Mother of man ( A short story )

My first crack at a short story. Please check it out and leave comments.


Mjolnir wondered, if the Maestro Alekseev was even capable of a thought process. He asked her again, relentless in his questioning. “Miss Porenna, I believe the rest of the orchestra would be interested in your fascinating theories on Master Bonn.” His words echoed--in the acoustic design of the rehearsal hall. His tone condescending and patronizing.
“ I have no 'theories' on Bonn, but what I can tell you is factual.” She allowed herself to speak up for the first time since she arrived at the academy. She continued. “Bonn's music was never--just about pain and suffering as you and the others have taught for so long.” Mjolnir, stood now and walked toward the conductor's podium and addressed the entire room.
“Bonn, was a very shy man, who loved life and loved people.”
She spoke of a composer who's life differed from the accepted teachings. She rebuked these mis-teachings about the great man--providing details never heard before. It appeared that this young woman was the world wide authority on his life and work. When she concluded, there was a pause, until the orchestra players applauded her speech.
The conductor, who was clearly frustrated with the mornings interruptions initially, was now captivated with her knowledge. When the applause subsided he asked her.
“How did you learn all of this? The things you spoke of, are not in any of the information that I have studied, and my dissertation was on Master Bonn's life's work.” His heavy Russian accent emphasizing dissertation.
He was clearly confused by her apparent knowledge of the composer.
Mjolnir, was at a loss for a proper response.

2
This was the type of thing that she was forever on guard against.
How could she tell him, that she was there with the composer who had lived 300 years ago?

The small protectorate of Yevketsky was engulfed in the mid winter heavy fabric of white. Kommandante, (formerly Zugspitze) the Big Mountain, shone bright and majestic in the days beginnings. The red suns attention solely on it's peaks on high.
Mjolnir, made it a point--to see this site every morning and seldom tired of it, on the contrary she grew to love it even more.
Neighbor Bauer, called to her, “Enjoying that view Miss?” A sweeping grin and nod her only reply, as the round farmer walked by with his beast and cart of hens and eggs for the farmers market. The clutter and cluck from his cart an organic engine idling. The thought amused her. Idling, like she had been, when she knew that Master Bonn would be sitting with his violin and tea, patiently waiting for her.
How had she found herself here?
Her long periods of travel, spurred her quest to see the entire world. Now on hold however, for she found a place to linger once again. She felt that she was reliving past pleasantries.
When she first became conscious of her situation it was terrifying and maddening.
The further she came along however, the less she was affected--and this frightened her--for she thought at times, she was losing touch—becoming less than human. But--could she claim a human birth right to begin with?

3
At her core-racial memory, she could remember first breath--out of the watery home. She remembered, the clumsy swimming on land for a time, blindly, until she walked with sight and limb of four, until eventually, walking upright with two legs.
Her world mates seemed to imitate her. Mjolnir would effect change within herself and needed only to wait, and the world mates would gradually change to match her appearance.
She was first always--in all things.
The first to use a tool, to get the crawling foods out of the mounds. The first to use rock and spear, and then sling and bow for the hunt.
She showed them how to borrow flame from the lightning struck trees. She was always teaching through her examples.
Mjolnir was always amazed by sound. She believed that sound was her first true friend. The first constant. Life things were finite—sound was consistent like herself. She could relate.
Bonn's music was unlike the organized sounds she had heard previously.
Mjolnir seemed to gravitate towards these quiet moments in time--that were special only to her--it seemed.
The aroma of soups and breads, a wisp that reminded her not to keep her master waiting.
She ran a mile to his home on the towns edge. Her feet barely touching the snow as she arrived as if walking from one room to another, exerted, not in the least.


4
The masters home was unique, in that--the outside was so unkempt, that it surely looked as abandoned as it had the first day that Mjolnir had arrived. The same holes in the thatched roof, were still there today.
The tall weeds in front of the house had grown taller than she, as they stood through the snow pack in defiance.
She bound up the stairs, and pound rapidly on the door with the palm of her right hand.
A voice from inside-- “ I've told you countless times Mjolnir, that you don't have to beat my door senseless like that--its opened as usual.”
Mjolnir opened the door in a slow manner.
A familiar gray bearded visage sat in a dense torn fabric chair in front of a large fireplace.
The pops and crackle of the blaze, informed her that the master had just put new wood on the flame.
The site of Mjolnir's own cello--crafted by her own hands, froze her in time as she admired the fiery reflection from the fireplace flames on its smooth spruce wood face. Mjolnir had been patient on finding the right cuts of wood with straight and tight grain. She had used an equally nice flamed maple stock for the back and sides of the instrument. Its construction, had taken her nine years to complete. Like all things with Mjolnir, time was a non-issue.
She remembered back to the man who had taught her to craft the great Lira or Rebab instrument, for she had taught the man who taught him and his master.
The irony of the fireplace flames reflected on the flamed maple of her cello, was not lost on her. When she had most recently left Master Bonn for her longest trip abroad yet, he had her instrument unstrung, and covered and placed in a storage area.
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He now, finally treated her to a surprise and restrung and had it polished anew.
She thought of her relationship with this old man, and how much they had loved each other when he was younger. The hours upon hours of pure bliss—and now, how he treated her gently like a dear grandchild.
She had first left him when he was a young man, at the conservatory, so long ago.
He was tormented, and lost with out his one true love.
The results were the great concertos and symphonies, that had made him a famous and wealthy man.
His melodies would haunt the ear, and was awe-inspiring. It touched Mjolnir in ways unlike any had done before nor since.
“Old man, you really need to start locking that door.” She said, as she realized that, she was dream-walking again.
“This town is a haven, everyone knows each other, and thats why I chose to move here dear girl.”
The old composer stood and the creaking of his knees or the wood in the chair sounded--as he did. Mjolnir embraced him and kissed his bristled cheek.
“I was just about to take a walk, had you not arrived Midge.” He called her this name only because he knew that it, infuriated her.
“I'm sorry I'm late master, but its good that I arrived when I did, for its snow packed out there—and your old bones would be brittle enough to turn to dust I'm afraid.”
Master Bonn laughed at her retort.
She loved to hear him laugh, she always had.


