Fairytales Ch. 01
Keywords: Fairytales, 01, Ch.,
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In a world far different from our own, in a time where men lived by their wits and strange creatures roamed the lands, a child was born. She was born of common folk, parents who marveled and wondered at the girl that had come from their bodies.
She was beautiful, a child with hair as gold as the two suns that shone down over her world, eyes as deep and blue as the waters surrounding her tiny village. Her features were fair with a sculptured grace so unlike the rest of the villagers who were a dull and loutish group.
She grew swiftly into a woman who made men's hearts leap in their breasts and caused lust to busily pool in their loins. But she also grew intelligent and gentle with a tender heart for the young, old and injured. Her parents, bemused at having such a child, granted her every whim. And while she should have grown spoiled with what attention was heaped upon her, instead, she grew even more lovely and caring.
The days were warm and bright with soft winds and fragrant breezes just starting to turn cold at night as the seasons progressed. The girl, named Danielle after her father's mother, spent her days out in the village and the surrounding fields. She plowed and tilled, picked and gathered with the rest of the villagers, singing happily as she helped collect the foodstuffs that would see them through the long hard days of the harsh winter to come.
After the last of the late night meals was cleaned up, evenings were spent romping around the woods near the river that surrounded the village. She had a favored spot, a tiny clearing where a bubbling spring gurgled happily. The birds and animals that came to this clearing were never alarmed or bothered by her presence, sensing in her a goodness that calmed their fears. She was treated as one of them, not predator or human but one of God's gentle creatures.
Tonight, though, after the last dish was washed, the last pot scraped and it's contents stored in the tiny cold house carved deeply into the riverbank, there was an expectant feel to the air, almost a gloom of some dark threat to come. Danielle shook the feeling away as she clamored over the wet stones of the river with a grace that even the most agile mountain animal could envy. She was headed for her haven, and her heart was singing with the freedom she could only feel there.
She reached the clearing as the first sun was setting in the west. Shadows were long from the second sun and she knew she had little time to enjoy her solitude. She rounded the last tree, skipping through the deepening grass. The quiet that seemed almost as fog didn't register to her at first but the man, asleep at the foot of the tree did, cutting off her song in mid stanza and her movement in mid skip.
Her hand went to her breast as she stared at the stranger. He was tall and lean, his legs encased in black leather that was tucked into thick leather boots. His wide chest was barely covered, a white billowy shirt held loosely closed by thin white strips. But it was his face that caught and held her attention so completely.
He was beautiful, there were no other words for it. His hair was thick and long, black waves that fell over his shoulder and around his head into the grass. His features were classical, long, thin nose over a wide mouth, sharp cheekbones and thickly lashed eyes. He had a wide forehead that was smooth and worry free in his sleep.
His eyes would be brown, she thought as she moved closer on silent feet. Brown and rich like the drink that the village elders made to warm themselves in the cold winter evenings. Her own eyes, blue deepening until almost black, roved over the picture he made laying in her clearing with the grass as soft as a pillow under him.
He woke suddenly and reached for the long sword that was strapped at his side. Before she could blink, he was on his feet, the tip of that sword pressed firmly against her throat, a snarl on his lips.
She didn't know which of them was more surprised. He hesitated for a few brief moments, his startled eyes gleaming in the nearing darkness as they roved over her with a warmth that was almost tangible. Then his sword fell carefully from where it had rested in the hollow of her throat.
"You startled me, wench."
His voice was deep, a voice meant for singing in Lord's halls in front of a fireplace on winter nights. Or to mummer sweet words into a woman's ear under the hangings of a massive four poster bed. They caused shivers to start in her toes and travel sneakily up her nerve endings, tightening her nipples into taut buds that thrust against the rough fabric of her tunic.
But while the voice was wonderful and startling, what had her complete attention were his eyes. They weren't the deep, rich brown she had expected. Not even close. No, they were jade, a true and eerie green that almost shone in the now half light of her haven. They drew her in, caused a hitch in her breathing and a shiver of something she had never felt before, something that was dark and sweet, thickly flowing.
"Do you speak wench?"
