Character story: Arianrhod (formerly Melisande)

From: Oliver D. Bernuetz <bernuetz_at_...>
Date: Wed, 10 Mar 2004 18:43:31 -0000


Arianrhod sat at the arrow slit gazing out. Outwardly she was the picture of perfect calm and decorum, if somewhat distracted looking. Ironically she appeared to be the perfect young Esvulari maiden. Inwardly was a different story. Inside her mind surged like the sea. She found that increasingly her mind did surge about and she wasn't sure that it wasn't the influence of the latent sea magic in the tor below Whitewall. She was seething inside and the main target of her anger was herself. Stupid, stupid girl, she raged, youthful indiscretions were one thing, rank stupidity was another thing altogether. She was furious at herself, furious at the situation and furious at Broyan. If only her first impressions of Sir Estes hand't been so bad. Certainly he was a lout and a braggart but what Esvulari man wasn't? For that matter she thought bitterly what man wasn't? But Sir Estes, her teeth gritted in a most unladylike manner when she thought of his obvious gleeful pleasure at the thought of father's land, he hadn't even looked twice at her. But Broyan, she sighed, he had looked at her like she was a woman, not an inheritance. He made it obvious what he was interested in! Perhaps not her mind or personality but at least something about her. She sighed in resignation. It had seemed so, well romantic, to run off with the man she loved. At the time anyway. But now here she was, far from home with her father hating her, trapped in a fortress surrounded by people who wanted to kill her! And attached, and still attracted she had to admit, to a man who could not or would not marry her.

She looked out down at the Lunar camp and saw it stirring. She shook her head. Almost time for the daily entertainment she thought. Sure enough, down there by the Lunar middens she could see the Esvulari tents. And there was Sir Estes coming out of his tent as dependable as the dawn itself, well when he was well enough to fight that was, his loyal squire trailing him with his weapons. Soon he would ride up to the great staircase and bellow out his daily challenge to Broyan. Who would they send this time? Broyan couldn't go, he was the king, he'd send a champion again. Last time Leika the Vingan had gone, bounding down the hillside, her red hair like a beacon against the grey stone. All she had carried was a pair of javelins and a shield. It had been embarrassing. It wasn't that Sir Estes was a pathetic fighter, his fame as a jouster was far flung. But he had been no match for the laughing Vingan. She had danced and leapt around him, pricking him and his horse with her javelin over and over enraging him until he lost his temper and she had ended the fight. Arianrhod shook her head again. She hadn't seen the blow. Both sides had stood there laughing and jeering at him and this had just made it worse. But suddenly Leika had taken pity and ended it. She did something and Estes hit the ground and she had saluted him and bound back up the hillside. The worst had been the trickster though. He had beaten Estes with a bladder and a pointed stick. No one faulted Estes for that one! Well, actually she was sure that they did blame him for accepting the challenge in the first place as the trickster had used magic to win.

Arianrhod sighed again and her hands flexed unconsciously. At least Leika can do something! She wished that she could do something! Maybe she should take up the offer from the Vingans to take up weapon training? Broyan had forbidden it but she'd toss his "No one can force you to do anything" back in his face if she choose. The Vingans offered her pity but it beat Broyan's absentminded affection. She remembered her dreams as well. In them the Moon had loomed ever larger and she felt like some kind of offer was being made. That some sort of path awaited her if she choose to take it. There was acceptance there. And what about the sea? She had always loved the sea and she could hear something calling to her from deep within the tor like the sea had called her when she was a child. That was another offer. But which path should she take? Which was the right choice?

Oliver

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