Where Elvish Blood Sings: The Quest.

[Annisthyrienne]

My quest to find my home has taken me deep into the heart of the forest, much deeper than I've ever gone before. For days and nights I've quested, searching for...something, some place I've never seen, except in dreams. I only knew that I'd recognize the feeling in my blood when I found my place at last.

There is beauty deep in the forest. A beauty that few eyes get to see. I think of the others I've met who dwell in the forested regions: Luna, my dear friend; Britwitch, ShyMistica, to name a few. They're people I'd be proud to call my neighbors, but I've quested deeper still in the forest than that. The closest neighbor might be Luna, yet I've traveled on past her part of the forest days ago. Still, with her wolf shifter magic, she travels the forest easier and faster than I can on foot, even as an elf. I suspect she'd have no trouble finding me if she wanted to.

The trees are different here, older, wiser, I sense. They look different. And there seems to be an ever constant mist, sometimes thicker than others, but always present. It lends an interesting mix of mystery and calm to any scene my eyes behold. The sounds of the forest set the mood as well. The drone of honey bees in some hollow tree nearby promise the sweetest of treats, but not without a little risk. The bird song and slight rustles in the underbrush denoting the presence of squirrels and other small animals blend into a harmony that is soothing to me. At night, the sounds of insects and tree frogs sing me to my rest.

Last night I discovered a glade, lit by the moonlight from a break in the trees above. It was breathtakingly beautiful. I am learning that there is beauty in abundance in the deep woods, not only by virtue of the places, but even by virtue of the times. The same glade in the daytime might well be unremarkable, yet in the soft moonlight, it is transformed. That is a magic of a sort. But it's the magic of any forest, any place. It's not the magic that will sing in my blood. Not the magic that I feel calling me deeper into the heart of this forest.

Dawn came, with morning mist, the sunlight diffuse through the trees. It inspired a feeling of reverence in me. The accompaniment of the gurgling of a small creek winding through the wood set the mood of peace and a promising start to the day. Even if I never find the home I seek, moments like this make the journey itself worthwhile.

But I quest onward.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

My journey has taken me along mist covered trails, beside still mountain lakes, past isolated grottos, and over mountain paths strewn with wildflowers.

The colors are far more subtle in the subdued light streaming down through the canopy overhead. It makes everything seem surreal, magical in a way. I could wander these paths for the experiences of these sights alone, if I would not miss my friends.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

But at last I near the heart of the forest. I can begin to feel the song of the trees and flowers in my breast. Hints of fey magic abide here; subtle things like a streak of light in peripheral vision, colors just a little brighter than they ought to be, and the merry tinkling laughter of a trickling brook.

My excitement grows as I trek onward. I can feel it inside as an ever present tingle, a near giddiness that I am so close. A new day arrives, and I awake to the quiet of the morning forest, shrouded again in misty cover, hiding it's secrets.

Midday sees me resting beside a beautiful little stream in a quiet glade. I am too excited to eat, and my journey bread is running low anyhow.

It is so peaceful here, the sounds of chirping birds keep me company, and beyond that, the distant rumble of falling water. Intrigued, I find my feet under me again, carrying me towards the sound. I slip through the undergrowth as only elvish folk can, emerging upon a breathtaking sight.

My lips spread in a grin of delight. This is a place made for me, and my heart sings for it! Already I am slipping out of my clothes, eager to feel the cool water's caress on my skin. Diving from a nearby rock ledge into the mountain pool at the base of the falls, my whoop of sheer joy echoes from the rocks. Coming up for air, I feel so good, so free, I may never leave this place. Do I really need a dwelling if the forest itself gives me everything I need?

 

[yeishia]

I watch from the shadows as she slips away delighted that she has finally found that which stirs her soul.

Bye Thyri. Be happy always.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

*The invigorating tingle in my skin from the sparkling waters of the falls, alive with the magick of this place, stays with me even as I climb upon the large mossy rock surface and stretch out to dry.*

*Already, plans for the morrow are flitting through my mind. It's so relaxing here, and I can sense the power of this place, just waiting to be tapped. I think about my healing abilities. How much better could they be here? How much more could I help people in a place like this. But there aren't many people around. It's secluded, isolated. That suits me at times, but at others, I miss good company and good cheer.

