
"Madam," came the muffled reply—the Elf was still curled up into a ball—"I noticed that the lad had no one to instruct him in the correct manner of holding his bow."
Cautiously, the Elf peeked out from underneath an arm. Seeing that Edwen Nana made no move, he grew bolder.
"My Lady, truly I meant no harm! The little fellow is so good with a bow even without instruction, that I thought, were he given a few pointers, he would be truly an extraordinary archer."
Unbeknownst to the Elf, he had happened upon the one argument that would hold sway with Edwen Nana. He had praised her belovéd Laiqua. Instantly her face softened and she lowered the chunk of wood, which she had continued to brandish as the Elf had spoken.
"Hmmph! If that is so, why didn't you say so outright!?"
"I was too busy protecting my vitals to provide an elaborate explanation," replied the Elf, trying to recover his dignity as he uncoiled himself and arose to his feet.
"Very well," said Edwen Nana haughtily. "You may carry on."
With that, the nursemaid turned on her heel and marched back to the fire, leaving behind an extremely bemused Elf. Suppressed laughter arose from the bushes thereabouts as the Elf's companions at last dared to give voice to their mirth. The Elf glared toward his invisible compatriots.
"Laugh if you will," he hissed. "I doubt any of you could have stood up to her wrath."
"Please, sir," interrupted Laiqua eagerly. "Will you still show me how to better my grip?"
The Elf gave over his indignation at the hopeful look upon the elfling's face. For the remainder of the morning, he did indeed instruct Laiqua in the art of archery, and as the noon meal drew near, Laiqua was exulting in his improved accuracy. The Elf bid him farewell then and left to join his companions. He promised, however, that if his captain did not object, he would return on the morrow. Then he vanished into the woods, a Watcher once more.
After the noon meal, two other visitors arrived in the clearing. Today was Laiqua's birthday—he was five—and Erynmaethor and Tathar arrived bearing a gift. With a flourish, Tathar drew forth a sharp, shiny blade affixed to a beautifully carved wooden handle. Laiqua was speechless.
"Ada traded for the blade at the market," explained Tathar proudly, "but he shaped the haft himself. See how he has engraved animals all around it?"
Laiqua finally found his voice as he turned the knife over and over in his hand.
"It is lovely," he exclaimed. "I have never seen one lovelier."
The little fellow carefully hefted the blade as if he were a warrior testing to see whether his weapon were well balanced. Erynmaethor smiled at the sight. At last, satisfied, the elfling nodded his head.
"This is a good weapon, Erynmaethor," he said gravely. "Will you make me a second one?"
"Laiqua, do not be greedy," chided Edwen Nana.
"I'm not being greedy, Nana," replied Laiqua, an injured expression upon his face. "I have two hands. Do I not need two knives, one for each hand?"
"'Tis true," said Erynmaethor, "that some Elves, the most expert among the warriors, do fight with two blades. However, you should first learn to fight one-handed, Laiqua. Once you have mastered that task, then 'twill be time to think about acquiring a second weapon."
Laiqua nodded.
"Very well, Erynmaethor. If you think that would be best."
Erynmaethor was both amused and touched by the lad's earnestness. He gave the little warrior the courtesy of answering with equal seriousness, although he could have easily laughed.
"Yes, Laiqua, I think that would be best. I have no doubt, however, that someday you will advance to training with two blades, and when that happens, I would be honored if the second blade you bore were also one of my devising."
"No, I would be honored," said Laiqua, bowing with the princely manners that Edwen Nana had taken such pains to instill in him. Tathar giggled. He always found Laiqua's manners to be a bit quaint, which was not an unreasonable reaction on Tathar's part. After all, Laiqua did live in a rude cottage in an isolated clearing—hardly the place where one would expect to encounter the heir to a kingdom.
Laiqua was grateful for the gift of the knife, but he could not help but sigh as he watched Erynmaethor and Tathar disappear down the path. The carpenter was on his way to harvest some wood that he needed for his latest commission, and for the first time Tathar was accompanying him as his assistant. Tathar was being given new responsibilities—grownup responsibilities. As for Laiqua, well, Erynmaethor had given him a grownup knife, but when would he be given duties commensurate with that gift? Dissatisfied, Laiqua again bethought himself of his blunt shafts. He resolved to put all his energy into convincing Edwen Nana to let him have arrows with points. "At least," he said to himself, "I may be able to persuade her to let me have grownup arrows to match this grownup blade." He commenced his campaign that very evening at supper.
