Of shoes, ships, and Don Quixote
*authors note: the following is in answer to a challenge from another fandom, I answered the challenge but put a LMM twist to it. the challenge was: use the book(Don Quixote)as a main theme in your story
give the 'side-kick' a lead role, he should point out the faults of the hero and give some hint that he will end up with a character that is not usually used as a romantic lead for the character.
Make a reference to 3 languages (French, Italian, Spanish)
make a reference to a character that the 'hero' would like to be with but cannot be with (Faith). I stayed as historically correct as possible, but Shirley is more modern compared to the others. I do not own any characters created by LMM, do not own Don Quixote. Don't own any of the characters referenced briefly, they would be Robin Hood, Zorro(not really historically correct, first written in 1919, but tales similar to Zorro were told years before then, mainly in Alta. California pre-to-post Mexican revolution. There is a possibility that there really was a 'bandit' back in 1817 that fought for the poor) and finally Jimmy Olsen because Una Paloma Blanca pretty much dared me too. Jimmy is of course owned by the folks that made Superman, Superman was first printed in the 1930's. Finally, I would like to thank my beta's, [URL=ask. Jeeves ]ask jeeves[/URL] because it really is a handy tool for finding out all you need to know about various stuff, and Sparks notes. Please tell me what you think, point out the good and the bad. Thanks and enjoy.*
Shirley and Una sat in comfortable silence in Rainbow Valley, the sun shining brightly in the clear sky. War had been announced several days ago. Jem and Jerry would be going, and some of the other fellows in the Glen. It was all rather depressing and sad-for Una, that is. Shirley thought it exciting and hoped to go too, but it probably would not last long enough for that. He always seemed to be stuck being Glen St. Mary's very own Jimmy Olsen, the loveable sidekick, not meant to be the hero.
Una picked up a large book that was sitting beside her and half-heartedly started to read. Shirley watched her. Ordinarily he would have stayed quiet. That was the beauty of their friendship; they did not need to talk in order to be comfortable with each other. However, for some reason Shirley felt the need to talk and reckoned Una probably needed to as well...she just did not know it. He grabbed the book out of her hands and glanced at it quizzically.
"Don Quixote? You're reading Don Quixote?"
Una blushed a bit.
"Yes, I'm reading it; it's a classic."
"So I hear, but still, out of all the books in the world, you pick Don Quixote to bore yourself with?"
"It's not boring," Una, replied, getting a bit upset that her reading tastes were being belittled.
"It's a story with wonderful characters; it talks about civil liberties and."
Shirley cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"Civil liberties, huh? So how exactly is Don Quixote about civil liberties?"
Una was stumped. She shrugged, and grabbed the book out of his hands, sitting in silence for several seconds.
"Don Quixote is a middle-aged gentleman from the region of La Mancha in central Spain. Obsessed with the chivalrous ideals touted in books he has read, he decides to take up his lance and sword to defend the helpless and destroy the wicked. After a first failed adventure, he sets out on a second one with a somewhat befuddled labourer named Sancho Panza, whom he has persuaded to accompany him as his faithful squire. In return for Sancho's services, Don Quixote promises to make Sancho the wealthy governor of an isle. On his horse, Rocinante, a barn nag well past his prime, Don Quixote rides the roads of Spain in search of glory and grand adventure. He gives up food, shelter, and comfort, all in the name of a peasant woman, Dulcinea del Toboso, whom he envisions as a princess. "
Shirley nodded and raised an eyebrow.
"Think he knew Zorro?" he asked, his eyes dancing with humour. Una considered hitting him but instead answered with mock severity,
"Zorro got all his great ideas from Don Quixote. Who else would think of fighting for the poor and taking on a noble cause?"
"Robin Hood," Shirley replied, grinning.
"Very funny." Una choked down a burble of laughter that threatened to make its presence known.
"The end result is, all those fables of good people who fight for the poor are famous for a reason. They teach us valuable lessons."
"All in only 6000 pages!"
"Actually, this book is about 8000 pages in its original Spanish version," Una remarked. Shirley looked shocked.
"You're kidding, right? Let me guess-you've read the original Spanish version."
"Well, I'm guessing some stuff got lost in translation, so it stands to reason that the English version is shorter."
"And are we planning on reading the Spanish version?" Shirley quipped. Una looked pensive for a moment.
"Maybe. I'd like to learn various languages like Spanish, maybe Italian...improve my French."
"Ah, so Victor Hugo is next on the reading list, I take it?"
"Quite possibly," Una answered, a wide grin on her face.
Shirley shook his head. Now he understood why they usually didn't talk much. They were far too different.
Then another thought occurred to him. Walter was a lot like Una, and he had long observed her having a clear crush on him. However, Walter seemed oblivious to the fact. Either that or Walter was one heck of an actor. He would have to talk to him one of these days about his lack of noting the obvious. While he had been pondering, Una had returned to the world of the last great knight.
"You know, Walter is kind of like the good Don in a ways-both caught up in their own fantasy world. Wonder who Walter's Sancho is, though," Shirley mused out loud, trying to get some sign of life from Una. She pointedly ignored him and continued to read.
Shirley tried not to be hurt by her refusal to continue their conversation. Instead, he focused on trying to figure out women. He just did not understand them; he lived with women, one of his closest friends was a woman, and yet he did not understand them. He wondered if any man did. For the following hour, Una read, and Shirley kept his thoughts to himself, when he heard someone approaching. Giving Una one last look he went to investigate. This would be more interesting then sitting around watching grass grow.
The person walking towards him was none other than Walter, lost in the world of fantasy yet again.
"If it isn't the man of the hour," Shirley remarked. While he was normally, a quiet fellow he really was feeling rather spunky that day, and his shyness seemed non-existent. It was rare when this happened but was becoming a more frequent occurrence as he grew older...apparently he had inherited quite the combination of sarcastic wit and an ability to see humour in any situation. He was outgrowing his shyness the way his peers outgrew their clothes. Walter raised an eyebrow at his remark and replied,
"I take it you were expecting me?"
Shirley shook his head.
"Not exactly. I was talking with Una and your name came up; then I said something to annoy her and she is now using a book as a tool to pretend I don't exist."
