Hiraeth
Posted: Sun May 09, 2021 4:04 am
Many years ago…
The old man felt himself being shaken awake. And kicked by what felt like… sharp hooves? In his younger years, he might have been quicker to strike with his staff. The best he could manage these days was blinking his eyes open and blearily focusing on what was around him.
“Grandfather! Mother told me to bring this deer to you. She said you might be able to help it,” Valonia said, eagerly waving a small deer at her grandfather. The deer, for its part, was simply flailing in fear. “And also, I was to check on you to see if you needed anything.”
Holtraed regarded both child and cervid with an expression of dismay. Even for one such as he, being assailed by a deer was not a common occurrence. Not to mention that it was not typical to be awakened from ‘meditations’ (read: a nap) by having said deer half-lobbed at him. He suspected the child was more interested in assisting the deer than assisting him... Still, he was not truly offended (though he was mildly impressed she’d managed to keep hold of the deer, and he assumed her relative strength had been acquired from her assistance on the farm). He knew well by now his twelve-year-old granddaughter’s enthusiasm often took precedence over good sense and reason. She was young, and her actions were typical of the young.
He leaned forward in his chair to study the creature she had brought, squinting slightly at it.
“I see,” he observed. “Young, but its spots have faded. It is old enough to forage on its own. How did you come by it?”
He did not scoop it up, but rather gestured for the girl to set it on the ground for him to examine. He simply no longer possessed the energy or the enthusiasm of his granddaughter. Setting his yew-wood staff aside, he laboriously lowered himself to the ground and took a seat near the deer.
“The dogs cornered it by the sheds near the barn,” Valonia explained, kneeling next to the deer and holding it down to keep it from running off again, though the old man’s presence had a strangely calming effect on the animal. “I had to chase the pups off, and punch Red—”
A strange mixture of dismay and bemusement crossed the old man’s face. “You… punched the dogs?”
“Really only Red. And… not hard? I mostly scared him with a stick.” Valonia had the sense to look embarrassed and ashamed. “But what else was I supposed to do? He was not being good. I told him to go to the barn, and that I was angry with him.”
The old man closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head slowly.
“I know deer are food, but I did not want them to get this one,” Val said stubbornly before he could reply with his disapproval. “I like it. I want to keep it.”
“No. You cannot keep it, Valonia. It is not tame. It is wild.”
“But it is staying still. Maybe it likes me!”
Holtraed did not feel like explaining why it wasn’t immediately running away, but it certainly was not because it had become endeared to the youthfully graceless actions of the girl. Instead, he said simply, “It is afraid. Of the dogs -- and of you too.”
“Why me? I saved it!” Valonia frowned. “But… maybe if I feed it, it will like me?”
Holtraed fixed a critical eye on her. “Why is it important that you keep it?”
The girl squirmed under her grandfather’s scrutiny, but would not be cowed. “Because I like it, and want it as a pet.”
“And your wants and whims are more important than those of the creature you profess to like?”
Valonia was about to reply, then reconsidered, and snapped her mouth shut. Her embarrassment was plain on her face.
Holtraed regarded her sternly. “Do you know anything about the care of such creatures, Valonia?
“Nn…not exactly? They eat grass, right? So I could feed it hay-…”
“So the answer is ‘no’.”
Val winced. “No, grandfather.”
“Deer browse, which means they feed on the leaves and bark of shrubs and the shoots of trees,” he explained, stroking the young deer’s head softly, rubbing his calloused thumb over what appeared to be the barest stubs of antlers. It calmed, laying its head down on the old man’s knee. “Though they eat hay out of desperation some winters, they cannot process it. Deer have died of starvation with a belly full of hay, Valonia.”
That did not appear to dissuade the girl, and Holtraed could practically hear the wheels in her head turning. “So… they can eat yew shoots then?”
Holtraed gave the girl a sharp look in return. “Yes, but yew is poisonous to most animals and humans. You will not pick shoots in order to feed an animal you are not keeping. Do not get the sap on your hands.”
“I just want to help it,” Val frowned.
