(an excerpt from the story “So there we were”)
A cool breeze carried sounds of a bustling street into our room that was still yawning with slumber. It was announcing that morning had come.
The noise forced me to open my eyes, but I still felt refreshed upon waking. For once I was pleasantly aware that my dreamless sleep allowed me to gain new consciousness during the night. I threw off my covers and spun around to place my bare feet on the crisply cold wooden floor. I took a slow, deep breath and the feeling of ordinariness I had been gone from for so long fulfilled me. I stepped towards the window, stretching each muscle and twisting my back into a comfortable position along the way. When I peered outside, I was surprised to see the sun so high in the sky. Perhaps I should be glad I did not sleep for much longer, we actually have things to do today.
I was thinking that I should probably wake you up, when I reminded myself to look at the small table at the foot of my bed. I had not forgotten of course, the smooth leather, the wrinkled pages, the strong sent of smoke… it was the journal. I’m not sure why I had become so enthralled with someone else’s life, but it suited me.
“It’s hard to want to know people, until you’ve gotten inside their mind.” Redisha’s words of wisdom I heard weeks ago held truer meaning to me now than ever.
The nameless man writing in the diary was calling out to me once again. But the calling was interrupted when I heard you give a grunt of repugnance and throw your sheets over your face.
Perhaps I could let you sleep just a bit longer, I thought. Besides, I was hungry again and a small breakfast along with a good read sounded very inviting.
I quickly pulled on some more appropriate clothes and grabbed the red journal on my way out the door.
I quietly pulled the door shut behind me and moseyed over to the room where we had left Notting and Fiørik the night before. I put my ear up to the smooth wood only to hear the peaceful rock of an unlatched window shifting effortlessly in the gentle wind. The silence was an answer to my question: either they were still asleep or they had finally succeeded in killing each other.
I walked softly to the end of the hall and then picked up a pace down the slanted stairs, which groaned and trembled under each bounding step. The familiar sounds and smells that greeted me at the bottom of the staircase made my senses growl with ecstasy. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed traditional human company. (Practically an insult to Notting and Fiørik.)
I found the hallway leading to the inn’s main room and on my way to take a seat and nestle my face in the journal once again, I heard yelling from the door ahead.
“That’s the fifth time you’ve burned something today! Do you want this whole building to catch on fire?!” the muffled bellow of a deep-voiced man brought the foggy scent of burnt toast to my attention.
More talking was going on behind the door, although I could not make it out until I walked closer to the kitchen’s entrance.
“What were you doing last night?!” the same shouting voice roared in anger once again.
Before whoever was receiving the abuse could respond the man told him to go home, and I was stopped in my tracks when a young man was flung from the swinging kitchen door. He looked over his shoulder when he had regained his footing and, upon seeing me, immediately went red and stumbled towards the inn’s exit. I recognized him as the drunken boy who tried to buy me a drink last night. I smiled, and stepped forward to grab the door that was still moving back and forth.
“Oi!” I called for the head cook, who I assumed was the portly man still shaking with rage. In all his resistance, he turned with an agitated twitch in his left eye.
“Sorry to bother you, but could you tell me what’s for breakfast?”
“Baked grits and corned beef,” the cook spat from the corner of his mouth. I shivered.
“Is that it?”
“Well we would have eggs and toast if SOMEONE WOULD WATCH WHAT THEY WERE DOING ONCE IN AWHILE!” the man reached his head around the open door, calling out to the scared boy, who now did not hesitate to leave the inn entirely.
“Yeah, it’s too bad about that… Those crazy kids…,” I tried to invite the man to laugh but I might as well have been trying to teach you how to carry a tune. I laughed awkwardly and the man gave me a look that meant I shouldn’t be wasting his time.
“Would you happen to have some of that chicken left over from last night?” I asked hopefully.
“Yeah,” the cook turned, but to his great displeasure I wasn’t ready to leave.
“Oh! And could I get some of that… ugh, what is it? Ti-cocky sauce?” I blinked harmlessly.
“Martha! Heat up that left-over chicken,” the cook shouted over his shoulder. “And some Ti-cocky sauce,” he added with a smug murmur.
“Ti… what?” spoke a woman from around the oven.
“Thanks,” I did not stick around to hear the cook correct my mistake and I let the door go back to swinging into the kitchen and out to the hallway.
The quant dinning room was quiet this morning. Most of the customers were people staying in the inn, but some were those who lost track of time the night before and were now sleeping on the bar counter. People talked quietly in small groups or sat alone, only emitting the sounds of silverware clinking against glass plates. I scanned the room for a cozy place. Although all the tables and cushioned chairs look welcoming, one booth on the east wall caught my eye.
