LOST
by MrSimple
Chapter 1: Sundown by the Beach
“Blinking, cursing, and rubbing at his irritated eyes, nearly old man Fenne the Fishmonger had --”
“How old is nearly old?” The sound of his voice had come in second to that of a swishing noise.
The booted steps dragged across the sand until he grounded to a halt by a spot I chose to sit and read.
At least, I tried to read. That act proved difficult with the afternoon having gone and with the approach of this dark evening. I had not doubted the good nature of our Friesland weather, but the skirt of chainlinking clouds protected our precious golden sun from giving me better a light for reading.
The man… Well, compared to my household retinue, I supposed they would have considered him a young man. Setting that aside, he was not helping my me at all. His tall stature had reached me with a shadow of his figure. And by the passing moment, his shade had broadened enough in this waned daylight to have obscured the open pages.
If I squinted my eyes real hard, I could almost make out the words in this nearly transparent darkness. The black scripts were already difficult to make out within the crumbling book, and which I supposed the sunlight had been of no help to its worsening condition, but at this current time, I had not cared. I thought once I read -- well, not that I had been exactly reading it word-for-word, but I was occupied with a kind of improvised reading.
And to continue to do so, I desired to read what had been scribbled down as a historic account as an outlined version of the story it told me. To have this clarified, I was sort of filling in the blanks for what I could conjure up and out of my imagination -- so, as far as anyone was concerned, this was based on true events.
If I had literally read what amounted to little within this book, I’d bore my only listener to death. In this case, with the sun creeping down past what I considered the skirt of clouds, perhaps my improvised reading would’ve amused my guardian: Inze.
That was if I could continue reading. If I was being shaded more and more by the mustered clouds, I’d have to cut my reading short.
Especially when I had someone stepping into that fading sunlight. I glared up at my interruptor, who loomed over me as if he were my personal shield from a mellow sun.
At the moment, all I could make out of the tall man was this sunspotted afterimage encased in a hazy silhouette. If I kept my gaze trained on him, I would’ve begun to make out more details, but once he’d move out of my sunlight, that dark adjustment to my vision had been impaired in a bright and shiny instant.
He was doing this moving around on purpose!
“Where did you hide that book?” What was more infuriating was him going above and beyond by continually interrupting me with a peculiar persistence to know more.
“I found it,” I had given him his answer. And before he would ask, I added: “Outside.”
“Where?” He still asked…
“It was propped up,” I said, and as I shrugged, I gestured with my bare shoulder vaguely towards where I spotted and uncovered dirty sand from this book’s cover.
Just as he half-turned and looked, so did I to be sure what he had done at my pointing this out.
That spot where I discovered the book, it was a location where the wind whipped the sand into a powdering layer over the sunbaked warm dirt. Beyond the bleached sand and fine dirt was a sparse line of trees.
A sheltering place that would have been dangerous for me to be found.
“If you wonder…” Once I brought his attention back to me, I mentioned: “I did not sneak off --”
“If you had...” He began to interrupt me again, and with a smirk at that. As if it were a fact, he continued: “Like last time, I would have caught you.”
An eager temptation rose up in me to smack him with the weight of this book. I had instead opted to shout: “Hush up!”
In all seriousness, I wouldn’t be interested in reading this book while out on my beach. Swimming against the force of waves held more appeal to me. But if I wished to read any more of its contents, I had to do so during what little daylight remained today. If I brought my discovery back to the manor, I doubted it would stay in my possession long enough for me to approach the entrance.
Leaving the book out here would continue to risk losing more content from its already missing pages. I had no way of knowing how long it had been out here, but in my opinion: too long.
“May I?” After a frustrated huff, I lowered the book down my thighs and until the binding was nestled between my knees.
The heavy cover had felt grimy, as if the leather was gradually turning into an earthy clay. I believed this was due to overexposure of the salty elements. I had to wonder if the shore’s tide had come up to give it a few licks.
Once I flipped the pages open, I knew that if this book had remained out in the open for much longer, these pages would’ve adhered to each other from the excessive moisture. I envisioned peeling each individual page would’ve resulted in the words being torn away from the tiny fibers until they were ineligible mess.
Luckily, I found it, and, fortunately, was willing to share the find with another.
“Inze, stay and listen.” For now, I searched and found my mark, then resumed aloud. “...Fenne the Fishmonger had woken from his slumber, and rudely cursed too, due to being in aching pain. He was up too damn early --”
“Lord.”
“-- but…” Once again, I glared up at my interruptor. “Yes?”
With a crook of his finger, he pointed down at the page and asked: “Damn?”
With tight lips, I lied: “This is straight from the book.”
“Where?” He leaned and peeked over me in an obvious search for the damn word.
“Inze!” In great haste, I pulled the book away and out of reach from his searching eyes. “While I still can, let me read --”
“Honestly, what is this?” His interruptions were one thing, but this pestering me about the validation over what was or was not became bothersome. “Your way around telling a tale is --”
“Please?” I no longer glared up at him. All that given me was resistance, but sincerely pleading with the man never brought me trouble. “Inze, may I please --”
“Yes, my Lord.” Looking away from me, he returned to watching the grassy dunes for what I assumed were any unwelcome intrusions.
