[AN: Trigger Warning this chapter has scenes of violence and some physical abuse towards a minor....you've been warned.]
Several months and an entire winter had now passed, and I had found myself to be living quite happily with both Aldwin and his daughter Juliette.
Now, that's not to say that I just up and forgot about my past life (or erm- correction: future life, as it would be in this case...) but, that I knew now not to dwell so much on it; because, simply put- there was literally nothing I could do about it and no use wallowing in the pain that such lingering thoughts would undoubtedly bring. I learned very quickly that the best course of action for living life in the 9th/10th century was to live in the here and now. Focusing, on the present (my present as it was now), was the best balm I found to ail a homesick heart.
Sure, I missed home...and God knows how I missed my friends and family. I missed them all more than words could dare describe, and I worried about them and how my sudden disappearance may have affected them (especially my uncle Dante); and it broke my heart to think about it...so, I tried not to think about it. I avoided these thoughts like the plague and completely and utterly stuck my head in the sand as a way to try and move on with my life. I was hurt, I was stuck, and I was completely and utterly powerless. (It was a truly humbling moment for a control freak like me.)
So, accepting this and somewhat resigning myself to my fate, I tried to make the best of a bad situation (who knows how long I'd be stuck here for or if I'd even be able to go back...so, I decided the best course of action for myself and more importantly my mental health was to accept things as they were and to start planting roots). So, roots I planted.
I started to build a life here in this small borderland village with the blacksmith Aldwin and his daughter Juliette. By this time, I had essentially become a surrogate member of the family and also a member of the village community; and where there once was distrust and suspicion- on the part of the other villagers there was now a slow blossoming acceptance.
And, sure I still stuck out like a sore thumb due to a myriad of factors ranging from my 'swarthy' and 'exotic' appearance to my 'odd' manner of speech, not to mention my rather modern and bold (oftentimes) scandalous way of conducting myself.
(I was after all a woman of the 21st century and a self-declared feminist and none of that would be changing anytime soon I'll tell you that much. Fuck time travel and this centuries sense of decorum. I would be damned if I left all that I was behind in order to assimilate into an oppressed, weak and docile sex...nah, man Elena Wren don't play like that. And, plus I figured if I was stuck here, I might as well try and advance women's rights a bit no? If not for all the women of medieval England than at least for young Juliette- she ought to grow up strong, independent, and learning to not take any shit from anyone...especially from a man.) Needless to say, I was as a result of my own stubbornness and headstrong ways...a constant source of village gossip.
The gossip to be honest didn't really bother me- it wasn't as if I especially cared all that much about what they or anyone else had to say. Most of the time when I would hear whispers behind my back or the odd rumor or two about me here and there, I'd merely roll my eyes and just shrug it off. It really only bothered me when people would shit talk Aldwin or young Juliette; and trust me when I say I had gotten into my fair share of scraps with people over that particular kind of gossip...and I'll proudly admit...that sometimes violence does solve problems, because said shit talk usually ceased.
Oh, also you'll be all shocked and flabbergasted to find out that I had found Jesus our Lord and savior once again...well for the first time really...ermm, well kind of. (Again, I was not particularly religious before my tumble head first into the past...and I had more or less left any and all religious practices firmly behind in my childhood...)
YOU ARE READING
The Maiden Who Fell Through Time
Historical FictionIn the 3rd century there is a story which tells of a man whom had carried a child across a river; a child unbeknownst to him, who was later revealed to be a savior. Time is fluid. It flows like the stream of a river, and also grows like the tendril...
