The Great Collection of the Elemental Families of Huphaea, anid 1830 #21

Hello Everyone! Hope you are all keeping well with the difficult weather parts of the US are experiencing right now. The Northeast is used to the snow and freezing temps each winter, I can only imagine how difficult it is to deal with when the infrastructure isn’t designed to handle it. Feel free to send it back this way, where it belongs, we could use some more in my opinion 🤔. February is moving along and we are approaching the year anniversary of lockdown here. It’s actually an odd feeling, to think that it’s only been a year—it feels like ten. Before we know it, the trees will be budding and the Easter bunny will be hopping around, though he already appears to have visited the stores… The Easter candy was out three weeks before Valentine’s Day! But anyway, we should get back to the story after my unplanned hiatus. Stay strong and healthy, spring is on the way!~

We last left the ladies, Ivy and Elahna, in Sawyerset at The Tarnished Blade Inn. The innkeeper had just instructed them to not dawdle in returning to the dining room, as it was filling up quickly. Shall we rejoin them?~


Returning to our setting

I must have stood gazing a second or two too long, as Ivy touched me on the shoulder. “Come on, you heard Lissa, we’d better be quick or we’ll be standing.”

A few heads turned and watched us ascend the stairs, but not in an overly concerned manner. The second floor was a warren of rooms extending off the main hallway that wound the length of the building, much like the random table arrangement in the room below. Though the room placement seemed haphazard though, I decided it was actually carefully planned to maximize space and the number of rooms. “The corner room is my usual, yours is right here. This stair goes to behind the bar and out to the wash building, that’s why Lissa always holds it for me.” Ivy put a hand on her doorknob, “Meet you back in an erd?”

“Yeah, sure.” I pushed open my door and stepped into a tidy, yet welcoming space just big enough to be called a room. It held a single bed, a low dresser, a chair, and a small round table arranged around a long, oval, emerald green rug. The curtains matched the hue of the rug. I slung my bag onto the bed and looked out the window over the back of the tavern. A blocky structure jutted out from the main building, which must be the kitchen that Lissa disappeared into, and a smaller, thatch-roofed building stood further back but directly behind our rooms. A thin trail of smoke rose from a central chimney and people entered or exited from either end. The wash house? I surmised I was about to find out.

*Photo by form PxHere

I turned to head back out to meet Ivy, just as she stepped in. “Oh, this is so cute, will it suit you?” I nodded. “Good, grab that linen and let’s go wash up quick. I don’t know about you, but I feel quite dusty.” She held a ruby red towel and a round of light pink soap. I did suddenly feel quite gritty, though I hadn’t noticed much dust on the ride.

After I pulled the door closed, Ivy reached out and drew a finger across the door frame and the jamb in three places, sealing the door closed with strips of gnarly wood. I gave her what I hoped was a questioning look and she shrugged as she turned. “Not that I don’t trust Lissa and Beren, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. It will keep the curious and inebriated out, at least. I’m not sure if news of your identity has beaten us here or not. But it won’t be long if it hasn’t.”

That was the first time I had witnessed anyone take any precautions whatsoever. Somehow, it made me feel a bit more at ease. Not having to be aware of those around me had been unsettling, when I allowed myself to think about it. And though Ivy was an Elemental, her powers were of an arboreal nature, and I wasn’t sure how much protection that could provide if necessary. She’d just grown ‘tree tape’ but could she grow a wooden shield or knife if we needed it? Come to think of it, at this point, I didn’t even know what her ability was. I decided to ask that, casually, if the opportunity presented itself. It all just made me think more and more of the fictional worlds I so loved. And it appeared I had stumbled into one, literally.

The wash building turned out to be more like an outhouse with a steam room built in. A bench of latrine places, separated with three-foot tall dividers lined one wall and a screen of translucent silk painted in a mountain scene divided it from the steaming stone pool that was sunken into the floor. My jaw dropped open at the bubbling bath, it looked so inviting! A couple of stone basins stuck out from the wall alongside the pool and Ivy was already soaking her cloth under the tap.

“I’d love to get into that, I don’t feel saddle sore, but that would definitely help prevent it.” I nodded toward the pool, as I tried to figure out how to make water flow from the single pipe that bent into the basin.

