Minstrel

Chapter #27~ Stans

Stans never wanted to travel again. He hated everything about it. The uncertainty of new places and endless days of walking. It wasn't fair that he had to travel with two elves, who never tired. Not only that, but the were also twins and these twins excelled at one specific thing. They bickered nonstop. It was all:

"I bet I can run faster than you!'

"Can not!"

"Can too!"

"How much you wanna bet?"

"How does twenty bronze caps sound to you?"

"Bring it on!"

Then Stans would blissful find himself alone with just nature to give him company. The twins had been gone for an hour now and he was beginning to wonder if they had completely forgotten about him. Stans wasn't certain that would be such a bad thing. He liked being by himself. Sure he would rather be with his sister, but since she had left him... well, he liked being by himself.

"Why didn't you listen to me?" He asked the sky. Maybe the wind would carry his words to Creak. Maybe it would give him her answer.

Stans wasn't sure he could blame Creak for what she had done. He had been like her once, full of hope and willing to do anything for music. Then he realized the danger and decided it wasn't worth it. He had been a kid once, but then he had been forced to be an adult. He had been forced to make hard choices to keep his sister safe. Somewhere along the way he had lost his hope...

*   * *

Stans liked the way his trumpet's notes punched through the silence of the world. They were forceful and sent a shiver across his body.
Trumpets could easily be loud and he liked that. It made it easier for him to let the world know what he could do. He wanted the king to try and stop him. With his music he felt unstoppable.

His father stood beside him, a soft smile on his face. He was still a young man, with curly blonde hair and warm brown eyes. He was still a man who took risks. He wasn't a great father, but he tried.

"That's it my boy!" He cheered as Stans hit a high note. "Soon you'll be an excellent musician just like your mother and I."

Stans had been young at this time, only five years old, and he hadn't known music was illegal. His father had taught him how to play, so what could be wrong with that?

Stans looked up at his father. "Can I play for my friends?"

He was sure to impress the village children with his trumpet. They had never heard music before and Stans was sure they would love it.

His father looked down at him with pain in his eyes. "Not now, but maybe one day."

Stans had been disappointed. He wanted his friends to hear what he could do. He wanted to impress Emma, a little village girl with beautiful, blue eyes.

He hadn't known why he couldn't play, but he had trusted his father. A man who would later leave him with a little sister. He had smiled up at his father with his mother's shining, green eyes. "That's okay daddy. Maybe one day?"

His father patted him on the back. "Let's go check on your mother."
Stans remembered running all the way home and to a beautiful woman. Her eyes were a deep, green and her hair was a mess of dark brown waves. She had smiled at him as he ran to her. One of her hands was resting on her pregnant stomach. A week later Creak would be born and five years after that Stans would be left to raise a five year old.