A/N: I don’t know if this story is too mature for me, but it’s one I’ve had in my mind for a long time now and I had to get it down on paper. Any reactions would be greatly appreciated.

Ember-Maiden

I suppose every man experiences some extraordinary event sometime in his life. Never did I imagine, however, that such an event would come to me. My life was always mediocre and haphazard, without any great purpose or goal. I am, after all, nothing special. I had always been a pauper, a jack of all trades, making my way in the world with little grace and even less money. Even in appearance I am a plain and awkward man, young but not handsome. My limbs have always been too large for my body, and my body not athletic at all but rather too hefty. The face is unkempt and plain, and overall I’ve never cut an impressive figure. My conversation is not particularly intellectual, and I have never gotten far in dialogue with the opposite sex. Naturally women have always been an attractive item to me, but I have always been too shy, homely and stupid to reciprocate the attraction. And yet, all my failings took on a different hue once I found the ember-maiden.

It happened during one of my travels. My father, the only mentor of my childhood and a bit of an idler himself, had recently died. I, left on my own, had sought out a paying job in the military; however, it did not suit my scatterbrained style, and I left without notice. Afraid to be discovered by angry officers, I took to taking the obscure paths of the road, making my night time abode in the forest.

It was upon this occasion that I happened upon her in the late hours of the day. I had found myself a little glen, and my eyes caught sight of a form lying languidly beneath the brush that surrounded it. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was a woman, asleep, shaded from the setting sun. She was very young, perhaps nineteen years old, pale-skinned and slender. Light auburn streams of thick, waving hair lay over her shoulders, stirred occasionally by the cold autumn breezes. From her attire I speculated that she was a whore of some kind, for the tips of her white ears were pierced with gold and silver earrings, and one of her shoulders was bared from the loose neckline of her turquoise gown. The shoulder, I could see, had been inflicted with bruises that, though not awful, were noticeable.

Though women, especially women of her sort, intimidated me, her gentle sleep urged me to linger, and I stood at a distance, watching her chest rise and fall. She was enchantingly beautiful. I watched, mesmerized, like a child looking at a pretty thing.

At length, the young woman stirred. As the foliage shifted, the last beams of twilight hit her eyes and she awoke. Her eyes flew open and settled upon me, and, jerking herself upwards, she moved back and pushed herself to her feet. Her breathing grew heavy and she pressed herself against a tree trunk. She made no sound, but stood tersely, with the frightened air of one who is defenseless. I was surprised by her sudden movements, and racked my brain to think of something to say to her.

“Don’t…don’t worry; I…I won’t hurt you.” My words came out as they often do when I am nervous: uneven and stuttered. Heat rose to my face as I thought what a fool I must have seemed, watching her as she slept. She stared at me, her expression half-sullen, half-frightened. Peaked and wide-eyed, her face remained steadfastly level toward mine.

“I...I’m sorry,” I stammered hastily. “Are you…h-hungry?” It seemed evident by her extremely pale complexioned and hollow eyes that she had not eaten, nor even slept, for a good few days.

At my words, her eyes grew brighter, and her guard lessened. I took a step forward, and she did not move. I reached into my pack, and took from it the bread that I had rationed from my last bout of good fortune. I held it out to her.

Her eyes looked once more upon me, with untrustworthiness. They were such eloquent eyes, so obviously asking questions of me. I could not but answer.

“T-take it,” I said, my voice growing firmer as I spoke. “You owe me nothing.”

Cold and dry, her fingers grazed mine as she took the bread from my hand. Her strong white teeth bit into the bread, and her neck muscles twitched as she consumed it. She ate with a fervor that confirmed my suspicions. I gave her the rest of the loaf, and moved to collect the makings of a fire. The evening was coming fast upon me, and the air had a distinct, sharp coldness in it.

The kindles of my fire had begun to glow by the time the woman finished the bread. She looked at me as I knelt beside it, and crept closer to me. Her movements were nervous and unsure, but her eyes held curiosity. I looked back at her, and wondered if she could speak. Her face was so lovely in the golden tint of dusk, and the shadows played around her delicate lips. I lowered my eyes, and worked on the fire.

