Disclaimer: I own nothing about these people's lives, the fact that The Sound of Music is already a mostly fiction based tale makes it so I do not feel bad about doing this. I do not own, nor wish to own The Sound of Music rights, even though the music is quite enjoyable.

Interpretation: Partially script based, movie based, director conversation based, with a little bit of research thrown in.


"Do I care if I should die?
Now she goes across the sea
Life without her here means nothing at all
Would you weep my friend should I come to fall
Would you weep, in the end, for me?" – Drink With Me (modified so no names)

Rolf (age 17)

Rolf closed his eyes and remembered times from long ago, that he could never replace.

xxxxxx

Rolf met Liesl by accident, literally. At age eleven he had finally saved up enough money by delivering telegrams to buy a bike. He had been so excited that on his first day off he had ridden as far as he could go. Hen he finally realized the time, the sun was just starting to disappear over the mountains. He began down the path, backtracking his way to the town. As he made his way down, it was became clear that he wouldn't make it back to town unless he took a shortcut through Captain Von Trapp's private estate.

He pedaled as fast as he could through the Von Trapp's land, Rolf saw the rock that was too big for his bicycle to safely rollover too late and rammed into it. He was thrown right past a tree and rolled, coming to land on his back. He blinked up and was met with the most beautiful face he'd ever seen. It said something.

"What?" Rolf asked dazed.

"Are you ok?" the angel asked.

"Yeah," he said sitting up. That was a bad idea he felt pretty dizzy.

"Careful," she had scolded him. And took out a piece of cloth, that she always kept on hand for Louisa, poured some water on it and began to wipe his face with it.

"I'm fine," he insisted, fidgeting not wanting to embarrass himself more than he already had.

"Hold still. You've got a scratch."

"How bad does it look?"

"Not bad, I don't think it will scar." He must have looked disappointed when he heard that because she added, "I think you're very handsome." Rolf felt his face heat up.

"Th-thank you."

"You're welcome. Do you want to come inside? It's getting dark." At those words Rolf was aware of how late it was getting.

"I can't, I have to get back home." He looked around, "My bike…?"

"Over there," The girl said pointing where he had crashed. "I think don't think it got harmed."

He scrambled over to where she pointed in a hurry, he had to get home. He rode a ways then turned back and shouted, "My name's Rolf!"

"Liesl!" she called back. Liesl, he'd remember that. The next day he had gone to his superior and requested to have the Von Trapp area assigned to him. He got it.

For the next year, he and Liesl would meet off and on; usually when he delivered a telegram but sometimes she would be in town and they would see each other. Then about a year after he had met her, her mother died. He never got to know Liesl's mother very well but she seemed like a wonderful woman. He was unable to attend the funeral because of his job, but as soon as he was free Rolf had headed over to the Von Trapp estate to check on her. She had cried and that was when he realized that he wanted support and protect her for the rest of his life. Reflecting back on it now, he supposed that he had long since loved Liesl Von Trapp even before that moment.

xxxxx

By the time he was fourteen he had started to treat Liesl like anyone would treat a young girl they were interested in. And while his friends were off writing love poems, or little notes; he wanted to do something special for her. Not like anything anyone else would do for her, he wanted it to be memorable. Liesl loved music, he remembered that from their early days when they had first met. But somewhere along the years it had been lost. She used to sing, dance sometimes even, but searching his memory he couldn't remember her doing that. He did catcher her tapping her foot or subtly moving in rhythm when he hummed a particularly catchy tune. So he decided one day to compose a song, just for her. He thought it would be easy but as he got into it he found that it was harder than it seemed. Papers littered across his floor but nothing sounded quite right. There were bits and pieces that he liked, some he hated. Eventually at the end of three years when he reached seventeen, it was as good as it was going to get. All he needed to know was how old she was. So when he asked "How old are you Liesl?" the answer provided the last few words to the song he had worked so hard on. It was supposed to begin with him, then some dancing, and then he was going to continue with the song.

He had begun, her eyes lit up, he smiled proud of himself. He'd done something right. He was fully prepared to go into the second part of the song when she took over. It had taken him three years to figure out to make up the words and she was doing it as though it came as naturally at breathing. For all she said about him being wonderful and amazing, she was wrong. She was the one that was amazing and wonderful, not him. Not him.

xxxxx

He had gotten married at the age of twenty-six to a woman who loved him more than he could ever love her; he had only done it because his parents insisted. But he couldn't help the fact that he was still in love with a sixteen year old girl from the outskirts of town. His wife knew and forgave him for it. He didn't deserve her or the three children he had been blessed with. In time he did grow to love her but sometimes he couldn't help but wonder what could have been. But it was too late for that now. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

His granddaughter, Liesl, would find him the next day with an old unsent telegram in his hand.

Dear Liesl Stop.
I will always love you. Stop
Love. Stop.
Rolf. Stop.

He had died exactly a year after the girl he once sung to so long ago in a garden that was on the verge of blooming.