The Terrible Mistake

[Tingest]

I thought I maybe should do this before it's too late. Some of you have already seen it, but not that many. Read if you want to. If you find secrets that you didnt want to know about, I am most sorry.
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Tale 1. "The Kicked Dog"

In the night, the pale damp night, there was a sound. Letha listened carefully. The sound was weak, but she heard it. She got up of her bed and listened again. The sound was still there. Bare feet on the wooden floor, fumbling her way down the dark hallway. The sound grew, Letha thought it sounded like a hurt animal. Like the dog she once saw, who had been kicked by a horse and now couldn’t stand on its legs anymore.
The sound came from her fathers bedroom. She moved silently.
The room was a mess. All the sheets were torn out and thrown on the floor, the drawers was opened and the clothing and the books were spread all over the room. Letha didn’t see any of that. She only saw her father. Her strong father, the paladin, the Officer, crying and moaning on the floor like a hurt animal. Like the kicked dog.
She stood paralysed in the doorway. Suddenly a hand took her by the arm. She turned. Before she knew it her aunts had lifted her off her feet and carried her into her room where they firmly putted her down on the floor.
“Can’t you understand, child, that you are the last thing he should see right now.”
They closed the door behind them without another word.
Letha sat in her bed, stiff as a stick, all night and listened to her father moaning and screaming. Her father. The kicked dog

[Virvaldin]

/me gives little Letha a cuddle and sm00gle

[Tingest]

Tale 2. "The day after."

She was cold. Really cold. She knew that. And she knew that the vase on the cabinet looked as a sitting cat if you squinted just a bit. She squinted until the cat turned his head and blinked at her. He knew what she had done. She tried to nod back, but it’s very hard to nod laying down with you knees pulled up under your chin. She then instead tried to lift a hand but the hand was all stiff and unwilling, probably not even her.
There were voices outside in the main hall of the temple. One of them was very familiar. Letha almost stopped breathing. The Hero. His voice was like a hot breeze, a flame that found its way through the temple of Tyr, to the room she was placed in, and right through her skin.
She didn’t hear the words, not how he asked the priest if the girl he brought there the other night still was pounding her head against the wall in her sleep, not how he asked if her fathers crippled body was burried yet, she just heard his voice. Steady as a mountain, mighty as an ocean.
The cat blinked again. Yes, that was him.

[Tingest]

Tale 3. The Bad Dream


The door was slightly opened. There was warm light streaming out from the room and Letha carefully stepped forward not to scare the light away. Without a sound she put her eye in the gap.
The light from the fire place reflected in her fathers bright armour. Her fathers green shirt, under the buckles. His hands busy strapping the plate on his body. And his face, calm and strong.
He lifted his gaze from the buckles and the straps.
“Letha, my sparrow.” He smiled to her.
She opened the door a bit further. He waved at her to enter.
His helmet lay on the table and the shield stood leaning against a chair.
He squatted, took her face in his big hands and kissed her on the forehead. She looked up into her fathers eyes, where there was no blackness, no heart eating sorrow, only calmness and strength.
“Now, give me your words of wisdom, Sparrow.”, he said with a smile.
“Step carefully, Pop”, Letha said.
Once again he kissed her on the forehead before he raised and putted on his helmet. Letha watched him walking down the hallway. As she heard the door shut behind him she saw it.
He had forgotten his shield.


Letha sat trembling in her bed. Her body was wet with sweat and her hands was cold as ice. It was still many hours until daylight and the dream filled the little room. Still shaking she pulled the grey woollen dress over her head and stepped out in the hallway. The Sergeant was not to be found. She took a deep breath to keep the panic down in her throat from not coming up. She moved carefully through the dark hallway, limbs shaking. She felt how her legs went numb so she opened the nearest door and slid down against the wall.

She heard The Sergeant walking outside in the hallway. Doors opening and closing. She knew that he was looking for her. She knew the he probably was worried. Did he call her name?
She couldn’t move.
How long had she been sitting there?
He came closer, now he opened the door of the room next to hers. She still couldn’t move.
Suddenly he stood in front of her. His eyes were deep and his lower jaw tensed.
“A bad dream?” he asked.
She nodded.

[Tingest]

Tale 4. "It rained all that day"

She’s late. Two hours now. Nearly three. The Sergeant clenched his fist as he walked the Halls of Tempus. He cursed his weak heart, that he allowed a lass to make him this upset.
An acolyte came up the stairs. “Sergeant!” he called. “A man is here, the keeper of the Grey Serpent. He is asking for you, Sergeant!”
“Unexpected guests at this hour” the Sergeant thought. “That can not be good.”

