Thwap Talk

We are nearing the end of this story...kind of 🤣 This one is all happiness and fluff again!!! CHAPTER THRITY-TWO: PRECIOUS DAUGHTER The midwife brought the baby downstairs the following morning to eat some food. The baby was whimpering slightly. “Ah, don’t worry, my wee bairn. I’ll get ya some food.” “Is that the baby?” Madia asked, sitting up. The midwife paused, smiling. “Aye, my queen. You’ve got yourself a granddaughter.” Madia’s eyes watered. She stood up quickly, and just at that moment, Esben and Emerald walked in. “My queen, would you like to have a hold while I get her some food?” “I would love nothing more.” The midwife smiled and placed the baby in Madia’s arms. “Oh, you beautiful thing. The image of your father. But I see your mother there. Oh, beautiful girl.” “What’s her name?” Emerald asked, walking a little closer and stroking a rosy cheek. “The parents didn’t get that far. It was hard on them both. They’re still asleep so I’ve been taking care of the bairn. In fact, let me go get her food!” “Emerald, would you like to hold her?” Madia asked. Emerald looked uncertain. She looked at her hands. “I don’t think I could hold something so tiny and fragile, and…and precious.” “Oh, my dear. What about you Esben?” “Sure,” Esben stammered. “Come sit down.” Esben flushed, sitting next to Madia. He placed his arms in the correct position to hold her, and Madia handed the little girl to him. “Oh, she is so beautiful. I got a niece,” he said, half-laughing, half in shock He bent down and softly pressed his lips against her forehead. “Would you like to feed her Esben?” the midwife asked, coming in with a little bowl of something. Esben’s eyes lit up. “Yes. I would.” In the bedroom, Artham slowly awoke. “Arundelle?” She rubbed her eyes sleepily. “Yes?” “Didn’t…don’t we have a baby now?” Arundelle paused for a moment. “I think so.” “Then…where is she?” Ari’s eyes widened. She sat up straight. “Where is she?!” Artham started up. “She was just born; she couldn’t have gotten far.” “Well, we need to find her!” Arundelle stood up, but then her legs gave out and she found herself sitting back on the bed. “Let me help you,” Artham said, giving her his arm. They walked downstairs, and they heard giggles and laughter. Their speed quickened, and they saw Esben holding the baby, watching the little twitches of her face. Arundelle gasped, and she rushed forward. She extended her arms, and soon the little girl was in her arms. “Artham, she’s beautiful,” Emerald said, smiling. Esben was completely silent, but Artham could tell by the look on his face that he was thrilled. “Congratulations you two,” Madia said, drying her eyes. “What are you gonna name her?” Emerald asked. “We didn’t name her yet?” Arundelle asked. “I guess not,” Artham said, rubbing the back of his neck. “What about her middle name being Pearla? That was my mother’s name,” Arundelle said, quietly cuddling her daughter. “That’s perfect. But what about her first?” “I don’t know.” “What about Arthra?” Artham asked, walking towards his small and perfect family. “Oh yes! It’s beautiful! Why that name? What does it mean?” Artham laughed awkwardly, as Arundelle placed the baby in his arms. His cheeks were a little pink as he spoke. “It comes from my name. I’ve always liked it, uh, not because it comes from my name! Just because uh, I thought it was pretty. And she’s pretty, just like her mom, and um, it means ‘Soldier’ or ‘Princess’ or ‘Scholar’. Mine means the same except ‘Prince’. “I love it,” Ari said, kissing the top of Arthra’s head. “Hello there, little Arthra.” Funny story. I had a very different Wingfeather story in mind before I settled on this one, and Arthra was originally Artham's niece (through Emerald). Her name was Emiko, because I was really into Ninjago and I combined those two things to make one crazy story that made no sense. I was writing this story and I typed out Arthams name incorrectly, and from that misspell I got the name Arthra. So, literally, Arthra comes from the name Artham 🤣😂 Also if you read all of that here's a cookie! 🍪 I hope you liked! Let me know if anything seemed weird or wonky!

