OOC: This is a tale of utter fiction. A story. The main characters are my creations. I don't know what the true history is, hence why it is a legend. I felt the life monuments needed a story to go with them. It is very long, so I have made it into several posts to give the eyes a break. And I have realized that it doesn't save indentations when I post, so it is formatted oddly. Sorry for that. I hope you enjoy.
“And what have you decided to name it?” Uriton stared into the campfire. The brilliant summer night sky ranged over his head, but he ignored it.
“Karys, if burdened with a girl… Karton, if cursed with a boy,” laughed Ariton. “For truth, boy or girl, either will be a joyous blessing.”
“Would you still name it a blessing after weeks of waking in the middle of the dark to tend to its cries? I can just see you now, nodding over your books and scrolls and smelling like sour milk.” Uriton’s lips were forced to curve into a friendly smile.
Ariton’s smile spread easier across his face than jam over bread. “All life is a blessing. By Cory’s light, you know that better than I!” Laughing good-naturedly, he nudged Uriton with his elbow, making his ale slosh over the rim of his mug and into the lap of Uriton’s clerical robes. A dark flush rose on Uriton’s cheeks that the darkness hid. “Oh, brother, I am so sorry…” Ariton started to rise from the fireside.
“No, brother,” rasped Uriton in what he hoped was a light tone. “The fire will dry it out soon enough. Besides, ale washes out easily… who knows? I may become thirsty later. You might have saved me from getting up and getting another mug.”
“Ah, Uri, so forgiving of your clumsy brother… here we are celebrating your advancement to the highest rank of your order, and I go and ruin your new robes… an oaf I am, no matter what you say, brother!” Ariton rummaged in their meal sack, pulling out a length of clean cloth. “Why ever did Krisin bond an clumsy oaf like me…” He knelt before his brother set to mopping up Uriton’s robe.
With unmasked sincerity, Uriton replied to Ariton’s bowed head, “I often wonder the same thing myself.” Ariton did not see the expression that now twisted Uriton’s face and merely chuckled as he worked over the wet robes.
Ariton then paused, still kneeling but not looking up. He twisted the ales soaked cloth. “Uri… thank you for coming. The midwife in town is the best in these parts, but she has none of your skills and I… I feel better with you here to help... The gods know how special Krisin is to me…” He trailed off.
Uriton placed a hand carefully upon Ariton’s head. “Anything for Krisin, Ari… anything.” Looking down on his brother’s bowed head, his face jiggled and struggled between expressing enjoyment and loathing.
Before more words were said the dim clangor of a bell filtered over the grassy hill. Ariton leapt nimbly to his feet. “It’s time! Ben’s breath, it’s time! And so soon!” Already he had the meal sack slung over his shoulder and was striding away by the time Uriton heaved his heavy bulk upright. He doused the fire with a nearby bucket and shuffled no less eagerly after his brother.
Uriton’s robes were drenched more by sweat than ale by the time he huffed his way to the simple house of the bell ringing’s origination. He pushes his mousy brown hair out of his eyes as he regarded it. A thatched roof. Wooden planks for walls. An earthen floor for the single room within. He could have provided with so much more, he thought. The form framed in the lamp lighted doorway then caught his attention. Lit from behind he couldn’t see the face but the rounded curves were unmistakable. His laboring heart managed an eagle’s flutter at the sight.
“Krisin.” he gulped for air as he approached the door. “Are you… is it time? Where’s Ariton?” Grasping her rounded belly Krisin turned aside and gestured Uri into the house. Her features became lamp lit, and he could not help but sigh inwardly at the face that so often haunted his thoughts. Her gently oval face had rounded only slightly as the months of impending motherhood passed. The upturned nose. The dark, smoky eyes. The honey blond hair usually twined in braids flowed loose and free about her shoulders.
Her welcoming smile tensed into a grimace as she waddled towards the only bed. Setting the bell on the side table, she panted, “He… used one of the teleport scrolls…to fetch… the midwife... in town” With a grunt she lowered herself carefully onto the bed and caught her breath. “He worked so hard to save for it, lacking the spell himself as he does. I do hope Junum is in town to open a portal back here, or else he and that midwife will have a long walk!” Krisin’s face broke into a sweet smile, barely tinged by the pain she was feeling. “I am so glad you are here with me, Uri. This would be harder to bear if I were all alone.”
