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Post by SouthWestern Traders on Sept 13, 2017 5:16:58 GMT
Their lands separated by irregular, large stones marking the border between their respective properties, one might imagine the two families were close, at the very least physically so. However, that was not the case. For as long as anyone could remember, the two families had feuded, stopping just short of outright murder, which was likely the only reason both were still around. Bloodshed was not unheard of, but death could very well mean the wholesale slaughter of both families, as each would seek to avenge the other until there was nothing left.
The border also happened to be considered semi-officially to be the point at which Alined became Nemeth and vice versa. At least on this coastal region, there was some certainty as to which side was which. Except, of course, that there actually wasn't any certainty whatsoever. The Overton’s on the Alined side insisted that every night some of the men from the Watts’ from the Nemeth side were out moving the rocks, and vice versa. None dared, or coul be bothered truth be told, to get involved in that argument. In any events, the rocks were heavy, and the ground so worn from rain, footsteps and moving rocks that it was hard to tell if and when a stone was moved.
Thanks to the reasonably large size of these two otherwise inconsequential families, they held decent sized lands, and so their homes were reasonably far from this stone border, and if they both happened to be patrolling their borders late at night, there would inevitably be hollering and fisticuffs. The next day, each would claim victory over the other, having succeeded in preventing the stones from being moved. In this way, they were both right and wrong. Mostly, they were wrong.
Such an age old feud was bound to last until one or both families were ground into the dust. One fateful week, a traveling gypsy passed through both families lands and the aldermen of each family hosted them, believing hospitality to strangers to bring good fortune to their families. In each home, the gypsy was warned of how treacherous, evil and vile the other family was. And in each home, the traveling gypsy left the next morning with a dire prophecy. There would come a time when both families faced a great threat and would either stand together or fall apart.
Naturally, the aldermen vehemently denied the veracity of this prophecy. After all, they could never stand with the others, and if they ever did they would surely fall prey to the treachery of the other. Therefore, logically speaking, they would only fall apart if they ever stood with the other family, never mind the threat they might face. After all, these families had stood the test of time and would surely outlast the other.
Naturally, they were wrong.
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Post by SouthWestern Traders on Sept 14, 2017 17:50:15 GMT
But however wrong they might be, life went on, and so did their feud. The threat they faced was not around the corner, and one might forgive them for setting aside a prophecy that seemed to be hogwash. The usual daily hazards of life seemed no different than they had before the gypsy had graced them with his presence. The joys of life seemed no less than they had been before.
One lass, Emilia Beatrice Watts, was somewhat of a tomboy. Although inappropriate, her strength of character had people tolerate her behavior, for they regarded her as a boon to the family all the same. In the early mornings, she was down by the beach helping to get the boats ready for fishing. Her hands were rough from handling ropes and handing out punches to the lads, who taunted her endlessly in an attempt to get her to put a punch in - it was seen as a bit of a victory.
“Oy Beatrice! I need a good push over here!” John Watts taunted.
“My name's Emilia you donkey-faced buffoon,” she replied to her cousin, as she strode confidently towards the boat, a bundle of fishing nets in her arms,
“The only donkey-face around here seems to be you. I betcha even an Overton boy wouldn't touch that!” John taunted her back,
That was enough to warrant her dropping the fishing net in the boat and lunge at him. Although he was quick, John hadn't quite thought everything through, and in taking a step back he managed to trip over the boat and fall backwards into wet sand. A wave washed up soon after, covering him with salt water.
“Serves you right!” Emilia said, “It's Emilia, not Beatrice.”
John spluttered as his brother, Jim, helped him up. “Yeah, yeah. Still no boys, not even an Overton, that would ever go for that.”
“Oh please,” Emilia said, “I know you've wanted to catch a peek of me ever since you got to go out fishing. You couldn't get a girl from three towns over to fall for you, so you gotta make a try at your cousin, eh?”
“Tell you what,” John dared her, “If you get an Overton to fall for you, I'll carry your packs for a month. But if you don't have one by the start of winter, then you're going to keep me warm this winter, yeah?”
