Dawn cracked its weary head over yonder clefts, and the pale golden light sifted through long grass and reeds. The serene breeze gently hummed over the plains and whistled amongst ram shackled wood. A thatched house sat pleasantly in the glade; the land surrounding its southern side was expansive and carried on as far as the horizon. Eastwards more farmsteads cropped their heads over a wave of grass and rolling hillock. A half a dozen horses grazed not far from the buildings rear, and towards its front, ran a flurry of chickens in endless circles.
Within the abode a young girl stirred at the sound of clucking and the whistling breeze ‘till she finally awoke, the room was small and splinters of light cascaded within from the gaps between the weave of wood. Despite this the room felt closed, dark and cramped. The girl slowly moved off the bed, stretching and yawning as she crept over to one of the larger splitting’s in the wood and looked out over golden fields, her heart sang at the sight of the sunlight dripping down. Rain had been too a-plenty of late and the ground too sodden for most of the animals, not to mention the horses. The girl padded over to the other side of the room; where, on another make-shift bed, a boy slept. From here you could see he was much taller and older then the girl, his hair was a fair shade of russet. He looked unclean and his appearance showed that perhaps, as young boys often do, he spent far too much time brawling with lads of the nearby hamlet – for his nose was obviously broken and misshaped.
The young girl gently shook him by his shoulder, her pale straw-coloured hair brushing his face in what soon became a tickling manner. Stirring in his sleep, he sent a wayward arm upwards, an attempt at batting the waves of hair away and the hand that continued to rock him back and forth.
“Brother! Brother!...”
“Hmph... leave me alone...”
“Wake up... the sun is out, come brother!”
“Mehh... give me... just... a... moment, aye?”
The girl subsided her pestering in defeat and opened the door to the room, upon the other side was a much larger space, the walls were stronger clad with croppings of stone. A hearth, usually always lit and crackling, slow-cooking something in a large pot remained quelled. A table was set in front of it with two chairs and two stools around it; it was fully set in place ready for a meal, but with no sign of food. In fact, the whole room felt empty and abandoned.
“Mama? Papa?”
There was no returning call, or sight of them. The girl made her way through the main room and creaked open the entrance to the home. Greeted by the warm breeze, it whisked its way through the house stirring the sleeping boy ever more. The girl looked over each horizon, to the smoke emitting from the chimneys yonder to a rocky out-cropping before finally where the horses grazed. There was nothing else.
“What is the matter Gleorwyn...?”
The boy had edged his way to the door, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes as he looked toward her.
“I cannot find Mama... "
At this being mentioned the boy suddenly noticed the stillness of the house. He hurried through and began searching every nook and cranny before sprinting into the fields. Gleorwyn watched as her brother swiftly disappeared amongst waist high reeds and grasses as she sat on a stool outside. Her legs dangled back and forth as she waited, silently. Clouds began growing in the sky, partially covering the sun on occasion, casting running shadows over swaying pastures. The boy had trudged back to the homestead, entirely breathless. Doubled over, his hands clasped his knees, back arched as he swiftly took in the air whilst his head shook from side to side.
“N-... nothing... l-live--- stock’s still round, here-about.”
Gleorwyn squinted and bit her lower lip as her legs still swung to and fro.
“Do you think you’ll be alright here? Alone, sister? While I head to the village...?”
She nodded, but remained silent. The boy tallied up whether she had spoken the truth before giving a swift nod of his head as he rested a hand on the girl’s small shoulder.
“I... will be as fast as I can. Stay inside, in the bedroom. Don’t play with anything in the kitchen, aye?”
“Aye...”
The boy strode into the house again before returning with a hunk of bread.
“Go on, get inside. I’ll be as fast as I can.”
Gleorwyn slowly and reluctantly went inside, idly leaning on the frame of the door again as she rocked around the closure watching as her brother departed toward the nearest village. By the time he had walked beyond the horizon, Gleorwyn had made her way back into the room they shared, closing the door behind her and returning to sit cross-legged on the bed.
Slowly she ran her fair hair through her fingers, like a comb; pulling at knots that had set themselves in her sleep. The length of her hair reached the bed and its natural wave caused it to be unruly at times. After tending to this and now satisfied she began braiding and plaiting it; from memory she tried to emulate the most intricate of weaving that her mother would do to her own fair hair. At length she sat and worked at it until she became over-wrought with tiredness, three quarters of her way through the braid she fell into a restless slumber. She stirred; being rocked gently back and forth, her eyes flickered open. The room was now cascaded with the flicker of candle light and what appeared outside was darkness. She looked upward to find her brother bent over.
“Wake up... we’ve got supper.”
Gleorwyn sat up, her braid now tattered and hanging limp. She shuffled to the next room to find a bowl of broth on the table. The house was still quiet and only her brother sat tending to his own food. Clambering up onto the seat she took up a wooden spoon and blew on the broth. After several spoonfuls her brother sat back and looked across the table, his wrists resting against it.
“I found them. Ma’s suddenly not well you see. No need for worry though, aye? Da’ will be back later.”
Gleorwyn simply continued eating her broth, consumed by thought and the silence resonated throughout the evening whilst they waited their fathers return. Once more sleep over took her and them both and so their father, Glædwine, returned to a quiet home thick with un-asked questions.
((note: - the continuation of 'Recollection and Reminisce' is purposefully fragmented, and not linear))
