Tales and Introductions

Early fall, Year 761 of the New Age
Silverthorne, the Silver Vale
Featuring Cleon and Skuldafn, mentions of Aldra and Clíodhna

Cleon

Today was the big day! The biggest day in such a long time! He was going to see his sire, his father the king, and not just from afar. He was going to actually meet him and speak to him! It wasn’t going to be a private meeting, which he might’ve preferred, but he didn’t fear standing infront of the whole herd when meeting him. Not that the whole herd would be present, but there would probably be a lot of individuals around, even if the king was not directly on duty. Cleon felt confident that he could deal with it easily though; he was son of the king after all and nothing  could bring him down! And he would be doing it alone, because Mother wouldn’t be with him. She would stand back and let him do it himself; to him she did it because she trusted him, but the truth was that she simply did not wish to interact with Skuldafn.

Mother had never lied about who his father was or how he looked, yet even being here, many meters from him, Cleon felt small. Maybe just because he was smaller and thinner than his father, but it could also just be the fact that his father was a magnificently looking stag and king. He fit perfectly into the many stories Cleon had heard, both of him and of former kings and soldiers. He gulped ever so lightly, before he tried to stand a bit straighter and look up. He could do this, it was his father that stood there in front of him. This couldn’t go wrong. Cleon wasn’t dark. He wasn’t weak. He could step in fire and not burn. There was no reason for his father to reject him, yet… what if he did?

He wanted to run back to Mother, wanted to stand behind her tail, hide by her side where he knew he was safe and no one could harm him, but he didn’t want to be weak in front of his father, so he hesitantly made and attempt to back away, before practically stumbling forward a few steps as he tried to walk closer. Feeling his ears burn, he quickly walked the last few steps until he stood in front of the stag who ruled the lands of fire.

Skuldafn

The years were cyclical, always changing yet never changing. With the heat of the summer sun slowly ebbing away into the cooler autumn months, the clashing of antlers and crisp sounds of fighting clang through the air on a daily basis. Skuldafn had observed the same happenings all his life, but as King he now supervised them. He hadn’t participated in the events for the past year, and wasn’t planning on it for this year. No, those days seemed over for the foreseeable future.

He had done his last duty just a few ruts ago, siring his five youngest fawns so far – three strong sons and two beautiful daughters. A guilty feeling hung in his chest that he had only been able to spend quality time with a few so far, or any time at all, really – but business dragged him elsewhere many times. Skuldafn could only observe from a distance how his sons and daughters were growing up, seeing his daughters grow into proper young hinds and watching as other stags raised his sons as their own. The latter was a painful thing to see, but he did not outwardly show it. No, in his line of work, he learned to keep those sorts of emotions close to his chest, away from prying eyes.

Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned to look at the source. Approaching him was a young lad, awfully fuzzy with striking white markings – namely spots. Besides the ashy coat, there was a lot of Skuldafn in this colt. This was one of his sons, the one from Aldra that he never quite got the luxury to observe as closely as he had his other children. She kept him distant from others, only bringing him around the rest of the central herd recently – a reason he couldn’t quite understand why, but as long as they were safe, he didn’t question it too much.

He was glad to see his son, but once again, his emotions were kept close to him. Another confusing question was where his mother was. Hopefully this wasn’t another abandonment issue like what had happened with Haldor – but if Aldra had kept him for two years without issue, then he figured she’d keep him for as long as she could. The longer Skuldafn held his gaze on the young colt, the more he could tell that nerves were getting the better of him. The fawn’s body language went from bold and courageous to shy and skittish. Every step took some guts to take, and eventually after putting one foot in front of the other, he was there, looking up at his father.

Skuldafn looked at him, unsure of what exactly to say. He had thought perhaps the colt had come with some words of his own, or maybe a list of burning questions like “how did you meet my mother?” or “where have you been for two years?”, but instead the little one stood and stared at him, frozen.

“Are you alright, lad?” Skul finally asked, leaning his head down to better see his son, and adjusting his expression to be more warm and welcoming – hopefully that wasn’t what the fawn was so frightened of in the first place.  

