>>5879420“Come on,” Sylvare beckons, taking your hand. “Come with me. We have one more chore to do.”
You hold back a groan. More work? You were beginning to think she had something else in mind.
(In truth, she did, as you soon learn…)
Sylvare soon lead you to a smaller clearing off to the side of the main one. The nature of the space eventually apparent as you approach, denoted by the sound of humming—nay, soft buzzing. At first you fear it is the Unseelie Fey in their ‘swarm-form’ which they had demonstrated in their last attack upon Dappulyet’s holy site. You pull your wand from the special pouch inside your robe which sheathes it, and step forward to protect your nubile companion. She just laughs, and takes your arm in hers as she guides you to the actual source of the sound: several hollowed-out, specially-carved logs, full of small holes and faintly slick and shiny where the contents within overflow and dribble down.
“Beehives,” your ealzie, watching the diligent works fly in and out.
“They say that bees came after wasps, and termites, and other biting and swarming insects,” Sylvare says, with the voice of one repeating an oft-heard parable or children’s story. “They say they were, like… Evil, not properly natural, but an enemy of life and nature but the gods taught them the love for hard work and duty, and they became bees after that, and became much happier… Though at first, they had to bribe them with the knowledge of honey, so they’d have something to work towards and a reward when they were done.”
You reflect on the instructive little tale and its likely moral. It’s probably just a fable for young elves, to explain why it is important to do the very sorts of chores you and Sylvare have been doing, but after all you’ve learned about the Gods of Light—their real origins, their purposes here on Earth, their interest in uplifting the world and its spirits to create an age of peace and harmony—you begin to wonder if there might be some hidden truth to it beyond the allegorical.
“Eventually the bees realized hard work and creating was much better than destruction and war, and they started working for the sheer love of it,” Sylvare continues the tall tale. “As thanks, they’ve produced a bit of extra honey first, for we descendants of the True Fey to enjoy. It was the bees’ reward, and now it’s ours, too, for helping them.”
Sylvare approaches the hives, unafraid. The bees do not seem alarmed or defensive at all and, after a moment, you follow her.
“Go on,” she says, “have some honey.”
You reach down, scooping some of the overflow tentatively onto your fingers and, with Sylvare’s encouragement, lick it off your fingers. She watches you all the while, so that it feels faintly indecent.
