Opus 0, No. 2
(Second Episode of An Ancient Story)
Two years had passed since the year of the fish before Marah was born. The tensions had not ceased, but the restraint of diplomacy between the two countries kept them in an unquiet peace. Two years more and Marah acquired the ability to balance herself on her lower limbs and to control her speech to utter small gibberings. Her hair had turned from the dark brown of infancy to the bright red from her mother's inheritance. The face was plain for a girl, but the smile and laugh were bright. On top of these blessings, the little minion had two brothers who went by the titles of Hal and Wat. Their age difference to her must've been greater than nine years since both were able to accomplish greater tasks than she. They even held the desirable privilege to wield swords and so copy their father's training exercises while Marah could only pick up stray sticks from the firewood and attack the nearest servant. If there was no servant, a pillar would do, until mother would come along to ejaculate, "Goodness child! Aren't three swordsmen enough in this family for the ladies to become barbarians as well?" Marah's weapon would be snatched away and Lady Aylward would whisk her up and out to the garden. There it was made sure that the small minion would amuse her curiosity in things other than harassing the servants.
On top of stick-fighting the supports in their quarters, Marah had a seemingly innate desire and ability to appear in places she shouldn't be. In some form or another, she was often found wandering around the castle in every quarter except for the one she was expected to be in. As you may imagine, these daily disappearances increased the number of worry lines and their depth around Lady Aylward and the nurse's countenance.
At first, they would bring their best efforts in restraining her, but there was always a way out of every trap. "Difficulty" was an unknown word to Marah's limited dialect. The girl had learned to climb out of her crib during the same week she had learned to use her legs. When larger prisons were created for her, these would be opened, broken, split, and conquered, and the little waif would be free to wander once again. In time, the adults admitted defeat and let her be. Besides, though the poor ladies worried extensively, the girl-child would always return to the proper chambers when her stomach directed her.
There is a reason for mentioning these nomadic avocations, and it's more than to simply render the personality of our little heroine. Its purpose is also to describe a particular event that came forth from her explorations. A small event in the course of castle life, but an important one for Marah's future.
One memorable day, Marah wandered somehow into the armory. I say "somehow" because the armory and garrison were on the outer reaches of the castle. She would have had to wander through at least a dozen doorways, two courtyards, and a throng of training soldiers to discover herself there. But I won't reason with the unreasonable. After all, you understand already that Marah was a master lockpicker and jailbreaker even at the toddling age. No man, door, or courtyard could keep her back.
There were many men walking freely in the garrison. Some were practicing in the open courts. There were smaller boys tending to the armor and the weapons who watched in admiration of the soldiers, hoping one day that they would be one of them with their own set of armor and weapons. Marah watched too, intrigued by the quick action and the sounds of clashing blades. Older men with gray tainting their beards watched critically of those practicing and talked amongst themselves. "Hmm, Albert's cut was not a clean one. Sloppy, very sloppy." "But did you not see his quick recovery followed by the shield blow?" "Fortune was with him is all. His shield merely was in the ideal position for the thrust. If it were not and he was fighting truly, his luck would run dry." "Ah, but it was his quick thinking which saved him. It is that which makes a warrior great. Ingenuity." "I quite disagree..." And further on and further forth.
Losing interest, Marah walked on. Finding herself in the armory, she recognized the glittering steel of swords such as the ones that Hal and Wat used. There were round colorful designs on the wood of shields, pointed spears aiming towards the ceiling, a rack of longbows that looked to be as tall as a grown man. But there was a distinct sound of a steady clanging emanating from somewhere. Marah discovered the source to come from behind an oak door. Its edges were darkened as if it was once the shield of an old giant from the Great Lands that defended against a fierce Bellator dragon of Medfølelse. The door creaked half open before her when she gently pushed on it. Her wide-eyed curiosity was immediately fascinated with the peculiar tall creature standing in the middle of the room. Its right arm was abnormally long with a hand formed in a rectangular shape. The dark creature was intently banging this rectangular hand upon a red-hot sword that sparked and scintillated with every strike. The doorway, from which Marah was looking in, slowly opened wider and the light settled upon the creature's work. When it noticed the beam of light streaming across its work, it looked to its side. Marah's eyes widened even larger in surprise when she beheld a dark face with two glittering eyes looking back. But she wasn't afraid, no, only surprised. As if she had expected a cat to hiss and not bark, or a mouse to squeak and not whinny. Something, she felt, was out of place.
Gabe, for that was his name, stared back at Marah, equally surprised to find a toddler wandering around the armory. He put down his hammer and reached for a dirty rag to wipe the soot from his face. When the girl perceived that this was not an unknown creature, but a dirty-looking man, she broke into such a laugh that her lungs would allow to let loose. Gabe was again surprised at this unexpected laughter and he stared longer at this jovial child. Still lacking understanding, he grinned at her delight anyway, which evoked even harder hysterics from Marah.
"Well, littl'lun," Gabe said softly. "It seems you've found your way into the savage's quarters." He knelt down in front of her, "Can ye tell me, littl'lun, what your name is?"
Marah looked into Gabe's eyes with an innocent smile at her lips. With her small fingers, she reached up and gingerly touched the large nose protruding from his face. Instantly, she withdrew her hand and stared at her fingers. A black smudge was impressed upon her fingers from the soot that Gabe had missed from his face. Once again, Marah gazed at the giant's face and giggled. Now Gabe understood. He gave a short chuckle before reaching for a more clean rag.
"Ye thought I was a munster, didn't ye, lassie?" She giggled. "Well, almost did turn into wuhn with ull these weapons that need sharpening. Here now, I'ven idea of who yer parents are. Cohm along, littl'lun."
The great giant and the little elf became friends that day. It was a good company for both. She was fascinated by his ability to form swords out of steel. It was as if he could create an entire world with those hands, and he could, as far as she knew. He enjoyed her company, having no children of his own yet. To him, she was a fairy whom the good LORD had sent down to alight upon his life. If a relationship was named between these two souls, it would come closest to being godfather and daughter.
This friendship was exceedingly satisfactory to Marah's parents. Lady Aylward no longer worried herself or the nurse, and so half of their worries in life were solved. Kirkby Aylward knew the blacksmith to be a sound man and trusted him to protect Marah if the need ever arose.
So, every week, Marah would tramp down to the smithy ever so often to visit Gabe. Sometimes she would sing and chatter to the rhythm of the hammer, other times she would silently watch as metal was turned into spearheads, sword blades, helmets, and shield crests. Whenever the task wasn't too delicate, Gabe would allow her to handle the bellows to keep the fire smoldering. Or he would find a small task around the smithy to occupy her hands. Gradually, Marah quickly learned even at a young age what it meant to be a smithy, and was well-known as "Gabe's little apprentice."
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