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haebinAt the moment (or for the last two weeks) I am not able to write something down. But I wrote this chapter like two months ago, so I can post it now.
I hope you'll enjoy it.
♥
*****
Anwyn sat at the table, smiling and quietly observing the men around her. Her father sat opposite her and was engaged in a lively conversation with Conall, who told him that his uncle was also a fisherman. They talked about the height of water needed to make a successful catch, about the ebb and flow of the tide or large accumulations of brown algae, which were usually home to many different types of predatory fish.
Trálír and Ulthred talked about the news the half-elf had heard in Silverdew and while everyone was engrossed in their conversations, Anwyn stood up and began to clear away the used crockery. Her father raised his eyes and she gave him a warm smile as she placed the plates in the wicker basket that stood beside the table.
Anwyn lifted the heavy basket, propped it up a little with her hip and walked through the courtyard. Since there was a high wall protecting the house, the stable and the enclosure, Anwyn was no longer able to walk over hill and dale to the spring as she had done all those years. However, as the wall ensured the safety of the animals, herself and her father, Anwyn was happy to take the short diversions to the spring.
When she reached her destination, she put down the full basket, got down on her knees and let her hand glide slowly through the flowing water. Lost in thought, she took the used crockery out of the basket, placed it on the grass and then gently lowered herself to her knees as she listened to the birdsong in the nearby forest, which merged with the distant crashing of the waves on the shore.
Anwyn was quietly and diligently washing the plates, mugs and knives when a slight clearing of the throat made her look up.
A fond smile slid across her face.
"You're not going to do all the work on your own, are you?" Anwyn heard Trálír say and she laughed heartily.
"Are you offering yourself?" she asked with a grin and the high elf raised an eyebrow in amusement.
"We'd just have to talk about the appropriate wage."
"Not until I see how well you can work," Anwyn replied with a chuckle. Trálír laughed too, walked round the spring and sat down next to Anwyn, who handed him a plate which he let slide into the water. Silently but feeling safe in each other's presence, she and the high elf washed the dishes, which they then laid out on the grass to dry. When they had finished their work, Anwyn stood up, bent forwards and removed her sandals from her feet. She looked at Trálír, grinned and settled back down, lifting the skirt of her dress to her knees and then sliding her legs into the still-warm water. Anwyn closed her eyes and sighed in relaxation. Trálír followed her example and took off his boots, which he placed on the grass beside him. As the fabric of his breeches only went just below his knees, he was able to let his legs slide into the water without any further effort. He relaxed and let his head sink into his neck, closed his eyes and moved his right hand slightly to the side until he felt Anwyn's, which he then took in his own.
He smiled as he felt her fingers gently squeeze his.
"What are you thinking about?" Trálír asked softly after a while and looked at Anwyn.
Her eyes opened and a hint of melancholy could be read in them.
"Only a few more ten days and the harvest season will be behind us, the days will be shorter, the sun will be hidden behind the dark clouds in the firmament.
The nights will get colder, the white season will be upon us."
Trálír noticed a hint of pain sliding across Anwyn's face, her eyebrows drawing together in concern and the corners of her mouth tightening.
"It won't be an easy time," she said, her voice low.
"But you don't have to worry, Anwyn. The animals are safe, there's enough hay and fodder for dozens of tens of days, the cellar is filled with enough wood and food. Your father and you won't have to go hungry," Trálír replied, trying to alleviate Anwyn's obvious concern with these words.
"But that's not what's bothering me," Anwyn replied, sheepishly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she gnawed uncertainly on her lower lip.
"But?" Trálír raised an eyebrow questioningly and saw the hesitation in her gaze. She avoided looking him in the eye and stared at their clasped hands. Trálír waited patiently for Anwyn to continue, but she remained silent instead.
"Won't you tell me what's bothering you, Anwyn?"
She nodded in the affirmative, but still no words escaped her lips. She was so obviously agonising over what was troubling her heart and her inability to express it that Trálír leaned towards her and gently pressed his lips to her cheek.
"I... I'll miss you," Anwyn suddenly burst out, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment. Despite the high elf's obvious affection for her, Anwyn feared that he might make fun of her emotional outburst. Nothing in their past, in their shared experience, had ever indicated this, but Anwyn feared that something would happen, something that would not favour the happiness she felt. She feared the proverbial calm before the storm, as the last few months had been such a contrast to her entire existence.
