| | Once upon a time, there was an old man, who lived in Bog Country. His prayers were answered for within the tiny village of Byr, upon the shore of Bog Fi, lived only a few hundred people, racked with poverty. Most of the men worked the bogs, turning over the putrid water with long sticks, hunting for food. The women of the village were tired, scavengers who ransacked the foilage for any available nut, berry or fruit. It was a meager life. But even a bog can sustain a few hundred.
The old man, who's name was Kidd, had a daughter, left to him by a wife who had died soon after bearing her. He had named the maid after a story he had heard of a goddess. She was called Kerena. The girl had lavender eyes and deep, rich red hair that fell in waves along her back. Every single man living in Byr had asked Kidd for his daughter's hand. There was no other maiden as beautiful as she. But her father was stubborn and refused to let his daughter marry any of Byr. He had convinced himself that someone would rescue his daughter from a life inflicted with smelly bogs and bog-workers.
And he was right.
One day, as Kerena was mashing a kernel dough to make bread and her father's old hands worked an ancient lathe, she heard a noise outside their hut that she had never heard before. Instead of the usual "slurp, slurp" of the bog or the rustle of the bushes, she had heard something distinctly metallic whizz by her window and strike a tree. Wiping her hands on her dirty apron, Kerena rushed outside to see what the object was.
Near Kidd's hut, there stood a large elm tree, all twisted and deformed. In high spring, it bore not a single leaf. It's bark was dead, and full of maggots, centipedes, flies and termites. In fact, many Byr women would plunge their hands into the trunk of the tree and emerge with plenty of crunchy ingredients to add to their meals. Kerena noticed a long, metallic object sunk into a low-hanging branch. Curiosity filled her. She inspected it more closely and discovered a spear covered in beautiful scrollwork. These did not look like the spears of Byr, which were made of long twisted sticks. The tip of the spear had caught itself on a large knot. Bracing her foot against the elm, Kerena pried the spear free, careful to step out of the way of the resulting shower of bugs. Twisting the shaft in her hands, she discovered that despite it's length of several feet, the metal was extremely light. She looked toward her father's hut, wondering who could have thrown this massive object. Though light, it certainly could not have been made in Byr.
Her gaze lifted to the endless Bog Fi; tiresome, slurping, it had not changed. Shifting to view the few huts that stood on it's southern bank, she noticed nothing new. To the west of Bog Fi lay most of the villagers' huts. Excepting a small bonfire in Gire's lot, ripling in a putrid breeze, she did not see anyone who was near enough to throw the spear. Something moved in her vision to the east. Startled, she turned her gaze upon the open wasteland that spread out to the bog's east bank. The thicket was immense, and long known to have held no signs of life. But Kerena's eyes hadn't fooled her. For again, she saw the flicker of a shadow moving behind the first layer of decaying shrubs. And though the thicket lay a good distance from where she stood, Kerena's throat was swollen with fear.
She wondered if the spear in her grasp was from a dark stranger's hand, a stranger whose intentions in Byr were not known. And suddenly, a hooded figure stepped out of the thicket. He stood tall, his long black cloak billowed around him, light armor gleamed in the fading light, a face guard obstructing his expression. He clutched a long oval shield in his left hand. His right was empty. And Kerena made out the t-shaped hilt of a sword, tied around his waist. The maiden bowed, out of respect and fear, still clutching the spear.
The stranger approached, softly clanking as his metal boots hit rocks and roots along the northern bank of the bog. Kerena did not lift her gaze or her head, silently trembling as his steps brought him nearer to herself. The soldier halted, not three feet in front of Kerena. And stood still, like a formidable tree, loaming. Kerena saw that scrollwork covered his metal boots as well, similar to the spear. She knew it had been he who had lodged it in the elm.
Stifling any fear, she slowly rose from her crouched position, letting her head and gaze never fully rise. The stranger's boots ran over his knees and into his black pants. His waist was bound with a silver, silk sash. But her eyes settled on the soldier's chest. A huge shield bearing a panther devouring a bird of prey was engraved into his breastplate. Fear gripped her at the image. "Has this man come for good or for evil," she wondered to herself.
The stranger stood still, waiting, and his silence unnerved her. Bowed her head even further, she offered him his spear.
"Yours, m'lord," she whispered.
His gloved hand accepted the silver spear. With a slight tilt of his head, he acknowledged her. Her auburn head trembled as she contemplated his next move. A sudden whinney broke her bow. Curious, she stood upright to see a war stallion emerge from the thicket, saddled in black and silver, with the panther emblem displayed on his muscled chest. It was a beautiful horse, a deep brown in color.
Aware that she had probably insulted the black-cloaked stranger by breaking her bow, Kerena began to tremble. Purposefully avoiding his eyes, Kerena bowed her head once more, glimpsing for a moment his elaborately decorated face guard. The soldier did not turn at the sound of his stallion. His rigid stance remaining, he merely saluted, bowed slightly and then caught the reigns, as his horse approached. Kerena could feel the hot breath of the stallion at the crown of her head. She prostrated herself further, and laid down on the ground.
"There is no need," he gruffly spoke aloud. His voice sounded like gravel. As he mounted, Kerena boldly looked up. The horse's large black blinders obstructed her view of it's great brown eye. But as her gaze beheld the mounted stranger, she caught of glimpse of the soldier's face. His eyes were not shielded by his helmet, and they burned a brilliant blue. They struck Kerena to the core. The stallion whinnied and pawed the earth with his hoof, breaking her focus.
All in one motion, the stranger signaled to his horse, who reared, turned, and galloped at full speed back toward's the thicket. Kerena was left, trembling for several minutes before she realized that he had dropped a small purse of silver coins at her feet.
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| | Posted 5/26/2008 10:21 AM - 34 Views - 2 eProps - 2 comments
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I thought it would have been cool to let you play around with wedding footage, since that was something that you enjoy. 
I really like them, and I think you would too. 