Wraithvine and Bibrid met a being who was alone and had badly hurt their back while carrying firewood. Their family would be gone for a few days having gone to town to trade what little they had so they could get essential supplies. Wraithvine gave the being a gentle massage to ease the pain, while Bibrid was kind enough to help with the firewood and care for the elder until the family could get home. -- Anon Guest
The carrying capacity of the average little old being is approximately half a small house's worth of wood. Unfortunately for this little old lady, a muscle twinge had caused her to drop her burden and lean more heavily on her cane than normal.
Bibrid, fresh and wary from captivity, sidled to hide from her behind Wraithvine. The eternal Elf put a gentle hand on Bibrid's shoulder and murmured, "No demands," in reassurance.
Wraithvine stepped towards her, with a polite, "Ho there, Aunty. May I help?"
"Just a twinge. I'll be right after a hot towel and a good lie down, but... we need firewood to boil the water and... well... the rest are off at the markets. I only got my ainsel..."
That wasn't quite a plea for help. "I could help you along," ze offered. "My friend could carry the firewood for you."
"Aye," said Bibrid. "I can do that real easy. If you'll let us... Aunty."
"I do thank you, yes. Yes. Please." She accepted Wraithvine's elbow and looked nervously to Bibrid hauling the huge bundle of sticks onto his shoulder. The pile was larger than the Gnome he resembled. On him, it was two huts and a shack. "Oh... you're not a bairn."
"Far from it," agreed Bibrid, quickly. As if to get the interaction out of the way.
"I'm not a healer, but I know a few tricks," said Wraithvine. "I could see to your hurt, if you wish. I've picked up a few tricks here and there."
"Better than nowt, I suppose. I didn't mean to do this to myself. Promised my bairn and his husband and the kiddies that I'd be fine on my ainsel. I got more guilt about the promise than the fool hurt I did."
"We can never promise against that which can't be foreseen," soothed Wraithvine. "I'm sure they'll forgive random happenstance."
They saw her to the little farmhouse out of most travelers' way, and the small amount of farmland scraped out of the relative wilderness surrounding them. A typical farm for atypical farmers - the social outcasts, and people who were afraid of normal folks' reactions to them.
It was a typical hut. A gigantic bed for the whole family, the hearth opposite to heat the room. The table and washstand crammed into the remaining space. Most of the work happened outdoors, as evidenced by the comfortable chairs under the awning. There was a half-done extension because, as the grandmother of the family put it, "They keeps picking up bairns left unwanted by better folk."
Struggling Unwelcome People always preferred struggling together to struggling on their own.
Wraithvine helped the old lady sit in her favourite chair and saw to helping Bibrid with storing most of the firewood, then laying a fire for her evening meal.
"Now. While the table is clear, Aunty, I'll get you laying down on it. Face down, if you please." Wraithvine helped her up, and started working. Palms. Fingers. Pressure. Nerve clusters and muscle knots. Taming them all.
And in the process, Wraithvine saw the hint of a tail. Long and thin, with a fluffy plume at its tip like a cow's or a unicorn's. Aha. She's a Huldra. Like many species on Alfarell, one of the descendants of weapons against someone's other side. Wraithvine had been forcibly restrained during that particular episode of the Xenophobia wars, so ze didn't know whose creation they were. What ze did know was that she was a long, long way away from her native swamps.
No wonder she'd aged.
Wraithvine kept working. "How did you meet your son?"
"Same way many would steal a babe. I was... not nice... when it started. Most of them cursed me. A few... tried to take advantage. He was the first to run and embrace me. He was so small. And he said, Mama hungy. Like he thought I was his mam. My sisters and I, we were made to drown people. I could have put him in my peat. But I scooped him up and took him to the dry and fed him... and made him mine. I'm his mam for good. For as long as I got. Him and his hubby and the bairns have all my love, for as long as I got left." She waited. If not relaxed, then resigned to whatever happened next.
Wraithvine kept working on the knots in her back. "It's well and good to choose kindness. You saved a life, and he's saving many more, by the sound of things."
"Maybe a little too many, gods forgive me," she said. "We can't grow enough to eat. I worry."
Bibrid, done stirring the stew, nodded and padded softly out to the farm's little field.
Wraithvine worked out every knot in her back, and helped her sit once more. Ze said, "You kept some of your home peat?"
"In a jar," she said. Sealed and hid away in the chimney."
"Take it out of there and freshen it up with rainwater, and add a little spahgnum live snail. Keep it in the sunlight. It should at least ease your aches for a time."
"You're... not going to do anything about me?"
"I, who lived amongst the ones that caused your existence? I, who has been part of the people who caused most of the Xenophobia Wars? Why would I interfere with the good that you've done with your choices?"
"All right, Elf. You made your point. What's your little friend up to?"
"Some... interesting magic in your farmland... and a little further. You won't need to fret so much about feeding the little ones."
When her son and the family returned, they returned to a much bigger and far more abundant farm, and an elder who was looking much better than when they left.
"What happened here?" asked her Hellkin son.
"Oh, a little help from the Faekindred," said the elder.
[Photo by Rolf Schmidbauer on Unsplash]
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