All the happiness she and her father had experienced in the last few weeks had been the complete opposite of what they had had to live through over the years. The poverty, the daily struggle for survival, the hunger in the cold months, the danger that just a moment of carelessness could cost their lives.
Her heart beat loudly in her chest, her throat was tight and she feared Trálír's reaction to her words, not realising that he was so full of love and deep affection that he would have loved to pull her into his arms.
"I know it will be a difficult time for us," Trálír replied, trying not to add to Anwyn's worries. "The paths are icy, it's bitterly cold and metre-high snowdrifts will prevent us from seeing each other. But I've already thought of a way for us to keep in touch."
Anwyn looked at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty. "You've found a way?"
Trálír nodded.
"But how would that work? Is there magic involved?"
"It won't be quite that complicated, Anwyn. There are a dozen carrier pigeons at our castle and it will be easy to keep in touch with you in writing. I know that it will be impossible for us to see and talk to each other. Nevertheless, we can exchange ideas, we are not far from each other and can read what the other feels or thinks."
A relieved smile spread across Anwyn's face.
"Now that we've realised all our plans for your farm, I need a new field of activity to be near you. Acclimatising a pigeon to a new location is the right occupation to fill all our days until the foggy moon begins."
"Yes, that sounds like a good suggestion," she replied.
"A very, very good suggestion," whispered Trálír, cupped Anwyn's chin with his thumb and index finger and stole a long and gentle kiss from her.
*****
It was late in the afternoon and it would not be long before the sun would set. The approaching evening was also noticeable in the diminishing bustle in the castle courtyard, for most of the servants were busy in their designated work areas, the animals had long since been fed and only once or twice did a monk walk across the courtyard, his face hidden in the documents he held in his hand. Teárlach chuckled as he imagined that the monk was so busy with this old paper that he would walk blindly into a closed door. But when he lifted his eyes from the parchment and opened the door without difficulty, he grimaced in frustration.
He was bored, sitting here on a half-straight block of wood next to the smithy where the blacksmith was busy sharpening the soldiers' weapons so that they stayed pristine.
As if that makes any sense, Teárlach thought and sighed in exasperation. There's not even a hint of a problem, let alone an approaching war.
Bored, the high elf folded his strong arms in front of his chest and crossed his long legs as his gaze fell on the bailiff's chamber, which had just been opened. To his surprise, he saw his father step out of the chamber, also holding a parchment in his hands, who forcefully pulled the door shut behind him, causing it to crash into the frame.
Interested, Teárlach raised an eyebrow and watched the ruler, whose face was filled with anger as he strode across the courtyard. Not only was his expression drenched in anger, but his body was also stiff with tension, resentment had taken possession of him.
Teárlach knew his father and his outbursts of anger well enough to recognise that the balled fist, the clenched teeth, the dark look, the tense chest and the stiff back were a clear sign that something had happened that had clearly displeased him, Trálír the Elder. And Teárlach knew only too well what the consequences were when the ruler lost control.
Nevertheless, he could not contain his curiosity and followed his father unobtrusively as he strode through the great hall in a bad mood.
The soldiers and servants present cleared the way for him without being asked, some looking to the next, worry and apprehension in their eyes. The ruler of the castle stomped up the stairs with a grim look on his face and disappeared into the long corridor, while Teárlach hurried up the stairs as well and watched out of the corner of his eye as his father disappeared into Trálír's chamber.
"Trálír?" Teárlach murmured and walked quietly through the deserted corridor, incomprehension and surprise in his voice. A dozen paces from Trálír's chamber, the corridor split to the left and right and was supported by pillars carved into the stone. The high elf used the pillar on the left to hide in the shadows, keeping a close eye on the corridor ahead.
*****
The sun had already set a while ago, the sky dark but still starry. As Arod trotted leisurely across the bridge, the clacking of his hooves echoing through the night, Trálír put his head back and stared up at the sky, awed by the endless number of stars that called the firmament their home. Trálír felt Arod slow and stop and he turned his gaze ahead of him, seeing two guards standing at the castle gate, torches illuminating their focussed faces. When they recognised the ruler's son, they nodded politely to him and bowed slightly.
