“Welcome, welcome!” Booming voice echos a greeting from the far corner tree. There, a big burly man walks around the bar, sets a towel on his shoulder as he greets us jovially. I just raise an eyebrow at this rugged fellow coming closer with his shaggy beard and arms wide open. He stands a full head taller than I, and I’m not a short individual by far. “What brings you, travelers, here to these parts of the valley?”
“We actually ran into Zori on our way down from Central Station's mountain path and he recommended we come and stay the night here before moving on.” Ms. Atoa says meekly before the larger man, whose pride shines through his wide smile and as he looks down at the girl with a knowing expression.
“Any friend of Zori is more than welcome to stay under our canopy.” The man none too gently claps a heavy hand on my shoulder, practically knocking me off balance. I did not bother hiding my annoyed glance back at the innkeeper, nor did it deter his jovial spirit. “Luckily, we have ample room for you and your family to each enjoy your own room for the night or however long you wish to remain here.”
I start to refute his statement about the two of us - honestly, why are people’s observation skills lacking - when Ms. Atoa interjects before I can even open my mouth, “Oh, that’s too kind of you!” A little too sweetly for her own good, in my opinion. “I’m sure the old man would appreciate some alone time.' she punctuates her statement with a nudge on my arm and I just keep my expression neutral. 'My 'exuberance ' as he would say, and my constant energy must tire him out. We appreciate the offer." She then proceeds to bow as she learned in the caverns and turns towards me with a pointed expression on her face. I sigh and return the gesture in thanks to our host and he mirrors us as is customary with introductions and exchanges.
“Don’t you worry, young lady. I’ll make sure he has our most peaceful and quiet bows despite all the clamor that will be happening this evening. We are still observing festivities for the weekend here in the village center if you are interested in joining us. The music and dancing will be in full swing once shadows reaches are far and the sun reaches the horizon. If you don’t have a beau, I’ve got two other sons about your age and this village has many strapping young men that would be more than obliged to introduce you to our festivities this weekend.”
If I did not know any better, I would say that is a proposition, if not a marriage proposal, if I ever heard one.
“You hear that, pops?” Ms. Atoa also claps me on the back and raises her voice as she addresses me. If I did not have a scowl on my face before, I can feel one deepening the lines of my brows with her loud voice ringing in my ears. “I’ll stay up and have some fun so you can go on and rest your tired ol' bones. Don't want your knees to give out once the cold sets in after sunset.” Now I can not repress my seething stare at the girl.
How dare she!
“Ha! Well, my good sir! I will take you to your quarters when you're ready, but first, allow me to serve you up some of the finest ale on this side of Gaea while the young lady makes herself at home.” The inn keep puts his arms around my shoulder and I could only look at his arm in shock and sneer at what transpired and reluctantly follow him to the bar. "Just take those stairs up to the top and you'll see an open room waiting for you."
Ms. Atoa is directed to the room while I sat and hear our host, now bartender, go on and on about his quaint villages festival as he clanked behind the bar. Shortly after, the girl emerges with a new spring to her step and a lot more relaxed. She comes and sits at the bar bench on my left side and nudges me with her elbow after a I didn’t so much as look at her when she arrives.
“Hey.” She starts. “Will it be okay if I take a look around to check this place out?”
“Of course.”
“I can stay back if you need anything.”
“Irah, woman, just go!” The shock on her face morphs nonchalance as she shrugs and walks through the large wooden doors.
Shortly after she leaves, the inn keep returns from the back and brings a bottle of wine to uncork in front of me.
“Your suite has been prepared for you, Lord Fahrgren.”
“That will not be necessar-” but I pause as I look at the man suspiciously but he doesn’t seem to realize he’s under my scrutiny. “I beg your pardon but come again.”
More of that girl's vernacular.
Not looking up once from wiping the glass and then pouring with a slight turn of the bottle to prevent spills, he discretely says as though talking the full glass of wine, “All is taken care of as per our prior agreement, sir.” Our host glances at me to make sure that I catch his eye. He hands me a glass and nods before turning around and goes back to the kitchen. I sit there contemplating what the man means with his comment and how he knows me. Slowly sipping my wine, I swirl the red liquid in its vessel and listen as the festivities seem to be starting.
The sun must have set finally. Now, there are lots of shouting, noise as well as music picking up outside the tree-dwelling. I continue to drink in my solitude with muted glee the only other sound within the inn as everyone congregates outside to partake in festivities. I don’t know how long I am sitting at the bar but I finish off the bottle of wine and sit there thinking about how it is I know more about this place than we I am currently dwelling with Ms. Atoa these past few months. What is my connection, not just to Lizitsa, but to this particular man here in the middle of nowhere? My movements are slow and overtly deliberate, but I get up nonetheless and find that I want to stop thinking about things that are making my head spin.
I pull the heavy clay doors open - how does the girl do it? - and lean heavily against its solid weight once the overwhelming sound of the music assault my senses all at once. I take a few moments to catch myself from with the rush of blood to my head, not sure if it's the drink or the cacophony that is making me sway. Collecting myself, I look around outside stepping away from the door and my breath, and see all the trees glowing iridescent beneath the beams of the moon.
