Landing
Southern Evela - September 1508
Neik gazed at the forbidding landscape as the chest drifted slowly closer to the shore of Evela. The heavy evergreen forest came right up to the shore, with only a narrow boundary of gravelly beach separating the last trees from the water. The debris from the waves wasn't much higher than the gentle waves against the shore, which told Neik that tide was probably in at the moment.
The sea chest finally bumped against the gravel of the bottom, coming to rest about ten feet out from the edge of the water. Neik considered jumping, but then reconsidered when he thought of the cold water. Instead, he waited, and after a time, saw that the tide had turned, as was going out, leaving the chest behind. As he waited for the sea to retreat, he studied the forest.
As ominous as it had seemed from a distance, the forest didn't seem all that bad up close. The trees were primarily spruce, pine, and hemlock, with a few leafy birch mixed in, but the wood wasn’t particularly dense or forbidding. Low lying shrubs filled in the gaps between the trees, promising Neik a difficult march to travel up from the shore.
Eventually, the sea retreated, leaving Neik’s makeshift raft on the pebbled beach. Groaning slightly as he slid off the chest, Neik opened the lid on the chest to see what he had been traveling on.
The lid of the chest flipped open to reveal sacks of salted herring, the salty dried fish tied in ten pound bags of oiled sail cloth. The sight of the oily treasure caused Neik’s stomach to rumble in a reminder that he hadn’t eaten in a day or two. Pulling one of the bags from the chest, he untied the cord holding the cloth closed and grabbed one of the salty slabs of fish.
Chewing on the meat of the herring, Neik considered his resources. There was no telling how long he might need the herring before finding other food or rescue, so he would have to preserve the chest. He also considered moving the chest further up the beach, but it was a large chest, and he would have to empty it to be able to drag it any distance. Instead, he wedged a few larger stones on the down slope side of the chest in the hope that the next high tide would not wash it away.
Taking one of the sacks out of the chest, and closing the lid to preserve the remainder from any weather, Neik plunged into the forest. As he had guessed, the tangle of brambles blocking easy progress and grabbing at the oilskin trews covering his legs. He noticed as he struggled through the canes that they were blackberry, although not yet in fruit. It was apparent that there was food to be had here, so he wouldn’t have to depend entirely on the fish.
A dozen yards into the forest, the trees began to grow larger, and the ground cover thinned, leaving a heavy carpet of pine needles and dead wood as the only cover between the trunks. An occasional call of a bird was the only sound to break the hushed silence that had replaced the swish of the ocean surf.
Trekking through the woods, the young man glanced around, trying to notice any memorable trees that he could use as land marks, should he ever need to return to his landing place. Unfortunately, the boles of each tree seemed like every other, and Neik was unsure that he would be able to retrace his path. The occasional clearing provided some variation, but one clearing was much like another. The direction of the sun wasn’t much help either, since this land was so far north that the sun never set, and south was more a matter of opinion than fact.
Neik had continued in this manner for an hour or so, covering two or three miles in what he hoped was a generally straight direction when he emerged into another clearing. However, this one was different, since it was a plowed field. A small house of trimmed logs lay on the far side of the field.
Being careful not to trample the garden, Neik walked down the rows of potatoes, cabbage, and other vegetables to approach the house. “Hello! Is there anyone there?”
“I am here, man.” A voice called from behind him. “I’ll thank you for not stepping on my crops. What is it you want?”
Neik turned sharply to see a small figure standing at the tree line. The man—or was it a man?—was dressed in wool and leather, with a short bow in hand and an arrow strung, though not aimed.
“Pardon, sir,” Neik said quickly, raising a hand. “I was crew on a ship that went down. I survived on a chest of ship’s stores and washed ashore just down the coast.”
The figure regarded him for a moment, then returned the arrow to the quiver slung over one shoulder. “Sorry, lad. Thought you might be one of those young rascals from the village. They sometimes come this far for mischief. I’m Bernard.”
The figure—this Bernard—stepped closer, and Neik got a better look. He was older than Neik, but not by much. He stood a little over five feet tall, wore a floppy, brimless hat over shoulder-length dark hair, and moved with quiet confidence. His ears, Neik noticed, peeked slightly through his hair… and they were slightly pointed. his shoulders. His ears peaked through the hair… and they were slightly pointed.
“You’re an elf!” Neik blurted, astonished.
Bernard froze. His hand moved back toward his quiver. “I am not,” he said with sudden heat. “I am a Bernard.”
Neik blinked. The way he said a Bernard made it sound like a title, not a name.
He paused, then added, “Ah… you’re not from here. A castaway, you said? Then I suppose you don’t know what that means.”
Neik shook his head. “I meant no offense, sir. I saw your ears and assumed… well, something out of a tale.”
Bernard relaxed a little and let the arrow drop back into place. “Apology accepted. No harm done. Come to my cabin and have some tea, and I’ll explain.”
Neik followed Bernard to the cabin. Inside, it was cozy—simple shelves lined the walls, and a hearth made of smooth stone took up one corner. Bernard gestured to a rough bench near a wooden table while he stoked the fire.
“I said I’m Bernard. More precisely, I am a Bernard,” he clarified, setting a small pot of water on the fire to boil. “That means I’m what you might call… half Elvish. One parent human, one parent elf.”
Neik considered that carefully. “Then I take it the term ‘half-elf’ is impolite?”
Bernard gave a short nod, retrieving two cups from a shelf. “Correct. That word is used by people who don’t know better—or don’t care. Bernard is the proper name. I thank you for asking.”
“I appreciate the lesson,” said Neik. “It’s all new to me.”
Bernard smiled faintly. “It will be even newer before long.”