Roger Taylor - Valderen

Edrien looked at him, puzzled, but did not com-ment. In the light, Farnor noticed for the first time that she had pale brown eyes. It came to him that he had never seen such a colour before. And her hair was light brown as well. Like an autumn leaf, he thought, unwittingly poetical. But the eyes drew his attention again. They looked squarely at him and there was a look in them which seemed to challenge him. He turned away, uncertain how to deal with this strange young woman.

‘I suppose you’re hungry by now, aren’t you?’ she said, unexpectedly.

Farnor nodded cautiously, wary of some taunt.

‘Come on, I’ve arranged breakfast for you.’ With a flick of her head Edrien turned and walked briskly towards the door. Farnor glanced again at the sword hanging there as he followed her out. He was about to ask about it when he realized that he was standing on a narrow platform below which was nothing for some considerable distance except dense foliage and a few large and unwelcoming branches. Involuntarily he froze, his hands tight around the rail in front of him.

‘Sorry,’ Edrien said, turning back to him. ‘I forgot you don’t know anything about trees, do you? I’ll walk more slowly.’

‘I know quite a lot about trees, thank you,’ Farnor managed, straightening up and releasing the handrail as casually as he could. ‘I’ve just never lived in one, that’s all.’

‘What kind of lodge did you live in, then?’

The question made Farnor wince, as visions of his home and his parents rushed into his mind. Edrien however, was looking away and did not notice. With an effort, he set the memories aside, and did his best to give a brief description of a typical village house as they walked along. From time to time his telling faltered as the platform swayed a little, or worse, creaked. He noticed that Edrien made a conscious effort not to smile whenever, instinctively, he reached out and clutched at the handrail.

‘How strange it must be, living on the ground all the time,’ she mused when he had finished.

‘Not as strange as living in a tree,’ he retorted, more defensively than he had intended.

Edrien scowled a little and looked around. Walk-ways were all about them, above and below and on every side, sweeping hither and thither through the enormous leafy bower. Bark-covered walls appeared here and there, punctured by doors and windows.

The whole perspective of the place bewildered Far-nor.

‘There’s nothing strange about living in the trees,’ she said, a little indignantly, after this inspection of her domain. ‘How else are you supposed to live? it’s what all normal people do. We’ve always…’

‘I’ve never seen such splendid trees,’ Farnor inter-rupted hastily, suddenly anxious not to antagonize his guide. ‘There are some fine trees in the valley, but nothing to compare with these. They’re so big. So alive and vigorous looking.’

A proprietorial smile replaced Edrien’s scowl and she looked around again. ‘Thank you,’ she said, as if she had just been paid a particularly pleasant compliment, then, ‘Are you going to be all right on this ladder?’ she asked, her tone concerned. She suddenly slipped through a gap in the handrail and dropped down so that only her head and shoulders were visible above the platform.

‘Yes,’ Farnor said quickly, in preference to giving a more considered answer.

Edrien nodded and then disappeared. Gingerly, Farnor peered over the edge to locate the ladder. Edrien was just bouncing down on to the platform below as he did so and her face turned up to look at him. He turned around and, tightly gripping two well-worn uprights, he cautiously swung a leg from side to side until it made contact with the ladder.

I suppose I’ll get used to this eventually, he thought, unconvincingly, as he began the descent.

It was not a particularly long ladder, but by the time he reached the bottom, his hands were sore and his arms were aching.

‘I see you’re still very stiff,’ Edrien said. ‘But I watched you that time. I think you’re holding the ladder too tightly. Can’t you relax a little? I’m sure it would help.’ She seemed pleased at having arrived at this diagnosis.

‘I’ll try,’ Farnor mumbled, then, hastily changing the subject, ‘Where are we going?’

‘To Bildar’s,’ Edrien replied. ‘He wants to have an-other look at you, to make sure you’re all right.’

‘I thought we were going to eat somewhere,’ Farnor said, an old reluctance to place himself in the hands of a healer rising within him.

‘Bildar will feed us,’ Edrien said, setting off again. She grinned expectantly. ‘He’s an excellent cook.’

As they walked, Farnor became aware for the first time of people on the other walkways. Some of them called out to Edrien, who shouted back or just waved in acknowledgement. Farnor felt extremely self-conscious, all too aware of the contrast between his lumbering, awkward gait and Edrien’s light and easy movements. It did little to help him that almost everyone they encountered stared at him quite openly and with considerable curiosity. Once or twice he saw individuals swinging under the handrails of the platforms to pursue whatever errand it was they were on by climbing rapidly from branch to branch. Occasionally he saw Edrien move as if to do the same, only to recollect herself at the last moment. ‘Doesn’t anyone ever fall?’ he asked tentatively.

‘Oh yes,’ Edrien replied, simply. ‘But not often. It’s not nice.’

Farnor nodded in pained understanding, uncertain how to continue this particular line of conversation.

He was spared any further difficulty, however, by a group of people coming along the platform towards them. For the most part they were young men and women of around his own age, and their chatter and laughter rose up to complement the sunshine streaming through the leafy surroundings. Farnor was unpleas-antly surprised by a twist of sneering anger that suddenly sprang to life within him at the sight and sound of them. He found himself reminded of the darkness that had come to his own homeland unbidden and undeserved and, without realizing it, he held his breath, as if to suffocate this unwelcome response.

There was a brief, confusing flurry as the group reached them and, amid noisy and simultaneous greetings, Farnor found himself introduced very quickly to several people. Vaguely he tried to cling to one or two of the names, but further references to families and relations passed him by completely. He was a little unsettled by the fact that each of the newcomers peered at him intently, especially at his hair. This was not as unsettling however, as the form of greeting which they adopted, which was not as he was used to, to shake hands, but to grip both his arms firmly just above the elbow. After three or four such welcomings Edrien saw his discomfiture and intervened. ‘Gently,’ she said, prizing someone away from him. ‘He’s had…’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘… a nasty fall recently,’ she decided. ‘He’s badly bruised. And we have to get down to Bildar’s now.’

There were some noisy apologies and much under-standing nodding, but the group seemed content to stand and stare until Edrien vigorously shooed them on their way.

As the group retreated noisily, Farnor remained where he was, holding on to the handrail as the swaying of the platform, which had been another concern during the encounter, subsided.

His head was trying to tell him that having with-stood so many people standing in one place, the platform, and whatever supported it, must undeniably be extremely strong, but his heart and his stomach were not listening. Somewhat to his distress, he still felt a lingering anger at the happiness of the people he had just met.

‘Are you all right?’ he heard Edrien asking, yet again.