His words made her start and she realized, blushing becomingly, that she had been rudely staring at the stranger.
"Yes," her reply was a breathless almost whisper and she cleared her throat. "Yes, sir," she said again a little louder. "You but startled me, I wasn't expecting anyone in my clearing."
He smiled, amused by her embarrassment. "This is yours?" He gestured around the clearing with his free hand. "It belongs to you?"
She twisted her slim fingers into her skirt. "No sir, it belongs to the Lord. He lives there." She pointed at an area just beyond his shoulder and up. "I come here to enjoy the evening, sir. I do no harm."
The stranger never even glanced in the direction she pointed. He didn't see the huge castle that seemed to dominate the hillside it sat upon. A castle built of white stones mined from a country far to the south and carted to this spot. It glistened in what little light was left, expensive glass windows sparkling as the last rays touched their mirror like surface. Statuary stood out in bold relief against the shadows above a wall that surrounded the keep to make it seem so much a world onto it's own.
"And do you live in this Lord's manor?" The stranger took two step forwards, bringing himself in close proximity with the girl. Girl wasn't an apt description for her. She was tall and trim, long golden curls tumbling down her back. Her homespun clothing, though rough, was clean and well made, fitting her long curves like a lover's hand. Her eyes were shadowed, but he knew they were the blue of deep lakes. Her lips were lush and slick, and he watched as she slid her tongue across them.
"No, sir. I live in the village back there." She indicated behind her with one long fingered hand. He was too close. She could smell him, a tantalizing smell that caressed her senses. He smelled of sweat and sweet grass, leather and something that was pure male. It teased her senses and made her nervous so that she took a small half step back from him. "I should go. It will be dark soon. My parents will fear for my safety."
She turned, ready to flee her small clearing, to put the safety of the village between her and this stranger that caused such uneasy flutters in her belly with but one glance of his uncanny eyes.
He grabbed her hand, not willing to let her leave him yet, curious as to how such an exquisite face and form could have come from such dark and graceless villagers. Beauty such as hers belonged with the nobility, those with bloodlines that could be traced back to those who took first steps upon this planet back when their ancestors had the knowledge of flight.
He felt a strange draw to her, something, that in his younger more foolish day, he would have admitted as a stirring of the soul. But now, he was wiser, more experienced in the ways of women. Now, the only thing he would admit to would be an attraction to a pleasing shape and fine features. What would it take to make this shy maiden his?
"Come," he said in his deep, mesmerizing voice. "There's time. Sit with me for a few moments." He led the reluctant girl towards the tree he had been resting under, pulling her down to sit next to him. He kept her hand, knowing if she were free she would bolt back to her village and they would keep him from her. Not that they would stop him if he were determined. It just seemed a lot of work to go through for a village girl.
Danielle felt her breath shortening. She knew it was fear, fear of a stranger in her forest where no stranger had ever been before. Fear of being disrespectful even when she knew she should run from him and back to the safety that waited her at home.
"Don't fear me, girl. I won't hurt you."
Her heart thudded against her breast, beating so loudly she would have sworn he could hear it. "I.. I don't fear you, sir. My parents will worry if I do not return soon. They will come to find me. I.. I don't wish to worry them sir, so if you'd let go…"
The words were warning and he realized it, even smiled inside at the false bravado she displayed. He held unto her hand despite her tuggings until she realized she was doing nothing but amusing him.
"Do you have a name, girl?"
"Yes." But she didn't wish to give it to him.
He smiled, a quick flash of white teeth that seemed even brighter in the gloom of the clearing. "What must I do to find out this name, girl?"
Danielle took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Instead, the scent of him drifted to her, caught on the breeze. It snarled through her senses, caught at her imagination once more. The breath that she wished to use to calm now excited. She felt the hitch even as she heard it, her heart rate quickened even more. She had an insane urge to lean closer, to bury her nose in his neck and breath in his scent until she was saturated in him.
To give him her name gave him ways of finding her later. This she couldn't do. She shook her head, pulling against him and her own weakening resolve.
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Keywords: Fairytales, 01, Ch.,