Songs of the Seven Gelfling Clans Read online

  Attitude toward Others

  Thanks to its location, Stone-in-the-Wood is a stop of necessity for any travelers on their way to nearly anywhere in the Skarith region. Although the Stonewood community benefits from this constant passage—often offering hospitality in trade for materials and produce from distant areas—the influx of outsiders has also reinforced many of the clannish mentalities inherent to Gelfling culture as a whole. While the Stonewood are friendly and welcoming to those passing through, we have also gone out of our way to preserve the privacy and strength of our internal community.

  One of the most noticeable ways we have done this is by creating separate areas—way houses and wells, for example—for traveler use. Outsiders are welcome in these places, but should they wander mistakenly (or intentionally, I suppose) into other areas, they will be met with a very different reception. I am thankful for these places of privacy; as a youngling, I recall many times the village seemed full of outsiders. But they were not allowed to come to the place where I lived with my family, and so despite their ever-changing presence, I found stability and safety at home.

  The Stonewood Lyre

  Among the Stonewood is one family who has made enchanted instruments for as long as any can remember; their craft is beyond impeccable, their work sought as far as the Citadel in Ha’rar by the All-Maudra’s musicians. Of course, even as a youngling, I made sure to forge a strong relationship with these instrument makers. With their work being so popular, they were often busy or away collecting the materials necessary for their magnificent pieces, but they still made time for me whenever they could.

  I still recall that fated day I was first invited into their workshop. I do not believe I have ever felt so close to divinity itself. Some may swear upon the Brothers or the Sisters. Some may worship the Skeksis. But this song teller is devoted to the magic of song and music, and as a youngling not even yet with wings, standing inside that workshop felt as if I were standing before the Crystal of Truth itself.

  Over time I became more familiar to the workshop. I was invited to apprentice with them, though I sadly declined; my heart belongs to telling songs. Still I spent time there as they worked, practicing my reading and writing and singing. They built their pieces from powerful materials from all across Thra; contained in that small space were fragments of driftwood from the Silver Sea and stone from the Sifa Coast. Metals and woods and melted crystal sand. Shards of bone and hollow feathers. In that magical workshop, the Song of Thra resonated so strongly, I believe that any instrument made by those talented hands could have summoned the very voice of the Crystal in a single note.

  Food

  The culture of Stone-in-the-Wood is certainly one that favors the hunter-defender, a Gelfling archetype by which we Stonewood build our days and maintain our style of life. This is evidenced in many aspects of Stonewood traditions, though perhaps it is most readily illustrated in our relationship with the creatures that cohabit in the Endless Forest. While the Stonewood respect and value all life as much as any other clan, the forest is also one of the most dangerous regions of Thra. Eat or be eaten is the way of life there, regardless of how much one respects or values another.

  And so, in this rich and competitive environment, the Stonewood rise to defend our homes and ourselves, and have developed sophisticated weaponry and armament to do so. This is the way of the hunter and the defender; one who knows the way of the cycle of life, prey and predator—one who uses this knowledge to protect oneself and the things one loves. This is not to say that Stonewood tradition does not abide by the laws of nature. We never hunt for sport. The Stonewood staba-senta—“wood watchers”—are keenly aware of the balance of creatures within the wood. The Stonewood tradition is to use hunting to maintain and uphold the balance within their sphere, not disrupt it.

  Stonewood meals are traditionally served in groups around the hearth, and thus fire-roasting, baking, and searing are common ways in which dishes are prepared. The scent of clean smoke and food on the fire is always enough to make one’s mouth water. Paired with the tart flavors of forest fruits—in particular the peachberry and my favorite, the dangerous-to-obtain bluemouth fruit—and a cup of cold water from the Black River, Stonewood meals are jolly, hearty, and unforgettable.

  Recreational Poisons and the Screaming Tree

  The Endless Forest is home to some of the most diverse creatures, flora and fauna alike, all of which have developed their own means of surviving in the endless cycle of the natural world. Many are poisonous, warning predators of their toxic bodies with bright colors and alarming noises and movements. Others protect themselves with deadly venoms, delivered by fang or claw or stinger.

  The Stonewood, having lived in this natural sphere for ages, have developed a most interesting use for the more harmful substances found within the creatures of the wood. Although some can be fatal in even a small dose, there are others that our apothecaries have been able to alter—through fire or water or soil—and distill into potable liquids.

  One of the more involved procedures for distilling such a substance is used for the fruit of the arara tree, more commonly called the screaming tree. This tree bears sweet fruits that dangle in large purple clusters. Normally, the fruits are edible and quite delicious; however, the tree has a fascinating defense against creatures that might otherwise strip the fruits before they have a chance to seed: When the tree senses danger, it emits a terrifying screaming sound (the mechanism of which is a mystery).

