An encounter with a tree

The woods were alive in a cacophony of birds' songs, the brook's water, and the buzzing of flying insects. Arda felt at home right away. She had never been in a place so rich in colors, sounds, and perfumes.

She went by the creek, took her shoes off and plunged her feet in the chilly water. She felt so happy she started to sing and laugh. She was sure mom and dad wouldn't miss her for the few minutes she would've been gone. Besides, she thought, that's why they came in the woods, to get in touch with nature.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and laid on the creek bank's tall grass. This was going to be just great.

THUMP

Arda sat up and held her breath.

THUMP

"Who is there?" she asked. Nobody answered her; the forest's noises were gone, except for the babbling of the creek. Arda stood up, and gazed into the darker part of the forest while walking barefoot on the grass to dry her feet.

THUMP

"I hear you! Show yourself!" she cried into the forest. "I'm not afraid, you know. Show yourself!"

THUMP

"OK, maybe I am a bit afraid," she said to no one in particular, "but.."

THUMP!

This time the noise was closer. Arda saw a strange large shadow moving in the woods, and heard a odd noise, nigh musical, coming from that shadow. She quickly put her shoes on and ran inside the forest.

I'm not afraid! I'm not afraid! I'm not afraid! she kept saying inside her head, and then she nearly ran into that shadow.

Arda stopped, look up and her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and she gasped.

She had seen many trees before, some tall, some short, even some short and wide funny ones with leaves longer than she was tall. In her family's yard there was an old oak tree that she would climbed often in the spring to check on the bird nests. All those trees had one thing in common: they didn't walk. And talk, or rather, sing.

The talking and singing wasn't as disturbing as the walking. With each step, the tree would unearth a large root, swing it across some distance, land it with a loud THUMP, and that foot would immediately bury itself, like it had always been there.

THUMP

This last step was close and the noise and tremor shook the amazement off of her.

"Trees don't walk," said Arda.

The facts disobeyed her, and the tree passed her by in a huge step.

THUMP

Arda screamed at the top of her lungs "I said TREES DON'T WALK!" and confirmed that statement stomping her foot.

The tree stopped, turned toward her, and two rather black eyes stared at her. Arda immediately felt very small, and a small voice--more than her conscience, was just her survival instinct--inside her head told her that maybe yelling at a giant walking tree hadn't been a great idea.

A deep voice, as if coming from the earth itself, spoke. "Dwarfs don't come out in daylight either."

"Yes they do!" Arda replied. "And I'm not a dwarf! I'm an elf! A wood elf!" The same small voice inside Arda's mind suggested that talking back at the tree was even more stupid.

The tree bent at what would've been the waist, if it had been a man--an enormously tall man with multiple legs and a robin's nest on its head. It looked her in the eyes for a few seconds and adjusted its leaves on the top. From its head came loud distressed chirping, and a two robins flew out.

"You don't smell like an elf," he declared. "And the last wood elf left at least two hundred years ago."

"But I am an elf," protested Arda. "And.. and.. my dad said we are wood elves." That little voice inside her head was getting louder, saying that it was time to stop engaging in debates, and start engaging in cross country running.

One of the robins was trying to brace the nest, while the other flew in front of the tree's eyes chirping loudly.

"Did your father also tell you that trees don't walk?" said the tree waving away the robin.

"I, hmmmm..." Arda looked the tree in the eyes, and it never blinked. She was slowly becoming aware of the small inner voice, but she wouldn't be called a dwarf by anyone, not even a tree.

"Don't hum dwarf-girl, it is a sign of weakness."

"I told you I'm not a dwarf!" she said with a lower voice and averted her eyes.

"You smell like one."

"I'm too tall to be a dwarf," said Arda clenching her fists. She wanted to stomp on the ground, that usually made her point more poignant, but her legs didn't obey. Meanwhile her little inner voice was screaming, trying smoke signals, and foreign languages.

"From my point of view, you're not too tall to be a dwarf."

"I go to school with a lot of dwarfs, they are all much shorter than me."

"Elf-kind share their homes with dwarves now?" If there was humor in the tree's deep and monotone voice, Arda couldn't hear it.

Arda shuffled her feet. "Uh.. we live in a suburb. There's lots of people there. Elfs, dwarves, humans. Some ogres too."

