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Nameless: A Fairy Tale
by A Very Tall Oak Tree in City Park
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Two weeks passed quickly, and Morgan’s anxiety
increased with each passing day. He hoped feverishly that this was not
noticeable to his friends; it was. They constantly asked him if he was
all right, if there was anything they could do. He would look at them
oddly for a moment, then shake his head and assure them that he was
fatigued still, that his journey had been taxing but soon he would
recover. On the first day of the third week, Morgan paced nervously
about his chamber. It had been three weeks now to the day…he would
give his son until midnight to turn up, and if no one arrived he would
count himself safe. Perhaps Nameless had just been lucky the first
time. Morgan hardly ate that fateful day, and he spoke to no one. He
stood at windows and stared off into the East, waiting for a man to
appear. The man he anticipated, however, did not come. Morgan waited
for hours, his breath quick and his body tense. The sun arced over the
earth, shadows swept along the ground. The crystalline blue of the sky
faded slowly into the rosy red-and-purple color spectrum of evening,
and dusk was close at its heels. Morgan tapped his fingers on a
windowsill, biting his lip and straining to see into the quickly
darkening Eastern forest.
Finally, when the sun was a fraction of an inch above the lip of the
Earth, a shadowy figure strode out of the cover of trees, barely
discernable in the now-darkened East. Morgan closed his eyes and
sighed. Nameless was right again.
Several hours later, Morgan heard the familiar scrape of the
portcullis being raised, and then the dull clanking of the
drawbridge’s chains as the massive bridge was lowered to allow his son
passage over the Western city’s moat. He did not go down to see his
son, did not wish to hear the ensuing reception. What passed between
his city and his misbegotten child was of no interest to him. He
returned to his room, lay down on his bed, and wept his way silently
through the night.
The morning dawned bright and beautiful as Morgan sat up after an hour
of sleep. How he had managed to catch it through his despair was a
mystery to him; yet he was glad of it. News of the newly arrived Bowen
of the East spread quickly. The man was a good fighter, strong and
courageous. He had left for several hours, yet had promised to return
by nightfall. He needed to bring something from the woods, he said.
Morgan was worried; what was it that this Bowen wanted? Nameless…could
it be? Morgan remembered the words of Mildred as she had taken him to
her bed,
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