And yet, I can't very well expect people to visit a waterfall. What kind of hospitality could I offer them here? *

 

[Annisthyrienne]

*It's a cool evening, so I make a small fire for warmth. As I sit enjoying the warmth, I wonder if there are other sylvan creatures in this part of the wood. Dryads, nymphs, centaurs, perhaps even other elvish folk. It would be nice to have neighbors of like spirit. Perhaps I should search for them, or at least offer a sign that they would be welcome here.*

 

[Sasha25]

*a butterfly flits and floats through the trees, more directly than a simple insect would, towards the aura of Annisthyrienne. She isn't present but her spirit lingers, part of the glade, part of the whole forest.

The butterfly comes to rest on a spot that glows brightly with the Elf's spirit and stays there, beating it's wings slowly. Suddenly, without flash or sound, a young woman, the vision of a human female, but with a tattoo of blue butterfly wings on her back rests on the forest floor, laying, relaxing, saying hello, kissing the earth, before turning back into a butterfly and moving up into the trees, never far off*

 

[yeishia]

Drops this off for her friend, she reminds me of you Thyri, though she resembles me somewhat giggles

http://i576.photobucket.com/albums/ss208/Yeishia/Birthday%20Greetings/Wishes-1-1.jpg​

 

[ShyMystica]

*A canvas wrapped in emerald dyed silk sits against a tree. A small note remains unsigned pinned to it's corner...*

Every elf, every soul needs a place to call home; a place to rejuvenate, to find peace, to find that connection to their soul.

Welcome home...

 

[Annisthyrienne]

*Returning to my waterfall, I discover the beautiful gifts left by my friends. I love them! The gifts, and my friends. I determine to put them (the gifts) in a safe place, but where. Living in the wild can be a bit troublesome. A quick search turns up a hollow tree, and I tuck my treasures safely inside for now. Hands on hips, looking around inside the dry secure trunk, I wonder why I have the strangest urge to make cookies.*

 

[Sasha25]

*the butterfly returns, alighting on the Elf's shoulder, tickling the smooth, soft skin, whispering*

Because cookies are yummy.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

*Kissing the butterfly softly and ever so gently, I whisper back,*
Ah, well that's a fine reason. I was afraid it had something to do with being an elf in a hollow tree.

 

[Sasha25]

*Kissing the butterfly softly and ever so gently, I whisper back,*
Ah, well that's a fine reason. I was afraid it had something to do with being an elf in a hollow tree.

*flitting around your head, the kiss of an elf is a magic thing and suddenly the nude girl form appears, shining slightly in the glade*

 

[Annisthyrienne]

*flitting around your head, the kiss of an elf is a magic thing and suddenly the nude girl form appears, shining slightly in the glade*

*Smiling in simple joy at the magic of the transformation.*

A butterfly, flutter by. And now a beautiful naked girl for me to wrap my arms around. This is the kind of magick I can get enthused about!

 

[Sasha25]

*Smiling in simple joy at the magic of the transformation.*

A butterfly, flutter by. And now a beautiful naked girl for me to wrap my arms around. This is the kind of magick I can get enthused about!

You can even put my butterfly form in a cage in the tree trunk if you want.

*giggles*

 

[Annisthyrienne]

I would love to keep you with me, but because you wanted to stay, not caged, denying your freedom, but by choice.

Caging such a beautiful creature could lead to bad habits. Today, a butterfly in a cage made of screenwire. Tomorrow, perhaps an artificial canyon environment with a moat laced with colloidal silver to house an endangered LunaWolf. And then the first thing you know, I'm abducting Vail in a white windowless cargo van, taking her home to live naked in a wire mesh dog kennel in my garage and shocking the metal cage with a stun gun whenever she displeases me.

See what I mean? Slippery slope!

 

[Sasha25]

I would love to keep you with me, but because you wanted to stay, not caged, denying your freedom, but by choice.