Trálír returned the nod and steered Arod into the castle courtyard, which lay silent and deserted before him.
The stallion found his own way to the stables without Trálír's help and stopped as usual when they were only a few steps away. Trálír swung himself out of the saddle, grabbed the reins and led the stallion into the stable. Fairre, the old stable master who lived in a small chamber above the wodden bulding, would already be resting at this time of night and Trálír would have preferred nothing more than to wake him from his sleep. So he led Arod into his stall and freed him from his saddle and bridle, which the horse greeted with a whinny. A smile slipped across Trálír's lips as he gently ran his hand over his stallion's nostrils. He turned away and filled Arod's kobe with fresh hay, then reached into a basket of vegetables and handed his stallion some turnips before leaving the stable and closing the gate behind him.
As he entered the Great Hall, the crackling of the large fire pit in the centre and the torches on the pillars filled the hall that lay silently before him. Trálír's footsteps echoed audibly through the hall as he walked to the Grand Staircase and then used it to stride towards his chamber.
He opened the door and was irritated the moment he looked into his brightly lit room.
Why are there candles burning here when I haven't been in the house all day? Trálír asked himself wondering as he took a step into his chamber. And the moment he finished this thought, he knew why. His gaze fell on the powerful figure sitting at his desk, his back straight, his chin proudly raised, his arms folded in front of his broad chest. The look in his light grey eyes was piercing.
"Father?" Trálír stood in the open doorway in consternation and watched as his father uncrossed his arms and gestured with his right hand for his first-born to enter.
As if I needed an invitation to enter my own realm, Trálír thought disgruntledly and saw his father's eyebrows draw together. For a moment, the high elf wondered if his father was intruding on his thoughts, but he could not tell that he was. He felt no invasion in his mind.
Trálír entered slowly, closed the door behind him and walked into the centre of the room, facing his father, who was now leaning back in the large armchair and pointing to a document in front of him.
"Explain this to me," he demanded of his son and let his gaze slide to the parchment in front of him.
Trálír knew what was written on the parchment, for he had recognised the castle governor's handwriting a few moments ago. It was a list of the goods he had taken in the last ten days and yet he stepped forward, took the document in his hand and skimmed it.
Not only was the amount of goods and wares listed, but also the coins he had used to purchase the animals and the wages for Conall and Ulthred.
Trálír lowered the parchment and placed it on the table, aware that his father's eyes were watching every movement, every expression on his face.
"So, don't you want to explain yourself?"
The ruler's voice was harsh, merciless. Even if he had spoken few words, Trálír was well aware of the danger that still lay in the dark. This was a moment he would have liked to avoid, even though he had realised for some time that this confrontation between him and his father was unavoidable.
He sighed inwardly.
"Do we really want to play this game, father?" Trálír asked bluntly. "I'm sure you know very well what this is all about."
"Well, I don't expect you to use the goods and gold coins to build a new castle." The dark voice of Trálír, the elder, dripped with mockery. "With just two helpers, you would probably spend a whole century building it."
"An excellent observation, father," Trálír replied, his voice clothed in a hint of arrogance. Satisfaction filled the high elf when he saw an angry glint in his father's eyes.
Like father, like son, Trálír thought and looked at his father with his chin up, his shoulders hunched, back straight.
"Then I can assume that you and your whore are building a love nest?" The ruler's insulting words filled Trálír's chamber and he took a deep breath to maintain his composure.
"Good, so you don't want to answer my question?" Trálír, the elder, stated. "Then I assume I'm right."
Trálír's gaze was still fixed on his father, whose menacing presence filled the room.
The ruling high elf reached for the document, rolled it up with unnerving slowness and then tapped the parchment on the table several times, as if he was thinking about what he would say next.
But Trálír knew that this was all just a farce, because his father was never at a loss for words. Neither words nor deeds.
"Well, I've come to terms with you spending your free time in the lap of a human woman, son. Still, I would have thought you had a little more taste." Trálír gritted his teeth in anger and unconsciously clenched his fists, but he kept his innate composure. Even if it demanded everything of him, because he would love to hurl all the suppressed rage of the past decades at his father.
"But I'm surprised that you have the audacity to pay your whore out of my property."
"Your property?" Trálír asked, stunned. "Your property?"
He shook his head with a suppressed snort.