The multicolored trees lining the main path lead me to a central part of the village. It would be safe to assume that is the direction I want to be heading. Once I feel stable standing still, I take a few deep breaths and trudge to the village center where most of the festivities seem to be stemming from. I don’t know how many rest stops and breathers I take as I make my way but when I finally get there, my head actually starts to clear up.
The music is raucously loud, reverberating through my body like a heartbeat and the crowd is cheering and clapping, youth and adults alike, partaking in a large dancing circle. Some are undulating by themselves while others within the circle are forming chains and pairs or groups of three or fours moving as one to a known choreography. I find an empty spot at a table just outside the center when most are gathering and watch quietly as people twirl and weave in and out of one another.
The villagers are dressed for the festivities at hand in bright colors and flowing attire resembling different flowers, plants, leaves with their flowy sleeves of neutral tones and bright colors for pants and skirts with accents of frill and tulle and other delicate materials. No two piece looks alike and though the villagers have an overall relaxed attitude out life, their festive wear seems to be something they take a lot of pride in just based on the individuality and creativity for each ensemble. As people stopped by me, I could see the minute details in their needlework - which I assume is all their own - and even had a charming young lady come up and explain her outfit resembling the Okina flower in these parts and its growth cycle depicted all along he dress.
I am content to sit here and watch as everyone dances. My headache drains my energy but something catches my eye as the crowd cheer and hoot aloud. A familiar tune echoes off the clay buildings, amplified by the valley itself until people start to fall into place and sing along. Everyone lines up and dances in pairs for this song, exchanging partners and moving in unison in an almost hypnotic way. I feel a lull take over as I observe everyone bow, swing, sway, turn, and switch partners, weaving between every other person. The joy and the gaiety seem to resonate within something deep within me as I am watching with unseeing eyes. Suddenly, all the motion becomes a blur as I’m not seeing this particular festival before me, but one that seems so long ago.
I am younger and clapping, stepping towards and away from my partner, a very beautiful girl around my age, looking at me with those bewitching light blue, almost silver eyes. Her silvery hair ringed by a halo of flowers and her light complexion shining radiantly in stark contrast to her deep celadon dress that flows magnificently with her very precise movements. This mystery girl is the epitome of grace and culture as she falls into steps with the music and I can not help but watch captivated by her presence. She reaches out for my hand and I grab a hold of it while she pulls me to her. We gravitate to the circle with many others laughing and singing along with the music gayly, paying no heed to those around us. As we twirl and swing around with eyes for only each other, it felt like nothing could stop us in our centrifugal force. Her voice is soft to my ears ambient music, creating the atmosphere and mood around us and when she laughs, it rings like small bells that draw your attention to the bright source. When she looks at me, my hands and face warm up and I cannot help but smile back at her.
I blink for a second and the scene changes and there is another party such as this but the mood is somehow off. The environment feels a lot more sterile and I am outside the festivities in the center, doing the motions of the same dance far from the dance circle. I am with the same gorgeous woman, no longer a girl. Her once mischievous gleam full of enjoyment and genuine love of the festivities are replaced with an aloof expression as she looks down on everyone within the center with a slight smile for onlookers; her eyes do not meet mine as we dance to the same song we did so many years ago. I look down the line of dancers and everyone in that circle is mature now but the joy that we once shared in our youth has diminished. All that is left of those spirited beings are these stoic, boring husks masquerading as guests partaking in dancing, not for the enjoyment of the act, but for its perfunctory socialization. Lost is the excitement of being in a social setting and enjoying the company of those around you. My own mind wanders to those better times filled with exuberance and innocence when a sudden peel of laughter breaks me from my spell of a time forgotten and my eyes search for its source.
I glance at my partner, the woman who used to laugh with such abandon as I heard just a moment ago and her own expression is marred with a sharp scowl. Once again, the delightful echoes of laughter drift through the room cutting through all the useless mundane chatter and dull music. I turn discretely to find that the source is coming from the opposite side of the festivities though I cannot see who it is. Everyone is switching partners and weaving in and out of the rings of dancers when I catch a glimpse of a fiery red dress. There, shimmery, flowing material surrounding her petite form as she turns and sidesteps other dancers, her darker complexion making her stand out more than the rest of the guests while flashing her bright smile, her best accessory, for all to see. The young woman takes a hold of her partner's hand and when they switch places, I am looking at my younger self again! The jolt of seeing my younger self in the same room is so jarring that I am suddenly transported back to the festivities here at Lizitsa and once again overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of this evening.
I shake my head in denial of what I saw in that vision, not sure if that is a past memory or a broken man's skewed version of reality. A familiar laugh catches my attention and my sight is brought once again towards the middle of the village. There, heads are bobbing up and down from my vantage point but a particular woman’s hair garland of fluorescent bright green leaves and iridescent flowers of pinks and blues bounce up and down as she dances around and under people’s arms. Not at all satisfied with my seat, I stand up peering over most people's heads, and see the source of the laugher is indeed the woman with the lovely glowing tree garland.
I recognize her as she backs up against the line behind her and starts to follow others dancing down the lanes of dancers.
It is none other than Ms. Atoa.
Comments (0)
See all