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Rated: E · Short Story · Other · #1250439
Unfinished.
Old John was a pedlar, and, like all pedlars on Efilose Island he slept on the road. Being without horse and cart, it was the sky for a ceiling and the rocks for a bed. At this current moment in time he was dozing outside the palace gates. A girl scream cut through the air, startling the pedlar to wakefulness. He pressed his wrinkled face to the metal bars and looked up at the grandeous palace. The banner fluttering gently in the breeze represented everything Old John hated.

Ripping his eyes from the flagpole he turned to walk away when movement caught the corner of his eye and tugged him back. A plump figure descended the last yard or two of the palace wall laboriously. Slipping eagerly down the rope after her was a young woman in a nightdress. The pedlar sucked in his breath, could this be the princess?

Princess Jennifer put her next foot down ever so carefully. Madame Bethany had told her that it was most important that they hadn't make any sound at all if they were to escape without anyone detecting them. They continued noiselessly along the gravel drive. Jennifer felt all bubbly inside, just at the thought of all the excitement that awaited her.

Bethany drew to a halt, fingers touching the cold metal. Far off in Novella forest a lone wolf howled, waiting for an answer that would never come. Bethany drew her shawl around herself as her hair prickled. She hated wolves! Jennifer took a step forward and Bethany shook herself into the task at hand.

The pedlar suspected as much, Lady Beth was pure evil through and through and wouldn't stop at anything. His keen hazel eyes watchful, he swiftly packed his satchel and prepared for a night on the road.

Bethany raised her hand, signalling Jennifer to stop. The princess did so thankfully. Her eyelids drooped with lack of sleep and she was almost crying with fatigue. It was clear that walking long distances in the moonlight was not one of her strengths. Bethany closed her eyes and touched the bark of the tree with her fingertips.

Jennifers’ eyes widened. Madame Bethany glowed with an ethereal light and figures were appearing out of the shadows. They were about the same age as Jennifer, not old enough to be qualified as men, but old enough to lose the name "boy". Their pointed ears and pointed faces reminded her of an illustration she'd come across in a book, and their skin looked like it was dyed that colour by natures' hand.

Astonished by the events so far, the old pedlar put Lady Bethany to the back of his mind for a while. These creatures were enough to keep him occupied for at least an hour. He started when Bethanys’ voice rang out in the near silence.
"Your prince if you please. I have matters to discuss that are not for the world to hear." Muted tones of assent were muttered as various elves disappeared.

Slit amber eyes gazed onto the scene with amusement.
"Such a commotion!” he slipped out of the shadows and bowed low to Bethany, his smoky grey/blue wings folded neatly down his back.
“I have her, Your Highness; as you wanted… a virgin princess.” Bethany threw a stony glance at the princess and she climbed to her feet with all the grace she could muster in such inelegant circumstances.
“Will she do?” Bethany sounded tense as the prince fingered his silver circlet. He eyed up Jennifer, his gaze resting on her absence of royal identity.
“Where is her crown?” his tone was reluctant, as if each word was a jewel which he couldn’t bear to part with.

“I have no crown” the princess was not going down without a fight. She shook her hair back, and smiled scathingly.
“I don’t get my royal crown till I’m eighteen, so you have to wait until the spring.” The elfin prince looked taken aback, but laughter danced in his amber eyes.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I’ll get you the Sevolian princess… her crowning ceremony was just last week.” Jennifer eyed Madame Bethany, she was sure the elf didn’t want virgin princes and that was all Sevolia could supply. The prince toyed with a loose feather, indecisive.

The pedlar was snoring gently once more. Despite his intent to watch over the princess he had dozed off when the moon had shown itself once more. An owl hooted in the tree he was slumbering against, jolting him awake. His eyes quickly became accustomed to the darkness and he realised that the elves had disappeared along with Bethany and the princess. He staggered to a stand, and cursed himself for being so stupid as to fall asleep.
“It t’was ordained.” Old John started at the sound, and turned to see a man, just as wrinkly and old as he was, standing in the glade. He was wearing odd garments that hung off his stick like body like he was a washing line.
“People always think that, but I am very attached to my clothes. It is the only thing I have left.” The funny old man gripped the rough fabric in one hand.
“My sight was taken for foresight.” The man turned his blind gaze on Old John.
© Copyright 2007 Lady Guinevere (elitewriter at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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