Glade 1, 122
The end of the year had rushed in full of unexpected things; Torin's mysterious and harsh threshold sickness, the death of the monarch, the abduction of his heir, coming war whispered through the streets.
But, the runesmith was safe, his business was safe, his home, and, most importantly; the people he cared for. Torin had wanted to celebrate and show gratitude toward the friends that had come into his life during the previous year (or a little before). The party had been in his mind since Searing, when he'd begun using his spare time to make trinkets for the people he cared for. Some had been delivered already, and though he felt a little guilty, he hadn't had the time to make additional runeforged things. His plans for small magical gifts for some had been delayed due to his illness, so they would have to sit in his head for later.
As it was he had small, mundane things he'd been able to make while recovering. Aurin had occasionally given him a raised eyebrow but they had not taxed him and without he would have been constantly restless not working. Destyn's gift, he was a bit ashamed to admit, had been partly purchased, but at least a part he had made.
All the gifts, none of them very large, had been neatly wrapped in colorful paper or fabric and places in a pile on the little rug he had bought for his sitting area. There were comfortable chairs for guests (in inhabitants) to sit in, and the bookshelves there were beginning to fill up between texts for Torin or Timon's work and their shared instability for adventure books. The house was decorated in the traditional fashion, mostly Frost greenery, but a few vases of flowers were laid out or woven into the boughs of pine or holly. The large, brand-new dining table was festooned with decorations, Timon's work, and groaning under a feast of more dishes than Torin had ever seen in one place before, also Timon's work.
The boy had demanded that the shop be closed on the first of the year and shoved Torin out of the kitchen for the duration so he could throw together the great abundance of finger foods, savory and sweet, desserts, and a full, multi-course meal. Torin had explained that he was not sure who, of all the friends they had invited, would be there for a sit-down supper, but this had not seemed to stymied the boy's intentions so the smith had given him whatever money he required for ingredients and stayed out of his way.
The chosen day was neither the traditional last day of Frost that would lead to a midnight toast, nor the first day of the new season. Torin knew that some of his friends would be expected to host their own celebrations, that the Peacock Theatre would be hosting one, and that most people were likely to want to spend the day with their families. On New Year's Eve Timon had been bundled off to his Aunt's house with presents for her and his cousins, as well as a basket full to bursting with venison pies and other treats. The apprentice hadn't really complained, he seemed less uncomfortable with his family now that he was proudly earning a living in his own right and need never return to their questionable care.
Torin had begged off both the party at the Peacock and the one held by the Leukos'. Another year he might accept one, or both invitations but since his sickness, large groups of strangers had sometimes given him odd sensations, almost visions but not associated with his eyes. So instead he'd spent the time alone, quietly finishing and wrapping the presents he'd managed to get together and enjoying the rare solitude. It was with surprise that he'd realized how rarely he was alone anymore; a realization that both made his heart sing and his eyes tear up.
Now the day had arrived, the house was a wonderful combination of the scents of the decorations and the scents of the kitchen. The Illumite lamps were filling the two, large rooms on the lowest floor with magical lighting to enhance the many candles that were giving everything an almost magical glow of their own. The kitchen hearth was roaring and there were two braziers in the combination dining room/sitting room, more than enough to heat the space to comfortable.
There were small velvet bags tied with ribbons with each person's name written on them at the place settings. Even if some might not be staying for the duration, they could take the little pouches of candy with them along with their presents.
Both smith and apprentice were wearing new sets of clothing, a little lighter than what would be comfortable outside yet, but they would wear well for the coming season. At noon, the time he'd said that guests could begin arriving (though they had also been told that things would continue till midnight and they could arrive at any point) Torin checked with Timon and found the boy well pleased, so he unlocked the front door, as well as the side gate, and waited for their friends to arrive.
The end of the year had rushed in full of unexpected things; Torin's mysterious and harsh threshold sickness, the death of the monarch, the abduction of his heir, coming war whispered through the streets.
But, the runesmith was safe, his business was safe, his home, and, most importantly; the people he cared for. Torin had wanted to celebrate and show gratitude toward the friends that had come into his life during the previous year (or a little before). The party had been in his mind since Searing, when he'd begun using his spare time to make trinkets for the people he cared for. Some had been delivered already, and though he felt a little guilty, he hadn't had the time to make additional runeforged things. His plans for small magical gifts for some had been delayed due to his illness, so they would have to sit in his head for later.
As it was he had small, mundane things he'd been able to make while recovering. Aurin had occasionally given him a raised eyebrow but they had not taxed him and without he would have been constantly restless not working. Destyn's gift, he was a bit ashamed to admit, had been partly purchased, but at least a part he had made.
All the gifts, none of them very large, had been neatly wrapped in colorful paper or fabric and places in a pile on the little rug he had bought for his sitting area. There were comfortable chairs for guests (in inhabitants) to sit in, and the bookshelves there were beginning to fill up between texts for Torin or Timon's work and their shared instability for adventure books. The house was decorated in the traditional fashion, mostly Frost greenery, but a few vases of flowers were laid out or woven into the boughs of pine or holly. The large, brand-new dining table was festooned with decorations, Timon's work, and groaning under a feast of more dishes than Torin had ever seen in one place before, also Timon's work.
The boy had demanded that the shop be closed on the first of the year and shoved Torin out of the kitchen for the duration so he could throw together the great abundance of finger foods, savory and sweet, desserts, and a full, multi-course meal. Torin had explained that he was not sure who, of all the friends they had invited, would be there for a sit-down supper, but this had not seemed to stymied the boy's intentions so the smith had given him whatever money he required for ingredients and stayed out of his way.
The chosen day was neither the traditional last day of Frost that would lead to a midnight toast, nor the first day of the new season. Torin knew that some of his friends would be expected to host their own celebrations, that the Peacock Theatre would be hosting one, and that most people were likely to want to spend the day with their families. On New Year's Eve Timon had been bundled off to his Aunt's house with presents for her and his cousins, as well as a basket full to bursting with venison pies and other treats. The apprentice hadn't really complained, he seemed less uncomfortable with his family now that he was proudly earning a living in his own right and need never return to their questionable care.
Torin had begged off both the party at the Peacock and the one held by the Leukos'. Another year he might accept one, or both invitations but since his sickness, large groups of strangers had sometimes given him odd sensations, almost visions but not associated with his eyes. So instead he'd spent the time alone, quietly finishing and wrapping the presents he'd managed to get together and enjoying the rare solitude. It was with surprise that he'd realized how rarely he was alone anymore; a realization that both made his heart sing and his eyes tear up.
Now the day had arrived, the house was a wonderful combination of the scents of the decorations and the scents of the kitchen. The Illumite lamps were filling the two, large rooms on the lowest floor with magical lighting to enhance the many candles that were giving everything an almost magical glow of their own. The kitchen hearth was roaring and there were two braziers in the combination dining room/sitting room, more than enough to heat the space to comfortable.
There were small velvet bags tied with ribbons with each person's name written on them at the place settings. Even if some might not be staying for the duration, they could take the little pouches of candy with them along with their presents.
Both smith and apprentice were wearing new sets of clothing, a little lighter than what would be comfortable outside yet, but they would wear well for the coming season. At noon, the time he'd said that guests could begin arriving (though they had also been told that things would continue till midnight and they could arrive at any point) Torin checked with Timon and found the boy well pleased, so he unlocked the front door, as well as the side gate, and waited for their friends to arrive.