Previous Part Nia watched as the ship sailed out from the Watercraw, it’s sails luffing out in the wind. She smiled, then looked down at the frame in her hands. When she unfolded it, she let out a little gasp. She had never seen one of Esben’s paintings before, but it was clear he had spent many hours on this one.  The snow and the grey-blue, heavy clouds were so vivid that she almost felt the cool wind on her cheeks. In bright contrast to her surroundings stood a girl, her back turned and her arms lifted slightly from her sides. Dark hair glistened with bright droplets of white, and her red dress was warm against the falling flakes.  Nia’s cheeks turned pink when she realized that it was her. He could only have seen her like this for a few seconds, and yet he had remembered it so vividly.  “Thank you, Esben,” she whispered softly. She looked up at the swiftly moving ship and saw what she knew was him, small and dark against the blue sky, and even though she knew it was too far, she wished he could see her among the crowd, watching him, and wave one last goodbye.  She folded the frame carefully and watched until the ship was small and distant on the wide expanse of the ocean.  Then, holding the painting to her chest protectively as she made her way through the loud, boisterous crowd, she started back for Chimney Hill. * Artham stood at the prow of the boat, taking deep breaths of the ocean air, thrilling at the feeling of the cold ocean breeze. After a while, he heard someone open the hatch to the hold and walk quietly across the deck, stopping halfway.  “You can come up here, Aro,” Artham called without turning around.A minute later, Aro cautiously came to stand beside him.  “Are you okay?” Artham asked, turning towards Aro. Aro nodded, then after a moment added,  “Yes sir.” He had washed his face, wiping away all traces of the bloodrock. He had been more than glad to get rid of it. His ragged hair fell over his forehead, covering the scar from Ryith’s dagger.  Aro looked out at the sea for a long while. He rubbed his hand nervously and for the first time Artham saw the long, jagged scar across his palm and wrist.  “Did you fight Nibbick when he came to get you?” Artham asked,eyeing the scrape on the back of Aro’s hand and the bruise on his cheek.  “No, sir,” Aro answered quietly, glancing away. Artham sighed.  “If you didn’t fight Nibbick, then what happened to your hand?” Aro looked up at him and looked away with a wince. Why had Artham asked that?  Those were the memories he least wanted to think of now.  “You don’t have to fight someone to trip and fall against the wall,” he answered. That part was at least somewhat true. He had scraped his hand against the wall. Aro sighed, grateful for the short silence.  “I still can’t believe he did that,” he finally said.  “Who?” Artham asked.  “Esben. Everything he was saying…”  “It's real,  Aro. You don’t need to doubt it.”  “I don’t understand. Nobody ever…I never heard anything like that before I met you and your brother.” He looked down at his scarred hand and clenched a fist.  “He’s not going to change his mind?” Aro asked worriedly.  “No. He’s not,” Artham answered.  “Then you know that that’s not what normal people do, right? In the Woes,Yorsha Doon, even the Hollows with the Keeper. So why did he?” Artham smiled. “Well, my brother is certainly not normal. Why did he do it?  Because even though it may not be ‘normal,’ it's right.” Aro looked down at his hands. How many things were going to have to change before things settled down? Even the people around him now had different definitions of right and wrong. It scared him. He was just as helpless and out of control now as he had been every moment of his life.  His life had been turned upside down once. For all he knew it would again. He didn’t understand why he felt like he needed to apologize to Artham. But somehow with Esben it had given him a strange feeling of peace. Something else he didn’t understand. Actually, at this point, there were very, very few things he still did understand.  Every time he started to try to apologize though, he remembered when he had ruined the raid and gotten the scar across his hand. After he had woken up, when he had been taken to Ryith’s tent. That kind of forced apology was the only kind he had ever made. The memories surrounding it were painful ones, and when he started to apologize, all he could think of was Ryith.  He shook his head. He couldn’t start thinking about Artham the way he did about Ryith.  “Artham?” He felt strange breaking the silence.  “Yes?”  “I-I wanted to tell you…” he trailed off, fumbling awkwardly for the words to say something he had really never said before. It was a little easier once he had started.  “I’m sorry for everything I did to you,” he whispered. “I know you probably hate me for hurting you and your brother, and if you do, I deserve it.” He paused, trying to figure out how to say what was next. It was all so incredibly strange to him. Apologizing and admitting that what he had thought was right was wrong? It felt like running headlong into a dark place he didn’t know, and where he couldn’t see a thing.  He looked down at the scar on his hand and thought that maybe what he was running from was worse than the unknown ahead.  “Esben said that he forgives me.” He broke off again, completely lost as of how to continue, and looked up at Artham despairingly.  Artham took a deep breath and told Aro what he had already decided in his heart, and what he should have said a long time ago.  “I forgive you too, Aro.” Aro let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Artham.” Artham put a hand on Aro’s shoulder, but Aro stiffened uncomfortably and Artham saw him wince, shaking his head at some painful memory.  Artham stepped back.  “Sorry, Aro.” Aro looked away. “You don’t need to apologize, sir.” His next words were spoken half to himself, as if he was trying to convince himself of something. “It’s not you.” Aro was leaning against the ship’s railing, elbows against the smooth wood, and Artham leaned forward, doing the same. The wind flying around them and through their hair was the only thing that made sound for a long while.  Finally Aro put his head in his hands.  “I’m so confused,” he whispered. Artham looked out at the water, thinking.  “I’m sorry things are like this for you, even though I am glad you’re with us,” he began. “Its okay to be confused. I can’t imagine what this is like for you. I want to help you figure things out. You can ask me anything you want to know, okay?”  “Yes sir,” Aro answered automatically, even though he knew there were hundreds of questions he would never ask.  “Can you please tell me what’s going to happen in the next few days?” He finally asked.  “You will return to Anniera as you left it, as my scribe.” Aro nodded.  “Are you really okay?” Artham asked. “You don't have to say yes.”  “No,” Aro answered. “But I was pretty sure I’d be dead by this time, so this is a huge improvement,”he finished, glancing up at Artham.  “How about you go below and get some rest? You look like you haven’t slept in days,” Artham said.  “Okay.” Aro turned to go back to the hatch, then paused. “Thanks, Artham,” he said, turning around, and Artham caught a fleeting glimpse of his crooked smile before Aro clambered down the ladder into the hold. * Later, the sun was setting, turning the sky into a startlingly beautiful canvas of pink and lavender, the clouds standing out against it in tones of orange and bright yellow. The calm sea looked like molten gold.  Artham had gone below and brought Arundelle up to see it. They stood together in the prow of the boat, soaking in the quiet,  peaceful loveliness. Anniera was close now, and the sun was staining the hills and rooftops of the town a rosy orange.  “I don’t think I’ve ever missed home so much,” Artham said. Arundelle slipped her hand into his and leaned against his shoulder.  “I’m glad you and Esben are safe now,” she said in her quiet, soft voice.  “Do you think things will go back to normal now?” He asked, looking down at her. A gentle breeze had started up, blowing wisps of her long hair around her cheeks. He saw her pause and smile.  “Well, as normal as anything can be with Esben for a brother, him being High King of Anniera, and me as his Throne Warden,” he corrected.  Arundelle laughed. “That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I was going to say that in a way, yes, I believe that things will be ‘normal’ again. But I think you know this, that after something like this happens, it changes you, for better or for worse, whether you realize it or not. And if you choose to let the hard parts change you for the better, you grow.”  Artham smiled and squeezed her hand. The breeze was stronger now, and the smell of Anniera’s shore was wafting over the water. Artham grinned. Some inn on the waterfront, or possibly multiple of the inns, were cooking limpney stew. His stomach growled.  “I wonder why they don’t have limpney stew in the Hollows,” he mused.  “If they did, that stew wouldn’t make you feel like you’re coming home, would it?”  “No, I suppose not.” They could see the people moving around on the dock now, carrying baskets or pulling nets, and Artham could make out Sir Bren and Lord Kadru waiting for them.  Sailors shouted in the rigging, pulling in the sails to come into port slowly and gently.  They could hear the docks now. Shouts and laughter, haggling and friendly greetings.  “Being with you feels like home, no matter where we are, even as far away as the Hollows,” Artham whispered to Arundelle, seeing his blue eyes reflected in her green ones. She smiled softly, her cheeks turning pink.  Artham heard loud banging coming from the other side of the ship, and Esben ran up to the prow.  He sniffed loudly. “Let’s find wherever that smell is coming from and eat there,” he said with a grin.  “Excited to be back, Es?”  “Absolutely.” He leaned out over the rail and waved to Sir Bren and Lord Kadru.  “I mean, it feels good to know that no one is going to randomly try to kill you, to be in a country where the leader isn’t openly hostile toward you, and to be going somewhere the food smells so good. Specifically the stew.” Artham laughed. “You’re really fixated on that limpney stew, aren’t you?”  “And if you just happen to be King or Throne Warden of that country, of course it feels good to be back in your own land,” Esben finished, ignoring Artham with a smirk.  The ship had nearly come to a complete stop, most of the movement was the little waves slapping up against the hull. Finally, the side of the ship hit the dock with a dull thunk. There had been more than one time that winter when Artham was sure he wouldn’t see Anniera again. Now, after everything that had happened, the journey had led him back.  He was coming back with a few more scars, and a lot of memories, both good and bad. More than that though, he was stronger. In more ways than one. His courage and confidence had been tested by fire, like the steel of his sword, pounded to make it stronger. Now he knew that he would take his calling as a Throne Warden with him even unto death. His bond with his brother, already strong because of the shared blood in their veins, had become even stronger, if that was possible, because they had spilled that blood for each other.  Anniera was still the same, but he looked at it now with slightly different eyes. Now it had a deeper, more sincere ring to it when he thanked the Maker for such a country of strength and beauty and peace.  He hoped it would stay that way forever.  For now, he lived in the moment. With the two most important people in the world to him by his side, one of the most beautiful sunsets he had ever seen behind him, and his land before him, in that one moment, in a steady, peaceful way, he was deeply happy, and he was home.

Previous Chapter Notes: • okay…this is…long. I kept it as one chapter though. Next one coming very soon. I already have it written. • Situations here that the characters haven’t been in before, so I’m really hoping none of them feel weird or out of character. Please let me know if they do… Chapter 49 They were on their way to the Keep for the last time. Their ship was waiting in the Watercraw, all of their baggage already in the hold. Everyone returning with them to Anniera was also waiting for them on the ship. Hopefully this final visit would be a quick one. It was a rather busy hour for the roads around the Keep, carriages and horses making the cobbled street ring with the clatter of hoofs and wheels, so the brothers walked. Everyone they passed was watching them, even more than they usually did. Artham grabbed the edge of his cloak and wrapped it around his forearm.  It was a relatively short distance, much shorter than going to the Keep from Oak Hill, so aside from the reason for their destination, Artham greatly enjoyed the walk.  A stiff breeze was blowing across the sea, bringing the salty smell of the ocean into Ban Rona.  Esben was constantly looking in the direction of the Watercraw, taking deep, happy, longing breaths, and Artham realized how much his brother had missed sailing.  “Excited to get back on the water, Es?” He asked with a smile, and when Esben answered, it was like a small eruption.  “Yes! So much! I didn’t really think about it until now. But two months surrounded by nothing but houses and roads and trees and…more houses, I feel like I’m suffocating!”  Artham laughed.  “Do you think you could possibly survive waiting a few more minutes?” He asked in mock seriousness.  “Is that a real ‘few minutes,’ or ‘a few minutes’ as the term is used in matters of state?” He asked. “Hopefully a real ‘few minutes,’” Artham answered with a grin. “If I’m going to give you an approximation, I'd say half an hour at most.” Esben groaned. “Half an hour? Can we talk about your definition of ‘a few minutes?’”  