Cleon

Standing in front of the golden stag without saying a word at all did not make it easier, but he just couldn’t get his mouth to open up and say something. It seemed stuck together like that time he had eaten some weird leaves, but this time Mother wasn’t there to help him. She was around though, for she had not abandoned him here; she would never abandon him. No, she was right behind him, standing there watching him. If he looked back, she would be right there, he felt certain of that. He was actually about to look back at her in hopes of some courage when his father leaned his head down. It was more than he could deal with and he backed a step. He managed to shake his head weakly though. He wasn’t okay, he just wanted to go back to Mother. He didn’t think this was the most amazing thing anymore!

The sandy fawn was clearly in distress and it wouldn’t be weird if Skuldafn got uneasy by it, since he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. It was all just crashing down on the usually proud and confident fawn. However not long passed until a soft grunt could be heard. It was weak amongst all the other sounds, but it was clear that the fawn picked it up immediately, seemingly knowing it so intimately that he would recognize it even in his dreams. His head turned towards the sounds and if Skuldafn did the same he would see her: the ashen mother of the fawn. He would also see that she completely ignored him and solely kept her attention on her distressed fawn, even if she did keep her distance. Her eyes were soft and her smile encouraging. As her son made an attempt to walk towards her, she gently shook her head at him before making a little nod towards the golden stag. Cleon’s body language clearly calmed and he even managed to smile back at his mother as she sent him one last smile and tilted her head towards the golden stag again

More calm in his demeanor, albeit still clearly nervous, Cleon turned his attention back to his father. His tail flicked around one of his backlegs, before he looked up, trying to catch his eyes and then finally saying his first words to him: “I’m… I’m good, sir… I-I mean sire.”

Skuldafn

The somewhat distant grunt caught Skuldafn’s attention only for a moment, and in the crowd he noticed a familiar ashy face. “Aldra”, he thought, observing as she avoided all contact with him, but instead focused solely on their son.  Not much had changed over the years, her attitude towards him remained as it had before – but it relieved Skuldafn all the same to see that she was caring for the fawn, rather than abandoning him like Haldor had been. She was a good mother, although different and distant, “unique” would probably be the best word he could use.

His mother clearly gave him confidence, but underneath it there was still clearly some nervousness lurking about in the colt’s expression. The young one tried to hold himself together, but his voice was still clearly timid. Of course it would be, though; he was a young colt, meeting his father for the first time – a father in high places, as far as social rank went – anyone in that situation would be nervous.

Skuldafn tried to dissolve that fear with a soft chuckle and a smile, “It’s ok, son – I’m not going to bite.”, he paused for a moment, but continued, “You know, you’re very brave – It takes a lot to resist the urge to run, but you overcame that. What’s your name?”

Cleon

As the golden stag spoke again the sandy buck smiled timidly, but his body-language calmed more. His sire didn’t seem like a harsh stag, at least not when he looked into his eyes. Not that the connection was constant there; Cleon’s eyes held the connection for a few seconds, then darted off in a shy manner before returning. Every time the connection became longer and longer though, so at some point he would probably hold his father’s gaze without trouble. That point most likely wouldn’t be today, but it would be soon.

Pride swelled in the young buck when the king called him brave. Now how many could pride themselves with that; not many that was for sure! Yet he remained timid and did not seem as proud and ready to boast a bit like he would surely be whenever he left his sire to his kingly duties. “Mother… Mother named me Cleon,” he said sending a slightly more secure smile. “She named me after a great soldier named Cliu-Cleo…” His tongue and mind snared itself and he went silent for a moment before brightening up as he remembered the name and how to say it. “Clíodhna! Mother says she was the greatest soldier our kingdom has ever seen!” As he got excited his timidness faded and gave away for his usual excited and bold personality… and his usual blabbermind that could go on and on for hours when it first got started. “And that she had many great scars, but never let them keep her from defending anyone, including Mother when she was little and they went all on sorts of adventures and… and…” He went quiet again, his ears  flicking back slightly. He didn’t know whether his sire cared about that; not that it would change his opinion about the pale, golden doe; oh no, in his mind he was named after the greatest soldier of all time, no matter what others told him.