  The scream itself is alarming enough to scare many predators away, but if that weren’t enough, when the screams of the tree are heard by the fruits, they secrete a poisonous goo that coats the clusters. This slime is potent enough to kill smaller creatures, but for Gelfling, it is only enough to send one into a dreamlike daze. In even smaller quantities, however, it has a relaxing effect, and so Stonewood apothecaries have found a way to extract the substance in the controlled environment of their workshops. This is the procedure:

  First, the tree is approached quietly by experienced harvesters, who remove the berries so stealthily that the tree never has a chance to unleash its horrifying-sounding defense. The berries are then brought back to the apothecary’s workshop. There the inert berries are broken into small groups and placed in bowls of water. The apothecary—having perfected the sound over many trine—then screams softly into the bowls one at a time, in the perfect tone of the screaming tree. Reacting to the apothecary’s voice, the berries release their defensive slime, which dissipates into the water. Later this is reduced to a more measurable substance, bottled, and traded.

  Songs of the Stonewood

  When I was very young, the songs I was told around the campfires were mostly those of heroic feats and creation myths. But as I grew older and stayed by the fire later into the night, I heard new songs, told for older children. I remember one night in particular, as we sat beside the fire with Old Ari, a diamond-eyed song teller of the most distinguished pedigree. He played a three-stringed lute, a band of Sifan bells around his ankle, which he tapped in rhythm as he told a song most chilling:

  Be safe, my childling

  As you calm your heart

  Look not beyond the window

  Out into the dark

  Be safe, my little one

  Close your heavy eyes

  Think not of the monster out there

  Wearing a bone disguise

  Be safe, my sweetest darling

  As you drift into a dream

  Hear not the frantic heartbeats

  Hear not the panicked scream

  Be safe, my dearest treasure

  Till you feel the morning’s rays

  Feel not the presence at the door

  Nor the Hunter’s burning gaze

  Dozens of songs have been sung of this character, a demonic monster that prowls the Endless Forest. He has several names, as all villai
ns do (Bone-Mask and the Four-Arm are others). But most agree that he is best known as the Hunter: a bloodthirsty creature and the only of his kind, who lives for the sport of chasing and devouring his prey whole. Of course, during my extensive wandering within the Endless Forest, I have never encountered any sign that such a monster is real. Yet the frightening songs told of his terrible presence still work wonders in preventing younglings from wandering into the wood alone at night.

  It should come as no surprise to any that Jarra-Jen, the Lightning Born, was of the Stonewood clan. It is said that after each and every one of his many adventures, Jarra-Jen would return to his home in Stone-in-the-Wood, his pack full of treasures and mouth full of stories of his most recent triumphs. The most exciting of his songs were dream-etched upon stone slabs and set atop the Bolentor rise. There they remain to this day, proof of his legendary adventures that made the Stonewood clan famous far and wide.

  The following is a humorous childlings’ song told often in spring when the Fizzgigs—the Stonewood’s sigil creature—awaken from their winter hibernation. Many creatures in the wood burrow underground in the colder seasons, and no matter the warnings issued by their parents, young Gelfling cannot be stopped from digging through the leaves and brush with sticks. This song is often told as a first reminder that you might find yourself in a predicament should you awaken any ornery creatures—though the ending of the song usually results in unstoppable giggles and laughter. This song is a crowd-pleaser, especially with children, for obvious reasons; the sound effect near the end is often unique to the song teller who tells it, allowing one to leave one’s personal signature on the well-known song in the most ridiculous way.

  Jarra-Jen and the Fizzgig King

  At the end of the winter in the trine before last

  The Fizzgigs of the wood began to break fast

  Howling and barking for the awakening spring

  Yet sleeps the largest of all: the Fizzgig King

  His body is naught but a mouth and a tail

  Fur thick and dark, teeth spiny and pale

  But his snores shake the forest from treetop to root

  Then his ears twitch as a twig snaps under boot

  Yea, here comes our hero, our brave Jarra-Jen

  Traveled the whole world and back again

  Cutting through Fizzgig wood on his way back home

  Boots heavy with soil and sand and sea foam

  Our hero was tired and his tread was not quiet

  As his path took him through the spring Fizzgig riot

  ’Twas all yipping and yapping along that forest trail

  Jarra-Jen chuckled and waved. And then stepped on a . . . tail?

  RAWRRRRRRR!

  The Fizzgig King had been snoring

  But now he was awake and roaring!

  His mouth opened huge and red and wide

  With a giant gulp he sucked Jarra-Jen inside!

  Aaaaaghhhhhh!

  No one could hear Jarra-Jen’s shout

  “I’m terribly sorry, now please let me out!”

