Damon Greyhart

The Lost Widow's Sea, Farrnhelm

THE WIND WAS CHILLY that morning, and Damon could taste the salt from the ocean's breeze on his lips. He shivered and pulled his fur cloak tighter around his shoulders. The cold wind raced through his fiery beard and made its way down his neck, prickling at his flesh with its frozen talons. Why is it always so damn cold? Doesn't matter what time of the year it is, the north knows no such thing as warmth. He was standing by the port side of his ship, casting his empty gaze upon the pale blue waves of the Lost Widow's Sea. An apt name, Damon thought, for something so cruel and unforgiving.

Thane Arther Braddock's ship was just ahead of his, accompanied by his two escort ships. The stubborn lord turned down Damon's invitation to sail upon his ship with him and insisted that no man from the Boulder Islands sails on a ship that isn't his. "You of all the Thanes should know this, Lord Greyhart," Arther said with a tone that wasn't hostile but wasn't pleasant either.

Damon supposed he should have remembered. The coastal customs were hard to forget, and yet he did so all the same. How long had it been since he'd be home? When was it was his father Gandyn took him to woodlands, in servitude of another thane from another time? Twelve years I had then...thirteen maybe. The years of his adolescence were a blur, and it was hard to pick his memories apart. So much happened then, and I hardly even had a single damn hair on my lip.

He heard his daughter's laughter from behind him, carried away by the breeze and out to the sea as if the waves beneath them craved her warmth. He had heard many creatures laugh; strong, burly men who roared like bears at something as simple as flatulence, sweet and kind women with an equally sweet giggle, and he was sure he even heard Ham, his childhood dog, laugh before. However, it was always children whose laughter was the most infectious. Their innocent giggles always drew his attention, and he was always curious as to what made them laugh. In particular, what could make his little Annette laugh so?

He strode over to where she sat, atop the stairs that led to the helm. There, Gunir and Erik, two of his bannermen, were laughing with her, telling her stories and making a show of it as well. He could hear the story as he came closer.

"And then do you what happened to her, Lady Annette?" Gunir near whispered.

"What happened to her?" Annette asked with wide eyes.

Before Gunir could tell Annette what happened to her, he turned and saw Damon approach. The story vanished, and both Gunir and Erik stood tall with straight backs and bowed chins. "Lord Greyhart," said Gunir in a tone dramatically more stoic than the one he used to tell his story. "What would you have of us, my lord?"

Damon chuckled warmly. "I would have you finish your story, Gunir. You seem to have my little Annette hanging on your every word. What story is it?"

Gunir slowly, and respectfully, raised his head. "How the Lost Widow's Sea came to be known as the Lost Widow's Sea, my lord."

Damon's eyebrows drew close together, and his soft smile slowly turned to a frown beneath his fiery beard. "That's what she's laughing about? Hardly a story for a child now, isn't that?" he asked as he crossed his arms.

Gunir's cheeks flushed, and the red raced from his cheeks down to his neck. "Apologies my lord, I did not mean to offend, I was simply-"

"I wanted to know," Annette chimed in.

Both Damon and Gunir turned their heads towards the girl on the steps. There was still a childlike wonder in her eyes, though now it seemed to share space with frustration as her story had been interrupted.

Damon felt himself smiling again, a most peculiar smile. Why would she want to know a thing like that? "Did you now?"

Annette nodded sheepishly. A moment passed, and then Damon shrugged. "Alright then," he sighed as he sat down next to her on the steps. "I suppose if you want to know, then you ought to know." He hoisted his daughter up by her arms and sat her in his lap. She giggled as he did so, and he wrapped his arms around her. "Continue then, Gunir."

Gunir nodded. "Of course, my lord. Now, where was I?"

"Start from the beginning!" said an impatient Annette. "I want to hear the story again!"

Gunir grinned. "As you command, my lady. 'Twas a long time ago, before either you, me, your pa, or even your nana was born. There was a great whale that roamed the seas, bigger and meaner than any whale ever was! And this whale was special you see, for it was all black. Most whales are either gray or blue, but not this one, it was black as the night and twice as terrible! Blackfin, they called it, and the seas would never know a greater terror.