“Is this yours?”, the man in the carriage made a gesture at the sleeping girl next to him.
The Sergeant wiped the rain of his forehead, and took a deep breath.
“Yes, one could say that.”
“She paid me a great deal to get her here, otherwise I would never drag myself out in this awful weather. I have a business, you know.” He frowned. “Are you the father?”
The Sergeant swallowed. “I am. Not her father. But I care for her. She is orphaned, I am training her to become a warrior.”
The man looked at the girl next to him, with thin limbs, as easy to brake as canes of sugar. He lifted one eyebrow.
“Well, anyhow, Sir. You should keep an eye on that lass of yours. She’s out running with boys. No good for a lass that young.”
The Sergeant felt his blood pulse behind his eyes. “Boys?”
“No good boys either if you ask me…” The man rolled his eyes slightly.
The Sergeant had to look away not to reveal his emotions.
“Is she drinking? A lad came, asked for a room, he carried her up the stairs.” The man pulled the fur lined cloak tighter to keep the damp out.
“His appearance?” One hand on the hilt of the sword to keep the temper down.
“Full plate. Quite fancy.”
“Colour?”
“Gold details…. Could have been a red cloak. Any way, Sir. He left some hours later. Alone. I don’t want no trouble with drunk or sick lasses in my rooms so I went up to check on her.”
“And?” The Sergeant let go of the sword.
“She asked me to take her home.“
The horse seemed impatient. Passed back and forth.
“This happens ..often?” The Sergeant dreaded the answer.
“Boys taking up girls to rooms?” The man laughed. “That happens now and then, yes.”
The Sergeant took a deep breath. “This lass..?”
The man shook his head. “Now, if you pardon me Sir. I have a business to attend to.”

The Sergeant carried her up the stairs of the Halls. She trembled slightly in his arms as with cold or fever. Or both.
As he placed her on the bed, the bed that once were his but now belonged to her, she opened her eyes. Her voice was low, broken, still heavy with sleep.
“…I’m.. so.sorry…. that… I’m late."
He hushed her. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Get some sleep now lass.”
As her breathing grew more rhythmic, he sat down beside the bed. Behind the eyes the pounding still beat him badly. He took a cruel knife from his belt. Held it over her sleeping body.
“A child.” He closed his eyes. “Am I betrayed?”
He put the knife away. “I cannot harm her.”
He sat by the bed, watched her twitching and mumbling in restless sleep for an hour.
“Whatever it is, I will find it and destroy it.” He closed the door quietly behind him, whispering a silent prayer to Tempus asking him to give him strength for the battle to come, and please make the pounding behind the eyes go away.

[Tingest]

Tale 5. "Food Should Not Touch Other Food"

He limped. He tried not to, but he did. Although the pain in the right knee grew stronger every minute his face did not reveal the depths of the wounds. But he limped. He couldn’t help that.
Letha tried not to show her worry.
“Would you please take a seat, Mister Malthus?”
His answer was, as always, way too correct and polite.
“Where do you wish to sit, Lady?”
Letha took a deep breath, she couldn’t help but stare at his leg now.
“At the nearest table, Mister.” Her word came out more stern then she intended to.

“Not acute” had his answer been when she some minutes earlier asked him if he was hungry. She decided to put the manors aside for this one. Without asking him she ordered them both a dinner. Roast chicken and potatoes. She pushed his plate towards him.
“You don’t take no good care of yourself, Mister Malthus.”
They ate.
Potatoes first, then the chicken. The words of the Sergeant echoed in her head. Food should not touch other food.

“Mister Malthus?” She had gone through this question in her head so many times before, and she begged Tyr to get it right now.
“Yes, Lady?” She could see a pearl of sweat running down his throat. Still his face revealed no pain.
“I worry about The Sergeant. He… is not himself. ” That was not the words she had planned.
He tilted his head to listen. “Is that so, Lady? In what way?”
She didn’t want to tell Malthus this. Not anyone. A deep breath. “I accidently surprised him in The Safe Haven Inn.” A pause. Another deep breath. “He drank ..fast. Very fast.”
Malthus voice was low. “He usually don’t do that, Lady.”
“I believe his trouble is the troubles of the warrior, Mister. I don’t think he will confide in me….. I…... I don’t think I would fully understand. Would you please talk to him, Mister Malthus?”
There was something in his eyes that Letha could not put words on.
“I will do that, Lady. Although we, the Sergeant and I, don’t normally speak of.. private matters. And.. I doubt that there are things that you would not understand.”
Letha had to hold on to her stool not to loose her balance.

