"The Tales Of Fagelio - Chapter One - Part One" by Jayne Leonard

The small child leaned her elbows up against the windowsill while she held her head in her hands. She seemed as if in a dream while she watched the snowflakes fall in the twilight sky. Each snowflake paired with another and danced gracefully, before being laid to rest peacefully upon the ground. The backdrop to nature’s dance was the small picturesque wooden houses belonging to the outskirts of the village. The balance between the houses and the countryside was harmonious. Both were covered by a white blanket. The horizon above the tree tops was a dim yellow even though the evening’s darkness had settled itself. This marked the centre of the village where shops were still open despite the weather. Men and women rushed around wrapped up in warm cloaks, hats and mittens, as they tried to get out of bitter cold and into their toasty homes.

People staggered home loudly after a long evening at the public house.

She was no older than seven seasons of the sun, with rich dark brown bobbed hair and deep black eyes. Her plump cheeks were perfectly rosy. She wore patent black leather shoes and pulled up shin-high white socks that swung on the end of her chubby legs. A red and green tartan pleated skirt that came down to her knees and a jumper the colour of a good red wine completed the village‘s school uniform. Her face was decorated beautifully with a warm excited smile.

A man hummed to himself merrily behind her. She watched him come closer in the reflection from the windowpane, pretending not to see him. He had shoulder length hair and eyes both the colour of coal. He was tall and thin and she only just stood above his waist, even when she was on tip toes. He wore knee-high worn black leather boots. His dark brown breeches and waist coat were complimented by a dark green shirt. The girl thought he looked handsome, but then she always did. However, she wished that sometimes he would wear something else. In the summer when the rest of the men in the village would strip off their shirts, he would still be wearing the same clothes.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her father wave a casual hand toward the log fireplace at the end of the room. The fire grew and crackled contentedly on its own. He smiled at the amused look on his daughter’s face.

“It’s time for you to rest your sleepy head now little one,” he said as he stroked her hair.

“Oh, but Daddy! I don’t want to!” She gripped the wooden chair on which she sat on so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Now Leienagh, be a good girl for me.” She turned, facing her father, showing her big round pleading eyes but it did not work and only earned her a raised eyebrow. As he walked out of the room he called over his shoulder “Come on.”

Leienagh was not ready to go to sleep yet so she ignored her father’s calls and looked around their simple home for an excuse not to go to bed. The living room was a reasonably sized, red walled room. Opposite where she sat were two soft double seated chairs and a low wooden table. A tall cupboard, containing coats, made of heavy darkened wood stood next to the chairs completing this walls ensemble. Beside these, to the right, the wall was covered with bookshelves full of medicinal books for her father’s profession as the village Healer, history books for her father’s passion, and fairy tales for Leienagh. A beautiful open fireplace, framed with dark stained wood, was set into the remaining wall giving off a warm radiance to the rest of the room. Pictures of pressed flowers, made by Leienagh and her father, hung on the walls to show their love of the nature walks they shared together. Candles of all different colours were dotted around the room, these being traditional decorations for the festive time of year.

Leienagh did not notice that her father was stood in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. His glazed eyes stared over Leienagh’s head and out of the window, deep into the night. He approached her slowly and then placed both hands on her shoulders, as if trying to reassure her. Leienagh looked at him confused.

Just then, a particularly rowdy group of men passed by, banging on the neighbour’s doors and then running away. Leienagh gave a start as a man appeared from below the window and slammed his face against it before he ran off laughing at her shocked face. Leienagh leaned into her father forcing him to embrace her.

“It’s alright petal. Now let us get you to bed.” He sounded distant.

“I’m not tired yet Daddy!” she said through a yawn. “I wanted to see him. I was going to give him a drink. He only comes once a year! Please Daddy?” Her jaw was set, determined not to go anywhere. Especially to bed.

“No, I agreed that you could make him a drink ready for when he comes later. You know full well that he is shy and will not come while you are still awake and besides it is a long while past a younglings rest time.” Her father smiled; his attention was back on his daughter. A wave of sadness was swept through him as he thought. ‘So much like her mother.’

Leienagh realised that she was not going to change her father’s mind so she looked out of the window, over the ever growing, rowdy group, to the snow filled sky wanting nothing more than to see him.

“Oh! But I only want the teeniest tiniest little look at him! I’ve been so good all year and I really, really want to see him! I promise I’ll be so, so good all next year too! Please Daddy, please?” She could not beg anymore.

“No little one,” he chuckled. He looked off into the distance again with a furrowed brow. “Now off to bed with you and this time I mean it.” Leienagh shook her head. “Now!” He raised his fingers in front of him and aimed them at his daughter as he wiggled them. She sat bolt upright in her chair, clutched her sides and started to giggle uncontrollably.

“Stop it Daddy! It tickles!” Her father shook his head as he grinned broadly.

