Ihloden stirred in his bed.His face twisted as he fought to subdue the voices that echoed in his mind. Herolled over and the sheets rolled with him, tying into an uncomfortable knotbelow his stomach. He sighed and rolled back the way he had come. The sheetsdid not unravel. He twisted his mouth in disgust. His skin was slick with sweatand his jersey clung to him. Still the voices whispered to him. He groaned and gripedhis head. ‘Stop,’ he screamed at themin his mind. He opened his eyes in a vain hope that reality would stop them. Itdidn’t work of course. His head was aching from the strain of trying to holdthem back. It was futile, he knew, they would not stop tormenting him untilthey had told him all that they wanted too. Till then he was at their mercy.

He closed back his eyes andtried to relax. The only way to get out of this was to weather it. The neverending train of thought nearly drove him mad. He lay stiff like a log on his bed, waiting for the trickles of thoughtto end. How different it had been when he was a child. Hearing the voices ofthe land and the trees had been such a wonderful thing to him. He used to situnder the trees for hours talking with them and singing their songs. Then as hegrew up he realized that he was the only one with this gift. It had frightenedhim, isolated him. And no matter how hard he tried to make himself believe thathe was the same as everyone else, the voices he heard told him different. Hecould not block them out; his bond with them had been woven tight from the daysof his childhood when he had reveled in their company. They considered him oneof them, part of them and so they made sure that he was well kept up to date inthe everyday occurrences across the lands. It has brought him more than onestrange look when he unwittingly gave information about lands that he had noright to know about. It was a curse! He should have never have had to bear it.Butit was not always a bad, a thought came to him. He realized with a jump thatthe voices had stopped and the one that he heard in his head was his own. Itwas right, more than once the land had saved him by warning him about dangers beforehand.He frowned. It was still a curse! He thought back fiercely.

He was fully relaxed now,dropping halfway back to sleep. It was over, they had gone. What was it thatthey were saying? The thought startled him, perhaps it was something important.He quickly tried to recall the very thought he had tried to subdue. ‘Damn,” he said in his mind, ‘you are a fool Ihloden. One minute you arecondemning the voices and the next you want them back? What do you really want?’He sighed angrily. He wouldn’t lie to himself despite all his complaining, heliked hearing the trees. They had gentleness in their woody voices that madehim feel at home. He was really part of them. ‘No,’ he thought back fiercely again, ‘you are not part of them, you are normal. If only.’

Suddenly a cold spray ofwater splashed over him. He bolted upright with a particularly bad curse on hislips.

“My, my, my,’ came afamiliar voice, “Aren’t we happy today?”

Ihloden looked up throughhis dripping hair and saw that his sister Shila was standing over him, one handon her hips and the other held a jug.

“Shila!’ he said annoyed,“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Kill you?” she said, “No, Iwas trying to wake you. Now that is a real task.”

“Ha ha,” Ihloden laughedmirthlessly. He held his head which had the headache back in renewed fury.

‘What’s wrong?” said Shilasounding annoyed but with a hint of tenderness in her voice.

“My head hurts” Ihloden saidwatching her out of half-closed eyes. She put down the jug and came to placeher hand on his head. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into hisarms.

“Ihloden!” she screamed “letme go!”

“Not without your morningkiss dear sister,’ he said a pressed his wet lips on her cheek.

She laughed and pulled away from him. “You areno longer a baby Ihloden,” she said, “Yet you always act like one. Get uplittle brother. Or you will be late for work. And don’t drink again alright?”She looked at him concerned.

Ihloden felt guilty, “I’ll…try.” She sighed and he looked away from her. He knew he would not be able tolook her in the eye.

“I fear for you brother,”she said, “You are so happy outside, yet inside you die. What is it that makesyou incomplete that you must fill the void with strong drink?” Ihloden did notanswer. “Be safe my brother,’ Shila said and left his room.

Ihloden sat for a while.Shila’s words had settled deep in his mind and had cut like a sword to hisheart. He shrugged it aside and went toget dressed for work. A while later he was clean and heading out the door,after kissing Shila and his mother goodbye. Shila held his hand tightly, a signof concern and he had given her a sad smile. She was the one who had undressedhim and put him to bed when he came home drunk that night before. Mother hadbeen ill and she had gone to bed early. Shila had waited up for him. He hatedwhen she did that, he never liked to see her drunk. The sun was now rising overthe Behrud and a few of its rays spilled down into the village. The morningwind had not yet reached Molvn village so the place was still. He strolledtoward the Tavern where he worked. It would be already filled, despite theearly hours of the morning. Suddenly a slight wind blew. Ihloden stiffened andstopped. That was unusual. There was no voice in the wind, though. He wouldhave known if it was the trees trying to say something. He sighed and shruggedit off. He was getting too paranoid. He resumed back his walk, but his mindwould not let it go. The tavern soon loomed into view. The tall wooden buildinglooked like a broad shouldered man standing unbeaten in the morning’s breaking.‘Very much like its owner,’ Ihloden thought and smiled. He slipped around thebuilding and entered in thorough the back. As soon as he entered the tavern atray was thrusted into his hands. Grims the tavern owner grinned down at him.

“You’re late,” he said.

Ihloden grinned back at him,“Yes, but ready to make up for it.”

‘Ha,’ Grims laughed, “I’llhold you to that.”

He pushed him forward.Ihloden slipped though the great doors that divided the cooking area from thedining area and was almost immediately deafened by the chaotic sound thatemitted from the room. He smile broadened as he took in the sight of the menand women that were eating, drinking and laughing at the top of their lungs.

“Ihloden” a voice calledhim. He turned toward the voice, ‘Beer, boy!” he grinned and nodded and ranback through the door. He had gathered the beer and was headlong back throughthe door when the thought slipped into his mind, “Ihloden beware,doom call at your door.” He glanced around andspotted the tree that spoke to him. Its leaves shook slightly in the wind. Hismind ran back to the unusual wind in the street. He felt uneasy. He was about to ask it what it meant when,Grims corralled him back into the dining area. The voice of tree died out asthe doors closed. Ihloden felt fear grip his chest. Doom at his door! What didit mean? By the timed he had finished and had a moment to get back to thewindow the voice of tree had fallen silent. He stared at it in despair. ‘Damn!’ he thought. There was nothing hecould do. He could not command the trees to speak; they spoke when they had amind too. All he had now was a warning and his own fears.

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