Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

A lonely bronze helmet sat as a silent observer to the next session of the boy's training...

"Do it again..."  Tyra stood with arms crossed watching her son perform a series of techniques.  She paid close attention to his foot work today.  She was impressed.  "You have been practicing."  The boy smiled, then shook his head in the negative.  Tyra became displeased.  "You should have been, then.  So you will do this five more times."  The frown on the boys face was momentary, before it shifted to a focus.  As Tyra expected, the boy's performance did not stand up to repeated attempts.

Hours later, Tyra and Tyr'riel sat across from each other.  "Why have you not been practicing like I ask?"
"It's easy."  The boy had an uncommon confidence, which Tyra knew would help him, but she was afraid it would become arrogance.
"Son, I know some of this comes easy, but you should not, must not let it get to your head."
"Why?"
"Because you can not earn the respect of your peers if you assume you are better than them."
"Why?"
"Because no one is -better- than anyone else.  Some people just have different skill sets.  And there is always someone -better- than you."
"Okay."  The boy just nodded.  Whether he understood was unclear.
"Tyr'riel, do you know what respect is?"  He shook his head.  "Respect is what allows people who are different to work together.  Like Gurnorhn and I.  We are very different but I respect him as a Servant of Grannoch and as a person.  We have helped each other and by doing so have a relationship where I trust him with my Tower, and he trusts me to help him when needed."
Tyr'riel just looked at her and blinked.
Tyra sighed.  "Do you know why you listen to me and not your father?"  She recieved a head shake in response.  "You respect me because you know that when I tell you to do something, if you do not you will not like what happens, but that when you do you know I make things easier.  Like if you practice when I tell you, I won't make you do things even more when we train."  Tyr'riel blinked again, but this time as if she were speaking gnomish.
Tyra rubbed her face.  "Why don't you listen to your father?"
The boy shrugged.  "I listen."
"But how many times must he ask you to do something?"
"I practice guitar without him asking."
Tyra closed her eyes to hold in a flicker of anger and frustration.  "But you argue when he wants you to go to bed."
"Cause I want to play guitar more."
Tyra's teeth clenched.  "I'm sure he is happy about that, but that is not the point.  When you are told to do something by someone you should respect, you should do what they ask."
"You don't do what Daddy asks you to do."
Tyra might have preferred it if he stabbed her with his sword.  "Tyr'riel, I..."  She paused, looking at her son.  "Your Father and I have different ideas on how to best raise and care for you, and unfortunately we argue about it in front of you some times.  Mothers and Fathers do this.  But we do it so that things turn out the best for you."
"Why didn't Bella listen to you?"
Tyra sighed in defeat.  "Maybe I'm not the best person to talk to you about this."
"Why?"
"Because... because I'm not the best person to talk about respect with."
"Why?"
"Because I haven't earned that much and I give out almost as little."
"Why?"
"Ask your father..."
"Why-"
"Enough."  The boy fell silent.  "Tyr'riel if you want respect just remember this: Follow through with anything you say you will do, and do not disrespect others.  That's all I can offer you on the subject."
They then stood together and collected their things.
"I respect you, Mother."
"Do you?  Or are you just afraid of me?"

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

Mariner's Hold was much busier than he expected.  And looked much newer than Fort Vehl.  He asked Mother why, but she offered no explanation.  She just said, "This city is not a mess like Fort Vehl."

Autumn tagged along this time.  On the ride over she played hide and seek with Tyr'riel, as Mother walked stood at the bow of the ship like a mast.  She even told him an old Co'rysian fable in Elvish.  It didn't bother him that it was about a greedy human getting his due via being squashed by a tree after trying to rob Dapplegreen village.  He thought the human deserved it, but he did not say that to Autumn.  He just said, "Anirilln aey oem anira laanema."  Autumn was happy to share.

When they got there, Tyr'riel staggered out of the hold behind Autumn and Mother, his legs too used to a rocking ship to walk on solid ground.  Mother hardly seemed bothered by the trip, which made him try hard to look like it did not bother him either.  He wanted to follow after Mother but she told him to stay with Autumn.  "She's going to take you shopping."  Tyr'riel just nodded, but when Autumn reminded him about the Ukulele he wanted to get his father he pulled Autumn off in some direction i hopes of finding one.  Autumn giggled at his eagerness.

[RollinsCat]

The inn is huge.  Most of it is off-limits now because workers and construction are everywhere, but he got to run the whole thing before that started.

He sleeps in a safe room next to where Daddy and Elly sleep, when he's there.  Daddy continues to teach reading and writing and numbers.  Well, since he's been back from wherever he was.  He looks skinny and kind of bad though and Ty worries.  Daddies aren't supposed to get sick.  Elly is feeding him, lots, and fussing over him.  He seems to like it.

As for Ty, he practices with his sword, and plays his guitar, and has found every single hiding spot there is in the big old inn.  The upstairs, which was sealed off because it was never "finished" whatever that means, has been opened and the dwarves cut a real big hole in the ceiling.  They grumbled about it, said it wasn't right to seal off perfectly good underground rooms so you could live up with the bats, but Daddy insisted.

Elly teaches him some cooking and is a good person to talk to.  He loves her now the same as his mom and dad, but he gets to call her Elly and ask her stuff he can't ask his parents.  She keeps his secrets with a little smile that he thinks is just for him.

Overall things are good, even if Mother and Daddy are gone too often, but Daddy is home since they're working in the tavern now.  Things are good even if he's not allowed to use the paintings Daddy is buying for the Inn as targets for his sword practice.  Well, anymore, that is...

[RollinsCat]

Grandpa was talking to the guards.  Ty was supposed to stay down but he wanted to see what was going on so he peeked from around the water barrels, hoping to see draks or whatever they were, or dragons, or something neat.  All he saw was lots of people moving supplies and in the distance a town wall.  Boring.

What he didn't see where many kids, it was all adults running around.  Such a long trip to look at a wall and no one to play with?  And he'd had to listen to Grandpa's stories over and over on the way here, even the ones he'd already heard.  He stood up to look for his father or mother - Grandpa had said his father might be here - but there was no black-haired head sticking out over the crowd.  Just strangers, some calm, some agitated, some frantic over specific people locked inside the gates.  He didn't see his Mother either, or at least no one wearing black leathers who walked like she did.  

"What're you doin' here, sweetie?  This's no place for a child!"  A thick-built woman in a blue kerchief and apron stopped her hustled pace by the wagon.  Her face softened at his glance.  "Family inside, dear?"

"Uh - yeah."  It was all he could get out.  He felt shy and wanted to sink down in between the barrels but that would be rude and his father had taught him not to be rude, so he answered and hoped she'd go away.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.  Not yer mum I hope?"  He opened his mouth to fib but she went on. "Don't you worry, those ladies inside from Aeridin's temples, they'll figure it out.  She'll be fine."  The woman's voice had the ring of placating adult to it that made his gut tighten. "Now you stay with that wagon, don't go close, even for yer mum, dear.  You don't want to catch it!"  With a pitying look she moved on and he studied the gates.

Something catching.  A sick.  And Elly was in there, which made him feel very bad.  He knew Dad was worried about her, and Michael and Edward and Heloise and Paddy were too.  He thought about sneaking up to see if he could talk to her but it didn't seem like a good idea if there was a sick going around.  But if he could talk to her and let Dad know she was alright...he snuck really good now, no one would see, Paddy had been teaching him.  He started to jump off the wagon but four guards turned and walked in his direction so he ducked down, not wanting to answer any more questions, and thought about his latest teacher.

Paddy had been showing him neat things like moving quietly in the city and inn.  Autumn taught him woods stuff which was hard in it's own way but to be sneaky along a stone wall was a whole new challenge.  Paddy played "can't see me" games like Autumn did but around the Hold when they went shopping instead of during hikes.  Paddy also taught him how to make keys, which he wondered about until Paddy said it was because you never know when you need to unlock a door to help someone.  He'd also taught Ty some lock-picking using old inn doors Dad was replacing and some chests Paddy had.  Ty had thought that maybe Paddy was kind of not trustworthy after that, but he seemed to like Dad and was as excited as the rest about the new changes coming.  He'd even argued for more security beyond the warding and Dad had smiled and taken his advice.  So Ty guessed that he was okay, even if he was always teasing Heloise by putting little things in the pockets of clothes she was wearing.  She never caught him, his hands were so fast, until later when she'd reach in for her comb and take out some almonds instead.  She acted mad but Ty thought she kind of liked it because she would smile when she didn't think she was being watched and snack on the nuts.  And Paddy was a good teacher even if he'd said not to tell because really useful skills make some people nervous even when it's for good reasons.

