The Listeners
The lone traveler slid from his horse, saddle sore and weary. He stared at the inn door with anticipation, nearly drooling at the thought of real food, and rest. He was sick of riding, sick of the dust that coated him head to toe, kicked up by his mount, and most of all, sick of trail rations. He longed for a steak, with potatoes and a mug of ale on the side, a bath, and a soft bed. He shook his sandy hair, freeing dry particles of earth, which swiftly floated downward.
"Talion!" The traveler turned.
The source of the call was an older man, his dark hair peppered with grey. His face was hardened and worn, but his eyes glowed with warmth. Dressed in warrior's garb of thick leather, with a sword hanging at his waist, he stood outside the entrance to the stable.
"Dalin? Gods man, you look old!" Talion said cheerfully, grasping the man's hand tightly in greeting.
Dalin chuckled, "It's the grandchildren. Little fellows could drive anyone grey. It's been a long time Talion," his face turned grave, "Can I buy you dinner?"
Talion nodded, patting his steed on the shoulder, "Just let me stable this old beast, and I'll be right in."
Dalin bowed his head in acknowledgment, and went inside the inn.
“Whatever could it be that would turn him so serious?" Talion wondered as he stepped inside the wooden building. The inn was small, compared to many he'd seen on the road, but the town was far from a popular place. It was far from anywhere one would want to visit, and wasn't very scenic. It had beds though, and a kitchen. The place earned its money mostly feeding the locals, and loading them up on alcohol. Tables were scattered within the common room, with no apparent order. It was in a back corner booth that Dalin sat waiting.
Talion approached the table with a wide grin, pinching one of the waitresses on his way. He tried to act as if it was just a meeting of friends, and not something important, as the impression Dalin gave hinted. He ordered what he had desired, with corn as well. He took a seat across from Dalin.
"You made a promise Talion." The grin left the traveler's face, and he looked down at the plate that had been shoved before him. "Talion, you gave your word."
His face flushed with anger as he glanced up, "You think I don't know that? I'm just trying to put the past behind me. My parting was not on good terms."
Dalin sighed, "They're your family Talion, whether you like it or not, you gave your word. And now it's too late . . ."
"Too late? They haven't . . ." he trailed off. Dalin nodded, and he paled. "I- ... How?"
Dalin took a swig of his ale, and sighed again. "Brigands. Your father wasn't home, but he snapped when he saw the bodies . . . He jumped from the roof soon after."
Tears began to leak from the traveler's eyes. He felt nothing for his father's death, but his mother, his sister . . .
"Some say they've seen the ghost of your father in the place, guarding their last resting place," Dalin provided.
Talion nodded, absentmindedly. He pushed the food away, "I- I think I'd like to be alone if you don't mind."
Dalin placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You'll be alright lad." He rose, looked back regretfully, feeling as if he'd handled it wrong, and left.
Talion stared into his cup, holding his head between his hands. He could taste the salt of softly falling tears as he licked his lips, moistening them. "Gods . . ." He sat there in silence, simply staring into space, his food steadily cooling.
"It's nearly midnight, you gonna sit there forever?"
The waitress' voice jolted him from his thoughts, and he knocked the mug over in his surprise. "S- Sorry," he said as he got up, walking unsteadily outside, hoping the fresh air would stir him from his melancholy. He stumbled into the stable, saddled his horse, and rode out into the moonlight.
He rode desperately away, away from the town, away from his thoughts, away from his haunted reality. If only . . . he thought, slipping into worthless might-have-beens. He galloped blindly through the trees that rose up before him, barely noticing when the sound of hooves hitting dirt turned to that of iron on stone. He had no clue where he was headed, but he soon found out.
The horse reared to a stop as Talion drew back on the reins sharply. With a sharp intake of breath, he dismounted, tying the stallion's lead to a tree without taking his eyes of the structure ahead. The horse seemed pleased to be there, unlike its rider, and munched on the dark turf of the forest's ferny floor.
"Is there anybody there?" he called as he knocked on the moonlit door, jumping involuntarily as a bird flew up out of the turret. He worked up his courage, and stuck the door again with his fist. "Is there anybody there?" He stood, looking up at the leaf-fringed sill, but no head leaned over and looked into his grey eyes. He stood, quiet and still, listening to the restless silence inside. He could feel the strangeness of the place.
He suddenly struck the door for a third time, even louder, and lifted his head. "Tell them I came, and no one answered. Tell them that I kept my word!" Still nothing came from the lone house, no sound, no motion, no appearance of his father's ghost. Angrily, he swung back onto his horse, and galloped off. He'd kept his word to his mother and sister, his promise to return, but alas, it was too late.
Chapter 31 The Grapes of Wrath