K. Blackthorn

   When Seeker woke, the sunlight felt more golden.  The birds’ song was sweeter.  singing of the birds was sweeter.  But most of all the nearby wheat fields carried a fragrance steeped in memory—Beautiful’s memory.

    She kept her promise.   They spent hours together in his dream—wandering meadows, feeding each other apples in the orchard.  But even so, he couldn’t wait to see her again.

    When he entered the common room, she was already there.  She had set a plate next to hers—and was waiting.

    “Good morning, baby,” She glanced at the day-old bread. “It’s not apples, but it’ll have to do.

   He sat beside her and reached for her hand, but she pulled it away with a disapproving glare.

    “Not here, I said!”

They ate together talking and laughing.  As he finished his last bite of bread, she gave a small tilt of her head toward the door.

    “What is it you do in that tower, Seeker?”

    “How do you even know about that?” He blinked.

    “Everyone knows, little baby,” she said with a smirk.   “You go there every single day.”

    She’d seen him before.  Of course.  It hit him.  He’d seen her too, at Stern’s gatherings.  He just hadn’t noticed.  She always slipped in late and left early.  He wondered at himself.  How had he seen her all those months and never noticed?

   “Come and see, baby,” he teased.

    “Don’t call me baby!”

    It took Seeker and Beautiful twice as long to climb the stairs as it had to descend.  They stopped often, catching their breath, laughing at each other.  Their hands never parted the whole way up.

    At the top of the stairs, she gently slipped her hand from his.  “Not here,” she said softly.  “Someone might see us.”

    He let go, reluctantly.  Who cares if someone sees?

    He slowed his steps, dreading the cottage door.  At last, they reached her room.  She offered him her hand.  He took it, gazing into her eyes.  Those beautiful almond eyes, shining just for him.  He held on to the moment, fixing it in his memory.

    “Can I kiss you?”  The words were out before he could stop them.  Regret hit instantly.  How could he be so awkward?  How could he ruin the perfect day?

    “Not my lips,” she said, lightning flashing in her eyes.  She glanced away, her cheeks flushing pink.  Then she turned and offered him her cheek.

   “I’ll miss you,” he said, trying to extend the moment.

   “No, you won’t.  I’m going to visit you in your dreams.”

    Seeker and Beautiful talked and laughed for hours by the stream.  The shadows began to lengthen.  Time was slipping away. If only this day would never end.  He knew he would never forget it.

    Beautiful leaned against him.  She told him about the King’s summons, how her journey had begun, and how she had slipped and fallen into the Slough of Despond.  “I can’t forget how disgusting the mud felt,” she said.

   Seeker nodded, lost in her eyes.

   “I came from the Dark Land,” she added, her voice softening.  She spoke about her childhood and how hard times had been.  Sadness crept into her eyes.

    For the first time, he truly saw her.  Beneath all that unapproachable beauty was a sadness she kept hidden.  She’s just like me.

    As she kept speaking, tears began to slip down her cheeks.  He took the handkerchief from her hand and gently wiped them away.

    It didn’t seem possible.  How could someone so beautiful carry such sorrow?  A single tear escaped his eye.

    Without warning, lightning flashed in her eyes.  “Don’t cry!” she snapped.  “Only babies cry.”  Then, just as quickly, the fire vanished.  She blinked surprised by her own outburst.  Her expression softened, and a playful gleam returned.   “I’m going to call you baby from now on.”

    “Hurry up, baby, the sun is setting.”  Beautiful sprang to her feet and dashed toward the stairs.

    Seeker sat there, stunned.  I don’t think that means what she thinks it does.

    Seeker and Beautiful sat on the banks of the stream.  The water gleamed in the sun, dancing playfully around smooth stones.  Across the water rose the proud silhouette of the Stately Palace.  He thought back to the story he’d read in his Book.  He could almost see the valiant warrior overcoming insurmountable odds to win the prize he desired.

    The Interpreter had spared no expense to teach a simple truth: you must fight for the things you dearly want.  He thought of the parable he’d read in the study—the merchant who sold everything he owned to buy one perfect pearl.  He had never met anyone quite like her.

    Beautiful had taken off her shoes and was dangling her toes in the water.  She set her handbag down on the rock beside her and pulled out a small linen parcel, bound neatly with twine.  With careful fingers, she opened it, revealing two sandwiches—spiced meat and cheese tucked between slices of Miss Cheerful’s morning bread.

    “Funny,” she muttered, almost under her breath, “I thought, make one for your h—” She stopped abruptly, her face flushing bright red.  She dropped her gaze and laughed softly.  He would never get tired of that.  “Ridiculous,” she exclaimed.  “What a notion!”

    Seeker shared a story Companion had once told him.  Nobody could be quite as funny as Companion.  She laughed—and the sound was more melodious than music.  

