A young woman plodded through the snowdrifts of a dark forest, stumbling between the trees with her cold-numbed limbs. Her arms clung to a struggling burden that wheezed quietly. She trudged forward for miles, her determination conquering her pain.
At last she fell to her knees, unable to continue. She laid the child down at the base of an oak and used her last bit of strength to push herself up and crawl away, not daring to look back. She struggled on five paces further until she too lay down in the snow, never to rise again.
But the child did not die. For the ring of elfin crones that gazed down at the ailing infant felt sharp pains of sympathy in their wooden hearts, recalling their own children. They drew the child out of the snowdrift and into the warm hollow of the tree.
As the winter progressed, their caring hands soothed its spirit and opened its veins to the sap of the tree which surrounded its form. In time the very soul of the child had been plucked from its tiny frame like meat plucked from a roasted fowl, and the child was a child no more.
Transformed, it roamed the woods in elfin form, hopping from tree to tree under the watchful gaze of its gentle caretakers. It spent its lengthy childhood in the very grove in which it lost its humanity and often played amongst the bones of its mother unaware. Encounters with humans were rare and it did not perceive that it was once a part of that civilized world.
But sometime between adolescence and adulthood, bitterness entered the heart of this playful spirit. Wandering through the forests one day, the child hopped into a tree and froze. For the first time in its life it was unable to free itself. It was flooded by emotions that it realized had once belonged to him. Himself, he realized; for at that moment he was engendered with a sense of self. He realized that he was a human boy, not an elf child; he recalled his transformation and sensed for the first time in his life that he belonged to neither world. He recognized the tree in which he was trapped was his human grave, and he felt for the first time that he was regaining his humanity. Once more clothed in human bones, he was enveloped in his past and his dreams.
He used the vestiges of his humanity to amplify his own cloudy memories and sought a reason for his human end. He recalled the utter frustration of his infancy and the pain of his illness. He could see quite clearly his mother kneeling over him, dropping him like a leaden weight and walking away. Even as she turned away he could hear her coughing and wheezing growing fainter, and then he recalled hearing the sickening thud as she, too, fell victim to the cold.
He was pulled out of his dreams and out of the tree by one of his crone mothers. As her hands pulled him free he could feel his humanity being snatched away from him a second time. This time he was old enough to understand the consequences of the crone’s actions. This time he fought back; by the end of the confrontation, he was king--and alone.
He grew to become a cruel hunter whose game was spurred on by fierce hatred. He despised his lost humanity as much as he loathed the elfin flesh he had gained in return. No one who wandered into his realm ever left it; he would rob travelers of their humanity just as he had been robbed. He delighted in imprisoning his captives in tree bark, trapping their spirits within the flesh of his oaks and draining their energy. As rumors of his cruelty spread, he found fewer and fewer victims for his games. Even his fellow elfin brethren avoided his realm; they kept constant vigil on his borders, imprisoning him within the ring of Death Trees he had created. Within a human generation his kingdom was a desolate wasteland.
And then another winter fell upon his land.
One evening while he was brooding over the injustice of his fate, he sensed the presence of a human entering his realm. He hastened towards his newest victim, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack. Excitedly he readied himself for the kill, waiting for his victim to stumble before he pounced. But as the person stumbled, the hood of the traveler’s cloak fell away, revealing long dark hair tied in a loose braid of illness. His newest victim was a woman.
He fell backwards, stunned. Except for his childhood nurturers, the crones, he had encountered few females in his life. He had never met a human female before, except for his mother, and she was hardly a positive model on which he could establish an opinion on the gender.
Sudden movement broke the hunter’s reverie. The female had stumbled again. As she pushed herself up from the ground, she felt something cool and smooth against her fingertips. In a daze she pulled the object free from the chilled ground and cried out as she recognized it. In her hands was a dull and weathered femur of the last woman to wander into these woods. He watched as she anxiously reburied his mother’s remains and pushed herself forward with renewed vigor.
She crawled a few more paces before collapsing at the base of the nearest tree. Pressing her face and hands into the trunk’s hollow for warmth, she did not realize that she now was clutching the bones of the tiny child who her watcher used to be. Curling up against the base of the tree, she resigned herself to whatever fate lay in store and closed her eyes in exhaustion.
