Part 3 - The Unkept (take 2)

Ok

After a lil break, and constructive criticism from the old Guy, from Dave and from Pete

plus the acknowledgement from me that i did infact rush the end of Part 3....here it is.... a reworking of the end of Part 3. Part 4 to follow.

"How did you survive?" Tolan closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to collect his thoughts before he began his tale
“Isn’t it odd how I can’t remember what my mother looked like. I can remember the whole event so clearly, and how my father looks simply because he was there, but before that…I cant remember any details” The young man sighed in a way that told a tale beyond his years, and then after a moment he began to voice that tale “It was the festival of the forest, biggest celebration of the calender”
“Wood folk?” Relek meekly questioned the beliefs of the town carefully. Trying not to interrupt, but wishing to gain as much of an insight into his guest as he could.
“Yes, wood folk. That’s where my heritage lies, although a blacksmith lived next door and I seem to remember my parents being close to him and his wife” Tolan deftly reassured Relek that he came from a bloodline that treated all as equals, ill feelings between the three sects of belief had run through the worlds history since the great divide and too often it had turned pleasant conversations sour. Relek nodded in understanding, clearly he had been raised with similar beliefs, discrimination helped no-one and all clever folk knew this. “Have you ever been to a festival of the forest?” Tolan had an idea of the answer before it came
“I don’t think a Smithy would be welcome at a festival of the forest, although I have been to a festival of the sea, they don’t seem to mind us too much”

“I had a feeling you’d say that. It’s a shame really, I’ve been to all three and I can honestly say that the festival of the forest is the most beautiful. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it’s the best, they each have their merits” He offered defensively, but Relek already understood what he meant
“No no, even I wouldn’t say the festival of stone was the best….its certainly the best for a drink….but the sea…the sea is…” Tolan could see Relek’s face scrunching as he struggled to find the appropriate word
“Tempting” Tolan offered. Relek immediately burst into a booming laugh
“That’s certainly one way of putting it! I don’t know if there’s something special in the water, but by the Gods they do have some fine women!” Tolan again allowed himself a broad grin despite the fact that it was beginning to feel awkward on his face. He blushed slightly at the memory of all the attention he got from the young women of the village, Relek could clearly see the colour in his cheeks and immediately jumped at the chance to probe further “oh, is there an embarrassing memory behind that description young master Tolan?!”
“No, no friend Relek” He argued pleadingly “Just a lot of attention, I stick to the teachings of the abbey in that respect” Relek looked confused at this statement
“But I thought you said you weren’t a brother?”
“No I’m not, but if I were to meet a young lady on my travels and take her back to mine…can you imagine the look on the abbots face?” Relek again boomed and doubled over clutching his stomach “so I take the easy route and stick to the teachings” settling down, Relek looked intently at Tolan
“So you have not met a woman who truly took your breath away? Who made you ache for her?” Tolan’s smile faded slowly and his gaze became unfocused as if he was looking for something, and only by the act of stopping his search would he find it. Tolan forced a small smile back to his face and refocused his sight suddenly

“I was telling a story wasn’t I friend Relek, or did you not wish to hear any more?” Relek looked thoughtfully at Tolan, gauging his response.
“If you wish, although I wager the story you are withholding is at least equal to the one being told”
“That may well be true friend, but I don’t like to tell stories that as yet don’t have an ending. So I shall return to the one that does” He settled himself back into his chair like an old man preparing himself for a long night by the fire “The stag hunt had already been run and the winner had been a hulking man who you could barely believe had the concentration or intelligence to draw a bow, but that he’d be more likely to chase the stag down and tackle it with his bare hands. Most people knew that those competitions were often rigged by the local Baron’s anyway so it wasn’t that much of a surprise.
After the presentation of the trophy and the agreement of land, the first dance started. I remember at the time thinking how chaotic it all looked, even the grand robes of the Baron’s sons and the dresses of his daughters, the sparkle and sheen of them just seemed to add to the tumultuous mess in front of me. I was amazed people didn’t bump into each other and couldn’t see the point. It was chaos.
In hindsight it was beautiful, not because I now appreciate dancing; I still think it’s a mess, but because it went from the mess it was to something horrific and evil within a single beat of the music. I remember the moment where the Baron’s daughter and a young man of the village suddenly stopped dancing in front of me, and as they began to slowly release each other they both looked off towards the woods. I couldn’t see what they were looking at, I had no idea what could have caused them to stop. And then something flew towards them through the air and knocked them both to the ground.
After the moment of shock the Baron’s daughter regained her composure and looked at what had knocked her to the ground. She let out a scream that tensed every muscle in my body, it was the Baron. Her scream acted as a catalyst as more erupted throughout the square, she struggled to her feet pushing her father away and her beautiful dress was caked in mud covering the lustrous colours, she absentmindedly tried to brush it away, years of instinct forcing her to remain a lady of the court despite the terror in her bones. That only lasted a moment as the tumult of people began to bump and jostle her, running in all directions trying to get somewhere, and none really sure of where. She stood being knocked between people as I watched from the side of the square, my parents had been out dancing, and I was determined to wait patiently for them like a good boy. My plan was suddenly forgotten as the young woman fell to her knees pleadingly, I followed her gaze to the creature that stood in front of her.
A Rock Lord.
It was made up of a dozen different sized rocks, all fitted together in some abstract form of a man, in its head were three craters, one large and crescented in place of a mouth and two acting as eye sockets. Within those sockets were two small stones that flamed as if made of fire itself, glowing orange and suspended in the centre like two molten pupils.