Chapter Seven THE SOLSTICE TREE Alison

Chapter Seven

THE SOLSTICE TREE

Alison

In the morning, Alison ran into Gwenla out in the lane on the way to her planning meeting with Rinka.

“Finnli, put that down!” cried Gwenla. Finnli was holding something small and furry.

“I found it sleeping in the wall,” said Finnli. The dwarf boy, a son of Gwenla’s industrialist cousin, was generally quiet and well-behaved, but he had an insatiable curiosity that often got him into trouble. “Look. It’s blonde like me.”

Alison came over to see what he was holding. “It’s a little dormouse,” she said. “They sleep all winter, you know. Better put it back now so it can get its rest.”

“Do as she says, boy,” said Gwenla, sighing.

Finnli walked back along the wall, singing a song to the dormouse as he went.

“He’s a sweet thing really, Gwenla.”

“I know,” said Gwenla. “I can’t fault the lad. He’s been quite a help with the decorations. Fearless on a ladder. I’ve never seen a dwarf like him.”

“I’ve seen one,” said Alison, looking at her neighbor, who was elderly in age but not in temperament. “How’s the Solstice planning going? Rinka said you might be in need of help.”

“Oh, I told her not to trouble you. You have enough on your plate with the wedding, I’m sure.”

That was country villager talk for, “I really do need your help, but I know asking would be an imposition, so I’d like it if you offered.” Alison knew it well by now.

“The wedding planning is mostly just ordering things and waiting on them to be ready. I’ve got plenty of time to help. Tell me what you need.”

It turned out there had been a mix-up with the Solstice tree delivery.

There was a farmer up in the mountains near Fossholm who grew most of the Solstice trees for Wilderise.

The fir trees that grew nearby would have worked well enough, but the farmer grew them specially for the purpose, taking extraordinary care to grow the trees to be perfectly tidy and full of branches for hanging ornaments.

Orders were placed months in advance. But the tree that had been delivered to Herot’s Hollow for the first ‘lectric Solstice lighting was the wrong size.

“Thirty feet, we ordered. If that tree’s even ten feet tall, I’ll eat my hat.”

“So you want me to help you get a team together to go into the woods and find the perfect tree,” said Alison. “There are a number of firs on the Ainsley property that would do.” It would just take most of the strong people in the town to haul it back, if thirty feet was what Gwenla wanted.

“I actually had a simpler idea. Would you mind asking the spriggan to help us? If you think it wouldn’t offend him, of course.”

“I’m sure the spriggan would be pleased to be asked either way,” said Alison. And she had been meaning to make her way back into the woods to invite him to the wedding. “When do you need it by?”

“Well, three days ago, ideally,” said Gwenla. “I was going to ask Weyland today if he’d mind leading the charge into the woods if you didn’t have time.”

“I’ll go today. I’ve got to go ‘round Weyland’s tomorrow—I can ask him then if I don’t find the spriggan today.”

“Perfect,” said Gwenla, pulling Alison into a hug. “Thank you. You’re a great help as always.”

Alison hoped Rinka wouldn’t mind her missing the meeting; it seemed her task was critical to the Solstice preparations, after all. She went back to the cottage to put on a heavier cloak before heading to the forest—it looked like snow.

The forest was perfectly silent as the snow began to fall.

It was so peaceful and still that Alison had to stop for a moment to breathe it in.

She closed her eyes, listening to the silence.

It was hard to imagine this was the same forest that burst with life and energy in the spring, the song of dozens of birds filling the air, the trickle of the stream over the rocks like chimes in the distance.

Today, there was nothing but the snow. When Alison opened her eyes, a lone ray of sunshine cut through the clouds and shone through the bare branches of the trees, lighting up the ice that coated them like diamonds.

Alison blew out a breath, watching the little cloud that formed fade into the freezing air around her.

She touched the snowflakes on her dark braid, felt them melt to water on her fingertips before tucking her fingers back into the warm mittens Gwenla had knitted her.

It was so beautiful. She truly felt lucky at that moment, to live in a time and place where such beauty could exist. She felt grateful to have played a part in saving it.

As much as she loved ‘lectrics—and she truly did love them—she couldn’t imagine they were worth the cost of such a place vanishing from the world.

The world was meant to be wild and free and beautiful.

And if they had to take from it, they would only take what could be replaced.

Alison found the spriggan near the grove where they’d first met. He was sitting in the snow, the branches of his arms and legs collecting a fine layer of white powder.