Ivy reached over me and pressed her thumb into a depression in the stone wall. Water began to flow, slightly warm, over the cloth in my hands. I deduced then how to adjust the temperature and the volume using the depressions I could now pick out on the wall and the tap. “That does sound like an excellent idea. As long as we don’t fall too far into our cups at dinner,” she gave me a lopsided smile.

“Oh, don’t worry about that with me. I have no desire to have a big head on a horseback ride. That would be pure torment.” I shook my head vehemently, remembering how I woke up in Raga’s tent that first morning. “I’m good.”

We finished up a quick toilette. The pink soap was smooth and fragrant like a bouquet of fresh roses with a rich lather. When Ivy wrung her linen out, I was astonished at how much water she extracted. The cloth was nearly dry! I did the same to my own, and by the time we reached our rooms again, it WAS dry. No real need for drying racks as such, I thought. Remarkable.

I slowed my pace a bit when we retraced our steps downstairs, taking in the scene that unfolded as I rounded the staircase. The crowd had increased, along with the din of upbeat conversation. Tankards decorated tabletops next to brawny, tanned arms amid a sea of colorful plaids. Ivy paused with a few steps to go, looking for an empty table I assumed, but Lissa’s exuberant wave drew my attention. She beckoned us to a small table against the opposite wall where she stood minding a tray of food and a chilled pitcher.

*Image by 6557056 from Pixabay

“Here you are, game hen stew and a pitcher of fresh sparkly. Everything to your liking upstairs? Anything else you need, just wave me over. Gotta run just now, enjoy!” Once again, Lissa snaked off into the growing crowd, calling out orders as she entered the kitchen. Ivy and I exchanged an arch look and then laughed in unison.

“I couldn’t have gotten a word in sideways if I’d had to!” I said.

“I know! Once the crowd settles in, though, she’ll visit with a tankard of her own. Lissa can drink level with any of the sawyers. I’d even put her up against someone with rock troll blood and put my wager on her. She and Beren built this tavern themselves, including milling the timber. Beren was a sawyer previously and Lissa’s whole family are, she grew up in a mill. She can horse-whisper, and was responsible for the mill horses, but she loves working with wood. Most of the interior is her work.”

The two tiny birds steaming in thick broth with carrots, peas, onions, and potatoes was difficult to ignore up to that point. Naturally, once Ivy mentioned Lissa’s work, I had to look around and see what she meant.

Photo by form PxHere

Many of the tables, including ours, were made of entire round slabs of tree trunk, bark and all. Varnish sealed the tops in a thick layer as clear as glass. The bar counters were of the same idea, the rough live bark edges worn almost smooth by thirsty patrons. The more I looked, the more unique details I picked out—finial carvings on the support columns, the bannister scroll work on the spiral stair, different fluting on the legs of the tables and chairs, wood burning and etching around the windows. Personal touches that gave the tavern a welcoming, lived-in atmosphere. Then my mind snagged on something else she had said.

“What’s a rock troll?”

“I wondered if you’d caught that.” Ivy’s green eyes sparkled with delight. “There aren’t many, if any, here in Huphaea. But they are a large, resilient people who live in mountainous areas on other continents. At least on Iacewen, that I know of. They don’t have any magic of their own and have been known to capture women to try to infuse magic into their population. It doesn’t ever work that way, but some rock trolls keep trying anyway. Almost like they forget about the results.”

“You make it sound scientific, like its an experiment.”

“I don’t know that odd s-word you said, but I suppose it could be described that way, like an experiment. Or even a game to some of them. The rock troll tribe always loses, because the half-troll individual is either turned out when no magic appears, or they leave of their own accord to find more developed societies.”

“That doesn’t sound like an intelligent approach.”

“Intelligence isn’t a rock troll specialty. Fortuantely, most of the true half-trolls gain in that way from their non-troll parent. That’s why they all leave the cave towns.”

“I see. So that blood confers some ability to hold a lot of drink, I take it? Would you be able to tell someone had rock troll blood just by looking at them?”

“Sometimes. Those with rock troll blood are usually larger in physical stature, with a greyish hue to their skin. But both can diminish as the bloodline dilutes and there are plenty of people with larger builds, as we see.” Being in a mill town, we were surrounded by large-framed individuals in that room alone. “The only trait that gives any rock troll lineage away is gray eyes. No other race has gray eyes, so if you meet someone with gray eyes, they have enough rock troll blood to matter. And don’t challenge them to a drink-off.” She grinned again as she filled two flagons from the frosty pitcher.

