A Return to Eldergreen

[Sha]

@Mortal Recoil


Silhouetted in the distance were the shadows of Eldergreen. The forest loomed behind the short buildings, covering it in a shadow against the still-rising sun behind it. Nestled there between the trees which created a horseshoe around the village sat the homes of simple families of simple means living simple lives. The sort of life Lucas once wanted to escape. The sort of life Lucas now wanted more than anything. A shiver crawled down the back of his neck as he sat upon his horse in the chilly, morning air while he quietly watched the village which seemed to slowly wake from its slumber.


A painful grin swept briefly across his face while he peered down at the smoke rising slowly from a few homes. The church bell chimed and, with that as their cue, villagers moved to the church. The place could not have been home to more than 200 inhabitants and it seemed all of them were wandering into the church as that bell chimed. The small dots which were briefly scattered about the village now congregated towards the entrance beneath the steeple.


Lucas breathed in deeply. Surely he would recognize some of the faces he was about to see, but what scared him was the prospect of them recognizing him. He had changed so much since he left all those years ago, but it is a strange thing how the ambiance and particular facial expressions of man can give him away – especially in a place as tight-knit as this. The stillness was broken as Lucas kicked his heals against the belly of horse. It gave a snort in the way horses do and walked lazily onward. Lucas was in no particular hurry, in fact, the man was starting to deeply regret his decision to return.


“Why am I here?” He questioned in thought, “Closure? No, I haven’t done anything which should need closure. We were so young – it wasn’t, I-“ His thoughts ceased as though they had a will of their own. Lucas coughed and wiped his nose with a handkerchief from his left coat pocket. The horse was slow to carry him to the outer-boundary of the village and with every step he questioned turning around, but with every step he felt drawn forward. He had come this far, he was resolute. He would see those he left behind, he would see… He would see them all.


“It will be nice to see everyone, again,” He lied to himself. It had been some time since he had looked down upon the dots which freckled the village like ants about an anthill. During his ride down the hill he had heard the church bell chime again indicating the services had ended. The village was bustling, well, as bustling as 200 people can be. Now he sat on horseback at the entrance to his old home. Staring in with his usual look of happy-apathy he felt himself unable to move in the still warming air.

 

[Mortal Recoil]

At the beckoning chime of the church bell, Vivienne rose from her bed to peer out the window. It was a Sunday morning, and sure enough, once she wiped the fog from the cool glass, most everyone could be seen leaving their homes to corral at the entrance of the church, heads bowed reverently as they marched forward. Within a few minutes, the village became something of a ghost town; eerily still, save for the chorus of voices beseeching the mercy of the "Spirit" with despairing intonations.


Vivienne drew back from the window to exchange her nightgown for a clean dress, then took several plummeting steps down to the lower floor of the inn. There was little Vivienne could do to drown out the congregation at the church other than to occupy her mind, so she set about cleaning the mess left over from the night before while humming softly to herself. She picked up plates and bowls and half-empty tankards of chilled mead and threw them into a bucket of water, then swept the floorboards clean of any food debris that had tumbled from its dish. The morning passed her by largely unnoticed, and by the time she'd finished scrubbing the tables down till they resumed their lacquered polish, the village was filled with activity once again.


She found herself gazing out the window a second time, taking note of the way that passers-by hunched their shoulders and drew their cloaks tight about them. Her inn wouldn't be hosting visitors any time soon, not after a church assembly. The villagers skirted around the establishment as if sparing it a single glance would be enough to waver their resolve and draw them to act on their vices. Vivienne had even been accused of such before, but she was never one to interfere with the worshippers of the Spirit. She didn't count herself among those who believed in this new god, yet she couldn't deny that she felt the weight of something watching over them. Something not to be meddled with.


Her thoughts were broken by the figure of a man passing by her window on horseback. The village was only small, and one could walk its entire length on foot within a half hour or less. Because of this, horses were a rare commodity, and the man who rode through the streets stood out like a sore thumb in the parting crowd. She watched as he reined his mount to a stop a short distance away from the inn, his gaze seeming to linger over a building.


His horse was flanked by burlap travel sacks and an array of other odds and ends, and Vivienne immediately pinned the stranger for a traveling merchant. She gave him one last look, then feeling she'd observed him longer than he'd be comfortable knowing, she turned from the window and continued her duties. She had a feeling she would be seeing the stranger again very soon.

 

[Sha]

Lucas moved slowly through the village, immediately drawing the eyes of those around him as he progressed on horseback. He barely gripped the reigns. The slack allowed for the horse to reach down and pluck bits of grass which sprouted from the path without missing a beat. Every few steps the animal would rear its head and neigh as though asking to be ridden properly. He sat up straight in the saddle while his eyes moved slowly, almost methodically, to each home, crevice, and stone while merely glancing over the faces which peered up at him.


