Hey, everybody. I'm back.
Been a while, hasn't it? Well, what can I say? I've been suffering from writer's block for the past two years (I know, lame excuse), then I didn't get any reviews for my last story, so that kind of scared me off of even TRYING to write anything for a while. But I'm back, and with what will hopefully be the first of many more stories (can't make any promises, however).
Anyway, hope you like it!
Once upon a time, there lived a man who possessed wealth beyond measure. He had everything his heart could desire, but if asked what his most treasured possessions were, he would always answer his three sons. Their names were Chili, Cress and Cilan, and they were very much the apples of his eye. He denied them nothing, and no child could have been happier or felt more loved than they.
One day, the father decided to see how much his sons loved him, for he had sometimes worried that their affection might fade as they grew older. So he called the three of them into his study, and, settling himself in his favourite chair, faced them and asked them all the same question: "How much do you love me?"
Chili thought for a few seconds, then answered, "More than life itself, father."
Pleased, the father turned to Cress, who didn't even hesitate before replying, "More than there are stars in the sky, father."
Then the father turned to Cilan. "And how much do YOU love me, my dear boy?"
Smiling broadly, Cilan folded his arms behind his back and answered, "Father, I love you as much as fresh meat loves salt."
The moment the worlds left his lips, the room fell silent. Chili and Cress let out shocked gasps, and the father's jovial smile faded to a look of anger. "What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice dangerously icy.
Cilan was confused - had he said something wrong? "I...I said I love you as much as fresh meat loves salt."
"WHAT?!" thundered his father, rising from his chair to tower over his son. "How DARE you give me such an answer?! You don't love me at all! Get out!"
Seeing how angered his father looked, Cilan stepped back slightly. "But, father - " he began.
"No buts! Out!"
"B-but - "
"OUT!" And with that, his father seized him by the arm, dragged him to the door and threw him outside, slamming the door in his face.
Cilan stood staring at the front door, blinking back tears and hoping against hope that it would be opened; that his father would realize that he had made a mistake and invite him back inside. After a few minutes, his prayers seemed to have been answered when he heard the creak of a window being opened, but to his slight disappointment it was Chili and Cress who looked out at him. And yet..."Has Father changed his mind?" he asked hopefully.
His expectations were shattered when Cress shook his head. "I'm sorry, Cilan, but Father has made it clear that he never wants to see you again. We tried to talk him out of it, but...well..." He broke off and shrugged helplessly.
Cilan sighed, privately thinking that he should have expected this. His father may have been loving, but he was also quite stubborn when it came to decisions he had made. "Well, I suppose there's no point in hanging around here waiting for something that I know will never happen," he said gloomily, turning to walk away.
"Wait!" called Chili. "Before you go..." He bent down, picked up a small bundle which had been laying at his feet, and passed it through the open window to his green-haired brother. "We managed to save some odds-and-ends before Father had your room locked up. I can only hope that you'll find use for them, wherever you may end up."
Cilan privately doubted it, but he thanked his brothers regardless. Then he turned and walked away from the house he had been born and raised in, with only the clothes on his back, the bundle in his arms and not a penny to his name.
For hours and hours he wandered through the dark forest which surrounded his former home, with no idea where he was going or what he was going to do, until at last he found he could not walk another step. Spotting a nearby hollow tree, he crawled inside, made himself as comfortable a bed as he could with branches and dead leaves, and fell asleep, his head resting on the bundle.
The next morning, Cilan was awakened at an early hour by the sun streaming onto the tree and into his face. Crawling out of the tree, he yawned, stretched and brushed the dirt and leaves from his clothes. Then he got to thinking about what his next move should be, for he had come to the realization that sooner or later he might encounter those who would seek to harm a rich man's son. And even if that were not to happen, he needed work if he was to survive out in the real world, and no-one would want to hire someone dressed as fine as him, even if his attire WAS in less than immaculate condition.
Glancing around himself, he caught sight of a small pond surrounded by tall reeds which swayed in the wind, and an idea came into his head. Taking the bundle, he stuck his hand inside and rummaged through it until he located the handle of his pocket knife. Pulling it out, he made his way towards the pond and cut as many of the reeds as he could lay his hands on. When he had collected a large armful, he wove them into a thatched hooded cloak which covered him from head to foot and hid his fine clothes completely. Inspecting his new appearance in the waters of the pond, he noted with some satisfaction that he was all but unrecognisable as a member of the upper class.
