The Elf Saint is a NEET, so I Forced Her to Work in Another World

A Portrait of a Man (Part 2)

***Somewhere in Cherwoods...***

Although the land of the elves was a world filled with mighty, ancient trees, and thick shrubs on most of its ground, a few elvish cities could still be found, slowly expanding on the clearings the inhabitants themselves had made. The elves, while they learned how to co-exist with the nature that surrounded them, still couldn't resist the wonders brought about by agriculture. Not only did it permit them to settle in the safety of their forest towns and villages, agriculture—originally a human 'invention' from eons ago—helped them augment their food supplies, half of which came from the trees they protect and nurture.

And vital to this was the god-power vested in their demi-goddess, the Elf Saint. Since the end of the Lord Gaius' reign in the heavens, the elves had to rely on their holy maiden to bring forth a bountiful harvest in their community farms, and keep the forests alive with her 'water golems': those giant creatures that Her Holiness created to supply water to every known corner of Cherwoods.

However, such an arrangement was the norm way back in the past. Nowadays, for some reason, the water golems died out, and the Elf Saint decided to seclude herself in her own tree palace.

This was the situation that the new leader of the elvish settlement of Dorian, the Lord Ingwer, found himself involved. The farmlands that they—including his ancestors—had so lovingly cultivated and used were slowly turning into sand. The immense trees that marked the farthest known borders of Cherwoods were dying out, and the desert from beyond the forest was inching towards their homes.

"..."

And as if to make their situation worse, Dorian was far from the shores of Cherwoods, where water supply from the Great Gulf was plentiful.

Their solution? They organized the Dorian elves into several groups tasked with fetching water from the Gulf. It was a journey that took several 'long sleeps' to complete, and even with people working all the time to make sure that the supply was uninterrupted, the amount of water they needed barely satisfied the needs of their city population. The farms were left untilled, and with the encroaching desert, the forest game was moving away from them.

The food in the city will not last long, unless they will do something drastic.

"..."

There were calls from several prominent people in the city that the Elvish lord should think of moving his population away from Dorian and find a spot closer to the shore. And, while he was considering such option, the Lord Ingwer was still concerned that it would never satisfy the advancing desert until it reached the edges of the Gulf. If it did happen, then the move was all for naught; a waste of resources and people's efforts. Not to mention, the shores of Cherwoods were already full of elvish settlements—both old and new—and they were risking conflict should the Dorians joined the exodus.

So with no other choice, the Lord Ingwer gathered his fellow leaders, and they set off for the Saint's Tree, ostensibly to prod Her Holiness the Elf Saint to do something more about their situation.

----------

However, when they arrived...

"What do you mean Her Holiness can't see us?" the Elvish lord couldn't keep himself from raising his voice. "We traveled from the frontier up to this place, tired and weary, wanting to ask for the Saint's help with the encroaching sands! Why would you turn us away? This is an emergency!"

"I offer our sincerest apologies, milord, but Her Holiness can't be disturbed right now," one of the Elf Saint's servants replied, panicked as the Lord Ingwer's hand was on the hilt of his sword. He was only held back from committing violence by his companions, and the guards of the holy maiden.