Walter's curiosity was piqued. He never would have guessed Una would be the type to be quick to anger, so Shirley must have really stuck his foot in his mouth.
"What did you say to her?"
"I mentioned that you and Don Quixote have much in common." Walter looked puzzled, so Shirley continued,
"She's using Don Quixote as a way to ignore me. I remarked that like the good Don, you too often prefer fantasy to reality."
Walter nodded, still not seeing how Una could have found that offensive. Now, he was a bit miffed at the comparison, but Una shouldn't have been.
"You must have said something else to get her angry. Maybe she just preferred her book to talking with you."
"Hey, I happen to be a great conversationalist! I'm telling you, she got peeved about something I said," Shirley said, his temper bubbling.
"Well, then, what else did you say?" Walter asked, perfectly calm.
Shirley shrugged.
"If I knew that we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Walter had to agree with him on that.
"Well, you want me to talk to her? Maybe she'll tell me why she's angry with you, O Master Conversationalist," he offered, grinning at the indignant look on Shirley's face. Walter, too, had a sense of humour that he just chose to show when he felt comfortable enough...otherwise, he kept his remarks to himself.
Shirley shrugged.
"Sure, have fun! She's sitting just a few trees southeast from us. Oh, and afterwards we really need to talk about your lack of observation skills."
Before Walter could respond to that last remark, Shirley sprinted towards home. Walter shook his head and walked towards the place were Una was. When he reached her, he saw her leaning against the tree, truly engrossed in the book, her long dark hair waving gently around her head. He sat down next to her and waited for her to acknowledge his presence.
Apparently, the book was so engrossing that he could have been invisible. Maybe he was. He coughed to get her attention, and then coughed again; Una finally looked up, marking her place in the book with a blade of grass. Her eyes were bright with curiosity and a bit of anger.
"Can't a girl read a book without being interrupted?" she asked, her face flushed.
Walter looked hurt.
"Sorry...if you want I'll go. It's just that Shirley thought you were angry with him and I offered to find out why."
"Well, you can tell Shirley that I'm only angry that he and now you will not allow me to read in peace."
Walter nodded, got up, and started to leave when Una said,
"Wait-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just that ever since the news of the war, I've been on edge. I can't seem to concentrate." She offered him a shy smile.
"The truth is, I'm more mad at myself then you or Shirley."
Walter sat down beside her once again and replied,
"You shouldn't be upset with yourself. You'll get back to your old self soon enough."
"But will I ever finish Don Quixote?" Una quipped.
Walter offered her a grin.
"You'll finish it eventually."
"I guess Shirley told you that he contrasted Don Quixote and you?" Una asked. Walter nodded.
"So I guess that leads to the question, 'Who's your Sancho?'" Una questioned once again, feeling particularly bold. It was apparently a day for boldness in the Glen.
"Hmmm; not sure, though I have to say I doubt I'm worthy of being compared to a classic figure."
"So, no delusions of being a noble knight, defending the poor and those unable to help themselves, huh?" Una teased, blushing as her brain caught up with the fact that she was acting rather out of character; she was being far too bold. Walter was also a bit shocked at her, but pushed aside the fact and responded,
"No, I think I'm more fit for the role of scribe."
"Does that mean you won't be going off to war?" Una asked.
"No, I don't think I will be going, but the piper pipes and we must follow." She looked confused, so he continued.
"I don't want to go, not because I'm scared of death or dying or blood. I can handle that; I can accept death." he stopped speaking and stared off in the distance, picturing the piper and a long line of boys and men following behind him, to a fate unknown. Una shivered at a similar image in her head, a not very pleasant one.
"So what are you afraid of?" she asked in a quiet voice. Walter turned to her and grinned ruefully.
"I'm scared of pain; I'm scared I will return so changed that I won't recognize myself."
They sat in silence for a moment, when Walter asked,
"What are you afraid of?"
"Bunnies," she answered, perfectly serious.
"Far too cheerful, you know. They're eating something other than just veggies."
They both laughed, then turned serious.
"In all honesty, I think I'm fearless! I can't think of anything I'm afraid of," she said, a pensive look on her face. He nodded, imagining truly being fearless.
"I'm glad I have no sweetheart who will have to mourn me if I should die on the front. At least I know if I do go and die, I'll leave no broken hearts behind," he said lightly, watching Una carefully for any kind of response. Her face was impassive.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," was all she said before opening her book and leaving Walter to puzzle over her words. He found her face and body language completely unreadable. A more acute observer would note that her eyes had the look of one trying not to cry, and that her jaw was rigid- but the book hid most of her face, so Walter could not be blamed for not noting her changed appearance. After another minute of silence, he pulled the book none too gently out of her grasp, placed a blade of grass between its pages, and promptly sat on it.
Una glared at him and hit him in a rather un-ladylike fashion and surprisingly she caused quite a bit of pain. He rubbed his bicep to soothe it. It seemed shy little Una did have a temper; granted, she kept it in check, but apparently she sometimes let it run loose. Not to mention the ability to land a punch hard enough to bruise both the ego and the flesh. Just as she was about to land another, this time aiming for his jaw, he caught both her hands in his own.
"Before you try hitting me again, let me assure you, you'll get your book back...but you have to promise to talk to me." His only answer was a glare and a faint flush colouring her face, increasing to a strawberry hue.
"Fine! Give me my book back and we'll talk." He nodded and was about to hand it back and ask the question that would solve the puzzle that she had fed him, when they saw Faith and Jem approaching.
The couple walked towards them completely oblivious to the tension surrounding their peers, caught up in their own world.
"We will continue our conversation later," Una whispered, and stood up, just as Faith and Jem finally realized they had company. Faith looked at Una with concern.
"Are you all right, Una? Your face is rather red," Faith remarked.
"I think I've been out in the sun too long. I'm going to go home and see if Mother Rosemary needs me to help her with anything." Una waved goodbye to all three of them and promptly left. Walter was tempted to follow her but instead stayed where he was, and talked with Jem and Faith for several minutes. Finally he got up to leave, having a feeling the couple would want to spend as much time as possible together alone before Jem left for war. As he was standing, he picked up the book Una had left behind, and after a round of farewells, he headed for home.
He would keep the book until Una and he had their conversation, which would hopefully happen once Una remembered that she had left Don Quixote behind.
