The Preserver Disappearance (6520 years ago)
“By the
Palace!”
Croonweaver was fed up. The blasted Preserver, Flitterflutter had botched up another of her creations to make weaving easier. Croonweaver had found a plant that she could turn into different thicknesses of thread. She also found that the threads made from the Thread Plant held dyes very well.
The thicker threads didn’t weave well though by hand. One night as she was sleeping, a dream came to her. In the dream was a contraption that was large and stationary. She was making something large on it, like a blanket she thought.
Upon waking, Croonweaver went to Ash, one of the tribe’s Tree-Shapers. Through Sending, she showed Ash what she was wanting. Ash agreed to try to shape such a thing for her out of wood.
Croonweaver had been testing the newly shaped thing. Then, Flitterflutter had come up and started spitting wrap-stuff all over it.
“High Ones! Blasted Bug! What do you think you’re doing?”
“Making wrap-stuff for you. Maky-Maky High Thing’s wrap-stuff not good.”
“I wasn’t making wrap-stuff, Stupid Bug.”
Flitterflutter looked at Croonweaver. It shrugged, “Oh, ok,” and flew off. Croonweaver fumed long after the tiny creature had left.
“Tide’s Blessing, Croon-… Oh my, what happened here?”
Croonweaver looked up to see Melodysilk. She sighed in disgust. “Tide’s Blessing, Silk. What happened was Flitterflutter. Pesky, annoying, troublesome Preservers! Why are they even here? They cause more problems then they help.”
“Ah, but my friend, they do help,” chuckled Melodysilk. “They put food in wrap-stuff and keep it from spoiling.”
“Bah! That doesn’t make up for the many things they ruin. The Elves they wrap, the times they aren’t around to wrap food. Silk, they’re nothing more then pests.”
Melodysilk just shakes her head. Like Croonweaver, there were a few Elves who found the tiny Preservers pests and nuisances. The majority of the Elves tolerated them for their usefulness, and a few even liked them and the companionship they offered.
Melodysilk looks over the thing with wrap-stuff all over it. Gesturing at it, “So, what is it, Croon?”
“I haven’t given it a name yet, but the design came to me in a dream to make using the thicker threads I can make out of the Thread Plant easier to use. I was thinking of calling it a loom, maybe. Now it’s just a mess to be cleaned up and start over.” Croonweaver sighs in disgust again.
“How about if I help you clean? It’ll make the job easier and faster with a friend.”
Croonweaver gives a wan smile, “Help would be greatly appreciated.” The two Elfesses started cleaning the sticky wrap-stuff off the loom. A few hours later, it was free of the mess. Unfortunately, the thread was ruined, which re-infuriated Croonweaver.
When they finished, Melodysilk took her leave. “Good luck, Croon. I hope your creation works out, and has no more, mmm, setbacks.”
“Thank you for your help, Silk.” After Melodysilk leaves, Croonweaver goes back to trying out her loom. As she works, her mind dwells on the problem of the Preservers. They were tough little creatures, and near impossible to kill. Besides, Croonweaver didn’t like them, found them irritating and annoying, but didn’t want to kill them.
Then it hit her. Why not relocate them elsewhere, far, far way from the Holt. A plan slowly forms. She’ll need help to pull it off, but who? After thinking on it for two days, Croonweaver decides on her son, Saplingwild. He dislikes the Preservers as much as his mother. *Sapling, may I speak with you?*
*Of course, Mother.*
Croonweaver heads over to Saplingwild’s cave, the direction his sending came from. Upon entering the cave, she finds Saplingwild sitting at his fire pit eating a morning meal. “Morning, Mother. Care to break your fast?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Saplingwild hands her some food. They sit quietly eating their meal. Croonweaver takes the time to work out what she will say. When they finish their meal, Saplingwild looks side long at his mother. “So, to what do I owe this visit? I doubt it was to have a morning meal with me.”
