Chapter 10: Heart to Heart
Granny Triga paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth, and asked, "Speaking of miracles, Annie, how old are you, child? You seem so wise beyond your years." Annie smiled, her grey eyes sparkling with amusement. "I am but eighteen years, Granny Triga. Yet, I have spent my life in the service of the Divine Mother Nature, learning from the wise and the learned. I suppose that has given me a certain... wisdom, for lack of a better word." Granny Triga nodded, her eyes filled with respect. "Aye, 'tis true. You have a wisdom that belies your years, child. I have seen many a priest and priestess in my long life, but none like you." She took another sip of her soup, her eyes thoughtful. "Tell me, Annie, what brings you to Oakfurt?
'Tis not every day a priestess of your caliber graces our humble village." Granny Triga asked, her eyes scrutinizing Annie with a newfound curiosity.
Annie looked up from her bowl, her grey eyes reflecting the soft morning light. "I just follow my heart, Granny Triga," she said softly, her voice filled with sincerity. "The Divine Mother Nature led me here, and I trust that she will guide me through whatever lies ahead." Annie said, her voice filled with conviction.
Granny Triga paused, her spoon clattering against her bowl as she set it down. "Annie, child," she began, her voice gentle yet curious, "I must ask, are your parents well with you wandering about on your own? 'Tis not the safest of times, and a young lass like yourself should have someone looking out for her."
Annie's expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering in her grey eyes. "Granny Triga," she said softly, "I am an orphan of the war. My parents were taken from me when I was but a child. The Divine Mother Nature has been my guide and my protector ever since." Annie's voice wavered slightly as she spoke, her gaze distant. "I cannot even remember what my parents look like, Granny Triga. Their faces have faded from my memory, like a dream upon waking." She sighed, her fingers tracing the rim of her bowl. "But I know they are with me still, in spirit, and that gives me strength."
Granny Triga reached across the table, her gnarled hand covering Annie's in a comforting grip. "Child," she said softly, "you have a strength within you that is truly remarkable. I have seen many who have lost their families, and none have carried themselves with such grace and dignity as you." She paused, her eyes searching Annie's face. "But tell me, Annie, what of your family now? Do you have any kin left in this world?"
Annie shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "No, Granny Triga.
I am alone in this world, save for the Divine Mother Nature and the people she brings into my life." Annie's voice was steady, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. Granny Triga squeezed her hand gently before releasing it.
"Annie, child." She took a deep breath, her eyes distant with memory. "I once had a daughter around your age, sweet and full of life like you. But she was taken from me, just like your parents were taken from you."
Annie's eyes widened in surprise, her heart aching for the elderwoman. "Granny Triga, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "What happened to her?" Annie asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Granny Triga's eyes filled with tears, and she took a deep breath before continuing.
"She and her father loved to fish in the nearby river, the one that runs just beyond the village. They'd spend hours out there, laughing and fishing, even on the coldest of days. But one day, they didn't come home. I waited and waited, but they never returned." Granny Triga's voice cracked with emotion, her eyes welling up with tears.
"Two weeks passed by, but there were no signs of their return. The entire village searched for them, scouring every inch of the riverbank. And then, not too far from their favorite fishing spot, the villagers found... found a corpse. It was him, Annie. It was her father." She paused, her breath hitching as she fought back a sob. "But there was no sign of my daughter. No trace of her anywhere." Granny Triga's voice trembled as she recalled the agonizing memory. "I was beside myself with grief and fear. I begged the local Baron, Alexander, to help me find my daughter. He agreed, sending eight of his finest soldiers to search the riverbank and the surrounding woods. They found the fishing spot easily enough, marked by a gnarled old tree and a few scattered fish bones. The soldiers began to search the area, their boots crunching on the gravel and their eyes scanning the underbrush."
"Annie, child," Granny Triga continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "after a whole day of searching, the soldiers returned with a man. He was barely alive, his body covered in fresh wounds. They brought him right to my doorstep." Annie's eyes widened in shock and curiosity, her spoon clattering against her bowl as she set it down.
"What did the soldiers bring you, Granny Triga?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Granny Triga's eyes filled with tears and regret as she recalled the memory. "They brought me a man, Annie, barely alive and covered in fresh wounds. I asked the soldiers who he was, and the captain ordered him to speak. He was a bandit, Annie, one of the many thieves and rogues who haunt the woods surrounding Oakfurt."
