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Lost. A feeling most would consider happened once in their lives. But are you truly lost, when you feel like you have a place in the world? Maybe you’re a king, or a knight, or even a poet. Are you truly who you think you are, or did somebody give you that role? Nobody will ever know, as nobody will ever care.
Yet here our protagonist was, lost, trying to search for his true meaning in life. He wasn’t a man of high power, a man who could simply give rules to others and try to maintain a land that was never his to begin with. He was just as naive as a child who wanted to have a purpose, blinded by the idea of being helpful. That’s what he knew from the start. That’s what he was taught from the start. His journey was just a sacrifice, for his nation… but were they really his people if they weren’t even related to his kind whatsoever? His kind were humans. short, frail, but thoughtful and determined. His nation’s kind were faefolk, the complete opposite: tall, strong, yet more careless, from the fact they already had such amazing powers. As perfect as both species were together, with the capability of working together for the greater good, they still could not live in harmony. Humans wished to have the same wisdom of the world like faefolk, while the faefolk wished to have the same strongwill humans had. No side was happy, and that’s how many wars were caused. So much hate, so many bad things… all out of envy of what they couldn’t have instead of pride of what they had.
Nobody understood our protagonist, or even wanted to hear from him. He was human. Not fae. Yet he was raised by a fae, so he wasn’t completely human either to the eyes of men. No side would ever accept him, not even his closest knight ally, who was in the same boat as him, being a “mongrel” between man and fae, as less opened minded folk would call him. Yet, they acted so differently. Our protagonist swallowed it in, letting the hateful words towards him well up, while his friend bit back. He wished he could bite back too. He really did.
The only people who never judged him… were never people to begin with. Animals after all are much more loving than humans or even fae ever were. Where would the quote “loving someone like a dog” come from if nobody could love someone as sincerely as one.
“Don’t cry…” he whispered, holding an injured and very much frail small body. A bird youngling. One of a robin to be precise. Robins were birds known for bringing luck and new beginnings, but our hero couldn’t find any hope for the poor bird. She just lost her family, being abandoned in her nest, with nobody to take care of her. Crying for help with the only thing she knew to use: chirping. “Little one. Can you tell me where your home is?…Do you want me to guide you out of here?”
Our protagonist was gentle. Too gentle. Too understanding. Less brutish. Less unforgiving. As he was brushing the breast of the winged one, soothing it in the meantime, reality hit him. An agitating presence was near him. His fellow knight ally.
“Silver, keep your mind focused.” was all his comrade said as he looked at the small bird. “Ah… you’re nursing a small bird. Our elders have told you enough times that nursing is a form of weakness.”
“How so, if I may ask, Sebek?” Our protagonist frowned, snuggling the robin close to his face, it’s crown making contact with his chin.
“Everything can be decieving. Just like buttercups, a flower can be fragile looking but with a poisonous interior. You must leave anything that seems like it needs help behind, as they could be those who will strike their sword behind your back. Those weak enough were meant to die, it is nature’s rule, and we musn’t combine in their wellbeing, as they might harm our wellbeing as well.” was all the ally responded.
The human boy didn’t agree though. He believed helping others was the main key to a happy life, not only for those who help, but for those who helped too. Yet, he bit his tongue, so he musn’t speak evil.
The bird chirped once more, looking towards a certain direction continously. The boy immediately understood what it meant. That was the direction towards this poor bird’s home. Taking a step forward, he quietly left knightly duty, walking through the dark forest, each step he took light came closer and closer. Every tree looked just like the next, the only difference being that everything became lighter and warmer. Like a hypnotizing lullaby, the boy couldn’t stop his journey from continuing.
Mauve carnations started sprouting at his feet with each step, which was quite peculiar for the male, but he payed no mind, as he knew the bird was searching for his way back home… back to his actual family… how could a human take care of a bird?…How could a fae take care of a human…
The robin, with newfound hope, tried flying up from his palms… but not towards the direction it was originally leading. “Where are you going?-” but his eyes immediately locked in on something…someone actually… a youthful maiden perhaps by her silhouette, wearing a long white gown, almost like robes. It was not complicated unlike how fae would wear diadems and layers upon layers of clothing… it was rather beautiful in it’s simplicity. He was awestruck, as if he found a rose among thorns.
Stepping closer to the maiden, he was trying not to scare her with his sudden appearance. The closer he got, the closer he got to seeing how she looked. She looked a lot like him, with rounded ears and livelier tinted skin than that of fae. She was… a beauty. Even with her face not yet memorised, he was more than commited to imprint it in his eyes, so he could see her every time he closed or opened his eyes.