"And then one day, this man, a fisherman from village Harendor proclaimed that he would go and catch himself ol' Blackfin! Can you imagine? What would you even do with an animal that big?" He held out his arms wide as he could to signify the size of the great whale, blowing out his cheeks and crossing his eyes. Why he did all that, Damon wasn't sure, no whale he'd ever seen acted as such, but it made Annette giggle, so he'd giggle with her.

"So the fisherman set out to sea to hunt himself the black whale, and promised his sweet lady wife he'd return to her and their son within twelve days' time," Gunir continued. "Only...he'd never catch Blackfin. He'd never return at all. What happened to him, no one knows. Some say he was capsized by a rogue wave, others say he was marooned on an island, but most say that ol' Blackfin ate him!"

Annette let out a little gasp and squeezed as many of her father's fingers as her little hand would allow.

Gunir squinted his eyes and dropped his voice real low. "But his widow, you see, she wouldn't believe it. Her husband was still out there, he had to be. There was not a better fisherman in all of Farrenhelm, and not even a whale such as Blackfin could take him from her. So she left her son behind and set sail out to find him, and return home with her beloved husband. But my little lady, the sea can be a cruel and unforgiving place, for she never returned either. Some sailors say they've seen her ghost, wandering the waves, looking for her husband after all these years. In fact, if you listen real close, you might even hear her ghostly moans carry across the waves. Listen, listen!"

Gunir held his hand up to his ear and turned his gaze out to the sea. Annette followed, and studied the waves as they lazily shimmied out to the horizon. Gunir turned his head ever so slightly and gave Damon a mischievous wink. Damon knew all too well what to do just then. He just hoped his little Annette would forgive him afterward.

"Boo!" he whispered in her hear as he tickled her sides. Annette jumped, and let out a startled giggle. She tried to escape Damon's grasp, but he held on tightly and pretended to nibble on her neck.

"Run, Lady Annette, run!" shouted Gunir. "Run before your lord father eats you!"

Annette could barely speak through her laughing fit. "I can't! Some-" she giggled. "Somebody help me," she let out between her laughs.

Finally, she squirmed out of Damon's grip and put some space between her and her monstrous father. "Stay away from me, you monster!" she said playfully.

Damon smiled. "You know what scares a monster more than anything?"

"What?" Annette asked, somewhat intrigued.

Damon leaned in closely, and help up his hand to his mouth as if to prevent lip readers from discovering a monsters only true weakness. "Books! Have you done your daily reading?"

Annette's smile faded away at the proposition of her education. "I...I was going to."

Damon nodded with exaggeration. "Ah...I bet you were weren't you?"

Annette frowned and held her hands together at her waist. She said nothing, but rather let her puppy-like frown and pleading eyes do the talking for her. It took many long years, but Damon finally learned how to resist the effects of his daughter's youthful charm. "Annette..." he said sternly.

Annette's frown went away, and instead, she pouted and rolled her eyes. "Yes father," she said with a voice much older than her years. She trudged off to her ship quarters with the begrudging intent to read her books.

Ah, children, Damon thought. She's much like how her brothers were at that age. He felt his throat tighten and eyes sting at the thought of them, the thought of his boys. That happened almost every time memories of them visited him. Five years had passed since he found them in those woods, and yet he could often picture that day as if it had just happened, as if he had just stumbled upon them in that moment. The woods were dry and leafless, skeletal remains of what had once been something brimming with life and color. The snow was thick and piled up to just below his knees, more and more of it coming down every second. He found them at the base of a wide and towering oak, huddled together, frozen and unmoving. Five long and painful years. He felt a single tear escape his eye and trail down his cheek.

"My lord?" he heard vaguely. He heard it again. "My lord? Are you alright?"

His boys vanished away from his mind, and suddenly he was on his ship again. The woods and snow were gone, and instead, he was surrounded by salty air and gentle ocean waves. Gunir and Erik were looking at him with concern in their eyes. "Do you need some water, my lord?"

Damon cleared his throat and wiped his eye with a balled-up fist. "No, no, I'm fine. The air, it just," he gestured around mindlessly. "It just made my eyes burn is all. It's been too long since I've last sailed. The sea can be a mistress easy to scorn, my friends. Make sure you take the time to visit her every now and again."

