The Power of Words: Part 2

Chapter 2: The Nobleman’s Voice

Leaping from my bed, I woke the next day with excitement. I had been fortified by the notion of a new voice. Silently, I hurried towards my father’s smiths and began my day, eager to display my new vocal skills.

My excitement only grew as I saw Fernin approach. By then, the sun was high in the sky and I was anxious to speak my first words to someone. Fernin would be the perfect man to impress. He had known my meek ways since we were children.

“Hello Dag, how are you? I can’t be here long, I am about to fish with the group but I noticed this broken harpoon tip” he held up the spiked metal in my direction “could you repair it?”.

My mouth began to move before I made an effort to speak. It felt as if someone’s fingertips were moving my lips and tongue, invasively squishing my face into new shapes!

“Don’t call me by that name. It doesn’t matter how I am, it matters if I can get paid!” I stood in shock at my words, unable to find any kind of excuse for them. My mouth hung open dumbly.

“Oh, sorry Dag… I mean, well, sorry” Fernin’s frame seemed to shrink in on itself. Ever the soft of heart, he shot me an apologetic look and placed the harpoon tip along with a generous amount of silver on the table between us before turning away.

‘What was that?’ I thought to myself ‘I asked for the voice of a nobleman, not the voice of a cruel man!’ outrage began to boil in my stomach, ‘how could the witch trick me?’ I considered running straight to the forest, sword in hand, and demanding my voice back immediately. I grabbed my weapon from the nearby table when my father gave me a strange look. It was a look of disappointment and annoyance – he thought I was abandoning my duties as a smith. The fire extinguished in my chest. Frozen still by the loyalty I felt to him. I placed the sword down, promising my revenge in a few short hours. I picked up the broken harpoon tip, regret in my heart, and swore to myself that, it would never break again.

The day was nearly passed. My father had dealt with people, while I stood pumping the bellows, hammering iron and quenching white hot heat over and over. A thick sheen of old and new sweat clung to my body in evidence of my efforts. If anything, my father seemed happy with my sudden focus, his lips crooked in approval. I had nearly made it through the day when, unfortunately, someone addressed me directly.

“Dag! I had hoped you were here! Could you craft me a gathering knife?” Brigid looked at me hopefully from over my father's shoulder.

Of course, it had to be her.

I attempted to will my lips together, perhaps if I applied enough pressure, they would fuse together like hot metal. Instead of replying, I nodded at her, receiving a burning in my throat for my trouble.

“Oh good! Do not worry about the quality of the metal, I don’t have much by way of payment right now”. I waved my hands in gesture of appeasement, hopefully conveying for her to not worry, we were friends and a gathering knife was a small task! The burning was getting worse.

“You are kind, Dag, thank you. Would you like to take a walk along the riverbank later? There are some things I want to discuss with you.” She looked nervous as she asked.

I nodded again, by now my lack of noise was becoming noticeable.

“Thank you Dag” she had begun to frown “are you alright?” she asked skeptically.

I pointed at my neck, hoping that she could draw an excuse for me.

“Oh not you too! William lost his voice this morning! Do not worry Dag, I’ll bring you a remedy tonight, meet me by the boats!” She was walking away as she spoke, eager to find a way to help me, she was always so caring. I breathed a sigh of relief as she disappeared from view, thanking the gods I had managed to hold my tongue. William must have been her noblemen. Admittedly, I didn’t know him very well, I had avoided him skillfully since his arrival weeks before. From what I had gathered, he was a rude man in search of a quiet wife that stood as an ornament to impress his rich friends. I disliked him very much. However, before I could think further, a chilling thought occurred to me.

‘Why did I agree to that? I can’t speak to Brigid like this! I can’t walk with her and say nothing all night!’

My father had begun to cool the fires, signaling the end of work for the day.

I clutched my sword and ran from the smiths and into the woods as fast as my legs could carry me, heading into the forest. I knew the way well by then, crossing the area in what felt like no time at all. Skidding to a halt, I looked upon the clearing – empty. There was no trace of the stone house, nor the witch within. I shouted in frustration, sounding almost like the monsters Fernin used to pretend to be when we played in these forests – a tormented spirit.

“Curse you, you old hag! You’ve stolen my chances! You’ve stolen my voice! I take it back, give me my voice back, you horrid –“ I trailed off, soon growing sorry for myself. My knees hit the soft forest ground with a solid whump.

By the time my body had stopped it’s panic, and my mind had returned, it was too dark to see beyond an arms-length in front of me. I made the realization with a gasp, I was late to meet Brigid!

The walk back was painful, my limbs seemed to ache in protest. It was as if the witch’s curse and my own soul were fighting within me.

Being given a nobleman’s voice had made me blunt, just like William. ‘Oh, that’s it!’ Explanations jumped around my head, with one louder than the rest; I had been given a noblemen’s voice, but not just any nobleman – William. The witch had given me William’s rudeness and cruelty and left him unable to speak! ‘What a cruel trick!’ I thought, turning towards the village. ‘What a cruel cruel trick’.

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I walked through Fimblefoot, head down and cursing my own foolishness. Soon enough, I had found my way to the boats, where Brigid was waiting. She wore a dark blue tunic, a dagger hung from her belt. She could have been a water spirit, beautiful and fierce in all-encompassing presence.

“Hello Dag! Gods, you do look rough. Here, drink this” she offered him a small clear bottle full of amber liquid, garlic, rosemary and several other dried herbs.

If only as a way to stop my speaking, I took the remedy and drank it. Strong alcohol filled with the constricting taste of medicines.

“There, your throat should be much improved in a few hours.” S he smiled

We began to walk in companionable silence. Enjoying the way the moonlight shone on the river, glistening and lighting our way.

“William has asked me to marry him.” The statement lingered in the air between us, bringing melancholy.

“I am going to accept him, I think. He is exactly what I wished for, enough to care for my mother and I until death”. I nodded along as she spoke. “You see, I feel as if I could ignore his disagreeable nature if I tried hard enough…” she trailed off, looking towards the river, deep in thought.

“I always thought I would marry you” she said, still facing away. “But, I suppose, you see me as more of a sister…”

My heart leapt into my mouth, this was the chance! Could I rely on William’s voice to articulate my true feelings? I opened my lips.

“I think your mother is horrible” I blurted out. ‘No!’ I thought internally. Brigid frowned, turning to face me fully.

“That’s what you have to say?”

“I think she is selfish and uncompromising and you are a fool!”

Oh, now I had done it.

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A/N: Hello there reader, I hope you enjoyed part two of The Power of Words! I am so excited to share this story with you! I apologise for the delay in getting this chapter out! I took a week to rearrage the ending - but it is much improved and ready to be read!

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