Categories > Original > Fantasy > The Whims of Lady Luck
.........
"Merrin," my father says, smiling at me in welcome. I only nod in reply. Yes, I have gone to the ceremony for Samuel's knighting, against my own wishes. What reason would I have for attending a celebration for Samuel's leave to travel as he wishes, when this is my selfsame and always ungranted wish?
The square--what our charming villagers call the little dirt courtyard in the center of the village--is filled with people, leaving only a vaguely circular space around my father and myself free so he can give his speech. I slouch as I stand by my father and barely flinch when he puts his arm around my shoulder. A few of the younger women laugh at this, and the older women raise their eyebrows and turn to speak softly and knowingly to one another. I know very well that they don't like me; they needn't turn away as if to hide it.
"Lighten up, Merrin!" Samuel hisses from my right. After escorting me oh-so-nicely to my father's side, he had faded back into the crowd--but only slightly. He tends to stand out, no matter where he is, as if the sun is always shining directly on him.
The bastard. I glare at him with all my strength, but he only smiles at me.
"Good people!" Father begins with his usual greeting, and I let my mind and eyes wander. People look happy and expectant. It's a beautifully bright day and what sort of bad news could darken it? None would dare. Even the smaller children are paying attention, which is a rare event.
"--proved his worth--"
My eyes catch Samuel's suddenly, and he winks at me. Scowling and trying to not turn unaccountably red in the face, I turn back to hear what my father is saying just as the crowd lets out a rousing cheer.
"What--" I am interrupted by my father releasing me, reaching out to take Samuel's hand and raise it high. Samuel, for his part, looks stunned and delighted. Of course he wouldn't have known what was coming; he's only been trying to become a knight for years. Idiot.
I drift off mentally through the knighting ceremony, which includes an already instated knight from another village, or perhaps even the Court, officially knighting Samuel. These ceremonies tend to last for hours longer than they should, and I fight a yawn.
"Merrin, if you please," my father says, holding out his hand to me. Confused, I shake my head at him, but he says, "Give me your hand."
"What for?" I demand in a surly tone, getting another round of raised eyebrows and none-too-quiet whispers from the hens in the crowd. I snarl a little and finally take his hand.
"My son, Merrin, who has been educated by the greatest scholars of our kingdom for many of his years, will be accompanying Sir Samuel on his adventures as his chronicler!"
What?!
The crowd lets out another cheer, perhaps only because they find delight in my slack-jawed shock, or perhaps they are overjoyed to be getting rid of me at long last. I can only stare at my father in horrified disbelief, even as the newly knighted Sir Samuel jumps up to embrace me, asking me if this isn't just wonderful, or what? I stare over his shoulder, through the few flying strands of Samuel's gold-blond hair, to my father's face.
What have I done that he wants rid of me so badly?
.........
"Why?" I ask flatly when everyone has gone home. Father has been chatting away about wonderful opportunities and all the amazing things I will encounter with Samuel as we walk back to our house, but when I speak he stops in his tracks and treats me to a session of confused staring.
"I thought--I was certain you wanted to leave," he says, sounding stunned. His gray eyes search mine and see nothing but resentment, unless he is reading them entirely wrong.
"I wanted to go back to the city! To school!" I wail. I'm usually silent when upset, so my father understands immediately that this is very important. "I wanted to go back to Court--"
"Merrin." I have never heard my father's voice so soft, but for the time when my mother lay dying. "I can't afford to keep you in Court."
"No, you'd rather send me off as someone's servant," I say bitterly. I can't find the strength to yell any longer; he looks so tired and sad... he looks old.
My father looks old.
He seems to sense my sudden pity, because he stands up straighter and his eyes go cold. "You'll go with Sir Samuel, Merrin, and you'll write down his adventures and bring glory to him, and to yourself, as well. This is your ticket back to Court, but I think--I hope--"
He never finishes that sentence. He just walks inside of our house and leaves me standing there, squinting in the late afternoon sun.
.........
I pack for myself the next morning. We are to set off early, with one last gift presented to Samuel. I will be damned before I start referring to him as Sir in any situation other than ceremonial, and then only with a sarcastic bent.
