Bulletin #2 - A Friend in the Woods - NoQu 2025

NoQu 2025

Day 4

Total Words: 6,667

Chapter 2: A Friend in the Woods

"While the blue is richest

In the starry sky,

While the softest shadows

On the greensward lie,

While the moonlight slumbers

In the lily’s urn,

Bright elves of the wild-wood!

Oh! return, return!"

-Felicia Hemans, Fairies Recall

“A blank map, a crazy magic world, what on EARTH is going on? Oh wait, I’m not on Earth. That’s what’s wroooooOOOONG!” In your blustering fit, you had lost sight of the rocky path down from the hill you’d started on. And now, you’d taken just the wrong step and were sliding down a mixture of gravel and rough granite faces.

“Uuugh,” you groan when you finally slow to a stop. Your hands and back are burning, your head and hips throb from the tumble, and you have even less of any idea where you are. You breathe out frustration-- maybe growling a little bit, definitely grumbling. You could’ve been so cozy at home! Working through writer’s block on your own! But no. You walked through a crazy door out of your fireplace and now you’ve probably got something broken and no hope of going home unless somehow this all magically works out.

Prompt: Have help come in the middle of an embarrassing situation.

As if you didn’t have enough problems, your pocket is beginning to feel warm. Uncomfortably warm. Not quite like you’re bleeding, though that could be the case. You will your raw hands to grasp for whatever is in the pocket. To your astonishment, the blank map is glowing. It contorts, then belches blue and pink fire high into the sky.

“A flare…?” You barely have time to say before a youthful face framed with long hair comes into view above you.

“Phoenix Herald,” he says. “Allow me.” The tall, slender young man crouches down. Are his ears… pointy? He takes your hands and applies a cold, bitter green salve and a crude bandage around each scraped palm.

“What are you? An elf?” Great, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of an elf!

“Very astute of you,” he inclines his head and helps you to your feet. “I’m sure you’ve also noticed your map pointing you south east, into the woods a little farther?”

You pull the map towards yourself and, sure enough, one small corner has been scrawled with glittering ink. “Definitely…”

“You can follow me,” the elf chuckles.

Ambiance: The Forest

As the pain in your hands begins to calm, you start to actually notice the birdsong filtering through the huge green trees. After walking all day, a huddle of mossy cottages finally comes into view.

“Welcome to Luvothiun.”

Elves walk busily through the village-- one ready for hunting, another carrying bundles of herbs. They stop to talk and help each other as they work. Your eyes jump from person to person, wide in wonder.

“You can follow me this way. We need to get your injuries healed up before you get on your way.”

He leads you into a cozy little hut almost like home. He gets you settled in, brings you a healing potion to take, and blows out the lanterns inside. One by one, Luvothiun goes to sleep. Strangely colored watch fires are soon the only remaining sign of life through the village. And then, even those go dark.

The clamor starts as softly as the night had begun. Whispers rippled through Luvothiun, then murmurs and the knocking of doors, and finally a shrill whistle split the night enough to startle you awake. You sit up with a jolt and creep over toward the door to listen to the chaos outside.

“The Watch Fires have died!” A multitude of voices ripples through the village.

An old voice cut through the crowd. “My friends, the great Phoenix must have turned to ash. His magic is the only thing that can restore them.”

Dare: Make it a point to do three short writing sessions with a friend or new writing buddy today. See who gets the most words!

Your door creaks and then bonks you in the head where you were listening. “Sorry!” A voice hisses. You roll out of the way and the door swings the rest of the way open to show the same elf who helped you before. “You’re the Phoenix Herald. I saw the magic you have. We need your help.”

The crowd continues to mumble outside. Your heart thunders. “I-- I don’t know—”

“Come on!” He grasps you by the wrist and pulls you to the dead fire pit.

What does he mean? You don’t have magic! Unless… Think think think… Wait. The map? You fumble for it. The glittering ink is hot to the touch again, glowing. You hesitate. You’re in the right place… at the right time… for a reason. You carefully tear that corner of the map away from the rest of the blank parchment and lay it in the fire pit. Instantly, blues and pinks shoot into view, not just in this pit, but each dead fire around the village.

The elf who helped you addresses the crowd. “Tonight, the Phoenix Herald paid us a visit. As thanks for our hospitality, they have lit the fires once again. The Phoenix must have a token. What shall we gift him?”

“The whistle!” And so you come into the possession of your first token: the Elfin Help-Whistle.

Question: How does friendship and community impact your story as well as your personal writing?

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