Tavaar - 21st Edition

I'm going to try something different. I'm going to leave out the actual notes and comments on the text and just present the draft as it is written (with minor modifications). I'll leave in the footnote marks to show where a comment is, but I won't add the comment. If you are curious about the comments, or anything for which I do not currently have one, just post your own comment asking about it and I'll answer right off.

However, I will still provide a brief introduction.

In Tavaar: 20th Edition Tavaar is subjected to an over-the-top punishment by her mother. Now Bolar has arrived. Remember Bolar? He's the aged healer who helped Tavaar right after Mehngen tried to rape her.

Formatting: Text notes; Text narrative; Blog notes.

A knock on the door caused Taylich to get up and put Tavaar’s belt back into the drawer. Then she went to the door and let Bolar in, for it was Bolar. Choska (the servant names are made up - sorry, I know I said I wasn't going to comment) was standing at his side, holding a small keg. Tavaar was confused. Were they going to drink wine to toast her spanking? Bolar was holding a good-sized tankard. Taylich glanced into the tankard and turned to Choska.

“Take that down to the kitchen,” she ordered. “Mark it plainly with Tavaar’s name. No one, and I mean no one is to have any of this except Tavaar. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lady Taylich.”

“Mark it in several places. I want no mistakes. I know exactly how many tankards can be filled from that.”

“Yes, Lady Taylich.”

“Heat up some water and prepare a bath.”

“I will see to it immediately, Lady Taylich.”

“Get that keg marked first!”

“Yes, Lady Taylich.”

Choska departed and Taylich closed the door. While she had been issuing orders, Bolar had come and sat beside Tavaar on the bed. Taylich returned and sat on the chair.

“Thank you, for coming, Bolar,” she said. She indicated the tankard. “Will that work, do you think?”

“It should,” said Bolar, confidently. Then, tilting his eyebrows at Tavaar. “Providing it was just this one time.”

“What are you talking about?” Tavaar ventured to ask.

Bolar handed her the tankard. “Drink this.”

“What is it?”

“Drink it!” said Taylich.

Tavaar took the tankard and looked at the dark, reddish-purple liquid it held. It certainly looked like wine, but Tavaar had her doubts. As she brought it to her lips her nose warned her that her suspicions were true. She took a sip and thought she would gag.

“Drink it! All of it,” said Taylich.

Bolar was far less severe.

“You must drink it all, Tavaar,” he said, sounding very grandfatherly. “I know it tastes bad, but I had to make this first batch extra potent. The next batch will not taste so bad.”

“Next batch? How much of this am I going to have to drink? And what am I drinking anyway?”

Bolar smiled and pushed the tankard back to Tavaar's mouth. “I suggest you try to drink it quickly. I have a flask of something to counter the taste when you are finished. Oh, and do not spit any out, or you shall have to drink another.”

Tavaar brought the drink to her mouth again. She closed her eyes and began to gulp. It was horrible. When she finished, Bolar took the tankard from her outstretched hand and handed it to Taylich, who set it on the desk. Then he reached into his robes and produced a large flask, which he presented with an even bigger smile to Tavaar.

“Now, drink this; as much or as little as you like.”

Fearing another woeful concoction, Tavaar was hesitant. But Bolar’s smile was encouraging, and she thought she recognized the flask. She opened it and this time her nose brought a good report: Mozell. She chugged on the flask, letting the wine slosh through her mouth and destroy the remnants of the vile liquid.

“What is going on?” she asked. “What was that ‘stuff’ I drank from the tankard?”

“Not to your liking, I take it?” asked Bolar, putting the flask back into his robes.

“No. It was awful.”

“It is your own fault,” snapped Taylich. “If you had behaved yourself properly, you would not be in this mess.”

“What mess? What was that drink?”

“You may, or may not, have heard of it,” said Bolar. “Generally, it is considered improper for anyone but aged healers, such as myself, mothers, or young brides to speak of it.”

Tavaar’s eyes went wide with horror. “The baby drink?” she cried. “You gave me the baby drink?"

