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Who I Am (standard:adventure, 5582 words) | |||
Author: S.Grace HE10 | Added: Feb 20 2002 | Views/Reads: 3497/2686 | Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
takes place in Medieval times, daughter of king wants to become a knight, not allowed to, not believed in... | |||
Cling! Bang! Ting! I sighed heavily. I moved towards the left of the stone castle wall window to see a better view of the knights. The knights in training, shining brightly by the steel armor they wore, looked more glamorous than anything I could possibly imagine. I... “Elizabeth!” My thoughts were interrupted by a loud bellow coming from the hallway. It was my father, King Markus Arthur Louis the first. “Coming!” I replied into the corridor. I ran down the cold stone floors accompanied by the torches that hung along the wall to give me direction. Making a left, a right and then another left, I found myself in the sitting chamber where my father was. Seated on his favorite plush burgundy chair, he rested his face upon his hands and heaved a sigh. His brown hair, turned white by time, lay idly upon his forehead as his deep blue eyes merely looked at me preparing me for a lecture. “Why are you not in the school house with monsieur Labois and the rest of the school girls?” He asked inquisitively. “Oh papa, I decided to take the day off. I was tired and did not sleep well last night, which is all.” He grinned as though he understood. “That’s all? Hmm, young lady, understand this: You are a privileged young woman, lucky enough to have the opportunity to learn. While other young ladies beg on the corners of the streets of England just to be taught the alphabet! And you! You’re too tired to go to the schoolhouse for two hours a day? How spoiled has my daughter become? Do you feel that you are really that good for school that you need not attend? Or was there an alternative reason you’re not telling me? Tell me, why did you really not go to see monsieur LaBois?” I looked down and shuffled my feet perplexed. “He would never understand why I hate that schoolhouse, and yet, this might be my only opportunity to tell him what’s bothering me. If only he had a little compassion”. “Father, I...well, I...” “Don’t stand there a like a blithering idiot young lady! Speak!” “I don’t like school because it’s not what I want,” “Oh, it’s not what you want,” my father made a sarcastic pout on his face and titled it to the left slowly. “Tell me, Elizabeth, what is it that you want?” ‘It’s now or never,’ I thought. “I wanted to watch the new knights come in for training! Father, I want to be a knight.” I bit my lip in anticipation of the disgust in his face and the fire in his eyes. However, my father only blinked rapidly and laughed loudly. I stood indigent. His eyes began to water, as his body moved to his unceasing chuckle. He motioned for his silk handkerchief sitting on the table. “No, seriously now Elizabeth” he began dabbing at his eyes. “What is it?” With no other response but that of the truth, I said again, “I want to become a knight! A woman’s role in school is to learn how to read and sew and fill her head with idle activities that make her equal to the servants in regards to service! What more can I do with the knowledge of how to sew other than sew? I want to learn how to fight, how to maneuver! I want to be a knight and fight in battles, and defend the country in which I so do believe. I want to travel the world, representing my country with England’s seal upon my sword. I want to be a knight!” My father looked up at me as though to be taking me seriously. Then, within the blink of an eye, his demeanor was lost and he began to howl in laughter once more. There was a knock on the wooden door. It took a while for my father to say “enter”, but when he finally regained composure I turned to see who was at the door. The young knight bowed respectfully to the king. When he looked up I could see the brightest blue of his eyes. His chestnut brown hair laid creased on his head from his helmet he was wearing during training, which now was held on his right side. His stature was intimidating to any man of normal height, but implied safety and security for his wife. Of course, he was not married, not yet anyhow. Jean D’Arlache had gained permission by my father three years ago to court me, and has been ever since. “Ahh Jean, how are you today my boy?” “Very well Sire and yourself?” “Just fine” “And you Cherie?” Jean asked towards me. I smiled. “Just fine Jean,” I replied as he took my hand to kiss it. There was a slight pause. My father looked at us and smiled warmly, “When are you going to propose, my boy? I’m not getting any younger. And I’d like to see that my only daughter gets married.” “Father!” A light chuckle was Jean’s response. “All in due time, Sire” * * * Jean and I walked along the courtyard of the grey stonewall castle. The green silky vines had collected nicely against the palace, creating fine nests and hiding place for animals requiring them. The day was beautiful, not a single cloud in the sky. Along the distance I could hear the horse’s screeching while the knights practiced their tournament games. I sighed. “What’s troubling you?” Jean asked innocently. I had earlier debated whether or not to tell him, but I was scared of hearing a negative response for him as well, so I chose not Click here to read the rest of this story (374 more lines)
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