Character Journal: Planter Seedspill
Planter Seedspill, halfling druid of Ehlonna, ruffled the humongous eagle’s feathers with what he hoped was affection, but came off as frustrated. Animals were better at reading moods than people. The eagle gave a piercing but short, barking cry, which the halfling had come to associate with annoyance. He stopped ruffling her neck. She had a head as large as his body, so he had learned to be careful around her; even friendly nips drew blood. Pulling back, he let the dire eagle stalk off of the nest he had created for her, then hurriedly looked down. Nope, no eggs. Despite having released her to fly on mating flights in the Clatspurs among her old brood-mates. Planter heaved a sigh. Dogs bred so easily, by comparison.
“Still no luck, little one?” Illyana asked softly, walking up behind Planter and gazing with appreciation at the eagle’s form as she preened herself. Planter shook his head.
“Nothing,” the halfling muttered.
“Can you blame her, Planter?,” the normally cold and distant elf replied, an unusual level of emotion seeping into her voice as she spoke. “Look at her. She is a creature of the air, made to fly, to soar, to feel the touch of Aerdrie’s grace. Eggs growing within her would only burden her. Young in the nest would only tie her to the ground. Why, you strange little creature, are you so eager for her to breed?”
Planter shrugged. “It’s what we all should do, if we can. To celebrate Ehlonna’s blessing, to celebrate fertility. My dogs do it, why can’t she?”
Illyana’s face remained neutral, and the tone of her words held no bite, despite their blunt meaning. “You have a very narrow mind, Planter. Surprising, for one who follows two such diverse paths, one of arcane grimoires and the other of the wild divinity of nature.”
Planter turned, hands on his hips, a cross look on his face. “Look, miss ‘I’m afraid to go underground because all caves are evil,’ you’re one to talk about narrow minds. I like raising animals, that isn’t wrong. And so what if-”
Unmoved, Illyana interrupted “How often have you flown with her, Planter?”
Planter stopped. “What? Well, every time we travel, I’m rid-”
“No,” she interrupted again. “Not on missions. Not while traveling. How often have you flown with her out of joy?”
Planter sputtered. “Well, I have to take care of my animals, and Paladin’s new litter of puppies is about to be born, and Goodberry is always harassing me to study more spells, and . . .”
“What are you afraid of, Planter?” the elf asked him suddenly. “You said that I’m afraid of caves . . . but we place upon others the things that we do admit to feeling ourselves. You’re afraid of something, too, aren’t you?” Her eyes widened. “Why, you funny little man.” She began to laugh, a sound Planter had never before heard. “You,” she said, eyes sparkling, “are afraid of heights!”
Planter stopped, stunned. He looked at Bounty, as if afraid the eagle had overheard, then looked over his shoulders, making sure the two were alone. Then, finally, he hung his head. “I don’t . . . I wish I liked flying with her. But, I just, I get up there, and if we’re any higher than the trees, I just, I . . . I freeze.” He kicked a pebble, and muttered to himself “It’d be easier if Bounty just lived up to her name, and would lay some eggs.”
Illyana’s look of humor was replaced by one of disappointment and mild dislike. “For the love of the Seldarine, Planter, who is she to live up to a name that YOU’VE given her?” The elf shook her head, and turned away. “Well, this is your trial, and I have other things to do. But I wonder what the eagle herself would have to say about all this.” Over her shoulder, she added, “Why don’t you ask her?”
“Still no luck, little one?” Illyana asked softly, walking up behind Planter and gazing with appreciation at the eagle’s form as she preened herself. Planter shook his head.
“Nothing,” the halfling muttered.
“Can you blame her, Planter?,” the normally cold and distant elf replied, an unusual level of emotion seeping into her voice as she spoke. “Look at her. She is a creature of the air, made to fly, to soar, to feel the touch of Aerdrie’s grace. Eggs growing within her would only burden her. Young in the nest would only tie her to the ground. Why, you strange little creature, are you so eager for her to breed?”
Planter shrugged. “It’s what we all should do, if we can. To celebrate Ehlonna’s blessing, to celebrate fertility. My dogs do it, why can’t she?”
Illyana’s face remained neutral, and the tone of her words held no bite, despite their blunt meaning. “You have a very narrow mind, Planter. Surprising, for one who follows two such diverse paths, one of arcane grimoires and the other of the wild divinity of nature.”
Planter turned, hands on his hips, a cross look on his face. “Look, miss ‘I’m afraid to go underground because all caves are evil,’ you’re one to talk about narrow minds. I like raising animals, that isn’t wrong. And so what if-”
Unmoved, Illyana interrupted “How often have you flown with her, Planter?”
Planter stopped. “What? Well, every time we travel, I’m rid-”
“No,” she interrupted again. “Not on missions. Not while traveling. How often have you flown with her out of joy?”
Planter sputtered. “Well, I have to take care of my animals, and Paladin’s new litter of puppies is about to be born, and Goodberry is always harassing me to study more spells, and . . .”
“What are you afraid of, Planter?” the elf asked him suddenly. “You said that I’m afraid of caves . . . but we place upon others the things that we do admit to feeling ourselves. You’re afraid of something, too, aren’t you?” Her eyes widened. “Why, you funny little man.” She began to laugh, a sound Planter had never before heard. “You,” she said, eyes sparkling, “are afraid of heights!”
Planter stopped, stunned. He looked at Bounty, as if afraid the eagle had overheard, then looked over his shoulders, making sure the two were alone. Then, finally, he hung his head. “I don’t . . . I wish I liked flying with her. But, I just, I get up there, and if we’re any higher than the trees, I just, I . . . I freeze.” He kicked a pebble, and muttered to himself “It’d be easier if Bounty just lived up to her name, and would lay some eggs.”
Illyana’s look of humor was replaced by one of disappointment and mild dislike. “For the love of the Seldarine, Planter, who is she to live up to a name that YOU’VE given her?” The elf shook her head, and turned away. “Well, this is your trial, and I have other things to do. But I wonder what the eagle herself would have to say about all this.” Over her shoulder, she added, “Why don’t you ask her?”