READER BEWARE: Up to this point, the trials and challenges that Telma has faced have been rather tame. From this point forward, our story is going to be SIGNIFICANTLY darker. While I have made every effort I can think of to not "cross the line" in terms of language and decorum, I still have to present the story fairly - as it is. If you are easily triggered or have a weak stomach - turn back now.
Tags from this point forward in the book: War - and all its horror, genocide, murder, home invasion, torture, execution, prostitution, forced prostitution, drug use, alcoholism, abandonment, despair, anguish, and utter ruin.
June 16, Year of the Great Kingdom 597
It began like any other day. After a small breakfast, Gormund and Telma both went out to their field and garden to check on the progress of the crop and to feed & water their mule. The sun was shining bright, and the sky was a pure sapphire blue with small puffs of white clouds. The birds sang sweetly from the forest's edge and large flocks of butterflies delicately glided over the tips of the prairie grass – searching for flowers to drink from.
During these early summer days, Gormund would frequently stop and lean on his hoe or pitchfork and just stare dreamily out at the landscape. "Life is not always so bad, honey." He would murmur to her and Telma too would stop and admire the gently rolling hills and the deep green that surrounded them. "I still remember… when we came through the pass." She told him, "It was… so beautiful, but so strange then. I felt… like I was surrounded by so much more life – in the desert, everything was so empty. You really did not feel like there was much around you that was living. But here, everything is alive and vibrant!" The farmer smiled at his daughter, "I never really saw it myself, before you came Telma. You brought the light into my life."
Around noon, a large farmer's wagon came rumbling down the road – from the direction of the citadel – heading north. It was not uncommon to see the farmers moving back and forth, but this time the wagon was heavily laden with the farmer's family and their belongings. Curious, Gormund set down his tools and walked over to his fence near the road.
The man carried a concerned look, but his wife was scowling angrily at him -with her arms folded across her chest. "Mornin' Gormund." He called. "Morning Ester." He called back, "Where are you off to?" The farmer pulled his horse to a halt and turned a worried look over to his neighbor. "Going in-country. Not safe anymore." He answered quietly. His wife snorted her disagreement, and tightened her arms. Telma's father raised his eyebrows in surprise, "What do you mean 'not safe'? The storms aren't due to come for another six weeks! You've never had trouble with them before." He said. "Nah, nah." The man replied, shaking his head, "Not the damned storms. There's…" his eyes now drifted past Gormund and stared at his daughter – still working the field behind him- for a moment, before finishing, "There's trouble in the desert Gormund. Best leave now while you can."
Regretfully, Gormund did not take his neighbor's warning seriously. He followed the man's eyes back to his own daughter, then turned an insulted scowl up at him. "I'm tired of your dirty looks Ester! And your little jokes about 'events in the desert'. I've never done any wrong by you – but you have always made sure to insult my daughter and I! Go on then! Get down the road and trouble me no more." He growled. Farmer Ester straightened up on his seat and curled his lip into a sneer before whistling to his animal to carry on. "Candace." Gormund muttered, nodding to Ester's wife. But she simply turned her nose upward and looked away from him as the family resumed their journey for Central Hyrule.
"What was that about?" Telma asked when he returned to her side. "Just another jackass on the road, honey. Don't worry about it." He grumbled, returning to his work. While Ester had often been rude or condescending toward Gormund and his daughter, the man had been one of the largest buyers of potatoes and liquor. His departure would see their business greatly decline – unless Gormund could find someone else to buy it.
They worked throughout the day, despite the hot summer sun, and did not return to their home until dinner time. "Ugh… its too hot to cook tonight, papa." Telma explained, tugging at her blouse to try and waft some cool air over her body. "And I need to bathe. I stink." She finished. "You go on then dear," her father answered, stepping toward the door, "I'll fetch you some water." As his daughter stepped behind the curtain and gathered her things for a bath, Gormund quickly strolled across the lawn to their small well. He had covered half the distance, before noticing the faint scent of smoke in the air. Glancing around, he could see no fires nearby and shrugged it off – believing Telma had changed her mind and lit the hearth after all.
He returned to the house with two large buckets of water for her – which he discreetly passed around the edge of the curtain – before noticing that she had not lit the fire after all. Confused, but un-concerned, Gormund retrieved a half-loaf of bread from that morning, some butter, and a bottle of his liquor and sat down to eat while his daughter cleaned herself up.
Telma lay in their small, wooden bathtub for several minutes; enjoying the feeling of the cool water washing the sweat and grime from her body. But her mind kept drifting back to the farmer's family and how her father seemed to be irritated at his visit. "Where was Ester going?" she called through the curtain. Gormund, not wanting to tell his daughter about the man's rude joke about the desert, only answered, "Said they were moving in country." "Oh," she answered quietly, "That's a shame."
He didn't have to say it – she already knew that Ester's departure would hurt their income. Her father groaned slightly, and lay his head down upon the table. They had a large crop coming soon, but now he would have to find another buyer quickly. Worried for her papa, Telma tried to quickly think of a way to cheer him up. When she stood and began to towel off her body, an idea suddenly came to her. "We should celebrate!" she quietly declared. "Huh?" he grunted back at her, lifted his head from the table again.
"Well, as you said, just one more jackass rumbling down the road. And maybe, this one will be gone for good!" she explained, smiling to herself, "So, we should celebrate!" Hanging her towel to dry on the edge of the wash-tub, she pulled on a fresh, clean dress and retrieved a small clay jar of perfume from the table beside her bed. This had been a generous gift from one of the wealthier farm-wives and Telma had been waiting for an occasion to try wearing it.
After pulling her hair back into a long pony-tail and tying a white handkerchief over the top of her head, Telma carefully dipped her finger into the scented oil and dabbed it onto the back of her neck and at the points of her shoulders. "What are you doing back there honey?" he called, catching the unfamiliar smell. "Just wait a moment papa," she answered, "I'll fix you something better than bread tonight and we can celebrate the loss of our jackass!" Her father chuckled a bit, and Telma smiled – she had managed to lift his spirits just a little.
When she drew back the curtain and stepped out, Gormund gave her that same, awe-struck look he had given when she had the green dress made for Lord Aryn's wedding. What really startled him though, was that she had wrapped her mother's string of beads around her hair and draped one strand over her right shoulder. "I… thought you'd never wear those." He muttered. She squirmed uncomfortably inside – it was true, she hated the beads as they reminded her of her mother, but she never could bring herself to throw them away. "Well… I…" she stammered, "I don't have any jewelry so… we're celebrating and all."
He slowly rose out of his chair – with a small wince of pain – and stepped over to her. Gently waving her down to him, he kissed her cheek and looked into her eyes. "My mighty, beautiful daughter. What would I ever do without you?" he whispered. She quickly kissed his balding head and answered, "Probably starve! Now come on! We're not being sappy! We're celebrating!"
As evening faded into the early night, the two enjoyed a small feast that Telma prepared and laughed at the bigotry and rudeness of their departed neighbor. After several more drinks, Gormund's cheeks turned pink and he began to giggle and sing freely. She was worried for him – she knew drunkenness was a dangerous thing, but he was happy and carefree, so she let him carry on.
They did not notice the growing smell of smoke and ash in the air, or the heavy cloud that now blanketed the landscape outside, until a powerful and frightening tremor rocked the ground beneath their home and a menacing, deep "BOOM" rolled up from the south.