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COWRITTEN with: iloveyounowgoaway
…RAPE RAPE!! (to attract attention: please read this line)
Go check out iloveyounowgoaway's stuff. I linked her under my favorite authors.
-o-
Long ago, when truths were still dictated by the tellings of one's heart and love was pursued as a worthwhile lifetime goal, there resided a special tree, said to be a gift to humanity from God Himself. Though not many have ever seen this tree, it was thought to be Fate materialized. But it was not the tree itself that captured the imagination of the commoners and the curiosities of the intellectuals: It was the fruit.
Rumors of its powers spread throughout the lands in the forms of legends and myths. Some said that the fruit had the powers to direct one to his/her fated lover while others said the fruit merely concocted an image, to fool the gullible into falling for either a nonexistent person or one who would never return the same feelings. However, these uncertainties merely drew more and more dreamers towards such lifelong searches.
And after many years of escapades, some futile while others not, the tree vanished. The cause of this, even to this day, remains unclear –it could have been through extinction, or it was simply removed from this plain by the power of the higher being- but along with the disappearance of the tree left with it the interest it held in the common people.
And maybe, it was better that way. Because amidst the tales surrounding the fruit was a message, a warning that no one can escape Fate without having to face the consequences.
-And people hated the idea of being controlled in the affair of true love.
-o-
Our story takes place a few centuries back, when forests still dominated the landscape and all paths were buried within the wilderness. Our story takes place when there were no roads between cities and villages, when travelers needed a keen sense of direction and a healthy dose of adventurous spirit to get anywhere. But even during this time, despite however many years back, people had already begun to stop searching for love as they quickly realized the appeal of greed. The more they acquired material possessions and valued social status, the more prosperity they discovered.
And with the new motivations came new pursuits, with people questioning the ideals they had believed in for so long. As the mercantile community began its growth, religion fanaticism eased while the uptight morals of society continued slipping. Some even began thinking of the conscience as a guideline for the foolish, since truth and honor were things that would only prevent them from reaching earthly happiness.
Teachings of lust and grandeur blossomed as the poor finally felt the flexibility of social hierarchy. Within the constant strive for status, and with it the right of superiority, began the loveless marriages. As girls were groomed to be the perfect doll for any man, and boys were groomed to be the proper head of their households, each were taught that perfect matrimony was no more than a financially successful one.
Though there was no middle class present at this time in history, there was enough elasticity in the minds of people to allow such social climbing. And after centuries of being stuck in servitude, many couldn't help but jump at such opportunities.
Though most were still bound into their lower positions, the expansion of the merchants' community led a few to consider the idea that people were created equal. And though at the time, that kind of thinking would have been considered unique and outrageous, it was an idea that was slowly spreading across the lands.
These changes were probably brought about by the increase of communications amongst the human population. Contrary to the periods beforehand, the pursuit of wealth coupled with an age of new thinking and inventions brought about a time of many interactions. And though most of these interactions were practiced by those traveling on horseback, in facts of delivering messages, a new practice began developing within the merchants' community, which was forced to deal with transporting goods back and forth.
This is where our story begins.
A merchant, shielded in a heavy cloak, sat on horseback as he wandered through the dark forest. When he finally emerged from the cluster of green, he found himself quickly lost in another, though this one easier to navigate than the first. After a few minutes more of guideless roaming, he came upon a clearing in the center of the woods.
Among the backdrop of trees, there stood a small cottage. Firmly built with a sturdy wooden foundation and surrounded by a variety of colorful plants, the simple dwelling exuded a feeling of familiarity and homecoming.
Pausing between steady strides, the cloaked traveler studied the structure in front of him. After a moments' thought and slight hesitation, the figure slowly slid off the horse and approached the shelter, bracing himself for a fragrant but biting breeze. With the sun casting a low shadow upon the house, reminding him that there were only a few hours of daylight left, a gloved hand unsteadily rapped against the aged wooden door.
An overdressed figure, hooded with a shadow hiding his face, answered the knocking, peering through the slightly opened door with an unreadable, mysterious air. The merchant shook off these thoughts and began to speak.
"Please pardon my intrusion, but I am on route to the city of Biran. Unfortunately I have lost my way, and I would be greatly relieved if you could point me towards the correct direction."
