Tribulations
It
was nearing the end of the evening. The sun’s warm embrace had faded to a dim
touch which could no longer caress the man’s face with a snug heat; which was a
rather pleasant feeling that now feels him with sorrow since in its absence. He
tore his eyes from the sky, and glanced over at a small fawn straining for an acorn
nestled between two rocks. He wondered where the youngling’s father was. Her
mother stood a few yards away; a thick brown fur covered her body with a small
white patch pasted to her breast. She was carelessly rummaging through fallen
leaves, but that quickly changed when she became aware of his presence.
Hurriedly, she nudged her youngling with her nose and took off towards the
wood. Startled, the fawn cried a small shriek and then chased after its mother
who was nearly to the tree line.
When
the deer had gone, the man stared back up into the sky which was beginning to
turn a milky shade of grey. Soon, he had forgotten about the mother deer and
its child. Instead, his attention was now focused on a deep oblivion speckled
with thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands, of tiny motionless fireflies
stuck in a slowly changing oil painting. One constellation in particular always
attracted his bright, hazel eyes; it always sat to the left and was shaped like
a sword. It was impossible for him to keep track of time when he became lost within this
serene sight, and, so, minutes passed, at least that is how it seemed, and the
moon began to slowly make its way across the canvas. The only distraction that
tore his eyes away was a small owl, who sat high in one of the hickory trees,
but it didn’t keep his attention long and, soon, his eyes turned back to the
sky. Meager dots speckled its surface, but in actuality the minuscule dots were
massive in luminosity and size.
He
almost missed it, a star shot through the vast abyss. It streaked the sky with
a beautiful light blue. He imagined what it would be like to be riding upon its
back, his elven friend clamping tightly to his chest while the cold air wrapped
itself across his face with the wind gliding through his hair. The deafening
roar from the flaming thrust would tear at his ear drums as it muscled its way
toward an unknown destination. But, hastily he came back to reality and he
noticed sweat pulling on the hairs of his arm and slowly he released his grip
on the blade of his sword. The hot blood rolled through his clenched fingers
but he paid no speck of attention instead, oscillated his attention back to the
sounds and sights of the night.
In
the end, there will be nothing. No light or darkness, no creatures or children,
and no sounds to be heard; a complete picture of nothingness filling the canvas
with clean, blank strokes. But, he will lie upon the soil; his back pressed
against soft blades of grass, and watch the painting slowly blend together.
Soon the blackness will fade and there will be light again. It will flood from
the heavens to caress his shivering body, and he will watch from below as the
blank picture becomes whole once again.
~
A
crow flew by the window, silhouetted by the moon that sat high in the midnight
sky. The sound awoke the young boy who lie troubled upon his bed. Intrigued by
the noise, he lifted his weary head from his pillow to gaze into the ongoing
darkness.
“Beautiful,
don’t’ you think?” The boy did not return an answer to the man who had just
creaked through the two oak doors behind him nor did the familiar voice arouse
him to reply. His only gesture to the man who now stood by his side staring
down intently upon him is a slight nod. No one, not even himself he felt,
deserved actual words. “Listen Erik, your father was a great man and a
magnificent king. You do not have to be afraid of your feelings nor do you need
to indulge them so much so. This pondering is dangerous. If you continue to let
your emotions overwhelm you then you might as well join him for you will be
lost, even to yourself.” The boy’s eyes scanned the darkness that resided
beyond the window as if searching for something to say or possibly an answer
that would explain to his friend the agony that wrought inside of him,
clamoring at his soul, and tearing him apart. “Please understand that your
father was a good man...” The man hesitated. “The way he died is shameful,
awful at the least. Yes, I do know that honor nor glory clouds your mind with
poor judgments. It is vengeance that does so.” The boy stood motionless his
eyes still fixed on the shadows of the night. Only the distant cry of a crow
interrupted the silence between the two. “Don’t’ be foolish though boy, I beg
of you. Do not be foolish enough to chase them down. The vengeance that is
boiling in your heart needs to be shackled or the taint will corrupt you and
have you killed before one fortnight has passed. The day will come when
together, me and you face the cowards and stand victorious upon the scorched
battlefields with the woeful yet sweet taste of revenge wet upon our lips. Only
then will your father, my king rest easy as he watches over us with the Makers.
