A slight hand on her shoulder wrested the Druid from the deep water of slumber. Startled eyes opened in the dim light and could just distinguish Kolmar crouching in front of her with a finger to his lips. When their eyes met, he stood to his feet and beckoned for her to follow him. Then he was gone, disappearing into the trees. Pencaliel blinked and lifted herself up on her elbow. Her head felt thick. But it wasn't a thickness like when she had the fever. It was more of a web of swirling emotions and confused thoughts she could not put words to. Last night rang painfully in her memory: the hurt she'd brought to Mala, the cruel, cruel words and poisoned mood, the fright when she realized she had no control over herself anymore, the relief of Mala's presence, his kiss.
She couldn't remember what transpired after that. The world had turned fuzzy, dimmed, and now she'd woken up in a place she didn't recognize. Why was she awake before the sun? Kolmar. Had it been he or the early dawn playing tricks upon her vulnerable mind? She sat up and rubbed her eyes before surveying the camp. Mala's wing obstructed part of her view and she twisted around to find him sleeping a few inches away on her mat, nose pressed against it. She must have rolled off it at some point during the night. Nekia, in her dog form, was curled up closer to the charcoal remains of the fire not too far away. The second roll, Mala's, and third, Kolmar's, was empty.
The dwarf had woken her.
Taking great pains not to make too much noise, the elf wiggled out from under Mala's wing and rose to her feet. Although he was probably already alert from Kolmar's departure and her own movement, he would at least be able to guess from their manners that he did not need to rise himself yet. She glanced back at him one last time, her lips parting in a soft smile to see his countenance so peaceful, before darting off after the dwarf.
---
Kolmar was by the edge of the creek bank and rolling the hems of his trousers to just below his knees when Pencaliel arrived. She held back a bit from him and watched him curiously, not exactly sure why he had brought her here or what he expected her to do. She certainly couldn't voice her concerns, for her words were frozen in the depths of her being, unable or unwilling to extricate themselves since the near catastrophe last night. Near catastrophe? It had been disastrous. Everything from the hurtful feelings that had risen inside, to the words shooting out of her mouth like poisoned darts, to the seething hatred bubbling from her reproachful conscience had led her to behave and act in such an awful, unforgivable way. She'd turned on Kolmar! On Mala! No, not her. Some evil, demented spirit that now resided in her body and took it over at will. A creature even she couldn't recognize though it bore her face.
Surely the dwarf still felt the sting from her vehemence towards him. Surely he reproached her as much as she did herself. Surely he was here to give her a stern, disapproving talk and make her promise never to speak that way to Mala. How could she promise such a thing when she couldn't even... she couldn't even control her own temper? Her own thoughts? Her own actions? Tears began to gather in the corners and she blinked to clear them. Oh Mala... why hadn't he let her run?
The dwarf must have felt her eyes upon him and their burning questions, for he straightened and held out his hands to his sides, palms outward, in a sign of peace.
"I am not angry with you, elven maiden, nor did I ask you here to lecture you on what you fear. I know last night frightened you as much as it did Malachi and I would like to help, if I may." His hands lowered and his tone then returned from one of soothing to one of authority, compelling her to listen more attentively. "Anger and all its connotations has not been something you have dealt with before, I think."
Pencaliel could do naught but shake her head.
"It seems to me you have inherited your mother's temper."
She blinked, her steady gaze becoming more owl-like by the second. She blinked again. A temper? Her mother never had a temper. Pencaliel couldn't even remember a time when her mother had raised her voice even a little bit unless it was to call her in for supper. Mother had certainly never been angry! Anger was something the pale man had introduced to the little elf at the same time he'd introduced shame, pain, and the sickening smell of her own blood.
Kolmar smiled patiently. "You did not know? I had the honour of witnessing it once, and only once. It was Erequariel who drove the dragonkin forces from my home-- the great Elven Druid and those among us who were still strong enough to lift a shield and wield a weapon. It was her greatest weakness, as well as her greatest weapon. It has been awakened, I think, and mixed into the turmoil within you. It is a powerful force to be reckoned with and can be used for both good or ill. I am assuming by… that you were not taught much in handling your Druidic powers, am I right?""
Pencaliel stepped forward on teetering feet, drawn towards the dwarf in her desire to hear more about her mother, yet uncertain at the same time. She didn't want to learn about the anger. The elf wanted nothing more than to shut it up completely and never feel its vile stench again. Kolmar was waiting for an answer. She nodded and took another step forward.
"I am no Druid, nor was I blessed with an affinity to magic, but I do know the basics of containing and controlling the energy within your body. Are you willing to learn?"