Granny Triga's voice quivered with emotion as she continued her tale. "The bandit spoke through bloody, broken lips, his voice like gravel. He told us that he and his men had attacked my husband and daughter, intending to rob them of their catch. But my husband fought back, and in the struggle, the bandit's knife struck his chest. My daughter, seeing her father fall, screamed and tried to run." Granny Triga's voice was barely a whisper, her eyes distant with the memory. "The bandits, seeing her escape, chased after her. They were faster than her, Annie." Granny Triga's voice cracked as she recalled the bandit's words. "They caught her, Annie. They dragged her to their camp." Tears streamed down her wrinkled cheeks, her hands trembling as she clutched Annie's.
"They... they tied her to a tree stump, Annie. A tree stump!" Her voice rose in pitch, the horror of the memory still raw. "And then... they... they ripped apart her clothes. They... they defiled her, Annie. My sweet daughter..." Granny Triga's voice broke, her body wracked with sobs.
"They... they kept her there, Annie. For two weeks, they... they... " She couldn't bring herself to say the words, but Annie understood. Her heart ached for the elderwoman, for the pain she must have felt, and for the horrors her daughter had endured. "Four of them, Annie," Granny Triga finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "Four of those filthy bandits took turns on her, day and night, for two whole weeks." She paused, her breath hitching as she fought back another sob. "They left her there, tied to that tree stump, broken and bleeding.
But even in death, they couldn't leave her be," Granny Triga's voice cracked with renewed grief. "They took her body back to their camp, Annie. They desecrated her corpse, using it for their own twisted pleasure. They said they couldn't resist her beauty, even in death." Tears streamed down Granny Triga's face as she recalled the bandit's chilling words.
She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself before continuing. "The captain of the soldiers sent by Baron Alexander confirmed it when he returned from raiding the bandit camp. They found her body still tied to the tree stump, Annie. Her clothes were... were gone, and... and there was semen all over her body. Even her mouth... and her private parts..." Granny Triga's voice broke, her body wracked with fresh sobs.
Annie gasped in horror, her hand flying to her mouth as she fought back tears. "Oh, Granny Triga," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry. That's... that's terrible." She reached across the table, taking the elderwoman's hand in hers and squeezing it gently.
"Granny Triga, I'm so sorry for your loss. But tell me, what happened to the bandit who was brought to your doorstep? Did he survive?" Annie asked softly, her voice filled with concern.
Granny Triga looked up at Annie, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "Aye, he did, Annie. He was the only one who survived the soldiers' raid on their camp. The others were all killed, but this one... this one was left for dead, his body broken and bleeding. He was brought to me, begging for my forgiveness." Her voice trembled with emotion, and she took a deep breath before continuing.
"He was barely alive, Annie. His body was covered in fresh wounds, and he could hardly speak. But he begged me, over and over again, to forgive him.
"Granny Triga," Annie said softly, her voice filled with concern, "what did you do with the bandit? Did you forgive him?" The elderwoman's eyes darkened with memories she'd rather forget.
"I... I can't even think back then, Annie," she stammered, her hands trembling. "The captain of the soldiers... he ordered one of his men to undress the bandit. They wanted to see the extent of his injuries, they said." Granny Triga's voice wavered as she recalled the scene.
"As the bandit's breeches were pulled down, his manhood dangled there, limp and bruised. The captain, a burly man with a thick beard, turned to one of the Oakfurt girls who had gathered to watch. 'Elise,' he barked, 'come here and touch the bandit's cock. Make it stand, so we can see if he's fit to live or die.'" Granny Triga recounted the event.
"Elise, a young woman with fiery red hair and freckles, hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. 'Come now, girl,' the captain growled, 'put some effort into it. Make it stand.' Elise took a deep breath and wrapped her hand around the bandit's cock, feeling its cool, soft skin. She began to stroke it gently, her eyes fixed on the captain's face. The bandit groaned softly, his body twitching as Elise's hand worked its magic. Slowly but surely, his cock began to harden, growing longer and thicker in Elise's grasp. The captain nodded, satisfied with Elise's progress. 'That's enough, girl,' he said, his voice gruff." Granny Triga continued, "The captain swung his sword.The bandit let out a scream, high and terrified, as the captain's sword descended. He... he cut off the bandit's cock, Annie," Granny Triga continued, her voice shaking with remembered horror. "The blood... it gushed out like a fountain, spraying everyone nearby. The bandit's screams turned to guttural sobs, and then to silence as the life drained from him." Tears welled up in Granny Triga's eyes as she recalled the gruesome scene. "He died there, Annie. Right in front of me and the villagers. His face contorted in agony, his body convulsing, and his lifeblood pouring out onto the dirt." She paused, her breath hitching in her throat as she fought back more tears.
