Sunrise in the Elven Haven

I close my eyes, planting my feet, and breathe in the fresh, crisp morning air.

Elys Shale, the Elven Haven, emanates an ethereal beauty at any time of day, but there is a particular quality to the dawn’s illumination of its temple towers that especially captures me. From my perch within an envelope of mighty pines, the Haven’s rounded walls seem to flatten into their landscape, and I can see the village beginning to stir. Dawn-fires are lit around the temples to frame their bulbous crowns, and in each their turn, thin tunnels of smoke come roving through the mountain mist, bringing on their tongues a distant taste of burning oak to wade through the scent of evergreens. The elves offered kindness and respite, caring both for me and for Moonshine, my coal-colored horse, as their kin. We have already crept out to the hills by the time the light breaks, and, before returning to our path along the hidden mountain pass, I slide off her back and pause to watch the scene transform.

It is as if a deep well of blossomed orange light were being kept inside a teapot. Let the valley be the saucer. Light pours in to fill our cup.

The mountains are touched first, blooming sunlight like orange paint to water-dropped canvas. Birdsong swells within the breath of the forest. A great wind seeps over the hillside, and one by one, tree leaves catch light and turn over, pressed into the current, holding mirror to the burning Sky in their momentary flicker. The shifting dance creates ripples that ride throughout the forest-ringed valley, and in the space of a breath, all the mountains suddenly are swimming in reflected waves of light. I open my arms to let the wind pass through me, a sigh of cloud-breath stained forest green and drenched in the music of the birds and their cricket choirs. Morning meets the elven towers and reveres their alabaster walls. Smoke from the fires billows up and moves in peach-colored wakes. Water awakens in the woods, a cool tide unfurling from its stretching belly, and pulls a quiet river to the falls surrounding the temples, roaring in anticipation of the Sun. In the village, the elves begin their drumming. A deep heartbeat rolls throughout the Haven, pounding like a running horse, kindling the swollen morning and its burgeoned life from within the sleeping wood. Moonshine whinnies at its sound. A thrum calls out from the heart of the forest and comes pouring into the valley. Humming with invitation, the ground around me begins to glow, deeply, brilliantly, and for a moment I believe the Earth will set itself ablaze.

At last, the Sky parts its lips. The Sun creeps its head over the treeline in a perfect corridor of light. The horizon, shaped by the passage between two wandering mountains, bursts, and sunlight spills out into the tapered valley, and the entire world is singing.

For this single, shining moment, I hold the Earth inside my stomach. I breathe down to my bones, and roots sprout from my feet into the forest, recalling with familiarity the alcove upon Takhe’nekunse, the Sacred Mountain of the Sun, the land that cradled my birth. Each morning there I climbed to see the Sun rise, to honor the sources of my Being, to drink in the potent magic they exude. Though the soil here is soft with water, the feeling is much the same. Every inhalation pulls Earth light into my lungs, every out-breath diffusing through my limbs until my whole body is filled and shimmering. A sigh of deep pleasure rises in my chest. I lean into it, and it smiles to fall out my mouth.

In the village, I hear the drumming cease. The light cast upon the temple towers pales with the Sun’s ascent, and the vibrance of the valley cools and shifts into the settled morning. The fires will burn another hour yet. In the vale near the creek, a white doe emerges from the treeline, and brings with her two bright-eyed fawns down to the meadow to feed. Moonshine snuffles at my shoulder, and I slope back to rest against her. A shady breeze laces the calm between us. It’s a sleepy time to be awake and on the road, but we are practiced travelers, and this gift of sunrise is enough to fuel us forward. With one last breath of elven Earth and Air, I draw my roots back into my skin, and mount my Moonshine’s back. Nestled into the seat of her spine, I run my hands beneath her mane, drape myself against her neck, speaking quietly to her.

“Ready Leykorl?” The elven word for beloved, or companion.

She knickers, and I grin, softly, a feeling just for myself and for my friendly beast. With that, I click my tongue, steadying the reins, and Moonshine picks up. Elys Shale fades into the forest, and we make our way slowly through the trees, departing the tender nourishment of the valley and treading up the hillside toward the looming mountain ridge. We do not know these woods, but we know for now that they will keep our passage safe.