Tales of Regventus : Adalwen

Ansel tied the horses to the back of a huge tree to which Griffa had led them.

“They will be fine grazing behind. I will get them some water in a bit. No one will notice them. They will be protected by the many wards I have put up,” said Griffa as she touched a knot on the huge tree with her staff.

A door seemed to appear out of nowhere. Griffa opened it and motioned for them to come inside. Ansel pushed Max forward to go first and followed.

Inside the large tree was a small room with a spiral staircase going down. Griffa closed the door and muttered a few words, tapping the door with her staff. She took off her cloak and hung it on a hook by the door. She pulled a small packet out of the pocket of the cloak and slipped it into her dress pocket. She turned to look at Ansel and Max. Ansel took a peek at Max and could see the boy had his mouth opened and his eyes were wide. Griffa was always quite a site the first time someone saw her.

She wasn’t a large woman in figure or in height, but she was commanding. She stood up straight, wearing a simple green dress. Her curly, deep red hair was loose and hung well below her shoulders. Her face was pale with large dark blue eyes that seemed to change colors depending on her mood. Ansel had seen those eyes sparkle like blue diamonds when she laughed, and he had also seen them go almost black when she was angry. Tonight, they were the color of a clear sky right before the darkness of night hit.

She had a wild look about her, like she might fit perfectly as one who lived in the forest, but her face showed intelligence, and Ansel knew she could show much kindness. She was odd and a little wild, but Ansel believed that Griffa was everything that was good. Griffa’s small mouth was drawn into a smile that suggested she was amused.

Amused was better than some of her other moods, Ansel thought.

“Why don’t we go on down and get comfortable before introductions,” said Griffa as she made for the spiral staircase. “I can find you something to eat and drink as well in a bit. I’m working on something, but it shouldn’t take long.” She disappeared down the staircase.

Ansel patted Max on the shoulder to wake him up from his trance like state. Max lightly shook his head and moved towards the stairs.

“It’s alright, Max. She won’t hurt you.”

Max only nodded and made his way down the stairs, Ansel followed behind. At the bottom of the stairs was a large room. There were chairs scattered here and there, some covered in books and scrolls. Candles and lanterns aligned the walls. Half were lit, giving the room a dim, twilight feel. At one side was a large table with many ingredients strewn across it. At the end of the room was a large fireplace and over it was a huge kettle. Griffa was next to it, throwing in some things to the pot as she looked at a scroll.

Max made his way to a chair in the middle of the room. It wasn’t too close to where Griffa was, but close enough he could see and hear what was going on. Ansel didn’t sit, he went to stand next to Griffa. He watched her work.

“What concoction is this?” asked Ansel looking into the pot. The liquid inside was a deep red color. It smelled of dirt and bubbled lightly.

“It’s a new potion I’m working on. There are some sick children in the village at the east side of the forest. Nothing seems to be working, they’ve lost seven children already. I’ve been researching some old scrolls about cures. I’m hoping something I do will work.”

“Do you know what they are sick with?” asked Ansel.

“No, I know just some of the symptoms. They are very feverish, can’t keep food down, and cough dreadfully. I’ve been treating symptoms which seems to help and keep most alive, but it’s a losing battle. I need to find something that will cure the disease.”

Ansel looked closer at Griffa in the firelight. He could tell it had been a while since she had rested. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she was paler than usual.

“Griff, when’s the last time you have slept. Have you eaten?” asked Ansel, concerned.

Griffa looked up at Ansel with an angry look in her eyes. “I don’t need you parenting me, Ansel. I’m a grown woman. I know my limits. I just needed to get this brewing and I can rest. You’re one to talk about resting, anyway.”

“Parenting you?” asked Ansel. “I’m not trying to parent you, Griffa. I’m just concerned. I’ve seen you work yourself half to death many times. I don’t want to argue.”

“Then let me be,” said Griffa, going to the table and opening the packet she had brought in from the forest. She came back to the large kettle and threw in whatever was in the packet. She picked up a large stick and stirred the potion.

“Now, it just needs to brew overnight. I’ll have to come stir it a few times, but then it will be done. Hopefully, it will do some good.”

Griffa leaned the large stick against the fireplace and walked over to a small pantry that was on the other side of the room. “I have some bread, it might be a little stale, and some cheese that’s not too moldy. There is some dried meat as well.” She brought over her meager offerings and a jug of wine to a small table by Max. She walked back to her pantry and came back with three cups. “The wine is actually quite good. You two eat and I will see about some water for your horses.”

