Monday, September 27, 2004

THE ADVENTURES OF WEAVER: Chapter Six. Death faces us all
it was still dark when Weaver got back to the forest. this is what Weaver wanted. he didn't know if there was anyone else close to him other than Essence, but if there was, it would be better to sneak away unnoticed by anyone. if anyone else close to him was put at risk again, because of Weaver's actions, he would never forgive himself. his Grandfather, he could possably tell where he was going. but what if Essence was there? but he needed help. there was no way he could go on an adventure with the equipment he had currently. his sword was broken, and he knew there would be even more dangorus times ahead. he had no choice but to aproach his Grandfathers house.

Weaver peared through the window of his Grandfathers house. Already, his Grandfather was looking back at him, as if he was expecting him. his Grandfather nodded his head and beconed him into his house.Weaver moved away froom the window, and walked to the door. His Grandfather opened the door for him, and invited him in. Weaver looked around his Grandathers house again. his eyes caught the mirror again, which he looked at the scar on his face for a while. he took his eyes away from the mirror, and turned to his Grandfather,who was now sat in a large chair, and smoking on a pipe.

"Weaver, my Grandson...i am Omen Gaia, the chosen Guardian of the forest...i have lived for 15,630 years... in all that time, the dark elf attack on the forest was the only attack ever to have happened...i'm too old..."

"Grandfather..."

"please, call me Omen"

"...Omen, i thought the elfs never die."

"ah, so your knowlage of ekven life havent left you completely...alas, we are a different race of elves...many years ago, before i was even born...the great goddess of the forest, Gaia, had bestowed her immortalitty and adventorous skill to all elfs. but the elves had to arrrive on top of a mountain, and recieve her blessing. we, the wood elves of the far corner of the world, arived there too late to recive the blessing of immortalitiy, but as a consalation, we were given incredeblly long life, and the best of Adventorus skill. yes, compared to other elves in the world, we will die before them, but sooner or later,they too will die...by the sword or by the inevitable end of the world...we all die..."

Weaver was slghtly taken back by this story, but it helped him realize that he did not want to live forever.

"Weaver...hand me your sword..."

Weaver handed Omen all that was left of this sword. omen mearly looked at it and chuckled

"i remember when you were only a young boy of...oh, maybe 30 years of age, and i gave you this sword...do you know what i told you?"

Weaver slightly shaked his head so a no

"i told you that this sword was given to the hero who first found adventure. in all the years of his trav;es, the blade never shattered...heh heh heh heh...you've broken this blade at least 4 times now"

Omen mearly smiled, and rased his hand.

"Weaver, you may want to get down..."

Weaver didn't understand, and stool still. Omen's hand began to glow, and for a few moments, Weaver watched, untill his elven ears heard something whistling in the wind, like a blade cutting its way through the air. suddenlly, a large amotnt of metal came flying through the window, suprising Weaver. Instantlly, Weaver threw himself to the floor, as the pieces of metal flew over his head, and towards Omen. they were going so fast, there was no way they would stop.

"NO!"

Weaver got to his feet, but thn realized that the metal was now gathering itself around Weavers sword, reforging itself.

"Weaver. it is done"

"thank you, Omen"

Omen haded Weaver his sword back.

"Weaver, if you look in the cupboard next to the mirror, you will see many potions. take as many as you can carry"

"you know im going away, dont you"

"you were always going to leave hear one day...just like i did, like your mother did, and like Essence will one day"

Weaver opend the cupboard, and filled his bags with many potions, then closed the cupboard again

"Omen, please don't tell Essence where i've gone"

"heh...i won't have the chance to..."

Weaver look slightly bewildered

"What do you mean Grandfather?"

"...my time has come to an end...i have only one task left to preform, and then...i will go to the next world."

"...no."

"Weaver...do not weep for me...it was my choice...to uptake the role of the forest gaurdian...let me prefom my final task..."

Weaver stood and looked at his Grandfather, with sadness, and yet, Amazement, and he saw this old man pull himself out of his chair, and walk to the center of his house slowly, but confident and strong. the two elf's looked at eachother, and the younger one nodded. Weaver stood before his Grandfather. he didn't know what his final task was going to be, but he knew he wanted to see it as clear as possable

The old man placed his staff on the ground by his feet, and began to mutter, getting louder and louder, speaking in and Elvish tounge that Weaver had forgotten and could no longer remember. the muttering became confident speaking, and wind was blasting around the house. again, Omen got louder, and a bright blue flash shone from his body. the flash grew into a large dome of light that left the house. Weaver ran to the Window, and saw that the blue dome was grasually covering the forest. he saw the treas growing again, and the houses being rebuilt. eventually, the dome reached the edge ot fhe forest, and slowly disapeared. Weaver quickly turned to his grandfather, who was slowly falling to his knees. Weaver caught him before he hit the floor.

"the forest...cannot be invaded...by the dark elfs...anymore...Weaver...save your brother...you and he are the last of my bloodline...save him..."

"Grandfather!"

"Weaver...please...call me Omen...the Great Omen Gaia..."

slowly, his breath left his mouth, and Omen never drew breath again from the trees he had protected all his life. slowly, his body turned to dust, and the wind blew through the hole in the window, and blew the dust away.

"Omen...Gramdfather!"

all that was left was his robe, and his staff. Weaver Mourned for a moment, but realized he could not stay for much longer. a tear roled down Weaver's cheek, and as soon as it touched the floor in the house, he looked at the mirror one last time, turned on his heel and walked out of the house, and made his way to his own house.







This story is copyright © 2004 Weaver. All rights reserved


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