Under a pale midday sun, the grove filled once more with tense expectancy. Humans—villagers and the king’s envoys—stood opposite the elves, each side flanked by those who supported their interests. Rowan, with Lieris, Wera, Ildan, and others who had embraced the elven ways, found themselves at the center of it all. No one pretended this was going to be simple. Both sides had come prepared to push, to pull, and ultimately to yield something precious for the sake of stability.
The king’s new envoys had arrived with carefully phrased proposals. In the days since their appearance, they’d met several times with the elves, the villagers, and Rowan mediating all the while. Debates stretched from morning to dusk, voices sometimes raised, expressions strained. The elves were reluctant to grant any access to their forest; the humans were wary of placing too many conditions on their use of what they considered their rightful domain. The villagers, caught in the middle, pressed for understanding—reminding everyone that these new relationships must not be scuttled by stubborn pride.
Eventually, after exhausting arguments and countless revisions, a formal accord began to take shape:
First, the king’s envoys acknowledged the elves as free beings living according to their own ancient traditions. They agreed that no armed party would enter the forest without permission. Instead, if the king’s court or others wished to speak to the elves, they must first stop at the village. There, they would send a villager—someone trusted by both sides—to request a formal audience. Only after receiving an affirmative sign from the elves could the envoys proceed into the woods. This arrangement recognized the village as a kind of neutral mediator, ensuring that no sudden armed incursions would occur.
Second, the elves conceded that humans would be allowed to harvest some resources from the forest’s edges—carefully supervised and strictly limited. The elves themselves would choose which trees could be felled, ensuring no ancient groves were harmed. A maximum quota per year was defined, based on sustainable growth and ecological balance. This pained the elves somewhat: the idea of allowing humans to take even a few trees ran against their instincts. But with the right oversight and trust, they accepted it as a gesture that might keep the humans from seeking less regulated ways.
Third, a matter that concerned the king’s envoys and some conservative villagers: the explicit sexual displays that had become more open in the village’s common areas. While no one wished to impose prudishness, the envoys insisted that the king would never abide by scandalous scenes in public squares. The villagers, wanting to maintain peace, agreed to keep the most explicit displays of their new “freedoms” within private homes or in designated spots within the forest—places where anyone entering knew what they might encounter, rather than stumbling upon it unexpectedly. A compromise, not ideal for those who enjoyed the open-air circles, but workable. The elves understood that humans had their own cultural lines, and if containing certain behaviors to chosen spaces preserved harmony, it was a small price.
None of these concessions came without grumbling. Some elves resented the idea of restricting their practices just for human sensibilities; others disliked sacrificing a handful of trees each year. Among the humans, many felt it galling to have to ask elven permission to enter the forest, as if the king’s domain were somehow subject to another power. And the villagers who had relished newfound freedoms found it ironic to have to hide certain acts indoors. But Rowan reminded them all: compromise never leaves everyone fully satisfied. It’s not a perfect world they’re building, just a more peaceful one.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
The negotiations were not concluded in a single day. They stretched over several tense sessions. At times, someone threatened to walk away. Artolan’s successor, a calmer envoy, struggled to keep the king’s demands moderate. The elves occasionally fell silent, discussing among themselves in soft voices, their eyes betraying disappointment at having to yielRowan part of their control. The villagers stepped in with earnest pleas for understanding, pointing to the trust already built, the friendships and lovers found across species lines, the joyful nights spent under moonlight. These memories, these stories of human and elf finding each other in kindness, ultimately held the fragile accord together.
Rowan’s role remained crucial. He translated metaphors and intentions, explained that a tree chosen by elves for cutting might be one already nearing the end of its life, ensuring the forest lost no vital old guardian. He reassured villagers that private spaces for intimacy could still be welcoming and safe. He promised the envoys that so long as they followed the agreed protocol, no illusions or hostile spells would greet them in the forest depths.
After a few days of such delicate balancing, the official agreement was finally ready to be signed. There were no grand ceremonies, just a gathering in the grove: a table set up, ink and quills ready, and three simple documents—one copy for the elves, one for the villagers, and one for the king. The elves pricked their fingers to mark their assent with a drop of blood, a sign of sincerity. The humans used quills and ink, signing their names or making marks if they couldn’t write. The king’s envoys signed on behalf of their ruler, leaving space for the king’s final stamp of approval upon their return.
When the final quill lifted from the parchment, a hush fell. No one cheered—the mood was too complicated for that. Instead, they looked at each other with cautious relief. They had made something new, an agreement that might hold their worlds together, balancing human demands with elven principles, guided by the villagers who stood in the middle. It was not perfect, but it was a start. Now they would test it over time.
As the signing ended, Rowan exhaled softly, feeling the weight of responsibility shift into a new phase. He caught Lieris’s eye and saw a small smile—relief and pride mingling. Wera gave a gentle sigh, and Ildan nodded thoughtfully. The elves inclined their heads, as if acknowledging that today marked a turning point, even if the future remained uncertain.
The envoys from the king packed their scrolls carefully, preparing to depart, though they would stay the night before heading back, ensuring that everyone was settled and no misunderstandings remained. The elves retreated deeper into their woods to reflect, likely singing their subtle songs among ancient roots. The villagers drifted back toward home, some discussing what these new conditions meant, others trying to imagine life now that rules were set.
Rowan lingered a bit longer, standing in the grove that had seen so much debate and tenderness. He knew that tomorrow, life would continue. Humans would tend their fields, elves would guard their groves, lovers would find quiet corners for their passion, and friendly exchanges would keep forging trust. This accord was neither a final solution nor a perfect blueprint, but a living document that they would interpret, debate, and adapt as needed.
It was a fragile peace, but compared to what might have been—bloodshed, distrust, a severing of all that they had gained—it was a precious achievement. Rowan let his shoulders relax. He had done his part. Now it was up to them all—king, elves, villagers—to nurture the seed of this accord into a sturdy tree that could shade their future.