“The axe is an invaluable tool in one hand, and a deadly weapon in the other.” – Treesmith proverb.
Through tightly squinted eyes Soil searched for Brook in the meadow that spanned beyond the western gate. Poised steadily upon a small fence Soil scanned the green that stretched out in front of him. Looking for even the faintest sign of Monarda’s brother.
Perhaps he had already made his way into the depths of forest? If he had, Soil knew there would be little chance of finding him. Despite his acute awareness of the terrain. You may know a the trails of a maze off by heart, but finding someone deep within it’s many windings, with no ideas of the routes they’ve taken? A rare occurrence.
A heavy hopelessness had almost set in Soil like a stone. However a strand of sunlight gleamed off a boy’s golden hair, who was situated at the edge of the tree line.
Soil had caught only a glimpse of him, before the boy had vanished into the thicket of trees.
Soil jumped down from the fence and raced across the meadow as fast as his legs would carry him, rushing through the tall grass as if he were the midday breeze. Within a moments notice he found himself looking up at the familiar leafless trees that made up Eyre forest during the bleak winters. Whilst panting lightly.
He wasted no time and instantly dived into the forest. Weaving his way through the woods.
To his surprise, his efforts paid off quickly as he came across the young man. He was trudging along slowly, bore down by a multitude of equipment.
Strapped to his back was a large, flat wooden sledge that he carried like a rucksack. Two thick leather straps made their way over both shoulders. Attached loosely to one of the straps hung a rather ominous looking axe, which had a smooth wooden handle, partly wrapped in thin, strips of leather. The head of the axe was extremely large, it had a singular long curved blade that gleamed as sunlight trickled through the dead branches of the trees above. Finally, a small bag was strapped to the sledge also, one containing miscellaneousness items and food.
The young man awkwardly bumbled round, doing his best to keep his balance as he shifted the heavy load strapped upon his back. He looked at Soil with a wide vacant stare.
“Soil!?” Brook was dumbfounded by the woodling’s sudden appearance, “What are you doing here?!”
Soil reached into his cloak slowly and gently took a hold of the mysterious note.
Brook watched cautiously, his eyes shifted between Soil’s face and cloak, weary of what he might pull out of it.
Soil thought to himself for a moment, and decided asking him about the note in such a blatant manner might arouse unwanted suspicion and worry. So instead Soil pretended to itch the side of his chest, and left the note tucked away within the depths of his cloak. Left thinking of other ways in which he could get his questions answered.
“I wanted to know if I could join you today and do some tree smithing?” Soil asked, “I hear the men and woman of Tachbrook are the best in the world, I wouldn’t mind getting a lesson or two. Plus I am of these woods, so I’m well versed with the surrounds.”
Brook looked Soil up and down before replying, inspecting his slender physique most of which however was buried beneath his thatched straw cloak. “Yeah sure, you can tag along.” Brook replied with a nod, “I could do with the help.” He slid the large sled off his broad sweaty back then proceeded to remove the axe from it’s strap before fastening it to his belt. “First job, carry this lot would ya?” Brook cocked his head to the sled, and bags, that now rested upon the forest floor.
Soil looked at him slightly puzzled.
“Chop chop! I do actually want to get some wood cut today!”
Soil hastily jumped into action, hauling the sled up onto his back. He groaned slightly as the two leather straps dug harshly into his collar bones and shoulders. The weight of the baggage sagged heavily. Soil steadied his feet and adjusted his stance, using the muscles in his legs to keep him firmly upright.
“That’s lesson one completed!” Brook chuckled, both arms folded tightly across his chest. “Lets found ourselves a tree next.”
The pair made there way deeper into the woodland. Brook kept a keen eye open for any potential trees, that might be worth harvesting. He approached several on their journey, inspecting their bark carefully to ensure the tree was not rotten or dead.
“It’s a bit trickier in the winter months,” Brook said aimlessly to Soil as he walked around the circumference of a large dark tree, “For nearly all of the trees are leafless and it’s hard to tell whether a tree is dead or about to die.” As he finished his sentence he looked up at the dark tree. It’s bark was like charcoal as if the tree had been subject to a raging fire. Soil stretched out his hand and ran his fingers along it’s bark, which was coarse to the touch.
