The Tale of Fodder

‘Erimus? Erimus, are you awake?’

He heard her voice so often in his dreams that he failed to stir when she called him, instead, it was the sun that rudely woke him from his slumber. It shone through the holes in the curtains, casting its rays upon his face. His sight turned red; the light burning through his dreams like a fire’s kindling.

Rolling over, he wiped the sleep from his eyes. The day was young; he could afford to keep them waiting a little longer.

‘Erimus, darling, you’re going to be late.’

Slowly he sat himself up and spun around, letting his legs fall over the edge of the bed. With narrow eyes, he peered through the holes, through the tears in the curtains, and waited for his dark eyes to adjust to the bright lights. Through the twisted stalks of the sunflowers of his wife had planted last spring he could see the shadows of his neighbours passing by the window and going about their day. A gentle breeze blew through the crack in the windowsill and caused the rough fabric to bat against the broken shutters.

He squinted, trying to look past it all to see the sky. It was a beautiful shade of blue that was so clear he could almost swear that he saw the rolling waves below reflected in the heavens above. A perfect day, save for one blemish. Clouds hung over the horizon; heavy and grey, they turned the distant world dark. He sighed. If the wind brought the storm to Orqua, his trip would likely be cut short.

He leaned back to stretch, shooting back upright as he felt the splintering wood stab into his palms. Tossing the blanket aside, he wanted to make sure the mattress hadn’t shifted too much in the night. It had pulled and curled at one end as it was caught between the broken slats. It had shifted, but only by a few inches. She likely wouldn’t have noticed; it still covered her side as comfortably as it could.

He took the splinter from his palm and scrunched his face after noticing a few more embedded into his arm. He left them for a moment while he fixed the mattress, shifting it back into place and tucking a woollen sheet beneath it to cover the broken slats on his side of the bed. 

Then he took the time to inspect himself. Those on his arms were easy to remove; they tickled as he pulled them out, and each one left no more than a pinprick in his skin. His legs, however, were a different matter. Two solid pins sticking out of his thigh and another deep in his calf. Wincing, he bit his lip to avoid making a sound as he pulled the two from his thigh; it wasn’t enough to silence him as he tried to remove the one from his calf.

‘Erimus, are you alright?’

‘I will be,’ he hissed through gritted teeth, still wrangling with the wood piercing his flesh.

‘What was that?’

‘Nothing! Yes, I’m fine!’ he called back, clearing his throat and using the opportunity to rip the stubborn splinter from his leg. He groaned, coughing once more as he threw its remains to the other side of the room. 

A small bubble left a crimson trail down the back of his calf as he rose from the bed and made his way to the wash basin. He could feel it. The warm liquid slowly began to congeal, with the excess cooling as it trickled down to his heel.

Taking the damp cloth from the side of the basin, he mopped the stain from his leg before rinsing and ringing it out to wash his face. The water was cold and clouded but he didn’t mind, it worked all the same. He washed himself, letting the lingering droplets sting his eyes as he blindly searched for his tunic.

Spinning himself around, he kicked a chair. Cursing under his breath, he fumbled further, trying to unfurl the folds of fabric from its back.    

‘Let me.’

Her voice was soft, and her hands were cold. She moved him away from the chair, and he found himself smiling as he listened to her feet lightly patter against the stone floor.  

‘Here,’ she giggled, nudging him with the clumped tunic.

He even struggled to take it from her; first grabbing at her sleeve before she corrected his course and put it in his hand. Listening to her laugh, he dried his face on what he could only presume was one of the sleeves before sliding it over his head.

He groaned as he pulled himself through the collar and poked his arm through a tear instead of a sleeve. He could hear it rip as he tried to fix it.

She helped him, with more calm than he could ever hope to muster. Her delicate touch manoeuvring him under the folds; gently twisting his arm, feeding it down and out through the cuff. 

‘There, all better.’

His frustration got the better of him. He pulled himself from her affections, turning from her as he loosely fastened the lace through the loops and tightened his collar. He moved around her to retrieve his trousers from the chair, leaning against it as he stepped into them one leg after the other.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her shrink. She was still smiling, but it was feint – not sad, just feint.

