I remember well the first time I met her. I had seen her numerous times, but those moments fade in comparison with the moment we first met. To think back on it now, I realize you can never really see a person until you really know them. Then again, can you ever really know someone? Know them inside and out, the way their mind works, what is really in their heart of hearts? That is virtually impossible. There is not a one of us who can even dissect our own thoughts and motives as t truly understand ourselves. But, that is all besides the point, so where was I? Ah, yes. The moment we first met. I would like to say I recognized her for what she was at that moment, but that is not the way of things. Besides, the story would have been over at that moment, and we can’t have that can we now.

She was a small inconsequential ragamuffin. I was a young, stripling lord. My father spent much of his free timedrilling the Code of Chivalry into me. From the time I was old enough to understand I knew I was to protect those weaker than me. I really did wish to become a knight, and I was just waiting for a chance to save a damsel in distress. The day my father informed me I was to invite the young girl to have dinner with us, I honestly thought he lost his mind. Me? Invite a dirty little nothing of a girl to dine with us? He must have been kidding. As it turns out, he was deathly serious. From the look on his face, if I didn’t hasten to do his bidding, I’d get the “Sworn to Protect Those Weaker than Thou” lecture. So, I set off to do as bid. Very reluctantly.

It took me several ties before I found someone who had seen her. When I finally found her, she was sitting atop a grassy hill on the outskirts of town. Her back was to me, and she seemed to be staring at the woods in front of her. I myself didn’t see what was so exciting about a bunch of trees. All I wanted to do was finish my distasteful task and get back to my friends in town. So, I cleared my throat. It was really the only thing I could do. As far as I knew, no one knew her name, and if I just said “Hey, girl” I was sure my father would find out. As it was, she didn’t seem to hear me. Or, she was ignoring me. That must have been it. The audacity of the little brat. To ignore me. So, I went up and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around, I got the biggest shock of my life.

Looking up at me was a startlingly open face. Most of the time, when you look at someone, their face is closed. Everybody has their little secrets that they want to keep hidden. Not so with her. Her face was childishly round. It was more oblong than anything. Although the more you looked at it the more your opinion seemed to change. It was as if her face was mocking you. Come to think of it, it probably was. It ended n a stubborn little chin. Not a good sign. Not that anyone wuld defy me, the lord’s son. I was, at that point determined to find some fault with she who had dared ignore me. Her nose had the aquiline look of the aristocracy. Impossible for someone of her absolute insignificance. I figured she must use the flesh colored putty I had heard some women in the village talking about. Her nose was probably lopsided, or even bulging I thought to myself. I was a very petty youth, but having decided what her fault was, I moved on to her eyes. In that moment, I forgot all else. Such eyes I had never seen, and probably never will see again. Many speak of the eyes as the doors to the soul. For the first time, I truly believed it. Her eyes defied all reason, and all words. There is no way to describe such a sight, but I shall try. They were everything, and yet nothing. They held the world, nay the universe. You could almost see the sapphire blue waves tipped with white foam come rushing up to meet thetopaz beaches sparkling with flecks of diamond and onyx. You could easily get lost in those wide mercurial orbs edged with thick lashes, much like the black velvet curtains that hide the stage from the audience’s view. If it hadn’t been for the need to blink, I would have stood there entranced for eternity. As for her lips, I honestly don’t know. I was at that age where girls were an abhorrent thing. Her hair was golden. Not blonde as many villagers were, but the gold of the sun, of fresh corn still in the field. To one side of her face hung a slim braid tied off with a strip of hide. It was the braid which first drew my eyes to the feature which had made her an outcast to the others in the village.