|A New Tale
Author: Lady Whimsy PM
After the epilogue of Polgara the Sorceress. Tells the story of the bride of Eriond. This story tells of her birth and the choices she and others made. Note this isn't about me so please don't kill me. Please be so kind as to read and review.Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural/Romance - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,398 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 12-31-07 - Published: 12-30-07 - id: 3979914
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
-1Note: I don't own anything from David Eddings' work. He does. If you see a character you don't recognize, it's mine. Feel free to plagiarize.
A New Tale
In the temple of Eriond in eastern Dalaisia three years after the ending of Polgara the Sorceress
The thin woman slogged her way up the snowy slopes of the mountain. She knew there was a temple somewhere. She didn't really care about whom it belonged to, so long as she reached it. She was in labor, and she was dying. She had to reach shelter before the baby was born, or they'd both die. Finally, as the pain grew unendurable, she saw lights ahead. The gates were opened by a man robed in white. As darkness fell over her, the man lifted her into his arms, and she knew no more for a while.
"Is there no hope for her then?"
That was a woman's voice! She'd made it! Barely.
An older woman's voice answered, "I'm afraid not. She's too thin, and she's lost too much blood. We'll be lucky to save the babe, for she was born too soon.
The thin woman sat up. "My baby?"
The young blond girl smiled at her, and handed her the blanket wrapped bundle. The thin woman turned back a corner of the blanket to look into her daughter's sky blue eyes. She stroked the baby's pale, amber curls. She gave a contented little sigh, and hen she died.
The older woman, Bethan, sighed.
"Well, I guess that's that. You'd better take the child to Onatel."
Onatel was a slim, dark haired woman who loved children. She immediately took to the little waif.
"Her mother's gone?" Onatel asked her lip quivering.
The blonde girl, Alia, nodded.
"What shall we name the poor thing, Marellen, an older woman with brown curls asked?
Many names were put forasmuch as Leila, Liah, and Lydia; to name a few. The one that was finally decided on, however, was Lytha.
"That's a good name, "Marellen said clasping Lytha to her.
The next day, Lytha's mother was commended to God. In time, Lytha settled into he routine of the nursery. She was a happy baby. She was curious about everything, and she loved to laugh.