"For one thing, this property belongs to the Shadowlands and for another..." Trálír's gaze from the blue-green eyes was filled with rage. "For another, this is my mother's inheritance."
"You forget yourself, son," growled Trálír, the Elder, and rose from the armchair, his palms pressed on the table, his body tense as if he were a predator that would attack its victim in the next moment.
"Oh no, I'm not forgetting myself, father," Trálír replied with anger in his voice. "The fortune belongs to our family, to this land, and I am the firstborn as if I have the same rights as you, even if you don't like it. You were the one who married into this family. Your blood is someone else's blood."
"How much you rely on your title as firstborn, Trálír. Especially when it works in your favour. You haven't even reached adulthood yet, son. You still have more than 20 years to go."
"And yet I am your successor, my mother's son. And that gives me the right to draw on our fortune," Trálír replied grimly. "But if you're so keen on the gold coins I used to make up for the injustice you initiated, then why don't you just reach into the many chests of gold we own? Take it, there's more than enough. I don't care if you feast on my inheritance."
"Maybe you won't be my heir by then," Trálír the elder replied threateningly. His son began to laugh.
"You could do me no greater favour than to disinherit me, father! Don't force yourself, disinherit me, banish me! I do not care. I don't care in the slightest."
"Enough!" roared the ruler, but his son did not pause and continued: "All you have to do is say it, father, and I'll leave this godforsaken place in the next second."
Trálír saw in his father's face how he weighed up this possibility for a brief moment and finally said quietly with a serious look: "You don't need me, father. Leave my place to Teárlach."
The ruler scoffed. "Teárlach? Are you serious? He is insane! He's as addicted to madness as your mother was. A curse of your damned blood."
Trálír shook his head, a painful twinge in his chest as he heard his father denigrate his deceased mother. "And whose fault is that?"
"Careful, Trálír," the high elf warned quietly through clenched teeth.
"Teárlach has not gone mad, father. The reason for the darkness that torments his soul is you. Your humiliations, your beatings, your forbidding him and me not to help him, your accusing Teárlach of being responsible for his mother's death have fuelled this darkness in him. And you still do it every damn day."
The high elf, the ruler, stepped around the table and walked slowly and menacingly towards his son, his index finger raised. "I'm warning you, Trálír." He emphasised every single word, making it clear to his son that he was not far from crossing a line that he would do well to avoid.
"And mum wasn't addicted to madness either. She was lonely, desperate, humiliated. Do you really think I believe that her suicide was the result of madness?
She killed herself because she could no longer bear the way you mistreated and abused her."
In the blink of an eye, Trálír the Elder stood before his son and clasped his hands around his son's neck, dark anger blazing in his light grey eyes.
"Enough!"
He pushed Trálír back forcefully, who stumbled backwards a few steps, then lost his balance and fell to the ground. He looked angrily at his father, who was towering in front of him.
"Do you really think you could have stopped me from entering your forbidden west wing and mother's chamber? I found her diaries, I read what you did to her, father. I know the truth and I know what you did."
The look in Trálír's blue-grey eyes was accusing, his voice a mixture of pain and bitterness.
The ruler took a step back, looked down at his firstborn and said softly, "If you tell anyone this secret, Trálír, you will regret it."
He turned round, walked through the chamber until he reached the door and added: "But I will not kill you, son. Your whore will have to suffer the consequences."
And with these words, he left Trálír's chamber and closed the door behind him, leaving his son behind him, his eyes wide with terror and fear in his heart.
I hope you'll enjoy it.
♥
Anwyn sat at the table, smiling and quietly observing the men around her. Her father sat opposite her and was engaged in a lively conversation with Conall, who told him that his uncle was also a fisherman. They talked about the height of water needed to make a successful catch, about the ebb and flow of the tide or large accumulations of brown algae, which were usually home to many different types of predatory fish.
Trálír and Ulthred talked about the news the half-elf had heard in Silverdew and while everyone was engrossed in their conversations, Anwyn stood up and began to clear away the used crockery. Her father raised his eyes and she gave him a warm smile as she placed the plates in the wicker basket that stood beside the table.
Anwyn lifted the heavy basket, propped it up a little with her hip and walked through the courtyard. Since there was a high wall protecting the house, the stable and the enclosure, Anwyn was no longer able to walk over hill and dale to the spring as she had done all those years. However, as the wall ensured the safety of the animals, herself and her father, Anwyn was happy to take the short diversions to the spring.
