In every direction were great trees, normal trees, bushes and grass. Ladybirds and black ants crawled about along stems, leaves, ground and small rocks. Butterflies flapped peacefully in the air, while bumblebees pollinated flowers blue, yellow and pink. It was evening in the City Forest, and Rum was wondering if he shouldn’t had returned home to Amez’s shop instead, because who knows how many hours this might take, and I’m already tired.

Rum’s way of navigating this urban wilderness was a narrow stone trail. One of only two means of navigation it seemed inside the City Forest. The other being narrow dirt trails. At every trail he’d followed so far, either side of it would have its sights blocked by wild bushes and -trees, making Rum’s journey into a bit of a maze. A constant and almost random curving of the trails furthermore took a toll on his sense of direction, making him wonder which direction he was heading. Only an occasional peek at some nearby great tree, or more seldom a tall building in the distance, allowed Rum a rough estimation of where he was heading, and a brief moment of mediocre certainty that he wasn’t, in fact; walking in circles.

But Rum was not all alone on these trails. Every few minutes a lone elf in a contemplative stroll, or a small group of 2-4 elves discussing and hurrying; would pass him from the opposite direction. However, with but a brief glance at his direction, Rum’s general presence was immediately ignored. Most elves were secluded people, that Rum knew, and they wouldn’t often seek out strangers even if they had nothing against them. Yet he, even with this in mind, he didn’t feel particularly welcome here. Not that he felt particularly unwelcome either. He just felt sort-of out-of-place. Like he was somehow interfering with a world he did not know, and which he did not understand. Luckily for him though, the last 6 years of his life had given him great practice in overcoming intercultural shyness, and so he just continued on – determined to find this Committee of The Spruce, whose people may lead him to Irvanir The Bright; the second piece of his trinity of healers.

Ahead of Rum was now a Y-shaped split in the path. At the center of this split stood three wooden signs, one for each possible direction. Curious as to where he’d actually come from – because he’d sort-of lost track of it – he read the sign pointing to behind him first. “To Big Honey Creek”. The mention of a creek did indeed remind Rum about crossing a little wooden bridge over a little creek something like ten minutes earlier. Moving his eyes to the sign pointing to right and forwards, he read “To The Merry Pond”. That was unhelpful. Rum thought, as he immediately realized he’d never heard of any of them. Walking around the sign post to see the one pointing left and forwards, he finally read “To The Yellow Bushes”. Rum stroked his beard, hoping to find answers in it. The beard didn’t yield any answers. However, the trail did, because it yielded sounds – specifically the sounds of merry elves. As Rum looked ahead down the trail leading to The Yellow Bushes, he saw 3 elves round a corner, 3 elves laughing like they were about to shit themselves. In fact one of them was seriously struggling to stand up straight, instead stumbling forward with a bent back and breathing with laughter, leaning on whatever tree she could find along the way. The two other elves, both of them males, where also laughing heavily and were trying hard not to spill tall fine glasses of white-yellowish liquids. Rum noticed they all had thick long green hair in ponytails, and wore short sleeveless blue robes, like they’d all just been to some special celebration. As the group of 3 stumbled onwards to where Rum stood, he heard some of their conversation:

“–and–and–and then he said” the elf woman dying of laughter tried saying, before managing to complete her sentence: “–he said would you please stop playing with the bees!” The elf woman fell over as she finished the sentence. As the woman heaved with laughter, it took her friends several seconds before they managed to help her up, and get her walking again.

What were you doing to do the bees? Rum asked nobody, yet felt some urge to know what would be the answer.

The trio of laughing and smiling red cheeks moved onwards, and as they were about to pass Rum, he seized the opportunity to ask for directions: “Hey there elves!”. The trio stopped laughing out loud, but didn’t stop smiling, instead they all just looked at Rum, expectantly. He continued: “I am looking for the Committee of the Spruce, do you happen to know which of these paths will take me to them?” he gestured down each of the two possible paths ahead of him.

