Oranges and Apricots

A serene melody ventured through the lush forest, hiding holes created by minuscule critters, dens created by colossal beasts, past hidden pastures, and to the edge of the forest, exhaled by the wind. Imprisoned in its trance, the thicket was hardly animated, with solely the wildflowers lazily waltzing under the tranquil moonlight. Their revelries were abruptly interrupted as a sodden boot burrowed into the ground and another followed. As the sounds of running reverberated throughout the forest, magnificent beasts, massive and miniature dashed out of the being's way. The broad-shouldered and well built shadowy figure darted beyond the trees and around the brambles, frantic for escape. During his frenzy, the excessive roots of an oak provided his downfall. Amid his bewilderment, he was on the precipice endeavoring to uproot his foot out from beneath the coils of the roots. Imperceptible shouts echoed throughout the forest and his foot was released. Whilst he whirled to brave his adversaries who were advancing upon him expeditiously, his wounded foot slipped and he plunged headfirst into the murky lake beneath. With insufficient oxygen, the silhouette resurfaced, only to engulf himself as further roars resounded. Surly voices bellowed incomprehensible words and a militia of half-men half horses materialized from the blackness. "Ry wokr yj wov." A centaur, presumably the chief, instructed the troops round the bluff and they vanished into the woodland, morphing into shadows in the night. Subsequently, the man emerged from beneath the surface of the squalid lake, allowing an invigorating breeze to envelop him as he planted his hands on the saturated earth. With teeth chattering and numb limbs he scarcely succeeded to escape from the filth of the pond. He clambered up the bluff and in indiscretion and forlornness, struck the limbs of the tree which induced his fall. 

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"Hey. Ought to have little respect for my property if you please." Astonished, the man spun around in a quest of the owner of the voice. 

"In here." He caught sight of a large and triangular object sticking out from behind a makeshift entrance to the oak tree. Strange. He never saw that before. 

"Hurry up. You do not wish for them to sniff you out. Their senses are quite heightened, as you may know." The voice was scarcely a whisper and prompted the man to prudently approach the tree. 

"Creature, I have not all night." Sighing, the man forced his legs to move quicker, despite the knife-like pain. The little oak door was held open, and glowing lights could be seen emitting from inside. After hunching to enter, the man discovered that he could stand up quite straight once he was inside. He turned for a look at his rescuer who was putting tea on. "Biscuit?" The man finally got a look at his savior. He was a short fellow

yet not short enough to be an elf. His skin was made of oranges and apricots mixed and he owned a yellow beard smoothly divided down the center. He wore a blue bandana, which complemented his large orange head, and he begot two immense ears that twitched with every minuscule noise. His nose was sharp and cat-like and his eyes seemed to be the only normal thing about him as they were a piercing green. He could have been a century old, but it was hard to tell age underneath the leathery skin. One could see his squalid dirt-covered feet for he wore no covering, and there were only four toes. The man squinted in wonder. 

"What are you doing here?" His voice was hushed and his tone inquisitive. 

"Biscuits?" The animal repeated. The man nodded, his eyes wide in awe. The being arranged a leaf with different types of biscuits on a stump in front of the welcoming fireplace. He then sat in front of it, on a little stool. He gestured to the seat next to him. 

"Sit, sit." His voice matched him perfectly, it was the sound of cowhide.

The man hunkered beside him and seized a cookie. 

"The real question is, what are you doing here?" He lifted an eyebrow and glanced at his companion. 

"Running." He chomped on his biscuit as if that response was sufficient. 

"What about you? How come you aren't with the rest?"

"I was too, running." The creature sampled his tea before advancing. 

 "Running from my government. Running from captivity. Running from death." He peered at the man next to him. 

"I'm so sorry. I forgot about the Bondage Act." A blanket of stillness settled amidst them. The man hesitated before continuing. 

"How did you make it across the Waters of Fatality? I know it must have been difficult." 

"It is like this stump. Who would have known that this stump would grow inside what is already a tree? No one. It is because it is a miracle. As is my story." He spoke with an air of authority, but not of too much authority. The man glanced at him.

"That's too vague." He stated in between mouthfuls of another biscuit.

"What is your name, creature?" The being stood and traveled towards a basket on the far side of the room, leaving the man to his last scone.

"Enarcello. What's yours?" 

"Ah, my name is not of any importance. What is important is that you are hungry, and must be tired. Would you like a linen?" Enarcello gawked at the pool of water on the ground and looked up apologetically. 

"Sorry about your floors. I don't know if a linen would do much good. I should probably get going, anyways. Thanks for your hospitality." He arose and began to shuffle towards the exit.

"No. You are not going anywhere. They will be searching for you and you need rest. It is well past midnight. Take some linens." He threw them at Enar, who could not believe someone appearing so dignified would do so.

