The Village Girl

Chapter One - [Seetha]

It was a gorgeous day today... the sun was shining down on us and the sky was clear and not a single person seemed to have a frown on their face. Today seemed like one of those perfect kinds of days, the kind of days that made you feel happy for no particular reason.

There were even a few new faces, mostly men, and when I looked around, the last thing I expected was that one of those faces would change my life forever.

I had noticed this specific face in the crowd that had gathered to listen to me speak.

How could I not?

He was beautiful.

The most handsome man I had ever seen.

I knew instantly from his clean, copper skin and neat black hair that he was of a noble standing, even if the clothes he wore that day were simple.

However, despite him catching my attention, and my desire to take a closer look at his dark, dark eyes, I tried to ignore him. I had a job to do.

Every week I would stand in our town square and tell stories. It was my way of helping the busy folk of our small and humble village relax. It was also my way of earning a little bit of a sum so I could help to provide for my family. If people enjoyed my story they would kindly donate... and people usually enjoyed my stories.

So I told a story, avoiding the eyes of the beautiful nobleman dressed in simple clothes. Instead, I smiled at the young children who stared at me with wide eyes as I talked of a daring prince who tamed a vicious tiger.

Children loved my stories best.

They often awaited my arrival every week to hear me speak, then they would hug me and beg me to tell them more. It often felt rewarding, especially during difficult times. I liked to think my stories helped other people as much as they helped me.

When I finished, I thanked everyone, especially the kind donors, and picked up my previously empty basket.

It now had some bread, fruits and even a lovely shell necklace.

My parents would be happy.

I took a final glance at handsome man... I assumed I wouldn't see him again. So I smiled at him before leaving.

My village often attracted new faces who would stay for some time and then disappear forever.

Often times they were the ones who inspired my stories. I would wonder about the outfits they wear or the contraptions that they carried around with them.

And so as I walked away, I thought of what story I would create for this handsome man with the dark eyes and clean hair.

...

Then the next week came. I had returned to the village square to tell my new story. My new story of the handsome, black eyed warrior who slayed his evil brother to protect his clan from tyranny. My story had a beautiful princess and a heartwarming romance and I had spent the whole week imagining it in my head.

But when I saw the face of that black eyed man once again, my heart began to race.

It was his face that I had imagined in my mind as I created this story, so seeing him here again embarrassed me. How could I tell a story that I had created of him? This man I didn't know. But I had no other story to tell, and the children waited with bright eyes.

So I told it.

And I hoped he didn't know that he was the hero, though I saw him listen to my story with interest, a very small smile on his face.

When I picked up the basket after finishing my story, I saw more bread and fruits and little gifts made by children.

But I also saw a silver coin.

My eyes widened.

Someone had been very generous.

So I picked up my basket and decided to rush home to share the great news with my family, but I was surprised by the looming presence of the hero of my story.

"You have a gift," he said to me. "Not many can attract a crowd like this just to listen to stories."

I found myself speechless.

He was standing so close to me, and now I could see him clearly.

He was a full head taller than me, with broad shoulders and the build like that of a spectacular warrior. His clean hair was tied neatly behind his head, leaving a stubby ponytail. He also had a well kept moustache and beard... not a single hair seemed out of place.

His skin was not only the colour of copper, but it also shined like it too.

He smelled of sweat and flowers, and odd combination but a surprisingly nice one.

His clothes were as simple as they were the last week. A simple brown tunic with comfortable baggy pants. He wore sandals that were worn out and a sash around his waist which held a sword that was in its sheathe.

What I noticed last were the golden armbands that sat over the muscles of his upper arm and a simple gold bangle around his wrist... the only gold he wore on his body.

"You speak confidently in front of a crowd, yet fall silent in front of a single man." There was a smirk on his face. It wasn't mean, but it also wasn't entirely friendly.

I bowed my head slightly, still unsure of his status.

He was handsome enough to be a prince, though his clothes spoke otherwise.

"Thank you," I said. "I hope you enjoyed it."

"I did," was his response as he turned around. "I hope that next week you will have another good one."

I looked at him with surprise as he nodded his head at me before walking away.

In my many visits to the town that week, there was no sight of him.

But when the day of my storytelling came, there he was.

He was there for that week, and the week after, and the week after that.

I didn't realize at the time how much I began to think of him.

Now I know that he consumed my thoughts.

Who was he?

What did I need to do to get to know him more?

And why was there something deep inside me that was warning me to be careful?