Jem and Faith enjoyed their alone time together. He would be leaving the next day along with her brother. She could only hope that the war would be over by Christmas and both boys home in one piece. They completely forgot about the world around them, if they had even truly noticed it before they had seated themselves by the tree. He would be asking her to marry him before going and she would say yes, but that would not happen before dusk. In the meantime, they talked about everything but the fact that he would be leaving and maybe not returning.
Meanwhile, back at Ingleside, Shirley was polishing off a large piece of apple pie and still contemplating life...mainly women...and whether the inability to understand them was a Blythe family trait, or a universal male trait. As he helped himself to a second piece of pie, he saw Walter walking back towards the house. He chewed thoughtfully as he waited for his brother to make an appearance. Walter walked into the kitchen, placed the book on the table, got himself a plate and fork and placed them on the table beside the book. He helped himself to a healthy portion and dug in. Shirley watched him eat in silence for several minutes before saying anything.
"Mother and Susan will probably be upset that we ate almost the whole pie."
Walter ignored him and continued to eat. Shirley tried again.
"Well, apparently no one is happy with me today, so I'll just keep eating." He watched for any sign of life from his brother. Seeing none, Shirley shrugged and picked up his fork. But just before eating the morsel, he caught sight of the book. Putting down his fork and abandoning the pie, he flipped open the book. He hadn't noticed before the inscription on the cover; it was not in English, so he gave up trying to decipher the message. He scanned a few pages further, his food forgotten. The book failed to make an impression; it was boring, not at all interesting. He put it down and continued to eat his pie, mumbling to himself. Walter looked at him with amusement. Apparently, Shirley really was in a talkative mood if he had taken to talking to himself.
"I take it you won't be reading Don Quixote anytime soon?"
"Nope, much too boring," Shirley answered, his mouth full of food. After swallowing he continued; maybe now Walter would answer his question.
"So now do you feel like enlightening me as to what Una was angry about?"
"She said she's not angry with you," Walter answered.
"Apparently she just wanted to read. You were a distraction." He cut himself a second portion of pie, which would cease to exist in a matter of minutes at the rate they were going.
"So why do you have it?" Shirley asked.
"She left in a hurry and forgot it. I'll return it to her later." Shirley nodded, and they continued to eat.
"I have to ask a question that's begging to be asked," Shirley said after several minutes of silent eating.
"So ask it."
"Are you really and truly oblivious to everyone around you, or are you just a wonderful actor?" Walter gave him a confused look and if the vessel by his temple was any indication, it looked like he might explode at any moment, so Shirley continued carefully,
"All right, just remember one thing; I'm an innocent observer, and you cannot kill an innocent observer." Shirley gave him a cheeky grin.
"It's clear to me that a certain someone has a very obvious crush on you, but you..." Shirley paused to take a bite of pie, chewing slowly. Enjoying the tension, he swallowed, took another bite, swallowed, and taking his final bite-just the crumbs remained-he swallowed once more.
"...as I was saying, you, dear brother, are caught in your own fantasy world, pining for a woman who will probably marry Jem, and ignoring a very kind and lovely person, who, unlike Faith, actually is available-and probably loves you."
And saying that, Shirley left the table with his plate and fork, put them in the sink, and left the kitchen.
Walter sat alone, staring at nothing, his mind and heart putting together the various puzzle pieces both Una and Shirley had given him. The last of his pie remained untouched, and the book unread.
chapter 2
Meanwhile back at the Meredith's, Una was busy helping with dinner; it was not until she was done chopping vegetables that she remembered. She had left in a hurry, leaving Don Quixote behind, she would have to go back and get it. Just as she was heading for the door, Faith came in. Una asked her if she had seen the large book, Faith replied that she thought she had seen Walter taking a book home with him. Una thanked her sister, and asked her to finish helping with dinner, so she could get the book. Una was in such a hurry that she didn't seem to notice anything around her. Una headed for Ingleside, at Ingleside Walter had moved from the kitchen to his bedroom, leaving the book on the kitchen table.
Una rang the doorbell, and Shirley answered the door, Una asked for the book and he gave it to her. Not quite what Una had been hoping for. Una and Walter never did talk about their feelings for each other, if there was anything to discuss. Instead, they avoided it.
Chapter 3
Just before he left for war himself she eluded to the fact that she felt something akin to love for him, his only reply,
"I'm not sure what to say, for now, let us just be friends, and if we were meant for each other, I'll return to you."
"And if we weren't meant to be?" she asked
"Then we weren't meant to be." He said it so bluntly almost coldly that Una felt like her heart was breaking. In truth he was being blunt to spare her any pain should he die, not fully realizing that he was breaking her sweet heart. She nodded, after that conversation they continued a cordial friendship, correspondence with each other was polite. To others their friendship seemed natural, after all Una was a shy sweet girl and Walter was a quiet fellow. Neither talked of their feelings for each other, nor lack there of. Una loved him, or thought she did, and Walter was unsure. It would be too late by the time he realized the love he felt for Una Meredith. He died in battle, knowing he had been loved. However, poor sweet Una was forever doomed to truly, not know, whether Walter had loved her.
She would read and re-read the last letter Walter had sent, months passed and she had not yet gotten over his death. Finally Don Quixote was finished and she kept it along with the letter in her hope chest, and tried to get on with her life.
Chapter 4
December 24th, 1929
The season for giving, and sharing, for love of family and friends. The Blythe's, Ford's, Meredith's, and other friends and family were all gathered at Ingleside. Adults were drinking eggnog and wine and talking by the large Christmas tree, children playing games. The snow fell gently on the ground. soon it would be nightime, time for goose and turkey and other kinds of foods, talking and laughing, enjoying the holyday season. Una dressed in a modest blue dress sat by the fireplace, glancing at both the flickering flames and the happy people around her. She was happy too, but something was missing. She wasn't the only one not participating in the animated chatter, Shirley was sitting on the floor near the tree, watching the children run and play, he had grown even more serious after the war. His cocky good cheer rarely, if ever seen. They had both blossomed since the war, Shirley more serious, less boyish-handsome and more handsome in a mature fashion, broad shoulders and more muscular chest and arms, his eyes serious, and rarely talkative. Una had also grown to be rather pretty in a non-conventional manner; her eyes still held the wistfulness of youth but also sadness. Shirley beckoned her to follow him. they left the room, going outdoors stopping, only to tell everyone that they were going out for some air and for their coats and boots. They walked in silence, snow gently falling covering them in white flakes. Finally, they reached their destination, a large tree; they stood under it in silence. They had kept up their friendship, but as of late tension had interfered with normal friendly banter. Therefore, they avoided each other. As they stood beneath the tree, the tension grew, stronger then ever before. Finally, Shirley broke the silence
"Did you ever finish Don Quixote?"