“Spruce folk?” asked one of the male elves energetically, while handing the female elf his glass of white-yellowish liquids while completing his reply: ”We just came from their place! Follow the path behind us–” the elf gestured with whole left of his arm, “–and you’ll get there soon enough. There is no mistaking their great tree, you can be sure of that!” Then the elves just continued on, right back into their own world of smiles and laughs, completely ignoring Rum whom they fully passed by, not waiting for him to ask another question.

What’s up with these people? Rum thought to himself, and began walking down the trail going towards The Yellow Bushes. Rum wasn’t sure what the yellow bushes referred to, but he thought it likely both the yellow bushes and the drinks the people had been carrying were lemon. And where there were lemons, there should be the Committee of The Spruce.

It only took three minutes of walking before Rum started hear the sounds of talking, and completing the next curve in the trail he stumbled upon a great boulder, upon which was painted, quite crudely, the shape and color of those tall glasses of white-yellowish drink. Walking a couple of meters ahead of the boulder Rum was suddenly met with a clearing on his right side, appearing as if out of nowhere. Surveying the clearing, Rum spotted a small primitive wooden bar positioned perpendicular to the trail ahead. Within the bar were two elves, a male and a female. The elf man was cleaning glasses in a tub, meanwhile the elf woman chatted up a lone elf customer sitting on the finest bar chair Rum had ever seen, looking more like a raised dining chair, and in complete contrast with the rest of the bar. Around the clearing were lanterns hanging from miniature trees, and low round tables surrounded by great chairs appearing quite comfortable, possibly stuffed with cotton. There were not many guests around this evening; only about a quarter of the tables were occupied.

Rum strode into the clearing and went for the bar. Reaching the counter he tried to smile at the attending woman; a skinny elf with long blond hair, crystal blue eyes, a wide smile and lots of energy.

“Hi there human! What is your name? What would you like to have?”

Rum tried to look for some sign of a menu. Where could it be? There were none above, below, behind nor in front of the bar. He did get a better look at the lone customer though, a somber-looking fella with silvery hair, bent over one of those tall glasses. The glass contained something a little different than what he’d seen earlier. There was a much stronger white color to it, barely any yellow.

“What about what he’s having?” Rum asked.

The elf woman laughed a little, “He-he, no human, you wouldn’t want that one. That’s a drink for old elves. No young elf would drink that as a habit, and it’s certainly not suited for human consumption.”

“What is it?” Rum wondered, looking at it.

The customer bent over the drink noticed Rum’s stare, and smiled a little. “This–” the customer responded, revealing an unusually deep voice for an elf, “–is Uberlemon. And as Laverra here explained, it’s for old elves. And really only for old elves. I mean like elves who have lived for many hundreds of years – like me. I’m over 800 years old. In 3-4 decades I’ll be over 900. Have you any idea what such age does to an elf?”

Rum shook his head.

“It kills every joy you’d ever had.” He looked sad at his drink. “Elves like me can’t enjoy the simple stuff of life anymore. Our tongues, our noses and our minds have simply outgrown all of it. The only way to feel something when you’ve experienced every good sensation 10 000 times, or 100 000 over, is to crank up the intensity level. Uberlemon is the most sour drink you can find in the Lands of Ermos, and it is the only drink here that’ll make me feel anything. Even if it gives me a stomach ache from all the acid.” He ended the last sentence by grabbing his belly and looking briefly like he was about to throw up.

“Are you sick?” Rum asked.

The elf burped. “Nothing I haven’t done to myself intentionally.” The elf continued by massaging his belly.

“I could probably make you unsick if you want to. It’d only take a few seconds.”

“Oh yeah?” he questioned skeptically. “You some sort of wizard or something?”

“Yes, in fact I sort-of am. I have a spell that could take away your stomach ache if that bothers you.”