He waited. He waited so that he might straighten out his own thoughts; this was the first human female he had ever seen and she made him uncomfortable.
He approached her as soon as he was able to shake away his worried thoughts and put on a mask of confidence. As he looked down at her shivering form, a brief thought entered his mind: why not prolong her miserable fate and make her Fey, too? It had been such a long time since he had a victim to play with, and he yearned for the companionship of another. He quickly dispelled his rash thoughts, determined to find out what sort of prisoner he had caught before he wasted his energy on her. A metamorphosis would require more energy than he had; without the energy of a new victim, he would barely be able to sustain his own life through the next year.
She did not waken as he drew her into the hollow oak, but as he opened her veins to its sap she stirred. Smiling sleepily, she murmured, “Thank you,” and again slipped into dream.
For the first time in his life, he blushed.
He hovered over her as she slept, working and reworking his first waking encounter with her in his mind. He found himself completely unnerved by her.
As she woke, it took her a few moments to recognize where she was. As soon as she grew accustomed to her surroundings, she noticed that he was watching her and she greeted him.
“Hello,” she said with a smile.
“Hello,” he repeated, all of his thoughts awry.
“My name is Kat,” she offered, “What is your name?”
“My name is Krozer. I am. . .”
“You are king of the elves!” she gasped.
“Correct,” he said, mustering an imposing voice to impress her.
“Thank you, King Krozer, for saving me,” she smiled again. “How much longer can I live in safety in this tree?”
“Safe?” he sneered. “You are not safe here.”
She inhaled deeply. “No. No, I am safe here. See? I’m not coughing. I’m dying of consumption, but I’m immune in this tree. I’m glad to just live a little while longer.”
“Is that why you came here?”
“Yes. There’s a rumor that elves in your realm have taken pity on ailing humans before and rescued them. I came here for help.”
“And how do you know that these people were helped in my realm?” Krozer said, suddenly feeling a twinge of regret.
“Humans don’t return from this forest. They’re either elfin now or. . .”
“Or?”
“Or it was a swift end. Either way, I don’t mind,” Kat whispered.
“Why would I want to help you? What would you give in return?” Krozer asked.
“I was a barmaid before the consumption took my life. I can serve you, and help you preserve and manage your winter stores.”
“I have no winter stores,” he stated simply, ignorant of human trade.
“Oh. Then all I have is gratitude and friendship.”
“Gratitude? Friendship?” he asked, intrigued.
She smiled. “Gratitude. And friendship.”
They spent the remainder of the season bound together, as Krozer transferred his elfin blood into her veins to complete her transformation. Kat pressed her host for information about his life and his forest home. Krozer avoided answering her, deftly redirecting the conversation or asking his own questions.
As time progressed, Krozer’s fascination for her grew into something more. He admired her spirit and the wealth of knowledge that she had acquired in the nineteen years she had lived as a human. He asked her for stories and her memories with an insatiable thirst for information about the life that he had been denied.
His heart ached to hear of her suffering as a human, but wondered at the complete lack of bitterness in her emotions as she recounted them.
“How do you do it?” he asked her once, “Always finding the good in every situation, when your life has been so terrible?”
“Because bitterness is too empty an emotion,” she replied simply. “I would rather relish the meager ounce of happiness I have in a bad situation instead of filling my heart with emptiness.”
“But your life was miserable!”
“But then I met you, and my life was preserved,” she stated simply, smiling.
His insides ached with guilt, and he could press her no further.
Finally, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, Kat was strong enough to leave Krozer’s protective embrace and his tree to enter the world in her new form. Krozer helped to ease her out of the tree, and proudly watched her blinking in the daylight with new elfin eyes.
“It’s safe,” Krozer said, reassuring her. “You’re fine. Breathe, Kat,” he said, noting that she had been holding her breath in fear that her consumptive cough would return.
“Breathe, Kat,” he said, exasperated, “You are a hamadryad now, and hamadryads don’t get ill.”
She slowly inhaled. After a few tentative breaths, a smile flooded her face as she realized that she was breathing without pain.
“I’m healed!” Kat yelped. “Thank you, Krozer!” she said, embracing him excitedly. “Thank you,” she repeated, looking at him in admiration. Then curiosity overtook her, and she asked coyly, “What do I look like in this new form?”
