"Humanwood, Ch. 3" by Erin N. Conley

Wil glanced furtively back toward the unicorn pens. The beasts seemed uneasy about something. Gwyn had noted this, but Mum had dismissed it. Unicorns got antsy at the slightest breeze or shadow; certainly, they were apt to rear up with a deafening whinny if anyone within a journeylength so much as sneezed. Only Wil knew what had them so unsettled today.

He made a show of digging through the saddle bags with a look of panic on his face, digging through all of his paintings, which he knew were all there, and suddenly pulled his unicorn to a grudging stop. “I forgot one!” he announced to Mum and Gwyn. “I’ll have to go back quickly!”

Gwyn snorted. “They’re all there, stupid. I should know, I had to help you pack them all into that saddle bag.”

Wil cringed. “Well. . .I left one in my wardrobe by accident. You two go on ahead, I won’t be a minute. I’ll catch up with you.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes and Mum gave him a long hard look but moved on. Wil swallowed hard and kicked the unicorn in the other direction. It spooked at the sudden movement, rearing up and nearly throwing Wil off its back, but it obediently galloped back to the thatched-roof house. He made a point of tying it up next to the front door–it whinnied in panic at a fairyfly that happened to land on its nose at that moment–and walked in through the house as though to grab his painting. Realizing he would look awfully silly going back empty-handed, he went up to his room and grabbed a blank paper, dipping his fingers into his paint jars and making a few random smears on the front in the vague shape of a cow so they wouldn’t question him about it later. Then he dashed out the back door, ducking through the weed field and to the unicorn pens, behind which Bob was sitting in a crouch, staring in mesmerized fascination at the unicorns. This is what had them unsettled.

The human, Wil had to admit, looked almost comically out of place. He was dressed rather haphazardly; Wil had lent him his longest tunics and pants to cover up the fact that his legs were too long for a normal elf. He had told Bob to carry himself with his shoulders shrugged upwards to make his arms appear shorter, but decided it would be better for him to look like a long-armed elf than a hunchback. The human also wore Wil’s largest cap to cover his rounded ears. The end result was that he looked incredibly uncomfortable, in unfamiliar, ill-fitting clothes; to make matters worse, his eyes were red and bloodshot with hangover, and he had a crosshatched mark on one cheek from when he’d collapsed in drunken exhaustion on the textured floor the night before. Wil worried that he’d still look so disheveled by the time he had to introduce him to Mum that she wouldn’t let him come home with them. Well, he’d deal with that later.

Bob looked up as Wil approached, his eyes focusing with some difficulty on the figure before smiling slightly in relief at seeing something familiar, albeit still peculiar, strange, and entirely unbelievable. Wil looked unhappily at the human, vowing never to give him dragon venom again. The unicorns looked uneasily at both of them, seemingly certain one of them was going to lunge at them with fangs and claws at any moment.

“Remember what to do?” Wil asked apprehensively. He wasn’t at all sure this human was fit for riding an unfamiliar creature, much less keeping focused enough to stay on track.

“I ride this. . .this. . .unicorn,” he seemed to have difficulty spitting out the word. “And I. . .follow you?”

“Yes.” Wil was relieved that he at least remembered that much. “Follow us until we get into town. We’ll be going to a building that will say “Humanwood Fantasy Art Gallery” over it. Wait for a little while after we go in, and then come in yourself and pretend to be an old friend of mine I haven’t seen in ages. You know everything you’re supposed to say.”

“Yeah. I remember.” Bob shook himself at having such a normal conversation in such abnormal circumstances. He was getting used to the idea of being in the fantasy world, becoming less shocked at every new fantastic thing he saw. This shocked him.

“Great,” Wil said. Taking a quick peek to make sure Gwyn and Mum were out of sight, he slowly opened the unicorn pen and drew out the most calm one remaining, a tired-looking beast with a faint pinkish tinge to its hide. “Do you know how to ride?” he asked the human, suddenly realizing there would be a serious flaw in their plan if he couldn’t.

“Well,” Bob said nervously, “I’ve ridden horses a few times. . .”

