The Grey Tower

"This isn't the time. Please.. let us bury.."

"He is Lost, Tela. There is no denying this, no getting around it. You know the Way."

"Don't talk to me about he Way, my husband. We have walked this path our entire lives, together. Raised our children in it- I will not turn my back on our-"

"Our son has turned his back on us! On the Way! What he can do.. what he is.. "

"It was not his fault! The Creator.."

"Has chosen his path. And it is not our path, Tela. You know the Way."

They all thought Asan asleep. The argument's fervor penetrated the walls, his mother and father were never unhappy, especially not with each other. The camp was dead quiet and had been since the previous night- when Trollocs had raided them, killing his Sister, Danai, and wounding many others. It was a roving band, the Trollocs, it seemed most scattered quickly enough to avoid harm- without anything driving them the Trollocs just tore through them in one direction and kept going. They thanked whatever luck the Creator had bestowed upon them no Tuatha'an filled a Trolloc belly that night.

And yet, in a time where rejoicing was in order, even though Danai had not made it, the camp had seen yet another horror. Perhaps something that could contest with the abhorrent monsters that rampaged through their way of life. Asan had killed a Trolloc. That night he was hysterical over Danai's death- but something else was found with the two. The Trolloc was crushed against a tree- a sight beyond their understanding. Whispers and sad faced relatives were all that Asan could see, even during the feast held when Danai was buried. Asan knew they did not spare her a second to mourn. She was gone- sheltered in the Hand of the Creator. He was alive, and Lost. No one questioned who tears were really shed for.

Asan shed his own tears, alone, listening to his parents argue about his fate- a fate he knew well was predetermined. They all knew. That's why they mourned him. He knew just as well. He would be excommunicated, and his memory would be sealed away- never to be spoken of again without downcast eyes and shame filling the room. He couldn't bare the goodbye- couldn't watch his mothers tears, and his father's stern expression. And Jhani... It was thoughts of his brother that decided his course of action. Up, out of bed, quietly pulling his things together. It didn't really matter where he went, just that he was away from the accusatory glances, and the suffering smiles of the camp.

It was but a few moments until he was ready- years of quick change served him well. Bundles and bags hung about his person like memories, threatening to drag him down into the abyss of regret. He listened carefully, no longer able to hear the conversation of his parents outside of the wagon. Poking his head out gingerly, he scanned the area quickly. The fires had been put out, and only the dogs padded around in the shadows of the wagons. No worries there, they knew him.

"Here's where it starts." He said to himself, wiping his cheeks as he set off. It didn't really matter where he went, just as long as he left. Heavy footfalls guided him away from the campground, passing the dogs wordlessly, Asan couldn't help but spare them one last, lingering smile. So many memories shattered, and so many piece lost. Once he settled wherever he would go.. mourning and whatnot could begin, but not until then. Whispering his goodbyes to the wind, Asan found his way away from the fires.. away from the camp.. away from the Leaf.

For the first time since he was born, the young man was truly Lost.

Alone. The young man was alone with tears and regrets, cursing the day he was born, cursing the Light for this predicament he found himself in. Stumbling through his days, numb as winter weather the boy paid no attention to the passage of time. Traveling through the forest was no easy task without the blanket of the caravans- all the work of feeding himself, finding plants to sustain him and berries to provide him with a taste of sweetness, finding old camps with signs of a doused fire, gathering wood and starting the fire that would provide warmth and light through the chilly and lonely nights.

At night he would gather up all he'd found on the way and lay it out, having a feast for one. He would sing and tap his foot, keeping with what tradition he knew. He sung the only song that he knew, every night he sung it through tears and memories of home.

I'm falling down a well,
Watching the sky fall away
I've tripped, Lost myself can't you tell?
Won't you pull me out? Won't you make me safe?

I'm falling down a well,
Hearing my own cries,
Knowing Jack'll catch me
I'm falling into his smile.

Don't let me fall, please
Don't let me fall, please.

I'm falling down a well,
I was standing a moment before
Now I've lost all sense of direction
But I know just what's in store.

