Tavaar - 15th Edition

So, yesterday we learn that Tavaar is not without her faults. She was not only willing to put Jamvahn at great physical risk (it simply would not go well for an Unaligned to be caught in a "romantic" involvement with any regular "Lined" family member), but she was also willing to take advantage of her position of authority to accomplish it. Today we would call this "sexual harrassment". There was no such term in Tavaar's world. It was not a concept many thought about.

We have completed the first journal and now move on to the second. The second begins with several notes, one of which contains the following:

It (first vignette) deals with something I never wanted to write about. Of course, when I began the Swords of Fire saga I had never intended to write about sex in any way. What I found was it is difficult – if not outright impossible – to follow characters so closely without at least referencing sex, and sexual things. However, not all sexual encounters are pleasing. Writing about the ‘fun’ kind is difficult enough. Writing about the other is frightening.

It was very hard writing this so it should prove interesting (to myself) to see how I react to reading it after such a long sabbatical. It is not a particularly long passage, but from the margin dates it appears I spent a week writing it. This was using pen and paper. No computer erasures and/or corrections or adjustments. I struggled with this. Now I'm about to find out how well I pulled it off in a first draft.

Formatting: Text notes; Text narrative; Blog notes.

The elders’ rejection did not sit well with Tavaar. The decision had been made before she appeared. That was evident. Their reasoning was poor at best. At worst, it was willful prejudice.

What goaded her most was that Mehngen’s name had been accepted. His name had even been spoken during her hearing as though he were some symbol of perfect representation.1 (There is a note: If you check the Family Archives you will find Mehngen is the grandson of Fahrhar, the Mines sovereign.) Mehngen was stupid. He was a bit of a brute, or so it seemed to Tavaar. He was a close cousin and five years her senior. Tavaar had never considered him before. Now, she was curious as to why he was so appealing to the elders.3 (There is a note: At the time of writing I did not know Mehngen’s relationship to Sovereign Fahrhar. It is also interesting that Mehngen was Chahma’s near cousin. Her father and Mehngen’s mother were siblings.) How could she learn about him without being obvious? The answer came quickly. Laughing, she hurried to her room.

Her plan ran through her mind as she undressed and tossed her things into a corner.4 (A minor note: I don’t spend too much time on it, but every so often I casually mention Tavaar’s lack of order regarding her room. She was personally clean and beautiful, but lazy as regarded her room. She took it for granted that servants would keep things tidy. This was a failing of her upbringing which she never overcame.) She decided to wear britches instead of pants. Mehngen wouldn’t know the difference. What Tavaar did know was Mehngen wasn’t a fought over male. In fact, Tavaar couldn’t remember ever hearing of him being courted. She tied up her britches and pulled out a shiny, black silk tunic from her wardrobe. Mehngen didn’t really warrant her best, but she was taking no chances.

Finished getting dressed, she hurried outside. Considering the time of morning, she guessed he would be on his way to the mine. She wanted to catch him before he started work.

Mehngen was not the type of male Tavaar found appealing, but filthy from mine work he would be even less so. She hurried past his house and along the most likely path he would take to work. If she was lucky he would be alone. She didn’t want anyone knowing what she was up to. She would rather be caught with Jamvahn. Luck was her ally. Ahead, on the path, she could see the large, lumbering shape of Mehngen walking alone. She considered calling, but decided to just walk briskly. As she neared, he heard her and turned.

Mehngen was large, several inches taller than Tavaar, who stood six feet herself. He had powerful arms and shoulders which he had acquired in his mine work. His face had a chiseled look, as though it were made of the stone he quarried. His thick, brown hair was cut short. He had a large nose and mouth, but small eyes set close together. He smiled as she walked up.

“Hello, Tavaar. Out for a walk?”

“Hello, Mehngen. Yes. I thought to walk the trails. It’s been a while since I’ve done that.”

“You’re dressed pretty nice for a walk.”

“This?” Tavaar opened her arms and gave him a full figure look. “What’s wrong with this?”

“Walking the mountains can be hard work. You’re going to get all sweaty.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Well, maybe I should just take it off then?”

Mehngen’s eyes widened. “I won’t object,” he said, and Tavaar could almost see him salivating.

“I bet you wouldn’t. Say, would you care to talk?”

Mehngen licked his lips, but looked down the path to the mine. “I am due at work. But I think I can be a bit late. Let’s get off the path.”

