The Eulogy & The Keeper: Chapter 2

I warn you now: this is a long chapter. I'm not one for writing short chapters except on a rare occasion. If you don't like reading long, descriptive chapters, or reading anything that's about characterization, then this chapter is not for you. Otherwise, enjoy if you're interested:

Chapter 2

In an adjacent world, where the grass was green, and the field and the hills that surround it were lush, beautiful in their own way. The gentle breeze blew softly, a cool air about the spring day. The sun was high, and its warmth complimented the breeze. This world was Esras.

Such a wonderful world to live in, Aidan McClellan thought as he marched through the fields alone, a bag on his back, and his sword slung along his shoulders.

Finally, he was going home.

He wore his robe in pride; the light reflected off of the white silk, with symbols running down the edges of the sleeves and the hood. Casting his hood off, Aidan splashed some water on his dark hair, shaking his head wildly in an attempt to cool off. Trudging around from town to town was a dirty and tiring business.

His journey had now lasted for nine days. His aim was to make it to home before dark this day; a task he was confident that he could complete. And although the travel was starting to tire him, he felt no weariness that could hold him down or suffer him to stay one more day away from his town, Capella.

Oh, what a sweet name on Aidan’s tongue! Such a peaceful town, with only one carpenter, one blacksmith, several farmers and their families, and two Judges that oversaw the town. A small community, Capella was the only place a man could escape from his troubles and drink with old friends. Already, Aidan could imagine his father, one of the farmers, sitting down to his lunch, drink in hand, eyes studying the plate before him with a contentedness that Aidan could never forget.

Aidan also could picture his sisters, Jilleen and Brenda, weaving or playing with the family dog, a well-fed mutt named Buk. Aidan felt the desire to suddenly cease his march and instead dance in sheer joy, knowing that he was almost home; he was never going to leave home again, save for trips with his father Finn to a city to sell his wares.

The son of a farmer; and yet here Aidan McClellan was, a young man, in the prime of his life. Now he was more than just the child of a farmer, however; he was also an adopted member of the Adair; the clan of White. White he wore, and his robe was unblemished by dirt or stained by food or wine. The symbols on his sleeves and hood he did not understand, but he had no real desire to; that was for the priests.

Finn had decided to make him a priest during the beginning of Aidan’s schooling; that had been nine years ago, when Aidan had only been fifteen. And although Aidan was grateful for his father allowing him to go to the Adair, Aidan knew deep in his heart something that his father had refused to hear or understand; Aidan was no priest. He could not attain a life of spirituality like the priests of the clans demanded, honoring the Council’s laws with fervent passion. Aidan respected the Council as much as the next man, but even he was no great man as the priests were.

This was the only thing that Aidan was not excited about as he ventured home. He knew already that once Finn heard the news, he would be upset and argue with Aidan violently. But the old man would have to understand that Aidan had made a choice; and it was a choice that Aidan would not regret. Aidan felt a different calling…one that he had undertaken as if he had been born for it.

And here he was, now setting off on a road through the journey of life, having no clue what he would do with his own, but completely content to be going where his heart truly lived; home.

The fields slowly started to close as Aidan came upon a forest. Canopies of healthy green leaves shielded Aidan from the bright sun ray as he ventured inside without a moment’s pause. The coolness of the space without the sun rays felt wonderful as he wiped sweat from his brow, still whistling a traditional tune he’d been forced to learn during his training in the academy of the Adair. The tune was a delightful light in the shade of the forest merely kept Aidan’s good mood set high, and his soul at peace.

However, as he progressed deeper into the forest, the trees started to lose their gracefulness; most of them then were gnarled, twisted and ugly things, leafless and dead.

Aidan quit whistling, taking the whole scene in. He heard no birds singing, no pleasant sounds the forest made in its cheerful manner during the day. There was no sound at all, except for the breeze blowing the tree to and fro occasionally.

Something was not right here. Aidan ignored the small shiver than ran down his spine at the moment, instead choosing to set himself at a faster marching pace, hoping to get through the forest as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, the path was not a straight one; narrow and curving, it twisted down right next to a small river, churning powerfully by. Aidan halted to fill his canteens, setting his gear down. The last thing he wanted to do was sit down in this dark forest, but water he could take care of, at least.

He filled the first two of three canteens and was in the midst of filling the third when a soft and guttural voice announced its presence behind him.

“So, the mighty warrior novice returns from his cavern near the northern shores. How goes the day, young Aidan?” the footfall on the softened dirt path sounded like a man in hast; a ‘pitter-patter’ that immediately set Aidan on edge, causing him to spin around, reaching for the small dirk that he always kept on his person.

“Easy now, lad,” The voice chuckled as Aidan came to face his intruder. A little man, half Aidan’s size, peered up at him, grinning with perfectly-white teeth and large spectacles set on his nose. He carried in his hands a staff, leaning against it. His clothes were muddy, and his beard almost reached his knees.

“You know me,” Aidan said carefully, removing the long and sharp-bladed dirk from its hiding place regardless of the little man’s words. “But I don’t believe I know you.”

“And you wouldn’t,” The man said. “You left home before I had a chance to make your acquaintance. But that is no fault of yours, of course. You were off to greater things.”

Aidan’s eyes narrowed. “Do you make it a habit to greet others while they travel through depressing terrain?”

