With the announcement of World Tree’s name, complete silence fell upon the expanse beneath her crown. No grumble, no snap of a twig, not even a gust of wind broke the spell that silenced us all. I didn’t know about the others, but I was sort of waiting to see what would unfold, ready for another mind shake or similar shit.

Nothing happened, though. Nothing at all.

To be honest, considering what took place, this seemed rather underwhelming and made me wonder if something went wrong. Idleaf, seedling...or I should say young World Tree, got her name. One that will be known by many in times to come. It was a big deal, so...what happened?

I had no clue.

The naming of beasts...and trees was still shrouded in many unknowns for me. However, despite the fact that I was never a party girl and that year in the cellar almost rendered me socially inept, I didn’t become that much of a social idiot not to see that the silence was getting really awkward, I mean, to the point where it would bring many to tears.

“Idleaf,” I said her name out loud, breaking the spell of silence that fell on the expanse in an effort to banish the awkwardness that threatened to harm her. “What a beautiful name you have.”

Hearing that, the spirit puffed out her chest even more and grinned broadly at me. “Right? I like it a lot.”

Crisis averted...or so I thought.

No one seemed to take the hint, so I did a quick rummage through my mind, looking for a solution. The only thing that popped out at me was her playfulness and a touch of mischief. Without further ado, I shifted over to her and, knowing it was a big dare, I playfully poked her in the side. “Hi, I am Korra, and who are you?”

She didn’t smite me for my gall, but giggled happily. “Hi, Korra. I’m Idleaf.”

“It’s really nice to meet you finally.” Words I really meant. I may not have known the meaning the name had for her and the beasts, but she was no longer a nameless tree or a projection of one to me. I knew who I was talking to.

“You too, all of you,” Idleaf raised her voice and spread her arms, expressing her joy while the flowers on her branches shone brighter for a brief moment.

That finally woke the others up, and one by one, they congratulated her on her name. And she enjoyed it very much. So much so, in fact, that I thought she was going to go around introducing herself to everyone again when she gleefully used the phrase ‘Hi, I am Idleaf’ several times in quick succession.

However, she paused that oddly amusing quirk of hers when Zeew told her what a powerful name she had.

“The older ones have much stronger names,” she argued, pouting a little, but happy nevertheless.

“Yours, stronger than mine,” Esu growled in an attempt to soothe her ire, unabashed to admit his shortfall.

“...and mine,” Zeew chirped, not wanting to be outdone. However, she was visibly struggling with her pride.

“Well, I’m not sure about mine,” I said, nervously scratching the back of my neck. “You can call me silly or ignorant, but I’m not quite sure what the strength of one’s name means.”

“Korra silly,” Idleaf sang playfully as she danced around me. Since it looked like I wasn’t going to get an explanation from her, I had to seek help from Esu.

“The name shows strength one attained and achieved, pup.”

That was part I kind of understood. Esu was the strongest among the mossbears and probably the only one to reach the naming threshold. At least I thought he was the only one. To my knowledge, I haven’t come across another mossbear with a name yet, not in Esulmor.

“But how...” I said, pausing, wondering how to phrase my question. “How do I know a strong name from a weak one?”

“There are no weak names,” Miros shrieked, displeased I dare say so.

“Zeew’s right, Korra,” Idleaf quipped, not helping me much to make heads or tails of it.

Actually, it didn’t make any sense at all. “If some names are strong, what are the ones that aren’t?”

“Names,” grumbled Esu, saying they were names that were still worthy of respect to the bearers of them.

“The old ones have stronger names than Idleaf,” the spirit said, pointing at herself. “Doesn’t mean Idleaf is a name I shouldn’t be happy about...or proud, as Zeew said.”

“That’s not...I didn’t mean it that way...” I stammered, thinking about what they told me. If I had to put it in layman’s terms, there was no shame in having one, no matter the name. It wasn’t easy for the creatures to get a name, so when they got one, it was a big deal and spoke of their power and prowess. Meaning they were hardly weak, yet you could find stronger individuals with stronger names out there in the world.

As interesting as what they were telling me was, it did not answer my question. “How do I know a strong name?”

My human ignorance made Idleaf laugh. “Names are like tales, talking about what we’ve achieved...like me, who managed to grow up alone away from others and wake up to this world in the manner of the Byrsoninendor, the first one to awake here.”

First of all, I didn’t expect her to tell me the name of the oldest World Tree, just like that. I don’t know why I was under the impression it was some kind of secret never to be told to anyone except the privy. You know...to the chosen elves and priestesses and stuff. Not that it will be allowed to know to the little me.

