| NaNo '07 |
[Nov. 2nd, 2007|10:44 pm] |
5264 words thus far. And it's day two. I'm really quite happy.
Chapter Two
“She had three sons: One named Shine because he Shone like the sun, one named Sharp because he was Sharp as a knife, and one named Sheep because he was gentle as a lamb. The three boys grew. Shine grew more handsome, Sharp grew more clever, and Sheep just grew to be a good man.”
The Stead had become spotless. The floors were polished, not a speck of dust, the kitchen clean and smelling of soap and lemon. The small vegetable patch that Sheep had started had flourished into rows of corn and wheat, a patch for squash and pumpkins, a patch for carrots and other root vegetables, and a fence where tomoato vines crept towards the sun. When it was fall, like the current time, the garden was ripe to bursting with color, purple eggplants warring with yellow squash and red tomatoes, the colors on the ground echoing the colors on the trees, with patches of brown and blue for framing. In addition to the vegetables, the Stead now had animals-the ancient she-goat that refused to die or grow older, half a dozen pigs, two cows, twelve chickens and a tempremental rooster. Sheep had built every building on the Stead, taking to wood work and farming the way he took to sheep and shearing. As Sheep grew from a young boy to a young man, Ioan found himself relying on his youngest grandson more and more. He had started splitting his time between the Stead and the flock, until eventually he stayed on the Stead and Sheep stayed with the flock. It allowed Sheep to become more familiar with shepherding, and caring for the animals, and the boy took to shepherding the same way he took to everything else-as if this was only a natural extension of his own person. Sheep was at home in the valley in a way his brothers never had been. Shine didn’t like leaving the Stead, but he didn’t like staying there, either. He despaired of the fact that his family didn’t appreciate his beauty, so instead he frequeneted the village which was two days walk away. The women there appreciated his beauty often, and their husbands had started to take note of this. Shine didn’t think anything of the husbands grumbling, putting it all down to simple jealousy. Sharp would snort when Shine came back from the village, clothes in dissaray and smelling of cheap drink and cheaper women. He would then go back to whatever he was currently working on. Whatever he was working on was guaranteed to make his fortune, or so Sharp always said. He would created something, sell it in the village, and then use the money to create something else that could be sold for more money. Sharp never used his intellect to help his brothers or grandfather, preferring instead to lecture them on when they did things wrong, or telling them in detail why they were ants compared to him. Shine would get angry, and then the two of them would brawl, but Sheep would just nod, and fill his pipe. While Shine and Sharp boasted about which of them would make their fortunes first from inside the cottage, Sheep and Ioan would sit together on a rock over looking the valley, watching the clouds above the world block out the stars and the clouds on the world block out the green. The two of them would sit in silence, Carrot and Baron next to Ioan, Gertrude and Cora with Sheep, and watch over the flock. Ioan would glance at Sheep occasionally, sometimes surprised to see the strong young man instead of a gangly boy. He would never be as handsome as Shine, but then Ioan doubted anyone would be as handsome as Shine. His favorite grandson reminded him of his own father-strong shoulders, and long limbs, brown eyes and hair (though his hair had been lightened by long hours in the sun) tan skin that was starting to freckle, and rough, callused hands. Sheep looked like what someone would expect a country shepherd to look like. Strong, capable, but indistinct. Ioan sometimes worried about him, but not often. Sheep seemed to have spent his life keeping Ioan from worrying. He’d been an easy baby, an easy child, adapted to whatever had been thrown at him, and certain things had just been natural to him, like Gert and Cora. His dogs obeyed all the normal commands, but it seemed to Ioan that Sheep didn’t have to command them at all. They just did what they knew he wanted them to do, without him having to command them. Ioan had asked about it once, when Sheep had been ten. Sheep had said that he just asked the dogs, and then the dogs would tell him why that was a good idea or a bad idea, what ewes were lambing, and the basic things any shepherd should be aware of. Sheep had asked if that’s what Carrot and Baron did for him. Ioan had answered, merely smoked on his pipe and changed the subject. He hadn’t asked Sheep about the dogs again.
