Vol.6, Ch.1, P.5
“Hm. Feels like forever ago, doesn’t it?” I mused to myself. The crickets were cricking away, and dusk dyed the skies in scarlet-wine, as I stood there lingering in memories. I was come back to Arbel; back to my former residence in my time as acting commandant to Balasthea.
Like forever ago, indeed. Last I saw this humble porch, it was morning as Mia and I made ready to journey into Nafílim country in quest of her sister Eva. I’d been back and forth in Arbel since then, of course, but not till today, on the way back from the ceremony at Déu Tsellin, had I finally got the chance to see the old abode again. And not just see, at that: I was to overnight here, in fact. As for the others returning with me, they’d all elected the inns of the city as their places of stay.
Setting down my baggage, I turned to gaze at the free-burgh sprawl, and then across to the south-east, where lay Former Isfält beyond the gloaming horizon. “Ceremony’s over and done with, and without a hitch, gladly enough,” I mused on with a sigh. “Now the rest lies with the greybeards, Alban and all.”
With many loose ends still to tie and much talk to be had, the jarl and some other high officials were to stay in Isfält for a few more days yet. Lise, too, had chosen to remain there for a while. Only, not for business as with her elders.
During the ceremony, she’d stood ever with Erika, embracing the fellow jarl-daughter who’d wept all through the proceedings. Poor Erika. It must’ve harrowed her heart to lose Walter and so many more of her clanmates. And so was explained Lise’s stay: she wished to be by Erika’s side for the time being, to be a salve for her many sorrows, if even a little.
“She’ll be all right, that one,” I pondered upon Erika. “In time… and in a friend’s embrace, I don’t doubt.”
Turning back to the abode, I opened the door, brought in my baggage, and after a deep breath, looked all about inside. More memories still came flooding back. Memories of loneliness; of learning; of daily little things done here and there—of living for naught, and then finding asudden a new fire for life. Though Hensen was dear to me now, altogether I couldn’t help but think very fondly of this small and dusty place.
Whilst going down memory lane, I went hither and thither, unshuttering the windows and making ready for the night. But then, I stopped.
“Mn? What’s this…?”
Inside my old room, I found the bed looking somewhat out of sorts. The sheets, rather—they were a bit rustled. How very strange. If memory served—and I remembered quite vividly—I’d made the bed neatly as per usual before setting out with Mia all that time ago.
“Can’t suppose anyone’s stayed here since I’d left, bidden or no…” I mumbled to myself. The door was unlocked when I came in, true, but that was a little favour from the quartermaster, and I couldn’t imagine that he’d come in to steal a little nap or some other mischief. No, that couldn’t be it. Uncertain, I scanned about some more. And then—…hwoh…—the air huffed, and at the edge of my vision, there passed briefly by a billow of… of white?
Going after it, I came out into the corridor. It was quiet. Quiet, and quite dim, for though some of the windows were open, the sun was now but a bright sliver in the horizon. The homely mirk seemed then mysterious all of a sudden, and not in a good way.
“…”
Cautiously, I crept down the corridor, keeping one hand upon the wall. Krrenk, krrenk, creaked the floorboards beneath my feet. And then, as I neared the other bedroom in the house, I sensed that I wasn’t alone.
“Here… maybe?”
In I went. And squinting amidst the mirk, I was summarily beset.
“Boo!”
“Uwoah!?”
I jumped, for springing from the side…
…was a ghost.
A white, little wight, cloaked from head to heel in a sheet of linen. Being well on my way towards certified swordsmanhood—and not to mention having survived haunted mines and many explosions—very few upon this plane could catch me unawares. But this little creature had achieved just that, and for one very good reason: it knew my nerves all too well, and had sprung right when I least expected it.
Bringing its sheet-draped hands to where its mouth ought be, the ghost then giggled, and rather adorably, I should add.
“Why… I’ll get you for that!” I cried.
“Yaah!” it squealed.
Doing a little springing of my own, I grabbed up the ghost, reeled and rolled it round and round in its own linen, before tossing it onto the bed nearby. Boffh, bounced the bundle of linen, and in a moment—
“Pwah!”
—out popped the face of a little lass.
Goodness me. That ever might come a day when she would play such a prank. Nay; I was glad for it. Very glad.
Indeed, in the short while after my return from the battle at Déu Tsellin, this dear lass had regained some of her erstwhile heart. That ever seemed the way of it with her: the more of her promises that I fulfilled, the more she brightened and blossomed. Mia: a living lesson in resilience; that even out of the deepest sorrow may one rise and wade back into the light. Whensoever I looked upon her, oft would I be reminded of what children are to this world: its future; its living hope.
Albeit, I was quite careful never to mention it to her, for Mia didn’t much delight in being treated like a child. But that’s just the very thing with children, isn’t it? Playing along with her prank as I was, however, I admit I’m hardly one to talk.
“Silly little spook! You’re not getting away!” I cried again, before bundling Mia up once more in her sheets. She flapped about, giggling and gaggling away like a goose, whilst I strove to keep her caught in the covers. And on and on we played: the two of us jumping and jostling on the bed, till the last rays of sun left the sky and the time came to light the lamps.
∵
As a rule, I was no man to mix affairs private and public. That said, I’d perhaps broken the oath in bringing Mia along to the ceremony at Déu Tsellin. But it was hardly to be helped. More than anything, I wished for her to learn firsthand that there’s more to our war than just warring; that at the end of the day, all of us do lament our dearly lost, and that the lost leave us with hearts hopeful for the future we fight for; that apart from the shedding of blood, there is the shedding of tears, a time enshrined in such solemn ceremonies.