Caging such a beautiful creature could lead to bad habits. Today, a butterfly in a cage made of screenwire. Tomorrow, perhaps an artificial canyon environment with a moat laced with colloidal silver to house an endangered LunaWolf. And then the first thing you know, I'm abducting Vail in a white windowless cargo van, taking her home to live naked in a wire mesh dog kennel in my garage and shocking the metal cage with a stun gun whenever she displeases me.

See what I mean? Slippery slope!

And all of those things are completely unpleasant??!!

*sweeps into my butterfly form and moves between the trees and the flowers, exploring, content in my Dream's space*

 

[Annisthyrienne]

A home at last!

*Living in a glade with a waterfall is my version of paradise, but it lacks certain practical considerations. So I've been wondering what to do for a place to live and keep my stuff. Many kind friends have gifted me with beautiful presents, and I've kept them in the hollow tree. But there is magic aplenty in this grotto, and I need a place more homey, capable of receiving guests.

So with a thought, I tap into the heart of this enchanted forest, my hands placed carefully on the bole of the tree. I concentrate carefully, sensing the tree's life force, coaxing, shaping, encouraging it's growth. We elvish never force things when it comes to nature. The tree is already willing to grow; I only encourage it's direction of growth. Soon my new home takes shape.

A few slight conjurations to add my own touches, and my new home is ready.

*Standing back to look at my handiwork, I smile in satisfaction. Then a thought occurs to me.

First wise cracker to make a Keebler joke gets a kick in the crotch!

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Tree cottage interior

Inside my new home, a cozy parlor awaits my enjoyment or the comforting presence of good company.

And should the hour grow late, and my guests not wish to traverse the forest at night, I have a guest room as well.

Of course, my own bed is in the loft. A few lucky guests may get to join me there on occasion. I just hope they don't take a misstep off the edge of the platform in the middle of the night. You know, for insurance reasons.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Writing therapy

I remember that day as if it only happened recently. It's hard to believe that it's been 21 years. She would be older now than I was when I had her. If she had lived that is.

It wasn't how things were supposed to be. David and I were looking forward to our baby girl, even when he had to go to the desert. We hoped that he'd come home soon, and we'd all be a family. But about a week before she was delivered, I sensed something was wrong. I had not felt her moving inside me for a few days and went to the doctor to get checked.

The doctor found out the baby had died.

Apparently the umbilical cord had become kinked or twisted or something, in some way it had become restricted so that the blood and nourishment that could get to her was limited. It allowed her to grow and develop only up to a certain point. My pregnancy was about seven and a half months along when she died inside me.

I was in shock. I didn't know what to do. David was overseas, and I thought I was alone. Fortunately, one of his Army buddies was a friend of our family and knew how to contact the Red Cross. They got David home within days on emergency leave.

We cried a lot that week. I was a wreck. It was bad enough that I was crying so much because I lost my baby girl, yet her body was still inside me. But it was hard to see someone like my David, a tough Army tanker, break down into those hard sobs that took his breath away. He told me it wasn't my fault; that it was just something that happened. We held each other a lot, cried together a lot, and somehow got through until that day I was to go into the hospital to deliver the body of our daughter.

Most people don't think about the women who go into the hospital with their bellies swollen with child, and yet go home afterwards with nothing but empty arms.

I tried not to think about why I was there. They hooked me up to an IV with a medicine to make my uterus contract and dilate. My body wasn't going to deliver this baby naturally, so I had to be induced. I waited for some time before the first contractions, more like cramping it felt like to me, began.

I should explain that David was calling back to his command to try to get his emergency leave extended, and they were giving him a very hard time about it. The armed forces were ramping up during Desert Shield and didn't want to let anyone go for long. I guess that should have been a sign of what was going to come later. But at the time, all I knew is how upsetting it was to me. I was focusing more on David and trying to keep him with me than on what I was there in the hospital to do. Or maybe I was trying to keep my mind off of it by worrying about him. I only knew that if they made him leave me all alone, I couldn't' get through it by myself.

He was in and out of the hospital room where I was due to constantly trying to make calls to his command and to the Red Cross and the Chaplain for his unit. As a result, he was out of the room when she was actually delivered.

