Names worn like Garments

[Ron MacGaffy]

There are many powerful words in the world of Illarion. Ancient language words were used to unleash the magic of powerful runes, some could open doors and secret passageways, some were special callings upon the gods, some would summon dreadful demons into this realm. But actually every word has its power, mostly depending on the people remembering it. The most ancient form of wording were names. And the power of a name is measured just the same. The more powerful people remember your name, be it in sweet nostalgia or with hard feelings, it will certainly have an impact on your latitude in life. The story of a name can travel faster than human feet. Its glory can pave the way for someone, it's shame can narrow the road a lot.

In human cultures, the influence of a name is of even more significance. As human ambition is almost solely limited by short length of their lifetime, a name can outlast generations of it's carriers, and some elven perception on human life might aswell be, that the spirit of a carrier lives on in the name and is passed on with it. Some human names have lasted out big fractions of elven lifespans.
Kingdoms are built on the foundation of a name, a house, that brings forth many sons and daughters under that one name into this world, that they may expand the power and reach of the name ringing out. The bards and the gossiping townfolk are the veins of these words, the blood its nourishment or poisonous influence spread due out the body of these kingdoms by melodious utterance or detestful spit. But however bitter the taste of a name spoken on the tongue might be, its power will remain, unless its sound falls into the silence. And when it is forgotten by the next generation of carriers it dies.

This story begins where the sound of name is not much more the a whisper, uttered from a drawn breath, that is close to the last...

[Ron MacGaffy]

A Farmer's life in the Salkamarian Province of Keserkes did not distinguish itself too much from other Farmers from other Provinces. In fact, so Ron thought, it did not differ itself too much from any other Farmer of any other Nation or Race. The life was defining its rhythm by the sunlight, by the seasons and the necessities of cultivated life around the farm. And it had been that way for as long he could remember. He and his Grandparents would rise with the sun, see after the animals, work on the fields and carry out tasks all over the farming village for the people, whatever they needed done “as it's on my way, anyway” as he and his Grandfather Clark would say. And there was always something to do. But if there was something people always had to say about Ron MacGaffy, it was that he, like his grandfather, never dreaded of hard work.

Ron couldn't care less about his own name. He never knew much of a meaning that he could relate to it, other than the name people used to address him for as long as he could remember. He had never really thought much about wether he himself liked it or not, but from all the people he could think of calling him by his first name, them uttering sounded like they wished him well. But it did have a sweet sound to it ringing in his memory, when he thought back of his childhood, the edgy high pitched but kind voice of his grandmother Ellis being the first person to call him that way, followed by none other than his grandfather – the very two people who had raised the boy.
It were also people who seek Ron's helping hand addressing him by his first name, as they knew that Ron rarely refused it, and also wished him well. Which was part of the reason why Ron liked to offer help. It made the name Ron sound good.
Yes, there was nothing special about Ron, it was a common name. But the village was small, and he was the only Ron around. So he didn't mind it at all.
MacGaffy on the contrary, he did not enjoy hearing as much as his first name. It was a name that almost nobody in the village used, not for Ron, neither for Ellis and Clark - not in front of them and barely in their absence. Even the “MacGaffy”-Farm, as some people would call it when giving directions, officially didn't even have that name anymore, since it was now property of the Selvius Company, a family business that had grown more and more successful in the last 20 years. It was how townsfolk used to call him. The guards at the gates, the snooty nobles and arrogant richer merchants used that name, as well as some rude mostly drunk and random townsfolk who'd like to yell at people. MacGaffy appeared to them as a good name to yell, or so Ron figured at least. Ron never really understood why his last name was uttered with such detest or even hostility. And he didn't really bother to give it much thought either.
The patience and endurance of his Grandpa had reflected well on the boy and he took no real offense by it. “It's just a name, Ron.” his Grandparents would mutter sometimes, with a weary but confident look on their faces that reassured Ron that there wasn't much to worry about.
Once, only once, after a heated discussion with their landlord, Farald Selvius, his grandfather had given in slightly to the confusion that he found on Ron's Face. “Names are to wear and groom like clothes. And some stains take a whole lota hard work to get rid off..” There was never a real explanation for it afterwards. But the MacGaffy's did indeed work hard. And obviously their motivation had nothing to do with riches, that kept them toiling so hard around wheat, hops, cattle and beehives – as they lived very poor and all the fields the villagers were tilling were owned by the Selvius Company, who also owned three of the town's tavern and a meadowy, quite some influence compared to a family which name is rather not spoken. Farald Selvius and his brutes of children and grandchildren, nephews and cousins though were one of the people who truly enjoyed using the name MacGaffy, mostly because of the amusingly mocking effect it had on their tenants. But Clark MacGaffy was a hardheaded man, and could adapt to it, with more work and less talk. Ellis on the other hand would talk about everything else, the weather, cooking recipes, animals, even gossip -everything, except anything related to the subject why it is so bad to be a MacGaffy. So Ron couldn't really care less about his own name.