She nodded again, though fear clutched her heart. What if she lost control again? What if she burned and burned and burned and there was no Mala to drain the energy away? Would she shrivel into nothingness, consumed by the power unleashed in her? A bitter taste entered her mouth and suddenly her muscles jerked and strained to run again. Away from this, away from bringing her power up again. Away from the unknown. But blue eyes held fast to hers, asking, no, telling her to trust him. His voice broke through the clamour within her head.
"Come, young Etann. The water will be the safest place for you." So saying, Kolmar waded into the middle of the stream, the water rising dangerously close to his rolled trousers, and climbed onto a decently sized rock so that it only rushed over his feet. He gestured for Pencaliel to follow suit and stand in the deepest part of the stream. She reluctantly obeyed, the water rising to her knees, licking at the edges of her breeches.
"It is safe here," Kolmar repeated as she looked up at him with uncertainty. "You have no one to hurt with your anger, with your words. It is you and I, and I am not going anywhere. The water will absorb the excess if you lose control. Do you trust when I say this will help you, not hurt you?"
She hesitated, then nodded.
"Speak, Druid. If you do not unleash your words, I cannot help you." It was a gentle command, but a command just the same and the elf found herself shrinking back, not wanting to open the lid. If she let them go, they could turn angry, they could open the door and she'd have to find a way to close it again. They could bring all those painful, searing emotions bubbling to the surface again and she never, never, never...
"Speak!"
"No!" The verbal response shot out of nowhere, shocking Pencaliel. She waited, breath baited, for the anger to come crashing back on her again. But it did not. Instead, a blush worked its way onto her cheeks and the full weight of those blue eyes made her feel foolish in her fears. Her hand moved to settle on the other arm just above the elbow in a sheepish repentance. "I'm sorry," she whispered. And she meant it. Not just for the short outburst now, but for everything. For last night. The words.
"Hmph," the dwarf grunted, though whether it was in disbelief, in answer to her deeper meaning, or attempting to hide a laugh Pencaliel couldn't tell. At any rate, he took that brief exchange as her acceptance of his terms and he began:
"Do you know what it means to be an elf, Pencaliel?"
Her voice came out dry and scratchy like the reeds lining the far side of the stream, but it was far bolder now that it knew it could talk without triggering the sleeping beast. "We like nature, and words, and meanings, and... and pretty things. Pretty things that reflect the qualities of the world around us?"
"Aye, there is some truth to what you say, but it is not much to base a people on is it? Tell me, Pencaliel, from whence did the Creator first form the dwarf?"
"The boulder."
"And like a boulder, we are firm and strong. We guard, we protect, we stand immovable though time and winds beat against us. We are shelter during a storm, an impenetrable force that changes the flow of water. What of the dragonkin, Druid?"
"The clouds," she whispered. When Kolmar did not jump into an explanation, she swallowed and attempted to find the likenesses herself. In the back of her mind, she began to understand the lesson Kolmar was trying to teach her. What it meant to be herself. "The Dragonkin are the winds that govern. They beat at the rock, don't they? And that is what causes the friction between your peoples. They are free spirits, not adverse to change. No, they create the change. They decide if the sun should shine or if it would be best to send down the rain. They're the breeze that tickles the leaves of the trees and keeps the elves engaged in their world. They can roar, they can whisper, but always they are moving, improving, challenging."
"Now what of the elf?" the dwarf prompted.
"The tree. He took a sapling and stretched it into a sinewy likeness to Himself." She paused then and looked down at her hands clasping and unclasping in front of her. The self-conscious blush reappeared on her cheeks.
"What does a tree do, Druid?"
"It-it grows."
"How?"
Her brow furrowed and she shook her head.
"It grows up, does it not? To touch the sky and provide homes for the birds and other small creatures? And then it grows down, does it not? Amidst the stones and boulders of the earth. And then it grows out. Its roots are never content to stay where they are. They're always pressing on through the earth, pushing boundaries until it feels confident in sending up a shoot. Then that shoot takes root and continues the growing process. If left alone, does a forest shrink in size or expand?"
"Expand."
"Why?"
"Because the trees within are all pushing their boundaries and sending up shoots." Her eyes widened in understanding and a hint of excitement trembled in her voice. "That's why they have so many rules! To keep from expanding too far! Small changes. They're also afraid. Afraid if they abandon the large tree it won't continue to grow and they'll lose themselves. So they don't race to send up shoots; they are tentative and consider each course thoroughly before plotting which path to stretch the root. And like trees, we... we expand to fill the void between stone and sky. We're the peacemakers, joining the two worlds together and yet stretching that tension because we're constantly pushing the boundaries they've set in place."