They took her out to clean her up a little while they gave me a break before needing to deliver the placenta. The birth had been rough, even though she was very small. I was already exhausted, and it wasn't over yet. In fact, the worst was still to come. After a few minutes, they brought her back for me to hold one precious time, just a few minutes. Yet it was all the time I would ever have with her.

She was so tiny. They told me she weighed only 1 pound, 11 ounces. I could hold her little body in my two hands, one in front of the other. They had put a little beige cap on her head, with a little pink pom-pom on it and the name of the hospital printed in pink. I couldn't read the words through the tears in my eyes. She had dark hair, and I could see David in some of her features.

I remember thinking that here was the flesh of my flesh, the blood of my blood. And she was dead. Part of me died that day too.

David and I had already picked out a name for her, months before, as soon as we'd found out it was a little girl through the ultrasounds. Sara Michelle. I told the nurse when she asked. They couldn't give me a birth certificate; those are to certify live births. But they had a delivery certificate, more for our memories than for any legal purpose.

I only had a few minutes with her. David came back during that time, upset that he'd missed her actual birth. But at least he got to hold her too. They took her from me and gave her to him, leading him out to another room. I should have known that what was coming next would be bad, just because they didn't want David to see it.

The doctor had come back to deliver the placenta. The trouble was, as before, it wasn't coming out naturally, so right away it was hard. And it had had a week to begin breaking down and decaying inside me. As a result, it was coming out in little pieces. The doctor was trying to use instruments to remove it. It was excruciating. It felt like he was tearing pieces out of my insides, peeling the inside of my womb. I screamed. I squeezed the nurse's fingers so hard she thought I'd break them. I remember the sound of the doctor rooting around inside me, pulling out bits and pieces. It sounded like stirring macaroni and cheese. To this day, I can't stand that sound.

Eventually it was too much, and I couldn't stop screaming. The doctor decided to put me under sedation to remove the rest. I just wished it was over.

I don't remember too much after that. Just waking up feeling like they'd scraped my insides with a garden rake. David was there with me at least. He'd finally managed to get through to someone at his command, and it looked like he would get his leave extension. I needed him so much right then. He ended up getting to stay home with me a total of a month, counting the days he'd already been home. At the end of that time, he went back to his unit. Watching him get on the plane was the last time I saw him alive.

Neither of us ever saw Sara again. They had taken her little body to be cremated. A few days later, we got a little black plastic box sealed with her ashes inside. That's what I got to take home from the hospital. No car seat required. We eventually buried the little box beneath a tree we planted in her memory. All I have of her now is the little hat, and a blurry Polaroid snapshot, and the certificate they gave me. I keep it in a photo album in my bedroom.

I found out later that I cannot have babies now. I don't know if it had anything to do with the doctor peeling out my insides, or if it was part of the same reason that Sara never developed to full term. They said something about my womb being irregularly shaped, or something. It didn't matter by then. David was gone when I found that out. I lost Sara in October. I lost David the following February.

 

[Sasha25]

*crying softly at reading the story, the Butterfly, as a human woman wipes the tears away and takes a bouquet of white flowers from the air and places them down at the base of one of the trees. She wants to leave something more, but nothing else seems enough to equal the emotion and memory. Writing on a piece of parchment and leaving it among the flower*

I'm so very sorry for your loss, dear Elf. When you need a hug, you knew where to find me.

Sasha~

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Enough

Since writing about what happened, I've made myself read it again and again. A half dozen times at least, until it doesn't hurt anymore to see these words. A form of self torture? Maybe.

But I'm sick and tired of feeling like a victim of what has happened to me in life. Nobody has a perfect life. Shit happens to everyone. It can't be helped. Looking back over all the things that has happened to me in my life it reads like a soap opera. Time and time again I've been knocked down. But I'm still not knocked out.

Don't get me wrong. Sometimes I just wish it were all over. I wish that a lot, actually. I think about it all the time. But long ago I decided it wouldn't be fair to all those to whom I mean something in their lives, to take that away from them without their permission. People who are suicidal often rationalize it by saying, 'Well, it's my life. I ought to have the right to end it myself, if I want to.' But that's a selfish way to look at it.