Now Erik, will you join me for a drink in my quarters? I’ve already ordered
Learkin to fetch two hot cups.”
“Jake, I understand why you try to comfort me.” Erik
hesitated for a moment while the sorrow inside of him began to boil into a
fiery rage. Yet he was not mad at the man that stood in front of him. “Why
though… Why should I rise in the morning when my father can never do so?” His
mouth began to pour out the emotions his heart could no longer contain. “Jake,
my father, your best friend, shall never rise to see another sunrise, or feel
the dew freshly wet upon his bare feet. So I ask, why must I? Today I watched
as my father died. Today, I stared hopelessly at my father and stood idle as
the life fled from his now limp body, and as his hot blood poured onto the
ground next to my feet.” The moon reflected off Erik’s watery cheeks. “So I
ask, why must I?”
“Erik, your feelings are understandable, but I beg you to
not let them control. One day, we will seek out these murderers, and together
we will see to it that your father’s, my friend’s, death is rectified.”
For
a moment, they stared at each other. Their eyes intently locked, transfixed in
a hazy cloud of emotions, but with only one singular thought shared by both.
Neither wished to be the first to break the contact, nor did either truly want
to. Jake stood motionless, with his arms resting in a formal fashion and his
hands gently cradled together. He did not stir until Erik, with a pronounced
sigh, lowered his gaze from him and peered towards the cobblestone floor.
“Forgive me.” Erik fell on his knees and covered his face. The rage that befell
him did not reside, but he cast it out reach. In its absence swarmed a hungry
sorrow. Tears streamed down the boy’s face much like a waterfall would gush the
freshly poured rain off the mountainside. Erik felt a hand slide down his back.
It wasn’t an intimate touch, but he could tell it was a caring gesture that was
rejuvenating to his composure. “Have I brought shame to my house? I’m weeping
like a child, and I disgrace my name by raising my voice at an old family
friend.” The hand rested upon his shoulder now. Slowly, the callused fingers
gripped even tighter than before, and Erik watched as a single tear smeared the
hand’s darkened skin.
“No,
my young prince you disgrace no one for mourning your father. Just look
outside. Look past the Harverk where
Faroak lies.” Erik swiveled his head towards the window. From the cobblestone,
Erik could only see the all so familiar darkness that shrouded his view. “We
are all filled with tribulations, even if not as notably as yours. Yet we all cry
even me, especially myself. But, we all have our own ways of showing our grief.
Faroak with their bonfires and song, me in solitude within the confines of my chamber,”
Jake moved toward the double oak doors towering over them both by several feet.
Its grand qualities seemed so elegant at the time. Thins lines swirled down the
sides, etching exquisite designs into the frame; it was beautiful, priceless
and even comforting to him. “We all have our own ways.” Another silence swept
over them, but this time, Jake was the one to break it. “So, Erik will you join
me in drink? If you do, I’ll share a story about me and your father.”
Erik
removed his hands from his face, the hot tears still sliding down his cheeks,
and looked once again up at the his father’s friend. Quickly, his eyes swelled
up with fresh tears as he noticed the deep crimson cloak draped over a finely
tailored tunic baring the family crest. A story?” confused and lost Erik
wondered if Jake was toying with him. “Jake, I do not know what use this story
may have for me, but I will join you.”
“I’m
sure you’ll find use in it. It might not be today, but one day lad you’ll
understand the meaning.”
Jake
motioned for Erik as he opened Erik’s chamber doors. “Before we go Jake,” Erik
stared once again into the pearlescent pair of eyes before saying, “I’m glad
that you’re wearing them. There is no one else who deserves them but you.”