“I know what you’re thinking, and no, it isn’t burnt. It’s an Aija tree.” Brook explained, acting as though he was teaching a class of children. However Soil of course knew that the tree wasn’t burnt, having grown up in the forest he had gained a relatively good understanding of trees and plant life that grew there. He decided to say nothing however, not wanting to take away the enjoyment that Brook was having. By believing himself to be the most knowledgeable of the two.
However, Brook proceeded to show Soil something he didn’t know.
“Pass me the bag.” Brook commanded rudely, with an outstretched hand. Whilst staring up at the tree branches above him.
Soil slunk the bag from his shoulder, and placed it in Brook’s open hand. Who instantly began to rummage through it’s contents.
Brook pulled out a long curved hooked, attached to which was a long piece of thick rope. He dumped the bag onto the ground.
Soil watched, and took a few cautious steps back, as Brook began to spin the hook in a large loop beside him. Getting ever faster and wider as he did so. The boy’s stare was fixated upon the branches far above them.
In less than a second, the hook flew upward at an alarming rate and looked as if it were set to fly straight into the heavens themselves. Brook flicked his wrist, pulling at the rope in such a way, that the hooks course altered sharply. Wrapping madly round one of the branches, binding it as venomous snake would bind it’s prey.
Brook tugged the rope so it were taut. He looked to Soil with a satifised smirk.
“What now?” Soil asked.
Brook jumped up and swung on the rope, pulling himself up as he did so. The tree wood above him yawned as it steadily held his weight. Soil found himself impressed with the speed that Brook was to scale the large tree with.
Within moments, he had hoisted himself all the way to the top. Where by he unpinned the large axe from his belt.
Soil watched from the ground below as Brook set up a small, simple platform. Which acted as his makeshift workstation as he begun his work. Cutting at the different arms of the tree. That he threw down carelessly to Soil.
The woodling dived to one side as a branch nearly fell on top of him. “You nearly hit me with that one!” Soil exclaimed.
“Then pay more attention!” Brook yelled back, “Start cutting them into smaller pieces! And load up the sled! There’s a saw in the bag!”
Soil did as he was instructed, cutting down the large pieces once they fell.
The whole time that Brook was in the tree top dancing between it’s branches and hacking parts off, he shouted down to Soil. Explaining the whole wood smithing process to him as he worked tirelessly on the ground below.
“So then after we fill this sled, We take it back to Tachbrook and check to see if there have been any commissions. From there, we decide if it’s best to craft the work, or just sell it as stock.” Brook continued, breaking his sentence up into small bursts as he panted heavily. Hauling the large axe about clumsily.
“That’s quite the system you timber smiths have got!” Soil shouted back up in reply, whilst sawing at a large black branch. “Who was it who taught you how to timber smith then, you seem like a natural!”
Brook stopped in his tracks up high in the tree. Soil looked up to see if the young man was alright, after receiving a short silence in reply. Worried that maybe, he had taken a mis-step or swung to grandly with his axe, and fallen to his doom.
“It was my dad.” Brook replied, before continuing back on his way. Testing the strength of a particular branch with his foot, whilst carefully positioning himself. “He was a great man, tall, strong and well natured.”
Brook swung his axe so that the steel blade sank into dark wood, small chips flew out as the wood cracked. “He died a couple years back though, back when I was 14, in a timber smithing accident.”
Soil stopped what he was doing and looked up at Brook, “I’m sorry to hear that Brook.”
“It’s alright, accidents happen.” Brook replied as he threw a final swing at the base of the branch. A loud crunch cried out from the wood as the branch joint snapped. It crashed heavily onto the floor. “Everything went south after Dad died. My family went through some tough times, and then of course my sister met Phlox.”
“You seem to be one of the only people who doesn’t like Phlox, everyone else seems to adore him…”
Brook snapped his head round at Soil’s reply, and quickly descended from the tree top. Sliding effortlessly down the dangling rope. As soon as his feet were planted down firmly upon the forest floor he turned to Soil and said in a raised voice, “That man is a god damn devil. He manipulated my sister whilst she was still grieving over the death of our father. He keeps her under house arrest and has reduced her to nothing more than just a puppet!” Brook took a few steps away from Soil as his blood began to boil, pulsating violently through his body.