The old elf looked into Rum’s eyes, scanning them while touching his belly. “Sure.” He said in the end, and his eyes landed on his drink again. “But if your spell fails and I turn into a goose or something, I ask that Royath over there–“ he pointed to the male elf cleaning glasses in the tub, which now that Rum looked at it more appeared to be a bit of an enchanted tub as he could sense magic in it, “–he be allowed to beat you to an inch of your death. Because I will not become a goose.” He looked up from his drink and stared dead-seriously into Rum’s eyes. “I will not become a goose! Okay!?”

“Oh course!” Rum responded, a little taken aback, “I don’t even know how to turn you into a goose, or any other animal for that matter. Not my field of expertise, nor something I’ve accidentally done before.”

“Good.” The old elf nodded to himself, then turned to his drink. “I will allow you to try and fix me then, human.”

Rum stretched out his hand and put it on the man’s back: “Filter Body” The by-now trivial act of magic rushed through Rum’s arm and into the back of the old elf.

“oooOOOH” the old elf moaned, and then “AAAaaah”. Lastly “Oh by the gods’! I think I need to pee, and urgently!” The old elf stepped off his dining chair, and suddenly displayed a lot of energy as Rum watched the elf run through the clearing and into a tight crowd of bushes, disappearing from sight.

“What did you do to him?” Laverra the bartender asked curiously, a little concerned.

“I made his body channel all his toxins into, well, you can guess where. He’ll be peeing out all that excess acid in no time.” Rum ended his statement with a relaxed reassuring smile.

The elf woman shook her head slightly. For a little moment, glancing over at the rustling bushes where the old elf presumably did his business, the bartender alos gave Rum looks with a skeptical smile and a raised eyebrow. But as that little moment passed, and the rustling quiet down, she went back to bartending. “Can I get you something?”

“I guess I am a little drained after a long day without food. Do you sell food?”

The elf women blinked at him, then responded simply “No”, but added “I could sell you a fresh lemon though?”

“In that case, I think I’ll take the cheapest lemon drink you have – and that doesn’t ruin a man’s stomach.”

The elf woman fetched a clean glass from behind her and put it on the counter, then got an emerald green ceramic jug and started pouring that classic white-yellowish liquid. “A standard lemon juice it is.”

Rum paid 6 coppers and started tasting it. It was pretty sour, but nothing he couldn’t handle. While Rum drank in solitude, scanning the clearing’s customers, the old elf returned, a little red-cheeked. He sat down next to Rum and mumbled “thanks” in Rum’s direction, before grabbing the drink in front of him and drinking a mighty gulp of it.

Rum stared at the old elf for a couple of moments, then decided to ask a question: “So, do any of you guys know where I can find the Committee of The Spruce?”

Both elves turned now to stare over at the glass-washing Royath. It took a second before Royath noticed Laverra’s stare next to him, and turned a little towards the trio. “What?” he asked in surprise.

The old elf responded “This human over here wants to know the whereabouts of the Committee of The Spruce. That’s your people Royath.”

Royath, ever so diligently, grabbed a glass from the tub in front of him, and started drying it with a cloth while looking Rum up and down. Finishing his inspection by eye he asked: “I am a member of one of their sub-Committees. How can I be of assistance?”

Rum drank a bit of his lemon juice before answering. “I seek an elf called Irvanir The Bright. She’s a woman too, and an apothecarian. Have you ever heard of her?”

Royath looked at Rum with an expression as if searching through his mind’s memories, meanwhile vigorously drying the glass in his hands. “No, I can’t say I’ve heard that name.” He grabbed another glass and began vigorously drying it too, attention still at Rum.

“Well, do you think any of your fellow committee members might’ve heard of this elf? The Bright is supposed to live around the City Forest, but I don’t know exactly where. I know she has dealings with The Marble Streets of the north. Apparently your committee has a lot of dealings with non-elves, so I figured it likely at least one of your committee members should know of her.”