6
She first came upon Winfield Bonn when he was just six years old. She was passing by a small town much like this one when she heard the sound float through an open window from a piano.
A sound that triggered something within her that was older than she—something primal and otherworldly.
She correctly surmised that young Winfield was a special child so she stayed in town.
She bought a small home nearby and began working for the child prodigy's music instructor-- as a house keeper, just so she could keep and eye on him.
She learned that the boy was an orphan and had no family to speak of.
Belski, his instructor had learned of the child's genius, and had bargained with the orphanage to give Winfield free lessons, for simple labor duties around the school.
On her breaks from her chores, and his from lessons, she would tell the young boy stories of distant lands and epic quest and battles. Bonn sat wide eyed and transfixed, as he ate his mid-day meal of stew and breads that she had made for them all.
Belski, was amazed at Mjolnir's fictions as well, as her vivid levels of details and the humanity of her stories led him to believe that she must have studied long at the universities to amass such a knowledge.
She was merely, in fact--recounting where she had been and the marvels she had witnessed first hand.




7
She watched Bonn grow into a young man, and when he left on scholarship to the conservatory--Mjolnir began to travel again—time from time returning to check on her property in Yevketsky, and to hear the latest gossip and stories told by the local housewives. It seems they were always willing to teach the young girls about the dealings of everyone in town except for themselves. Mjolnir thought it funny that no one ever noticed her. Sometimes she would not even alter her appearance by much.
As the years passed, she would simply say that she was the daughter of the older woman with the same name—and most of the time people would accept this as cold hard fact.
It proved to Mjolnir that her world mates didn't pay the same level of attention to their surroundings as did she—or maybe the alternative was too unthinkable.
Mjolnir knew what it was like to be hated and hunted by those who misunderstood who or what she was.
A gray bearded Bonn interrupted her. “Are you OK today Midge?” “You look-- more far away than normal?”
He had went to the kitchen and brought her a platter with a bowel and napkin folded onto a gold spoon.
“This stew isn't as good as how your grandmother made it, but its the best that I could do.” He said.
Mjolnir replied “I tell you all the time old one, that it is very good.”
She received the platter from him and placed it on a redwood dining table--sat down and began to eat as he watched her and smiled.
“When I performed in New Sochi, they asked if you had completed any new works master?”
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He replied. “The time for my work was long ago. No one would want to hear the rumblings of an old soul now, dear girl.”
“Thats where your wrong Master Bonn, the entire world awaits the slightest whisper from a giant.” A short silence ended the discussion. He spoke first.
“When your finished with that, maybe we could go for a little walk time?”
“Its too cold today Master Bonn, I wasn't joking about that.” She said between mouthfuls of stew and bread.
“Humor an old man Mjolnir—I just need your help with those cursed stairs.”
Mjolnir didn't answer, she knew if she didn't help him that he would try to go by himself and fall down the 'cursed' stairs like he had done before—fracturing the elbow to his playing arm. He was even more stubborn in old age, as well as persuasive.
Mjolnir finished her morning meal and Master Bonn bundled up in the winter coat that Mjolnir had purchased for him eight years ago. It was still a classic cut and looked suitable on him, she noted. She took his arm, and helped him down the stairs.
They walked and talked, speaking on things that were habit and on some topics that were new. Master Bonn seemed to be doing better than he had in a long time.
Mjolnir thought that she had seen this type of behavior before in others in his position.
Master Bonn then commented. “Mjolnir, I think I will be with you, not much longer.”