The appearance of the town had hardly changed in twelve years. Lucas found himself unsurprised, as during the sixteen years he lived here; it refused to change as well. Of course, the inhabitants never ceased to change. He slowly past the Post Office wondering if the town still only received their mail on a monthly basis or if the lack of correspondents had shut the place down completely. His eyes strained to see through the windows with shades drawn, but could see nothing. Pelton’s General Store stood taller than the buildings around it and was currently populated by more than a few souls who glanced out the window to see the curious traveler looking away as soon as their eyes met.


All the citizens who looked Lucas’ way were struck with brief curiosity and were quick to return to their own doings but every so often he would return his eyes to a person who stared at him with intent and interest. He could not recognize them immediately; perhaps it was the moustache or the added wrinkles which distorted their appearance enough for his eyes to grant him ignorance to their names. He passed his gaze over them with greater haste than the others hoping they would not recognize him – he knew they did. Without being able to recognize a single face, he knew they saw Lucas and not a traveler.


With each step the horse beneath the saddle took, the man on its back felt more and more worn, as though it were he carrying the horse. His shoulders slumped a bit and he rubbed his eyes when he came upon the Inn. He lingered for a moment, thinking he could see a shadow in the window of the otherwise quiet place. A deep breath invaded his chest. He tugged the reigns. The horse turned, continuing on with a steady pace to where he dismounted and tied the reigns to a railing of the Inn. He glanced over his shoulder. Those who were looking his way smiled nicely, a gesture he tried his best to return, before unhitching the bags from the horse’s back.


With the burlap sacks secured over his shoulder he stepped onto the porch. Bits of dried mud cracked and fell around where he stepped. He pushed through the door and moved his eyes in the same methodical way as before. There were a few tables, a few chairs, and the entirely empty bar which sat against a far wall. It was early, not yet noon, but still Lucas thought of getting a drink. No, the horse must be tended to first while the sacks upon his back began to tug at his shoulder in a way just uncomfortable enough for him to hasten to release them.


It was just when he thought to call out that he noticed a woman doing what Lucas could only assume was a chore behind the bar. He wondered if she was the innkeeper, and figured it ruder to assume she wasn’t than assume that she was.


“Hello, ma’am,” He said with his disingenuous smile and a slight bow of his head. She looked familiar. If the fatigue which dampened her eyes were suddenly lifted he felt he would know her name. He was forced to look towards her longer than those he passed in the village and the fear of recognizing another and being recognized returned to him. “Do you have a room?” He continued half rhetorically, knowing there was vacancy. It then struck him he had not a reason to be here which he could speak aloud. Supposing he was asked, he would claim to be here on business, looking to sell the wool shawls and furs which lay dormant in the sacks slung over his shoulder. If he was recognized, however, Lucas supposed he would keep with the story adding the simple lie: ‘I thought it would be nice to see everyone again.’

 

[Mortal Recoil]

The sound of the front door groaning on its hinges, followed by a set of heavy footfalls, came sooner than expected. It was no surprise to Vivienne that the man she saw amble into the building was none other than the stranger who rode into town on horseback. She tossed the damp cloth she held in her hand into a bucket and regarded him with a warm smile. "Well, as you can see," she said, gesturing to the empty room about her, "we're currently brimming with activity, but with some luck, I'm sure I can squeeze you in somewhere."


She stepped out from behind the bar to help relieve him of the burlap sacks he carried on his shoulders. Yet upon stepping closer to the man, she slowed to a halt. Something about his face tickled her memory, though she couldn't exactly place why. Had he passed through the village before? No, that couldn't be it. Visitors were a novelty as far as the Eldergreen was concerned, and she remembered each one with vivid clarity.


Feeling she'd stared too long, Vivienne reminded herself of her manners and averted her gaze. "You must not be the God-fearing type, coming in here of a Sunday. At least, many of the folk around here will see it that way. Sometimes people forget that we don't only sell drink. Travellers are so rare, our rooms are most always empty. Can I take that for you, sir?" She cut off her own rambling by gesturing with a nod to the sacks that caused the man to slouch beneath their weight. "I'm Vivienne, by the way. I'll show you up to your room."

 

[Sha]

A short smile passed briefly over Lucas’ face at the woman’s sarcasm. As she approached him he noticed her pace slow and her eyes linger on his face which caused him to grow nervous once more at the prospect of being recognized. A slight twitch of his lip was all that betrayed his nerves just before she averted her gaze. Villages like Eldergreen were often steeped in religion and he had no trouble understanding why an inn, which more than likely doubled as the only place to buy a real drink, would be so actively avoided on Sunday.