I walk outside, already a bit late, but that doesn't seem to matter. Father and Samuel are talking quietly in the courtyard and the villagers are gathered around, ready to send off their lone knight and champion with many blessings. I suppose I will get the curses.
"Good morning!" the living incarnation of cheerfulness itself chirps, already with his pack on his back and his chainmail on. I grunt something uncomplimentary as I check for my bow and quiver; a sword is no good for hunting, and I do not plan to go without eating.
"Sir Samuel, if you will accept one last gift from your village," my father says, also smiling, though if one looks closely the strain is noticeable. I look away, unable to reconcile my resentment to his suffering.
However, as I turn, I catch a glimpse of this "gift" and have to look back and gawk. They're bringing a battle steed from the old barn to him!
Now, I am no expert on horses, but this beast is beautiful. This is a horse fit to be in the chronicle of a knight. It also looks quite intelligent, a fact confirmed to me when the horse snorts at Samuel but snuffs my hair readily. Other people run forward to see this magnificent creature, but he remains somewhat calm--yes, he is a gelding.
"Tie the packs over here," a villager instructs Samuel, already positioning the bundle in place. Someone, a little too excited in my humble opinion, takes my pack and gets it tied on, too. I don't know who it was who had been so rude, so I settle for glaring indiscriminately.
"Merrin! Hurry!" Samuel calls out, laughing. I look up at him, already seated on the horse, with his hand out for me to grasp. Is he sincere? There isn't room enough for the two of us to ride that horse, and I say so.
"Of course there is," Samuel says reasonably. "It will be a bit close, but we'll manage. Hurry, now! You can't expect to be walking when I'm riding, after all."
With the very unappreciated help of several village boys, I am hoisted up and soon sitting behind him. It is a very close fit and I hold onto his waist as the horse snorts and dances, before Samuel calms him down.
"Good luck," my father says, speaking to Samuel but looking at me. I nod, refusing to show my sudden emotion: I am leaving. I am honestly leaving, and am no longer certain that I want to go.
"Goodbye," I say in a soft voice, barely audible over Samuel's enthusiastic farewells to his family and friends. I manage another nod to my father before Samuel sets the steed off at a canter.
I steal one quick glance back, and see my father still watching us long after the villagers have turned away.
.........
Freedom, I soon find, is equal parts boredom and hunger.
When we stop for lunch on the second day, I am reminded that the only food packed is bread and cheese, and other food slow to spoil. I want meat; therefore, I must hunt.
I do, actually, enjoy hunting, and have proven to be quite good at it--much to the dismay of the village boys who would rather have something to boast against me. However, I have never had someone try to help me hunt before.
"Can't you just go back and take Alistair with you?" I demand quietly, shaking my head and glaring at the stupid horse as he snuffs my hair again. Alistair: what sort of name is that for a horse?
"I thought you could teach me how to hunt," Samuel says reasonably, smiling with all the innocent of a saint. "And I couldn't leave Alistair behind."
Oh, for hope of heaven--
"Do as you wish!" I snap. I back out of the small depression I had hidden myself in, stepping carefully around the thorn bushes and under branches. The leaves rustle under my feet and I wince, but then Samuel and Alistair move, and the crunching sound is even louder. How am I to take them hunting along with me?
"Wait here," I instruct them both. "Watch me if you will, but do not move. Hear?"
"I hear," Samuel says, bowing slightly and laughing at me. I almost find my irritation softening when he looks up at me, still bowing, with his eyes sparkling in mirth.
I pat Alistair on the neck before circling the small clearing ahead, which runs by the stream we're camping along. I listen carefully, forgetting that I have an audience, thankfully. I am certain I'd spotted some rabbit holes around here--
And a squirrel, lulled by the silence and inactivity, slowly climbs down his tree and begins a tentative search for food. Perfect. I pull an arrow, raise my bow, and take aim. This will be almost too easy.
"Merrin!"
What in the seven hells? I whirl around, ready to scream at Samuel for making me lose that stupid squirrel, which has already darted back up into his tree, when I finally see what is happening: someone is trying to rob us!