It was Kolmar's turn to nod. Her theories and comparisons weren't perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but she was beginning to grasp this basic concept-- the first point in being comfortable in who she was and what she could do. The water rushed over his feet, cold and numbing, but he had many more points to press before they could even begin exercising the Druid's control over her power. "Now, magic is essentially the connection of the earth's energy to your own energy just as the tree connects the sky with the earth. It travels in paths, flowing through channels of least resistance. It connects the flower to the twigs making up a bird's nest and the small fox to its prey. The water, the stone, the very heart of the earth is all held together with the energy the Creator breathed into His creation.
"The center of this energy in your body is here in your core," he paused to place his hands on his stomach. "It is stored here, it is released here, it flows through here."
Pencaliel set her own hands on her stomach, her brow furrowing once more as she concentrated on finding the energy inside. It was there, circling around, but faint. She traced the trail of entrances from the legs and exits through the arms. A gentle humming caressed her ears as she closed her eyes and sought to separate and locate the energy flowing inside. She could feel it crawling now, sluggishly falling down her arms and into her fingers before it fought back up again to reunite in her core. But it wasn't separate from her body, it was her. Peering inwards, Pencaliel could see her own reflections and desires bouncing along the thin trail of energy, dipping in and resurfacing with each beat of her heart...
"You can draw on this power, Etann."
Her eyelids snapped open at the sudden intrusion and she gasped. Black speckles gave way to watchful, wary blue.
"Go ahead," Kolmar encouraged. "Reach for it and learn it. It is your own."
---
That was only the beginning. A whole new world opened before her eyes that morning while Kolmar carefully guided her through distinguishing her own energy from that of the earth, through tracing its path from her feet, into her core, out her arms, back through her core again, and out through her feet in small bubbles in the water. She felt as if she'd been sleeping her whole life in black and white dreams and only now had awakened into a world alive with colour. When she stared at the water rushing by, she not only saw the wet liquid or the occasional fish, but the minuscule threads of Light pulsing, racing, waiting to be tapped into. The bird flying overhead glinted with energy as it collided with the living air currents.
She wasn't scared anymore.
By the time their lesson drew to a close, the dwarf had her lodging water balls at him and the sun had reached its midday peak. Laughter, real, unadulterated laughter, flowed from the maiden for the first time in days, lightening her eyes and smoothing the tension and worry from her brow. She stooped into the stream, cupped her hands around the water, molded it with her own power, and tapped into the energy of the running stream to launch the ball at the splattered dwarf. Then, just before it hit him, Pencaliel curled her fingers into a fist and the water within the ball dispersed like rain to join the current. Control.
When she'd had the bracers, they had been her doorway to the energy residing in the earth. But as Kolmar carefully explained, they had never been meant to be her connection. The stones within them had stored some of the earth's energy to amplify her own or provide a steady source of magic. When she'd learned to use them as her gateway, the natural flow from feet to stomach to hands had been disrupted, backwards. Hence the muddy feet. But no more.
Now the Druid had control.
Or at least, the tools to gain control. It would take a lot more practice until she could be comfortable with this new way of thinking. Lots of practice. Her eyes glittered with mirth as she glanced at her practice target, the tall dwarf standing so majestically on the rock it almost looked like he was walking on the water itself. Wet stains littered the sides of his tunic and trousers from her earlier, wobbly attempts at throwing water balls. Maybe this next one could dampen that scraggly-looking beard of his. Her lips curved into a mischievous smirk.
Scooping up another water ball, she prepared to aim it, but the dwarf held up his hands in surrender with a loud chuckle. It rumbled across the water and vibrated against her legs. "I see that look in your eye! I am done. But stay; I do think my son could use a bath. Couldn't you, Malachi?" These last few words rose in volume to carry across the waters to the lone, near-hidden figure not too far away.
Pencaliel started, the laughter now gone, her eyes nervously scanning the bank to locate the dragonkin. How long had he been there watching? Did he remember last night as vividly as she did? What would his eyes tell her this morning? Did she dare ask? Dare to look? Could he forgive her when she could barely keep from hating herself? Would his wings curl inward again to block her out? Ah! How painful that one recollection was above all others! To be on the outside! Cut off! Even now the knife point sharpened and drove further through her chest. Her breath caught against its vicious edge.
The forgotten water ball wobbled, suspended high above her palm, before it fell apart and drenched her head.
