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Post by Storyteller on Jan 24, 2021 6:08:08 GMT
I have been sitting in this inn quite long enough. Cousin Aethyl has his music, and Drucy has his sword. They will not need me for a bit. I approach the innkeeper.
"Sir, do you have a priest of Galadrin in this village?" I ask. How I need to see one!
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Post by Diocles on Jan 25, 2021 0:05:37 GMT
The innkeeper smiles kindly at you. "I'm afraid not. There are no actual residents here other than the shopkeep, the blacksmith, and me and mine here running the Hooded Falcon. But fear not, young one, for the trade-priests often come through here."
And so you wait but do not have to wait long. The next day, as you sit in the common room sipping your ale, suddenly in the midst of the mid-day meal a Kindor male dressed in dark blue and hunter green materializes. He wears a magnificent grey wolf cloak, and his red beard is full but well-kept. His face is tattooed, and when he takes off his gloves, you see that the backs of his hands are, too.
You instantly recognize the heavy Galadrin holy symbol he wears on a chain around his neck.
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Post by Storyteller on Jan 25, 2021 0:16:29 GMT
I rise from my seat and dart to him at once.
I kneel before him as a supplicant, lifting my hands before him. "Merchant," I beg. "I am one who would devote herself to Galadrin. Have mercy upon me and listen to my tale, I beg you."
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Post by Diocles on Jan 25, 2021 0:30:40 GMT
He looks down at you with piercing green eyes, and the right corner of his mouth curls in a slight smile. He places his heavy hand on your head, and you feel the weight of the ring on his right hand. "Galadrin's blessing upon you, pensive daughter." Then he takes your hands and lifts you to your feet, looking you up and down, clearly trying to figure out why someone so out of place as you is here in this bridge stopover on a caravan trail. "What is the matter?" His green eyes are troubled, and a cloud dims their natural brightness. This priest senses your distress, trouble that goes far beyond the near-panic in your voice.
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Post by Storyteller on Jan 25, 2021 0:45:51 GMT
My whole history starts to pour out of me, and all the words get caught in my throat at once, and I am struck dumb. Tears flow silently from my eyes for a few moments.
"Everything is wrong, Merchant," I manage at last. "I am Mairwyn of Ravenwood, and there is something upon my heart." I pause to steady my voice, which is still uncooperative.
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Post by Diocles on Jan 25, 2021 0:53:01 GMT
The priest interrupts you with the gentle touch of his hand on your shoulder, a touch that belies his natural and easy strength. The restraint is remarkable and arrests your attention. "Not here, daughter." He glances around eloquently at the common room, where sit random travelers. "Do you have a room here?"
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Post by Storyteller on Jan 25, 2021 0:55:05 GMT
"Yes, Merchant Sir," I answer. The "Sir" tumbled out without my meaning for it to. "It is on the second floor, and it is mine alone. We can go there, if it please you."
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Post by Diocles on Jan 25, 2021 1:00:20 GMT
He chuckles. "You go. Wait for me. I have business with the innkeeper." He is a trade-priest, after all, and you can assume that a place like this would be one of his regular stops. The tall, broad-shoulders priest pats your hand. "Go, and wait for me. Wait upon Galadrin in your prayers."
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Post by Storyteller on Jan 25, 2021 1:04:00 GMT
"Yes, Merchant," I say. I could no more disobey his word than I could Galadrin's, and I rise, curtsying to him, and go to my room.
Once there, I set up my traveling statue of Galadrin, and I prostrate myself before it. I wait in this attitude until such time as it pleases the Merchant to grace me with his presence.
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Post by Diocles on Jan 25, 2021 1:10:04 GMT
Some time passes for you in prayer, and when the knock comes on your door, you find you are weeping quietly over your broken heart.
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Post by Storyteller on Jan 25, 2021 1:11:40 GMT
"Enter, Merchant, I beg," I say, without rising from where my tears have made me drunk.
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Post by Diocles on Jan 25, 2021 1:16:17 GMT
You hear the door open behind you, for you have the statue of Galadrin set up on a table under the outer window that is on the opposite side of the room. Light from the corridor streams in, and then it is cut off by the closing of the door. The priest walks past you, and you watch as he picks up the statue and hands it to you. "Hold this a moment." Then he spreads a dark blue cloth trimmed in hunter green over the small table, taking the statue once again and placing it back where you had it. "There," he says gently, "Galadrin is more comfortable standing upon his colors."
Galadrin has other colors, of course, but these must be the colors of the trade-priests in the north.
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Post by Storyteller on Jan 25, 2021 1:24:27 GMT
"Thank you, Merchant," I say, and my voice is still weak from my tears. "May Galadrin have mercy upon a sorrowful girl who would seek to serve him."
I look around the room. "Will it please you to sit, Merchant? For my tale is long and sad..."
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Post by Diocles on Jan 25, 2021 1:28:38 GMT
The priest sits on the edge of your bed but does not raise you up, keeping you kneeling there in the middle of the floor. "Unfold your heart to Galadrin, daughter. Why is your heart lost in the abyss of the sea?" Does he speak metaphorically of grief, or do his green eyes pierce the mystery of your sorrow?
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Post by Storyteller on Jan 25, 2021 1:39:23 GMT
I stare at him, marveling, for the wisdom of Galadrin comes from those beautiful lips.
And my heart opens, the words coming out in a flood in obedience to his direction.
"I was in Nirrion when the sun was lost. I have been making my way back here to Ravenwood ever since, in order to help the world in whatever way the mages of the Academy saw fit. But on the way, I met Iritari, a Sacrifice, and the Ithacul came for him. He went beneath the sea and took my heart with him."
Except that, for the first time since Iri was lost, my heart stirs inside me like a babe buried alive.
"We had loved each other, Iritari and I. I know how presumptuous that sounds, Merchant, but it was true. Yet, a boy so perfect as Iritari could only belong to Galadrin. Then I journeyed northward with my cousin and his gladiator friend, with a band of Grorekathi, who had taken me for their Sentinel, since their own I had rescued, then left injured under the care of Mariner Petemet in Breakwater."
I swallow hard. "Then the Ausir came upon us. They hated one of our band, and they came to raid the Grorekathi because of Cian Chaos-lover, may he be accursed forever. So I purchased the liberty of the band by ... something so horrific that my shame would stop my mouth before you, great Merchant, were it not that it was Galadrin's strength that gave me courage. I sold myself to the Ausir Captain. I dwelt as his sex slave, willingly and obediently, for the duration of the journey north." My cheeks are burning, and I cannot meet the priest's kind and lovely eyes. "I pleased him so well that he not only spared the caravan and my cousin, but he brought us up as far as this place." I lift my tortured eyes at last. "But he begged me to remain with him forever. The Ausir swore, by the end, that he loved me..."
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