"Hannah," he said, almost a whisper, "Do not ever tell me how to raise my sons. Ever. Loem is old enough, at eleven, especially in these times of war, to serve me as a squire. He's intelligent and further ahead than most pages his age as it is. He's ready. I've made my decision, he's ready to go." He buckled and tightened his vambraces, the symbol of Lordaeron clearly visible on their metal surface, with the blue and maroon ribbons representing Laric's house surrounding the crest. Hannah knew, outside, his warhorse was waiting and no doubt Loem was there, too, waiting for his Master and father.
"Laric... Laric, he's a boy. A young boy. You're taking him to war, to fight orcs and gods know what else, and-"
"Enough. You will address me as 'Lord Laric' or not at all." Laric turned, his face hard as stone. "Hannah, I've asked you to care for Leodry. I've asked you this because you were my wife's best and closest friend, nearly a sister, and I trust you. But that's enough. You, as a woman, do not have the capacity to understand the rigors of war and battle, and that's fine. In fact, I am glad that you do not have to know these things, as it's for a man to know, not one of such fragile constitution as yourself. Loem is going to be fine. He'll be in camp, tending to me on the road... never on a battlefield. He'll be constantly surrounded by some of the finest warriors and knights Lordaeron has to offer. I do not fear for his safety. Neither should you."
With that, he turned to go. Hannah followed, afraid, but unable to convince him. Lord Laric's warhorse and two packhorses were outside, one carrying the eleven-year-old Loem, already wearing his father's colors and carrying a small banner with Laric's crest, the other laden with supplies for their long journey. Loem seemed at ease, even excited, but it did nothing to quell the fear in Hannah's heart. This was Elaine's son, her best friend's boy, and it tugged at her heart as if he was her own flesh and blood.
Laric turned to another boy, much younger than the squire mounted nearby. Unlike his lithe, even graceful brother, he was shorter and had broader shoulders. His eyes were green, like his mother's, but he was built like his father, stocky and strong. And, also like his father, Leodry could be terribly stubborn. Even before Hannah could make it down the path after the armored knight, she could hear the boy complaining.
"I want to go with you, father! Loem gets to go! I'm strong! I can fight!"
Laric smiled. "Loem is much older than you, and has trained very hard as my squire. When I get home from the battles, I'll make sure you continue your own training. Maybe I'll even bring you your first sword, if you're good for Auntie Hannah, or maybe an orcish axe as tall as you are." He ran his hand over his younger son's head, grinning sadly, for a moment like any father saying goodbye... but it ended quickly as he gently but firmly pushed his son towards the waiting woman.
She wanted to run forward and scoop him up into her arms, to comfort him, but she couldn't... not with her lord still here who would no doubt find that overstepping her bounds. The poor boy carried only a single small bag and it probably carried all his possessions. The stubborn lord was known to live a spartan life and no doubt tried to get his sons to do the same. She pitied him, pitied both boys, who have had to grow up without a mother. At least Loem had some time with her, before bearing Leodry into the world took Elaine's life.
"Hannah," Laric said, swinging into his saddle, "Take care of him. Make sure he continues his training. Make him work, give him discipline. I don't want my boy going soft while I'm away." With that, he turned his horse and left. Hannah and Leodry stood, watching the knight and squire's backs as they rode away, Leodry trying his best to hide tears and cry quietly so that his father wouldn't hear.
"Oh, Leodry... you can cry. It's alright," she whispered. The young boy just shook his head.
"Papa says I shouldn't cry. That tears don't make things better, just make you look weak."
Hannah sighed, exasperated with Lord Laric even more. "Sometimes... sometimes you feel so sad that it's like poison inside you. I always think that tears wash that poison out, that if you keep it inside it makes you sick. So go ahead and cry, Leodry. It'll make you feel a little better."
Hannah waited with the boy until the fireflies were all they could see, then took his hand and led him back to the house. Inside, the fire had burned low and the lamp was nearly out. She and her husband had cleared out a small room for the boy, one they had been using to dry and preserve the harvest from their fields. Though the room still smelled a bit like dried meat, herbs, and jams, it would serve has his room for the hopefully short duration of the war.
"Tomorrow, Uncle Danir will return from the market in town. He'll teach you how to help with the fields, and the plow. I hope you'll be happy here, Leodry. Try to get some sleep." She closed the door behind herself and closed her eyes, a silent prayer on her mind. Elaine... please. Watch over your husband. Watch over your son. I'll do my best to keep your youngest safe from harm, but Loem...
A single tear slid down her cheek and fell into her light brown hair. The night was still and peaceful, but morning couldn't come quickly enough.
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