“So you have heard of it? Most girls do begin to hear rumors about it even before they turn twenty. ‘Baby drink’ is not its proper name, of course. Officially, it is the marriage potion. It is drunk by young brides daily from about a moon prior to their wedding day to whenever they wish to begin having children. Males need only drink it just before – well, just before. It is not completely necessary, but it is a good precaution.”15

“But I’m not getting married! Why’d you give me that?”

Bolar shrugged and splayed his fingers. “Well, apart from preventing babies before – well, you know, before – in stronger doses it can also do so after – just in case one forgot.”

“But I haven’t lay with anyone! Neither am I intending to. And I’m not planning on getting married. Why did you do this?”

Bolar looked ready to answer, but Taylich spoke first.

“Because I asked him to. After what I just witnessed, I thought it best.”

“But I told you nothing more was done.”

“I know what I saw, Tavaar.”

“No, you don’t! Not if you think you saw that. Mother, how could you?”

“I could because it is best to be safe. Something you have forgotten.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing. I’m not being careless, and I’m not drinking that – that stuff again.”

“You will drink it, or I will flail your backside until it bleeds!”

Tavaar’s respect and caution were once again swallowed by her anger. She was about to retort, but Bolar raised his hands between them and brought order.16

“Enough! Enough. Let us be calm. There is no need to fight. Lady Taylich, would you be so kind as to bring the tankard down and refill it? Once the bathwater is hot, pour the potion in. I have a couple more things to tend with Tavaar.”

Taylich’s face showed she much preferred to stay and deal with her daughter, but Bolar remained smiling at her. She relaxed and excused herself. Tavaar glared at her as she left. When the door closed, Bolar addressed her. His tone was matter-of-fact.

“You were rude to your mother.”17

“She deserved it.”

“That is hardly the point. Now, take down your britches.” Tavaar stared at him, shocked and wide-eyed. Bolar saw her look of alarm and chuckled, reaching again into his robes and producing a small, flat tin container, which he opened. “No, I am not going to punish you further,” he said, gently. “Quite the contrary. This is healing salve, made from crushing the leaves of certain plants into a fine powder, and then mixing them with other things, and finally, using water from Fire Lake to hold it all together in the form of paste. I have reason to believe you are in need of this salve.”

Tavaar hesitated. Her backside was throbbing, but hadn’t she been humiliated enough? Bolar sighed, either from weariness or impatience.

“Tavaar. I am nearly one hundred and thirty years old. Seeing your bare butt is hardly going to entice me to wanton thoughts. Now, would you please be so kind as to take down your britches? If you do not, I shall have to do it myself, and I would really rather not. And Tavaar, I may be ancient, but I would win should you decided to struggle.”18

Tavaar accepted his threat without argument. In a contest of simply strength, Bolar was no match for her. But Bolar’s strength was not simple. It consisted of far more than muscles in his body. Bolar had age, respect, wisdom and authority. He also had the entire family behind him. He would win. Reluctantly, she undid her tie and once again slid her britches down to her knees. Bolar had her lay on her stomach while he made a cursory examination of the welts.

“Some of them are quite raised,” he murmured. “Still, the skin has not been broken. That is well. But Taylich always did know how to wield a strap.”

“Aren’t I fortunate?” Tavaar grumbled.

Bolar chuckled. “I guess that depends on how you feel about it.”

“How I feel about it? Well, right now I feel like I hate her.”

Something in the way Bolar removed his hands made her turn her head and look at him. He was sitting back with his hands on his knees, giving her a dark look. She felt chilled, but not from being exposed. Bolar did not look pleased.

“What?” she dared ask.

Bolar paused before replying, as though seeking to choose his words carefully. “Tavaar, I love you dearly. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” she said, softly.

“Apart from my own children and grandchildren, I do not believe there is anyone I care more about. When I received word from your mother I was grieved. I came as quickly as I could to render what help I can. But I do not ever want to hear you say those words again. Taylich is your mother. You will not deny her the respect she is due. If you do, I shall use the strap on you. Is that clear?”

Her eyes watered and her throat tightened. She had no desire to disappoint him. She nodded her head. Satisfied, Bolar returned to his efforts. She rested her face in her pillow.