His expression softened. “I understand, and it is good you desire to help, Valonia… But ‘want’ without knowledge may kill what you claim to care about. Sometimes, if you cannot be gentle, more harm than good may result from your actions. Consider this a lesson. Do you know what the deer symbolizes?”
The girl seemed curious, even as she shook her head.
“Protection, yes. But also compassion, intuition, sensitivity, and gentleness,” he explained. “Valonia, you have known Red since he was a pup. And he has been your guardian for many years.”
“…and I beat him to find a new pet,” she said, frowning.
Holtraed nodded. Her intelligence was not in question, just her impulsivity and roughness.
“It was not wrong of you to want to save the deer, but I must emphasize that our actions have weight,” Holtraed said. “Red is a dog, and his instincts tell him to chase prey. Does he deserve harm for following natural instincts without malice?”
“No… but I did not want him to kill the deer.” Valonia’s brow furrowed, clearly thinking this over. “What could I have done to stop him from chasing it?”
“Red listened to you when you sent him to the barn, did he not? Perhaps ordering him to stay may have worked, or perhaps you could have grabbed his collar and allowed the deer’s escape without punishing him,” said the old man. “But the important part now is that you do consider what you should do. Violence should not be your first resort, for—”
He paused for a moment, mentally debating. All of this -- this lesson, the deer, the tutelage of another, it was venturing into territory that he had wished to leave behind. It did not belong in this world they now lived in, had not belonged for some time.
“—for force without justice is tyranny,” he finished anyway. But even as he spoke the words, he felt a keen sense of nostalgia mixed with loss. How could he explain such things to the child, when the world that lesson belonged to was long gone?
Perhaps something of his thoughts were apparent on his expression, and Valonia looked at him in concern. “Are you alright? Should I bring the basket? Uncle Robert said—”
“Uncle Robert told her that you might be able to aid yourself if she brought you the reagent basket -- which I notice she did not,” Robert explained to the old man, strolling toward them carrying the basket Valonia was supposed to have retrieved from his cabin. “It seems she was more interested in her food friend, as I suspected.”
Holtraed was not particularly pleased to see Robert. He also secretly suspected the younger man found it a game to annoy him. Still, the old man understood the significance of offering aid, and knew what it would cost the younger man.
The ether had been… sullied, somehow? And in its place had risen a strange darkness. To attempt to unravel that tangle of impurity, as Robert did, was to find a great and empty space… or resort to darkness. In a way, it was almost admirable that Robert still fought. But if his own stubbornness did not kill him first, he would likely lose his mind to that vast empty.
That did not mean Holtraed didn’t find the man irritating.
“It is not food! We are not eating it!” Valonia insisted.
Robert let out a long suffering sigh and looked skyward. “My mistake. We could not possibly eat cute and cuddly creatures. ‘twould be an affront against nature. Why, we can only eat gristly and horrible beasts like rats and snails and slimes and headlesses--”
“Ewww,” said Valonia, making a face at him. “Uncle Robert, we are not eating those things!! That is disgusting!”
“Watch how often you scowl at me, Valla,” Robert ‘cautioned’, grinning. “Your face will freeze that way, and you will start to resemble your grandfather. Are you seeing this, Holtraed? Surely it is like looking into a mirror.”
Holtraed scowled at Robert.
The girl also continued to frown, though it was again clear that the wheels in her head were turning. “Grandfather… what will happen to the deer now?”
Holtraed was a pragmatic man, and knew that nature would not have been kind to the animal if it had been caught by anything else. But, it had come to them. Its fate was apparently in the old man’s hands. He couldn’t say he’d ever passed judgement on a deer before.
“As it is uninjured, and Valonia has a clear preference for its lot, we shall let it leave,” he said simply.
He stopped petting the young deer, and gestured for it to stand. The animal blinked at the old man for a moment, then ran toward the forest. It was unclear whether it would be safe there (nature being what it was), but the forest was where it belonged.