"But no walking trees."

"We have trees. But they stay where you put them," Arda said looking up. "And they don't talk back."

The tree moved its face closer to Arda's. Both of the robins were shoring up the nest with their heads now, and the little screaming voice inside Arda's head had resorted to one syllable words and easy to understand diagrams.

"Young trees. Well planted. No reason for any of them to walk around. Give them another five hundred years and they'll run amok."

The tree straightened up, much to the joy of the robins and of the Arda's little inner voice.

"I must be going," declared the tree. "Nice to meet you, Elf-friend-of-dwarves."

"Wait!" exclaimed Arda. Her small inner voice started crying.

"What is it, girl?"

"My name is Arda. What's your name?"

"I am Creeosopotiritium."

"Hi Creo," said Arda.

"Bye Arda," answered Creeosopotiritium. The tree turned and with a loud THUMP started walking away. Arda's little voice relaxed, reached for a drink, and wondered about other job opportunities.

"Where are you going?" asked Arda. The little voice spat its drink.

The tree stopped. "I'm going home," it responded without turning. "You should do the same."

"Can I come with you?" If the little voice inside Arda's head had had hands, it would've been slapping her now.

"No," said the tree.

"Please? I've never seen someone like you!" she begged.

"Stop begging," said Creeosopotiritium. "It's unbecoming. And I don't carry others on my branches."

"I don't need to be carried. I'm fast! I can keep up with you! Please?" Arda's little inner voice gave up and left slamming the door.

Creeosopotiritium sighed deeply, as much as a millennium old walking timber could. A bunch of leaves fell from its head.

"Fine. I will tolerate you, but I will not carry you."

"YES!" rejoiced Arda, and she trotted behind the tree as it waded through the forest.

Joseph

Joseph slowly capped the pen and put it down carefully. He was breathing hard, his hands were shaking, and his heart was racing, but he still clung to old habits, like capping a pen not in use.

He swallowed hard and pushed the big man's body off, and got up.

Can't keep making mistakes like this, he thought while catching his breath. One of these days I'm not going to be fast enough, strong enough, or lucky enough.

His shirt was covered in blood, the other man's blood, and so were his hands and face.

Should've kept it simple. Sniper rifle, a remote bomb, or just run him over. Why did I try to get close?

Joseph went into the bathroom and took his shirt off. His hands were still shaking.

'Cause I'm stupid. Stupid and curious. Like to understand why I gotta plug someone, like to see them up close. Stupid.

He threw the shirt in the tub, and began to rinse the blood from his body. The warm water helped relax, but the adrenaline was still coursing through his body.

No time to shower, just get cleaned enough not to attract attention outside. It's getting dark anyways. Still can't just hang around here.

A couple of minutes later, a much calmer Joseph returned in the main room of the hotel suite and studied the two bodies on the floor. The air conditioner kept humming away, keeping the room at a constant 67F. Joseph turned the temperature down to the lowest setting, then smudged his fingerprints.

At least there wasn't much noise. The old man died right away, and this gorilla must've been mute or something. Not a word, not a noise, not even when I stabbed him with the pen. Freaky.

He looked at the old man in a suit. The stiletto was buried in the man's chest, and his face was still a mixture of surprise and pain.

More or less my size. Good.

Joseph went in the bedroom and proceeded to dig through the old man's luggage, pulling out clothes and throwing them around.

Three suits. He brings three suits with him, six changes of underwear, but not the hint of an extra pair of dress shoes??

Finally, after much searching all over the bedroom, he pulled a pair of sneakers out of a drawer. From the pile of clothes, he chose two shirts, a long sleeved white shirt and a black polo shirt, and put on the white one. Then he picked a garment bag from the wardrobe and went back in the main room. He put the items on the coffee table and walked over to the big man, who was lying in a large puddle of blood. Joseph walked in it, pulled his pocket knife out, crouched near the man, and carefully picked the the man's right hand up.

Damn pig had such a grip on my neck he nearly ripped it off.

As Joseph scraped underneath the man's nails, he noticed something glimmering on that man's belt. A police badge.

Great. I killed a cop. Doubt I could pass this as self defence. Shit.

A lot more hastily, he cleaned the other hand.

Why was he here? Did they setup a sting op? Trying to set the old man up? Did they know I'd be here tonight? Nah, I took a chance and went ahead, no one knew of today. So why was he here?

