Uncertainty
He sneaked into the doorway of the kitchen of their family’s inn. His older sister Myela had almost finished washing the dishes, and she was humming to herself. She looked a little tired, the young high elf boy noticed. He knew his family wasn’t doing that well; he had heard his father sighing here and there, and his mother counting pennies they had earned after a tranquil day in the Inn. He knew they didn’t lack food, no, luckily the closest surrounding fields were their own and could somewhat support the family. However, he was quite sure the lack of money was the main reason his oldest sister Gaella had moved into the city, not because she would have suddenly found a job there. It was not like there wouldn’t have been enough work for everyone in the family in the Inn, or on the fields and in the barn, which housed their livestock.
Every month, Gaella sent back home some money she had saved from her salary. He knew that, because when those days came, his family members used to smile more often and sometimes they had something special to eat, like sausages or fresh white bread, the one that had been braided beautifully and smelled of herbs. And they could have an apple or cherry pie for dessert, and no one told him anything if he wanted to go for seconds and gorge himself on the sweet, sweet pie.
Gilenar observer his sister with a keen eye. Maybe he could help her somehow? He glanced back, to the Inn’s main hall. Hall was slightly too majestic a term to describe their little Inn’s guest area, but that was how it was called. He noticed there were a couple of mugs and plates, left on the corner table, so he of course eagerly hurried to get them, so he could quickly carry them to the kitchen before his sister would have finished doing the dishes and would have poured the water away. Otherwise, someone would have to carry more water from the well and heat it, and it would take time. Their family’s large black dog, Kormus, watched after him, being close by like always. Its big brown eyes looked at him concerningly, and it let out a small whine.
“Shh, boy. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Gilenar ensured when he scooped the plates up and piled the mugs on top of them. Kormus came to him, a worried look in its wise eyes, and it pawed him, gently yet firmly on the leg. It let out a dissatisfied whimper when the boy didn’t react to it.
“Oh, boy, move aside, I need to get these to the kitchen before My…elais rea….dy with… the dish…es…shh…”
Gilenar noticed it too late and immediately understood that Kormus had been the more attentive of the two: not once nor twice had the dog warned him of an oncoming episode and the good old boy had tried to warn him now, too. Gilenar just hadn’t listened. From the point on when his words would begin to melt and fuse into incoherent mumble and sound like some unknown language, he knew he would only have a couple of seconds left. Gilenar staggered and hurried to place the dishes he was holding on the nearest platform, but he was a bit too slow.
The sounds of breaking plates sounded like coming from underwater. The following sharp, deep bark was low like a distant rumbling of a thunderstorm.
He wasn’t sure what he saw. It was like his eyes would have been full of mist, all watery and itchy; he could only see distorted, strange shapes and shadows. But the clashing sounds of arms, the iron-rich smell of blood, the stench of putrid flesh, and the smoke of funeral pyre were tangible.
“…It’s alright, Gil, it’s alright…”
Someone was petting his hair, gently and repetitively, in a way he found so familiar.
“….Mom?”
His own voice was just a hollow beep. He sniffled and raised his hand to wipe away a few scared tears from his eyes, blinking them, trying to focus his sight.
“Yes, yes sweetheart. It’s alright.”
His mother answered. She took him into a soft hug and placed a kiss on his hair. It helped. He had been sat down on a chair -cracked plates and shattered mugs laid on the floor a few meters away. Kormus laid under a nearby table, watchful eyes on him, guarding him like it had a habit of doing.
“It’s alright now. Myela made you some tea, with extra honey. You’ll feel better in no time.”
His mother smiled at him gently and gave him a cup of tea. He could see the lines of worry on her forehead, even when she tried to act calm and dismissive before him. Her eyes observed him as only those of a mother worried about her child's health could. It made Gilenar somewhat uneasy and ashamed.
Gilenar stared at his cup. It smelled good and sugary, but it was a bit too hot still.
“Sorry about the dishes, I didn’t mean…”
“No, no, it’s alright. They are just tableware. We can buy new ones.”
His mother was quick to answer, maybe a little too quick. She was upset but didn’t want to show that either, because of the worry. Gilenar could understand that, but it made him feel even worse.
