Gebo’s Festival

Wing flapping.

    Smoothly passing between two Knockers who whizz down along rope courses specially installed for the duration of the festival, the cream-feathered owl flies over the rift.

    Despite the freshness of the Autumn’s night, the air vibrating with infectious notes of harps and noisy wind instruments, Knockers are all gathered outside. Seated along the edges of the path leading down to the entrance of the dungeon, they watch the Toll Dubh Games.

    Awa glances at the lights from the food stands installed behind them, all along the rocky walls. While she prefers flying over the dimly-lit rift – less crowded despite the dwarfs racing along the high ropes – the odours sure are enticing…

    Her citrine eyes shifting to the athletes competing below, Awa flies lower, closer so she can better observe a bunch of dwarfs throwing picks at the rocky wall in front of them. All dressed in curious fabrics. Mostly in white pants and long plaid pattern fabrics draped around their shoulders.

    Among them, familiar silhouettes.

“Don’t hurt yourself, though.” Beluacor comments, leaning against his pick. “It’s been decades since you last practised.”

    Spinning round, Tyffeon is holding his own pick, gaining momentum before throwing it up above. It spins on itself, flying through the air until its sharp edge gets stuck into the rocky wall. Higher than the ones already pinned over there.

“Of course, you wouldn’t lose against someone who didn’t practise for decades.” Tyffeon scoffs.

    Beluacor squints at him.

    Wing flapping.

    Awa returns closer to the edges of the path leading to the rift, spotting an appetising meat skewer. She flies closer, closer… until snatching the skewer from Timoria’s hand. The latter, too occupied by the Knockers trying to invite her for a dance, doesn’t notice her in time and jumps as she lands on her head.

“My skewer!” The cowmaiden whines.

***

    As I hear Timoria’s cries, I turn my head at her, noticing Awa messing with her. Enough to make me chuckle. My eyes linger a moment on her. With the long golden-brown checked fabric tightly wrapped in a dress around her waist, the white fabric of her shirt pressed against her chest does little to conceal her charms. The living owl hat serves at least as a momentary distraction for her admirers.

“She seems to have fun.” I think with a smile, disregarding her whimpers.

“Saintess?” Ghoba interrupts my thoughts, calling me back to our conversation.

“Ahh, yes, sorry.” I turn my head back at him.

    Both seated on the edge of the rocky path, our legs dangling in the air, we have a perfect view over the Toll Dubh Games below. Despite the season, the traditional dress I wear for Gebo keeps me warm. Over my white blouse, a leather belt keeps in place the long, loose red plaid pattern wrapped over one of my shoulders.

“Don’t miss the fireworks at the end of the festival. I’ve added, this year, some special patterns.” The Knockers’ ruler averts his citrine gaze, crossing his arms over his red beard. “You might appreciate them.”

“So you made them yourself?”

“As the Chief, it is part of my duties. The name which I was gifted entrusts me with all the secrets, the know-how of my folk regarding the use of metals.” Gobha glances at me. “Smith is its meaning, after all. I gathered our finest minerals to craft fireworks that would satisfy my folk.”

    Fireworks… The last I remember were the distant ones from the matsuri I observed from my home. Well, heard more than seen.

“I can’t wait to see them!” I cheerfully reply.

    A thought crosses my mind.

“By the way,” I add, “there’s one thing I am curious to ask you.”

“Which is?”

“That letter I gave you the day we arrived in Toll Dubh, what did it say?”

    My words are enough of a reminder to bring back a cranky expression over his features. His eyes being especially expressive.

    But I am in my right to ask, am I not? Let’s not forget that his impulsivity made him send us to jail the moment he read it.

“Hmpf. That fox… She asked me to receive you nicely and that her folk taught you some tricks to make a good spouse, which she invited me to check myself. She’s just always blathering nonsense.” He shoots a dirty look below as I let out an embarrassed laugh.

    Yeah. Ok, he just wanted to do the exact contrary as an act of rebellion.

“‘Added that you were her protege or something.” Gobha completes, mumbling.

“Mmm…” I tilt my head to the side. “…I see.”

“Is it really a good thing………”

    As we exchange these few words, a voice raises behind us.

“Chief!” Umbrestio approaches. “The pancake eating contest is about to begin. Everyone is awaiting you.”

    The ruler turns towards him, standing up.

“Much more pleasant subject.” He notes.

