A Mote of Dust, Suspended on a Moonbeam

By Robert Lynch

The moonbeam shone down through an opening in the clouds to strike the glade just so. Eranda watched the other moon elves as they went about their nightly business. There was nectar to harvest and animals to tend to, an elf’s job was never done. Eranda enjoyed the work, but she was tired. Night after night, with never a break, took its toll and Eranda needed to rest. She snuck away from the others and back to her home, where she had something special hidden.

 

In her lounge, she had placed a scrying pool in the centre of the room, she sat on the lounge and whispered the words to activate it. The pool quivered at first, the strain of a long connection, then burst into light and colour. On the scrying pool, she watched as the humans were talking to each other. With an effort, she added sound to her scrying.

 

“Captain, the engines are overloadin’ the ship cannot take the strain!” one of the men said.

 

“Just hold her together for a little longer Mr Scott.” The Captain said.

Eranda watched intently as the humans on the screen flew through space, encountering strange peoples even the elves had never heard of. Struggle and strife permeated these other peoples, but the humans strived to set right the galaxy.

 

Eranda’s imaginations soared. Visions of other worlds and other peoples filled her mind. Moon elves revered the moon, but none of them had ever been there. It seemed that the humans could take her.

 

The idea played in her mind; then, like a cut tree when gravity takes over, her decision came crashing down on her. She would travel to the human lands. She would find someone who could take her to the stars. She knew every aspect of the moon’s face that looked down on the glade, but she would be the first moon elf to know the face of the moon that looked away from the glade too.

END

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