A Story of Swords, Part 2

Currently in Earphones: Chocolat Soundtrack by Rachel Portman

The next chapter of my story feels fairly ready. I'm at a point where I've touched on all the places I want to, but I'm unsure if I want to add any more bits and pieces. I'll post it as it is now, and if I come up with any other ideas or additions, I'll add them later.

By the way, Lord Ginndem's line about goodness and humility is from Robert Louis Stevenson, taken from his excellent book Kidnapped. Just wanting to cite my sources.

Chapter 2: Safety

Shaking his head, Touchstone brought himself back to the grassy knoll and out of the reverie that he was usually wont to fall into. He still had time before the confrontation would occur, and thinking about it only made him think back as to how the whole mess came together. He found himself remembering the first time he had arrived at the Keep.

It had been a cold day, and the first snows of winter were beginning to fall. Having lived in the south all his life, snow was a novelty, and in spite of the burden on his heart, he found himself enjoying the simple pleasures of tasting the falling flakes. He was, however, near starving as well. His foolish pride made him only eat little from the few houses he stayed in during the last few days of his travel. Whether this fasting was caused by bravado or reduced sense of self-worth, he was near collapsing as he trudged the last few paces toward the drawbridge of Ginndem Keep.

The commoners in the area had informed him of the character of Lord Ginndem: a stern man, but also generous and good-hearted. Since the Fool had come from a good family, if not well known, his name if not his upright bearing would no doubt vouchsafe him with the Lord. Touchstone could barely stand as he was announced and brought before him. While kneeling and delivering salutations, he thought it better to stay on one leg as he explained his situation, fearful that he would faint and end up in the dungeon, much less a room, before his position was known.

After the initial greetings and when the young fool had given as much truth as he thought pertinent, Lord Ginndem smoothed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger: “Some time away from home, eh lad? I’m no stranger myself to needing time to collect ones’ thoughts.” Pausing, he heaved a sigh. “The snows are coming, however, and much of my people winter in the keep.”

Understanding, Touchstone quickly explained “If I am too much of a burden, I need not stay long. I will work and make myself useful, if it pleases you, and keep to myself. I don’t wish to be unwanted, and I would rather be of use than idle.”

Smiling, as if the young Fool had passed a test, the Lord rose from his throne and moved towards him with surprising grace for a man of his girth. “There are two things,” he said, his eyes still smiling though his mouth had adopted a more serious set, “that man should never tire of: goodness and humility; we get none too much of them in this rough world and among cold, proud people. You, my boy, seem to possess both, and for that, you are welcome here.” Touchstone bowed his head in thanks, and the Lord made a dismissive noise and clapped him on the shoulder. As Touchstone looked back up at the Lord, his vision sparkled with fatigue.

Lord Ginndem continued; “I daresay things will be more interesting about the keep now that we have a new visitor. My family often gets restless after they have met with their old friends, and I’m sure my daughters wouldn’t mind a young man to give their attentions to.” Although the boy caught the mischievousness in the old man’s voice, vision and hearing alike were becoming hazy, and he managed to look around the Lord’s shoulder to a new figure approaching the room.

She was a young woman, of middle height, with raven black hair and a pleasantly round face. Obviously one of the Lord’s daughters, judging by her dress, and the last thing Touchstone remembered was seeing her eyes widen as she caught sight of him kneeling in front of her father. At the end of his strength, he crumpled to the side and knew no more.

The next he remembered, he was lying in a soft bed with warm covers. A fire was crackling and snapping pleasantly in the nearby fireplace, and his clothes had been washed and folded on a chair next to him. To his relief, the black hilt of Doomgiver was visible over the chairs back, the scabbard and belt draped over the side. He idly rubbed his thumb over the side of his forefinger, and he felt the same comfort of seeing the sword as finding the small silver ring in its usual place. A simple knot design adorned it, and remembering that it had a twin to the south brought back his melancholy. The feeling was dull, however; his new situation and surroundings taking the majority of his interest. If he was to continue on, he mused, he couldn’t let the past shackle him.

As he was alternately marveling at the quality of the room and mulling over his thoughts, the Lord’s daughter whom he had seen earlier entered the room with a tray of simple food. Approaching the bed, she said “I’ve brought you some food, my lord.”

“Please,” said he, “I’m no lord. You may call me Touchstone.”

“A fool’s name?” she asked as she set the tray on the bed stand.

“For a Fool I am,” he replied. “If you don’t mind,” he added sheepishly, “I’m quite hungry…”

“Oh, of course!” and helped him sit up before placing the tray in his lap, for he was still weak with fatigue. As he munched on the warm meat and bread, she sat down in a chair next to the bed, “I heard your story from father. You’re from the lands to the south?”

“Indeed I am.” He paused, wanting to qualify his answer, but also anxious of saying too much. “I was in need of a change of scenery.”

She looked pensive, then laughed and said “Why did you really leave?”

Caught off guard at her frankness and insight, he thought for a moment. “I suppose you could say that things changed. Complications arose. I could no longer find my footing, and I needed to continue moving. So, in a sense, I really did need a change of scenery, if not for simply being bored.”

Smiling and seemingly satisfied at the further, if not clearer, explanation, she started and said, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Esther, Lord Ginndem’s eldest.”

“A pleasure,” said Touchstone, then added wryly “and have you any equally obscure past?”

She shrugged, “I’ve lived here and around here all my life. There was a time when I wished to be somewhere, anywhere, else than here, but I found new friends and new activities to keep me occupied. The local naturalist taught me of plants and creatures a long time ago, and I’ve been fascinated by such things ever since. Father even let me keep a sunroom for growing herbs and the like.” She giggled and continued, “I daresay he can’t get by now without a little Rosemary seasoning his food, he loves the taste so much.”

Touchstone nodded. Since he had left the southern lands he had run into few young women, but he found their vapidity unappealing. Esther’s interest in things beyond court gossip and such things was refreshing, and even attractive.

As his heart stirred, old memories also came to the surface, and he began to twist the silver ring around his finger. Catching sight of this, Esther asked, “What is that?”

Collecting his wits, he replied, “A memento,” then added, almost without thinking, “of something, perhaps, long gone.”

Seeing the simple design, she tilted her head. “Perhaps…it’s closer than you think.”

Wrapped up in his own thoughts, Touchstone could only manage a small chuckle, even though her statement made him think harder. His eyes were partly on the ring and partly on Esther as she moved toward the door. “By the way,” she said, pausing under the lintel, “You talk in your sleep.” Startled by the remark, Touchstone lifted his eyes to see Esther closing the door, but still looking at him with an enigmatic smile on her face.

He was then alone, with only some food, the ring, Doomgiver, and his thoughts.

To be continued in Chapter 3

Enough. More Later,
- James