“You pig,” Emilia was quite blunt about what she thought of the young lad's ideas, “Good thing it won't be a problem for me. Yeah I'll get one of them to fall for me. And you'll be sad you made this bet. And he'll be sad he fell for me,” she spat on the ground, “damn rock biting Overtons.”
They got the rest of the boats ready and off the boys went trolling for fish while Emilia took a walk towards the stone border, where she would troll for Overtons.
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Post by SouthWestern Traders on Sept 14, 2017 20:03:59 GMT
Alfred Overton was a scrawny boy. He never got to go out on the water, because he always got seasick. He never got to go out patrolling the stones, because he always got beat up. He never got to eat a full meal, because his brothers would pick from his plate. In short, Alfred lived a hard life. He'd found that caring for some of the family's sheep kept him clear of everyone else, unless they decided to throw rocks at him. He also found both families had a tendency to throw rocks if they got the chance. He didn't know why. It didn't make sense to him. He was sad about it, even moreso because he couldn't do anything about it. He'd learned to live with it, becoming a meek, shy boy. He hid with the sheep, learning to take them places the other boys wouldn't go.
The swampy lands by the creek were great. They only went there in the late winter and early spring to dig up peat to dry over summer. After that, it was wet, boggy lands that no one except Alfred and his sheep bothered walking. A little further east, the bog ended and the stone border began. It was poorly patrolled. The stones had already been moved as far west as they could without sinking into the dirt overtime and without getting unreasonably muddy. And none of the Overtons could be bothered to move the stones further east because it meant having to trudge through the bog. Some still tried, to be sure, but there were other sections that were far more contested than these poor lands. So few patrols, and few visits from his family have Alfred the peace and quiet he yearned for, and the sheep got to graze.
He was sitting on one of the stones, overlooking the sheep, when he heard a girl’s voice behind him. Startled, he shot up and turned around, “who's there?” His voice trembling, along with the shepherd's staff in his hands, “I… I have a stick. I'm… I'm not afraid to use it!”, He said, afraid that he'd have to use the stick, or worse, afraid someone would take it from him and he'd have to find a new one.
“Perfect” Emilia thought, “a pitiful, weak, outcast. Easy pickings!”, she looked at Alfred with doe eyes, putting on a very uncharacteristic face for anyone who knew her. Normally, she'd be begging for a fight, and many of the Overton’s had brawled with her. Alfred was a weakling though, and so had no idea who she was. Emilia had found herself a prize for her bet, and she didn't want to scare him off with a fight.
“Hey lad,” Emilia started, “You look quite good with that stick.” Followed by an awkward silence.
“Wh.. what do you.. you want?” Alfred stuttered. She noticed his fear. It was so thick, she could cut it with a spoon.
“To get away from my mean brothers,” she lied, as she stepped closer, “they keep trying to pull my hair. I don't want to lose my hair.”
“That can happen?” Alfred quizzed stupidly, “losing your hair, I mean?”, He was still cautious. She was a Watts, after all.
“Oh yeah!” Emilia said, having walked close enough to sit down on the stone, “terrible thing too.” She sat down. “Come on lad, I won't bite if you won't… unless you want me to?” She laughed. It put him off his guard and he lowered his staff.
“You won't? You promise?” And Emilia nodded. He inched closer and sat on the rock next to her. “I hate my brothers.” He confided. “Me too, but they're my brothers.” She responded.
There was another long silence. The sheep bleated and did their thing.
“So… why are you sitting with me?” Alfred asked, “Why not?” She responded, “you're not pulling my hair. I figure you're alright to sit by.”, He looked at her, “but I'm an Overton. You're a Watts. They'll be angry at us.”
“Not if they don't know,” she winked, “do you come here often?” He nodded. “I've gotta run back,” she lied again, no one was expecting her, “but I'll be here tomorrow if you will. We can talk about your brothers?” He smiled. She smiled back. “See you around lad.”
In that moment, as she hopped off and ran back to her home, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. That evening, he skipped home with a smile on his face and butterflies in his stomach. He hoped she'd be there again tomorrow. To think, a girl that actually wanted to talk to him!
