Chapter 4: The Visit
It was not long before Gin arrived at the South Algon, or so it seemed to him. More of the Nod's "hiking songs" passed the time easily.
Gin's cousin lived in a large, dead pine tree. That was how they were chosen. Rather than kill a live tree, Nods found one that was already dead, reinfored the roots, hollowed it out, coated the inside so that the Nods could have a small furnace during the wintertime, as well as for cooking, and the tree would then be successfully converted into a Nod's perfect home. Each Nod home had at least a lower level for leisure, and an upper level at the top with a door, usually hidden from the outside. The levels in between were usually a kitchen (at the top, because of the small chimney), bedrooms, and other miscellaneous needs of a Nod. A family with a taller tree had, as a result, more rooms, and was considered very well-off. Gin's cousin was therefore considered well-off in her area of the Algonian Nod community.
Gin did not have to look long for the right tree. He had grown up there; his cousin had merely inherited it. Boldly, he approached the tree and knocked loudly. Without waiting for an answer, he climbed upwards, knocking boyishly on the trunk every few seconds. He had almost reached the door when it burst open and he found a spear in his face.
"Speak now, villain! What is your business!" demanded an uncomprimising voice. "Or I will slay you before you take another breath."
Gin laughed heartily. "Can't take a joke, Riranin? What's with all this slayin' talk?"
The Nod blinked at the laughing intruder whose nose was being tickled with a spearpoint. "Ginothroph? Ginothroph, you jackdaddy, aren't you a bit too old for childish pranks like this?" Rira glared.
"When I'm too old t'have fun, I'll be gathered to my fathers," Gin grinned. The two stared at each other in an apparent stand-off, unblinking. After a pause they both burst out laughing as if it had been a big game. Rira helped Gin up, and he embraced his cousin like they hadn't seen each other for years. Which, they hadn't.
"What have you been doing all these years, Gin?" Rira asked as she resumed preparing for supper, adding an extra spot for her cousin.
"Oh, this, that. Makin' a livin' selling food durin' th' winter. A bachelor don't eat much anyways, an' it pays well if you've gathered enough. Plus, you get most the year off. How's little Gray?"
Rira nodded. "Graythin has sprouted like a weed since you were last here. He's growing up very quickly. Almost too quickly. Oranthen and I have a hard time keeping that boy on a leash. He'll be happy to see you, though. You know, he's turning out to be exactly like you, cousin."
"Is that good or bad?" Gin asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Exactly," said Rira.
----
Supper was fine. Graythim and Oranthen had come with quite a catch, a buck that far outweighed young Gray; he had brought it down himself, from over 100 yards. Gray was the hero of the evening, which was a double occasion with the unexpected visit from Uncle Gin.
Afterwards the extended family sat in the cooled lower level, talking about old times and new events. The Thoms of South Algon were still basically invisible to the local kingdom of Men, Aeron. When it was necessary to go into a town of Men for the purpose of trade, it was more than easy to blend in as a Man unnoticed. However, the Lehrs were growing less content with the lowlands, and more content with random bloodshed. This concerned Oranthen, who was on the Thom council of elders. The South Lehrs, especially, were getting uncomfortably close. It was also feared that they might be making themselves known to Aeron, raiding and ambushing royal army battalions.
As Gray grew restless, Gin turned to him. "Gray, why don't ye show me how much yore mother's taught you on that lume o' yours?" Gray smiled and went upstairs, returning with a two-stringed instrument resembling the lyre of Men; it was actually a forerunner. Gin had given this one to Gray as a birthday gift when he was old enough to learn.
"What would you like me to play, Uncle?" Gray asked.
"How about, Yellow Leaf?" Gin requested.
"I don't know that one," blushed Gray.
"Bubbling River?"
"I'm afraid I don't know that one either."
"Bryr's Jig?"
"I'm still working on it."
"Well my stars, boy, what do ye know?"
Gray shrugged.
"Oh," said Rira, "he knows plenty of songs. Why don't you play the Air of Beshe for Uncle Gin?"
Gray shrugged again and began. He had only gotten a short way into it when he stopped and said, "I don't know the words, Uncle Gin."
Gin laughed. "Ah, that's alright, sonny. Jes' play and yore ma an' I'll sing it." And that's what they did. The song went something like this:
"Where are you going, boy,
Where have you gone?
I've been a-waitin', boy,
Six years long.
When are you coming, boy,
I want to know;
Why did you leave me, boy,
Why did you go?
Where are you going, boy,
Why do you roam?
I've been a-waitin', boy,
'Til you come home.
When are you coming, boy,
I want to know,
Father's a-dyin', boy,
Why did you go?"
As the last chord finished, Gin sighed, staring blankly into a time or place that exceeded the small room. He blinked and said, "Very nice, nephew. What else ye got?"
"Why don't you play something, Uncle?" Graythim said, handing the lume to its old owner. "Play a fast one."
"Please play a fast one," Rira corrected.
"Alright," smirked Gin. "Have it yore way, I'll play a fast one." With a thought to the instrument's original owner, Ginothroph closed his eyes to a time long gone, and began to play.
----
The sun had already set over the blue horizon when goodbyes were finally made. With a promise to his nephew to visit again soon, Gin struck out on the road home.
"First stop, Padona," he said to himself. As he reached the top of the hill which overlooked the town, Gin's eyes were met with abrupt surprise.
The burning village of Padona lit up the night. Curling flames had climbed to the top of the tallest buildings, which crumbled like melting snow. The cries of the townspeople carried up to Gin's ears. "Lehrs?" he wondered to himself. When he reached the town, things did not look any better up close. People lay in the street; babies cried; mothers wept; fire crackled.
A Man ran by; Gin reached out to stop him. "What's going on?" he asked the Man. "An attack?"
"Five Men," the Man said, gasping for air. "Five Men, all in black. Came in, killing, burning. Didn't even stop to take anything."
"Where did they go?" Gin heard himself asking.
The Man pointed eastward. "They up an' stopped, I 'eard one say to another, 'It ain't here,' he says, an' they took off that way."
Gin stared in the direction the Man had pointed. That was the direction of Algon Forest, and something was telling him he had better get there as fast as he could. First he stopped by the bean shop. "Still need coffee," he muttered. Strangely enough, only half the shop had been touched by the flames. Gin chose a good-sized sack, and after a glance around, dropped some coins on the floor. They would find it.
Outside, Gin found a horse bucking wildly, still tethered in front of the shop. When it saw the Nod it immediately calmed down, with a nervous whinney. Without a thought, Gin untied the animal, mounted, and rode out of town.