A tall man with a sword has already engaged Samuel, who has taken by surprise; Alistair is rearing and kicking the two men who are trying to grab his halter. I raise my bow again and take aim in a split second, letting the arrow fly and reaching for another even as one of the men falls. His partner runs to Alistair's other side, but that is hardly clever; the horse whirls and kicks him with his back legs.
A warm, rough hand closes around my neck and I'm dragged backwards, gasping for air and losing my bow. Samuel shouts something and a voice calls, "Drop the sword, hero!"
No, by all the hells and heaven. I am not allowing this.
A knife slides along my throat; Samuel is falling back and staring at me in dismay. I reach down and pull the small dagger I always keep hidden on my belt out, stabbing my attacker in the leg even as I pull his other hand away from my throat--perhaps he shouldn't divide his attention so.
He screams in anger more than pain, but I've pulled the dagger loose again and turn to rip up his stomach, darting backwards and letting him fall. The man who had been attacking Samuel has a clear chance at victory, because Samuel has dropped his sword--stupid, stupid! He's going to kill you, hero!
The sword is swinging through the air, and Samuel cannot possibly duck it in time--
Alistair is back in the fight with a sudden charge, squealing like a demon and rearing back to kick the man's arm, forcing him to drop the sword. How in the hells did our village manage to buy such a well-trained, intelligent, and utterly awe-inspiring horse in the first place?
I lift my bow again and shoot him before he can run, fall, or plead for mercy. The attack, such as it was, is over.
"Are you hurt?" I ask, wiping the dagger off quickly on some leaves and then jogging to Samuel's side. He just stares around in disbelief.
"Samuel? Are you hurt?" I ask again, moving in close and lifting his chin to look into his eyes. They give no appearance of a concussion, and I didn't see any of the thieves hit him...
"Merrin?" he says, his voice stilted and shocked.
"I'm here."
His face is ghost pale when he finally looks at me. "I've never seen anyone get killed before."
Oh, but he must be joking with me, please--but his eyes aren't lying, and that expression isn't faked--
I hold him in a close embrace when he starts shaking, and I hold his hair out of his face when he has to vomit.
This boy, this child is supposed to be a knight, the champion of his village?
.........
"Merrin," my father says, smiling at me in welcome. I only nod in reply. Yes, I have gone to the ceremony for Samuel's knighting, against my own wishes. What reason would I have for attending a celebration for Samuel's leave to travel as he wishes, when this is my selfsame and always ungranted wish?
The square--what our charming villagers call the little dirt courtyard in the center of the village--is filled with people, leaving only a vaguely circular space around my father and myself free so he can give his speech. I slouch as I stand by my father and barely flinch when he puts his arm around my shoulder. A few of the younger women laugh at this, and the older women raise their eyebrows and turn to speak softly and knowingly to one another. I know very well that they don't like me; they needn't turn away as if to hide it.
"Lighten up, Merrin!" Samuel hisses from my right. After escorting me oh-so-nicely to my father's side, he had faded back into the crowd--but only slightly. He tends to stand out, no matter where he is, as if the sun is always shining directly on him.
The bastard. I glare at him with all my strength, but he only smiles at me.
"Good people!" Father begins with his usual greeting, and I let my mind and eyes wander. People look happy and expectant. It's a beautifully bright day and what sort of bad news could darken it? None would dare. Even the smaller children are paying attention, which is a rare event.
"--proved his worth--"
My eyes catch Samuel's suddenly, and he winks at me. Scowling and trying to not turn unaccountably red in the face, I turn back to hear what my father is saying just as the crowd lets out a rousing cheer.
"What--" I am interrupted by my father releasing me, reaching out to take Samuel's hand and raise it high. Samuel, for his part, looks stunned and delighted. Of course he wouldn't have known what was coming; he's only been trying to become a knight for years. Idiot.
I drift off mentally through the knighting ceremony, which includes an already instated knight from another village, or perhaps even the Court, officially knighting Samuel. These ceremonies tend to last for hours longer than they should, and I fight a yawn.
"Merrin, if you please," my father says, holding out his hand to me. Confused, I shake my head at him, but he says, "Give me your hand."
"What for?" I demand in a surly tone, getting another round of raised eyebrows and none-too-quiet whispers from the hens in the crowd. I snarl a little and finally take his hand.
