Chapter 55: Elves and Expectations

After a further two hours of walking culminating in a scramble up a rocky slope, Alcar and Leppie crossed a stony ridge between two huge oak trees. Ahead, they could now see a much larger valley, with trees along one side, and a village constructed mainly of wooden building on the other.

“That’ll be the elven village, then,” said Alcar, pausing to catch his breath.

Leppie nodded. “This should be interesting.”

“Even with you being from the city, I suppose you must know a lot about elves,” Alcar replied, as he walked on. Brutus was still at his side, and the dog now trotted ahead, but remained close.

“Not as much as you might think,” she said. “In fact, maybe not that much more than you do.”

Alcar pondered for a moment what he did know about elves. In truth, he didn’t feel that he knew much at all. They were fairly ubiquitous inhabitants of Katresburg, along with halflings and to a lesser extent dwarves. But as to the details...

“They are... law abiding people, I guess,” he said.

“Sometimes,” Leppie replied.

“Right, right. Only sometimes, like everyone. And there are different... would you call them races? Red elves, white elves, and so forth.”

“Sure. Although to be honest, they are not as different as some people seem to think.”

Alcar nodded, stopping again for a moment by a large boulder, and leaning heavily on his staff. “Interesting. I mean, a lot of people seem to think that white elves are crooks.”

“Ha!” Leppie replied, also stopping. “Man, that’s just a stereotype. Don’t listen to that shit. I myself am half white elf.”

“Okay – sorry Lepp! I didn’t mean that I believe that, of course,” Alcar added hastily. “And then red elves, they are considered warlike...”

“The differences,” said Leppie, interrupting him with a baleful look, “are purely physical, not psychological. The red elves lived on the continent of Urbutia in the past, though of course some of them have dispersed around the world. That’s why they have darker skin. White elves originated to the east of Felesia, and gray elves to the west. And as for green elves, well... clearly that is not about their physical characteristics at all. We call the groups of grey elves who dwell in forests ‘green elves’, but aside from their clothing and habits, you couldn’t tell the difference between them and their town-dwelling kin.“

Alcar nodded silently for a few seconds, musing over this. “Seems to me that this kind of thing should be taught in our classes,” he said at last. “I mean, there was a lot of time spent on geometry. A lot.”

“It must be useful if you want to be a military engineer, I guess!” said Leppie with a shrug.

“Woof!” exclaimed Brutus.

Alcar reached inside his robes, and pulled out one of the sticks of chalk that he had purchased in Katresburg. With this, he drew an arrow on the large boulder that he was now standing beside, and below it, the letters ‘A’, ‘L’, and ‘B’. “Ubund is a fine tracker, but we might as well make matters clear. Besides, it’s possible that Etienne and Olynka could come this way without him.”

“True enough,” said Leppie with a slight frown, glancing around her as she resumed walking down the slope,

The small group walked on downhill for many minutes more, moving apart from time to time as each tried to pick the best path safely down towards the valley floor. There were several small springs and streams that they passed, and by the time they had gone most of the way down, these had coalesced into a small river, not much different in size from the one that Alcar had seen near the goblin caves.

He stooped to fill his waterskin, clipped it to his belt, and then drank deeply directly from the stream, cupping his hands to do so. “Wow... this water is so fresh and sweet!”

Leppie also took a drink now, and nodded. “Springwater from the Trollbone Hills. Despite the name, the hills are not inherently evil and monster infested. They are rich in minerals, and fertile lands for farmers. Like these ones.” She gestured ahead, and Alcar glanced around towards the elven village again. Sure enough, he could see signs of farms; no fences, but plenty of grazing livestock, and some barns and piles of hay.

“Never really thought of elves as farmers,” he commented.

“Well, there’s another flawed assumption you had,” she said with a wry smile. “Come on.”

They walked on together, over the flat of the valley floor this time. Brutus had also been enjoying a drink of the fine water, but he soon scurried after as well.

The first elf they saw was leaning against a tree, smoking on what appeared to be a rolled stick of dried leaves. A cigar – that was the name for it, Alcar thought to himself. The pale-skinned elven man had a large belly, a bandana holding back his long hair, and a long blue smock, none of which looked – at least to Alcar – like farming clothes.

The stranger also had several mysterious symbols on his cheeks, either painted or tattooed on.

As the approached, Alcar held up one hand to show that he wasn’t holding a weapon other than his staff, and glanced sideways to make sure that Leppie still had her crossbow slung over her back.

She did.

“Greetings, stranger,” Alcar called out.

“Hey... man,” replied the elf, looking around at them and blinking several times. “You know, it’s good that you said ’stranger’. This smoke gets in my eyes, and with those lovely green robes of yours, I might have mistaken you for one of our people.”

Alcar and Leppie stopped a few feet away from him. “No, we have not visited this place before,” said Leppie, “but would be grateful of your hospitality, even just briefly. We had to run from an attack of kobolds, and have lost our food and some of our other supplies.”

At this, the elven man stepped forward and walked towards Leppie, raising one hand to her cheek. “Well, of course! And if I am not mistaken, you are one of our own? At least a little bit. A half, a quarter...? But who is counting, huh? Ha. Haha.” The elven man paused, and took a deep draw on his cigar, and then chuckled quietly again.

“I do have elven blood, sir,” replied Leppie earnestly, “but I promise, I wouldn’t expect any favors on that account.”

“Good. My wife wouldn’t be too pleases if you did. Hahaha.” This time the elven man staggered forward a little as he laughed, and then broke out into a bout of unpleasant-sounding coughing. “Damn, this chorna leaf... it’s honestly very healthy, dear guests, but then after a while, you can get too much of it. Now, I’m pleased to meet you, honestly. My name is Remiz.”

“Leppie.”

“Alcar, and this is Brutus.”

“Okay, okay...”

Remiz stooped and stubbed the cigar out on the grassy ground, and then nodded curtly. “Right, then. Let’s take you to meet the asshole drunkard that is currently in charge of my village. That is to say, my brother.”