He quickly checked inside the cop's shirt, but he didn't see a wire.

Was this pig dirty? Trying to shake the old man down? Why didn't he make a sound? Don't think cops hire mutes these days, not even their standards are that low. So why was he quiet? Did he know something?

He looked around the room. The window was closed and the shades were pulled.

Yeah, all closed and tight, doesn't mean this place ain't bugged or someone ain't listening in with a laser mike.

Joseph got up, walked on the carpet to wipe his shoes clean, and turned on the television. Some news station was reporting that today they were close to breaking their summer record high. He wiped his hands on his shirt, retrieved the items he left on the coffee table, and went back to the bathroom. There, he changed in the black polo shirt and changed in the sneakers, then he used the white shirt to wipe down all the bathroom fixtures. He took out of his pants pocket a pair of sticky fake mustaches and applied them.

Not much of a disguise, but people are confused easily. I look like I'm straight out of the 70's.

Finally he picked up his old bloody shirt by the few clean spots, and rolled it and his old shoes in the white shirt, and then dumped it all in the bathroom garbage bag, which he then picked up and put in the garment bag.

He walked in the main room and slowly scanned it to make sure he didn't leave obvious tracks or signs, other than the two large conspicuous dead bodies. He looked at the coffee table and noticed a piece of art.

Someone must've paid a lot of dough to have this goblet smuggled in the country. Doubt it was found in a yard sale, more likely a museum.

He took the goblet and gazed at it.

So the old man was into arts and crafts. An art dealer. Why did they send me to snuff him? Did he take this from someone he shouldn't have? Sending me ain't exactly an everyday kinda thing. Why the plain clothes cop? Why was he so quiet? This ain't right, something feels wrong.

The goblet was old. A metal cup, baroque, encrusted with colored glass and gems, some dents here and there. He put it in the garment bag.

Maybe it's nothing, he thought. Maybe this has nothing to do with me being here along with a mute cop, but I've never seen such a thing. Might come handy as a bargain chip later. Or as a flower pot if no one cares.

Joseph quietly opened the door and cleaned the handle. He waited two seconds listening for any sound from the corridor, then stepped out, put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside handle, and carefully closed the door, wiping the handle before going toward the stair well. He went down one story, then headed to the elevators. He pressed the call button and waited.

Someone started shouting from one of the guest rooms, then silence, then more commotion, louder, closer. Someone must have opened their door.

"ACH! Screw you!" someone yelled. "You filthy whore!"

Joseph didn't turn, but shifted his garment bag to the hand closer to the wall.

More curses and then the noise of a door slamming shut, then a litany of curses followed. A few seconds later, a very short man joined Joseph in the elevator waiting area.

"Bitch!" the short man exclaimed while zipping up his jeans.

More good news, though Joseph. A drunken dwarf. A drunken, stinky, foul mouthed dwarf.

The short man mumbled to himself, then yelled out. "Whore!" and spat on the carpet.

The circus must be in town. First the amazing giant mute cop, now the drunken midget. Must've had a fight with the bearded lady.

Joseph smiled, more to his fortune than to the situation, and the man eyeballed him.

"What?" The short man was loud and his breath stank of beer. "What ya laughin' at?" He was drooling while talking.

"Yeah, fancy pants, I'm talking to you!" The man continued. "Never seen an angry man?? Yeah, a man! Not a dwarf. A man. I'm a man, you motherfucker, a man!"

"I'm sorry," said Joseph turning to him, but without looking him in the eyes. "I wasn't laughing at you, I was just thinking of my girlfriend."

Either girlfriend or funny joke, but he'd take funny joke personally.

"Fuck her," the short man sneered, and spat again.

Joseph looked away.

Don't get involved. Don't get in a fight with the gnome. He's loud and will attract attention. Plus there's nowhere to dispose of the corpse, no matter the size. Maybe he'd fit in the ashtray. Damn smoking bans.

"I fucked your girlfriend," said the man between burps. "And your mother too." He was looking at Joseph with bleary eyes, fixing his gaze on Joseph's face.

Joseph ignored him and the elevator finally arrived. They both got in, Joseph first, and he pressed the ground floor button.

"Ain't ya gonna ask me where I'm headin'?" asked the man. "Not important enough for you?"

