2: A Stranger at the Festival - Part Six
In fact, the name Ravesfel was well known, even here, even to the children of the village. Guardian to the Regent of Tranith Argan was a person known to all, if only by reputation. This bit of news did nothing to ease Felanar’s unease; indeed, it became more acute.
“Yes, sir, I have heard of you, that is, I know you. Your name, I mean. I know your name, sir.”
The boy felt even more uncomfortable at not knowing the proper way to speak to such a High Man.
Ravesfel’s brow creased at this and he seemed to stare right through the frightened young boy. As he paused, Felanar thought to himself that the old man wasn’t as old as he had first surmised. He had a full head of grey hair, but his face was remarkably wrinkle-free and he seemed to possess more strength than could be seen at first glance. He wasn’t the tallest of men, but he had a way of standing erect and strong that gave him a physical presence that was intimidating. Especially intimidating to Felanar, who began to squirm as he endured this stare. Finally the old man spoke again, but his voice was changed and indicated that his thoughts were far off.
“Would you enjoy serving the Regent?”
“Oh yes, sir! Very much so.” Felanar’s words tumbled out. He paused and changed from eagerness to shyness again as he said, “But I don’t know what I could do for him. I’m not even allowed to be a fisherman yet.”
“What? A strong young man like you!” Ravesfel boomed as he focused on the boy in front of him. “You know how to use a bow and arrow, don’t you? And a sword, of course!”
“No, sir,” replied Felanar, feeling very ignorant and unimportant indeed.
“And why not?” asked Ravesfel gruffly.
“There’s no one to teach me, sir.”