World in the Satin Bag

(Note:  This is not official version and may be removed in the near future.  This do not reflect what is read in the podcast version, nor any other version you may encounter.  I have preserved the rough form for posterity — or something like that.  This novel has since been rewritten.) James woke early the following morning. His mind raced with thoughts of the past day as he slowly took in his surroundings. Here the bright sunlight could be seen for the trees opened up like welcoming arms to the blue sky. The fire had been put out and he quickly found that he was not the only one that had awoken. Pea and Darl were nearby arguing over something he couldn’t see. They spoke in whispers, but he could tell from the tone in Darl’s voice that the two were on the verge of insulting each other. He stood up and let the covers fall from his body. He yawned and stretched. The scent of his un-bathed body wafted over him and he cringed. He sorely missed having a daily shower. It had been days since his last shower—far too long for his liking. Deep down he wished he could go back to Arnur and the great pool of little cleaning beings. The feeling of being one hundred percent clean of all dirt and grime seemed only a dull memory now. James walked over to Pea and Darl, listening closely as he went. “What if it’s poisoned?” Darl said, his whisper strong and nearly loud enough to be at normal speech. “Why would they poison us with one of their own among us?” Pea said. “Why not? False sense of security!” “Ridiculous.” “Plausible.” Then James was next to them. They looked at him; he looked down and found the object of their argument. Four baskets weaved of leaves and filled with berries of all shapes, colors, and sizes, and other fruits that both looked familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, lay next to the dead fire. There were fruits he knew—bananas, apples, pears, and even kiwis. He marveled at the sight of it. Even in Arlin City he had not seen such a brilliant array of fruits. “It was left overnight,” Darl said to him. “Oh?” James mumbled. “Forest folk of some sort. Maybe the Moss People left it. Maybe Brownies.” “Darl thinks it’s a trap,” Pea said. “Why would the Moss People poison us?” Darl grimaced. “Rumors and legends are generally born out of some sort of reality.” “You honestly think the Moss People would be behind this?” Pea’s voice rose to just above a whisper. “Or the Brownies.” “Preposterous.” Then Darl and Pea were arguing fully again and James tuned them both out. He stared down at the four baskets. Saliva built in his mouth. It all looked delicious, like a perfectly prepared array of the best pickings possible. Would they really poison us, he thought. Why? We’ve done nothing to them. Just then Tum Tum walked between his legs, yawning and stumbling side to side. The Brownie was not yet fully awake. As Tum Tum reached the baskets Pea and Darl ceased their whispered arguing to watch. Then the little man grabbed an apple, turned with drooping eyes, took a bite, and walked back through James’ legs and to where Tiddle lay fast asleep. The three of them watched intently. Suddenly Tum Tum heaved and began to choke. His eyes went wide; he coughed and hacked, clutching at his throat, teetering this way and that. Then, just as abruptly as it had all started, Tum Tum stopped and looked at the apple in his hands. He threw it with all the might a little man could muster into the forest and cried out, “Bloody tricksters! That apple is still a day away from being ripe you filthy little…” Tum Tum caught himself, took a deep breath, and brushed himself off. “Humph.” Then he went back to his bed and fell asleep in an instant. James, Pea, and Darl stared in disbelief. Then James took a peach from one of the baskets and ate. Darl tried to protest, but it was too late. Wonderment came over him as the juices of the peach filled him. The peach was juicy, as all peaches should be, and brought every sensation of joy imaginable from the sense of taste. A little stream of juice dribbled down his chin; he wiped it away. Soon Darl and Pea joined in and they all ate together, reveling in the amazing array of choices. Several minutes later, or at least long enough for James to realize that the sun was now truly rising from the horizon and spilling light over everything, Tum Tum and Tiddle awoke and took off along the path. Nobody tried to stop them, though James could tell that Darl truly wanted to. Instead, the three packed everything up in a rush and quickly mounted their respective Blaersteeds. The steeds took off without a single command and in no time they were alongside Tum Tum and Tiddle, both of which had taken to singing and playing their fiddles. This time James did not listen. He instead allowed his mind to wander for he had had far too much of their singing the day before and already could feel a headache building above his eyes. He focused on the sky, the trees, bushes, and other plants both old and new to him. His eyes wandered from the dense black hairs of Mirdur’eth to the path before him that had suddenly stopped winding in an out of the forest that seemed impossible to traverse. The path was as close to straight as he could hope, only taking mild turns here and there. The path itself was clear of brush as if it suddenly was heavily traveled. He wondered if perhaps the Moss People or even the other Brownies, which he assumed there were, had some affect on the way the forest

