Her mother stood in the doorway of her room. She was a beautiful woman. Her skin was honey-colored. Her hair, once dark brown but now greying, was braided around her head, like a crown. Her dress was simple, but its heavy fabric was deep dark green. Her amber eyes were fierce as always. "I wish to speak to you."
Glaenis was startled by her words. "Yes, mother." She said, with a slight frown. It was unusual, this kind of invasion, and it never meant something pleasant.
She was lying on her bed, a book opened in front of her. Her short hair had the same dark brown of her mother's in youth. She had olive skin, but her eyes were more green than amber. She was taller than her mother, although of average height. Under her left eye, a scar drew a line on her cheekbone.
Her mother walked in her direction, light steps that made almost no sound. Glaenis closed the book she had been reading and sat up straight on the bed, her back touching the wood-carved headboard.
The woman sat, facing her daughter, her hands resting over her lap. "It is about this endeavor of yours, to travel south."
Glaenis observed her warily as she spoke.
"I worry about you, my daughter. You have a comfortable life here." The woman leaned in her daughter's direction and held her hands. "What will you do outside the vale, where anything could happen to you?"
The question was not meant to be answered and Glaenis knew it. It was an ambush. She broke her hands loose and curled her arms around her knees.
Her mother seemed offended by that. She took a deep breath. "First I lost your father, then your brothers left, but must I also lose you?"
"I wonder" Glaenis slowly said, after gathering some courage. "If you had this same talk with Goenir, before he enlisted in the army." She could not hide the bit of anger she felt about that. Her own brother, in a uniform.
Her mother shook her head dismissively. "Your younger brother will not listen to me." She quietly answered. "But you could."
She glared at the closed book. "It is praiseworthy that you dedicate yourself to music, of course it is, but you are not your father, Glaenis."
Silence filled the room. There was no way out of that talk. Again and again she was chased and caught. A mouse crushed between the claws of an eagle.
"Be the mistress of your own house. Play to your friends and family in your gatherings, teach your own children... It might not be too late for you yet." She brushed her daughter's hair out of her her face. "You know, my daughter, at your age I was married to your father and nursing my second child: You." She softly spoke.
"How do you expect me to answer that, mother?" She was so tired of that.
The older woman sighed, looking intently into her daughter's eyes, her smile fading.
"Why are you like this, I wonder? So bitter.."
Glaenis sustained her stare. "I do not know what you mean."
Her mother spoke to almost to herself, as if she did not hear what Glaenis just said.
"Maybe it was my mistake. You see, I should not have allowed you to be with your brothers all the time, running around, climbing roofs and such, but your father.. he saw no problem in that… and now!" She reached for her daughter's chin and slightly lifted it, tilting her head to the side to bring her to the light. Slowly, she ran her thumb along the pink scar over the younger woman's cheekbone.
"You ruined your face, my doll." She murmured, with a sorrowful look. "You would have been so beautiful. I should have stopped you before that."
Glaenis bit her lip, holding the other woman's wrist and moving it away from her face.
"You hurt me with your words, mother."
"I am sorry." She did not seem sorry. She never did.
Silence filled the room.
"You say I am not my father. Very well. But I am not you either."
Her mother gave her a sharp look, but softened her words. Again her hands were on her daughter's face, caressing her cheeks.
"I say these words for your own good, my child. I do not want you lost or hurt. You have no need for that, you have a family. Wandering away with a head full of tales.. what good could this bring you, Glaenis?"
"Tell me, mother, why is it that you make me sound ungrateful for pursuing what matters most to me?"
The dream dissolved itself without an answer.
