Teller of Stories

There was a sudden lull in the morning buzz of the market, as if time itself had paused—business moved slower than usual. Everyone appeared to have been drawn there, as if fate itself had given them no other option. The world was blanketed in a dreary, oppressive haze as people stroll aimlessly about the square because they had nothing better to do. People hurried to settle a weathered, fragile man who had stumbled into the square, tired from his travels.

Upon being led into a cozy cottage, Rowan Thorne sighed and considered his next course of action. He leaned back in the cloud-like chair, his bones creaking. There was never an empty moment with him around; he was known out here as The Storyteller. In the cottage, people were gathering even as he caught his breath. Everyone appeared to be on the edge of their seats as Rowan took a deep breath and started talking in a steady but low voice as the children gathered on the ground. With Rowan around, you would have assumed quiet was a live, breathing thing.

Rowan leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers brushing the edge of his cloak as he gathered his thoughts. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting shadows in the room. Rowan’s voice was as smooth as a river, flowing through the room like a soft trickle of water.

“You all have heard many tales of great heroes and daring quests,” he began. “But tonight, I will tell you a different kind of story, one where fate is not marked in stone and love—well, love is uncertain as the wind.” The children leaned closer, and Rowan’s mysterious tone seemed to intrigue even the adults.

Rowan continued, “There is a village nearby where the water is the sky, a vivid blue, and the trees appear to be as tall as the hills that surround it. There once was a young woman named Elana who beckoned people to her with a heart as warm and kind as the sun. In villages all across the world, people talked about how beautiful she was, but it was her heart that was widely known. Everyone in the village was important to her. Her gentle smile cured both young and old, young mothers kept up by their babies, and men working in the fields after a long day in the sun. Truly, it was an odd phenomenon, but she wasn’t without secrets of her own.”

Someone gave Rowan a glass of water as he coughed, and after drinking it, he resumed his story. “A man, shall we name him Nawor, never stayed in one place for long. His heart was as hard as a rock; Nawor was afraid to let anyone in. The pain of heartbreak had led him to retreat into the wilderness, away from the life he once knew. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of him ever again.” A teenage girl, somewhere in the back of the cottage, called out to Rowan, asking, “What happened to Nawor? How did he hurt other people?”

“My dear, please be patient; your questions will be answered shortly,” Rowan said with a chuckle and twinkling eyes. “For weeks, Nawor had been traveling with nothing more than his clothing and a knapsack. Because copper was unable to buy what he needed, and he was running low on silver, he eventually found himself in the village where Elana lived at the time. Nawor decided to spend a few days in that area, and when he was having supper at the inn, he heard a group of people discussing Elana, talking about all the things she had done. He became curious about this young woman who did all these things selflessly. He wondered how she could give without receiving something back. In his experience, anyone who helped someone always wanted something in return. Nawor turned to the man who was talking and started to inquire about Elana. The man grinned, excited to have someone else to tell all his tales to. ‘Once I saw her help a stranger on the street. A young mother had lost her wallet, and without hesitation, Elana offered her own money to ensure the woman could buy food for her children. It wasn’t just a one-time act of kindness; she does this regularly, always looking for ways to lift others up, expecting nothing in return. Her selflessness inspires others to help people in need’. The man’s eyes sparkled with admiration as he continued to share more stories about Elana’s remarkable deeds.”

Rowan chuckled as if remembering something funny. “Nawor, after hearing all those stories, decided to meet Elana immediately, just to see what makes her tick.” Rowan laughed again and then sighed before continuing the story. “Anyways, Nawor left the inn the next morning and started looking around the village. Nawor didn’t ask around because he feared the villagers would probably be suspicious of a stranger, but thanks to that guy from the inn, he found where Elana lived quite easily and knocked on the door. To his surprise, a little boy opened the door. The little boy peered up at him suspiciously, ‘Hello! Do you need something?’

‘I want to see Elana. She lives here, right?”

‘Why do you need to see my sister?’

“Nawor thought of a reason quickly, a reason that seemed normal based on the stories he had heard about Elana, ‘I want to thank her; the other day she helped me, and I forgot to show her how grateful I was.’” The boy narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced.

‘You could just thank her another time; why today? She’s not home right now anyway,’ he said defensively, crossing his arms. Nawor sensed he needed to tread carefully to convince the boy to let him in. ‘Look, I understand your concern,’ Nawor replied, softening his tone. ‘But it’s important to me that I express my appreciation right away; it’s just who I am. If you could tell me where she is, I wouldn’t stay and bother you any longer.’ Nawor found it strange how defensive the little boy was being, but he was just like that with his older sister. Nawor’s mood sombered; but he kept insisting until the boy gave in and pointed him towards the direction of the creek. ‘She likes to feed the ducks at this time of day.’ Nawor thanked him and went on his way.

