by Jenny Ealey
Blizzard growled, “He knows how to look after himself. He steals other people’s food and clothing or we give it to him if he needs it. He never speaks and he never does what anyone asks. He’s not supposed to be in here, but here he is again.”
“And what is his name?” asked Tarkyn.
“Midnight, my lord. He is named for the darkest, quietest hour because he never speaks.”
“I see. Just a moment. I need some time to consider.” Tarkyn sent a wave of friendship and reassurance out across the cavern to the corner where the young boy was hiding. He followed it with an image of himself standing where he was with the boy next to him and then a query. A picture of the boy being attacked by the mountainfolk returned to Tarkyn accompanied by fear and uncertainty. Tarkyn sent back an image of himself holding the mountainfolk at bay.
Tarkyn spoke very quietly, “If the boy returns, I want no one to move until I say so.” He looked around at everyone and checked that he had their agreement. Then he sent a clear request for the boy to come to him, edged with power but also with comfort.
For a long time, nothing happened. Then in the corner, a shadow detached itself from the wall and resolved itself into the scrawny, tattered little boy. Midnight edged his way closer to Tarkyn, keeping his eye carefully on the mountainfolk. As he came closer, Tarkyn saw that the boy’s hair was a darker shade of brown than the other woodfolk’s and his eyes were a harsh, brilliant green, different from the soft green of the rest of them.
Tarkyn sent him a wave of reassurance and then slowly sank down onto one knee so that he would not tower over the boy as he approached. As the boy drew closer, Tarkyn sent an image of himself and the boy within his shield with a query. Midnight returned a feeling of relief and safety attached to Tarkyn’s image.
“Excuse me,” said Tarkyn quietly to the woodfoolk. “I do this to reassure our little friend, not out of fear of you.” So saying, he waved his hand to create a shimmering bronze shield encasing the two of them, but his sudden movement frightened the child into jumping backwards.
Having been startled, the boy then found himself trapped and panicked, even though he had agreed to the shield in the first place. As Midnight banged his fists against the inside of the shield, Tarkyn sent him waves of reassurance and sat down on the dusty cavern floor. Then he sent an image of removing the shield with a query. The boy was too distressed to reply so Tarkyn dissolved it. The removal of the shield sent Midnight flying forward. He threw himself into a forward roll and came up facing them, gasping with fright, waiting to fend off an attack and glancing sideways to make sure he had a line of retreat.
“Could you all step back slowly please?” asked Tarkyn very quietly. “Give me a clear space.”
Tarkyn sent the boy the image he had received of himself and the woodfolk returning from the slingshot practice and then sent an image of the boy with a query. Midnight nodded. Tarkyn emitted a wave of friendliness and an image of the slingshot practice with a sense of invitation. He received back a cautious acceptance underpinned with strong apprehension. So Tarkyn showed himself standing with the boy while he kept woodfolk at bay, followed by another request for the boy to approach him. Surprisingly, the boy gave a wry little smile before sending a request for the shield to be re-instated.
This time, Tarkyn gave the boy an image of himself waving his hand to create the shield so Midnight would know what to expect. Once he had nodded, Tarkyn waved his hand and recreated the bronze dome. Midnight looked around himself at the shimmering bronze light that looked so vague but was actually quite impenetrable. He put out his hand and touched it, then ran his hand up and down the shimmering wall. He sent Tarkyn the tingling sensation of touching it, with a feeling of interest and enjoyment.
Tarkyn smiled and waited. After a minute, Midnight turned his eyes towards Tarkyn and considered him. Then he looked across at the woodfolk standing a short distance away. He returned his gaze to Tarkyn, inhaled and, as he made his decision, let his breath out in a gust. As though his life depended on it, Midnight walked slowly towards the prince and came to stand before him, rigid tension in every line of his little body. Slowly Tarkyn brought his hand up and after a mental request for permission, placed his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder. Tarkyn drew on his life force and sent a gentle wave of strength and calm into the boy. Midnight’s eyes widened and for a moment fear flickered through him but he had made his choice and did not run. Gradually, the rigid lines of his little body relaxed and his stance became less wary. Tarkyn ran his hand down the boy’s arm and took his hand in his own. Then he gave it a squeeze and let go.
