Episode 1: The traveler and the hunter
The land Malvinor is dry and mostly covered with rocky lands and deserts. But in the north, where the wide meandering Daryn demarcate the border with the Elven Kingdom, lie vast forests. A stranger had made his camp in an open spot in the forest on a hill overlooking a wide bend of the giant river. Near the delta the Daryn is tens of meters wide. The man peered over the dark, sparkling water, which itself reflects the twin moon, and chewed on a piece of dried meat. He wore a sword, but the clumsiness with which he held the weapon, betrayed that he was not a warrior. However, he grasped it tightly and turned instinctively -- his back to the river -- when the breaking of a few dry branches startled him. The approaching visitor made no attempt to conceal his arrival, and so either he had bad intentions or he was very confident. In both cases, resistance was probably futile.
The man who emerged from the forest was tall and slim, with a fair skin that is characteristic of the mixed races along the border with the realm of the Elves. He held his hands up to show he was unarmed, though on his back was a hunting bow.
"Peace". The voice of the hunter was quiet, but firm, which radiating throughout his body posture. "Am I welcome?"
The stranger nodded and lowered his sword. The hunter knelt down smiling at the offered seat next to the fire.
"An inappropriate hour to find companionship, sir. You may well be seen as a bandit."
"My apologies. I was looking for a place to sleep when I saw your fire burning. A man who travels the Darinian Forests without company seldom has bad intentions."
"That also applies to you?"
The hunter nodded.
"Arlin."
"Kilnor."
"You had a good hunt?"
The hunter smiled. "I was lucky enough to cross the path of some hares. They were unlucky to cross mine. Please allow me the honor to share this meal with you."
Arlin knew the border region customs and nodded. He dug out a bottle of wine from his knapsack and shows it to the hunter. "I'm afraid I've just a jug of sour Marodian wine with me."
"More than enough," smiled the hunter while he began the skinning of one of his hares. "I had long no wine."
The traveler poured two cups of wine, while the hunter went on with his work and stripped the hare of his skin and muscles. "Arlin is a norse name, yet you have the appearance of a southerner."
The traveler nodded. "My grandmother was an adventurous woman who let her heart beconquered by a Malvinorian soldier during the difficult years after the Retribution Wars."
The hunter, while hitting the cup of the traveler with his, smiled again. "Like many love stories that went wrong. Undoubtly, you are aware of the fact that since the war in the north the Malvorians aren't very popular here. Probably your quest for the roots of your birth brought you to Malvinor?"
The passenger frowned and was silent. He peered across the river, to a point invisible for the hunter, and sipped his wine.
"Forgive me, but you rather looks like a man of the word, then one of the sword". The hunter insisted.
"I'm bad at hiding my true intentions, I'm afraid. Though I'm not looking for the origin of my mediterranean blood." He kept staring out of sight and filled his cup again, after which he gave the jar to the hunter.
The hunter accepted it, but kept silent, waiting for the story of the traveler.
"I'm a chronicler. Writer at the court of the Elven Council. Not a bad one, but not a particularly good one too. The gift to hide things is my property, but not the skill to conceal what they want to hear. The Council has decided to send me south, to get around and describe the Malvinor command."
"I did not know that the elves were interested in the everyday worries in the human kingdom."
The hunter immediately regretted that he had interrupted the man.
"Make no mistake," the traveler replied without batting an eyelid. "The elves seems to judge worldly facts beneath their dignity, but they do have their attention. That's why they want their human servants to study them."
The traveler saw how the hunter looked up, but did not dare to ask the following question, which undoubtedly burned on his lips. Perhaps the man had some interest in a chat, maybe he was genuinely interested or -- the least pleasant possibility -- acted as a spy for the Malvinorian Court. And then he had to be careful. "Is hunting here sufficient to satisfy your needs?"
The hunter speared the skinned hare and started to roast it over the fire. The on daytime so boisterous forest was quiet, and the crackle of the fire was the only sound that came along with their two voices. "The forest is rich. It gives us everything we need."
"Us? You have a family?"
"Wife and two children." The voice of the hunter had a gloomy undertone. Arlin felt he had touched a painful subject and said nothing. The two men peered into the fire. The hare, which was turned slowly by the hunter, turned brown and fat began to drip into the flames. Ultimately it was the hunter himself who broke the silence.
