Chapter Two: The letters

Soliel climbed down the grassy pathway to her small tavern home. As she did she noticed the light from the wall laterns will still spilling out of the windows. It was odd for Chadwick to work late...actually, it was odd for Chadwick to work at all. Sometimes she questioned why she even kept him hired on as barman, but as she thought this her mouth quirked into a humoured grin.  She kept him for the simple reason that he was Chadwick, the bumbling youth that had chased after all through their teen years, the one Bronte would stand up and fight for if he was teased or picked on. Perhaps  he was waiting up to see her. He had still not lost his interest in her.

As she stepped into the warmly lite interior she was surprised to see, not Chadwick, but a young youth sitting at a table. With the way he was dressed, he was obviously from  some high standing background.

"Hello," Soliel greeted, "Has your master sent you to fetch something?"

Brad stumbled out of his chair, tripping as he did so and sending it clattering to the ground. "I - I'm sorry," he righted the chair and then came up to the Bard. He tried to gather himself together; this was, afterall his first royal business that Lord Bronte had entrusted to him.

"What is  it lad?" Soliel asked. His face was flushed and he was obviously nervous.

"I come on behalf of Lord Bronte," Brad said, trying to sound regal and serious, "On official business."

"Yes, what is it? Is he all right?"

"He, yes - here-" He gave up on trying to sound regal and thrust out his hand, "It is a letter Bronte asked me to give to you."

Soliel raised an eyebrow at the servant using such an informal way of addressing A Lord. It was very unusual. "Bronte?" Soliel questioned.

Brad looked confused and then understood what she  was implying, "I mean Lord Bronte! Lord! He - he told me to  - he told me to just call him Bronte, I wasn't meaing disprespect"

"It's  okay," Soliel  laughed "It's fine. In fact, it's good. It's sounds like the Bronte I remember." And it did sound like the Bronte she remembered, the one who never could stand pompous high sounding royal traditions and decrees. "Tell Bronte you delievered the messsage," She said to the  young servant, "And you did so with the right amount of regal dignity."

"Yes, thakyou - you - you are as beautiful as he said you were!" He blushed and dashed out the door. Soliel smiled after him. Once again, the Alroan  home was taking in an unbred waif, like Bronte's father had taken in her mother and her before. So a letter from Bronte.

She sat down, ripped up the official seal and unfolded the parchment

"My dearest Soliel,"

it read,

"I write to apologize for my reaction to your celebration. I beg forgivness. It has been difficult to adjust to normal life again. On the battlefield, the things I saw, the things I did...they all still haunt me, day and night. The castle too has changed so much. Old lady Anore' is no longer advisor. In her place is some foreign lady with a name I keep forgetting. It is Aldercy, or Alercy, or something strange like that. And then your mother being gone as well...I am sorry for your lose my dear Soliel. I wish so much that I could have been there to mourn with you. A child, Brad has been hired in your mother's stead. He is a likeable young lad, and I approve of him. He too has much to adjust to in this new life of his. The only thing that seems unchanged in the kingdom is old Taran. He may have a few streaks of gray but he is as ill tempered and bossy as I remember, and as I am sure you do also with how often we were at the wrong end of his strap. I miss those times Soliel, when life was fun and the concept  of war unknown. Now I have much responsibility. I want to see you....but I am afraid to let you see me the way I am; tired, cynical, short tempered. Forgive me if I am not the friend you  remember..."

Soliel  slowly put the letter down. You are still the friend I remember, she thought, it is just buried under wounds and scars. She stood up and left the tavern, walking the quiet trail to the forrest to think about what he had written, and what she could do. Finally she stopped and took out her paper and quill to reply to the new Lord.

"Bronte,"

She started,

"First, you will never hear me calling you 'Lord Bronte'. You will always be simply Bronte to me, the one who rescued me from that tree I tried to climb, and then broke your own arm when *you* fell. And yes I remember the straps we got from Taran for *that* stunt. I write to request you to visit me at my Tavern. You need to get out of the castle, away from abassadors, dignitaries, audience requets, and whateveter else it is you must do as king. Come, dance, drink, sing  - you have come home alive so *be* alive!"

She dropped  into the post at town square and continued home....


After a week had gone by with no reply Soliel began to lose heart that Bronte had even recieved the letter. It had probablly been  intercepted by that new advisor. It was doubtful he was allowed to even open his own mail. Then one evening, while she was performing, the door to the tavern opened....