After a tense moment, the figure asked, "You have no map?" The voice was a solid and confident one, and while it was indistinguishable for age, it was undeniably male.
The merchant smiled. "A miscalculation on my part."
"Tch, tch, every traveler needs a good map. Though I can't say I have one –mainly because I have no need for such a thing- but I can give you directions. Please follow me inside. I will draw one for you."
After some slight hesitation, the merchant nodded in acquiesce. While being alone with a stranger was definitely not the wisest choice, his current disposition did not leave him with much of a choice.
The merchant followed the hooded figure inside and immediately noticed the odd possessions on display, ranging from trinkets along the walls to strange hangings nailed to the ceiling. As though accepting strangers into his home was a common occurrence for the cottage dweller, he then turned and held one hand out, silently asking for the outer garments of the traveler, while using his other to strike a match and light a nearby candle.
With a moment's pause, the merchant uncloaked himself, revealing striking white hair framing a young face, with a red scar slashed over his left eye. Though his features were uncommon, his clothes were not -a coarse brown homespun tunic partially covering rough beige leggings, with a light under-tunic and tough worn leather boots. Clipped onto his belt were the necessities for those traveling within the dangerous forests –a sheathed dagger hanging over his left hip while a canteen hung over his right. He also had a money pouch, hidden between the folds of his tunic, out of sight and out of reach for any possible thief.
The hooded man hung the cloak on a nearby hanger before turning towards the merchant. Noticing that he was fidgeting nervously -probably because he was alone with a stranger, miles away from another other living person- the hooded man decided to strike up a conversation.
"So tell me, what business do you have in Biran? That city doesn't get many visitors," he said as he offered the traveler a seat on a nearby wooden stool.
But before the merchant could reply, a flash of gold caught the hooded man's eyes. As the traveler moved to the seat, a small cross fell out from under his tunic. And in another instant, the resident pushed forward and appeared in front of the white-hair young man.
Though the hood still overshadowed most of the face, what little light that the cottage did procure managed to illuminate his smile.
"Do you believe in God?"
The merchant stuttered at the abrupt question, taken aback by the other man's sudden close proximity. After regaining his composure, he replied.
"Yes, I do. -Please forgive my bluntness but do many people not believe in Him? Where I come from, no man, woman, nor child refrains from their worship."
The hooded man chuckled as he moved away. "Of course everyone here is religious –but whether or not they actually follow the Lord's teachings is another matter." He paused to shake his head, though he was still smiling a good-natured smile. "Times are changing, I'm afraid."
Before waiting for a reply, he walked away from the merchant and towards a large trunk, placed in the corner of the mantle place.
"And I am to assume that you believe in Fate as well?" he said, with his face still turned towards the insides of the trunk. After a few seconds of searching, he pulled out a piece of parchment. Giving the items within one last glance, as if there was something inside more important than just the paper, he closed the trunk and seated himself opposite to the merchant.
He placed the clean parchment neatly on the table that stood between them and grabbed for a nearby brush. The merchant watched his movements closely, before tentatively answering his question.
"To be honest –No, not really," he said with a grin. It was a nervous one, nervous because of how off-topic their conversation had become, but a real one nonetheless.
"And why is that? I thought you believed in God." This question came with a lightly humored after-tone.
"Though I believe in God, I don't really feel that Fate and God are the same things," he paused to lightly touch his cross. "To me, God is the Being that watches over us all while Fate is the thing that leads fairytale characters to a happy ending. –And any person who believes in such a thing is no more than a naïve and gullible fool."
"Well, I don't know about that," the man said, finally looking up from the parchment. He had drawn a few strokes, resembling a road. "Though I would love to enter into a philosophical debate with you, I think it'd be better if I did not –especially because I think I know the reason as to why you feel that way."
The merchant raised an eyebrow. "You do?"
"I think you'll find that I know more than you expect."
When the merchant lifted his face to glance questioningly at the hooded man, he noticed the tense look he was getting. Though this man's face was still shrouded in shadows, the white haired young man nonetheless felt the intensity. He shriveled under the concentrated gaze.