Thus attired, and feeling very hungry at this point, he set out again in hopes of finding somewhere that would give him food and shelter for at least a few days. Despite leaving the forest and wandering along the long and winding road for the majority of the day, however, he saw no other living being and no nearby inns or dwellings until, just before sunset, he came upon a fine manor house. It was so large and grand that Cilan felt a bit intimidated, but summoning his courage, he walked up to the front door and knocked as loud as he could. He waited a few seconds, then knocked again.
"Alright, alright! I'm coming!" came an annoyed voice from inside, before the door was opened to reveal an elderly woman wearing a dark grey dress, a white apron and a white cap atop her greying curls. She peered at Cilan through steel-rimmed spectacles. "May I help you, young man?" she asked gruffly.
Guessing that this was the housekeeper or head maid, Cilan took a nervous breath. "Y-yes," he stammered, "I was wondering...have you need of a servant?"
"No, we haven't," said the woman bluntly, and she was about to close the door when Cilan, fearing that he would have to sleep out in the cold, stepped forward and grabbed the door handle. "Please, ma'am!" he gasped out beseechingly. "I have nowhere else to go, and I'll do anything you tell me to do. All I ask in return is a place to sleep, and at least one meal a day."
Upon hearing this, the housekeeper looked thoughtful. "Well, we DO need someone to help in the kitchen, so if you don't mind washing dishes and scrubbing floors, you're welcome to stay." And with that, she stepped aside and allowed him to enter.
Once Cilan was inside, the housekeeper showed him the kitchen, where he was to work, and a small room in the servant's quarters, where he was to sleep. As soon as she had left him alone, he pulled out the bundle, which he had kept hidden under his cloak, and opened it. By the light of the single candle which illuminated the room, he could now see that in addition to the pocket knife, there was a selection of clothes consisting of a long sleeved white shirt, a black waistcoat with two large gold buttons, black straight trousers, a black belt, flat brown shoes with golden buckles and a green bow-tie (although what good such an outfit would do was beyond him); and...a small painting of himself and his family from happier times.
Hesitantly, he stared at the image for a while, then shook his head firmly and covered it up again. That belongs to the past, he thought to himself. I'm a servant boy now, and it will do no good on what has been. And with that, he bundled everything up again and hid it safely under his bed, then blew out the candle and settled down to sleep.
Over the next few days, Cilan was busier than he had ever been before. Every morning he scrubbed the kitchen floor (not a very easy job with people walking on it all the time), then washed a mountain of dishes, scraped the pots and pans until they shone like silver, and performed any other menial task that was required of him. He worked hard, and never complained once, but he was grateful when the day ended and he could return to his room to sleep.
Throughout it all, Cilan mostly kept to himself, although he sometimes made polite but brief conversation with his fellow servants. He told them nothing about his past and gave no name, so they took to calling him "Cloak-of-Reeds", after the woven cloak he continued to wear. They had offered him a servant's uniform on his first day, but he had politely refused, claiming that the cloak was all he had left, so it was precious to him. This had earned him some strange looks, but they had left him alone about it after that.
One day, after a few weeks of this somewhat comfortable routine, Cilan was pouring a bucket of dirty water down the drain when he heard the sound of wheels approaching the house. Straightening, he turned and saw a carriage come to a stop and a dark-skinned girl with purple hair and brown eyes climb down. She wore a cream-coloured top with a pink collar and cuffs, a pink skirt with a big ribbon, white leggings which were coloured yellow at the ends of the legs and pink and white shoes with yellow straps. In her left hand she held a travelling bag, indicating that she had either come for a visit or had returned home after having been away for a while.
Not wanting to be caught staring, Cilan returned to the kitchen. The next day, he had almost forgotten about the incident completely until one of the kitchen maids said something to remind him. "I don't know if you've heard," she said as she brought over another pile of dirty dishes for Cilan to wash, "but there's going to be a big celebration for Lady Iris."
Cilan paused in the middle of his work. "Lady Iris?" he repeated in confusion - he couldn't recall anyone of that name.
