Tiny Tales: Eahmii Gi Vulla (Mimi)

[Sunset Fallow]

First Steps

I have left the place of my birth, my parents and those few people I call friend to travel the land. Perhaps I shall return, but somehow that thought places a dark pall over the enthusiasm I now feel. My father, his feelings never easily betrayed, gave me a hug and a small dagger. His words were few and I think the thought of losing his only child saddened him greatly. Yet I can never be sure.

It was my mother who held nothing back. She is a strong woman who shows her emotions easily, but never lets them rule her. It is a strange combination to find a woman who can laugh and cry, yet not let the feelings that caused her laughter or tears to also rule her decisions. She hugged me with all her strength as I stood at the gate to our home, ready to follow the path from our tiny village to new adventurers. Her gift to me was not a thing one might find in a shop or even something made meticulously by hand to be given at our parting, but months and years of training and study to ready me for that which she knew would come eventually.

I am not like her, though it is her training that brought me to this. I am no Wychlaren, though their power is strong. I am a mage…a spell slinger, and power dances from my fingers like water from the mouth of the Mulsantir.

[Sunset Fallow]

Tiny Tales: Eahmii Gi Vulla (Mimi)

The Road

The Inn sat at the edge of town. It was dirty and looked barely habitable. I mumbled a derisive comment and went through the door. The Innkeeper was wiping down the bar with a towel that had seen better days.

I took a step forward. The Innkeeper eyed me. I fidgeted. “How much for a room?”

His glance shifted from my face to my chest, then back to my face and smirked. “How old’er ya?” I struck a womanly pose.

“Twelve…how much for the room?” I stepped up to the bar and puffed out what little chest I have.

“Ten gold.” He smeared old ale and left over food into the bar, a sneer to his voice as he returned his attention to smearing. So much for my feminine wiles.

I flopped a rabbit on the bar. “Two gold…and a rabbit.” I countered gaining his attention.

“Hey,, dat’s clean!” He pushed the rabbit toward me. I pushed it back.

He eyed me with grim financial acumen, his bleary expression betraying some slight interest. “Five gold …” He leaned over the bar. “…an’ two rabbits.”

I rubbed at my lips. His stare was penetrating, in a dull sorta way. “Five gold, two rabbits…and I get a meal and hot bath.” I tossed the second rabbit on the not-so-clean bar. His expression darkened.

“Yah have ta pull yer own water.” He grabbed the rabbits and held them up. “These ‘er scrawnier ‘en you.” The bargain was struck.

“Yeah, I starved the little buggers for a few days before I wrung their scrawny necks.” He glanced at me. I could almost see the gears spinning. “What’s for dinner?” I finally asked.

“Stew.” He said quickly.

“Let me guess…rabbit.” I leaned on the bar.

“Yup.” He smiled and headed into his kitchen.

“An’ gimme an’ ale.” I yelled at his departing backside, amazed at its breadth.

“I don’t serve twelf year ol’ girls no ale.” I could almost hear the smile on his face.

“Damn!” I mumbled. “I’m eighteen…friggin troll.” I whispered the last.

His head popped around the corner. “I heard dat!” But, then he smiled.

Rabbit stew…a place by a fire. All is good…and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day.*

(* My apologies to Will)