Lulling a tune, her vocal chords sounded heavenly, like what he’d imagine merfolk’s voices to sound like, while her bear feet left gentle imprints on the ground. Yet, her dance stopped once she felt his gaze, like a doe thinking it was in danger. Their eyes made contact, her gaze having a more dimmed tune compared to the flourescent eyes of faes, yet so bright in all other senses.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you!” our protagonist tried to not distress the maiden further by speaking in a more softer tone while approaching gently.
“Oh… I’m not supposed to speak to…your kind…” she drew in as he was approaching, her hair covering her face as if it were a shield, similar to what the knight had. He realized her fear wasn’t only because he was a mere stranger, but also because of what he was wearing. The armour faes would wear.
“…You must be human… I am too…” he tried reassuring her, yet her, in her stubborness, didn’t listen to his words. She didn’t believe he was like her, she only saw him as a spy, a mere step towards sinning and betraying the human kind. A changeling of a human.
“Are you really?” she stuttered, trembling in fear, before he appeared right next to her, brushing the hair off her face, just as a dragon would torch a shield in mere seconds. Except that this action wasn’t made to scare the girl away, but to try and show her that the protagonist meant no harm.
“I would rather cut my tongue than ever lie.” he smiled, his face more serene than before. The maiden felt butterflies in her stomach from how handsome this stranger was… he was like a fairytale prince… his eyes… they looked exactly like how the knight of dawn’s was explained to have looked. An auroral opal color, more precisely.
As much as she was enamoured by this mere stranger, she couldn’t just let herself fall into his arms. He was still from fae territory. Who knows what could happen to her. “Oh. I must still go. I apologise…”
And just like that, before the knight could call out for her, she was gone. Just in the blink of an eye. He felt… ashamed… to have scared her… but he wouldn’t give up.
Even as he came back to his cottage empty handed, he wouldn’t give up. Not until that maiden will be his bride. Only on the condition that she wished for that dream to come true too.
The next night, he wasn’t tattered up anymore in his knight clothing, but rather in his humble peasant ones. Instead of having a sword wielding his hand anymore, he had a bouquet of carnations: not the pupleish colour that appeared wherever he stepped, but rather a blushing pink color, to compare to the hue of his cheeks when he caught sight of her the first time.
“Dear maiden of the woods,” he sighed, his lips feeling as chapped as a desert morning. He desperately needed to hear her voice once more. “ If I may have the pleasure of seeing your face made of terracotta once more, your eyes made of stories and out of your psyche, and just a glance at those petal-like lips, I promise to be more than joyous, and to offer you a moment of devotion! As long as you wish, no more, no less than whatever you’d wish for!”
Yet, there was no concrete answer. But the knight continued doing it each night, offering flowers, trinkets of all kinds, even parchments filled with loving words of yearning. Somebody did take them, but there was never an answer.
Unbeknownst to him, the maiden, behind her thorny exterior, she was indeed but a simple rose. A rose who yearned companionship around other flowers, yet only able to admire from affar, no matter how much she wished to let go of that cold-touched exterior. She listened to each ballad sung by the knight, took to her humble abode each gift like a soul-powering memento.
They both pined for eachother, they both yearned for eachother’s companionship, yet they were both young. Naive. One would carve their soul to show their love to the world, while the other would carve their soul but keep it hidden behind gauze so that they wouldn’t be questioned about the chiseled bits and pieces. Both of them knew how each kind would react to their love, and one was more avoidant than the other, not ready for the ridicule.
Even as time passed, winter came and went, spring appeared and dissappeared, summer rose and fell, and autumn lived and died. But the knight never gave up. The maiden also grew courage to finally come face to face with him. To finally express her love to him.
But one night… he didn’t come… and neither did the next night. The maiden didn’t know what happened to the knight she adored so much. Did he dissappear? Did he fall out of love with her? Was he not patient anymore? Was he… dead?
The question was never answered. And would never be answered. She waited too much. She lost everything when she could’ve had it all if only her fear didn’t have a huge play in this story.
Their love could’ve been possible, yet it was impossible to recatch it again. Two willows would grow at the place they met the first time. A symbol of grief and mourning… as well as a symbol of hope and a new beginning. For new lovers, for old lovers. It was never too late or too early to express love.
Not a peep of sorrow would be heard at night, as a beautiful ballad was heard from the rattling leaves and branches. A ballad the knight once sung to the maiden.