The guards passed him by and he moved to jump down again until he heard the clump-chunk of clawed boots.  Grandpa returned with guards to help unload the water, then put him on the front seat and turned the wagon around to head back for more.  Ty was irritated.  He'd never had a chance to talk to Elly and he wanted to tell Dad she was alright.  He was prepared to be in a funk, working up a good head of steam, until -  "You wanna drive, boy?" His mood evaporated and he nodded with wide eyes. "Here you go, take the reins like this - just like that...leave 'em loose enough to hang some but not too loose...right..."

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

Tyr'riel had been grounded by Dad when he got home from his trip with Grampa.  Or maybe it was Grampa who was grounded.  Dad was very mad, threatening to tell Tyra and Gramma about their trip to Hlint, which put Shiff on the losing side.  Dad told Grampa he couldn't watch Tyr'riel anymore, which made him sad.  Tyr'riel liked spending time with his Grampa.  He would let him do things Mother and Dad would not allow him to.  Tyr'riel could tell Grampa was sad too.  He hugged his Grampa tight when he was asked to leave.
"Now Tyr'riel, ya be a good kid fer yer paw now, a'ight?  I love ya, lil man."
Tyr'riel nodded, "I love you too, Grampa."  He hed out his fist to his Grampa, who punched it gently, bringing a smile to the boys face.

The next few weeks had Tyr'riel in his Dad's company almost always.  Dad had asked Autumn for some Elvish script for Tyr'riel to practice.  Tyr'riel was not thrilled about the prospect of having home work, but Autumn said that it would make her and his Mother happy if he could read and write Elvish, instead of just speak it like Mother did.  This made him more then happy to practice the intricate script of elvish.

At least until he started.  His hand hurt quite mightly after the first day.  Unlike the blocky, segmented script of the common language, Elvish script was fluid and connected.  What on the first day passed very quickly, turned into a slow march across pages.  What was minutes became hours as he scrawled.

When Mother came home, Dad told him what Grampa did, and she nearly lost it.  From his room in the Tower, he could hear her scream his name.  His full name, which was never something he wanted to hear.  He ran down stairs like a bolt of lightning, to be interrogated in Elvish.

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

"Tyr'riel..."
"Tyr'riel, wake up..."
"TYR'RIEL!"

The boy woke up with a start, with his mother standing over his bed dressed in adamantium.  "Get up and out of bed.  Pack some clothes and come with me, now."  the boys protests were cut off before they even began.  "Do it without questions!"

Dad came in behind her.  "Tyra what the-"  Mother showed him a bulletin, but Tyr'riel did not get to see what it said.  Dad's face went white, which was scary considering his heritage.  "What...  How..."  Mother just turned back to Tyr'riel.  "Let's go."

"Tyra where are you taking him!?"  Dad chased them down the Tower, Tyr'riel in his mother's arms.  "You can't just-"

"Can't what?!  Wait for someone to take him so they can turn our heads in for Kuhl's gold?!  NEVER!"  Mother threw her cloak over his back.  Tyr'riel was scared now, because his mother was scared.  And if his mother was scared, Tyr'riel was about to become terrified.  She carried him out of the Tower with Dad behind, grabbing his sword and leaving his lute.  Where he would end up...  He didn't know.

[RollinsCat]

Sun climbed up the walls of the stucco room and warmed his lids; he woke.  He was not in "his" room, although he was used to "not his room".  He shared his mother's room in the tower, something Dad was increasingly insistent he not do.  He had his own room at the Buckle, and a room at the Twin Dragons -- each place was home and a half a dozen others over the years.  So waking up on a futon in a whitewashed room full of plants wasn't strange.  It wasn't that.

Everyone else was already up, of course.  He figured out last week that they thought him a little lazy for sleeping so late but revery was different than sleep and he needed more than meditation to feel right.  A comment from Vmillwoilaniram, heavily accented, about his appearance.  Looks from the other children.  A tiny hrmph from Vmillwseaniram.  All of it he was getting used to even if it made him feel weird.  It wasn't really that.

He had breakfast alone, cleaned his dishes, and wandered outside.  The other children were in lessons with their anailnyiram but his were done separately since his language skills were so -- what was the word they said?  Tainted?  Something.

Outside people were going about the day as they had since before sun-up.  Vendors, tradesmen (trades-elves?), bakers, leather workers, tailors, hunters, entertainers.  All the things in a town that made it go.  One then another would look at him, with his exotically slanted eyes set in his plain, lightly scarred human face, and glance away as if they'd witnessed an argument between strangers.  No one said hello.  No one nodded.  

That was it.  People were not friendly to him.  He didn't know the rules on how to be friendly to them, and when he spoke elven the way Mother had taught him they looked at best shocked, at worst horrified.  He thought maybe if they knew Elly was kind of a mom to him it would be better, but it didn't make up for his human-ness.  People here talked differently, walked differently; the children were much smaller than he was, even the ones who were his "equivalent" age or whatever, and seemed a lot more grown-up even as kids.  They didn't play games the way he knew and were always learning something or another.  They didn't look like him.  They didn't even sweat like him; they didn't sweat much at all or even have a smell.  He always felt dirty.

Well -- maybe he wasn't being totally fair.  Clarisse was nice sometimes.  But she didn't like to talk about her mother and really really didn't want to hear about his father and her mother.  That was okay.  He understood a lot better about that now.  Auhry he didn't see much and the boy didn't talk to him when they did cross paths.  Coreth was okay, though, he didn't seem to mind talking about Elly and his dad, about what Dad was like and things Elly was doing.  He was also willing to go for walks and stuff.  He was alright.  

Vmillwoilaniram and Vmillwseaniram, on the other hand, weren't quite sure what to do with him.  They were watching three already and one more -- especially a human who wasn't even related to the mother of the ones they had -- well, he thought maybe they were a little mad about it.  Coreth said they were more mad that Mother and Dad had just come and asked, out of the blue, that it was not the way things were done.

A pinching in his heart when his parents crossed his mind, for more reasons than he would let himself admit, and he stopped wandering and turned west.  He headed to the forest, which wasn't hard because it was pretty much right there -- the village was built into it, rather than around it or beside it.  He only had to walk a quarter mile and there were no more houses on the ground and he was alone.  Really alone, not just ignored.  A stream ran down the western side of the forest-village and he followed it, picking up a long stick and leaving a wake in the water where the tip dragged along.  He walked the way Autumn had taught him, the way that made his feet "mossy" as she'd put it.  Quiet, muffled, one with the grass.  A log loomed ahead from an ancient tree finally given up to lightening, listing on its side and hollow inside from many centuries of hosting insects and animals.  He broke into a run and jumped in, rolling across cool, damp wood.  This was his place.  His refuge.

A constriction in his heart again.  A conversation replayed, as it had been many times in the last weeks.  His fist curled as anger clashed with the need for a hug although he knew he'd never allow one even if either of his parents were there.

Except they weren't, and Dad wasn't Dad and Mother wasn't Mother.  Sometimes people had noted it odd he looked so much like his Dad and he thought that was weird.  Why wouldn't he?  Mother and Dad hadn't stayed together but they'd raised him and he had always believed, every time he saw his reflection next to his father's, that he was their child.


"But what does it MEAN?  I mean I know it means that you get a baby somewhere else but what does it mean about me?  Is it because you and Mother aren't married?"

"Who told you that."

"What does it mean, Dad?  Come on."

"Who told you?"

He wanted to kick something.  "It doesn't matter!  I just want to know why they said I was adopted!"

His father let out a long breath, sat back and hummed to himself.  Ty knew to leave him alone for a moment but he still wanted to kick something and he wanted to shake his father hard.  He counted to twenty, backwards, in elven.  A little trick Autumn had taught him.