I mean something in the lives of so many people who know me. To some I am a sister. To some I am a daughter. To some I am a friend, or a co-worker, or an aunt, or a niece. The point is, I am a part of their lives, and I have no right to take that part away from them against their will. Not to mention the people I have yet to meet in the future, to whom I may come to mean something special. A year ago, I was not on Lit, didn't know anyone here. Now I have friends here. Friends who would miss me if I were gone. If I had given up a year ago or before then, none of you would ever have known me. You wouldn't be reading my words now. If I mean anything to you now, it is a blessing that I didn't end things long ago. I hope you all can realize by this that you might be someone's blessing too, now or someday.

Do I long for that day when I can let it all go, naturally. Hell yeah. The day cannot come soon enough, as far as I am concerned some days. But I will not make it happen before it is time.

Anyhow, I am now the cumulative effect of the events in my life, both the hardships and the good times. The things that have happened to me have steeled me, tempered me, made me strong and tough. Sometimes I feel like the world sits on my shoulders and weighs down on me, but I can't give up. It simply isn't an option. And once that option is ruled out, what else can I do but keep on getting back up?

Sometimes I let things get me down. Sometimes I can't help what I feel. But sooner or later I get sick of feeling like a victim. We cannot help the things that happen to us in life. We cannot control most things. But we can decide how we are going to deal with it. We have a choice in how we define ourselves in relationship to what happens to us. I believe that everything I say or do makes a statement about who and what I am. It defines me, in relation to the world around me. I get to choose that. I get to create that definition.

So what does it say about me to let sadness rule my life? What does it say to let the events of the past continue to have a hold over me? I read my story over and over again until the words didn't hurt anymore. The events, the memories, they will always hurt I suppose. But I'm through letting them control me. I decide here and now to get up off my knees and rise up, yet again. Knocked down, again, but not knocked out. It's time to stand up.

I've always loved this song. Sometimes I feel like it's my theme.

Stand​

To my friends who help me get back up again, I love you all. When we stand up together, nothing can keep us down. You've helped me and I won't forget it. This song is for you, from me.

I Won't Let Go​

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Bring on the Rain

 

[Annisthyrienne]

A crisp autumn morning finds me pleasantly happy and sated. The cozy confines of my hollow tree home contain the warmth of a small fire burning in a clay lined fireplace. It lends a cheery feeling to my little abode.

Sitting in a favorite rocking chair, nestled on a thick cushion, I sip a mug of hot chocolate, contemplating a post for a story about a doll who comes to life to comfort a lonely widower. It's a challenging role, the kind I like to stretch my imagination with. Sometimes it's hard to get into the mindspace of such a character, since it's so different from my own. In this case, I have to view everything from the perspective of 11 and a half inches tall, and see everything as one big mercenary commando mission.

On this morning, I find the rushing sound of the nearby waterfall in the grotto to be more alluring than the prospect of writing, at least for the moment. Setting the empty mug aside, I make my way out of my home and down the misty path to the grotto.

As always, the spray from the falling water hangs in the sunlit air like a misty veil, the screen for the colorful rainbow arc that hangs perpetually above the clear pool. It always makes me smile to see it, and today is no exception. Stripping off my tunic, leggings, blouse and simple moccasin boots, I pause, naked, breathing deeply of the cool moist air, high on the rocky platform above the pool. With a loud whoop of excitement, I jump in, cannonball style!

The clear water closes over me, enveloping me like a lover's embrace, soothing, cooling, cradling me in buoyant support as I resurface, gasping in a deep breath before lying back to float lazily on the crystal pool.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

*An invigorating dip in the grotto, and peaceful floating weightlessness offers the perfect opportunity to let ideas come to me. Inspiration often comes when I least expect it, and from sources I never imagined. But this time, it's thoughts of pretty Sasha and some of the times we've spent together that inspires me.

I swim to the rocks, pulling myself up out of the pool. Donning my tunic only over bare legs and breasts, eschewing the boots, blouse, and leggings, I gather my remaining clothes in my arms and hurry home to my idea journal, eager to record my latest notion for a story idea.*