Tempora: Keeper

Keeper

Aur-Ivia's gale whispered through the leaves of the trees, forcing them together and creating a symphony which startled the birds close by. It licked the edge of the lake, rippling the surface. Aur-Ivia had not created the wind, but had chosen the paths it took. Those paths still bore his name through those who remembered him.

The rustling trees quieted as quickly as they had begun their song. The birds returned to their roosts and settled, returning the forest around the lake to its peaceful stillness.

At the edge of the lake stood a small outcropping of little cabins. Their petite stature told nothing of the immense riches contained within: books. Since as early as she could write, Ilfar had written down everything she could; about her world, with its unchanging noon-sun; about the plants that grew around her community, strong, sturdy, and beautiful; but most of all, about the fairies. She was completely enthralled with the fairies, and knew everything there was to know about them.

In her youth, she had studied the fairies out in the fields around her village. She befriended many, but had grown particularly attached to Aur-Ivia, who carried the wind in his arms. As they grew closer, she too learned to carry the wind, and she felt more connected to her world than ever before. But Ilfar's youth faded. And as lives do, Aur-Ivia's passed. And though many other fairies offered their magic to Ilfar, none filled the void left by Aur-Ivia.

Now, Ilfar stood with her toes in the water. Her soft, wrinkled hands, which once scrawled thousands of the words residing in her town, fell to her side, hidden in the folds of a cloak they themselves weaved. Her wispy grey hair, hiding the wisdom of a lifetime beneath itself, curled up and around her face. Her grey eyes remained closed as her mind flowed like honey between thoughts and memories. She heard footsteps behind her, but did not move.

"Auntie," a young man said behind her. He was not really related to her, but it didn't matter. Everyone in the community saw Ilfar as their auntie. This particular young man, Dex, had grown particularly attached to her, and she to him. "I had a, uh, question."

"Ask away, Dex." Ilfar's eyes remained closed, but the honey of her thoughts dripped away.

"I was reading one of your, um, your books," he said nervously. "And you cited a source. What was it?" Dex fished around in the satchel he was holding, pulled out a book, and thumbed through it. Once he arrived at his desired page, he said, "'Aur-Ivia.' But I looked, I did, and he didn't write any books."

Ilfar opened her eyes, and stepped away from the lake to face Dex. His wiry body did not quite fill the brown pants and loose white shirt he wore. His hands clutched firmly to a book, one Ilfar recognized as her own. "What is your question?"

"Are you sure you can, um, trust him? Are you sure?"

Ilfar smiled and reached out her hands. He hesitated for a moment, and then took them in his own. "As sure as the sun sits still in the sky. Tell me, do you have a companion?"

Dex shifted nervously. "Yes, uh, Leo."

Ilfar kept hold of Dex's frail hands as he started pulling back. "Do you trust him?"

"With my life!" Dex dropped her hands resolutely, and for the first time that Ilfar could remember, Dex didn't stumble over his words.

"With your life?" Ilfar closed her eyes again, and felt the wind on the back of her neck. "I had a companion once, Ivia. I, too, trusted him with my life. And so, when I've written his words, you can trust him too."

"But... but he didn't study," Dex's eyes fell to the ground.

"His wisdom exceeded anyone here. He did not need to study nature. He helped shape it."

"Oh, ok," Dex said, confused. He repeated the words Ilfar had said to himself as he sulked back to the library. Ilfar watched as he disappeared into the doors.

She made her way back to her own cabin. She pushed open her double-doors, and her eyes scanned the room. Eventually, they settled on a small wooden box. She carried herself over to it, and held it gingerly in her hands. The etching on the lid was as pristine as the day she carved it, Aur-Ivia, a loving friend, a dear companion, and a wonderful soul. Fairy of the wind, I hope that comfort finds you.

Ilfar quickly placed down the box, slid a piece of paper to herself, and picked up a brush and ink. She began to write. Dex is narrow minded. He has much to learn. But, he will grow to be strong. I have seen it. His dedication and resolve will drive our people. His time will come soon. The wind whispered past her again, as if in agreement. Ilfar sighed, and smiled.