His father stood, head brushing the top of the small cabin.  Walked three short steps and knelt so they were almost eye-to-eye.  His expression was neutral and Ty's heart contracted.  He knew that look and knew he wasn't going to want to hear what he was going to hear.

"Tyr'riel."  His father breathed the name as if it would conjure a spell.  "This is not how or when I wanted you to know, but -- you are adopted.  You are not from your mother's body or from mine."  

He couldn't speak right away, his head hurt with questions suddenly fighting for access to his tongue.  He couldn't pick just one.  There was a moment of distraction when a sound tickled his ears, turning him from his building anger, but he knew what it was and right now he didn't want it.  "SHUT UP!"  His father's face drew tight but the humming stopped.  "Don't.  Don't sing."  He wanted to say more and couldn't.  He wanted to cry and couldn't.  He started to breathe harder.  "Why didn't you tell me before?  Why did you lie?"

"Ty, we never lied -- "

"YES YOU DID!  You lied because you didn't tell me!"

"TY.  Listen to me.  Now."  That voice he could not ignore.  His father used it seldom - 'command voice'.  He was breathing hard, staring at the man who just moments before had been his father.  "Nothing has changed, Tyr'riel.  Nothing is different -- you are you, and I am I, and your mother is your mother.  We didn't give birth to you - well, she didn't, anyway -- but we raise you, love you, and care for you.  Nothing at all has changed."  

He was wrong.  Everything changed.  There was another mother and father out there, maybe sisters and brothers, grandparents and nieces and nephews.  A whole family he didn't know.  Everything was different even though it was the same.

It took him a long time to ask the question.  To form it on his lips and make the words come out and when they did, it was a whisper, not the bold interrogation he'd intended.  "Who are my real parents?"

His father winced at the words.  "We don't know.  Your mother was on Corsain for business and found you by a man and woman -- they were dead, attacked by someone she did not see, and you were alive but abandoned.  This was miles from any town and there was no way to know where you came from.  She took you to protect you and ended up caring for you."  A long pause.  He did not interrupt.  "When she brought you back to Mistone, she asked me to be your father so you would have a man in your life to learn from.  Your mother has never married or had children and neither have I although...this sounds trite but we both have been blessed to have you."  His dad started to reach out for him.  He stepped back even though he desperately wanted not to.

"Why didn't Mother leave me with a village near where my..." He choked for a moment.  "Where my parents were?  Someone would have found out, someone..."

"Ty.  You were alone and left to die.  Your mother took you because she did not want to leave you in an orphanage."

"Like the one she's trying to start now that keeps her away all the time.  The one more important than me."  He sounded just like her -- the sarcasm, the tone.  There was a long silence after that.  His father stood.

"We'll be docking soon.  Get your things ready."  He said very little more until it was time for goodbyes.  Ty said nothing more.  Mother noticed the silence but was too busy translating to ask about it.  They traveled to the house with Elly's kids, Dad said goodbye, he loved him, they would be back as soon as they could and they would write, all that stuff.  He didn't hug his father and he only hugged Mother because she didn't give him a choice.  Then they were gone.


And the next morning he woke in a small white room.  Alone.

[RollinsCat]

He wrings it in his hands, the letter, and the paper crumples under his palms.

It feels wrong.  Anger etches his heart, butterfly wings rimmed in fire.

It's not just them anymore.  Clarisse says it's him now.  She says to let it go, that parents have to do what is best for their kids even if it's not what the kids want and even if it hurts.  Regurgitated wisdom.  He remembers staring at her for a long time after she said that.  He remembers the look on her face and how quiet she got.  How they both escaped to their places of hiding after.

He takes a breath in the same way his father does.  Long, slow, deep.  Eyes half closed.  He flattens the paper and reads.  The butterfly traces a burning path across the throne of his love and pain and he tries, he tries, to forgive.



Ty, my son.

I miss you.  

I wanted to be a lot more eloquent but that is what it boils down to.  I miss you.  I received your letter and it brought us much joy; I shared it with Heloise and Paddy, Edward, Michael, Minu, and of course your mother.  But I kept it and have it still.  

It's a talisman now.  Something I read to remind myself why I sent you away and why I closed the doors to our home and why I'm not utterly horrified when I hear of this enemy of my faith or that enemy of my adopted city joining our fight.  The Cult has taken Sundance and advanced into Hilm.  They have declared anyone who stands against them an Enemy and have the troops to take the entire continent of Belinara, Muse alone knows where they got them all.  I will stay and see Hlint cured, see Minu help to cure the dying around her and see this fight to the end.

Bold words from an ex-drunk musician.  And for you, a sentence to stay where you are.  I felt your unhappiness in your letter, Tyr'riel.  I know where you are you do not fit in.  But you are safe.  And we need you to be safe.  Because you are something that can be used against us.  Because you are not yet grown.  Because we don't want you to die; of all the reasons, that most of all.  I am not strong enough to live without you.  I've done enough - I will not allow your life to hang on my balance, not when you have lived so little of it.

Someday you might understand this.  Someday there may be someone you need to keep safe; someone you need to know is as outside the reach of evil as they can be.  Some long day from now, you may even be protecting me.  Life has a funny way of turning things around.  Ask your grandparents.

I had a lot more that sounded like pablum after I wrote it.  I'll keep this simple then; everyone is still alive and misses you more than you can know.  Minu sends her love, to you and to her children; she asks that you tell them how much she loves them.  I miss you and I love you, son.

Stay safe.  Keep practicing your rapier.  Paddy has a separate note which I included and no, I didn't read it.

Love,


Your father


Paddy's note is in his pocket.  Reading the letter again makes the butterfly land; burning little feet but stilled, quiet.  Taking out Paddy's note makes him smile.  It is on cheap parchment and half of it is only visible when he holds the paper to sunlight.



hey kid

find some pins an set them up and nock them down.  you now what I mean.  open a few doors an if yore skared remember that oppertunite never nocks you have to look for it.
Hellie says she miss's you an to be good.  do what yore dad told you put bells on an walk.  keep yore eyes opin an yore mowth shut an you will be ok.

Paddy


Clairsse is calling for him.  She knows he's somewhere around here.  Maybe he'll show her the tree if she promises not to tell.

It's suppertime.  He folds the letter and the note and puts them in a pocket.

A talisman.

[RollinsCat]

Thuppp...  Something brushed his face and he ran a hand over his nose - spider, maybe, or a big leaf.  Nothing moved down his cheek and tried to scamper away.  He rolled and a creamy yellow bundle slid to the floor.  A letter from his father; he recognized the handwriting even before he picked it up.  He could just hear a faint flapping as the messenger bird winged away.

Opened, it wasn't a letter even though the paper was cut long.  It was a picture, on the top quarter of the page, of a boy reclined on a grassy spot reading a letter in the sun...with a picture of a boy drawn on the picture of the letter...he squinted and could see a faint picture-blob on the letter in the second drawing.  He had to smile.  The boy was him. Well - him, a few years ago.  An image of the boy he'd been, the last time his father had seen him - forever eight years old in his father's mind.  The feeling of a curtain closing over his heart was a familiar one.  He wondered what his parents looked like now.  It seemed to him that they would look the same.  They didn't change as much as he did.  He was losing hope he'd ever see them again.

Examining the paper led to no new discoveries except that it had been opened before he got it and that irritated him.  Who would look through his mail?  He wasn't anyone important.  The picture was tossed onto an untidy pile on his desk.  He had lounged long enough.  He had rapier practice soon.

.......................................

Two months, elf months which were longer than human ones or at least it seemed that way, and the pile grew with schooling and written elvish lessons and notes to girls (but never to the one he really liked, because he was sure she'd only laugh at his silly human self).  He meant to clean it but something always got in the way.  He had a rhythm now; rapier and fighting lessons, elvish lessons, writing lessons; apprenticing to his grandfather's friend the alchemist in the evenings.  In between all that, sneaking about, or practicing on the locks he had stashed away, or putting things in coat pockets full of bells and trying to take them out without making any noise.  Not much time to play anymore.  Not much time to read, and blissfully not much time to think about his mother and father.

The letter was still there, wrinkled, one corner sacrificed to necessity a while back.  He looked at it again and felt the same squeeze around his heart.  Who were they now?  Where were they now?  The young boy lay so contentedly in the sun.  When was the last time he'd hidden in his tree trunk and basked in the molten gold light that would flood through the big knothole in the top?

