The evening was chilly, but she could tell there was a touch of spring in the air, barely, as the glow of dawn on the horizon, but enough to take the bite off the cold. She’d left her shawl at home, with just her cloak around her. After she’d delivered the tunic and vest to the vendor on in the Stone Quarter, the skirt to the lady on the High Stair, she stopped by the inn for a drink.
Kristophor was there by the fire, a face she’d not seen in months, along with another woman whose name she’d learned to be Wynny. Charming and lively, she was a dancer and performer with a traveling group, and the two had quickly clicked. Their chatter bright against his dour silence, trying through all manner of jest to perhaps coax a ghost of an emotion or grin from him.
"You should be a bard!" Wynny chirped with a cheery smile.
Sareva raised her glass to him. "The fabulous Kristopher. His specialty, the dirge. I can see it now." She nudged Wynny. "Can’t you?"
The other woman pressed her lips together in a suppressed giggle, "It would draw a large crowd, I am sure."
"Don't think people would quite enjoy it." Through his mask, neither could make out his expression, though the lack of change in his eyes seemed to say it hadn’t changed in the slightest.
"Well, a dirge isn't an enjoyable song isn't it? But you don't have the temperament for any other." Sareva teased, then nudged Wynny saying, "That ought to be your mission, miss. If you can make this man smile, and really smile, then you'll know you've succeeded as a performer."
The conversation seemed to take a turn. Was there anything in the world that could make him smile, or even show a glimmer of hope that he wasn’t completely a stone wall? He apologized if his mood might have brought things down. Though he said their amusement lightened his mood, there was no hint of it until he spoke of the other thing that brought some little light to his life. Producing a tattered old journal from an equally worn pack, he showed the two a drawing, a portrait of a girl, a young lady rather, thirteen years of age. His niece. Yet, while he talked as if her presence made him happy, still she perceived no change in his demeanor, no visible indication of anything, nor anything audible in the tone of his voice, flat as ever.
At that point, Aeglorond and another man had joined. Sareva couldn’t help but ask…
"Has she ever seen you smile? That's something to think about; because if you're around her, especially at that age where they're very observant of those things, expressions, intentions, emotions, she may get the wrong impression, that you are actually made of stone walls."
Wynny took another look at the picture. "Sareva has a point. People, especially children can take a stoic nature to be an uncaring one."
Aeglorond seemed to side with Kristophor on the matter. "Though the stone wall persona can be useful."
"At times, yes, but constantly? What's on the inside reflects on the outside, but also if you put up a front enough, eventually you become it."
At that, Aeglorond conceded some. "Aye, I made that mistake," he murmured, taking a sip of his drink.
"Well," interjected Kristophor, "sometimes it’s better that way."
Oh, he had his own path to walk he said; better to let her grow up on her own he said; I have things to do elsewhere he said. The possibility of him regretting this in the future was talked about, but fairly soon, she couldn’t take all the selfish magnanimity.
"The way you talk about her, it sounds as if she doesn't have other family around her, and you, the one family member, abandons her to "do well on her own" as you've said. At first, you were the one I felt sorry for; now it's her."
More words from him on how she would grow up better without him, that he hadn’t been a part of her life for thirteen years and she could do very well without him, without the one person with whom she would have a familial bond
The other man, Jossua, spoke into the situation. "Hmm... struggle isn't necessarily negative. She'll be stronger for it."
"And harder, as a person. Cold, like you." Sareva’s gaze remained steadily on Kristophor.
He paused a moment. "I hope not, I hope she will have her own family one day. She is around...less dirgy people...people who are not stone walls."
Aeglorond piped up, "I would suggest visiting occasionally... Just to show her you haven't abandoned her."
"I don't believe she would want that. But I will be sure to keep up to date on how she is doing. As much as I can."
The conceit, the absolute detachment, the assumption that as family being a part of her life wouldn’t matter, or worse that that girl might feel alone, aimless, lacking worth…Sareva flicked her wrist in the air. She felt the rim of her temper, and his words kept adding to the cup until it threatened to overflow. "I’ve said my peace, but your ideas are about as made of stone as the rest of you."
And she had meant to, to keep her mouth shut, but oh how he talked about how he was just a man, how he was no one special, yet he acted as if he alone was responsible for the weight of the world and it was his morose burden to carry. Words pouring opaque as wine into the cup like that in her hand. At last, one of the waves sloshed over.
"They need any help, I help." He’d said.
"Unless they’re thirteen-year-old girls."
That gave him pause, and his eyes shut. Jossua, the one across from her, grinned at her prod and tried to fill the silence, maybe to keep tensions from rising.
"Perhaps thirteen-year-old girls are less helpless than those he usually aids? Who knows... many a problem to be had around here..."
Then Kristophor opened his eyes again. "If my presence upsets you miss Sareva, I apologize and I can depart?"
She tried to measure her words, held her hands around the rim of her cup. Though she couldn’t see his face, so focused on Kristophor as she was, she could almost hear Aeglorond’s frown in his voice when he said, "When you could die any day, family should be the most important... As I said, don't make the same mistake as me..."
"She is happy, I have seen it. I will only make her upset and cause her pain."
She fixed him with an unblinking gaze, a look of ice pin him in place. "What upsets me is not your presence. As Aeglorond has said, there is no one more important than family, and no on you can trust more. Everyone else may potentially stab you in the back. And with her, a young woman, a girl who is at a time in her life where she yearns to be loved, finds her one family member an unreachable, untouchable brick? No, it is not your presence that upsets me, but your apathy." She laughed humorlessly. "Happy? A smile may be offered in a moment that covers a multitude of insecurities, doubts, and hurts. You say she is happy, but how do you know that if you don't take the time to know her?"