The hooded man continued on. "Though it would seem as if your ideals are based on the fact that you don't want to appear ignorantly childish, that is not the actuality of it all. I feel affirmed to say you do not believe in Fate because you feel it has let you down too much, because as a person, you have experienced too many troubled times-"
"And how would you know?" the merchant demanded in anger, standing up in one dealt motion. For some unexplained reason, he felt as if his privacy was being invaded.
The hooded man simply chuckled before waving the merchant to sit back down.
"You shouldn't interrupt someone when he's talking –it gives evidence to the poor upbringing your parents instilled upon you. At least let me finish stating my claims before cutting me off."
The merchant glares shrunk significantly after being scolded. Realizing that he was no more than a guest (who was in no way being insulted by the host), he understood that he should at least listen to what the man had to say. Sitting back into his seat, he straightened his back and waited, with a slightly mocking obedience, for the man to continue.
"Thank you." Though he caught the young man's sardonic attitude behind his behavior, the hooded man decided he would be able to speak without interruption. "Now where was I? –Oh yes!" And with a more serious air, he continued on.
"You don't believe in Fate, and I know why. -Just like how your feelings are visible to me."
The merchant rolled his eyes discreetly at those words but suddenly, in a swift second, the windows threw themselves open and the cottage became overridden with violent winds. It blew out the single candle as it caused certain items to knock over. And as the books from a nearby shelf fell and landed by his feet, the merchant jumped slightly in surprise.
He eyed at the messy environment apprehensively before settling his attention back towards the hooded man. Though it took the traveler awhile to do so as he attempted to locate his host amidst the darkness, he fell to a lost of words when he realized the other man had lowered his hood.
As the sun had set a few minutes ago and the moonlight was not adequate enough to illuminate the small room, the merchant glimpsed a shock of orange hair. Though he couldn't see much more than a flash of orange, he noticed the intensity of man's gaze, watching him.
While it was too dark to make out the details on his face, or even the color of his eyes, the concentrated look was still able to pierce through, like a flare of light traveling through the deepest depth of the oceans.
It was a quick change of mood and the merchant felt all his previous sarcasm evaporate into the surrounding shadows. The gaze demanded his utmost attention, and as he sat, captured by the intensity, he heard the man speak on.
"It'd be within your best interest to listen with all seriousness to my words. I am not someone you should mock," he began. Lifting a hand, the windows suddenly shut, closing out the frenzied winds. The merchant shivered before turning his attention back towards the man.
With the windows closed, the room felt as oppressive and suffocating as a vacuum. The man continued on.
"You may not know of me because you are a traveler, but I am well esteemed in these lands for my knowledge." the man said in a tone so grave that it greatly contrasted the attitude he presented just minutes beforehand, "And as pleasant a person I may be, I don't appreciate being taken so lightly. Especially when all I wish to do is share a rarity -a gift- with you"
The merchant bowed stiffly as an apology, utterly unnerved. The man smiled at the sign of respect, though there was no way for the merchant to see it through the lack of light.
After a quick moment of stilled silence, the man pulled up his hood. And once again, with a quick wave of his hands, the room's single candle lit itself.
Standing up from his seat, the hooded man walked towards his trunk, opening it as he began a quick search inside. The merchant, however, sat motionlessly, staring at the candle in shock.
Did the wind not blow that candle off the table? –Or did I imagine it…
And come to think of it –Why am I still here?
Didn't I come here for directions?
The merchant shifted nervously in his seat, casting a few side glances at the exit.
Maybe I can depart without him noticing, he thought, looking back to make sure the host was still preoccupied. But before he could budge, the hooded man spoke up.
"I hope you're not thinking of leaving. After all, that would be a terribly rude thing to do," he said without turning around, as if reading the other man's thoughts.
The merchant laughed nervously at the accuracy of his accusation. Before he could work on a reply however, the hooded man turned around and strode back to the table, carrying carefully a small oval object. Setting it down onto the wooden surface, he slid into his seat and waited to be the object of his guest's attention.
But when the merchant turned towards his host, he did not utter a word.
"Are you not going to press me for answers? Are you not going to question the oddities behind my actions, behind the strange events you have witnessed? Are you not even the least bit curious to who I actually am?"
The tone of the man seemed indecipherable and the merchant shifted in his seat, before muttering a soft reply. "To be honest, I'm a bit too intimidated to press you for any answers."
