aChapter 2
A fire was growing inside of Clal, he could feel it. He stoked the coals of the fire everyone had helped to build. It was the story. Rythe’s story.
Rythe and Ansa hadn’t talked to Clal much since returning from the river. They had all unpacked, laid out their sleeping gear and were now watching Turl as he stood up in front of the fire.
“Well, apple mavens and maidens,” Turl held out his hands, “I believe it’s time for some stories. Yes?”
“Horay!” Mina cheered.
“Come on, Turl. Tell us some good ones.” Gree said hitting his stick he found against a half unearthed rock by where he was sitting.
“Okay. Okay.” Turl chuckled. “Assuming you calm down…”
“Now…Rythe here, he’s new to our little tradition.” Turl steps over to where Rythe is sitting, a top a large boulder with one foot on and his elbow resting on his knee.
“Rythe, welcome. And so, every year on the night before we begin our apple selling season in the merchant’s market of Eldan Vyum, we do a little…” Turl looks at Mina who smiles and giggles, “you know, kind of a,” Turl turns and looks behind again, this time at Gree who is now frowning and waving his brother on, “er…oh yes, we tell stories, sing a song and roast apples, then we go to bed.”
Rythe looks at Clal, then to Ansa and smiles, “Sounds fun.” And, Rythe meant it. This was one kind of activity that he’d never before been a part of, being an only child. In fact, as he thought about it, he really had had to grow up rather fast.
Turl spun around on his heals and clapped his hands twice. His broad torso flexing as he pulled his hands to his chin and stuck out his pointer finger.
“Alright, shall we go top to bottom or the other way around?”
“Start at the top,” they all yelled, all except for Mina who wanted to start at the bottom.
“Okay. Alright,” Turl said, “We’ll start at the bottom.” He leaned close to Mina and pulled her off the ground onto his shoulders.
“Here we have the youngest of our crew, Mina the Marvouslous.” Mina put her hands to her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Rythe, one thing I didn’t mention is that these stories are about each one of us between when we went to market last year up until now. So…”
Turl closed one eye then turned and looked up at Mina with his other eye as his mouth bunched up to one side of his face under his high cheek bone. He hopped forward one step and said, with his hand in the air, “I think I’ve got it.”
“Mina, about seven months ago, when the snow was thick and wet, pulled on her warm clothes and marched out to build something in the snow. Gree was still asleep, or else he too would have been with her. I remember looking out of the window watching as she started. I wasn’t asleep but was not ready to brave the cold wind. But, Mina was. That’s didn’t stop her.”
Turl patted her leg. Another giggle escaped her before she could catch it.
“She was out there for a while, came in, and pulled me into the clutches of winter outside. ‘What is this?’ I asked as we approached the tiny snow dragon. Mina replied, ‘It’s my snow dragon.’ ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Well, where are it’s wings?’ Mina cocked her head, then put her finger to her forehead. She then jumped up to grab two twigs, stuck them into the dragon and said, ‘There. Two wings.’ ‘And, does she have a name,’ I asked Mina.’”
Turl raised his hand, “and this is the reason for telling the story. Mina, do you remember what you told me?”
Mina nodded her head. “Yes. I said that she was named Dreamfinder because some day I want to fly on a white dragon like that,” Mina smiled, “only much bigger.”
The others laughed as Turl pulled Mina off his shoulders. “Yes, much, much bigger,” he said. Mina returned to sit beside Ansa. Gree stood up and walked to stand by Turl.
“Gree has grown this year.” Turl pinched Gree’s biceps, “grown strong too.” Turl balled up his fists and started to dance around and put in a few soft blows to Gree’s stomach who jabbed Turl’s left ribs after which Turl whines and walked to stand by Gree again.
“Last month, you see…Gree went climbing,” Turl paused and raised his eyebrows, “…a tree. And he said to me from a top that tree.” ‘Hey Turl,’ said he, ‘Watch me.’”
“Which I did.” Turl said while Gree put one hand to his brow, shook his head and looked at the ground.
Turl looked up out to Rythe and Clal, Ansa and Mina as they all watched and waited.
“Gree inched toward the middle of a branch as far as it would allow him without bending or breaking,” Turl clapped his hands and Mina shouted while the others listened just jumped, except for Rythe.
“Then Gree ran from the tree limb, around the trunk and onto another tree limb then leaped toward a branch of another tree sailing through the sky.” Turl took one hand and waived it over through the air.
Now, the rest of the story goes like this, “Gree didn’t have any wings, like Mina’s snow dragon, Dreamfinder, so, naturally,” Turl swooped his hand downward, “Gree had to come down.” Turl paused, “Which…he did, reaching for whatever tree limb he could hang on to.”
Turl put two hands on his hips then announced, “And as he came down, Gree’s voice got louder until both Gree and his yelling stopped.” Turl paused with wide eyes. “…just two feet above the ground.”
Turl turned to Gree, “another daring act survived by our young master Gree.”
Turl started a clap and the others joined in. Gree was now blushing as he walked to his spot and sat down in the grass.
Turl walked back and forth for a moment then pointed to Ansa. “Okay Ansa, you are next. This will not be easy. Too many to choose from.”
Ansa gasped and jumped up from where she was sitting then stood close to the fire rubbing her hands together.
“Ansa is full of wisdom and surprises. I dare say she’s the wittiest of us all,” Turl turned and said in a hushed voice, “though, I’d like to believe I’ve can play wit now and again too.”
