Chapter 3, Part i

Chapter the Third

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought –

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought.

It took them the better part of the day, but Hector and Lilly finally reached the Borogrove called Noosta.

A Borogrove, Lilly had explained, was a large grove of ancient trees which over the centuries had spiritually bonded with the Wabe. Tovish tribes – usually about thirty to sixty members strong – gathered there regularly while a few of those tribes made it their permanent home.

After they had crossed miles of pine-forested hills and countryside, far away from any trace of human civilization, Hector had begun to notice that they were no longer in human territory. Here and there, in the most inconspicuous places, Lilly would find little stone slabs as tall as his shin wedged in the earth or in the crook of an aged tree. Each one was long and slender and was covered with writing, or drawings, rather, that resembled hieroglyphics. With Lilly's permission he copied some of them as best as he could into his journal. Apparently they were trail markers guiding them back to the Borogrove.

Still farther in, when his knees started to feel like jelly (Lilly didn't seem to have tired at all, despite having only shared with Hector a few meals of leaves and roots that she had procured from the environment) Hector caught a few glimpses of furry creatures watching them in the distance. They were crouching in the deep grass or hidden in the green branches of the trees, but none of them approached and Lilly only spared them cursory glances.

“Are they friendly?” Hector had asked.

Lilly had had to think about the question. “You humans have strange ideas about ownership and territory. You place borders and draw lines of property: this is mine and that is yours. This does not matter to the Toves. Some of those that we see are members of my own tribe, and some are members of other tribes. We have different traditions and customs. But we are all family and we all believe in the good of the Wabe, and we all share the vision of harmony with nature and with oneself.”

“Right,” Hector had mumbled. Harmony or no harmony, he still felt weird being watched by so many slinking figures.

Finally another Tove appeared and presented himself to them. He spoke a few quiet words with Lilly in a language that Hector didn't understand, but judging from his behavior and appearance – his ornamented clothing, the coloring and marking of his fur – he seemed to be from the same tribe as Lilly.

After talking seriously with her, the newcomer glanced at Hector and then beckoned the two of them to follow. Lilly didn't seem fazed, so Hector felt he could relax.

They walked through the woods for a few moments, and then their guide spoke to him with a heavy Tovish accent.

“I will be your guide into the place called Noosta. You are Hictar, of the Place of Books?”

“Hector, yes.” He liked that title.

“Come, Hector of the Books. There are some who would speak with you inside Noosta.”

They walked a little way farther in silence, and Hector noticed several more Toves watching from the green shade. He found it all very fascinating, and he didn't stop writing in his journal until they reached the Borogrove itself.

There was a break in the wall of trees, and he caught his first glimpse of a Tovish settlement. He gawked at the sheer beauty of the place. Just beyond the trees was a broad lake, completely surrounded by more pine trees, and in the center of the lake was a large island, populated with more trees. Hanging from their branches were bands and strips of gray and brown cloth which were decorated with bright baubles and ornaments, writing and hieroglyphic drawings in red ink or paint. The trunks too were covered and wrapped in these cloths, whereon every inch of space was filled with writing. Forms of scripture! Hector enthused, and scribbled away. He was glad he had brought so many spare pencils. History books? Local myths? Maps? I feel I could spend a lifetime here. It is a whole library in itself.

Even more interesting than the writing on the trees, however, were the Toves that moved among them. Hundreds of them, it seemed, occupied the island's grassy expanse, and they all were focusing their attention on the three of them. Hector could hear the murmur in the air as they spoke excitedly to each other.

There was a bridge made of large, flat stones that extended from the shore to the central island. Hector's pulse rushed with excitement as he watched the water lap languidly against the edge of the worn, gray stones, occasionally wetting his dusty shoes.

They reached the island, and were immediately surrounded by a swarm of curious Toves. Lilly and their guide pressed onward through the crowd, and Hector returned as many inquisitive stares as he received: there were Toves who were a mix of tan and dark brown, like Lilly; there were some who were slate-gray, with stubby snouts and forward-facing ears; some were stocky and nearly orange in color while others were white with long, slender features. Their clothing styles differed widely as well, loose, patterned robes being the most popular, although he saw some males wearing nothing but wide cloths tied at the waist, like skirts or Hinlandian kilts, to reveal their hairy torsos. Some even had what seemed to be dye or tattoos on their bodies. There was far too much to record all at once, far too much even to take in with the eyes. He reveled in it.