Royath looked at Rum, this time with an almost constipated look. His glass drying intensified with the intensity of his thinking expression, and he quickly, almost violently, completely dried two glass in quick succession before answering. “Yeah, sure, somebody probably do” and his entire demeanor relaxed significantly, even his glass drying slowed down to normalcy.

“Could you introduce me to some of your committee members, so that I may ask them?”

“Yeah sure” Royath responded, “no problem. You’ll just have to wait until we close up here. That’ll be in roughly half an hour.”

Rum didn’t want to wait that long, it was getting dark proper. He might not make it home before way into the night. And what about White Rose? How would ze survive all alone with Amez? Still, he didn’t want to lose the opportunity, or wait much longer. Getting my health fixed is priority at the moment. If only because he’d come as far as he had. Thus he agreed to wait for Royath, and continued drinking his lemon juice, though at a really slow pace, savoring what little he had.

“Human?” it was the old elf talking again.

“Yes?” Rum responded.

“What is your name?”

“Rum”

“Rum…” the old elf tasted the word, “an unusual name for sure. Well Rum, let me ask you something: would you have wanted to be me, if you could? An elf virtually immortal against old age, but at the cost of an increasingly dispassionate existence.” The elf sighed at his own self-description.

“May I ask you a question?” Rum returned.

“Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

The old elf smiled. “Urvanom. I’ve had many titles, but I’m sick of them all. So now I’m just Urvanom.”

“Then Urvanom, my answer is: maybe. I can’t imagine living without passion, so I guess my passion would find a way to return to passion. So I’m not worried about that. As long as there are mysterious of the world, there are investigations to be had. Immortality? That would just help with the answers. If I were immortal I may not even have to prioritize the questions I would want answered. I could ask the silliest question in the world – and the world would deliver me all the time I need to have it answered.”

Urvanom laughed a little. “That’s certainly an interesting perspective. But what if it meant you slowly lost the ability to taste the sweet, the sour, the salt, the spicy. What if the world became numb to you?”

“You do realize that you could just fix your tongue?” Rum explained unconcerned, “I mean this sounds like a medical issue. Why not just reconstitute your tongue with magic, so that you can have new experiences?”

“But the same thing happens to your eyes, your ears and your sense of touch. If I wasn’t capable of forgetting, I may think I would never again be able to listen to beautiful music, or to see a beautiful face. I haven’t had sex in over 200 years – I just can’t find it interesting anymore. Life is numb.”

Rum looked at Urvanom with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not sure I can help you with your elven sex-life, but I can see how the mind might simply get used to it all, and that this will hinder your passion. But, what if you just tried a different life? There are numerous lives to live in this world, there must be some lives you’ve yet to experience? And that may be worth experiencing.”

Urvanom shook his head. “That leads to another problem entirely; that life is impossible.”

Rum raised both of his eyebrows now.

“I mean it” Urvanom continued, “there is nothing about life which suggests its possibility. I do not want to live a different life. Yet I do not want to live this different life. I was once offered to be turned into a goose so that I may experience the life of a goose for a while, and then later go back to a life among my green-elves. But living like a goose just felt wrong, I couldn’t imagine not being a green-elf.”

“You do realize” Rum interjected, “there are less extreme alternatives than being turned into another species. I meant you could go and live in another city, another village, just meeting some new and different people, and maybe try and take up a new life role – reinvent your person.”

“I don’t know if that’d be enough. And being a goose would probably let me appreciate the existence of a green-elf more. But either way, don’t you get it? The problem is not that I don’t have choices. It’s that life is an impossibility. You can’t make the right choices, because each and every one of us consist of a myriad of conflicting needs, that drive us into every kind of direction at once, blocking our path to satisfaction, and to self-change. You come to appreciate this the most when you reach your third and fourth centenary. We living creatures, or us elves in particular, we are walking paradoxes – never intended for resolution. Only minor periods of hope when we get to feel satisfaction, but then the thing that satisfied us will slowly, and surely, turn into boredom, or wither away on its own, leaving us only with the memories and the desire for a time long gone. A time we can’t even return to even if everything material was the same, because we wouldn’t be the same. We’d be the paradox that wants, and at the same time doesn’t want.”