Ansel started to object, saying he would see about the horses, but Griffa shook her head and went up the stairs.

Ansel heard himself sigh as he plopped down in a chair next to the small table.

“She doesn’t seem so bad,” said Max as he stuffed some bread into his mouth.

“She’s just getting started. Just wait,” said Ansel as he poured two cups of wine.

Ansel and Max ate in silence until they heard Griffa’s steps on the stairs. Ansel noticed that Max sat up a bit straighter, wiping food and wine off his mouth. Ansel couldn’t help a small chuckle.

Griffa came to the table, put a little dried meat on a piece of bread and poured herself a glass of wine. She then settled herself into a comfy looking old chair close to Max and Ansel.

“Now, let’s see. You would be the king I suppose,” said Griffa as she took a small bite of her bread and meat. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “How do you find your journey so far, my highness.” She was back to her sarcastic tone, Ansel noticed.

“Max,” said Max, choking a little on his wine.

“Excuse me?” asked Griffa.

“Max, my name is Max. I would like to be called Max.”

Griffa smiled a little. “Very well, but you are the king aren’t you. You’re the chosen one.” She said with much doubt in her voice. “How does it feel to know your whole future is laid out for you.”

Max looked taken aback. “I don’t know… I mean…It’s not like…. I didn’t ask for this.”

“You didn’t? Are you sure? Oh, a young man like you, didn’t you dream of adventure or of being on some great quest? Young men often do,” said Griffa as she sipped on her wine.

“Not really,” replied Max finishing his bread and wiping his hands. “I was happy just being Max and working in a stable.”

“Really, a stable? You were happy being a stable boy? You might be more interesting than you seem. So why then are you with this one?” questioned Griffa gesturing with her cup towards Ansel, “Going to a place you’ve never heard of to listen to folk you have never met?”

“Griffa, leave the boy alone,” grumbled Ansel.

“I didn’t really have a choice,” said Max.

“You always have a choice. Always.,” said Griffa staring at Max. “They might not always be good choices, but you always have a choice and you chose to come with Ansel. You have chosen to declare yourself as king. Why is that?”

“I don’t know. I guess because I was told I would be safer away from Clarton, that those who I care about would be safer if I was away. That’s what Ansel told me,” said Max defensively.

Griffa looked at Ansel, and he met her gaze right back. “Did he now?” asked Griffa in a quiet voice. “Like I said there aren’t always good choices. You made the choice to trust Ansel. How do you think that choice will work out?”

Max looked dumbfounded.

“What do you really hope happens, Max?” asked Griffa leaning forward in her chair. “Do you hope you will actually be king, or do you hope you can get out of this somehow?”

“I…I…I don’t know,” said Max putting his head down. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want to do the right thing.”

“Well, that’s a start I suppose,” said Griffa.

Ansel had had enough of Griffa’s questions. She could be so aggravating. Couldn’t she see that the boy was exhausted?

“I think the right thing right now is for Max to get some rest,” said Ansel in what he hoped was a kind but firm voice.

“Of course,” said Griffa standing up. “Come young King Max, let’s get you in bed.”

Max looked like he wanted to say something, but he stood up quietly and followed Griffa into a room off the main room. She came back alone for a moment and grabbed a large pitcher and bowl. She filled it with water and touched it with her hand. It started steaming a bit. She took the water and a small towel and went back towards the room. Ansel smiled to himself, whatever she might say or do, in the end Griffa was kind.

Soon she came back into the room and sat back down in her chair, taking up her cup. She held it towards Ansel, and he got up and poured more wine into it. He then sat back down, staring at Griffa as she stared back and drank her wine.

“Now, Ansel, tell me about this boy.”

Ansel shrugged. “What is there really to tell? He is the one we were told would be king. I went and collected him. Here we are.”

“But what is he like? Is he clever? Is he kind? Is he brash?”

“I really don’t know. He seems like he could be clever. He hasn’t been unkind or brash on our short journey. He doesn’t talk much.”

“And neither do you. I think you might frighten the boy. You can be quite intimidating.”

“You’re one to talk. You frighten the boy half to death with your questions. Why fill his mind with doubt now?”

“His mind needs to be filled with doubt. He will hear too much certainty from the Ring. He must know he always has a choice.”

“I’m not sure he does. We need him, Griffa. The kingdom needs him. He must claim his place as king.”

Griffa sighed and rubbed her face with her hands. “Ansel, you can’t just decide what this boy wants. Let him hear the Ring out, let him hear all that will be expected of him and then let him decide. What good will it do to have a reluctant king? The boy will get himself killed if he isn’t sure. He might die anyway.”