  But the King was not in an agreeable mood

  Jarra-Jen had to escape before he became food

  To escape the huge maw was no easy feat

  So Jarra-Jen tickled the King’s throat with a leaf

  And when the King wouldn’t burp for his part

  Jarra-Jen tickled backward and the King gave a loud

  P P P P B B B B B B B B B B B B B B T T T T T T !

  Ah, fresh air at last!

  And that is the tale that the song tellers sing

  Of Jarra-Jen in the maw of the Fizzgig King

  Of course, one cannot discuss Stone-in-the-Wood without making some remark of the stone rise around which the village is positioned. Though it may seem like an ordinary, natural geographical feature, closer inspection of the stones has led many rock readers to believe the boulders were moved from a variety of different locales. For example, there are some stones with a red hue found only among the Claw Mountains, far to the west, across the Crystal Desert. Some of the boulders in the center of the rise are of a black, almost pitch color, and very dense—potentially from within the Grottan Mountains. And yet they are all overgrown with moss and trees and roots, some of which must be hundreds of trine in their own right.

  It is not known how Bolentor, the stone rise that gives Stone-in-the-Wood its name, came to be, and every song teller seems to have their own story. Some told me a song of a giant that moved many stones from every corner of Thra to this place, so marking it as the center of the world. Some told me that the earth opened one day and the stones spilled out. Others said that the massive pile of stones was the droppings of an enormous bird.

  My favorite song told of an unnamed Gelfling who sang with a voice so lonely and sad that the mountains to the east gave up their children. The stones tumbled down the cliffs and came to this place, and once arrived, there they stayed. Though her name is not part of the song, most Stonewood agree that this young Gelfling was Maudra Melyff, one of the first recorded maudras of Stone-in-the-Wood. Although we do not know the origins of this song, the consistency with which it is associated with Maudra Melyff is so strong that the legend is named after her.

  Maudra Melyff the Rock Singer

  Comes a young Gelfling through the green

  Dark hair, dark eyes, and a voice pristine

  Lays eyes upon the prettiest clearing she’d ever seen

  Emerald grass, dancing trees, still lake between

  Sits in the center, eyes closing, she meditates

  On the wood and the earth and the gentle lake

  Feels in her heart a most yearning ache

  Lets out her voice, and the earth quakes

  Sings her song of loneliness and pain

  So sad and pure that the sky begins to rain

  Cries out her soul in a yearning refrain

  Till the east rockies shudder in twain

  The mother of the mountains had heard her cries

  Sent her children stones down from her heights

  Tumbled to the clearing and now there they lie:

  Maudra Melyff’s Bolentor, the great stone rise

  The most prominent artery within the Skarith Basin, the Black River originates within the Grottan Mountains and empties into the Silver Sea at the port of Ha’rar, far to the north. Between those points, it twists through the Endless Forest, bringing crystal-clear water down from the mountains. Slow and steady, the river is ideal for transporting goods north to Ha’rar. Its banks are even and clear, making travel alongside its sparkling black waters easy for any wayfinder, novice or experienced.

  Stone-in-the-Wood rests roughly midway between the Black River’s spring and delta. The Stonewood Gelfling benefit not only from the river’s clean and consistent water supply, but also from the wildlife that flourishes near the river. Thus there are hundreds of odes to the Black River from many song tellers inspired by its slow-moving waters—to tell them all would fill far too many scrolls. Instead, I have selected one from a Spriton trader who wrote this while visiting Stone-in-the-Wood and sang it before the Crucible as a thank-you to her hosts.

  Black and Shining River (Spriton Origin)

  O black and shining river

  Night within the day of the wood

  Wherever round you wander

  Life rises from you, green and good

  O black and shining river

  Wide from the forest to the sea

  Guide me through the darkest night

  Be my nighttime eyes so I can see

  O black and shining river

  Fated lifeline of the land

&n
bsp; Telling all her quiet secrets

  As a crease read in a gentle hand

  O black and shining river

  Now take me out to sea

  Though it was along your watery way

  That I was ever truly free

  A walk’s distance from Stone-in-the-Wood—if one knows the way—is a tree that towers above the others, its trunk as wide as the Black River. There is something so soothing about standing under the tree’s impressive body; it has the same feeling as lying in the arms of one’s mother and feeling the rest of the world fade away. It is no wonder, then, that the tree is called Olyeka-Staba, the Cradle Tree.

  While the songs do not agree on how the tree came to be planted, most songs agree that the Cradle Tree is the origin of every tree in the Endless Forest. What the forest hears, the tree hears. What the tree feels, the forest feels. Stonewood Gelfling have gone to the Cradle Tree for hundreds of trine to sit beneath its dense emerald leaves, in the hopes of hearing its wisdom. Others visit to inspect the tree for illness, as a way to determine the health of the entire forest. And so it has been between the Stonewood and the Cradle Tree for as long as any song teller remembers.