Angel Wind... a story

[redhen]

Awesome! You could be famous! I'm serious! You have some talent!

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 2 -

Bronwyn woke and stretched a long, lazy stretch. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and got out of bed and threw on her shift, grabbing a brush as she passed the night stand. She pulled the brush through her hair and set out down the hall to the stairway towards Rebecca’s room.

It was a sunny day outside. She could tell that it was by the streams of light floating in through the slit windows in the large manor house, which was really nothing less than a small castle. She always felt like she was in a closed box in the hallways, where they had put small window slits rather than large open windows. She felt much more at home out in the kitchen gardens, or better yet, in the forest edges which came right up to the property line of Sir Hector’s holding. Indeed, the forest encroached on the holding land more each year, because Sir Hector paid more attention to his parties and his friends at the local Alehouse than he did to matters of business at home.

Sir Hector had few servants left, only the cook and a couple of men who kept the horses and tended the yards. There was far more yard than two could handle, though, so the wildlife of the forest were coming in to reclaim what had once been their sole property. Luckily he seldom held parties in his own home, or even had guests stay, as he was nearing poverty level from his ill spent pastimes. So, Bronwyn became Rebecca’s main source for companionship over the years, and the two had become such close friends that they were more like sisters.

Bronwyn smiled at the thought of what they had planned for today. With a spring day so lovely as this, they absolutely must spend it outside in the air and sunshine. Perhaps the violets and other wildflowers were opening just this moment out at the edge of the yards and Bronwyn could hardly wait to run to smell their elusive fragrance.

‘ I must remember to keep an eye out for any medicinal herbs I may come across,’ she thought. She had run short over the winter from tending to everyone’s colds and ailments. It was too far of a trek in the deep snows to ask her mother, the forestwife, to borrow herbals from her. She knew she must depend on herself to provide what she needed. Now that it was spring, perhaps she could risk a visit to her mother’s cottage, though, if she could figure a way to get Rebecca out of the house for a day or so. She had never told Rebecca where she came from, and Rebecca had never asked. It wasn’t that Bronwyn was ashamed of what her mother was, or how she lived, but more of a protective act in not giving her away, even to her best friend. When one was in the business of midwifing and herbals you could never be sure who might call you out a witch, and then there would be the devil to pay.

“Devil indeed” snorted Bronwyn to herself, “ those nasty minded priests know more about evil and devils than my Mother ever dreamed or imagined. “

Bronwyn missed the forest. She missed waking to bird song and the smell of wood smoke and cloves and peppermint, or whatever herb her mother had snatched on her way back from the hen house. The herbs usually hung out of her apron pockets looking as if they would tumble to the ground at any moment, but she never lost a single one. Those herbs and weeds she would turn into medicinals and teas, and sometimes, if she was in a frivolous mood she would make a lovely perfume for one of her favorites of the forest women.

Bronwyn came to Rebecca’s door and stood listening to see if she could hear any stirring. She heard Rebecca rustling around and humming to herself, so Bronwyn knocked, then went right in without waiting for an answer.

“Good Morning,” said Rebecca brightly. She had never been much of a morning person, so Bronwyn knew immediately that something must be up.

“Why are you so cheerful ?” she asked.

“Oh,” Rebecca smiled, twirling about the room, ”Cook has already been up with a note for me. Stephan and I are to go riding with Edward today, we will probably stay for dinner, too.” She smiled dreamily, then the smile left her in an instant. “Oh, Bronwyn,” she said, “I forgot we were to go hiking today.”

She sounded genuinely upset, so Bronwyn laughed and said, “It’s fine, I can make other plans. Really, don’t look so frightfully sad.”

“Well,” said Rebecca, “I did tell you first that I would go hiking.”

Bronwyn smiled and took her by the shoulders. “Go,” she said, “How can a day with me, wandering and getting muddy, compare to a date with a Prince?”

Rebecca laughed, then, too, ”Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am sure,” said Bronwyn. She had been half afraid that Rebecca would change her plans. Bronwyn had wanted a day to visit her Mother, and it looked like she was going to get one.


The sunlight took longer to warm the paths of the forest, so Bronwyn had her shawl wrapped around her in the chill morning air. As she walked she hummed a little song to herself. She nearly lost herself in remembering her childhood spent wandering the woods, hiding in this tree or that cave, playing tag with Adam, Maggie, and the rest of the forest children. Maggie was now her Mother’s apprentice, and she would get a chance to reminisce a bit with her if she wasn’t kept running here or there by Meriah.

