I've still got lots of catching up to do, but the second prompt is edited for @dalish-appreciation-week
Taliesen's mentor is taking out to find Ironbark and craft her first bow. A Dalish Legend is involved in this story.
“Da’len. Have you ever been told, how the elves know the secret to working Ironbark?”
“I have.” Taliesen nods. “It’s why we always pass down that secret.”
“But do you know how our People first learn to use this precious material?” Cammen smiles at his attentive pupil.
She looks up at her mentor, Cammen has always been a boundless source of knowledge to her. Even now, when the topic is their history and legends, it’s another surprise to her. She looks at him with wide eyed curiosity, wondering what new information will be imparted onto her.
“Then gather close, Ma Velama.” The mentor throws a blanket around Taliesen. “This tale will be an exciting one and one that will make wonder the what crawls in the forest!”
Tali clung close to the blanket as the Hahren begins to recite the legend. Luckily, it’s a calm night for them to be on their camping trip. Yet the wind still enough to ruffle the leaves and howl through the trees, enough to make the young tinkerer wonder what else hides in the shadows casted by the trees.
She picks through the dirt for a moment, making sure that there’s not felandaris beneath her.
Cammen chuckles, watching the careful girl. Proud to see how well she practices the knowledge passed onto her. He stands beside their fire, his raised palms mark the beginning of his tale.
“Fen’Harel was known for having many allies in his war against the Creators. Some of whom were those that Mythal and Dirthamen casted out for not cherishing the secrets that their patron has blessed onto them. Bitter and angry, three elves are stripped of their boon and magic, sent to wander the forest until they understood the significance of the gift, they lost.”
Tali tilts her head at the tale. “Mythal and Dirthamen don’t seem as nice as they’re supposed to be.”
“It is not our place to question, why it had to be done. Legends tell that their deeds were enough to bring a fire, so vast, that would have been the thing to bring the end to our first homeland. So the three elves wandered, angry and bitter until they are greeted by Fen’Harel. Aimless and hungry, they became easier prey for the trickster god.”
Cammen slams the butt of his walking stick on the ground, spooking Tali with the clunk.
He giggles at the expense of the shivering Tali. “Fen’Harel offered the three elves a chance for vengeance against their perpetrators. In his hands he had a gift, ember leaves, fire enough to reignite their hearts. But that was a trick, the return of magic is not one that can be done, so carelessly.” He wags a finger at his student. “And so, the ember leaves rooted into their hearts, fire became their blood, and branches broke through their skin. The first Sylvans are born.”
Tali shivers underneath the blanket. Cammen wraps a warm hug around the young elf before continuing.
“They were a terror through Arlathan, travelers traveling would look at the branches in fear. One day, June has said, ‘enough of the beasts.’ He fell one of the tree creatures, through eleven nights and days, another fire raged the land. In the end, it wasn’t enough to end all the creatures, so the elven people were called upon to help in their struggle. June, Master of the Crafts took back a limb of the Sylvan. Through the great flames of his forge, he forged weapons faster and sturdier than anything that the People had before. Bows with arrows that flew like fiery feathers and swords that rush like daggers. So the first weapons of ironbark are forged.”
Cammen smiles when he catches the sudden twinkle in Tali’s eyes.
“Andruil the Huntress gave her warriors, the tools of June. SThe war has started for the Creators to push back their lands with the knowledge and protection from June. Some have said that Andruil’s warriors could be mistaken as stars that illuminated the forest in the night. It took a full moon to push back the Sylvans, but Fen’Harel had to find another scheme to topple Elvhenan. And so, the elves have been given another boon, the knowledge to sneak through the woods and defend themselves in the wilds.”
“How does Fen’Harel always have so many of these crazy schemes and ideas in the stories?” Tali lifts a brow, equal parts, perplexed and curious.
“It’s a legend, Da’len.” Cammen laughs, giving the question-filled girl pats on the back. “Stories are more about what we can take from them. Just know that the secret to working ironbark is sacred to our People.”
Cammen takes light tapping steps through the forest, carefully testing the ground for any thorns rooted into the dirt. This is meant to be a special gathering trip for the two of them, mentor and pupil. Every care was taken to make sure that his eyes are attentive for two, branches examined for any strange movement, ground checked for any indications of animals or wandering demons. Never too close to where the Veil is thinnest.