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Post by SouthWestern Traders on Sept 14, 2017 23:58:21 GMT
Summer nights were long, and Emilia was slow to get home. She missed dinner, and was scolded by her mother, “What's the meaning of you wandering off all day with nary a word young miss?” She knew it was wrong of her to have disappeared as she did, but she hadn't meant to be gone for as long as she did. Time just slipped her by and suddenly, it was dark.
“I'm home for bed, mom,” she defended herself, not quite as confident before her mother as she was before her cousins and brothers. She couldn't act tough and get away with it, because her mother quit frankly didn't care if she did. “But you're not home for dinner,” her mother retorted, “so you're going to bed without.”
Emilia grumbled, but it was not an argument worth having. In years past, she would have pleaded, but her mother, for all her good sides, was cold-hearted when it came to punishment. There would be no dinner, no matter how much she, or her stomach, grumbled.
“Fine,” Emilia pouted. Their home was but one of many huts that altogether made up the farm, so to speak. Reasonably large, but with only a single room, split mainly by fixtures, privacy was non-existent. The floor was dirt, the beds hay, and the firepit, when it roared, made the hut a smoky mess. Her mother, being the keeper of the house, certainly suffered from it with both her lungs and eyes being affected. But such was the price of keeping a home and at least during the summer, she could spend more time outside and less time engulfed in smoke.
Within this hut, her closest family kept their most prized possessions. While they had no horse, they had a saddle, and a full suit of studded leather. Some might call it armour. There was a worthless, easily replaced wooden shield and, next to it, a priceless sword (half a year's pay, if spent on nothing else - certainly priceless to her father). Although it was rare, her father had fought in wars prior. Perhaps one day one of her brothers would get called upon to do the same, but they held their heads low in those times, so perhaps not. Her father used to tell them that no amount of glory or renown was worth the hardships of war, and that those same men marching needed food anyhow, so better to stay working on the farm and fishing.
As she went to sleep, she looked at that beautiful, if simple, sword. It was strange to think it had once killed a man, if not more. Her father hardly spoke of it, but she knew he treasured it.
She thought about her day. Her cousin the creep. Granted, her mother and father were distant cousins, but it wasn't the same. First of all, he had gotten married during the war he fought in and had brought back a woman from afar. She died in childbirth, giving birth to his oldest son - Emilia's older brother. Since he wasn't going to travel, and since her mother was getting too old with no suitors, and because they were *distant* cousins, it had been decided it was for the best. Thus, Emilia and her two younger brothers had been born from that.
But John was her uncle's son, not very distant at all. She shivered at the thought of him and was glad that Alfred seemed like such easy prey. Now that she thought about it, both John and her uncle were creepy. It would serve him right to force him to help her out for a month. Maybe he'd learn a lesson or two and stop being so weird.
“Quit muttering Emilia, we're trying to sleep,” her oldest brother said. Apparently she'd been whispering her thoughts. “Sorry,” she said meekly and with insincerity. She turned to face the wall and kept thinking about how she could rope in Alfred and what it would take the other boys to convince them she'd won the bet, all the while getting more drowsy.
She woke to the sound of the rooster. Not that it ever stopped crowing day or night, the blasted bird, but it woke her all the same.
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Post by SouthWestern Traders on Sept 15, 2017 2:08:38 GMT
When her chores for the morning were done - and she didn't have many that day, because she was a clever rascal - Emilia packed up a bag of sour pears and cherries, then left for the stone border. Sure-footed, she stepped through the woods her family used for lumber and firewood. Over fallen stumps and past delicious and dangerous mushrooms alike, she very nearly traipsed through nature. Her determination and clear goal filled her strides with purpose, and she would win that boy’s heart before the end of summer. Maybe she'd win it even before the end of the night. She giggled gleefully at the prospect.
By the creek in the bog at the stone border, Alfred was waiting with his herd of sheep. He constantly threw glances over the stones, whether he heard a noise or not. At any moment, he expected Emilia to appear. His heart skipped a beat when a sheep stepped on a stick and he heard it breaking, and every time his mood softly dropped when he realized it wasn't her. The birds were singing, the sheep were munching, and the sun was shining, but none of it mattered if she wasn't there, Alfred figured. He was smitten, having finally found someone who seemed to care.
