Twelve Turns
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 28th June 2017
Characters: Jisalle, Majan
Description: Jisalle stays up late wrapping a birthingday present for her eldest child
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 12, day 3 of Turn 8
Her boy was almost twelve Turns.
Jisalle sat at her table and carefully wrapped the little knife she'd saved for his birthingday. The knife was one of his father's belt knives, not particularly fancy or high quality. It still had the wobble at the tip of the blade where Michan had used it to try to pry open a nut and ended up cutting his thumb instead. The leather on its hilt was still dark from the sweat of his palm and the feel of his fingertips. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his hand on her own. **I miss you, Michan,** Jisalle thought, sliding the little blade back into its plain leather sheath. **I wish you were here. You would be so proud of your son.**
Majan had wheedled and begged until Jisalle had agreed to let him skip his Harper lessons on the morrow to go fishing in the river with some of his friends. It wasn't every day that a boy turned twelve. When he returned (presumably triumphant) Jisalle had arranged a spot on the stove with the cooks so that he could fry up his bounty. The cooks had even thrown in the promise of a tray of fresh festive bubblies. They'd all sit together in the Dining Hall as a family-- she and Majan, his little sister Rinne, Jisalle's sister and her sister's children and husband. It would be a lovely birthingday, and one almost entirely free of the watchful, loving presence of his mother.
Which was as it should be, even if it hurt.
Twelve Turns was when boys started to grow up. Twelve Turns meant that Majan would be done his Harper lessons soon and apply for an apprenticeship. Or perhaps he would prefer to work for the Hold, like his father had done and his uncle still did. Jisalle privately hoped that her boy wouldn't decide that he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps and be a Guard. Or worse-- forsake her entirely and go to the Weyr. She shuddered as she picked up a bit of cloth and tied it around the knife as a wrapping. **Faranth keep the dragons' eyes away from my son,** she thought to herself. The dragons had been at the Hold that very day to follow up after Threadfall. Their jewel-bright eyes seemed so cold and inhuman. The thought of her eldest facing Thread on the back of one of those beasts was the stuff of nightmares.
Jisalle pocketed the present in her apron and half-closed the glow that had lit her table. She stood and stretched, ready for bed, but on her way she stopped and opened Majan's door a crack. The light from the glow crept stealthily into the room where he slept, his back to the door so that all she could see was a tousled head on the pillow. When he was little, she could go in and kiss his forehead in the night, and he'd be unaware. Now that he was almost twelve Turns old, he was sure to wake.
The herbalist hovered at the door a moment longer, then tip toed in and kissed his ear anyway. Her boy sighed and rolled over. "Moo-ooom," he grumbled.
"It's the last time I get to kiss you good night when you're eleven Turns," she whispered.
"Mom, go to sleep," her too-old son muttered. His eyes had never opened, and she was quite sure that he was back to dreaming before she'd even reached the door.
She blew him a kiss from the door as she closed it. One last kiss for her little boy, before he woke up half-ways to being a man. Tomorrow she promised herself that she'd be the first to kiss Majan a happy birthingday.
It was poor consolation.
Last updated on the July 21st 2017