Again the cold touch of fingers froze the blood in my veins as the woman took hold of my wrist. I looked up in surprise, and she smiled very slightly as she pushed my hands aside. Bending down herself, she stirred the twigs lightly, and blew upon the kindles, persuading them to flame. She was doing my work for me; she was thanking me.

I sat upon my heels, watching with curiosity as the strange young woman manipulated the fire. She looked like a wood nymph or elemental sprite.

“Are you lost?” I asked her, wondering if she could even speak. “Shall I take you to the village?”

My words fell upon seemingly deaf ears. She did not respond at all to my questioning, but merely blew upon the embers once more. They sparkled and reared into transparent orange flames. She moved back, satisfaction upon her face.

“I have not much food…or money,” I said, attempting to converse once more, “but I know my way to the village. Where do you live?”

She put her hand to her brow and wiped away the perspiration from the fire. Bringing her hand down to her knees, she gazed past it into the firelight. I could see her green eyes staring into it like seas – briny, tempestuous seas. They had grown clouded at my query, and now finally erupted into tears that slowly glazed over her cold, smooth cheeks and ran down her bodice. I was frightened at this sudden change of disposition, and wondered what I had done wrong. Feeling miserable, I shifted my feet to the side. I watched her. The bruised shoulders, still slipping from their covering, shook as she sobbed silently.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stuttered, my tongue growing sluggish once again. “Don’t…c-cry…please…” She gave no response.

I had never been in such a situation. I had had very little contact with women, and I had certainly never seen one cry before. Thinking to comfort her, I very gently placed my hand on her arm. She twitched noticeably beneath my grasp, but did not move her arm. I took my hand away, and looked at her. Tremulous and pale, she drew in a breath to stop her crying. She looked at me, and there was warmth in her eyes.

Whether due to the dullness of my mind or its preoccupation with her beauty, I could not conceive of how this young woman had come to be alone in the forest, and what her circumstances had been. She was dressed in the attire of a loose woman or whore, and yet her demeanor was opposite to that of such a woman. It would seem she was a mute, and still she understood everything I said to her. From her bedraggled appearance and turbulent emotions, it was obvious she had been mistreated.

“You need not fear,” I said after thinking about this for a moment. “You can stay here if you wish…I will not take you anywhere if it makes you unhappy.”

Her tears subsided. A reticent smile broke out upon her young face.

That evening, she made herself a little bed in one corner of the glen, and I made myself another. Both of us made our abode in the forest there for a few days. It seemed we were both hiding from something; I from the law, and she from some mysterious force, unbeknownst to me. My food supply grew short after a while, and she, evidently well acquainted with the forest, began to show me where wild berries could be found, and which roots and leaves were edible. A friendship between us was kindled, although she still said nary a word and I remained ignorant as to her identity and situation. Only once did I attempt to interrogate her again. It was the morning after our first meeting, and as I saw her in the dawning light, so fresh and pale, I wished desperately to call her by her name.

“I am called Tomson,” I had said, a bit awkwardly. “What is your name?”

Dark glowering shadows crossed over her face at this question. The liveliness brought to her by the bright morning disappeared. Like the glowing beginnings of a fire, I could see anger gleaming in her green eyes. Her lip curled, and her chin was drawn under sullenly. I asked her what was wrong, and she growled at me like a cat.

Once again I was taken aback by her behavior. I had not expected that my question would produce such a violent reaction. When I saw that my words had creased her brow afterwards for a full fifteen minutes, I finally said,

“I am sorry…but I must call you something.”

She looked up. Her expression was less angry than before, but remained sullen. However, curiosity and ill-concealed eagerness soon overcame her countenance as I continued, “Shall I give you a name of my own? Your hair…it is like glowing embers…shall I call you Ember-maiden?”

Then a strange thing happened. Her face, which had been so angry a minute ago, suddenly crinkled about the eyes, and her mouth widened into a smile. She laughed at the funny name I had given her. Her laugh was like the hum of fairy’s wings, or the distant tingling of church bells. She was pleased.