Sun.  Reading in the sun.  An idle scratch behind his ear as he took the letter out to the sun porch and held it up.  The letters took a few minutes to appear and he was surprised by how unsurprised he felt.


Ty

You're not the only one Paddy tells secrets to.  Your mother wanted me to pass on a letter and I felt that it would be better sent with some security.  I've reproduced it below verbatim.

I miss you, Tyr'riel.  Your mother does too.  Read on and know you are in our thoughts daily.

And write me a letter, are your arms broken?


Dad


Below was his father's handwriting - but he could hear his mother's voice in the words.


Dear Son,

I hope life in the village is not too rough. You should get plenty of experience speaking proper Elvish there, but I hope the attitude of the elves you meet is not too harsh. Where you are has never been a place for anyone not an Elf.

I am sorry we sent you there, but at the moment it is the safest place for you. It is well protected, and by more than just Elves.

I think about you often. I miss coming back from projects to see you waiting for me.

I hope you may like to know that the orphanage project is well under way, and two buildings have been bought and are being prepared. I am hoping once everything is done I will be able to stay home and run the orphanage, and if the war goes well, maybe retire from adventuring. I'd love to have you there working with me.

How are things? I'm sorry I haven't sent you a letter sooner. I've been busy.

I love you,
Your Mother


A smile at first, then a bitter twist.  Orphanages.  Which he should have ended up in.  He wondered how long before his mother found another child to take up her time.  They'd just leave him here.

He tore the letter once, straight down, before changing his mind and stuffing it in a drawer.  Love was all well and good but love needed closeness.  He didn't know these people anymore.

He hurt another combatant, later, so physical and uncontrolled was his bladework during practice.

[RollinsCat]

"Elama veew.  Aey sila leam malaan."  Tyr'riel's fencing master bowed, and he returned it, lower and held longer out of respect.  And odd bit of Tilmar on this elven island and it always made him wonder.

"Anirilln aey, Sillaanam.  Ean ela ill irelem ane cailml."  The old elf nodded at his pupil's rote response and hung his practice rapier precisely on the wall.  Stepping from the fencing room, he was gone without another word.  

Ty rolled aching shoulders, did cool-down stretches.  He had earned a compliment today in and among all the taps and corrections, and it felt good.  Really good.  For a while, through lunch and writing lessons with Clarisse and into early evening, it sustained him, rehashing that single hard-earned mention of his growing skill.  Clarisse had laughed, said that his master had only one jar of compliments to last his entire elven lifetime and when they were gone, they were gone; it was why the man was so miserly with them, didn't Ty know that?

He didn't mind the teasing.  He didn't mind anything Clarisse did.  His heart felt a little funny when he thought that.

It ran out, though.  The glow faded with sun's light, with Clarisse's smiling goodnight, and the rest of the family's bedding down.  He had begun to hate nighttime.  

He flipped.  He flopped.  The futon was lumpy.  The sheets were too cool, then too hot.  The night birds were noisy, the shutters were loose, and there was a cricket in his room.  Okay, that wasn't a bad thing - crickets were lucky, Oba Reid had told him once.

Staring at the ceiling wasn't helping.  He wanted to talk to Clarisse but she wouldn't like being pulled from revery so he could complain.  Complain about what?  The wind, the birds, his mattress?

His loneliness?

He missed them.

He missed them a lot.  He had started playing his guitar again, then stopped when he'd nearly burst out crying for what looked like no reason.  But he knew the reason.  Even when he tried not to.  He missed his folks.  He could remember his mother's hooded coat, her black leathers and the smell of them mixed with the oil she used on her swords.  He remembered his dad's black hair, the red coats he always wore, his singing, and always having to look far up to see his face.  He sort of remembered the face.  

But it was fading, reduced to neat italic script on cream-colored parchment.  Dad usually sent a letter every few weeks, mostly about mundane stuff, but he'd heard nothing for almost two months now.  Mother hardly sent any at all.  He didn't want to forget them.  He didn't want to never see them again.  He didn't want to be forgotten.

A fist curled, the nails cutting white lines in his tanned skin.  Big boys don't cry.  Big boys don't cry.  Bigboysdon'tcry...don't cry...

Morning brought rain, more wind, and after breakfast a letter with some purple smudges on it.  He'd taken to opening them around Clarisse, she was interested in things that happened elsewhere and was always interested in his father's letters.  The parchment was thick and blinding white.  He ran a knife under the seal...Aeridin's seal?...and unfolded the notepaper inside.


My Dearest Ty'riel,

I am so very sorry that I have been unable to write until now. Please know that I love you with all my heart and I miss you so very much.

Had I been able to write sooner, I would have but I have been so very sick that I have not been able to. Please let this letter ease your mind that I am fighting and winning against this illness, and that as soon as I am able to return home, that we will call you home with us.

Please also give my love to Clarisse, Coreth, Nemo and Auhry. Hearing your messages through your father, gives me strength and hope to fight this all the more! I miss you all and it makes my heart ache to have you so far away.

I pray that his Healing light will help you to be each others strength until we can bring you home again. Your father and I are working so very hard to bring you home. Please pray for us, and keep hope and home alive in your heart.

May Love and Hope shine in your heart like a beacon guiding you home to us. Remember we are always with you and we love you unceasingly.

~Elly


His lips moved but the rest of him was frozen.  He read it three times, and each time, a little peg was hammered closer, closer...

Clarisse saw his expression and snatched the letter out of his frozen hand, eyes wide.  The twist of fear at his reaction churned to something between pain and love, and her tears started falling at the same time as his.  There was no sense of time as they sniffled and fought for control; two statues, together yet locked inside their sculptors legacy.  His heart ached enough for it to be night, hers enough that she could not stop the tears; her mother was alive...and wanted Ty, not her.  No, that wasn't fair, but...no.

It wasn't going to be that way.  She looked at the young man across from her, this dark-haired human boy-child who was in the middle of shooting up like a wild vine, already muscular and taller than her, and when she spoke he didn't dare challenge.

"E wel'an amillan ane quylaan mailw ilfeyan anira amemcw illasema, Ana.  She knuckled tears and flashed a defiant look to the air around the room.  "When they come, I go with you."

[ShiffDrgnhrt]

The next morning began in an unusual way.  In his time there, he had gotten to know the elven family who had been fostering him while his 'parents' were 'saving the world.'  But one of them was not Elven, and that one was Nemo.

"Good Morning Tear-E-EL!"  She always emphasized his name that way.  "Why are you sleeping?"  The crust had not even been brushed from his eyes when the boy sat up on his futon.  The woman in the door way seemed age less, in that elven sort of way.  Her face had not a wrinkle of age, despite hearing from Clarisse that she was even older than Auhry.  But unlike the grace that seemed to define the agelessness of elves, Nemo was....  creepy.  She was always smiling a Cheshire smile, and her teeth were pointed...  Her eyes were like a cats, and he swore there was something weird about her hair, as if something was hiding in it.  The thing that was strangest, but earned a giggle from the other children on occassion, was the fact she spoke in the third person.  Always.

"Good morning, Nemo."  She didn't understand Elvish, despite having been living with elves for years.  Vmillwseaniram and Vmillwoilaniram seemed to treat her with a mild neglect, making sure she had food and drink, clean clothes and a place to live, but did not speak to her unless she was about to break something.  And for Nemo, breaking things was the most fun thing you could do.

"Is that your guitar?  Can Nemo play?"  She didn't wait for a response, and Tyr'riel was too tired still to react in time.  Before her movement registered, she was strumming it...  with a knife.  "It sounds broken.  Can Nemo fix -"

"No!  Nemo, please put down. . .  my guitar..."  The hollow thunk that followed told him she dropped it.  Thank you Dad for making it from Mahogany...  Next on her list though was his wakizashi.  She started swing it around and as he sighed, she stabbed it into the wall and left it there.

"Nemo telling Daddy.  You are being a Meaner by not sharing."  She giggled and stuck out her tongue, and disappeared through the door, only to peak back in and say.  "Oh, Nemo has a letter from your Mommy.  But you can't have it.  Cause yer a meaner!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyr'riel had chased through the market of the village he had been living in, down Carpenter's Street, across Forge Lane, and even into the pawn shop before he cornered Nemo.