“Horses. . .” Wil looked at Bob in admiring awe. “You’re so lucky. Well, this should be about the same. Er, you climb on its back and guide it with the rope, and it should be easy. Just be careful. . .They spook easily.”

Bob was looking somewhat anxiously at the unicorn. He reached forward to try to pat its muzzle. When it pulled back with a snort, he swallowed and looked embarrassed. “Um. . .is it true what they say? About. . .you know. . .how unicorns only go to. . .to virgins?”

Wil gave him a flabbergasted look. “They only go to what?”

Bob tugged at his collar a bit. “You know. . .virgins. . .people who have never. . .um. . .you know. . .”

Wil shook his head in confusion. “You come from a peculiar, perverted world. Come on, they just don’t like people touching their faces. Come take the rope.”

Bob approached the unicorn, gingerly at first. When he was certain the unicorn wasn’t going to react, he slowly took the rope, and with Wil’s help mounted the saddle. His eyes went wide with a mixture of fear and delight at the sight of the noble head with the graceful horn protruding from it. “I can’t believe you ride these things. I thought they were supposed to be beautiful and magical and untouchable!”

“Oh,” Wil shrugged. “The only magical ones are the white ones that live in the forests. These are just plain ordinary unicorns.”

“Oh.” Bob looked down at his mount, blinking, before reaching down to give it a more confident pat on the head. Wil made sure the human could sufficiently control the beast before making a dash back for the house, slipping through the back door to reemerge through the front, new painting under his arm, and mounted the unicorn who was now braying pathetically at a bright yellow insect that had brushed across its hoof. He took off at a gallop, slowing to a trot and finally a casual walk as he came abreast of his mother and sister.

“About time,” Gwyn grumbled. She became easily bored on these trips.

“Um. . .it took me a while to find it. And. . .my unicorn was spooked when I came out again, and it took me a while to calm her down.” Well, it was a little true, Wil thought.

Gwyn sneered but didn’t comment. She knew Wil was too good with unicorns to be delayed by one that was a little spooked, but she wasn’t going to contradict anything that made him look incompetent.

It was all Wil could do to stop himself from looking back over his shoulder during the journey. What if the human lost sight of him and got lost? What if he couldn’t control a spooked unicorn? What if his hangover made him so sick that he passed out? Yet he couldn’t check to see if Bob was still tailing them without arousing suspicion. Besides, the whole idea was for the human to leave late enough that none of them would be able to spot him.

They rode in silence for hours. Finally, when Wil was beginning to wonder if they were lost, the town suddenly rose up before them, and every worry about the human’s wellbeing went out of his head. The afternoon sun glittered off the towers and fountains, highlighting the sign over the town wall that announced in intricate gold lettering that this was the “Town of Nedews.” And looming at the front of the town, in plain view, was a large stone building with a carved wooden sign depicting horses in graceful poses, birds swooping through the air, cows and pigs creating a delicate border–and a round-eared human lazily dipping her feet into a pond that formed the “o” in the words “Humanwood Fantasy Art Gallery.”


* * * * * * * *


The town was bustling in the cheerful busyness that fills a town with a feeling of prosperity and excitement. There were more people just on the city streets than Wil had seen in his lifetime. Two elves just inside the city gate were haggling over the price of an understandably nervous-looking unicorn. People rushed about, carrying baskets of bread and large books and important-looking papers according to their occupation, yet for all their hurrying they still had a friendly atmosphere about them, never failing to suddenly stop for a chat with a friend they had just spotted. A few romantic couples sat at the edge of the central town fountain, beaming at each other with incredulous happiness. They carefully pulled aside to make way for a boy who darted out of one wooden doorway, carrying a squawking baby dragon and being chased by an older woman with a broom and a furious look on her face. All in all, it had the air of everything a town should be–large enough to be exciting, small enough to be neighborly.

Wil was spending so much time rubbernecking, fascinated with the residents of Nedews, that he almost didn’t notice when they came almost immediately upon the Humanwood building. He gawked up at the tall building, which was clean and somehow intimidating at the same time. At intervals were large carved fantasy figures–sparrows lining the windows, llamas guarding the corners, a chicken glowering at viewers from an inset nook, and two graceful humans, a male and a female, framing the doorway. A contrastingly plain wooden sign on the door confirmed it was “Open.” To the side of the door was a map, which Wil stepped toward for a closer look.

