Chapter Text
As Julie lay in her bed she was powerless to stop the tears brimming up under her closed eyelids. The darkness of the room around her was suffocating and she longed to yank open the window blinds and feel the moonlight glistening on her skin.
Unfortunately she shared a room with her younger brother Carlos and he would be thoroughly displeased if he was woken up in the middle of the night. Instead she took a few deep breaths, brushed away the tears with her hand and fell into a fitful sleep.
The next morning and in the brightness of day, Julie felt calmer. It was funny - in a morbid sort of way - how much she missed her mother at night. That overwhelming sense of loss that she carried with her daily. That morning however, there were more important things to attend to.
Every few weeks a travelling market would come into town and pitch their stalls in the centre of town and their tents sprawling into the surrounding fields, encircling a large fire pit that by the end of the night would inevitably be dancing with fire and the shadows of one or two drunk patrons.
“Hey Julie?” Her dad's voice called from the front of the house. Walking out to see what he wanted, Julie found him struggling with a stack of easels precariously balanced in his arms. Julie’s dad was an artist by trade and his paintings were popular with the traders and merchants who were always in attendance. Hurriedly grabbing one that was about to fall Julie rescued the paintings and set them gently in the safety of their pony trap.
“Thank you darling,” her dad said with a chuckle. “Now what would I do without you?”
“Crash and burn,” she replied smugly.
-
As usual the square was bustling with people setting up for the busy day to come. The sun shone bright in the sky and the smell of cooking bread and meat filled the air. Groups of children dashed through the cobbled square, weaving haphazardly between bystanders and giggling loudly.
As they were setting up the stall, Julie's best friend Flynn ran up to them.
“Hey Mr Molina, the art looks great!” she called cheerily, draping her arm around Julie's shoulder.
“Thank you Flynn, why don't you and Julie go look around for a bit, Carlos can help me finish setting up.”
In response to the worried glance Julie gave him, he said, “You've been wonderful mija, go have some fun.”
Flynn led Julie across the courtyard to a table offering an enormous selection of tiny pastries. The dainty delicacies were thickly coated with a layer of powdered sugar that was distinctly unpleasant to inhale (as the pair found out the hard way).
There were cakes centered with glistening cherries, drenched in a thick honey syrup supposedly imported from distant countries.
Laughing and licking syrup from their fingers, they made their way to a neighbouring field where more booths had been erected surrounding a large tent.
Somehow, Julie and Flynn spent the entire day strolling around the market and admiring the products on display. Exquisite jewellery, beautiful clothes and fabrics and of course delicious food. They stopped for a lunch of grilled sausage in a toasted bun slathered with a sweet tomato sauce.
The sun was dwindling in the sky when they found themselves inside the large tent. Most of the sellers had closed up shop by this point and were drinking and chatting with each other as they stood around a roaring bonfire that had been started in the firepit in the middle of the tent.
There was the sound of someone clearing their throat with authority and a hush descended on the crowd. It was Caleb, one of the most powerful men in the community. Although he was a performer by trade he was good with business and had an air of authority that no-one could deny. So he acted as something of a mayor to the village.
“Firstly, I would like to say thank you to everyone who has come today. As we all know, our little village depends on trade with passing merchants and tradespeople.”
A round of applause and then,
“Now some announcements. We are all extremely saddened to announce the death of Rose Molina.” Julie suddenly felt rather hot, which had nothing to do with the bonfire roaring in front of her. Most people in the village knew at this point and had come to pay their condolences, but this somehow made it official.
She felt Flynn next to her and was grateful to have them to lean on.
“As we all know, she was a beloved part of our community and a loved mother, daughter and wife.”
Julie glanced at Caleb and offered him a small smile of thanks.
“Now as yet we do not know the specifics of her passing-”
“I know,” a coarse voice came from the back of the tent. A stumbling figure made its way to the front of the tent, apparently oblivious to the angry glares directed at him.
Julie was stunned. Her mother had gone missing three weeks ago while travelling through the Forgotten Forest. The forest lay between their village and the next town over, some 20 miles away. Most of the village's inhabitants refused to use the road through the forest, instead choosing to use the longer route around the forest, a journey of several extra hours. Julie's mum always refused to do this. ‘It's just some big trees silly,’ she would say. But Julie wasn't so sure anymore.
“T’was the demons,” slurred the man who, now that the fire illuminated his face, they could see to be Trevor, the local drunk and overall scoundrel.
“Now now, none of that please Trevor,” called Caleb in an attempt to restore some order to the proceedings.