Chapter Three
“He was kind, hard working and respectful. Sheep loved the valley, and the flock and the Stead. He was well known in the village, and was as liked and trusted as his brothers were disliked and distrusted.”
Sheep was sixteen before he left the Stead for the first time. Ioan hadn’t meant to keep him away from other people, it just hadn’t occurred to him. Sheep was as much a part of the hills and scenery as the rocks and the trees, but Ioan was too old to make the journey on his own. He couldn’t carry the wool on his back, or the cheese in his arms. Ioan didn’t like growing older, didn’t like the prospect of leaving his favorite grandson alone in the world, so he asked Sheep to join him.
The morning of their journey, Ioan awoke to find Sheep already up. He had packed the wool, washed and carded, but not spun or dyed, into a large burlap bag that he’d slung about his shoulders. He’d also packed some of the butter and cheeses that Ioan had made into cool wooden buckets. Those he’d left buried in the ground, waiting for him to pick up. He also saw Sheep talking quite seriously to Gert and Cora, giving them explicit instructions on the herding, and asking them to not bite Shine too hard unless he put the flock in danger. Ioan tried not to notice that the dogs seemed to nod at his words.
“Boy, we’d best be movin’ if we’re to arrive before noon!” he called out, taking up the sack lunch Sheep had gathered and his gnarled shepherd’s crook as a walking stick. Sheep stood and nodded, and sent the dogs off with a “Remember: balance and Come by.” The two dogs barked once in unison before jogging to the valley on their own. Sheep gathered the cheese buckets and came to stand before Ioan.
“I think that’s everything, grandfather.” Ioan nodded, inspecting the packages, and the ties.
“Yes, I believe ‘tis.” He hit the ground twice with his crook, calling Carrot and Baron to him. He glanced toward the valley one more time, to see Gert and Cora already at work, positioned on either side of the flock, ready to work. “Let’s head out.”
It had once taken Ioan a little more than three hours to walk to the village, back when he’d been young, and in love with a girl there, even though he would be as laden as Sheep. Those days were long gone, now. Ioan was old, and getting older, and a walk to the village now took half the day, with a stay overnight. He would have to send Sheep back on his own, since Ioan didn’t trust Shine and Sharp with the flock two days together. It could be seen as a novelty for one day, but two days and the lambs would go missing. The two men walked the well worn road in silence, Ioan puffing on a pipe, Sheep looking at the world around him. He had only ever traveled from the valley to the Stead, so every step was like an adventure to him. The trees would sometimes reach their branches out to one another, creating a great green and brown canopy that the sunlight could only just penetrate. Shadows seemed to dance and play all around them, and Sheep knew that they were being watched by curious animals-squirrels and rabbits, and other small game. Sheep was comforted by the travel. It was good to know that the forest-his forest-seemed so vast and protected, keeping his family and his flock from harm. They came to the top of a hill, where the woods seemed to break suddenly and became open land and sky stretching out before him. Ioan put out his crook tapping Sheep lightly on the leg like an errant lamb, to stop Sheep from descending.
“Look down, boy. Do you see the village spread out below?” Sheep nodded.
The village spread out from the bottom of the hill almost to the next tree line. Sheep could see chimney smoke rising in the middle of the day, and he thought he could hear voices, even though they were still a several hundred yards away. There was a bustle to the village, and it seemed busy just to look at it, never mind actually entering. Sheep thought about the valley, and the time he had to simply sit, smoke his pipe and think. He didn’t think that the villagers had that kind of leisure. Sheep noticed that Grandfather had not removed his crook from Sheep’s shin.
“What do you not do in the village, Sheep?” Grandfather Ioan asked him, gesturing with his chin down the hill.
“I don’t offer to trade.”
Grandfather Ioan nodded. “What else?”
“I don’t talk to anyone you haven’t introduced me to.”
“And what else?”
“I am to keep you in my sights at all times.”
Grandfather Ioan tapped out his pipe, putting it in the inside pocket of his vest.
“Well, let’s go. Time’s a wasting.” With that the two men started their descent of the hill.