A moment of silence lapsed before the hooded man suddenly started a light chuckle. The laughter only tensed the merchant further.
"I should have seen that answer coming. –After all, the main purpose behind my actions was to intimidate you into considering my words with seriousness."
Once again picking up the object, the man carefully turned it around in his hand.
"But since you won't initiate this conversation, I will do so for you." The hooded man proceeded to hand his possession over. "As a merchant, I'm sure you appreciate the value of rare items-"
"How did you guess my profession?" the merchant exclaimed in surprise.
"It was no guess. When will you learn that I don't guess: I always know. I suppose you can say I'm a man who follows the path of knowledge."
"The path of… knowledge?" The merchant was more interested than he sounded. And because he didn't want to show it, he tried to diverge his gaze towards the trinkets hanging on the wall in front of him.
"Yes for you see, I do not only pursue knowledge from written records; I pursue knowledge from the people themselves. I study them in their best and in their worst, analyzing their movements and learning to predict their reactions. And with the comprehensions already passed down to me by my teachers, I am familiar enough to infer most thoughts just by watching these actions. -I guess, in a way, that makes me the Wiseman of the area of Biran."
Remembering the hooded man's previous display of abilities, the merchant suppressed all cynical thoughts and waited for him to begin again.
Seeing that he had the full amount of his guest's attention, the hooded man leaned forward slightly.
"Now let me ask for you to turn your notice towards this object. Believe it or not, this is a fruit surrounded by legends, making it quite hard to find. I was, however, fortunate enough to come across it."
Leaning back , the Wiseman slowly tilted his head as he speculated the man before him.
"But instead of hearing a strange man ramble on about his own meanderings, how about I just let you conjecture a conclusion for yourself. Let us make a trade, shall we? -As a merchant I'm sure you have something worth giving for it, correct?"
When the merchant slowly realized that he was being asked to trade for the seemingly uninteresting fruit, he quickly denied any will to participate.
"I'm sorry sir, but I do not wish to trade anything for such a fruit," he said, feeling a bit suspicious. It was almost as if he was being swindled into a bad business deal, and he was much too experienced to fall for such trickeries.
"Come now, surely you would reconsider? How about this –since I really wish for you to have this fruit, would you accept it for free?"
"And why would you ever do such as thing? Give something you claim to be valuable, to a stranger imposing upon your property?" said the merchant, more apprehensive than ever.
The Wiseman laughed at his guarded manner. "Don't you see that was the only reason I invited you into my home? –to offer you this fruit?"
The merchant, now looking put off by such a statement, turned his face towards the closed wooden window shutter as his host added: "I know you are man who does not act by greed –I've known it since the moment I saw you- but perhaps you'd be motivated by curiosity? How about you listen to the legend before making your decision, then?"
As the merchant weighed his answer choices, the Wiseman began his explanation, as if his question had been responded to.
"Legend has it that the flesh of this fruit bears an image from Fate, an image of the owner's destined love. Legend has it that whoever comes across such a fruit maximizes their potential for a happy life: being able to live with an everlasting love.
"Such tales were soon circulated and many began their searches. Some were fortunate enough to succeed, and lived to the end of their days with a happiness that was unparalleled by those seeking fortune or glory. Those who failed, however, continued to search until they lay dying, dying with a most torturous need to be complete."
"After a few decades of such exploits, as people began to fear something that could grant such joy at the risk of such pain, the tree simply disappeared from the tales of men, and consequently, disappearing from the memories of the dreamers, of the idealists, of the ones with purpose and the ones with none. The legend failed to be remembered, and though there were a few written records of the story, the chance of it being retold is slim because we live in a time of such illiteracy.
"-But you! You! I feel you should have the fruit –no! I know you are destined to have this fruit- because you are worthy of such a chance at happiness. And I know that by giving you this gift, you will not put it to waste; you seem much too kindhearted for such a thing."
Allen visibly flinched. With a quick shake of his head, as if dismissing such, he smiled politely, speaking in a hesitant voice.
"I thank you for your compliments and for offering such a gift to me, sir, but I am afraid that I cannot accept something of such…value."
The merchant did not believe his tales, and the Wiseman chuckled at that.
