The Cycle is Not Broken

Writers: Eimi, Paula
Date Posted: 5th December 2007

Characters: Zelanka, Benaroy
Description: Zelanka helps her Lord Holder through another funeral
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 7, day 5 of Turn 4

"Thank you, Minua," the Lord Holder smiled wearily as he handed his gloves off to the young woman who had greeted him by the door. "I ate my fill at the Hold. I will not be needing any dinner. Though if someone could bring me something warm to drink it might take the chill out of /between/."

The girl nodded and curtsied before hurrying off to carry his message to the kitchens. The Lord Holder caught a bare glimps of skirts hurrying off in another direction and turned his head. If he had not recognized the sound of the swishing of her skirts, he would have known the sound of Zelanka's purposeful footsteps. The Headwoman paused briefly and their eyes met across the hallway.

She must have been expecting him to be coming back right about now. He wondered if she really had somewhere to go in such a hurry or if she had been watching the door for his return. The Lord Holder rather hoped it was the latter. It was nice to think that someone had been waiting for him. Of course she had known where he had been.

Another funeral. Another friend gone. Neither one of them were strangers to death. Death had been their companion for forty-odd turns now. It had been their shared grief and their mutual understanding of loss that had bound them together for so long...

~~~*~~~

Benaroy stood at his favorite window, that one that afforded the best view of those beautiful amber-colored hills his Hold had been named for.
The setting sun shone so that it made them almost seem to glow with a copper light. It was a gorgeous evening, the kind that should stir the blood in a man's veins and make him thankful he was alive to bare witness to it. But the Lord Holder felt nothing. Nothing at all.
Turning back to his desk he picked up the list of visitors who had come by in the last few days to pay their respects and offer their condolences. Many had stayed for the funeral. It was, after all, guarenteed to pull in all the powerful players in the area, and some from further beyond. Funerals, like weddings, were a good time to re-establish ties, discuss bethrothals and trade agreements... He had used such gathers for such a purpose in the past. Benaroy wondered who had formed new alliances, whose fortune was made that day. Whoever they were, he wished them well. He could not, in all honesty, expect most of the dignitaries to care one bit for the woman who was laid to rest.

And what hurt most of all was that even Benaroy couldn't seem to find it in himself to properly grieve for the woman who had shared his bed for thirteen turns.

In fact, even worse, it seemed Anley was not the woman on his mind this day, but another wife, one who had been married to him only half the time. And yet she was the one whose memory moved him almost to tears.
Keizha. He had even gone to far as to name his new baby girl Anzha after them both. It seemed almost like a betrayal in a way, and yet it was the name that came to mind first and he couldn't find it in himself to think of something more suitable.

Now she, along with the rest of their children, were being looked after by a fostermother. He was sure some were whispering about how the Lord Holder had barely seen the newborn girl. Perhaps they wondered if he just couldn't bare to see the babe whose life had ended Anley's. And yet, much to his shame, it was not the case. In fact, Benaroy had been relieved the child had lived. Hers was one more name to be added to the growing list of children who would help to repopulate his Hold. Each one was a blessing - a glimmer of hope for the future. And once he had been satisfied that she would live and would be cared for properly, he had thrown himself back into his work. What time did he have to dwell on the impermanence of this life? He had a Hold to run.

Sighing, he slumped down into his chair, thinking of all the notes of graditute he would now have to compose. And then there was the harvest to think about. Tithes to collect. Stores to stock for the long, cold winter that lie ahead. Herds to be moved, feilds to be rotated, grapes to be pressed, boats to be mended... **When did I grow so obtuse?**

His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of his large office door.
"Ah, Zelanka. Good evening."

"Good evening milord. The headwoman sent her greetings," Zelanka replied with a dimpled smile and tried to manouver the large tray inside without dropping something. She had to use her hip to keep the door open. "She seems to think that his lordship doesn't eat enough."

Benaroy snorted softly. "I suppose I haven't had much of an appitite."

Zelanka looked at the full tray and over flooding plates. "Or she's fattening you for butchers," she joked before she realized who she was talking to and blushed. "I'm sorry my lord."

He took no offense. On the contrary, he actually chuckled. "No, please, don't be sorry. It's nice to find something funny." It just felt good to feel something. "You are welcome to tease me any time, Zelanka. I suppose we've known each other long enough you have earned that privilege."

"Thank you, sire," she nodded gratefully. Then she looked his table.
It was as overflooding as the tray in her hands. "Any place I could put this down?" she asked plaintatively. It was heavy.

"Oh, yes... Well..." He frowned. No, there really wasn't any place.
"Here, that looks heavy. I could hold it if you would be so kind as to... clear a spot... Somewhere."

Zelanka gave him the tray and looked the table. With a little shrug she moved few records piles to the floor to make a room in the table-corner. "You do work a lot," she remarked.

"Most of that isn't work. It's just condolense letters and other such nonsense. Just... I don't know. Throw it in the corner on that chair over there, or build a funeral pyre out of it..." Benaroy closed his eyes and muttered an oath under his breath. "Forgive me, Zelanka.
I shouldn't make jokes like that."

The young woman gave him an understanding look. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his hand. He had always been so kind to her, and she wanted somehow comfort him.

Benaroy appreciated the gesture. He remembered Zelanka as that small child, frightened and facing the world alone. There was a shared understanding there that only those who had lost everything could understand. "I've burried so many so many people in my lifetime.
Hundreds of them - friends, brothers, wives, children... What's one more? That sharding Plague didn't just take away loved ones. I'm afraid, Zela, that it also took away my ability to feel."

"That's nonsense, my lord. You're mistaking numbness with unfeeling,"
Zelanka said. "You still feel, but your heart is so full of grief, it can't take anymore." She was worried she may step over the line.

"You're very sweet," he said softly. "But my heart has been numb for so long..." Shaking his head he set the tray down on the spot she had partially cleared, not caring that it rested atop several hides still in the way. "Don't mind me, Zela. I'm just an old man. I sincerley hope your generation will never have to understand."

"My generation has gone thru it's own sorrows," Zelanka said with a sad smile. "How many children were orphaned during the plague? I just hope _my_ children will never know that sorrow."

"But your generation is now grown with children and husbands of your own," he said with a small smile. "The cycle is not broken for you. I truly hope that you will never have to start life again, that you and Petriv will watch your children grow strong, and that you will live long and happy lives together. That is my wish for you, Zela. For all of you."

Zelanka's lips twitched to bitter smile.

Benaroy turned back towards his desk before they could fall into an awkward silence. "Thank you for bringing my dinner."

"It's my duty," Zelanka said with a slight shrug. "No need to thank."

"Well, thank you for... putting up with an old man." That certainly was not part of her duties.

"Your not that old," Zelanka's smile showed dimples.

Benaroy hmphed, though his eyes were amused. "I'm twice your age, young woman."

"Who's counting," Zelanka shrugged it off.

He gave a helpless shrug in response. How could he argue that. "Good night, Zelanka."

~~~*~~~

The Lord Holder gave Zelanka a nod of acknowledgement and gratitude. He suspected he would see her soon enough brining his tray into his office, ready to make him smile. Ready to make him feel again.

Last updated on the December 8th 2007

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The Cycle is Not Broken