Holtraed leaned heavily on his staff to lift himself to his feet. It was becoming more difficult each season, but something about helping the animal made the pain easier to tolerate. Releasing the animal was a small, foolish kindness, but it was a tiny spark of goodness in a world that had become all too bleak. Perhaps that was what ailed him most -- the knowledge that things were not what they were supposed to be. That something had been altered, and he did not possess the ability to change it back.
Robert observed the scene, though he refrained from commenting on the old man’s condition. “That seems an awful waste, even for you. Am I to understand that your beliefs prevent you from eating sandwiches that walk into your midst?”
“-I- do not kill beings who seek aid and healing, Robert. If you and your kind had understood that, perhaps none of us would be in this mess.” Whatever soft expression the old man had evaporated at the sound of Robert’s voice. “Not everything is merely a commodity to use, or a threat to destroy.”
“That is a bit harsh, Holtraed. And just to clarify, before you act on the urge to hit me with your staff or decide to throw me into some manner of woods gaol, it was a joke.” Robert held up a hand defensively, even it was clear by his expression that he remained uncowed by the old man. “I came to see whether you were in need of help. Deanna tells me you have been poorly of late. I cannot pretend I am capable of much these days, but is there anything I can try to assist?”
For a moment, Holtraed felt some inkling of shame. It was unfair of him to assume the worst about the younger man. He was not responsible for the fate of Britannia, no more than any of his kind were. While he could string together the chain of events that instilled judges that would burn people for minor crimes, it was conspiracy theory. He was simply in a poor mood, and thoughts of the past soured his mood more than he thought.
“I will cede my comments were uncalled for,” the old man began.
“It is of no matter,” Robert interrupted, carelessly waving off the implied apology. “I see it as a sign of health. If you were not grumpy at me, I would think you were on death’s door. So will you let me help you?”
“No. Though I acknowledge the offer, you cannot help with this.”
Valonia looked at the old man like he was deathly ill. “Why not, Grandfather? Maybe we can help anyway. I can gather some herbs, and make sure Uncle Robert does not burn the kitchen when we boil them. What do you feel?”
“Hiraeth,” Holtraed replied.
“Here-righth?” Valonia frowned, wondering if that was some sort of disease she had never heard of. “Here-right?”
“If only.” The old man's face creased in a humorless smile. “No, it means the opposite, Valonia. Hiraeth is the longing for that which is not, and cannot ever be again. It is the knowledge that perhaps such things never were, though it does little to mitigate the feeling of loss.”
He moved himself back toward his bench, and settled back upon it with a groan. He then looked out into the distance, feeling solemn and melancholy.
“I would rather you never feel such, child,” he said. “Instead be content in the present, believing here is right.”
Valonia nodded seriously, even if she didn’t know what he meant. But he was talking in a serious tone, and so that meant it was important.
“Hmph. To be sane in a world of madmen is in itself madness,” Robert pointed out, taking a seat on the bench next to the old man. “She should be taught not to accept such things, and rather to fight back.”
“Perhaps,” Holtraed admitted.
“You agree?” Robert seemed genuinely surprised. They rarely agreed on anything.
“I have never disagreed with you on that,” Holtraed admitted. “But how to fight? And who would teach those lessons? You? Or perhaps you have some trusted colleagues you would entrust your niece to?”
Robert let out a long sigh.
“No, I dare not send her into a nest of vipers. Certainly not unprepared. And with my mind being full of holes these days…?” He shook his head, then turned toward the old man. “But what of you? We may disagree on a great many things, but I will not dismiss your path. It is something at least…”
It was some manner of backhanded compliment that Robert did not ‘dismiss Holtraed’s path’ so lightly, but it was still a sign of how wrong things were. It made the old man feel even older, and only emphasized the weariness in his bones.
“When I severed connections, it was permanent and intentional. I trust none of my kind. Those that left are wild, feral, and scattered. Those that stayed may have wanted to preserve Justice… but ended up perpetuating that which we swore to fight against. And myself? The counsel of the years is upon me,” Holtraed replied softly. “And I cannot help but listen. The past is gone. Perhaps it is for the best that what I know dies with me. Let the children learn this new world.”