"You mean to say that you think of me as a fool, and you do not believe in anything I say. Instead, you allow yourself to stand with your truths by lying to yourself, and let yourself believe in an over realistic reality by turning away from what I wish to show you. But I do not blame you: most people would choose that path. -Because questioning such innate beliefs is troublesome, and it much easier to believe in what is familiar."
He watched as his guest stiffened upon realizing that his character was under assault. Instead of reaching for the bait, however, the white haired man forcefully relaxed and closed his eyes.
"I wish to leave now sir."
The Wiseman, however, ignored his request and instead, picked up the fruit and held it out to his guest.
"Show me that you are flexible enough to question safe ideals. Show me that you are courageous enough to find your own truths!"
"I do not want-"
"What you want or do not want is often ignored in the matters of love, is it not? You yourself have seen the sheer impracticality in which love has forced itself under, when emotion chooses to give way to rules. You yourself decided to push away the matters of the heart long ago, in favor of what others have told you was safe, which is to marry out of sensibleness career goals. And though I do not promise that you will not be hurt in the affair of love nor do I promise that the outcome will gain you a high position in society's standards, I do promise that you will be given a chance to live in something real; you will be able to bask in the gift of finding the other half of your soul."
After several seconds of quiet debate, the merchant slowly scrutinized the fruit. Though the merchant still felt unsure about accepting the fruit, something about the Wiseman's speech convinced him that he shouldn't pass off an opportunity like this. And though it would be a rash decision, the hooded man's words gave enough reassurance for the merchant to consider taking the fruit.
While gazing at the other man from the corner of his eye, the merchant unsteadily picked up the fruit. The skin was tough and bumpy, with an odd waxy coating. As he carefully rotated the fruit in his grip, Allen slowly looked up at his host.
It felt heavy in his hand, and strangely hollow. "And this fruit will show me my destined love?"
Accepting the unwavering gaze as his answer, Allen swallowed softly and slid his hand slowly across the table, grabbing the knife. Though it would be nice to know his true love, he was driven more by curiosity about the real nature of the fruit, brought about by the strange nature of the hooded man. Inhaling sharply, he quickly slashed into the rough skin and across the fruit.
And as the two halves laid in front of him, he was quickly overwhelmed by a combination of awe and shock as a band of light grew out from within. The radiance filled the room in blinding white before uniting to form a picture of a woman.
Black hair, brown eyes, skin as pale as the moon but flushed, like roses across a silk blanket. Lips pressed together in a fine line, eyes desperately searching for something. He could just hear her voice, pressed against his mind; so pure, so sweet. The girl was just beyond his reach, so close yet so far away as she began to chase something he could not see.
Allen felt the image dissolve, and as he tried to reach for it again, all he felt was a slow darkness falling upon him. While struggling futilely as the walls closed in on his consciousness, he watched with fleeting attention as his host twirled a wooden paint brush.
His hand loosely gripped the brush, the Wiseman paused and smiled at his guest.
"You should really believe in Fate."
The man reached out to slowly dip his brush into some ink before returning to his parchment. He drew a few more lines, outlining specific landscapes that would serve as markers along the way… or something of that sort; the merchant couldn't really tell.
As the darkness closed in around him, he felt an inevitable daze surround him, pulling him into a hard slumber.
The Wiseman painted a few more strokes to the parchment before casting a glance at his sleeping guest, then at the fruit left out on the table. He sighed.
Walking over to fruit, he picked it up with a forlorn look.
This is perfectly good fruit, he thought, towering over the young man's figure. Though the fruit itself wasn't extraordinary in any way, it would still be a terrible waste just to leave it lying around.
With another sigh, he placed the fruit back onto the table.
I'll make him eat it when he wakes up.
-o-
Also, though this story talks a bit about religion, we don't really want to get into an religious arguments. If anything in this story offends you, please think of it as no more than an AU (set around a few decades after the Dark Ages)
Iloveyounowgoaway: This crazy author made me stay up until four o'clock in the morning each and every day, perfcting each adjective.
Oh, and if you think that the grammar was hard to understand, try to wrap your head around writing it. Our heads are still swimming.
-points to ichangedmypenname- SLAVE DRIVER SLAVE DRIVER!! (joking)
IChangedMyPenname: Well what can I say, I take writing very serious, and I really wanted this story to have an olden day feel. :)
And reviews are greatly appreciated.