   He passed her his canteen.  It had been Companion’s—a parting gift before he left for home.   She pressed it to her lips—those gorgeous lips—took a sip and handed it back.

    “Hold still,” she said, wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth with her handkerchief.   A tingle lingered on his skin where she touched him.

    He sighed.  This was the best day of his life.  Somewhere nearby, a bird chirped in agreement.

    Seeker stood there stunned for a heartbeat.  Then he caught his breath and followed.  She seemed so carefree.  So alive.  And fast—he nearly had to run to keep up.

    At the top of the stairway, she stepped on a slick rock—her foot shooting out from under her.  She flailed for balance, her arms outstretched.  He caught her hand, pulling her upright before she could fall.  She gave him a sheepish grin and started to pull away.  But he didn’t let go.

    Her hand was small in his.  Soft as silk.  She looked down at their joined hands, glanced away, and giggled.  His heart skipped a beat.  She was so cute when she did that.  He started to let go.  Slowly.  But she shifted her grip, threading her fingers through his, holding tightly.

    Hand in hand, they descended the stairs, each step placed with care.  Their hearts beat together, the rhythm pulsing through their joined hands.  Down they went.  Step by step.

    The ravine opened before them.  The stream rushed over cascades, winding away until it vanished into the trees.  Waterfalls plunged from the mountains, crashing into the stream below, mist rising in cool, drifting clouds.  The Stately Palace stood across the water, untouched by time.  

    It was all stunning.  But he saw only her.

    The way down was long.  But not long enough.  He was holding hands with the most beautiful girl—Beautiful. 

    And in that moment, he wished the stairs would never end.

    The day began like any other.  Seeker woke with the dawn, washed his face and hands in the basin by his bed, and went downstairs for a modest breakfast of fresh-baked bread and water.  Then he made his way to the tower.

    His mind swirled with verb conjugations.  He had just finished reading about the life of the Prince in one ancient tome and had begun learning the alphabet of another.

    As he stepped out of the cottage, a song drifted from the wheat fields—sweet and melodious, the birds singing in perfect harmony.  His thoughts of study vanished.  He had to find the source.

    He rounded the corner and saw her—walking gracefully through the wheat fields, her delicate fingers brushing the ripened grain, pausing now and then to pluck a golden stalk in perfect rhythm with her singing.

    Her hair flowed gently in the breeze, long black strands whipping across her face.  Her lips moved softly with the melody.  Then she paused mid-word, catching sight of him.  He had never seen such beautiful lips.

    His eyes locked with hers.  Were they twinkling or dancing?  He smiled.  She smiled back at him.  His smile widened.  He couldn’t stop himself.  He felt like an idiot.  Then she beamed.  Her face lit up, outshining the sun.  Her beauty made the moon pale by comparison.  He couldn’t think.  He couldn’t breathe.  He was lost in the radiance.

   Time seemed to slow down as she walked towards him.  She poked him in the stomach with her index finger.

    “I’m Beautiful,” she said matter-of-factly.   Never had a name fit more perfectly.  Everything about her whispered it.  Declared it.  Beautiful.

    “Yes, you are!”  Had he really said that out loud?  What a fool.  

    Surprise flickered in her eyes, and she took a small step back.  Her gaze dropped, and she giggled.  A moment later, her smile returned in a flash.

     Say something.  Say anything.  “Do you want to go see the stream together?” he stammered.  “Maybe tomorrow?”  Where had that last part come from?  He really wasn’t thinking straight.

    He’d made up his mind.  Her eyes weren’t just twinkling—they were dancing.

    “What’s wrong with today?” she shot back, already sauntering toward the stairs.  “Try to keep up!”  

    Seeker woke up early the next morning and waited for the sun to rise.  He climbed the tower, as he always did, but he couldn’t focus.  Restless, he wandered out to the pastures.  And there, the loneliness found him.

    A lone sheep stood apart, bleating into the morning stillness.  From a distance, the flock answered her call.  She turned and ran toward the sound.

    He followed her.  When he reached the flock, he found Stern seated on a rock.  Beside him sat another shepherd—his hair and beard gray, but his posture youthful and his eyes shining with quiet life.

    “Seeker,” Stern said, looking up with a smile.  “I’m glad you’re here.  This is Kind.  He’ll be tending the flock while I’m away.”

    Seeker’s heart sank.  Stern was leaving?

    “My family and I are heading to the Delectable Mountains for a short time,” Stern said gently.  “But we’ll be back.”

   “Stern was telling me about Companion,” Kind said, his voice warm. “I’m sure you miss him already.”

    Seeker nodded.

    “Liora’s cooking breakfast,” Kind said, “Come on.  She’s waiting to meet you.”

    Seeker looked to Stern.  Stern nodded.  “Go on.  We’re not leaving for several days.  I’ll see you tomorrow?”

    Kind spoke enthusiastically as they walked—he had plans for Seeker—the Harvest festival, Prince Emmanuel’s Birthday, breakfasts, suppers.