He closed his eyes and inhaled, holding his breath for a moment in the hopes he could calm himself. She was always stronger than he was; she could see the good in everything. On the darkest days, she’d find the light; she’d find a rock and suddenly it would become a treasure. But she shouldn’t have to; she should be able to find real treasures and see the light for what it is rather than a way through the dark. She deserved so much more than a broken bed, a rickety house, and a husband that couldn’t contain himself.

He sighed, opening his eyes.

She had clasped her hands, fiddling with the ring on her finger; he ran his along the one around the chain on his neck.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t—’ He moved carefully, running a hand through her hair before settling it on her shoulder. He smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll—I’ll fix it when I get home, alright?’

She started to laugh. ‘I guess you can add it to the list then.’

‘You’re hilarious. I’ll get round to it eventually.’

Quickly, he spun her around. He muffled her, pulling her closer to his chest and burying her within his tunic; inadvertently burying himself within the waves of her ebony hair.

She started squirming.

‘Hey!’ she called out through the folds, ‘Hey, remember, you’re not just crushing me anymore!’ 

The wriggling intensified and he released her. Her cheeks were flush: a rosy pink appearing against white velvet, with the lone freckle under her right eye turning a deeper shade of brown in the warming tones of her skin. The rays of the sun failed to illuminate her and yet, she radiated a heavenly glow. 

He ran a hand through his hair, hopelessly straightening matted curls.

She was beautiful, and she was his. He didn’t deserve her, but since the day they met and beyond, she didn’t care. Since then, no matter what happened, she kept him dreaming – living a life that he had no right in having.

He took a knee, running his hand down her body and letting it settle on her stomach. It was only a few more weeks before his dream would be renewed – before their lives would be turned upside down. He couldn’t wait.

‘Do you think it’ll be more like you or more like me?’ he asked, tracing a flower onto her bump.

‘It is a she, and what does it matter?’

‘Well, I… You know, it’s just—’ He stopped suddenly, considering what she said. ‘A she? How’d you work that out?’

 ‘Just a feeling,’ she said.

She placed a hand on his, letting him feel the kick of new life growing inside her. He felt his heart flutter. In that moment, he didn’t care if it came out human, elf, a combination of both, or something new entirely; in that moment, all he could say was:

‘Well, she’ll be perfect.’

He stayed there; a stupid smile plastered on his face.  

‘You’re going to be late,’ she repeated.

‘They can wait a little longer. Can’t rightly leave without the navigator now, can they?’

He looked up, and she looked down. His expression was one of childish glee, and hers was that of a disappointed parent. He pouted, but conceded as without needing to say anything more, he knew she was right.

He stood up but kept her close; almost swaying her back and forth as he felt the moment’s bliss wash over him. ‘Don’t go missing me too much, okay?’

‘And what if I do?’

‘Well, I’d just have to cut an already short trip even shorter.’

He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away.

‘What do you mean shorter, I thought this was to be a two-week trip?’

Letting her go, he went to the door and gathered his coat and satchel. Her question brought an end to the play and to the sentimentality, as even if it wasn’t in her voice, she was suddenly wired into the conversation.

He looked up, pretending as if he were observing the sky above, and shrugged. ‘There were some clouds on the horizon, if the winds bring them this way, it’ll be a hell of a storm.’

‘…And they wouldn’t sail in that, right?’

‘No, of course not. As much as he’s brash, Naill trusts me. If I say it’s dangerous, most he’ll do is anchor down and wait it out.’

She was silent.

He turned back to see the concern on her face grow, and with his coat hanging off one shoulder, he went to comfort her. ‘Don’t worry, if it gets too bad, he’ll turn back,’ he ran a hand against her cheek, gently lifting her head and smiling. ‘I know it.’

‘You should…’ She couldn’t muster much more, but at least she was able to smile.

‘Yeah,’ he said, fixing his coat and giving his attention back to the door.

With a flourish, he spun and blew her a kiss. Then spun around again to open the door, misjudging the distance and almost battering it instead. She failed to contain her laughter and only waved in response – consumed by her hilarity.

She stole herself for one last goodbye, ‘Come home safe.’

‘You know I always do,’ he said, opening the door but lingering in the arch for a moment more. ‘Ella, I love you.’