Alfred had almost given up hope. He was Alfred, after all, and no girl wanted that, not even the warty and sultry Watts’ girls. He sulked, and Emilia snuck up on him and jumped on his back. “Got you!” She cried out playfully, laughing as she did so. He was shocked and surprised, but his shock faded quickly as he got up and spun around. Being a tomboy, she held on tight. “Hey! Let me down Alfred. I brought us something.”
“Oh, sorry Emilia.” He bent backwards and let her feet touch the ground, “I didn't see you coming. What'd you bring?”, She winked at the bag, and gleamed “Fruit!”
They each took a pair and munched on them noisily. “This is good,” Alfred said, his face stuffed with food. “Thank you.” His voice was muffled by the pear.
It was a lovely day and the sheep took care of themselves pretty well. Emilia secretly wondered what the point of Alfred as a shepherd was if they didn't need any shepherding. As usual, no one showed up to bother them, and so they talked and played. Emilia tried to show Alfred how to use the stick to fight off a transgressor, and Alfred taught Emilia how to walk across the bog without sinking in one of the many pitfalls that lay hidden.
“This is fun,” Alfred admitted, and Emilia's heart sank a little. “Yeah, it is.” She responded. She didn't feel bad because she was lying. She felt bad because she was telling the truth. Alfred was a weak, pitiful boy, but even just a day with him, and she sensed the man within. Perhaps it would take a lifetime to coax him out, but the man was there and one day, the boy would become a man, and a better man than her cousin would ever be.
But he was still an Overton. Sitting on the stones, she continued her quest, asking “What do you think of these? These here don't seem to move as much.”
“Yeah,” Alfred concurred, “the wind sure moves the rest of them a lot. Out here in the open, though, seems like there ain't much wind to move them.” The joke wasn't lost on Emilia, who laughed heartily. “Yeah, them old oaks sure do blow a strong and shifty wind.” Emilia shook her head, “Good thing too, or there might be a fight over these stones.” Alfred sat pensively, running his hand over the stone, “Do you ever think maybe these stones do more harm than good?” He asked, and Emilia shrugged, “Father always tells me that good fences make good neighbors. Maybe a real fence would serve us better than these things.”, Alfred frowned, “That'd be one very long fence.” he remarked boringly.
They sat and spoke about this and that, and she inched ever closer, knowing she had to take the initiative with this shy boy. He wasn't even noticing, as he seemed to wrapped up in discussing his grandmother's stew and how good it was, and how he'd bring it next time - tomorrow, right? - and how she'd love it too. She rolled her eyes at how oblivious he seemed to be, but it was kinda cute, she admitted. He wasn't trying to outdo her, or to put her down, or win some stupid bet. It was refreshing relief to her that she could speak and listen to someone who would return the same favour. But stop it, she thought, I have a goal to meet boy!
She looked at him with those same doe eyes from when they first met. This would be it, she thought, she'd win him over and prove to her cousins she was more than they thought of her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there was a nagging voice trying, and failing, to point out that she was proving exactly how despicable she could be. That she wasn't doing herself any favours. But she drowned it out, thinking instead about how she would go about providing proof. Before he had worked up the courage to do anything, however, there was a sudden loud and deep noise.
They heard the sound of a horn blowing from the north and immediately perked up, “Let's go check it out!” Emilia suggested, “Let's not.” Alfred countered, “What's the matter? Chicken Overton boy?” Emilia taunted, “Am not!” And so, off they went to investigate, a tiny bit of the man having come out of his shell, and a tiny bit of her shell having chipped away.
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Post by SouthWestern Traders on Sept 15, 2017 18:32:12 GMT
The creek ran into the bog from a gully up north. On either side, old oaks stood guard over the gully with their thick, unyielding trunks. Some oaks had given their lives over the years to become homes or ships, but many still stood. As with the rest of the stone border, there were markers placed irregularly on either side of the gully. Heavy enough stones that they were not simple to move. Light enough that a strong man might be able to pick one up and move a few feet, or perhaps even push it.
