Ch 1: Spring

October 30, 2006

Seasons

A/N: I'd like to say before beginning that I'm not sure where exactly this fic belongs. I'm putting it under fairy tales because it can be considered a fairy tale, but it is really based off of a 16th century madrigal by Thomas Morley. There isn't a song fic category that I can find, but if there is please tell me. Like I said before, this can be considered a fairy tale, I suppose, but only because it takes place in some far off kingdom and deals with the question of true love and all that. There isn't any magic, there aren't any fairies, and there certainly aren't any princesses. My sincerest apologies if I wasted your time, but please read on if you think it's worth giving a chance.

-The Shattered Rainbow

P.S. This is also a very different writing style than what I normally use. I don't know why it came out this way… It just sort of happened that way. Tell me what you think of it! Oh, and happy halloween!

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As Jonathan walked out of the inn on that gray morning, he could smell the spring in the air. The air had a crisp feeling to it, and although the snow still lay in thin layers on the ground the shoots of infant plants were poking their green faces above the surface and gazing at this strange new world. A few birds could be seen, home from their winter stay in warmer places.

Jonathan shivered and pulled his coat tighter around his thin frame. This winter had been a harsh one, especially for a poor man like himself. Spring would be a blessing, meaning that he could once again find work, maybe as a field hand this time. Jonathan was always going from place to place, searching for work. He'd once been a writer, but he had never sold anything and soon he abandoned the pen for work that would actually earn him profit. He never had much money at hand to buy the finer things. The inn he stayed at smelt of stale beer, and the coat he wore was patched around the elbows.

He walked briskly to the market, hoping to purchase a loaf of bread, fresh if he was lucky. Maybe he'd find work there today.

Upon reaching the market he managed to buy a few of yesterday's rolls from the baker and a couple of shoddy candles. He was just heading back to the inn when he saw Her.

He'd never thought such beauty could grace the Earth on which he lived. She was fair of complexion with hair the color of cinnamon and Her eyes- well, he couldn't see Her eyes. But he wished he could. He felt he must find love there, just as there must be love reflected in his own.

He longed to run up to her and tell her this, or at the very least talk to her and find out who she was. But his legs were either too cold from the chill morning air or they simply refused to obey his commands because he found that he wasn't moving toward her at all. Before long a cart piled high with straw drove along, and by the time he could see where she had stood again, She was gone.

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Jonathan spent the rest of that day in a daze. All he could think about was Her, the way She had walked, the way Her hair fell over her shoulders. He couldn't understand how it was possible for him to recall every detail about Her from the brief moment he had seen Her. If this wasn't love at first sight, he didn't know what was. The only problem was that She hadn't seen him. How was he to know if she loved him back?

He searched in vain over the next few months, always hoping to catch a glimpse of Her somewhere. He never did. Whenever he saw a girl with fair skin or cinnamon hair his heart would speed up and he would think-"it's Her" but it never was, and each time his heart sank further into its own bitterness.

He told his friends about Her, and they laughed at him, calling him a fool, saying how he wouldn't know the difference between a real love and a real beauty if it slapped him in the face. So he stopped talking about Her with them, and soon they forgot all about the whole thing.

But Jonathan did not forget. He spent hours thinking of what he would say to Her if he ever met Her- he never dared dream of his life if he never found Her again. Occasionally forbidden thoughts would creep into his head, thoughts like how She might have just been passing through, or that She had left, or run away, or worse- not have been real at all. She certainly seemed too good to be true.

So it was no wonder that on that April morning when he did see Her, his heart nearly burst from relief. It was at the fair on a fine, sunny day. The grass was greener than anything and the flowers smelt sweeter than any perfume. The birds were all back and singing their hearts out and it seemed to Jonathan they were singing in honor of his love found at last.

He ran all the way across the market, abandoning the friends that he had been walking with previously. And there She was, right in front of him, hardly an arms length away. Dare he reach out and touch Her shoulder to attract her attention? What if his hand passed right through Her, as though She were nothing more than a figment of his own imagination? Jonathan banished the idea from his mind, besides, it would hardly be proper to touch a lady and a stranger.

He walked around to her other side, preparing himself for what he would say. And to believe, all those hours spent dreaming up things to say and now, not a single one came into his head!

She looked at him curiously. Her eyes were green. Green as emeralds, green as the sea! Oh, how he had longed to see these eyes! And Her face! The day and all of its wonders became dreary in comparison to this face! If that is what they would call April, it was nothing compared to what he saw in Her. There was the green grass in Her eyes, the sweet flowers on Her lips and cheeks.

She spoke: "Sir, is there anything that I can do for you?" And Her voice was by far lovelier than any songbird's. He stumbled for a reply.

"Please, fair lady; only give me your name."

She looked into his eyes. Did she see the love there? But it didn't matter, not yet anyways, for she gave her reply: "Adelaide."