He turned to the audience, “This year, Ansa could be found chasing a number of animals…like…birds…frogs…and butterflies.”
Ansa turned from the fire to listen. “Ansa do you remember when spring was ending and we had climbed up to the only lake ole’ Crescent Keep mountain allows to nestle in its climbs?”
“Nimle Top?” Ansa said.
“Yes.” Turl said. “And, do you remember what happened there?”
Ansa cocked her head, “No, I don’t.”
“There were dragon flies out that early morning. Clal was gone and Gree wasn’t with us either. Just me and the girls.” Turl looked off into the distance. “And, you said one landed on your hand as you were looking out into the water.”
Turl’s gaze froze on his own hand as he continued the story.
“While we were climbing down later, you were behind me. You described the dragon fly to me.” Turl smiled slightly.
“You described the magic of the colors in its eyes, the head and body and the way the feet poked out, every detail. And…I remember that by the time you were done I had forgotten who I was, where I was going, and your voice almost sounded like you were singing the song of the dragon fly to me.”
Ansa giggled.
“That’s Ansa, all things animal and creatures.” Turl said.
Ansa walked back to her spot in the grass.
“It’s a gift, Ansa. A gift.”
At this, Rythe looked over at Ansa who was looking at him. He smiled and she shrugged her shoulders. Rythe clasped his thumbs together and fanned out his fingers flapped them as he moved his now, concocted dragon fly in a figure eight motion. Ansa smiled and nodded slowly.
“Clal, come up here, my brother.” Turl waved his hand.
“Now, Clal is leaving us, along with Ansa, this year.” Turl shook his head. “Too soon in my opinion. But…”
Turl came close to Clal and wrapped his arm around him.
“He’s going to become a blacksmith. And, I think, that fits Clal. Swords and shields and poking things.” Turl nudged Clal with a finger in his ribs.
“I remember one evening when we were pruning the apple trees and mother called us in for meal time. Clal,” Turl turned to him, “you stayed out there, sort of, dawdled so as to be the last one there.”
Clal looked up at Turl and nodded.
“You took one of those cut branches, one that looked straight and long and it had two branches sticking out so as to look like the hilt of a sword.”
Clal started to smile.
“You looked around to see if anyone was watching.” Turl smiled. “That’s when I hid myself more secretly.” Turl turned to everyone and said, “Then I heard Clal say, ‘I have the upper hand now. Don’t think I can’t finish this off the way I meant to. The way it’s always supposed to have gone.’ Then, Clal thrust forward and I don’t think I’ve ever seen such sword’s play in all my days. Clal…” Turl turned to Clal who was looking down at the ground.
“I would feel safe with you in my midst among any threat of creature or minis that exists in all this land.”
Turl clapped which caused the rest to clap. Clal smiled then hit Turl on the arm which caused both to start laughing. Clal returned to his seat where Turl came and sat beside him.
Ansa stood up, slowly walked toward the fire then turned quickly around on her heals.
“Turl. Turl. Turl.” Ansa shook her head as she spoke. “What to say about our eldest brother Turl. Hmm…oh…I think I have something.”
Ansa froze then hopped forward an inch.
“The rotten apple.” She turned to Turl. “Do you remember.”
“Ansa…no.” He smiled looking down at his left hand. “No, please. Not that one.”
“Turl, there are no rules to this here tradition.” Ansa smiled wide.
“When we were picking apples just a week or two ago, Turl was high on a ladder filling another basket full. Er…two baskets I believe it was.”
Turl nodded, then shook his head holding up two fingers.
“And somehow, the ladder couldn’t handle all of that weight. It started tipping with Turl on it.” Ansa let out a sharp chirp after which she put her hand on her mouth to prevent any further interruption.
“That’s when Turl started to yell and swerve and he tipped mouth open wide.” Ansa stopped and chuckled then composed herself.
“I…” she paused and turned straight face out of force, unsure if she could finish the story. But, having committed to tell it all the way through, she continued, unabated.
“Now, I believe in miracles, but never of this kind or s…ss…sort.” Ansa stood still for a moment then continued.
“On the way down,” she was now talking very fast. “Turl caught a branch.” She shook her head, “No, not with his hands or feet, but with his mouth, his teeth sinking right into that soft bark and lo,” she stood up straight with her hands out, “he stopped himself from falling, with a bark and a bite.”
Ansa couldn’t hold it in any longer she started wailing uncontrollably as the others couldn’t help but join her. If it was Ansa laughing or the story itself, or both, no one knew. However, the laughing went on for a good few minutes and begin to die down after Turl replaced Ansa at the fire.
“If mother and father were here we’d tell a few more stories.” Turl’s eyes looked back along the road toward the direction of their homestead. “This year, they decided to stay home for a few important reasons.”
“This is where we end our story telling with a lullaby that mother composed,” Turl smiles slightly, “she says, when I was just a few weeks old.” He looked at each of them, “and has sang to all of us when we’ve been scared. It goes like this.”
Is it enough to belabor the broom…
Is it enough to believe in a star
When the day is a blanket over
Will the night come with the moon over head
Sailing bright over head
If she spoke would I hear her voice call
When they all finished singing, except for Rythe who had never heard the song before, they all embraced then went to their separate sleeping areas.
Clal had turned toward the fire thinking about the stories that Turl had told.
(Gifts from Gree and Mina)
(Sleep)
(Wake up)
(To the river)
(No light, moon full. Enough light to shine on the surface)
(Clal sees woman behind him, reflection, turns, no one.)
(Goes back and sleeps.)N
*