“Nawor went to the creek in the forest, and once he arrived, he hid behind a tree. He pondered his next course of action. By the creek, a woman sitting on a log was throwing bread crumbs and seeds; her long auburn hair matched the color of the surrounding leaves. Nawor cleared his throat then asked, ‘Are you Elana?’ A cheeky grin was poised on her lips as Elana turned to face Nawor. ‘Yes, I am. Who are you?’ Nawor attempted to respond, but he was distracted by Elana’s emerald eyes, her soft lips and her pretty face. To try to focus, he took a deep breath and said, ‘My name is Nawor.’

During their conversation, Elana eventually asked Nawor if he would want to join her in feeding the ducks and he accepted. Nawor showed his interest regarding duck feeding, and this created more meeting opportunities. They continued to meet by the creek for several months. If you were to ask one of them what their relationship was, they would quickly answer they were friends. However, you would notice them blush as they said it. Autumn turned into winter, and winter into spring, and everything seemed fine on the surface. Except when the kingdom was in turmoil, “special attributes,” or skills, as the emperor had put it, would not be permitted. However, it didn’t take much longer for the masked turbulence to grow big. As tensions rose, the “friends by the creek’’ found themselves caught in a web of secrets, wondering if their unique talents would ever be accepted.

Rowan paused, the firelight flickering across his weathered face, casting shadows that danced on the cottage walls. “And it was in this spring,” he continued, his voice taking on a darker, more mysterious tone, “that Elana’s secrets began to unravel, and Nawor’s past began to haunt both of them.”

“Elana’s gift was the ability to understand and communicate with the creatures of the wild. The birds whispers and the stories she heard from the foxes now carried warnings. The Emperor’s decree wasn’t just a faraway threat; it was right at her doorstep. Nawor, despite his hardened heart, had found himself drawn to Elana’s warmth and her unwavering kindness. But his past held its own secrets. He had once been a soldier, a hunter of those with ‘special attributes’. The guilt gnawed on him, a reminder of the darkness he had escaped.”

“One evening, as they sat by the creek, a frantic little bird rushed to Elana. It chirped, its tiny voice filled with fear, and as it spoke, Elana’s eyes widened. It told her of men with weapons, marching through the forest, looking for a woman who could turn the wild against them. Nawor recognized the descriptions of the men’s clothing. He understood then that, in the Emperor’s eyes, Elana’s gift wasn’t harmless but a threat to him. The Emperor’s hunters were coming. The trust built between the two friends shattered once Elana learned of Nawor’s past. Even though the relationship was shaky between them, Nawor promised himself to protect her. In order to convince her that he wasn’t with the guards anymore, he told her that when he left them, they killed his family in retaliation.”

“The village, once a safe place for anyone, became a trap. The chase began; Elana and Nawor ran from the people that they had once trusted. Elana’s tie to the animals, once a source of happiness, now became their guide, their lifeline. Nawor, using his knowledge of the Emperor’s forces, guided them through hidden paths and forgotten trails. When they were about to be caught, they decided to split up in an attempt to confuse the emperor’s hunters. Nawor grabbed Elena, his face serious. ‘I’ll find you once it’s safe. No matter what. I promise, ok?’ Elena said with a nod, ‘Ok.’ She made an effort to grin, but it faltered: ‘You better keep your word.’ After saying those things, they parted ways.”

Rowan paused for a moment, deep in thought. He looked sad, but no one knew why. The teenage girl stared at him, wondering, her mind putting the pieces together. Rowan looked up in surprise. ‘Well, if you just look at the time, the sun is setting; we shall finish this story another day.’ Unbeknownst to everyone else in the cottage, he did not intend to finish the tale. The story was reminding him of painful memories, and despite telling himself that he was not running away, he was, in fact, running away. The crowd dispersed, everyone to their own homes, except for one of the girls. She seemed to be around the age of sixteen or seventeen, but you couldn’t easily tell. She stayed, studying him and thoughtfully said, ‘That story was about you, wasn’t it?’

Rowan looked up in shock. ‘Ho—what makes you think?’ The teenage girl raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m right, huh? There were times when it seemed so deep and personal to you. Ringing with truth, unlike a fairytale.’ She laughed, “Besides, a word of advice: pick a different name next time. Nawor is Rowan backward, isn’t it?” Rowan frowned, then laughed, “You got me.” “Soooo… When are we going to start looking for her?” “Huh?” He questioned. “Elana,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Rowan stared at her, a mix of surprise and a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. “Look for her? After all this time?” The girl nodded her head, her gaze unwavering. “Yes. After all these years. You promised that you would find her no matter what, didn’t you?” Rowan’s gaze softened, a hint of the Nawor from the story returning. “It’s been … decades. The world has changed and is still changing. I don’t even know where to start looking.”