When she reached her destination, she put down the full basket, got down on her knees and let her hand glide slowly through the flowing water. Lost in thought, she took the used crockery out of the basket, placed it on the grass and then gently lowered herself to her knees as she listened to the birdsong in the nearby forest, which merged with the distant crashing of the waves on the shore.
Anwyn was quietly and diligently washing the plates, mugs and knives when a slight clearing of the throat made her look up.
A fond smile slid across her face.
"You're not going to do all the work on your own, are you?" Anwyn heard Trálír say and she laughed heartily.
"Are you offering yourself?" she asked with a grin and the high elf raised an eyebrow in amusement.
"We'd just have to talk about the appropriate wage."
"Not until I see how well you can work," Anwyn replied with a chuckle. Trálír laughed too, walked round the spring and sat down next to Anwyn, who handed him a plate which he let slide into the water. Silently but feeling safe in each other's presence, she and the high elf washed the dishes, which they then laid out on the grass to dry. When they had finished their work, Anwyn stood up, bent forwards and removed her sandals from her feet. She looked at Trálír, grinned and settled back down, lifting the skirt of her dress to her knees and then sliding her legs into the still-warm water. Anwyn closed her eyes and sighed in relaxation. Trálír followed her example and took off his boots, which he placed on the grass beside him. As the fabric of his breeches only went just below his knees, he was able to let his legs slide into the water without any further effort. He relaxed and let his head sink into his neck, closed his eyes and moved his right hand slightly to the side until he felt Anwyn's, which he then took in his own.
He smiled as he felt her fingers gently squeeze his.
"What are you thinking about?" Trálír asked softly after a while and looked at Anwyn.
Her eyes opened and a hint of melancholy could be read in them.
"Only a few more ten days and the harvest season will be behind us, the days will be shorter, the sun will be hidden behind the dark clouds in the firmament.
The nights will get colder, the white season will be upon us."
Trálír noticed a hint of pain sliding across Anwyn's face, her eyebrows drawing together in concern and the corners of her mouth tightening.
"It won't be an easy time," she said, her voice low.
"But you don't have to worry, Anwyn. The animals are safe, there's enough hay and fodder for dozens of tens of days, the cellar is filled with enough wood and food. Your father and you won't have to go hungry," Trálír replied, trying to alleviate Anwyn's obvious concern with these words.
"But that's not what's bothering me," Anwyn replied, sheepishly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she gnawed uncertainly on her lower lip.
"But?" Trálír raised an eyebrow questioningly and saw the hesitation in her gaze. She avoided looking him in the eye and stared at their clasped hands. Trálír waited patiently for Anwyn to continue, but she remained silent instead.
"Won't you tell me what's bothering you, Anwyn?"
She nodded in the affirmative, but still no words escaped her lips. She was so obviously agonising over what was troubling her heart and her inability to express it that Trálír leaned towards her and gently pressed his lips to her cheek.
"I... I'll miss you," Anwyn suddenly burst out, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment. Despite the high elf's obvious affection for her, Anwyn feared that he might make fun of her emotional outburst. Nothing in their past, in their shared experience, had ever indicated this, but Anwyn feared that something would happen, something that would not favour the happiness she felt. She feared the proverbial calm before the storm, as the last few months had been such a contrast to her entire existence.
All the happiness she and her father had experienced in the last few weeks had been the complete opposite of what they had had to live through over the years. The poverty, the daily struggle for survival, the hunger in the cold months, the danger that just a moment of carelessness could cost their lives.
Her heart beat loudly in her chest, her throat was tight and she feared Trálír's reaction to her words, not realising that he was so full of love and deep affection that he would have loved to pull her into his arms.
"I know it will be a difficult time for us," Trálír replied, trying not to add to Anwyn's worries. "The paths are icy, it's bitterly cold and metre-high snowdrifts will prevent us from seeing each other. But I've already thought of a way for us to keep in touch."
Anwyn looked at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty. "You've found a way?"
Trálír nodded.
"But how would that work? Is there magic involved?"
"It won't be quite that complicated, Anwyn. There are a dozen carrier pigeons at our castle and it will be easy to keep in touch with you in writing. I know that it will be impossible for us to see and talk to each other. Nevertheless, we can exchange ideas, we are not far from each other and can read what the other feels or thinks."