“Hector, come along, there is little time,” said Lilly tersely, but from the look on her face she was anguished, not angry. Hector snapped his jaw shut and obediently followed her deeper into the woods.

Eventually he heard some commands given in the Tovish language, and the surrounding crowd began to break up. A few people colored like Lilly shooed them away, while others approached her with concerned attitudes; they were emerging from several simple houses made of branches and animal skins erected around a central area of packed dirt. Hector stood back and watched them converse intensely with her. He could guess what they were talking about.

“Well? Did you find the book?” the graying male probably asked with his urgent expression.

Lilly shook her head. “I was captured,” was her likely response, and she probably explained the Dunberg incident with as little detail as possible.

The matriarchal-looking woman with the huge ears fawned over Lilly, with the air of: “Are you all right? Did they hurt you? Did they feed you?”

Another Tove, a male that seemed to be Lilly's age, seemed confused. “Where's Meadow?” he might have asked. “Why didn't she come back with you?”

Hector could only see Lilly's back, but her shoulders were hunched and her ears pointed toward the ground with melancholy. If she were a dog, that tail of hers would have been between her legs. She gave one-word responses and didn't appear to want all the attention.

“You,” said the aged man, who looked at Hector with accusing, green eyes. “Who you are? Why you come here? Why you let them get her? You be--” Lilly touched his arm and murmured something, possibly about how Hector had freed her from the jail. At any rate, the man calmed down and turned his tired gaze elsewhere.

More and more concerned natives approached, all of which shared physical coloring and traits with Lilly, so Hector assumed they were members of her tribe or her family. The each took their turn talking urgently with her; most of them stared at Hector with wariness. He smiled and waved back, which caused some confusion and alarm among them. However, not wanting to cause a bad impression, he approached the group and sidled up to Lilly.

“Hey, um, so what's going on?” he asked when there was a break in the conversation.

Lilly looked at Hector despondently. “I don't know what we are going to do now. Meadow is not here. We do not have the book with us. We must talk with the togom to help us know what to do next.” She noticed the curious wonder in Hector's face, and she translated. “The togom is... the human word for it is 'leader' or 'parent', but for the whole tribe.”

“Like a shaman, I suppose?”

She shrugged. “I don't know that word. I--” Before she could continue, a new Tove appeared on the scene, and at his arrival everyone fell silent. He was slender yet muscular, and had strong features and a confident walk. Hector wondered if he was handsome by Tovish standards. The newcomer easily parted the group of attendants and approached Lilly.

(Graphic 3.1: The Tove man takes Lilly's hands in his own and looks at her warmly, and she returns his gaze: There is obviously a meaningful relationship between the two. Hector stands to the side, looking at them with interest and writing in his journal.)

They gently touched noses – Hector giggled – and spoke Tovish in hushed tones. The man stroked her arm tenderly. Lilly looked away, but her expressive ears betrayed her feelings. She pulled herself away and was quickly surrounded by chattering family members, and her friend turned his attention to Hector.

“I am River,” he said, placing a hand on his furry chest. He smiled. “What is your name?”

“I'm Hector Blithe. Nice to meet you, Mr. River!” He extended his hand, and River took it uncertainly. He laughed when Hector squeezed and pumped it.

“You're strong, Hector! So, you are the one that freed my Lilly from captivity? I owe you more thanks than I can give.” He smiled again and flashed his pointed teeth.

Hector shrugged humbly. “Your Humish is impressive,” he noted. “Where did you learn it?”

River placed his hands on his hips and gazed out over the other milling Toves. “Lilly and I are part of the Noosta tribe, and we have both been raised by the shamans to fluently read and speak the Humish language. I am sure you saw many of the other Toves on the island?”

“Yes, and they didn't look like you guys. Are they from around here?”

“They are not. There are many difficult circumstances abroad.” River's eyebrows came together – Tovish eyebrows were strange – with paternal concern. “I don't know if you have heard of the other Borogroves scattered across the land. But something is happening to them. The trees are dying. The Wabe suffers. Fewer and fewer Toves are being born with Gyres. For that reason, the foreign Toves you see here with us have come to Noosta for protection and guidance.”