Joseph kept ignoring him.

He's itching for a fight, but this is the wrong place and the wrong time.

Joseph looked up without moving his head, and saw the elevator camera. The power led was on, but there wasn't any buzzing sound as powered electronics make.

Someone decided to go for the effect, rather than the functionality. God bless cheapskates.

"I'm talking to you, motherfucker. Are ya gonna give me my respect, or do I have to fuckin beat it out of ya?"

"You're a man," Joseph said without turning. "You don't need my help."

And I don't need you, ever. Hope you die of alcohol poisoning, he added mentally.

"Damn right I'm a man! More man than you'll ever be, motherfucker!"

Ten floors to go, thought Joseph. Keep the freak calm, just let him rant and don't smile, argue, or anything. Just let him be, maybe he will pass out on his own.

"Fucking right," the man said with a burp. "Takes guts to be me, ya hear. No one ever gives Randy a free ride, never got an easy deal, you bastard." Randy burped again. "And I still made it. Not fucking thanks to you, you lousy son of a bitch."

Six floors to go. Six long floors to spend with the midget from hell. In the slowest elevator in the fucking universe.

"You should get on your knees and thank me for not killing you," kept ranting Randy. "You should get on your knees and kiss my ass. Fucking right. You should bow to me, you fucking asshole."

Joseph took a deep breath, and Randy got even more agitated.

This is not good. This freak is gonna cause a scene. All eyes will be on me and him, some security camera, a real one, will record my face and someone will remember me. Gotta get out of this.

"You should kiss my ass now, right now! On your knees, bitch!"

Joseph dropped his bag and his hand darted to the elevator console to press the third floor button as the elevator crossed the fourth.

"What the fuck are ya.." started Randy, but Joseph grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in front of himself. All of a sudden there was fear in Randy's eyes.

"Son of a.." protested Randy, but Joseph headbutted him, and as the elevator doors opened, he kicked him violently in the solar plexus while letting him go. Randy flew out of the elevator, crashing on the opposite wall, while Joseph kept pressing the "Close Doors" button.

OK, he thought as the elevator resumed his slow drive down. Maybe I should've got out myself, but what if he followed me? Maybe I should've tried to befriend the midget. Offered to buy him a drink, even if it meant to spend more time with him. Yeah, I could've definitively handle this situation better. He sighed. Whatever. It felt good to kick that midget's ass! Joseph smiled and the elevator arrived to the ground floor.

He put on his sunglasses, and walked through the small crowd in the lobby, his bag in hand.

Outside the sky was dark, the street lights were already on, and mosquitoes flew through the muggy air to fry on an electric bug zapper.

Joseph walked to his stolen rental car, put the bag in the trunk, and headed out of town.

Another day like this, he thought, and I'll seriously retire.

Caius and Niume

Caius walked in the cave first, torch in one hand, single shot pistol in the other.

"No one has been here, good" he said.

"I don't want to be here," said the witch, "it's cold and damp."

"I don't want to be here either, that's why we're going to go through this very fast and then we're going out of here."

"And then you pay me!" she said.

"I already paid you. Don't try memory spells on me, witch, they don't work, ok?"

Caius started getting into the deeper part of the cave.

"Call me Niume, it's my name darling. You're cute. Maybe a payment in nature?" she asked smiling.

"What?" Caius stopped and stared at Niume. "NO! Nonono! Don't even think about it. Just.. just do your job, will ya? Gods. Keep the portal open long enough for me to go in, get that elf, and get out, ok? That's it. No payments in nature!"

"Oh, come on," whined Niume smiling at him.

Looking at Niume, in the flickering light of the torch, Caius mind conjured all kind of situations that involved him, the witch, and absolutely no clothes.

If I survive any of this, I swear I'll never hire witches again. Greedy, stinking, lecherous, ugly ugly UGLY oh my god she's smiling! I'm gonna throw up.

"For the love of all that's holy and sacred! Stop looking at me like that!! I get out of there alive, in one piece, and with my sanity, AND my honor, then I.. uh.." Caius gave a second look to Niume and repressed a heave. "I will give you a bonus! Yes! Money! 10 extra crowns! Ok? Please?"

"Oh fine fine, darling, but you don't know what you're missing!"