Rum stroked his beard with his right hand, drank small sips of lemon juice with his left, and remained silent for a while. After a slow half minute he came up with a reply. “Sounds to me like you need something to break that prison of mind you’ve put yourself in.”

“Hah!” Urvanom responded. “Maybe. You have a spell for that too?”

Rum thought for a second. “Yeah, I suppose I do, actually. It’s… a mind effecting spell. It is actually quite good for the kind of situation you are in. It reorients your thoughts to think positively.”

“That sounds... dangerous.” Urvanom took on a facial expression of caution. From behind the bar Laverra stopped whatever she’d been doing and listened intensely to this stage of the conversation. She said no words, but her eyes, they sparked with interest and intrigue.

“I’ve done it to myself.” Rum confessed. “If your mind is working like normal it’s a little unpleasant when it’s over. But then again I’m not a person who has issues with numbness or a lack of passion. I might be among the worst candidates for this spell. But I would imagine it could do wonders for someone like you, as I’m sitting and listening to you right now. I could make you stay pretty much yourself, just more… positive. For a few days you could experience being someone else, and you’d have joy back in your life. Then the spell ends, and you will gradually turn back into your old self, but with new memories that may, possibly, bring some passion back into you. I can’t promise anything, but I know for a fact this spell is powerful.”

Urvanom looked down at his drink. He lifted it up a little, then slammed it back down. He took a big deep breath, then put on a look of determination. “Alright” he said, nodding to himself enthusiastically and nervously. “Your first spell didn’t turn me into a goose, and it worked quite well. So yeah. I feel like it – I feel like trying it! Only a few days right? Then right back again? Nothing permanent?"

Rum shook his head. “Nothing permanent that I can tell of that isn’t just new memories. A few days and right back to yourself.”

“ALRIGHT!” Urvanom shouted, nodding ever more nervously, “Hit me with it before I change my mind! I’m ready for this. I’m ready to feel different!”

Rum was taken aback by the sudden intensity of Urvanom’s character, but he did as the elf asked and put his hand to the old pointy-eared man’s back. “Positive Mind” he said softly. Golden-yellowish magical mist puffed out of Rum’s hand and started immediately climbing up towards Urvanom’s neck. Once there the misty stream of magic snaked itself up along Urvanom’s head, before eventually being sucked in through his nose, ears, mouth and right through the skin of his forehead. The elf gaped wide, his eyes filling with a momentary golden glow, and he looked upwards towards the darkness of the late evening. Laverra gasped at the magical spectacle, and with a worry breathed heavily a couple of times. But as the magic show died down, and a smile formed around Urvanom’s mouth, she started calming down too.

“How are you feeling?” Rum quizzed, the only one not feeling any particular worry.

“Heh. He-he-he. Positive.” Urvanom smiled broadly and looked around at both Laverra and Rum, and then at Royath who’d turned around to catch the magical spectacle. “Absolutely positive. Yeah! This works. Damn you are a fine mage, Rum. My head feels lighter somehow, like a great burden has been lifted off my shoulders. But my mind – it’s also… emptier? I feel almost like a blank slate. What should I do, Rum?”

The old elf turned over to Rum, his expression full of hope that Rum had an answer – no – THE ANSWER. Such was the intensity of his hopeful expression Rum was sure that if he said “JUMP!” then Urvanom would’ve jumped just for the heck of it. But mindful his own influence, he just decided to ask a question, and let this temporary Urvanom be guided by the old Urvanom hidden within. “Is there something you’ve wanted to do for a long time, Urvanom, but been too hesitant or too filled by anxiety, to do?”

