The Fall of Arnon

Chapter 11

"Lerendo, are you in there?" The voice from outside the door sounded like the tinkling of beautiful, crystal bells. Like the sound of wonderful music to the ears, her words floated off into the expanse of the animal pelt-ridden room.

In a panic, Lerendo jumped from his seat between the priest and the knight, looking around the room as if he hoped a door would suddenly appear and they could all be gone from this strange situation. But, there was none, so he went with his second option, hoping she would leave in despair of not finding him.

However, it was not to be. "Lerendo, I know you're in there. I can see the light under the doorway." He grunted in frustration. 

"Yes, I'm here. I'm just..." His mind rustled through believable lies. "Cleaning my room," he added quickly. It may not have been believable but it was most certainly a lie.

"Oh, right," she jingled. "Well, tell me when you're done. I need to talk to you."

'Of course she does,' he thought, bitterly. 'She never even speaks to me, and now suddenly she needs to talk.'

Stumped, he fell back between the two awkwardly silent men. They looked at one another.

"I have an idea." The priest rose from his seat and turned to the other two, his eyes glowing with a curious light. "We hide," he whispered triumphantly.

"Right, of course." Lerendo hastily rose and paced to another end of the room. A large Belandan pelt hung across a small room cut into the wall. He motioned for the two men to crawl in before pulling the pelt over their unhappy faces.

"Come in," he cried as soon as the room was empty once more. The other door slid slowly open to reveal the beauty that was his sister.

With a complexion as white as the snowfall on a winter morning, pale blue eyes, and a tiny, pert nose, she looked every part a princess. Slim shoulders held across their width, a long shimmering blue gown.

Like a swan across water she floated towards him. He grimaced as she placed two soft flower petal-like hands on his cheeks and pulled his head down in order to give him an almost-imperceptible kiss on his large forehead.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "What is it you want?"

"Well, somebody seems like a grumpy boy today," she said sweetly.

"Just please tell me or leave."

"Fine, but first you sit."

He sat.

"I'm sorry to have to bring you this news, dearest brother, but some things one is bound to have to carry out." She let her demure eyelashes flutter and fall.

"What news?" 

"Your friend, you know, the big-eared one."

He nodded.

"He is bound for the hangman's noose."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yes. Now, is that all?"

"Yes. Well, I mean..." She stuttered.

Before she could recommend her very apologetic speeches to him, Lerendo rushed her rather quickly out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

                                                             ----------------------------------

"Now you understand, right?" Sir Ryan asked, expectantly.

"Yes, yes, we understand. You've only told us the plan eighteen times," the priest cried, throwing his hands in the air.

"I just want to make sure that you understand," Sir Ryan counteracted.

"Yes, we both understand," Lerendo said, irritably.

They both immediately turned towards the boy, like two male wolves suddenly smelling the sent of a rabbit.

"No need to shout boy," Father Thomas chided.

"So, tonight." Lerendo said with much more gusto than he was feeling.

"Right, tonight, and we must not fail in our tasks or our entire plan will fall upon us like a brick house."

"Thank you, Ryan, for  that." Father Thomas patted Sir Ryan on the back, a grimace traced across his face.

"But for now we must say good-bye." The knight stood and held out his worn calloused hand in a gesture of friendship. 

Lerendo received the offered gift with a joy and awe he had not felt in a long time.

The priest, also, held out a friendly hand. His kind, priestly face smiled at him.

"You know this reminds me of a story," he said. "Once, there was a boy about your age. He was not a rich boy, so he wanted to make something more of himself. One day, he ventured out into the woods behind his childhood home. They were said to have been the birth place of many an act of violence. Ghosts of murdered men were supposed to roam the leaf-littered floors.

"As he trudged deeper and deeper into the dark, bitter place, the air grew thicker and his mind grew less clear. He began wandering. His hair grew long, his limbs grew weak and small. And, some say, he wanders to this day." And the priest turned and left. 

The knight shook his head, arched his shoulders and followed.

Lerendo watched them leave, still wondering the meaning of the odd story, hoping he would not end the same way that boy had, cursed to wander this world forever.