"Oh, sorry, I was forgetting you wouldn't know. Lady Iris is the master's young daughter. She's been studying abroad, but now she's come home. She arrived yesterday morning - maybe you saw her."
Racking his brains, Cilan remembered the dark-skinned girl, and assumed that this was who the maid was referring to. He would have ignored the rest of the maid's chatter, but her next statement piqued his interest.
"Well, anyway, his Lordship has decided to celebrate her return by holding a ball tonight, and we servants have been given permission to attend and watch the dancing. Isn't that exciting, Cloak-of-Reeds?"
Cilan shrugged as though he didn't really care, but his eyes shone with excitement. Here was a chance to feel like his old self again - not the kitchen worker in a reed cloak, but a rich man's son.
That evening, as the other servants were preparing to head down to the ballroom, Cilan pretended that he was feeling far too tired from all the work he had done that day, and that he would much rather prefer to stay in his room and sleep. His fellow workers were disappointed, but took him at his word and left. Once he had heard the last of their footsteps fade away, he got up and removed his cloak, then washed himself thoroughly and changed into the clothes his brothers had given him. Checking his appearance in the mirror, he felt satisfied that nobody would recognise him as Cloak-of-Reeds, and headed downstairs.
The ballroom was filled with people dancing, laughing, talking and generally having a good time. The moment Cilan entered, however, the merriment died down slightly as the other guests turned to look at him, wondering who the strange boy was and where he had come from. One person stared harder than anyone else, before making her way towards him.
It was somewhat unnerving to have an entire roomful of people stare at him, but Cilan had come to have a good time, and that was what he was going to do. As he wove his way through the crowd, he was unaware that someone was approaching him until he felt someone tap him on the shoulder and a female voice ask, "May I have this dance?"
"Huh?" Cilan turned to see the dark-skinned girl from the previous day standing before him, looking resplendent in a long-sleeved white and carnation-pink dress with flowing ribbons, white sandals with round green gems, and a silver necklace with a dragon-shaped charm around her neck. "Oh! Certainly, Miss...?"
"Iris," came the response.
Cilan was surprised at being asked to dance by the master's daughter, but it lasted only for a second before he realized that he was supposed to introduce himself. "My name is..." he began, then hesitated. What name should he give? His present one, or the one from his past? Whichever he chose, one thing was certain - it would probably lead to questions, questions which he suddenly felt uncomfortable at the thought of answering. "My name is a secret," he finally decided lamely.
Thankfully, Iris seemed to sense his unwillingness to divulge anything about himself. "Well, if that is the case, then I won't pry any further," she said. "Although, I hope you WILL tell me eventually." And with that, she took his hand and lead him onto the dance floor.
Cilan had never believed in love at first sight. In fact, whenever it had been brought up in conversation, he had always dismissed it as something out of a fairy tale. And yet, as he and Iris twirled around the floor, he began to wonder if there was some truth in those old tales, for he had to admit that she was rather bewitching. Iris, for her part, was quite enchanted by this mysterious green-haired boy, to the point where she found herself politely turning down all other requests of her company.
For hours, the two danced and talked and generally had a wonderful time, but unfortunately it couldn't last, for Cilan knew full well that if the other servants retired to bed and found him missing it would lead to questions that he would rather not answer. When at last he saw them make preparations to leave, he excused himself and left, returning to his room and changing back into his reeds. By the time the other servants came to check on him, he was curled up in bed and pretending to be asleep.
"You missed something special last night, Cloak-of-Reeds," the servants told him the next day. "The Lady Iris met a handsome young man and couldn't take her eyes off him. She danced with him all night, until he upped and disappeared, that is."
"Really?" said Cilan lightly, keeping his eyes focused on his work so they wouldn't see his smile. "I would have liked to have seen that."
"Well, there's another ball tonight. He might be there - come with us, and you'll see for yourself."
"Maybe I will," he said vaguely.