"Nana," he said as he set the table, "I need new arrows."
"Oh, have you broken your old ones?"
"No, Nana."
"Lost them?"
"No, Nana."
"Ah, good. Then you do not need new ones after all."
But I do, Nana!" insisted Laiqua.
"How so? You have said that you have neither broken nor lost your arrows."
"I need pointed arrows, Nana."
"Pointed? I do not see why you should need pointed arrows. You are not going hunting, after all."
"But I can't tell how well I am shooting," argued Laiqua, "because my arrows bounce off the target. I need them to stick, Nana. Fletched shafts with blunt tips were all very well when I was little, but now I need points on my arrows."
"When you were little! When you were little! Pray tell me, when did you cease to be little? I hadn't noticed it."
"Well, when I was littler, anyway."
"Littler?"
"Even if I am little," Laiqua argued, "I am not as little as I used to be. Isn't that so, Nana?"
Edwen Nana had to smile.
"No," she conceded, "you are not as little as you were when we first came to this clearing. Still, you are not over large."
"Tathar," Laiqua pointed out, "has begun to assist his father. He will be a carpenter, and even as we speak his father is familiarizing him with the tools of that trade. We are of an age, Tathar and I. Should I not be allowed to have the tools of a warrior so that I may familiarize myself with them?"
Edwen Nana sighed. She knew that there was some truth to what Laiqua was saying. Reluctantly, she went to the cupboard and drew forth a long, narrow bundle that had been hidden behind a cauldron. Slowly she drew aside the leather wrappings to reveal the shafts that lay within, each tipped with a shiny, sharp point.
Laiqua gasped. "Whence came these arrows!?"
"A Watcher brought them one morning while you still slept. I believe they are meant to be your birthday gift, and, well, here they are."
Laiqua's face was glowing as he picked up arrow after arrow, minutely examining each one.
"These are much better than the arrows I have been using," he enthused. "They are very well balanced. I am sure that I shall be able to shoot much better, and I will be able to tell more easily how well I am doing because they will stick in the target."
"You be sure," warned Edwen Nana, "that the target is the only place where they stick. Hitherto it has not mattered much if any of your shafts went astray, but from now on it will. Do no harm, and always be sure of what you are shooting at."
Laiqua swore that he would indeed be careful, and out he went to practice with his new shafts. Again and again he shot a full complement of arrows; again and again he went up to the target and retrieved then, exulting each time at how much better he could direct these arrows than his old ones.
Once when Laiqua had gone up to retrieve his arrows, out of the corner of his eye he noticed something moving. With great care, he turned to see what it was. A rabbit—hopping, stopping, nibbling.
"I have never shot at a moving target," Laiqua thought to himself. "With my old arrows I am sure that I could have never hit one, but now I expect that I could."
This thought had no sooner entered into his mind than he had to act upon it. Moving slowly, so as to not affright the rabbit, he nocked an arrow, drew back the string, and smoothly released it. The rabbit gave one leap and lay still. With an exultant shout, Laiqua ran to it, picked it up by a leg, and raced to the cottage.
"Nana," he shouted as he burst inside. "Nana, I can hit a moving target! Look."
Proudly, he brandished the carcass of the rabbit. To his disappointment, Edwen Nana seemed unimpressed.
"You'd best skin it and butcher it for the edible parts," she said dispassionately. "'Twill make several dishes."
"But we already have plenty of meat," said Laiqua. "Erynmaethor gave you the deer haunch."
"Yes," said Edwen Nana, "and you knew that, too, when you slew that rabbit. You didn't shoot it for the meat, did you?"
"No," admitted Laiqua.
"Then whatever did you kill it for?"
Laiqua pondered for several minutes.
"To see if I could and—and to show off, I suppose."
"Are those good reasons for slaying an animal?"
