Lake View Cottage (a.k.a Strange boy, Creepy girl and Crazy mother)

[Dwayberry]

On this seemingly normal day in spring, the Lake View Cottage was quiet. The owner, a pale, dark haired woman in her late twenties, left in the morning to join her assistent at the mill, which wasn't very far from the cottage. The two children who also inhabited the cottage, retreated to one of their favourite hideouts: the grain shed.
There they sat, on top of a pile of wheat grain, a four-year-old boy and his half-sibling sister, who appeared similar in age, albeit somewhat smaller. Her half shadow nature allowed her to develop faster than her mostly human older brother. It was also the girl - named Patience for the leisurely long time she spend inside her mother's womb - who was furthest ahead in terms of speech. Not only did she speak fluent Fenian Common, the language most commonplace in this part of Fenia, she also copied her mother's North Bravian nursery rhymes most accurately, and even spoke a good bit of other Secfenian languages and dialects, most of which she picked up during her mother's travels. Yes, before she was even born! An angelic, selfless being would describe the girl's inherent linguistic talents as remarkable. Most beings, however, chose to rather describe it as "creepy".

To her shadow born father, her talents were no surprise, but her mother and brother were quite startled when they first heard little Patience speak, mere seconds after she was born! The brother, named Aldwyn - which means "old friend", as mother could not pick just one good old friend to name her son after - kept a bit of distance at first. His only prior experience with babies concerned little Eva, Dahlia's daughter. And she only smiled, cried, and babbled some. However, he had quickly grown exited to see his baby sister grow up fast enough to become a more interesting companion to play with. Besides, Patience did simply not accept Aldwyn to stay away from her for too long. After all, he did best her at one linguistic skill: communicating with animals. It was something she just had to learn, and so he tried to teach her bits and pieces, while she tried, in return, to make his Fenian Common more intelligable for the adult world. But when they spoke to each other, Patience frequently adapted to Aldwyn's more toddlerish speech pattern.

For the sake of anyone who might bother to read this, however, the children's words are written down in the language adults are familiar with. ((Not only for your convenience, mind you, but also for the author's, who is not yet familiar with the typical speech pattern of an English speaking toddler. Because 1) her own toddler is still very young, 2) is growing up in a land where English is not the native language, and 3) appears to the "action rather than words"-type))

The two children sat on top of the wheat pile in silence. Not playing as one might expect. Though it is a misconception that children always play. Sometimes, serious meetings are in order. This was one of those times.
The boy, Aldwyn, let a handful of grains pass through his fingers, and was the first to speak: "Here's the thing, our mommy isn't doing very well."

Patience nodded. "She didn't seem to have this tendency to be on the brink of death before I was born. I do hope my presence is not making her suicidal."

"Oh no," Aldwyn giggled. Spending four years in the presence of his mother taught him to see the humour in remarks like these, occasionally. "I think she's just very distracted somehow. She even forgot about my birthday! Last year, she would have attacked anybody who knew me and dared to forget about my birthday. It's OK though, I forgive her, no hard feelings. I know she didn't mean to..." He looked away briefly, then met Patience' gaze again. He wasn't completely successful at hiding his disappointment.

Patience merely smiled in sympathy. She had gotten quite used to how emotional Aldwyn could be. He'd probably learn to hide it in time. Their mother was quite good at this, so she expected Aldwyn to have similar talents.

"Anyway, that's not important now. Our mommy should come back. Healthy mommy," Aldwyn tried to draw a shape in the shifting grains as he explained, "Mommy is supposed to be a little chubby. Not like just before you were born, but way before that, like before she knew you existed. She's supposed to eat at least one pie per day."

Patience licked her lips at the word "pie". Though she had quite the appetite for unusual things, much like her father, she shared a love of pie with mother. It was definitely the second best thing after fresh milk.

"She is also supposed to visit the tavern several times a week. And bring us with her on occasion. And it's been ages since she travelled. I miss Nocker's cows." Nocker was how Aldwyn referred to Nocture, his stepfather and Patience's father.

"But how do we make her enjoy all those things again?" Patience wondered. "Are you sure it's distraction that's the problem? Who gets so distracted they forget to eat? Maybe it's a health issue we overlooked. Or..." Patience's crimson eyes looked hard into Aldwyn's pale blue ones, "You don't think she fell in love with someone else than daddy?"