"Yes, I did actually, it took awhile, but I finished it"
"How did it end?" he asked
"to quote from a writer "Don Quixote's fall from grace is complete when the Knight of the White Moon vanquishes him. This loss of glory is mirrored by Don Quixote's physical decline. Later, when he dies, he has returned to sanity but has largely lost his chivalric strength, as though his defeat at the hands of the Knight of the White Moon sapped his will to live. Don Quixote's psychological fall, however, truly intensifies at the ball the night before his defeat. Sancho's embarrassment over Don Quixote's collapse after dancing too much attests to the reversal of their roles of master and servant. The ball marks the last time that Don Quixote holds the upper hand over Sancho and the first time that Sancho acts paternally toward Don Quixote. Indeed, Don Quixote follows Sancho's lead for the rest of the novel, as we see when Sancho steps forward to settle the group's quarrel on the road home. Though the novel ends before we see how Sancho proceeds in life and what he does with his newfound identity, Cervantes does show that Sancho returns to his own home well respected despite his humble social position. So in the end, the great Don died no more and no less sane then ever before, and Sancho also becomes a better person himself"." Una paused then grinned remembering something her professor had said,
"For a class I took my professor talked a bit about Don Quixote, he had concluded 'Once Don Quixote renounces chivalry, he ceases to exist. After much digression on his way home, he unexpectedly has a bout of sanity and dies, as though the chivalric knight within him cannot live and breathe once he returns to a world whose values are different from his own. Don Quixote dreams for one night of being a shepherd and wakes a week later recanting everything that has come before-an act that may devalue many of the novel's adventures. Even as Benengeli attempts to tear apart traditional chivalric texts, he elevates Don Quixote to an heroic status. Benengeli says that Don Quixote needed him to survive throughout history but adds that he needed Don Quixote in order to write. Cervantes's purpose in writing Don Quixote is much greater than simple self-glorification, a fact Cervantes highlights by distancing himself from the final words of the text. Benengeli admits that his purpose in writing was to show that chivalric tales are ridiculous, because they deny reality and gloss over the tragedy of trying to live an ideal, romantic life in an imperfect world. Benengeli wants his historical account of Don Quixote to put to rest any remaining chivalric tales that fail to highlight the tragic elements of knight-errantry -tragic elements so evident in the character of Don Quixote. Though Don Quixote's chivalric spirit and physical body may die, the final paragraph of the novel heightens our sympathy for Don Quixote, ensuring that he will live on with us.' I agree with him, it's a remarkable story."
"And have you read the Spanish version?" he asked
"No, but I do know enough Spanish now that I think one day soon I shall read it."
"So you have really done all you set out to do?" Shirley asked
"I suppose I have but." she paused,
"I feel happy, almost complete, but like something is missing," she concluded.
"You mean Walter?" Shirley guessed
"No, I've come to realize that what I felt for him was never really real so much as fantasy. He was my ideal, he was perfect, handsome and smart and sensitive and kind. Yes I loved him, but over the years the pain has faded, now I think of him as my first crush, my first fleeting romance." She grinned sheepishly
"It wasn't an adult love, had he come home who knows whether we would have been together or not. But he is gone now, the past is past, I must, we all must, live in the present" Shirley nodded. And together they stood watching the sunset and the snowfall. The tension was still between them but different somehow, more comfortable.
"We better go inside, the snow is falling harder then before, I doubt it will stop before morning." and so they entered the house. Everyone was gathering around the large table laden with food.
"Look what Una and Shirley are standing under" yelped one of the children gathered at the table. The couple looked up, they were standing directly under a certain plant, they both blushed. But really, it was just a little kiss between old friends, nothing more, besides it was tradition to kiss under that particular plant. Therefore, they leaned into each other, lips met, first friendly then something happened, the tension that had been building exploded and suddenly the friendly kiss turned into one with more passion then either had ever experienced before. They pulled apart, faces red and both wishing that the kiss had not stopped. Those watching laughed and joked, not quite realizing the significance of that little kiss.
Dinner was an interesting affair, both Una and Shirley refused to look at each other or even talk unless spoken to, the rest of the party chatted happily, eating and laughing. Finally dinner was over, the party scattered. Those that would have to leave left before the storm got too bad to drive through, others went back to the Christmas tree and began to talk of unimportant things. Una and Shirley stayed were they where. Una walked towards the window looking out at the trees and snow, such a pretty picture. Shirley stood beside her and silently debated talking about the kiss they had shared. Finally, he faced the situation so to speak,
"About that kiss we shared, we aught to talk about it" she nodded but did not answer, would not look at him, instead looking intently out the window. He gently touched her, turning her around to face him and tried again to get her to talk.
"You must admit, that kiss we shared was not exactly friendly"
"Of course it was" Una said
"Well maybe in some places it would be common for family members and close friends to share kisses like the one we shared. But as far as I know even Kentucky frowns on the whole kissing cousins thing" he said, trying his best to get to the significant part as well as getting her to laugh. She did not laugh, instead she said
"It was just a kiss"
"Does that mean you feel nothing but brotherly like love for me?" he asked, suddenly realizing as he asked it that he felt love for her in a very un- friendly like fashion.
She did not answer him instead, she left, she sat next to Rilla by the tree, hoping that Shirley would hold off on any more questions. Especially that one. Because in truth, that little kiss had sparked something in her that she never knew existed, but what was it? She had never felt it with Walter, nor any other boy or man since. She had been resigned to being an old maid living alone with 69 cats and maybe a dog or two. But that kiss.she touched her lips, lips that had touched someone else's only hours before and had started something she was afraid of finishing. However, that kiss was certainly the start of something.
the end
*authors note: the following is in answer to a challenge from another fandom, I answered the challenge but put a LMM twist to it. the challenge was: use the book(Don Quixote)as a main theme in your story
give the 'side-kick' a lead role, he should point out the faults of the hero and give some hint that he will end up with a character that is not usually used as a romantic lead for the character.