Evidently the door opened into the central “Mod’s Choices and Information Room.” Wil wondered vaguely what a Mod’s Choice was, or a Mod for that matter. Two rooms flanked this first room, one labeled “Fantasy Art Galleries” and one labeled “FanArt Galleries.” Behind the Mod’s Choice room was a spacious circular room called the “Moderators’ Office,” whatever that was. Other smaller rooms lined the back, including “Guided Tours,” “Tutorials Classroom,” “Humantown,” and “New Additions.”

Wil looked nervously at the map, then back at his family. His mum was studying the building with curious scrutiny; Gwyn was looking impatient and bored. After a while, Mum looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked.

He swallowed and slowly turned to gather his things. Suddenly his paintings looked rather forlorn and incompetent next to the gorgeous carvings on the outside of the building. But this was no time for cold feet. He gingerly gathered his artwork, careful not to have any of it facing out for others to see, and turned back to the building. Gwyn was tying up the unicorns to a post in the front, and Mum was moving toward the door. She opened it and held it for Wil to follow, gesturing to it with a flourish. “Come on then,” she said encouragingly. “We didn’t come all this way for nothing.” Wil closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and bravely stepped forward into the interior of the building of Humanwood.

Wil wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but this wasn’t it. He had stepped into a world of energetic activity that made the busyness outside look positively leisurely. People were everywhere, some carrying bundles of artwork, others with hammers and nails to hang them with, some people simply wandering around perusing the art hung on the walls. In a line on the wall in front of him were some of the most amazing pictures he had ever seen, full of gorgeous colors and graceful, dramatic figures, each one with a golden feathers gleaming in one corner of the frame. At a table in the center of the room were three formidable cloaked figures, frowning as they went through mounds of paperwork, entirely oblivious to the bustle around them. What surprise Wil the most, however, was that no one paid him the slightest attention.

“I. . .er. . .hello?” he said tentatively, addressing no one in particular. No one heard him. The cloaked figures didn’t blink. The people by the artwork in front of him didn’t turn around. No one passing through the room paid him any mind. He stole a glance at Mum and Gwyn, who both looked as doubtful as he felt. He stood looking around, unsure of who to approach, or who was in charge. His pile of artwork suddenly felt very large and awkward in his arms. He swallowed and stared around the room helplessly.

Just as he began to entertain the thought of turning around and leaving again, a cheerful voice spoke up behind him. “Well hello there, you a newbie?” Wil wheeled around to face the voice. It belonged to someone who looked pleasant and familiar, a young elf not much older than himself, with a shock of orangey red hair and a friendly smile. He appeared to be wandering around with no business in particular. Confused as he was, Wil trusted him immediately.

“Who are you? . . .Am I a what?” he asked, flustered.

“No offense meant, of course,” grinned the elf. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Ollimireoradrielomer. You can call me Olly.”

Wil shook his hand tentatively. “Um. . .hi Olly. I’m new here. . .Do you suppose you could help me find where I’m supposed to go?”

“So you are a newbie!” Olly beamed. Seeing Wil’s blank look, he quickly went on, “Of course I can help you find where you need to go. What you need to do is talk to the Moderators. That’s your first step if you want to display your art here.”

Wil nodded enthusiastically. “Great! Where are they? How long will that take?”

Olly squinted his eyes and looked thoughtful. “Oh, it’ll only take a few hours if you’re lucky. . .”

“A few hours!” Wil cried in dismay. He looked at his Mum and Gwyn.

“It’s okay,” said Mum. “We’ll go poke around town for a while you’re waiting. We’ll be back in a few hours.” With great difficulty she pulled away Gwyn, who was looking coquettishly at Olly.

Olly continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “. . .As for where they are, they’re right in front of you.” He gestured to the table of cloaked figures.

“Those are. . .Moderators?” He eyed the intimidating elves, none to eager to present his meager artwork to them. “What do they do?”