"With us, I actually was referring to the people in the villages on the edge of the forest. The balance of nature is instilled in our childhood."
"In Elvinar we are told that the forest dwellers tend do idolatry."
"What do they mean?"
"That you made the Mother a goddess, and in addition to it have created other gods. I suspect your empress doesn't like that."
"The capital is far away."
The hunter raised the hare when a flame came shooting up and wriggled the animal around. "As long as we pay our taxes, she has no reason not to appreciate us, I think. The forest gives us food, but it is also dangerous. You should respect it. The elves know that too."
Arlin nodded. "But they do not like gods."
''Our gods don't harm them."
The hunter raised the roasted hare, shining with meat juices, from the fire and offered it to the traveler. "Here. Please. A gift from the forest gods."
Both men laughed. They divided the meat and ate and drank in silence, while the dark forest encircled them.
***
The next morning the traveler was awakened by the warmth of the sun. He swore. He quickly threw his blanket from him and sprung up, ignoring the dryness in his mouth. There was no trace of the hunter, but Arlin saw his bow, bag and jacket lying next to him against a tree. He grunted and walked to the ridge where he had a good view of the landscape. In the daylight the river and the forest had lost much of its mysterious attraction, but instead came another beauty. River, air and forest now formed a contrasting palette of various types of blue, white, green and brown, highlighted by the sunlight and the shadows of the few clouds that slipped through. He smiled when he noticed the hunter, who rose out of the clear river water. The man was naked and shook the water from his hair and his body when he climbed up the river side. Arlin didn't turn away and watched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, while the hunter, his bronzed, muscular body basking in the warm sunlight, approached. "Do not you going to wash? The water is delicious."
The hunter grinned, the latter not yet evaporated water forming droplets on his skin. The man was not ashamed, in full awareness of the sensual power of his body. On his bulging chest and tight abdomen grew soft downy hairs as dark as his head hair. His body hairs and the stubble on his cheeks and chin emphasized his masculinity, crowned by a magnificent slender dick, with underneath, a pair of large, dangling, low-hanging balls. The man smiled when he noticed the look of the traveler which slipped into his abdomen. He knew that men always compared the size of each member, as if it reflected power relations between each other. But he did not just notice envy or jealousy and basked in the attention he got and made no comment.
"No," replied the traveler finally, with slightly hoarse voice. "It's getting late. I want southward as soon as possible."
"To the capital?"
The traveler nodded. "Every day is precious."
The hunter began searching for his clothes, the magical moment broken. One day more or less on a weeklong trip made little difference. He knew that the passenger was not telling the truth, but that did not matter. There was time enough. "Travel in company is more enjoyable."
The traveler growled and began to kick out the remains of the fire. "Are you going south? To the Imperial Road?"
"I'm going where the forest takes me." The hunter buttoned his pants and rubbed his shirt. "Clover Vale is six days walking distance, if you know the way."
"How much?"
The hunter shrugged. "What you can miss. I haven't been in the city for centuries."
"And your family?"
"They cope well. It's not that I was never a week or more from home."
The traveler grunted something that looked like an agreement. He did not look at the hunter. "Good."
***
The hunter knew the quickest shortcuts through the woods, yet he chose for an easier, slower path. He was pretty sure the traveler didn't notice he brought him closer to Clover Vale via small detours. They did not speak much, the hunter a man of few words, more in his element in the woods then among men. In the evening they made camp on a wind and rain sheltered glade in the forest. In the north it was still pretty fresh in the spring and thus the traveler put one a fire while the hunter went to collect some carrots to fit with their second hare. The traveler had a piece of hard cheese, so they could enjoy a true feast. When the hunter emerged from the forest with his harvest, Arlin had already started a gently crackling fire. He had his wrtiting board on his lap, and tried some hasty writing before nightfall came.
"What are you writing?"
Arlin sensed a sincere look as he looked up at the hunter. "The events of the day."
"That can not be much there."
"The deer were watching us this morning, the remains of the forest cabin and the place of sacrifice beyond the creek a few hours later, the encounter with the hidden but miraculously well-maintained forest trails..."
"You have a discerning eye."
"An obligation, as chronicler."