"I don't wanna know. Just follow me, shut up, and don't touch me" said Caius, hurrying again in the cave.

About one hour later, Niume and Caius were standing in front of a shimmering portal. Caius snuffed the torch and put it on the ground.

There's light enough in here, he thought, besides.. might need to the fire.. if it gets cold.. or the witch gets cozy.. why do they all smell of cabbage? Seventeen years old boiled cabbage.. shouldn't have had breakfast this morning.

Niume approached the portal giggling softly, and Caius took one step back toward the torch. She caressed the portal's stone arch, passing her fingers over the ancient gliphs, murmuring words Caius didn't understand. She then hunched her old figure to her right, over a bowl carved in stone. She giggled some more and licked the bowl slowly, glancing a smile to Caius.

I think I'll kill her when I get out, he thought showing her a big grin.

Niume then took a stone dagger from a opening in the wall and started chanting in a loud voice, then she giggled some more and looked at Caius, who was nervously caressing the grip of his holstered pistol.

Yes, kill her. Slowly.

Niume winked at him while finishing the chant.

Cut her to pieces. Then burn those pieces. Then take a piss on the ashes.

"Ooohh, Caius... such a long time.. haven't been here in such a long time," said Niume while turning to Caius.

"And nothing has changed, right? Ya still know how to get me through this, right?" inquired Caius.

"Uh huh, I sure do, my darling!" beamed Niume. "But there's something, a gift, a token, a little something that's still needed.."

"And that would be..."

"BLOOD!" exclaimed the witch, eyes wide open while licking her lips and slowly moving toward Caius.

Caius grabbed his pistol without drawing it, eyeballed Niume and stood his ground.

Screw cutting. One ball in the head, right between the eyes.

"You sure? This is the right way to do open this thing?" he asked.

"Yes, my darling, I am sure," she said while smiling at him and batting her eyelashes.

Like a mouse, he thought. Her voice is just like the squeeks of a rat who has found a large piece of cheese, the largest piece of cheese in the universe, and has gone completely crazy in joy. Do witches REALLY eat children? What about adults? Or they just hump them to death?

"The only way?" he asked with a flat tone of voice, still gripping his pistol.

"Yes, nothing else will do." Niume was giggling and slowly swinging her hips side by side, making creaking noises.

I wonder if she's actually human underneath those filthy, stinking, godawful rags she has on. Oh, gods, mental images! I'm gonna be sick.

Caius moved sideways, around Niume and putting himself between the bright portal and her.

"I mean, it's not that I don't trust you or your capabilities. You're surely the greatest witch I've ever hired," he said. And one of the greatest mistake I've ever made. Lords, tell me that's just my imagination and the shadows, and not some sort of tail she's wagging slowly underneath her skirt.

"But, uh," continued. "I've never heard of such a key. Blood.. for a portal. Just a portal."

Witches are..were humans. Humans don't have tails, right? Some men, tho, have.. Ugh. Gotta stop it. If I throw up right here she will take advantage of me.

"Maybe there's something else? Written in some ancient manuscript somewhere in a remote pagoda on top of a mountain in some other country where you will now go to and return in several years? Centuries even. I'd wait for you."

"No, darling, there is no other way," said Niume shaking her head. "You want to cross the portal, you have to spill some blood."

"SOME blood, it doesn't necessarily have to mean my.." he perked up his voice. HER blood?

"I meant YOUR blood, sweetie," she interrupted him. "It's quite simple: This portal will let through only someone who has spilled THEIR blood in the bowl."

"I'm very attached to my blood," complained Caius.

"It's just a few drops! You don't have to fill that bowl!"

"OH!" Caius relaxed his grip on the pistol, but kept his eyes on the witch. "Well, that's better. Yes, much better. Drops. Why didn't you say it earlier?"

"Because the moment I said something about spilling your blood, you started whining!"

Niume turned toward the portal and played with the dagger, then, with a smirk, gave a side look at Caius and giggled.

Drops. Yeah. Sure. Ah huh, he thought, but only narrowed his eyes and didn't reply. Horny old thing likes pain.

"Ok," he exhaled forcefully. "Drops it is. I believe you." No, I don't, but at least going through this portal will cut a lot of time searching the highlands for the elf bitch's hideout.