"Hey, thanks. If I were to stay, where would I sleep?" He asked.

"It is not if. You are staying and will be sleeping in the back. Outside." The being paused. 

"In the cold. And snow." A wave of desperation passed over the man's face like a cloud. Ignoring it, the figure continued.

"I have laid out a few leaves for you, and if it has not snowed yet, you should be fine. If it gets too cold, I will give you a cup of tea." The being opened a door next to the fireplace. Snow began settling in, and the wind howled an eery tune. With a look of wistfulness, the man trudged toward the door. As he approached it, the creature shut it in his face. 

"I am just kidding. Have a little fun, will you?" He spoke in between chuckles and the worry lines vanished from Enarcello's forehead. Together they laughed, hearty guffaws that seemed to fill the room to its end. Gradually, the merriment died down.

"But honestly. If you get cold, I will give you more leaves. Perhaps even sticks to make a fire." He opened the door once more, neglecting the look of incredulity Enar was giving him. 

"Out, out you go. Do not leave. We are near the Division of the Ruins. It would not be fitting for you to be caught by them." The man crouched underneath the door and prepared to step into the cold. 

"Also. Do not touch any plants. They could be an assassin vine. Do not be of worry. They only smell fear." Quickly, the creature ushered Enarcello out of the warmth of the comfortable oak. 

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As he stepped outside, the wind slapped him in the face, and snow seeped into his mass of hair. He wandered for a meager while, then knelt and wiped some sleet aside, exposing large leaves buried underneath. In exasperation, he brushed away the snow and lay atop the icy leaves. He shut his eyes and tossed and turned. After a few minutes of restlessness, he opened them and came face to face with a beautiful plant. It bore petite flowers blooming out of it of all sorts of varieties and colors. It was so sweetsmelling, and visions of warmth blanketed him. His brother, who had forsaken him so

long ago had returned and was helping him with the fencing skills that he never possessed until now. He saw his mother, the one he never had, was baking biscuits on the stove. Upon seeing him, she rushed to hug him and the warmth of her embrace was like a summer's day. He smiled at the wistful thoughts and gently plucked off a purple flower for his pleasure. The sweet fragrance came to a halt, and reality knocked him over the head. He recalled his savior's warning and regret engulfed him. Quickly, he rushed to stand up, but his feet were knocked out from beneath him. He glanced up to witness a monstrous plant grappling at him with hand-like vines. The flowers were gone, and the assassin vine was not even green. It was of a brownish puke color and had the face of a monster. It gnashed hundreds of razor-sharp teeth and it possessed a long snake-like tongue. Its eyes were pure evil and drool dripped from its rancid mouth.

 Enar gulped in horror and felt his injured foot becoming crushed, heard his bones snapping. He howled in pain and reached into his pouch. With his dagger, he swiped and sliced at the hideous plant. He attempted to cut the vines off his leg, but his dagger was stuck in the vine. A look of terror flooded his face. He searched feverously for any defense near him and shrieked louder as the vines grew fourfold. It was as if it was swallowing him whole, crushed every last limb in the process. In the darkness, his hand found a branch and he began beating the vine with all his might. Forgetting his dignity, he began to thrash and bite at the freak. He managed to shove the makeshift club into the beast's mouth, restricting it from snapping at his half-paralyzed legs. The pain became white, and his legs became numb. He still could not wriggle out of the wretched monster's grasp and in carelessness began to throw snow at the plant's grotesque face. He threw as many fistfuls of snow as possible until his arm was so sore it felt like it might fall off. In the darkness, there was not much light to see by, but Enarcello felt quite certain he had covered the monster in slush. He slowly began to wriggle out of its grasp and was elated at his progress. However, he heard the dreadful snap and knew the branch was no more. His hands sought the snow-covered earth for anything, and he was grateful when he felt a cold blade. Gently picking it up by the handle, he prepared for war. With a yell, he sliced at the vines of the creature and trembled when he heard it screech in pain. With every slice he made progress, and with every amount of progress, he was closer to rest. He severed the vines atop his legs, and although they remained limp, they were freed. Ecstatic at his advancement, he continued to pierce the plant, for what appeared to be an unending amount of time. He heard the beast lunge, and ducked, hurling rocks at it simultaneously. He began to question why he never trained with a sword, it was somewhat pleasant. Soon, a sliver of light emerged from behind the skyline, and Enarcello began to discern what he was fighting. With every slice, a branch was dismembered, yet double replaced it. Clarity swelled in him, along with fright. That is why I have been battling for so long. It is like those horror stories. Like a Nernaean Hydra. He squinted, attempting to recollect what to do with that sort of beast. Aim for the heart. Wait. Plants don't have hearts, do they? Shaking his head, he scarcely dodged a strike by the plant. Oh, well. He flung his sword trusting that it would arrive where he intended it. It sailed through the air, and straight into the head of the plant, the center. Gradually, it collapsed. Lifeless. Defeated. With a joyous noise, Enarcello sank back, his head buried in the frigid snow. Ready to rest, he shut his eyes and ignored the pain from his legs as he began to drift into slumber. Peace. Quiet. Birds tweeting. 