“Surely things cannot be so dire, Holtraed,” returned the younger man with his typical cavalier attitude. “I know it has been damp this year, but perhaps a decongesting tea? Or perhaps peppermint-…”
“This is exactly what I mean, Robert. You making tea and potions. Me passing judgement over deer,” he tried to explain, though he doubted Robert would comprehend. “My son breaking an ancient cycle by learning to wield an axe rather than runes. He tills the ground rather than reading its signs. Meanwhile, your sister breaks ties with your past by choosing to wield a sword instead of the ether. She has children rather than apprentices. All because the world is not as it was.”
It was clear by Robert’s expression that he understood perfectly. The a half-angry, half-sorrowful expression on his face mirrored what Holtraed himself felt. Just without the weariness that had settled into his bones.
“No… it very much is not,” the younger man ceded. He folded his arms across his chest. “It is a poor thing we have found to agree upon, Holtraed. Even during the days of my apprenticeship, I knew something was not right. But did you know that the few colleagues I maintained contact with before-… well… before my infirmity, disputed that anything was wrong? As if the great morass was normal. Idiocy! Or willful ignorance? I cannot tell which. I do not know how can they deny the truth of what is right in front of them. They sell the world to buy fire, Holtraed. It is folly.”
In an odd way, Robert’s understanding was a comfort to the old man in his dark mood. Though he and Robert were more adversaries than kin, it was somewhat reassuring to Holtraed to not be the only one who had the sense that something was wrong. In his life, it had found it a battle even to keep his sense of reality. It was yet another sign of how wrong things were that Holtraed found more solace in an adversary’s words than he did in those he once called friends.
“The world will right itself though,” Robert said, still stubbornly resisting the new reality of the world around him. “We must keep believing that.”
“But it has been a long time, Robert,” replied the old man. “If things do change, I do not expect that I will be around to see it.”
He looked at Valonia, who was now trying to feed the field mice under the wooden deck of Holtraed’s cabin. She had lost interest in the discussion of old men, and was now trying to lure the mice by making a trail of corn, rather than waiting patiently for them to come to her hand.
“But I do not fear for myself. I am tired and welcome the rest,” he said quietly. “But I worry for the children.”
“It is no good to think such things.” Robert shook his head, his hair grayer than Holtraed ever remembered seeing it. “Let me get you some tea. We can add some ginseng to it, and –just for you-- I will endeavor not to become comatose.”
Robert grinned in that grating way of his, making light of his own condition. It seemed he could not even take that seriously.
Holtraed was not amused, and did not feel in the mood for jokes.
“Save your energy. Do not sacrifice for my sake,” he said somberly. “But give me your word that you will look after them when I cannot.”
“Holtraed, I am practically a cripple—” Robert protested.
“Please watch after them, Robert. And when the time comes, ensure my body is burned. I trust you are still capable of setting things on fire?” the old man said.
Once upon a time, Holtraed would have wanted to be planted in the earth with the rest of his kin. Perhaps to one day nurture a seed into a tree, and renew an ancient cycle. But those times were gone. His parents had been burned, as had his wife. The cycle was broken and it would never be reformed.
“Yes, but, ah-… you have me at a disadvantage. The first time you make a joke, and it is about this.” Robert’s expression was conflicted, trapped. The old man had not requested anything of him in this way before, and this was not the sort of request that could be denied. “Very well, Holtraed. You have my word.”
Holtraed knew that extracting such a promise from an adversary…? was unfair. But in an odd way, Robert was the only one he trusted to do this. Bernhard would be subject to sentimentality. Holtraed normally respected his son’s decisions, but this was not something that could be left to chance. For their sake, this needed to be done. Robert alone truly understood the request.
Besides, his kind had always had a knack for fire.
Robert had an odd, stricken expression on his face, and opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to say more. But instead, he sat with his back against the wall of the cabin, deliberating. "Hiraeth, you say?” he said finally.
The old man nodded solemnly. “Hiraeth.”
