Memories of a child are vague at best

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Memories of a child are vague at best, but the values instilled live on… Even now Grubnar’s memories are sparse and perhaps inaccurate; forgive the writer for attempting to fill in these blanks and perhaps embellishing to move the story along…

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In the foot hills before the great mountains the air was still and thick with the night’s fires. The fires had been burning for three days and three nights. This morning the fires had died so as to allow the beasts to penetrate the cave’s entrance. Upon entering the beasts grinned for the fire and smoke had done its job well. Fathers, mothers and younglings all lay smoldering. To insure the job was done well the bests began to pierce the skin of the fallen taking great pride in particular to the younglings. Deeper in the cave they moved removing all sparks of life the fires did not. The cave ran deep but the oils used seemed to flow just as far.

Feeling great pride in their work the beasts began the trek to the surface.

“Wait lads, there be light ahead!”

“Aye, what trickery is this?”

Slowly the beasts walked towards the light. As they approached the sun beamed though the cracks hitting there weathered faces.

“Another entrance, how can that be? These lands been scouted fer moons.”

Passing thought the opening rubbing their eyes from both sunlight and smoke the largest spoke.

“Nay, this not be here before. I scouted the stone meself less than a fortnight ago!”

“Aye, you must of missed it.”

Shoving the one who spoke out of turn, “A Stonecarver know his rock! Don’t ever question the skills of the Stonecarver Clan again. It must of been dug out recently.”

“But there not be signs. Look no pick marks, no rubble. Not even brush to hide its opening… it is as if the eath just moved.”

A silence blanketed the beast’s tongues as the words rung true.

“Look, tacks!”

“Aye so the hunt is on!”

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Shouldering their shields and axes the beasts began pursuit of their prey. As they progressed the tracks began to run deep, they were gaining ground.

“Look!” pointing the trail entering the woods. “Should we call them elves fer aid?”

“Ha! This be our prey, no tree hugers go’n to take if away from me!” Touching the fresh tracks in the mud he said “Besides our prey is near.”
Ushering them forward the beasts entered the forest. Soon they found themselves deep within its borders. The trees, some seemingly as old as Faerun itself, dwarfed the beasts removing all light from the now high sun. Up ahead a small clearing allowed the light to penetrate its canopy. As the beasts approached, lying in the center was their pray on a small patch of smooth green grass.

Looking towards one another, thoughts of confusion and disbelief filled their heads. What seemed like an eternity of silence the smaller one spoke “This be unnatural”. Approaching the body looking down at its face, “Aye, unnatural indeed…it…it looks pleased?”. The group fell into silence once again. Before them the sun beamed down on the lifeless body as the mist danced everywhere but the ground which their pray laid.

“Is that…”

“Aye, that be a smile.”

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The beasts walked away, bewildered and displeased with the sight. Unbeknown to them high in the canopy the coos of a youngling, the last of its tribe, could be heard. The sounds of which, only the birds and trees themselves could hear. Comforted by the trees the youngling’s sensitive eyes slowly closed as it fell asleep, cradled in the forest’s arms and shaded from the direct sunlight.

It was a dying wish of a mother, that her son be given the chance to live. While still unknown as to why or how, she was granted the ears of Chauntea. One might say the dying words of a mother have ties to the weave itself, perhaps it was the place, or perhaps the trees themselves felt sorrow for the youngling. Independent, her wish that day did not fall on deaf ears. Chauntea’s grace and compassion reached through the trees and granted that mother’s wish, bringing the youngling to the safety of the canopy. Only moments before the beasts arrived.

With her last breath she mouthed the words “thank you” as the youngling rose into the air.

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Men, living such sort lives, do not look to the past for wisdom. The rare few that do would know, along with the elves, that Chauntea was first known as Earth Mother, a deity of wild places and it was her divine spark that gave life to the natural world, the vibrant, caring spirit infused with the planet at the moment of its creation.

Men only see her as “goddess of the harvest” not seeing the many facets of her existence; old forests such as this one know better. They were around at the time she frequented the forests and its creatures.

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Sheltered from the world the youngling was raised and protected by the grace of the Earth Mother. Her voice and face could be seen on every tree. Some might mistake them for treants, but the youth knew otherwise. To him it was his mother, Earth Mother, Chauntea, teaching him, protecting him. He had not the tongue to speak with the other creatures of the forest though a mutual connection was there. He learned from the wolf the care of pups, from the owl wisdom, the bear strength and the eagle sight. The later proved fruitless; the youth’s eyes were poor as best in the light of day. The owl in his wisdom spoke with the bear and the bear taught the youth the skill of scent.