Thereafter, her disposition improved. Though she was silent still, she was jovial, and warm towards me. When I spoke her name, she would lift her little chin eagerly, and her eyes would shine brightly. Wherever I went and whatever I did, whether sleeping or awake, her eyes seemed to follow me. They delved into mine like intense fields of green haze. Though I denied the feeling and scolded myself for entertaining such whims, I began to fall in love with her.

One day we had prepared our noon meal together. We sat on opposite sides of the fire, and I looked upon her furtively as we ate. The day was cold as usual, but I had given her my old coat, vintage from my career in soldiery, and it kept her from shivering at the cool wafts of air.

Our part of the forest was evidently not a place common for hunters or foresters, for no one had happened upon our abode during the length we had been there. As we sat today, however, I heard rustlings in the nearby brush that seemed to be man-made and not those of an animal. I looked up, thinking it would be a huntsman of some sort. The ember-maiden looked up as well, but apprehensively. Fear lurked in her eyes. I stood, and, to my surprise, she came to stand behind me. She had never acted in that way before, and I felt slightly uneasy as I called out,

“Who is there?”

At the edge of the glen a shadow was cast; a man appeared from the thicket of trees. He was tall with an agile form, and moved with an air of self-assurance. Black locks, cropped to the shoulder, gave a shadowy hue to his appearance. His clothes, likewise, were dark, and his shirt sleeves were short, baring sculpted arms with subtle veins. His dusky eyes looked stormily towards the ember-maiden as he stepped towards us.

“Three days,” he said, and his voice was deep and rugged, “three days have I been seeking you, wench!”

I looked at the girl, now cowering behind me. Her eyes had widened in recognition as he appeared, and her very lips had paled as the man began to speak. She seemed frozen like stone, unable to move or react.

“I am sick and tired,” the man went on, “of this constant annoyance. Every time I look around, you have run off. Every time you are displeased or discontent you hide away in the woods. Get it into your head, wench: you are not some Persian princess. You are not an heiress. You will not be treated like one. I told you I loved you; I never said that I would make you what you were not.”

The ember-maiden’s eyes spilled over with tears at his words. The words clearly wounded her, but only because of her love for him. Pained, passionate, and unrequited love was transparent upon her face. At this, raging jealousy filled my heart, which I had foolishly imagined to be free from emotion. I hated the strange man intensely.

Continuing his monologue, the man increased in brutality and harshness.

“I wanted you, girl, and you needed me. And so I made a bargain with you. Who have you to blame but yourself on that matter? You were a whore to sell yourself to me for a job at my inn. You remain a whore by servicing my customers. So put an end to your crying, because it will get you nowhere. You cry, you run, you hide, and sooner or later you come back. There is no other choice.

“What have you done now? Run off to hide with some loutish tramp such as this? You have nothing, and you know nothing. You sold yourself to me. Come back now, and stop this game of hide and seek.”

Still frozen, the girl made no movement. Every word that he had uttered had been a stinging blow, and her face was inflicted with the scars of those blows. He stepped forward again.

“Come, Imogene,” he said.

The stillness shattered. A rapid change came over the maiden’s face. Its paleness suddenly disappeared, and her eyes grew green and bright once more. Her throat moved, and she breathed as one saved from oncoming death. She opened her mouth, and spoke. Her voice was to the silence like water is to a dry throat, or a breeze to a sultry brow.

“Do not call me by that name,” she said in a voice as pure as the cloudless sky. “I have a new name, and you know it not.” Her words were fearless, and the timbre of her voice strong. The man, taken aback, watched her with glowing eyes. She shook her straying tresses from her face, and turned to me. She took my hands.

I admit that I thought, as those cold hands enveloped mine, that my heart had flown right out of my throat. My jealousy melted; my head felt light.

“You can speak…my Ember-maiden,” I said, tremulously but without a stutter. She smiled, and lifted her lips to mine.

She kissed me.

Finis