But that evening, Cilan feigned tiredness again. Once everyone had gone, he took off his cloak, washed, changed and headed down to the ball. As soon as he entered he was approached by Iris, who had clearly been waiting for him. They greeted each other, then moved onto the dance floor where they once again spent hours staring into each other's eyes and twirling around the floor, declining offers from any other prospective dance partners in order to remain together. Cilan enjoyed himself so much that he was almost tempted to stay for the rest of the night, but knowing that doing so would be unwise, he waited until Iris was distracted by somebody calling to her, then reluctantly took his leave. When the other servants returned from the ball, he was once again pretending to sleep, clad in his reeds.
The next day, the only thing the servants could talk about was how the mysterious boy was there again, and how Iris had been so smitten by him that she had refused all others. "You should have been there, Cloak-of-Reeds," they said.
"It must have been a sight to see," he agreed.
"There's a third and final ball this evening, and you've GOT to come to this one, because he's sure to be there."
When evening came, Cilan once again professed that he was far too tired to attend the ball, and although the other servants tried and tried they could not convince him to change his mind. Once they had finally given up and left, he removed his disguise, washed himself and changed his clothes, and made his way down to the ball. As before, he was commandeered by Iris and swept onto the dance floor within mere seconds of his arrival. For the third time since they met, they had eyes for no-one else as they swayed together in each other's arms for hours on end. By now, it was obvious to even the most casual observer that they had fallen in love with each other.
All too soon for Cilan's liking, it was time for him to leave. With more than a hint of trepidation, he bid Iris farewell and made to depart, but he had only taken one step before she suddenly grabbed his wrist.
"Wait," she implored him, before reaching up and removing her necklace, which she then held out to him. "Keep this, so that I may find you again."
Cilan's eyes widened. "I...I could never take such a treasure."
"Please! I insist." She took his hand, pressed the necklace into it, then folded his hand over it. "I know this may sound foolish, but I feel as though I shall die without you."
"I'm sure you exaggerate," Cilan said lightly. "Everyone knows you cannot die of love." But he took the necklace regardless, slipping it into his pocket before returning to the servant's quarters. This time, however, he arrived slightly later than before, and had no time to change out of his fine clothes. He had only just pulled his cloak on and gotten into bed when the other servants came to check on him.
"Cloak-of-Reeds," they told him the next morning, "you didn't come with us last night and lost your last chance to see the young man, for there are no more balls."
"Too bad," said Cilan. "I would have liked to have seen him."
Over the next few couple of weeks, Cilan wandered around in a sort of daze. While his work didn't suffer for it, he was more distant than usual, and spoke to his fellow servants even less than he had before. Whenever he had a moment free, he would finger the necklace in his pocket (for he had still not had a chance to change his outfit) and remember dancing with Iris at the ball. He was tempted to approach her and tell her who he was, but the fear that she would reject him for being both a servant and a rich man's disgraced son kept him from doing so.
Iris made every effort to find the young man, first by spending people out to ask all around the surrounding areas if anyone had seen him, and then when that failed by seeking him out herself. No matter where she went or who she asked, however, the answer was always the same - no-one knew anything about him, or where he came from, or where he might be now. Saddened, she returned home and took to her bed, refusing to eat anything and slowly growing weaker by the day.
When Cilan heard that the young mistress was practically dying for love of the green-haired boy, he was greatly dismayed. He hadn't meant for this to happen, and he knew he had to do something. After all, surely it was better for him to be rejected than for Iris to starve herself to death over him? But what was he to do?
Opportunity came knocking the very next day. Cilan was scrubbing the floor, when he overheard the housekeeper order the cook to make a small bowl of soup for Iris. This gave him an idea. "Please allow me to make the soup," he said to the cook once the housekeeper had left. "You have enough to do as it is."
The cook was reluctant to do so, but as she was so busy she agreed, and Cilan went to work making a simple vegetable soup. Glancing around to make sure no-one was looking, he pulled the necklace from his pocket and dropped it into the bowl, before covering it with the soup. With this done, he gave the bowl to the cook, who gave it to the housekeeper, who took it to Iris.
Iris was lying in bed staring morosely at the ceiling when the soup arrived. At first, she declined the meal, but the housekeeper gave her such a stern look that she decided it would be easier to give in than to continue to refuse. Sighing, she reluctantly propped herself up, then picked up her spoon and started to eat, but she had only taken a few mouthfuls before she heard a 'clink'. Frowning, she dug around in her bowl until she had uncovered a very familiar-looking necklace. A quick rub with the napkin confirmed that it was indeed the same necklace she had given the mysterious boy.
