Story for the Day: A Certain Time

It was a tough day for me. You can guess why.

A Certain Time

Pirate Craw will make Bou feel better

                The commander had spent the chief of the morning in a strange state of malaise. She had not been used to melancholic notions and the instant she felt herself beginning to succumb to the irrational sadness mulling in her mind, she supposed it was merely a certain time and did her utmost to ignore her poor humour. As she went from the commons to the training yard, somewhere between the winding stair and the parapets, her downheartedness had taken a sharp turn toward anger. She had little idea of why she should be out of temper with anything after such a pleasurable night as the one before, and though she told herself that her sensibilities were not to be trusted in this instance, the feeling of frustration prevailed and the commander must find a means of expelling it before it should consume her intelligence.

                The morning training would be her great consolation and alleviator, but where she believed she would find all the deflating solace in melee practice with her regiment, she had only been made more furious by the practice. Everything was to be her aggravation, from a loose boot strap to a missed strike against one of the Khol-Bhisaas stumps in the yard, and even the smallest annoyance soon became her nemesis. It was a maddening venture, one that caused the commander to thunder toward everything and shout at nearly everyone. She heard whispers begin to buzz around the training yard remarking that there could be no mistake as to whose mate she was. The influence of a certain ruthless giant had gotten the better of her, and she was prepared to show them how mistaken they were. She challenged every man in her regiment and made certain that her comportment for the day was well-known. The regiment was then silent and the commander still unappeased. She thought to ask her mate for a challenge but as he was finishing his kaatas at this time in the morning, she thought it advisable to segregate herself to spare the remainder of the keep from her dourness.

                She went therefore to the barracks and resolved to remain there within the auspices of her washing basin for the space of a hour. She retrieved some boiled water from the scullery and pulled the curtain over her corner of the garrison, prepared to disregard the world until her foulness of tempter had diminished. Sitting in the temperate waters made her recollect herself, and after a while she could even laugh at her behavior, declaring that she now knew what it was to be a stomping giant.

                Her felicitous conciliation did not last, however. The instant she stepped out from the basin, her wrath resumed and worse than it had done before. A rampant rage burned in her heart, one that could only be snuffed by fine chocolate. As there was none to be found on Rautu’s shelf in the larder, she must be livid with him for not leaving her any in her time of need and must take her ravening revenge accordingly. She went to the storeroom and took from the Den Asaan’s private ledge the remainder of Sheamas’ smoked and dried ham. She knew he wished to save it for the evening but his desires and aspirations meant little to her in her state. She would eat it, she would be implacable while doing so, and all her happiness would come from watching him writhe in agony at his missing so precious an article. She tore through the package and attacked the thin slices of meat with her teeth.

                Martje, who was standing in the oven room, observed the commander eating nearly the entire package of provisions her brother had left to them. She was pleased to see the commander eating more than her usual meager portions but thought it prudent to remind her that having an abundance of meat when one had not been used to eat such a portion could make her unwell. She approached with caution while hearing a strange female snarling emanating from the larder, and when she placed her hand on the commander’s shoulder to gain her attention, she was treated with a sneer and looks from wild eyes. “Aye, kin. I know that well enough,” she said, backing away. “Just don’t go eatin’ all of it.”

                The commander grumbled her assertions on how it was her right at this certain time to eat anything she liked and she was left alone.         

Soledhan, the little munchkin

                A few moments later, Soledhan entered the kitchen for his midmorning visit. He caught the vision of his mother standing in the larder and hastened toward her. He attached himself to her leg, nestling his features against her, but when he looked up saw, he saw her holding her stomach in discomfort. “Iimaa, are you well?” he said in his tiny voice.

                The commander looked down at her smiling child and sighed. “There is a time for all Iimaas of the world, my love, when our minds will not listen to our bodies and are brains are clouded by an unconscionably bothersome fog.”

                Soledhan remarked the empty packaging in his mother’s hand. “Did eating Utaa’s meat make you feel better?”

                “The implications of your question is astounding, my love,” she simpered. “It did for a while. Now, however, I am enjoying my comeuppance.”

                “You should practice Haakhas, Imaa.”

                The commander gave her child an unenthused look. “Thank you, my love. Now I am certain you have inherited all of your father’s more shining qualities, insensible assertions included. Come, let us go for a walk together.” She took her child by the hand and led him toward the training yard. “When you are older, it is all my ambition that you should never witness a woman at the height of her madness, and if you do it is my aspiration that you should be clever enough to run in the opposing direction.”

                Although Soledhan had little idea of what his mother meant to convey, he promised he would remember her lecture and equally hoped he would never see Iimaa surrender to this feminine madness again.