9
She smiled a knowing smile, for he had been speaking this way for a long time.
“We take the time that is given us master.” She said as she noticed in the far away distance a disturbance which would warrant her attention.
At her observation Master Bonn raised his head upward, ever so slightly. Then he replied.
“I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you and everything you are, and what you do.”
Mjolnir wasn't ready for that, she then held him tighter as they slowly made their way along the foot path.
“I appreciate you too master, your teaching has helped to grow my understanding of the sound forest that you've always spoken of—and I am constantly being summoned for concerts and special engagements.” She continued. “Things, I never would have been able to do without your help sir.”
“I'm not so sure about that my child—but you flatter my heart still.” “You've been the closest to a daughter that I've ever had, you know?”
“You know that I've never had any children of my own.” “Did you know that Midge?” Mjolnir nodded her answer.
They reached the end of the foot trail and began the return trip, in a silence that lasted until they reached the Master's home.
As was their tradition, she helped him out of his cold things, and he sat in his familiar chair by the fireplace, and began to sleep.
She gently covered him and silently--but with purpose, ran out of the door and ran toward the possible threat she had viewed earlier.
Two gray wolves ambled near the school yard and Mjolnir remembered as soon as she arrived, that the children were on winter break so her fears were eased.
10
She sprinted quickly to the butcher's mart, and shortly was on the trail of the wild pair.
She tracked them for at least an half hour. Through cotton fluff they moved—this close to humans--out of hunger she guessed.
She startled them with her appearance. She spoke to calm them, and they then understood her and sniffed and nuzzled her hand.
The male and female were cousins and mates. She offered them the cuts of meat that she had received from the butchers.
The two recounted in their way, that they had three pups to feed and the hunting was difficult at present. They had already lost one to the winter and now they were desperate.
Mjolnir in turned propositioned them.
If they agreed to stay away from the town areas--where it was safer for them and the citizens—then she would bring them more meat. She was also implicit that it would only be through the winter, until their situation was better. They graciously, accepted her offer as they in general, preferred to stay away from humans anyway--for the town's hunters, were very kill efficient.
The wolves calculated, that the town's hunters were the reason for the winter game shortages. This was a matter for another time however, and they mutually agreed to her offer.
Before she could turn to leave the male informed her of the risk she took in surprising them the way she had. He told her.
“In my younger days we may not have had enough time to talk this matter over woman.” Mjolnir apologized for her oversight, she bowed and left them to their meal, keeping her eyes to the ground, as she backed away respectfully.

11
When she returned to the Master's house, it was dusk.
She had went to her own home to bathe and rest for a while, before her evening visit with him. It was silent inside, and cold.
The fireplace which had burned so bright hours earlier, a mere flickering. She threw a new log on it and some moss kindling.
She could see perfectly fine in the dark, but she didn't want to frightened him, so she moved down the hall slow and quiet, toward his bedroom.
She saw him laying on his bed and knew instantly that he was gone.
He lay there, with the blanket that she had put on him earlier in the day, pulled up to his chin.
His eyes were closed—a thin smile his expression.
A small handwritten note in his hand that read.
A present for you under my bed. Signed with large initials W.B. .
This was the curse that was Mjolnir's life, to live and love with no end for herself.
She had relived this experience over and over and would continue to do so, she knew it was her lot.
She kneeled down and reached under the bed, and found a leather bundled package of papers with a letter on top.

“ Miss Porenna?” The voice of conductor Alekseev ripped her from her memories, which seemed so vivid and lifelike as to make 300 years seem a mere moment.
“Snap out of it girl!” Alekseev said as he playfully snapped his fingers repeatedly. Nervous laughter slipped from some in the orchestra.

12
“I'm sorry Maestro, for interrupting your class.” she said softly.
“It's fine Miss Porenna, but maybe you can tell us all how you came to know so much about our hero Master Winfield Bonn?”
Mjolnir weaved fabrication.
“He was a distant relative, Maestro. When I was a child my great grandmother said that she had read his personal journals, and she told me of him."
“That would explain why your parents named you after his greatest work, no doubt.” He said, as if relieved to know the answer to a great riddle.
“Yes Maestro.” Mjolnir timidly lowered her head as if properly chastised.
She sat down in her chair behind her cello and recalled Winfield's letter.

Mjolnir,
I know that you are not like the rest of us. I've known since I was a young man.
How can I say this? We are all given gifts my love. While I have an idea of your magnificent gifts--which I know may be perceived as a curse as well.
It was always understood that my gift was the music. I am thankful that the good Lord blessed me as he did, for he also blessed me with another gift.
He gave me an animal like sense of smell. Mjolnir your scent has been forever in my life, and I have recognized you at every appearance--from your changed physical state while I was at the conservatory--to your guise of

13
granddaughter of the former woman by the same name, who you profess to be now.
I lied to you, about not composing again, a small transgression, I hope you see.
This package is a work that I have completed in your name. Please accept them as a farewell gift.
In my death I am saddened, not for myself for I have lived a full wonderful life thanks to God and you.
But I am mournful, only for you dear Mjolnir. Destined for the long life as you are. Witnessing loved ones left behind unable to travel with you on your long flat road. (I tried to infuse these pieces with the pain and suffering that you must feel, but I also tried to show the smallest glimmers of hope in them as well.)
I wish that I could go with you beloved. My one hope, is that we may be together in the afterlife.
Love eternal,
W.B.