Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: alden@coos.dartmouth.edu (Laurie F. Alden)
Subject: [L&S] Awakenings 3
Message-ID: <C6Mo4I.Eqv@dartvax.dartmouth.edu>
Date: Thu, 6 May 1993 23:05:05 GMT

  Dinner came and passed.  As had become their custom, the household
repaired to the drawing room with a glass of wine or mineral water.
There, they would speak of the day, news in Generica, the volatile
South, the Specificas, of past travels, and missing friends.  Usually,
Trina was more of a listener than a speaker, but now she was unusually
quiet and distracted.  She slouched in her chair, looking around at the
walls of the house and twisting her hair around her fingers.

  The conversation drifted to the warming weather.  Since the violence
of the Storm, none could predict the coming patterns.  Did the humidity
signify the coming Spring or just a break in winter's strangth?  Sensing
an opening, Luthor subtly steered the conversation. "I think I'll go
talk to the Generican Druid.  If the spring is coming, I'll look into
buying a vinyard, or at least a plot of land so I can start my own.
With the way Genericans enjoy their drink, I should be quite wealthy in
no time at all.  I've always wanted to have my own vineyard, since I
was younger than Trina over there."

  Captain's thoughts turned to his own dreams.  "I've never wanted
anything much for myself.  A roof over my head and a hot meal in my
stomach would suffice.  I'd be happy reading for now, but eventually, I
would like to find the way home.  Not that I am unthankful for this
one, but I just feel out of place here.  I always saw myself retiring
as an old General and writing history books.  I could do that now, but
the history I would write wouldn't be of the Known Lands.  It may as
well be a work of fiction."

  "I would be happy to read it nonetheless.  Perhaps the history of your
land has a few lessons to teach."  Luthor said, noting a hint of pride
coming from Captain.

  "History always has lessons to teach.  Its just that so few people
listen."

  "I'm happy with the way things are now," Serene began. "As long as
Mista is happy and healthy,and I can dance with her father, I am
content.  Journeys await me, of the body and of the heart...  I'd like
to go back to the islands for a while, show off the baby and dance with
the others, but that can wait.  How about you Trina?"

  "No, I don't want to go home, not yet." Trina's voice was soft and
distant.

  Luthor gave Serene a worried look.

  "What's the matter Trina, don't..." Luthor began.

  She locked eyes with Luthor.  Her dark eyes, holding secrets untold
met his, as light and caring as a warm Summer's sky.  "No, I'm not
going home.  It's safe here...in the Tree."

  "Anything you want Trina, our home is yours."

  They continued their talk for another half hour, but out of the
corners of their eyes they carefully watched her.  She was like a
coiled serpent now; better to step lightly around it than risk a
bite.

  Night draped her cloak around Generica.  The captain retired to his
books.  Luthor climbed the stairs with thoughts of magery.  At a soft
knock he spoke, and Serene slipped inside.

  "Luthor, I'm concerned about Trina,"  she began.  He nodded his
understanding.  "I've seen people doing some of the things she's doing.
I...  After my sister died, I spent several years in the islands -
dancing, learning defense, and living in that community - you remember?"

  He nodded and tenderly drew her to sit at the windowseat.  Her eyes
were troubled and intent.  She had told him about the community for the
mad where she had lived and worked, and it distressed him to know that
Trina reminded his friend of those folks who suffered so.

  "The first thing I think she needs is safety, Luthor.  People need it
above food and water.  She moves like someone who doesn't have it.  She
watches like an animal who expects to be beaten, but doesn't know quite
when..."

  Luthor kissed Serene's forehead.  "Then we will do everything we can
to allow her to allow herself to feel safe.  I think we're a patient
lot."  He gently smiled.  "Tell me, how did you gain so much wisdom in
your few years?"

  Her laughter lit the corner of the room.  "I'll be nineteen soon!"
Their low murmuring flowed through the house, a soft current of comfort.

  Below, all was still. Trina sat unmoving, staring at the walls of the
Tree.
--
lfa@dartmouth.edu                      |Wuskies are furry;
Chief of Design - JourneyGarb          |Wuskies are fun;
Special Education - Norwich, VT        |Wuskies are happy
Instructor - University System of NH   |When scritched on the tum.