Darkhawk76
08-17-06, 04:33 PM
Closed to these (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=2289)
Have you ever woken up and wondered why you were alive? Have your eyes flittered open to gaze up at a worn wooded ceiling, thinking it to be one of the greatest works of art? Have your fingers gently wiggled to prove that they are still, in fact, still movable? Have your hands scoured over your body, finding everything in its place? Have you ever woken up when you could have sworn you shouldn’t have?
In the world of Althanas, in a deep fertile valley, in the small village of Relaviv, I awoke in just such a manner.
I allowed myself a very rare smile as I finished proving I was alive.
“Finally.”
I turned my head to look up into the face of a middle aged woman. She was short and round, with a kindly face and rosy cheeks. She stood in the doorway of the small room I had awoken in, her hands carrying a basin with water, a towel, and some bandages.
“I was wondering how long you were going to be out. You’ve been asleep for two days and however long you were on the mountain side.”
I tried to speak, but my voice came raspy and dry. The woman was at my side then, grabbing a cup sitting on the bedside table, dipping it into the water, and bringing it to my lips. I drank three cupfuls before working my mouth around.
“Thank you,” I said in a hoarse voice.
She simply smiled. “My name’s Adia.”
I smiled back, thankful for her kindness. “Kyle.”
* * *
I was up and running in a few days. Adia was the matron of a small farming family in Relaviv, and also the town healer. She had no extraordinary powers, save that which only a woman born to be a caretaker truly has. Still, under her care I was able to get around on my own pretty quickly.
It was amazing really. I had multiple wounds that came from various weapons, a few cracked ribs, and a heavy dose of exhaustion. She was able to mend me though.
I spent my first day out of my small room walking around the small village. Everyone was friendly, though I believe some took affront at my lack of a smile. With my mending came back that lack of joy, so I responded to their smiles and great hellos with a simple wave.
I noticed the whispers though. They were quiet as mice, but a horde of mice makes a lot of noise.
“He came from the other side.”
“Do you think he’s a survivor?”
“Maybe he’s one of them.”
“I bet he killed ten bandits.”
“He helped slaughter those poor people.”
I knew what they were talking about. It was the most vivid thing in my mind. I couldn’t remember how I walked all the way over the mountain and into the valley, but I remember clearly what happened on the other side.
It was two days later that I was approached by a traveling bard. He introduced himself as Jean Gerard Arnal. The man gave only one try towards becoming my friend. I said in no uncertain terms, that I didn’t need one. Then he tried the forward approach.
“I am looking for the story of the town of Rovina. I believe you are one of the few who survived it.”
I looked at the man, smiling flamboyantly with a lute strapped to his back and a garish feather hat sitting atop his head.
“You mean you want to hear what I lived through. That isn’t a story. It really happened.”
“Of course it did. All good stories begin with the truth. The ones that don’t begin with it die away and are forgotten.”
His smile was infuriating. I smiled back. Mine wasn’t at all friendly.
“Alright, I’ll tell you what happened.”
* * *
“I came to Rovina for no real reason,” I began, “much as I came to all the villages before it. It was dirty and small, with too many people for its size. Besides that it was much like this one. It had its kind old women, gabbing old men, worrisome mothers, hardworking fathers, troublesome boys, and innocent girls.
“And pig pens. It had a lot of pig pens.
“After waking up from sleeping in a forest, I had made the decision to stay the next night in a bed, in whatever town or village I came across. I came across Rovina midmorning.
“Now I had a day to waste, because if I left for wherever it was I was going (which even I don’t know where that is), I would end up spending another night in the woods.
“Rovina was on the other side of the mountain as you know. It dealt in the lumber trade, cutting down lots of the forest that covers the mountain.
“Either way, I spent the morning of the first day in the local tavern. It was relatively empty, what with most of the workers out in the woods. It wasn’t anything fancy, some tables, and a bar. Only one barmaid was working since the mornings were so slow, and the tavern keeper was standing behind the bar, cleaning this one glass over and over.
“I took a seat and prepared to wait out the day. If I knew what was coming that night, I would have left the stinking mud hole that morning and been far away when the hell broke loose.
