Prologue #2
The sound of the baby’s sweet, little cry filled the glen and the gnomes cheered and rolled around in the grass and splashed in the creek in their excitement.
It had been a very long time since they had seen a baby born.
Durga kicked and whinnied in her elation, joining in the revelry of the frolicking boulders.
Inanna sat back with relief and reached out for her daughter but before their skin could touch an all-encompassing wave of dizziness took hold of her and everything went black.
Granny Mog quickly realized that there was too much blood; the wound was too big for even a fae to self-heal. All merriment ceased as she huddled close trying to shake Inanna awake but life was slowly draining from her. With a sob of defeat Granny knew that Inanna was beyond repair.
Durga came to kneel next to her Lady, and gave her a gentle nudge of concern, which provoked some movement beneath Inanna’s eyelids and caused her to briefly regain consciousness.
She leaned closer to Durga and spoke in a barely audible whisper.
“My sweet Durga, I release you from your bond to me but ask humbly that you watch out for my daughter. Do not let her enter the fae realm. She has been born into the mortal realm so can choose to go back, but only danger and heartbreak awaits her. My gift of Sight foretold she will try. You must stop her…”
She winced slightly at the effort then muttered even more quietly, “ her name is Nuria,” before she slumped down, her skin turning a snowy white.
She looked as though she was made of the purest marble and had just lain down peacefully to sleep in the grass.
Her long ebony curls created a stark contrast against her pale skin, which seemed as if it were glowing.
If it weren’t for the pool of startling red around her that had begun soaking into the earth, one would mistake her for sleeping peacefully.
The gnomes could do nothing but stand silently, heads bowed in despair at the sudden passing of such a beautiful visitor.
Granny Mog sniffled then cleared her throat.
“Let us clean her in the creek and move her to the resting stone sisters.” She motioned for them to carry Inanna and place her onto a flat rock covered in the plushest moss.
They would perform their burial ritual when the moon rose but for now, they attended to Nuria; poor little Nuria who had entered into the wrong world, without her mother’s warm embrace and only gnomes to care for her, Granny thought to herself, worry creased her stoney brow.
“We may be made of stone but our hearts are as warm and beating as any other creature! Do not lose heart Granny, we can raise her!” Sister Marg, the gnome with pale blue lichen for hair, proclaimed as she looked down at the sweet, pink, wriggling child.
“We haven’t seen a human child in a very long time but she can play and learn with our children just the same,” Sister Iris agreed.
“I’m not sure she is human, sisters. I think they came from the fae realm, just look at her tiny little claws, and the colour of her eyes…” Granny said, lifting a pudgy little hand that was tipped in pointy nails wondering if they were the cause of irreparable damage to her mother.
“We must find a doe that is newly with child and willing to share her milk, for I do not believe human or fae babies eat as we do,” she grumbled, realizing this may be more difficult than they had initially thought.
Her sisters were just excited for a little play thing but Granny had been around long enough to know that when humans grow up they can become destructive and too inquisitive for their own good.
It had been many years since man last travelled this far into the woods of the east, for superstition of the land being haunted and tales of unexplained disappearances kept them at bay, yet there were still signs of their pillaging present.
Ancient trees had been felled, leaving stumps that would take a dozen boulder gnomes to wrap their arms around.
Animals of the human realm were content to make their homes within these stumps, but Creature-of-fae could feel the devastation of the trees and stayed away.
May be best to leave the babe to its fate, Granny contemplated as she turned to look towards the direction Inanna and Durga had come from.
“She is looking around Granny! And listen to her sweet sounds,” Sister Iris exclaimed. At this reaction Granny turned to look into Nuria’s cherubic face and knew she was doomed to love this child.
With a grunt, Granny Mog squared her shoulders and turned to the mare.“Durga, I task you with finding us a milk nurse. Be it doe, mare or vixen - I do not care but make haste.” Durga dutifully nodded and galloped off into the woods.
The uncles, brothers, fathers and sons came rolling back in to see the fate of the mysterious woman and came upon Nuria, cooing and grasping out her little hands.