They settled on the bench in silence, together alone in their respective thoughts.
The old man felt himself being shaken awake. And kicked by what felt like… sharp hooves? In his younger years, he might have been quicker to strike with his staff. The best he could manage these days was blinking his eyes open and blearily focusing on what was around him.
“Grandfather! Mother told me to bring this deer to you. She said you might be able to help it,” Valonia said, eagerly waving a small deer at her grandfather. The deer, for its part, was simply flailing in fear. “And also, I was to check on you to see if you needed anything.”
Holtraed regarded both child and cervid with an expression of dismay. Even for one such as he, being assailed by a deer was not a common occurrence. Not to mention that it was not typical to be awakened from ‘meditations’ (read: a nap) by having said deer half-lobbed at him. He suspected the child was more interested in assisting the deer than assisting him... Still, he was not truly offended (though he was mildly impressed she’d managed to keep hold of the deer, and he assumed her relative strength had been acquired from her assistance on the farm). He knew well by now his twelve-year-old granddaughter’s enthusiasm often took precedence over good sense and reason. She was young, and her actions were typical of the young.
He leaned forward in his chair to study the creature she had brought, squinting slightly at it.
“I see,” he observed. “Young, but its spots have faded. It is old enough to forage on its own. How did you come by it?”
He did not scoop it up, but rather gestured for the girl to set it on the ground for him to examine. He simply no longer possessed the energy or the enthusiasm of his granddaughter. Setting his yew-wood staff aside, he laboriously lowered himself to the ground and took a seat near the deer.
“The dogs cornered it by the sheds near the barn,” Valonia explained, kneeling next to the deer and holding it down to keep it from running off again, though the old man’s presence had a strangely calming effect on the animal. “I had to chase the pups off, and punch Red—”
A strange mixture of dismay and bemusement crossed the old man’s face. “You… punched the dogs?”
“Really only Red. And… not hard? I mostly scared him with a stick.” Valonia had the sense to look embarrassed and ashamed. “But what else was I supposed to do? He was not being good. I told him to go to the barn, and that I was angry with him.”
The old man closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head slowly.
“I know deer are food, but I did not want them to get this one,” Val said stubbornly before he could reply with his disapproval. “I like it. I want to keep it.”
“No. You cannot keep it, Valonia. It is not tame. It is wild.”
“But it is staying still. Maybe it likes me!”
Holtraed did not feel like explaining why it wasn’t immediately running away, but it certainly was not because it had become endeared to the youthfully graceless actions of the girl. Instead, he said simply, “It is afraid. Of the dogs -- and of you too.”
“Why me? I saved it!” Valonia frowned. “But… maybe if I feed it, it will like me?”
Holtraed fixed a critical eye on her. “Why is it important that you keep it?”
The girl squirmed under her grandfather’s scrutiny, but would not be cowed. “Because I like it, and want it as a pet.”
“And your wants and whims are more important than those of the creature you profess to like?”
Valonia was about to reply, then reconsidered, and snapped her mouth shut. Her embarrassment was plain on her face.
Holtraed regarded her sternly. “Do you know anything about the care of such creatures, Valonia?
“Nn…not exactly? They eat grass, right? So I could feed it hay-…”
“So the answer is ‘no’.”
Val winced. “No, grandfather.”
“Deer browse, which means they feed on the leaves and bark of shrubs and the shoots of trees,” he explained, stroking the young deer’s head softly, rubbing his calloused thumb over what appeared to be the barest stubs of antlers. It calmed, laying its head down on the old man’s knee. “Though they eat hay out of desperation some winters, they cannot process it. Deer have died of starvation with a belly full of hay, Valonia.”
That did not appear to dissuade the girl, and Holtraed could practically hear the wheels in her head turning. “So… they can eat yew shoots then?”
Holtraed gave the girl a sharp look in return. “Yes, but yew is poisonous to most animals and humans. You will not pick shoots in order to feed an animal you are not keeping. Do not get the sap on your hands.”
“I just want to help it,” Val frowned.
