Ancient Things We Hold

Chapter 5

The Other Meeting

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Whenever Hodaya was sad, her mother would brush her hair. She had thick, hazelnut hair that fell in heavy waves together whenever she moved. It had a life of its own and fell into knots with unbelievable ease, so it often weighed down her head. Therefore, she always felt a sense of light relief when it was brushed.

She could seldom do it herself. Her hand practically broke when she tried to pull it through all the knots. Therefore, when she was teary eyed, her mother would run a comb through water, sit her down and slowly begin brushing her eye.

Sometimes she would sing as well, old songs in a soft speak, but most often she would talk. "Your hair would be so lovely if it were more manageable," she said when Hodaya was very little, "but plainness stops vanity. You must never become vain, even if your hair becomes beautiful. When you marry, your hair is something to be shared only with your husband. Do you know why I cover my hair? Because I am married and there is a bond between your father and I. One day you will have that bond and your hair, as strange as it seems, is a large part of that,"

She would never talk about why Hodaya was crying. Perhaps she knew the best form of comfort was distraction. That time, she had been crying because she fell over while trying to reach the pegs on the washing line. Another time, it was because she had had a nightmare, then again for arguing with Tamar and ending on a bitter note. Whatever reason, her mother would be there untangling her frizz and soothing her with words of little relevance.

If her papa happened to be there, he would fondly pat the side of her, tangling the waves together where her mama had just brushed them. However, neither of them minded. Instead she smiled up at him with her watery eyes and he down at her. Unlike her mother, he did not speak.

After that, she would always forget her troubles. Therefore, when she met Aldwyn in the woods and saw him pale with sorrow, she said anything to try and make him forget whatever it was that was upsetting him. That was all she could do.

However, what eased her so beautifully didn't free his eyes from their glassy sadness. He seemed to must keep thinking about it, no matter how much she tried to urge him into racing and chatting and questioning.

"What is wrong?" she eventually asked him.

He pressed his back against the old tree and pulled his knees up. With that, Hodaya dropped any façade she had been trying to maintain and sat beside him with a calm air. She placed her hand to the side and held it open, where a moment later she felt his hand envelope within it. He was shaking.

"My father has betrothed me. I'm meeting the girl I am to marry this summer," he said.

Her hand turned limp. She looked down into her lap. "Oh," was all she could said at first. She was a little unsure of what was in her mind. It was all a blur. When she looked at him again, she could barely see him, for her mind was overwhelmed with selfish thoughts. If he was wed, she doubted that he would be able to come to the tree anymore. Even when she clouded over her thoughts of losing him, she was left feeling so utterly sorry for him instead. She had to stop thinking about herself.

He looked so frightened. How could he not be?

"When are you getting married?" she asked.

"Well, my father predicted when she turns fourteen, so it could be in four years,  but really it's when she starts...well, when she becomes a woman,"

"That could be anytime, then," she said.

"It could?" he asked in an inquiring tone, even though he was trying to remain as casual on the matter as possible. Nobody really spoke about such things. His brothers had just over consumed on ale one evening, then proceeded to tease him and embarrass him by slurring an all manner of things. When they were sober, they spoke not a word. His parents certainly did not tell him anything, nor did they answer questions. One was always on one's own, figuring things out from snippets of conversations and stolen words.