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“Raist! Wake up!”
The monster stood before him. It was not very big this time. Last night it had been humongous. This night? The monster was his size, small and puny- a runt, a peewee pygmy. It had his face, or what he thought his face looked like. Cheeks smudged with dirt, dark red hair clumped on his head like bloodied mud. A rawboned body with outstretched stick limbs like those of the scarecrows Farmer Sedge put out in his fields, sacrificed for the crows.
Eyes so blue-fey eyes- he had heard the fat innkeeper say once. Fey eyes, like his mother’s.
The monster opened its thin-lipped, petulant mouth. The gaping maw stretched wider and wider until the likeness of him was no more. All that remained was an inky cavern with teeth as sharp and big as scythes.
Void swallowed him, his body crunched and masticated to paste.
Then his head...
He opened his mouth finally, lips stretched so wide it hurt. But he could not scream.
“RAIST!”
He woke up in their dark, dank room- clothes and sheets drenched with sweat. A room so small that the two beds Father had nailed to the walls (after Caramon kept pushing them together, loosening the legs and scratching the floors) were all it could contain. Caramon had crawled into his bed and was shaking him hard. Reaching for his twin, he threw his small arms around Caramon’s neck.
“Raist! What’s wrong?”
Words were broken shards of glass, cutting into his lungs, lodging in his throat. Instead, he faced his twin—older by a minute and larger by a mountain. Two unequal chrysalides.
And sobbed into that shoulder, which was likely sodden from all his tears.
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“You need to take care of your twin, Caramon. He’s sick, so no, you cannot head out to play with your friends.”
“Pa… it’s been three days…”
“I know, son. Your mother isn’t herself at the moment, and I don’t know where Kitiara is. You know the thing with twins? You stick together… your brother needs you. It’s the right thing to do.”
The door closed. He knew his father had left for work—perhaps he might be back this evening or perhaps in a few days. Only five, and he could already recognize the patterns. It was easy. If Mother started to sing in Elvish, Father would not be back this evening.
Mother sang in Elvish. Caramon stayed home with him. Kitiara threw some bread on the table for them both and left too.
Father came back after three days, reeking of something cloyingly sweet and sour, eyes glazed and words slurred. Then he slammed the door to his bedroom shut.
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Crawling out from the mud, he had waited until the boys' laughter faded into the ether. His body hurt. Their fists and boots landed where his clothes were, thankfully. Caramon couldn’t see, and so Caramon could not go after them.
They would not become Caramon’s friends too. It would not be Caramon's fault if they did- Caramon could not help that he was born in bliss. But he would not give Caramon a chance to betray him unknowingly.
The mud cooled on his limbs and face, already drying to crust with his blood. He was likely born caked in mud.
He often wondered what it was like—if his memory could stretch to the beginning. Caramon was pushed out first. And then he struggled out of that mangled channel like an afterthought.
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The bee’s tiny furry legs scampered across his cupped palms, and tickled him pleasantly. The grass was soft beneath him and the vallenwood sheltered him.
He loved tiny creatures, marveling at their ability to survive against all odds. For even a squirrel must seem like a tremendous giant to this speck of yellow determination.
Was there some kindredness? Maybe. He was only six, what did he know? He just knew he loved them, and they were not scared of him, nor did they hurt him, even though he knew they could.
Tomorrow he would head to school. To learn how to release that roaring dragon trapped in his tiny body.
He unfurled his grimy, soil-stained hands like the blooming petals of a rose. The bee hesitated, then flew away to the bright blue sky—first a dot, then an imagined speckle in the bright sunlight. Then nothing and everything.
Bees, if threatened, would sting, even though they would die right after.
But they would sting.