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Here's another chapter, slightly darker... where we find out what happens to Mylan back in her village.
Chapter 11: The beast inside
[Freton. Eriador]
A few months later, things had changed at the bakery.
Father and daughter no longer lived in a quiet and happy cohabitation, like they had done for all their lives.
Eron had been terribly worried when Mylan had disappeared for two nights in a row, lost somewhere on the road between Bree and Freton, in the middle of a winter storm.
And when she came back, unarmed, refusing to explain what had happened to her, Eron felt betrayed and angry. He had ordered her to give him some explanations, but she would not say anything on the matter, except that "someone" had helped her.
Mylan was changed as well.
She barely talked, or laughed, went to her daily tasks without spirit, and spent her days mostly bathed in her own silence.
Worst of all, there was this noisy neighbor that kept coming to the house to see her father nowadays. Esther was her name, a middle-aged widow that lived on the borders of the village in a dirty house with her vicious son, Joffrey.
Mylan had not really noticed it before now, but Esther did spent some time talking with Eron at the market, or when she came at the bakery. Her hair was dark blond with hints of grey, and she wore it in a bun at the top of her head. She was very skinny and her hands looked like spiders's legs, ready to grasp and pinch anything that passed by.
Esther's husband had died ten years ago, leaving her and their son without income. Joffrey had to work in the fields as a laborer from an early age, while his mother did the laundry and cleaning for some richer inhabitants of the village.
Now the widow often came directly at Eron's house to chat with the baker, bringing along her false smile.
She was cunning. Mylan did not trust her at all. She knew what Esther wanted, she was no fool.
Esther was seducing her father to get married again and thus improve her circumstances. Even if it was difficult for her to imagine her father with another woman than her mother, Mylan would have understood if both loved each other.
It was not the case. Maybe Eron cared for Esther and thought her nice, but he was mostly flattered by the attention he was receiving all of a sudden.
Esther was mainly manipulative, and she would not stop until she got what she wanted. But the worst thing about her was her son.
Joffrey was stupid, vain and violent. He was already bitter while being younger then Mylan herself. In the village, he was known for having slapped a young maid when she had refused to kiss him. The poor young woman had had a nasty cut on her cheek for weeks.
Mylan avoided him at all costs. She took care to never be in his presence alone, but always while other people were around.
Mother and son often came for dinner now, invited by Eron. Esther was talking quietly with her father: she would whisper in his ear, and they would both smile while looking at their children.
They were up to something and Mylan had the terrible feeling that it concerned her.
She would often excuse herself and go up to her room, blaming a recurring headache. Then she would open her window and stare for long hours at the landscape in the East: the hills that she knew hid behind them the wide Lake of pure and deep blue water.
Mylan had never felt so lonely, nor so frustrated in all her life. She felt like a prisoner, trapped in this little village, in her petty fate, after having known a little bit of adventure and mystery, even if it had been for two short days.
What was he doing right now? she wondered.
Every day, she thought about the stranger of the Lake, his low and unmistakable voice, and his troubled existence.
There were so many answers she did not asked him, and so many things about him she would never know.
Mylan had never been moved by anyone, as she had been by him. She was drawn to him and she felt miserable, when month after month, the probability of another encounter slowly faded away...
It was Sunday morning and the bakery was closed. Mylan did not come down for breakfast but lay in bed for hours staring at the ceiling.
Spring had come and the birds singing outside in the back garden had put her mind in some kind of reverie she was not inclined to leave just yet.
What roused her was the sound of the front door opening and closing, and of voices chatting animatedly downstairs.
She dressed quietly in a brown dress and put on a leather belt along with her boots. In the corner of her room, lay the large black cloak of the stranger, hidden under her winter coat. She could not wear it in public but would keep it always.
She opened slightly the door of her bedroom and heard them talking downstairs:
"It's so good of you to invite us for lunch again, Eron" Esther was saying in her best sugary voice. "Let us help you…"
There was a noise of plates being set upon the table.
"It's my pleasure" Eron said "Though you will excuse me if the food is quite simple. I made it myself and am better at baking bread than making stew."
"Nonsense" Esther retorted "It will be delicious as always. Didn't your daughter help you?" she added innocently.
"No" Eron answered with a hint of sadness and irritation "She keeps to her room these days".
"Well, I think it's her place to help her father and take care of the house. You're being too kind to her" Esther told him.
"Aye. Maybe I am" sighed Eron.
"Joff, why don't you go outside and cut some wood for Eron?" Esther asked her son.
"Oh really, there's no need…" started Eron, but she cut him.
"Come on. If we can help you with anything, we will. The Gods have not gifted you with a son, and if my son can be of any assistance, he will" she stated.
Mylan could almost see Esther's horrible sweet smile and false compassion. She rolled her eyes and sighed.
There was a door opening and closing as Joffrey left them to go to the back garden.
"Have you thought about what I offered you?" Esther immediately asked Eron in a pressing but low voice.
Mylan had to focus to hear what they were saying in hushed tones.
"I don't know…" Eron hesitated "Isn't she a little bit old to get married?"
"26 is not very old. I think she could still bear a child, and that's what matters. You deserve a right to get on with your life, and your daughter has to make hers and leave. It's the way things are." Esther stated in a final voice.
"But I don't think she wants to get married" Eron admitted, uncertain.
"Most girls don't know what they want, and more important, what's good for them. Don't you want to be a grandfather?" she asked in a tempting voice.
"Aye, maybe a grandson will replace the son I never had." Eron said in a pained voice.
Mylan heard her heart break a little at her father's words, and soon her cheeks were salty and wet. She had not realized how deep Esther's deeds had already corrupted her father's mind.
"Don't you want to be alone with me in this house? Just the two of us?" Esther asked him, the suggestion obvious in her voice.
Mylan did not want to hear more. She got up and abruptly went down the stairs, angrily wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
She faced her father and Esther and mumbled some sort of greeting.
"Ha Mylan… there you are" said Eron, looking slightly uncomfortable.
Esther smiled at her, but did not release her hold on Eron's forearm. There was an awkward silence where everyone stared at each other.
"Eron dear, maybe Mylan could fetch us some ale from the garden shack for lunch" Esther suddenly suggested happily.
The nerve of this woman, already behaving like she owned the place, and ordering her around! Mylan felt her tiny hands ball into fists, but her face showed no emotion.
"Of course" she told Esther in the same sugary tone.
Anything to get away from this place.
As Mylan got out, the spring sun fell on her face and hair, warming her bitter heart and wounded feelings.
One thing was for sure now: she no longer had a place in her father's house, not for long anyway.
Mylan could not imagine as she walked towards the back of the garden, that her life's course would change irremediably on this day.
In the blink of an eye.
Okay, just so you know, the villain in my stories is always named "Joffrey". I was traumatized by GOT ;)
The review is like finding the "fève" in the galette des rois ! LOL ;) So please review !