Second, now that I’ve heard the name, the long name of the oldest World Tree, I was sure Idleaf hadn’t said the name in beast-talk or in Eleaden Standard. Actually, I wasn’t sure what language she spoke the name in, but I understood it nonetheless. Hearing it gave me the same feeling I had when I was talking to others with [Eleaden Standard Language] among my skills. Like I was speaking the native tongue yet aware that it wasn’t. The only difference was that it was the language that translated itself into a form I could understand.

Some kind of universal language? Soul language, perhaps? Hell, I had no idea.

However, whatever the case may be, it begged the question whether Idleaf, Esu, or Zeew were names spoken in the same language, and I simply didn’t notice, ignorant as I was. Was I that clueless, though? Damn sure, I didn’t use that language when I spoke their names. I would have noticed that, wouldn’t I?

The question was also why Idleaf didn’t use that language and instead was switching between beast-talk and Standard. The only answer I could come up with was that it wasn’t the language she actually spoke, and it was just the names that had such an impact.

Well, that brought me to the third point, names and their power. I finally got it, and it was so simple. Yet it was not. Simply put, it was a matter of their length. Each syllable in the name was an expression of some achievement in the beast’s life. The stronger the name, the more history behind it, and the richer the story. Like the eagle Cas who left his nest, returned as Casoow, the Guardian.

That was the simple part of it. Then there was the meaning itself that the names carried. How did you...read it? Was that even possible? I knew there was more to the name of the oldest World Tree the moment it was said. I sensed it, and quite possibly because of its power, it revealed to me that it was not said in the language commonly spoken. But that was it. I felt something, not knowing what it was.

Of course, given the opportunity, I dug deeper.

Where did the names come from? How did the other trees come up with the name Idleaf? Who named the first one? Did Esu name himself? What about Zeew? 

Turns out the names more or less come from ancestral knowledge in all of their cases. It wasn’t some hard-wired instinct or knowledge hidden deep in their minds that they gained access to, though. By their description, I would liken it to a kind of library out there somewhere, containing the knowledge of their ancestors. With their success, they gained the librarian’s recognition to establish a book in their name, telling their story. It wasn’t as simple to do as it sounded, and so often, it was easier when someone more experienced looked into that library and searched for their name, as in the case of Idleaf, where older trees have searched for her name.

Zeew even shared that they had Miros among their kin who were more sensitive and thus responsible for the naming. Esu, on the other hand, has come to know his name on his own.

Humans, and not only humans but also terrans, gnomes, elves, and other races, did not keep this tradition. They used to, though. That’s how the first people got their names. But as time went on, the need to distinguish the very young from the rest grew, and people began to give their offspring the names of their forebears without them earning it the right way. It was then up to them whether they grew to honor the name of their ancestor which they bore or whether they’ll be nothing but a disgrace to them for the rest of their lives.

Not how it worked on Earth, I know. Yet to entertain the thought, I asked and found out that I’ve been such a disgrace to my name so far from that perspective. According to what the three of them told me, my name carried a tale. There was once a woman here...well, most likely a woman, who earned the name Korra through her accomplishments. The first Korra to ever walk the face of Eleaden. Sadly, I had no idea what the story was.

In a sense, the same was true of surnames or, if you want, family names...species names. That is how the Miros got their name, but the human ones quite often carried no meaning at all. According to Idleaf, who introduced herself to everyone at the expanse and learned their names, just empty words. A pathetic effort by humans to mimic the glory of Miros, per Zeew.

“Is that why you only call me Korra?”

Idleaf smiled at my question and nodded. “There is strength to it and a meaning behind it, albeit hidden for the time being. Your family name is empty and meaningless.”

Oh, that was harsh.

Still, I understood her reason. Grey was simply a word, nothing more. It could have been as simple a reason as the color of the clothes my ancestors wore, by which people came to call them. Not a story that has earned its place among those in the library full of books by forebears already written.

“Maybe...one day, pup...you may live up to your name and make it your own,” Esu grumbled, making sure all this doesn’t sap me of my drive, and I’m gonna keep pushing on. It was...sweet, kind of fatherly, and it sounded like he was speaking from experience.

Not wanting to pry too deeply, I could only guess that the young mossbears who had lost their drive did not have a bright future. Survival of the fittest.

“I’ll do my best,” I said, not about to give up just because I found out there was more behind my name than my parents’ love. I was human and saw things differently than the beasts. I mean, for now. Who knows what shit will happen as my power grows?

“This is so great,” gushed Idleaf, bouncing excitedly.

“What is?” I asked, unsure of what she meant.

“That you, Korra, and Esu get along so well, as different as you two are.”

