Poem of Life I
wading through a thick
red-induced mist
through ever-changing lands
where one cannot see his hands.
awoken by a sound,
a sensation so cruel
a fragile thing in pain
coughing up a pool.
and yet there is mirth
an unspeakable zest,
the dawn of rebirth,
is life but a jest?
She was lingering between consciousness and slumber. Then Fyen started as she noticed two big, round eyes staring straight at her. She squinted and raised her head. It was like trying to lift an anvil with her neck. Slowly but surely she made out the figure of an owl perched on the bedpost, looking at her. Fyen let her head fall back down but regretted it immediately. The feather pillow was surprisingly hard and it felt as if her brains had shifted inside her skull from the impact. Lying there in severe pain and still very much intoxicated, the girl glanced back at the owl. The bird gave a hoot and continued to stare at her. Oh, gods damn you, owl, mister owl-thing...
The mushrooms were as tall as trees. Their noses sounded stuffy as they breathed loudly and the air was thick with pollen. Fyen tried running from her pursuer but her feet were heavy and kept sinking into the wet moss and mud covering the forest floor. Then came a deep rumble and the earth shook. The air seemed to simmer and Fyen's stomach lurched. The mushroom trees opened their eyes and started disgorging foul-smelling fluids through their mouths and noses. Soon she was stumbling knee-deep in what she perceived to be vomit. The stench was overwhelming and finally she felt her own guts churning away, sending bile up the back of her throat.
Then came another rumble and she sat up in the bed and vomited right on herself. She had heard it was supposed to make you feel better but it didn't; her chest still felt stuffed, her intestines were still rumbling, and her stomach muscles cramped again, sending another bucketful of warm ale and bile through her lips and nose onto her lap.
"Bloody hell, woman!" Mirlín shouted, waking up to the sounds of Fyen's retching."This better be some weird dream," she muttered and shifted to the very edge of the bed.
Fyen sputtered between dry heaves and gasped for air. "Sorry, I wish it were..."
She fell back down on the bed with a pitiable whimper. How can anyone feel this bad? This is worse than...anything! The room kept spinning and a barbed steel band seemed to be wrapped tight around her temples. Another wave came surging out and she could barely turn to her side before the floodgates opened to another fragrant burst.
"Fuck! Ass!" shouted a man's voice from the floor as Reynaer jumped up, farting loudly. "Pardon the pollution, ladies. Must be all them peppers I ate last night."
"You didn't eat any peppers last night!" Mirlín's muffled voice sounded from underneath her blanket.
Fyen closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
The man wiped vomit off his face and looked around the room. "It's all right, lassie, not the first time I've been barfed upon, actually. Where's that water bucket?"
Water! Oh, precious water! Nectar of the gods! At that precise moment Fyen would truly have killed for water. That is, if she had had the strength to kill even a fly in her current state.
"Somebody kill me, please..." she pleaded. Just moments before she had been wholly unaware of the universe. Oh, sweet oblivion! Why couldn't I just... be knocked out? It's a thought. "Reyn, would you mind knocking me unconscious?"
The man sputtered as he washed his face. "Just as I've found the crapper. In the meantime, I'm sure Mirlín there wouldn't mind doing the honors."
The woman mumbled something but her words were engulfed by the blanket under which she had hidden herself in a valiant effort to escape the horrors of their mortal coil. Fyen heard the door slam shut as Reynaer left for his quest for intestinal relief and at the same time a new voice sounded from the other side of the room. She recognized it as that of the young man who seemed to have a penchant for discussing the male genitalia. Fyen opened her eyes and squinted at the vague figure attempting to stand up.
"Hey, aren't you that girl from the..." Before the smiling youth could finish his sentence, Fyen did an involuntary abdominal exercise and vomited loudly on her own lap.
"Ew, that's gross! Go find a bucket!"
Mirlín peeked from underneath the blanket. "You go find a bucket, numbnuts!"