Make a reference to 3 languages (French, Italian, Spanish)
make a reference to a character that the 'hero' would like to be with but cannot be with (Faith). I stayed as historically correct as possible, but Shirley is more modern compared to the others. I do not own any characters created by LMM, do not own Don Quixote. Don't own any of the characters referenced briefly, they would be Robin Hood, Zorro(not really historically correct, first written in 1919, but tales similar to Zorro were told years before then, mainly in Alta. California pre-to-post Mexican revolution. There is a possibility that there really was a 'bandit' back in 1817 that fought for the poor) and finally Jimmy Olsen because Una Paloma Blanca pretty much dared me too. Jimmy is of course owned by the folks that made Superman, Superman was first printed in the 1930's. Finally, I would like to thank my beta's, [URL=ask. Jeeves ]ask jeeves[/URL] because it really is a handy tool for finding out all you need to know about various stuff, and Sparks notes. Please tell me what you think, point out the good and the bad. Thanks and enjoy.*
Shirley and Una sat in comfortable silence in Rainbow Valley, the sun shining brightly in the clear sky. War had been announced several days ago. Jem and Jerry would be going, and some of the other fellows in the Glen. It was all rather depressing and sad-for Una, that is. Shirley thought it exciting and hoped to go too, but it probably would not last long enough for that. He always seemed to be stuck being Glen St. Mary's very own Jimmy Olsen, the loveable sidekick, not meant to be the hero.
Una picked up a large book that was sitting beside her and half-heartedly started to read. Shirley watched her. Ordinarily he would have stayed quiet. That was the beauty of their friendship; they did not need to talk in order to be comfortable with each other. However, for some reason Shirley felt the need to talk and reckoned Una probably needed to as well...she just did not know it. He grabbed the book out of her hands and glanced at it quizzically.
"Don Quixote? You're reading Don Quixote?"
Una blushed a bit.
"Yes, I'm reading it; it's a classic."
"So I hear, but still, out of all the books in the world, you pick Don Quixote to bore yourself with?"
"It's not boring," Una, replied, getting a bit upset that her reading tastes were being belittled.
"It's a story with wonderful characters; it talks about civil liberties and."
Shirley cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"Civil liberties, huh? So how exactly is Don Quixote about civil liberties?"
Una was stumped. She shrugged, and grabbed the book out of his hands, sitting in silence for several seconds.
"Don Quixote is a middle-aged gentleman from the region of La Mancha in central Spain. Obsessed with the chivalrous ideals touted in books he has read, he decides to take up his lance and sword to defend the helpless and destroy the wicked. After a first failed adventure, he sets out on a second one with a somewhat befuddled labourer named Sancho Panza, whom he has persuaded to accompany him as his faithful squire. In return for Sancho's services, Don Quixote promises to make Sancho the wealthy governor of an isle. On his horse, Rocinante, a barn nag well past his prime, Don Quixote rides the roads of Spain in search of glory and grand adventure. He gives up food, shelter, and comfort, all in the name of a peasant woman, Dulcinea del Toboso, whom he envisions as a princess. "
Shirley nodded and raised an eyebrow.
"Think he knew Zorro?" he asked, his eyes dancing with humour. Una considered hitting him but instead answered with mock severity,
"Zorro got all his great ideas from Don Quixote. Who else would think of fighting for the poor and taking on a noble cause?"
"Robin Hood," Shirley replied, grinning.
"Very funny." Una choked down a burble of laughter that threatened to make its presence known.
"The end result is, all those fables of good people who fight for the poor are famous for a reason. They teach us valuable lessons."
"All in only 6000 pages!"
"Actually, this book is about 8000 pages in its original Spanish version," Una remarked. Shirley looked shocked.
"You're kidding, right? Let me guess-you've read the original Spanish version."
"Well, I'm guessing some stuff got lost in translation, so it stands to reason that the English version is shorter."
"And are we planning on reading the Spanish version?" Shirley quipped. Una looked pensive for a moment.
"Maybe. I'd like to learn various languages like Spanish, maybe Italian...improve my French."
"Ah, so Victor Hugo is next on the reading list, I take it?"
"Quite possibly," Una answered, a wide grin on her face.
Shirley shook his head. Now he understood why they usually didn't talk much. They were far too different.
Then another thought occurred to him. Walter was a lot like Una, and he had long observed her having a clear crush on him. However, Walter seemed oblivious to the fact. Either that or Walter was one heck of an actor. He would have to talk to him one of these days about his lack of noting the obvious. While he had been pondering, Una had returned to the world of the last great knight.
"You know, Walter is kind of like the good Don in a ways-both caught up in their own fantasy world. Wonder who Walter's Sancho is, though," Shirley mused out loud, trying to get some sign of life from Una. She pointedly ignored him and continued to read.
Shirley tried not to be hurt by her refusal to continue their conversation. Instead, he focused on trying to figure out women. He just did not understand them; he lived with women, one of his closest friends was a woman, and yet he did not understand them. He wondered if any man did. For the following hour, Una read, and Shirley kept his thoughts to himself, when he heard someone approaching. Giving Una one last look he went to investigate. This would be more interesting then sitting around watching grass grow.
The person walking towards him was none other than Walter, lost in the world of fantasy yet again.
"If it isn't the man of the hour," Shirley remarked. While he was normally, a quiet fellow he really was feeling rather spunky that day, and his shyness seemed non-existent. It was rare when this happened but was becoming a more frequent occurrence as he grew older...apparently he had inherited quite the combination of sarcastic wit and an ability to see humour in any situation. He was outgrowing his shyness the way his peers outgrew their clothes. Walter raised an eyebrow at his remark and replied,
"I take it you were expecting me?"
Shirley shook his head.
"Not exactly. I was talking with Una and your name came up; then I said something to annoy her and she is now using a book as a tool to pretend I don't exist."
