Half Moon Rising-Chapter 13

Chapter 13-The Pretender

     Artham sat on a bench in one of the castle gardens, shaded by a towering tree, and staring at a book he wasn’t actually reading. He replayed the conversation from the night before over and over again in his head, a feeling of complete failure creeping into him. That last look his brother had given him, it spoke clearer than any words Esben could have said. 

     “I can’t keep doing this,” Artham muttered to himself. I keep running around in circles, trying to figure myself out, trying to figure everything out, and trying to keep Esben from realizing or getting hurt by it. The whole time, I’m doing the exact opposite…I’m failing. There’s no other way around it. Artham gripped the spine of his book tightly and leaned back on the bench, breathing the damp mossy smell of the tree behind him and feeling the dappled morning sunlight on his face. 

     Everything I do is going wrong. The only time Esben seemed like himself was that afternoon…that’s what I need to be. I need to act like I have it all figured out. Pretend everything was the way it used to be. Maybe I’ll do something with him this morning other than have an awkward conversation. Artham stood up and walked along the cobbled garden path up to the castle.  Everything he passed reminded him of his parents. He stopped beside a rare tree from the Jungles of Plontst, (One of the smaller species, obviously, or it wouldn’t have fit well in a human’s garden, even one as large as the castle’s.) Even so, it was one of the larger trees out there. It was similar to a Glipwood oak in that it’s branches were many, twisted, and wide, but the similarities ended there. The bark was moist but crumbly, it’s leaves were waxy, and it wasn’t a good idea to smell the tiny white flowers. It was one of Artham’s favorite trees because it was so fun to climb. Memories swung around its branches like fleeting shadows in candlelight. He and his aunt spent hours climbing this tree, exercise and training disguised as fun. 

    What would she think of me now? I’m supposed to be filling her place. If I ever want to be like her, if I want to ever do something that would make her proud, I have to start with helping Esben. I can’t keep hurting him by letting my hurt spill out. I have to do this right. 

*

     Once again, Esben was at his paintings. He was adding highlights to his most recent one, the bright sparkle in an eye, the glint of something gold, or the gleam of sunlight on carefully smoothed hair. He heard his brother’s steps come down the hall and paused hesitantly in front of his door. Esben quickly covered his painting with a clean sheet, making sure it hung just so over the outcropping piece of wood in the easel so it wouldn’t smear the paint. He turned in time to see Artham open the door softly and poke his head in. 

     “Um, Es? It's almost time for breakfast. Thought I’d let you know.” 

     “Coming,” Esben said as he dunked his brushes into a cup of water. He wiped his paint covered hands on a rag and walked to his brother. 

     “Anything change since last night?” He asked, shooting another look at his brother, then trying to soften it before Artham saw it. A flicker of something passed through Artham’s eyes and he took a deep breath. 

      “I’m feeling better this morning. Want to do something after breakfast?” Esben’s brows raised in surprise for a moment, then he looked at his brother with a slight smile. 

     “How about checkers?” 

     “What? Oh Es, come on. You only want to play because you know you always win.”

     “So you finally acknowledge me as the incredible king of checkers?” Esben grinned at his brother, knowing that Artham would never pass up a challenge, even one as mild as his. Artham groaned but said,

     “Okay fine. But only a couple rounds. Then we should go for a ride or something,” a hint of laughter creeping into the edge of his voice.

*

     Artham sat on his window seat, elbows on the sill, chin in his hands, watching the stars and listening to his brother snore in the other room. He finally felt some measure of peace, knowing he had done something right. Esben had been a lot happier that day. The ride had been the most pleasant thing that had happened to Artham for the last month. It had lasted several hours, and they had sprinkled the time with races. They had talked a lot, for the first time having a real conversation that hadn’t had the shadow of sorrow tugging at its edges. Pretending to be happy for his brother, walling up the incessant questions, seeing how his ‘happiness’ had made Esben glad, the combination surprised him when he returned home feeling lighter. The checkers game, on the other hand, had been awful for Artham, and clearly incredibly fun for Esben. The fact that Esben enjoyed it was what made Artham smile as he remembered.  

      Mission accomplished, he thought. Artham always heard his own voice in his head whenever he thought or read something, and the tone that echoed soundless in his mind surprised him. He wished the edge of bitterness wasn’t there. He tried to pretend it wasn’t, he willed himself not to feel his next thought. 

     I wouldn’t have had to do all that if you hadn’t let them die. Artham dropped his face into his hands in frustration. 

      Why can’t I just stop? I don’t want any of these feelings. I don’t want to be angry! I have to find a way to stop all of this. Artham groaned inwardly at the return of his cycle of exhausting thoughts. Grief. Remembrance. Anger. Failure. Guilt. The whole thing over again. He quickly lit a lamp, pushing back the darkness that welcomed dark thoughts. He buried himself deep into his book that he plucked off the shelf, barely having to glance at the crammed shelf before he knew where it was. This book was one of his favorites. (He had an incomplete list of his current thirty-six favorite books memorized) He hoped that he could calm down his mind enough to go to sleep. He had to sleep tonight, and tomorrow night, and the next, he told himself. He didn’t mind not getting any sleep, but if erasing the ‘dark circles’ under his eyes that he hadn’t noticed erased some of Esben’s worry, then he was going to do it. He just had to read enough to bury his miserable thoughts in the words of his book. 

     Anyway, next week is going to be the meeting to decide the final details of the funeral, then we will  both be busy preparing for it. I have to help to the best of my ability because it’s important to Esben. And maybe… maybe saying goodbye in some way will help with everything. He could feel his thoughts start to move on to something else, but before they could, he quickly started reading before he realized he had stopped, heedless of the deepening darkness outside his window. He breathed deep, wanting to feel the full measure of peace he could, knowing that today he hadn’t completely failed, or at least not as badly. 

     I guess this is what I’m going to do from now on, the thought. He shook his head at himself and how he couldn’t stop his thoughts from running back to a particular place like meeps to a three lip bush, Then  plunged into the world of his book, glad to forget for a while. 

Notes:

• Let me know if any sentences seem choppy or run on… I was tired when I did the final check over. 😑

• Finally, a new chapter! Sorry I took so long…my easy excuse is starting a new school year…plus another case of writer’s block.

• I found a cure for writer’s block! For me anyway. (It involves chocolate and Celtic music…😂)

• So… the checkers thing isn’t my idea. I dont remember who said this, but someone was trying to figure out who was better at chess, Artham or Esben. Their theory is now part of my official canon. Here’s the thing. Artham is amazing at chess. He loves the strategy, everything. He can beat anyone, and the game will always be exactly as long as he wants it to be. On the other hand…Esben is either secretly a checkers genius or the luckiest person to ever sit down at a checker board. He starts playing, and its all over for his brother. He wins every single time, and it drives Artham crazy.

Part of why I love this so much is that even though I can’t play chess, this is exactly how it is with me, my brother, and checkers. He just has so much more patience than me! It used to drive me crazy…😂 Sorry for the tangent. Anyway, if you got this far, that means you read the chapter, so I hope you enjoyed both it and this snack I’m giving you.

🍪 🍪 🍎 🍏