FAELEN.
A short story by Heidi
Faelen Bearclaw was the minister of the interior, which meant he was responsible for dealing with any situations that arose within the island state of Hopeland. It is a beautiful island just north of the island of Blythe and east of the other island, Gloria. Like these 2 islands, Hopeland had a good deal of land that lay permanently under snow and ice, but it had plenty of land that, unless it was winter, was gloriously green and fertile. Of the 3 islands, it was Hopeland that had the most farmable land. So Faelen was responsible with the other leaders of the government for a wealthy country.
Except one thing spoiled it.
The southern part was covered in ice and not so well farmed, nor even well-populated. Encountering settlements was rare. The only big settlement south of the River Wusa was New Sidney. The southerners complained for a long time that they were not getting enough funding from the government, which was virtually pouring all it’s wealth back into the already prosperous northern settlements. Feelings ran high when the new First Citizen in his 10 year term, aggravated the southerners with a Barge tax. The river Wusa ran a good deal of the length of the island, and it was easy to ferry goods down the river. But sometimes people got stuck because of all the traffic that went along it. Traffic jams! A few accidents too. To put some people off using the river needlessly, the First Citizen introduced a tax on barges, and a higher tax on ones of a certain size. It was the last straw for the southerners whose barges were often bigger because of the infrequency of their trips to the north. It was easy to put a lot up river a few times than to make lots of trips with smaller loads. There was also ice in winter and the spring-floods to contend with.
Now things came to a pitch, as southerners resorted to demonstrations – and got imprisoned. Then came violent demonstrations and longer prison terms and confiscation of property. Now the southern Hopelanders wanted to separate from the rest of the island to come under the government of Blythe. The First Citizen was furious and put the army on alert. He intended to go south and ‘sort them out’ in New Sidney – the hotbed of revolution, but many ministers disagreed with his heavy-handedness as time went on, and pressed him to resign. Faelen was indifferent to the actions of his First Citizen. He didn’t try to weigh up the right and wrong, but carried out the decisions made.
So it was that Faelen was sleighing with his team of 12 Huskies, on his way to an outpost to talk to the commanding officer about the possibility of moving his unit against New Sidney. Other units were on the watchout for southern trouble, but would mass together and join the main army if word was given.
But on the journey, freak weather conditions were going to change Faelen’s direction – in more ways than one…
CHAPTER TWO
The temperature had dropped suddenly, to -20, and the dogs were struggling against the snow blizzard that seemed to come out of no-where. the winter storms weren’t due yet! Winter wasn’t meant to come so early.
Faelens dogs succumbed to the sub-zero temperature and Faelen himself was fading fast, in desperation he staggered aimlessly in the snow storm.
"Gotta – keep – going" – he thought to himself. If he stopped, it would speed his death. But what was the point of delaying the inevitable ?
"What’s the point? By the time I’m found – IF I’m found, I’ll be long dead. Might as well give up now – and get it over sooner" But his morbid thoughts were cut short as the snow gave way beneath his feet and he fell a short distance over the edge of somewhere. Faelen’s consciousness was fading fast, he thought he was dreaming, or was there something tugging at his arm?
He passed out….
Orlas Stann, a widower, had grieved the passing of his wife more than 7 years ago now. A trapper by trade, he spent long and lonely weeks from home, hunting and traping Snow-wolves, Bears and Deer. The fur of Snow-wolves was the real money-earner. He had hoped this year would be good for him, but it was as if the animals knew a harsher winter was coming and they were scarce to be found.
He sat drinking his home-made wine and watched the flames dance in the fireplace. A heavy thump sounded outside his cottage door and Orlas assumed the over-hanging snow had fallen off his roof, but his mountain dog, Snorg, growled and started barking. Orlas picked up his rifle and went to investigate. Outside lay a man, sprawled on his back!
Quickly, Orlas dragged the man in and set him on a bench to thaw out gradually. He could tell by the way he dressed that he wasn’t a local. When Faelen awoke, he wondered at first if he was dreaming, then he realised he was somewhere warm, somewhere – safe?
"Ah, you’re awake. I was beginning to wonder if I was just warming up a corpse"
Orlas fixed some broth and bread with mead for his ‘guest’. When Faelen spoke, Orlas knew for certain by the accent, Faelen came from the north.
"Thankyou for helping me. Where am I?"
Orlas felt anger and annoyance - a bloody northerner! Should he turf him out? Help him? And what was he doing in the middle of no-where, alone? But a look at the picture of his wife on the wall convicted him, and he felt less angry
"You be in my home, northerner. A long way from anywhere. My name’s Orlas"
"My name is……."and Faelen realised if he was honest it could cause trouble for himself. What if this man was sympathetic to the revolutionaries? What if he was one? "……Faelen. Faelen Bearclaw".
"You’re the minister of the interior!"
"Yes, that I am".
"Well now, just how is it that you come to be travelling on your own – such an important man as you be? – but wait!!! – let us eat first. You must be famished. My wife – God bless her soul – would have chided me for asking questions first and not giving hospitality"
So they sat at the table and ate a simple meal. Afterwards, Orlas leaned back in his chair and lit up his pipe, and enquired, "So, the question remains…’tis VERY odd for a northerner to be out in these parts of the country alone".
"I’m surveying for myself what it’s like out here" Faelen answered half-truthfully. "I’m alone because I didn’t think it would be so dangerous. Are you suggesting I need a bodyguard?"
Faelen knew if Orlas admitted this, it would prove the governments suspicions.