“S-s-she was ask-ing for it goin' in there alone. We should ge’ rid of 'em, rid of 'em.” His speech then descended into a coughing fit and he doubled over, swaying dangerously near the fire.
Suddenly a crisp, clear voice came from the entrance to the tent.
“I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing you, get rid of who exactly?”
“The Demons of course,” roared Trevor, twisting round to get a look at the stranger, as did everyone else in the tent. Curious eyes peered at his tall form, scanning him for some hint of recognition. It was fairly common for new people to come through the village but they were rarely unaware of the superstitions surrounding these parts.
“Demons? Oh dear, where exactly are they?” There were a few incredulous glances and Trevor spluttered indignantly.
“The forest o' course. Don't ya ken ‘bout the monsters inhab- inhabitin’ these parts,” regaining the flow of his impassioned speech, “Nowhere be safe till we've rid the forest of them, they walk among us an’ they're comin’ for the bairns next.”
“Well, I hardly think running in with flaming torches and weapons is a well thought through response. I’m sure anything that lives in the forest would rather you introduced yourself first," was the snarky response.
The tent was silent as everybody watched the two men argue.
“You forget that while there are tales - tales mind you, of monsters and hideous beasts, there are also legends and myths of great and good and kind creatures hidden in these forests. Beings which no doubt want nothing to do with your anger and hatred for anything which you deem to be ‘unnatural’.”
“And who exac-exactly is telling these myths?” Trevor mocked, “Crazy folk what ate a few too many bad mushrooms, I’d wager.” There was a scatter of laughs from the crowd.
Julie barely heard the next few words the men exchanged. She was too preoccupied by the doors that had been unlocked in her mind. The forest had always terrified and awed her in nearly equal measure. Julie had never dared to venture in alone, but now her heart fluttered at the prospect. The forest may be cold and unyielding but anything was better than her dreary existence that threatened to overwhelm her.
When she was again conscious of her surroundings she noticed the unearthly silence that had descended on the tent. The only audible noise was the shallow breaths of the men, women and children standing around her and the crackling of the fire. The smell of the smoke filled her nostrils making her feel slightly light headed and top heavy.
“Magic? Magic my arse," grunted Trevor in response to something the stranger had said.
“Oh, I wouldn't be so quick to judge.” A beat and then, “I hardly think they would appreciate it.”
“They? Who, your crazy fairy friends?”
The other man chuckled lightly, apparently enjoying a secret joke known only to him. “I was thinking more along the lines of…”
Did he pause for dramatic effect or was it time itself stretching out to deny them from an answer? No one present knew.
“Elves.”
A stray gust of wind blew down the spine of everyone present and hair stood on end. Whatever manner of sprite or gnome they had been expecting him to say this was not it.
The man was certainly correct about one thing, Elves were definitely creatures of myth and legend. However they were neither good nor kind creatures. Vengeful and destructive, sure, that was the reason they had been driven out of the mortal lands and killed hundreds of years ago. The idea that they could be living so close by was crazy.
Collectively the tent stirred, realising the time and once more feeling the chill air that had crept into the tent while they had stood entranced. A few people shook numb legs and Julie's dad spotted her and Flynn in the crowd and beckoned them over.
“Julie, I sent Carlos home a while ago so be quiet when you go in. Flynn, it was lovely seeing you, I hope you’ll stop by for tea and cake sometime soon.”
“Sounds great! Catcha later Mr Molina, bye Julie!”
-
For the first time in weeks Julie lay awake, not from sadness but with her mind filled with questions that demanded answers. Was the forest as evil as she had always been told? Or was it just the superstition of the village that kept people away.
Almost without realising it, Julie was formulating a plan. It wasn't unusual for her to get up early to go see Flynn or just to enjoy the sunrise. All she had to do was wake up just before dawn, leave a note telling her dad she would be out for a while and try not to be kidnapped by any forest demons.
Finally managing to get to sleep, Julie slept lightly until around 6am when she slowly crept out the front door, leaving a handwritten note on the kitchen table.
The air was misty and cold as she left, making her glad she had grabbed an extra cloak on leaving.
The sky was still and steely as she trudged along the battered road towards the trees on the horizon.
In the distance they stood tall and magnificent, their tops partially shrouded in low cloud.
Julie could see her breath in the air, the whistle of birds floating in the air around her.
She breathed in the early morning scent of the fields around her.
Once she had finally reached the tree cover, she cautiously started along the track. It was halfway between a road and track, a layer of dust lying on top of the ground that her feet stirred up as she walked.
The path was enclosed on all sides by tall trees that stretched their branches up towards the sky. The sun that shone weakly between the canopy barely whispered along the ground. Julie wrapped her cloak tighter around her for protection.
