Categories > Original > Romance > Timepiece: Elene
A Very Convincing Renaissance Fair
0 reviewsElene thinks she's awoken in the middle of the Renaissance fair.
0Unrated
Previously…
I’m not really sure what happened next. My shoe must have caught something, but the world heaved under my feet. You know what it looks like when someone shakes out a sheet or table cloth? That is what the world seemed to do and I was right in the middle of it. I saw myself falling and the pavement raised up to meet my face…
Chapter 2: A Very Convincing Renaissance Fair
…but the acquaintance was never made. I just kept on falling and then I stopped. I was afraid to open my eyes, feeling what felt like two arms under me. I cracked open an eye and gasped.
The man who was holding me promptly dropped me onto the hard stone floor. Whatever air was still in me was knocked out of me and I lay gasping for a minute, while people crowded around me. The man, the jester, had disappeared. A strong hand lifted me up, and a cup of something with a strong, nasty odor was pressed to my lips and I took a sip, and spat it back out, coughing.
People were talking around me, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying, which frustrated me because I felt like I should know what they were saying.
“…you…” the first word to make any sense, but that was it.
Everyone was wearing extremely strange clothing. The women were larger and high waisted dresses emphasized their size. Some of them had what looked like horns rapped in glittery gauze, others had huge flaps of fabric like large white elephant ears coming from their head dresses. The men had no waistline to speak of. One man stepped forward, speaking to those around him and from his gestures he was giving commands.
He knelt down by me and looked me hard in the face.
I swallowed. He was not unattractive for an old man, but he wasn’t exactly the cat’s meow. He had dark brown eyes that seemed to hide his thoughts. Salt and pepper hair hung long over his ears and a trimmed beard graced his chin.
He said something to me, he was speaking very fast, “…name…” That was all I caught.
“Elene, Elene McFerry,” I breathed, too astonished to speak clearly.
“Elene,” he said it as if he were trying out the sounds, “…Scots…” His intonation told me he was asking me a question. What that question was I wasn’t sure, so I answered,
“Yes.”
His eyebrows went together. Then he said something as he pointed to me, then pointed to himself.
I shook my head, not understanding.
I caught my breath and my sense seemed to come with it. This couldn’t be real, there was no way. I looked up at the ceiling. It was white washed with gothic vaulting out of dark wood. I looked through the one pointed window I could see, it was raining, but it was day.
I began to laugh, feeling suddenly very giddy. What a predicament! I had somehow slept through the night and managed to wake up in the middle of the Renaissance Fair!
*
I awoke with a splitting headache. There was a woman bustling around me, humming a merry tune. I couldn’t really see her, or anything in the room, just outlines with dim highlights, as it seemed the curtains were drawn.
I attempted to sit up. The woman stopped whatever it was she was doing and looked at me. There was a faint glimmer of a smile as she went over to the curtains and ripped them open. I covered my eyes and groaned.
She said something in a sweet high-pitched voice. I felt like I should be able to understand what it was she was saying, but it was impossible. It was a graceful language, it made me think of water gurgling over stones or something like that.
I squinted up at her, then looked again. She looked so familiar! Her eyes were an intense light brown and with the sun slanting as it was through the window, they looked almost golden. She had on the blue robe and white headdress of servitude customary for the fourteenth century.
I looked around the room. There was a tall thin chair with vines carved into the back, small griffins perched on the upper most corners. The bed that I was in seemed to made out of solid wood, with a thin mattress set into a box of wood. There was a wood canopy above me with deep green curtains. The walls were done in wooden panels and there was a chest shoved against the wall next to a carefully carved buffet. It was not a big room, but it was tasteful in its furnishing and clean.
The woman said something, but all I caught was “…your taste…” This was one convincing Renaissance fair.
I nodded and she seemed pleased.
She opened up the chest, humming as she did so, and pulled out a dress of dove grey with knots of gold and red. She began talking, but she was speaking so fast, there was no way I could follow what she was saying.
Then she must have asked me a question, because she looked at me expectantly. I looked back at her with what I imagine was a very blank expression.
She said something, “…you…me…”
I shrugged, not knowing how else to respond.
Her expression grew thoughtful as she contemplated me. She stood with the dress in her hands for a moment, her eyes ever searching my face, then she did something I did not expect.
She stepped forward and putting her hand over her heart she said very slowly and very distinctly, “Lillian.”
