Black Rose Red
Chapter One
Mirror of Reflection
A strong north wind had been blowing steadily all afternoon, a sure sign that winter was on its way, and most of the villagers chose to stay indoors close to a warm, burning fire. The sun had by now set in the east, nestled between the tall, jagged mountains and the first stars twinkled in the darkening sky.
The moon, a sickly waning color as it always is in the cool months of autumn lent its light to the small wooden shed located near the edge of the forest.
Inside, Freya Ylva Rahmer sat on the tall stool, her hands clutching the small carving knife as her green eyes focused on the piece of wood she balanced carefully on her knee. A lock of her long, wavy brown hair fell on her forehead, and she brushed it away impatiently, her blue eyes bright with passionate fervor.
"A rose… a rose..." she muttered quickly under her breath, a frown creasing her eyebrows as she inhaled the cold, fresh air.
"Freya, it's time for dinner!" A loud voice cut through her musings, and she started with surprise.
"It's already this late?" Standing up slowly, and placing her equipment in the box underneath the table, she opened the door. The sky was now completely dark and the tall, looming trees at the edge of the forest cast dark shadows on the leaf-scattered ground. Though the house was but a ways from the small shed her uncle had built, she walked as fast as she could with her crooked leg, longing for the small meager comfort her home offered in comparison to the gloomy, silent autumn night.
"Frey!" Freya, who was by then lost in her thoughts, looked up in fright when she heard a loud voice call her name. When she saw who it was, she put her hand to her racing heart and sighed with relief.
"Boden! You shouldn't have scared me like that! You know how much I'm like you when I get lost in my thoughts. I can hardly pay attention to anything." Though her words were meant to provoke, she nonetheless smiled.
Boden grinned at his sister who was nearly ten years younger than him at fifteen.
"At least I'm not as clumsy as you are."
When this earned him a punch in the arm, he laughed carelessly. "Come on, Frey, Bridgit is waiting for you." His green eyes sparkled as his ebony black hair blew in the wind.
As she entered the doorway with Boden beside her and lent against bending down to unlace her boots, the face of her stepmother loomed before her.
Bridgit Rahmer had a thin face, blue eyes and dull blonde hair. The wrinkles on her face made her look older beyond her years and rarely did a smile grace her lips.
She had, however, taken care of Freya and her brothers as well as could when she married Christoffer Rahmer nine years ago, and Freya could say truthfully say that she harbored some sort of fondness, or at least gratitude for her stepmother.
"Freya Ylva Rahmer! Where have you been? The entire family has been waiting for you and now dinner is stone cold!" Her voice came out nasal and high-pitched, a sure sign that she was irritated. A snort from the gray-headed figure sitting in the large armchair close to the fireplace confirmed this assessment.
Christoffer Rahmer still possessed the same characteristic blue eyes as he had sixteen years ago, the same blue eyes that his daughter had inherited from him. His hair however, had turned from ebony black to a salt and pepper gray, and his face looked much older. His body was once agile and strong, but by now, at sixty years of age, he rarely stirred from his chair except for meals or important village meetings.
His eldest son Aren had inherited his business after he retired and he now enjoyed a comfortable life. If only the eternal wound he sustained with the passing of his first wife would consent to heal with time… But it never did. And so, he carried that burden for the rest of his life. And it was that, the grief that made him look so much older, the grief that made him lie awake at night unable to close his eyes because when he did, he would see her again. That was what he was afraid of. Her face.
And so, it was also the grief and the fear that made him resent his only daughter. Though she had inherited his eyes, she was the spitting image of her mother.
"You're late again, Daughter. What shall the punishment be this time? No dinner again?" He laughed, a dry humorless laugh, his deep voice resounding across the room.
"No dinner will be fine, Father. Why, I quite enjoyed it last time." she retorted back at him, her face heating up with anger.
Why was he always like this? She had only been late for a few minutes. Why? Always wanting to humiliate her, shame her? What was wrong with her that he hated her so much?
"Stop it, Freya." She told herself. "You have to stand your ground and fight back."
Her father glared sternly at her. "You will be go to your room, and remain there until morning. Don't take that tone with me, young lady."
"Wait, Christoffer." Brigit's stern expression had now softened and she looked at him pleadingly.
"It's been a long day, and I'm sure Freya's been working hard in the shed. You know the money that she gets from selling her figurines in the markets helps a lot in the winter…"
"Wood carving." Christoffer scoffed nonchalantly.
"If only that fool hadn't gotten her mixed up with…" he began.
"Don't you speak about Uncle Espen like that!"
Christoffer Rahmer turned purple with rage when he heard his daughter's words. He had had enough.
"Don't you dare talk back to me, you impertinent, useless cow! I am your father, this is my house, and I demand respect from you!" He stood up from the armchair, pointing his finger straight at her, his eyes blazing as he said these words.
"I will give you respect when you have earned it. Sir." With her head held up high, she walked quietly out of the room, trying to gather up the remaining shreds of her dignity together.
*
The sky was clear tonight, a deep midnight blue patterned with gloriously shinning stars. Her eyes sought out one in particular, the North Star.
She remembered distinctly that her uncle what her uncle had told her.
"The North Star, my Freya. Now that's a beauty of natural wonder. It never changes it position in the sky, always stays the same. That's why so many travelers can find their way home even where they are so lost they've almost given up hope. When you start to lose hope, look for the North Star. Look for it, and it will guide you home. It will always been there for you, just as I will." He had swung her up in his arms and she had screamed loudly in utter delight, a smile stretched across her face.
As his words echoed across her memory, her thoughts took a darker turn, and she clutched the duvet tighter around her body.
"You promised me you would always be here. But like everything I ever loved, you left me." She thought bitterly, turning away from the window.
Six years ago, two months after her ninth birthday, Uncle Espen had, like always, gathered his belongings and headed for the south, where he would earn money by trade. Before he left, he had promised Freya a present a wooden rose.
Of course, he never came back. On his journey he was waylaid by a ferocious storm and killed by a wild animal, presumably a wolf.
When Freya heard that her beloved uncle had died, a part of heart buried itself away. On the day of his funeral, amidst tearful villagers, she did not weep a tear, choosing instead to bottle up her grief inside. That night, underneath her pillow, she had found a wooden rose.
"Tap, tap." When she heard Boden's familiar knock, a small smile came on Freya's face and turned and started to get up from the bed. Boden, however, hearing no answer had already opened the door, before she had even taken a step forward.
He came in and sat beside her, a comforting arm around her shoulders. The gentle silence lasted for a while, only to be broken by the soothing sound of a nightingale's song.
Boden sighed, turning towards her as he ran his hand through his hair, his eyes crinkling around the corners as he stared at her.
"I'm not sure if you do this out of bravery or stupidity, Frey. You know how he gets. Please just try to listen to him."
She didn't answer.
"Please…for me?"
Freya sighed. "I will try my best, Boden."
Boden smiled and patted her shoulder as he placed the tray he had been holding on the wooden table beside her bed.
"I manage to salvage some food for you. Get some sleep, Bridgit will keep you busy tomorrow."
After he left, Freya stayed sitting at the window until the first rays of dawn shone in her eyes, crowned by a pink-misted sky.