Have you ever woken up and wondered why you were alive? Have your eyes flittered open to gaze up at a worn wooded ceiling, thinking it to be one of the greatest works of art? Have your fingers gently wiggled to prove that they are still, in fact, still movable? Have your hands scoured over your body, finding everything in its place? Have you ever woken up when you could have sworn you shouldn’t have?
In the world of Althanas, in a deep fertile valley, in the small village of Relaviv, I awoke in just such a manner.
I allowed myself a very rare smile as I finished proving I was alive.
“Finally.”
I turned my head to look up into the face of a middle aged woman. She was short and round, with a kindly face and rosy cheeks. She stood in the doorway of the small room I had awoken in, her hands carrying a basin with water, a towel, and some bandages.
“I was wondering how long you were going to be out. You’ve been asleep for two days and however long you were on the mountain side.”
I tried to speak, but my voice came raspy and dry. The woman was at my side then, grabbing a cup sitting on the bedside table, dipping it into the water, and bringing it to my lips. I drank three cupfuls before working my mouth around.
“Thank you,” I said in a hoarse voice.
She simply smiled. “My name’s Adia.”
I smiled back, thankful for her kindness. “Kyle.”
* * *
I was up and running in a few days. Adia was the matron of a small farming family in Relaviv, and also the town healer. She had no extraordinary powers, save that which only a woman born to be a caretaker truly has. Still, under her care I was able to get around on my own pretty quickly.
It was amazing really. I had multiple wounds that came from various weapons, a few cracked ribs, and a heavy dose of exhaustion. She was able to mend me though.
I spent my first day out of my small room walking around the small village. Everyone was friendly, though I believe some took affront at my lack of a smile. With my mending came back that lack of joy, so I responded to their smiles and great hellos with a simple wave.
I noticed the whispers though. They were quiet as mice, but a horde of mice makes a lot of noise.
“He came from the other side.”
“Do you think he’s a survivor?”
“Maybe he’s one of them.”
“I bet he killed ten bandits.”
“He helped slaughter those poor people.”
I knew what they were talking about. It was the most vivid thing in my mind. I couldn’t remember how I walked all the way over the mountain and into the valley, but I remember clearly what happened on the other side.
It was two days later that I was approached by a traveling bard. He introduced himself as Jean Gerard Arnal. The man gave only one try towards becoming my friend. I said in no uncertain terms, that I didn’t need one. Then he tried the forward approach.
“I am looking for the story of the town of Rovina. I believe you are one of the few who survived it.”
I looked at the man, smiling flamboyantly with a lute strapped to his back and a garish feather hat sitting atop his head.
“You mean you want to hear what I lived through. That isn’t a story. It really happened.”
“Of course it did. All good stories begin with the truth. The ones that don’t begin with it die away and are forgotten.”
His smile was infuriating. I smiled back. Mine wasn’t at all friendly.
“Alright, I’ll tell you what happened.”
* * *
“I came to Rovina for no real reason,” I began, “much as I came to all the villages before it. It was dirty and small, with too many people for its size. Besides that it was much like this one. It had its kind old women, gabbing old men, worrisome mothers, hardworking fathers, troublesome boys, and innocent girls.
“And pig pens. It had a lot of pig pens.
“After waking up from sleeping in a forest, I had made the decision to stay the next night in a bed, in whatever town or village I came across. I came across Rovina midmorning.
“Now I had a day to waste, because if I left for wherever it was I was going (which even I don’t know where that is), I would end up spending another night in the woods.
“Rovina was on the other side of the mountain as you know. It dealt in the lumber trade, cutting down lots of the forest that covers the mountain.
“Either way, I spent the morning of the first day in the local tavern. It was relatively empty, what with most of the workers out in the woods. It wasn’t anything fancy, some tables, and a bar. Only one barmaid was working since the mornings were so slow, and the tavern keeper was standing behind the bar, cleaning this one glass over and over.
“I took a seat and prepared to wait out the day. If I knew what was coming that night, I would have left the stinking mud hole that morning and been far away when the hell broke loose.