"I won't call you Fishbeard," Dezhren insisted, as he always did when his dwarf charge insisted. And though it was an argument they had everyday, it was to be expected, and was a merry one- not one of true strife, and life went on as usual. He had gotten up extra early that morning, excited to try something new- after weeks (and weeks.. and months...) of monotony. He knew there was a reason for it but even still...
Like most young men, he had an itching to try something on his own, and took to a private footpath nearby, one that lead to a more secluded area, where he paused beside a tree incased in brambles, and lowered his packs to the ground. Drawing in a breath, he took a moment to studying the tree before he approached, carefully moving through the brambles, ignoring the scratch of their thorns as he made his way to the tree's trunk and placed a hand over the solid, rough bark.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, attempting to clear his mind of all thoughts, to focus on simply being there, being beside the tree- and simply the tree and earth itself. It was hard because he was excited, hoping to connect with the earth like he had before- but chores and practices otherwise held him back..
And he was eager to learn more.. hands on methods.
So he stood there, controlling his breathing and beginning to listen to the sounds of the wind, the sounds of it rustling the leaves of the old oak tree. To the birds chirping, insects hissing, and grasses rustling in the tall brush. Then he lifted his other hand, reaching out and taking a firm hold of a nearby set of thorns. He felt them bite into his hand, drawing blood. But he held his breath, brow furrowing as he concentrated- concentrated on that feeling, and that of the old oak- how it must feel to be so overwhelmed by the brambles that now look up root at it's feet and how it was choking out it's roots - little by little.
He had felt it's plight before, last time he connected to the nature of this area, and in a fitful dream last night, deduced a plan- to rid the tree of the thorns and let it's roots become free. So he stood still, calm, quiet- and attempted at confidence to breath out the words to them, "Release."
At the words, he felt something within shiver. Whether it was him, or the brambles, he wasn't certain, but he tried to grab a hold of that sensation, that command and pushed at it, imploring them, "Release."
And he felt it, something climbing up his insides, like insects, cold and chilly, pooling within his veins and words whispering- speaking back. Was that it? The brambles or the tree? Where they speaking.. to him?
He tried to concentrate, to hold onto that sensation, the pull and commanded more firmly, "Release."
And then he felt it, the brambles rustling, the ground tickling, moving- peeling away...
and then suddenly a bird pooped on his head.
And the connection was lost.
Dezhren opened his eyes, a sour expression on his face as he spat out the bird shit and moved to wipe it off his face with his gloves. He looked at it on his hands now and sighed. Then he looked to the bird in the tree, then back to the oak and brambles before shaking his head.
"Tomorrow. I will try again tomorrow."
And he gave the tree a quick pat before departing, and entering into Tathfheithleann's place, where she was awaiting him at her desk. He was late, so he was surprised to see her still at the desk and not working elsewhere. He bowed before her and hastily apologized, and as he bowed his head, he didn't realize there was still much bird shit stuck in his hair.