“Wouldn’t that be because we’re the same, too?” I asked, using her rhetoric in an effort to point out that I was part mossbear.

“That you are,” Idleaf beamed a smile I knew wasn’t that simple. She was up to something.

And I was right. Not even a breath later, Idleaf’s presence returned to the expanse beneath her crown, filling it with playfulness as before. Yet it was not the same. More gentle, not so oppressive, much more controlled, and most importantly, in the mix that pressed on my senses and those of others, besides the playfulness, was sincere earnestness, an effort not to make light of what was to come.

Then when the spirit grew to a height matching Esu, I held my breath with a good idea of what she was about to do. Idleaf wanted to make Esu her Guardian.

“You’ve been with me a very long time, almost since I put down roots, Esu,” she said uncharacteristically serious, without a single giggle. “You’re the one who’s been in my dreams since I started having them, the one I’ve known the longest, my friend. You guarded me when you didn’t have to, cared for my well-being when you weren’t asked.”

Idleaf paused for a moment, giving him a knowing look. “I may be a young tree, and the old ones are yelling at me right now not to make rash decisions, but I do hope to grant your wishes. You were never shy about sharing them with me, and so without any shame or doubt, I ask you, will you continue what you have been doing so well? Will you carry on guarding my safety, soothing my pain, and keeping me company? Will you be my Guardian, Esu?”

I was speechless and found myself with tears streaming down my cheeks as Idleaf asked her question. The question I expected, the rest I did not. It was so out of her character, not a bit childish or playful, but damn moving.

Did it bring Esu to tears, though? No, it didn’t. That massive ancient beast towering high above me like the spirit of the World Tree in whose branches Zeew sat, watching everything from above, showed almost no emotion. If it weren’t for his presence, which he failed to control for a brief moment, and some of it leaked, I wouldn’t have known how pleased he was.

“Be a Guardian true fruition of my desire....and honor to guard you, to soothe your pain if need be, and to continue to keep you company, Idleaf,” Esu growled in the most dignified way he knew while his words bore the gratitude and joy he felt. “I Esu your Guardian.”

In a brief lapse of decorum, the spirit squealed with delight like a little girl before the severity the situation deserved returned to her face. “Then I name you...” she said and paused, trailing off in thought. And the moments of awkward silence flew by. “It’s harder than I thought,” she said, frowning in concentration. “...if only the old ones would leave me alone...”

“...there, that’s it,” she cried in triumph when she found what she was looking for. After her little display of joy, she looked back at Esu with all earnestness and an apologetic expression on her face. “Are you still willing to guard someone as inept as me?”

“You know my patience...more than anyone. I am.”

“Then I name you, my Guardian,” she declared for all to hear and gently touched his forehead. As she did so, a wave of purple energy swept across Esu’s fur from his forehead to the tips of his antlers, all the way to his short tail. At the same time, the so-far faintly glowing dangling, streaming clusters of flowers above us shone so brightly for a fleeting moment that it turned night under the crown of the World Tree into a day, blinding not only me.

When the night returned, and I looked back at Esu, I noticed the change immediately. Here and there, beneath his fur, glowed faint runes burned into his skin. The faint glow of violet light reached even his eyes, making him look even more imposing.

“Esudein, the Guardian of Idleaf,” she declared for all to hear as soon as she found his new name written down in that mysterious library somewhere out there now telling about this moment, too. And they heard, men and beasts alike, paying their respects to him in their own way. Even Zeew and the northern eagles joined in with congratulations.

Considering that it hadn’t been long since we had all gone at each other’s throats, it was amazing what the existence of the World Tree could do. It brought us all together to this moment, and so with a slight smile on my face, I too expressed my respect that Esu...sorry, Esudein deserved.

Although I had to say the whole naming thing was a bit underwhelming. By all accounts, it was a big deal, but there was no boom or surge of energy that would bring me to my knees, as in the case of Idleaf’s awakening. Esu just got a new name, Esudein. That was it.

All the color play and dazzling light was Idleaf’s doing. It was part of the process of Esu becoming her Guardian, and his new name simply spoke of it as well as hers spoke of her deeds.

“Let them know who you are, my friend, my Guardian,” Idleaf said softly, without a hint of command, but the massive ancient beast ruling these woods did as she said. He straightened up, growing even taller, while his antlers glowed with the green light I knew they gave off when he was using some serious magic. Then he took a deep breath and let out a mighty roar that carried to all corners of the woods and quite possibly far beyond. “I am Esudein, Guardian of Idleaf.”

I was happy for him. I really was. The joy in his roar was genuine. If only it didn't burst my eardrums. So bloody annoying.