"Give it to me!"  He shouted, waving his wakizashi at the bizarre woman-child.

"Nopers!  Nemo keeps cause yer a meaner!"  She held it behind her back, looking some thing like a defiant four year old, despite being several feet taller and much...  rounder.

"Give it to me, Nemo!"

"Nopers!  "Yer a mean-"  

"SILENCE!"

Tyr'riel winced at the sound of an old Elven Sorcerer.  He turned slowly, adopting a submissive posture as the Elderly Elf came into view, holding a impressive looking yew staff, etched with innumerable runes and topped with an luminous blue crystal.  His robed were long, faded blue in color,  and caked with dust with stains in places from scribe's ink and other magical components.  The elf just stared through Tyr'riel, who did not say a word.

Nemo, on the other hand, did what she did best:  get in trouble.  "Oh!  That's shiny!"  She dropped the letter as if it were nothing and started waddling wide-eyed toward the mage.  The mage just shook his head, and with a flick of his wrist, Nemo ended up falling on her face, sleeping like a baby.  Tyr'riel secretly wished he could do that.

 Vmillwseaniram and Vmillwoilaniram came running in shortly after, saying many hurried apologies for Nemo and Tyr'riel.  Tyr'riel took the change in attention to snatch the letter, before glaring at Nemo's peaceful, if subdued body.  Meaner, no one takes my letters but Clarisse...

The walk home was not enjoyable, especially since Vmillwseaniram and Vmillwoilaniram made him drag Nemo home on a stretcher summoned by the mage.  Even when asleep, she was annoying.  But inside he smiled.  Tucked under his tunic, stuffed into his belt, was an abused letter, his Mother's mark on the seal.  He couldn't wait to read it. . .

[RollinsCat]

The elf wasn't familiar to him, but spoke politely in fluent common.  She was cute rather than pretty and a little plump but with a kind face framed by sun-gold hair; that and her warmly toned skin gave away her heritage.

"Tyr'riel William Reid Dragonheart?"

"Yes..."  

"For you.  From Tashe."  She handed him a scroll and inclined her head in a way reserved for children, but not an elven bow; rather, one that he'd seen his father use.  With a smile and a jingle of bells laced through a thick braid down her back, she left him staring at the rolled parchment.

He peeked at the scroll.  It had a familiar look, thick parchment the color of old cream, and the black-inked italic script he knew so well.  He didn't read it right away.  He was running late to the bowyer's and knew there were bows to sand and string.  Then his sword practice, no compliments today but only a few swats, and writing practice - he was proud of that.  He felt more fluent in elven than in common sometimes; he spoke elven so often, and common so little, that he'd forgotten a lot of words.

The house was empty when he got back.  The silence was restful, not that anyone was ever that loud, but sitting on his mattress and hearing only the diluted sounds of the forest and village worked a kind of magic on his muscles.  An apple and two hanks of bread later, he opened the scroll.

Tyr'riel

If you are reading this then our contacts have done their job.  I felt this needed to be delivered in a more secure manner, so Minu saw to the arrangements.

It has been too long, son.  Too long since we sent you to safety.  Too long to not be aware of the minutiae of your life and to not be able to look at you and remember what we are all fighting for.  It's been weighing on me, our apartness.  Perhaps I waited too long, I don't know; but I wish to have you closer.  Not as close as I would like - the Silver Buckle isn't safe yet and despite what your mother says neither would be the Coalition tower - but we've found a place that is safer than where we are, although not as safe as where you are.  

I'm writing in circles and this is no better than my last two drafts so the pits with it.  I'll write how I feel.  I'm tired of missing you and tired of you being so far away, in culture and accessibility as much as distance.  If you wish to return, our friends Shadowleaf and Feawen and their daughter Melaa have a place for you at the Krandor Hospital.

It would mean some work; they need help.  They would offer you room and board, food, friendship, and experience in hospital work.  It would be much easier to see you, as I travel there regularly.  And when it is safe to bring you home to the Buckle, you'd be much closer.

Mostly though, we'd like to get to know you again.  Our eight-year-old is gone and the man he's becoming is of great interest to us.  

If you'd like to come home then send a single word; yes.  We will make arrangements.  This is wholly your choice.  Neither I nor your mother nor Minu will pressure you.  We understand if you are still angry although I will not apologize for what we did - at the time, it was the best choice of a bunch of bad choices.  But you're not a child anymore.  We cannot keep you locked away forever.  For our sake and for yours...I'd die inside if I lost you, Ty, but I die inside a little every day for having sent you away.  Which motive should win?

So we invite you back.  A place that is often filled with news, and people you remember, and opportunities to grow.  Leaf and Fea have agreed to help you with your elven (if you still need it) and would love to have your assistance in the hospital.  You'd have to use your elven name and observe a few other simple deceptions, and we'd meet privately until such things aren't needed to protect you, but...

A single word: either yes, or no.  You can send this by bird.

We hope to hear from you soon


Your father, mother, and Elohanna


He ran his fingers around the edges as he started out the window.  Speechless with no one to talk to - excited, nervous, and in a tingly sort of shock.

Yes, or no?

[Anamnesis]

She was a young elf of  barely 50 years old, with long wavy red hair much like her mothers, yet  with the fire color of her fathers. Her mothers pale blue eyes, and the thoughtfulness of her father. She had the beauty of both of her parents  bundled inside her and a passion to tell the truth as she felt it.
 
 Clarisse  sat upon the ledge of the bridge on the outskirts of town,  gazing down into the river that flowed beneath. Her feet dangling  over the edge very thoughtful and far more quiet than normal. She had received a letter from her mother while she had been in town gather  herbs for Grandma.
 
 She  had been so excited until she opened it and found an invitation to her  to come live with her, and extended her a chance to learn at the Krandor  Hospital, she would be coming with Ty, her best friend and when it was  safe returning home to Mariner's Hold to live.  
 
 She  held back her emotions at the corner of her eyes. She missed her mother  so much, and the years apart had been difficult, filled with  uncertainty and a distance that had been painful. It had been a time of  adjusting to the fact that her mother and father were never getting back  together. It had even been filled with the thoughts that she was not  important enough to her mother. She knew her mother loved her very much  though and came to see them as often as she could, but her calling had  led her elsewhere.
 
 She  knew it and now she had a chance to join her mother, and learn from  her, to again be a bigger part of her life. If she left home though would she ever be able to come back to live as she did now. Visits she  could make, and she would be leaving behind her family. Grandma,  Grandpa, her brothers, Coreth, and Auhry and Sister Nemo too. Her heart  was torn and the expression on her face was full of a range of emotions  as she held to the letter.
 
 Her  pale blue eyes so distant and even an bit of anger reached her heart.  How could her mother do this to her? How could she make her choose? She  reread the letter over and over again. She wasn't though, the letter  clearly was an offer, she only needed to let her know if she wished to  come. Her mother words were of understanding if she choose not to. Still  it did not make the decision any easier and how would she tell her  father. She really did want to go. It was an opportunity she would not  get, and she would be able to see more of the world.

[RollinsCat]

"A letter?  Really?  Can I see?"

Clarisse held it close, not wanting to share this one piece of her mother that was uniquely hers, not even with Tyr'riel.  "She just asked me to come.  She said Vmillwoilaniram and father would need her permission for me to leave and know I'd be safe."

"Oh.  So when are we leaving?"

"Well - uh.  How are we getting there?  Where would we meet them?"

He tore off another bite of deer jerky before answering, gnawing with thoughtful cadence.  "I have instructions from Dad.  We use a portal to Center and he, Mother, and Elohanna will meet us there.  We need to send him a message letting him know when we are leaving, so they can be waiting.  Just that - the date we leave, nothing else.  And we have to find a portal to use."

"I need to tell Father."  Her voice was barely audible, and she pressed the letter closer, like armor, or a shield.  "He won't be happy.  But maybe if he reads this..."  Slender fingers brandished the letter in a quick wave before she hugged it again.  He noticed how much a child's hand hers still was.  More and more he noticed how fast he grew next to her.  How tall he felt, and even though she almost five times his age, how grown he felt.  Not that she wasn't incredibly smart or wise compared to him but...his crush faded, day by day, as their few years of temporal symmetry slid past.