The view from the hill was nothing compared to the actual village, as Sheep soon realized. The noise, the smell, the crowding of the streets were a stark contrast to pale blue skies and endless stretches of green grazing grass, like how he imagined the sea might look after a storm. There were people jostling him, carts getting in the way, children and animals darting to and fro, forcing Sheep to be careful about where he stepped. Grandfather Ioan greeted people as they walked, introducing them to Sheep. Sheep would always nod at them and say hello, then ask how they knew his grandfather. Every single person would stop, and stare at Sheep as if he were an exercise in impossibility, and then say, “Ioan, are you sure he’s one of your grandsons?” Which would always cause Sheep to pause. He knew that his brothers weren’t the most liked men, but he had hoped that their behavior wouldn’t reflect on the rest of the family. It turns out he was wrong.
Ioan took Sheep to the Cheese monger first, hoping to free up some hands and the buckets. Ioan was rather proud of his cheese-it was the first batch he’d made that he thought might be good enough to sell, and the monger agreed. The monger traded Ioan butter and cheddar for the cheese, and both men walked away happy. Ioan took him to the weavers and had him unload the wool from that year’s shearing. After standing and listening to his grandfather and the weaver go back and forth on pricing for fifteen minutes, Sheep took his grandfathers’ arm and quietly asked if there was somewhere he could eat his lunch and have a pull of larger. Ioan gestured to the weaver that he’d be back momentarily, before taking Sheep to the nearest pub and telling the keeper to keep an eye out for his grandson. Ioan had just left to return to haggling, and Sheep had just started making a pipe when a ruckus broke out near his table. Sheep set his pipe on the table, and shifted in his seat to see what the commotion was. A young woman had her wrist pinned to the table by a large, beefy man. It looked to Sheep as if she was asking for the man to let her go, but he wasn’t. He glanced around the pub, wondering if anyone was going to do anything, and rather to his shock…no one was. Sheep looked around again. That didn’t seem right. The girl was being held against her will, it looked like she was being hurt…Sheep stood up. If no one else was going to do anything, than he would. He set his bag on the table, and walked over to the beefy man and the girl, rolling up his sleeves. He stood right next to the table, looked at the young woman with watery eyes, and bowed slightly.
“Begging pardon, miss, but are you all right?” Before the woman could say anything the beefy man growled.
“It’s none of your business who’s alright. So just go back to your table, country boy, and leave it alone.”
Sheep turned to look at the beefy man. He had large arms, but he didn’t’ think they were strong-just big. He had watery eyes, and a cruel mouth. Sheep decided that he didn’t like this man. He seemed very different from the people Sheep had met earlier. He didn’t think that the people his grandfather knew would ever be cruel to a young woman. As Sheep stared into the Beefy man’s eyes, he came to a decision. He would disobey his grandfather. He would talk to someone he didn’t know. And he would make a spectacle of himself. Sheep turned fully towards the man and squared his shoulders.
“I reckon the girl would like to be let alone.”
The beefy man laughed. Sheep didn’t.
“You serious, little country boy? Are you telling me what to do?” Sheep nodded. The beefy man laughed again, finally releasing the girl and standing up. The girl shot back from the table, rubbing her arm where rubbing burns were beginning to develop. She looked between the two men, backing away slowly, before she turned, gathered her skirts and ran. Sheep hoped that she was running to someone who could make her feel better. She looked like a nice woman, and Sheep wanted her to be happy. He turned his back to the beefy man who was standing and glaring. He was about as tall as Sheep, but a good four inches wider, with a neck like gnarled tree trunk. The beefy man tilted his head to the left and to the right, cracking it each time. He looked, Sheep thought, like the rooster back at the stead, walking around the yard, but running at his own shadow…or the shadow of any animal, if Sheep were honest with himself. The rooster was really quite a coward, and this man, standing in front of him, didn’t seem to be much better. He was waving his arms like wings, and kicking his legs out as if to get the kinks out of them, all the while boasting and asking Sheep if he was sure he wanted to do this when it was likely to end so badly. Sheep just continued to stare. When the beefy man finally took a swing, Sheep was able to deflect it with his left hand, and punch him in the stomach with his right. It was such a quick motion, and such a hard punch, that the man immediately doubled over. Sheep grabbed his under arms and guided him to the ground as gently as he could, trying to keep him from crashing. He let the man rest, and knelt down next to him.