“Do not confuse anger with hatred, Tavaar,” he said. “You have great anger toward your mother right now; some with good reason. However, that is hardly hatred. Do not lie to yourself – and others – by seeking vicious words. State your anger. State with feelings if you must. But speak the truth. Now, this is going to feel warm. It may even sting on some of the large welts.”

He began to apply the salve and, true to his word, it was warm on her skin. There were also small stabs of pain as the salve and injuries met. She grimaced, but did not cry out.

“So, you believe me?” she asked, hopefully.

“You have not told me anything.”

“I told you I have never lain with anyone.”

“So you did. Forgive an old man’s memory.”

She turned again. “Do you believe me?”

He stopped and looked at her. She held her breath.

“Yes.”

She relaxed and he returned to his work.

“So why doesn’t mother? She as much called me a liar to my face.”

“I know.”

“How could she do that? When do I ever lie?”

“She’s afraid.”

“She’s afraid? Of what?”

“Of you. Of what you might do. Of where she fears you are heading. She is in a panic. She is desperate to save and protect you.”

“Save and protect me! She strapped my butt, Bolar. I’m twenty-five! Nobody gets their butt strapped at twenty-five. Nobody!”

“Well, you are hardly nobody, Tavaar. I think you are very special. So does your mother.”

“Then why is she doing this to me? Why is she hurting me?”

“Do you know what mother lapins19 sometimes do when they are under stress?”

Tavaar paused. “They eat their young. Are you saying my mother wants to kill me?”

“No,” chuckled Bolar. “Nothing so dire as that. But she is now confronted by a force which is outside her control.”

“What force?”

“Your personal will. You are twenty-five, Tavaar. You are no longer the precious little girl who hangs on every truth her mother gives. You have your own will and you make up your own mind.”

“That’s true. But she should still trust me. Father does. He has never complained about my behavior. Mother always does. And now it’s come to this.”

“Your father understands. The two of you are much more alike than you and your mother. Taylich has always been quiet and reserved. She has always followed protocol, and her behavior has always been exemplary.”

“In other words, she’s boring.”

Bolar laughed as he covered the salve tin and sat back.

“I think we should let that air for a bit. You won’t have it on long as it is. I suppose, to someone as lively and free as you, your mother does appear dull. Just remember, your father found her interesting enough to marry her. But your behavior is so different from her own she lives in terror of what you may do. At times, her fear clouds her thinking. Please try to remember, though, Tavaar: your mother is trying to protect you. She will sacrifice anything and anyone to ensure it. This includes your love for her. If she can know you are safe and well, she will be satisfied.”20

Tavaar lay silently, considering Bolar’s words. She wasn’t sure she accepted everything he said, but he had succeeded in quieting her anger.

“How do you know all of this?” she asked.

“I am a father. This is how all parents feel.”

She decided to drop the subject of her mother.

“That salve feels like it’s bubbling on me.”

“It is working.”

“Why won’t I have it on long? Does it burn or something?”

“No. Nothing like that. It is just that you will be taking a bath and it is going to wash off. I could have waited, and perhaps I should have. But from your mother’s note I was sure you needed it.”

“You don’t fool me, Bolar. You just like rubbing my butt.”

They both laughed at the joke.

“I do not have to be the one to apply it after your bath. If you would be more comfortable with your mother, or one of the servants, I understand.”

“Not my mother! Anyone but her. Well, maybe not anyone. But you’ve seen me naked now. I guess I can tolerate it again.”

“Yes, I understand. Everyone is embarrassed about disrobing in front of someone. And its embarrassing to have someone talk about certain parts of our bodies to us. It is also embarrassing to be the healer, sometimes.”

“I never thought of that.”

“There are always wounds, illnesses and babies which force me to see things no one wants me to see. But it is my work.”

Suddenly Tavaar pushed herself up. “Wait a minute! You told mother to put baby drink in my bath. Why?”

“Ah, well. Just an added precaution.”

“You mean – no! Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. But you said you believed me. Why do I still have to take that bath?”

“To set your mother’s heart at ease.”

She collapsed back on her pillow. “So, I have to do the bath and keep drinking the drink just because my mother doesn’t trust me? Even though I’ve done nothing wrong?”

“I’m afraid so.”21