《Tales of the Pale》


 The Dancer (Rough Draft)

    It¡¯s been just under six months since the gods brought the missing back to our realm. It was just over seven years that they were gone. That they were taken from me. The past few months have been full of revelries and joy for everyone else in the tribe, though for us they have been troubled. My wife and daughter were part of those that were missing but since their return, I have not been allowed to see my daughter. My wife tells me little of their time there, but the way she looks at me when she returns from the council I know something happened. I am not of their tribe. Matter of fact, I¡¯m not even the same race. In the weeks since they returned, we¡¯ve had good days but more often than not they are bad. Unable to join in the council meetings I sit in our home, as I¡¯m not allowed out during them either, gnawing at my own soul like a dog worrying a bone. When they made their decisions I knew. My wife did not return home with the setting sun, and when she awoke me I was still in the chair I had long since turned to face the door. The same chair I would sit in and eagerly await her return. My eyes open from a sleepless dream to see her smiling down at me, her eyes alight with a fire I had not seen in them since before they vanished.


    ¡°It is time my love. Come¡±


    ¡°We will celebrate later my love. Come.¡±


    ¡°Remember Myh¡¯Weln, it has been a long seven years for us all. The children though, even worse so. Removed from family, some without mothers, others without fathers, and some without either. Very few, too few, came of age within the Well of Hatred. Many more came to rest within the same. She both returned and yet still resides there.¡±


    ¡°And I will guide her, through both if I must.¡± Wiping the tears from her cheeks she concludes our talk with a curt nod, both giving me permission to finally see our daughter, as well as giving me warning that I may not like what I see there.


    ¡°As I know you always will.¡± She kisses my lips as her hands grip my cheeks tighter and I feel her smile. She¡¯s telling me she is home. She will always be home in my heart and I in hers. Her lips part from mine and she turns my head downward. Kissing my forehead I hear her whisper a prayer to the Valen, the spirits that reside within the Vale.


    A wish from a man with fae faith.


    ¡°¡­ I said where are they? Why do you hide my children?¡±


    ¡°No, you should not be here! Leave this place. I am not yours to fight!¡± Her anguish written on her face, her eyes full of tears, and blood coming from her nose and mouth.


    ¡°Fight I will. Never will you stand without me.¡± My words shake something loose within her and one eye twitches. Reaching her I take her into my arms, but she squirms and wiggles trying to break my grasp. Even before the Vanishing, she would always try to break my embrace but never once did she actually give it a meaningful try. This time though I feel her fight with all of her remaining strength. I squeeze her even tighter to me. Her struggles last but a few moments but in my mind, it goes for ages. Her sobs shift in tone and she embraces me the way she did as a young child before the torments of the other children hardened her heart. I kiss her forehead and brush back her tangled hair with my hand.


    ¡°Speak to me child. Tell me your song. Allow me to learn the new chorus. Let me rejoin your song.¡±


    ¡°I¡­.I am not yours.¡± Her sobs choke her words, the sting of them anew upon my broken heart. Though she¡¯s tried this tactic many times before, never has it wounded me as the way she said it now.


    ¡°You know that to be false. Though you are not of my blood, you are of my heart¡¯s song. Now and Always.¡±


    ¡°Why? You are not of our kind. You are not my sire?¡± Her speech broken by tears and pain stands as a testament to her broken heart.


    ¡°Though I may not have been there for your birth. I was there for your dance, your first song, just as I was there for your skinned knees I am here for your broken heart.¡± I squeeze her as tight to me as one arm would allow. ¡°As I will be here when your heart mends, I will be here till you are ready to sing again. I will always be. You are the heart of my heart. The child of my song.¡± She returns my squeeze as her sobs double in strength and sound. I kneel there holding her, my head on top of hers. Eventually, her tears stop and I find her asleep in my arm. Slowly I adjust my position and lay her head on my lap. Leaning back onto the tree she took cover by I let out a resigned breath.


    ¡°Did you have a good nap child?¡± I feel the pieces of my heart crumble even more as she shakes her head.


    ¡°Full of fear and loss. How can¡­.¡± She begins to sob again and turns her head into my stomach. I continue to brush her hair with my hand as I soothingly shush her.


    ¡°I can not answer that. Your loss is great. Too great for many to bear. Though remember this child. You have people here who know of your loss. I am one of them, even though you may not agree. When you and your mother vanished, I felt the same as you do now. I know the feeling of losing a child. But now I know the feeling of that child returning, where I know you may never know that feeling. I am here child. I am yours.¡±