Story for the Day: Famous
I'm doing a lot of edits on the books to prepare them for publication. Therefore, here is a mini story for the day.
|Rautu does not care that he saved your grandma|
Once Rautu had consumed his fill of mediocre cake for the present, Hathanta suggested Haakhas before they were all to settle in for the evening. They gathered before the lit hearth of the main room and sat in their positions to begin their practice. Hathanta and Rautu were given the honour of beginning the scriptures, and they had not begun the first passage when Soledhan decided his seat beside his mother was not as close to her as he should have liked. He skittered into her lap and resumed his position while huddling in the added warmth she afforded him.
Their practice had not finished, however, when the commander’s legs began to numb. Her son’s influence though slight was enough to weigh her legs down again the uncomfortable hardwood floor. She shifted in discomfort until the impending attack of needle-like sensations was upon her. She groaned, lifted her son from her lap and now must endure all the agony of tingling limbs. “Wretched pins,” she moaned, leaning backward onto her forearms and stretching her legs. “You’re growing heavier, my love. Soon I shall have to make you sit in Utaa’s lap.”
The Den Asaan opened an eye and gave his mate a chary look.
While Hathanta and Rautu were occupied with the end of their meditations, the commander asked Soledhan what he had been taught that day. He replied in song, singing of the hangaara and the method in which they slept in the high canopies of trees yet made their lair in burrows. He sang the chorus numerous times whilst making hand motions and imitations of the hangaara’s roar. She applauded when he had done with his performance and declared that he should be the entertainment for the evening, as he was certainly superior in music and dance to the inebriated celebrants in the ballroom.
He then spoke of his supper and education on the subject of the stars relative to their new position, but he mentioned to his mother that he heard very much talking going on between two painted ladies about her and Utaa while he was stargazing with his teacher. He surmised that Iimaa must be of some consequence. “Iimaa, are you famous?” he asked in his tiny voice.
“I'm tolerable famous,” the commander replied proudly, “But Utaa is even more famous.” She impressed her feelings on the subject with the discernable accent in her voice as she peered over to her mate who was pretending not to listen. “Utaa is the champion of the east, the hero of Frewyn. After Allande had gotten every regiment from Westren and most of the men from Hallanys killed, there were very few regiments left to defend our borders. If Utaa had not been there, Frewyn would probably be occupied by Galleisian militia and Alasdair would not be king.” She smiled fondly at her mate’s back, and though he would not turn to accept her accolades, a twitch of his pointed ear told her that he had heard her well enough. “Your Ambesari saved us all,” she said warmly.
Rautu humphed and said nothing else to acknowledge the commendations he received.
“Utaa sees this as a small feat, saving an entire nation from ruin,” the commander whispered to her son, “But we as Frewyns know better.” She winked at Soledhan and took him to the bedchamber to prepare him for sleep. She turned, however, when she reached the room’s entrance and caught the Den Asaan in the midst of recognizing his own feats with the unconscious wilting of his shoulders and the sigh of mindfulness. She wished that every champion of great consequence such should be as prone to humility as he was. She prized him as the most modest creature in the kingdom besides Unghaahi and could only wonder at what further and grander heroics he would perform that would be equally seen as a trifles and equally seen as lessons from which he could learn to do better. She gazed at her son, and though her child had not the same quiet and humble temper as his father had all the capabilities to be just as laudable.