XII
Torundel was happy. For the third time in his life he felt close to another human being... the first time had been his grandfather and the second time a picture of Queen Dô, dead now two hundred years.
It was morning and the bedroom was untidy and light, yellow beams of sun made the old darkwood furniture gleam. The sound of the enormous waves rising and sinking against the rocky coast could be heard through the open window.
Uranumsia was naked, the cold sea air embraced her brown body.
‘I can be your death, Torundel,’ she whispered. ‘There was a letter from Count B this morning early. He wants you to come to his manor house in the mountain this afternoon. You will have to do your best. If you don't, I am sure he will have you killed.’
Torundel was not surprised. But his lack of concern would have been surprising to him just a few days earlier. He knew now how Sang Utor and Sang Hortuscany had gone through their trials, how they had shown danger and humiliation so little concern. Laughed in the face of the twelve Gods of Death.
He rose from his bed and stood beside her. The sea was red like blood.
Torundel was happy.
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Torundel the Shitposter! A serial fiction that follow these rules:
211 words - Starting with the word Torundel - First and last sentence are identical.
As I am not a native English speaker please inform me if something is misspelled, wrong or just horrendous English, and I will see if I can fix it.
(Thanks, @prayzz for the heads up on quotation marks. Fixed it in all of them.)
Earlier episodes:
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Part VIII
Part IX
Part X
Part XI
This was a little deflating compared to previous parts..
But oh well...