"Annie, child, that day, I felt a strange mix of emotions. Anger, yes, but also compassion. I couldn't help but feel pity for that poor soul, even as I wanted to see him suffer for what he had done to my daughter." Granny Triga's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes distant with the memory. "The villagers, they were all there, watching, their faces a mix of horror and fascination. I could see the fear in their eyes, the same fear that had gripped me when they brought that bandit to my doorstep. But I also saw something else, something that made me pause. I saw hope, Annie. Hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to heal, to move forward, to find some semblance of justice in this cruel world." Granny Triga's voice trembled as she recalled the scene.
Then, in calm and politeness, Annie said, "That was the past, Granny Triga. What matters now is how you choose to live your life from this day forward." "What can I do to help you find some peace and happiness in your remaining years?"
Granny Triga looked at Annie, her eyes filled with gratitude and a glimmer of hope. "Annie, child," she said softly, "you are wise beyond your years. I have been so consumed by my grief and anger that I have forgotten to live.
But you, Annie, you remind me that there is still hope, still life to be lived. I... I think I would like that, child. I would like to find some peace and happiness in my remaining years." Granny Triga's voice was filled with a newfound determination, her eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope. Just then, a commotion outside the house caught their attention. The sound of laughter and joyful chatter filled the air, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of applause. Annie and Granny Triga exchanged curious glances, their brows furrowed in unison.
The commotion outside the house was growing louder, a cacophony of voices and laughter that seemed to be drawing closer. The sound of clinking glasses and the occasional burst of applause filled the air, punctuated by the joyful chatter of the villagers. It was a sound that seemed to carry with it a sense of celebration and joy, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere that had enveloped the two women earlier.
"Annie, child," Granny Triga said, her voice barely above a whisper, "it sounds like there's a gathering outside. Perhaps it's time we join them and see what all the fuss is about." She stood up from her chair, her gnarled hands gripping the edge of the table for support. Annie, seeing the elderwoman's determination, nodded in agreement.
Granny Triga opened her front door, revealing a sea of smiling faces. "Granny Triga!" they exclaimed in unison, "A miracle has happened! Our crops, they've bloomed and harvested in a single night!" Another man shouted, "We must have an harvest feast tonight in the village center!" The crowd cheered in agreement, and Granny Triga, who already knew the news, smiled widely. She looked behind her towards Annie, signaling her to come out. But Annie declined by shaking her head, her eyes darting nervously towards the door. Granny Triga, noticing Annie's discomfort, stepped closer to her, her voice low and soothing. "Annie, child, what's wrong? Why do you not wish to join the celebration?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern. Annie's eyes met Granny Triga's, and she took a deep breath before speaking.
"Granny Triga, I... I cannot take credit for what happened to the crops. I merely prayed to the Divine Mother Nature, asking her to bless our village and its people. She is the one who performed this miracle, not I." Her voice was soft yet firm, her grey eyes reflecting her genuine belief. Granny Triga's eyes widened in surprise, and she cocked her head to the side, her expression a mix of disbelief and awe. "But Annie, child, the villagers believe that you brought the miracle to our village. They see you as their savior, their angel from the heavens. How can you deny them that?" She reached out, her gnarled hand gently cupping Annie's cheek.
Annie's face flushed with embarrassment, her eyes darting nervously towards the door once more. "Granny Triga, I am not used to such...attention," Annie stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. "I am but a humble priestess, Granny Triga. I cannot take credit for the Divine Mother Nature's work." She cast her eyes downwards, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her tunic.
Granny Triga's expression softened, and she gently squeezed Annie's hand. "Annie, child," she said, her voice warm and reassuring, "the villagers see you as a symbol of hope. They believe that you brought this miracle to our village, and they want to celebrate you. But I understand your discomfort, and I will not force you to join them if you do not wish to." "However, I must ask you this - would you consider making an appearance, just for a moment? The villagers would be overjoyed to see you, and it would mean the world to them." Granny Triga's eyes pleaded with Annie, her voice filled with sincerity.
Annie hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between Granny Triga's hopeful expression and the joyous commotion outside. She took a deep breath, her resolve strengthening as she nodded. "Very well, Granny Triga. I will make an appearance tonight, but only for a moment." Annie said, her voice steady and sure. Granny Triga's face lit up with a smile, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Annie, child," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "You have no idea how much this means to the villagers." She turned towards the door, her shoulders squared with determination. "Villagers!" she called out, her voice booming with authority. "The bearer of the miracle will come to the feast tonight! Prepare your hearts and your tables, for we shall celebrate our newfound bounty!" The crowd outside erupted in cheers, their voices rising in a chorus of joy and gratitude. "Annie, child," Granny Triga said, turning back to her with a smile, "you have brought hope to our village, and I am forever in your debt."