His expression softened. “I understand, and it is good you desire to help, Valonia… But ‘want’ without knowledge may kill what you claim to care about. Sometimes, if you cannot be gentle, more harm than good may result from your actions. Consider this a lesson. Do you know what the deer symbolizes?”
The girl seemed curious, even as she shook her head.
“Protection, yes. But also compassion, intuition, sensitivity, and gentleness,” he explained. “Valonia, you have known Red since he was a pup. And he has been your guardian for many years.”
“…and I beat him to find a new pet,” she said, frowning.
Holtraed nodded. Her intelligence was not in question, just her impulsivity and roughness.
“It was not wrong of you to want to save the deer, but I must emphasize that our actions have weight,” Holtraed said. “Red is a dog, and his instincts tell him to chase prey. Does he deserve harm for following natural instincts without malice?”
“No… but I did not want him to kill the deer.” Valonia’s brow furrowed, clearly thinking this over. “What could I have done to stop him from chasing it?”
“Red listened to you when you sent him to the barn, did he not? Perhaps ordering him to stay may have worked, or perhaps you could have grabbed his collar and allowed the deer’s escape without punishing him,” said the old man. “But the important part now is that you do consider what you should do. Violence should not be your first resort, for—”
He paused for a moment, mentally debating. All of this -- this lesson, the deer, the tutelage of another, it was venturing into territory that he had wished to leave behind. It did not belong in this world they now lived in, had not belonged for some time.
“—for force without justice is tyranny,” he finished anyway. But even as he spoke the words, he felt a keen sense of nostalgia mixed with loss. How could he explain such things to the child, when the world that lesson belonged to was long gone?
Perhaps something of his thoughts were apparent on his expression, and Valonia looked at him in concern. “Are you alright? Should I bring the basket? Uncle Robert said—”
“Uncle Robert told her that you might be able to aid yourself if she brought you the reagent basket -- which I notice she did not,” Robert explained to the old man, strolling toward them carrying the basket Valonia was supposed to have retrieved from his cabin. “It seems she was more interested in her food friend, as I suspected.”
Holtraed was not particularly pleased to see Robert. He also secretly suspected the younger man found it a game to annoy him. Still, the old man understood the significance of offering aid, and knew what it would cost the younger man.
The ether had been… sullied, somehow? And in its place had risen a strange darkness. To attempt to unravel that tangle of impurity, as Robert did, was to find a great and empty space… or resort to darkness. In a way, it was almost admirable that Robert still fought. But if his own stubbornness did not kill him first, he would likely lose his mind to that vast empty.
That did not mean Holtraed didn’t find the man irritating.
“It is not food! We are not eating it!” Valonia insisted.
Robert let out a long suffering sigh and looked skyward. “My mistake. We could not possibly eat cute and cuddly creatures. ‘twould be an affront against nature. Why, we can only eat gristly and horrible beasts like rats and snails and slimes and headlesses--”
“Ewww,” said Valonia, making a face at him. “Uncle Robert, we are not eating those things!! That is disgusting!”
“Watch how often you scowl at me, Valla,” Robert ‘cautioned’, grinning. “Your face will freeze that way, and you will start to resemble your grandfather. Are you seeing this, Holtraed? Surely it is like looking into a mirror.”
Holtraed scowled at Robert.
The girl also continued to frown, though it was again clear that the wheels in her head were turning. “Grandfather… what will happen to the deer now?”
Holtraed was a pragmatic man, and knew that nature would not have been kind to the animal if it had been caught by anything else. But, it had come to them. Its fate was apparently in the old man’s hands. He couldn’t say he’d ever passed judgement on a deer before.
“As it is uninjured, and Valonia has a clear preference for its lot, we shall let it leave,” he said simply.
He stopped petting the young deer, and gestured for it to stand. The animal blinked at the old man for a moment, then ran toward the forest. It was unclear whether it would be safe there (nature being what it was), but the forest was where it belonged.