Emilia and Alfred were still fairly young, at the age where they might as well be invisible to adults with better thing to do, and so they stayed hidden in their little hiding spot in the brush. Emilia shushed him and he gave her a look, since he wasn't making any noise, but then he saw why. Up ahead, on each side of the gully, a throng of young men had gathered on both sides with clubs, sticks and spears. The hornblower could be seen to, holding a banner and a horn in the Overton side and pretending a little too much that this was some sort of actual battle rather than just a skirmish between two peasant families. There was a bannerman on the Watts side too, Emilia's father, and he had brought his sword. The situation was tense, and they were all riled up and nervous.
Stepping forward, Emilia's father took the word, “What do you think you're doing, moving our stones?”
“Your stones!?” The old, grizzled and white-bearded Overton bannerman stepped forward, “We’re moving the stones back from where this interloper moved them to!” He nodded to one of his men who tossed a scrawny kid into the gully - Emilia's creepy cousin. Two Watts’ men rushed forward and picked him as he spluttered again. Water did not agree with that kid.
“Oy!” Emilia's father yelled, “That's my nephew you kidnapped! You'll pay for this.”
“Kidnapped? Teach your rats not to trespass and they won't get bruised when they get caught doing something they ain't supposed to old man.”
His face growing red-hot, Emilia's father drew his sword, “I'll show you trespass! Charge!!!”
The peasants clashed in the gully, evenly matched and equally terrible at combat. An unseasoned warrior might be forgiven for thinking them to be efficient and organized, but to any seasoned veteran, including the bannermen in question, this was a mere rabble. A simple riot where men would get bloodied knuckles, bruised faces and broken sticks. It was dangerous and terrifying all the same, especially as the two bannermen went at each other, the sword carving through wood like butter.
Ordinarily, the Overton's would have won the fight, but pressed hard by Emilia's father’s sword, they were forced to retreat. With injuries all around, it was no great victory, but the Watts’ men cheered all the same.
It was a stark reminder to both Emilia and Alfred that there was a very real feud between their families, one where everyone was more than willing to shed blood and likely mere steps away from killing. They looked at each other not quite sure what to do. Alfred whispered to her, “We better get back. They'll be looking to make sure everyone is accounted for.” Emilia remembered her mother's ire from last night. She'd normally discount Alfred's concern, but she didn't feel like risking it. So she agreed with a nod. “I'll see you tomorrow?” He asked hopefully, but to that she shook her head, “better give it a week Overton boy, everyone is going to be on edge for a while.”
It hurt him a little that she so readily pointed out their differences, moreso than the fact that they wouldn't see each other for a few days, but he had no counterargument. It would be too risky, both because their own families might punish them, but also because patrols would surely be stepped up - even along their secret spot in the bog. He wouldn't be able to herd his sheep there for a while and she wouldn't be able to sneak off as she usually did.
It sucked, he thought, because he really enjoyed her company. It sucked, she thought, because how was she going to prove she'd won the bet?
Just before they parted ways, he surprised her with a peck on the cheek. She looked at him with shock on her face as he scurried back. She hadn't seen it coming.
She kinda liked it.
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Post by SouthWestern Traders on Sept 15, 2017 20:04:50 GMT
Back at home, Alfred surreptitiously hid in the back, making himself scarce. He was present at the meeting all the same. There was a lot of anger simmering around the bonfire, and man after man spoke about how it was time to bring the fight to the Watts. Maybe take some of their cattle or worse. Many of the woman applauded the bravery and encouraged retaliation for the perceived affront. It was time to show those Watts what's what.
Alfred sighed in the back. At this rate, it'd be weeks or months before he’d get to see Emilia again. No one noticed him though, as usual, for as weak and pitiful as he was, no one expected him to help in any capacity against the Watts.