    The fragrance of cooking grain and wild herbs drifted to Seeker as they approached the humble canvas tent.  A young girl spotted them, then ducked inside.  “Mom!” she called, tugging Liora out by the hand.

    Liora stood there, poised and elegant, yet entirely approachable, with eyes that matched her husband’s in kindness.

     “Heya, Seeker.”  The girl looked up at him with piercing gray eyes.  “Oh, don’t look so surprised.  Everyone knows you.  You just need to get your nose out of your books.  Or listen.”  She laughed.  “I’m Tirzah, by the way.”  And just like that, she was gone.

       The three of them ate breakfast together and talked.  Well, Seeker talked.  Kind and Liora had no end of questions for him.  And somewhere along the way, Seeker forgot he was lonely.

    The day came when the King summoned Companion. His assignment in the Slough was finished, and he was returning to his family.  They stood outside the cottage, Companion’s pack slung over his shoulder.

    “I’m going to miss you, Seeker.”  Then he grinned.  “But my wife misses me more, you know.”

    Seeker nodded.  He swallowed the lump rising in his throat.  His eyes stung.  He thought back to the Slough of Despond and remembered his despair.  And wondered if he would ever find another friend like Companion.  He was happy for him.  These days had been hard for Companion, and he knew it.

    Companion placed a hand on Seeker’s shoulder.  “Guard your heart, Seeker.”  His voice grew quiet, his expression solemn.  “There are places much worse than the Slough to fall into.  Much worse.”  He paused as if weighing whether to say more.  “I, of all people, know that best.”

    The silence stretched—just long enough for the warning to settle deep.  

    “I will, Companion.  I will.”

    Suddenly, the clouds rolled back, and a ray of sunlight lit Companion’s face.  He brightened and said something lighthearted.  Seeker laughed.

    Then Companion turned and walked alone toward the Narrow Way.

     Days passed into weeks, and weeks into months.  Seeker spent his days in the Interpreter’s Study.  Reading, learning the languages of antiquity, and poring over the ancient tomes to uncover their secrets.

     He was always by Companion’s side.  They became close friends, sharing meals and long conversations.

    Evenings were spent in fellowship—with Miss Cheerful, Faint-Resolve, Miss Fair-Glance, Steadfast and Gracious, and many other Pilgrims who came through the cottage.

   He debated Lechery and other travelers in error.

   Often, they gathered in the pastures around Stern, listening to his quiet wisdom beneath the open sky.

     When Seeker arrived back at the cottage, Miss Cheerful greeted him with a wave.  “Just in time for dinner, Seeker.  Grab a bowl and some stew!”

   At the table, Faint-Resolve sat stiffly, scowling, his shoulders tight with unease.  Across from him was a man Seeker hadn’t seen before—handsome, well-dressed, with immaculate blonde hair, a well-trimmed mustache, and piercing blue eyes.

   “…you should have seen how she wiggled and giggled.”  The man leaned back, relaxed, eyes flickering with amusement.  “Her face might be kissed by the sun,” he added in a lower voice, “but her breasts—soft, and pale as cream.”   

   “Shame!” Faint-Resolve snapped, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.  “You call yourself a Pilgrim?”  

   “What?” A hurt look crossed the man’s face.  “I serve this King just like you.  I can’t help if I’m weak for shepherd girls.”

    Seeker’s bowl clattered as he set it down on the table and took a seat beside Faint-Resolve.  He shifted uncomfortably, and toyed with his stew, stirring without appetite, eyes fixed on his bowl.

    “I know you,” Faint-Resolve said, his voice steady but tight.  “Aren’t you the son of Lechery, called Lechery yourself?”

    “I didn’t take her honor.”  Lechery protested, but he didn’t deny the name.  “And I promised her. If anything were to happen to my wife, I would marry her.”

   “Shame.”  Faint-Resolve said again, softer this time.  “There’s no place in the cottage for the likes of you.”

    Seeker’s face began to burn as Stern’s warning echoed in his mind—then Steadfast’s words followed.  He’d assumed Steadfast had meant Faint-Resolve.  And he’d condemned Steadfast for being judgmental… when it was he who had judged unfairly.  All along, Steadfast had been speaking of Lechery.

   “My friend,” Lechery said, having regained his composure.  “It’s you who don’t understand the King’s grace.”  He smirked.  “Besides, if she let you, you’d be no different than me.”  No names spoken, but he lingered on the word she, as if Faint-Resolve knew exactly whom he meant.  “But she only likes the attention.”

     Faint-Resolve’s face flushed red.  He opened his mouth to speak but only sputtered.  No words came.   

    Lechery picked up his bowl and stood. “He who is without sin, let him cast the first stone.”  He gave a slight nod.  “Good day.”

    Neither spoke.  They just finished their stew in silence, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air.