“Water is scarce so deep in the forest, save for underground streams; I can, however, gather you a pool with which you may get a proper look at yourself,” he said, gathering his strength for the task. At his command, the oak’s roots bubbled up around her and formed a shallow but reflective pool.
“I wonder,” she said before she bent down to look, “will I look like you?”
He suddenly felt very self-conscious about his appearance. “No, I am a kobold. You are a hamadryad, a fellow tree-Fey. I chose this form for you because it is a fairer form than mine.”
She knelt down to the pool and gazed upon her new face. “Wow,” she breathed, transfixed by her new features. “You should have made me a kobold, though.”
“Are you criticizing a king?” he bantered with her, using mock-pretension, “Why would you want to be an ugly ko—”
“You’re not ugly, Krozer; I think you’re rather handsome,” she winked coquettishly. Then she stopped, blushing. “Did I just say that?” she asked, horrified by her own forwardness.
He smiled. “Hamadryads, like all Fey, are quite a bit more passionate than humans are. But there’s more.” Krozer warned. “Since you’re now part-Fey, you are now vulnerable to Cold Iron. You’ll become dizzy and disoriented in its presence, and you’ll never heal to any wound you receive from it. You are, however, still part human. I didn’t have the heart to completely destroy your humanity,” he said, raising a hand to caress her cheek.
He continued, “Your humanity will shield you from some of the effects and vulnerability of metal, but not all. And since you’re only a halfling, you won’t be able to inhabit any tree you want. You may only dwell in one that isn’t already occupied. Welcome to my realm, Kat; you must now choose a home.”
“Me? And what about you?” she spluttered, unhinged by his sudden statement.
“I live alone,” he boomed.
Is that an invitation or an eviction notice? she thought, puzzled. “May I choose a tree on the outskirts of your realm, then?” she replied with an equally ambiguous answer.
“Of course. Whichever tree pleases you, you may inhabit.”
“After I choose a home, will you take me to meet the others in the forest? They won’t hate me, will they, because I’m a halfling?” Kat asked anxiously.
Krozer felt the crushing blow of disappointment. “I do not leave my land. If you choose to leave, you are on your own,” he growled.
She remained quiet, trying to interpret his emotions.
Angered by her silence, he continued, “You may do whatever you wish, you have no obligation to me. But you must return to your home by mid-autumn. Unlike kobolds, unmated hamadryads must hibernate each winter. You’ll need to be home before sleep overtakes you.”
“Of course I am obligated to you! You’ve saved my life!” she spluttered, embracing him again, “And as soon as I can return the favor, I shall. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
He left, returning home to brood.
Kat then left to find a new home. Krozer had provided her with a description of his land and had given her some hints in finding an appropriate dwelling, but soon she was hopelessly lost. Finding a ripe old oak, she decided to make it her home.
She placed her hand on the bark, clearing her mind to enter the tree. As she felt her flesh merge with the oak, her whole form was wracked with torment.
From miles away Krozer could hear her screams. He hastened towards her and he ripped her form from the tree.
She mumbled incoherently, trying to understand the pain she had just undergone.
“I’m sorry, Kat. It was a Death Tree,” Krozer whispered, embracing her in comfort.
“There was a person inside that tree!” she roared, refusing his touch. “And you put him in there, to torment him, and laughed to watch him writhe!”
“Kat, I. . .” the kobold spluttered.
“You took his energy, too! You sapped him dry!”
“I need nourishment, too!” Krozer replied defensively. “I haven’t the support of other Fey. I need the energy of others to live.”
“But why, Krozer? Why did you have to kill him?” she sobbed, still shivering.
“Because I hate him, his whole kind! Humans aren’t. . .”
“Then you hate me,” she accused. Then she shuddered and cried, “And what about me? Am I another trophy for you?”
“Kat, you can’t think that I. . .”
“I have to go.” She turned to flee.
“You’d leave, too?! You’d leave me in this prison?” he railed, his anger rising.
“This kingdom,” she corrected bitterly.
“Kat, you can’t, please!” he cried as she fled to safety.
As he watched her run, he felt his last shred of humanity and sympathy die, snuffed out by the overwhelming power of hate.
