All of the characters in this fic are owned by my personal goddess, Diana Wynne Jones. I'm just borrowing them for my own dark, deceitful purposes. R&R if you want. I hope I find some fellow Dalemark fans out there! ^_^
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"Only if you promise to come back and see me after the war," Maewen said. "I'll come after you if you don't."
"All right," said Mitt. "I promise. In two years." In the strange scented gold mist it did not seem ridiculous to talk of these things.
"I'll hold you to that," Maewen said, laughing.
They wandered on.
~~~~~~~~
A smile spread across Maewen's face as she relived that scene for the millionth time. She lay sprawled across her bed, in a state of pure bliss. It was a beautiful summer morning--just a few days before Midsummer, actually. The sun was shining in through the apartment's windows, and she could hear birds singing outside. Downstairs, she heard the sound of a cwidder being strummed, accompanied by laughing voices and cheerful conversation.
She sat up in bed and rested her chin on her knees, deep in thought. Would Mitt remember his promise? Four years were a lifetime for her, but he was two hundred years older than her, so there really wasn't any kind of comparison there. Still, the smile only lingered for a few more seconds. Wend had been feeding her information, and lately it hadn't been so great.
It appeared that even the One's greatest name hadn't destroyed all of the pockets of Kankredin. They were coming together, and they were much more concentrated, and powerful, than last time. Even Wend, who had been so cheerful after he'd quit his job, was looking strained and worried lately.
Maewen sighed and climbed out of bed, shifting her thoughts to Mitt. As she reached for her hairbrush and began to jerk it methodically through her hair, her reflection caught her eye. She examined herself critically. Though she didn't look exactly the same as she had four years ago, there was no doubt as to who she was. Still the same frizzy blonde hair, same girlish look. She had only grown an inch or so, too. Her Aunt Liss had insisted that she'd have a growth spurt, but here she was, going on seventeen, and she certainly hadn't noticed any spurting.
"Well, I hope Mitt will be satisfied with you," she informed her reflection. "You're not beautiful or witty or clever at all, but I suppose you'll do." She grinned for a moment, recalling the last time she had seen Mitt. "I'll show YOU inflation." Running the brush through her hair one last time, she quickly threw on some old clothes and headed out to the kitchen for breakfast.
But her father wasn't at his usual place at the kitchen table. She stopped short when she saw who was.
Cennoreth and Wend were sitting in her kitchen, and they didn't look happy.
"Er..hello?" she said timidly.
"..don't know what we're going to do, Duck," Cennoreth was murmuring. At the sound of Maewen's voice, she stopped short.
"Hello, Mayelbridwen," said Wend gloomily, back to his formal self.
Maewen sat down across from Cennoreth. "What's wrong? Why are you here? Where's Mitt? Is-"
"Stop, stop!" laughed the Weaver. "You're confusing yourself and me!" But even when she laughed, Maewen could see the pain behind the great blue-green gaze. She waited patiently for Cennoreth to collect herself.
"We might as well tell her, Tanaqui," said Wend wearily. "She'd find out sooner or later anyway, and she knows about Kankredin." His sister exchanged a tired glance with him, then sighed. The sun wasn't shining as bright, and the birds had stopped singing. As Maewen gazed out the window, she could see clouds in the distance.
"It's...it's Mitt, Maewen." Maewen's head snapped back around quickly to face Cennoreth, who looked pained.
"What? What's wrong?" Maewen cried, filled with fear. The day didn't seem at all beautiful anymore, and hundreds of horrible things that could have happened to Mitt ran through her head all at once. "What have you done with him!? Where IS he?!"
Wend cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, that's just the problem," he mumbled, looking down at the table. "We don't know."
~~~~~~~~
"Only if you promise to come back and see me after the war," Maewen said. "I'll come after you if you don't."
"All right," said Mitt. "I promise. In two years." In the strange scented gold mist it did not seem ridiculous to talk of these things.
"I'll hold you to that," Maewen said, laughing.
They wandered on.
~~~~~~~~
A smile spread across Maewen's face as she relived that scene for the millionth time. She lay sprawled across her bed, in a state of pure bliss. It was a beautiful summer morning--just a few days before Midsummer, actually. The sun was shining in through the apartment's windows, and she could hear birds singing outside. Downstairs, she heard the sound of a cwidder being strummed, accompanied by laughing voices and cheerful conversation.
She sat up in bed and rested her chin on her knees, deep in thought. Would Mitt remember his promise? Four years were a lifetime for her, but he was two hundred years older than her, so there really wasn't any kind of comparison there. Still, the smile only lingered for a few more seconds. Wend had been feeding her information, and lately it hadn't been so great.
It appeared that even the One's greatest name hadn't destroyed all of the pockets of Kankredin. They were coming together, and they were much more concentrated, and powerful, than last time. Even Wend, who had been so cheerful after he'd quit his job, was looking strained and worried lately.
Maewen sighed and climbed out of bed, shifting her thoughts to Mitt. As she reached for her hairbrush and began to jerk it methodically through her hair, her reflection caught her eye. She examined herself critically. Though she didn't look exactly the same as she had four years ago, there was no doubt as to who she was. Still the same frizzy blonde hair, same girlish look. She had only grown an inch or so, too. Her Aunt Liss had insisted that she'd have a growth spurt, but here she was, going on seventeen, and she certainly hadn't noticed any spurting.
"Well, I hope Mitt will be satisfied with you," she informed her reflection. "You're not beautiful or witty or clever at all, but I suppose you'll do." She grinned for a moment, recalling the last time she had seen Mitt. "I'll show YOU inflation." Running the brush through her hair one last time, she quickly threw on some old clothes and headed out to the kitchen for breakfast.
But her father wasn't at his usual place at the kitchen table. She stopped short when she saw who was.
Cennoreth and Wend were sitting in her kitchen, and they didn't look happy.
"Er..hello?" she said timidly.
"..don't know what we're going to do, Duck," Cennoreth was murmuring. At the sound of Maewen's voice, she stopped short.
"Hello, Mayelbridwen," said Wend gloomily, back to his formal self.
Maewen sat down across from Cennoreth. "What's wrong? Why are you here? Where's Mitt? Is-"
"Stop, stop!" laughed the Weaver. "You're confusing yourself and me!" But even when she laughed, Maewen could see the pain behind the great blue-green gaze. She waited patiently for Cennoreth to collect herself.
"We might as well tell her, Tanaqui," said Wend wearily. "She'd find out sooner or later anyway, and she knows about Kankredin." His sister exchanged a tired glance with him, then sighed. The sun wasn't shining as bright, and the birds had stopped singing. As Maewen gazed out the window, she could see clouds in the distance.
"It's...it's Mitt, Maewen." Maewen's head snapped back around quickly to face Cennoreth, who looked pained.
"What? What's wrong?" Maewen cried, filled with fear. The day didn't seem at all beautiful anymore, and hundreds of horrible things that could have happened to Mitt ran through her head all at once. "What have you done with him!? Where IS he?!"
Wend cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, that's just the problem," he mumbled, looking down at the table. "We don't know."