"A couple of drops, and then I can go through without further delays, right, old bat?" Caius asked.

Niume scowled. "The name is Niume. And yes, darling, it will lead you right near the entrance, in a nice safe spot, and everything else. Been through this portal before, you know."

Caius huffed, but didn't say anything. Yes. Definitively cut her to pieces, burn her, and piss on the ashes.

"You know, you complain a lot for being an adventurer and a man of action," she wagged a finger at him.

"Differently from most other adventurers and men of action, I survived all of my encounters, portal crossings, and even dealing with vampires, ghouls, and horny old witches." He snapped at her. "Now, are you going to draw the blood, or do I do it?"

"No," she said, "I have to do it, it has to be a woman's hand."

"All right, whatever," Caius said, rolling up his sleeve.

"Good!" exclaimed the witch smiling. "Now drop your pants!"

"What? What for?" asked Caius.

"Blood letting, darling!" she replied with a giggle.

"You need blood from my knees?"

"You cute silly thing," she said still giggling. "From your penis!"

"HELL NO!" cried out Caius while clamping his hands over his crotch. Burn her first. Alive. Then put the fire off and burn her again after she healed. Then piss on her ashes.

"Why not?"

"What do you mean 'why not'? You perverted old whore. You are NOT getting your old leathery paws on my little friend! And especially not with any sharp or pointed objects!" Caius was starting to be loud.

"Not just any object!" Niume's eyes were getting wider, and her voice louder. "The Sacred Razor of Mha'Duh'Ahri!" she wielded the dagger high in her hand, with a smile beaming from her face. A few teeth were missing.

"The sacred.. Are you nuts? That's a piece of rock, bitch! Something some bum left behind!!" Caius hands zoomed back and forth, from his crotch to the hilt of his sword, back to his crotch, then to his pistol, and again to his crotch.

"Put that crap down! Now!" he ordered. "Mahahaduri.. madahuri.. Balls of Ba'al!! Do you make this crap up as you go, or is it part of the usual repertoire??"

"It's not crap!" She looked offended. "It is written! On the stone arch! Look!" Niume pointed at the strange characters all around the portal.

"I can't read that shit, woman. That's why I hired you!" Caius took a deep breath, pulled back his sleeve, and walked over to the torch.

"Any man who wishes to pass through the gate," she proclaimed reading aloud, "shall leave a token of his submission to Mha'Duh'Ahri! Blood from the stem of his progeny!"

"Oh, for the love of the gods!" exclaimed Caius picking up the torch. "My contract is for a woman, an elf, how did SHE pass??"

"Women don't have to give blood. They can go through as they please." She was talking with a rather matter-of-fact voice, like it was common knowledge and he was an idiot for not knowing.

"This is insane! Who built this portal? A leather clad dominatrix sorceress hell bent on giving women on the run a free pass?!?"

Caius started striking the flint to light the torch.

"It was a demoness, not a sorceress, but for the rest you have it right. Mha'Duh'Ahri is the demoness that started the first witch coven thousands of years ago, and, yes, she does hate males."

"Bet she was so fucking ugly, she never got any!" He huffed, and motioned at Niume. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Caius started walking back toward the cave entrance. I'm too nice, he thought. Should leave her here to rot.

"But! Wait!! And the fugitive??" Niume shrieked.

"I'll find someone else to go through this for me, and tell me where it leads. Maybe an eunuch."

Caius picked up the pace without looking back, and Niume had to rush behind him.

"You're such a wuss! Just a few drops!!" protested Niume.

"Yep. A wuss with his jolly good friend all in one piece. You're not gonna touch it, ok? Millions of women would've been devastated if I went through with this and you sneezed."

"Ok, ok," she said with a softer voice. "Still," she sighed. "I would've liked to see it, to hold it. I'm still a woman, you know? It has been a while. Nobody stops to give me their homages."

She walked behind him, skipping steps to keep up.

"That's because you're nine hundred years old. At your age you shouldn't think of what men have between their legs: you should be thinking of grand kids, knitting stuff, rocking chairs. Where you're gonna be buried." Old, leathery, horny, stinky, ugly, he sighed. Freaking feeling bad for you.

"I like to think of you," said Niume smiling.

"Niume?" Asked Caius, without slowing down or turning.

"Yes, dear?"

"There is something seriously wrong with you."