“We’ll start with the village where the water is the sky,” the girl said, her eyes determined. “We’ll follow the whispers, the stories, the echoes of her kindness. And maybe,” she added with a grin, “we’ll find that some things, like love and promises, never truly fade.” Rowan looked at her, truly seeing her for the first time. She was sharp, perceptive, and had a spirit that reminded him of… Elana. He grinned back, “You don’t seem like the romance type.” She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t judge a book by its cover or a person by how they look,” replied the girl.

“What’s your name, child?” he asked, his voice rough. “Lyra,” she replied, her smile widening. “Lyra,” he repeated, the name feeling strange on his tongue. “Then, Lyra, we leave in the morning.” They packed what little they had, and as the sun rose, they set off. They took the old paths, the ones Nawor had once used to escape. They asked in villages, hoping to find a clue, a whisper of Elana. Weeks turned into months, and their journey took them through forests and across mountains. Lyra, with her keen eyes and quick wit, often picked up on details Rowan would have missed, finding the subtle hints left behind.

One evening, they found themselves in a small, secluded valley, where a cluster of cottages was beside a river that shimmered like liquid sky. The air was filled with the chirping of birds, and the trees stood tall, their leaves a vibrant shade of emerald. “This… feels familiar,” Rowan murmured, his heart racing.They approached the nearest home and knocked on the door; a teenage boy greeted them. “Welcome. What brings you to our quiet village?”

“We’re looking for someone,” Lyra said softly. “A woman named Elana.” The boy’s eyes widened as he stared at Rowan. “Elana? She lives just beyond the willow. She’s been waiting for you, I think.” Rowan’s breath caught in his throat. He followed Lyra and the boy through the grove. “My name is Terran. The animals spoke of your arrival.” By the river sat a woman with long, silver-streaked auburn hair. She was gracefully feeding the ducks.

As they walked closer, she turned, and her emerald eyes met Rowan’s. Time seemed to freeze. “Rowan?” she whispered, voice trembling. “Elana!” he replied, filled with emotion.They moved toward each other, their fingers intertwining. The years melted away, all the time lost. All that was remaining was the love that had lasted and the promise that had been kept.

Lyra stepped back, giving them a moment. She smiled, peace settling over her. She knew then that their journey had ended and that, like some stories, no matter how long they take, they find their way to a happy ending.

Terran stood next to her. “So…,” he started, awkwardly running his hand through his curly, sandy brown hair. “How was the journey here?” Lyra sighed, “It was long. It took us months to find this village.” Terran chuckled, “Seems like Granny made herself hard to find.” Lyra’s eyes widened. “Granny? You mean… Is Elana married?” Terran shook his head furiously, “No, no. She is not really my grandma. I just call her that because she is the closest thing to a grandmother for me. I don’t know my grandmother.” “Oh!” Lyra breathed with relief. “I was about to scold him for being too late.” Terran smiled sadly, “Well, he was just in time. Gra—Elana is sick. Like, really sick. The doctors said that ‘it is surprising she lived this long; she must have been waiting for someone.’ They also said that she didn’t have long to live.” “Oh!” Lyra said, sorrowfully, “Poor Rowan, and they just saw each other again. What is he going to do?” “I don’t know,” Terran sighed. “I don’t know.”

A couple of days passed, and Rowan and Elana were together most of the time. Lyra and Terran became good friends. Elana’s last day came and she passed; everyone was unconsolable. The weight of loss hung heavy in the air as Rowan struggled to find the words that might comfort the gaping hole in his heart. Elana had brought joy into their lives, and then that she was gone, there was an unbearable ache. Even Lyra, who had only known her for a few days, felt the loss deeply. They had just begun to become close. As the sun set on her last day, Rowan found himself drifting to their spot by the lake. He sat down and peered mournfully into the water. He remembered the good memories they had together and vowed to keep the memories of her alive in his heart.

Rowan headed back to help with Elena’s funeral arrangements. A couple of days later, after the funeral, Rowan was by the lake again, thinking about the crowd of people that had shown up: “You must’ve helped a lot of people, Elana. I don’t think there will be as many people at my funeral,” he chuckled. Lyra stumbled into the clearing, Terran right behind her. “There you are. I thought …” Lyra glanced at Terran worriedly. “You aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you? Now that she is…”. Rowan looked up, stricken with grief. “Gone?” Lyra noded. “Yeah, gone.” Rowan chuckled, “As heartbroken as I am, I am glad that because I told my story, I got to meet you. You helped me reunite with Elana before she could succumb to her illness. Now she is up in the stars, watching us. It won’t be long before my time here ends and I join her, but don’t worry, I won’t be rushing to meet her.” They nodded, relieved. Since Elana didn’t have a grandchild and Terran is the closest thing to one for her, she has passed down her ability to communicate with animals to him. Rowan decided to retire from storytelling and told Lyra to carry on storytelling. They lived together peacefully for many years. Eventually Rowan passed away, and Lyra took up storytelling. Terran and Lyra married and lived happily ever after.