Chapter 5 - Grief

~ Seven cycles of the seasons - 16 Years earlier ~

Lia woke to silence and the press of a cold, damp pillow under her cheek. She had been crying through the night again while she slept. Shifting the pillow, she opened her eyes slowly. She could hear some quiet movement in the house then a door being carefully closed before silence returned. She sighed, rubbing her eyes before snuggling deeper into the bed. A healthy drift of snow covered the window sill to her room. It was going to be a bright day.

The sounds within the house hurt in a way, for a moment it felt like Odessia was still with her. Preparing for the day or going outside, rugged up against the cold to take a quick refreshing walk in the snow. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, her lids still tacky from the tears she had shed. She knew it wasn’t Odessia, but Harks, the mysterious and eccentric ranger who spent most of his time in the wilds, trapping and hunting. In the morning after Odessia had left this world she had woke in her bed to find him sitting in a chair watching over her. His owl quietly perched on his shoulder, half snuggled into his tall collar. At the time she had no more tears to shed, but she watched him as he watched her in silence.

She still remembered his quiet words, his voice calm and soothing like he was trying to tame a flighty bird, “It is proper and right to feel pain, dear Lia. Do not fight what you feel inside, embrace it. Find strength in it.”

Since then, a month had passed, winter had settled in and the snows had brought a magical stillness to the forest and mountains, a clarity and quiet that echoed through the soul. It was a cold embrace that purified the pain and the warmth of the fire inside the home a balm that brought comfort. Every day for the first fortnight Harks was nearby and within sight, his quiet nature and support welcome. Apart from her occasional questions, they had barely spoke, his respectful silence strangely welcome.

Finally she sighed again, her eyes on the window as a sudden flash of movement shot past. She could just make out the streamlined head, wings and tail of Kelis, the barking owl that was always at Harks’s side. Quickly coming out from the covers, Lia took the few steps to the window, watching as Kelis shot past again before her breath fogged the glass. She glanced at the clothing she had set out the night before that hung over the chair and back at the inviting warmth of the bed. Her shoulders drooped a little and she moved to the chair.

A few minutes later she walked out into the main living area. It was comfortable and warm and she smiled. It almost felt like it was. She turned and looked at the door that opened to Odessia’s room, a frown came to her brows and she bit at her upper lip, reminding herself before passing through to the kitchen. There was a pot on the bench, full of warm water, waiting for her alongside a fresh cloth. A small smile worked its way into her eyes as she refreshed herself, washing her face of the tears.

Quickly checking on the stew that Harks had left simmering, she stirred it letting the warm scents of rabbit, root vegetables and herbs fill her senses. It was somehow familiar. Carefully replacing the lid, she quickly checked on the fire before heading to the door, slipping on her coat of furs before quickly stepping out into the morning. The crisp, clean air quickly pinking her cheeks and chasing the last of morning’s drowsiness away. She spotted Kelis perched on the gate, tearing at and eating a small rodent that she had clamped in a claw.

Lia looked past the stacks of firewood under the eaves and spotted Harks sitting in his customary position, his knife out, whittling at a short stave of wood. Without looking up, he shifted aside, leaving room for her to sit. Without waiting for the prompt she made her way over and sat, looking at him expectantly. He glanced at her quickly, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers momentarily.

“Did you slay your demons last night, dear Lia?” he asked, his voice gentle and unhurried.

She nodded, “I can not remember, I think so.”

Harks nodded, once again returning to whittling. Lia paused for a long moment, watching his quick and practiced movements.

She frowned, “Harks, how long have you been taking care of us?”

He slowed momentarily.

“Was it since Mother and Father?” Lia said.

His knife stilled, his eyes meeting hers, a sad smile on his face. She swallowed, nodding to herself.

“How old are you, Harks?”

He chuckled to himself, his hands working at the wood and knife, “Older than most, but younger than some. Age is but a meaningless number, dear Lia.”

“I like the other one better.” she said.

He raised an eyebrow, a twinkle in his eye, “Old enough to surprise you, but not as old as you think?”

“Hmmm.” she said, agreeing, she glanced at him again, watching as he took a small, fine, steel file out of his pocket and started working it over the wood, smoothing its surface.

She sat in silence, watching his crafting. His movements sure, purposeful and efficient. So absorbed in watching him, she did not even realise that Kelis had flown over to them until she felt the owl snuggle into her neck, carefully nipping at her cold ear. She brought the hood up; making sure that the owl was inside sharing the warmth against her neck.

“Harks?” she said.

“Hmmm?” he replied before blowing the wood dust off the piece.

“I think I am ready.”

He nodded, adjusting a small hole with his knife. Finally he brought out another piece from a pocket and fitted it together, pressing it tight. He slid his thumb along the carved wood, checking for burrs and splinters. Finally he checked the skin-like membrane that covered one of the holes.