"My son, Merrin, who has been educated by the greatest scholars of our kingdom for many of his years, will be accompanying Sir Samuel on his adventures as his chronicler!"
What?!
The crowd lets out another cheer, perhaps only because they find delight in my slack-jawed shock, or perhaps they are overjoyed to be getting rid of me at long last. I can only stare at my father in horrified disbelief, even as the newly knighted Sir Samuel jumps up to embrace me, asking me if this isn't just wonderful, or what? I stare over his shoulder, through the few flying strands of Samuel's gold-blond hair, to my father's face.
What have I done that he wants rid of me so badly?
.........
"Why?" I ask flatly when everyone has gone home. Father has been chatting away about wonderful opportunities and all the amazing things I will encounter with Samuel as we walk back to our house, but when I speak he stops in his tracks and treats me to a session of confused staring.
"I thought--I was certain you wanted to leave," he says, sounding stunned. His gray eyes search mine and see nothing but resentment, unless he is reading them entirely wrong.
"I wanted to go back to the city! To school!" I wail. I'm usually silent when upset, so my father understands immediately that this is very important. "I wanted to go back to Court--"
"Merrin." I have never heard my father's voice so soft, but for the time when my mother lay dying. "I can't afford to keep you in Court."
"No, you'd rather send me off as someone's servant," I say bitterly. I can't find the strength to yell any longer; he looks so tired and sad... he looks old.
My father looks old.
He seems to sense my sudden pity, because he stands up straighter and his eyes go cold. "You'll go with Sir Samuel, Merrin, and you'll write down his adventures and bring glory to him, and to yourself, as well. This is your ticket back to Court, but I think--I hope--"
He never finishes that sentence. He just walks inside of our house and leaves me standing there, squinting in the late afternoon sun.
.........
I pack for myself the next morning. We are to set off early, with one last gift presented to Samuel. I will be damned before I start referring to him as Sir in any situation other than ceremonial, and then only with a sarcastic bent.
I walk outside, already a bit late, but that doesn't seem to matter. Father and Samuel are talking quietly in the courtyard and the villagers are gathered around, ready to send off their lone knight and champion with many blessings. I suppose I will get the curses.
"Good morning!" the living incarnation of cheerfulness itself chirps, already with his pack on his back and his chainmail on. I grunt something uncomplimentary as I check for my bow and quiver; a sword is no good for hunting, and I do not plan to go without eating.
"Sir Samuel, if you will accept one last gift from your village," my father says, also smiling, though if one looks closely the strain is noticeable. I look away, unable to reconcile my resentment to his suffering.
However, as I turn, I catch a glimpse of this "gift" and have to look back and gawk. They're bringing a battle steed from the old barn to him!
Now, I am no expert on horses, but this beast is beautiful. This is a horse fit to be in the chronicle of a knight. It also looks quite intelligent, a fact confirmed to me when the horse snorts at Samuel but snuffs my hair readily. Other people run forward to see this magnificent creature, but he remains somewhat calm--yes, he is a gelding.
"Tie the packs over here," a villager instructs Samuel, already positioning the bundle in place. Someone, a little too excited in my humble opinion, takes my pack and gets it tied on, too. I don't know who it was who had been so rude, so I settle for glaring indiscriminately.
"Merrin! Hurry!" Samuel calls out, laughing. I look up at him, already seated on the horse, with his hand out for me to grasp. Is he sincere? There isn't room enough for the two of us to ride that horse, and I say so.
"Of course there is," Samuel says reasonably. "It will be a bit close, but we'll manage. Hurry, now! You can't expect to be walking when I'm riding, after all."
With the very unappreciated help of several village boys, I am hoisted up and soon sitting behind him. It is a very close fit and I hold onto his waist as the horse snorts and dances, before Samuel calms him down.
"Good luck," my father says, speaking to Samuel but looking at me. I nod, refusing to show my sudden emotion: I am leaving. I am honestly leaving, and am no longer certain that I want to go.
"Goodbye," I say in a soft voice, barely audible over Samuel's enthusiastic farewells to his family and friends. I manage another nod to my father before Samuel sets the steed off at a canter.
