The Tale of Alar

13

The following morning found Alar and Fagan standing beside their mounts, ready to set out for their respective home towns: the one headed south and the other north. They were dressed in clothes generously provided for them from the workshop of the king’s own tailor.

“I had these made long ago as gifts for the former baron of Southwood, a friend of mine, but I hadn’t the chance to send them before his untimely death,” he had said upon presenting them that morning. “I could never use them myself, due to my considerable stature, but I think they may suit you two well. If nothing else, they will serve as a marker to your friends and relations that it is in triumph that you return, and not from cowardice.”

They had thanked him profusely, then retired to try them on. Not half an hour later they had emerged fitted out in the finery. Fagan wore a silken shirt, a doublet of fine green wool, and a cloak of blue velvet. On his head was a wide-brimmed hat with a ribbon of red silk tied about it. What was more, upon the ring claw of his right forepaw sat a plain gold band with a single tiny emerald embedded in it. The same ring adorned Ambrosia’s paw. It was, in fact, the very same set of rings that her parents had worn during their betrothal long ago.

Alar, for his part, was barely recognizable. His hat was broad-brimmed as well, but with one side turned rakishly upward and a single massive feather protruding from the band. His tattered homespun cloak had been exchanged for one of fine black velvet with red lining on the interior. His doublet and shirt were likewise black, as were the knee-length trousers he wore. At his side, looking positively dazzling after the polishing he had given it that morning, was his nearest and dearest companion Flametongue. He felt a tad absurd in such regalia, preferring his plainer travelling gear on the road, but he did not wish to offend the king by turning down such a gracious gift, and bore his discomfort stoically as he embraced Fagan heartily in the courtyard.

“Farewell, my brother,” he spoke. “It’s been a long road.”

“Aye, it has been a long road indeed, Alar,” replied Fagan, stepping back. “‘Tis a bit sad to know that it’s truly ended. But alas, our lives must go on. And the time has not yet come to say goodbye forever. So, let us be merry on the roads that lie before us, knowing that they shall come together at least once more ere our lives begin anew.”

“I will try, my friend. And until that time, farewell. Skiouros be with you, Fagan.”

“Skiouros be with you, Alar. See you in a couple o’ weeks.”

They leapt into their saddles and rode side-by-side to the gate of the courtyard. Once out on the main boulevard, they parted ways with a salute. In his heart, Alar had still not fully recovered from his journey. Only as he rode along through the streets and eventually out of the gate through which he had entered so long ago now did it begin to sink in that he was going home.

Home, he thought wistfully. Father. Adam!

His rising excitement quickly turned to apprehension as he thought of the latter. His own dear, beloved Adam. What would he say? How could he possibly explain himself to that most selfless, most devoted of squirrels? He could always not tell him, he supposed. But no, that was not possible. The secret would gnaw away at the pit of his heart until nothing was left but a hollow, soulless shell of his former self. He could not lie to Adam. He would have to tell the truth and pray for forgiveness. Adam was a kind squirrel: he would forgive. But then, what if he did not? Adam had never asked much of Alar in life, save for his love and devotion, yet Alar had failed in the latter, even as he had held onto the former in spite of everything.

He tried to put it out of his mind. After all, the first step would be getting back home, so he would concentrate on that for now. But as tedious as the road was, there was little enough to distract him, and his mind always came back to that fateful scene he knew was coming. He worked his way through the explanation in his head many times. Each time it sounded a little different, but never did it sound quite right. There was no explaining away or excusing what he had done plain and simple. He would have to reap what he had sown and live with his folly.

He tried to console himself to this bitter fact throughout his three day journey, but as he came nearer that moment of judgment, his sense of doom only grew.

The clacking of his horse’s hooves on stonework sounded lonely amid the streets of his home city. Only the wealthiest citizenry of Telos owned horses, and there were few enough of them that people knew a stranger when they saw one. Nevertheless, there were occasionally travelers who would pass through, so Alar did not attract too much attention despite his somewhat self-conscious attitude about riding in through the better part of town. There had been a time not long ago when squirrels in this conclave would have looked at him askance, as though he were some ne’er-do-well ragamuffin looking to cause trouble. Yet, in his current garb, he attracted only friendly eyes and the admiration of several well-to-do ladies.