Tavaar didn’t care for the suggestion, but she didn’t want to risk losing him. She had come this far and she didn’t want to meet with him again. Besides, he just might be interesting. She let him lead the way. He walked for more than a furlong before stopping to face her. She was about to speak when he pulled her to himself, kissing her hard.

Tavaar tried to push away. “Mehngen! I didn’t give permission!”

Mehngen laughed and tightened his hold. “Don’t tell me,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve heard about you. You and your friends like to play, don’t you? Take your tunic off? Yeah, we’ll do that.”

“Stop! I’m telling you to stop!”

Her struggles and commands only seemed to feed his excitement. He wasn’t laughing now because he was fighting hold her, but his face was twisted with an evil desire. He had hold of her upper arms and was now trying to trip her feet. Triumph was in his eyes.

Tavaar was feeling rage such as she had never felt before. She had had to deal with uncooperative males before, but never had she met one who disregarded all sense of decency. She was the Lady! She controlled when, where – and who – she would lay with. Her warrior blood exploded in her veins and her strength came at her bidding. She brought her hands up under his arms, placing her thumbs in his armpits and her fingers on top. Then she squeezed as hard as she could with both hands.

Mehngen’s arms flew away from her as he screamed in pain. The moment she was free, Tavaar tossed him away. He landed in a heap, moaning while Tavaar collected her breath. She was bent at the waist, holding her knees. She started to turn away.

“You little demon! I’ll rip those clothes right off you.”

Tavaar looked. To her horror, Mehngen had got to his feet and had now began to charge her like a bull, with head low. His intent was to bowl her over. He would gain a tremendous weight advantage if he succeeded. Tavaar clenched her fist and tensed, forcing herself to wait. Then, just as he was in reach, she launched her fist like a thunderbolt and caught him square in the face.

Tavaar had always been strong, but in her rage her strength seemed to have increased. The force of her strike was such that Mehngen’s entire upper body was snapped backward, and his feet left the ground. With a dull grunt he landed on his back, his arms and legs splayed up and outward from his body. All he needed was a shell and he would look like a turtle laid on its back.

His face, however, was a bloody mess. Blood was gushing from his nose, or his mouth – perhaps both. Tavaar couldn’t tell. He was too much of a mess. She stood over him, prepared and waiting to see if he had any fight left in him. She doubted it. He looked to be in a bad way.

At first, Mehngen lay quiet, obviously stunned. Then, as he began to recover, the pain from his wound began to affect him more and more. He groaned, and then he began to whimper. Cautiously, he brought his hands to his face, but as soon as he touched himself he recoiled, probably in pain and shock. He sat weeping, holding his hands near his face, but not touching it. He almost made a pitiful sight. But Tavaar was feeling no pity. She remained ready, in case he found new strength and went into a rage of his own. He was still massive and strong, and therefore dangerous. But she believed herself to be in control now. If it came to it, she was prepared to kill him. Her knife hung on her belt.

As she considered him with disgust, her first thought was to walk away and leave him. He was nothing more than a fallen enemy. Yet he was alive, and injured. The family had made prisoners of bandits in the past. These would be questioned and then delivered to the Kingdom of Azua, which was better equipped to handle such trouble. The word was these prisoners did not lead long or healthy lives, but that was not the family’s concern. But living enemies were not left behind. They were taken and tended to. As a hunter, Tavaar was able to deal with a multitude of wounds and injuries. Healers were not often found in the forest. She also had a pouch with medicinal herbs and wraps on her belt. But this looked like more than she was willing to deal with.

“Stop your crying!” she ordered.5 (There is a note: I was not comfortable writing this scene and perhaps it shows. I never doubted Mehngen would fail in his attempt, but I still knew he caused emotional damage getting as far as he did. It is a sickening feeling, being attacked, and the memory never goes away. I wasn’t happy with myself for having written it. But it was part of her tapestry and I had to include it.) Mehngen only looked at her, his eyes filled with anger – and fear. “Shut up! And move your hands away so I can see.”

Mehngen’s eyes drifted to the pouch hanging from her belt. Slowly, he lowered his hands. In an instant, Tavaar’s mock sword swept from its sheath and caught him across his face. He fell over with an agonized cry. Tavaar sheathed her weapon and then knelt to help him back to a sitting position. She examined his cheek where her sword had struck, nodding satisfactorily. It had left a clear imprint which would remain for at least a day, if not longer. Mehngen was wailing now.