Fyen felt immense gratitude at the woman and decided to join in, albeit weakly: "Pecker-head..."
The effort paid off and she flinched as she woke up again. Only Mirlín was in the room, trying to scrub beer and bile off her tunic.
"Hey," Fyen whispered. She found that her voice was all but gone.
"How you feeling?" the woman asked.
The girl stopped to listen to her body and noticed she actually felt pretty good. "I'm all right, thanks. Sorry about your tunic."
Mirlín shrugged. "It’s all right."
The whole room felt somehow peaceful and serene. Fyen looked around herself. "The guys left?"
"Yeah, they went to fetch some breakfast. Better eat well, might be a long journey ahead," she said morosely.
The message didn't quite sink in at first. "Oh... I need some... wait, what journey?"
Mirlín didn't answer right away. She picked up her wolf hide and wrapped it tightly around herself. "Let's talk about it once the lads come back. By the way, you might wanna take along some clean clothes. Soiled your dress pretty good there."
Fyen covered her face with her hands. "I know,” she moaned. “I must look like hell! How can I walk through the streets with barf all over me?" Her voice verged on utter despair.
"You’ll live."
Fyen sat up and grimaced at a stabbing pain in her head. She caught the minute smile on the woman’s face and sighed. "I guess. I’ll just… go home… in this… barfy dress. Anyway, I need to get some money and stuff so, uh, can I come back here? You still going to be here?"
For some reason the girl felt drawn to the mysterious woman. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but she felt she wanted to spend more time with her. I'm sure she's seen more than I've dreamed about... I need to learn the ways of the world if I... want to make it out on the road.
“Sure.” Then she furrowed her brow. “The world is not safe for a lone, young girl."
For a moment Fyen's eyes became slightly foggy. “I just... that's what..." she stuttered. “Thank you." The girl turned to look out of the window and sniffed. “It helps a bit, you know. To have others around."
"Yeah... I guess. Um, you sure you don't want me to come with you?"
The girl smiled. "It's all right, the guys would just wonder where we were and eat all the food." Then she turned on her heels, moved the chair from the door, and waved at Mirlín before walking out of the room.
When Reynaer and Desiderius came back, the younger man noticed that he had acquired a splitting headache. His mouth kept drying up and he regretted how foolishly he had behaved last night although he couldn't remember everything that he had said and done. However, the glances he received from the others and even random villagers spoke volumes of his inability to hold his liquor gracefully. Desiderius believed that at some point he might have been somewhat rude towards the ladies and he recalled having eaten a jelly cake or two. Feels a bit strange to be with these people. Reynaer's quite scary... he's older than the others. Must be in his thirties already or something. His shoulders are so vast and I bet he could lift up Snappy.
What was even worse, Desiderius could hardly look Fyen in the eye and he was glad she had gone out to get some things from her house. She's so pretty and I just keep making an ass out of myself all the time, right in front of her! Bet she doesn't think much of me. She's all about the roughly handsome Reynaer. Man, why couldn't I be like that, too? I have the looks, I'm relatively tall and, well, there's a little muscle here and there! But he's got this funny aura of... I don't know, something the women folk seem to like. But he’s too old for Fyen! Meh, who could ever fully understand girls... I must get that charmer's aura too. Something must have been wrong with all the women I've met. Desiderius' thoughts galloped around as he was sitting on the floor, chewing on a piece of bread. The two others seemed to have forgotten about his existence.
The boy stared at Mirlín now. That woman is some piece of work, that's for sure. Desiderius didn't care too much for girls who tried to be mysterious. It's so pretentious. If Mirlín was fat and ugly, I would not look twice at her. She can play ‘lady-mysterious' only because she's beautiful enough that men will still chase her. An ugly, fat girl would just end up wobbling alone in a corner if she tried that. And that wolf hide is just creepy!