Who would’ve guessed a little wardrobe change would mean so much? thought the young buck, who had never been the most fashion-conscious individual despite Adam’s attempts to instruct him.

He rode on at a brisk trot through this finer neighborhood, then watched as the quality of the housing slowly deteriorated. Soon he came to a street on which he began to feel a little more at ease. This street had marked the farthest limit of his adventures throughout his youth. He recognized the spot as he passed it where he had first bested Grant in a one-on-one scrap and smiled fleetingly to himself despite the pang in his heart. It was also at this point that he began to notice how much attention the inhabitants were giving him, and he once more grew self-conscious.

Do they truly not recognize their own native son? he thought with a mixture of surprise and bitterness. Still, he might as well make the best of it, he figured, so on espying the old widow he had often helped out as a child, he stopped for a moment and swept off his hat in what he deemed a gallant gesture.

“Good morning, Miss Gemma!” he spoke with as broad a smile as he could manage. “How are we today?”

“Why, is that young Alar I see before me?” she gasped.

“It is indeed, miss. I’ve returned from my errand, and I’m pleased to say it was a marvelous success.”

“Well well, I always knew you’d go places, Alar. But why all the...the...” She gestured vaguely toward him as though she did not know quite what to call his fine new regalia.

“It’s a grand occasion, miss. The king thought it warranted grander dress.”

“Well, I must say, it’s most becoming. Such a handsome young buck you look.”

“Thanks.”

He bade her good morning once more, replaced his hat, then rode on, feeling rather pleased with himself. He paused at the intersection and looked down the road to the right for a moment. Down that way was Adam’s lodging. No doubt he would be at work at this point in the morning. And his master, who had never much liked Alar, would no doubt take an interruption out on Adam. Normally this would not have bothered the victorious young buck, since the apprenticeship would no longer be necessary once the king had bestowed his reward upon Alar. But under the circumstances, it might be more prudent to wait until he could speak to Adam alone.

And so, thankful he had a legitimate excuse to mask his true anxiety about confronting his life’s love with the truth, he rode on through the increasingly familiar streets toward his home. He stopped outside the house and dismounted. Ruskin must be in the forge, elsewise he would have certainly spotted Alar through the windows. He hesitated a moment, debating whether it would be wise to simply tie up his horse and leave him or not, when a voice hailed him brusquely from behind.

“Can I help you, mate?”

Alar turned around.

“Morning, Carric,” he said.

“Alar!” he exclaimed, his tone softening considerably on recognizing his old neighbor. “My, don’t you look different?”

“Don’t I know it?”

“Heard about your little foray from old Rus. ‘Spect you’re headed in to see him now.”

“Of course.”

“I’m guessing it went well, then?”

Carric had never been the brightest squirrel, but he had always been friendly to Alar, so he nodded politely. “You’d guess right.”

“Well, glad to hear it. I’m sorry if I frightened you coming up like that. It’s just, since you’ve been gone, I’ve kinda’ taken it on myself to watch over old Rus. Make sure he’s safe and all that.”

“I appreciate it, mate. And as a token of my appreciation, have this.” He pulled out a couple of coins from his pocket and gave them to Carric.

“Ooh, thanks Al! You’re the best.”

“Not at all, mate. And say, if you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on my horse here, I’d appreciate it more still. You don’t have to mind him or anything. Just make sure nobody gets too close, all right?”

“Sure thing, Al.”

“Thanks again, Car.”

Alar proceeded to wrap the reins around an old, out-of-place fence post, pat the horse’s muzzle, then head inside. He swept his hat off the moment the door was closed, then looked around. Aah, that familiar odor of charcoal, rust, and musky fur. This was home. As suspected, Ruskin was out, so he ran to the back door and opened it up. There, standing at his forge banging on a piece of molten steel, was his father. He decided to wait ‘til the hammer blows had ceased and the rod had been submerged in the cooling vat before speaking.