"What? No! Holy Zachrin, Patience!" Aldwyn shook his head vigorously "Can't you feel how desperately she loves him? The only reason she doesn't ask him to move in with us is she's afraid to get no for an answer. Her biggest fear - after one of us dying, that is - is losing him to another person."

"Mommy claims to be afraid of nothing."

Aldwyn snorted in response. "Never mention I said it, but yes, she is. That strange feeling, a bit like a mix of anger and confusion, is her fear. I'll try to show it to you some time."

So mommy lied sometimes. Of course, Patience could have known, but she hoped it was not so. Especially after she once asked mommy whether she was disappointed she wasn't more like a human baby. More helpless and growing up way more slowly. Of course, mommy told her she loved her just the way she is.
Patience shook off the feeling of disappointment, considering it unpractical, and concentrated once more on the conversation with her brother.
"We best figure out what is distracting her, then, or what else it can be. Maybe we should follow her around. Listen and talk to some creatures she interacts with. I guess you best talk to Elias, he seems to be a bit uncomfortable around me." That was quite an understatement. Mother's assistent, a shy young man who lived at the mill, was downright afraid of her.

"That's because you jumped out from the shadows to frighten him!" Aldwyn laughed "Poor Elias! What did he ever do to you? I quite like him! He always gives me cookies."

Patience giggled "Well, he wouldn't give me any, claiming babies should only drink milk for six whole months! Do I look like a baby?" She wound a strand of nearly waist length black hair around her little fingers, and smiled, exposing a complete set of teeth.

"No. You chose to miss out on the best days of childhood, really! Being carried everywhere, getting hugged and kissed all day long, everyone thinks you're the cutest thing ever..." Aldwyn winked.

"Ah no, I just chose to only pick those aspects I'm interested in. Speaking of which, I'm thirsty so I should check if mommy is available. Talk to you later, brother." She jumped down the pile of grains, lost her footing and rolled down the lower half of the pile. She giggled and shook the grains out of her hair and clothes, then disappeared in a shadow on the wall.

Aldwyn lay back on the pile and stared at the ceiling. He tried to be as matter-of-factly as he could when discussing this with Patience, but the truth was he really felt very worried about their mother. If only his father had still been around. His memories of Roger were very vague at best, but still Aldwyn had the feeling Roger would have known what to do, or would at least have been able to reassure him. He wasn't sure if Nocturne could do this for him, even though he really liked the man. Maybe he should just ask about it some time.
He heard some noises on the roof. Birds, no doubt, who had seen him enter the grain shed and hoped he'd come out with a handful of grain to feed them. Aldwyn got up and slid down the pile. He grabbed two handfuls of grain and went outside. He would ask the birds to keep an eye on his mother.

[Dwayberry]

Pigeons are the worst gossips. The old crow who frequented Lake View Cottage to receive grains and other snacks from a young human boy, knew this all too well. She did not particularly enjoy listening to pigeons, let alone speaking to them, but she had taken a liking to the boy and therefore decided to help him out. He had asked her to keep an eye on his mother, the raven haired woman who owned the property. The boy, named Aldwyn - though she usually referred to him as Boy who Speaks, for he knew her language - asked her to ask her friends to keep an eye on her as well. But old Morrigu's friends were mostly other old crows, tired of longer distance flying and keeping up with the antics of humanoids in the hope of finding scraps of food. None of them would be interested in a human female who had nothing to offer. But Morrigu knew, if she spread an interesting enough word amongst pigeons, it would stay topic of conversation for weeks, if not months. Many pigeons fly long distances, many frequently visit human dwellings, and you could always count on them to get together on a regular basis to coat a building or two in a special kind of paint. Yes, she'd stretch her wings by afternoon's end and visit Fenia City's town hall, where plenty a pigeon could be found.

"Did you hear that Colombine was nearly crushed by a cart when she was picking bread crumbs off Main street, and lost a feather?"
"I didn't hear! One feather you say?"
"Nearly two!"
"She used to be the fairest dove of all!"
"Who? Colombine?"
"What happened to her?"
"She lost two feathers, nearly three!"
"Who lost all feathers?"

