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Elziba
“Isn’t it a glorious day?” asked Meriam, still humming happily. “I just love thunderstorms! Don’t you, Elziba?” “No,” replied the older girl, still not turning her gaze from the window. “Please go away.” “You can’t kick me out, it’s my room too!” declared the younger girl in a singsong voice. Elziba just scowled harder and tried to ignore her sister’s presence. It wasn’t as if she lacked for suitors. At seventeen turns of age she was slender and fit from working in the fields; her long brown hair streaked blonde in places from sun exposure. She was strong, with womanly curves in all the right places, and big brown eyes that had caught the admiring look of a young man or two. In fact even the young lords at nearby Hanarit Hold had taken to her, trying to coax her into being “available” to them. She of course had refused, despite her mother’s protests that such an alliance would be favorable for their family. It might even have gotten her a room to herself, but she would not demean herself in that way just to get her own room. She sighed and turned her gaze from the storm clouds outside, watching her sister dance about the room. Meriam really was a simple child. She was only eight years old, but her favorite past times seemed to be dancing, humming, exclaiming about the delights of this occurrence or that occurrence, and talking to herself about anything that came to mind. Elziba sighed, it wasn’t that she didn’t love her sister, there were just times when she needed to be alone to think. Whenever she got in a bad mood she needed time to sort things out and cheer herself up. That was hard to do sharing a room with her sister because Meriam always seemed to want to entertain her when she was upset and would come dancing into the room, happy as ever. Happiness in those around her was certainly the last thing she wanted when she got into a funk and she couldn’t seem to get her sister to understand that. She sighed and unfolded herself from the bed, straightening her skirts and wondering for the billionth time how much more comfortable her life might have been if she’d been born a man. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like being a woman but men just seemed to have it so good. They were in charge of everything. If a man showed interest in a woman below his station the woman was supposed to feel flattered and consent to the relationship, but should a woman show interest in a man below her station nothing could become of it. Elziba sighed in frustration and strode from the room, leaving her sister whirling about, humming to herself. She headed into the kitchen where her mother was preparing dinner with the help of Mirogol, the drudge. She smiled politely to him and he quickly averted his gaze, glancing nervously up at her mother and continuing to turn the wherry on the spit. “So, Elziba, did you manage to pull yourself out of your funk?” asked her mother disapprovingly as she worked on preparing the tubers. “Yes, I did, mother,” was Elziba’s curt reply and she quickly changed the subject. “Do you need help here mother? Meriam’s in one of her moods again and I need an excuse to stay away from her.” “Of course, why don’t you take over with the tubers, I need to work on the gravy for the wherry,” replied her mother, then casting her daughter a worried glance. “What’s Meriam doing this time?” “Oh, the usual, dancing about, humming, singing her words instead of speaking them. You really should look into sending her to the Harperhall. I’m sure she’d make an excellent harper.” “I would, but she’s much too young,” replied Katriana quickly. She knew her youngest daughter would make a fabulous harper, but she just couldn’t make herself part with her. Her oldest was getting married and her second oldest had always been distant, she wouldn’t send the youngest away until she had to. “I’d best go see what she’s up to. Elziba take over here, would you?” Elziba didn’t even have to reply, she watched her mother’s back retreating down the hall and as soon as she disappeared around the corner she turned a smile on the young drudge. Mirogol was one turn her junior but the boy was absolutely gorgeous. He had thick curly black hair and striking green eyes; he was tall, and looked to get taller still with a well-muscled body, not bulging with muscles, but obviously strong. His only flaws seemed to be the fact that he was terribly shy and a small scar that ran almost from his ear to his nose along his cheekbone. Elziba thought it gave him a rakish look though and didn’t quite count it as a flaw. He looked away when he saw her smiling at him, his face flushing bright red. He concentrated on turning the spit and pouring juices over the wherry rather than look at her. She smiled even bigger as she saw she was making him nervous and took one more long look down the corridor to make sure her mother wasn’t coming back. The corridor was empty and she gave him a significant look and sauntered over to him. “Don’t worry, my mother’s talking to my sister, she won’t be coming back anytime soon,” she said as she approached him. “But I can’t leave the wherry,” he said nervously, his big green eyes wide as he watched her walk over. “I know, silly,” she said teasingly, “I just meant we could talk without her knowing. I know it makes you nervous when she’s around.” She delighted in making him nervous like this, knowing she’d never dare take it any further. She did like him, not just the way he looked, but his personality. His shyness was an endearing quality and she liked the way he blushed when she spoke to him. But he was just a drudge and the two of them could never be more than they currently were. Her mother would never permit him to stay if she knew how her daughter really felt about the young drudge. So she smiled sweetly and went back to preparing the tubers keeping up a running commentary about her day, once turning to glance at him and finding a soft, interested smile on his face that he probably didn’t know she’d seen. Continue… |