“I’ll remember that. Certainly.”

We fell into silence for a bit, making forays into the stew with deep-bowled wooden spoons and hearty dark brown bread. The cider was crisp and on the sweeter side, but quite refreshing and it complemented the stew perfectly. I noticed the number of glances and nods in our direction increasing with the influx of patrons. I began to wonder if I was about to become a sideshow to the night’s revelry.

In general, I’m not one to go about attracting attention, so this situation made me uneasy. However, I wasn’t facing a sea of hostile faces, just curious ones that probably mirrored my own. I decided that this evening was no different than any of the others I had spent in foreign countries back home. At least here I could speak the language, mostly. I used that thought as an anchor and screwed up my confidence. After all, we were all humans or elves or some combination thereof with the common threads of curiosity and, I imagine, speculation. Probably nothing would happen anyway.

Thoroughly satiated on stew, I slid my bowl to the end of the table, wondering what would come next. Should we vacate the table for other dining patrons and find a place along the wall at the drink rail if we intended to stay? My eyes flicked up to Ivy, seeking a cue from her, but she sat calmly finishing her stew and tidying the tableware.

Lissa appeared a moment later with a mousy-haired girl of about nine (or nova) in tow, a heavily carved tankard in her hand. She indicated to the girl to clear the dishes away and snagged an empty stool from a table across the aisle.

Image by prenzberger from Pixabay

The men at the table leaned out and around each other to sling good-natured barbs at Lissa and soon we were all laughing together.

After some hasty introductions and small talk about the day, Lissa turned back to our table and hunched conspiratorially over her tankard, her eyes alighting on me. “So, tell me, what was it like to realize you aren’t where you belong? Was it as janked as I imagine it would be? Was the travel frightening?”

“I, ah, well, if you mean was it odd, then no. One second I was walking forward into an old stone structure, the next I was in a different one. That’s all it was. No falling, or darkness, or stretching, or voices, or light. It was just a step like any other. Only it wasn’t.” I had been expecting some questions at some point, but not this particular one. Lissa seemed disappointed almost, but she recovered quickly, firing off more questions until she appeared satisfied and her tankard was empty.

“I should go check on Beren and the lads, hold my stool? I’ll bring another pitcher, no?”

“Sure, but only if you bring some apple crunch with it. I’ve been dreaming of it all day, I even saved room for it, and here you’ve made me wait without even a mention of it!” Ivy sagged back in her chair, a dramatic pout on her face for a few seconds before she winked at me.

“Pssshaaww! And you knew I’d make it special for you, Miss Ivy, didn’t you? As if my sontris’d let me forget you were a’comin’!” Lissa jumped up from the table, feigned offense crumbling into laughter. “Mark my words, you’ll wake up one morning t’ find my Scosy underneath your branch there at Rosewood, waiting on your wishes. I’ll be back in an erdin with your crunch and cider, my lady,” and she swept a mocking bow in Ivy’s direction, mirth plastered on her face.

Ivy pealed into laughter, but her face turned a shade of delicate rose pink in the wake of Lissa’s words. Smiles blossomed on the faces of the men across the aisle, who had obviously been listening to Lissa’s line of questioning and my replies. They knew who I was for certain now. Ivy righted herself and traced her fingers around the rim of the tankard. “I do hope that doesn’t come to pass. But wait until you have her apple crunch. It is fabulous.”

I was pretty sure I couldn’t fit another bite, but the steaming apple crunch in the crock and bowl of fresh whipped cream Lissa returned with was too tempting to pass up.

Image by FlitsArt from Pixabay

Lissa helped polish it off, thankfully, along with the pitcher of cider. The conversation turned to local matters and news of individuals both women had in common. At one point, Lissa inquired about Aymur almost shyly, which was so out of character that I picked up on it right away. “He is well,” Ivy answered. “Grandess Daphne keeps him busy lately since she injured her ankle. No doubt she summoned the Orderly first thing now that he is back. He was probably gathering herbs for poultices when we passed him. Unclen will be eager to see her well and back to administering. He is far too used to having his own time most days.”