Urvanom’s expression lost its intensity, and his eyes died somewhat. However, his gaze remained animated, as it slowly and smoothly went from Rum and over to the bar, before panning all of his surroundings. Something was going on inside the elf’s head, that was clear. But for half a minute, Urvanom appeared lost in recollection, and in slow transition, his expression went from smile, to wonder, to curiosity, to enlightenment. “I want to go to Firtdon. They have a recipe there I’ve wanted for ages. But I couldn’t get it. I couldn’t go there.”

“Firtdon’s a place?” Rum questioned, “Where is it? Never heard of.”

With a bit of his previous intensity resurging, Urvanom looked back at Rum with a sharp turn of his neck. “Firtdon is an elven village. It lies south-west of the great mountain plateau Agadeya. You wouldn’t have heard of it. No humans go there. But we green-elves we know of it. They have a recipe there for a beverage I’ve heard will make you sweat for an entire day. You drink it–“ he gestured with his hands, as if Rum didn’t know what drinking meant, “–and then you spend an entire day feeling like you’re on fire.“ As he saw Rum’s eyebrows frown he quickly added “Not painfully so. It’s pleasurable. Your entire body is like a roaring flame, and you dance, and you play athletic games. You run through the forest. It’s great, or so I believe. I’ve never been there, never done this. But now – now I can. Now I should!” He half-jumped off of his chair.

“You know it’ll take you weeks to get there? And I’ve been to Agadeya, it can be a tough crossing. The spell I cast on you will only last for 3 or 4 days top. If you leave now and go out, you may suffer an attack of anxiety when the spell wears off and you’re just approaching the western borders of The Desolate Lands. Do you really want to do that to your future self?”

Urvanom bit his lip, then sat down again, a troubled look on his face. After a moment he looked up at Rum: “But can you extend the spell? Make it last longer? So I make the trip?”

Rum sighed. “No. That wouldn’t be fair to your past- and future selves. The spell will have to wear off, and then you can ask me again; when you’re properly miserable enough to analyze the cons and not just the pros of this journey.”

Urvanom looked down, troubled again. “But” he started again, “what should I do now?”

Rum scratched his arm and then looked out over the clearing. “What if you just tried to live your life as normal like this for a few days. Grab the opportunities that come along instead. I’m sure there are more nearby things you can do in 3-4 days that you wouldn’t have done otherwise? Let’s start there. If not: come find me in the city when the spell wears off. I live near the eastern part of the city, behind the city walls. My brother runs a tattoo enchantment shop there. Ask around for Amez The Tattoo Artist. If you find him, he’ll help you find me.”

After that conversation the old elf thanked Rum and went about trying to chat up the last remnants of the bar customers around the clearing. Before long the bar itself closed. Some guests remained in the clearing, including Urvanom, but Laverra and Royath packed away what was left lying on top of their primitive bar and put it under the counter. Laverra took the earnings for today, counted it, and went to deposit it at a great tree called The Thousand Flowers, which apparently served as the green-elven bank. Royath meanwhile got Rum to follow him as he left further down the trail which’d let Rum to the bar.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Rum asked after a few moments of silent walking.

“I’m taking you to meet the others.” Royath replied.