“Hot work, old timer?”

“Alar!” exclaimed Ruskin. “My son!”

Alar just smiled and fiddled with his hat in his paws. Ruskin set the hammer down and ran over to meet him in a tight embrace.

“I’m back, dad,” spoke Alar in his ear. “Just like I promised.”

“I never doubted for a moment that you would be,” replied Ruskin. He stepped back, grasping his erstwhile apprentice by the shoulders and looking him up and down. “And look at you! A regular knight of the realm.”

“The king didn’t quite offer me that. But he did offer me a sizeable share of treasure, as well as an invitation to a grand wedding feast a couple weeks from now.”

“Wedding feast! Who’s to be married?”

“A couple of very good friends. And the best part is that you’re welcome to tag along.”

“Why, that’s wonderful news! But you must be starving, son. Here, come inside and we’ll get you something to eat. Then you can tell me all about this magnificent quest that’s kept you away for so long.”

And so, the young warrior recounted his tale over a simple midday meal of bread, milk, and well-aged cheese. It wanted the flair or variety of the king’s board, but to Alar, who had had to make do with even less out on the road, it was the most delicious fare in the world. It was the taste of his childhood come back in a rush. Ruskin relished hearing of his son’s victories and shared in the sorrow of his losses.

“Well, who’d have ever guessed it?” he said of Grant when he had finished, shaking his head. “A hero in the end, eh?”

“Aye. And a loyal friend besides. It’s how I shall choose to remember him ever after.”

“Donner will be none too pleased to hear it. Then again, knowing how he always treated that boy, he’ll probably call him a dimwit for having gotten himself killed, or some such. Horrible squirrel, that Donner.”

“Well, whether rage or regret, it’s my duty to inform him.”

“Aye, fair enough.”

“By the way, I have some more good news.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Well, when I was talking to the king, naturally I told him about me and where I came from. I mentioned that my father was a blacksmith, and a damned good one at that. So, he’d like to offer you the post of royal smithy as soon as the old one retires this winter.”

“What? Royal smithy?” Ruskin nearly fell out of his chair. “Surely you’re jesting!”

Alar grinned and shook his head. “No jest. The king wants you as his smithy starting this winter. Of course, you’re welcome to tell him no when we go there in a couple weeks...”

“Not on your life, my lad!”

“Well, you can tell him that too, of course,” said Alar, rising from his seat.

“Hold on, where are you off to?”

“Got some errands to run. Thanks for the lunch, dad.”

“What, but you’re not going to rest first?”

Alar shrugged. “I’m not that tired. Besides, I’ve got to spread the good news.”

“Say no more. Go on and take care of your affairs, my son. And I’ll see you this evening?”

“Of course.”

“Very well. And Alar!”

Alar stopped just shy of the door. “Yeah?”

“Your mum and dad would have been very proud of you.”

Alar could not reply, so powerful was the tumult of joy within him. He merely smiled and swelled with pride, then headed out. He stopped first at Grant’s house. He had only met Grant’s father a couple times in all his youth, and counted that as a couple too many. Alar never really knew why Donner acted the way he did, though Ruskin had always guessed that it had something to do with the loss of his wife, who had died giving birth to the rather hefty Grant. It was really no wonder Grant had turned out the way he had, nor that he had always spent more time out on the streets causing mischief than at home.

Nevertheless, Alar did his duty and informed the surly old squirrel of his son’s death. Donner reacted with all the bitterness Alar had expected, simultaneously blaming Grant for getting himself killed and Alar for not protecting him. But through the bitter imprecations, he detected a tinge of remorse, and it would not have surprised him one bit to find that, after slamming the door in Alar’s face, old Donner had run over to the portrait of his deceased wife and cried his eyes out.

Next, Alar decided to stop by the parish and speak to Father Rufus.

“And so, Alar, you return to us,” spoke the priest with reserved joy. “My prayers have been answered, and I am happy for you.”

“Thank you, Father,” replied Alar. “I only wish Grant had been able to share in the victory.”

