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Posted on April 20, 2012 at 02:41:09 AM by tristan & celidon
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“I practiced with some of Grandmother’s sewing needles the other week,” Tristan explained, his mood becoming increasingly buoyant the more time he spent in his friend’s company. “I kept trying to make a line of stitches, it took a good few hours, and it wasn’t very neat, but at least it’s a sign that the small and fiddly aspect of it isn’t completely beyond my reach.” It wasn’t usual for Tristan to display any characteristic close to modesty. Magic however, was one area in which the Prince was prone to experience slight falters in confidence, a trait that he usually possessed in abundance. It was a sign that the boy trusted his friend, that he shared such misgivings with him. Thoth seemed to know more about magic than anyone he had met (apart from, of course, his Grandfather, but they had not spent any time discussing the subject, so Tristan had not heard any gems of magical wisdom that Mallos undoubtedly would have had stashed away. “I’m glad I could help though,” the Prince smiled broadly, as Atkiss slipped back up Thoth’s sleeves, “any friend of yours, is a friend of mine, even if I can’t talk to him.” The grin that followed was encouraging, his green eyes regaining most of their usual sparkle and enthusiasm. “I didn’t start it deliberately” Tristan explained with a new-found enthusiasm, thinking that the whole experience of that morning would not be entirely tragic if he could regale his friend with his tale of mischief and adventure. “There’s a room,” the Prince began, shuffling slightly in his seat so that he was in a more comfortable position in order to tell his story, “and Father keeps some of the more specialised training equipment in there. I wanted to practice something he had showed me the other day, but obviously, in order to do that, I needed the key.” Again, Tristan grinned, distracted somewhat by the current stage of his story, in which he had been enjoying himself. The less than pleasant ending seemed less important when he wasn’t thinking about it specifically. “There’s always one guard on duty who has all the keys, either the Captain, or one of the higher ranking men. So, I found him and his friends playing dice, and took the keys when he wasn’t looking. The only problem was, that they saw me running away, noticed that the keys were gone, and followed me.” Reaching out towards Celdion, he scratched the large dog’s ear, and received a soft growl of appreciation in return. “Obviously, they didn’t see my face, so they didn’t know it was me, which meant they all got really serious, in case it was a real intruder. Three of them chased me into a room, and I hid behind the curtain by the window. They started searching the room, so I thought I would try and slip out of the window into the courtyard. I held onto the curtain rail whilst I was slipping through, but somehow it came loose, and I fell backward, curtains and all.” Pausing for breath, Tristan scanned his friend’s face for any sign of a reaction to his story, before continuing, “the curtains hit one of the candles in the room and set on fire. It wasn’t until later, when they took me to Father that I found out that the pole had it one of the guards and that the other had been wrapped up in the curtains.” The boy’s expression dropped notably at the most recent recollection, and the smile he managed to maintain for Thoth’s sake, became a little sheepish. “Have you never seen him angry?” Tristan asked of his friend, tilting his head curiously to one side, “not even when you lived on the Island?” The Prince’s gaze fixed itself upon his hands before he tried to explain, only glancing back up at his companion when he had found the right words. “It’s not even as if it’s the worst when he’s shouting. I mean, he’s loud and it can be a little scary sometimes, but the coldness is the worst. It’s as if he puts up this wall, and there’s no warmth to it at all, and you just know then that he’s furious, because if he was just mad, he would be yelling...” Trailing off, Tristan tickled his familiar’s ear again, “does that make sense? I don’t think I explained it very well...” |
for we were made of stronger things, the memories of soldiers, the children of kings |
 original image by Stefan Tell at flickr.com |
Replies:
- son of man, a man in time you'll be. - By thoth April 20, 2012 at 03:48:34 AM
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