Lia frowned, her eyes being drawn to Harks’s ear, its tip missing and scarred. His hair hanging down, wavy and unkempt from the wide hood that he wore. She rubbed behind her own unconsciously as she changed her angle, trying to see.

“Harks?”

He met her warm amber with his piercing blue. He smiled warmly, the rough stubble on his jaw silvered. She felt him place the carved flute in her hands and she nodded and lifted it hesitantly to her lips. Stopping just a hairs breadth from touching, tears came to her eyes, blurring her vision. She saw his gentle smile and she nodded. Lia rested the flute on her quivering lips and breathed deeply of the chilled air, calming herself and the heart that was threatening to beat out of her chest. In that moment, everything sat on a razor’s edge. The sharpness of the air, the feel of her fingertips finding the finger holes, the smooth rounded lead-in to the blow hole that rested on her lower lip, the music that was fighting to be released. She could feel it and she welcomed it.

A single clear note rung out, trembling and resonating. It cut through the still air, spreading through the forest and the village. It was closely followed by another and another, a tune that the mountains knew well. It danced off the steady beat of Orlwen’s hammer and the breath and roar of the furnace and forge. A number of the villagers stopped, standing in silence, looking at each other in a shared understanding.

Lia slowly lowered the flute once she had finished the tune, her heart beating like a drum in her ears. Harks smiled quietly, carefully reaching out and wiping her tears away.

She looked up; her amber eyes clear, faint embers of blue stirring in their depths.

Lia met his eyes, “I am ready.”

The morning sun shone down and through the snow-laden trees. The sun bright in a cloudless blue sky. The mountains were shrouded in white and seemed so close in the crystal-clear air. Lia stepped through the familiar gate and walked, the crunch and squeak of snow under her feet as she walked to her parents’ and Odessia’s grave. She had not been since her grand-aunt was buried, where she stood in mute silence, staring as she was buried and as the headstone was set. Harks had been her escort, respectfully staying at a distance as he was now. While all in the village grieved the loss of Odessia, she who had been the eldest among them. Lia’s journey was now intensely private, her family sigil had gone dark, that beautiful symbol of flames inside a circle had lost its golden hue and had taken a brown ashen tone. She did not need another to tell her it’s meaning, she was now the last of her line that had stretched back further then memories could hope to remember.

Lia stood before the headstones, the faint embers of her fire stirring in her eyes. She carefully brushed off the snow. Exposing the polished stone and the lettering that glowed by moonlight. Both her parents were together in death as they were in life; they had known each other from childhood to their untimely end.

Lia bowed, before kneeling and placing her palm on the cold surface. Her flames sprung to life, filling the lettering. She pulled away, her fingertips lingering on the cold stone as the tears came to her eyes. Then she moved to Odessia’s, once again brushing off the snow, tears now falling as she cleaned out each letter with a finger. Setting her hand, she brought Odessia’s name to life. A frown pinched her brows, her chin quivering.

“I promised, Ma. I promised to play mother’s favourite for you too.” she sniffled, wiping at her tears.

“I’m sorry, I just could not until now. Sometimes I wake up and I can still hear you in the house… I have to remind myself.”

She gently ran her fingers over the letters, “I promise Ma, I will still do as we planned… And,” Lia glanced at Harks, he stood in the centre of the clearing, his head bowed in respect, “Harks has been taking care of me, keeping me safe, he told me that you chose him to be my guardian. He said he would answer my questions soon enough. But first I had to be ready, to be healing in the right way.”

Sliding her hand over the top of the headstone, she whispered, “I miss you, Ma.” before stepping away, turning and bowing.

Lia knelt in the snow and brought out the flute that Harks made for her. Slowly bringing it to her lips and drawing a breath. Without hesitation, she blew the first notes, the cascade and tumble of the melody that was once her mother’s but now hers taking a new life as she wound her grief and pain through its beat and rhythm. Tears slid quietly down her cheeks as she let her eyes close. She surrendered herself to the music and let the melody take her on a journey, seeing tender moments shared and feeling the sorrow of moments that will never come to pass.

The lone resonating tones of Harks’s flute were raw, more suited to the emotions running through Lia as she played, enhancing the notes and inflecting a tone that sung of a broken spirit that was being reborn from the ashes of loss. Her fingers danced over the holes, her expression a mixture of intense concentration and sadness as she drew to the end of the song, a long drawn out note that ended like a cry from the soul.

The echoes of that final note rung out over the valley as Lia let her arms drop to her sides, her eyes still closed as she listened for that final echo that never came. A loud sob came from her, welling up and escaping her. She slowly stood, tears streaming down her face and cried; her only response to the hand on her shoulder was to quickly turn and hug Harks, burying her face into his chest as she let the pain flow from her. Harks gently patted her back as she sobbed; he looked up to the blue sky and the morning sun that shone down on them, his bright blue eyes glistening with unshed tears.