(Note:  This is not official version and may be removed in the near future.  This do not reflect what is read in the podcast version, nor any other version you may encounter.  I have preserved the rough form for posterity — or something like that.  This novel has since been rewritten.) Dawn had come and gone faster than James had thought possible. Little light could push through the canopy to the forest floor. The foliage was so dense that at times they were forced off the raggedy path to get over fallen trees or twisted walls of roots. He hadn’t seen anything like it before. Even in Woodton, where the trees and brush were considerably thick, it would have been easier to travel than here in the Forest of Gall. The rumble of the earth had long passed away, or perhaps it was that they had traveled far enough now that they could not feel the vibrations. Either way, James knew that Luthien would be marching on Ti’nagal and, despite the two rivers of magma, the city would fall. There were not enough soldiers, nor enough fortifications or weaponry to repel the army of thousands upon thousands. As it was, they had traveled through most of what seemed to be morning, moving constantly at a northward direction. There were little to no sharp turns, though the path wound back and forth like a slithering snake. Birds and other creatures made miniscule amounts of noise as they traveled, but every so often they heard the cry of tiny mammals, like a pack of bickering squirrels in the distance. But James did not attribute these new noises to anything that Belrin had told them about the creatures that lived here. The calls were not sentient, not as far as he could tell. They were rodent in nature, like some distant and altogether other-worldly relative to the animals he had become familiar with back home. He imagined the little creatures with bushy tails, collecting nuts and hopping tree to tree and screeching whenever a predator or competitor appeared. Soon the sun began to take its leave and the light faded. Pea retrieved his torch and lit it with magic. The light shined bright and cast dark shadows beyond its circle. Here the light had places to go, unlike back in the tunnel beneath the river. “We should set up camp soon,” Pea said. Darl grunted. “I would be apprehensive to stay the night here in this place. It is too alive for my tastes.” “It’ll take us a few days to get through this,” James said. “It’s not exactly a straight shoot through the woods.” “I know, but if we can help it, I would prefer not putting ourselves in a position to become targets.” “You think there is truth to what Belrin said.” Pea leaned sideways so that he was visible behind Bel’ahtor’s head. James looked back, realizing by this point that he did not have to control Mirdur’eth in any fashion—the animal would walk without his aid. “I think there is enough truth there to be cautious. If Belrin is wrong and there are no dangerous creatures living here, then we have sprites and the like that might hinder our journey while we sleep. They are mischievous little creatures.” “As there are everywhere.” “Let’s just go farther. I do not feel even the slightest comfortable here.” The Blaersteeds pushed on, passing through brush and long reaching tree limbs as if they were nothing more than minor hindrances. Pale moonlight made its way through the canopy; the sun made its last stand at the horizon before slowly dipping away into the mountains. Stars shined above, visible in rare holes in the forest. Silence reigned supreme in the Forest of Gall. Night brought with it no sounds other than the soft clacks of the Blaersteeds. Even the strange squirrel noises in the distance were gone, replaced now by nothing. It felt too silent to James. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else. The silence was too abnormal. He had never been in a forest that had no sound in the night. He could remember the owls hooting loud and clear in Woodton. There could be no mistake that this forest in the land of Traea was silent for a very specific reason and he knew deep down that it had nothing to do with there being a lack of night creatures. Something made life here stay quiet; something frightening even to those that wandered in the dark. A few more hours passed and the forest parted slightly, opening the path fully to the night sky, bathing it in the white-blue light of the moon. James gathered that this might be the closest thing to a clearing in the Forest of Gall. It provided a mere ten feet of open space, but it looked like a fissure in the earth covered on both sides by impenetrable walls of trees. Here Mirdur’eth stopped and refused to go any farther no matter how hard he tried to coax the black steed. He turned back to find that both Pea and Darl were at a standstill too. Darl looked far from happy about it. James thought that at any moment the old man would start screaming at his horse. But no such thing happened. Darl finally gave up, peered grumpily at James, and said, “Apparently we can’t go any farther.” James smiled. “These horses have minds of their own.” Mirdur’eth snorted loudly. “Sorry, I meant Blaersteeds.” The steed nodded once and shuddered. “We’ll make camp here,” Darl said, dismounting and guiding his steed to the center of the clearing. “Collect some wood for a fire,” he said to James. “Not much. Just enough for a small flame.” Then the old man tied his steed to a root that stuck up in a tall curve from the center of the path. James dropped and quickly did the same, though Mirdur’eth shifted uncomfortably. Pea was not far behind with