Lifetime
Posted on Thu Sep 5th, 2024 @ 10:29pm by Lieutenant Tracey Walker Jr
Edited on on Thu Sep 5th, 2024 @ 11:35pm
Mission:
Deep freeze
Location: Faeryjar
Timeline: Past
[Faeryjar 1075 AD]
Tra’ce knelt in the snow, his breathing slowed so much that the mist escaping his lips was all but invisible. A boy of fifteen, he was already one of the best hunters in his tribe. Tall and lithe, his frame belied strength, though in the years to come he would become strong like his father.
With a sigh he released the string, the arrow flying true and taking the buck in the neck. It reared, blood flowing freely, and galloped into the woods. With the blood on the snow, it would be easy to track. Slinging his bow onto his back, he plodded after it.
The trail wound around trees and but continued more or less north toward the river. At this time of year it would barely be moving, except around the hot spring that fed into it from upriver. Sure enough, after a mile or so he found the buck collapsed, his breathing harsh and shallow.
“Shhhhh.” He said, stroking it. “It will be ok.” He lied, his other hand coming up under the throat with a knife. Slowly, he drew it across the jugular, so as to hasten death. The deed done, he prepared to hoist the carcass on his shoulder when the sounds of splashing came from up ahead. Curious, he moved slowly toward it, using all of his hunter’s skills to remain silent.
As he drew over the bank, he saw a young woman, nude, bathing in the river right where the hot springs flowed into it. His breath caught, so taken was he with her beauty. Briefly, he considered staying silent and watching her longer, but it felt disrespectful. He tore his eyes from her, and started to pad back to the buck when a voice cut through the crisp winter air.
“You can stop hiding. I know thou art there.” She said, a smirk in her voice.
Tra’ce cleared his throat. “You have fine ears, lady. Few can hear me when I choose to be silent.” When he looked toward her again, she stood, naked as a jay bird, facing him, unashamed. He made to turn away.
“Do not turn away on my account.” She said, “Why should I be ashamed of my nakedness. You came upon me, not the other way ‘round.”
“That is true, lady, but I would not besmirch thy honor…”
“Oh posh. Come now, what is thy name boy?” She said, that smirk still on her lips.
“Tra…Tra’ce.” He said, practically stammering.
“Thou art that boy from the neighboring village, the hunter, art thou not?”
“Y…yes.”
She smiled warmly. “Well, if it makest thou uncomfortable, Tra’ce, I am finished bathing. I will cover myself. I am Geneva.”
[Faeryjar 1095 AD]
Tra’ce grunted as sweat dripped from his brow. He pounded the rough shape of metal several more times before slipping it into the cool water of the barrel, the hiss of steam filling his small workshop. An old man leaned against one of the beams supporting the smithy, and grunted in satisfaction.
“Well now, you know you way around a hammer. Seems to me that my daughter won’t starve then.” He said, hiding a grin behind his snow white beard.
“Then I have your permission to ask for her hand?” Tra’ce said, trying to hide his own nervousness.
The old man extended his hand. “You do,” He said. “But don’t you dare tell her you asked for my permission. She’s her own woman, and she never lets me forget it. By the way, I hear the Jarl up North is looking for a blacksmith.”
[Faeryjar 1096 AD]
Geneva screamed as the wolf nipped at her heels. She was running through the woods, a satchel of fresh berries swinging around her hip. She hadn’t seen the pack before she’d foolishly wandered into their territory.
She tripped, going down in a huff and the wolf was on her. She held up her hands defensively, trying to protect her vitals. She was going to die.
Suddenly, there was a sickening crunch, and the wolf went limp. Tra’ce stood over her, his blacksmith’s hammer resting on his shoulder, blood and skull fragments adorning it. Where had he come from? She had left him at their home to go gather berries. The other wolves from the pack scampered off into the waning light of the forest.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
Her heart swelled.
[Faeryjar 1096 AD -Winter]
Geneva smiled radiantly up at Tra'ce, the wan light of the winter sun basking the small clearing in unseasonable warmth. She still had the slight smirk in her smile, a smile she only shared with him.
The mountain laurels woven in her hair stood out bright red against the white of her simple dress. As the vows were spoken women of his village wept, and men cleared their throats.
[Faeryjar 1097 AD]
Jarl Ke’vin smiled and extended a hand. “Very well, Tra’ce, I accept your oath. You and your wife are welcome to set up in the oathmen’s quarters. The smithy is yours. It will be pleasing to once again hear the ring of steel upon steel in my home.”
Off:
Lieutenant Tracey ‘Trace’ Walker
Chief Engineer
USS Chuck Norris
