Story of a hero

Chapter 62: Story of a hero

/See a shimmer in the air, it is clear,

You best start running,

Tell an adult now, say it quick,

A rift is coming.

Better hurry up, bolt it shut,

Someone to fill it.

Get the nearest guild to come and shield

your town from it./

A children's rhyme on how to deal with tunnels.

- - - - - -

Mercury certainly could learn a lot from Esmeya, just as she could learn much from him. But that is not what the story of today is about.

Neither is the story about Lucia or Iris, nor that of Avery. It isn't that of Foss or Nira.

It's not about Otto, Zyl, or even any of the fictional authors, and it isn't about Tesla either.

It isn't even about Ragnarok.

Today is the story of a great hero, one renown for her feats, taking a journey that was neither thankless nor tragic, but one filled with the appreciation she had earned.

The story of a queen, a warrior, a mage, and a friend.

But more than any of that, it is the tale of a person.

Our tale begins not in a place we know of, neither in one too far away. It simply begins in a village, not much different from any other. Our hero grew up in a family neither too big nor too small, with an older brother, and an equally older sister. Twins.

Her parents were kind and humble people, ones that would encourage their children and allow them to take whatever path they wished. And when or hero dreamed big, instead of being shot down and laughed at, her parents simply smiled. Perhaps they were childish dreams, and perhaps they were not, it was her decision to make.

The girl grew up slowly, of course, as anyone does, yet she held on. She began to go to school and help out her parents more with their small shop, gathering herbs in the forest, or helping her father hack wood. Life was simple, and while the tasks were many, it mattered little to her.

When she explored the forest, she imagined herself with large, pretty wings, taking her through the trees and over the grass. Letting the wind carry her, and jumping from one root to another. Perhaps one day, she would be able to just such, as one of the pixies she had heard a little about.

Of course, these were fairytales, but to the mind of a child, they were as real as any story could be. The great fairy king, Oberon, reigning with wisdom and kindness over his people. They had been peacefully inhabiting the forest for decades, the adults said, yet were rarely sighted, as they would only approach children in need.

Yet, other than Oberon, the hero was infatuated with then legend of Titania, his wife, and the rightful empress of all pixies. Oberon had married her, and used his talent for diplomacy and speech to sway their people, effectively reigning over them, yet he could not make the final decision, he never would.

Because Titania was the true ruler of the fey. The queen who decided what things were done, and why, and yet, Oberon seemed to reign. It was simply the queen's choice, and the hero admired her for it.

She did not wish to be bound down by responsibilities, not by the wishes and fears of the people, she simply wanted to be free, to do the things she liked. According to the stories, Titania enjoyed cupcakes, for example, as well as long strolls through nighttime forest, gazing at the stars and enjoying the wind.

The hero was similar to that in a way, enjoying the mellow summer evenings, and the occasional warm drizzle that the sky gave. And so, she sometimes liked to imagine she was Titania, one with great wings, yet so light, able to fly and hop and run wherever she wanted, unbound and truly free.

Certainly, it may have been childish, if any adult would be looking at it. But what a heartless, cruel sod would take a child's freedom away? No, no, there were no such people in the village, no such people anywhere near them, for in a time of peace, it was good to let kids dream.

In school, the girl glanced out of the windows, seeking to return to the forests she loved so much, yet she still took some care to follow along. After all, she would never truly be free if she could not make her own way in the world. This was still important!

Luckily, not all of her lectures were boring. Her teacher was a man in his advancing age, yet he had held up his youth. Fresh forest air, he always said, claiming it kept his joints in working order. And as he was still spry, it was not rarely that they went out into the woods, gathering its gifts, and taking away its unease.

Whenever those excursions happened, the girl was the first to arrive in the morning, and the last to leave at night. The teacher would show them some smaller paths, ones that they didn't always go down, perhaps because some of them were dark, and he would show them the sacred duty of all that lived in the village.