“I’m sorry I had to hit you.” He said, consolingly. The beefy man glared and wheezed from his spot on the floor under the table, “but I can’t watch someone to be cruel to another someone and stand idley by.” Sheep sat on the ground next to the man. “You were hurting that girl. No one else was going to tell you to stop. Therefore, I had to step in. And I think that this will be helpful for you, as a person. Are you going to be mean to young women in the future?” The man shook his head, finally catching his breath. Sheep smiled. “I didn’t think so. See? You’re already a better person, and you’ve already recovered from that punch.” Sheep crawled out from his space under the table, and levered himself to his feet. “I think, all in all, it was an educational experience for everyone involved. You learned to not be mean, I learned that not everyone is kind, and the young woman learned that there are people who will fight for what is right.” Sheep held out his hand to the beefy man. The man stared at it, stared at Sheep, then took it gingerly. Sheep pulled him to his feet, and deposited him back in his chair. He gestured to the table, where the food and beer still sat.
“See? It didn’t even ruin your dinner.” Sheep smiled at him, clapped him on the shoulder, then returned to his own table, where he found a bowl of stew, a stein of ale, and the girl that the beefy man had grabbed. She was sitting in the chair facing his. Sheep smiled uncertainly, relieved when she smiled back.
“Um. Hello,” He said as he sat down. Sheep had never talked with a girl before, at least not a human girl, but he figured that dogs, ewes, cows and she goats didn’t really cound. He’d never really talked with people before, to be honest, at least not outside of his family, and whenever he spoke with his brothers it was usually in questioning whether they’d been worrying the flock or not. He’d never just…talked to someone. And now he was talking to a girl. A very pretty girl. A very pretty girl who was smiling at him shyly, as if expecting him to speak some more. “Um….would you like some stew and ale as well? I can pay for it.” Sheep mentally castrated himself for his stupid choice of words. She was just too pretty. Whatever clever words he had had gone into the ether at the sight of her smile.
“I’m actually the one who bought you the soup and the ale, as my way of saying thank you. Youd didn’t have to do what you did, but you did. You did, and you made me feel safe for the first time in a long time.” She looked down at the table, biting her lip. Sheep tried to distract himself from her wide brown eyes flecked with gold and her chestnut brown hair by counting the number of knots in the wood. He had finished the table and had started on the floor boards when she started talking again.
“His name is Hamish. He comes into the pub about once a week, and every week he insists that I serve him. I don’t know why. But he’s a good customer, and big lad, so he’s allowed his whims, and I’m always given the day off ater her leaves. No one every stood up to him.” Sheep stopped counting the knots, and watched her tell her story. “I’m not sure anyone knew how to stand up to him.” She sighed a little sigh and laughed a little laugh “I just wanted to say thank you, again. It’s nice to know that tomorrow I won’t have to wear a bandage on my wrist.” She got up to leave, and suddenly for Sheep it was imperative that she stay. That she stay right where she sat, and that she tell him everything about herself, her life, her home, everything. Sheep wanted to know it all, and he wanted her to be the one to tell him.
“If you’re not too busy right now,” he started, and Sheep cursed himself for his own ineptitude in matters of speech and eloquence, “perhaps you could stay and share a meal with me. My grandfather is haggling about wool.” The girl smiled, and it was if Sheep could see her settling into herself.
“I would very much like to stay and share your meal.” She held her hand out across the table, which Sheep grasped and shook gratefully. “My name is Jane. I’m a barmaid by trade, but a cook by passion. I made your stew from my own recipe.” Sheep held onto her hand, but gently, very gently, new lamb gently.
“My name is Sheep. I’m a shepherd, my grandfather is a shepherd, and my grandfather before him was a shepherd. This is my first time to the village, and I find your stew quite lovely, Miss Jane.” Jane blushed at his praise, but soon got to talking. And talking was how Ioan found Sheep and Jane, at that same table,some four hours later. |
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