"No," admitted Laiqua miserably.
"You have wronged this animal by killing it when you were not driven to it by need. Do not compound your ill deed by utterly wasting the meat. We will dine on rabbit tonight and for several nights to come."
"But I don't want to eat it," protested Laiqua, appalled.
"If you didn't want to eat it," said Edwen Nana sternly, "then you shouldn't have killed it. But you did kill it, and you will eat it. Come. You must gut and skin the carcass before it spoils."
"Can't you do that, Nana?"
The nursemaid fixed him with a level gaze.
"You brought the rabbit down with your bow; now 'tis you who must dress it."
"But you have always dressed our meat," argued Laiqua.
"Laiqua, the creature died by your hand; it will be dressed by your hand. If you are old enough to hunt, you are old enough to deal with the resulting carcasses."
Once again Laiqua tried to object, but Edwen Nana silenced him.
"If an animal dies by your hand," repeated Edwen Nana sternly, "it must be dressed by your hand. Fetch that new blade of yours. It will be blooded on the carcass of this animal."
Reluctantly, Laiqua fetched the knife. Edwen Nana stood grimly by and told him what had to be done.
"First," Edwen Nana said, "you must cut its throat—there, at the base, where the throat meets the chest."
Shuddering, Laiqua slit the creature's throat.
"Let it bleed," instructed Edwen Nana. "Good. Now you must hack off the four limbs. Not like that. You'll have to use more force if you wish to cut through the joint."
In point of fact, Laiqua did not wish to cut through the joint, but he had no choice but to comply.
"Now," continued Edwen Nana inexorably, "before you go any further, skin it."
She put her hand on Laiqua's to guide him through the sequence of cuts necessary in order to peel back the skin.
"Next you must slit open the belly from the base of the breastbone to the crotch and remove the bowels. Tie off the intestines; you don't wish to spill their contents and foul the meat."
Laiqua managed to remove the intestines intact and set them aside to be discarded.
"Grab hold of the throat, and separate out the esophagus and the windpipe. Those pieces are offal; you'll want to discard them as well."
Soon the esophagus and the windpipe had joined the intestines.
"Now slice away the shoulders. You should be able to lift them clear of the bone. That's good meat. Put it over there on the skin. No! You're not done yet. There's plenty more edible bits must be removed!"
Reluctantly, Laiqua bent over the carcass once more.
"You need to break the breast bone; you want the chest to pull away into two pieces. But throw away that bit of gristle from the end of the breastbone. You may discard the lungs as well, but other organ meats, such as the heart, kidneys, and liver, are good eating."
Laiqua didn't think he would ever again find any part of an animal to be good eating. Miserably, he went on with his ghastly task.
"Turn the carcass over. See the backbone? You want to separate the meat from either side of it. Make your cuts here and here. Now lift the flesh free. Surely you can pull harder than that!"
Laiqua found a little more strength within himself and at last tugged the flesh free of the spine.
"Finally," said Edwen Nana, "there is good meat in the haunches. I am thinking of making a stew out of those pieces. Careful. That cut leaves behind too much of the meat. Try again. That's better. Now, I could make use of the brains, but, between this rabbit and the venison Erynmaethor has gifted us, I think I will be so busy preserving meat that 'twill be no great crime to discard the head this one time."
Laiqua breathed a prayer of thanks to the Valar. Then he looked down at himself. For once in his life, he was filthy, befouled as he was with blood and grease. He felt sick. Edwen Nana drew him into her arms and rubbed his back.
"I'll warrant," she said softly, "that you'll never again kill an animal when there is no need to do so."
"No, Nana, I never will," Laiqua promised, stifling a sob.
"You have only one more task must be done before you may clean yourself up. Go and gather extra wood. We will smoke some of this meat, else the parts that we cannot eat immediately will spoil."
Forlorn, Laiqua went to the margins of the clearing and along the path to the spring, gathering branches as he went. When he returned, Edwen Nana at last said that he could wash. Gratefully, he hurried to the bathing pool, which he was now allowed to visit by himself in full daylight. He wondered if he would ever feel clean again and seized handfuls of sand with which to scour his limbs. His clothes Edwen Nana had said he could leave to soak, and he weighted them down with rocks. After awhile, exhausted, he sat numbly in the water, shivering a little. Soon he heard soft footsteps and looked up to see Edwen Nana approaching. She carried a jar and a towel.