The booth was just like the others next to it that had high, flat backs that curved at the top creating a secluded area, except this particular booth housed the only window in the room. I found it peculiar, but the idea of having natural light to read by was far superior to using the wilted candles that were placed at each table.
I slid onto the smooth bench and scooted near the window to see what I could view. A brick wall. The window was facing an alleyway. What was the purpose of that? I looked around for Gus, but he was helping some hindered men out the door, so I thought I wouldn’t bother him just now.
I looked down at the table, some scribbles were etched into its rich wood. There were a few names and some obscene words, but I only cared to look at the drawing that was at the top of the table. I do not know why the poorly sketched castle gave me delight, but it seemed I could be happy about anything right now. I had now found something I wanted for so long, a distraction, something exciting and wonderful. I looked down at the red book. I’ve never met this man, seen his face or heard his voice, but he means more to me now than anything. Now I wondered why I was beating around the bush. I picked up the journal and opened the right page, taking out my map. My eyes were drawn to each word, clinging to them one by one:
Tonight was the most joyous occasion of my life. I know I dedicated this book to recording of Fuiran’s lessons and the beginning of Aribac, but now the themes to my life have changed. I met someone. Josephine. I never get tired of saying her name. I do not mean to be too sentimental, but every since Fuiran shared with me the lessons of love… it just took new meaning tonight. Josephine. She was the prettiest girl at the town’s opening feast, which distracted me all night. After a few beers, I finally built up the courage to talk to her and I have never met someone so intelligent, except Fuiran of course. She even had done some work as a blacksmith, women are learning to do an awful lot these days. I cannot deny that this draws me to her even more.
“Love is not only passion.” Fuiran always says. “Love is sincere, it holds strongly to what is good. Love is joyful during good harvests and is enduring in frightful winters. Even when words of hate and fury are spoken, in love, all hardship can be mastered.”
I wish those were my own words and I could share them with Josephine and should would be with me forev–
(needs to be fixed: you wouldn’t be so high in energy….) “HEY!” I jumped high in the air and spun around, only to see your face close to mine.
“Brittany! You scared the crap out of me!” my heart was ready to leap out of my chest.
You sat down, still scoffing me with a reenactment of my jolt.
“Still readin’ the old journal?” you collected after your laughter had ceased.
“Yes,” I said while scanning through the scrawled writing, trying to find my place. You straightened up slightly and asked,
“So, are you going to tell me about it?”
Excitement built up inside me, creating a pressure that would release at any moment. I have been wanting to share the story in hopes that my devotion to the journal was well accepted. I also wanted to share some of the happiness I gained from it.
“Well,” I started out, my hand quivering in forced restraint. “He’s a great guy, the man writing the journal. I guess you’d have to read it to know.”
You looked a bit irritated, “I’m not reading it… you are, so tell me what’s going on.”
Some of my excitement faltered. I could not say exactly why I was so excited over a man’s life when not much has happened in it yet.
“He just fell in love,” I smiled hopefully and received a blank stare in return.
“And…?” you were struggling to see the significance. But before I could continue, a pale haired woman stepped up to our booth and placed a plate before me. Mmm… chicken, and there’s even some of those pineapple rings left on the side.
“Thank you,” I called after the woman who had been kind enough to deliver my morning feast. She was already heading back to the kitchen.
“So, the journal?” you asked with a newly found interest.
“Yeff,” I said chewing a large piece of chicken hungrily. “Sorry,” I managed to swallow and was ready to put my meal aside but only long enough to finish my explanation. “Well, I don’t know his name, but he writes in his journal about how he moved to Aribac.” I continued to explain how the man had gone to the new settlement to fulfill his dream of being educated by the well known philosopher Fuiran Degard.
“Is he like Redisha?”
“Very much so, except wiser perhaps,” I added staring into nothing and remembering the fables of Fuiran. One showed a vision of a rose rooted in stone and it grew to be more brilliant than all the others that were rooted in soft soil. Some of the meanings are still unclear but the images are powerful.
“Here,” I opened the journal to a page I had marked with a folded corner. I handed the book to you, “Read this entry.” You silently followed the words that I had already memorized:
Fuiran brought me out to the Chårred Mountains today, I hadn’t visited them in a long time and it was a spectacular sight. We are so lucky to have Aribac so close to them. The ridged landscape is a nice change from the rolling plains of my birthplace, Parie Field.
We hiked for a long time and stopped in a small meadow. I marked the place on my map; I wanted to revisit the lush green trees and the grassy scent as often as I could.
I am still pondering Fuiran’s lesson.
“We cannot all be great, lead great armies and create great masterpieces.” Fuiran said more than this but he usually trails on with more words than he needs. When he was done, he showed me a small brook streaming with water.
