After following my father’s orders to invite the girl to dinner, I had nothing better to do. So, I went back into town to meet my friends. By that time they had heard tales of me searching out the witch’s child. In the true fashion of any child met with possible rejection, I spun a fanciful tale of my heroic deeds. I was searching her out to prevent her dastardly deeds, or so I said. Finally, I had cornered her at the hill and confronted her. She started to make weird noises, calling forth her evil powers, but I courageously held my ground. When I, the bold soon-to-be knight, vanquished her untold evils, she ran wailing into the woods. My friends were awestruck at my bravery, and there was much congratulations and back slapping all around. After all, I was the conquering hero come home after defeating the horrifying villain.

Soon after telling my friends of my bravery, I retrieved my horse from the hostler and headed back to the keep. Our home was magnificent. It was an enormous stone structure, the outside of which was covered with rambling green ivy. We had thick stained glass windows, and several round towers. Not to mention, the keep was so full of secret passageways and cubbyholes that we could never hope to find them all. I did not want to share my home with a stranger. It wasn’t as if the girl would even appreciate any of the surroundings. I think what really caused my resentment was not the fact that an outcast nobody would be dining with us, but I would have to share the things I treasured most.

When I arrived home, I took my horse straight to the stables and made sure she was taken care of. My father had insisted that I take care of my own animal, because as a knight on the trail I would have no servants. As soon as I entered the keep, my father found me. I assured him that I had delivered the invitation, but left out the details of what followed. Only upon entering my room did I begin to wonder. What would she wear to dinner if she indeed did came? All I had seen her in were dirty rags. In our home, dinners were formal. My mother was trying to turn my sisters into marriageable young ladies. Not that I cared if she looked foolish or anything. Still, nothing was worse than humiliation. I was tempted to ask my mother about my sisters’ old gowns, but it would never do for people to think I was concerned about the witch’s child. Really, I wasn’t. All of my rambling thoughts were giving me a headache, so I decided to sleep before dinner.

Upon waking, I called for a basin of warm water to wash with. My clothes had already been selected for me, so all I had to do was wait. After washing, I pulled on my fawn colored breeches and shrugged into my simple white shirt. My valet helped me button the cuffs at the end of the billowing sleeves. While I buttoned the brocade vest over the shirt, my valet helped me on with my boots. I always managed to scuff the shiny black while pulling them on, unless I had help. Mother would have the biggest fit ever, and I would be forced to re-polish them as a lesson. After smoothing my hair with comb and water, I headed downstairs. My parents, and my three sisters were already seated. I went to my own seat, but I didn’t see the girl anywhere. I almost sighed in relief. Nobody could find out about something that never happened. All would be well, and by tomorrow, today would have never happened.

At that moment, the huge, wooden, double doors with their elaborate inlaid pattern swung open. A warm, jasmine scented breeze came through the doorway. My first thought upon seeing the figure standing there was, at least it’s not her. There was no way that the dirty urchin from the hill could be the stunning spectre before us. Or so I thought. The girl in the doorway, whoever she was, started towards the table. Clothed in shimmering silk, she rustled with each step she took. The gown itself was of such simple lines. Billowing sleeves that must surely reach the floor when her arms were raised, and a scooped neckline. A slim ribbon accentuated the waistline which fell into a graceful train. It was in a toxic, pale green, like that of a luna moth. This was definitely not the same girl. My father rose and pulled out a seat. The vision, for I could hardly believe it real, swept her skirts aside and sat. Although it was quite rude, and if my mother had caught me painful, I caught myself staring at the girl seated across from me. I couldn’t figure out who she was, or how my parents seemed to know who she was. For some reason she seemed vaguely familiar. I couldn’t see her face, because it was hidden by a cloud of spun gold. The thought of gold reminded me of another, but it wasn’t possible. Or was it? Finally, after what seemed an eternity of guessing, she looked up. Staring back at me were two ever changing pools of color.

After such a revelation, stunned was putting it a bit mildly. Where on Earth did someone like her get clothes like those? The obviously couldn’t be hers. And, why was she even dining with us in the first place? I know I invited her at my father’s request, but why did he request? Something was going on here, and I didn’t like it one bit. My parents weren’t really the secretive type. Therefore, all the blame was apparently hers. Finally, I realized I was still being watched. I looked up from my plate, at which I had been staring furiously, directly into laughing emerald eyes, that being the most apparent color at the moment.

That dinner was one of the most memorable ever. Although she never spoke the whole time, she radiated a sense of well-being. It was as if she were a fireplace that chased the chill away from the room. The rest of the family acted just the same as they always did. The only break in the norm was her tinkling laugh at an occasional comment from my parents. I was utterly confused. My parents invite a total stranger to dinner, she shows up totally transformed, and not a single word is spoken to or by her. I don’t know if my sisters thought this strange, but I know I did. After dinner, my father asked me to escort our guest out. Since my mother was present, and it was the gentlemanly thing to do, I pulled her seat out, and offered my arm. When she rose, I again smelled jasmine. It was then I noticed, for the first time, that one side of her hair was pulled back and held along with a spray of the delicate white flowers. As I walked her to the door, she seemed preoccupied. Not that I cared over much. She was still an outcast. For some reason, however, she seemed more lonely. As if all she wanted in life was a friend. That is something that everyone can understand. Just as I was turning to go back inside, I thought I heard a whisper, so I turned back.

“Will you come back to the hill tomorrow?” She said so softly that I almost didn’t hear. “Please.” The second sounded like someone used to rejection, and she looked so forlorn. Almost like a kicked puppy. If there is one thing I can’t abide, it is cruelty. I honestly don’t know if it was the barely showing hopefulness I saw, or if I was being guided by something else, but that night I said yes. If there is one thing that everybody needs in their life, it is hope. Without hope, we are nothing. Empty shells without the will to go on. Without hope for joy, or better things to come, who would want to go on? To live for the next day when something extraordinary might happen. As for being guided by something else, there comes a time, or many times, in a person’s life when you have to make a choice. Now, we all have to make choices. What will I wear today? Where will I go? What will I eat? Then there are those choices that once chosen can never be changed. They will change a person’s life for ever after, whether it be for the good or bad. Usually, with these kind of choices we are irrevocably drawn to one choice or another. In my case, I made the choice to utter that simple, one syllable word, yes. That choice would forever change my life.