The Key (A Fairytale) - Chapter 3: Broken Wings (Part 2)

The next morning I discovered a dull ax behind the cottage that I sharpened to a razor's edge. I thought that cutting a few days' supply of firewood and stacking it neatly along the fence to repay the maiden for her thoughtfulness would be a good idea. I must admit; I was quite taken with the young woman who exhibited so much charity and so little fear. "If only she knew who I really was," I mused.

While I was stacking the wood, I noticed some shingles missing from the roof. "Why not?" I thought, "I could repay her graciousness with some repairs before I leave, and it should take no more than a few hours. It would be the right thing to do, and I could still be gone by mid-morning."

When I told Maradin of my intentions, she was thrilled. "How wonderful," she exclaimed. "It started to leak inside but I had no idea how to fix it. My father took care of things like that, and I must apologize that my fiancé is so busy hunting, he doesn't have time to do much around here."

As I watched and listened to her, I was becoming concerned about this absent fiancé.

I worked all day on the roof, which was in much worse condition than I had initially thought, and as I discovered more shingles in disrepair, I found myself still working on it three days later. Around lunchtime of my third day, Maradin came bouncing of the cottage with a basket of food and announced, "What a beautiful day for a picnic! Now, don't say ‘no' because I have already gone to a lot of work packing this basket, so climb down from that roof and help me find a nice, shady spot by the brook!"

Over the course of only a few days, we had discovered a deepening affection for each other. And although this invitation was innocent enough, I had to be careful. But how could I refuse someone this charming?

We started across the meadow, and like a little girl; she put the basket on the ground and started to run. "Let's race! But you have to carry the basket," she yelled, as she took off running for the wood line.

I grabbed the basket and ran after her, letting her lead me to a stand of tall, shady trees that lined a bubbling, crystal-clear stream. We stood there catching our breath for a moment, and I couldn't help notice her glowing skin, revealing just a trace of perspiration.

We walked through soft ferns that lined the bank of the stream until we came to a shaded, grassy spot overlooking the sun-drenched meadow. The murmur of trickling water softly washed over half submerged, shiny rocks announcing to the small, hungry fish that held their places in the current that their tidbit treasures were soon to float downstream. An occasional whisper of warm winds through the silent trees was the only other thing that could be heard as I was swept away by her smiles, and her soft hair, and her stunning eyes. She was so beautiful today.

The picnic lunch was delightful and creative, another example of her many enchanting abilities, and as she reminisced about her childhood and her fondness for her parents, I became spellbound. I was careful, however, to avoid talking about my real past, and conjured up some humorous tales of a commoner's life in the kingdom. How could a few white lies spoil anything?

We talked and laughed well into the early evening, and at one point when I mentioned her fiancé and inquired about their plans, she immediately looked away, obviously trying to hold back tears.

Now I was convinced that she was in some kind of trouble, but was it right to press the issue? A part of me was sensitive to her feelings, but another, bigger part, my warrior instincts, was determined to protect this vulnerable maiden in the wilderness, no matter what.

The pent up loneliness of five years tore at me, and as I timidly put my arms around her, she slowly turned and looked up, so vulnerable, with tears streaming down her face.

Powerful feelings overwhelmed me. I suddenly realized that I would willingly give my life for this maiden, even though I had only known her for such a short time, and as I softly kissed her tears away, I tasted that sweet, salty nectar of desire . . . and we embraced as lovers have done in the primal forests since the beginning of time.

We both walked silently back to the cottage, where I said good night and retired to the barn. The small, still voice in my heart again pleaded with me to leave, begged me to leave, but my mind convinced me that a real man would not desert a defenseless maiden in distress. I had to stay a while longer and solve this puzzle about her fiancé, if there actually was a fiancé.

Over the next two weeks, I discovered that the cottage required extensive repairs and continued to work on it, promising myself every day that I would leave shortly. The episode in the meadow embarrassed us both, and nothing further developed. But I knew she felt as I did.

The fiancé was never brought up again and I was beginning to think that perhaps Maradin had concocted this whole story about a fiancé to provide herself with some kind of a fictional security. She might have invented her brothers as well to give the impression that someone was there for her. Maybe nobody was there at all; two could tell little white lies! Maradin was probably alone, perhaps fending for herself in this lonely, forlorn corner of the world.

One night, I retired as usual to the upper loft of the barn to the comforting, hay-muffled sounds of the snorting and stomping of the animals in their stalls. There was an occasional, distant whinny from Conqueror, my scout, alerting me of his whereabouts in the forest. It was peaceful here. I liked it, and as I drifted off to sleep, images of the beautiful and mysterious Maradin danced in my mind.

Just past midnight, I was awakened by Conqueror banging his hoof against the barn door. This was followed by loud shouting. I looked out and could see that the lanterns were lit in the cottage, and a large, black horse was tied in front. The horse's shoulders carried old wounds, long ago healed, indicating it had been a warrior's horse at some point but now apparently belonged to a hunter, because tied to the saddle was a powerful longbow, a quiver of arrows, and the usual blankets and water jugs. The horse looked vaguely familiar however, but I couldn't quite place it. I climbed down from the loft and cautiously approached the cottage. Through the window, I could see a tall, well-built man pointing his finger at Maradin and shouting with rage.

What was I to do? Was this a lover's quarrel, which I had no business interfering with, or was she in danger? I timidly knocked, hoping to distract the man from his tirade.

The door swung violently open, and with an ugly smirk, the hunter spit in my face. "This must be the one eyed, idiot key seeker she's sleeping with," he barked. (To be continued)