There is true beauty in this world. One that was won with strive.
How many storms have battered against this tree, I asked myself, as I looked at it. How many earthquakes have tried to uproot it? How many strong winds had tried to bend it?
It had survived it all.
Only for this to happen.
The sap was still dripping off the cut off branch. Tourists were the worst thing that could happen to this tree. The worst… for they had no shame!
I narrowed my eyes. The oldest tree in the world was in this patch of the forest. The barrier I placed eons ago had protected it.
But someone had taken it off.
The first people who came here were the scientists.
Then came the nature conservationists, who made it all worse because their protests made the existence of the tree public knowledge.
And now… now the tourists descended on this holy place.
Had cut a branch off the tree which I had been protecting for the better part of my life.
My tree!
I balled my fists. Long gone were the days when I needed to hide from the humans. If I so wished, I could just make the crops fail, and that would teach these villains to cut off branches of a living tree!
But I am not like them.
I could feel the vibrations of the footsteps. I knew that someone was coming. Heavy footsteps. More like stomping, if I had to be honest.
An orc, most like.
There was only one thing I could do.
I took my bottomless bag and began to prepare. The first thing I took out was my knife. But I was not going to use the knife to fight the orc.
Life is precious. The orc was yet to harm my tree.
I took the cutting board next. Followed by my pot, pan, and, lastly, my bowl.
Soon, I was throwing an onion in the air. My knife made one smooth motion, and the onion was cut in half.
Cooking is a work of art.
I knew the orc was watching. My mission was to cook so seductively that he would be hungrier for the food, than for the wood of my tree.
My hands were like lightning. Soon, the onion was cut up finely and evenly, so it can fry at the same time.
A small cube of butter found a new home in the pan, starting to melt on contact.
I could feel the orc shift in his spot. Could hear as he began to sniff the air.
That was butter from the milk of my own cow. A cow which ate only the best cover crops there were. One which drank spring water and laid in the best shade.
The butter was sin personified.
I knew that had I just offered the onions and butter to the orc; he would have pledged eternal loyalty to me.
But if you start something, you have to end it.
The peppers flew, just like the onions. I cut off the upper halves, using my knife to make sure that the rest fell on the cutting board, and not on the ground.
Cutting them into ribbons was faster than if I had cut them into cubes. The onions were already browning.
I had no time.
The garlic head got its topmost half cut off, and I slammed my palm on it.
A couple of quick motions got the garlic peeled. Soon, the cut up garlic was adding its aroma to the food.
The orc's breathing became rushed.
Oh, so he was hungry? I smirked.
I took the ribs of the pig I butchered the day before, and placed them there, with the onions and the garlic. Letting them brown.
I was not going to cook them all the way through. No, I had plans for them.
As I waited for the ribs to fry, I took some flour, yest, water and sugar, and got to kneading. There was something about freshly baked bread that won hearts.
It would have to rise, but I was sure that it wouldn't take too long.
Today was a warm day. Besides, I was going to speed it all up with mana.
Just as I left the dough to rest, my nose told me that the ribs were ready. Soon, I was separating the bones from the meat. With a couple of swift movements, I cut up the meat.
The bones would be welcomed by my wolves.
The orc made a couple of steps towards my camping site. His nose was leading him.
But I was going to charm him to the point of madness…
My rune gave out a pinging sound, and I took the dough. Kneaded it one more time, then rubbed butter and egg yolk on it.
As I sprinkled the seeds over it, the orc finally came close enough so that I could see him.
A mountain of muscle. Enough scars to point to the life of a survivor. He would have fought to the end.
"Oh, care to join me for lunch?" I asked him, as I opened the lid of the pan, where the onions were, and placed the bread there. To bake in the sauces of the meat and vegetables.
"I am searching for a magical tree," he said, but did sit down. Taking off his two-handed axe and setting it on the ground.
"Magical tree?" I asked, a smile on my lips. "The only magical thing you will find is our meeting!"
The orc cracked a smile, as I placed the lid on the pan and then piled some burning logs on top of it.
"My name is Mael," the orc said, as he eyed the cooling meat.
"Sylvan," I told him, as the smell of the bread began to ease my mind. "You must be hungry! But the lunch is not ready yet. If you wait a bit, I promise it will be worth it."
Mael nodded, as he began to worry his lip.
Oh, if he was salivating over the meat, I don't know what he was going to do when I put it between the bread, with fresh cabbage which I was going to cut up in a second!
And let us not forget the mind controlling mushrooms which I was going to fry with the eggs…