“Do not mourn for his passing, my son. For if Grant truly knew the heart and will of our Lord, then his reward is far greater than any we could hope to achieve in this mere mortal realm.”

“I know, Father. But I do miss him a bit.”

“Grief is only natural. But find comfort and solace in the knowledge that you shall be reunited someday.”

“I do try.”

“I suppose you will finally be marrying your betrothed, then?”

“Of course. Once I’ve actually received my reward and got the house built. The king said he would see about granting me a tract of good land as part of my reward. Then I should be able to hire some help and get the first seeds planted. We can live off the rest of my reward until we can sustain ourselves.”

“Then it seems all your dreams have come to pass.”

“Well, almost, sir. I have yet to ask Adam officially.”

“Do you doubt that he will say yes?” Father Rufus c****d his head as he asked this. His gaze suggested that he had picked up the hesitant note in Alar’s voice. Truly there was nothing one could hide from the old priest.

“I’m fairly confident he will,” replied Alar. “But...” He sighed. “Father, may I confess something to you?”

“Of course, dear boy.”

And so, he told of his affair with Colin, from the stirrings the gallant squirrel had made in his heart to the night at the inn in Alba Longa. Though it had been brief, it had been ardent, and Alar’s guilt knew no bounds. Still, it came out more easily than he had expected, and he felt a bit relieved to have at last told someone.

“I forgive you this trespass of trust, my son,” said Rufus. “And I know that Skiouros, in his mercy, forgives you too. I will assign no penance, for I believe that that can in this case be better determined by your love. If he forgives you, then all is well. If not, then verily your penance shall begin in earnest.”

Alar sighed. He had hoped that somehow by receiving absolution from Rufus the guilt would be assuaged. But of course, deep in his heart, he knew better. He knew that true absolution could only come from Adam.

“Then I guess I’ll go and tell him now,” said Alar. “But before I go, I would like to request one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“Should Adam consent to marry me, would you do us the honor of overseeing the ceremony?”

“The honor would be all mine, dear Alar,” said Rufus with a smile. “As I have said many times.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Alar stepped out into the street and sighed. He was pleased no end at the outcome of that visit. Yet, no amount of relief could combat the growing sense of apprehension in his heart. There was no more avoiding the inevitable. He had to face Adam, and hope that the pledge of love they had made long ago would be strong enough to overcome the horrendous shock it was about to receive. He clasped his paws together and bowed his head to utter a quick prayer.

“My Lord, Thou hast stayed with me this far. Let Thy wrath be stayed just a bit longer. Amen.”

He replaced his hat upon his head, seated himself in the saddle, and heaved a sigh from deep within. Then, he urged his horse into a slow trot down the street toward Adam’s dwelling. He told himself all the way that everything would turn out fine in the end. But however many times he repeated it, he could not convince himself that he spoke true.

Despite his slow pace, he arrived presently at the little run-down dwelling behind the tailor’s and dismounted. He didn’t know where to tie his horse up, so he merely held onto the reins as he neared the door. He lifted his paw to knock, only to hesitate. It was the first time he had ever hesitated to knock on Adam’s door in his life, and he instantly felt ashamed. He shook his head indignantly and forced himself to knock in his signature manner. The door was answered with merciful swiftness, and his face lit up on beholding that dearest countenance which for nigh two months he had seen only in dreams.

“Alar!”

The embrace and kiss that followed were of a force that was to be expected from lovers long apart, but with his mind otherwise preoccupied, it nevertheless took Alar a bit off guard. Still, he enjoyed the well of passions it brought back to the surface after so long, and he likewise reveled in the delicate attentions his boyfriend bestowed upon him.

“Oh, Alar...” He ran a paw gently along the scarred up muzzle as though still assuring himself that this was a living, breathing squirrel and not an apparition. “You’re back.”

“So I am.”

“You can scarcely imagine how I’ve missed you. Or maybe you can, I don’t know.”

“Every day, my dearest. The road felt twice as long without you there.”