They would rid the woods of those that sought to harm it, rabid animals that sought to break, as well as swarms of beetles, the ones that gnawed on leaves and bark. As a thanks, they would occasionally go down a path and become lost, emerging in a small clearing, where the fruit was always ripe.

As time passed, the girl grew older yet. From a child into a preadolescent, for she was not quite old enough to be called a teen. Still, her dreams held on. sometimes they were tested, certainly, but not by her peers, rather by the forest itself. It occasionally seemed darker, maybe even scary, but the girl minded naught.

This was the wood she had spent all of her life in, she knew that much. If anyone were to ask her, she would say that perhaps she knew every second stone they came across, though not all of them, for they still shifted. Yet, no matter how dark it got, it was her cove, her respite, her anchor to escape.

And eventually, she would come home, home to her parents who would simply greet her with a slight smile, saying that the food had grown cold, but they would warm it up once more. The trees lost branches occasionally, some even gave them up for the people, so they could light another fire without much trouble.

The hero would eat, and then head to bed, only to do it all over again.

Then, she became an adolescent, growing older, and much smarter. She knew that the tales she had been told were simply tales, stories that should keep children dreaming big, letting them experience the world slowly. They were a protection of sorts, against the kind of cruel things one might expect to find outside the forest.

To her? They were treasures.

Even as she grew older, she kept those stories deep within her heart. The stories of Oberon and Titania, of wild adventures, glorious paladins, heroes of good and freedom. It was what she wanted, what she craved so much, to truly be free.

With every day in the village, she felt it grow stronger. The calling of the forest, the urge deep within her heart to go deeper, and she always obliged. She went in, jumping through the undergrowth, across the roots, swinging through the trees.

She knew it deep down, that the forest she love so very much loved her back perhaps even more. That the trees parted for her when she swung through them, that when she saw deers they would let her ride them, and when she met wolves they were like playful pups.

The day eventually came when she turned sixteen, finally a fully fledged adult. Her older sister gave her a necklace, woven from grasses and flowers, a charm to keep her safe, while her brother gifted her with a wooden ring, carved as though it was made from a myriad of wings.

Her father cried as he hugged her goodbye and handed over a belt, sturdy and well crafted, with enough pouches to carry all the things that the forest might give her, and her mother patted her head with an even brighter smile than usually, taking her inside by the hand.

The hero left the house of her parents one final time, having eaten as much as her stomach could fit, with her pockets packed, wearing the dress her mother had made for her from the boons of the forest, and a cloak of autumn leaves, its colours growing warmer at the bottom.

She looked at her classmates again, the very people she had spent all the days of her childhood with. Some of them were crying, others again smiling and waving, but she knew that all of them were so, so happy for her.

And lastly, she faced her teacher, the man who had lived so very long, seen her grow from a babe who barely knew how to walk, and now would bid her goodbye. His hair had long ago turned white, and his skin was wrinkly, yet she could clearly hear the life still coursing through him.

He smiled at the girl a final time.

"Go," he said.

That was the final word he needed to say. She already knew all that he felt, and he knew it too. There was only joy that day, as the girl ran off, waving at all of the people she had spent her life with as she disappeared into the undergrowth of the forest, simply running along.

This was it, she knew it.

As she soared through the air, jumped through the soft grass and felt some fallen leaves crunch under her feet, she knew it.

As she heard the crickets sound out from everywhere, as she passed a small stream of water and leapt over it, she also knew it.

This was a goodbye, and a new beginning. She would not return to the village for a long while, perhaps never. The people who had been with her all her life wouldn't see her grow older, and perhaps she wouldn't see them do so either. Yet, this was not a tragedy, for the hero knew much more.

This was freedom.

She could go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted, no longer confined by a home or a place to return to. The forest, her world, was truly hers now, hers to explore, hers to see, and hers to feel. The wind rushing through her hair and billowing the cloak as she ran, the bark against her palms as she swung across the trees, and the paths opening up in front of her whenever she turned a new corner.

It was all she had ever wanted, yet not all she would ever want.