Walter's curiosity was piqued. He never would have guessed Una would be the type to be quick to anger, so Shirley must have really stuck his foot in his mouth.
"What did you say to her?"
"I mentioned that you and Don Quixote have much in common." Walter looked puzzled, so Shirley continued,
"She's using Don Quixote as a way to ignore me. I remarked that like the good Don, you too often prefer fantasy to reality."
Walter nodded, still not seeing how Una could have found that offensive. Now, he was a bit miffed at the comparison, but Una shouldn't have been.
"You must have said something else to get her angry. Maybe she just preferred her book to talking with you."
"Hey, I happen to be a great conversationalist! I'm telling you, she got peeved about something I said," Shirley said, his temper bubbling.
"Well, then, what else did you say?" Walter asked, perfectly calm.
Shirley shrugged.
"If I knew that we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Walter had to agree with him on that.
"Well, you want me to talk to her? Maybe she'll tell me why she's angry with you, O Master Conversationalist," he offered, grinning at the indignant look on Shirley's face. Walter, too, had a sense of humour that he just chose to show when he felt comfortable enough...otherwise, he kept his remarks to himself.
Shirley shrugged.
"Sure, have fun! She's sitting just a few trees southeast from us. Oh, and afterwards we really need to talk about your lack of observation skills."
Before Walter could respond to that last remark, Shirley sprinted towards home. Walter shook his head and walked towards the place were Una was. When he reached her, he saw her leaning against the tree, truly engrossed in the book, her long dark hair waving gently around her head. He sat down next to her and waited for her to acknowledge his presence.
Apparently, the book was so engrossing that he could have been invisible. Maybe he was. He coughed to get her attention, and then coughed again; Una finally looked up, marking her place in the book with a blade of grass. Her eyes were bright with curiosity and a bit of anger.
"Can't a girl read a book without being interrupted?" she asked, her face flushed.
Walter looked hurt.
"Sorry...if you want I'll go. It's just that Shirley thought you were angry with him and I offered to find out why."
"Well, you can tell Shirley that I'm only angry that he and now you will not allow me to read in peace."
Walter nodded, got up, and started to leave when Una said,
"Wait-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just that ever since the news of the war, I've been on edge. I can't seem to concentrate." She offered him a shy smile.
"The truth is, I'm more mad at myself then you or Shirley."
Walter sat down beside her once again and replied,
"You shouldn't be upset with yourself. You'll get back to your old self soon enough."
"But will I ever finish Don Quixote?" Una quipped.
Walter offered her a grin.
"You'll finish it eventually."
"I guess Shirley told you that he contrasted Don Quixote and you?" Una asked. Walter nodded.
"So I guess that leads to the question, 'Who's your Sancho?'" Una questioned once again, feeling particularly bold. It was apparently a day for boldness in the Glen.
"Hmmm; not sure, though I have to say I doubt I'm worthy of being compared to a classic figure."
"So, no delusions of being a noble knight, defending the poor and those unable to help themselves, huh?" Una teased, blushing as her brain caught up with the fact that she was acting rather out of character; she was being far too bold. Walter was also a bit shocked at her, but pushed aside the fact and responded,
"No, I think I'm more fit for the role of scribe."
"Does that mean you won't be going off to war?" Una asked.
"No, I don't think I will be going, but the piper pipes and we must follow." She looked confused, so he continued.
"I don't want to go, not because I'm scared of death or dying or blood. I can handle that; I can accept death." he stopped speaking and stared off in the distance, picturing the piper and a long line of boys and men following behind him, to a fate unknown. Una shivered at a similar image in her head, a not very pleasant one.
"So what are you afraid of?" she asked in a quiet voice. Walter turned to her and grinned ruefully.
"I'm scared of pain; I'm scared I will return so changed that I won't recognize myself."
They sat in silence for a moment, when Walter asked,
"What are you afraid of?"
"Bunnies," she answered, perfectly serious.
"Far too cheerful, you know. They're eating something other than just veggies."
They both laughed, then turned serious.
"In all honesty, I think I'm fearless! I can't think of anything I'm afraid of," she said, a pensive look on her face. He nodded, imagining truly being fearless.
"I'm glad I have no sweetheart who will have to mourn me if I should die on the front. At least I know if I do go and die, I'll leave no broken hearts behind," he said lightly, watching Una carefully for any kind of response. Her face was impassive.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," was all she said before opening her book and leaving Walter to puzzle over her words. He found her face and body language completely unreadable. A more acute observer would note that her eyes had the look of one trying not to cry, and that her jaw was rigid- but the book hid most of her face, so Walter could not be blamed for not noting her changed appearance. After another minute of silence, he pulled the book none too gently out of her grasp, placed a blade of grass between its pages, and promptly sat on it.
Una glared at him and hit him in a rather un-ladylike fashion and surprisingly she caused quite a bit of pain. He rubbed his bicep to soothe it. It seemed shy little Una did have a temper; granted, she kept it in check, but apparently she sometimes let it run loose. Not to mention the ability to land a punch hard enough to bruise both the ego and the flesh. Just as she was about to land another, this time aiming for his jaw, he caught both her hands in his own.
"Before you try hitting me again, let me assure you, you'll get your book back...but you have to promise to talk to me." His only answer was a glare and a faint flush colouring her face, increasing to a strawberry hue.
"Fine! Give me my book back and we'll talk." He nodded and was about to hand it back and ask the question that would solve the puzzle that she had fed him, when they saw Faith and Jem approaching.
The couple walked towards them completely oblivious to the tension surrounding their peers, caught up in their own world.
"We will continue our conversation later," Una whispered, and stood up, just as Faith and Jem finally realized they had company. Faith looked at Una with concern.
"Are you all right, Una? Your face is rather red," Faith remarked.
"I think I've been out in the sun too long. I'm going to go home and see if Mother Rosemary needs me to help her with anything." Una waved goodbye to all three of them and promptly left. Walter was tempted to follow her but instead stayed where he was, and talked with Jem and Faith for several minutes. Finally he got up to leave, having a feeling the couple would want to spend as much time as possible together alone before Jem left for war. As he was standing, he picked up the book Una had left behind, and after a round of farewells, he headed for home.
He would keep the book until Una and he had their conversation, which would hopefully happen once Una remembered that she had left Don Quixote behind.