“Well, no longer, I suppose. You’ve come back, just like I knew you would. And in such lovely material at that!” exclaimed Adam, feeling the seam of the vest with the practiced paw of an expert. “A gift from the king?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh! And what a beautiful horse!” He went over and stroked the muzzle of the beast with that same doting affection he poured upon all living creatures. Alar could not deny that the horse seemed to take to Adam’s gentle paw much more readily than his own rough one. “Is he a gift from the king as well, then?”

“Magus, actually,” replied Alar with a grin. “It was a parting gift, so to speak.”

“So you really have done it, then?”

“I have. Though it cost a great deal to see it through.”

“I see. Well, care to come in and tell me about it?”

“I’d love to. But my horse...”

“Oh, right. Just take him around the corner and tie him to the hitching post in front of the shop. I promise nobody will touch him there.”

Alar did as Adam suggested, then returned to tell his tale. Adam served up some tea from his little kettle while they sat and spoke. Adam listened on the edge of his seat, ears up and attentive to every harrowing detail. Alar, for his part, did not hold back on details, save about one particular incident.

“Wow!” exclaimed Adam when he had finished and their cups were empty. “What an adventure. And what a shame that so many of the country’s finest perished in the effort. Poor Grant.” He shook his head. “I know he was always rotten to me, but it sounds like he turned out quite all right. I only wish he’d lived so I could see it for myself.”

“He showed his true colors in the end. That’s what matters, I think.”

“True enough.” Adam lowered his head in profound thought. “And this Colin sounds like he was a fine sort too. Almost like you, though perhaps not as handsome?” He flashed a winning smile at Alar.

“Oh, I don’t know. He was pretty fair.” Alar paused, allowing an awkward silence to develop. Adam wished to say something, but refrained, sensing that Alar had something more to tell. And so they sat there motionless for a moment. Only when Adam could stand the suspense no longer and opened his mouth to speak did Alar resume.

“Adam, there’s...there’s something I should tell you. About Colin in particular.”

“All right.” Adam felt an uncomfortable tingling sensation and set his cup and saucer aside. “What is it?”

And so, Alar at last told Adam of the incident at Alba Longa. He spared Adam as much detail as he could, though the latter was naturally curious just how far things went. And so, within mere minutes, the whole tale was out.

“I know I f****d up,” he concluded. “And you’ve got every right to exile me from your heart. But I ask you to give me another chance.” He swallowed hard and looked his lover straight in the eyes. “Please forgive me, Adam.”

Adam heaved a heart-rending sigh and cast his gaze down as though examining his paws, though Alar could tell he was deep in thought. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as though Adam’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Alar wished the earth would simply open up and swallow him whole.

Please, Lord, let his heart not harden against me forever! the warrior silently prayed. He sat there for but half a minute, though it felt like much longer. Only at the end of this did Adam sigh again and look up.

“I forgive you, Alar.”

Alar’s heart leapt with such joy that he almost failed to comprehend this simple sentence.

“Really?” was all he could manage.

“Of course. How could I not? Everything you’ve done, you’ve done for me. It would be priggish of me not to forgive one little…indiscretion. Especially under such stressful conditions.” He paused and took Alar’s muzzle in both his paws, looking him straight in the eyes in turn. “I love you, Alar. And nothing in the world can ever change that.”

Alar thought his heart might burst with joy in that moment as he took Adam’s muzzle in his own paws.

“I love you too, Adam. And I swear that from this day forth, neither my heart nor my eye will ever stray again.”

As proof of his words, he once more engaged his lover in a kiss so deep and so profound that it rendered conscious speech utterly useless. They disengaged only slowly and continued to gaze into one another’s eyes for half a minute before Alar’s suddenly widened.

“Oh! And, now that we’re clear on that point, I suppose it’s time to...” He rummaged around in his satchel until he came across the object of his search. “Ah! Here it is.”

He withdrew a small cloth, which he quickly unraveled to reveal the ring he had purchased in the capital. He presented it to Adam, sinking from his chair down onto one knee as he did.

“Adam, my love, will you marry me?”

“Well of course, silly!” was all Adam could say. They both laughed, Alar placed the ring on his paw, and the two embraced once again for a long, long time.