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The man shot upright and gazed around him. It was already daytime and the birds were singing a song of joy. He turned his head and noticed an orange and pointy object disappear into the back door of the tree. 

"Wait!" He shouted. Of course, he did not hear him. Filled with irritation, Enarcello attempted to stand. To his chagrin, he could not get an inch off the ground without screaming in pain. 

"Help! Please, help me. I know you're awake!" He yelled toward the door. When it became apparent that no one was coming to his aid, he began to drag himself toward the door. Every little move resulted in pain, and he screamed when it became too much. Finally, he was near the entrance. His savior from the night before unbolted the door and stared down at the pathetic sight.

"Ah. You scream like a girl." He wandered back indoors, leaving the door open.The man shot upright and gazed around him. It was already daytime and the birds were singing a song of joy. He turned his head and noticed an orange and pointy object disappear into the back door of the tree. 

"Wait!" He shouted. Of course, he did not hear him. Filled with irritation, Enarcello attempted to stand. To his chagrin, he could not get an inch off the ground without screaming in pain. 

"Help! Please, help me. I know you're awake!" He yelled toward the door. When it became apparent that no one was coming to his aid, he began to drag himself toward the door. Every little move resulted in pain, and he screamed when it became too much. Finally, he was near the entrance. His savior from the night before unbolted the door and stared down at the pathetic sight.

"Ah. You scream like a girl." He wandered back indoors, leaving the door open.

"Wait. You aren't going to help me up?" When there was no response, Enar bit his lip and began to drag himself into the tree. Once he had made it inside, he looked up to face the animal.

"How pitiful. Well, I suppose you can not have an epic battle without some sort of consequence or injury in the end." With that, he turned and sat on the stool in front of the fire. 

"Are you serious? You're just going to sit there?" Enar asked in disbelief.

"It was an exhausting night." The being shrugged. Enarcello lifted his eyebrows. 

"You had an exhausting night?" He murmured hoarsely, his eyebrows threatening to jump off his forehead. 

"Quite tiresome, indeed." The animal yawned as if to prove his point.

"You had, at least, 4 hours of sleep?" Enar whispered from the floor.

"Not nearly enough." 

"Oh, my- ARE ALL THE DWARVES AS INDOLENT AND CAREFREE AS YOU?" Enarcello bellowed in fury. 

"Creature, you are thinking of elves." The dwarf brushed off his words.

"OF ALL THE CRUEL, VICIOUS, AND ABSOLUTELY RUTHLESS TREE DWELLERS-

"Those are drows."

"YOU HAD TO BE THE ONE INVITING ME INTO YOUR HOUSEHOLD!" Enar's face was lush red. The rest of his words came out in whispers, nearly sobs. 

"I almost died in YOUR backyard last night. I almost got eaten alive by a carnivorous plant that I thought was only a legend. I had to fight it in the pitch-black darkness, with a dagger. Then it broke my dagger. Then I had to use a stick. It ate the stick. IT ATE THE STICK. Do you hear me?" By this time Enarcello was weeping. The dwarf hardly glanced at him.

"I warned you, did I not?" Enar ignored the dwarf's interruption.

"It was only fate that brought me that sword. Even then it wrecked and absolutely PARALYZED me waist down." 

"Quit complaining. You whine like a little girl. Come, Creature. It is time to get up. We have work to do." The dwarf walked away and returned with tea. 

"Open." He gestured to Enar's mouth.

"Honestly, how could yo-

The burning sensation quickly replaced the pain in Enarcello's legs.

"What does tea have to do with this?" He asked.

"Stand up."

"I-"

"Just do it." Enar complied and whooped when he arose to his feet. He crushed the dwarf in a hug.

"How did you do it?"

"I was traveling with the Creofolk for a while. You learn a few things." 

"Thanks."

"Quite an act of courage and stupidity to fight the vine. You are, twenty?"

"Yeah.”

 He heaved a weighed down sigh.

"I did warn you. You need to heed wisdom when it calls for you.”

"You’re probably right. Are you in your eighties?" A deep chuckle followed the question. Enar glanced up in surprise.

"I am also twenty. I just have different skin than you."

"And you have wisdom."

"Ah, genetics." The dwarf smiled.

“Hey.” 

“Yes, Creature?”

“You’re the first friend I’ve ever had. Thank you for helping me.”

“No. Thank you, Enarcello.”