Written: June 2002 / Conceptualized: December 2001

      "You needn’t be ashamed. There is no reason to ...”

      "Just leave me alone.” He nearly yelled at her. “Go, go away.”

      Branwin stood up, her face not showing if he had hurt her. “Call me, if you need something.”

      "GO” that was a yell. Branwin left the room and left a puzzled and hard breathing Ashram who himself couldn’t believe what he was doing.

      The bandages were gone and he felt the softness of the fur blanket on his skin. He pulled down the cushion, drew the fur blanket over his shoulders and closed his eyes. But sleep didn’t came that easy. His thoughts circled about his dream; Branwin and the little girl; Pirotess, how she had looked at him before he entered Shooting Star's cave; Parn, stretching out his hand in trust and … friendship? He opened his eyes, but the thoughts didn’t stop. Then he could hear the door opening.

      "Ashram?” Branwin’s voice.

      He turned his head and gave her a long and cold stare. She just smiled and reached him a bowl.

      "Maybe you need some help to fall asleep.”

      He took the bowl. “What is that?” Suspiciously he look down into the bowl. It contained a strange smelling liquid.

      "Oh, just some tea.”

      A teasing smile played round her lips and her voice was provoking. He emptied the bowl in one sip and gave it back to her. It tasted disgusting.

      "Sleep well.” Still smiling Branwin looked down at him.

      Ashram angrily turned his back on her. He could feel her dark eyes watching him attentively. His body slowly relaxed and his thoughts started to drift away. Branwin waited until his breath was deep and regular. Then she put out the candle and left the room.


      Ashram woke up to the sound of splashing water and laughing. One was Branwin, he knew but who was the other? He opened his eyes and looked around. In the middle of the room stood a wooden bathtub and Branwin and the little girl were emptying buckets of water into it. The floor around the tube was wet, because they had started to splash each other with the water from the tube.

      "Shouldn’t the water stay in that tube instead of on the floor?”

      His cold voice crushed their laughter. The girl stared at him, clasped both hands over her mouth and ran away. Branwin stood up slowly. Then she looked at him. Ashram had never seen anyone before staring at him in such a way. He had seen the cold stare of some assassins and even the cold stare of some Dark-Elf’s who hated him for being King Beld’s general. But this was different. He started to freeze. He could feel a cold shiver all over his body. Her eyes seemed to burn directly into his soul. She didn’t say anything, just stared at him with her black eyes and Ashram stared back. After a while he had to look away.

      "I put some clothes on that chair. They should be big enough to fit you.” Her voice was even colder than ice.

      Without any more words she left the room. Ashram looked at the bathtub and the chair. There was a big towel and a piece of soap on the chair. Slowly he stood up and went into the tube. The water was warm; he reached for the soap and started to wash. After the bath he put on the clothes. A white linen shirt with long sleeves, a blue woolen tunica with short sleeves and a pair of dark blue trousers. He even found a pair of boots. After having dressed he gave the door a long stare. It would just take some steps to go there and leave the room. But he hesitated.

      Ashram hold his breath when Branwin suddenly opened the door.

      "You’re ready. Fine, we will have our meal in the kitchen then.”

      She turned around and left. Ashram followed her slowly and carefully, absorbed in his own thoughts.

      "By the way, you will have to apologize for your behaviour.” Branwin’s voice bored into his consciousness like an arrow.

      Ashram’s face darkened, but he remained silent.

      "You’ve frightened the little one and I don’t want you to behave in such a way when she is around.”

      She turned around. Her face a cold mask of anger and something else Ashram couldn’t distinguish.

      "I don’t mind you speaking harshly to me. I don’t take that seriously. You are kind of childish anyway. But you have to say sorry to the girl.”

      "You can’t be serious.”

      "I am entirely serious,” Branwin answered with a low voice that made him shiver. “You will say sorry to the girl.”

      "I’m not childish.” Ashram slowly became angry, too.

      "You are.”

      "NO.” He crossed his arms as to prevent himself from attacking her.

      "Isn’t it childish to quarrel about being childish or not?”

      Branwin didn’t smile but instead started to stare into his grey eyes again. Ashram stared back, but soon had to look away. He couldn’t stand her look. He took a deep breath and let the air out slowly.

      "I will say sorry.” He pressed the words through clenched teeth hardly moving his lips. Branwin turned around. Ashram waited a while and then whispered: “I’m not childish.”

      "I heard that.” Branwin’s voice was short and sharp. “You should hurry, or your meal will be cold.”

      Ashram shook his head, he forgot about the sensitive hearing of elf-ears. He followed her into the small kitchen. Branwin stood in front of the small fireplace and looked into a pot hanging above it. In the middle of the room stood a table with four chairs around and some bowls and spoons on it. On one side there was an older male Dark-Elf, her uncle, Ashram assumed, and the little girl. The girl looked at him.

