Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: alden@coos.dartmouth.edu (Laurie F. Alden)
Subject: [L&S] Awakenings 1
Message-ID: <C6Krt7.E8v@dartvax.dartmouth.edu>
Date: Wed, 5 May 1993 22:29:30 GMT

[ADMIN: by Luthor, Captain, and Serene]

 Trina's hair hung limply, tucked behind her ears.  It was impossible to
figure out this household.  The Captain obviously didn't work for
the other two, they all treated one another as equals.  The golden man
with the elvish features was possibly the cook, but he seemed to come up
with many of the ideas.  The woman brought her food and asked friendly
questions about her home on the farm.  The only one here who obviously
had the power to make demands which were instantly met was the infant,
Mista.

 Go figure.

 The food was great.  Her room was comfortably furnished.  Was she a
guest?  Was she a prisoner?  She had tested the waters by asking if she
could go to watch the market.  In the friendliest way, the woman had
given her permission, and then accompanied her, wearing the baby across
her abdomen.  Was the company for supervision or friendliness?

 Home was so damnably long ago.  And they kept asking about it.  At first,
Trina hadn't noticed.  What was the beer like?  How long was
the growing season?  What kinds of food are your favourites?  They were
all trying to pinpoint her home.   She shifted in her position on a limb
of the porch.  She wasn't even sure she wanted to go home.

 Her indentured servitude was still legal; her father would most likely
mutter something about holding up a contract, and return her to the
importer.  He would never believe that the merchant had gotten an offer
for Trina herself and sold her for a handful of gold.  For the
thousandth time, she was grateful that she wan't pretty.

 She slammed her fists into the wall in frustration.  Immediately, she
pulled her hands away.  "I'm sorry!" she gasped.  Gently,
apologetically, she stroked the bark where she had struck.  Her eyes
fixed, staring at the tree, concentrating trustingly.

 "No harm, Little One.  Only surprise.  I am strong of body and of
heart. I can share your burden."

 Captain and Sgt. Alketus were sparring on the wide lawn.  Serene and
the baby were giggling on the margin.  Luthor tended his herbs on the
far end of the porch.

 There was no voice on the humid air to which she listened with such
intensity.  Sudden tears welled in her eyes, and she embraced the tree.
Her arms barely described the hundredth part of its girth; her bitter,
homesick tears soaked into the bark; her heavy heart leaned on the
ancient tree.

 Luthor looked up from his carefully-tended calendula to see Trina
sobbing against the tree.  He smiled.  Crying was a good sign.  Maybe
she was ready to make a few decisions about her life.  
--
lfa@dartmouth.edu                      |I guess that's why
Chief of Design - JourneyGarb          |they call this the blues...
Special Education - Norwich, VT        |Time on my hands
Instructor - University System of NH   |could be time spent with you