And then, for the zillionth time since she settled on the roof of the town hall, the cooing turned into an unintelligible cacophony to poor old Morrigu's ears, as more and more pigeons loudly joined in on the conversation. So far, she had not attempted to get their attention, but stayed in the shadows, waiting for a better opportunity. Perhaps she should have better chosen a different, more quiet building. The population of pigeons frequenting Fenia town hall had exploded during the time the building had not housed a feline mayor.
Just as Morrigu considered what other options she had in terms of finding a decent - though not too large - group of pigeons to talk to, a particularly loud and arrogant coo quieted down most background noise.

"Make room!"
A large pigeon cock ((yes, that happens to be what the males are called)) landed in the middle of the roof, followed by four other pigeons. Their feathers were shinier, their cooing more sophisticated. Their whole demeanor dripped with arrogance. These were pigeons of the Fenian Royal Mail, in charge of sending messages from the monarchs and the royal council. They had been bred to the finest quality for many a decade.
Nuntius the Fifteenth, as the large pigeon-cock was called, left his mark in white on the rooftop, then moved a few steps and looked around. A team of royal pigeon-fanciers decided for him which females were worthy of his attention, but that didn't stop him from casting his eyes to others on occasion. Surprisingly attractive females could be found of among the common pigeons.
Though that old crow sitting to the side definitely wasn't one of them.
Nuntius XV pulled back his head in disapproval. "I see we have a guest."

It was the moment Morrigu has been waiting for, though she hadn't expected to be noticed so soon. Nothing was wrong with this pigeon's eyes, that much could be said.
"I merely came to warn you," the old crow said, "With the pigeons being so intelligent, so concerned with the humanoid creatures, I thought you'd probably want to know about this upcoming revolt."

Whatever Nuntius XV responded was completely drowned out by a mixture of loud shocked, surprised and ...well, curious, cooing. Until he yelled for silence.
"There are plans for a revolt on the Town Hall?!"

"Ah no, you dimwit. The castle! 'Tis said she plans to overthrow the king."

Nuntius XV stared into old Morrigu's eyes, about as theateningly as a pigeon can muster. "Who?"

"The raven haired woman who lives by the lake. She owns a mill, two fields and a grain shed. Her son speaks with birds."

"Blackberry!" cooed one of the Town Hall rooftop regulars, who happened to be one of mayor Duke of Earl's homing pigeons. Being brave enough to deliver mail to a cat, she was definitely brave enough to pipe in on a conversation with a Royal Mail pigeon, "I've delivered to her a few times. I know where she lives!"

"I believe, she calls herself Dwayberry," Morrigu said.

"Nevermind what she calls herself!" Nuntius XV didn't like to be interrupted. "What is true of this rumour? Who's involved?"

"I don't know who's involved, but you may find out if you keep a close eye on her, follow her movements, see who she interacts with. I only know about this woman's plans because her son told me. We often talk, and he worries for his mother."

The other pigeons' cooing increased in volume again, until Nuntius XV silenced them. "And what would you care, old crow? Since when is your kind concerned with the law and order of the humanoids?"

Morrigu cackled. "Oh I'm not! I could well live with that old king being kicked from the throne, and with his royal pigeons making a fine servants' Winterfest dinner! But I happen to like the boy, and his mother's grain shed. 'Tis a fine place to eat and rest on my old age. And what do you think would become of that grain shed when the owner's hanged, eh?" She did not wait for a response, but turned and spread her wings, ready to fly off, "Just remember, if you do come over to keep an eye on that woman, stay away from my grain shed." And off she went.

"Nuntius, our leader, how do we proceed?" asked one of the other Royal Mail pigeons as they watched Morrigu fly off. "Do we attack on sight?"

Nuntius thought briefly. "No, we do not. Just observe and gather information. Take no action beyond that, until we're absolutely certain who's involved and when the revolt is about happen. You know what happens to pigeons who appear to randomly attack so-called loyal citizens. We can't do much until we're absolutely certain, and then we'll attack on the night of the revolt." Nuntius could picture it: a strong but elegant flock of pigeons saving Fenia Castle from a band of criminals. He'd personally lead them to victory, and then he'd be relieved of his mail carrying duties. He'd mate with as many females as he could wish for, get the best shares of grains for the rest of his life, and maybe even perch on the King's shoulder. He'd be allowed to live till he died of old age.
"Follow and observe the raven haired woman," he said, and the order was repeated hundreds of times over the rooftop.