      "I am sorry, I didn’t want to frighten you.”

      The girl said nothing but nodded and suddenly smiled shyly at him.

      "Anyone hungry?” asked Branwin now with her warm and friendly voice again.

      "Stupid question,” the older Elf snapped. “Sure we are.”

      Branwin just smiled at the girl. She placed the pot in the middle of the table.

      "Ashram, may I introduce my uncle Tarim to you? Uncle, this is Ashram, Black Knight of Marmo, wielder of Soul-Crusher and former King of Mormo. Ashram, this is my Uncle Tarim.”

      Ashram stared at her in astonishment. Then he nodded at her uncle who answered the greeting the same. Branwin reached for the bowls and started to fill them. Then she placed some slices of bread in the middle of the table.

      "Aren’t you hungry?”

      "It has been long ago, last time I ate together with others. I’m kind of used eating alone.” Ashram looked down into his bowl.

      "You may take your meal to your room, if you like.”

      Branwin smiled. Ashram looked at her curiously.

      "Start eating and stop wondering about my niece. Even I don’t understand her sometimes.”

      Tarim gave Ashram a close look. The girl suddenly tried to reach for the bread but it was to far away for her little arm. Without thinking about what he did, Ashram took a slice of bread and gave it to her. The girl giggled as his fingers touched hers. Ashram could feel his lips twist into a smile by themselves.

      "Is it a good soup?” he asked the girl and it nodded, still giggling. He began to eat.

      "Your niece knows how to cook.”

      "She didn’t cook that. She is able to shoot a hare on every distance with her bow and she might give you a hard fight with the sword, but surely she can’t cook.”

      Ashram looked up, just to see Branwin half-laughing at him.

      "My uncle is the cook. I really would spoil everything, even when I try to cook water. I surely wouldn’t survive my own cooking.”

      She burst out laughing. Ashram shook his head.

      "Even I know how to cook some easy meals to stay alive.”

      "Maybe I should marry you then?” Branwin started to laugh.

      Ashram just shook his head. Was this the same girl that some minutes ago had stared at him so coldly?

      "Branwin, you should stop mocking him and bring the little one to bed.”

      "As you command.”

      Branwin smiled at her uncle, stood up and left the kitchen with the little girl. Tarim sighed.

      "She is a good girl, but she has stayed away too long from Mormo.”

      Ashram listened, kind of hoping Tarim would tell him more about his niece. But instead he changed the subject.

      "So, what are your plans, Black Knight?”

      "I don’t have any plans. At the moment I’m just glad to be alive.”

      Ashram’s voice was kind of repelling. Tarim looked at him directly.

      "You don’t want to be King anymore? Just forget all your responsibilities, the dead, the hurt and the living? Just don’t think about those who trusted you and those who didn’t but followed you anyway? Don’t waste a thought at them? You are living, is that all?”

      Sshram didn’t answer.

      "Winter is coming and a lot of those who are still living will die because they have no shelter or food.”

      Ashram kept silently looking down into his now empty bowl.

      "Beld killed our Royal Family after he had enthroned himself and there is no one except you ...”

      "No, I don’t ever want to rule over others again. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone’s life other than my own.”

      Ashram spoke with a cold and low voice. “I was responsible for so many lives, but I failed even trying to save just one.” He closed his eyes and saw the picture of Pirotess standing in front of him and behind her Shooting Star's fire burning.

      "It is no help to think about the past. You can not change what has happened but you can help the people of Mormo to at least survive the coming winter. I’m quite a bit older than you and you can believe me, there is a tomorrow and you better be prepared for it.”

      Ashram lifted his head and stared into Tarim’s eyes. They were black, like his niece but not that black. Tarim put a hand on his shoulder.

      "You don’t have to deal with it on your own. I’m well respected and though is my niece. We will help you, but you will be the one to give the orders.”

      Ashram couldn’t speak instead just moved his body to remove the hand on his shoulder. Branwin returned and sat down at the table.

      "What are you talking about?”

      "The coming winter?” Tarim snapped.

      Branwin just grinned at his tone but was serious the next moment.

      "It will be hard. Especially for the children and their mothers.” Branwin sighed. “We have to see how many of the men have survived and will be able to work. Then we can think about building houses for the rest.”

      "It would be better to build some big houses than a lot of small ones,” interrupted Ashram. “We don’t need that much material then and they will be faster to build if everyone helps, instead of building their own house.”

      Tarim nodded. “Good idea. Well, any more ideas?”

      Branwin stood up. “I’ll get some paper and ink.”

      Ashram smiled. If this would be his destiny or his duty, he would fulfil whatever it was.