A relieved smile spread across Anwyn's face.
"Now that we've realised all our plans for your farm, I need a new field of activity to be near you. Acclimatising a pigeon to a new location is the right occupation to fill all our days until the foggy moon begins."
"Yes, that sounds like a good suggestion," she replied.
"A very, very good suggestion," whispered Trálír, cupped Anwyn's chin with his thumb and index finger and stole a long and gentle kiss from her.
It was late in the afternoon and it would not be long before the sun would set. The approaching evening was also noticeable in the diminishing bustle in the castle courtyard, for most of the servants were busy in their designated work areas, the animals had long since been fed and only once or twice did a monk walk across the courtyard, his face hidden in the documents he held in his hand. Teárlach chuckled as he imagined that the monk was so busy with this old paper that he would walk blindly into a closed door. But when he lifted his eyes from the parchment and opened the door without difficulty, he grimaced in frustration.
He was bored, sitting here on a half-straight block of wood next to the smithy where the blacksmith was busy sharpening the soldiers' weapons so that they stayed pristine.
As if that makes any sense, Teárlach thought and sighed in exasperation. There's not even a hint of a problem, let alone an approaching war.
Bored, the high elf folded his strong arms in front of his chest and crossed his long legs as his gaze fell on the bailiff's chamber, which had just been opened. To his surprise, he saw his father step out of the chamber, also holding a parchment in his hands, who forcefully pulled the door shut behind him, causing it to crash into the frame.
Interested, Teárlach raised an eyebrow and watched the ruler, whose face was filled with anger as he strode across the courtyard. Not only was his expression drenched in anger, but his body was also stiff with tension, resentment had taken possession of him.
Teárlach knew his father and his outbursts of anger well enough to recognise that the balled fist, the clenched teeth, the dark look, the tense chest and the stiff back were a clear sign that something had happened that had clearly displeased him, Trálír the Elder. And Teárlach knew only too well what the consequences were when the ruler lost control.
Nevertheless, he could not contain his curiosity and followed his father unobtrusively as he strode through the great hall in a bad mood.
The soldiers and servants present cleared the way for him without being asked, some looking to the next, worry and apprehension in their eyes. The ruler of the castle stomped up the stairs with a grim look on his face and disappeared into the long corridor, while Teárlach hurried up the stairs as well and watched out of the corner of his eye as his father disappeared into Trálír's chamber.
"Trálír?" Teárlach murmured and walked quietly through the deserted corridor, incomprehension and surprise in his voice. A dozen paces from Trálír's chamber, the corridor split to the left and right and was supported by pillars carved into the stone. The high elf used the pillar on the left to hide in the shadows, keeping a close eye on the corridor ahead.
The sun had already set a while ago, the sky dark but still starry. As Arod trotted leisurely across the bridge, the clacking of his hooves echoing through the night, Trálír put his head back and stared up at the sky, awed by the endless number of stars that called the firmament their home. Trálír felt Arod slow and stop and he turned his gaze ahead of him, seeing two guards standing at the castle gate, torches illuminating their focussed faces. When they recognised the ruler's son, they nodded politely to him and bowed slightly.
Trálír returned the nod and steered Arod into the castle courtyard, which lay silent and deserted before him.
The stallion found his own way to the stables without Trálír's help and stopped as usual when they were only a few steps away. Trálír swung himself out of the saddle, grabbed the reins and led the stallion into the stable. Fairre, the old stable master who lived in a small chamber above the wodden bulding, would already be resting at this time of night and Trálír would have preferred nothing more than to wake him from his sleep. So he led Arod into his stall and freed him from his saddle and bridle, which the horse greeted with a whinny. A smile slipped across Trálír's lips as he gently ran his hand over his stallion's nostrils. He turned away and filled Arod's kobe with fresh hay, then reached into a basket of vegetables and handed his stallion some turnips before leaving the stable and closing the gate behind him.
As he entered the Great Hall, the crackling of the large fire pit in the centre and the torches on the pillars filled the hall that lay silently before him. Trálír's footsteps echoed audibly through the hall as he walked to the Grand Staircase and then used it to stride towards his chamber.
He opened the door and was irritated the moment he looked into his brightly lit room.