The man whistled at this, and glanced around, as if mildly surprised at Aidan’s words. “You think this depressing? I shall have to tell my friend and forester Amrael what you have said. He would not take to it so well. However, I often get weary trying to stand and talk on an empty stomach. Have you eaten, McClellan?”

Aidan paused briefly to consider this. “No,” he said. “Not since early this morning.”

“Come then,” this strange new companion shuffled towards a fallen trunk nearby. Hopping up on it, he sat down neatly. “Come and join me. You can eat and rest here for a while, I think. Your parents are so busy they will not even notice your return to the village. They are not within the town limits, if I recall correctly,” Aidan went over to the trunk, restoring his dirk in its sheath at his back as he sat down. The little man continued without cease. “Of course, I’m sure you knew that. They are hard workers; hence why you are such a valiant man yourself, eh?” The man’s voice boomed throughout the forest with his raucous laughter.

“You know much about me and my family,” Aidan still had his hand on the dirk, wary. “Who are you? Answer me that, I will eat with you here.”

The man beamed another smile at him. “My name,” he said kindly. “Is Canech. I am the bard of Capella.”

“Old man Gleaf was the village bard.” Aidan said. “Are you implying that something happened to him?”

Canech blinked, his baby-blue eyes widened behind his spectacles. “Of course, lad. He is dead. A hundred and seven years is a good age; no shame in dying at that time. Life is a precious and fragile thing. And yet, when it is near its time, life does not put up much of a fight. That is something you will not understand now, of course, being that you are in fact young.” Canech reached over and patted him on the shoulder.

Aidan felt his breathing quicken slightly. He could remember the days his father Finn would take him along to the pub to see Gleaf perform. The old man would tell stories and sing songs, dressed in a simple tunic and nothing else. Even in winter, when the world was at its harshest, he wore that same tunic, sleeping in a nearby barn. Gleaf had always been a mad bard, but he was loved by everyone in Capella for his wonderful tales, told with simplicity, yet filled with elegance and beauty unheard of anywhere in the world outside of the bigger cities.

And Aidan could remember the one time he had any kind of contact with Gleaf. The old man had smiled at young Aidan, beckoning him over to his table. Aidan had done so without a word, and the old man had given him a small wooden knife that Gleaf had carved himself at the table.

Hanging on his belt, Aidan could see the small knife now; he felt a pang of regret then, leaving Capella for the Adair. He hunched on the trunk while little Canech prepared a small meal for the two of them. A small fire crackled as Canech quickly cut up a small hare he’d found earlier, he claimed. Aidan was hardly paying attention, instead opting to stare out into the endless lines of trees planted and twisting back and forth sporadically.

“You knew Gleaf well?” Canech inquired as he finally deemed the food edible. He put meat on two small, ceramic plates, handing one to Aidan.

“He gave me this, when I was still a boy.” Aidan removed the knife from his belt and handed it gently over to Canech, who inspected it carefully. He marveled at its design, commentating as he did so.

“Truly, Gleaf was an extraordinary man at his craft,” he said.

Aidan nodded. And then he remembered something. “You never said what you were doing out here.” He said.

Canech nodded. “Traveling.” He said around a mouthful of meat. “You are not the only one that is returning to Capella, lad.”

Aidan took some of the meat himself, surprised at its tenderness. Canech started to chuckle, and Aidan’s eyes were on him again, drilling him with an intensity born from his Adair training.

“Still don’t trust me, aye?” Canech hooted. “But of course. The Adair never trust anyone. That’s why they still have most of their lands after all the battles they’ve fought with the other clans.” The bard shrugged. “I followed you, lad. I saw you a league ago, over by the fields. I was starting to pack up, and I figured that you could use some company for the rest of the trip home.”

Aidan smiled then, all of his queasy feelings put to rest. “But why didn’t you just call to me then?”

“You were too far away to do so.” Canech said. “Besides, I was already losing you over the hills; you march fast.”

Aidan broke out a short laugh. “That I do,” he said. “I’m sorry if I tired you out.”

“Nonsense,” Canech waved this away. “I’m fine. I’ve gone further distances on an empty stomach. Once went on a two hundred mile journey while fasting for seven days.”

Aidan went back to his canteen and finished filling it up. Canech watched him pack his gear. “Leaving so quickly? You’ll make it in good time, lad. The townsfolk aren’t expecting me to arrive until night.”

“There’s no reason to sit around when my father is working in the fields as we speak.” Aidan replied. “I won’t leave him to it alone.”

“Well, that’s a noble cause,” Canech started packing his own things. “And I offer you my company once again, young warrior, if you’ll have me. After all, it would be folly to travel alone. I can sing a song or tell a story for you on the way, just like Gleaf would have.”

Aidan paused as he strapped his packs to his back, making sure that his dirk and his sword were both tightly strapped as well, and wouldn’t fall out. He glanced back at the small man, who had his staff in hand, eyeing him kindly.

After a moment, Aidan allowed a little smile to come onto his features. “Agreed,” he said, holding out his hand. “We’ll go back together.”

They shook hands, and after a moment’s speculation as to how to get through the forest the quickest route possible, the two new companions set off at a brisk pace, the road before them clear, and filled with a bright light. As they ventured forth, they remained silent through the forest, and yet there was no doubt that theirs was a strong friendship in the making.