Previously in The Tale of Jarthen, the romantic entanglements surrounding Jarthen were brough to the boy's attention, and Lem and Nelhoepher reported nonsense to a disbeleiveing group of Imperial spies.
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Jarthen felt quite light-headed and sat down suddenly. The rest of the group filed slowly, silently by: Jarthen’s momentary immobility was no cause for concern, since it had become fairly common for some traveler to be overcome by fatigue, hunger, and dehydration a couple of times a day.
An immense shadow fell over Jarthen. “Boy,” said a cold, deep voice, “I was against you coming with us from the start. I don’t know why you feel the need to prove your inadequacy to me over and over. Now get up!”
Jarthen gave Glothnafar a pleading look, knowing that saying something would only enrage the centaur further. The look alone, though, did more damage than good – Glothnafar grimaced and vindictively kicked sand in Jarthen mouth and eyes, stopping just shy of kicking the boy himself. “Get up, NOW, you lazy hu-man! Get up, or I swear on all that’s right, I will bury you here in this forsaken place ALIVE!” the centaur yelled at the top of his voice.
The rest of the group turned and watched as Jarthen stood, trembling, and walked on without brushing the sand from his face. Glothnafar gave the other rebels a dark, seething look and cantered ahead of the group.
“I’ve let this go on far too long,” thought Jellihondor as he watched his companion galloping away. Shaking his head, he walked over to the skinny dust-covered boy and began brushing the grit and grime from his face. Jellihondor, noticing the tear streaks, sighed heavily.
“Ye t’ink ‘tis ye he hates, eh, boy?” Jellihondor asked quietly. Jarthen continued to look away, scared and embarrassed. “’Tisn’, lad. Walk wit’ me - nice an’ slow ‘cause a blind man could see yer a migh’ rickety righ’ now - an’ I’ll explain it ta ye. I should ha’e long ago, but I ne’er believed his treatment o’ ye would get so bad.”
Jarthen, jaw still clenched, nodded and walked with the old red elf some ways behind the rest of the group. Jellihondor continued, absent-mindedly brushing sand off Jarthen’s shoulders and back as they walked. “He dunna hate ye personally, he hates tha’ yer human. I take it ye dunna ken much about centaurs, lad?”
“No, not much at all,” Jarthen responded.
“Aye, thought not. See, mos’ centaurs wha’ grew up on ta edge o’ ta Erkenheld, like Glothnafar, bear a grudge ‘gainst yer kind since yer lot tried ta enslave centaurs and use ‘em as beasts o’ burden fer hundreds o’ years. But, as ye may ha’e noticed, Glothnafar’s hatred o’ yer kind goes quite a bit deeper than tha’.”
“See, on top o’ ta residual ill will he bears toward yer kind fer all those past transgressions, Glothafar feels tha’ he was personally wronged in ta mos’ deep and private of ways. Glothnafar was workin’ in ta forest one day -- ” Jellihondor was cut off suddenly.
“Doing what?” Jarthen asked, feeling a little more relaxed. Though Jellihondor’s stories tended to be overly long and obscure, Jarthen found his talk with his superior officer very comforting.
“Oh, I dunna ken, land. Some centaurly t’ing,” Jellihondor said impatiently. “Anyway, Glothie was millin’ about in ta forest when he saw bathin’ an’ singin’ in ta lake a real beauty – face like a fine doll, voice like a dove. He was smitten on ta spot…an' from wha’ I can see ‘tween ye an’ ta wee human girl, ye may know wha’ tha’s like.” Jellihondor grinned as Jarthen blushed a bright red.
“Heh, so I see ye do know, then. Anyway, Glothnafar, bein’ a man o’ few words an’ all, found himself too shy ta talk to ‘er. So he watched her from afar day after day, fallin’ more an’ more in love all ta while. One day, durin’ her afternoon bath she got spooked by somet’in’ in ta water and stood bolt upright – revealin’ only a pair o’ two shapely legs.”
Glothnafar courts a human girl
Jarthen gasped. “He fell in love with a human? He did?”
Jellihondor nodded. “An’ wouldna ye know it but she loved him too? Aye, ta two o’ ‘em became quite close, an’ e’en began to discuss elopin’ to places were they would receive a warmer reception.”
“Turns out ta lady’s father was a hunter o’ some sort, not sure wha’ kind. One day, while trackin’ somet’in’ or other t’rough ta woods, he stumbled upon his fair daughter talkin’ and kissin’ a great hairy centaur an’ shot her dead wit’out a second thought.”