Why are there candles burning here when I haven't been in the house all day? Trálír asked himself wondering as he took a step into his chamber. And the moment he finished this thought, he knew why. His gaze fell on the powerful figure sitting at his desk, his back straight, his chin proudly raised, his arms folded in front of his broad chest. The look in his light grey eyes was piercing.
"Father?" Trálír stood in the open doorway in consternation and watched as his father uncrossed his arms and gestured with his right hand for his first-born to enter.
As if I needed an invitation to enter my own realm, Trálír thought disgruntledly and saw his father's eyebrows draw together. For a moment, the high elf wondered if his father was intruding on his thoughts, but he could not tell that he was. He felt no invasion in his mind.
Trálír entered slowly, closed the door behind him and walked into the centre of the room, facing his father, who was now leaning back in the large armchair and pointing to a document in front of him.
"Explain this to me," he demanded of his son and let his gaze slide to the parchment in front of him.
Trálír knew what was written on the parchment, for he had recognised the castle governor's handwriting a few moments ago. It was a list of the goods he had taken in the last ten days and yet he stepped forward, took the document in his hand and skimmed it.
Not only was the amount of goods and wares listed, but also the coins he had used to purchase the animals and the wages for Conall and Ulthred.
Trálír lowered the parchment and placed it on the table, aware that his father's eyes were watching every movement, every expression on his face.
"So, don't you want to explain yourself?"
The ruler's voice was harsh, merciless. Even if he had spoken few words, Trálír was well aware of the danger that still lay in the dark. This was a moment he would have liked to avoid, even though he had realised for some time that this confrontation between him and his father was unavoidable.
He sighed inwardly.
"Do we really want to play this game, father?" Trálír asked bluntly. "I'm sure you know very well what this is all about."
"Well, I don't expect you to use the goods and gold coins to build a new castle." The dark voice of Trálír, the elder, dripped with mockery. "With just two helpers, you would probably spend a whole century building it."
"An excellent observation, father," Trálír replied, his voice clothed in a hint of arrogance. Satisfaction filled the high elf when he saw an angry glint in his father's eyes.
Like father, like son, Trálír thought and looked at his father with his chin up, his shoulders hunched, back straight.
"Then I can assume that you and your whore are building a love nest?" The ruler's insulting words filled Trálír's chamber and he took a deep breath to maintain his composure.
"Good, so you don't want to answer my question?" Trálír, the elder, stated. "Then I assume I'm right."
Trálír's gaze was still fixed on his father, whose menacing presence filled the room.
The ruling high elf reached for the document, rolled it up with unnerving slowness and then tapped the parchment on the table several times, as if he was thinking about what he would say next.
But Trálír knew that this was all just a farce, because his father was never at a loss for words. Neither words nor deeds.
"Well, I've come to terms with you spending your free time in the lap of a human woman, son. Still, I would have thought you had a little more taste." Trálír gritted his teeth in anger and unconsciously clenched his fists, but he kept his innate composure. Even if it demanded everything of him, because he would love to hurl all the suppressed rage of the past decades at his father.
"But I'm surprised that you have the audacity to pay your whore out of my property."
"Your property?" Trálír asked, stunned. "Your property?"
He shook his head with a suppressed snort.
"For one thing, this property belongs to the Shadowlands and for another..." Trálír's gaze from the blue-green eyes was filled with rage. "For another, this is my mother's inheritance."
"You forget yourself, son," growled Trálír, the Elder, and rose from the armchair, his palms pressed on the table, his body tense as if he were a predator that would attack its victim in the next moment.
"Oh no, I'm not forgetting myself, father," Trálír replied with anger in his voice. "The fortune belongs to our family, to this land, and I am the firstborn as if I have the same rights as you, even if you don't like it. You were the one who married into this family. Your blood is someone else's blood."
"How much you rely on your title as firstborn, Trálír. Especially when it works in your favour. You haven't even reached adulthood yet, son. You still have more than 20 years to go."
"And yet I am your successor, my mother's son. And that gives me the right to draw on our fortune," Trálír replied grimly. "But if you're so keen on the gold coins I used to make up for the injustice you initiated, then why don't you just reach into the many chests of gold we own? Take it, there's more than enough. I don't care if you feast on my inheritance."
