6 Into the Wilderwood

At least it was going to be a great night, until Alistair stepped right onto a garden hoe laying on the ground.

"Ow!" Alistair cried as the wooden handle flew straight up to smack him right on the forehead. He saw stars for a moment and a sharp pain in his forehead, but after a few minutes of rolling around on the ground he shrugged the pain off. He got back on his feet, his excitement dulled a little in favor of being more cautious. He carefully made his way up the path, avoiding many pitfalls and other traps that he absolutely knew the Woodsman had set up just for this night in particular.

Alistair made it the rest of the way without incident. Standing in front of the smithy with it's front lantern lit and a bright glow coming from inside he didn't know what to expect. He pushed open the door and the brightness of the inside contrasted heavily with the dark of the outside, blinding him momentarily.

"Hey you made it kiddo!" "We knew you could do it!" "Surprise!" After his vision returned to him, he found that all of the villagers were gathered in the smithy, including his mother and father.

"Mother, father!" Alistair shouted as he ran up to them, he had not seen his parents and thought they would be out of town for his Coming of Age as they had left the previous week. His mother's name is Leandra, of course he never called her that. She had a slim figure and the face of a pixie with eyes as green as the forest, all framed by a full head of red hair that came down to just above her hips. She is truly a beauty.

His father on the other hand was tall and big for the average man, so much so that he puts Hyrdal the Smith to shame. Alistair never knew his father's name, only that the others in town called him, "Lord Protector". Looking up at his father while embracing his mother, Alistair had a chance to examine him. His father as far as he could tell was about two meters tall, maybe even a tiny bit taller. His entire body was covered in huge thick muscles, but he had no idea what kind of training could produce that kind of musculature. His face looked sort of chiseled as if someone made him out of stone and he didn't know what sort of expression to have. His eyes were just a regular old brown, but he did have a rather spectacular and well-groomed black beard. His hair was short and messy with a few curls poking out here and there.

"Don't forget about us, child!" Came a voice off to his left. Alistair turned and found himself face to face with the village seamstress Anyala. She was a kindly woman of middle age. A bit plump for sure, but that just made her more endearing he thought. Today she was wearing a resplendent green dress with different colored flower patterns on it, breathtaking for sure. She always wore her hair up in a bun, but today Alistair saw it down for the first time.

"You're hair looks great Auntie Anyala! I wish you'd wear it like that more often," Alistair complimented.

"How I wish I could dear, but it gets in the way of my weaving if I do," she replied. She looked at him with her sky blue eyes thoughtfully for a second before opening her mouth. "Alistair dear, wouldn't you get cold wearing an outfit like that? Why not put this one on instead?" She tried to hand him a cloak that looked freshly sewn, it also looked a lot warmer and more comfortable than his was. However, he declined to take it.

"I can't take this auntie, mine still fits and it's not worn out. You should keep it for when I come back." Alistair said thoughtfully.

"Take it, lad. You can never be sure what lies out there in the Wilderwood. You may run into somewhat that eats cloaks for breakfast." Said Hyrdal the Smith while striding forward, hammer in one hand, and a sword in the other. Alistair turned toward him and couldn't help but chuckle. It was only a few years past when the big burly blacksmith was huge in his eyes. Now looking at him, the blacksmith is still big, just nowhere near as big as he used to think. Of course compared to his father the meter and a half tall blacksmith was small.

"Take this too lad, you'll never know when ya need to defend yerself," Hyrdal said as he handed Alistair a brand new sword, freshly forged. A smile formed on his bushy face, his eyes crinkling at the edges spoke of his age. "Alright there lad? I think the Woodsman had somewhat to say to ya. He's out round the back of the smithy, said something like it being too crowded and unsafe in here. Go now, we'll meet ya at the forest's edge when you're done with him."

Having been handed the cloak and the sword, Alistair was then pushed out of the smithy into the dark, his eyes needing to adjust to the low light conditions outside. He looked up at the moon, while it was center of the sky when he left his house, now it was slight right of center and if you stared hard enough for a couple minutes, could perceive it's passage south.

"Are you going to keep me waiting all night?" The voice was faint, but Alistair could tell who it belonged to.

"No sir."

"Then come here, the night is wasting." Alistair followed the voice to the back of the smithy and found himself face to face with the Woodsman. If you didn't look close enough, you'd only think it was just a shadow leaning against the smithy, but that's what the Woodsman was good at, not being noticed.

"I have naught for you lad, but some advice. Tread carefully out there. The Wilderwood is dangerous, it is not called the Forest of Scales for naught. While it is your Trial of Courage, take heed and treat it as a Trial of Caution instead. Watch where you step, and be sure not to eat anything strange. Also, a final word of warning." The Woodsman took a step forward out of the shadows. Alistair still couldn't see his face because of the shroud he always wore, but he could still tell he was being serious.

"No matter what you do, should you ever find yourself at the center of the Wilderwood, do not attempt to go to the far side. It is cursed and forbidden to us humans. Now be on your way, the night falls to give way to daybreak, you should start your journey while the moon is high and can light your way."

Having said his piece to Alistair, the Woodsman melted back into the shadows of the smithy, seemingly disappearing into thin air. Alistair turned on his heel and made for the Wilderwood's edge. Woodman was right, he did need to make haste on the start of his journey. While not much was known about the Wilderwood, the one thing everyone said when they came back is that you could only navigate it by night. For whatever mysterious reason, only moonlight bled through the shroud of treetops that covered the forest, lending it an eerie glow at night. By daytime it was completely not navigable as it was pitch black, and a torch would only make you a bigger target for the creatures that hunted in there.

Hoisting his knapsack, Alistair found it heavier than before. Reaching in, he pulled out a belt with a sheathe. It was made of thick and strong leather, but still flexible enough to go around his waist. After putting it on, sheathing his new sword, and shouldering is pack, he was ready. Continuing his steady pace, he made it to the forest edge, everyone was waiting for him.

"Son, no matter what happens, just remember that you were born special. No creature in this land would try to kill you, at least not in it's right mind," his mother said to him as he embraced her for what feels like the last time.

"You've got guts kid, but remember that not one of us wants to see you return without them," Hyrdal chimed at him.

"Pay no attention dearie, just remember that you've got the finest clothes I could make to keep you warm, surviving the nights should pose no problem for you," added Anyala.

"This is it my boy," Alistair's father spoke to him. "The test every man goes through and I could not be prouder of you. Remember what I've taught you. With your swordsmanship the beasts in there should prove no problem. Remember it's not about the size of what you find, it's the quality. If you can find anymore chunks of that meteorite, that would be grand."

"Speaking of the meteorite, your sword was forged with it. It is very light, yet it's durability is nothing to sneeze at. I would not worry about taking care of it, so much as it taking care of you," Hyrdal included.

"That is enough, the boy won't be going anywhere if you all yammer at him. The night is wasting and he should be on his way." The Woodsman melted out of the shadows into the moonlight. "Say your piece and be on your way boy. Remember your footing and do not lose your way."

"Yes, I shall." Alistair replied. "Take care everyone! I do not know how long it will take me to complete this Trial of mine, but at least I go knowing that I have the love and support of everyone here. Thank you for everything, I could not wish for a better family than this."

Having said what he wanted to, Alistair turned toward the Forest of Scales, with just a bit of apprehension he took his first step. One step after another and the he was gone. Everyone watched as the darkness of the Wilderwood swallowed him into the depths of it's dark and hungering maws. His journey had finally and truly begun.