Welcome back to the daily prompts. The first for the week.
Impossibly tiny trophies
They were displayed in a glass cabinet set on the wall. The room itself was a well-used space with overflowing book cases and a desk crowded with inkpots, odd pieces of paper, maps and a globe. Frayed upholstered chairs were testament to frequent, long use. Heavy patterned curtains pulled tight resisted any assault by a weak wintry sun, the light provided by guttering candles and a steadily burning coal fire.
The lack of modernity intrigued me, but it was the wood and glass cabinet on the wall which captured my interest. Miniature, jewel-specked swords, shields, knifes, bows and arrows were set in groups against green silk.
They gleamed in the firelight, making them appear to strain against the tiny filigree chains binding them to the silk.
I turned to my host, who was pouring a deep magenta liquid into two glasses. The long tassel of his cap fell forward to the chest of his quilted velvet robe and he flicked it aside.
‘These are beautiful,’ I said. ‘Where did they come from?’
He cast a glance at the cabinet and grinned. Gesturing to a seat by the fire, he offered me a glass before settling comfortably into his own chair. I took a long sip of my drink, savouring its richness.
‘Trophies of war,’ he said. ‘Against the fae.’
‘Fairies?’
I stood and peered more closely at the impossibly tiny trophies on their green silk, and started back. It wasn’t the firelight which made them appear to be fighting their chains – each little sword, each spear, each weapon, writhed as if in pain, struggling for freedom.
‘Better hope they never escape.’ My host stood behind me, glass in hand. ‘We’d have the devil of a time if their owners got their hands on them again.’
He reached up to adjust his cap, a deliberate gesture which exposed his ears. I blinked, slowly comprehending.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Certainly we don’t want that, do we?’
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