Today is excerpt day from “Quest for the Red Sapphire.” Here is another piece for your reading pleasure. Jelena and Anvar followed him to the porch. “What is wrong, Linvin?” his mother asked. “Tonight, all of Fraylic shall celebrate the return of her favorite son.” Anvar read every move being made and remained silent. “Come now, Mother! The only person in this town who thinks of me as a favorite son is you. My childhood is not filled with pleasant memories of the people of Fraylic and their treatment of me.” “Be that as it may, My Son, wealth and social status have a way of blinding bigotry. Remember that I too have felt that sting, particularly since your father disappeared. Tonight, we will not only be accepted, but also honored. I have it all planned.” Linvin walked over to the rail of the porch and grasped it tightly. His anger wanted to explode in myriad directions. Deep down, he continued to remind himself that his mother loved him and wanted to share it with the world. He had been home only a few moments and he would not let his pride ruin the event; tempting as it was to him. As he looked over the pristine orchard, an angry thought he could not suppress came to mind. “What happened to my archery range?” Linvin asked. “The archery range?” his mother repeated. “Well after you left, there really was no point in having it, so it was removed when we transplanted the orchard.” Linvin could take no more. He lashed verbally, “But it was mine! It was the last thing in here that was mine and now, even that is gone!” Jelena thought for a moment, in a state of confused sadness. “You still have your room. That has not changed since you left.” Linvin turned spitefully and said, “Well, according to your schedule, that is where I am supposed to be right now. So if you will excuse me, Mother. Anvar, I will retire to my room so that I may prepare for my coronation tonight.” He brushed past them and stormed up the stairs. His mother called after him, “It’s a gala, not a coronation, son.” Her only response was a slamming door. Jelena was a bright woman, though the art of conversation was never her strong suit. She never intended to offend. It was simply a matter of not thinking through statements and their consequences before they were said. The quality was an endearing, if not aggravating trait. She turned to Anvar and pleaded, “What did I say? I don’t understand his anger at being home.” “My sweet sister, you must remember, Linvin’s memories of home are not of this place. He needs time to adjust. I do not think a schedule leading to his fatherhood was quite the way to acclimate him. Would you agree?” Jelena fell into a chair and hung her head. “I have dreamed of this day for so long and have ruined it in the time it takes to brew tea.” Anvar knelt and took her hands. “Nothing is ruined Jelena. I’ll go talk to him in a bit and all will be fine. Now, see to your preparations.” “Thank you Anvar, mother always said you were the wise one.” “Mother was right every once in a while,” the old elf smiled. Jelena hit his shoulder and went about her business.
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