“Ah, that’s why he hasn’t been by lately. Some of the lads said they could use his talent in the spruce grove. The gall aphids are winding up fierce this year, they wanted a bit of reinforcement from him. Speaking of which, before you go, you should examine the center tree. It hasn’t leafed as quickly as usual and one of the young ones said they could see some sap oozing way up toward the crown. Perhaps you could help? I’m sure if Porter comes in he’ll ask ye to, but here then, you’ve already been made aware.”

“Of course I will, in the morning before we depart.” Ivy glanced at me. “Still in want for a stone bath soak? After all this food and talk I admit it sounds like a good way to cap the evening, and ensure a good night’s sleep.”

“Absolutely! It would be a perfect end, yes.”

“Right then, I’ll leave you ladies to it, my thanks for the updates, Ivy. Tell Aymur to pop in next time he’s round. I’ll leave two bathing sheets by the back door, grab them on your way to the bathhouse. I’ll be in at first light if you want breakfast, but don’t rush on account of me. It’s my early day. Elements be, then, g’tag.”

“Oh, you’ll probably see Unclen before I do, I’ll be in Irillo for a while. Sounds perfect though, thank you. Elements be, Lissa, g’tag.”

Was every meal I ate delicious, you ask? Yes! I honestly can’t think of one thing I did not like, which is highly unusual for me. Oh yes, I was super curious about that little exchange about Aymur. Lissa certainly seemed fond of him by the way she talked, she actually softened somewhat. I never did ask about her horse whispering ability, but I imagine it was as you would expect, without mind magic or Sentients. I’ll stop here for this segment. The night can continue next time!~


The Tarnished Blade sure sounds like a fun place to spend an evening, right? Do you enjoy places like that? I did before going to Huphaea, and definitely did while I was there. I was lucky enough to be in respectable establishments during my stay. Our position as Collectors would not allow anything less since it was realm business. I did hear about some rather unsavory places in Irillo, though, through the gossip channels. Let me know your tavern experiences in the comments below!

Remember to subscribe to Collata ⚡, the Collection of Huphaea newsletter. There will be a new issue out soon, so jump on board! Become a Nightingale and get extras and outtakes from the land of Huphaea delivered to your inbox once a month. You can sign up here 👇🏼

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Reblog — Hopes and Fears and Fiction — Writer Unboxed

This landed in my inbox this morning, the day after I wrote a piece about fear. Fear has been on my mind a lot lately and I am in a constant struggle with it in several areas of my life.

In this piece, Donald Maass reminds writers of some questions that should be asked while writing, and then asked again by editors as they make suggestions.

Reading it reminded me of why I read certain things at certain times. Maybe it will resonate with you, too.

And I also just remembered I need to buy his book, The Emotional Craft of Fiction, I’ve been meaning to for a while. Happy Birthday to me! 🎂

What do you need to be reminded of today?

What are your hopes and dreams?  What are you most afraid of? Search online for common fears and phobias, and you will quickly find that whatever terrifies you also terrifies others.  Do you, for instance, suffer (as so many do) from Koumpounophobia, Alektorophobia, Sidonglobophobia, or Hippotomonstrosequippedaliophobia?  Those are the paralyzing fears of buttons, chickens, cotton…

Hopes and Fears and Fiction — Writer Unboxed

Reblog — Character Time and Reader Time — Writer Unboxed

Time and pacing are always foremost thoughts in an author’s mind when they are plotting or writing.

Is it too slow?

Is it too fast?

What if I slow it down a bit, will people lose interest?

And then there comes the moment when the plot puzzle seems to not work together timewise. What do you do then?

This Writer Unboxed post offers some insight into how to deal with this conundrum. Happy reading!~

We’ve all had the experience of something being over in a flash and, in contrast, of time feeling endless. Time feels different, depending on where we are and what we want. It’s the same for our characters—and our readers. As writers, we juggle several kinds of time. I hadn’t really thought about this—not explicitly—until I…

Character Time and Reader Time — Writer Unboxed

Reblog — Thinking Fiction: What’s Next for Novelists? — An American Editor

Writing fiction has its advantages—you get to make stuff up. But what happens when you draw on what you know (as we all do) and then EVERYTHING changes mid-draft? Did your writing change from pre-pandemic to post-pandemic and how do you handle that? I found this a very thought-provoking article that touched on some of the wrinkles many authors may dance around.~