Over at the Watts, the situation was much the same. Such audacity from the Overton's! They definitely needed to learn a lesson about what happened to people who kidnapped any of the Watts kids. The stories grew more and more extreme about what they had done to Emilia's cousin and while she shared their animosity, she also wondered how they could all be so serious about something that was obviously turning into an extraordinarily tall tale. Sure, the Overton's had overstepped a boundary, but her cousin was an idiot and his story got more and more ridiculous. So ridiculous even Emilia couldn't take it seriously. Yet, here were grown men advocating violence and retaliation for what was a mythical story from a stupid boy. Even Alfred wasn't this dumb, she thought. Actually he was kinda smart. Weak, sure, but intelligent, unlike these grown-up boys. It frustrated her, because it meant she was wrong, and she knew she wasn't wrong.
Over the next few days, both families stepped up their patrols. People lost teeth. Bruises were had. At least one cow went missing (and later turned up far north of both their lands - apparently someone had tried to take advantage of the calamity and launch their own unsuccessful cattle raid). But ultimately, neither side could truly muster the strength to do much more than pose.
Alfred spent his days trying to sneak off to the bog or the gully, hoping that maybe Emilia would do the same. Every day he was hopeful and every day his hopes were dashed. She did not show. He didn't know why. He was determined, but it was tough to keep the hope alive. Had she forgotten? Had she decided the feud was more important than their friendship? He didn't know, and it worried him.
Emilia was stuck at home helping her mother. With patrols stepped up, her mom knew better than to let her out of her sight. She figured if she did, Emilia would be off getting into fights she really shouldn't be. So she kept her close and Emilia wasn't able to sneak off to the stone border to win that bet of hers. Her cousin taunted her about it. She brushed him off - she knew she had already won the bet, and just needed to prove it, but it was going to be difficult with her mother watching her like a hawk.
One morning, though, she managed to wake before her mother did. This was the day, Emilia decided, she would run off and find him. Inevitably, her cousins and brothers would go looking for her and thus, she would win her bet. But first, she had to find Alfred!
Alfred was exactly where she expected him to be. The bog was his favorite spot and he was good at hiding from the more regular patrols. It wasn't like anyone really patrolled the big, even now, so it was easy for him to hide. This time, he saw her first, and bravely went out to meet her. She smiled at him and he rushed to her and gave her a hug. Again, her heart sank a little. This boy really cared. Did she?
“I didn't know if you'd ever show again.” Alfred said, and Emilia told him, “I wasn't sure I was going to be able to. But I made it. Here I am!”
He shared some bread with her, and they sat and spoke. They talked about the situation. They talked about the stories each of their families had regaled about the events. They realized the ridiculousness of it all. She shook her head at it all, and her heart sank again. She looked at him with doe eyes again, meaning to apologize, but he misinterpreted what she was about to do.
Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her. Her heart melted, as only a young heart could.
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Post by SouthWestern Traders on Sept 16, 2017 7:11:07 GMT
Their bliss was brief. A sudden noise startled them both, “Hah,” Jim laughed, “Looks like you lost your bet John.” Emilia could feel the adrenaline rushing through her body. She felt weak. She didn't know what to do. Should she tell him the truth? Should she lie? What was she supposed to do? Her heart was beating faster than her head could keep up with.
“Dammit,” John said, I was looking forward to winning that bet.” Emilia was too startled to react. “Guess you better get used to carrying stuff around John,” Jim said, “can't have you go back on your word. I'll make sure of that.” For once, Alfred took the lead, as he stood up to face them off, “Go away! This love ain't none of your business! Stay out of it!” He yelled at them. She stood next to him. Tried to support him. He brandished his staff at them, the way Emilia had taught him. She stayed quiet, thinking. Worried.
“Oh boy, love? This ain't love kid, it's just a bet. Now run along home, yeah?” Jim said. John was too busy sulking over losing his bet. “What bet?” Alfred asked, “this isn't some stupid bet.” He said, his confidence wavering. He brandished his stick again, then cast a look at Emilia. Jim shook his head, “Tell the poor boy,” Jim said, “he deserves to know, don't you think?”, Emilia snapped out of her stupor, “Go away you clam sniffing furballs! You're ruining everything!” she was angry and fuming, desperately trying to protect what little was left unraveling before her.