Bronwyn thought about what it would be like to be apprentice to her mother. She laughed then, thinking of how poor, shy Maggie must be very intimidated by her mother’s lack of patience when she was in a hurry. ‘The poor girl is probably nearly in tears most of the time,’ thought Bronwyn. Bron was used to her mother’s harsh tone when something was on her mind. She knew that her mother really didn’t intend to be harsh, she just took care of business when it was called for. She was a bit of a perfectionist, and therefore expected everyone else to be perfect too.

She was coming near to the clearing where her mother’s cottage stood, and looked for the stone which would tell her if her mother was home, or was out birthing or tending the sick folk. The stone lay pointing to the house, so she knew her mother was home. A few more steps and she could hear Maggie out in the garden tugging weeds up. It had rained the day before, and the weeds had grown up so thick overnight, that it looked to be a daunting task.

“Hello Maggie,” Bronwyn called out. Maggie jumped, startled to hear a voice come out of the forest at this time of day.

“Bronwyn !” Maggie jumped up, glad to stretch her back after so much bending and picking weeds. “I wondered why Meriah added extra vegetables to the stew she was making for midday meal,” she smiled.

Meriah always seemed to know when company was due, and Bronwyn had no doubt that her mother knew just who was coming to lunch today. She smiled, “Well,” she said, ”I figured it was time I came visiting, it’s been a long winter.”

“Long indeed,” Maggie sounded a bit sad, ”We lost so many this winter. Lack of food, and in their weak condition, well, they just couldn’t fight off the chills as easily as they could when well fed. Even the deer seemed to be hiding extra deep in the forest this year.”

Bronwyn looked as sympathetic as she could. Even with the news of death she had a hard time feeling anything but exhilarated this morning. She was Home.

She left Maggie to her weeding and walked on around the corner and into the kitchen, which was the main room of the cottage. Her mother was at the fire, bending over a pot of something which smelled wonderful.

“Good morning, Mother,” Bronwyn said.

“Yes, the spring has finally arrived, it is a very good morning.” Meriah straightened then turned to greet her daughter. “You look thin,” she said looking at Bronwyn with a critical eye.

“Oh, mother,” Bron said, ”I am fine, and not thin at all.“ Meriah smiled, then, at her beautiful daughter. Bronwyn was one of the few people who ever dared dispute anything with the Forestwife.

“Good, then you are healthy enough to work for your lunch. I’m sure that Maggie could use another hand at weeding.”

Bronwyn made a terrible face, ”Don’t you have any other chore I could do to earn my keep, I truly hate weeding.”

Meriah laughed, “Well, alright then, you can fetch me a pail of water from the spring.” She motioned to the pail which sat by the door.

Bronwyn took it in hand and went off merrily to the spring.
The morning was warming, finally, so she loosened her shawl and washed her face in the cool spring water. Looking at her reflection she was pleased. Bronwyn was not a vain girl, but she liked to be well looked upon. “Not that there is anyone to look at a serving maid,” she said to herself with just a touch of self pity. She immediately chastened herself, for it was by her own choice that she was in the village with Rebecca.

Her mother had told her of a possible future, and given her the choice whether to follow it or not as she pleased. Not for the first time Bronwyn thought of her Mother’s crystal orb. Actually it was a half orb, the other half having been lost before Bronwyn had even been born. The orb would tell of things that were and might become, but it only told half the story, since it was just half of the whole, itself.

“Well, if it isn’t the Lady of the Manor house.” A snide sounding laugh came from the bank across the stream. Bronwyn had been so engrossed in her musings that she had not even seen Adam walk right up to her.

“I am in too good of a mood to allow you to goad me into arguing today, Adam.” Bronwyn looked at him with a bit of smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She knew that Adam really did not mean to sound as antagonistic to her as he had. They had known each other since they were born, and she knew how he felt about aristocracy in any form. “Besides, I am not a lady,” she said, ”but The Lady’s servant.”

Adam laughed at her pun, for he too served The Lady, the Goddess which all the forest folk worshipped alongside the God of the Wildwood. “I thought perhaps being in such high and mighty company, that you might have learned to sing psalms,” he teased.

“I have learned to sing them, but perhaps, if I were louder, they might know that the words did not match what the rest of the congregation was singing,” she laughed outright, then.

Adam jumped the stream and landed so close to her, she thought he might knock her into the water. “Well good then, I’m glad you are not too proper to come and visit your old friends in the forest.” He smiled, then too, and took her pail to carry it to the cottage.

When they reached the cottage clearing, Meriah was just coming around the corner from the garden. Adam elbowed Bronwyn in the ribs,” Probably hawk-eyeing poor Maggie,” he snickered, ”Must make sure not a weed is left alive,” he mocked.