“He’s a dirty, sneaky manipulator, who puts on a pretty face to fool everyone around him! I seem to be the only one round here who’s able to see what the hell he’s doing!” The frustrated young man kicked a large stone that sat idly on the forest floor. Sending the rock flying, but stubbing his toe in the process. He winced as a sharp shooting pain pierced through his foot and up into the back of his leg. Brook grunted out his frustration, before slowing his breathing to bring back a sense of calmness. He turned to look over his shoulder at Soil who was placing the last pieces of wood upon the sled.
“What do you think of him?” Brook asked the woodling coldly.
Soil looked up and replied “I don’t know what I think of him, but I think there’s something going on… I think your sister might be in danger.”
A heavy scowl came about Brook’s face. His narrow eyes, darkened.
Soil reached for the note in his cloak as he walked over to Brook and handed it to him. Allowing him to unfold the small parchment and read the inked words for himself.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was nailed to a tree in the woodland last night. I managed to see a person hiding in the darkness, but they slipped away from me.”
Brook folded the small note back up and handed it back to Soil, a stern look of anger was chiselled into his face.
“I’m going to stick around for a bit, and make sure that your sister is safe.”
“Why would a stranger want to help someone they’ve only met for a day?”
“Because, it’s the right thing to do.”
Brook looked Soil straight in the eyes. “Thank you Soil.” He placed his hand firmly on Soil’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. Soil smiled in reply.
“Come on Soil bud, lets get these logs back to Tachbrook before the sun sets.” Brook said, slapping him on the arm.
“One more thing Brook.” Soil said quickly, “I understand the point you made earlier… about your sister being under house arrest. Well, I’ve agreed to take her to see the tree of 11 trunks tonight. I just thought you should know, so you’re not alarmed when Phlox finds she’s not there tonight. You know she’s safe.”
Brooks stern face relaxed as Soil finished his sentence, “You’re a good guy Soil.” Brook continued his walk towards the sled and began fastening the logs down with the straps he used to initially carry it
Soil joined him and began helping by clearing up the odd tools that lay strewn over the forest floor. Once the two of them had cleared up they made their way back to the village, both helped in pulling the sled, making use of two additional straps that were fixated onto it’s front.
By the time they had reached the meadow, the sun was sinking into an orange horizon. “I need to get going Brook. Thank you for today.”
“You get going, I can take it from here and no, thank you for all of your help. Please don’t hesitate to come and stay at the Inn if you’re stuck for somewhere to go tonight”
“I don’t want to be a hassle or…”
“Please Soil, I insist, as thanks for your all of your help tonight. Plus if you’re going to keep coming back to Tachbrook you might as well stay there.”
Soil took a moment to think about the offer, “Okay, alright I’ll come by after I’ve taken Monarda to the tree of 11 trunks.”
A half smiled worked its way across Brook’s face, “I’ll see you soon then.”
The two of them said their goodbyes and parted ways. Brook hauled the sled through the meadow, pulling it along like an ox begrudgingly drawing a plough through a field.
Soil stuck to the shadowy tree line and followed it until he caught view of Tachbrook’s northern gate. He glanced up at the blood orange sky, the sun was slowly seeping beneath the eastern line of trees.
Calm and still, he waited among the plants and shrubbery. Keeping an ever watchful eye fixated on the northern gate. Until finally a figure arrived, covered completely, head to toe in a long black cloak. The figure ran through the northern gate and into the meadow.
Soil let out a sharp ear splitting whistle to gain the unknown figures attention. They looked up in shock, hidden within the hood was Monarda’s pale slender face. She began scanning the edge of the forest for the source of the noise, desperately searching for Soil.
He stepped out of his place of hiding and ushered her to him. She bounded over as quickly as she could, her cloak flapping madly.
When the two met Monarda frantically grabbed a hold of Soil’s hand and hissed at him, “Come on lets go! Quick!!” She sped off, dragging Soil along with her. He took a final glance over his shoulder, on the slight chance that she was followed. Before the two of them delved deep into the darkness of the Eyre woodland, as the night fell upon them.