2. The House of Amar

Anthine was soon upon the place where parting trees gave up for the dwelling of the man called Amar. The home was most humble, if ever such a dwelling could be called thus. Built from sturdy logs and stout boulders, Anthine couldn’t help but think that the woods itself had crafted the abode for Amar.

            The house was built at the upper end of a gentle hill topped by stone like a misshapen crown. To the side was the paddock for the sleeping herd, the family of wooly creatures sleeping soundly and freely about, as if with absolute faith in the care of their master. From a hollowed tree at the home’s center rolled a lazy smoke, and from a small window glowed a cozy, orange light.

            Anthine shivered in the cool of the night and pulled to herself the tattered shawl that held her. In this guise as a daughter of man, she longed for the warm and comfort that was implied within. So she came upon the door and rapped lightly with growing expectation.

           

Amar opened the door to his home, and seeing the poor maiden before him, was filled with compassion for her. “Child, what brings you to my door?”

            “I am lost,” trembled the maiden. “I am cold and hungry. Please, sir, may I come within?”

            “By the fair and caring gods, yes, come within!” Amar then led the girl into his small home, and toward the fire that burned at its center. With swift action, he placed a woolen mantle upon her shoulders and served the maiden some hot stew from over the fire.

            Soon, the maiden stopped her shivering, and the meal she consumed with desperation before falling asleep before the enchanting embers.

            Amar wondered on this lost maiden as she slept, for knowing there was no settlement about the Southern Doud for many a mile. Eager was he to know from whence she had come, and what had brought her to the wood. Even so, he let her sleep: and carefully, he took her in his arms and placed the maiden in his own bed. Amar then laid his garments upon her, for fear her chill return in the night.

            Amar watched the dancing fire come to meditate embers, and was soon himself fallen asleep in a strong-armed rocking chair. In the night he dreamed of the woods he loved, and a sweet young maid come upon it from the very heavens. Little was he to know this dream to be an oracle, the truth of the maiden being she was the goddess Anthine manifest.

 

The next morning Amar awoke to the smell of a porridge being cooked over the re-lit fire, and lo, the young maiden was attending its keep. The home itself was well swept, and clutter put to order. The maiden smiled at Amar, eyes dark and wise; her timidness of the night before replaced by a calm strength. Bemused by his dreaming, and wonder still keeping at his soul, Amar was there in that moment--and ever more to follow--in love.

            The girl most happily brought to him a vessel of porridge, a cup of the vine, and bread spread with honey. Gratefully he ate, eyes ever watching the new joy of his sight. The maiden then also ate and they, speaking not, simply enjoyed the other’s company. But when at last the meal was done, and the vessels cleaned by water brought from the river, Amar was urged to speak his heart.

            “Tell me, child, what is your name? Where does thou come? And how does thou come to be in this place?”

            The maiden smiled demurely. “My name is Minara, as after the bright star that graces the heavens with her light.” For even as she spoke, the sun championed the horizon and broke through the window in triumph. And Amar loved her all the more.

            “Indeed, this maid is born of heaven,” said Amar to himself. Remembering he did of the tales of old, the creation of the cosmos, and the Powers of the Sky. Wrought forth from these was come the guiding lights, as such as the one for which the maiden here was named.

            “As for where I come,” continued Mirana. “My home is far away, many leagues distant from this wooded glen and river land. I left with purpose to find a precious thing I knew to be true, yet none other would believe. Yet now, I do not know if I shall for certain find that which I sought. For I am most completely lost!”

            With pity for the maiden’s story and her tears, Amar declared that he would help her find her treasure. “Tell me only what you seek, and I shall give aide in every way I might.”

            “Oh, how kind you are!” Minara cried, again with tears flowing freely upon her blouse. “If only I could remember what it was my heart once knew!”