After a minute, Midnight sent an image of Tarkyn being hurt yesterday with feelings of horror and sadness. He leaned forward and frowned, gently running his finger down Tarkyn’s cheek with a query. Tarkyn began to explain in images but then decided to demonstrate instead.
Tarkyn flicked a glance down, not wanting to take his eyes off the boy for more than a split second and found a sharp piece of stone. Keeping his eyes on Midnight, he reached slowly for the stone and brought it up in one hand. He directed Midnight’s eyes to the stone and then used it to scratch a shallow cut across his own forearm. As the blood welled up, Midnight frowned in consternation. Tarkyn sent a brief wave of reassurance and then focused on the scratch to heal it. As the skin became smooth, Midnight’s brow cleared and he touched Tarkyn’s face again and pointed to him. Then he reached down and touched Tarkyn’s hand and then touched his own shoulder.
Tarkyn smiled and nodded. A feeling of pleased comprehension from the boy was swiftly followed by an image of the two mountainfolk being killed with an accompanying feeling of intense satisfaction. Tarkyn gave a short laugh that made the boy jump but didn’t scare him away.
Tarkyn sent him an image of the oathtaking and a query. Midnight shook his head and showed an image of himself watching from beyond the clearing. Tarkyn merely nodded slowly in understanding, but Midnight pointed at the prince then at himself and then closed his hands around each other in a gesture of bonding with a plea attached. Tarkyn indicated agreement then slowly rose to his feet. He sent an image to Midnight of the boy kneeling with his hand over his heart still with a query. The prince was not going to insist that this strange boy take the oath. But Midnight immediately dropped to one knee, bowed his head and placed his hand over his heart. Tarkyn tilted the boy’s chin up so that the boy could see him and then placed his own hand over his heart and sent an image of himself protecting Midnight.
Midnight’s face lit up into a happy smile. A sense of belonging, of being accepted as rightful member of the woodfolk and a strong attachment to the prince flooded into Tarkyn. The prince put his hand under the boy’s elbow and indicated that he should rise. Then he firmly placed Midnight’s grubby hand in his and kept it there. He indicated the shield with a query and after Midnight nodded, winked it out of existence.
At last, Tarkyn looked around at the mountain folk, “Thank you for waiting. Why was Midnight not included in the oathtaking?”
Sighing Wind frowned a little, “We did not even consider him, my lord. We would not have been able to make him cooperate, even if we did. And to be frank, I would not have thought, before now, that he would even have understood what was going on. None of us can talk to him.”
Tarkyn frowned, “What about using signs or gestures?”
“We always thought he was gone in the head,” replied Blizzard, whose harsh voice reflected his usually harsh choice of words. “So we didn’t bother unless we really had to. He generally ignored us anyway.”
The prince glanced down at Midnight to make sure he was still all right, then said, “I have just had a long conversation with him. And do you know what his main reaction to taking the oath was?” When the mountainmen shook their heads, Tarkyn continued, “Pleasure at being counted as woodfolk.”
“It looked more like he wanted to be connected to you, my lord,” said Sighing Wind.
Tarkyn shrugged self deprecatingly, “That too. After all,
I am someone he can talk to.”
“And how can you talk with him?” asked Rock Fall.
“In the same way I talk to birds and animals. We use images and feelings.”
Sighing Wind raised his eyebrows, “As I said, Sire, he is little better than an animal”
“Don’t you ever say that about him again.” Tarkyn’s eyes glittered with anger. As Tarkyn’s displeasure made itself felt, Midnight looked up at him uncertainly. The prince smiled down at him. “He is a fine little woodman whose only problem is that he can’t hear or speak. That means you need to be more protective of him since he can’t hear danger approaching, not relegate him to looking after himself and ignoring him.”
Sighing Wind gave a condescending smile, “Of course, Sire, you have only just met him while we have had to put up with his antics for years. I think you will find he is a nasty little piece of work when you come to know him better.”
There was a short silence as Tarkyn went still to think. After a moment, he turned to Ancient Oak, “What are the rules about a child staying with their parent?”
“A child stays with their parents unless they are unable to care for them for some reason. With the parent’s permission, the child may stay with others. If you are thinking about Midnight, I would say that his mother’s opinion is of little account because she has effectively abandoned him.”