“Hello, again,” he said when he saw her approach. “You’ve come alone this time. Do you require my help once more?”

“Yes,” said Alison. “Although I also come bearing an invitation.”

“Tell me what you require first.”

Alison explained to him the need for a tree to decorate for the Solstice. “It’s a tradition. Not a very old one in this part of the world, but people love to see them covered in ornaments and lit up with lights. This year, the lights will be ‘lectric for the first time.”

“How peculiar. A tree wearing jewelry. Like the ring you wear?”

Alison held out her left hand to show the spriggan the sapphire ring that had once been cursed. “Can you feel any magic on it?”

“I feel nothing more than your own magic. My, how it’s grown since you were last here. Were the fairies helpful?”

“A bit,” said Alison with a laugh. “We also nearly died there, but it all turned out alright.”

“That’s good,” said the spriggan without concern.

He, too, had nearly killed Keir on their first meeting.

Perhaps there was a connection between practitioners of magic and a disregard for mortality—Alison made a note to keep an eye on it.

“I can help you with this tree. There’s an old fir on the hillside you will like. ”

“Thank you,” said Alison. And then, thinking of what she’d felt standing in the woods alone, she added, “May I plant a seed to replace it in spring?”

“That’s very kind of you. Yes, you may. I will help you find a good spot to make it grow. And now, what of your invitation?”

“Have you ever heard of a wedding?” asked Alison.

“No,” said the spriggan. “What is this ‘wedding’?”

“It’s where two people that love each other make each other promises and exchange rings.”

“But you already have a ring.”

Alison smiled. “This is an engagement ring. It symbolizes an intent to marry.”

“So much jewelry. So many rocks. I can see why you like the ornaments on the tree. Very well. Why do you tell me of this ‘wedding’?”

“It’s customary to invite people who mean something to you to a wedding. I’d like you to come to my wedding to Keir.”

“But I am not a person. Do I mean something to you nonetheless?”

Alison laid her hand on the spriggan’s shoulder, grateful he was in his smaller form today. “You do. You’ve helped us quite a lot. We’re grateful.”

“And Keir? He would like me to be at this wedding even though I tried to kill him?”

“He would.” Alison knew Keir wasn’t quite as fond of the spriggan as she was, but he had come back here after the first time. He knew the spriggan no longer posed a threat.

“Very well, Alison Lennox. I will come to this wedding.”

Alison Lennox. She hadn’t heard her full name in a long time. After the wedding, she supposed she would be Alison Ainsley.

She would have to give up her name. Her father’s name. It was all she had left of him.

“Have I said something wrong? You are upset,” said the spriggan.

“No, no,” said Alison, although she could hear the tears in her voice. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing you said. Just something I hadn’t thought of yet. There are lots of feelings around weddings.”

“As long as I have not caused you offense. I will let you go now, Alison Lennox. I will bring the tree at sunset so that you may cover it in jewelry. I would like to see if once it’s wearing its jewelry.”

“Of course,” said Alison. “Come see the lighting in—” Alison counted on her fingers, “—four nights.”

“In four nights,” said the spriggan.

Back in town in the afternoon, Alison caught up with Gwenla and Rinka at Weyland’s forge.

“Oh, you’re back already,” said Gwenla, her hands full loading a cart with shiny silver ornaments as big as her head. “Did you find the spriggan?”

“The tree should be arriving shortly,” said Alison.

“Excellent news. Finnli, did you get the star?”

The little dwarf boy slowly came over holding a brass-coated star that was half as big as he was. “It’s heavy,” he said, tilting a bit as he walked.

Rinka rushed over just before he toppled. “Maybe you can help with the tinsel.” Rinka gestured to a box filled with light strands of silver foil on string.

“Okay!” said Finnli.

“Do you think it’ll be enough?” asked Strelka, Weyland’s orc apprentice. “Do you know how big the tree will be?”

Alison realized she hadn’t specified that with the spriggan. “I’m not sure. I forgot to tell him. He seemed somewhat confused by the entire ritual…”

“Well, we’ll just have to make do with what we get,” said Gwenla.

“It doesn’t take long to make the ornaments. If you think we’ll need more…”

Just then, there was a loud crash from up on the mountain.

“What was that?” asked Rinka.

“Avalanche?” asked Gwenla.

“Not enough snow for it,” said Strelka.

And then the footsteps began. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD…

“What’s going on?” asked Weyland. The enormous human man entered the forge from his shop bearing another box of oversized ornaments, his pale brow drenched with sweat.

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