“Not until you get into bed my sweet.” She fell to the floor in tears of laughter as he stepped a little further away from her. She kicked and squirmed as if trying to fight off her tickling attacker. Just as abruptly as the tickling sensation had started, it stopped. Leienagh propped herself up using her elbows, as she tried to get her breath back. She saw her father’s eyes masked deep thought as he stared almost through the door. Leienagh’s stomach lurched so much she thought she might vomit. Confusion flooded her but in mere seconds it was gone.

The entrance door vibrated on its hinges as someone was pounding it from the outside. Leienagh’s father jumped to attention. The glazed over look never left his eyes. He tilted his head as if trying to sense something. His hands slowly fell to his sides and his eyebrows moved closer together into another frown.

“Oh! Do you think that’s him Daddy?” squealed Leienagh as she let her childish hopes take over her. He stood there tense still watching the door.

“I do not know my sweet,” His eyes bore into the wooden door.

“But it must be him! Who else could it be knocking on the door so late?” exclaimed the small child.

Thud, thud, thud.

The door shook on its hinges more violently this time. “Let me go and see who it is. Now you be a good youngling and stay here petal.” His voice shook with tension. Leienagh jumped up and down excitedly as her father disappeared out of the room to investigate.

He walked out of the room, down the short hallway, past the three steps leading to the entrance door and into the kitchen. The door shuddered as it was ferociously pounded from the opposite side. As he approached the window in the kitchen he slowly drew back a small corner of the hanging cloth. The drunken villagers crowded outside his home as far as he could see, holding torches and to his surprise, weapons. He slowly replaced the fabric, careful not to be seen. His heart was pounding. He rushed out of the kitchen into the hallway just as the door shuddered again under heavy fists. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Come out here you filthy Fagelio!” He could not breathe. His face was a picture of pure horror. His legs moved backwards mechanically, eyes wide, all the while the abuse kept creeping in from the other side of the door. “Show yourself you dirty creature!”

“Is it him Daddy?” Leienagh was giddy. She almost danced where she stood. Her father took three long urgent strides across the room and swept her up in his arms.

“I’m afraid it is not my sweet.” Leienagh looked up into her father’s wide eyes wild with fear as they darted to and throw about the room. Sweat lay in beads across his brow. She had never seen her father as panicked as he was now. His hold on her was so tight it hurt.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” He did not look at her. “Daddy stop it your hurting me! Ouch, get off!” She wriggled and squirmed under his grip to try and free herself. She pushed against his chest with her hands and used her feet to push against his arms.

“Now Leienagh! Stop that and behave!” he snapped.

“Let go Daddy your squashing me!” She wriggled some more.

“Be quiet!”

Thud, thud, thud!

Leienagh stopped struggling instantly and looked at the door. ‘But if its not him then who is it?’ A wave of foreboding swept over her as she slowly wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. He held her in the tightest fatherly embrace he could muster. After they both tore their gaze away from the door they looked deep into each other’s identical eyes.

A strange sensation came over Leienagh. Her head swam. She could feel her heart as it almost pounded out of her chest. Blood pumped through her veins threatening to burst them. Thoughts, voices and emotions, that she knew but were not her own, made her head vibrate until one voice that she recognised above all the others came from the distance.

Emotion overwhelmed her. It was here and now people were feeling this. She could feel it’s freshness but how she did not know. She sensed it came from the direction of the entrance door. Anger. Anger consumed her. Filled her. Hatred of… Hatred of… her father. She felt disgusted by his presence. Disgusted by the fact he even existed. ‘I’ll make you wish you were never born Fagelio!’ she thought. ‘What? That’s not me? Why would I hurt Daddy? What’s a Fagelio?’ As if she was watching someone else’s distant memory she saw herself as she lashed out at him. She tried to scratch his eye, his face, pull his hair before she turned on herself racking her fingernails across her face and any part of her bare skin she could reach. Her father put her on the floor and grabbed hold of her wrists as he restrained her. Leienagh did not look away from her father’s dark eyes once. They were like tunnels toward an abyss. Tunnels that dragged her downwards into black hatred. Her vision swayed as the voice of her father tried to drown out the others.

Leienagh lurched forward and gasped for air; her lungs burned with pain. She felt as if she had been drowning. Then she realised she was back in the room. Her eyes and cheeks were wet with tears. Her hair was wet and matted. Her father sat on his knees next to her, with his head bowed, as her stroked her hair. “Daddy?” Squeaked Leienagh in a small voice.

“Leienagh,” a fat tear ran down his cheek and over swollen scratches, as he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her forehead. “Thank goodness! How do you feel?”

Thud. Thud. Thud!

The door swayed more this time causing the wood around the hinges to crack.

“What just happened to me Daddy?”

“There is no time to explain little one,” his eyes bore through the wooden door.