“Yeah, Lilly told me something about that,” Hector said, flipping the pages of his journal back to his earlier notes. “You said that fewer Toves are being born with Gyres? So not all Toves have them?”

River shook his head. He glanced in Lilly's direction with fondness. “No. Not all of us. Most, but not all. I am sure that she showed you her own Gyre? How she communes with the wind?”

Hector nodded. “What can you do?”

He smiled gallantly. “Oh, nothing as amazing as she can. I can freeze still water.”

“Fascinating,” Hector mumbled, and made another note. He would have loved to continue asking questions, but Lilly suddenly appeared by their side and said something to River. He smiled again, took her by the shoulders and touched her nose again with his own, but she seemed too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice his affections. He finally released her and stepped away, waving goodbye to them both.

“Until we see each other again, my friend Hector! I would like to read your book when you're finished writing it.” Hector grinned and waved his journal in the air, but when he saw Lilly's pained expression he quickly sobered up.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

Lilly just sighed and started walking toward a beaten path that led into the woods, all but dragging her feet. 

“Come with me,” she said simply. Hector followed.

“So now we're going to talk to the shaman, the togom?” he asked excitedly.

Lilly nodded, looking straight ahead. She said nothing more. Hector noticed that the air started to smell like flavored smoke: Incense, he realized. Unable to contain his curiosity, he whipped out his journal and poised his pencil. “So, is there only one shaman per tribe? Who chooses the shaman? Can I ask her questions? What's her Gyre?”

Lilly blinked and shook off her head. “Um. Forgive me, Hector, I was thinking of other things and I did not hear you. The shaman is the one that gave us the task of finding the Ma-- er, the book, and she will help us to know what to do next.” She sighed heavily.

“What's wrong?” Hector looked up at the Tove's tan-furred face. “You look like the Jubjub bird got into your private stuff.”

She twitched an ear. “I am only worried because we did not obtain the book, and we still do not know where Meadow is. She is a good friend of mine.”

Tired of the sour mood of things, Hector changed the subject. “So... that River guy. Is he your boyfriend?”

“My what?”

“Er, like... are you going to get married? You know, like... married.”

“Ah. Married.” Judging from the look on her face, the change of subject didn't work very well. “That is what we have planned. River and I grew up together. We are very close. So it only seemed natural that we become friend-mates...” she drifted off, absently touching the trees as they passed through the frosty glade.

“Don't you love him?”

Lilly gave Hector a strong look. “You sound like the Jubjub bird yourself.”

Ah, intercultural social blunders, what a thrill! Hector enthused silently, and scribbled in his journal. “I actually had a question about him. He speaks Humish almost perfectly. When I asked him where he learned it, he said you were all taught by the shamans since you were little, but I can't imagine that he learned to speak so well just by living here.”

At this comment, Lilly hesitated, then kept walking. “River... he is one of us, but he acts like he is human. He has gone to certain human settlements – where they allow Toves to visit – and is often gone for weeks at a time. He trades with them. He teaches them about Tovish culture, while he learns about them, so we each know how to... well... ”

“Get along?”

“... Defend ourselves,” Lilly finished. Hector's skin prickled. She noticed that he had recoiled a little. “Hector Blithe, these are dangerous times. There is much mistrust between your people and mine.” He simply nodded, remembering Slick Johnny's description of the 'unculchrit savages.'

There was a sudden clearing in the trees, and Hector saw that they had reached a place of very obvious importance, for there was a feeling of awe and reverence about it. The pines were a lot larger and older here, and heavily draped with those writing-cloths; the afternoon sunlight dimly reached this place, filtered through the needled branches, and the strong odor of incense filled the crisp autumn air. In the center of this glade of evergreen trees was a sort of hut, structured with thick branches and covered in yet more cloths. A faint smoke ascended from the dark doorway.

“What is this place?” Hector whispered.

Lilly leaned toward him to answer, but kept her eyes fixated on the hut. “This is where the togom lives.” She lifted her nose in the air and pronounced something loudly in her native language.

Hector only had time to nod before someone stirred inside the hut and slowly emerged. He watched in amazement as the shaman approached.

(Graphic 3.2: An intimidating Tovish woman stands before Hector and Lilly. Her fur is heavily dyed and marked with designs, and her clothing is elaborate with ornaments and baubles hanging from her person. Her eyes are large and piercing as she looks intently at Hector.)