Uriton felt his chest ache confronting that smile. He remembered well when he first saw it. The bazaar in Branishor had been full and busy that day, and he had been so much younger. Ariton had wandered off to watch the blacksmith at the forge while he, Uriton, shopped the new wares that had arrived from over the waters. The hot bazaar was crowded with people yammering and haggling all around him. Protected by his girth, Uriton barely felt people jostle and move around him. He had lifted a worn tunic from the table in front of him and saw a wicked looking dagger hidden beneath. Shaped like a fang from a beast, its hilt wrapped in simple leather, he had envisioned Ariton’s jealous face as he waved it at him. Uriton had daydreamed briefly, picturing himself standing atop a pile of slain beasts with that dagger clenched firmly in hand and the cheers of the townsfolk filling his ears. Dreamily, he reached for it, only to wrap his hands around a slender wrist reaching for the same blade. An angry retort filled had his throat and ended in a gurgle as he looked up and saw that same brilliant smile. The moment hung awkwardly in the air until Krisin giggled, “You can let go of my wrist now.”
Uriton had looked down and saw his fat fingers were still indeed gripping her. A thought suddenly thrummed through him - but I don’t WANT to let go. Shocked by its vehemence, he had let go reluctantly and with a sharp stab of loss. He managed to look back up into those dark eyes, so dark almost black. Contrasted with her honey hair he immediately placed her as a one of the Plains people. And she was still smiling at him, at him! When most girls laughed and sniggered behind their hands as he puffed and huffed through town. But not her. Then the thought had come unbidden – he wondered if her golden hair smelled like sunshine.
No, Uri decided then, he couldn’t let her go.
Krisin had quirked her fine brows at this point and set the dagger gently back onto the trade table. In a friendly tone she said, “Please, the dagger is yours. I can find another skinning knife elsewhere.” She turned to go. He quickly placed a meaty hand on her shoulder then snatched it back, “No… wait.” He tugged at his change pouch and dumped its contents onto the table. Swiftly he counted the coin and handed it to the merchant behind the table. He saw how her eyes had widened in gentle surprise as he took up the dagger he offered it to her hilt first. “I-I-I-it’s yours now…. I-I-I-,” he began to stammer. His hand burned where it had barely brushed her shoulder. It shook so hard he almost dropped the dagger.
But then Ariton had bounded back from the blacksmith, and all was undone. Ariton, with his slender form. Ariton, with his handsome face. When Uriton saw how different and brighter her smile for Ariton was, he wished he had taken that dagger and ran it through his own chest. But… wasn’t there that briefest of moments that he had wished it through Ariton’s chest?
That day did not seem so long ago. His hands had never stopped tingling, and so he chose the cleric’s path, hoping from constant use to heal people’s ills those hands would bring about his own healing. Hard he studied, training diligently, and over a short span of years he had rose quickly to the highest cleric level one could attain. Often he mused at how puissant his simple hands had become.
Uriton shook his head and eased the door shut behind him, shutting out the dark and the memories of that day. “Are you all right? You are a month early, right? Are you in pain? Do you need healing?” He tried to ignore the burning itch in his palms.
Krisin laughed lightly, “Of course there’s pain! I’ve not known child birthing to be without it. No, the pain is natural. I’ll bear it as the gods intend.” A hand flew to her belly as a gasp escaped her lips. Her face tightened as the contraction passed. She moved as if to lie down on her bed.
He waddled swifter than a moose to her side. Eagerly he said, “Here, let me help you…” He wheezed as he bent over, hands reaching for her feet. Smoothly they rose up and away from his grasp.
Grinning down at him, “Pregnant and ready for birthing, yes, but I can still manage to lay myself into my own bed, Uri.” Krisin’s breathing became rapid as she rubbed her massive stomach. “Oh, how it quickens to be born!”
Twisting his hands in on themselves, he stood over her. “Please… I … I can’t bear to see you in such pain, Krisin. Please… let me… let me lay my hands on you and-,” he stopped at the look that was now on her face. It was if a candle had been blown out. Chips of obsidian regarded him now.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
He recoiled as if slapped. He opened his mouth in protest and looked down at his hands. They hovered above her, quaking with desire. She had ascertained their true intent, even as he strove for all these years to hide it from himself. He watched those traitorous hands curl into fists and return to his sides. Backing away he sat heavily into a chair that groaned beneath his weight. Krisin watched him retreat with sweat standing at her brow. The contractions began to occur at faster intervals, her pain shining more clearly on her face, but those eyes never left him.
An infinity later Ariton returned with the midwife.