And in spite of all the hostility in town, Ron still loved coming here. Whenever he was sent into town he took on an extra amount of work from the other villagers so he would have a reason to stay even longer. Mainly because his best friend also lived and worked here....

[Desert fire]

Many years ago...

Much sooner than she had expected Bailey stood in the foyer of her father's town house – which was hers ever since he died nearly 2 years ago. She hadn't meant to be back so soon. Only a few months on Gobaith, with good intentions, and now she was here again, holding her son in her arms, unsure what the future would bring. Future. Something Bailey had never concerned herself with. She had never put any thought into what tomorrow might bring. But that was then. And today there was someone who depended on her, who depended on her making the right decisions. Her of all people. The gods knew she wasn't capable of a right decision if it smacked her in the face. Yet it was nothing that could be changed. She loved her son. She wanted the right things for him, even if she didn't know yet what these were.
“Lilietta?”, Bailey called through the house, expecting the maidservant to greet her at the door. She took a few steps into the house, looking down at the sleeping boy in her arms. As she noticed the shadow from the corner of her eye, she looked up, assuming she would see Lilietta's face, but instead gazed into the blue eyes of Sorius de Paranes. A paladin, and if Bailey would have not been so stubborn, a friend. “Good grief.”, was the first thing Bailey said. “Is this how it works now? Every time I make a life decision you'll show up at my door. … in this case even before me?”.
The paladin, who was not wearing his usual heavy armour, smiled warmly at her. “It's good to see you too, Bailey.”, he replied, despite her rudeness, and then continued: “Truth is though, I'm not here because of you.”. Bailey raised an eyebrow. “Alright? Why are you here then?”, she asked, as the door to the house opened the very same moment. She turned lightly and looked at the maidservant who entered. Surprised the servant’s eyes met hers, than the paladins' and then her cheeks flushed red. “Miss Thunnigan. You're back!”, she said in a mixture of surprise and delight. “Right.”, murmured Bailey. No further explanations necessary. She shot Sorius a quick glance, who met her gaze with just another gentle and composed smile, which she always thought was infuriating. Nothing could touch the man's composure. Without further comment the Thunnigan walked to the kitchen table, dropping the heavy bag with her few belongings and taking a seat, followed by the Paladin and Lilietta who remained a few polite steps behind, but looking curious non the less. “How come you're back so soon.”, he asked. She shrugged her shoulders. “I head your words, Sorius, I returned to Gobaith, but there was nothing there for me. Nor for my son. He didn't take any interest.”. It was a lie. Of course it was. But what else was she supposed to say? That she was afraid? Afraid of any deep, emotional connection, even if it was for the sake of her son? Maybe she should have left Dwyn with Dantagon. He might have been able to offer him something, that she couldn’t.
“I see.”, the paladin responded. “What are you going to do now?”
“Stay here?”, Bailey shrugged her shoulders. “Raise the child on my own.”
“You're not on your own.”, the words came from Lilietta who had stayed silent thus far. “Whatever happens, Miss Thunnigan, and for what it's worth: You and Dwyn will always have us.”



Today...

Living in this town wasn't always easy, Dwyn found. While the town was big enough to have an array of troublemakers and other quirky characters, it was yet so small that everyone knew your name, your reputation and likely even what you had for breakfast. Nothing happened in this town without people noticing, unless 'noticing' subsequently required any sort chivalrous act – such as a catching a pickpocket who just stole a woman's coin purse – in which case, no one could turn a blind eye as good as these people. And Dwyn? He stood out. Always had. He had morals and a strong sense of justice. While there were many people who liked Dwyn Thunnigan, the youngest recruit of the Town Watch, and admired him for his bravery, a many more people detested him for the very same reason. Looking at the boy, who seemed incorruptable and always striving to do the right thing, reminded people of their own failings, and no one enjoyed that very much. And while he walked through the town, on his watch, he could notice people turning their back on him, feel the occasional disgruntled look, but even more so, the young man pulled strength from the flower lady smiling at him as he passed by and the shoemaker giving him a friendly wave. There were ups and downs and Dwyn was the kind of guy who focused on the 'ups'. The glass was always half full.

As the bell tower struck six o'clock Dwyn took off his helmet and headed towards the town guards station. This was the end of his shift. He had been lucky not being on night watch duty the past few days. No one enjoyed the night watch, not even Dwyn. It came to no one's surprise that the night watch duty was usually passed on to the new recruits, but 'the kid' – as some of the older town guards called him - had proven himself useful and smart, and his officer started to cut him some slack.
Now the young man reported into his officer, discussed any incidents and then took off. He wasn't heading home though. He was headed towards a tavern. Not for drinks – although it certainly wouldn't hurt – but because it was usually the place, where he met his best friend, after work, if they hadn't already run into each other during the day. Farm work kept Ron busy though, and it was usually the afternoons and evening that his childhood friend ran around town, helping folks with their usual day to day problems.
Dwyn opened to the doors to the towns favorite tavern...