“Oh no, that’s alright,” Lucas said plainly with another brief smile at her offer to assist him with his things. He adjusted the burlap straps which hung over his shoulders, releasing that musk distinct to a worked horse. “I’m Lucas,” He said before allowing another brief smile to leave his face, following her up the wooden staircase. At the head of the stairs Lucas paused as he peered down the hallway, lined with a few rooms on either side. The rooms were limited, but then again, why waste the space in a town as small as this.


“What was that symbol on the church?” Lucas asked Vivienne as they moved down the hallway. It struck him as odd that not only was it not a standard cross, but that the symbol of religion had changed at all since his childhood. It had been twelve years but to have a drastic religious shift in a community as small as this was unusual, almost unheard of.

 

[Mortal Recoil]

Her offer politely declined, Vivienne nodded and turned to retrieve something from behind the bar. Her hand pulled away with a set of keys fastened around a closed ring about the width of a woman's fist. Then with a jerk of her head, she motioned the visitor to follow before leading him up the stairs, the keys clinking and rattling with every step. That name. Lucas. She felt another stirring sense of familiarity emerge from the back of her mind. Why did she feel like she knew him?


Once she stepped onto the landing, she considered each door. Her lodgings were on the far right of the hallway, and although it was bigger than most other rooms, it was still considerably modest in size. The room opposite was of similar proportions, with space enough for a small family if it was needed. Surely nothing that would impress a seasoned traveller, but it was the best she had to offer. She walked decidedly to the end of the hall, fumbling with the keys as she went.


Lucas' voice followed after her, and she paused with a hand resting on the doorknob. “The church is always the first thing travellers notice when they come into town,” she said, turning to him with something of a wry smile. “I don't blame them. It must seem strange. We're not Christians, well, not most of us. But we're also not some backwater village overrun by a crazy cult, mind you. It's just… Well, if you stay here long enough, you'll notice it too.”


Nimble fingers sorted through the keys until she came upon the one she needed and fitted it through the lock. She pushed the door open and stepped aside, allowing him entrance to his lodgings. “The crescent wreath on top of the church isn't the only place you'll find that symbol. You've probably noticed most of the buildings around here have crescent-shaped wreaths made of leaves and poppies that are made to be hung over torch sconces and placed around candles. It's supposed to represent the 'Spirit,' the new god believed to inhabit the forest some ten years back, almost as if it were a traveller come to stay. My guess is that the light is supposed to be something like the Spirit's guiding force, while the wreath represents us: the Eldergreen." She shrugged. "I'm not the religious sort, so I'm perhaps not the best person to consult on such matters."

 

[Sha]

As soon as the word left his mouth Lucas began silently kicking himself for using his real name. “Oh well,” He thought; should he be recognized by someone it would cut back on any explaining he would have to do. The two made their way up the short staircase which winded strangely around what seemed to be a support column before jutting outward and releasing the two climbers onto the second floor. The carpet was clean but noticeably worn despite the low number of visitors who would choose to pass through a place such as this. There was nowhere to pass on to, after all, save the forest at the village’s back. Lucas shuddered.


The mud which caked Lucas’ boots had been all but shaken off as they ascended the staircase. He glanced back and noticed the specs of greyed brown ended a few steps before the landing, sparing the carpet. As Vivienne briefly explained the workings of the new religion Lucas listened intently, watching her back as she walked just in front of him but turning, almost nervously, to glance about the hallway when she would turn back to see the person she was speaking to.


The Crescent Wreath.


The words sent a shiver down Lucas’ spine despite the warmth provided by the satchels which hung over his back. He didn’t know why, exactly, but the symbol seemed almost familiar to him, despite his inability to recall seeing it before. He was sure that back when he had left the village, a cross hung above the church, but when he pictured the building in his mind he could see only the wreath with the almost blinding, twinkling candlelight which flickered behind the array of nature.


The way his mind wandered felt almost dreamlike but he was shaken awake to the soft creak of a door. He stepped in with a short smile and dropped the satchel with a thud to the floor at the foot of the bed. He turned to Vivienne, retaining his smile as he spoke, “Well, I suppose I ought to stable my horse.” Lucas walked back to the doorway and held out his hand for the key, “Do you provide such a service or know of a place I can take him?”

