The Hill-King's Bride: an Allegory for the Modern Church

Waiting

Maple steadfastly refused to speak the language of the valley-dwellers. Though she didn't fight against her captivity, neither did she bow to the elders' intent to force her to become one of them. Though they provided some clothing, she refused to abandon the hill-folk's manner of dress. She only owned the clothing she'd arrived in, so she washed it in the evening and wore it damp, come morning.

Not allowed to go to the stream to fetch water with the other women, Maple was forced to rely on what others brought her, just as she was forced to rely on them to empty her 'necessary' every day. After the high elder discovered the missing onions, Maple was given a hoe and ordered to work up new ground, since she couldn't be trusted to tend plants.

At first, armed guards stood around whatever field she'd been taken to for the day, but after a while, only the others ordered to work alongside her guarded her. Maple soon discovered that those ordered to watch her were the young girls of the village; those who would be swift enough to chase her down, if need be. Knowing they meant her no harm, Maple was polite and friendly to them.

"Gardener Howe," one young girl said one day, "why do you not tend vegetables, as you did before?"

Maple smiled at her. "Who is this, that you refer to?" she asked in her own tongue. Though she refused to speak their language, she didn't bother to pretend she didn't understand it. She'd also discovered that at least one of the girls around her understood her well enough to translate, no doubt as ordered by the high elder, in order to keep tabs on what she was doing and thinking.

"It's you, Silly!" giggled the girl after she'd received the translation. "Do you not remember?"

Maple shook her head. "I am Maple of the Highest Hill, elder of the Broderick clan and betrothed to Bryn Ma'ar, the Hill-King. Why do you keep calling me by this other name?"

Uncertainty flickered in her expression. "Because you look like her."

"You look like your sister, yet I don't call you by her name." Maple enjoyed the game of convincing them she wasn't Gardener Howe and never had been.

The little girl shook her head. "I mean, exactly like her. You have her voice, and everything."

"Who was she, this Gardener Howe?" asked Maple, toying with the group of girls obviously sent to convince the wayward one to return to her former life. She listened to their awkward attempt to explain. "That's not me," she told them when they'd finished. "I'm sorry if you think I am, but I am not. From what you said, that girl is probably dead." She chuckled mirthlessly. "Or Undead, I suppose. Maybe if your watch had allowed her to build inside the village, she'd still be among you."

Maple paused but they didn't say anything. "I'm sorry you lost your friend," she said finally, knowing that none of these girls had ever allowed themselves to be befriended by the outsider, "but that doesn't give your high elder the right to abduct another in her place. I am Maple of the Highest Hill, daughter of Rhys Broderick and Lily of the Cliffs. You must call me Maple from now on, or I shall be quite offended since you know my name and are refusing to use it."

A little girl spoke up, having approached during the conversation. "But High Elder says . . ."

Maple cut the little girl off firmly. "Your high elder did not choose my name, it was chosen for me, from among my people. My name is Maple of the Highest Hill and I will go by no other."

Things continued in a similar vein for many days, until the girls tired of their task and worked in silence. Maple gave them their space, accustomed to their standoffishness. She worked her way to the edge of the field, where she might find some shade from the trees.