Merlynna Proudfeet - Rei_Jin



  • As Merlynna sits, reading over the weathered tome in her lap, she remembers where it all began…


    A brightly coloured timber caravan rolls along the road, with a pair of ponies pulling it and a mustachioed hin holding the reins. Next to him sits a small hin girl, no more than 5 years of age. She clings to his arm with fondness, watching the hills glide by as they travel.

    "Papa, tell me the story about great-grandpa and great-grandma again. About life before the road."

    He laughs, and tussles her hair

    "What, again? Why do you want to revisit that old thing?"

    She glares at him, fixes her hair as best as she can, and then softens.

    "Because I want to hear it again. Isn't that enough?"

    He sighs, and looks to the road ahead.

    "Very well. Settle in, it'll take a while."

    With that, she curls up under his arm, snuggling in to listen.

    Long ago, long before this caravan was even built, some hin lived in a place called the Silver Valley, so named not because of a mine of silver, or some fanciful tale around heroes and monsters but because to the hin who lived there, it was the finest place in the world, and if they'd named it the Golden Valley, then some tallies would probably have come and tried to take it from them. Some spoke of how the streams of water that flowed there glowed silver in the moonlight, and that's likely true too… for it was a beautiful place, a peaceful place. Some still lived in caravans, wandering souls waiting for the next itch to lead them on, but others built farms and burrows and settled, including our family.

    For generations we lived there, from Proudfeet to Proudfeet. We grew carrots and beans, and had a few pigs. Blacksmithing was in our family, and leatherwork; skills to earn a few extra coin and to help out the community. We grew strong there, with sons and daughters regularly leaving to explore the realms for themselves and find where Yondalla would need them most.

    But one son, your great-grandfather, didn't take up blacksmithing or leatherwork, or farming. For you see, when he was a child he got up every morning to watch the sun rise, and to watch the masters of the Dojo of the Four Winds go through their kata on the hilltop, their bodies shining with the reflected light of the dawn.

    So when he came of age, instead of going to his father to learn blacksmithing, or his mother to learn leatherwork, or to his older brother to learn farming, he went and knocked on the door of the Dojo, saying:

    "I am Rinnel Proudfeet, and I wish to become a student of the four winds."

    After a few moments, the door opened, and an elderly hin looked out at him, made a tsk tsk sound, and shook her head.

    "No, no, you are too thin, too young, too proud. Go and do something else, there is no place for you here."

    With that the elderly hin pulled her head back inside, closed the door, and bolted it shut.

    But did your great-grandpa let that dissuade him?

    She shook her head, smiling.

    Of course he didn't.

    So the next day, he went and knocked on the door again.

    "I am Rinnel Proudfeet, and I wish to become a student of the four winds."

    Again, the door opened, and the elderly hin waved him away.

    "Go, go, you are not wanted! Go be a farmer, or a fletcher, or something else."

    And again the door was closed and bolted shut against him.

    But on the third day, he knocked again.

    "I am Rinnel Proudfeet, and I wish to become a student of the four winds."

    This time the door didn't even open. She just shouted at him through the door, saying;

    "You are not wanted! You have nothing worth training. Go away!"

    Yes, it hurt. But Rinnel was not easily put aside.

    So he decided to take a different approach.

    Just like before, he got up to watch the masters of the dojo go through their forms, but unlike before, he began to make notes. Sketching the forms, recording the timing and movement, he began to build his own manual of the moves of the masters.

    For weeks and weeks he watched and made notes, drawing, re-drawing, and arguing with himself.

    But finally, as Autumn was beginning, he was ready.

    Going to a little clearing not far from the Valley but far enough away that none of his friends or family would see him, he put down his manual to the first page, and began to try to copy what he'd seen and drawn.

    It was slow going, for every day he'd try to take himself through the forms, and then every day he'd get up early to watch the masters practice, curse at himself for how wrong he'd been getting it, and then try again.

    Autumn passed, and he had learnt a little. But he'd found that his fitness and flexibility wasn't where it needed to be, so he'd had to add his own program of exercises. Sit-ups, push-ups, stretches. He helped others in the Valley by cutting and carting wood, building up calluses on his hands and muscles in his body.

    Winter came and went. He still got up early, watched the masters, tried to emulate them, worked on his fitness.

    Next was spring. He'd learnt more, but he still couldn't get it exactly how he wanted, so he redoubled his efforts.

    And as the Summer Solstice approached, Rinnel got up one morning to find the masters were not on the hill.

    Confused, he looked around, and found that they were instead waiting in the field behind his home, preparing for their morning kata.

    The elderly hin smiled at him as he approached, looking confused.

    "Come, join us young one. You are no longer too thin, too young, too proud. You have tasted the four winds, and found your path. Join us."

    With tears in his eyes, he nodded and joined the masters, going through the kata with them.

    Now I'd like to say that he got it exactly right, because that's normally how these stories go, but he didn't. He did his best though, and at the end, one of the masters came over to him, and handed him a learner's belt, saying:

    "Today, you are one of us. The path ahead is long, but I believe you have the heart to make the journey."

    Time passed. Rinnel trained, learnt, and grew. He met a beautiful hin girl named Lynna, and began to court her.

    Life was good.

    And were it not for the dark clouds gathering, your great-grandfather may have become a master himself and made his own home in the Silver Valley as his ancestors had for generations.

    Unknown to all, dread princes of darkness were marshalling their forces against the town of Jiyyd and the Silver Valley. Such evil needs no reason, no justification for their actions, simply that they wanted what they wanted, and they sought it for themselves.

    The hammer fell. Jiyyd was destroyed, and the Silver Valley folk scattered.

    Many stayed in the Narfell region, rebuilding the Silver Valley nearer to Norwick. But Rinnel and his now wife, Lynna, whom you are named for, decided to take to the road instead.

    Years passed. Children were born to Rinnel and Lynna. Their children had children, and those children had more children… including you, and your brother.

    And so we travel the road, waiting for something to change our path. Some of the family have settled in other lands, some have made their own caravans and found their own path. And we, we wait for word of a shift in the winds, passing on the teachings of Rinnel to those who would seek it, for he kept his notebook and added to it, day after day, year after year. He never completed it, never became a master, but the truths it contains are enough to satisfy most for a lifetime of learning.

    Merlynna nods to her father, looking at him with a serious gaze.

    "Papa, will you train me when I'm old enough?

    He nods to her, and smiles.

    "I will, little one. But first, let us see what is over the next hill."


    _Closing the book, she stands and looks out her window at the Mermaid Inn.

    Something had shifted in the wind, eventually. They had heard of mighty events in the small realm of Narfell, whispers that a great evil had been defeated, and that Jiyyd was no longer under the thrall of demonic powers. It had been the wish of Rinnel and Lynna to have their ashes scattered on their old family farm, and Merlynna had hoped to reclaim what had been lost all those years ago; to create a home for the Proudfeet family in the Silver Valley again.

    And so she travelled; on foot, via ship, on wagons and ponies, whatever it took, eventually finding her way back to Narfell. She had no map, no idea of what to expect, but she finally found herself in the lumbering village of Norwick. A fine place to begin her own search, and her own adventure, following in the footsteps of Rinnel._



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