Monster

Doubts

Where Hero's caretaker, Beor, makes his choice.

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His visitor had already left, but he still stood there with Grake's foundling in his arms, staring at the dark vial clasped in his hand. His heart beat numb, lost in indecision.

"Appa..." A small voice said softly. Beor found the child's white eyes hopefully turned to the door. Distant voices approached. Margol's and Tnul's giggles broke out and Rangil and uncle Grake chuckled lightly at something.

His family! Startled, the young villager cast around a nervous look. Nothing seemed out of place to suggest that anyone had come to their home in his family's absence. Beor froze again, his green eyes once again falling to the small bottle.

His lips downturned.

His family were coming back, and he should have been happy. He was so calm and happy this morning. Everything was all right. His oldest child was finally old enough to start learning the rules, becoming a true little Villager. There were no more arguments, either, since the monsters stopped coming across the village Boundary. It was all finally so well and nice! Now, he felt numb and afraid. And uncertain. There was a chocking, dead weight in his stomach, as he tried to decide what he should do. He didn't want to believe what the Witch told him, he didn't! Only the Witches really didn't lie. All the tales he ever heard spoke of this...

"Appa! Appa!" The child in his hands exclaimed, this time impatient as he tried to wiggle out. Beor let him and watched the small being run to the door to greet his favorite caretaker. He was quite fast now. Hopping to reach the lock, which snapped open at the touch of his fingers, the child ran outside. Beor stifled a sigh.

"Hero! There you are!" Came his uncle's glad voice.

Was this the right thing to do? Beor frowned at the bottle.

He wished so badly that he could ask someone. But the Witch was right, he could not go to the elders with this. They would probably cast them all out and then spread the word to the other villages, too, so they would not find a new home anywhere.

He could not tell his brother about this, either, because Rangil would go to the elders.

And he could not hope to approach their uncle about this at all. He simply would not listen! Just the memory of their arguments earlier made Beor's heart stumble and fall, rolling over with both anger and guilt. He didn't want this to continue. This wasn't how it was supposed to be in a family!

He and Rangil were happy before they came here. He used to be happy and feel calm in his heart, content and sure that all was well and how it should be. He has not been able to feel so well since the day that he saw Grake's foundling playing with those wild, deadly creatures from the woods. And now he knew that it was much, much worse! Everything was terribly wrong!

What was he supposed to do?

Beor's hand shook a little, still holding the potion. There was no time to think about it longer just now. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to settle his face into his usual, confident expression. The bottle vanishing from his hands, the young villager stepped toward the door to greet everyone, giving his uncle and brother a friendly hug, and then ushering his children indoors.

Their outside gowns needed to be changed over and their hands washed. The meal was not done cooking, either, though it didn't burn up. Beor hurried to do all the things that he was supposed to have done in the last half hour, apologizing to his family for his oversight.

They only smiled at him, encouraging that everything was fine.

Everything was wrong.

For the rest of the evening, Beor went through the motions almost without thinking. No guidance emerged, one way or another.