I'm falling down a well,
I'm looking for a ledge
But when I reach my hands out
Jack demands my pledge.

Don't let me fall, please.
Don't let me fall, please.

I'm falling down a well
He tells me to Deny
If I forsake the Creator,
He promises me I'll fly.

I'm falling down a well,
Falling into his lies
I know no matter what I do or say
Someday- the bottom. Someday, I'll die.

Don't let me fall, please.
Don't let me fall.

How could he make it in a world forsaken by the Way? How could survive, plucked from his way of life by the Creator himself? He was cursed, he had to be! Asan's voice was full of regret, brimmed with a new emotion, one he'd felt for the Trolloc that killed his sister, one he felt for himself every time he closed his eyes. One he felt for the Wagons, for the Tuatha'an though he'd never admit such, even to himself. Hate. Those nights, alone. Those nights with nothing but his own voice for company, he hated harder than he'd ever. Hated with reckless abandon, hated the way he imagined people hated the Tuatha'an. He embraced this feeling- trudging through the days and nights, singing his song, calling to his own death. His aggression seemed to roll off him in waves- animals appeared wary of the boy, he stomped through the forest ripped the food from it's floor, no longer sympathetic to the life around him. He had been abandoned to a fate of madness and death. He had been thrown into this hatred- and he was drowning.

This was how everyone else lived, he thought. No joy, no happiness. Nothing but pain and suffering with each step. He'd better get used to this. When he found a road, it was just as well. How long had it been since he left camp? It felt like years, though he was sure it was just a few days- he was older.. colder. He nearly prayed for a bandit, a monster, some misfortune to end his journey before he truly disgraced himself in truth. His mind was so chaotic, his stomach rumbled, his feet ached it seemed more than he could bear.

So when he made it to his first village, Bren, he seemed half-crazed and half starved. His walk had deteriorated into a shuffle, only pushed on by a blind anger that seemed to eat at him and grow off his energy each day. The one inn, Her Lady's Smile was a quaint place, slightly bigger than a farmer's home. The smell of food drew the starving boy, and oddly, the sound of music. A dulcimer and what sounded like pipes playing snapped him from his anger tinged haze and led him past anxiety and fear into the common room from the street.

The innkeeper bustled over to him immediately- he must have looked as bad as he felt- a few of the patrons, local folk by the similarities in their dress, stood at his entrance, Asan heard a few oaths muttered, though he didn't understand most of it.

"Oh Bless me! There are few things I'd thought these old eyes would never see. You're a Tinker by your clothes, that Yellow and Green... no matter.. you've not got a wagon. Have you been separated from your camp then?" She was a kindly older woman who offered him a mothering look just as another voice piped up from the kitchen.

"He's got no business in town, Merigon. Out he goes, where Tinkers appear, children disappear." Asan couldn't see the man who spoke, but Merigon turned and shot him such a look that his next sentence cut off with a sputter. The patrons were already turning back to their meals, and the music started playing once more.

"Oh don't mind the old fool, boy.. he's still sour that I tricked him into marrying me forty years past. Old Badger always tries to convince people he doesn't have a heart. What's your name? And come on, up with you.. lets get you into a seat." Asan let himself be pulled from the floor (how had he gotten there?) and gently led into a chair. His eyes rolled about in his head with exhaustion, his bones felt like they were barely holding together. "A.. Asan.." he tried to say, though in truth it came out a whimper. What was wrong with him? His mind was intact, but his body screamed agony, his strength was gone. The woman's gaze filled with concern.

"A bed, a bed I say quickly! Call Nerinda Toan, and don't drag your feet! Bad luck having a traveler without care, and I'll be Light blind if one dies under my roof! Go, now, go!" Asan didn't see who she was calling to.. didn't see much of anything- his vision was being taken over by black- it seemed like he was really falling down a well. Perhaps, after all his wishing, the end was nigh. Perhaps he would not have to live as a Lost one. He tried to whisper thanks to the Creator, but the blackness enveloped him before he could part his lips.