Two Crows Watch from the Gallows Tree (part 3)

(Yup, he is! Forever ago Tomhas mentioned him, saying he could get Ky some better binders at no cost to Aleth.)

"Indeed he is, and a very skilled one at that! He makes more than enough to support his family and my aunt as well."

(Ohhh that's right! Gosh, how time has flown xD "hey I can help you take better care of Kyber if you want" to "fuck you, Kylia is my daughter now" xD)

"That's really cool!" Ky said enthusiastically. She'd never been able to do much more than sew on buttons and mend small tears. But she admired people who were skilled with creating garments and accessories.

(How far we've come! Hadn't expected it to end up like this at all.)

Anneke nodded, grinning. "I'm very proud of him." She turned to Tomhas. "You're the only one who hasn't told a story, dearest. What will you spin for us today?" Tomhas drew his sons closer to him, pursing his lips.
"Hmm, let's see."

(Same!)

Ky had helped herself to a second wheat cake and munched on it happily as she waited for Tomhas to come up with his story. She had no doubt he probably had enough stories for her to listen to the rest of her life. And she was curious to see if he'd pick a wive's tale, or sheer fiction, or something real-life like Anneke had.

"Here is my voice," he said at last, lowering his voice and dropping its tone, "and here is my tale.
"This is the story of how the Goat Man came to be alone." There was a quiet gasp from Oscar, and Anneliese leaned forward in anticipation. Tomhas glanced around the circle and hunched forward. Peter climbed off his lap and Anneke lifted him into hers.
"For those of you who don't know, the Goat Man is a spirit of the night, doomed to walk between the land of gods and the land of men. He's known to snatch children from the wheat fields and gobble them up raw. He brings a blizzard with him wherever he goes and peers into the windows of houses at night because he has nobody at all with which to spend his night. He steals that which does not belong to him and stones birds when they flutter down near his campfire.
"It is said he bears the head and hooves of a great white goat, and his hair is ragged and stained yellow. His eyes are flat gray, and he wanders the night in nothing but a black cape.
"Now, long, long ago, before the twelve Houses settled here, there were only the tribes. And the Goat Man was a great warrior of one of these tribes--the Two Stone tribe. He had bested a white bear in battle alone, and he bore scars from a battle with a mountain cat."

(Aspects of this character are drawn from a set of poems by one of my favorite authors in his book Drift of the Hunt.)

(ooh that's really neat! You've got such interesting plot points ^^)

Ky listened intently, entire attention focused on the tale. Tomhas was an excellent storyteller -- his entire posture and tone and inflection weaving the tale into existence better than any book could ever hope to. It was delightful.

(Aw thanks!)

"The Goat Man had a wife and child. He adored them; he brought the spoils of his kills to them before he shared with any of the tribe. He doted on both of them like only a husband and father can, and they doted on him in return.
"One day, the Goat Man's child fell ill, and the shamans could do nothing for him. They had seen no illness like this before, and it fell to the Goat Man to go in search of a cure before his child died. He set out the same night pulling his hunter's sleigh behind him, and slowly but surely over the next week he found each and every tribe in the area and begged for their assistance. They could offer none, and each time the Goat Man would leave their camp in discouragement."

Well, this was shaping up to be a tragic tale. A villain's arc playing out before her very eyes. She kept making her way through her cake, but her eyes were fixed on Tomhas.

"Months passed. The Goat Man had no way of getting word to or from his family, and so he trudged on with only hope in his mind. For all he knew his son was dead, but he had sworn he would not return without a cure.
"Eventually the Goat Man's path took him into the Barren Plains, where nothing grows and nothing survives. He had provisions, but they soon ran out as he walked himself in circles through the snow and ice. For three days he walked, and his beard grew long and heavy with ice.
"On the eve of the third day, the Goat Man collapsed. He could go no further with no food in sight, and at last he closed his eyes to greet Haelar, the god of death.
"Just as he began to feel his mind begin to slip into the Dreaming Space, the Goat Man heard a bleating. He cracked open his ice-crusted eyes, and a few steps ahead of him stood a white goat the size of a horse. It stared at him, and he stared at it, and he knew that this was a sacred animal of Fjori the Builder, the god of life and animals. It was forbidden to kill a creature of The Builder, but the Goat Man was starving and he stood. He took his spear and with the last bit of strength he had he slew the goat. Its blood froze where it fell and when the Goat Man had skinned the beast and eaten its flesh over a meager fire, he collected the blood in a little pouch to bring back to his family. His hope was that the blood, being from a creature tied to the god of life, would bring his child's strength back."

Well, that sounded like a way to get cursed, if she'd ever heard one. But, then, she supposed she didn't know what she'd do, if she was in the same situation. It was really hard to predict all the emotions you felt when you were looking death in the face -- she would know.

"As the Goat Man began his journey home, he began to change. It was slow at first, but the closer he got to his tribe the quicker the changes happened. It began with his hair growing coarser and whiter, getting longer in places where it had been short. Then he noticed two bumps on his head that within a week grew into long, backward-curving horns. His face grew longer and his pupils flattened, and his hands grew into claws as his legs turned into a pair of heavy hooves. Yet still the Goat Man pressed on, praying this was only the full extent of the curse and that his family would still recognize him.
"He returned to his tribe's camp to find the tents burned and the ashes of dozens scattered to the winds. His wife and child were gone, taken by the disease that had inevitably ravaged the tribe or perhaps escaped the purge. The Goat Man, however, was left with nothing but cinders and soot.
"He cursed first Fjori the Builder for the temptation of the goat, then Haelar the Dreamer for not taking him to death before he saw this. He cursed himself next, and as he lay in the ruins of his own tent a hate grew inside him along with an intense hunger. The gods would not speak to him, but they had heard his curses. They were not merciful back in those days; they were full of pride and believed humans to be little more than ants compared to them. It was Fjori who laid this curse on the Goat Man: The curse of life and loneliness. Haelar offered the curse of hunger, insatiable and gruesome.
"And so the Goat Man wandered into his new existence with a broken heart and a broken mind, and he found no welcoming hearth for as long as he lived." Tomhas took a deep breath. "Here was my tale, and here was my voice."

Ky blinked at him, entirely unsure how to respond to that one. It was an excellent story. The delivery had been impeccable. But it was so dark. So tragic. She glanced around, trying to gauge how everyone else had reacted.

The whole circle had gone silent. Tomhas flushed.
"Sorry to end on a sad one," he said sheepishly. "It just popped out."
"I hadn't heard that one before," Anneke mused, voice soft. "Where did you learn it?"
"Gaius told me that story when I was little," he replied. "I don't know where he got it from."

Ky smiled slightly, relaxing a bit now that they were brought out of the trance that the story had put her in. She finished off her second wheat cake and gave a small, contented sigh. Sad or not, it'd been a solid end to the story circle.

"Your theatrics are unmatched," she complimented softly.

"Why, thank you!" Tomhas smiled at that, though still a little solemn. "I do try."
"Is the Goat Man still sad?" Oscar asked him. His eyelids were drooping sleepily. Tomhas planted a kiss on top of his head.
"I hope not, Oscar."