The Call of Nys #5 (Waverly Stump and The 7 Realms)

30 - J U D S O N

Elven new year came.

Festivities were strange; not just because they were observed quietly, but for the way in which the celebrations were done. Soft music, mesmerising lights, flowery decorations, and small mirthful gatherings littered all corners of the Elvenhome, brightening the realm from start to finish. Supplications of gratitude and praises for the past year were made to the Elemental Godhead, Gayl, Lord of The Wind and Seas, and many Elves made sacred visits to a place called The Isolated Plateaus to perform this.

Altogether, the new year did not just feel festive alone, it felt holy and peaceful.

Inasmuch as Elves were known to be a merry bunch, watching them observe ancient customs was a reminder that they were also a greatly solemn kind, unshakably tied to their old ways albeit the emergence of new practices.

The better part of everything was the appearance of the Floom.

According to Freañin's account, there came certain seasons when the Floom manifested late. Oftentimes, it did not show at all. However, it came quite early this year, and Judson got a rare and mesmerising opportunity to witness it right as it happened for the first time.

He'd been standing outside his room long before the crack of dawn, helping Diarmaid hang lights on the tree when a sudden warmth crept from the side of him. He looked fast enough to see a burst of color noiselessly ignite the snow, gaining speed as it seemed to travel in a way that his eyes could not comprehend.

The experience had kept him rooted, until Diarmaid came himself to fetch him.

He found that he really liked the natural colors that took on peculiar hues in different places, and what with the receding snow, they lingered long enough to be seen.

Sadly, he could not fully partake in the beauty of the Floom and the richness of new year's appeal, because he was bound to visiting the Curatorium day by day, engaged in earnest research that lasted long hours.

After revealing as much details of his trip to the North as he could to Threya, she became deeply invested in helping out.

First, she had made a map of his travels.

Judson generously pointed out the coordinates they had used - something Threya failed to believe was done without the use of a compass.

"You navigated the treacherous oceans of the North without a directive pointer?" Her ultraconfident eyes faltered with disbelief. Up close, one could see they were the perfect likeness of a night sky covered in colorful patches of stars.

Judson thought Threya's eyes perfectly complimented her deep passion for knowledge.

"I'm afraid so. All we had was a map."

Her gaze was urgent. "Where is it?"

"Lost in the waters."

Very often, she would stare at him at the end of conversations like that, as if she were either too awestruck to speak or trying to decide whether he was telling a lie. Whatever the conclusion, she did not voice. But Judson noticed a gradual change in her approach to his case. She became quick to listen, quicker to reason with him or brainstorm, and easier to talk to.

Together, they scoured her personal library one giant record book at a time.

That bit was draining in a way he never knew was possible.

"How many pages are in here?" Judson asked on the eleventh morning of his usual visit.

Growing up, he always loved books and the idea of reading. He never thought the day would come when the mere sight of a book would exhaust him even before it was open.