Holtraed leaned heavily on his staff to lift himself to his feet. It was becoming more difficult each season, but something about helping the animal made the pain easier to tolerate. Releasing the animal was a small, foolish kindness, but it was a tiny spark of goodness in a world that had become all too bleak. Perhaps that was what ailed him most -- the knowledge that things were not what they were supposed to be. That something had been altered, and he did not possess the ability to change it back.
Robert observed the scene, though he refrained from commenting on the old man’s condition. “That seems an awful waste, even for you. Am I to understand that your beliefs prevent you from eating sandwiches that walk into your midst?”
“-I- do not kill beings who seek aid and healing, Robert. If you and your kind had understood that, perhaps none of us would be in this mess.” Whatever soft expression the old man had evaporated at the sound of Robert’s voice. “Not everything is merely a commodity to use, or a threat to destroy.”
“That is a bit harsh, Holtraed. And just to clarify, before you act on the urge to hit me with your staff or decide to throw me into some manner of woods gaol, it was a joke.” Robert held up a hand defensively, even it was clear by his expression that he remained uncowed by the old man. “I came to see whether you were in need of help. Deanna tells me you have been poorly of late. I cannot pretend I am capable of much these days, but is there anything I can try to assist?”
For a moment, Holtraed felt some inkling of shame. It was unfair of him to assume the worst about the younger man. He was not responsible for the fate of Britannia, no more than any of his kind were. While he could string together the chain of events that instilled judges that would burn people for minor crimes, it was conspiracy theory. He was simply in a poor mood, and thoughts of the past soured his mood more than he thought.
“I will cede my comments were uncalled for,” the old man began.
“It is of no matter,” Robert interrupted, carelessly waving off the implied apology. “I see it as a sign of health. If you were not grumpy at me, I would think you were on death’s door. So will you let me help you?”
“No. Though I acknowledge the offer, you cannot help with this.”
Valonia looked at the old man like he was deathly ill. “Why not, Grandfather? Maybe we can help anyway. I can gather some herbs, and make sure Uncle Robert does not burn the kitchen when we boil them. What do you feel?”
“Hiraeth,” Holtraed replied.
“Here-righth?” Valonia frowned, wondering if that was some sort of disease she had never heard of. “Here-right?”
“If only.” The old man's face creased in a humorless smile. “No, it means the opposite, Valonia. Hiraeth is the longing for that which is not, and cannot ever be again. It is the knowledge that perhaps such things never were, though it does little to mitigate the feeling of loss.”
He moved himself back toward his bench, and settled back upon it with a groan. He then looked out into the distance, feeling solemn and melancholy.
“I would rather you never feel such, child,” he said. “Instead be content in the present, believing here is right.”
Valonia nodded seriously, even if she didn’t know what he meant. But he was talking in a serious tone, and so that meant it was important.
“Hmph. To be sane in a world of madmen is in itself madness,” Robert pointed out, taking a seat on the bench next to the old man. “She should be taught not to accept such things, and rather to fight back.”
“Perhaps,” Holtraed admitted.
“You agree?” Robert seemed genuinely surprised. They rarely agreed on anything.
“I have never disagreed with you on that,” Holtraed admitted. “But how to fight? And who would teach those lessons? You? Or perhaps you have some trusted colleagues you would entrust your niece to?”
Robert let out a long sigh.
“No, I dare not send her into a nest of vipers. Certainly not unprepared. And with my mind being full of holes these days…?” He shook his head, then turned toward the old man. “But what of you? We may disagree on a great many things, but I will not dismiss your path. It is something at least…”
It was some manner of backhanded compliment that Robert did not ‘dismiss Holtraed’s path’ so lightly, but it was still a sign of how wrong things were. It made the old man feel even older, and only emphasized the weariness in his bones.
“When I severed connections, it was permanent and intentional. I trust none of my kind. Those that left are wild, feral, and scattered. Those that stayed may have wanted to preserve Justice… but ended up perpetuating that which we swore to fight against. And myself? The counsel of the years is upon me,” Holtraed replied softly. “And I cannot help but listen. The past is gone. Perhaps it is for the best that what I know dies with me. Let the children learn this new world.”