Then there was the treaty-signing. I doubted not that the occasion would echo deep down the halls of History. There’s something to be said about being eyewitness to such a monumental event; something that I wished, too, for Mia to have: a chance to see change unfolding afore her very own eyes.
Rather selfish on my part, all told. But the doting father in me would allow naught less. Why, when Mia had told me that she wanted to stay the night in the old house should we pass through Arbel, I could scarce refuse. There was little reason to, at any rate. And little reason not to cook up her request of pumpkin porridge for supper.
“Herr Rolf,” she said, “the pumpkin’s done.”
“Mashed all to mush, then? You’re a mighty help, Mia.”
There we were, together in the kitchen. How very long ago it felt since last we stood like so. I turned to Mia, who presented to me a bowl of pumpkin pulp, steamed and pestled to perfection, which I eagerly added to the pot simmering away upon the hearth.
“There we are,” I said. “The smell’s got my belly growling already.” Slowly, I stirred the pot as it mumbled and bubbled delectably away. Beside me was Mia, staring very intently at the contents. “Thinking on it,” I next said, to which Mia blinked up at me, “you’ve got a mite taller, haven’t you?”
There’s no mistaking it: more highly was Mia standing over the counter beside her. A summer and some ago, the counter would’ve allowed her but a peep over its rim. Now, it seemed she had grown about three thimble-widths since then. My word; how speedily do they spring, young sprouts like her.
“I’m a full frau now,” Mia answered, nodding.
I snorted. “Height hardly makes a ‘frau’, you know.”
“I’m a frau in height and heart, just like Sister,” insisted Mia.
“Like Eva? She’s as ‘frau’ as they come, your plucky sister. You really sure?”
Puffing her cheeks, Mia could but grumble in agreement. She loved her sister all too dearly to debate it, and in fact, wished someday to become just like her. And that has got my agreement, and without any grumbling, at that.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve grown, regardless,” I said to Mia. “And you’ll grow even more still.”
Mia grinned. “Till I’m the taller of us, maybe.”
“I’m nigh-on… what, seven Füße as it’s reckoned in Hensen?” I returned. “Any taller and you’d be a tree, I should warn you.”
A giant Mia—more giant than myself. Baffles the brain, doesn’t it? Still, what are children if not bundles of boundless possibility? Indeed, someday I might have to peer up to look Mia in the eye. Maybe.
“That’s all right,” she said. “I’d like to see what trees see. It must be very pretty from so high up.”
“Why, in that case,” I said, before quickly moving the pot off the heat, bending down beside Mia—“You won’t need much growing for that. Hup!”—and sitting her high on my shoulders.
“Wawah!” she yelped.
“Well, well,” I chuckled. “All that growing and you’re still as light as a feather. Come on, grab the plates, if you will.”
“Yes, Herr Rolf,” Mia grumbled again, and with puffed cheeks, too, I fancied. But bringing her to the shelves, she graciously obliged.
∵
“Many thanks for this meal,” Mia and I said together. Afore us now were bowls abrim with pumpkin porridge, piping hot and very special to have, being the first meal we’d shared on the night of our meeting so many moons ago, and upon this very same table, too, no less. Thus it touched me much when earlier today she’d asked that we share the meal once more.
“Yummy.”
“Yummy’s the word.”
Bite after bite, Mia relished in the porridge, huffing and puffing the heat away from every spoonful beforehand. And watching her gladly, I was reminded of our first supper together, and of how she was sat in that chair, so frail and fracted, and so very quiet.
‘…proper food… not scraps…
…I can have it…?
…for true…?’
A little lass, once hollow of hope for aught and all; a little lass who’d given up on the world itself—here was she now, beaming with every bite. Yes, indeed: beaming. Smiling.
“Herr Rolf…?”
“Mm? Ah, never mind me. Just having a stroll down memory lane a little, that’s all.”
“To when we lived here?”
“Aye. A tough time that was.”
Tough and then some. Thinking on it, it wasn’t just Mia that’d grown, but myself as well, I’d like to believe. After all, back then I hardly knew how best to place a hand on her, if even just to praise or comfort her. And now, here we were, chatting like old friends.
“Fumbling and bumbling about every which way…” I mused, recalling a little wistfully. “…Goodness, did I have my work cut out or what.”
“I was a good girl,” Mia said a tinge defensively.
“You were, at that,” I said, chuckling a little. “Ever and always, as a matter of fact.” With that, I savoured another spoonful of the porridge. “Yummy” was truly the word. It tasted exactly as it had on that night. Why, everything was as it’d been, really, even down to the way we sat across from one another, the big difference being the mirth on Mia’s face.
“How strange,” I said. “My heart, it feels very… very full now, if that’s the word.”
“…Full?” said Mia. “For your flowering frau Mia?”
“…”
There I sat, dumb at the impropriety, and withal worrying anew for the very mouth that aired it.
“Nay, nay, not like…” I said, but stopped, for a certain other “M” had sprung asudden to mind. “…Say, Mia. That crow Monika hasn’t been squawking anything… odd into your ears of late, has she?”
“…Nothing odd, no,” Mia said, and very carefully, it seemed to me.
“Not the most assuring answer, that.”
“It’s all right. I’m a good girl.”
Mia smiled again. Her mirth belied some mischief, to be sure, but it was mirth all the same, hale and heartful, and that had me content. Just as the rest of this night did, in fact: a quiet and most contenting night spent in good company.
How blessed I was: a war-steeped warrior, granted this gift of peace and pleasure. So much for snubbing me, eh? I sneered inly at the heavens. Oh, very much so: being despised by the Deiva hadn’t proved so dark a doom after all. For here with me was a little beacon of light to brighten up the lonely way.
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