Without Kat, Krozer’s lair felt doubly desolate. He raged, brooded and seethed; his emotions changed like the breeze. He hated her for spurning him, but he was drawn to her nevertheless. When he could feel her presence, he would approach her, just to be near her; but she would always flee where he could not follow. He knew that he was outnumbered by the elfin horde that guarded his borders, and he knew that he would not survive a fight with them. He yearned for a fight nevertheless; he yearned to be defeated, in order that the pain and the emptiness of his life might end.
Then one day Krozer felt the presence of another human in his land. He felt not joy but dread from his new prey; his lifestyle disgusted him as much as it had disgusted her. He realized, however, that he had used most of his energy in transforming Kat into a hamadryad; he needed to feed on the energy of others or he would not survive the upcoming winter.
As he neared his prey, he stopped, in shock: Kat was there, approaching the human rider in an attempt to save him from impending doom.
“You must not enter this wood!” the hamadryad pleaded, perching upon a tree limb in front of the human to block his path.
The man readied his weapons, unnerved by her sudden presence. “Begone, fairy!” he yelped.
“You must leave this place!,” she repeated, reaching out to the horse to stop it. “Krozer will. . .”
Kat gasped in pain as an arrow pierced her midriff. She stumbled, pitching forward. The human merely gaped as the hamadryad fell from the tree, too stunned to move.
“No!” Krozer cried, his grief stirring him to action. Enraged, he lunged at the man, undone. He clambered onto the horse, clubbing him senseless. The horse bucked both elf and master alike. Krozer rolled away from the beast’s dangerous Cold Iron hooves and kicked him in the ribs in anger. Then he saw Kat and her wounds and he softened. He summoned the horse and commanded it to lay down with its master. Anxiously he approached the wounded hamadryad.
She gulped in shock, clutching the arrow stuck in her flesh.
“Oh, Kat, I’m so sorry,” Krozer whispered, “Please let me help you.”
“You didn’t kill him,” she said, amazed.
“I don’t think I can anymore,” he whispered. “Life has been empty since you left. It is not worth extending. Please,” he repeated, “let me help you. . .”
She nodded quickly and fell into his arms as he helped her rise. “I missed you—in spite of. . .” she stopped. “We had grown so close and then. . .and now it’s so quiet. . .”
He took the arrow out of her midriff and helped staunch the blood from the wound.
“Will I die?” she asked quietly, then explained, “It’s a Cold Iron barb.”
“Let me help. We can survive together.”
“How?”
“Fey don’t die; they transform. We can exchange blood again. We will fall asleep together, and let the earth restore our forms. Will you join me?” Krozer asked quietly.
She nodded, puzzled, as he smiled at her sadly. With a final kiss on her brow, he lay down with her, slashing and binding their wrists together to transfer his blood into her veins. Huddled close, they stared into each other’s eyes as they waited for sleep to overcome them, waiting to awaken clothed in new flesh.
“May I ask you something?” she gasped, beginning to drowse. “Why are you so full of hate? You despise both humans and elves,” Kat asked blankly. After he continued his silence, she guessed, “Were you were born human, too?”
He was silent.
“All those questions you asked me about life in the City! And the few memories you shared with me--you were born human!” she accused. “Is that why you hate us humans? Because you used to be one?”
After a long silence, Krozer admitted painfully, “I was abandoned in the snow as a child. They left me to die out here.”
“They didn’t abandon you, Krozer, they helped you. The city is full of stories of elves helping and healing sick and injured people. That’s why I came to the forest. That could be why you were brought here, too. It could have been an act of mercy, to give you another chance at life.”
“But they robbed me of my humanity! They transformed me into this beastly form without my permission!”
“Krozer,” Kat cried, exasperated, “From what you’ve seen and heard of humanity, do you really desire to share any part in it?!”
He harrumphed, but relented. Then he asked urgently, feeling sleep begin to overpower him, “Why did you leave me?”
“I was scared. Will you promise me you won’t take any more human lives?”
“I couldn’t. I love you, Kat. I couldn’t hurt anyone. Not anymore,” he vowed, and both fell asleep.
Don't Miss Part 2!
Kristin Masters is a twenty-something year old Latin teacher in South Jersey.
Her publishing credits include the children's book King's Ransom.
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