Jem and Faith enjoyed their alone time together. He would be leaving the next day along with her brother. She could only hope that the war would be over by Christmas and both boys home in one piece. They completely forgot about the world around them, if they had even truly noticed it before they had seated themselves by the tree. He would be asking her to marry him before going and she would say yes, but that would not happen before dusk. In the meantime, they talked about everything but the fact that he would be leaving and maybe not returning.
Meanwhile, back at Ingleside, Shirley was polishing off a large piece of apple pie and still contemplating life...mainly women...and whether the inability to understand them was a Blythe family trait, or a universal male trait. As he helped himself to a second piece of pie, he saw Walter walking back towards the house. He chewed thoughtfully as he waited for his brother to make an appearance. Walter walked into the kitchen, placed the book on the table, got himself a plate and fork and placed them on the table beside the book. He helped himself to a healthy portion and dug in. Shirley watched him eat in silence for several minutes before saying anything.
"Mother and Susan will probably be upset that we ate almost the whole pie."
Walter ignored him and continued to eat. Shirley tried again.
"Well, apparently no one is happy with me today, so I'll just keep eating." He watched for any sign of life from his brother. Seeing none, Shirley shrugged and picked up his fork. But just before eating the morsel, he caught sight of the book. Putting down his fork and abandoning the pie, he flipped open the book. He hadn't noticed before the inscription on the cover; it was not in English, so he gave up trying to decipher the message. He scanned a few pages further, his food forgotten. The book failed to make an impression; it was boring, not at all interesting. He put it down and continued to eat his pie, mumbling to himself. Walter looked at him with amusement. Apparently, Shirley really was in a talkative mood if he had taken to talking to himself.
"I take it you won't be reading Don Quixote anytime soon?"
"Nope, much too boring," Shirley answered, his mouth full of food. After swallowing he continued; maybe now Walter would answer his question.
"So now do you feel like enlightening me as to what Una was angry about?"
"She said she's not angry with you," Walter answered.
"Apparently she just wanted to read. You were a distraction." He cut himself a second portion of pie, which would cease to exist in a matter of minutes at the rate they were going.
"So why do you have it?" Shirley asked.
"She left in a hurry and forgot it. I'll return it to her later." Shirley nodded, and they continued to eat.
"I have to ask a question that's begging to be asked," Shirley said after several minutes of silent eating.
"So ask it."
"Are you really and truly oblivious to everyone around you, or are you just a wonderful actor?" Walter gave him a confused look and if the vessel by his temple was any indication, it looked like he might explode at any moment, so Shirley continued carefully,
"All right, just remember one thing; I'm an innocent observer, and you cannot kill an innocent observer." Shirley gave him a cheeky grin.
"It's clear to me that a certain someone has a very obvious crush on you, but you..." Shirley paused to take a bite of pie, chewing slowly. Enjoying the tension, he swallowed, took another bite, swallowed, and taking his final bite-just the crumbs remained-he swallowed once more.
"...as I was saying, you, dear brother, are caught in your own fantasy world, pining for a woman who will probably marry Jem, and ignoring a very kind and lovely person, who, unlike Faith, actually is available-and probably loves you."
And saying that, Shirley left the table with his plate and fork, put them in the sink, and left the kitchen.
Walter sat alone, staring at nothing, his mind and heart putting together the various puzzle pieces both Una and Shirley had given him. The last of his pie remained untouched, and the book unread.
chapter 2
Meanwhile back at the Meredith's, Una was busy helping with dinner; it was not until she was done chopping vegetables that she remembered. She had left in a hurry, leaving Don Quixote behind, she would have to go back and get it. Just as she was heading for the door, Faith came in. Una asked her if she had seen the large book, Faith replied that she thought she had seen Walter taking a book home with him. Una thanked her sister, and asked her to finish helping with dinner, so she could get the book. Una was in such a hurry that she didn't seem to notice anything around her. Una headed for Ingleside, at Ingleside Walter had moved from the kitchen to his bedroom, leaving the book on the kitchen table.
Una rang the doorbell, and Shirley answered the door, Una asked for the book and he gave it to her. Not quite what Una had been hoping for. Una and Walter never did talk about their feelings for each other, if there was anything to discuss. Instead, they avoided it.
Chapter 3
Just before he left for war himself she eluded to the fact that she felt something akin to love for him, his only reply,
"I'm not sure what to say, for now, let us just be friends, and if we were meant for each other, I'll return to you."
"And if we weren't meant to be?" she asked
"Then we weren't meant to be." He said it so bluntly almost coldly that Una felt like her heart was breaking. In truth he was being blunt to spare her any pain should he die, not fully realizing that he was breaking her sweet heart. She nodded, after that conversation they continued a cordial friendship, correspondence with each other was polite. To others their friendship seemed natural, after all Una was a shy sweet girl and Walter was a quiet fellow. Neither talked of their feelings for each other, nor lack there of. Una loved him, or thought she did, and Walter was unsure. It would be too late by the time he realized the love he felt for Una Meredith. He died in battle, knowing he had been loved. However, poor sweet Una was forever doomed to truly, not know, whether Walter had loved her.
She would read and re-read the last letter Walter had sent, months passed and she had not yet gotten over his death. Finally Don Quixote was finished and she kept it along with the letter in her hope chest, and tried to get on with her life.
Chapter 4
December 24th, 1929
The season for giving, and sharing, for love of family and friends. The Blythe's, Ford's, Meredith's, and other friends and family were all gathered at Ingleside. Adults were drinking eggnog and wine and talking by the large Christmas tree, children playing games. The snow fell gently on the ground. soon it would be nightime, time for goose and turkey and other kinds of foods, talking and laughing, enjoying the holyday season. Una dressed in a modest blue dress sat by the fireplace, glancing at both the flickering flames and the happy people around her. She was happy too, but something was missing. She wasn't the only one not participating in the animated chatter, Shirley was sitting on the floor near the tree, watching the children run and play, he had grown even more serious after the war. His cocky good cheer rarely, if ever seen. They had both blossomed since the war, Shirley more serious, less boyish-handsome and more handsome in a mature fashion, broad shoulders and more muscular chest and arms, his eyes serious, and rarely talkative. Una had also grown to be rather pretty in a non-conventional manner; her eyes still held the wistfulness of youth but also sadness. Shirley beckoned her to follow him. they left the room, going outdoors stopping, only to tell everyone that they were going out for some air and for their coats and boots. They walked in silence, snow gently falling covering them in white flakes. Finally, they reached their destination, a large tree; they stood under it in silence. They had kept up their friendship, but as of late tension had interfered with normal friendly banter. Therefore, they avoided each other. As they stood beneath the tree, the tension grew, stronger then ever before. Finally, Shirley broke the silence
"Did you ever finish Don Quixote?"