Under the trees it was ghostly and silent. There was no birdsong in the air, fitting for a place such as this. She had only been walking for a few minutes and her hands and feet were growing numb. Julie could feel her heart fluttering in her throat, but pressed down the anxiety and continued walking.
Now she understood the nickname that had been given to the silent landscape. ‘The Forgotten Forest’ was a fitting name, both for the lack of people traversing it (only foolhardy explorers and travellers hoping to shave time off their journeys), and the high keening that came from the trees during the winters, when particularly high winds rocked the branches and the winds twisted between boughs and branches to form cries of sorrow and pain that seemed to spring from the very trees themselves.
The few travellers that made it through unscathed often claimed to hear music and singing emanating from deep within the trees. The stories said that at night, if you ventured far enough in, you would see firelight dancing between the trees and wild figures, neither man nor animal, swinging wildly together in some sort of carnal dance.
The stories of evil faeries and wolves were used to scare children when they misbehaved. "Be quiet or else the gremlins will get you," was a commonly uttered phrase amongst the mothers of the villages that bordered the woods.
As Julie walked, she listened to the wind being carried through the trees. It was a beautiful melody and her ears strained to pick out the unfamiliar notes coursing through it. The noise sent a shiver down her back and she closed her eyes for just a second to absorb the noise.
Suddenly the peace was shattered when the sudden realization came that, mixed in with the wind, she could hear a voice. Her entire body froze and she hardly dared to breathe. She took a tentative step forward, still in awe at the music emanating from the clearing to her left, so unlike the raucous song of the stories.
There was a layer of brush to her left obscuring the stranger that stood above her height. Carefully pulling a cluster of leaves away she looked through the small hole she had created.
The area of woodland behind Julie was grim and dark. Evergreen tones left little to the imagination, but looking through the leaves she saw a clearing that seemed to glow with life. The grass was lush and green, wildflowers littered the ground and the trees surrounding it were fresh and beautiful, such a stark contrast that Julie had to rub her eyes to make sure she wasn't imagining the sight.
Even more strange was the fact that the glow seemed to be emanating from a small figure perched on an overturned log. The person, who appeared to be a little over Julie's height, had their back turned to Julie, and seemed to be immersed in the object they were holding. All Julie could see was curly brown hair and the person's delicate fingers strumming the strings of a harp-like instrument held in his lap. As he played, his head drifted from side to side in time with the music and his voice murmured and hummed harmonys alongside it.
Julie's instincts were screaming for her to run far away as fast as she could and never look back, but the image before her was captivating. She drank up the melody like it was hot coffee. Even on the edge of the clearing and several feet from the mysterious person, the temperature was noticeably warmer and her teeth were no longer chattering. This was a good thing too, because it seemed that even the slightest noise would disturb the beautiful rhythm.
Julie felt as if she could see the swirling patterns and rhythms of the song swimming between the trees, and her skin prickled not from the cold this time but from ecstasy at the music.
Sure, they had music where she came from. On a good day, someone would break out a banjo and they would all join in a campfire sing along. But this was nothing like that, it was a soothing melody that washed away all the sorrows of life, leaving only starlight and dappled sunlight.
It stirred a memory deep inside Julie, of her mother rocking her on her knee as they sat outside in the long grass. Years ago, she would often sing to Julie to help her sleep or to ease her pain when she fell. She felt the prick of a tear in the corner of her eye. She reached up to brush it away, but in doing so rustled the branch that her arm had been resting on. The noise was tiny, but it broke the spell that had been placed on the clearing. The figure whirled round to face her and Julie felt the temperature drop back to the chill from before.
The space that had been occupied by the back of a head seconds before was now a pair of startling green eyes transfixed on hers. A boy with wild eyes, soft features, pale skin and undeniably pointy ears was staring at her. Their eyes were locked together, neither moving or blinking, for what felt like hours, though it could only have been a matter of seconds.
Finally yanking herself out of the stupor, she leapt back from the bushes that she had been holding open and they flew back together, blocking the figure from sight. She turned and raced along the track back towards home, never stopping to look back and see if there was anyone following her.
Her breathing was ragged as she finally saw the distant smoke of the homesteads beyond. Breathing a sigh of relief, she ran towards them, only stopping when she was clear of the forests and could hear the laughter of children and people talking ahead of her.
She wandered up to the front door of her family home in a daze. Who (or what) had that boy been? She remembered the point of his ears as he faced her and the way the weather seemed to be in tune with his emotions.
‘Elves,’ she breathed, hardly daring to utter the word aloud.