But she was still his friend, they were still not so far apart.  More than that - he was going to protect her.  Especially if they were leaving together.  There was never any doubt that he would someday return home but for her it was a monumental decision, one they'd say she was too young to make.  They'd spent many a night tossing arguments back and forth against her leaving and answering those arguments, hoping they could cover all the bases, worrying it would not be enough.  Elly's letter changed all that.  Now it was real and they only needed to pick a day.  And to convince her father to let her go...

[Anamnesis]

"Daddie." Her soft voice filled through the room making it seem louder than it was. She knew that he would be sitting there, legs crossed, eyes closed, in a state of meditation, and she would not normally think of bothering him, but this was to important to her and she needed to speak with him. "Daddie?"


She sat down in front of him taking up a position of meditation, although her body easily revealed the tension and worry of emotions that came from her. She tried her best to let out a breath to relax her body.


Not sure how long she waited as time seemed to go by so slowly. In her hands she held to the letter. She watched her father adoringly, and gently reached her small hands up to touch his cheek, as she tried her best to memorize every detail of her father knowing she would miss him dearly and the tears that clung to the corner of her eyes on the bridge, now clung there again.


She could not count the days she had sat there in this same position as he taught her how to control her emotions, how he seemed to have some divine wisdom that understood her better than she knew herself.


She closed her eyes and tried to still her thoughts, laying the letter in her lap as she tried to calm, so that she would be able to present her side to her father, and hope that he would understand what she was asking.


While the time ticked by, she eventually cleared her mind and entered into her own state of meditation, whether it was only a few minutes or hours it didn't matter, until finally she opened her eyes and looked into her fathers eyes.


"Yes sweetheart?" He asked with a gentleness in his voice that he had for all of his children. His love for them was so deep none of them ever doubted it.


She blurted it out though she had tried her best to prepare an introduction to the thought, she could not help but just blurt it out."Daddie. I.. I want to go live with mom. I miss her Daddie and she has asked me to come stay, to learn from her, so that we can get to know each other again. Daddie, Please say I can?"


His smile was gentle for her, reassuring and indeed in the depth of his eyes he understood her desire. "I know you Clarisse and your mother and you know I could never keep you away from your mother. Are you certain this is what you wish?"


"I am Daddie, more than anything. I want to be with mom and learn from her. I want to be near her. I miss her and she asked. She asked if I would come! I will be able to study at the Krandor Hospital and see mom, and Ty will keep watch over me too, I will be able to help mom in her clinic. Please say yes. Please Daddie!"


"My Sweetheart, You were never mine to keep and I knew someday you would wish to make your own journey. You have your mother's heart for helping others, and I know how much this means to you to learn from her. I can not deny you that. I will miss you though very much. I know how much you love to write so I expect to hear from you all the time." A gentle smile touched his lips and he pulled her closer for a tight hug. "I love you Clarisse and if this is what you truly want. The answer is Yes."


Her arms wrapped around him tightly as they could manage. "I love you too Daddie. So much!" The tears that clung at the corners of her eyes fell gently down her rosy cheeks as she held onto him. She was going to miss her family deeply, but the chance to learn from her mother meant the world to her too.

[RollinsCat]

Floors swept.  Broom put away.  Graffiti cleaned.  Quiet halls.

Dad was in the guard house.  Leaf was out, as he'd been a lot, working on resources for the hospital.  Elly had gone in search of some people in town.  Feawen had Melaa and the little elven girl was running her ragged today.  Clarisse was helping with rounds.  It was planting season, most of the kids were out in the fields or tending to chores of their own.

No one paying attention to him.  Lots of time to think.

He was back with humans again.  Some things felt the same.  Chores and lessons - Feawen had taken over his elven language instruction but he was pretty fluent in conversation so she was teaching him some of the harder stuff, the ancient words still used and some of those old symbols.  And she didn't know all of them, so they ended up just talking in elven a lot.  He was okay with it.

Wakizashi practice he kept up.  Someday, maybe, that would be his rice and fish, like those powerful emerald-studded friends of his fathers that he saw from time to time.  There was no one at the hospital to continue his sword training so he'd gone to the town guard post and asked for training there.  Of course they wouldn't train some scruffy kid, they were guards and soldiers, but one guy – who had a kid his age – agreed to teach him off hours, so long as the guy's son was also there.  It wasn't rapier, more like regular sword practice, and he got the feeling the son just wanted to be a farmer and was afraid to tell his father.  He hated that the man seemed to like him better because he was better with a sword but there wasn't anyone else and so he went to train.  The man's kid didn't like him much.

Paddy's lessons he was rusty on.  It had been hard to sneak around the elves, and harder to find locks to pick in a village where people didn't even have doors sometimes.  He'd mostly worked on his balance there on tree branches and stuff; here, there were doors, chests, cabinets, a ton of practice places all around the hospital.  He never took anything.  Just tried to pick it, set the tumblers again if he succeeded, and got out.  Leaf had given him a few old traps to practice with as well and he set and disarmed them as fast as he could.  It seemed like a good skill to know.

He'd hid in the woods a few times too, just like in the village, pretending that he and Autumn were examining a tree or watching some animal.  He missed her more now that he was on Mistone.  The forests were half-remembered childhood dreams come back to life.  It didn't seem the same without her to wander with him and teach him.

But for all the things that felt the same, a lot felt different.  Being back around humans was weird.  Really, really weird.  Like having a time freezing spell fade and finding out what you missed.  He felt disconnected.  He'd been a little kid, mostly happy.  Then just like that he'd been alone in a strange place and now, boom, he was back and that quiet elven village of the last few years was becoming a painting in his mind.  Fixed, unchanging...the alchemist he’d helped, the bow shop he'd apprenticed at, the winding lanes built around the trees...dappled light flickering through leaves.  His tree.  He missed his tree.  But he didn't think he'd forget the details this fast and it was confusing and a little painful.

Life was louder here.  The village was larger, there were old people; he hadn't seen too many aged faces in the last few years.  Even old elves kind of looked young.  And things here felt like they went too fast.  People didn't stop to examine, didn't stop to listen or understand, they just rushed, rushed, rushed.  It was too much like one of those wooden whirl-rounds that fairs sometimes had and it made him a little sick in the same way.

Dad tried to help, with talking, with music.  Dad was staying in Krandor a while.  He kept saying being together again was the best therapy for them except that now he was in jail so how did that figure?  He had to stop thinking about it.  It made him want to cry and he was way too old to cry.

But, he'd cried when they’d first seen each other.  Dad had too.  The letters exchanged had not prepared him for what his father would look like.  And the other way around, he guessed, by the way they'd just stared at each other.  Dad was...older.  Not wrinkly or grey-haired or anything although he did have a few grey hairs now and a few of those eye-lines when he smiled.  It was more a feeling, the way he talked.  War had changed him, he'd said.  War, and that terrible thing he'd done to that mom and kid.  

He knew the mom and the child lived around here.  He hadn't tried to find them yet.

His father smelled the same, when they finally hugged.  Cigars, sandlewood.  Soap.  He remembered the wet warmth of his dad’s tears in his hair and the fierceness of that embrace, protective and apologetic all at once.  How his dad has whispered his name over and over.  Held him until he was almost embarrassed.  He wasn’t a kid anymore.  He broke away first.

Mother hadn't been there.  He only had her few letters.  Her memory was a purple and black smudge now.  A voice, early morning sword practice, fear, the leather armor, the cloak.  The eyes.  He wanted to know where she was; Dad only said to write her care of the Rofierinites of Fort Vehl and that she could explain herself.  Dad was mad at her, really mad, deep inside.  He could tell.  It was confusing.  Elly had been there though and she was as warm and welcoming as ever – until she'd seen Clarisse, and then they were wrapped up in their own bundle of happy and sad and crying and it was just him and Dad again.  That was okay.  He was ready to forgive his father.  All the other emotions were tiring anymore, anyway.