“Just shot her?” Jarthen asked, eyes wide as saucers.
“Aye, lad. Then ta bastard turned ta Glothie an’ said, ‘Ta momen’ ye touched her, she was as useless ta me as a cow wit’ no milk.’ Glothnafar said tha’ was ta momen’ he realized what humans really were – cold, heartless creatures wit’ not one ounce o’ compassion between ‘em all.”
“So, ye see, Jarthen, Glothnafar canna understan’ that ye could actually ha’e ta same values as him: admittin’ tha’, admittin’ tha’ humans aren’ entirely evil and selfish, tha' a human could be so committed ta our cause and fight agains' his own kind, would make him question a lot about his life an’ ta choices he’s made. An’ he dunna seem ready fer it quite yet. Jes’…jes’ bear in min tha’ ‘tis not’in’ ta do wit’ ye, lad, an’ try an’ be as patient wit’ him as ye can.”
Bertronius sat down and banged his head on the small, rough-hewn table in the corner of the set of rooms he shared with Lem, Nelhoepher and McNab. Although it was only early evening, he was quite tired -- both in body and mind. He had spent the last two months combing through Susselfen's innumerable whore houses and gambling parlors in search of his prey. Even though he knew that he had analyzed every detail of the rambling, drunken conversations with the cast of unseemly characters that Ractor associated, he found his weary mind returning to them in the hope of finding some new detail. He sat up at the table and rubbed his hands against his eyes and sighed.
"What's the matter, Bert? Yeh look tired," McNab asked from the darkened corner of the room that was joined with the one where Bertronius sat by an open doorway. Bertronius gave a start as he had thought that he was alone, and saw that McNab must have just been waking from a nap (he was wearing his sleeping clothes).
"Oh, nothing much. I'm just tired," the auburn-headed lad replied as McNab moved into the room and sat down across from him at the table, though he knew that his countenance belied this explanation. "I can understand that," McNab said yawning. Bertronius had observed that McNab had been absent nearly every night, and seemed capable of going long periods of time without sleep -- though this lack of repose clearly took its toll on the spy's rapidly graying hair.
"I feel like I'm getting no where!" Bertronius blurted out, suprising both himself and McNab with the vehemence with which he uttered this confession. "It's just...it's just been driving me crazy the last few weeks! I've gone over everything in my mind -- every detail, and there's nothing! This fiend has just disappeared without a trace!" Bertronius went pale: he had not meant to divulge his true reason for becoming a spy to his superior just yet - perhaps never - and Bertronius realized how truly out of sorts he must be to come so dangerously close to revealing his search to Ractor to his superior officer. At times like this, Bertronius wished he felt less comfortable with his mentor, as the trust and supposrt he felt with McNab sometimes meant he watched what he said around the older spy less carefully than he ought to.
McNab took a long look at Bertronius, and stirred his pipe contemplatively before responding. "Listen to me, Bert. I've felt exactly the same way as you. Sometimes, all of us must endure these long, dark nights of doubt. Sadly, there ain't much fer it, but to let it pass," he said with a sympathetic, and yet faroff look in his eyes.
Bertronius gazed back at his mentor, and felt his cheeks flush as the frustration, guilt, and sadness that he had borne with him since learning of Jarthen's death rise within him like a tempest, this time mixed with the shame at the prospect of being called out on his misuse of his station. He sought to keep his voice as steady as possible as he responded, "But what should I do? I can't stop now -- I can't stop until I've completed what I've set out to do! There must be something more that I can do! I must have missed something!" he yelled, clearly angry with himself.
McNab leaned across the table and put a firm hand on the lad's shoulder and looked him in the eyes with a fatherly sympathy that made Bertronius immediately feel a little bit better, but made his heart sink a little deeper nontheless. "Bert, yeh can' let this consume yeh. I've seen strong, smart men of great character destroyed by pursuits such as yours. I've been there too," McNab paused, looked pointedly at Bertronius and seemed to be on the verge of saying something when he shook his head, apparently thinking better of it. "Now, I ain' a-sayin' that yeh should give it up -- that wouldn' be me place -- I do think that yeh may consider tryin' a diffrent tack," he continued, giving the lad's shoulder another reassuring squeeze.
a frazzled Bertronius mulls over his mentor's advice
"What do you think I should do?" Bertronius asked softly. He felt himself calming down, but was beginning to feel a little sheepish for having let himself become so emotional in front of McNab - especially now that it was clear that McNab had no suspicions about him tracking Larthon Ractor's movements instead of applying himself to proper spy work. Nevertheless, he was reassured by the sympathy with which McNab gazed at him.