“Everyone has a path they must follow. Just like a stream. A stream or a creek or a river all have a path to flow on, they have a beginning and an end, they can run dry, they can meet other streams and join other currents. Now, streams cannot all be the same width, depth and length because the land does not allow it. Just as we cannot all be the same and follow the same path, because our own nature does not allow us. But each stream has a purpose, giving a natural element that is needed for life. Whether you are a small creek providing forest rodents with a cool drink or a mile-long river carrying ships to distant lands. Both are important. So never feel that you are unimportant as long as your steam is carrying water.”
“He sounds like a remarkable guy, this Fuiran,” you said after finishing the page. You slide the book back across the table, pushing it back into my hands. I paused, gauging your opinion, but then I realized that this was still something I had for my own and it would affect no one else like it affects me.
“I just love seeing how the journal-writer applies Fuiran’s lessons. It’s very real,” I was thinking about how the last examples Fuiran gave fit perfectly with the man’s life, when there was a loud crash from upstairs.
“Fiørik!” a barreling yell caused all the inhabitants of the inn’s dining room to look up with curiosity.
We could hear a door slam and the stomping footsteps of someone on the run. I looked at you with subdued amusement and you were already watching the hall for the entrance of…
“Hide me!” Fiørik came panting to our table.
“Under here,” you said and got up from the booth so Fiørik could squeeze under the table, behind our legs. As soon as you had taken your seat once again and I had just made sure Fiørik was not visible, Notting exposed his blazing eyes from the hallway entrance. He was wearing his long green tunic, but half of it was dripping wet and splattered with soap suds. He scanned the room impatiently and when he had spotted us he did not hesitate to ask,
“Where’s Fiørik?!”
“Uhmm, he ran outside,” I said unconvincingly. Notting took my fib with easy acceptance and headed directly for the door.
“Maybe he’s trusting us a bit too much now,” I added when Fiørik’s head popped up next to you on the bench. He sighed and coolly leaned against his forearm resting it on the window.
“What did you do?” you asked, uncomfortable that Fiørik had chose to sit so close to you.
“Well Notting was dirty and needed to wash,” Fiørik said looking down at the various puddles of water on the floor. “I was just being a good brother and helping him out. It’s not my fault he pushed the washbasin out of my hands.” I shook my head with a short snort of laughter.
“Notting’s going to kill you,” you said. “Lucky for you we were here to save your skin.”
Fiørik eyed you with a forward grin, “Lucky me…”
You shoved Fiørik into the window for his loaded remark, yet I could not help but notice that your smile held its own yearning.
“Don’t worry Fiørik, Brittany will soften up eventually. It just takes her awhile to get… close,” I should have stopped myself but didn’t. “There’s a wall there. You just gotta keep chip-chip-chippin’ away!”
“Oh god,” you rolled your eyes and rested your head in your hands so that they covered your face. Fiørik laughed.
When the moment had passed, later than it should have, Fiørik asked half mockingly, “How DO you two know each other so well?”
I was beginning to form an answer in my mouth when the sight of green dashed past the window. I was brought to fits of laughter and you and Fiørik gazed into the alleyway following my lead.
“What?” you said unable to see anything funny about the dingy sideroad. There was a clattering sound and more yelling from the kitchen, I let this do the answering.
“What are you doing in here?!” I imagined the head cook’s twitch worsening.
“Sorry?” It was clearly Notting’s voice on the other side of the kitchen door, and sure enough, he appeared seconds later.
“Hide me, hide me!” Notting was clutching his stomach and looking behind his shoulder nervously. There were more noises coming from the kitchen and the people enjoying their breakfasts had stopped to stare at the kitchen door: Who would come out next? Notting did not wait for us to guide him; he darted quickly under our table and just in time too. The kitchen door revealed the robust woman who I had to pull off Notting last night. She searched the room enthusiastically and soon found the trail of wet footprints that led out the front door. She clasped her hands together and gave a sultry giggle while prancing towards and out the door.
“Is she gone?” Notting’s hushed voice of sheer terror sounded form under the booth.
“No, she’s still trying to sniff out your scent,” Fiørik whispered at the table.
“Yes, she’s gone,” I said. I was rather uncomfortable having three pairs of legs and a full grown Laagorian under one table.
Notting pulled himself up on the seat next to mine and peered across the room. Once he was satisfied that the woman had left, he narrowed his eyes and faced Fiørik. The intense glare lasted only a matter of seconds and it appeared as though Notting found this punishment suitable. Or perhaps this glare was a sure sign that Notting was scheduling his vengeance. Either way, Notting choose to speak no words to Fiørik and instead turned to us.
“Good morning,” Notting said trying to overcome his emotions with a faint smile. “Although there is nothing that good about it… So! Don’t let me interrupt, what were you all talking about?”