“Oh, they run this place,” Olly said fervently. “They keep everyone in check. You know, checking pictures to make sure they’re really fantasy, making sure no one tries to copy anyone else’s artwork, that sort of thing.”

“Just the three of them?” Wil looked at them doubtfully.

“Oh, no. Those three just deal with new members. The ones in the Moderators’ Office handle all the actual artwork.” He paused for a moment. “Well go on then, you have to talk to them before you can get any further.”

“Oh.” Unable to think of any more to stay to stall, Wil walked cautiously up to the Moderators’ table. They didn’t look up. He cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking up. “Er. . .I would like to join Humanwood. . .if I could. . .” He trailed off weakly.

Two Moderators still didn’t look up. The other one abruptly ceased his paperwork and stared at Wil with unblinking, unnerving eyes. “Name?” he asked bluntly.

“Er. . .Wil. . .Wilthuvienolas,” Wil answered.

“Is it okay to trace someone else’s artwork and call it your own?” asked the Moderator flatly.

“Um. . .no, of course not,” Wil answered, wondering what had induced that question.

“Is it okay to draw pictures of characters from your favorite literature?” the Moderator continued.

“Er. . .yes. I mean, I think so. It is, isn’t it?” Wil answered, confused.

“Is it okay to draw a picture of someone famous, give them rounded ears, and post them here?”

“Um. . .no?” Wil guessed.

“If someone says something rude about your artwork, what do you do about it?”

“Um. . .” Wil was tempted to say, “Tell the Moderators,” but somehow they didn’t look like people who would have time or sympathy to spare on petty squabbles. “Um . . .ask them to be quiet I guess, or ignore them.” It sounded weak, but safe.

The Moderator held out his hand. “Artwork.”

After a moment of flustered confusion, Wil managed to dump his pile of paintings and drawings into the Moderator’s arms. The grim-faced elf thumbed through them at expert speed, not pausing to look or admire any of the pictures in the stack. He shoved the pile back into Wil’s arms, pulled a small card out of a fold in his cloak, scribbled on it, and handed it to Wil. He recognized the scribbling as his own name; the card was an official Humanwood membership card. “I. . .thanks!” Wil exclaimed, beaming, but the Moderator had already turned back to his paperwork.

“Moderators’ Office,” he said dismissively.

Wil looked questioningly at Olly, who nodded encouragingly and gestured for Wil to follow him. Wil trotted back to his side, artwork under his arm. “Friendly, aren’t they,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, they’re alright,” Olly replied casually. “Just very busy, that’s all. Everyone complains about how slowly they get everything done, but they still keep piling their table with paperwork. They don’t have time to give a lot of attention to every new member.”

He led Wil through a door in the back of the room. They walked straight into a large circular room that Wil immediately recognized from the map as the Moderators’ Office. It was filled with an intricate pattern of small tables, each with a cloaked Moderator sitting behind it, surrounded by piles of papers; after a closer look, Wil realized they were all pictures. The Moderators came in a variety of shapes and sizes, but they all shared the same focused determination of the three Wil had just met.

Olly ushered him to the nearest table. “My friend here needs to put up some of his artwork. He’s new,” he announced.

The Moderator looked up wearily but smiled. “Very well,” he answered. “Let’s see his membership card.”

Wil handed the elf his new card. The Moderator studied it for a moment before saying, “Now the artwork.”

Wil dumped his pile of pictures on top of the table. The Moderator thumbed through them with the same dexterity the one in the other room had. After a moment he turned over Wil’s membership card and scribbled something on the back.

“Very well, everything seems to be in order here,” he said. “You’ll be part of Gallery 147, as I’ve written on the back of your card. It will take a few hours to get this processed. Your artwork will be installed in the aforementioned gallery once I’ve had a chance to go through it all.” He looked wistfully at the pile of artwork already around his table.

“Thank you,” Wil said meekly before turning away. He quietly shuffled out of the room, Olly trailing in his wake.

“Well, that’s that then,” Olly said cheerfully, looking around. He smiled at Wil with excitement. “Come on, I’ll show you around while we’re waiting!” He started off in the direction of a door marked “FanArt.”

Wil followed eagerly, entirely forgetting about anything but the Humanwood Art Gallery–even Bob.