His true mother’s wish, unknown to him, was granted. While the typical teachings of a tribe were not present, the wolf pack teachings of order, protection, caring and the hunt were. These will suit to aid the youth in the tribal life sure to come.

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Memories of a child are vague at best, but the morning he lost his innocence and was granted his greatest gift will be ingrained in his memory. Every sight, every smell, the warmth of the blood on his hands, all in vivid detail…

Forest life suited the youth as he grew, though he knew of nothing else. Very few ventured so deep in the forest. When they did, his mother would raise him up as she did as a “pup”. He learned the other creatures of the forest avoided the intruders, doing their best to keep their existence hidden, only engaging when threatened.

As time went on he ventured further and further from the sanctity of the old forest, following the pack as it move from one area to another. The morning was not unlike any other, a light breeze stirring the morning mist, the sun peaking thought the young growth. The pack was agitated through he did not know why, his senses did not pick up the traces of the intruder. Soon the sounds of the pack filled the air. It was chilling to him and he sought to find out the cause. As he approached the sounds the wind changed direction and he knew instantly. Gaining speed the curtail sounds of the pack filled his ears, then without warning nothing! From a distance a figure rose from the shadows of the mornings mist; blade in one hand and… a skin… in the other.

Felling empty from the silence, he slowly he approached; bodies of the pack littered the ground filling this emptiness with rage. His pace quickened reaching the man at full speed taking him by surprise. A full grown grey orc racing towards you is not something one would expect deep in these woods. Without warning Grubnar took the man’s life with his bare hands. Striping flesh from bone while the man stood in shock. While only lasting but a moment, in memory, it lasted an eternity. Every grasp, every tear, the sounds of flesh separating, all imprinted in memory.

When done, Grubnar was on his knees weeping at what we had done. He knew the nature of things, grass feed dear, dear feed wolf, wolf feed grass. These lessons rang in his ears, yet there he was covered in the remnants of what as a man. What did he do? How could he do such a thing?

Weeping, he gathered what remained of the pack and headed deep into the forest, his home. Upon reaching the clearing, the same one he was given a chance at life, he laid out the fallen pack and wept to his mother in sorrow and forgiveness.

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The sun beamed down but unlike before it did not hurt his eyes. A warmth filled him, calling him. Not knowing why but he placed his hands on each member of the pack and one by one they rose to their feet. After the last one he collapsed to the forest floor. Sun surrounded him filling him with strength. Looking up he saw a familiar face, mother. It was not like before in a tree but as a woman, aged yet beautiful. Words were not spoken only thoughts…

“You have done well; you have fought to defend the wild, willing to give the life I have bestowed on you for another creature. I have taught you well, the laws of nature. It is time you ventured out of your home and learn what about the rest of the world. You have nothing more to learn here.

No… I will be with you always. My love for you, as with nature, is strong. I will be there protecting you, you only have to ask me.

Yes.. this was a hard lesson to learn. Not all the world lives in harmony. Seek to bring harmony to the world. I will ask of you many things of you, some will be hard but I will give you the strength you need.”

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A season passed since speaking with his mother. Both the trees and creatures of the forest have little to do with Grubnar now. The winter was long and cold, more so without the warm of his mother’s ear. The warmth of spring was upon him though no other signs were present. The forest once bustling with life seemed dead… yet he remained…

It was midsummer, the forest dead, when the sounds of lightning struck. Soon after the scent of smoke filled the air. A fire raged off in the distance but was rapidly approaching. Flashes of a past he had not known danced in his mind. When he awoke from this dream the fire had reached him. Blazing high he felt sorry for the trees that were his friends. He tried his best to put out the flames, while they no longer spoke to him, it did not matter. The blaze was too fierce, his lungs filling with smoke, was this the end… did he come full circle? As the smoke begun to take him a familiar face appeared… his mother.

“Do not concern yourself with the flames… your friends will survive. It is time for their rebirth.

No the fire will bring new life to the forest, a stronger forest… the fire will realize the seeds that have been stored away for too long.
Now go… it is time for your rebirth…”

With that the blaze consumed the image and with smoke filled lungs Grubnar ran to the edge of the forest and beyond…