I steal one quick glance back, and see my father still watching us long after the villagers have turned away.
.........
Freedom, I soon find, is equal parts boredom and hunger.
When we stop for lunch on the second day, I am reminded that the only food packed is bread and cheese, and other food slow to spoil. I want meat; therefore, I must hunt.
I do, actually, enjoy hunting, and have proven to be quite good at it--much to the dismay of the village boys who would rather have something to boast against me. However, I have never had someone try to help me hunt before.
"Can't you just go back and take Alistair with you?" I demand quietly, shaking my head and glaring at the stupid horse as he snuffs my hair again. Alistair: what sort of name is that for a horse?
"I thought you could teach me how to hunt," Samuel says reasonably, smiling with all the innocent of a saint. "And I couldn't leave Alistair behind."
Oh, for hope of heaven--
"Do as you wish!" I snap. I back out of the small depression I had hidden myself in, stepping carefully around the thorn bushes and under branches. The leaves rustle under my feet and I wince, but then Samuel and Alistair move, and the crunching sound is even louder. How am I to take them hunting along with me?
"Wait here," I instruct them both. "Watch me if you will, but do not move. Hear?"
"I hear," Samuel says, bowing slightly and laughing at me. I almost find my irritation softening when he looks up at me, still bowing, with his eyes sparkling in mirth.
I pat Alistair on the neck before circling the small clearing ahead, which runs by the stream we're camping along. I listen carefully, forgetting that I have an audience, thankfully. I am certain I'd spotted some rabbit holes around here--
And a squirrel, lulled by the silence and inactivity, slowly climbs down his tree and begins a tentative search for food. Perfect. I pull an arrow, raise my bow, and take aim. This will be almost too easy.
"Merrin!"
What in the seven hells? I whirl around, ready to scream at Samuel for making me lose that stupid squirrel, which has already darted back up into his tree, when I finally see what is happening: someone is trying to rob us!
A tall man with a sword has already engaged Samuel, who has taken by surprise; Alistair is rearing and kicking the two men who are trying to grab his halter. I raise my bow again and take aim in a split second, letting the arrow fly and reaching for another even as one of the men falls. His partner runs to Alistair's other side, but that is hardly clever; the horse whirls and kicks him with his back legs.
A warm, rough hand closes around my neck and I'm dragged backwards, gasping for air and losing my bow. Samuel shouts something and a voice calls, "Drop the sword, hero!"
No, by all the hells and heaven. I am not allowing this.
A knife slides along my throat; Samuel is falling back and staring at me in dismay. I reach down and pull the small dagger I always keep hidden on my belt out, stabbing my attacker in the leg even as I pull his other hand away from my throat--perhaps he shouldn't divide his attention so.
He screams in anger more than pain, but I've pulled the dagger loose again and turn to rip up his stomach, darting backwards and letting him fall. The man who had been attacking Samuel has a clear chance at victory, because Samuel has dropped his sword--stupid, stupid! He's going to kill you, hero!
The sword is swinging through the air, and Samuel cannot possibly duck it in time--
Alistair is back in the fight with a sudden charge, squealing like a demon and rearing back to kick the man's arm, forcing him to drop the sword. How in the hells did our village manage to buy such a well-trained, intelligent, and utterly awe-inspiring horse in the first place?
I lift my bow again and shoot him before he can run, fall, or plead for mercy. The attack, such as it was, is over.
"Are you hurt?" I ask, wiping the dagger off quickly on some leaves and then jogging to Samuel's side. He just stares around in disbelief.
"Samuel? Are you hurt?" I ask again, moving in close and lifting his chin to look into his eyes. They give no appearance of a concussion, and I didn't see any of the thieves hit him...
"Merrin?" he says, his voice stilted and shocked.
"I'm here."
His face is ghost pale when he finally looks at me. "I've never seen anyone get killed before."
Oh, but he must be joking with me, please--but his eyes aren't lying, and that expression isn't faked--
I hold him in a close embrace when he starts shaking, and I hold his hair out of his face when he has to vomit.
This boy, this child is supposed to be a knight, the champion of his village?
.........
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