Croonweaver is quiet a moment. “Not that I don’t enjoy the occasional meal with my only tadpole, no, I’m not here for a meal.” She pauses and gathers her thoughts. Saplingwild waits patiently. “I wish to get rid of the Preservers, and I’d like your help.” There, she’d said it, now to see how he took it.
At his mother’s words Saplingwild’s eyebrows raise and his eyes widen. Then slowly a sly smile creeps across his face. “How?”
Coonweaver sighs in relief. “Well, this is what I was thinking...”
Over the next hand of days they gather up supplies. They let it be known they were going on a hunt. Just the two of them, a bonding time. They finally set off. They traveled until they were out of sight of the Holt. Then they waited three days and two nights. Soon as night fell on the third day, they left their supplies stashed and headed back to the Holt. As they neared, they waited to be sure all were asleep. Then they headed to where the preservers slept.
Waking Quietflight, Croonweaver quickly explained to the sleepy Preserver Leader. “Softbrush wants us to find a place for a new Holt, far from the sea. We’ve lost too many Elves to it. To make it easier for the tribe to move, Saplingwild and I will go search. Now, where the Preservers come in is, you and the others will travel with us on our search. Once we find a suitable place, you and yours will start wrap stuffing the creatures there. And we’ll come back for the rest of the tribe. This way there’s food waiting until we can settle in. Will the Preservers help?”
Quietflight thought it over but a moment. “Yes, we will help Maky-Maky and Hunt-Hunt High Things find a new home.” Croonweaver is elated. Of all the pesky Preservers, Quietflight was the least obnoxious, and more Elf-like. Pity they couldn’t just get rid of all the others, but they needed Quietflight to keep the rest of the Preservers in line.
Saplingwild speaks up. “Now, Quietflight, you need to get it across to the others that this is a secret, and not to wake the other Elves.” Quietflight nods and goes and wakes the four other Preservers. Somehow it managed to keep them relatively quiet. Though it seemed loud to the two Elves, not another Elf woke. Quickly they got out of there and back to where they had stashed their supplies.
The journey started in earnest. They traveled through the grasslands, crossing three rivers. When they came upon the fourth river, they decided to follow it. They come to where another river joins it. Seeing that the combined rivers head into the mountains, the Elves decide to follow the new river, after crossing it, they continue on. The new river brings them to a lake. Following the lake around they find another river and follow it. After three hands and three and a half days, the river brings them to a large forest. Croonweaver smiles, thinking this will be the perfect place to leave the Preservers. “Here, Quietflight.”
The Preserver looks at her then nods. “Babblebrooke, Cuddlesweet, Flitterflutter, Mossglow, find Still Quiets to wrap.” All the Preservers scatter. The Elves quickly turn and leave.
“You know, it’s a pity.”
Croonweaver looks at her son in confusion. “How so? We’re finally rid of the pesky things.”
Saplingwild laughs. “Yes, but I’ll bet my best spear that we two are the only ones to have traveled so far. From what I’ve seen, hunting and fishing would be plentiful here.” He pauses a heartbeat. “And we can’t tell anyone, or we’d have done all this for nothing.”
Croonweaver nods, “yes, that part is a pity. It’s also so far from the shore; the tribe would be safe from the sea storms and sharp teeth.” She sighs.
Two hands of days later they return, having taken a more direct route back. When they return the Holt seems to have an air of sadness. Saplingwild sees his friend Pinecone and asks, “What’s wrong?” Both Elves are thinking something bad happened to the tribe in their absence.
“Oh, you don’t know, or you Croonweaver. Sometime after you left, the Preservers disappeared.” Pinecone bursts into tears. She liked the Preservers and is missing her friend Mossglow.
Saplingwild hugs his friend. “I’m sure they had a good reason.” He looks at his mother over Pinecone’s shoulder, but both Elves keep quiet about the whereabouts of the Preservers.
Over the centuries the Preservers are eventually forgotten, except the few stories handed down about the helpful pests. The stories are varied and mixed.