"Bring me the cook," she ordered the housekeeper, who hurried to obey. By the time the cook arrived, Iris had managed to crawl out of bed and was now sitting in a nearby chair. She looked up as the door opened and the cook entered.
"Who made this soup?" asked Iris, pointing to the tray on which stood the now-cooling soup.
The cook was afraid that if anyone learned that someone else had made the meal, she'd be in trouble. "I-I made it, miss!" she stammered.
Iris folded her arms across her chest and gave the cook her sternest look. "No, you didn't. Tell me the truth, and you will not be harmed."
The cook swallowed heavily. "I-it was Cloak-of-Reeds, your ladyship!"
"Send Cloak-of-Reeds to me, this instant," Iris commanded, in such a tone that the cook did not dare to do otherwise.
Within seconds, Cilan was standing before Iris, fighting back the urge to flee from both the room and the house. Taking a nervous breath, he bowed before her and said, "you sent for me, your ladyship?"
"I did," said Iris. "Did you make my soup?"
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"Where did you get this necklace?" she demanded, holding it out.
Cilan hesitated, then decided that there would be no point lying, not when he had gotten this far. "From she who gave it to me," he replied.
"And who are you, really?"
This was it - the moment of truth. Cilan took a deep breath and said, "I'll show you." And he removed his cloak to reveal his fine clothes.
The second he did, an overjoyed Iris practically bounded across the room and embraced him despite her weakness. They remained like that for several seconds, then she pulled away and fixed Cilan with a look. "Why didn't you come forward before now?"
Then Cilan told her everything - how his father had misinterpreted his words; how he had been kicked out of the house with only the things his brothers had managed to save for him; how he had created his reed disguise and sort work; how he had gained employment in her house; how he had seized the opportunity to appear at the ball as the finely-dressed young man he had once been; and how he had been afraid that she would reject him once learning the truth. When he had finished, Iris took his hand in hers and said, "There was nothing wrong with what you said, for fresh meat without salt is like life without love - it is bland and tasteless. If your father cannot understand that, then that is not your fault but his. And as for your worry..." here she leaned in and kissed him. "Now that I have found you, I will never let you go, and I don't care if you're a rich man's son or a homeless beggar."
Upon hearing this, Cilan's fear of being spurned vanished completely, and he pulled Iris into another, deeper kiss.
Several of the servants remarked afterwards that it was the power of love that restored their young mistress to full health. The others dismissed it as mere coincidence. Whatever the truth of the matter was, the fact remained that Iris recovered from her illness remarkably quickly after Cilan had revealed himself to her, and it wasn't long before she proposed to him. He accepted, on two conditions - that his family was invited, and that no-one was to know who he was until the wedding feast. Iris was a bit surprised at the second request, but agreed nevertheless.
When the wedding day arrived, Cilan went to the cook and asked her to prepare every dish without salt.
"But the whole meal will be flavourless!" protested the cook.
"Please do as I ask," said Cilan.
The cook muttered something about nobles and their eccentricities, but obeyed.
It was a beautiful wedding, and both Cilan and Iris looked radiant as they said their vows. After the ceremony, the guests sat down to their surprise and disgust, however, every item of food was insipid and unappetizing due to the lack of salt. There were quiet groans of disgust from everyone except one man, who burst into tears.
"Whatever is the matter, good sir?" asked Iris.
"Oh," sobbed Cilan's father, for that's who it was. "I had a son once, and he told me that he loved me as much as fresh meat loves salt. I thought he didn't love me at all, so I threw him out of the house. Now I see that he loved me most of all, but for all I know he could be dead!"
"No, Father, I am here!" cried Cilan, stepping forward and placing a hand on his father's shoulder.
Upon seeing the son he had cruelly thrown out into the world, Cilan's father leapt to his feet and embraced him, apologizing repeatedly until Cilan gently pushed him off and granted him forgiveness. Chili and Cress were next to greet their lost brother, and introductions were quickly made on behalf of both Iris and Cilan's family. The father and brothers were invited to live with the newly-weds in the manor, and all lived happily ever after.
THE END