Tarkyn turned back to the mountainfolk, “I would like to take Midnight with us when we go. Do you think anyone will object?”
“Hardly, my lord,” replied Sighing Wind. “I think we would all be glad to see the back of him.”
Tarkyn looked at his three woodfolk, “And you?”
“As long as you can persuade him to have a wash in one of those icy pools, prince.” Rainstorm squatted down and gestured, “Come here, little feller. Come and say hello.”
Midnight glanced up at the prince but when Tarkyn sent a wave of reassurance and a picture of Rainstorm and himself as friends, the little boy let go of Tarkyn’s hand and walked over to stand in front of Rainstorm.
The mountainfolk shook their heads in amazement. Rainstorm took Midnight’s hand and stroked it as a greeting then gave him a pat on the back.
“He wants to join in with the slingshot practice,” supplied Tarkyn.
Rainstorm mimed using a slingshot and raised his eyebrows with a smile. Midnight glanced at Tarkyn, then back at Rainstorm and nodded with a wavery smile. Then he took a little breath and rushed back to stand next to Tarkyn again, grabbing his hand firmly and holding it with both of his.
“I think you have an appendage, I mean, friend,” said Lapping Water with a smile. She looked down at the little boy and smiled and waved at him. Midnight returned her regard solemnly and then released a hand to give a quick little wave in return before grabbing onto Tarkyn again.
Tarkyn smiled ruefully, “I think you’re right. I’m not sure what I’ve just taken on here but there’s no going back now. Shall we continue our tour so we can return in good time for dinner?”
“There is not much more to see, Your Highness,” said Sighing Wind. “There is a smaller cavern to the right where we bottle the wines and label the bottles before sending them out.”
Tarkyn relayed this to Midnight who sent back an image of two more caverns running off from the rear and the left.
“And the other two caverns?” asked Tarkyn.
Sighing Wind frowned, “They house our most precious, oldest wines. I would prefer not to take you into those caverns with Midnight.”
Tarkyn smiled, “Oh, you needn’t worry. Midnight goes into them all the time. He knows from watching you that they are important but doesn’t know why. So he goes in to look at them.”
“Blasted little pest. Going where none of the other children are allowed,” growled Blizzard.
Tarkyn raised his eyebrows, “Other than leaving footprints, has he caused other damage?”
“He moves things around and hides things. Sometimes they take months to find.”
Ancient Oak laughed, “He’s playing. Every kid plays hide and seek of some description.”
“This is not supposed to be a child’s domain in here. He can play outside,” snapped Sighing Wind.
“With whom?” asked Tarkyn dryly. “At least in here, you are forced to take notice of him.” He gave a short laugh and added, “I think you’ll find one of your better corkscrews over in that corner behind that rock.”
Chapter 28
Once the tour was finished, the next hurdle was returning to the clearing with Midnight in tow. The boy had gradually become used to Tarkyn’s woodfolk but he had kept up a constant barrage of poisonous looks at the mountainmen. He had a long history of derision and disregard from the mountainfolk in the clearing and as they neared the firesite, he baulked and pulled back. If Tarkyn hadn’t kept a firm grip on his hand, he would have bolted.
Tarkyn stopped walking and knelt down in front of the boy. He put his free hand on his heart and then gave a firm instruction for Midnight to come with him into the clearing. Midnight eyed him askance for long moments, then placed his hand on his heart and bowed his head. With a shuddering, deep breath, he raised his head high, looked Tarkyn in the eye and nodded. Tarkyn smiled and stood up. Together they walked into the clearing, ignoring all the curious and astonished gazes. Everywhere, eyes went out of focus as conjecture raged around the firesite.
Ignoring them all, Tarkyn walked across the clearing with his little charge in tow and asked, “Danton and Sparrow, would you like to join us for a short slingshot competition before dinner?” He looked around, “And Summer Rain, could you bring a towel and something to scrub up this young man please? He may need some sort of a tonic too. I don’t really know about these things. He seems a bit malnourished though, don’t you think?”