“Can I participate?” I ask.

    A bit surprised, Gobha glances at me.

“Are you sure? The winner is the one who eats the greatest number of pancakes. Knockers have quite the appetite, girl.”

“That’s what we’ll see.” I reply with a smirk, following him.

    The Knockers continue to eat their favourite treat, but they no longer use the eggs of the depths. If you ask me, they are already delicious as they are. As long as they can share them with their loved ones, that will give them enough flavour, won’t it?

    As we take a place along other Knockers, at a long table, piles of warm pancakes fill our plates more than generously. Basically reaching chin level.

    The moment the contest begins, I let go of any concept of dignity, gulping down more pancakes than this frail body of mine should be able to hold.

    Poor Chief Gobha didn’t stand a chance.

    By the end, he ends up vanquished, slouching in turn against the table while I savour the taste of victory on the tips of my fingers. Unless it’s honey.

***

    The festival keeps unfolding in a more than joyful way along all night. I think they all needed that after the recent events.

“Where is he?” I sneak around, scanning the silhouettes gathered to watch the fireworks about to be set off. Gobha making the last adjustments below. Enthusiastic whispers spreading all around.

“Not there, not-” I take sight of an elven figure among the smaller ones, and smirk. “Oh, found.”

    He wears a green checked piece of fabric, akin to a poncho, over his shoulders. Standing near the edge of the path that leads down to the rift.

“Tyffeon!” I approach him. “So this is where you’ve been hiding, huum.”

    A sigh.

“The demon is back… I just thought to myself that the night was oddly peaceful.”

“Now, now,” I step closer, “are you telling me that you were getting bored without me?”

    Tyffeon rolls his eyes in reply. But, otherwise, he doesn’t react.

    Wait. Not even stepping back? I swear he’s gotten too accustomed to my antics.

    When I hear the Knockers around us counting down to zero, a sly smile passes over my features. Nyehheh. It may be time to raise the level.

    The moment the countdown reaches zero, something whizzes up into the starry sky.

“Heeyyy!” I choose that moment to attack Tyffeon, getting close enough to wrap my arms around his waist in a brisk move, hugging him from behind.

    A rumble. Crackles.

    While a voice amplified by magic begins to sing a tale about travels, colourful lights illuminate the night sky, silver sparks spreading over there.

“Ehh-” I frown, confused.

    Why… Did he not jerk away yet?.. Is he broken or something… I felt him stiffen at first, but nothing more.

    As I turn my head to glance at him, all I see is a peaceful expression on his face, focused on the fireworks.

    His face is briefly lit by their colourful glow.

    When another one explodes in the sky, the vibrations spreading to us, I can’t take my eyes off that golden stardust beginning to fall back… until it merges into the shapes of some graceful birds. They hover above our heads before coming down to the crater, in circles. Sparkling before our eyes.

    As the fireworks keep exploding one after the other, a scent of smoke begins to fill the air.

“Come to think of it, so many things have happened since we’ve been here. We’ve been so busy trying to avoid Beluacor from getting tainted, handling the emissary… How strange.” I tighten slightly my grip against his waist, the warmth oddly comforting. “When was it again, the last time I feared Tyffeon would betray me? Deep down, though, my fears aren’t gone. I don’t want to be naive. But… We’ve managed to defeat two emissaries so far, not counting that the Saintess, that I, avoided my tragic fate. Despite the death of the Hero, we already accomplished more than I would have thought possible. I’m still not sure, but…”

    Whizzzz.

    Golden dust spread in the sky, shaping into stars akin to the ones adorning my twin buns. Gobha’s surprise?

    A move. I feel Tyffeon reaching into his pocket, raising his arm before my eyes, a chain hanging from the tip of his index finger. A silver chain at the end of which sways a pendant. Carved into the shape of a moon with the mineral sharing its name, other minerals shaped into tiny stars are embedded there.

    As I silently stare at the pendant, Tyffeon keeps gazing at the fireworks.

“Take this.” He simply utters.

    I widen my eyes, dumbfounded.

“You… crafted this for me?..”

“So that you’d have a new one.” He casts me a side glance, annoyed. “So that you cease sneaking into my room to try retrieving the other one.” He frowns. “Know that your attempts will remain vain.”

    A chuckle.

    Before I even notice it, a smile spreads over my features.

“Maybe, just maybe,.. there’s still hope for this world, for us.”