A Hallow's End Tale
Dusk fell as the man entered the "Lion's Pride Inn". He stopped at the door, staring absently at the wooden ceiling. Wild laughter and the deafening clinking of glasses went unheard. The inn was full, like every Hallow's End. People from across the kingdom and beyond came here every year. Some were wearing masks, while others had more elaborate, even lifelike costumes. Many were there only to enjoy the spirit of the holiday with a glass of Stormwind Tawny.
With the same stare, he sat down at a corner table, near the fire. Dancing tendrils of flame lit his aged figure. His sharp nose was sitting on a thick pair of moustaches and his shaggy grey beard lied gently on the table. Sorrow-filled eyes turned towards the crackling fire.
'Can you warm my heart?' he murmured.
A plump woman approached him. 'A hot cherry cake can warm anyone's heart!' No answer came. 'Here you are!' The man took the spoon with shaking hands. 'It's bitter… bitter like my soul.' Crystalline tears fell silently down his cheeks.
'Eat…' It was not the plump woman's voice. It was the gentle voice of a youth. 'Eat… father' This time the voice was shaking. The man slowly raised his head. 'My… My son…' His trembling hand touched the youth's forehead.
Both burst into tears. 'I am sorry…' the son began, lowering his head. 'No, my son, you should not be. The only one to blame is me…' 'How can you say that? I ran away with my love, leaving you alone, ailing and heartbroken. I was such a fool.'
After a moment's pause, he added: 'Do you… remember this cake?' 'How could I possibly not remember?' His voice grew immeasurably sadder. 'It is the cake your mother cooked me after our wedding. I taught you the recipe, so that you could cook it to your future wife… Did you?' 'Yes', the son replied slowly, 'I did'. The father nodded approvingly. 'Now we live in Goldshire. I am a cook here…' The old man smiled. He closed his eyes, as if he was searching for something deep within his soul.
'My wife… your mother… she was everything to me. My miserable life started having a meaning when I met her. My land, my house, my garden… I myself planted the garden. It was my wedding gift for her. A paradise of flowers… to perfume the paradise in our hearts. Then the Light blessed us with a child. A bright boy you were…
When she died 12 years ago, my heart shattered. The only thing that kept me alive was you. I was afraid that, if you married a noblewoman, you would not find your true path in life, that you would end up like your grandfather, thrown into a hopeless war, far away from home, far away from his wife and children… How wrong I was! There is nothing more important in this life than being with the one you love. You have my blessing now.'
'Father…'
'Come, my son, let us go to the Wickerman, like we used to do every year, and throw all of our doubts and fears into the fire, so that we can begin anew…'
THE END