“Brittany and Ricci were just about to tell me how they met. Something I’m sure you would be interested to know also,” Fiørik said to Notting.
“Actually,” Notting’s smile turned real and he faced both of us willingly awaiting a story, “I would.”
“Where to begin…” you trailed off, clearly wanting me to start the tale. I was forced to stop eating my breakfast once again, but I finished enjoying a large bite and started to tell Notting and Fiørik the story.
“Well, I was born in Fonshire and I lived there until I was…” I paused doing some calculations in my head. “Actually, I think I left there on the day of my fourteenth birthday. There was a major threat from Lord Philip at the time and my father insisted that I joined the women’s recruit for the army. ‘Take responsibility.’” I shook my fist, doing an imitation true to my father.
“Women’s recruit?” Notting asked.
“Yeah, during that time women were found to be useful in the army. We make good scouts and often times our plans are more logical than men’s,” you explained. “My father sent me to the recruitment as well. He wanted me to get a good education and because women were not normally educated, the army training included extensive educational teachings along with skills for battle.”
I continued, “And because recruiting women was new, there were only about eighteen of us to join. We trained for over two years and Brittany and I became good friends during this time.”
“It was this way because most of the other girls were dim and barbaric,” you added and I laughed at the memory.
“We were constantly getting into trouble and receiving warnings that we were going to be kicked out, but we never were. So, after two years we were ready to join the army and fight right? Well the threat was gone and all the troupes had been called off and we were left with nothing to do.”
“I went home and luckily my father found me a job in Thalattos,” you remarked. “I lived there for about three years and then I heard word that Lord Philip was on the move again. I decided to join the army, finally putting my training to use. Then I past through Barteldes along the way to meet General Doran and found Ricci there. I asked if she wanted to come too and she did.”
“What were you doing when Brittany was in Thalattos?” Notting asked me the question I feared. The painful memory chimed back into my mind like a chord being plucked on a guitar.
“Well, after the training was over I moved to Barteldes with the man I was engaged to,” I rushed through my last thought and tried to continue without it being noticed but Fiørik spoke up.
“You’re married?” Fiørik said in disbelief and I heard you kick his leg under the table. Fiørik’s face filled with a silent “ouch.”
“No, it’s alright. I was married,” there was no point in avoiding it now. “Shortly after the women’s recruit had divided, Thomas, one of our instructors, proposed to me. We were married in a couple of months and it stayed that way for two years.” I took a slow breath and continued, “Then at the end of the summer before Brittany came, Thomas went on a hunt and never came back.” Tears were crawling into my eyes now and I blinked several times to push them back, “Brittany showed up in Barteldes five months later, when I had lost all hope of my husbands return.” I smiled at you; I had just reminded myself of how grateful I am to you.
Notting leaned towards me and put his hand on mine that was resting on the table. The gesture was touching and I had to work even harder to keep my tears from being revealed.
“We all have suffered greatly. I’m glad we’re here together,” Notting said, his friendship shining like the sun. I did not feel like crying anymore.
“Well! I’m starving! When do we get to eat?” you broke the gushy moment and we were all thankful for it. “I see Ricci has decided to start without us.”
“Wha?” I had already stuffed some more chicken in my mouth.
“I’ll just take this then,” Fiørik said and snatched the pineapple right off my plate. My eyes narrowed. Fiørik was holding the slice inbetween his thumb and index finger and dangled it in the air above my head.
“Go ahead have it. I don’t care,” I said with an airy voice. He would accept this willingly, like all other men. He pulled it down and took one bite of the fruit holding it loosely in his hand.
“Ha!” he was right where I wanted him. I grabbed the pineapple right out of his hand… or so I had planned. As soon as I had my fingers around the pineapple slice, Fiørik pulled upwards and the effect was disastrous. Juicy splatterings moved in slow-motion covering the table and smearing against the window. After the bits had settled, it took several seconds before everyone had realized what happened.
“Nice,” you said wiping yellow flakes off your face. Fiørik was, as I had expected, chuckling to himself, but Notting was surprisingly calm.
“I’ll get something to clean up the mess and then get the rest of us breakfast,” Notting said and nudged me a little so I would let him out.
~~~
We were finishing up our meal, I with a second helping of chicken that Notting had brought me, when Gus entered our presence.
“I just received this outside. It’s for you two,” Gus handed me a small piece of paper. Neat penmanship showed our names in General Doran’s writing.
“It’s from General Doran,” I said offhandedly.
“That’s strange,” you looked from Gus to the paper in my hand. “What does it say?”
I unfolded the parchment and read aloud:
“Brittany and Ricci, I just heard of your safe return and am greatly pleased. I ask you that you not be hesitative in coming to the camp. I am in need of your expertise. General Doran.”