Skuldafn

“Cleon”…his mind didn’t even hesitate for a moment to know who that reminded him of. “Clíodhna”, the doe that had pretty much helped raise him. The doe that was his soldier-figure for him until he officially was recruited into the military. The doe who’s escape prompted him to rise to command. The doe he hoped would return one day, and the doe he would never forget. He almost let himself slip into the memories he held of her, but he noticed his son’s demeanor change quite suddenly when he spoke of the stories he had heard of her. Skul could only smile and let out a small chuckle when he fell silent.

“Your mother speaks nothing but the truth, Cleon – Clíodhna was one of the bravest soldiers I knew in my life. She’s saved me quite a few times when I was younger, and helped me to where I am today. You’ll do her name proud, Son – I know it.”

A wide, warm smile stretched Skuldafn’s face, and after a moment’s pause he added on, “You’re leaving me hanging on those stories of her, though. If you don’t mind, I’d love to hear them. I can tell you some of my stories with Clíodhna as well - if you’d like to hear those, of course.”

Cleon

Only a few moments had to pass before Cleon’s ears tilted forward again; his sire did not sigh with annoyance or show any other sign of being uninterested in what he had said. He did not even correct him like a few bucks had done in the past when he had mentioned the soldier doe. Instead his sire smiled and chuckled, which came as a slight surprise and for a moment he feared it was a bad chuckle. One of those where his words were dismissed afterwards; however it wasn’t. No, instead his sire, the king, agreed with what he had said. He knew the doe and had been saved by her! How that was even possible seemed Cleon did not know; could a king ever need to be saved?

“I-I… don’t know...” He didn’t know what to say and he wasn’t even sure if Mother was okay with him telling on the stories. He had told them to Idril, true, but that was different: she was his friend. Best friend actually! Turning slightly unsure again the sandy buck looked at his mother for confirmation on whether he could tell her stories on to his sire. She had heard nothing though and had started to graze, but she still kept a close eye at her son, so when he looked, she noticed. Despite not knowing what he wanted, she simply gave a gentle nod and a kind smile before returning: he knew nothing that he was not allowed to tell on to whomever wanted to listen.

Looking back at the golden stag Cleon wrinkled his muzzle for a moment, thinking hard as he tried to pick a story out. Mother and Clío had been on many adventures, so which one to tell? In the end he decided to settle on his favourite: the one about one brave soldier, one scared fawn and five fawns of the night. It was kinda scary, but he liked it regardless because Clío was so brave in it and he wished he could be just as brave as her one day!

“I would really like to hear your stories with Clíodhna, but… do you want to hear Mother’s first?” There was something hopeful in his voice; he liked to tell the stories on. He had tried to do so a few times before, when together with the other bucks, but he was always drowned out by how awesome their sires’ were or what kind of spectacle their brother’s had made. He had no stories of his own about either, so he had never really been able to compete. Because of that he really  hoped that his sire would allow him to tell his mother’s story and not drown him out with his own.

Skuldafn

The hope in his son’s voice shone through like the sun after a rainy spell, Skuldafn noticed. Whenever the colt wanted to talk, his face lit up nearly as bright as the Winterflame on the darkest night, his smile was just as warm, too. He was passionate about these stories, that much was obvious.

Skuldafn chuckled softly, “You seem to have a good one in your head right now, judging by the look on your face. Perhaps we can trade stories? You can tell me the stories you want to tell first, then I can repay you with some of my own? Would that be a good deal?”  

Cleon

The buck’s excitement only grew with his sire’s offer and he nodded without hesitation, his happiness impossible to hide. “It would be a really, really good deal!” He didn’t even attempt to act decent on it and be calm about it; then again why should he? He liked to hear stories just as much as he loved to tell them, so there was no losing for him in this situation and that was just how he loved it to be.