Croonweaver was fed up. The blasted Preserver, Flitterflutter had botched up another of her creations to make weaving easier. Croonweaver had found a plant that she could turn into different thicknesses of thread. She also found that the threads made from the Thread Plant held dyes very well.
The thicker threads didn’t weave well though by hand. One night as she was sleeping, a dream came to her. In the dream was a contraption that was large and stationary. She was making something large on it, like a blanket she thought.
Upon waking, Croonweaver went to Ash, one of the tribe’s Tree-Shapers. Through Sending, she showed Ash what she was wanting. Ash agreed to try to shape such a thing for her out of wood.
Croonweaver had been testing the newly shaped thing. Then, Flitterflutter had come up and started spitting wrap-stuff all over it.
“High Ones! Blasted Bug! What do you think you’re doing?”
“Making wrap-stuff for you. Maky-Maky High Thing’s wrap-stuff not good.”
“I wasn’t making wrap-stuff, Stupid Bug.”
Flitterflutter looked at Croonweaver. It shrugged, “Oh, ok,” and flew off. Croonweaver fumed long after the tiny creature had left.
“Tide’s Blessing, Croon-… Oh my, what happened here?”
Croonweaver looked up to see Melodysilk. She sighed in disgust. “Tide’s Blessing, Silk. What happened was Flitterflutter. Pesky, annoying, troublesome Preservers! Why are they even here? They cause more problems then they help.”
“Ah, but my friend, they do help,” chuckled Melodysilk. “They put food in wrap-stuff and keep it from spoiling.”
“Bah! That doesn’t make up for the many things they ruin. The Elves they wrap, the times they aren’t around to wrap food. Silk, they’re nothing more then pests.”
Melodysilk just shakes her head. Like Croonweaver, there were a few Elves who found the tiny Preservers pests and nuisances. The majority of the Elves tolerated them for their usefulness, and a few even liked them and the companionship they offered.
Melodysilk looks over the thing with wrap-stuff all over it. Gesturing at it, “So, what is it, Croon?”
“I haven’t given it a name yet, but the design came to me in a dream to make using the thicker threads I can make out of the Thread Plant easier to use. I was thinking of calling it a loom, maybe. Now it’s just a mess to be cleaned up and start over.” Croonweaver sighs in disgust again.
“How about if I help you clean? It’ll make the job easier and faster with a friend.”
Croonweaver gives a wan smile, “Help would be greatly appreciated.” The two Elfesses started cleaning the sticky wrap-stuff off the loom. A few hours later, it was free of the mess. Unfortunately, the thread was ruined, which re-infuriated Croonweaver.
When they finished, Melodysilk took her leave. “Good luck, Croon. I hope your creation works out, and has no more, mmm, setbacks.”
“Thank you for your help, Silk.” After Melodysilk leaves, Croonweaver goes back to trying out her loom. As she works, her mind dwells on the problem of the Preservers. They were tough little creatures, and near impossible to kill. Besides, Croonweaver didn’t like them, found them irritating and annoying, but didn’t want to kill them.
Then it hit her. Why not relocate them elsewhere, far, far way from the Holt. A plan slowly forms. She’ll need help to pull it off, but who? After thinking on it for two days, Croonweaver decides on her son, Saplingwild. He dislikes the Preservers as much as his mother. *Sapling, may I speak with you?*
*Of course, Mother.*
Croonweaver heads over to Saplingwild’s cave, the direction his sending came from. Upon entering the cave, she finds Saplingwild sitting at his fire pit eating a morning meal. “Morning, Mother. Care to break your fast?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Saplingwild hands her some food. They sit quietly eating their meal. Croonweaver takes the time to work out what she will say. When they finish their meal, Saplingwild looks side long at his mother. “So, to what do I owe this visit? I doubt it was to have a morning meal with me.”