Gunir and Erik both nodded slowly, still not free of their concern for their lord.

Damon scratched the back of his head. "Thanks again for spending time with Annette. She loves your stories. Just make sure she takes some time to read during the day. That was a stipulation of her traveling with me. You're dismissed."

Gunir nodded slowly. "Thank you, my lord." Both he and Erik left, disappearing below deck.

Damon went to his quarters with the intent to do some reading himself, in fresh need of a distraction. The sea can make for a lonely place, and lonely places can be dangerous for tortured and wandering minds. He hadn't brought many books with him, initially desiring to use this journey to rediscover his roots and try his hand at sailing again. Should the effort prove too tiring, however, he was wise enough to know he'd need a book or two to distract him from long days.

            He had learned to sail as a boy, as was customary for men of the coasts, but he never had the chance to call himself a man of the coast. He would reach manhood in the woodlands of Farrenhelm, serving as a squire and oft times, a stable boy for Thane Boren of the Halfhills, the ruling family of Maple Oak before his Damon's father Gandyn became Thane. Those days were far simpler, and it was more often than Damon cared to admit he found himself longing for them. The politics of thanehood, the trials of fatherhood, they had left him tired and weary. The boy he had been then hadn't a care in the world, he was only expected to learn, eat his supper, clean his ears and kiss his mother goodnight. The world seemed to grow larger as he did, and although he stopped growing some time ago, it seems that somebody forgot to tell the world that it was big enough as it was.

            Damon went to the chest just at the foot of his bed and rummaged through his contents. Beneath some sheathed knives, coin purses and bundles of linen was the book he was looking for, although it wasn't a traditional book by any means. It was a book he read when he was in a dark place, a candle or something of the sort, as there was nothing more comforting in a dark place than a candle. It was a book he sought guidance from, a book full of wisdom and lessons and kindness, all of which Damon would need as long as he drew breath. A man is never too smart, wise or old to learn from others. The book didn't have a title on the cover, but if it did, he wondered what his father would have named it. His father wasn't a particularly clever man, but he was good man, and good men were the company he preferred, even if it were just their words.

            He sat down in his chair and opened his father's journal. He thumbed through the pages, not looking for a particular entry, but rather giving chance the opportunity to choose for him. He stopped on a page just a little more than halfway through, a page full of his father's distinct written hand. Damon always admired his father's handwriting. For hands as thick and strong as his were, his hand was nothing short of elegant.

            The third day of Winters Turn, 988 AM

            I have just received the most unexpected news, and I am not yet sure how I feel of it. Boren Halfhill, the Thane of the Woodlands and patron of the Maple Oak, and my lord and friend, has passed. It was a day many of us were expecting, as his health was worsening by the hour it seemed. The man was as hot as a furnace, and it caused him a great deal of pain to, simply even speak. I had never seen someone so strong so weak, and it was a fate he was most undeserving of.

            However, before he passed, he spoke to me about something that he had given a great amount of thought to. It was no secret Boren had no heirs. None of his children lived past their childhoods, and Boren had lived a solitary life for a long time. He told me time and time again that he considered my Damon as a son of his own, and myself, as a brother. While his words warmed my heart, they could not prepare for what he would say today.

            Boren named me his heir. Today, I am now Gandyn Greyhart, Thane of the Woodlands and patron of the Maple Oak. I don't know what I am to do with this responsibility. Many of the lords of the Woodlands did not take well to this. Lord Reynault went as far as to call him an "old fool" on his deathbed. Lord Bandur said nothing and stormed out of the room. Just yesterday, I was the steward of Maple Oak, and now, I am its lord ruler. These are strange times, and only time will tell what the future holds.

            I am mostly worried about Damon. He intends to return home to the coastlands in just a matter of days, and now I must tell him he cannot. Not only that, I must also tell him that one day, he himself will be the Thane of the Woodlands. I don't know how he or Lara will take the news. They were so excited to take Latham and Kristof home to Ingolsfell, and now that day must wait. I only hope my son forgives me.

