☀️ Arselia and Akonia

Whether it's a fairy tale or not, my grandmother claimed it was true. In the distant mountains of Noira, all sorts of stories unfold...

Once upon a time, there was a gnome named Bratlik. An ordinary miner, he knew his trade. He could tell where a vein was, distinguish a false one, and wouldn't drill it in vain. He was strong, but he hadn't amassed any particular wealth, no mountains of diamonds or rubies. He was married, but they had no children.

The weather in the dungeons of Noira doesn't change much from summer to winter, only by the winds blowing from the cave exits, and you can tell what's happening on the surface. On that day, a strong breeze was blowing, but who would pay attention to it while working? The warm miners with their pickaxes found the breeze pleasant... But the sound of a bell, carried by the air, was something unusual, something not normally heard or felt in the dungeon. The bell rang and rang, and the gnome Bratlik couldn't stand it. He stopped working and went towards the sound, and he saw a fine goat. Where did it come from? Did it somehow fall from the surface into the cave?

Well, he needs to take it back to the surface, the gnome thought. Otherwise, the owners will worry, and besides, the goat won't survive in the cave, there's nothing for it to eat. Bratlik hoisted the animal onto his shoulders and carried it towards the exit...

He carried it for an hour, two, three, half a day, and the gnome was getting tired. And then a huge, hungry cave spider appeared in front of him. Now, the gnome could have thrown the goat and run away while the spider ate it, but he felt sorry for the animal and its owners, or maybe he was just very brave. He took his pickaxe and started fighting the spider for the goat, he fought and fought and defeated the eight-legged monster. He was barely standing, wounded by the spider's sharp fangs, but our Bratlik held out. He rested for a bit, ate some trail bread, put the goat back on his back, and continued on.

He walked for an hour, two, three, half a day, he was completely exhausted, and then a killer wasp flew towards him. Now, anyone would have thrown the goat and run away, what chances did he have in this situation? But Bratlik was stubborn, he didn't want to drop the goat so close to the goal. He took a shovel and started fighting the wasp, he fought and fought, and killed the yellow-striped flying creature. But he was stung himself, and the venom made him swell: his legs barely fit into his boots, he couldn't hold the shovel anymore, and it was painful to look at Bratlik's face.

The gnome didn't turn back, he ate some bread, rested a little, put the goat on his back again, and walked on, and soon he reached the surface. He saw people from the village running around, clearly looking for the goat, calling it by name. Bratlik was glad that he had done a good deed, despite the terrible difficulties along the way, and ran towards them.

The villagers, men and women, saw him and immediately ran away. What was this fear? What was this wonder? No one had ever seen such an ugly gnome, covered in blood and some kind of foul-smelling liquid, swollen like a walking corpse! And with our goat on his back – he must have stolen it, killed it, eaten it, and now he's come for our souls! The men grabbed pitchforks and hoes, lit torches, gathered together, and went after Bratlik. The gnome barely managed to escape, dropping the goat, he had never been so agile, they singed his beard and clothes, scratched him, but he somehow managed to escape.

But for how long? As Bratlik ran to the mountain, all his strength left him. He sat pale and wounded behind a rock, and he wanted to cry, but there were no tears left, his gnomish death had come. Not just him, and it wasn't the first time that a couple of noble but reckless acts led to ruin, but what can you do? He falls asleep in a death-like sleep, and he sees...

He sees himself in rich chambers, everything is in gold, and in malachite, and emeralds all around, and crystal, and in front of him is a tall woman, of unparalleled beauty, in a luxurious stone dress. She smiles at him, her eyes twinkling:

– Hello, hello, little miner, – she says. – What, did you turn out to be unloved by the village fools? Why did you decide to perform such a feat for the sake of a meaningless animal? Didn't I shower you with my treasures, didn't you live comfortably and freely under my mountain, why did you decide to seek other adventures?

Bratlik is silent, he doesn't answer. He thinks it's a dream.

– Why are you silent? Is your tongue paralyzed from the wasp's sting? – the mistress smiled. – Well, never mind. I can help you, little miner. Do you want me to save your life? Don't you believe me? Then know that I have a mirror, whoever looks into it will learn the whole truth about himself, if you look into it, you will live and be able to return to your home. But if you don't want to, I will keep your soul with me, I will warm it in my chambers, you will never be sad or in pain again, and you will never be hungry or cold, and you will only see the beauty that I have in my possession.

– What will you choose, little miner?

Bratlik didn't believe that this was not a dream, but he thought and decided to speak:

– Your royal chambers, mistress, are so beautiful that you could admire them for a lifetime, and your beauty, although not gnomish, is pleasing to me. I would like to stay, but I miss my beloved wife, I don't want to be without her. How will she cry without me, and I will be sad without her. If all this is true, have mercy on me, show me your magic mirror, so that I can remember my life and cling to it once more, and so that I can return to my dear home, whole.

– Well, look then, little miner, – and the mountain mistress gave him a mirror and a bright hat.

Bratlik looked in the mirror, and he remembered everything. That he was not Bratlik at all, but his name was B̵̢͇͓̿͡r̷͍̾͜͠a̵͙͂͋͌͜͞t̷̡͕̰̗̏͗̕l̸̢̙̀̒͡ǐ̸͔̠́̕͜ͅk̵̨͝ ͔̓, and that he was not a gnome, but an evil fairy, a redcap, and that many years ago he wanted to play a nasty trick on the gnomes, but he got carried away and forgot about himself and his true nature, and he completely believed that he was a gnome. And such anger took over him, both towards himself and towards the villagers and the gnomes, that he woke up in that very moment, and went to the village, and with his fairy magic and a shovel, he killed everyone there. Then he went home and killed his wife, and then went to the mine – and caused a collapse, and buried all his friends under that collapse. Soldiers and militia barely managed to stop the redcap, but when they defeated him, he turned into quartz sand and as if he never existed.

And the moral of this tale... Perhaps not every tale has a good moral. But it should be remembered that sometimes things are not what they seem, and sometimes the first impression is the most accurate, that good deeds can turn into evil, and evil into good. Our world is very complex, and a person or a gnome is small compared to many other forces, be it nature or something else, and we can influence little. Sometimes you can suffer because of stupidity, sometimes because of carelessness, sometimes because of malice, and sometimes for no reason at all.