Child of Nyuvreth -Chapter 5

NEYRAND


Neyrand returned to Hargavon's Hearth, shaken and awestricken. The words the elderly soothsayer spoke held a portent of doom even if she had no clue of what it truly signified. Throughout her shift, she listlessly served the customers, as the disturbing and perplexing words echoed in her mind. Her grandmother could see that something bothered her but thought it best to leave it alone.

As Neyrand continued to work, the sun began to sink beneath the horizon, welcoming the luminous rays of the moon. Steadily, the number of customers began to dwindle. Most of them had left for bed, whilst a few still remain either to play cards, read, or drink their ale solemnly in the corner.

Neyrand's shift for the day was nearly at an end. She was about to leave for the night when her grandmother stopped her.

"Ah, Neyrand, would you be a darling and give this to that man sitting in the corner over there?" her grandmother asked, pointing behind her.

"Of course, Nan," she said, and her grandmother handed her a plate of bread, bacon and scrambled eggs.

With the plate in her hands, Neyrand made her way to the elderly gentleman dressed in plain, red robes sitting in the corner. He had a full beard and curly, shoulder-length hair that was entirely white down to the root. His teal coloured eyes glanced downwards, intently focusing on a small, thick, yet beautifully embossed book that lay opened on the table before him.

"Here you go, sir," Neyrand said, as she placed the plate of food on the table in front of him.

"Ah, my thanks, young lady. It smells absolutely divine!" the man enthused, looking up from his book.

Neyrand smiled back, but she couldn't help stealing glances at the book. The middle-aged man caught her looking, and Neyrand turned away, blushing red with embarrassment.

"I'm very sorry, sir," Neyrand apologized, " I did not mean to pry."

"No, it is fine. Please join me," the gentleman said.

Neyrand was unsure at first, but eventually she sat on the chair opposite to him. Neyrand began to nervously fidget with her hands as she watched him eat the first few bites from his plate. She looked around, the dining room was completely devoid of any living soul besides her and the elderly gentleman eating his dinner.

Suddenly, he began to speak.

"What is your name?" the elderly man asked.

" N-Neyrand, sir, Neyrand Hargavon," Neyrand stammered.

"Do you love to read, Neyrand?"

"Yes, sir," she answered.

"What about?"

"Mostly history and legends of kingdoms, sir."

"Ah, I see."

"Would you like to see it?" the man asked, holding up the book he was reading.

"Yes, please, if you wouldn't mind, sir," Neyrand said.

"Not at all," he said and handed her the book.

Neyrand clasped the book in her hands. The cover of the book was exquisitely made and lined with gold. Ornate swirls decorated the book, and painted on it was a sea of forests and a gigantic mountain that towered over everything underneath it.

Neyrand gasped in shock and awe as the painting on the cover began to move. The very leaves of the forest swayed, as if there was a gust of wind. Suddenly, a bald-headed man stepped out from the forest and onto a clearing, dressed in luxurious, emerald robes laden with jewels. The bald-headed man walked a few yards before he bent down on one knee and raised both his hands up.

In his hands, he had some sort of crown -which he held up as if in offering- to a bright, shining figure who stood atop a rocky mountain. The radiant figure descended to the clearing, yet the light that surrounded him did not fade away and continued to dazzle with its intensity. The shining figure took the crown from the kneeling man and returned back atop the mountain.

Eagerly, Neyrand flipped the book open and scanned through it. Everything seemed to be hand-written in neat, cursive, handwriting. Various colourful illustrations were painted delicately onto the pages of the book and they began to move as well -much to her delight. Neyrand could not tear her eyes from it, having never in her 17 years of life set her eyes upon such a magical object.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the elderly man said, interrupting her train of thought.

"Oh, it certainly is sir," Neyrand spoke, eyes glinting with excitement. "What is it about?"

"As you can see the figures in the book cover moves, and that basically tells you the entire plot," the elderly man said.

"How on earth does it move on its own?" Neyrand asked, intrigued.

"Ah, have you ever heard of the kingdom of Eyroth? Never? The kingdom of Eyroth is located far East and is known as the birthplace of all magic. I can assure you, dear child, that all the things that come from that place is always enchanted with some type of spell. This book, for example, had a Motion spell casted upon it. This spell is what enables the characters to move, and the Eyrothians do this to every book they make. It is quite costly, but a worthy investment," the elderly man explained.

Neyrand listened, her ears perked up in interest.

"Are there many other kingdoms like Eyroth?' she asked.

"Truly, Eyroth is one of a kind. But yes, there are other kingdoms, each with their own culture and traditions which are all dissimilar to the other," the elderly man answered.

"I wish I could one day visit Eyroth," Neyrand sighed dreamily.

"Oh you must, Neyrand, you must! It is indeed a long journey, but I guarantee that you will not regret it!" the elderly man grinned.

Their fascinating conversation was interrupted by her grandma, who came to take the dishes away.

"Good evening, sir. May I take the dishes? Thank you. Neyrand, you must go home, it is getting late," her grandmother said, and she walked off into the kitchen, bringing the dirty plate along with her.

"Oh, I have to go now," Neyrand said, a hint of sadness in her voice. "Here's your book, sir."

"Keep it," the elderly gentleman said.

"But, sir, I can't possibly take this," Neyrand protested.

"I insist," he said, as he gently pushed the book back to her.

" Oh, thank you, sir-"

" Oh please, just call me Phyrion," he smiled.

" Thank you, Phyrion, and good night," Neyrand said, and headed towards the door with her new book clutched in her hands.

"Good night, Miss Hargavon, it has been a pleasure talking to you," Phyrion beamed and waved at her.

Neyrand smiled widely and waved back. Then she opened the door and exited the inn. Out of nowhere, cold blasts of wind tore fiercely through the night air, causing her to shiver uncontrollably.

Strange, Neyrand thought, the nights have certainly never gotten this cold before.

Neyrand felt extremely thankful to have her house just next door. She pushed the door open and hastily shut it behind her to prevent the cold air from entering.

She climbed the stairs as it creaked and groaned beneath her weight, and moved toward her bedroom door. Neyrand placed the book upon her bed and began to change out of her clothes.

After sliding her nightgown on and dumping the clothes in the laundry basket, Neyrand picked up her book and slipped under the bedcovers.

As she lay there hugging the book to her chest and staring at the ceiling, Neyrand a sense of realisation slowly began creeping in. Phyrion's enthusiasm for adventures and traveling had struck a deep cord within her. Her previous decisions of remaining in the village and working at the inn for the rest of her life does not seem so appealing to her any longer.

Instead, Neyrand had this insatiable desire to pack up her bags and leave for an adventure of her own, longing to see the great cities of different kingdoms across the country -especially those of Eyroth. Yes, numerous strangers have passed through here talking about their adventures, but none had the passion Phyrion does when he starts talking about them.

It was decided. She absolutely must go off on one of her own adventures. Neyrand considered the serious possibility of begging her grandmother for permission in order to take a short trip to the lands beyond. It would be done quickly and before her grandmother's retirement, so that -once Neyrand returned- she would immediately take up the reins of managing the family business. But then her dear old Nana would have no one for company, and heaven knows what horrifying calamities might befall her whilst she was gone. No, she had to stay, for her beloved Nana's sake.

Heart filled with disappointment, Neyrand cradled the book, gently enfolding it in her arms, and shut her eyes.

         

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