Navigating the trail for some more time Rum eventually saw their destination peaking up high from behind an assemblage of spruce trees. There it stood: The Great Tree of The Committee of The Spruce. Also known as The Great Spruce, even if it was not, in fact, a spruce. The great trees of the green-elves were a species of their own, but The Great Spruce was a pragmatic name for an otherwise way too long title. The elven women at the entrance into The City Forest had not been kidding. Rum counted at least 15 different immensely large boughs, each with its own tapestry of paint. Worst of all was that there was no obvious coherence, meaning or unifying style to it all. There were just a chaos of meaning. One bough had been painted dark red with black triangles on it, meanwhile the bough next to it was green, with the resemblance of a yellow sun and… farm buildings? Cows? A small sea of chickens!? Then if this wasn’t strange enough, there was a bough painted pure silvery, with faint white stripes, and then there was a bough which just had mockingly poorly painted soldiers fighting some kind of battle. The soldiers had small bodies, but huge swords and huge heads, and uncharacteristically for elves the soldiers were clad in full-on plate armor. One hugely painted elf was sitting on top of an armored soldier’s head and playing a violin. One of the war horses meanwhile was dancing a waltz with a soldier while displaying indifference to being stabbed by three angry-looking pikemen. But the strange bough paintings didn’t stop there. One of the boughs just had a plain orange background with a gigantic elongated shape, curved at the end like a mushroom cap, with two dotted circles at the base. Wonder what that may be? There was also a bough painted like the mirror image of a starry sky, and a bough that seemed to have been multiple attempts at a landscape portrait of the city, possibly. It was difficult to tell. There were also plenty of smaller shapes and attempts at painting the tree, but these were all rather difficult to discern at a distance. The trunk of the tree however, was a painted bright yellow hue that expressed its intensity like a gaze at the sun – you know it’s there, but you don’t want to stare at it for too long, least your eyes start suffering.

Beyond the assemblage of spruce trees Rum was revealed to the tree’s base, and the clearing around it, which seemed to be the end-point of a number of other trails. The evidence on which he based this assumption was the many openings that seemed to surround the great tree, along with the vast forest which Rum had been navigating for the last hour or two. There was also the fact that a few elves were out at this hour and walking in and out of the forest, away from or towards the base of the tree, into whose opening Rum could now see. That entrance is a little grand, he opinioned as he walk-studied the tree’s base. Not only was it large, but to reach it one had to ascend a broad, finely shaped, wooden stairway. As Rum watched, arriving elves did just that; they ascended to the top, where they one by one came face-to-face with an odd thing. It was something, which Rum could only interpret to be a part of the tree, positioned before this grand entrance, but not just any part: it was an animated wooden torso, two large arms and a slightly large head, a long thick hair of bright green moss too. It was a being that shone with expressiveness and charm, but had no legs. Rather, this being of wood sprouted out of the trunk-floor beneath like a wooden trophy come alive. To the elves that approached it, this trunk-body politely offered bows and fist-bumps with what Rum thought to be elegant social skill. The attitude of the tree-person matched perfectly with the high, the low and the reserved spirits of the elves passing it, at least so Rum judged, looking at the scene from an angle a bit away. It didn’t speak though, as far as Rum could tell, even though its wooden face and -mouth made that fact hard to determine. And yet, Rum concluded, it and the elves seem to get along really well. Almost like as if the tree and the elves were friends, or buddies even, he wondered in fascination. As Royath guided him to the stairway and the first step, and they themselves began ascending, the tree-person noticed them. With a head tilted to the side like a dog, it waited patiently for them to come closer. When they did come closer though, the being of wood UNLEASHED its intensity upon them. With an exaggerated expression of surprise, it pointed energetically, first at Rum and then at Royath, looking confused or shocked or something like it.

“Who – or what – is that?” Rum pointed back to the wooden body gesturing wildly at them.

Royath turned around to Rum and saw what he was pointing at. “Oh, him? It’s just Great Spruce.”

Royath turned over towards the tree-person named Great Spruce. “Great Spruce, this person here is Rum. He’s my guest.”

Great Spruce formed a big “OOOH” expression of understanding on his large face. Then as Royath and Rum continued ascending, Great Spruce pointed at Rum and made the universal sign for sleeping-face.

“Maybe, Great Spruce” Royath responded. “I was thinking about it, it’s getting dark”

Rum didn’t understand what was going on, but Great Spruce smiled a little happy smile and nodded repeatedly at Royath. As Royath passed Great Spruce to enter the trunk, Great Spruce looked over at Rum and smiled even more, and gave Rum a short but deep bow. Not knowing how to respond, Rum just reflexively gave a half-bow nod in response, before stepping quickly after Royath.