He replaced candles while conversations rattled in his head.  All the way traveling here they had talked.  Talked about the war, about what he'd learned in the bow shop, about his rapier lessons and his teacher; he'd made Dad laugh with his imitations of the sour fencing master.  They'd talked about his elven lessons and the friends he’d had.  He found out he’d never been on Voltrex.  That surprised him, but it was “for his protection”.  He wanted be angry that he’d been so much closer than he had thought, but anger was draining, and pointless right now.  Amirilanaelam amecc fa, amecc fa.

They’d talked about the War.  He got the feeling Dad had skipped some of the worst stuff.  Kuhl was still occupied but his dad and a bunch of others had done some good.  There was more to do, Dad said.  They’d played guitar together, sparred, and Dad had sung a bunch of songs.  And they talked about what Dad was going to do here in Krandor.

“A declaration?”

“I need to present what I did in my own words.”

“You already did.  You wrote them a letter, you said so.”

“It was a placeholder, nothing more, Ty.  I always knew I’d have to come back here.  There are things that you can’t run from forever.”

“This Amaria girl taught you that?”  They’d talked about her too, and how his father hand helped her and learned from her.

“She did.  Ty, I don’t want to be locked up.  But if I am, being locked up in the same town as you is some consolation.  I need to find out what happened to that woman and her boy.  I need to do what’s right, this time.”  His father had taken necklace in hand and hummed.

“Why did you take so long to do it then?  Amaria could have waited.”  Dad had no answer for that.  Or, he did, but he wasn’t telling, which was annoying.  Ty might have been gone a while, but he still knew what that cheek twitching meant.  Dad had something to hide.

Not for long.  He would wait.  He knew how to wait, and how to choose his moment.

And now.  Dad in jail, and him alone.  Barely enough time to catch up on all the minutiae of their separate lives and he was alone again.

Time to fold the sheets.

[RollinsCat]

A chair scrapes across stone.  There is a soft thump.

"So."

"So."

"You look awful in broadcloth."

"Thanks.  Good to know I passed on a critical eye for fashion."

"You didn't pass anything on.  I'm adopted."

Long silence.

"How are you holding up?"

"Oh, great.  Talk of the town, since my father's in jail.  Peachy.  Thanks for asking."

"I'm sorry - the punishment is more than I thought, but - at least you know I can't go anywhere for a year..."  The strained baritone trails off weakly.

Silence for five heartbeats.  Ten.

"Say something."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know, anything, I've missed you to the point of madness and we only have one hour a day."

"Anything?  How about 'thanks for the month, it was fun, don't worry about me - I'm used to be a stranger and an outcast wherever I live'."

"Say what you feel.  That's a good start."

"What I feel.  What I feel..."  An incredulous laugh.  "Okay.  Okay - here's what I feel.  WHAT THE HELLS IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!!!!"  

Swift booted feet - a deep male voice.  "Is everything okay in here?"

"Fine.  Fine, he's just getting some emotion out.  It's okay, he might yell some more - "

"You're gods-dammed right I will!"

"When did you start using language like that?"

"Keep it down, we don't want the other prisoners getting riled.  You can't keep calm, you can't come visit."  The booted feet recede.

"I'll wait outside."  Female voice, soft but strained.  Padded, light steps and the swish of fabric on stone.

Silence.

"What do you mean, outcast."

"I mean, people ask where my mother is.  What do I tell them?  She's in jail in Fort Vehl for arson, murder, harming a child.  They ask who my father is - if they don't know already - and what do I tell them?  He's in jail for manslaughter of a woman and child.  Do you know how many parents won't even let their kids TALK TO ME?"

"...I'm sorry."

"You sure as hells are."

"Stop with the cussing.  You're better than that."

"Okay, Mr. Bad Example."

"Ty - "

"No.  No, no, no.  I'm just as alone here as I was with the elves.  I have no friends and nothing to do all day but hospital chores, I don't have a rapier teacher, I don't have parents, I don't have anything.  I'm sick of it.  Sorry isn't good enough.  Send me back, at least with the elves they don't look at me like I'm going to whip out a sword and run them through any minute."

"I - "

"And you're not helping."

"What, exactly, do you want me to do."  

"I don't know - make yourself popular, you're always good at that.  Do something to help someone else, or make the guards like you, or - I don't know!  Maybe then it won't be so hard on the outside."  A sniffle followed by an angry cough.  "I always knew Mother was a little nuts but I swear I never thought you'd end up here.  Never.  Not you.  People hate me because of who you are.  And it's making me hate you both, right when I thought I was over it."

"...son, I wish I could help but I have no instruments, no paper, no ink or quill, nothing - only what you see on me."

"You have your voice.  Sing.  Sing and maybe make someone better.  Sing and keep things calm like you do.  I know you can, you showed me, remember?  Entertain the prisoners so they don't cause trouble or something.  Anything!  Everyone thinks you're just guilty as all sin because you turned yourself in and didn't fight the charges..."

"I am guilty."

"Yeah but if people hear good things, maybe they won't be so harsh.  Just try because if I have to spend the next year walking around being treated like the son of two murderers, I'm going to - to - I'll go join the Rofies or the Pratnz Army or something, I swear!"  

Long, long pause.

"What?  You're not telling me something."

"It's fine."

"Liar.  Whatever.  Just do something because you're not the only one getting punished here."

"I...I'll try.  The Captain might let me, I don't know...I can ask.  She mentioned my talents might come in useful."

"It's a start."

"When did you turn into me?"

"I'm not you.  I'm not in jail."

"Do you want a fencing master?"

"Yes, the guard guy doesn't teach that, just regular sword work.  But there aren't any, so."

"I can ask Master Damon.  My teacher.  He might, he's agreed to teach you before but then we had to send you away."

"...you would?  I mean, I could learn from him."

"He's tough, kid.  Don't let his mild manners fool you.  I was thinking of asking for routines that can be done without a weapon, so I can keep up practice in my cell, so yes - I'll ask.  But he's nothing like that old elf you told me about.  He's very practical."

"Good.  That would...that would help."

"Son?"

"What."

"Daisuki desu."

"...yeah.  Okay.  I'll see you tomorrow."

[Lareth]

**A tall well muscled elf walked into the room where the young man waited, his footsteps light, but assured, his boots making almost no noise as they struck the floor.  Damon turned to Ty and smiled as he began speaking**

So.. Ty.. your father has asked me to see to your instruction with the blade, is this truly what you wish for?

**Waiting a very short moment, for the inevitable affirmative answer, he carried on speaking**

If we are to do this, I shall expect no less than your fullest devotion to the exercises we practice, and to the lessons which we will learn together.  An enquiring mind is also needed, we shall put into practice our drills and examine the reasons behind them, so that we are able to fully comprehend the lessons.

**A broader smile plays across Damon's lips, as he pauses then continues**

Now, young sir.. your father has given me permission to take you on a trip, so that we may begin our lessons.  In fact if I be truthful the trip itself is our first lesson, for I would have you taken out of your element, away from those things most familiar to you.  It will sharpen your mind to focus better on our training if there are no distractions.  So, go now, pack take clothes only, soft boots that are comfortable and light, we leave for the training arena of Vehl with the next tide.

**The voyage passed uneventfully, which given Damon's unusual bad luck with sea faring was something he was thankful for.  He spent the days of their journey, getting to know his young student better, learning what the young man would share of his life, but not pressing for more than Ty was willing to reveal.  Upon arrving in Vehl, they made for the One Eyed Harpy Inn, after obtaining them rooms, Damon went up, checked the beds, promptly threw tick infested bedding into a large burlap sack, and replaced it with sheets and linens he had "borrowed" from the Buckle.  After a swift breakfast, they headed out into the city, taking a diversion to stop by one of the many live poultry vendors, where armed with a loudly protesting chicken they arrived at the training arena of Vehl**

I'm sure you are wondering just what a chicken has to do with learning the sword?

Well.. yeah..

**With a devilish smile, Damon replied**

Our first lessons involve you catching the chicken using your hands.. this will give me a good feel for your reflexes, coordination, and also speed.  Be gentle with your hands, for I do not want her hurt, so no jumping ontop of her, you must use your feet and hands only to chase and catch.

**Ty's reply came with the full confidence of youth**

Pfft.. I thought you'd have something challenging for me to learn...

