Lanyth: The Gift

“I hate Frostfell!” my father would say when the season arrived. “I hate it! I loathe it! I wish it never existed!”

This was back when I was a little tyke, barely above the knee, and I would run to the railing in my jammies to peek through, wondering what he was so angry about. At that time, I never knew what Frostfell was, it was something outsiders celebrated, and I knew it came when the caves turned cold, and ice formed on the water.

It was hard for me to imagine when my father was happy. A time before he became the devil in his heart.

“All this Frostfell, with the songs, the merriment, and the giving!” He would rant, and I would peer down at the foyer as he raged at the servants and his wives.

The serving maids would have their heads bowed low, afraid of what might happen if they glanced up at him. Some of his other wives, who had not yet had children, would flee to the kitchens to avoid his wrath. He would lock himself in his den, sometimes for days. This time, he seemed particularly angry.

“I am seeing our kind in the town, celebrating!” He scowled. “As if it were somehow cute. As if this were somehow our holiday? No happiness or goodwill shall ever be tolerated in this town! No good can come of Frostfell!”

He said the words so intensely that I felt a chill over me. They were so unlike him. The way he used to speak. Like he meant every word he said as he thought them, now it sounded like some stranger's voice.

One night after dinner, I went to go talk to him. To see how he was doing. His moods frightened me. His temper was out of control.

“Father?” I called, and he looked up from his desk in the study. He saw me and sighed heavily.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“Are you feeling all right?” I replied.

“No.” He said, then sighed again. “Well... yes...” He said quietly.

His mannerisms were odd, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Then suddenly, I realized. It wasn't anger that filled him with such melancholy. It was regret—such intense longing and sadness.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked.

“Yes.” He paused as if thinking hard. “I believe you could assist your mother by preparing me a nice cup of tea, then fetching me some more brandy.”

I nodded. “Of course, Father,” I said, leaving the room.

After finishing his drink, he returned to his work. I went to my room. After some time, I heard him call me. “Girl! Lanyth! Come to me!”

“Yes, Father,” I replied. I went into the study slowly.

“Come here Lanyth.” He said. He appeared nervous. “I have something I need to tell you.”

“I'm listening,” I said quietly.

“This, Frostfell, promise me you shall never become wrapped up in it,” he said, his pipe smoke trailing into the air. “It is a holiday based on lies and fakery. A time when the world tells each other that we love each other. When in truth, every other day, hate and suspicion rule the hearts of all.”

“But Father-” I began, but he raised a finger to silence me.

“I will find a reason to send you away. Please don't let it bother you too much. Just remember the things I have taught you. Keep hate in your heart, or I shall take it away.”

“Father-”

“Goodbye, Lanyth,” he said, and I turned to leave. But then I stopped and looked back.

He stared at me. “And when you feel my absence, know I am always with you. In your dreams and your nightmares.” And then he closed the door gently behind him.

I ran from his chambers, sobbing. I fell to my knees, choking on tears. What had become of my family? How had we gotten here?

This was when I decided that life without my father was better than life with him. My mother came in, and she hugged me.

“Sweet Lanyth,” she said, sobbing through tears, “Your father wishes me to hate you and for you to know the same. But I can never do so.”

“Mother?” I asked.

She smiled weakly. “Lanyth, your father is the most horrible creature in the world. He has no soul. No heart. No mercy. No love. No kindness. He is evil personified and a monster in his own right. Carry on for yourself and me. I fear my end is near, for he shall send me far away. Your father will not hesitate to kill you should he discover that you hold love in your heart.”

I cried. “What must I do to survive?”

She kissed my hair. “Wear a mask, pick something you cannot have, and focus upon that. Make that your reason to live.”

She smiled, gave me one last look, and placed a book about Frostfell upon my lap.

That night, I sat by the fireplace, staring into the flames. I hated my life, and I wished it to end. I felt as if the fire was consuming my soul. I read the book. I knew the meaning of Frostfell, and I cried.

I picked up the book and opened it again. I scanned the pages but found nothing of interest. I turned to the last page, where I noticed some writing.

“You are what you cannot have,” and they were my mother's.

I closed my eyes and knew my mask—the one I must wear. I thought of my father, his cruelty, and his hatred for all that is good. I pictured my mother, her beauty, her grace. I remembered the sound of her laughter. And I knew that I could not have those things.

I knew that I must wear the mask of envy.

The things I shall never have will define me. They will make me who I am. Through the lens of my bitterness, I will find strength.

I placed the book on the fire.

I watched it burn.

For some time, the mask served me well. Frostfell became a time when I hated what others had, and my jealousy and malice became the person I was inside. And as my mind focused on my desires, I realized I could no longer recognize the little girl I once was.

As I grew older, I learned that the things I desired were not worth the effort I put forth to obtain them. I took them from others and laughed at misfortune. Soon, I became famous throughout the land. My name became synonymous with darkness and despair.

And one fateful day, I failed my father in his moment of triumph.

And he tore my mask off and smashed it into a million tiny pieces.

And he threw me in the dungeon.

And there I lay, waiting for my death and waiting to die.

Until I heard the song of light.

“I am here to bring you hope,” it told me. “I am here to save your soul.”

I looked around me and saw the light.

“I am here to grant you peace,” it said, and my heart burst with joy.

“I am here to help you find the greatest gift of all: forgiveness.”

I looked at the light.

“Will you accept this gift?” it asked me. “It was hard to grant, but I must heal my heart.”

“I will,” I replied. “I am ready.”

And it took me to the skies, and I felt like I had been lifted away from my prison. As we rose higher into the sky, I looked down and saw my city surrounded by ice and snow.

“Look at how beautiful it is,” it said. “Do you see it? The lights and decorations? How lovely everything looks?”

I stared at the people below me.

“They are happy. They laugh and sing. They are merry.”

My heart ached with jealousy I could never have again.

“All of them are so happy. All except you.”

And then I saw the manor of my father.

“It is so cold. So dark. So filled with hate. And the walls are crumbling.”

I gazed out over my kingdom, saddened. “I have lived among the shadows for so long; I forgot what it means to be alive.”

“But you are alive. You have a purpose. Your life is yours to live. You do not deserve to die alone. I offer you another chance. I will give you the power to inspire. You can use your voice to elevate those with no hope or meaning to life.”

“But I am a monster.”

“Everyone is a monster. But all hearts can change.”

“But what of my kingdom? What about the people? Will they ever be free?”

“There is no need to worry. They will be cared for. Look, you are almost here. A village is ahead, and you will find a small church.”

And as I flew, I saw the church. It was small and worn, and I could see many people standing outside.

“Welcome.” said the voice. “Please come in.”

And as I landed, I saw a woman. She wore fine clothes, and she held a guitar. She smiled at me.

“Hello,” she said. “I am but a simple bard. Whom might you be?”

I was taken aback.

“I... I...”

“Let me help you.”

She sang a song that filled my soul with light. Her voice was warm, and her words were beautiful. And when she finished, I stood before the crowd and joined her melody. We shared a moment, and I felt sadness as the light left me. I felt alone.

The bard smiled at me. “Are you alone?”

I nodded.

“Then walk with me,” she said as she wrapped her warm fur around me. “Be my shadow. Perhaps we can find what you are looking for. Perhaps this is a start.”

Then, somehow, she reached into her pack and handed me a book.

We have been together ever since.

And Frostfell has always been a special time of year for me.