Potatoes first, then the chicken.
Letha did not want to tell him the other thing, but she knew she ought to.
“Miss Ash… is not in shape either, Mister.”
“Not in shape?” Malthus face grew stiff, she saw him putting a hand on the hilt of his sword.
“She.. also drank.. too fast. The Sergeant tried to calm her down but.. she yelled at him and took off.”
He raised one eyebrow.
“The Sergeant said she had lost a loved one.” Letha paused. “Lord Croaker, he said.”
Malthus closed his eyes. Was he about to cry? What would she do if he did? Was she supposed to leave now? Would he be mad with her if she stayed?
“I….I.. am very sorry, Mister.”
He swallowed, and opened his eyes. No tears. Letha send an thankful thought to Tyr.
“Pardon, Lady.” His voice was unsteady.
“..oh.. no.. don’t.” She saw his hand twitching, although he tried to hide it under the table.
“Did you know him well, Mister?”
“Not that well. But I can… feel with Lady Ash.”
Silence again.
Letha knew she would never be able to ask him about that. Never.

He gathered himself.
“And you, Lady? Is all well with you?”
Letha looked at him. One more stone on that back and it would brake. Those eyes, so black with sorrow. She wondered how that mouth would look if it laughed. She couldn’t imagine.
“All is well, Mister.”
It’s not lying, she thought. I’ll tell him. Later. Not now. Later.

“I am afraid that I am rather weary, Lady.”
“You should rest, Mister.” She tried to not look at his knee.
“A bid you a Good Night, Lady.” He raised. She could see that the knee had grew stiff and swollen.
“Good Night, Mister Malthus.”
He turned to leave.
A will that she could not control made her say:
“Mister Malthus?”
She saw him turn.
The will that was not hers to control formed words in her head. She had to close her eyes. The words came out before she could stop them.
“I’ve missed you.”
He stared at her. She didn’t notice. Before he could say anything she was already two blocks away.

Her plate was left on the table. Half finished. She never got further than to the potatoes

[Tingest]

Tale 6. The Road To Loudwater.

The inn had no kitchen. It was just as cold in there as it had been out on the misty roads. But at least there were no bandits and no beasts, just a man with thick neck and squinting eyes. Letha didn’t like him.
They picked a table. The chair was as cold as if they had been outside and Letha’s leather was soaking wet from the rain. But she mustn’t take it off or it would be painfully stiff. “Let it dry on your body and it will be kind to you.” Who had said that? The Captain? Arakiel? Arien? Babras? She couldn’t recall.

Salted fish they got. The head was still there with the eyes staring at her, empty and milky. Letha glared back as she removed the bones.
She watched carefully as The Captain did the same with his fish. As he went back to the keeper to get the rumours of the village she leaned over the table to make sure he had found all of them nasty bones.

They ate. The fish head on the side of the plate still stared at her.
“Ya remember when I ate too fast and got that bone jammed in my throat, Blossom?” The Captain chuckled. “And people wonder why I keep a bodyguard.”
Letha nodded. She remembered. It made her both hot and cold at once to think about that. The coughing and the gasping, the watery eyes. Letha tried to blink that picture away, but it lingered. But she could feel his eyes on her and that made her neck straight and her cheeks blossom.


No sleep that night. They were in a hurry and the roads were wild here. Just a bridge away they spotted bandits. And the bandits spotted them.

It all happened so quickly. Before she blinked there was bandits everywhere. She saw them aim at The Captain. She didn’t know how it happened but there suddenly were bolts in a bandit’s chest. Her bolts it must be. There were no others.
He laid in an awkward way with the arm bent in an impossible angle. She saw how he gasped for air and how the eyes flickered. There was a odd, deep, gurgling sound from him as a trickle of dark blood ran from the corner of his mouth down in the wet grass.
Unable to take her eyes off him Letha watched as his lungs got filled with blood and his gaze froze. Milky. As a salted fish’s eye. Letha glared back.

In the distance she heard The Captain call for her. While running she arranged her bolts for the next man who would dare to attack The Captain of Lhuvenhead.

[Tingest]

Tale 7. The Bells.

The stone stroke her chin. The rain touched her hair gently. She heard The Bells toll. Her bells. Over her head the night of Waterdeep slowly spread its blanket. Her finger followed the engraved letters in the doorstep “Rothin Ced Bell”. It was time to sleep now.