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Fantasy Coming of Age Fiction

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Content warning: Physical violence, not graphic


The metal pitcher trembles as I clutch the handle. Ripples spread on the surface of the yellow-green-hued wine inside. I want to close my eyes, but I must not, for one of the beloved might call for my service at any moment.Β 


The guestβ€”I do not even know his name, only that he is the son of the brother of the lord of the houseβ€”is standing over Odod, kicking him. The dull sound of the young man’s foot striking Odod pounds in my ears like my heartbeat.Β I flinch with every thud, but I do not dare to move from my place.


Odod was serving the meat, but did not move quickly enough for the guest’s pleasure. The young man shouted at Odod to move faster, and Odod was so startled that he dropped a piece into the guest’s lap. His hands have grown feeble; that is why I serve the wine now, not him.Β 


The guest stood and grappled with Odod and threw him to the floor and began to kick him. All the old man can do is try to shield his face and head with his arms.Β 


Finally, the lord of the house tells his brother’s son to let the old fortunate one be, and the young man sits down again. Still I must stand silently at attention and wait to be given an order.Β 


β€œWine!” the guest says loudly.Β 


I need to step over poor Odod as I hurry to the guest's seat. He cannot be many years older than me. The scent of the wine, stirred up by my movement, wafts into my nose. The yellow-green stream rings quietly as it meets the silver metal of the cup.Β 


Task finished, I step back and crouch and extend a hand all in one motion. Odod struggles to help himself rise as I pull on his arm.Β Odod’s weight is an awkward burden to lift with only one hand, so I quickly set down the pitcher of wine.Β 


The clunk as it collides with the floor draws the attention of the beloved at table. The lord of the house frowns at me. β€œAttend to your own work, and leave him to his,” he orders.Β 


Odod squeezes my hand before letting go of his own accord. I pick up my pitcher and stand again, obedient as any other fortunate one, but with a storm of distress roiling inside me as I watch the old man crawling on the floor. He collects the dish and the pieces of roasted meat that fell everywhere when he was thrown down, and then tries to stand.Β 


He can’t seem to get up any farther than his hands and knees. He looks at the chairs set around the table, but we both know he cannot go near the beloved like this. They would drive him off, or call someone else to remove him forcibly.Β 


I scuff my foot on the floor as loudly as I dare. Perhaps if Odod comes to me where I stand, instead of me trying to go to him, they might allow me to help him up.Β 


He hears, and looks, and starts towards me. I will simply need to keep the pitcher in hand and avoid spilling it. His progress is painfully slow, but when he reaches me, I reach down and try to heave him up. He wheezes and shakes, but finally we have Odod on his feet again.Β 


I am afraid to let go of him. I think he will fall if I do. I plead inside that I will be sent from the room now, and can carry him with me.Β 


Odod’s old hands, covered in wrinkles and bulging veins, catch my attention. He has served the beloved of this house since he was old enough to walk, and now he has trouble with even that simple motion. I stand young and strong, and refrain from coming to his aid. Yet this is the way things are. The fortunate ones serve their beloved, until death takes them. That is how it is in the privileged houses of Sibbol. We are fortunate to live with them and serve them as we do, else we might be poor and homeless. All I need to do is stand ready to do whatever is the will of the beloved ones in the house. I need never leave it.Β 


β€œWine,” someone calls.Β 


I need to let go of Odod.Β 


I should not.Β 


I have been called for.Β 


Odod lets go of me and falls to the floor again. One of the beloved sees, and calls out for someone to come and remove him, and he is half dragged from the room.Β 


Little Leodo comes in, holding a tray of fruit. He is younger than anyone at the table, and he must serve them.Β 


Why?


I do not see Odod for the rest of the meal. When I find him after the beloved have gone to bed, he is lying on his bed on the floor. He is awake. I sit beside him. β€œOdod?” 


β€œMy child.” He reaches out and takes my hand. I hold it tightly.Β 


β€œAre you hurt?”


β€œYes,” he replies softly.Β 


β€œTerribly?”


β€œI believe so.” 


I bow my head and squeeze Odod’s hand.


He squeezes back. β€œDeath comes to all.” 


β€œI know, but…” I lower my voice. β€œI think it is wrong that it may come like this.”


Odod looks around sharply, then reaches up and touches my face, turning me so I look at him. β€œYou truly believe that?” 


β€œBelieve what?”


β€œThat something is wrong.” 


I contemplate this for a moment, thinking over what I have seen all my life, and what I have seen tonight. This is the first time I have seen such violence done to a fortunate one by the beloved. I had heard of it, but I doubted. Now I believe. I nod to Odod. β€œSomething is wrong,” I whisper.


β€œDo not tell me any more,” Odod says,


In my surprise I begin to speak. β€œBut—”


β€œOnly listen,” he continues softly. I silence myself.


β€œIf you act after this, think it over carefully, but not so as to dissuade yourself. Think your actions over carefully so that they may be planned with care.” 


His voice is so quiet I must lean close and strain to hear it. I hold my breath as Odod speaks further.Β 


β€œIf you believe something is wrong, do what you think is right.”


β€œIt is wrong for you to stay here,” I whisper.


β€œI am too broken to leave even if I was ordered to, but others are not,” he whispers back.Β 


I think of sweet, gentle little Leodo, who loves Odod and has spent nearly as much time with the old man as I have.Β 


β€œSome of us may love them,” I breathe, β€œbut we are not fortunate. Why have I never thought this before?”


β€œIt takes strength and bravery to truly think,” Odod murmurs. β€œBe strong. Be brave. Not for yourself only, but for others. Even if you die, someone else may live.” Odod takes his hand from my face.


I rise in the darkness and move through it. I must find Leodo.Β 

July 27, 2024 03:49

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Thank you for reading. Critiques, feedback, and comments are greatly appreciated. This story is set in the same world as my stories "Unfortunate One", "Hiareth", and "Things Used to Be One Way, but Now They Are Another"

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