The selcouth was a young lad, only two years younger than the solivagant. He saw this hooded man and felt he could help him. He only wanted to see the man smile, maybe hear laughter once. So he followed the man, talking and laughing, hoping for the same reaction. The solivagant refused to laugh, remembering the sound of bells that used to bless his life, but would no longer. He felt no emotion, but did enjoy the selcouth. The selcouth in return never gave up.
One day, after months of companionship, the solivagant finally spoke to the lad. "Einar. That is my name." The lad was stunned, surprised by the sound of the obviously unused, scratchy, deep voice. He found himself liking that voice though, craving to hear more of it.
"In return, you must call me Layth, Einar." The name felt exotic to his tongue. The solivagant scoffed, surprising the lad once more. And so they continued to walk, in each other's company. The selcouth chattering in the hopes of the occasional reply from the solivagant.
And it was months later that the selcouth realized he had fallen in love with the broken solivagant.
YOU ARE READING
My Solivagant
General FictionA man with nothing to lose discovers what he can gain.