“Lillian,” I repeated, smiling, for once I knew what was supposed to be going on. She was a very good actress. I put my hand over my heart and said, “Elene.”
Her eyes narrowed, then she nodded, “Elene.”
I smiled and then she smiled. I had made a friend.
*
Lillian, it seemed had been assigned to me as my guide through this rather extensive fair. The one in Chicago had never been this intense, and as I began to learn a little of what was expected of me, my common sense began to return as well, and I began to wonder what I probably should have wondered from the start. How did I get from the alley to where ever I was?
Lillian came to understand that I didn’t know the language of these actors, and determined to keep the charade going, began to teach me. She and I would walk around the replica of the castle and she would point to things and name them. I would repeat her, and she would correct my many foul ups. It didn’t take me such a long time of going through this process before realizing the language they were speaking was English, middle English, the language I had been studying ever since I had learned what the Middle Ages were. I, of course, had never had anyone to practice speaking with, so I had many of the words mixed up, and I didn’t have a very good grasp of the intonation, or grammar, but Lillian was a very good teacher and a very patient one.
She was just about the only person I saw for the course of the whole week. At least, I think it was a week, but things were not changing. Renaissance fairs don’t usually go longer than a week or two and it had seemed that they had been going a little while when I…arrived. I blushed when I thought of it. There was no taking off of wigs, or sighs of relief as bodices came unlaced. Everything seemed one continuous flow, these were dedicated people!
Then the understanding hit me like a ton of bricks, one day as Lillian and I were practicing outside.
We were practicing having a conversation, “Where were you born?” she asked.
I repeated the question, “Where were you born?”
Then she answered, “Northumberland.”
And I answered, “Chicago.”
She looked startled and repeated slowly, “Shay-ka-go.”
I nodded.
“In England?” she asked me carefully.
I shook my head, “America.”
She looked at me blankly.
“USA?” I tried again.
She still didn’t react.
I didn’t know what to do then. I sat and thought, there was no other way I could say where I was from and from the looks of things, she had no idea what I was talking about. Then a paralyzing, and utterly ridiculous thought came to my head.
“What is the time?” I asked, not knowing how to say year.
“Time,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
She nodded after a pause, understanding what it was I was asking. I had not yet learned my numbers, and she knew that, so she held up her fingers. One. Three. Six. Four.
1364.
This was no Renaissance Fair. This was the fourteenth century.
I passed out.
I’m not really sure what happened next. My shoe must have caught something, but the world heaved under my feet. You know what it looks like when someone shakes out a sheet or table cloth? That is what the world seemed to do and I was right in the middle of it. I saw myself falling and the pavement raised up to meet my face…
Chapter 2: A Very Convincing Renaissance Fair
…but the acquaintance was never made. I just kept on falling and then I stopped. I was afraid to open my eyes, feeling what felt like two arms under me. I cracked open an eye and gasped.
The man who was holding me promptly dropped me onto the hard stone floor. Whatever air was still in me was knocked out of me and I lay gasping for a minute, while people crowded around me. The man, the jester, had disappeared. A strong hand lifted me up, and a cup of something with a strong, nasty odor was pressed to my lips and I took a sip, and spat it back out, coughing.
People were talking around me, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying, which frustrated me because I felt like I should know what they were saying.
“…you…” the first word to make any sense, but that was it.
Everyone was wearing extremely strange clothing. The women were larger and high waisted dresses emphasized their size. Some of them had what looked like horns rapped in glittery gauze, others had huge flaps of fabric like large white elephant ears coming from their head dresses. The men had no waistline to speak of. One man stepped forward, speaking to those around him and from his gestures he was giving commands.
He knelt down by me and looked me hard in the face.
I swallowed. He was not unattractive for an old man, but he wasn’t exactly the cat’s meow. He had dark brown eyes that seemed to hide his thoughts. Salt and pepper hair hung long over his ears and a trimmed beard graced his chin.
He said something to me, he was speaking very fast, “…name…” That was all I caught.
“Elene, Elene McFerry,” I breathed, too astonished to speak clearly.
“Elene,” he said it as if he were trying out the sounds, “…Scots…” His intonation told me he was asking me a question. What that question was I wasn’t sure, so I answered,
“Yes.”
His eyebrows went together. Then he said something as he pointed to me, then pointed to himself.
I shook my head, not understanding.
I caught my breath and my sense seemed to come with it. This couldn’t be real, there was no way. I looked up at the ceiling. It was white washed with gothic vaulting out of dark wood. I looked through the one pointed window I could see, it was raining, but it was day.