**Damon's laugh sounded clear and bright across the room**

**sometime later Ty began to see that catching a healthy, free roaming chicken which does not want to be caught is no easy feat, especially in a large room such as the Arena.  Those times when he came close, were often fended off by a vicious peck from the beak of the hen, or a buffet of the wings which prevented him from closing his grasp, and allowed the bird time to escape his clutching hands.  Eventually, youth, perserverance, and the fact the Ty was strong and quick, combined and he caught up the bird in his hands, turning to Damon with triumphant smile he held the chicken high in his victory, puffing with exertion**

Good, very good indeed, now let her go and try again.  A little more effort if you please Tyr'Riel, time is wasting, and there is much we must get done for today.

Let her go???  But I just... Yes master Damon.

**Back and forth the contest waged between Ty and the hen, round and round the arena.  With added practice he did indeed get better at catching her, and mostly he was able to succeed in a shorter time span, each time.  Damon pushed him hard, but allowed breaks for both Ty, and chicken to recuperate, eat and drink**

Master Damon..

Yes?

Can you show me how you catch the chicken?

**Ty's grin was plain to see**

Surely, for this is part of the days lesson.

**laughing happily Ty released the Hen into the arena, Damon took off after her, harrying her quickly toward one of the corners of the building.  With the angle narrowed, he swooped in and scooped her up gently in his hands.  Turning with a smile to Ty, he held her up.  Ty's pout was clear all the way across the room**

But.. but thats cheating Master Damon.. you said use your hands..

True, but nowhere did I say to stop using your head to direct your hands and feet.  So here you see our first true lesson of the day, as your father will tell you, a warriors most dangerous weapon is his mind, let it direct you, guide you.  This I cannot teach you to do, you must learn to do it for yourself, what we will do is train so that when your thoughts require action, your body can answer, without hesitation.  So your strikes will come fluently, their accuracy will be true, and I hope that with this, well you'll be kept in one piece.  Now, take some time and rest a little more, we have one more lesson for the day.

**Once Ty's rest was up, Damon led him out of the arena, and on to the docks of the port city.  Seeing a straggling pair of children, thin and obviously hungry clustered around a small shack, where presumably it was their mother worked, mending the nets of fishermen.  Damon headed that way, upon arrival the children clustered around him**

Oi mistah.. you wanna give us that hen?  'Er eggs'll help keep us fed they will

I'll tell you what **Damon said, a curious look on his face**  You, and Ty will all have to try and catch her, whoever does it first will get the Hen..and Ten true weight coins.

**With that said, Damon lined them up, then let the Hen down an equal distance from each of them.  Quick as ty was, the youngest of the two other children, thinner than her brother moved with lightning speed, rounding the outstretched arms of the two boys, she grabbed the hen by the feet and shouted with joy.  Damon smiled and gave her her prize, then taking Ty, headed back to the Harpy**

So, Ty, can you tell me what was the purpose of that last lesson?

**Ty's face creased with thought for a few moments**

Well.. if you ask me.. I think that because they were real hungry.. well thats what made that little girl get there first

**smiling and clapping him on the back Damon turned to him**

Exactly, our actions carry a wholly different weight when our life is dependent on them, and remember that applies just as much  for our adversary as it does for us.  So be ready to give it your all, for your enemy surely shall, each and every time.

[RollinsCat]

It was, to the best of his recollection, the nicest birthday he'd ever had.  He'd picked the menu; spit-roasted squab crusted in spices, pork medallions, roasted red potatoes, buttered carrots, sugared dried fruits, Dad's rice noodles in cream sauce, and chocolate-and-almond pie for dessert.  Dad and Elly and Michael and Paddy and Edward and Heloise were there and Michael's wife and new baby too.  A few of his new friends came by, including Sadie, and for the first time in a long while he felt at home somewhere.  He had family and friends - it didn't get much better, really.  He'd even sent his mother a letter and told her to visit.  It was time for them to talk.

He had not asked for much, but he'd been gifted with a new Huangjin sabre, new boots - with good soles for gripping wood or stone, to help with his rapier lessons - and something he never expected, a book of guitar music his father had written exclusively for him.  Dad also gave him other books he'd written over the years, even the first one with the pictures of him and Tiger, his mother, the apple.  Elly had given him a book of elven stories and fables, in elven, as well as some of Voltrex's history "in case he ever needed to know".  Those leather-bound books meant more to him than even the finest sword.

There was also a hefty dose of guilt from the parent who'd been absent for his last five birthdays, although he resisted the temptation to exploit that guilt.  Well, mostly.  He did request a fancy set of clothes, custom fitted, at the best tailoring shop in Mariner's Hold.  He didn't care that much about clothes but Sadie did, and he wanted to impress her...way more than he should want to impress anyone.  He went with blues and blacks, Dad said he should wear blues since they worked with his complexion.  

He was fifteen now.  Looking through the books later, after the party was over and he was stuffed and feeling mellow-good, he had a twinge.  Fifteen; he remembered Dad looking at him, Elly looking at him, both of them talking, and it seemed like Elly was trying to cheer Dad up.  And the books...it wasn't goodbye, but it was...maybe more like an acknowledgement.  Their past was behind them and he wasn't a child any longer.  He was allowed to go places with Master Damon but without his parents.  He was allowed to wander Mariner's Hold alone, with the understanding that he not go certain places and especially not certain hours of the day.  Dad had more of a problem with it than Elly - it was she who talked him into allowing Ty that freedom.  But her point was made.  He wasn't a child.  He was only a few years from leaving.

And leave he would.  The world was both a lot bigger and a lot smaller than it was when he'd been a child running around the woods surrounding a tower in Co'rys, or a boy exploring every nook and cranny of the Twin Dragons Inn and a huge old inn in Mariner's Hold, or running around the woods of an elven village.  Or a young human man going through an isolated puberty in Krandor.  For better or worse his education had come at the hands of parents who could not leave well enough alone.  He didn't think he could either; although, in many ways, he felt he could do a better job.  At least he wouldn't end up in jail.

The morning after his fifteenth birthday, he got the strangest, best present yet, although it was Helly that pointed it out; facial hair.  He had not noticed.  He didn't spend a lot of time in the mirror beyond trying to tame his unruly, thick, straight black hair and he never liked looking at his old pox scars - but upon running to the privy mirror, there they were, a smattering of beard hairs and the beginning of a downy mustache.

Hah!  Something he could do he knew his Dad couldn't.  Happy birthday to me!

[RollinsCat]

A letter is read, re-read, thoughtfully flicked with an index finger.  He cannot speak to his father about it; Dad is in Port Hempstead.  Clarisse is busy every day learning from Heloise, and the both of them learning from Elly.  Who, then?

The answer presents itself in soft footsteps.  He knows they are just loud enough for him to hear on purpose.  Paddy swats the back of his head if he sneaks up on Ty these days.  He gets swatted a lot.

He's training with his friend again and he enjoys it.  He's learned a few interesting things practicing his sneaking around the Inn, on those occasions he manages to do it successfully.  Elly and Heloise he can watch from shadows; they focus on their tasks at hand and do not hear him.  Michael, harder to sneak up on, as is his father.  Edward is almost impossible to surprise and Clarisse as well.  She always seems to know when he's around.  

He's never snuck up on Paddy.  His friend's hearing is scary good.

He shows Paddy the letter.  They talk.  It's not parent to child, more like big brother to little brother.  He likes that.  He sometimes misses not having siblings.  Paddy has some interesting things to say about parents.  Things Ty didn't know, things that ring the same if the reasons are different.  He feels less alone after that.

He reads the letter one last time before tucking it into a drawer and writing back.


Tyr'riel,

The last time we saw each other, things did not go as I had wanted.  I did not think you would be angry with your father and I for sending you away, though I do not blame you for being angry with us for our crimes.

I apologize for striking you.  The tone you took with me was not one I was willing to take from you, but that does not mean I should have hit you.  But regardless of how you feel about my decisions regarding you or others, I am still your mother.  And your father is still your Father.  I would hope you would have the proper respect for us as your parents.

I understand you were told, by some one, that we adopted you shortly before we sent you away.  I'm sure that did not help you cope with being away from us.  If you ever want to discuss the facts of your 'adoption,' please come see me, or ask me if I am around.  I will tell you what I can.

With Love,
Your Mother