His confidence broken, Alfred was perplexed, “Was it all just a bet Emilia?”, his words cut deep into her soul, “No!” She lied, “No!... Yes…” Emilia couldn't bear it, she couldn't feel right about lying to Alfred, she didn't want to lie to him, “...but it wasn't all about this stupid bet. It wasn't about the bet!”, Alfred seemed defeated, “But there was a bet?”, Emilia became distraught, “It wasn't about the bet! I promise, Alfred, it wasn't the bet..” Emilia pleaded. For once, her mask was broken. Her emotions were truly unveiled.
Emilia was crying, “Alfred, please…”, while Alfred backed away, “I should have known, you Watts are all the same. I should have known.” then he broke into a run, away from the stone border. Away from Emilia. “Alfred!” She shouted, tears streaming down her face, “Please!”
“Alfred!” She cried out, “Come back! Please!” her voice and heart were breaking.
John and Jim were laughing. John had lost his bet sure, but he supposed this was worth it. She pushed John down into the dirt, “Get out of my way idiot!”, but it couldn't quite wipe the grin off his face. Still, Emilia didn't care. Everything she cared about had just run off in the other direction, because of those two idiots.
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Post by SouthWestern Traders on Sept 19, 2017 7:49:27 GMT
He ran at first, but stopped when they were out of earshot. He slowed down to a trudge, his steps short and uneven. He wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. It’s not like anyone would care. All of his family hated the Watts, and she was one of them, so they’d make as fun of him as the Watts’ boys did. It’s not like he had a good friend he could talk to this about, because the closest farm that wasn’t an Overton or a Watts farm was well over a day away. He was all alone, as alone as he had been before he had met Emilia.
Emilia was also alone. Although angrily shoving her cousin into the dirt had felt good, it wasn’t good enough. It didn’t bring back Alfred. She wasn’t sure what to do about that. Why was he so stupid to listen to her cousins anyway? Any other Overton would have discounted them as being Watts and not paid them any heed, save except for some bruising. But Alfred hadn’t been like that towards her. Of course he wouldn’t be like that towards them. Still, what could she do? How could she prove to him that it wasn’t all just a bet anymore? A stupid bet. What could she possibly have gained from it anyway? If she lost, it would have been terrible. If she won, she would have gotten close to Overton just for her cousins’ amusement. If not for Alfred, that would have definitely counted as a loss as well. As it were, it had been a loss anyhow, but not for the reasons she would ever have guessed.
Walking back, she thought about what she could do. She was young. Inexperienced. Had no idea how any of this worked. She didn’t realize that Alfred was in the same boat. She thought of stupid ideas, realizing that most of them involved their families not feuding with each other. As if she was going to be the one to change that. It definitely wasn’t going to be Alfred. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, the solution wasn’t to end the feud, but to use it. She didn’t need to prove herself to anyone but Alfred. And she didn’t need any of her family to care either.
But if she did this, she thought, and if he followed her… they would both be outcasts. If they actually ran away together, if she convinced the bloody fool to do it in the first place, then there would be no turning back. Neither of their families would ever agree with it, and she knew it. A bet was just a stupid bet and it was easy to hang out at the border of their lands, but to actually run off together was something she figured even Alfred would realize was too risky for a childish bet.
Still, she needed someway to really drive the point home.
By then, her thoughts and feet had carried her home, and she stood outside the hut. It was empty. Her mother was off somewhere doing chores. Her father was working the fields. Her cousins probably laughing their butts off somewhere, like the idiots they were. With no one around, the gleam of her father’s sword in the hut presented a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Emilia. She was cunning enough to pull it off, and both young and rash enough to dare do it. She quickly wrapped together a bag of food, put on whatever extra clothes she could find, and then took the sword, hiding it carefully in her new bundle of clothing.
Sneaking to the border of her own lands would be easy. She had done it many times before. Sneaking across Overton lands? Not only difficult, but risky too. A Watts girl, carrying a sword, probably at night… they’d have her head if she got caught. So she had to make sure she didn’t get caught. Firstly, she figured they’d travel by boat if they were going to run away together. So their old meeting ground would be perfect. She stashed the food there, where it would only be a short walk down to the shore, not too far away from where her brothers and cousins usually stashed their boats for the night when they went out fishing - and they weren’t due for a fishing trip for a while. She stashed her excess clothes there too, for good measure. Didn’t want too much weight when she was trying to be quick and stealthy.