As time passed, the girl grew older, and the longing in her heart was fulfilled. She had not grown wings, nor had she seen fey, yet she did not need to, for she lived the very life she had always admired and wanted.

The chapters passed further, and the girl grew older still, 21 now, and she knew the forest. She had seen all she wanted to see, she had been all the places she wanted to be, for a while. Some of them were dark, some bright, some mystical, some wet, some how, some cold, and all of them were hers. She felt loved and in the place she belonged to, and she wanted to show it to others beyond the borders of here.

And so, the hero stepped out of the forest, feeling its love still within, and knowing that it would always be with her. After all, it was her domain, her longing, and she would not go anywhere without it.

Then, as she stepped beyond, without hesitation, the hero looked behind herself and took all the forest in her heart, always carrying it with her. And as she stepped out, she saw the sandy beaches of the ocean.

The girl, the hero, had found an entire world to explore!

With a smile on her face and warmth in her heart, she simply ran. It mattered little where, for she loved the wind and it loved her back, a trusty guide at all times.

Not long after, the breeze had carried her where it wanted her to be next, carrying her across the shore, high up into the sky, showing her how the waves sparkled from up there, a picture so magnificent she could hardly believe it herself. Then, she thanked the wind, and it put her back down slowly, taking care not to hurt her.

There was much more to see.

The hero ran across the land, seeing lakes and shores, places of beauty. She saw them during summer and spring, during fall and during winter. She saw them one year and the next, and she continued running.

Eventually, after some time, she came upon a small town, laid somewhere in the mountains. It was winter, yet the sun loved the girl and she was not cold. She came into the town, and saw that the people were haggered, and she asked nicely. Perhaps the sun could come a little closer and shed a little love to those people as well?

Soon, their fields had thawed and the crops sprung up, growing quickly to impress the hero, and within but a few hours, there was grain, a mightier harvest than the village had ever seen.

The girl smiled as she saw the faces of the villagers, and she left, yet they refused to let her go.

She had yet to receive their thanks!

It took some time, but not a week later, the girl was running again, her feet touching down so lightly on the snow it didn't even need to harden for her. She had been gifted another thing now, a token of thanks from the village, a loaf of bread that loved her enough to never disappear, no matter how much she ever ate of it.

Out hero smiled as she ran, seeing many more wanders, endlessly stretching plains of sand, and a city of gold. A mountain spewing molten rock that felt so warm and kind when she touched it, and a pond with water like glass.

And then, when she came upon another village, she saw once more that the people there were sad. A spirit, haunting them, she said, and the hero, of course went into the woods to tame it.

They were right, a spirit it was, a sad one, forgotten and now hated, but the girl smiled when she saw it. She simply sat down, and talked to the spirit, asking its name, and she believed in it, and once more, when she left the village, she had only gained things. A companion, to go with her, and a glass of water that loved her so much it would never empty.

The girl continued her journey of freedom, running all across the world, helping whoever she came across and receiving thanks. People never resented her for leaving, because they all knew that she would. The girl would never stay, could never stay, for as much as she loved all things, there was still more out there to see.

And as the hero continued running, with her companions and her gifts, wearing the ring of wings and the necklace of flowers, she became renowned. She was known as benevolent, kind, and loving, gifting all those with nothing with the things they needed.

Whenever she came to a village or a town, she helped where she could, and left richer than she came. Gratitude was all it took for her, yet the people insisted she take a small token from them, and her belt had them all. Her father had put enough pockets on it to hold anything she ever would need to carry, and she never carried more than she needed.

The fairy with a smile, she became known.

The hero beloved.

The free one.

And as such, the girl was happy. She held her forest in her heart, the people in her heart, and the world in her heart. She was a hero, beloved by all, and loving all, living her life exactly as she wanted, for even those who were truly evil could not help but leave her be.

Simply because she was loved, she was a hero, and because she was a hero, she was loved.

Living a life freer than any who came before and perhaps any who came after, she was truly our very own hero.