I saved their life, risking my own. As I lay, my broken body bandaged, I was asked, what did I want in return? After a long thought I said I wanted the lifespan of an Elf, and to become a librarian. When they asked if they could choose any elf's lifespan, I said that was fine. Here it is, a millennium later, and I, a mere human, have been working in this library ever since. -- Anon Guest
[AN: In terms of TV Tropes, Our Elves Are Different is popular among a lot of writers. One thousand years is about 2/5ths of an Alfarell Elf's lifetime]
I remember the pain, more than anything. I remember stopping them before they started to make sure I wasn't stealing anyone's lifetime. The one I saved smiled, such a nice smile, and reassured me, "Theft is not necessary."
They put my hand to their heart, and bade me make a promise.
I remember every word of it. "I will preserve and share knowledge from those who give it freely to those who seek it. I will keep it safe, copy it when necessary, and help anyone who wishes to learn. I will learn whenever I can, and welcome new knowledge when it comes to me. From now until I am no longer able. May the gods help me do it." Maybe the gods did. All I know is the days that followed.
So many days.
I never learned that Elf's name. All I knew was the gift, and the presentation of a beginning. A sturdy place made to stand for hundreds of years, with shelves of journals, recipes, and knowledge. Including the knowledge of how to build structures just like the place I was given. Knowledge of how to keep knowledge for hundreds of years.
I started right away. Building a bigger space to house the shelves to hold the knowledge I hoped to gather. Learning some small magics to assist me. Charms and runes and how to make something from raw materials in the space of hours rather than the space of days.
If you want knowledge to last, etch it into clay and bake it in fire. The next best thing is vellum parchment, with iron-based ink used to scribe on it. All kept in a nice, dry environment.
Lately, I've been experimenting with silk. Well. I say 'lately', but those experiments have been running for at least five hundred years. So far, the Dire Spider silk is proving to be a surprising winner, along with indigo dye for the 'ink'. The knowledge is literally woven into the page. It does make for books twice as thick as normal, but also twenty times more durable.
And I don't have to fret about insects in my shelves. The spider babies are very good at keeping them at bay.
Though it does tend to disturb visitors from time to time.
I put the time into engraving some granite to hang over the main door. "Take a copy of what you wish to know, leave a copy of what you already know." Sometimes, they leave me something new. Sometimes, they leave me something false. More than once, I got a copy of their life story and everything they learned.
Wizards. I love Wizards. They're so pedantic.
And once a century or so, someone leaves another journal. An Elf who goes around helping the world. The same one who make all the journals I started with. All the journals now committed to Dire Spider silk and indigo.
There's enough journals to last for most of known history. Some of them cover history in very broad strokes, including the time when the gods walked the surface of the world. It's almost as if they realised they had a unique perspective on things and took down as much as they remembered.
And it was only yesterday that I realised I should be doing the same.
It's only been one thousand years, and the library is looking impressively large.
I wonder how much longer I have.
It's no matter. Anyone who comes to learn may also learn my methods. Even if I die tomorrow, the library will continue.
It's all I ever wanted, and I am happy.
[Photo by Prateek Katyal on Unsplash]
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