I'm a little late to the party. It's been a very busy week, but the semester is DONE!!! Yippee!!! I'm just waiting for the last straggler to take their make-up exam and I can turn in final grades.
Meanwhile, here is my entry for the Internal Conflict Blogfest hosted by Alliterative Allomorph. (I'm still kind of fuzzy on what an Allomorph is, so if anyone can explain it to me I'd be grateful.)
Faldur sat in the corner of Strider’s stall with his head in his hands. The dory butted his horns against Faldur’s shoulder, wanting attention, but Faldur shoved him away. How could this have happened? Marenya, whom he had guarded so diligently, needed guarding from himself.
He would never forget when they brought Firn’s body into the post, wrapped in his Ranger’s cloak, the blood seeping through the fabric. They told him not to look, but Faldur needed to see exactly what the nightstalker had done. It wasn't pleasant, but the older haman looked peaceful and his face was mostly untouched. For that, at least, Faldur was grateful. It meant that Erinor could say good-bye to him.
Marenya hadn’t cried at the funeral. She was just a slender whip of a lass then, more than a child but not yet a hawin. She had stood silently beside her mother, watching the proceedings with solemn eyes. Erinor maintained her composure almost to the end, but broke into sobs as her husband was placed into the ground, pressing her hands against her mouth as if she could somehow hold in her grief. Marenya’s mouth twisted with anguish as she tried to comfort her mother. Firn had died saving someone else’s child, and left his own family fatherless.
It was then, at that moment, that Faldur had determined never to marry. He was a Ranger until he died, but he wouldn’t be a father or a husband. He wouldn’t cause anyone that kind of sorrow for his sake.
Especially not Marenya.