            Damon remembered the day he was given his journal. It seemed so important to his father that he received it. "The journal," he could hear his father faintly whisper. "Give him the journal...he must know." Damon never knew what it was his father wanted so desperately for him to know. He had read every page, every note, and every entry his father made, and there was nothing that Damon found of importance. It drove him to insanity at first. It was something he and Lara fought over in the days that followed his father's passing.

            "Gods damn it, Damon!" he remembered her saying. You need to let your father go. There's no conspiracy or mystery, he just wanted you to remember where you came from. He didn't want you to lose sight of who you were."

            "You weren't there, Lara! You didn't hear him. He sounded...fearful...like he was afraid of something."

            Lara took his hand. "Damon, your father was dying. There was plenty for him to be afraid of. Remember the last page you read, the last entry he made? What did it say?"

            Damon looked at her with a sullen face. "How...how proud he was of me...and how much he loved me."

            Lara wrapped her arm around his shoulder and laid his head on her breast. "That's what he wanted you to know, my love. You've made me and your father very proud, and our boys are so lucky to call you their father."

            Damon wished Lara were there with him now. She always knew how to ease his mind in times like these, and always knew what words to say. She certainly wasn't pleased when he told her he was going to the Boulder Islands, and she was even less pleased to learn Annette would be traveling with him. It was a wonder that she didn't kill him then and there when he told her she wouldn't be joining them.

            "I need you here my love," Damon told her. "If the lord is to leave, then the lady must be there to rule in his stead. I need you in Maple Oak. I won't be gone long." Damon was only met with a glare from his lady wife, and it was a surprise to him that she even let him touch her that night. He was sure she wouldn't have had it not been the last night they'd share a bed for some time. Damon never realized how lonely a bed could be until he was forced to sleep in one by himself.

            There was a knock at his door, and he was pulled away from his thoughts. "Who is it?"

            "Father, can I come in?"

            Damon smiled. "Of course, my dear. My door is always open for you."

            The doorknob gave a few twists until Annette finally had it right, and then she slipped through the doorway ever so carefully. She walked slowly up to Damon, and he could see that she had a question in her eyes. Treats, or she wants to stay up past her bedtime. "What is it, dear?"

            Annette twisted the ball of her foot on the ground and gave an innocent smile. "I finished reading my books for the day."

            "Have you now? What did you read about?"

            Annette fidgeted with her fingers. "Me and Miss Andrea read about history and Farrenhelm."

            "Miss Andrea and I," Damon corrected. "And what did you learn?"

            "We learned why they call it Farrenhelm."

            Damon smiled and made a funny face. "And why do they call it Farrenhelm?"

            Annette giggled. "Cause when King Amalir Farren marched north with his friends, he founded where he wanted to build his castle, and he set his helmet on the ground and said 'this is where I want to build my castle!" Annette shook her fists in the air and made a mean and stern face as she said the last bit. "And that's why they call it Farrenhelm, because of King Farren and his helm."

Damon couldn't help but smile. "Oh? He must have been a very mighty man if he sounded like that."

Annette blushed. "I'm practicing for when I'm a thane one day."

Damon wasn't expecting to have this conversation so early, and certainly not in the quarters of his ship. "Oh? What do you know about being at thane, my love?"

Annette put her hands on her hips. "I know that I'd get to order people around all day."

Damon couldn't help but laugh. If only that was all there was to it. "Yes, yes, there is certainly much of that, but that is not all there is to being a thane, Annette. There are many people we must care for, and we must be ready to fight any who might harm us. It is a big responsibility, my love."

Annette didn't seem to waiver. "I'll be ready for it," she said with a confidence Damon himself wished he could muster from time to time. He smiled and caressed her cheek with her thumb.

"I'm sure you will be." Damon stood from his chair and took Annette's hand. "Since you're done with your reading for the day, how about another story from Gunir?" Damon had a feeling that was what Annette wanted to ask of him before the topic of thanehood came up.

Annette lit up at the proposition. "Ooh, yay! Let's go find him."

Damon gestured towards the door. "After you."

They set off hand in hand to find Gunir and listen to another one of his stories, and Damon let her lead the way.