The letter

The Letter

“This came for you, Fiestra.” Broke into her dream. An envelope landing on her cheek shattered her sleep. The heavy reinforced oak door slamming shut swept away any hope of regaining either.
“Why you mean little brat!” screeched Fiestra as she flung off the covers and charged to the quickly closing door. The hysterical laughter, that could only be the childish halfling, Tumble, made her even more furious as her hands hit the heavy door just after the latch clicked shut. She trembled with rage as she fumbled with the thick brass knob. She tore open the door and jumped out of the room and into the hall in a furious attempt to catch the laughing halfling, she would enjoy giving his pointy ears a tug, that would be funny she thought.
A solid object abruptly halted her vengeful pursuit. She had crashed full speed into someone who was very solid with her head she realized. Stars flashed before her eyes and she felt her rump hit the floor. Fiestra was slow to open her eyes dreading what she would see.
When she did she saw Trun’s big gorgeous eyes looking down at her with a mixture of pity and stifling a smile she knew her worst fear was realized. Sheristra, that horrible, gorgeous tomboy, was next to Trun, one hand one his strong arm and the other covering a full-blown grin. Tumble was now rolling on the floor holding his sides, laughing uncontrollably.
Fiestra dove back into her room. She closed the door as she felt her cheeks warm from embarrassment. In her fourteen years she had always been easy to embarrass. Her cheeks got a bright shade of red that matched her hair, according to her uncle, that made it that much worse. She decided that Trun had seen her looking like a ragging bedraggled tomatoes. She wanted to die. She collapsed face down on her bed and cried herself back to sleep.

“Nice dress!” laughed Sherrista under her breath as Fiestra slammed the door shut. “Come on. Lets get to practice.” She said as she tugged his arm, half pulling half holding herself up with his arm.
Trun gave Tumble a nudge in the ribs as he walked by but the halfling only paused briefly in his torrent of laughter. Trun would have liked to talk to her but she never seemed to have time for him. She always seemed to be locked in her room studying, away with Gryister, the strange dwarf wizard, or trying to take revenge on the halfling for his latest prank at her expense. She never seemed to notice him.
He had noticed her the first day they met. Her bright red hair, delicate chin and light green eyes always blazing with emotion. He seemed to think of her all the time.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She decided that she would have to live with her earlier embarrassment and just have to make the best of it. Then she remembered the letter.
Early morning light was pouring in the room through the curtained windows and blinded her. She shut out the painful light and felt for the envelope with her eyes shut. Her fingers closed on the heavy paper envelope quickly and she blinked and rubbed her eyes until she could keep them open and make it out.
When she could finally keep her eyes open she looked at the strange letter. The envelope was an expensive one made of fine white parchment. One side her name was written in shinny black ink with a fat pen by a flamboyant hand. The other side was sealed with red wax with a letter “B” stamped in it. She studied the seal for a moment then broke it and unfolded the back. Inside the envelope was one folded sheet of paper. Fiestra unfolded it, turned it over and read:
Fiestra,
Your uncle Tobbor has requested you attend the reading of his will. The reading will be on the 10th day of Shursairrow at noon. The reading will take place at my residence. Failure to attend will sever any claim you have on your late uncle’s estate.
Signed: Barzay of Baggrim.
Fiestra did not remember an uncle Tobbor. If she did have an uncle she thought why would he leave her anything? Everyone in the entire family favored her older sister, Fendalyn, with her perfect blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Fiestra could just see her sister sitting there getting everything and Fiestra being mentioned as a possible maid.
She got out of bed with an angry toss of the heavy covers and stalked about the room. She made the bed neatly with a steady line of grumbling issuing from her mouth.
The room was small. Just big enough for a small sturdy bed with thick, patched quilts over a snug mattress, sagging in the middle, on a thick wood beam frame, a wardrobe just big enough for 5 changes of cloths, a cedar chest, and a neat desk with a tall candle in a simple brass holder with four extra candles to the back of the desk on one side and her prized leather bound book on the other. One window, no bigger than an arrow slit, with a dreary curtain was opposite the heavy oak door. Not big enough for her to properly stalk around in.
She peeked out the window, not angry enough to forget her modesty, and looked out at the city in the early morning light. The Second story she was on looked over most of the roof tops in the city. The Baron’s castle in the distance the most notable exception. The sky was mostly clear. Spring was starting to show in the leaves on garden trees and early flowers blooming.
She shed her nightgown and wriggled into a long slip followed by a faded brown dress of light linen. She sat at the desk and pulled on her favorite brown leggings, patched but comfortable, wondering why she did not put them on before the dress and the slip. Then put on her slippers. She pulled her hair back, wishing it was more like her older sisters, and tied it with a string.