Artham smirked.  “If you survived two months you can survive another half hour or so.  “Probably,” Esben added.  They walked in silence for a while, and as they passed the road that led to the waterfront market, and another that led to the Guildling Hall, there were fewer and fewer people on the road.  “You’ve decided what to do?” Artham asked, even though he was pretty sure of the answer.  “Yeah,” Esben was quiet for a long while. “I’m going to pardon him.”  “I thought you would,” Artham said. Esben turned to him with worried eyes.  “Artham, are you mad at me for pardoning him? Do you think I’m making the wrong decision?”  “No, I’m not mad at you. Definitely not, Es.” Artham breathed deeply. “As for making the right decision, the Maker made you king. You’ve been training to make the decisions of a king your whole life. Besides,” he continued in a joking voice, with a wry smile. “Should you really be asking someone about important decisions when he just got his head bashed and his thoughts scrambled a week ago?” Esben smiled, but not much.  “How’s your head anyway?” He asked, obviously trying to change the subject.  “Better,” Artham said shortly, not wanting to mention that that morning he had forgotten it was the day of their departure and Bonifer had had to remind him.  He silently thanked the Maker that the foggy, forgetful moments that he hated so much had grown fewer and further between in the last three or four days.  “Before you answer, Es, know that I stand by your decision. But I want to know, why did you decide to pardon him?” Artham asked slowly.  “Lots of things, I guess. I don’t really know. You’re right, he definitely doesn’t act like a kid, but I had to grow up pretty fast too. And we don’t really know anything about his past. I just kept wondering, if I had the life he did,  would I have done anything different?” He looked away. “I know that doesn’t justify anything he did. But- oh, I don't know! Now I’m confusing myself again!”  “Hey. It’s okay. You don’t need to explain it to me,” Artham said quietly, looking toward the Keep.  “I just…know that forgiving him is the right thing.” Esben said in a quiet, firm, sure voice.  The rest of the way, both were lost in their thoughts. The wide doors were open, so they walked into the oddly silent Keep, and Artham realized how huge it looked, dim and empty, the Great Tree shadowed in the far end.  There was only one person inside other than the brothers, the Durgan that guarded the door to the dungeon.  As they approached, Artham expected the guard to open the door, but he didn’t.  “What’s yer business here?” The Durgan asked, looking the brothers over from head to toe.  Artham groaned inwardly. Of all the Durgans who could have been on duty at the moment, why did it have to be Nibbick Bunge? Connolin growled.  Artham glanced down at Esben, who was clearly at a loss for a good explanation.  “The King doesn’t need too explain his business to you, Nibbick. Is one of your commanders nearby?” Nibbick turned to Artham, smirking.  “Ye aren’t lookin’ too good, Artham. Quite the bruise you got there. Ya run into a wall or something?” Artham stopped for a moment, wondering if Nibbick really didn’t know.  “No, I had a run in with someone with a very large, heavy shield,” Artham answered flatly. “Could you please let us in or at least let us talk with your commander?”  “I’m under orders not to let anyone in unless they have specific permission,” Nibbick stated, obviously enjoying relating this news, enough that Artham wondered if those even were his orders.  “Now, tell me what ya want in the dungeon, Esben,” Nibbick demanded, stepping closer to Esben, looking down at him with a glare that practically dared Esben to step back.  Artham stepped between them, in the back of his mind annoyed that Nibbick was, and always had been, taller than him.  “We’re here for one of the prisoners,” Artham stated.  Nibbick smirked. “Which one?”  “The Wanderer,” Esben said, stepping away so that he wasn’t directly behind his brother.  Nibbick turned his gaze to Esben, a scornful, questioning look on his face.  “Now why in Aerwiar do you want Woefolk scum out of that dungeon?” Esben hesitated and Artham remembered their conversation on the way over. Now I’m confusing myself again! He had said. He had the same look in his eyes now as he had then..  “Nibbick, you are not in a position to demand answers from the High King. We are dealing with \ a matter of state and an instance of offense against the crown, and this prisoner is involved. If you wont let us in to get him, please bring him up.” Nibbick glared at him.  “There ain’t one good reason I should do what you say. This ain’t your country,” he snarled.  “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll ask the Durgan making rounds outside,” Artham said, turning as if to go.  Nibbick shoved Artham back hard, his hand slamming into Artham’s arm. He turned and yanked a ring of keys from his belt and jammed one into the door.  Esben glanced at Artham, who had stepped back a few paces when Nibbick pushed him, then turned angrily toward Nibbick.  “I’m fine, Es,” Artham said quietly, gesturing to his brother to wait as Nibbick stormed into the dark hall and disappeared around the corner, snatching a single torch off the wall along the way.  Artham heard Esben let out a huff.  “He’s in top form today,” Esben muttered.  “Yeah,” Artham agreed, rubbing his arm. After a pause, Esben spoke again.  “Artham? I don't really know what’s supposed to happen now.”  Artham exhaled slowly. “Me either. I suppose we just have to figure it out as we go.” They heard two sets of footsteps coming up the hall, one heavy, fast, and angry, the other lighter and a little uneven. Nibbick stormed around the corner and jammed the torch back in its metal support on the wall, his other hand grabbing the few inches of chain between Aro’s handcuffs.  Aro hadn’t seen the brothers yet. When the light fell on his face he turned away, squinting, and tried to step back. Artham realized that Aro hadn’t seen daylight in nine days, and as dim as it was inside the Keep, it was even darker in the dungeon.  “Come on,” Nibbick growled, yanking the chain so that Aro tripped forward and would have fallen but for Nibbick’s hold on his handcuffs. Nibbick was facing the brothers, and Aro’s back was to them.  For a second Aro squinted and blinked in the light, then straightened his shoulders, tossing the hair out of his eyes and lifting his chin to glare at Nibbick. Aro seemed to hesitate for a minute, shifting his shoulders. Nibbick looked more angry then when he had gone down, and Aro was breathing hard. Artham noticed a scrape across the back of his hand and a slowly fading red mark across his cheekbone.  Artham realized exactly what Aro wanted to do so suddenly that he almost laughed, then immediately realized that he needed to prevent it from happening. Because of a combination of Nibbick having his guard down and the fact that he greatly underestimated the short, skinny young Wanderer, he was standing in front of Aro in a way that would have made it ridiculously easy for Aro to slam his shoulder into Nibbick’s gut.  Artham stepped forward and was about to say something when Esben spoke.  “Thank you, Nibbick. May I have your keys for a moment?” Aro jerked around when he heard Esben’s voice. His face was pale and his jaw set in grim determination.  Esben asked Nibbick something so quietly that Artham couldn’t hear. Nibbick scoffed, but let Esben take the ring, rather unwillingly. “Why in Aerwiar-”  “Please just tell me, Nibbick.” Nibbick shook his head, looking not only disapproving and scornful but disgustedly confused. “That one,” he said, pointing to a key on the chain. Esben took it off the ring and handed the rest back to Nibbick, then stepped to Aro. Aro seemed like he was trying to say something. Esben glanced up at Artham uncertainly, then waited. Artham watched as Aro seemed to struggle. Whatever he was about to say, it was obviously hard for him. One moment his dark eyes were fearful, the next they flashed in anger. Then in such a small flicker that Esben later wondered if he had imagined it, he saw a deep, long-standing hurt like he had never seen in Aro show on his face.  Then Aro shook his head and it was all replaced by a grim, fearful determination to say what he had to because it was important and he knew he needed to say it, even though he didn’t know why and even though he was thinking of his future in terms of a few more hours.  “I’m sorry. F-for everything. I… I’m sorry I hurt you.” He looked at the ground, taking deep, shuddering breaths.  Artham watched as Esben knelt in front of Aro and waited until the boy met his eyes.  “You are forgiven, Aro,” he said firmly,with a deep joy filling his serious voice as he inserted the key into the metal bands around Aro’s wrists, unlocking the cuffs and tossing them to the ground. “I’m pardoning you.”  Aro looked at him in utter bewilderment.  “What?” He asked, confusion and disbelief on every feature of his face.  “When we get to Anniera, I’ll issue an official pardon, but right now you can know that everything you did against me is forgiven.” A hundred different thoughts and emotions fought for Aro’s attention and showed on his face. His world was changing again in ways he couldn’t begin to understand.  “Why?” He finally managed to ask incredulously.  “Forgiveness doesn’t need a reason. At least not the kind you’re thinking of. Now the only thing you have to do is accept it. Come with us to the Watercraw so we can go home, to Anniera.” Esben stood up. Aro looked away, then nodded uncertainly.  “Let’s go,” Esben said,smiling. After hesitating a moment longer, Aro followed him. Artham and Connolin came last, following Esben and Aro, closing the Keep doors behind them.  They made for the Watercraw then, Aro walking between the brothers. They walked mostly in silence until Artham spoke.  “When we get to the Watercraw, if he asks, I’ll tell Myndik what we talked about yesterday, right?”  Esben shook his head.  “I’m the one he needs to hear it from, Arth. But thanks for helping me know what to say.” After then no one said a word until they reached the waterfront. Aro stopped when he saw the crowd of people. Esben’s eyes lit up when he spotted someone and he walked ahead quickly.  Aro looked up at Artham nervously.  “It’s okay, Aro,” Artham said. “Do a lot of people know?” He asked quietly.  “No.” Aro nodded and followed Artham into the crowd, stepping close to him and instinctively keeping his head down.  Esben was at the dock with Nia, his face lit up as they talked.  “-and thank you so much for everything,” Esben was saying.  “This trip was was mostly awful and you made it’s lot less awful. I-I mean, I really enjoyed getting to know you, and I have this for you.” He reached into his satchel-Artham had wondered why Esben had been carrying such a large satchel- and pulled out a painting, the wooden frame the canvas was stretched on carefully cut on both sides so that it folded down, concealing the picture.  He handed it to Nia, and his heart raced at her exclamation of delight and the feeling of her fingers brushing his when she took the frame.  “Look at it when I leave,” Esben finished, seeing she was about to unfold it. She nodded and smiled.  “Thank you, Esben.”  “I hope I can see you again soon,” Esben said.  “Me too,” Nia responded.  Artham was close to the two of them now. He saw Myndik coming towards them. Esben saw it too, because he turned and smiled one last time at the girl in front of him.  “Goodbye, Nia,” he said.  “Bye, Esben,” she answered, matching his smile with her own, her eyes lit up and sparkling. Esben then turned and walked too where Artham and Aro were waiting for him. He reached them just as Myndik came up.  “Hello, Wingfeathers,” he growled.  “Hello, Keeper,” Artham said.  “Me son tell me that ye want to set this here criminal free.”  “That’s right, Keeper,” Esben said. “We’re taking him to Anniera.”  “He tried to kill you, Wingfeather. Only a weakling would let an enemy get away with that. Besides, you ain’t takin’ him anywhere. Crimes committed in the Hollows are punished in the Hollows.” Again Artham fervently wished he could tell Myndik to shut up, and Esben was thinking very resentfully of a certain boot and the Banick Durga. Some Hollis’s customs needed to be rethought. But now would be the worst possible time to say that. Esben ignored Myndik’s insult and spoke calmly.  “Keeper, this boy’s crimes were against Anniera and Anniera only. It's standard procedure to take him to Anniera and deal with said crimes there as we see fit.”  Aro’s head shot up at Esben's words and he looked at Artham fearfully.  “Don’t worry, I promise, he’s just saying that to get you out of here. My brother would never, ever break his word,”Artham told him in a whisper, bending over slightly. Aro nodded, still looking around nervously. Anywhere except at Myndik.  Esben continued.  “You can’t convict him of a single crime against the Hollows, not even tresspassing, because he came from Anniera with us with your full knowledge. May we please proceed to our ship now, Keeper?” Myndik laughed.  “If you want your little Wanderer, you can have him. Like I told you, I want you and your problems out of my country. Goodbye, Esben,” he said, for the last time refusing to bow or acknowledge Esben’s title.  That was surprisingly easy, Artham thought.  “Excellently done, Your Majesty,” he whispered. Esben’s eyes followed Myndik’s retreating form through the crowd.  “Good riddance,” he muttered, and Artham laughed.