Their prize is carried by the Sylvains that their legends warned them of. Luckily slaying the beast, like one of Andruil’s warriors, wasn’t necessary to claim their prize. So the pair backup against the trunk of the trees, watching for mighty steps pressed into the ground and suspiciously toppled trees in their path.
It is by immense luck that the mentor finds one such tree by the river, with a silvery shine that could not be mistaken.
Cammen whispers for his pupil to come over to him. There were many branches that have littered the tree, he points to them for Taliesen to observe.
“It is often better to pick from the branches that have fallen. The tree is quite durable, but the branches fall with age. You can get first pickings.”
Taliesen nods, carefully scrounging the ground for the branches until she found one that she happy with.
Just the right length to craft into a bow, not too long for her stature. When she raises it to the sun, the branch seems to have a shining streaks pulsing down the length. It mesmerizes the tinkerer in training to see the shine, like holding captured magic in her two hands. It has etched a permanent corner in her mind, before the ironbark has even start to take its final shape.
Work on crafting Taliesen’s first bow began as soon as the pair returned back into their clan. The craftmen have a small furnace for their work, the fire is brought to a low burn. Cammen gently cycles the ironbark branch through the furnace, up and down over the fire until it begins to droop.
His pupil holds the tongs, pulling with all her might and focus to shape the ends to how she wants the bow to be. The task was one done, a hundred times before now, never as much care until this one and never with a material as unwavering as ironbark. Eventually, the bow is shaped enough to her liking. They prepared a bath of cold oil mixed with mint leaves, Cammen dunks the weapon inside. The mint chilling over the ironbark and magically fusing to the surface, there follows a crackling sound as the bow cools.
Taliesen watches in awe of the process, part of her wonders if the bow has somehow broke when they cooled it. But the strange sounds emanating from the bow isn’t enough to have her worried about her precious new creation, just more curiosity as she watches on when a webbing pattern, like roots to a tree wrapping the surface.
Her mentor takes the bow out of the bath, letting the pupil admire the patterns that now decorates her weapon.
“This is an Arulin’Holm.” Cammen presents a small knife shaped tool. “It was used by artisans in Elvhenan to etch runes directly onto their creations.”
Taliesen watches her mentor draw runes onto the limbs of her bow, speechless as she watch shining runes reflect off her wide eyes. Even more speechless when she replicates the work on the other side, never able to imagine a piece of magic being so in reach of her tiny fingers.
The last step is to tie the bowstring, Cammen supported the weapon as she wraps the ends with linen.
Her first bow is finally complete, yet Taliesen is still filled with admiration for craftsmanship and love that she and Cammen molded into it. Every last detail is perfection to the young tinkerer. She presses her nose against the limb of her bow, even the minty smell is perfect.
Taliesen falls asleep, hugging her newly crafted bow. Bowstring pressing on her cheeks, there is a small bounce when her head squeezes it tight, every time that a flock of halla skips through the meadow in her dreams.
“She’s drooling in her sleep.” Lex remarks, watching the silly sight of his sister hugging her weapon as if it was one of her stuffed animals.
“Tali had a long day. Let her enjoy her rest.” Evelyn commands her brother. She watches the agape, gleeful, soft snoring of their younger sister. Her hand ruffles the sleeping child’s hair.
Lex sparks an ember on the tip of his finger. “I should light her pants on fire while she’s asleep.”
A swift whack hits the back of the mage’s neck, Evie narrows her eyes at the trouble starter. “Oi! Be nice to our sister.”
The brother sighs, watching over the peaceful younger sister having the sweetest dreams. Surprising himself, a smile springs up as he watches his beloved younger sister.
“Maybe we should take the bow out of her hands.”
Just as Lex reaches for the weapon, a tiny hand reaches out and pushed back his cheeks. Tali rubs what she imagines to be the wool of a fluffy halla, wiggling small fingers through the strands.
Lex grumbles past the hand tapping on his cheek. Barely even able to mumble, “I hate you, so much.”
Translation:
Ma Velama: My Bright star