She managed to grab ahold of Grandpa Jorg’s nose and he yelped at the scratch of tiny claws.
The gnomes burst out in laughter and all agreed they were going to enjoy having a little human… or fae baby around.
As night fell, Nuria was safely tucked away nursing in a nearby cave with a fiery red vixen whom Durga had found mourning the loss of her pups. Granny Mog and her sisters made their way back to the mossy rock where Inanna was laid to prepare her for their ritual of guidance back to The Mother.
They arrived to a startling sight, Inanna was no longer lying there upon the stone in human form but had transformed into a mound of cascading, white flowers; the scent of cinnamon and jasmine thick in the air.
“Granny, are those ghost orchids?” Sister Marg squeaked as she abruptly stopped in her tracks.
“Yes my sister, I believe they are. Quickly, go and check the spot where her blood has fallen. Are they sprouting there as well?” Granny asked; worry creasing her brow as Sister Marg rushed off.
“Yes Granny, they are here as well!” Marg called through the trees. Granny’s sense of foreboding was strong as she knew all too well that this rare flower only bloomed upon the spilt blood of royalty…
The years following passed peacefully for the inhabitants of Granny Mog’s glen.
Other than the addition of a white horse and a squealing little childling, much stayed the same.
The gnomes were the guardians of the gardens, the cutters of small creeks and hollowers of big logs.
Some may even say they kept things balanced and right in their own ways.
Many resembled big rocks but some also melded into trees or dissolved into puddles.
They kept out of sight of the humans and fae but often delighted in aiding those who were more green-thumbed and kind.
Nuria did not necessarily fit in but she grew up loving and cherishing the forest as much as her guardians did.
The life of a gnome was fairly simple. New creeks were dug throughout the forest to supply the ever growing trees with water, fallen logs were hollowed out for new homes for the many creatures of the glen, and little gardens of wild berries, mushrooms and herbs were tended to.
Mother gnomes would harvest acorns to turn into flour for acorn and berry pies and teach the children the correct gnome ways; while father gnomes would design and build new additions to the forest floors.
They would all come together to dance and sing to the plants, bugs and mushrooms; encouraging them to grow and co-exist in a most peaceful way.
The gnomes shared good relations with the sprites of the water, wind and fire and would help them create ecosystems that would benefit all.
The water sprites, in one such instance, were awfully bored with a creek that was too calm.
They desired some little waterfalls and whirlpools, which the gnomes would carefully craft by shifting boulders, digging up sand and toppling logs.
The sprites of the wind required enough foliage to rustle and holes in trees to whistle through; so, of course, the gnomes obliged by directing more water to the trees and encouraging the mycelium to help bring nutrients to the roots, so the leaves could be more abundant.
The fire sprites were a bit more mischievous, trying to burn deadfall when they pleased to satiate their need for ignition.
To placate them, once a month on the new moon, the boulder gnomes would create a big bonfire in honor of the sprites; who would dance and crackle and spin around gleefully within the flames.
This was Nuria’s favourite night of the month for there was something about the flame that would draw her in, completely enchanted and unafraid.
At one such fete, Nuria seemed to be calling the fire sprites to her, letting the flames leap and swirl a little too close.
The young gnomes were gathered listening to Granny Mog, who was busy telling stories of The Divine Mother; how She had created the gnomes to be Her stewards of the forest. When Granny briefly looked up she could have sworn she saw the face of a young red haired boy in the flames, speaking to Nuria.
“Nuria! Step away from there,” Granny called, which seemed to have snapped Nuria out of a dream.
She stumbled back and blinked around as if she knew not where she was, falling into Uncle Bog, who had been having a particularly good night enjoying the berry wine, causing his usually sturdy stance to falter.
This in turn created a cascade of tumbling gnomes, the hilarity of it all bringing Nuria out of her stupor and distracting Granny from what she thought she may have seen.
The night carried on in gnomely merriment however, Granny thought to keep an eye on Nuria, and maybe to get some new spectacles.