Story for the Day: A Gathering
Martje remarked their little conversation with an enamored grin. “Aye,” she sighed wistfully, “They’re just like a little counsel, gatherin’ and makin’ laws and all. Here comes mine to join ‘em.”
From the yeoman’s quarter entrance came Maggie, running to her mother with smiles and open arms, and though she was older than most of the children gathered in the kitchen, she was no less disposed to hear them or to relish their company. She was assailed with questions as to what she made and for whom when the commander and Den Asaan entered from the training yard, Sheamas entered from the larder, Shayne and Tomas came in from the armoury, and court being presently over Alasdair joined the party, making a full collection around the table. Every child hastened to greet and sidle their respective parents, and soon Teague entered from the main hall to spend some time with his brother and sister before going on patrol for the evening. Rautu gave his place to Teague with a nod to Hathanta, implying that he would enjoy a few rounds at Hophsaas, and with an assenting smile on Hathanta’s side, the two giants left the kitchen for the training yard where Hathanta instantly lay his robes aside and prepared to trounce the Den Asaan as much as Rautu prepared to retaliate.
Martje did the honours in pouring tea and buttering the toast, and it was not long after Hathanta and Rautu’s first Hophsaas match that the children began entreating for a story. Their eyes sparkled at the prospect of being told a tale or two during their afternoon repose. Their minds still rife with stimulation- or just in the height of it after a most dreadful afternoon of history- the children were prepared to receive every ready attention from their parents and ready to be told of great heroes and legends. The commander supposed that all of this flutter for a story was due to the immense old volume that Jaicobh had brought to the keep a few days previous. The ancient book detailing Frewyn’s myths and legends had been a favourite of hers when she was young, filled with remarkable illustrations which she had pored over for countless hours whilst sitting on her father’s knee before the fire of their small farmhouse den. The dry parchment pages with their seared edges recommended much in the ways of enchantment and intrigue for a young child of curious mind and inquisitive character. The book once seen was in constant request. Scarcely a trice had gone by without one of them requesting that the ancient volume should be opened and all its magic be unleashed upon them.