[Annunfuiniel]

Aiyana strove through the crowd that had gathered round two street performers. The players’ theatrical voices shouted over the rumpus of the audience and their extravagant gestures perfected the ridiculous scene.

“Ai and alas! My King!” The first one screamed in mock lamentation.

“Whats… ish’it, my… counshellor?” The not-so-sober “King” stuttered and hiccupped.

“Ah, the greatest woe: the horses are gone! Lost! Missing! From the mightiest stallions to the tiniest ponies – nowhere to be found, not a horseshoe is left of them!”

“By Mearas’ muck! No-one takesh me hacks!” the King exclaimed and hopped to his Counsellors back as if mounting his steed. “Let ush gallop after ‘em!” But suddenly the King burped loudly. The audience knew their part in this spectacle and many whinnies rang in the air.

“My King! They heard your call!”…

The crowd broke to laughter and cheers. But Aiyana didn’t heed to the merriments. Absentmindedly she plodded forward - and got many a bruise and scratch while bumping into hurrying towners with full baskets or small wooden cages which they used as their shields. Before she was even halfway through the market place her sky-blue dress had turned to the color of sad grey and the satin ribbon on her left sleeve had been torn off.

Yet only after she heard a vendor shouting from his stall “Skins! Pelts! Tanned leather!” did the young woman raise her gaze from the dusty street. Her eyes were grey, dark and dimmed, but knowing the urgency of her business she sighed and made her way towards the stall whence the call came from. A cool breeze came from behind her and flew her dark blonde hair to her eyes.

Aiyana fingered the soft hides and for a fleeing moment her mind broke loose from the cheerless thoughts it brooded. This is perfect… she mused and lifted up a skilfully curried buckskin, smooth but sturdy.

“Good choice, young miss.” The stall-keeper smiled, revealing a ragged row of yellow teeth. “It’ll make the finest pair of shoes!”

Aiyana’s pearly smile lasted only a flash. “It isn’t for shoes, dear man.” she said and rolled up her left sleeve: three deep gashes crossed her slender arm. “I need a new glove.”

The man looked from Aiyana’s face to her arm and back to her face again. Aiyana hid another smile that tried to creep to her lips as she caught a glimpse of the old seller’s perplexed expression.

“You don’t say! A falconer, eh?” he finally managed to mumble while rolling the piece of leather Aiyana had chosen. The young woman, still somewhat amused, tried to concentrate on selecting another, finer skin for hoofs and jesses. Calf, that is best. she decided and handed the small pelt to the man.

“A falconer indeed!” Aiyana bestowed another smile and reached for her money pouch that hung on a braided string around her neck. “And I thank you for my own and my birds’ behalf” she continued placing two coins to the stall-keeper’s wrinkled hand and then took her leave. For a moment the old man stared after his curious customer. Then he shrugged his shoulders, muttering something about ‘wild creatures’ under his breath, and turned back to his work.

“Skins! Pelts!”

But Aiyana’s smile was gone and her heart again heavy – for the memory of the previous night was a raw wound in her mind and the future was a gaping black cleft towards which she was being pushed…

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]