She and Reynaer were talking about some journey, about the city, Hwealf Ceaster , and its mighty citadel. Apparently Fyen's mother had been taken away by a band of soldiers and priests. Desiderius had heard rumors of them. It had something to do with magick and torture – which Desiderius knew little about – and that they were snatching people away all around the country. It was a dark time for the people of Rodal.
"Excuse me, but are you seriously thinking about, like, finding Fyen's lost mom? Isn't that awfully dangerous?" Desiderius interrupted Mirlín and Reynaer. They turned towards him. "How do we even know she's in the city? That city is a nightmare, I've heard. A nest of... naughty sins and corruption, and old people fornicating everywhere, sometimes with animals!"
Reynaer raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Mirlín was staring at the boy, a scrutinizing look in her deep-blue eyes. Then she turned to examine her bow and shrugged. "You don't have to come along. You can stay and rot here as well. Would you be of any help anyway?"
"Yeah, you have any skills at all?" Reynaer asked.
"Well, I can sing quite nicely. And I'm good at counting things," Desiderius replied.
"Any useful skills?"
"Look, I don't even know if I wanna join your suicide mission!" Desiderius snorted.
"No one's twisting your arm, boy," Reynaer grunted.
"You know, I kind of do want to join you guys but... it's just, what's in it for us if it's Fyen's mom we're saving?"
"We had some pretty good reasons last night," Mirlín said and scratched her head.
The big man frowned in recollection. “Well, good or bad reasons, I’m going. It might’ve been a crazy, drunken idea but my resolution still stands and if nothing else, I will do it just as much for Fyen as I will do it to redeem myself. Do something good for a change.”
“Redeem yourself?” Mirlín repeated. “Hell, I don’t know, now that I think about it…”
“Here you go again…”
“I don’t even know her! I don’t know any of you!”
“I don’t either but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that there are so many things wrong in this country that it’s about time someone did something good even if there’s no promises of gold or glory,” Reynaer said.
“But,” she bit on her lip and frowned, “but what would it look like? Two men traveling with a young girl! Would they believe you were siblings?” Her sharp eyes flicked to Desiderius. “Besides you both look like you don’t know the first thing about young women. She will be so ashamed if that time of the month happens on the road and all she’s got is you two! Or just you, if the kid won’t go.”
“Come along, then,” Reynaer insisted. “Keep the girl company. I’m sure she would benefit from having an experienced woman by her side, someone who has traveled the world and knows what it’s like for the fairer sex when the comforts of a steady home are far away.”
The woman let out a deep sigh and then shook her head. “Fine. And I never liked that talking tall when drunk and doing nothing when finally sober.”
“Me neither. It’s the coward’s way,” Reynaer nodded. “As I said, my resolution still stands.” Then he glanced at Desiderius. “So, lad, you going to join us to travel the world, fight the oppressors, win the hearts of beautiful dames—"
"There will be girls?"
"There's always girls!" Reynaer assured him.
"And we will be like... warriors... fighting against the forces of evil?" Desiderius asked and looked a lot more interested in the mission now. Mirlín and Reynaer glanced at each other and then nodded.
"All right, I guess I'm in. Fyen will need all the help she can get, right? And I have a horse!"
Desiderius saw himself as an epic hero already. He would ride with the others and fight monsters and save damsels. Regrettably Snappy would run away and he would be forced to buy a white steed and they would all drink ale and cider and sing songs together by a bonfire. Apart from the horses of course, their singing would sound just horrible.... Anyway, maybe I'd also get a chance to save Fyen from grave danger at some point and she would show her eternal gratitude by taking her clothes off and—
"Hey lad, what was your name again?" Reynaer asked suddenly.
"Uh, Desiderius," the boy replied.
"Can we call you Des?" Mirlín asked.
"Sure, that's what my friends call me... well, they would if I had any," Desiderius laughed nervously. “I’ll go get my stuff,” he mumbled and started towards the door.
Yeah... Mister Buffbeef and Blondie seem alright and for the first time it feels like my life's taken a big step forward. If only mom and dad were here to see this...
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