“Do all the elven great trees have a humanoid shape like that?” Rum asked Royath.

“Like Great Spruce? Oh no, not at all. Great Spruce is one-of-a-kind, made by our Committee’s founder, the mage Ellowen The Colorful.”

“Wow” Rum said, “she, or he, must’ve been a powerful mage, if that elf was the only one to have done this.”

“The only one? I don’t know. But yeah, you could say she was powerful.”

“Ellowen lives in this tree?” Rum asked.

Royath sighed. As they started ascending the spiraling stairs inside the trunk, he responded a little sorrowfully: “Ellowen The Colorful is dead. She died in The Battle for Ermos.” This mention of an important turning point in the history of Ermos made Rum relive his days at the Flip University for a moment. The Battle for Ermos was the name given to over three dozen large battles fought between the combined forces of Ermos, including six allied dwarven clans from the Axe Mountains and the later destroyed multi-racial Kingdom of Olam south-east of Ermos, against a large scale invasion attempt by a grand alliance of dungeon lords from The Desolate Lands. It was the series of battles to end all battles. After making five consecutive initial losses against the hordes of goblins, trolls, evil wizards and -witches, undead, and evil elemental spirits, the Heroes of Ermos managed to conduct a series of successful raids against the dungeon lords themselves, slaying many of them and putting their grand army into disarray. Eventually, towards the twenty-fifth large battle, the tides started turning, and instead of retreating further into Ermos, as the forces of Ermos had been doing, they eventually drove out the grand alliance and slew half of its most powerful dungeon lords, putting an end to all future great invasions of Ermos. The fact that Ellowen The Colorful died in The Battle for Ermos meant that she was possibly one of the heroes depicted at the Ermos’ Statues of Heroes. The founder of the Committee of The Spruce was one of Ermos’ legendary heroes.

As they climbed the stairs, Rum got to study the insides of the great tree in much detail. Both on the outside and on the inside the tree had large glowing balls of dark yellow light hanging from straight protruding mini-branches. When Rum got closer to one of them he saw it was something like a barely spherical deposit of tree sap. So, by the look of it, the great tree seemed to be producing its own light source. But the intensity of the light was at the same time just about right. Its dark yellow glow was a warm hue of color, giving the tree a sort of cozy feel to it.

Royath and Rum passed many door-shaped holes in the tree on the way up, leading to various corridors. Rum figured the corridors led around the tree and allowed people to navigate horizontally towards their homes, places of work, as well as their places of pleasure, like the large balconies he’d seen at every great tree he’d come across so far. Looking upwards they were slowly approaching the upper-most spaces of the tree’s interior, and just as Rum noticed they were over 3/4th of the way up, Royath took a turn to the left and into a corridor. Rum, naturally, followed. Inside the corridor were more of the lights, and Rum saw a door. Presumably there were more doors further down, but he couldn’t see them because of the sharp bending of the corridor following the circumference of the tree’s trunk. Royath pushed open this first door they’d come across. Inside Rum was a met by a room both wide and tall, and with just two other doors hidden away at the large room’s side. Around the room were large pillows, great sofas, and many small tables. Everywhere there were green-elves lazing about with glasses of what Rum supposed to be lemon juice, snacks of buttered bread, nuts, grapes, apples, pears and carrots. Other fruits and vegetables were also being consumed, but Rum didn’t know them. Two elves sat in what appeared to be mightily comfy chairs, reading books likely fetched from a quite wide bookshelf behind them. It's so large! It must be hosting at least 200 books, if not way more! Rum observed.

As they stood there in the entrance, almost every elf in room looked up at them. Including the elves who’d been reading, and were wearing reading glasses. Royath positioned himself clearly in front of Rum, put his hands up in the air, smiled and made an announcement for all the elves to hear:

“Everyone!” he said, and the full attention of the room was captured by him. If any elf hadn’t noticed their arrival before, they had so now. “I’ve brought a human!”