Spawn of the Outworlder

Chapter 13-Will You See Before I Do?

Graham sat in the dining room of the Goldbeam's home as Hosea returned from the kitchen, carrying a covered pot with him. As he sat it down in the center of the table, another followed him out of the kitchen. An elven woman, crouching to enter the room, followed after Hosea, covered tray in hand. She had the same curled hair as Bethsheba, although hers was dark and swept back, with a few stray hairs sticking out. Beneath her flour coated apron, she wore a pair of clean overalls, similar to Hosea's, although her pant legs were unfurled. Her skin was brown like Bethsheba's, but her arms carried quite a few more scars, one long, jagged bolt running from her elbow to her wrist. But what caught Graham's eye most was the unique braid within her hair.

The braid wrapped around the crown of the woman's head, meeting in the back center. From there, the braid coiled down to the woman's neck and wrapped around the left shoulder. Along the braid, the collected hair appeared to move along with the woman's movements. An impossibility, of course, yet the hair seemed to shift and glide as she placed plates along the table alongside Hosea. As it moved, Graham took note of the spaces between the braid and felt that they were a message of some kind.

"Well, it's nice to know I can still turn a few heads in my old age."

The sound of the woman's voice broke Graham out of his trance and made him realize that all the others in the room were now staring at him. The elven woman turned from Graham to address Luna.

"Forgive my bluntness, miss, but does your brother normally stare at women so intently?"

"As long as I've known him, yes," Luna replied, looking to be holding back a smug grin.

"Ah, see now, Hosea," the woman continued, placing an arm along Hosea's shoulder. "You should be careful or you might lose me."

Hosea remained silent, but instead offered a harsh glare to Graham with a clear message: Don't even think about it.

"No, I-Sorry, it's just...your hair is--"

"Oh, that's what had you all cross-eyed?" Lifting her arm from Hosea's shoulder, she walked around the table to Graham's side and pulled at his hand. "Well, stand up now, ser. My spouse would like to eat soon."

Graham stood and saw now that, even with his massive height, he barely came up to the woman's collar bone. While holding Graham's hand in hers, she brought her free hand over his and held it gently. "First, introductions. I am Lillian Goldbeam, proud daughter of the Luminare Grove."

"I'm Graham B-Rucervus, son of the Capital, Lux Sancta."

"Ah, not bad. A little more oomph! next time. Remember to be proud of your home."

My home..

Lillian then turned and knelt slightly so that her braid was at eye level with Graham. "Well, go on. Give it a feel. Gently, now."

Graham placed a light hand along her braid and felt at the grooves formed from the hair. His thumb rubbed across them and once again, he felt that it was a message of some kind, although he failed to comprehend it.

"A real thinker, aren't you?" Lillian asked. "Trying to figure out what it says?"

"Huh? How did--"

"Eh, most people figure the braid isn't just a fashion statement." Lillian turned and stood to now face Graham, pulling her braid forward further along her shoulder. "Although, you are the first one to try to decipher it. It is a pattern, a language that my people understand through touch. When felt from the braid down, the grooves and spaces communicate a phrase, in my case, 'formed from the wind'. It's a creed of my bloodline, a way to ensure that, no matter where I go, I always carry a little bit of home with me."