9&10 April 2006

Title: Serenity

Type: an ambitious story by an avid fan.

Summery: No Rest for the Wicked A young woman seeks help from a woman with nothing to lose, an irresistible nobleman, and a princess who searches for something that may help her.

Your longfic challenge as presented by Tidah:

All characters (and more, must be from fairytales)

Action/Adventure (and any others)

Each chapter must be at least 2000 words

It all starts with: A prophecy, a key, and a minor accident with the local fishermen. Interpret however you'd like.

Themes: Running away from one's own identity. Disguise. Hidden meanings.

Chapter 1

It had been a long time since they had had any hope. The ones who had heard the words of the Wise Woman were long dead, unable to give the real truth. Their silent tongues had brought no hope to them and had waved off the Wise Woman's words as merely insanity. Their village was a peaceful village, more pious than what was expected of them. None cared for this so-called prophesy. She had been an elderly woman, though one's great uncle had claimed them to be true.

There was no trouble and never had been. Soon it had cleared out of their minds until, one year it had not stopped ranging for three days and destroyed the crops. The next year it rained for four days without stopping, five the year after, and one day being added for each year. The unfortunate children borne during these years knew what rain meant, knew the power and hatred of nature, and humbly respected it. For five years all they feared was the rain.

On the fifth year a young maiden ventured out into the rain in search of help. She did not return till after a full year. On the seventh year another maiden ventured forth in search of help and did not return till four years had passed. This pattern continued till, on the eighteenth year, she did not return, and it rained for twenty days.

Each year the parents kept a close watch on their fourteen year-old daughters, keeping them busy with work and had escaped two years without losing one. On the twenty-first year another daughter had gone forth into the forest, left without a word or a note -for all the young maidens that had gone had been educated- and all were frightened for her safety.

For three days rain poured from the sky. This gave blessed relief on the first day, irritation on the second, and depression on the third. It continued one so that on the fourth day, for a mere moment, the rain had ceased and allowed a proper look at the grey clouds before resuming its tirade. By the fifth day only the ones with a spark of courage, or a bucket of foolishness, dared to venture outside.

The rain poured down, abusing the world for whichever crime it had committed to anger it so. The villagers placed every protective charm above their doors, murmuring amongst themselves that some evil, irreversible deed had been done to the folk and this was their punishment. They accepted it, adjusting their lives to stay within their homes till the rain went off in silence like it had twenty years ago.

And, so, the rain fell down cruelly still, pounding the trees and the earth. The boughs creaked under the force and the night sky -though it had become difficult at time to discern when it was night or day- grew eerily bright with tremendous flashes of light and trembled with bouts of rolling thunder.

For six days the rain came down, each day surpassing the next in power. The ground grew soft, almost too soft to walk upon. The skies were dark during the day, forcing everyone to use what precious oil and their diminishing supply of candles to see at night. No one dared speak against it, not even the one young woman who, try as she might, couldn't bring herself to sleep during those six nights.

On the seventh day no one could see out their windows. The rain had grown into a crescendo -for how long, no one knew- beating so hard and so fast against the rooftops that they could barely hear it. It came down too fast to see even a breath out the door. Most feared a flood, that mud and debris would flow down through their village and destroy them all. They kept indoors, praying for a break that would not come.

Outside the rain continued on, still angry and vengeful. The trees bent under its weight, repentant for their unknown crime. Not a living thing stirred outside, all except for one young woman making her way through the bruising, desperate to leave her warm and dry home on such a night.

There was something desperately wrong with this village. She moved beneath the rain, her back stooped and body aching from the pressure. She moaned, in pain. She had grown up near this forest, had ventured among the trees for a jaunt. Tonight, it was not the sunny woods filled with the pleasant sound of birds. Tonight, it was a foreign country. She shuddered beneath her cloak, teeth chattering and knees knocking. The mud beneath her feet rushed up over her shoes. She had a mind to quit, to turn back around, but something kept her there on the watery path.

Too much rain, there was too much. She shielded her eyes, attempting to see ahead. She saw lines of falling silver and white. It was getting worse. She pushed her red hair out of her face. Slender tendrils clung to her face and neck, causing as much irritation as the rain. Her thoughts turned back to her task and the thought that something may be following her crept into her mind. She took another step, attempting to stand up straight.

If something was following her it would, most likely, quit before she did. The weather was horrendous and she wasn't bright enough to stop and turn back around. If she had thought this through she probably would have stayed home. She sighed and looked up, stopping where she was.

In front of her eyes lay a clearing -or what may have been one for it now seemed to be quagmire. Perched on a small little stool sinking into the mud and dangerously close to the edge a weathered old man with a fishing line. He was smiling and seemed to be singing a happy little tune. She stared at him, the numbing rain not nearly as harsh as it had been moments ago. She made her way to him slowly, the water level rising steadily and had engulfed the stool by the time she had come next to him.

"Allo!" she called.

The elderly man paid her no mind, instead jerking on the line every now and then. She stared at him, speechless. In this God awful weather here sat an old man fishing. She leant against the tree and gasped. The water had come rushing over his lap. She reached forward and grabbed his shoulders. She pulled him out of harm's way and into the mud. She helped him stand and he gave her brilliant smile.

"Thank ye, kindly, young lady," he said. "I wish to reward you, but I'm not sure how."

"There is no need," she replied modestly.

He shook his head. "Oh, but I must." He looked thoughtful for a moment and then took a slender, silver key out from his pocket. "Take this. It will help you find what you seek, for only one willing to seek what you are searching for and is good of heart may find it."

She thought he was mad. It was too thin, unfit for any use except as an ornament or to be hung from a chain as jewelry. She thanked him for it and slipped the key into a soaked pocket. She sighed, tired, and looked up to thank him once more, but found that he was no longer there. She looked around, bewildered and frightened, before catching sight of his cheerful little hat floating atop the water's surface. She covered her mouth, then murmured a small prayer. It was his time, and what could she have done to intervene?

What the Wise Woman, which later generations had written off as senile, had said had been a warning to the punishment that would come to the village. Two young men from the village had harmed a powerful being to the point of death. Their punishment had been a curse, which curse no one alive now knows. Rain would come year after year and claim one young, pretty, and bright girl from that village.

The Wise woman told them that on the twenty-first year a young woman would go into the forest, one who had insight into human nature but refused to let it show in order to please her old-fashioned relatives. She would be one who could learn fast enough to save them all. She would be fourteen on the seventh day of the twenty-first year, one with hair as red as autumn leaves.

Every mother feared for their daughters' lives, anguished when a girl with red hair has borne. None looked into the details, for the prophesy was fearful enough. With patience they reared these girls to be quiet, obedient, and uneducated. These girls married at fourteen, no sooner and no later. During the two years of no girl lost fifteen of them had gotten married.

One piece of the prophesy had been lost, the souls of the few people who had heard the words come directly out of the whither mouth shook their heads wearily and prayed that the saviour of this good, peaceful little village would know what to do when the time came.

Chapter one rewritten. Word count: 1543. I'll try better next time. Storyline has been corrected and will be confusing for quite a few chapters. I haven't written long fanfiction in a year or so and I am already making all of the same mistakes. What was written above is, loosely, based on a fairy tale I had heard long ago, but extremely exaggarated. I don't usually write like this, but I hope that it suits the story.