"Look, if you come across the wrong type, then YES. The ones that are fired up over all this tax business. They might hold you to ransome" Orlas replied.
"Are YOU one of those ?"
Orlas glanced at his wife again. She was beautiful and young when she died, but her spirit – her ways were still felt in that humble home.
"I’ll tell you the truth, I want change. I want it soon. But if it comes by revolt, then it’s ‘cos it has to. Your people don’t listen, you’re too comfortable."
Faelen felt he was on the edge of a debate, and that would only antagonise his host. He saw a painting of a young woman on the wall, so he changed the subject.
"Is she your wife?"
"She was. She’s in the Alfaeder’s house now, with so many other blest spirits".
"I’m sorry to hear that. She must have died young"
"Yes – twenty three. Let me tell you how it is around here and why she died. Then you’ll understand why feelings run high."
Orlas took a long drag on his pipe. Then he began…
"Down here with so much perma-ice and little arable land winter comes earlier than up north, that’s why so few people settle south of the Storm Mountains. But not all of us are the sort for living as the city-folks do.
But now and then – like this year – we get a freak winter that covers much further with thick snow and ice.
My nearest neighbour is forty miles away. Many families are isolated, and winter makes it more so. But when you get this…." And Orlas waved a hand to gesture to the huge snow-drift against the window "..then it can be deadly. Believe it or not, there’s a little farm here. It’ll be under snow and ice too long now to plant new seed. Everything gets thrown out of sync’ which means when spring and summer finally come, we have little to eat.
Travel is dangerous in freak winters, as you have discovered. Us men – who are mostly trappers, hunters ans farmers, have to go to the city to find work over the winter. We stay there doing what-ever job we can find so we can return in the spring with some money"
"Do women ever go to New Sidney?"
"No. Most have kids. Even so, it’s too dangerous travelling and harder to find work and accomadation when your family’s in tow. They stay at home, but it’s a long time on their own. I’ll show you what is typical of how they spend their time, they do crafts that can be sold in that market later. This is what my wife made"
Orlas showed Faelen the most exquisite beadwork on a wall-hanging, as well as decorated satchels, knife sheaths, tobacco pouches and jewellery. And the intricate patterns on other items – combs, brooches made of bone, woven rugs and more wall-hangings. Faelen was astounded at such artwork – so practical and yet so beautiful.
"Is this typical of the women in this region?"
"Yes"
"You said your wife died seven years ago"
"Aye. She and I tried for a family, but without much success, but we’d not been married long. It was our second year when we had a winter like this one. When I returned, I found Idallis had frozen to death in her own home.
There hadn’t been enough firewood."
A lump came into his throat and the tears stood in his eyes, he didn’’t want to cry in front of this stranger. But when he looked at Faelen, Orlas was surprised to see tears in his eyes too. The truth was that Faelen’s indifference was broken. It was one thing to read facts and arguments on paper, but to see and experience first hand the life of another, really made it hit home.
"So much beauty. So much talent, and the time you were separated from each other was many months!"
Later that night, as Faelen turned in for the night, he thought hard..
"Maybe I should pray. God Alfaeder, I’m not a spiritually inclined man, but if you’re listening, help me do the right thing by these people. Let not Idallis’ death be for nothing. My only obstacle is the First Citizen. Help me avert civil war that our country is on the brink of".
Faelen then slept soundly.
Chapter three
A few days later, Orlas gave Faelen the spare set of skis. They strapped snow-shoes to their backs in case they needed to walk. Over the course of days, as they journeyed, they became relaxed in each other’s company, and got to know each other better. Faelen shared how as an only-child, he had grown up not having confidence to make friends easily, and as a young man had chosen the demanding career of politics. Orlas and Faelen finally parted company at New Sidney.
"Godspeed" said Orlas, as he shook Faelens hand.
Finally after another 12 days of journeying, Faelen arrived at Blythe, and after a short rest, went to the government Central Buildings, where he worked. He met with the ministers in the House Of Ministers.
"Thank God you’re here! We wondered what happened to you. By the Generous Hand, you look well though" commented one minister.
"And good timing too. You are summoned to a moot of senior ministers. Be ready in an hour" informed another, older minister.
An hour later….
Faelen sat at the long table opposite the chairman of the committee, and was wondering why the First Citizen wasn’t present, for it was he who usually opened the moot. The ministers wasted no time in getting to the point.
Solfiras, the national security minister, addressed Faelen.
"Minister Bearclaw, while you were ‘lost’ in the wilderness, a lot has happened here. With pressure from ourselves and the High Command of the army, First Citizen Tevbo Nimrin has resigned, but it’s not official yet. The reason being, we want you to be the new First citizen".
Faelen could hardly believe his ears – he the new F.C ?!. But he needed to be sure of their support.
"Thankyou for your show of support, but before I accept, I want to give you the opportunity to change your mind, you see, I have some changes already in mind that I want to see implemented. If I become first citizen, I certainly will have them implemented."
"Let’s hear you then" said the security minister.
And so Faelen recounted his adventure and his plans to drop the river taxes, to assign a workforce to repair and improve roads and build bridges and to encourage the home-crafts cottage industry so the people could have extra money in their pockets.
Faelen knew that The Good God Of The Generous Hand was in this – Nimrin had been so stubborn to resign, previously, and Faelen’s eyes were opened.
Needless to say, Faelen was supported unanimously, and civil war was averted. Time proved that Faelen was one of the best leaders Hopeland had had in a long time.
THE END
