Canonverse, mostly character exploration: A small tragedy. France and Spain talk about love and birds.
This is not a legend but an anecdote about a place.

Featuring: Spain and France


...

Monfragüe Natural Park: The Frenchman´s Fountain, Of Love and Birds

...

"If it is any consolation, Francis, my people won't forget him."

"I find it a little hard to believe."

"You should not, the story is already passing around." Spain gazed over the Duero. So thin and dry compared to the rivers of northern Europe, so shallow, and yet so full of unexpected strength and wild, dark power. The northerners underestimated the wilderness of Spain's land, they always did. The openness of the fields, the small animals and the blinding sun fooled them. France looked up, at the quick and anxious songbirds that jumped from branch to branch at the death of day. The falcons lied sleeping in their rocky nests over the river, and on the ground the small creatures got a couple of hours of relief before the hunt of the next day.

"Why?"

"His story matters to my people." The Frenchman just allowed his eyes to travel the skies, following the last lonely falcon who was making its way to the mountain top.

"You have a morbid fascination with death, Spain. You know that? You and your people. You always have."

"It is not about death."

" Of course it is, you love death. Bulls, wars..."

"It is not about death. It is about love."

"That´s crazy."

" You can't say you love something unless you are willing to die for it." France sighed and shook his head. "You are insane, you know that? You have always been completely nuts."

"Maybe. But I know you think the same way." he buried a hole in France's mask "You just hide it better, but why else would you come, from all the million of your people dying all over your land and out of it, to this particular spot, in mine, to take this man home, if not for love?" France smiled, defeated and somehow glad about it. "It was just a bird, Antonio. A bird fell into the water and the kid jumped into the river to save it. Your people told him that the river was dangerous a million times before, and he just ignored them."

"It was not just a bird for him. Your man was an ornithologist. Birds were his passion." France almost snorted.

" Passion. I guess you would respect that, wouldn't you? " Spain smiled too, a little smile, translucent like the dying sunlight, and patted his almost-friend´s back to prompt him to walk back with him towards the village. Their steps lifted small clouds of red dust as they walked between the dark trees.

"So, a plaque or something?"

"No. A fountain for the hikers, near the trail"

"The trail where he died? Morbid."

"The trail where he went to observe the falcons. So it is easier to go up and more people can go up and observe the birds he loved" France hummed. It was fitting, in a way. Macabre, from his point of view, but Spain's logic was twisted, it had always been.

"I bet they made fun of them. Knowing you and knowing them. The two french brats that run around chasing after birds instead of doing some real work." Spain snorted softly.

"Of course they did. You need to understand. People here really suffered during the war...and here they are, a couple of kids whose parents are giving them money to spend months living abroad and running after birds" The Spaniard smiled fondly and looked at the group of people that waited for them at the entry of the village's cemetery. They knew the kid, loved them in a way. They are gregarious people, in a small place where everyone knows everyone else, so they had truly flooded and packed around the lonely foreigner. France smiled, a little touched himself. They all were in a tight group around the surviving Frenchman, providing as much comfort to the broken kid as they could. They were gregarious people and the two ornithologists had spent months among them. They were a part of the village now, and he knew his people would not have left the young grieving man alone a freaking minute unless asked to(and asked repeatedly). The kid leaned on the landlady that had been hosted them, face pale and eyes opaque. It had been a while now, but nobody should have to watch his best friend drown from the shore without being able to do a thing to help.

"They don't make fun anymore, though" France said out loud, looking at the group, and a little touched himself. Antonio looked almost offended.

"No. I just told you. He showed that he can truly love. We respect that."

The French snorted, shaking his head, but Antonio could tell that there was agreement under that gesture. Agreement that France was too afraid to recognize he felt.

"Is that how you did it, Tony?"

"How I did what?"

"Sweet talk Romano into falling in love with you. Did you talk to him about that twisted idea, of love and willingness to die?" Spain laughed softly.

" Of course not. Romano can't be talked into things." He answered in a whisper, his smile getting a new depth " I showed him." France looked a bit taken aback, but the other´s smile didn't falter for a second. " You know that, France. You, and Turkey, and Sweden and half of Europe were there. I took you on all at once, remember?" France looked at him, not to sure of how he was supposed to answer to that. Spain just smiled and patted his back, getting ready to make his way back towards the village

"Take care of the other kid. He was brave; and... He is always welcome to come back. We will do our best to take care of his friend, until they can take him back home. He showed that he can truly love, he has earned my respect and I'll treat him as one of my own dead. You should also come back, on a happier time. We can do some stargazing together. The sky is gorgeous in this park." With that, the Spaniard disappeared towards the city hall. France was left alone with his thoughts. A fountain by the place where he died then. A fountain by the place where he showed that he really loved. Spain might be crazy, but he was also right in hos own, twisted way.

If France had learned something in his long years alive, it was how true love looks like.


"La fuente del francés", "The Frenchman´s Fountain" is located in Monfragüe National Park, in loving memory of Alain Jonsson, who died on April the 24th, 1979, while trying to rescue a bird that had fallen into the Duero. His body rested in the cementery of Torrejón el Rubio and his grave was taken care of by the local neighbours until very recently.