 

[Mortal Recoil]

Vivienne didn't miss the unnerved look that passed over Lucas' face for a moment before he smoothed it over with a smile. She imagined that in his line of work, it was a reflex that came naturally to him, as much as it did to her. But unlike most merchants she knew, he was one of a quiet, furtive manner. His eyes didn't meet hers easily, and his words seemed to be carefully considered before spoken, as if he were toeing around danger. She didn't have reason to suspect he was up to no good, but he was hiding something, and she was more than inclined to pry.


She brushed the thought from her mind when he turned to her with an open palm. She posited the desired key into his grip and returned a dull-eyed smile. “Rare that I ever have a need for it, but yes, you're in luck,” she replied, turning back the way they came. She frowned as she passed the trail of dried flakes of mud at the bottom of the stairs. I just swept that, for heaven's sake.


The chagrin that broiled through her chest disappeared as quickly as it came, and she pressed on wordlessly towards a short, narrow hall that lead to the back of the inn. Outside to the left was a recess in the wall that accommodated two small stalls, enclosed by wooden posts. Both had empty troughs, but Vivienne kept stock of hay in the woodshed. “It might be a tight fit if your horse is particularly big,” she said, turning to Lucas.


As if hit by a wave, Vivienne gawked. "Shaw, right? Lucas Shaw." The more she stared, the more the likeness was undeniable. "I knew I'd seen your face before. It's just been so long. My, I envied you when you left, and yet... now you're back." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, you probably don't even remember me. We were young then..."

 

[Sha]

The sun was still on the rise when the two walked out through the inn’s backdoor. He hoped that his stay would only last a day or two, but he had previously reconciled with the fact that his business here might take longer. The details of this business of his was still not wholly known but, nonetheless, he had swallowed his nerves and convinced himself to proceed. Those nerves of his, ever creeping within the depths of his gut and scratching at the back of his sunburnt neck (which he had thought swallowed and at rest) returned so swiftly that he could hardly keep himself from vomiting.


Shaw.


His hand now rested just above his mouth before letting out the soft, almost guttural sound that one generally makes when clearing their throat. She caught him off guard. The bags under his eyes had deepened so heavily and his hair grown so long that Lucas had almost allowed himself to believe that he could keep his true identity hidden, but then again, he was the fool to have given her his real name in the first place. Perhaps if he had used an alias he could have – well, it was too late to dwell on it now. The unrest in his stomach was not quick to settle as his hand lowered to rest innocently upon his stomach as Vivienne’s voice tapered off.


Having been a merchant all these years, Lucas had become rather adept at retaining his obedient smile and speaking that which he knew his client wished to hear, but this; this felt somehow… different. Nonetheless, he plastered his usual friendly smile upon his face and let out a purposefully embarrassed chuckle.


“I wasn’t sure anyone would recognize me, not with, well – the road hasn’t been kind to me, as you can see,” He said, lowering the hand which rested on his abdomen. Indeed, the road hadn’t been kind to him but, in truth, it had been no harsher on him than anyone else.


Envy.


The word stung. If she had the same reason as he to leave, envy would be the farthest word from her mind. He swallowed the disdain he felt without shifting his outward composure. “Well, things may have changed, but as far as I know there is only one Vivienne way out here,” He said with a chuckle. Now, allowing his smile to soften, he continued in a continued attempt to shift the conversation from himself, “What’s kept you here?” He said with a tilt of his head and curling of his brow, “If my memories don’t deceive me, you always wanted to leave this,” He paused instinctually and regretted it, “Wonderful place.” Despite himself, the sarcasm of these last words became quite apparent.

 

[Mortal Recoil]

Vivienne would have pulled Lucas into an embrace and pecked his cheek had he not appeared so disturbed, as if being recognised was the last thing he wanted. His sallow skin seemed to grow paler, and for a second, Vivienne thought he might double over and pour the contents of a churning stomach onto her boots. Come to think of it, he had known who she was, yet never said a thing.


Before she could continue along that line of thought, Lucas spoke again, posing a question that took her by surprise. She ducked her head, toying with the pendant that hung about her neck. No one had ever had reason to ask her that, since one's personal affairs were never quite a secret in a village as small as this. Memories she'd often fought down began to well up once again, and her eyes took on a distant look. “Ohh, I suppose life just tied me down,” she said with a slight hitch in her voice. “I married me a husband. Eric, my love, passed four years ago, may the Spirit rest his soul… Left me nothing but this inn.” Her gaze lifted, sweeping over the building in front of them. “Couldn't let it go. Wouldn't feel right. Besides, it's a daunting thought, leaving behind everything you know. Especially as a woman. I couldn't leave, not now.”


She hadn't missed the disdain in his voice when referring to the village. Curious, she turned to him. "What about you? What brings you back?"