“Oh, shut up,” she said. “You’re going to live, though why I don’t kill you is beyond me. The mark made by my sword will give you something convincing to say to others. I hit you in the face with my sword. Okay? If you think to cause me trouble over this, think again. If pushed, I will tell all, and you will stand before the Head-of-Family. He will not look upon you with either favor or pity, I think. So, if you wish to avoid that, I suggest you remain vague on the details of how this happened. That should be easy for you. Now, let me see the wound.”6 (The note states: You might think Tavaar was doing this to protect Mehngen from punishment. Not so. Mehngen meant nothing to Tavaar, and she bore no real pity for him. But despite winning the confrontation, Tavaar was already hurting emotionally. Already, she was trying to distance herself from the incident. Were Mehngen to be brought before the Council, she would have to relive this again. He certainly deserved punishment, but that was not Tavaar’s care. She wanted to run away, and this was how she was going to do it.)

She tried to make an evaluation, but he was so sensitive she wasn’t able to dab the blood away. By now his tunic was covered with it. Finally, she gave up. She hadn’t been that interested in helping him anyway.

“I think it’s your nose,” she said. “I’m pretty certain it’s broken.”

“Why?” he wailed, and then cringed in pain.

Tavaar grunted and became sarcastic. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess the idea of being attacked doesn’t appeal to me. Tell me something, cow brain. How many times have you done this before?”

“Never,” he whispered.

“I don’t believe you. Tell me the truth or I’ll get a stick and crack you across that nose with it.”

“No! No!”

“Then tell me.”

Mehngen was having to talk soft to keep his pain low.

“I – I never lay with anyone before.” he said.

“You didn’t with me, either, stupid. So, you’ve never lay with anyone?”

“No.”

Something about the way he said it made her believe him.

“Well, that’s something, anyway. But you have been trouble before, haven’t you? You’ve groped and pawed, taking what wasn’t freely given and ignoring commands to stop, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why no one courts you, isn’t it?”

“I – I don’t know.”

“It is, you stupid dung heap! Now, before I bring you to the healers to get your face fixed, you are going to listen. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You are never to approach me again, for any reason. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“If you do, I am going to take my knife and you will never lay with a woman. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Further, I have never paid you much mind, Mehngen, but I am going to keep an ear out for your behavior. If you try this with anyone else, or if I even hear you are not obedient to anyone who is foolish enough to let you get close, I will carry out my threat.8 (Part of a note: What is incredible is that Chahma will eventually court – and marry – Mehngen. Perhaps that was the reason she faded from Tavaar’s life. Perhaps this incident actually made Mehngen something to have. That has not been written.) Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe I will do it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you can stop me?”

“No.”

“Good. Trust me, Mehngen. I will hunt you down if I have to. You’ll not be able to escape. And I will tell everyone what I did. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You’ve learned something important today, Mehngen. You should be proud of yourself. Don’t you feel better now?”

“No! Ow!”

Tavaar shook her head.

“You know, you really are stupid, Mehngen. I mean, you weren’t much to look at, even before I messed up your face, but if you had just kept your place and been obedient, I might have given you a try. Out of curiosity, you know. Precious gems are buried in common dirt.9 (The note states: This is Klarissa’s influence on Tavaar.) And who knows? Were I to find you pleasing, I just might have let your hands explore. You see, you were right, you know? My friends and I do like to play. But the rules are ours and we make all decisions. As to laying with our males, I’m afraid we don’t do that. That you were wrong about. Not that it matters. You’ll never get anything from me now. Pity. You could have had a lot of fun. I do know how to play, you know. Now, get on your feet and I’ll march you back to the village.”

“Will you help me up?”

“No. I’m not going to touch you. I can’t fix your face, but I’ll walk close by in case you drop from a loss of blood.”

She stood to the side and watched him struggle to his feet. Once he did, she made him march in front. She still didn’t trust him, although her threat would probably give him pause.

“Are you going to tell your father?” he asked.

“No. He’d just kill you. I like my solution better. March!”

As I wrote before, this was a difficult passage for me to write. And it isn't over, although the worst is. That I wrote so many notes on so small a passage is indicative. That I included so much of them in this post is also telling.

No one should be hurting Tavaar. No one. Not even me.