I began to laugh, feeling suddenly very giddy. What a predicament! I had somehow slept through the night and managed to wake up in the middle of the Renaissance Fair!
*
I awoke with a splitting headache. There was a woman bustling around me, humming a merry tune. I couldn’t really see her, or anything in the room, just outlines with dim highlights, as it seemed the curtains were drawn.
I attempted to sit up. The woman stopped whatever it was she was doing and looked at me. There was a faint glimmer of a smile as she went over to the curtains and ripped them open. I covered my eyes and groaned.
She said something in a sweet high-pitched voice. I felt like I should be able to understand what it was she was saying, but it was impossible. It was a graceful language, it made me think of water gurgling over stones or something like that.
I squinted up at her, then looked again. She looked so familiar! Her eyes were an intense light brown and with the sun slanting as it was through the window, they looked almost golden. She had on the blue robe and white headdress of servitude customary for the fourteenth century.
I looked around the room. There was a tall thin chair with vines carved into the back, small griffins perched on the upper most corners. The bed that I was in seemed to made out of solid wood, with a thin mattress set into a box of wood. There was a wood canopy above me with deep green curtains. The walls were done in wooden panels and there was a chest shoved against the wall next to a carefully carved buffet. It was not a big room, but it was tasteful in its furnishing and clean.
The woman said something, but all I caught was “…your taste…” This was one convincing Renaissance fair.
I nodded and she seemed pleased.
She opened up the chest, humming as she did so, and pulled out a dress of dove grey with knots of gold and red. She began talking, but she was speaking so fast, there was no way I could follow what she was saying.
Then she must have asked me a question, because she looked at me expectantly. I looked back at her with what I imagine was a very blank expression.
She said something, “…you…me…”
I shrugged, not knowing how else to respond.
Her expression grew thoughtful as she contemplated me. She stood with the dress in her hands for a moment, her eyes ever searching my face, then she did something I did not expect.
She stepped forward and putting her hand over her heart she said very slowly and very distinctly, “Lillian.”
“Lillian,” I repeated, smiling, for once I knew what was supposed to be going on. She was a very good actress. I put my hand over my heart and said, “Elene.”
Her eyes narrowed, then she nodded, “Elene.”
I smiled and then she smiled. I had made a friend.
*
Lillian, it seemed had been assigned to me as my guide through this rather extensive fair. The one in Chicago had never been this intense, and as I began to learn a little of what was expected of me, my common sense began to return as well, and I began to wonder what I probably should have wondered from the start. How did I get from the alley to where ever I was?
Lillian came to understand that I didn’t know the language of these actors, and determined to keep the charade going, began to teach me. She and I would walk around the replica of the castle and she would point to things and name them. I would repeat her, and she would correct my many foul ups. It didn’t take me such a long time of going through this process before realizing the language they were speaking was English, middle English, the language I had been studying ever since I had learned what the Middle Ages were. I, of course, had never had anyone to practice speaking with, so I had many of the words mixed up, and I didn’t have a very good grasp of the intonation, or grammar, but Lillian was a very good teacher and a very patient one.
She was just about the only person I saw for the course of the whole week. At least, I think it was a week, but things were not changing. Renaissance fairs don’t usually go longer than a week or two and it had seemed that they had been going a little while when I…arrived. I blushed when I thought of it. There was no taking off of wigs, or sighs of relief as bodices came unlaced. Everything seemed one continuous flow, these were dedicated people!
Then the understanding hit me like a ton of bricks, one day as Lillian and I were practicing outside.
We were practicing having a conversation, “Where were you born?” she asked.
I repeated the question, “Where were you born?”
Then she answered, “Northumberland.”
And I answered, “Chicago.”
She looked startled and repeated slowly, “Shay-ka-go.”
I nodded.
“In England?” she asked me carefully.
I shook my head, “America.”
She looked at me blankly.
“USA?” I tried again.
She still didn’t react.
I didn’t know what to do then. I sat and thought, there was no other way I could say where I was from and from the looks of things, she had no idea what I was talking about. Then a paralyzing, and utterly ridiculous thought came to my head.
“What is the time?” I asked, not knowing how to say year.
“Time,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
She nodded after a pause, understanding what it was I was asking. I had not yet learned my numbers, and she knew that, so she held up her fingers. One. Three. Six. Four.
1364.
This was no Renaissance Fair. This was the fourteenth century.
I passed out.
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