Owena sat on her bed late at night. The candles still burned about her to light the scroll she was reading over. Her blue eyes squinted to make out the old letters. The epic ballad transported Owena to a land of shield maidens, noble deeds, temptations, and war.
…O Love! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading war have pined for you all the more.
But of swords I now should sing, what shall become of me,
When I lay on a field of blood and from our promises you are free?
Owena wiped away a tear the poem had brought to her eye after reading it on repeat far into the night. As she placed the poem to the side and blew out the candle a memory came to her....
“Happy lives can make for boring stories.” Mrs. Baker told her daughter as they stood over a table full of pie crusts. They lay the lattice together on that fall day in a cheerful home. Mr. Baker stood in the corner softly strumming his hand held harp to entertain his wife and daughter as they went through familiar motions that years of practice offered. Not a talkative man but one that was fierce in his love for the women in his life. Besides, they talked enough for three of him.
“I don’t think our life is boring Ma!” Owena disputed. “I never feel bored here with you and Pa. I have all the books I could possibly want to read. Laughter, friendship, and ordinary day life is what holds the earth together. It is what gives the warriors hope to lift a weapon. It is what holds rulers on their thrones. Ordinary people may not dominate the world stage but they are very important! ”
“No dear, that is not what I meant. Of course they are important. They just don’t inspire ballads!” The stout woman winked at her daughter.
Owena stuck her tounge out at her Ma, “Well, maybe I will some day Ma! You never know!”
In the corner her Pa let loose a low chuckle.
....To the memory of his laugh Owena faded into sleep.