"Well," McNab replied thoughtfully, "I find that in situations like this, it always helps me to take some time off -- to do something completely different. When I come back to whatever it was that's been a-troublin' me, I always come back with better insight into me mission."
Bertronius knew immediately that this was sound advice that he neeeded to heed. "I think you're right," he replied, "is there anyway that I could maybe help you with what you're working on?"
McNab's face seemed to go a bit pale when he heard Bertronius's offer of assistance, and his beard twitched slightly as he thought about his response. "Look...Bert...I really do appreciate you wantin' to help me, and it's not that I don't trust yeh or nothin', yeh understand, it's just that...well, what I'm doin' right now is somethin' that I can only do alone. It's dangerous, see, and I couldn' live with meself if ye were ta be harmed in some way," the spymaster said with his eyes downcast.
"Oh, ok. That's alright...I mean, I understand," Bertronius replied as brightly as he could. Although he felt a little hurt that McNab was unwilling to take him into his confidence, the lad knew that the spy must have his reasons for not doing so. It also helped that he visibly regretted not being able to be more open. Not wanting to make his mentor feel any guiltier about the matter, Bertronius quickly changed the subject. "I think I'll just try to put everything out of my mind for the moment, and keep an eye on Lem and Nel. God knows they need some oversight."
McNab was clearly relieved by Bertronius's more optimistic tone, and also that he wouldn't have to discuss the awkward matter of his own actions any further. "I think that's a fine idea, lad. Now, if yeh don' mind, I think I'm a goin' to catch a few more hours of sleep before tonight." Although Bertronius thanked his mentor with a genuineness that warmed the older man's heart, McNab's sleep that afternoon was clearly troubled.
Jarthen was incredibly nervous; he could not remember feeling this scared since his very first audience with the Rebel Army. He gulped, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat. “Um……Mr. Glothnafar, sir?”
The great centaur’s head whipped around. He fixed Jarthen with a withering look that evoked both contempt and disgust. Jarthen tried not to look him directly in the eye and continued shakily. “I’d like a word in private with you, sir, if that’s alright.”
Glothnafar was bewildered, taken surprise by the boy’s request. “What in all of creation could you have to say to me that requires privacy?”
Jarthen felt himself losing his nerve. “Well, when you have a moment, I would greatly appreciate speaking with you alone, but I know you’re very very busy so I’ll leave you in peace,” he stammered out quickly. He turned to leave, but Glothnafar, now curious, put a heavy, calloused hand on Jarthen’s shoulder to stop him.
“No, boy, we can talk now,” Glothnafar said as he led the boy away from the camp. “Say whatever you have to say to me.”
Glothnafar wore a condescending, cold expression, one that Jarthen knew from experience was reserved for him personally. Looking at Glothnafar’s face, away from the others, Jarthen remembered all the acts of kindness he had seen the centaur commit for others – Jarthen knew that Glothnafar was a good, decent man, and his talk with Jellihondor made him realize that even good and decent folk should not be expected to be perfect. Jarthen wondered if Glothnafar would have been a diffrent sort of man - not so proud, not so fierce, but gentler and more contented, exactly the kind of man any young boy would hope to be - had it not been for the terrible Border Wars. And this made Jarthen wonder how he had changed as a result of his involvement in the war as well.
Jarthen took a deep breath and looked the centaur in the eye. “I just wanted to say that Jellihondor told me….about your past. I didn’t realize that my being here was so hard for you, and that I’m sorry that my race has treated yours so badly. Honestly, I had no idea! I know me saying this may not mean much, but I just wanted to tell you that I think I understand why you’re so angry…and I would be angry too, in your position.”
Glothnafar’s expression had gone from condescension to guarded interest to utter disbelief. Taking the silence as a cue, Jarthen thanked the centaur and went to his tent feeling much better.
Glothnafar comes to an unexpected realization
Glothnafar, on the other hand, was in complete shock. He had hardly heard what Jarthen had said to him, finding himself more fixated on the boy’s voice. The realization had come to him so suddenly that he was struck dumb. “No wonder I couldn’t recognize the voice from my vision before,” thought the centaur, “it belongs to the hu-man! This can’t be right, the man-child can’t possibly be the one to lead the Rebel Forces to victory – can he?!”
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