"Yes, I did actually, it took awhile, but I finished it"
"How did it end?" he asked
"to quote from a writer "Don Quixote's fall from grace is complete when the Knight of the White Moon vanquishes him. This loss of glory is mirrored by Don Quixote's physical decline. Later, when he dies, he has returned to sanity but has largely lost his chivalric strength, as though his defeat at the hands of the Knight of the White Moon sapped his will to live. Don Quixote's psychological fall, however, truly intensifies at the ball the night before his defeat. Sancho's embarrassment over Don Quixote's collapse after dancing too much attests to the reversal of their roles of master and servant. The ball marks the last time that Don Quixote holds the upper hand over Sancho and the first time that Sancho acts paternally toward Don Quixote. Indeed, Don Quixote follows Sancho's lead for the rest of the novel, as we see when Sancho steps forward to settle the group's quarrel on the road home. Though the novel ends before we see how Sancho proceeds in life and what he does with his newfound identity, Cervantes does show that Sancho returns to his own home well respected despite his humble social position. So in the end, the great Don died no more and no less sane then ever before, and Sancho also becomes a better person himself"." Una paused then grinned remembering something her professor had said,
"For a class I took my professor talked a bit about Don Quixote, he had concluded 'Once Don Quixote renounces chivalry, he ceases to exist. After much digression on his way home, he unexpectedly has a bout of sanity and dies, as though the chivalric knight within him cannot live and breathe once he returns to a world whose values are different from his own. Don Quixote dreams for one night of being a shepherd and wakes a week later recanting everything that has come before-an act that may devalue many of the novel's adventures. Even as Benengeli attempts to tear apart traditional chivalric texts, he elevates Don Quixote to an heroic status. Benengeli says that Don Quixote needed him to survive throughout history but adds that he needed Don Quixote in order to write. Cervantes's purpose in writing Don Quixote is much greater than simple self-glorification, a fact Cervantes highlights by distancing himself from the final words of the text. Benengeli admits that his purpose in writing was to show that chivalric tales are ridiculous, because they deny reality and gloss over the tragedy of trying to live an ideal, romantic life in an imperfect world. Benengeli wants his historical account of Don Quixote to put to rest any remaining chivalric tales that fail to highlight the tragic elements of knight-errantry -tragic elements so evident in the character of Don Quixote. Though Don Quixote's chivalric spirit and physical body may die, the final paragraph of the novel heightens our sympathy for Don Quixote, ensuring that he will live on with us.' I agree with him, it's a remarkable story."
"And have you read the Spanish version?" he asked
"No, but I do know enough Spanish now that I think one day soon I shall read it."
"So you have really done all you set out to do?" Shirley asked
"I suppose I have but." she paused,
"I feel happy, almost complete, but like something is missing," she concluded.
"You mean Walter?" Shirley guessed
"No, I've come to realize that what I felt for him was never really real so much as fantasy. He was my ideal, he was perfect, handsome and smart and sensitive and kind. Yes I loved him, but over the years the pain has faded, now I think of him as my first crush, my first fleeting romance." She grinned sheepishly
"It wasn't an adult love, had he come home who knows whether we would have been together or not. But he is gone now, the past is past, I must, we all must, live in the present" Shirley nodded. And together they stood watching the sunset and the snowfall. The tension was still between them but different somehow, more comfortable.
"We better go inside, the snow is falling harder then before, I doubt it will stop before morning." and so they entered the house. Everyone was gathering around the large table laden with food.
"Look what Una and Shirley are standing under" yelped one of the children gathered at the table. The couple looked up, they were standing directly under a certain plant, they both blushed. But really, it was just a little kiss between old friends, nothing more, besides it was tradition to kiss under that particular plant. Therefore, they leaned into each other, lips met, first friendly then something happened, the tension that had been building exploded and suddenly the friendly kiss turned into one with more passion then either had ever experienced before. They pulled apart, faces red and both wishing that the kiss had not stopped. Those watching laughed and joked, not quite realizing the significance of that little kiss.
Dinner was an interesting affair, both Una and Shirley refused to look at each other or even talk unless spoken to, the rest of the party chatted happily, eating and laughing. Finally dinner was over, the party scattered. Those that would have to leave left before the storm got too bad to drive through, others went back to the Christmas tree and began to talk of unimportant things. Una and Shirley stayed were they where. Una walked towards the window looking out at the trees and snow, such a pretty picture. Shirley stood beside her and silently debated talking about the kiss they had shared. Finally, he faced the situation so to speak,
"About that kiss we shared, we aught to talk about it" she nodded but did not answer, would not look at him, instead looking intently out the window. He gently touched her, turning her around to face him and tried again to get her to talk.
"You must admit, that kiss we shared was not exactly friendly"
"Of course it was" Una said
"Well maybe in some places it would be common for family members and close friends to share kisses like the one we shared. But as far as I know even Kentucky frowns on the whole kissing cousins thing" he said, trying his best to get to the significant part as well as getting her to laugh. She did not laugh, instead she said
"It was just a kiss"
"Does that mean you feel nothing but brotherly like love for me?" he asked, suddenly realizing as he asked it that he felt love for her in a very un- friendly like fashion.
She did not answer him instead, she left, she sat next to Rilla by the tree, hoping that Shirley would hold off on any more questions. Especially that one. Because in truth, that little kiss had sparked something in her that she never knew existed, but what was it? She had never felt it with Walter, nor any other boy or man since. She had been resigned to being an old maid living alone with 69 cats and maybe a dog or two. But that kiss.she touched her lips, lips that had touched someone else's only hours before and had started something she was afraid of finishing. However, that kiss was certainly the start of something.
the end