"You did not bring anything with which to wash your hair," she said, kneeling down beside the pool and placing the towel and jar upon the grass. Laiqua scooted over next to her and she undid his braids and rubbed soothing, sweet smelling soap into his hair.
"Duck under now," she said after awhile, and he rinsed the soap from his hair. Then he arose and she wrapped him tightly in the towel and picked him up. Laiqua sighed in contentment and nuzzled his head beneath her chin. Edwen Nana didn't carry him about as she used to. He had forgotten how nice it felt to be safely enclosed within the embrace of her strong but gentle arms.
Once back at the cottage, Edwen Nana helped him into his nightdress and combed and braided his hair. She had cooked the rib meat from the rabbit, but she did not after all insist that Laiqua eat it. Instead, she put the meat on a platter and carried it outside. When she returned in a little while, the platter was empty. Laiqua suspected that she had given the meat to the Watchers, who were no doubt sick of their own cooking. "I'm glad somebody got some pleasure out of that rabbit," Laiqua thought to himself, "for I certainly did not." For his own supper, he was only able to eat a few mouthfuls of bread and honey, and Edwen Nana allowed him a little watered wine in hopes that it would settle his queasy stomach.
"Nana," he said as she tucked him into bed shortly after supper. "Nana, perhaps I shall not be a warrior after all."
Edwen Nana smiled and smoothed his hair.
"Laiqua, you will be a warrior, but not because it pleases you to kill. Nor will you be a warrior because you covet praise for your skill at slaying."
"Then why would anyone want be a warrior, Edwen Nana? Tathar tells me that his Ada takes great pleasure in shaping wood into objects of beauty, and he is pleased to be praised for his talent and expertise. I cannot imagine taking pleasure in killing, and I do not want to be praised for excellence in butchering others."
"Laiqua, Elves do not become warriors because it pleases them to do so. Elves become warriors because they must. Do you remember that once, long ago, something frightening came into the cottage?"
"You have told me that a warg got in one day, and that Tathar and I hid beneath your bedstead. I do not really remember, though."
"I slew that warg, Laiqua. I split its head open with the very axe that to this day I use for splitting kindling. There was blood, aye, and brains, too, upon the floor."
Laiqua gazed at her in astonishment.
"Why, Edwen Nana, you had better be the warrior!"
Edwen Nana shook her head, smiling a little.
"Nay, I would be wasted as a warrior, for I have other talents, ones that a warrior would be hard put to duplicate! My battlefield has ever been the nursery, and my weapons my tongue and my heart and my two strong arms. But think you, Laiqua: Do you believe I enjoyed killing that warg?"
"No, Nana."
"And did I brag on it?"
"No! You have never even told me before, and I have never heard you mention it to Erynmaethor or anyone else."
"Then why did I kill the beast?"
"You had to. You were afraid it would hurt Tathar and me."
"So why do Elves become warriors?"
"To defend other Elves—the ones whom they love."
Edwen Nana kissed him on the forehead and arose.
"You are right, Laiqua, you are not as little as you used to be."
"But I'm not so big, either," Laiqua pointed out hastily. "And I'm glad my birthday is over and I won't have another one for a year!"
"So you are not in as much of a hurry to be all grownup?"
"No, indeed, Nana! And—and—um—Nana, if you should ever wish to hold me, well, I won't mind really, if it would make you feel better."
"That is very kind of you," Edwen Nana replied gravely. "I shall try to remember that."
"Oh, please do," said Laiqua eagerly. "I mean, please do remember that."
Edwen Nana had her doubts about how long Laiqua's desire to be snuggled would last, but she left her thoughts unspoken. To herself she said, "Likely in a week he will be back to protesting vociferously if I so much as kiss him. But I do not think that he will forget the rabbit!"
And truly, Reader, he never did.
Note: The butchering scene was inspired by a passage in the Middle English poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, a poem edited by, among others, J.R.R. Tolkien.