Croonweaver is quiet a moment. “Not that I don’t enjoy the occasional meal with my only tadpole, no, I’m not here for a meal.” She pauses and gathers her thoughts. Saplingwild waits patiently. “I wish to get rid of the Preservers, and I’d like your help.” There, she’d said it, now to see how he took it.
At his mother’s words Saplingwild’s eyebrows raise and his eyes widen. Then slowly a sly smile creeps across his face. “How?”
Coonweaver sighs in relief. “Well, this is what I was thinking...”
Over the next hand of days they gather up supplies. They let it be known they were going on a hunt. Just the two of them, a bonding time. They finally set off. They traveled until they were out of sight of the Holt. Then they waited three days and two nights. Soon as night fell on the third day, they left their supplies stashed and headed back to the Holt. As they neared, they waited to be sure all were asleep. Then they headed to where the preservers slept.
Waking Quietflight, Croonweaver quickly explained to the sleepy Preserver Leader. “Softbrush wants us to find a place for a new Holt, far from the sea. We’ve lost too many Elves to it. To make it easier for the tribe to move, Saplingwild and I will go search. Now, where the Preservers come in is, you and the others will travel with us on our search. Once we find a suitable place, you and yours will start wrap stuffing the creatures there. And we’ll come back for the rest of the tribe. This way there’s food waiting until we can settle in. Will the Preservers help?”
Quietflight thought it over but a moment. “Yes, we will help Maky-Maky and Hunt-Hunt High Things find a new home.” Croonweaver is elated. Of all the pesky Preservers, Quietflight was the least obnoxious, and more Elf-like. Pity they couldn’t just get rid of all the others, but they needed Quietflight to keep the rest of the Preservers in line.
Saplingwild speaks up. “Now, Quietflight, you need to get it across to the others that this is a secret, and not to wake the other Elves.” Quietflight nods and goes and wakes the four other Preservers. Somehow it managed to keep them relatively quiet. Though it seemed loud to the two Elves, not another Elf woke. Quickly they got out of there and back to where they had stashed their supplies.
The journey started in earnest. They traveled through the grasslands, crossing three rivers. When they came upon the fourth river, they decided to follow it. They come to where another river joins it. Seeing that the combined rivers head into the mountains, the Elves decide to follow the new river, after crossing it, they continue on. The new river brings them to a lake. Following the lake around they find another river and follow it. After three hands and three and a half days, the river brings them to a large forest. Croonweaver smiles, thinking this will be the perfect place to leave the Preservers. “Here, Quietflight.”
The Preserver looks at her then nods. “Babblebrooke, Cuddlesweet, Flitterflutter, Mossglow, find Still Quiets to wrap.” All the Preservers scatter. The Elves quickly turn and leave.
“You know, it’s a pity.”
Croonweaver looks at her son in confusion. “How so? We’re finally rid of the pesky things.”
Saplingwild laughs. “Yes, but I’ll bet my best spear that we two are the only ones to have traveled so far. From what I’ve seen, hunting and fishing would be plentiful here.” He pauses a heartbeat. “And we can’t tell anyone, or we’d have done all this for nothing.”
Croonweaver nods, “yes, that part is a pity. It’s also so far from the shore; the tribe would be safe from the sea storms and sharp teeth.” She sighs.
Two hands of days later they return, having taken a more direct route back. When they return the Holt seems to have an air of sadness. Saplingwild sees his friend Pinecone and asks, “What’s wrong?” Both Elves are thinking something bad happened to the tribe in their absence.
“Oh, you don’t know, or you Croonweaver. Sometime after you left, the Preservers disappeared.” Pinecone bursts into tears. She liked the Preservers and is missing her friend Mossglow.
Saplingwild hugs his friend. “I’m sure they had a good reason.” He looks at his mother over Pinecone’s shoulder, but both Elves keep quiet about the whereabouts of the Preservers.
Over the centuries the Preservers are eventually forgotten, except the few stories handed down about the helpful pests. The stories are varied and mixed.