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Entry #201107, added on 06-05-03 @ 1:37 am EDT.
[Entry Access Restriction] None.
Title:
Rambling
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Just an idea for a beginning of a story...
The young woman was reading the ancient texts when someone knocked on the door of the small, private, library room she was using. "Come in," she said, not looking up from the text.
"Ariala, your father and beloved are here," the Mistress of the Order said, watching the young woman's reaction.
Evidently the little one misheard, as her reply was to tell the person that she knew her father and her fiance was coming the next moon. The Mistress smiled fondly. Of their Order, Ariala was the smartest when she put her mind to it, which was not as rare as most thought.
"Ariala, I meant that they were here, child. Now go and see them. They've travelled a long way to see you," she said.
Ariala looked up, surprise in her eyes. There was also the beginning of a protest forming on her red lips. "But I've just begun to decipher the Prophecy!" she said. The Mistress did not relent.
"Ariala, you of all people know that the bloodline must continue and that you must obey your father. Now go child!" she said sternly. "And yes," she continued when Ariala opened her lips again, "You're perfectly presentable. Now go. They're in Misha's antechamber," she said, not letting on that Ariala was more beautiful than the girl suspected. She was surprised at the young girl's choice of a mate though.
Taking a deep beath, Ariala pushed the two doors just wide enough for her to enter. She carefully closed them behind her and checked the latch to ensure that it was not locked.
Only then did she turn and looked at where her beloved and her father were. Her father was a dignified old man, with a short beard customary of their people. He was wearing a long, white robe, which meant that he had been here for some time and that his business, either with her or someone else in the Order, but the business was grave.
"Father," she went to him and stood on her sandalled feet to kiss him on the cheek. "Dearest," she went to her beloved, who, as was the case, was clad in the scholar's uniform of the village. He wore a leather vest over a short tunic, but the leggings, unlike other villages, were thick and a little loose. Most of the scholars were healers. He was one of those who went around the nearby countryside looking for new cures and texts, like her.
"Daughter," her father began, "Your mother has been poisoned. Although it is not serious, but she wants you to be home before the moon becomes barren," he said.
"How?" she asked, her hand unconcsiously seeking her beloved's.
"That, we are not sure, but your mother had said that she wants you to be married to thy beloved," her father said. |
© Copyright 2003 Karen Rump (UN: priestess at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Karen Rump has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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