Jossua’s raised an eyebrow in intrigue. "Well... if that isn't a motherly sort of instinct, I don't know what is..." His gaze shifted to Kristophor to see how he would react, an amused sort of smile on his face as he took out his pipe. As for herself, her words were spent and perhaps he would have something to say.
Kristophor slowly looked over to her. "I cannot stay and hurt her…you're right, there is no one more important but even your family can hurt you and betray you. I would never want to cause her pain and have her be upset more than she was when I met her. She laughed, same smile as her father...the sly little toothy grin. But she was not happy with me, I will not force myself on her to make myself feel more accomplished as a human being, or as an uncle. It is better this way, you can think little of me and that is fine."
‘Better?!” she thought, 'How is abandonment better? How is leaving a young woman without a male role model better? Leaving her vulnerable better? Helper indeed, more like shirking responsibility.’
Thankfully, Jossua took up the cause. "The man has more important things to consider... and there are sometimes more important things than family."
Kristophor responded, "This is not more important than her. Nothing in my heart is more important than her."
"Well... your actions say something different."
"I will not hurt her or make her miserable."
"Please... you enjoy your work as a 'helper.' Perhaps you even love it. You'd not leave it for anything."
“I wish I didn't have it, I'd rather a simpler life.”
Then why didn’t he take it? Seize that simpler life? Or even part of each where he could help mentor that young woman while still aiding in whatever area she was in? One thing became glaringly apparent to her: it wasn’t that he did not know how to help her, he just didn’t want to help her if it meant sacrificing his roaming, self-driven, self-directed lifestyle.
The base of her cup clacked loudly against the mantle, having placed it down with more force than she intended. She’d had quite enough, grabbing her cloak from the chair as she circumvented the group with long, focused strides. "I have to agree with our friend here," she said, nodding to Jossua. In two seconds flat, she was out, and closing the door firmly behind her, though she was careful not to slam it for the sake of the other patrons.
Down the steps by the fountain, the tailor tossed her cloak on the adjacent bench as she passed it again and again, pacing. She ought to go in there and give him another piece of her mind. She ought to leave it alone, go home and not cause trouble. She ought to go back and slap him. She ought to go find that girl and see that she was well off, perhaps find her an apprenticeship. She ought to drag that flaky, self-centered, brick brained, clay faced child out with his fantasies of being the lone man to save the world and exact a binding oath from him that he would care for his orphaned niece.
Eventually, she felt a cold patch on her wrist. Holding it up, she saw a blot of a stain, purplish on the blue hues of her sleeve. Most likely, some of the wine had sloshed out of the cup when she set it down. Immediately, she leaned down and dipped it in the still frigid waters of the fountain, trying to scrub out what she could with her fingers and the heel of her hand. Doing something helped her mind.
Though she heard the soft scrape of a boot settling on the bench to her left, she didn’t look up to see who it was. Whether it be Kristophor or Aeglorond or anyone else, she didn’t care for anyone to see her face right now.
""You alright?" It was Aeglorond’s voice. He snorted at himself. "No, it's pretty clear that's not the case."
"He doesn't care," she said, still scrubbing. "At this most crucial time, he doesn't even try."
A sigh. "I believe he does... I did the same when I left Gondor, I left my family behind without a word I regret that choice now but at the time I felt they would be better off without me."
She looked up at him and jabbed a convicting finger in his direction. "Then Don't let him make that same mistake." She threw her arms out, and without any direction, they fell back to her sides. "I mean…you see... This isn't just any mistake. This is the life and development of a girl on the cusp of womanhood. She's searching for who she is, for what love is supposed to look like, and that-" she emphasized, thrusting an open hand toward the door of the inn, "That is what she's going to think it looks like?"
Aeglorond glared back at her. "Unfortunately, I can't change someone's mind for them and if I know anything about Kris he won't listen. And yes, it's terrible but I can't do anything about it, he has to make that decision. All I can do is offer advice it's up to the person if they want to take it."
"No, you can't change his mind for him, but you can damn well try a bit harder to convince him. Because those girls, those that think that an emotionally detached man is the one, those are the ones that end up being fitted for a long-sleeved dress in the summer because a shawl won't hide all the marks."
She couldn’t look at him, at any one place. Her body shifted left and right and her eyes darted from place to place as her soul welled up within her. If her face stayed still for a moment, perhaps he would see inside. She raked a hand through her hair, putting an arm between his gaze and her visage. After a deep breath, her words came softer. "Could you pull him aside or something? You, being more like him and all, he might actually listen."
"It is out of our hands, but I can try again though I doubt it will work." He gestured to the door "We head back in then?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't think I can go back there right now. I think I'll stay out here, maybe go for a walk." Again, her fingers went into the icy water. She shook most of the water from them and applied them to her face. With how exceedingly cold they felt, her face had to have been flushed.
Aeglorond had been unsuccessful, though not for lack of trying. His masked target had slipped away while he was outside. The two of them talked a little longer, walking south toward the gate. She learned a little of the family Aeglorond had left in his home country, her comfort lying in the fact that none were children or a spouse, all siblings, people as old or older who could take off if they wanted to and get out of whatever situation he had left because of. They were not those that needed a guiding influence or the protection that a single man could provide for them that they could not themselves. Her subsequent lone journey home did not provide any peace as her thoughts focused once again on that other girl, also alone on her own journey.
Inside, Sareva combed her hair back from her face with her fingers, a long sigh passing through her lips as she thudded back against the closed door. The locked slid into place and she headed straight for her room, begging sleep to come quiet, collect, and sort her whirling heart cries.
