…high above the ground Iljian sat on the lighthouse tower, clutching the letter from home to keep it from taking flight in the brisk morning breeze. At this hour of the day, with the sun just risen above the horizon and the world still smelling fresh and unspoilt by the big city, there was no better place to sit and relax, to have breakfast and to prepare for the day ahead. With another sip of his chocolate milk he began to read…
(It was always his uncle writing the letters from home, since his parents could not.)
Quote:
|
“we hope that this letter here finds you in good health and mood. Your mom and dad are fine, as am I, and we received your last letter. I will give this one to a ship captain anchoring here that says he will go to Trinsic in about a week. I hope it will reach you.”
|
Iljian snickered. Somehow, his uncle always wrote like he could talk directly to the recipient as soon as his quill touched the paper. No doubt the whole family and some neighbours had sat around the great table to help come up with the lines.
Quote:
|
“Your dad wants you to know that he caught a very pretty fish that one day and could sell it for more gold than the whole yield of two full weeks. It is probably going round in some glass container now, is what he thinks. But with the gold he says you won’t have to send some home for a while and your mum says to buy you something nice or come for a visit with it. And to bring that elf of yours as she wants to get to know her.”
|
Lowering the paper for a moment Iljian paused to peer through the trapdoor down into the tower. Liana still seemed asleep; the blanket rising and lowering steadily with her breathing. Which was good, as the sleep would drive the remainders of the concussion away and all the bruises from last night would not hurt either. Neither the cuts nor the bruises were too bad, but still the questions of who had done this and why burned in him. It seemed like almost every citizen these days was a criminal, each of them treacherous, violent and dishonest. And those who were not most of the time were simply annoying and loud, with no other goal than to bring others down and abuse them for their own fun. Not that it actually mattered though, these days. With her returned he could simply shrug them off, let his minder wander through their rambling and wait for the moments when they were off duty or could find an excuse to sneak off for a while. That was what mattered now, the rest was no more important and just necessary to earn gold for a living. He liked that feeling.
Quote:
|
“And your dad says his ship had been attacked by a kraken too, but they had managed to fend it off with hooks and planks and his old sword. Big as the ship itself he said, but old Rowin from across town says it wasn’t and just been a young one. But them hacked off an arm and your mum made soup of it to sell on the market and she says for us to stop arguing on how big it was.”
|
Biting his lip, Iljian snickered again silently, to not wake Liana. So they had indeed all been sitting around the table arguing while writing the letter, at least till his mum had put her foot (and most likely the remainder of the soup, according to a small stain) down to stop them from going round in circles.
Quote:
|
“Your dad says that they might come round the south cap by ship too one day to see the lighthouse. Your mum thinks he will need a map he understands though for that but not to tell him she said that. We heard that there was fighting going on in Trinsic and we hope that you are all right but all think you should write more often so your mum won’t worry.”
|
Iljian blushed slightly.
Quote:
|
“Nan from across the road tells you to treat your lady properly and to behave and we hope you are good and that you take care and visit soon.”
|
With a small sigh, Iljian leaned back against one of the pillars and stared out across the sea. Down below, the first fishers and set out in their little boats and the great tradeship anchoring in the bay just hauled the anchor in. Soon he would have to get out to take care of himself, to do his job anyway (two things he firmly believed to be utterly incompatible) and to treat his lady well, as Nan put it. For a moment he wondered vaguely what that entailed, in her mind. Rumours had it that she had gone after her husband with a swordfish and had chased him all the way into the moongate from where he never came back. Whatever –he- had done, it had obviously been wrong.
So far though, their time together had been great. Almost as if she had never been gone. But even if she was hurt by his lack in trust into her, he still felt uncertain about all the time that she had left him alone and still needed some proof that it would not happen again by her own choosing. So much had been lost in that… not only their house but some other things too. And they had changed, in this time. Both of them. It was strange, but at the same time it was like before, with picnics in nice places, shared duty, patrols and work and pretty much everything else. Not to forget the same worries, when one of them got hurt or in trouble on duty. If only…
Tilting his head to one side Iljian listened to the soft sounds from below. Again he peered down through the trapdoor, then moved to descend via the steep ladder. Breakfast time. And a letter to show…*