“Surely things cannot be so dire, Holtraed,” returned the younger man with his typical cavalier attitude. “I know it has been damp this year, but perhaps a decongesting tea? Or perhaps peppermint-…”
“This is exactly what I mean, Robert. You making tea and potions. Me passing judgement over deer,” he tried to explain, though he doubted Robert would comprehend. “My son breaking an ancient cycle by learning to wield an axe rather than runes. He tills the ground rather than reading its signs. Meanwhile, your sister breaks ties with your past by choosing to wield a sword instead of the ether. She has children rather than apprentices. All because the world is not as it was.”
It was clear by Robert’s expression that he understood perfectly. The a half-angry, half-sorrowful expression on his face mirrored what Holtraed himself felt. Just without the weariness that had settled into his bones.
“No… it very much is not,” the younger man ceded. He folded his arms across his chest. “It is a poor thing we have found to agree upon, Holtraed. Even during the days of my apprenticeship, I knew something was not right. But did you know that the few colleagues I maintained contact with before-… well… before my infirmity, disputed that anything was wrong? As if the great morass was normal. Idiocy! Or willful ignorance? I cannot tell which. I do not know how can they deny the truth of what is right in front of them. They sell the world to buy fire, Holtraed. It is folly.”
In an odd way, Robert’s understanding was a comfort to the old man in his dark mood. Though he and Robert were more adversaries than kin, it was somewhat reassuring to Holtraed to not be the only one who had the sense that something was wrong. In his life, it had found it a battle even to keep his sense of reality. It was yet another sign of how wrong things were that Holtraed found more solace in an adversary’s words than he did in those he once called friends.
“The world will right itself though,” Robert said, still stubbornly resisting the new reality of the world around him. “We must keep believing that.”
“But it has been a long time, Robert,” replied the old man. “If things do change, I do not expect that I will be around to see it.”
He looked at Valonia, who was now trying to feed the field mice under the wooden deck of Holtraed’s cabin. She had lost interest in the discussion of old men, and was now trying to lure the mice by making a trail of corn, rather than waiting patiently for them to come to her hand.
“But I do not fear for myself. I am tired and welcome the rest,” he said quietly. “But I worry for the children.”
“It is no good to think such things.” Robert shook his head, his hair grayer than Holtraed ever remembered seeing it. “Let me get you some tea. We can add some ginseng to it, and –just for you-- I will endeavor not to become comatose.”
Robert grinned in that grating way of his, making light of his own condition. It seemed he could not even take that seriously.
Holtraed was not amused, and did not feel in the mood for jokes.
“Save your energy. Do not sacrifice for my sake,” he said somberly. “But give me your word that you will look after them when I cannot.”
“Holtraed, I am practically a cripple—” Robert protested.
“Please watch after them, Robert. And when the time comes, ensure my body is burned. I trust you are still capable of setting things on fire?” the old man said.
Once upon a time, Holtraed would have wanted to be planted in the earth with the rest of his kin. Perhaps to one day nurture a seed into a tree, and renew an ancient cycle. But those times were gone. His parents had been burned, as had his wife. The cycle was broken and it would never be reformed.
“Yes, but, ah-… you have me at a disadvantage. The first time you make a joke, and it is about this.” Robert’s expression was conflicted, trapped. The old man had not requested anything of him in this way before, and this was not the sort of request that could be denied. “Very well, Holtraed. You have my word.”
Holtraed knew that extracting such a promise from an adversary…? was unfair. But in an odd way, Robert was the only one he trusted to do this. Bernhard would be subject to sentimentality. Holtraed normally respected his son’s decisions, but this was not something that could be left to chance. For their sake, this needed to be done. Robert alone truly understood the request.
Besides, his kind had always had a knack for fire.
Robert had an odd, stricken expression on his face, and opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to say more. But instead, he sat with his back against the wall of the cabin, deliberating. "Hiraeth, you say?” he said finally.
The old man nodded solemnly. “Hiraeth.”
They settled on the bench in silence, together alone in their respective thoughts.