Carolyn Haley Thanks to our collective and often-divisive experiences over the past year, I’ll wager we all agree that 2020 was one heckuva rough ride with long-term consequences yet to be known. The events have introduced new concerns specific to fiction writers, editors, agents, and publishers. For instance, should authors of contemporary fiction include the […]

Thinking Fiction: What’s Next for Novelists? — An American Editor

Reblog— What to Expect from an Editor — Writer Unboxed

I see this topic come up in conversation in online writing groups constantly. This Writer Unboxed episode provides a solid idea of what to expect from an editor and why we aren’t to be feared. Editors have a genuine desire to help authors improve their craft and see their creativity shine. Many of us are writers too, we understand the discomfort involved, and trust me, we don’t want to perpetuate it in someone else! ~

Letting other people—even those close to you—read your novel for the first time can be stressful. You’ll wonder if they’re going to judge you, if they’ll recognize themselves in there, or if you really want your mother to know that you know about these things. But after the first few times, you get used to…

What to Expect from an Editor — Writer Unboxed

One difference I would note is that where Mr. Dempsey talks about the notations and comments made in “…copy editing and proof reading” stages, at Quill & Orb Press those notations would be part of my line editing and copy editing services.

If you would like to learn more about Quill & Orb Press editing, please visit me here. Enjoy your day!~

Reblog — Show Me the Money: Royalties, Rights & Riches for Indie Authors — Writer Unboxed

On the heels of the finish of NaNoWriMo, this Writer Unboxed post discusses many of the questions authors need to answer for themselves as they decide on a publishing route. Indie or trad? Have you made your decision yet, before you start the editing process with your new manuscript? This post is full of information about this all important decision. Enjoy!~

I made my independent publishing debut back in 2011, and if this journey has taught me anything it is that realistic expectations are critical to a productive, rewarding experience. 2,413 more words

Show Me the Money: Royalties, Rights & Riches for Indie Authors — Writer Unboxed

Reblog — Ground Your Characters with All Five Senses — Writer Unboxed

Writers are cognizant of how important it is to include all of the senses in the narrative. This article explores how important inclusion is, for the author and the words.~

When I’m writing—these articles, for example—I often compose a kind of first draft in my head, and I usually do it when I’m out on a long walk with the dog. For this article, I knew I wanted to get across the idea that writers can introduce elements from one or all of the five…

Ground Your Characters with All Five Senses — Writer Unboxed

Reblog — Basing Your High-Fantasy Towns and Cities in the Real World — Nicholas C. Rossis

If you write fantasy, you most likely have asked yourself a question along the lines of “What kind of world do I have and how can I keep track of it?” I can say I went with a completely fictitious world that my character passes through a portal to reach, but it starts in the real world here. This informational post has a few tips to keep in mind when you start to worldbuild.~

I wisely started the map and made the story fit. The above words, spoken by none other than J.R.R Tolkien, have been taken as sage advice by many an accomplished – or budding – fantasy writer who felt inspired to create their own world. While Tolkien, like many others, has been lauded for his incredible…

Basing Your High-Fantasy Towns and Cities in the Real World — Nicholas C. Rossis

Reblog — Parts Of A House With Names You Probably Didn’t Know — Nicholas C. Rossis

What fun! I read a lot of historical fiction and the house or dwelling descriptions are some of my most favorite parts. Have a look at all of these new or forgotten house terms to play with! Eeek! Imagination, wait for me!~

One of the hardest things for me is writing detailed descriptions of houses. Part of it is that I’m impatient by nature and I tend to gloss over long descriptions when reading. But part of it is also that it can be hard to write a nice description of a house without knowledge of the…

Parts Of A House With Names You Probably Didn’t Know — Nicholas C. Rossis

Reblog— Identifying Your Character’s Primary Attribute — WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®

Here’s another stellar post from the gals at WHW. If you haven’t checked out their author tools, do it now! (Well, after you read this post 😉).

When I think about some of my favorite protagonists, I can usually identify a trait that defines each one: Sam Gamgee: LoyaltyAnne Shirley: ImpulsivityJames T. Kirk: Boldness However, if each character was made up of only that one trait, they probably wouldn’t make many “favorites” lists because they’d be paper-thin—caricatures, rather than characters with depth…

Identifying Your Character’s Primary Attribute — WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®