“I just wanted to help…”
“Yes, it’s very good, but maybe you could help outside. You could go to watch the lambs and take Kormus with you.”
“Alright…”
Gilenar bit his lip. It was a boring job, sitting there and watching how their small herd of lambs ate. They didn’t really need a shepherd; the pasture had fences. Maybe his mother just wanted to make him feel useful.
“Drink it up now, while it’s hot.”
His mother advised warmly, but the warmth of her loving mother’s voice wasn’t enough to chase away the disappointment and shame from his mind.
He had gone to bed earlier than usual. He was ashamed, even when everyone had told him there was nothing to be ashamed about. The boy knew, though, that it wasn’t about that. He didn’t want to see the worrying expressions of his family, everyone -and not least the dog!- hovering around him, observing every move he made, ready to dart to help him if he would get about of his mysterious sickness again. Everyone kept saying it was nothing! That these things happened -like, to whom else than him? He knew no one else with such symptoms, apart from some old folk whose eyes had fogged over, and they were like ghosts of their past selves, ready to part from the world to the next life.
Gilenar hadn’t been able to fall to the trance, especially when he wasn’t sure if he was dying or not. He had asked about it, once or twice, but his parents had averted the question with some lousy excuses or by diverting the attention elsewhere. They didn’t know either. And somehow it felt even worse. The boy was sure he was going to die soon. He couldn’t come up with no other explanation, and it scared him.
Thirst drove him out of bed. Kormus was fast asleep but opened its eyes when he stepped out of his room. The loyal beast slowly rose, following him to the corridor. He could have a glass of water downstairs, so Gilenar thought when he noticed that there was light coming from the downstairs. Were his parents still up? The light came from the kitchen, and Gilenar walked down the stairs, quietly as he hated the creaky ones he acrobatically stepped over. Still, when he heard the heated discussion in the midway, he automatically stopped to listen. Sounded like mom and Myela…? Was everything alright, maybe he would-...
“Why did you let him carry the plates?! He could have hurt himself!”
“I didn’t ask for help! He did that on his own!”
“He was your responsibility, he-“
“I didn’t even KNOW he was downstairs!”
Another voice, deeper and calmer, interrupted:
“Please, calm down, both of you. We don’t want to wake the whole house up.”
It was his father, speaking calmly and leniently. His father was a calm man who laughed often and rarely got upset about anything. Now he sounded stressed out, and it made Gilenar’s stomach tie itself into millions of tiny knots.
“Gaella said in her most recent letter that she would try to ask around if there would be a proper healer in the temple, who could look into his condition. They would also know if we need a permit for a special burial, in case of his unnatural-“
“Don’t you dare to say that!”
His mother barked, so distraught it almost made poor boy rush into the kitchen, but he felt like he would have been paralyzed.
“He’s my sweet little boy, not some unnatural monster!”
She continued, her voice breaking into a sobbing vail. He could hear his father stepping closer to console her, probably taking her into a hug.
“He’s not going to die!”
“Shh, my love…”
“He is not!”
His mother’s voice was so distraught it made Gilenar himself feel like he had something stuck in his throat.
“Mom, it’s going to be alright. We’ll gather enough money to pay the healer; I’ll get a job too. The apple picking season is coming up, and I can ask the Oakhearts if they need extra help in their orchard. It’s going to be alright, I swear.”
Gilenar couldn’t stand to listen more. He wanted to go and see his family, to say it didn’t matter if he died, they wouldn’t need to gather any money or take any extra jobs, but he was too scared himself. And ashamed, feeling so guilty over something he couldn’t do anything about. Maybe there was something unnatural about him. Some horrible necrotic disease eating his brain or something.
The boy fled, quietly, back to his own room.
“Come on, Kormus.”
He sniffled, tapping his bed. The scurry black dog looked at him, pondering if its master was sure about the command. Usually, the big dog preferred laying on the floor, but the dog let out almost a humanoid-like sigh and jumped lazily on the bed, curling on the end of the bed. Gilenar spread the covers over both of them and rested his head on the hound’s side. Eventually, the trance came, when his teary eyes had dried, and the sound of the snoring dog lulled him into rest.
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