It seemed to Tristan that he had only just closed his eyes when he was
woken by a knock on the door. Looking around, he realized that the night had already
given way to morning. His entire body was stiff and hurt so severely that he
could barely push himself up.
With a tired and pained groan, he called
out, “Come in.”
The little wooden door opened and Ailla
stuck her head inside, adorned with her mop of red and curly hair and bright,
emerald green eyes.
“Well Hello there,” she said with a soft
smile. Stepping inside, she closed the door softly behind her before settling
upon the bed. “Hagon tells me you had one of your attacks last night.”
Tristan’s cheeks flushed with something
between anger and embarrassment and he felt himself drawing his knees up to his
chest. The attacks had been getting worse and, while none of them truly
understood what was happening, it only made him feel worse to be singled out
this way. Not to mention, he didn’t like the idea of Hagon swapping stories,
even if it was with Ailla.
“Oh stop.” She said, lightly slapping him
on the shoulder. “We’ve known each other since we were babes. You’ve nothing to
be blushing over.”
“I know.” Tristan said weakly, trying to
unclench his body which was unconsciously going into the fetal position. “I
just don’t know what to do.”
Ailla nodded. They’d had these
conversations a few times now and it was no mystery that Tristan was feeling
more and more depressed. Each time he became a little more hopeless.
“You already know the answer.” She said,
still trying to keep that same smile as she spoke.
“Whitecrest.” He said almost under his
breath.
Ailla nodded once more, this time in
agreement.
“I just don’t know...” he continued. “What
if something happens on the trip there? What if the magisters aren’t able to
find whatever’s wrong and they just tell me that they don’t know how to help?”
“And what if the magisters have a fix that
they can whip up in a matter of seconds while you’re sitting here moping in
your bedroom?”
Tristan didn’t answer right away. He looked
from Ailla to the sparse decorations of his little room. The walls were hard
wood. Barren except for a pair of tongs and a hammer he had hung on either side
of his window. His clothes were tightly packed away in a small chest at the
foot of his bed. It struck him for some reason that his room was basically
empty. He never felt the desire to decorate.
“You’re right, Ailla.” He said as he drew
his attention back to her. “Of course you’re right. It’s just…”
She reached over and gingerly lifted his
chin with one finger so that they might look each other in the eyes.
“I know, love. But Whitecrest is only a
couple days travel. We can get you in and out and back here before you know
it.”
Looking into those emerald green eyes,
Tristan couldn’t help but feel a little better. He’d known Ailla almost all of
their lives and there was always something that made his heart soften and his
worries calm. He’d considered more than once attempting to court her, but he
never had the heart to go through with it.
“Alright.” He said, agreeing with her once
again.
They sat in silence for a few moments,
looking at each other. That soft smile never left her face. The longer he
looked, the more his own lips curled into a smile to match her own. Finally, he
let out a long sigh.
“You’re right, you’re right.”
Tristan said with a nod.
“Of course I am.”
“Of course you are.” He echoed with a soft
chuckle.
Ailla raised an eyebrow and tilted her head
playfully. “Are we going somewhere with this or…?”
“Breakfast?” he asked quickly.
“Sorry?”
“Do you want breakfast?”
“First you compliment me, next you feed me.
If you’re not careful, I might not leave.” She said slipping off his bed and
helping him up as well.
Tristan’s smile got bigger at the thought,
but he said nothing further as he followed her to the kitchen. Instead, he
elected to listen as she made small talk, telling him about her morning, about
meeting Hagon, and about Hagon recanting the tale of the night before. It still
irked him to think that he was a topic of gossip, but couldn’t help but feel
better that Ailla had come to wake him. Somehow, it made the sun shine just a
little brighter.
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Haven't Read Smithy before? Let's Start at the Beginning
Thank you. I hope you can find the impetus to continue - because I want to know more. (Greedy aren't I?)
ReplyDeleteGreed is a good enough reason for me. My wife's greed is what made me keep writing this story.
DeleteHopefully the spark lives on as it is still there in your writing indeed.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I will certainly try to keep it rolling. haha
DeleteIt's hard when inspiration goes missing, isn't it? Enjoyed the read!
ReplyDeleteYea. But you keep going.
DeleteI really like these two, these characters work well together.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad that you like them! I intend to play with your emotions if that's the case. :)
DeleteEnjoyed reading your post. We can grow more by inspiration.
ReplyDeleteDude, wake up and do something about that. Both your condition and her!
ReplyDelete