Her heart was racing, but she was determined. Most of the land was just that. Land. Bogs, trees, grass, and whatnot. The sheep didn’t care. Whatever dogs the Overton’s had turned out to be terrible guard dogs. Emilia’s problem, then, wasn’t the land. Rather, as she came upon the first set of huts, she realized she didn’t actually know where Alfred lived, exactly.
Alfred had spent most of the day sulking. Avoiding his family wasn’t an option. They’d ask questions. They wouldn’t ask questions if he was sulking, because he was always sulking, but if he wasn’t off with the sheep, they’d definitely ask questions. At night, however, the sky was clear and it was time to sulk alone again. He didn’t want to be in bed and summer nights were warm and light anyhow. He had managed to sneak outside. His disappointment over Emilia making a bet had turned to anger. At himself, of course, because how could he have been so stupid? He had done it. She wasn’t coming back, he thought, and if he did, he deserved everything she had to throw at him. Confidence, as it were, was not his strong suit.
Serendipity, on the other hand, had brought them together once and would do so again. For in staying outside to watch the stars, Emilia not only managed to see him sitting there. She found him sitting alone. She snuck up, her emotions drained and his likewise.
“Hey there,” she spoke softly. He turned around, surprised, much like the first time they’d met. “Emilia.” he said dumbly. She smiled a sad smile, “I’m sorry, Alfred. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry about the bet. It was a stupid bet. It didn’t mean anything.” He looked at her in disbelief, “Yes it did.”, and she lowered her head, “You’re right. It did. It doesn’t mean anything to me now though.” She stopped and looked at him, the words choking in her mouth, “Alfred. I don’t care about the bet. I don’t care about my cousins. Or my family.” She almost stopped herself, “I care about you.”, although he was hurt, he managed a smile, “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, so I brought this for you. To show you that I really mean it.”
She handed him her father’s sword. He was flabbergasted and in a hushed and concerned tone he warned her, “Emilia! If they find out, it doesn’t matter who catches you. My family will think you’re here to kill them and even your father would kill you for taking that!”
“I know,” she said, “That’s why I’m not going back. I’m not staying either. Come with me Alfred. I’ve got food, clothes, a boat and this sword. You’ve got your wits. It’s not like you’ll ever amount to anything here. You told me yourself. Your whole family makes fun of you. How long until one of my cousins knocks your teeth out or worse? They’ve done it to bigger, stronger men. You’re not that. You’re smarter than that Alfred. Come with me, please.”
“I don’t know,” Alfred said, “It wouldn’t feel right..”, he hesitated. She was far more confident, “I’m leaving, Alfred, with or without you, but I’d much rather not leave without you. I’ve never felt more at home than I’ve felt when I was with you. We don’t belong here, stewing in old hatred until it consumes us. We belong out there, in the world. There is so much to see, and I want to see it. I want to see it with you Alfred.” She pleaded with him.
In truth, Alfred had always thought about it. Ever since he was a little scrawny boy, both his own family and the Watts had made fun of him. Looking at her, he realized that there was no one in these parts besides her that would risk everything for him. He could stay, sure, and grow old if he managed to live that long. Lose a few teeth along the way. Care for some sheep. But that’s it. No wife for a scrawny farmer. No wife for a man who couldn’t brawl. And no land for a man with no wife, and few skills suited for this life. He knew he could be more than that. She knew it too, it seemed.
His will bolstered, not broken, his spirits raised, not faltering, he agreed. He was sure of it. He just had to get a few things for the journey, but it was a journey they would make together. A path less traveled.
They ran off that night. Her father insisted the Overtons had stolen the sword. Alfred’s mother was sure the Watts had killed her son and buried him somewhere in the bog, late that night. The great threat, as it were, came from within, as it always had, and only by setting aside the feud could the threat have ended. The feud boiled over, and while Emilia and Alfred journeyed out into the world, the lands they left behind steadily dripped with the blood of their families. And yet, while their families slowly descended into darkness over the next decade, it was between the two of them that the blood of the Overtons and the Watts would live on.
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