Four years earlier - Percival

The village of Longstead lay in a valley surrounded by tall mountains in the middle of the land of Engerd. Behind the barn of one of its farms, a young man of eighteen was pitching hay. The hay and the barn and the farm belonged to his father, but he was the eldest son so one day it would be his.

He was pitching fast; a lot faster than he had to, but that was because he liked to work. He liked to clear the fields of rocks, he liked to plough and sow, he liked to haul lumber. Anything that would put his strength to the test and make him feel his body working.

He was the biggest and strongest man in Longstead. Some said even in Engerd, but there was no way to exactly prove that. Not that it mattered to him personally, but it was nice to know that his friends were proud of him. He liked building up his strength and using it for the good of the villagers. That made him feel useful and appreciated. He also liked to drop exhausted into his bed on the hayloft in the barn at night and sleep soundly till sunrise. He'd chosen to sleep there because it was comfy and private, and there was not too much room in the small farmhouse.

When he was done pitching, the sun was disappearing behind the hazy mountaintops. Time for supper. A smell of delicious cooking filled the single room farmhouse. It reached him already outside the door where he washed the dust off his face with water from a bucket.

He sat down and ate with his family which consisted of his mother and father, his younger brother Rowan, who was eleven, and his sister Meghan, who was still just a toddler sitting in her mother's lap. They talked quietly while they filled their stomachs with the fresh bread and warm broth.

When they were done, the mother sent Rowan outside.

"Percival," said the father, "there is something your mother and I would like to speak to you about."

"What's that?" the young man asked.

"Your future. I've been to see Lothar and Elsa this afternoon. Well, the thing is, we all think it would be a fine thing if you married their daughter Bree."

Percival knew this moment would come one day and now it had.

"Bree?" he asked, seeing the girl before him with his inner eye: wavy ash-blonde hair, a small nose and blue eyes in a round face. He knew her a little. She had lived in Longstead her whole life just like himself and she was only two years his junior. He had never heard anything bad about her and he thought she was sort of in the middle between plain and pretty. She was at least not ugly and she was an open and pleasing person. She would probably be a good wife.

"Yes," his father said. He and his mother were looking at him a little apprehensively. Percival began to feel awkward. They probably all did.

"What do you think, Percival?" his mother asked.

Percival didn't quite know what to say. He was not displeased. He had always known it was his destiny to live a farmer's life here in Longstead and of course he would one day marry a woman of the village, or the next, and have children of his own. That was the life he wanted. Other than that, he did not think too much. If Bree would have him, he could not see any problems in the match.

"Well … when?" he finally asked.

"In two or three years," his father said. "Or however long it takes you and her to get used to the idea. No hurry."

"That's good," Percival said, smiling a little at them both.

"We just thought that … maybe you already had a favourite," his mother said.

"Oh," Percival said, "I didn't." In fact, he had quite liked a girl named Eleanor. He had shown her his interest, but she did not feel anything for him other than friendship. Almost a year ago she had been betrothed to someone else, and so he had put her out of his head. It was not like him to keep dreaming of the impossible.

"Good," his father said kindly. "And Percival. Be sure to treat her well. Her parents said they had no worries because they've seen how you work all day. They know you'll provide for her. But I tell you, there's more to being married than putting bread on the table."

"I know father. Of course I'll be good to her," he promised, and he meant every word.