Bronwyn giggled,” I dare you to say that louder,” she said to him under her breath. He wouldn’t take such a dare, and she knew it, but it was fun to see him turn red.

“Ahh, Adam,” Meriah had spotted them, “I am glad you’ve come, my woodpile is getting rather sloppy looking, care to re-stack it for me ?”
Adam grinned good naturedly, he knew that if he came to the cottage today he would be set to working at some chore. No one came to the Forestwife’s cottage without doing one chore or another. She always paid them well, with either medicines or food, perhaps a bit of corncake. Her cooking was known throughout the forest and village as being some of the best anyone could be lucky enough to sample. Old Billy One-Eye often joked with her that she ought to be cooking for Kings and Queens. She would always snort and say that they would not appreciate such fine cooking, anyway, as they ate so much that their indigestion got in the way of tasting good food.

Adam went off to re-stack the pile and Bronwyn took the pail of water on into the kitchen. Meriah followed her in and, once they were settled, Meriah with tying herb bundles, and Bronwyn with shelling early peas, they had time to finally catch up on all that had happened over the long winter.

By the time they had run out of news to tell, Adam came in with his hair all wet. He had stopped to clean up at the stream and his face was still red from the exercise of stacking firewood. Adam was a fair one, with hair as blonde as a newborn babe, and fair skin to match. Bronwyn often teased him that she could always tell every emotion he felt by the color of his cheeks.

Maggie was not far behind Adam, and the four of them settled in to midday meal with little talking, for all of them were already worn from the work of the morning, and from hunger. Meriah’s stew was not something to be dismissed so easily by idle chatter, either, and they gave it its full due.

After their meal they were all refreshed, and Adam offered to take Bronwyn off into the woods to search for some early herbs which had sprung up in the clearings. Meriah was glad that Bron would have company, for the woods, lately, had a feel of something weird to them. Nothing she could put her finger on, but it was like the hairs standing on the back of her neck, she knew something was coming to their world, and it was nothing she wanted to deal with.

“I’m getting too old for this,” she muttered to herself as she went off to check on her nearest neighbor, whose baby was not gaining the weight he ought to.

Maggie watched them all go, then went back to her weeding with a sigh. Adam had not been far off when he had mocked earlier about no weed being left alive. It was unthinkable to leave a weed in Meriah’s garden patch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

Quote:
When I sent it to my sister, right after I wrote it, she called me up and "cussed me out" for making her cry

I still can't read the thing without crying. I'm not sure why I feel so attached to this story.

The worst part, for me, is where he's sitting and holding her hand and how he is shocked at how old her hand looks and feels - now that reminds me of my own mom and how she ages without me noticing sometimes.

I'm glad you liked it

meri

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

Quote:
::: blushing ::: thanks

meri

 

[redhen]

Really, REALLY good!

 

[redhen]

How many chapters of that book ya got done?

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

Oh, I almost forgot - I wrote a poem that goes BEFORE this story

sort of a teaser of things to come....

(title of the "book" was To Call Down the Thunder )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


A truth I speak, of hidden things, A rune of justice, magick and wonder,
Of kith and kin and Elven guest, of those who dare call down the Thunder.

For not only in the mundane world, must we in life long blunder.
But also in the Elsewhere lands, where we call down the thunder.

For naught is this world but a veil, a woven coverlet of lace.
And near beyond this world does lie a strange and wondrous place.

Where those who dare, and those who may, and those who cannot comprehend
go dancing through our lives as they weave their own wyrd~fated ends.

But in this place does fine light fall, a light which shows our wonder.
Our fame and fault, it sees it all, and taunts us to call down the thunder.

To do this deed might be thy end, dare not the task take lightly.
Best know thy path, and every bend, before thee move off spritely.

Know thyself, the law doth say and heed it well thee should,
for many feet have trod this way and many gone for good.

Is it blessing or is it greed that makes us seek this skill ?
The gaining of it will decide the bent of our true will.

For we may hide ourselves from Grace, but Grace will not be deceived.
The mask shall fall from our dark face when Skuld comes to perceive.

Blessings come in many forms, lessons, too, I’m told.
Not all of them are sweet and soft, nor covered in rich gold.

But for our blessings and our truths we all must strive to gain,
Working with the wyrd we weave through happiness and pain.

For the Forestwife did tell me so, In darkling times all torn asunder -
All things deserved shall come to those who dare call down the Thunder
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

Quote:
The entire thing, I think I have the chapters numbered through ten (they get longer, though, than these first couple of chapters.)

Maybe I should make a seperate post and just put the whole book down from start to finish?


Ok, had to put in some spaces, the forum took out...

https://www.backyardchickens.com/forum/viewtopic.php?id=228674


meri