Once he had things in place, he turned around to the rest of the woodfolk gathered at the firesite, “To those of you who don’t know him, this is Midnight. He is a young woodman who has been shamefully neglected. He belongs to the woodfolk and deserves as much consideration as any of you, perhaps even more since he can’t hear or speak. He is not stupid or crazy. He has been lonely and reviled but that is now at an end. If you dishonour him, you dishonour me. I have promised him that he will be safe and will be made welcome among you. Please make sure that I keep my word.”
“But how have you tamed him?” asked Dry Berry, round-eyed with amazement. “He is a wild thing.”
Tarkyn smiled down at Midnight, “I have not tamed him. I have talked with him and reassured him, using images and feelings. As with all of you, he is bound to me as I am to him. Until his mother reappears, I will take responsibility both for his actions and his wellbeing. If you have an issue with him, take it up with me.”
Tarkyn watched as an interesting ripple of nearly-voiced complaints considered, but quelled on second thoughts, by their owners. He smiled wryly, “I see you have decided to let bygones be bygones. I agree with your decisions. Let us start from here and let each of you give the other a fresh start.”
Once he had overcome his nervousness, Midnight proved to have a high degree of competence with a slingshot for a seven year old. He stayed close to Tarkyn the whole time and if he was more than a few yards away, kept throwing anxious glances at him. When people smiled encouragement at him, he frowned ferociously at them, thinking they were making fun of him. Only Tarkyn’s constant reassurance kept him from rushing angrily at people who, for the first time in his small life, were actually trying to be friendly towards him.
Sparrow frowned at Tarkyn, “He’s not very easy to get on with, is he?”
“No, he’s not, but give him a chance, Sparrow. He’s frightened still and he’s not used to people being kind to him. He will learn, if we are patient, that we are his friends.”
Further difficulties awaited them at the cold deep pools when Summer Rain and Rainstorm tried to persuade the little boy into the water for a bath. Midnight twisted and wriggled until he finally broke free and ran pa
nting to the edge of the tree line where he stood trembling and glowering at them. Tarkyn took him in hand and gave him a severe instruction to cooperate. Midnight sent him a woebegone look full of reproach and, with tears rolling down his cheeks, submitted to the ministrations of Rainstorm and Summer Rain. He cried piteously the whole time sending out waves of betrayal and despair to Tarkyn. Even when Tarkyn wrapped him in a towel and helped to dress him in a fresh set of clothes, an honour unrecognised by Midnight, the little boy wouldn’t meet his eyes and turned his shoulder away from the prince as he sniffed and hiccoughed his way through the aftermath of his tears. As soon as he was dressed, he hunched himself up in a small unhappy ball, turned away from everybody and closed himself off.
Tarkyn frowned at the woodfolk, “What am I supposed to do now? He thinks I’ve betrayed him and won’t speak to me.”
“You could show him yourself going into the pool yesterday,” suggested Rainstorm. “To show him it’s not a punishment….” He gave a cheeky little grin, “Though of course it is, both to yourself and those of us around you,forced to accompany you.”
Tarkyn gave a slow smile, “It’s just as well he can’t hear you. But I will try your idea.” Tarkyn shared his memory of his dip in the icy pool with the distressed child and received a response of flat disbelief.
Tarkyn blinked in confusion and looked at Rainstorm, “He doesn’t believe me. I’ve never had this problem before. How do I show him that I am telling the truth?”
Rainstorm grinned broadly, “Ha. That must be quite a shock for you. You, who are as honest as the day is long. ”
Rainstorm walked around in front of the sullen little heap and squatted down in front of him. Midnight hunched himself into an even tighter ball. Rainstorm tapped gently on his shoulder and kept on tapping until Midnight lost patience and swatted his hand away. Rainstorm immediately brought his hand back and resumed his tapping. Midnight finally looked up, his eyes filled with venom.
Rainstorm pointed to himself, Tarkyn and then the deep dark pool. He nodded and then grimaced and pretended to shiver. Then he pointed at Tarkyn and wiggled his finger in a circle near his temple indicating that Tarkyn was crazy. Suddenly Rainstorm found himself knocked onto his back with an irate seven-year-old, loyal even when upset, straddled over him ready to belt the living daylights out of him. Rainstorm grinned up at him, pointed to Tarkyn and gave a thumbs up sign then sent a series of gestures to show Midnight firstly that the little boy and Tarkyn were friends and then that he was also Midnight’s friend.