Arwa And Daneel

The old woman slipped inside, carrying the sharp touch of the cold air on her face. Her cheeks had turned pink from the frost outside, and fine lines had formed on her forehead. The thick shawl wrapped around her shoulders still seemed to let in the chill. She paused as she stepped in, straightened her posture, and placed her hands firmly on her hips with an authoritative expression. With a tired yet dignified air, she pursed her lips and spoke:

"Oh, you little rascal! I went through all that trouble to bandage your head, and now you'll scratch your scabs and make them bleed again, won't you? My dear, don't just stand there like that—you might get dizzy and faint again."

Her voice carried a warmth that reinforced her authority, like the roots of an old tree that refused to bend to the wind. This sincere yet disciplined approach warmed me inside. With a slight smile, I nodded from where I sat and replied:

"You're right. I'll head straight to bed. By the way, your bandaging skills seem quite masterful. Are you a healer?"

Upon hearing my words, the woman let out a sweet laugh. Her laughter was like the comforting crackle of the fire in the hearth, filling the room with a soothing presence.

"Yes, dear," said Arwa Ana, her eyes glinting with the shadow of old memories. "I am a healer. Those who fall ill or expect a child always come to me in this area. My mother taught me this craft, just as her mother taught her. I do not know if my hands are truly healing, but with the knowledge and experience given to me by the Gods, I try to help people. Speaking of bandages, I need to change the one on your head. Now, don't move too much, dear."

Her voice was as gentle and firm as a mother comforting her child. This warmth filled me with a sense of gratitude, and I felt compelled to express it.

"Thank you for helping me in my current state. If it weren't for you, I might have died. Also, you didn't need to go to such lengths to prepare such a detailed breakfast. I could easily manage with just a piece of bread and cheese."

Arwa Ana furrowed her brows, pursed her lips, and clapped her hands against her apron.

"Young man, do you hear yourself? Anyone in our position would have done the same. Besides, only the Gods decide whether you live or die. You are lucky—they wanted you to live. Please, put those negative thoughts out of your mind, hmm? You are a gift from the Gods to us. It has been a long time since we had a guest, and the Gods sent you to us. I will prepare a nice breakfast for you. Old Daneel will be here soon. When he arrives, we always have breakfast together. What do you think?"

Her voice reminded me of old prayers that mothers whispered to soothe their children. There was sincerity in her words, which put me at ease. Lowering my head slightly, I said, "Thank you, ma'am," and headed towards the bed.

Hearing this, the woman nodded, rubbed her arms for warmth, and confidently walked to the kitchen, where she began working at the stove. The room was soon filled with the scents of spices from jars I had never seen before. I closed my eyes slightly and tried to rest.

After a while, Daneel entered. His old yet sturdy clothes were covered in dust. He placed a short-legged table in the middle of the room, and Arwa, without pausing, began setting out the food she had prepared. The table was adorned with white cheese made from goat's milk, dried fruits, olives, eggs, butter, and bread toasted with red pepper flakes. Small clay bowls held jams and freshly squeezed fruit juice. Seeing me, Daneel smiled and said, "Come, young man, breakfast is ready—let's eat together."

I got up from where I was sitting and approached the table. With a cheerful yet teasing tone, Daneel added:

"Thanks to my wife, we don't see breakfasts like this very often. Come on, don't miss this rare treat."

Arwa raised her eyebrows and shot her husband a sharp look. I do not know how women manage to assert absolute authority with just a glance, but when Daneel saw that look, he chuckled lightly and tore off a piece of bread. Arwa took a deep breath and said:

"My dear, forgive me. When you were hungry, I fed you. When you were cold, I clothed you. When the time came, I washed your clothes and mended what needed fixing. But my husband is so old now that he has forgotten all that I have done for him."

Daneel let out a soft laugh and murmured, "Alright, alright, my dear."

Throughout breakfast, they playfully bickered, their conversation light-hearted and affectionate. I ate in silence, watching them. Though they teased each other, the love and respect they shared were undeniable. In this humble home, they had supported each other for years, enduring difficult times together.

When breakfast ended, Arwa stood up to clear the table. I offered to help, but the elderly couple kindly refused. It was clear they had their own established routine.

Daneel took a sip of his coffee before turning to me and saying:

"You know, lad, when I was young, I fought in many small battles. When I retired, I left that bloody life behind and settled here. Farming feels much more peaceful."

Arwa nodded at her husband's words and added with a soft smile:

"I, too, came from far away, just like you. Thanks to my family's medical skills, I was accepted here. I am keeping alive the legacy my mother left me. They believe my hands hold healing power."

There was pride in her words, but it was accompanied by a quiet humility. Her husband, seemingly accustomed to her self-praise, simply smiled.

Inside me, there was a growing sense of peace from having met this elderly couple. I did not know if the Gods had brought me here for a reason. But deep down, I felt that I would stay here for a while.

As the cold air from outside began to creep into the room, the old couple sat by the fire. After a while, I joined them. Sitting in the dim glow of the hearth's light, I felt as though I had stepped into a tale of old.