Late-night addition:
==
Daniel exited the cabin. It had been a week since Queen Snitchcat had been announced the new monarch. He had been happy to see her take the crown. She had danced around the throne room and had thrown her arms in the air frolicking. Daniel had smiled; she always had a way to turn whatever troubles that were in him to the wind and to make the world whole again.
The things that Daniel had seen were troubling. He thought back to the stories that his parents had read him when he had been a child. There had always been dragons, princess, knights and rogues in their various courses of actions—seemingly independent of each other, but always in the end working together for a greater cause: to change the world.
His solitude was noted, but—sometimes, it was the only thing that he could do.
Daniel sighed and took out his crossbow. He had arranged a target about fifty paces away. On it were the various marks from where he had hit bullseyes or close. A few of them had gone off the mark entirely, but he had tried to forget about those.
You know that you can do things, but not all of them will turn out for the best.
He loaded the crossbow through muscle memory, looking up at the sky. Sometimes it helped to feel around for things rather than look at them directly. There were crows scowling the sky. It was as if they were looking down upon the world to feast upon all the joy and wonder that was left in it. Daniel cringed and looked away.
He aimed the crossbow carefully.
Take the time to set up your shot. You know, in battle, you only have so much time before the enemy reaches you. Your sword is useful, but you are not tall enough nor muscular enough to become a brawler. You must use your wits to survive—you always have.
He fired. The bolt hit the target, but not at the point that he wished it to. Daniel walked up to it and tore it away from the target, tossing it aside.
Again.
Daniel focused, and his memories overtook him. He remembered being small and being in a tavern. There were drinks, barmaids and traveling merchants. Many were dancing, but all the words were strange and unknown to him. On the walls were paintings of the famous patrons of the inn: The Red Beard. His uncle had always taken him here on the nights where his mother and father were too busy to take care of him. There were faces that he remembered even now, when the grasp of time seemed to be tightening around him.
He fired again and missed his mark.
Again.
“What do you want in life?” his uncle asked him. His eyes were a shady oak brown and his cloak radiated a sense of poverty and sophistication at the same time. Perrot’s features were strained through the years and his hair was matted and thinning. Sometimes, when Daniel had looked deep into his eyes it was like he was looking at an eclipse.
“What do you mean?” Daniel’s voice had been squeaky and small. He was sitting on a stool that was far too small for him. Only his head was above the table. Perrot had intended it this way. He did not want Daniel to have access to any of the drinks that were scattered across the table. For the most part, Daniel behaved himself, but there were times when his mischief knew no bounds. Perrot had already learned that the hard way, having to come home to his brother and explain why Daniel was in trouble.
“What is it that you see yourself doing? Are there any sort of jobs that you would like?”
“I like writing, music and art,” Daniel stated, nodding.
Perrot laughed. “it is all fine to worship the arts, Daniel. But that is a way to put bread and butter on your table.”
“I can do without butter.”
Perrot giggled and downed his drink. Pushing it aside, he grabbed another one of the half full glasses that were on the table. “Seriously, Daniel. What sort of occupation,” he emphasized the word. “Would you like to become?”
“Er,” Daniel said. “Can I have a glass of milk?”
“Daniel,” Perrot stared. “You have had seven glasses of milk this evening and have been to the bathroom a dozen times. I don’t think that you need any more milk.”
“I want a glass of milk,” Daniel pouted.
Daniel aimed. His hands were more stable than before. He closed his eyes and tried to feel around, picturing the target in his mind. Then, he opened his eyes and fired.
Bullseye.
“You’ll have another when you answer my question.”
“I want to be like that guy over there,” Daniel pointed.
There was a bard singing in the corner. The crowd at the bar was humming along with the mandolin that he was playing. It was a soft song of sorrow and woe. Daniel had been listening to it the entire time that they had been inside, but it was only now that Perrot began to pay attention.
It went:
There was a lady of the lake
Who once came from the sea
Her eyes were fair, hair was long
With her crimson lips did she speak
She cast her eyes upon all people
As delicately as the gentle sun
When they began to fade so sadly
My lady still smiled at everyone
I held her in my arms that night
While the waves wrestled the moor
Of all the rivulets that I did cry
Hers were filled with careful love
“Do not weep for me my beloved,
I am returning to the ocean of life.”
I held her close and I held her tight
And I lost my dearest darling that night
And now I sit in the quiet corners
Of every tavern that will have me
I dream of her floating on the waves
While her arms reach out to call me
Perrot looked at Daniel, whose eyes were filled with tears.
“We’re going home,” Perrot said. His uncle looked at his drinks in disgust.
Daniel pulled the bolt out of the target tenderly. He looked at the bolt and then reinserted it into his cloak where it would reside until it was needed.
Fall was here.