"Maybe you won't be my heir by then," Trálír the elder replied threateningly. His son began to laugh.
"You could do me no greater favour than to disinherit me, father! Don't force yourself, disinherit me, banish me! I do not care. I don't care in the slightest."
"Enough!" roared the ruler, but his son did not pause and continued: "All you have to do is say it, father, and I'll leave this godforsaken place in the next second."
Trálír saw in his father's face how he weighed up this possibility for a brief moment and finally said quietly with a serious look: "You don't need me, father. Leave my place to Teárlach."
The ruler scoffed. "Teárlach? Are you serious? He is insane! He's as addicted to madness as your mother was. A curse of your damned blood."
Trálír shook his head, a painful twinge in his chest as he heard his father denigrate his deceased mother. "And whose fault is that?"
"Careful, Trálír," the high elf warned quietly through clenched teeth.
"Teárlach has not gone mad, father. The reason for the darkness that torments his soul is you. Your humiliations, your beatings, your forbidding him and me not to help him, your accusing Teárlach of being responsible for his mother's death have fuelled this darkness in him. And you still do it every damn day."
The high elf, the ruler, stepped around the table and walked slowly and menacingly towards his son, his index finger raised. "I'm warning you, Trálír." He emphasised every single word, making it clear to his son that he was not far from crossing a line that he would do well to avoid.
"And mum wasn't addicted to madness either. She was lonely, desperate, humiliated. Do you really think I believe that her suicide was the result of madness?
She killed herself because she could no longer bear the way you mistreated and abused her."
In the blink of an eye, Trálír the Elder stood before his son and clasped his hands around his son's neck, dark anger blazing in his light grey eyes.
"Enough!"
He pushed Trálír back forcefully, who stumbled backwards a few steps, then lost his balance and fell to the ground. He looked angrily at his father, who was towering in front of him.
"Do you really think you could have stopped me from entering your forbidden west wing and mother's chamber? I found her diaries, I read what you did to her, father. I know the truth and I know what you did."
The look in Trálír's blue-grey eyes was accusing, his voice a mixture of pain and bitterness.
The ruler took a step back, looked down at his firstborn and said softly, "If you tell anyone this secret, Trálír, you will regret it."
He turned round, walked through the chamber until he reached the door and added: "But I will not kill you, son. Your whore will have to suffer the consequences."
And with these words, he left Trálír's chamber and closed the door behind him, leaving his son behind him, his eyes wide with terror and fear in his heart.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-04 01:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-10 09:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-05 08:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-10 09:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-05 11:34 am (UTC)Ich möchte dir auch noch mal sagen, dass ich mich zwar immer freue, wenn du ein neues Kapitel postest, aber du auf keinen Fall ein schlechtes Gewissen haben oder dich unter Druck gesetzt fühlen musst, wenn du mal etwas länger keines veröffentlichst. ❤️
Am wichtigsten ist mir, dass du dir die Zeit nimmst die du brauchst , zu trauern und gut für dich sorgst.
Ich denke an dich und bin für dich da, falls du mal reden möchtest oder eine Schulter zum Ausweinen brauchst.
Hab dich lieb ❤️
(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-10 09:28 am (UTC)❤️️
Ich kann noch ein paar Kapitel posten, da ich sozusagen ein bisschen vorgeschrieben habe. ;)
Aber seit vorgestern bin ich ja wieder am schreiben und es geht ein bisschen vorwärts. :)
Und danke, vielen Dank, für dein Verständnis und deine lieben Worte. Diese bedeuten mir sehr, sehr viel. ❤️️
Ich hab dich auch lieb. ❤️️
(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-10 03:44 pm (UTC)Das mag ich auch immer lieber in Geschichten, daher bin ich ja auch z.B. so fasziniert von True Crime...dabei geht es ja auch oft um die Frage, warum Menschen bestimmte Verbrechen begehen, wie sie so geworden sind und die Frage, wie man evtl Taten in der Zukunft verhindern kann etc.
Aber seit vorgestern bin ich ja wieder am schreiben und es geht ein bisschen vorwärts. :)
Das freut mich sehr!
Und danke, vielen Dank, für dein Verständnis und deine lieben Worte. Diese bedeuten mir sehr, sehr viel. ❤️️
Gerne ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-18 08:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-07 08:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-10 09:50 am (UTC)