Untitled WIP

In the quiet village marketplace, warm bodies stretching out from their homes stirred up the scent of grain and livestock. Although the sun was still climbing towards the tallest reach of the sky, the watery eyes of old men reflected desires for their youth, when the country brooks and streams invited them into their icy flow after ceaseless romps through the fields. Muscles straining to untie swollen sacks and barrels, the local population fell into idle chatter about the day's business to come. With their faces unconsciously turned in any direction that pointed towards family and a cool bed (which would wait many hours yet for an occupant), none saw the nobleman ride in on his glistening chestnut steed. A wearied sense of interest pulled their eyes round to him as he dismounted, clasping his hands and meeting their tired looks with blazing energy.

In many respects, Sir Arden's gallant demeanor bespoke of arrogance and embellishment. His broad chest and thick arms were always poised in a rigid state of disuse, his wavy red hair a brilliant crown adorning his perfect mask, along with deep blue eyes and a winsome smile. Despite appearances, however, he was a humble and generous landowner. He leapt from stand to cart, addressing every peasant by name and only sometimes confusing one pair of children with another. His laughter, brassy and unrestrained, quieted the murmurs of the townsfolk, but it left behind twinkles and dimples of kindled mirth.

One left untouched by Arden's spirited arrival was a young stable boy, Tad. His limp straw-colored hair shading his ice blue eyes, he skirted around the hustle and bustle, letting his gangly stature fold down into a hunched, unassuming shuffle. On a normal day, Tad would be the life force fueling the merriment in town, but this was never the case when Arden came to visit. Tad had no strong dislike for Arden, but he felt his softer, childish joy would only go unnoticed in the older man's shadow, and so he allowed himself to pass unseen as well. Until the two knocked arms, that is.

As Arden regaled his last battle with the barbarous tribes of the northern sea, he struck a dramatic pose in what he claimed to be a likeness of the king himself. Attempting to position himself against the closest wall, he backed straight into Tad as he skulked past. Stumbling and dropping all airs of importance along with the sword in his hand, Arden wheeled about and looked down upon Tad with the utmost concern. "Are you alright, young lad?"

Tad's eyes met fleetingly with the sapphires of the knight, but he quickly broke contact. "Yes, sir. All's well, sir, no need to stop your story. I was just clumsy 'bout my business, sir."

Seeing that the crowd had already turned back to selling their wares, Arden knelt to sheath his sword. Pausing mid-bend, he squinted and gripped Tad by the shoulders, smiling roguishly. "I don't believe we've met, my boy. I've seen you, though - always rushing here and there without saying a word to anyone. What's your name?"

Tad raised an eyebrow at the gloved finger being wagged and thrust at his nose, but he let none of the skepticism sink into his tone. "Tad, sir. I'm a stable boy at the tavern here. Run by me ma'am, 'til her knees gave out anyway."

Arden's smile brightened. "Ah, Kate, a sweet old doll she is. I'm ashamed to have known her so long and never realized the relation between you two. My deepest apologies."

Tad bowed his head awkwardly while letting his thoughts run over everything he knew of the lord before him. If he were to rid himself of this conversational clown, he'd have to do it carefully and without insult. A moment of pondering, and his features lit, beckoning the nobleman's attention. "Tell me, sir, how is your lady?"

Arden sighed long and lightly, throwing an arm around his captive listener as he waved his hand in the air before him. "I dream her into my presence at every hour of the day. She calls to me from a sun-splashed ocean of reeds, the lake behind her awakening pale greens and blues in her forlorn grey eyes. Her voice echoes like a waterfall on smooth rock, lulling me into her distant embrace. Even now, I can feel her rich, bronze locks twisted upon my fingertips."

As the enraptured man clenched his fist around the sunlight, Tad frowned and peered up. "Are you speaking of Lady Faith? Doesn't she have straight hair? Rather black if I remember..."

Arden made a guttural noise as Tad scratched his head in feigned confusion, but he quickly flashed his pearl white teeth. "Lady Faith? I'm sorry - I thought you inquired after my mother." In an instant, Arden's arm dropped from the boy's shoulder and his clenched hand lowered, pointing in an ambiguous direction. "If you'll excuse me, I had a bit of a story to share with...um...the fletcher Marcus about his young boy Stephen."

"Eric?"

"Eric!" Pointing ever more enthusiastically in his undecipherable gesture, Arden marched away with a stiff grin and a brief nod. Tad laughed quietly, wondering how long it would take Sir Arden to realize that everyone knew he no longer pined for his betrothed. Stopping himself in the thought, he dolefully recalled that the only one more oblivious than Sir Arden was Lady Faith herself...