“Time is growing short. We must unite all magical-folk and others who will listen. He is the best hope we have of doing that. More will follow if he is king. He fulfills the prophecy. The diviner has said the time is right. She says he is the one.”

“Why do we need a specific boy to unite the folk? There are plenty amongst us who have the blood of Adalwen in their lineage. Find someone who wants to do this, who is ready,” said Griffa passionately.

“His line runs pure. He has the blood of Adalwen on both his mother’s and father’s side. The diviner has stated he is the one. The Ring is behind him. He is our best chance. You won’t convince me otherwise,” said Ansel.

“No, and you won’t convince me either, but I’m not your problem. Can you convince the boy?”

“I don’t see it as a problem. He has been chosen. The diviner has said he is the one. He will grow into who he needs to be. I will help him.”

Griffa only stared at him.

“What about you Griffa? When the time comes, will you hide away, or will you fight?”

“I will never stand with the Ancients if that is what you are asking. I want things to be made right, but if we only stand by prophecy and make folk do things they don’t want to do, are we going to be building anything better than what we have now?”

“I don’t want to force the boy into anything. I want him to make the choice, but I believe, I trust he will make the choice to claim his place as king. He won’t be forced into it; he will do so willingly,” said Ansel confidently.

Griffa sat back. Seemingly satisfied for the moment, or perhaps she saw no use in arguing. She began a new line of questioning. “So why did you seek refuge inside? Did something happen?”

“We came across soldiers from Aurumist in the forest,” said Ansel.

“Soldiers from Aurumist in the forest? That’s new,” said Griffa with her eyebrows raised.

“It is, and it can’t be good. If the council is sending in soldiers, they must have gotten word that something is happening.”

“Not surprising, someone is always talking amongst the magical folk. I’m sure it didn’t take much spying to hear something new was about to start. You can stay here tonight, but you will need to be very careful the rest of the way. How are your stealth charms these days?” asked Griffa.

“Not as good as they should be. I’m not sure what will happen if we keep coming across soldiers or anyone else that could do us harm. We might have to fight or run for it.”

“That boy isn’t ready to fight. I’ll travel with you. I need to head back to Abscon anyway. I’ve been gone too long. If we can travel and work together, we can keep the boy safe without having to fight. We will need to stop by the East Village with my potion. I hope it will do some good. It isn’t far out of the way. We can get some provisions there and maybe a short rest.

Ansel smiled. “We won’t be putting you out? Slow you down?”

“You will definitely slow me down, but the entertainment you both provide might be worth it,” Griffa said with amusement in her voice and a smile on her face.

Ansel looked at Griffa in the low light of the room. She stretched and turned towards the fire, drinking her wine. Ansel smiled at little and stared at Griffa. There was no denying she was beautiful. It was an unusual kind of beauty, even a little unsettling. Ansel sat back in his chair took a deep breath. He realized now how much he had missed her. He had been avoiding her too long.

Ansel thought back to the spring festival in Abscon. It was one of the few times he had felt relaxed and at peace. They had both probably drank too much and stayed up too late, but between the laughter they shared and jovial atmosphere, Ansel had found himself transfixed by Griffa She was no longer the annoying, aggravating girl he had chased around half his life. She was a bewitching, brilliant woman. At some point he wasn’t sure who had made the first move, but both of them had leaned in and were then in the midst of the passionate kiss. Ansel was the first to break it off. He excused himself and left Abscon for travels the next day.

“You should go rest yourself, Griffa. You need to rest if you are going with us tomorrow.”

“I will rest here on my sofa,” she said pointing to an old sofa in the corner of the room. “It’s extremely comfortable. I have fallen asleep there many times. You can take my father’s old room. The bed is made and there is some clean water in a basin. It’s cold but I trust you can warm it yourself.”

“I can take the sofa. You take the bed. It’s your home.”

Griffa shook her head. “I need to be close to my potion. I will have to stir it several times tonight for it to be ready tomorrow morning.”

“You will rest, though? You need sleep, Griffa.”

“Yes sir, “said Griffa in a fake serious tone.

Ansel stood up and went over to Griffa. He touched her cheek affectionately.

“It’s good to see you again, Griffa.”

Griffa grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I believe it might be good to see you, too.”

Ansel started to head towards the bedroom.

“Good night, Ansel.”

“Good night, Griffa,” said Ansel stopping in the doorway.

Before he turned to go to the bedroom, Griffa said, “You should get to know the boy better, Ansel. I know I will.”