“Thank you,” I said softly and settled the binding back between my thighs. And after having thumbed back down the page of my interest, I returned my nose into the book. “...but, to ease his troubled mind, and restlessly jumpy nerves, he had to be up and at ‘em early. But for him to do that, he had to deal with that damn…” I glanced over my shoulder in half expectancy to be reprimanded again. When nothing was said, I resumed. “...radiant pain in his hip and back. Today would not be a good day, albeit worthwhile. To be out on the docks and sea would be refreshing, but only if he could muster half the strength he required through the damn pain.”
“The docks?” Hearing the questioning tone in his voice, I lifted my gaze and back up towards him. “Where is this taking place?”
“I don’t know,” I honestly said. Then decided to add, “Yet.” Once said, I dove back into the book. “It really was a pain in the ass to work while in, well, pain!”
“Truly, that was written?” I only sighed in response to that. “Forgive me, my Lord. A scribe’s or priest’s work is their life. I find it difficult they would have --”
“Perhaps it was this Fenne the Fishmonger who wrote the book.” I turned to look back up at him and stated: “But if you insist on authenticity, I truly read from the book, and as my ducal right, say what I will.”
“My Lord,” was all he had said and protested no more. I took that as permission to speak however I wished.
With my attention back in the book, I read and said, “Fenne smoothed down his gown, yawning and stretching in the process, and once done making his joints pop, pulled the shift straight up and off of himself. Despite the --”
“Vivid.” At that comment, I raised my gaze to stare nowhere in wait if any more would be said.
“-- good... Yes,” I stated the last word I read off the page, then replied. An instant after doing so, I looked back down and restarted the sentence. “Despite the good stretch, the best way he’d found to remove the aches and pains of yesterday was a salty dip in the sea.”
“Refreshing.” Inze… I began to believe he was irritating me on purpose. With less light coming off of a sinking sun, I knew why.
“I’ll be done before dark,” I promised, and to be honest, hoped would be true. “...Not only would it wake him, but the salts could remove the toxins from his body. That sour shit --”
“Crude,” I heard him say with an accusing tone.
If I was to keep my promise, I had to ignore him. “-- which ate away inside him, and just about anyone who trudged through the same regular life he had. And because of that, he’d been quite intoxicated before he’d retired for the night. So, with all that crap put aside, he really needed to bathe.”
“Surprising,” I paused and listened for what he unexpectedly found, but heard not another word.
So I asked him to tell me. “What is surprising?”
“This Fenne survived the night without choking on his own vomit,” he said.
“Disgusting!” After I momentarily imagined a scene like that, I shuddered and resumed my improvised reading aloud. “...Thinking ahead, once he’d gotten that sanitary chore out of the way, then he’d get his butt on a boat and wait to tail the second vessel until they’d net a good catch. With that thought, he rolled his shoulders and felt the kinks and knots in the solid muscles beneath the aged sag. Sucking in a breath between his clenched teeth, he’d wondered how much longer he could handle a haul through the surf. What would he do then?”
“How old is he?” I glanced back up, caught the corner of his eye with me, perhaps, partially in his vision, and shrugged at him.
“I don’t know.” Setting age aside, I continued on. “...For now, he’d forget about it and do what he could while he still could.”
“That is reckless.” Pausing at his words, I had thought for a moment on what he said.
When I gave it more thought, I supposed he had a point. Venerable men were more of a danger to themselves. The hard life of labor… Long-lived folk struggled to maintain what life they had left, let alone earning their keep.
To me, this Fenne should’ve lived with his family. If he had treated them well, I saw him being cared for until his final day came.
“Yes,” I quickly agreed. Then returned to read. “Out the door he went, unashamed of his exposed body being seen by the few folk of Haarlem -- ah, where this takes place --”
“Haarlem,” he interrupted. “I can tell you --”
“...up early as he was,” but I interrupted Inze right back with resuming the fishmonger’s tale. “They, too, may have been about to pay their respects at the beach and wash away all that had built up the day before. In fact...” To emphasize this ’fact,’ I cradled the book in the crook of my arm to free hand and wave up at my guardian as a performance. “Fenne waved a greeting at the neighborly watch before making his way off of the wooden planks and onto the wet sands with a group.”
“My Lord,” as he addressed me, I switched the open book back into both of my hands. “May I suggest we walk back to the manor?” At a glance, the twinkling line of light coming off the ocean shown me just how much time I had left to read. “You may read as we walk.”
“I’d rather not be interrupted again,” I had presented as another option. Then I mentioned a hard fact. “If I were the only one speaking, I would be much further along.”
“Very well, my Lord,” and as he said that, I was shocked into sitting up straight at the feel of rough material against my bare back. “Please hurry.”
His tunic. Inze sat with his back leaned against mine!
Well, since he finally decided to settle down, importantly, right behind me, I took advantage of the available support and rested right back against him. Nothing at all wrong with that.
Then I hurried to read on. “...A larger group than he was accustomed to. He looked about himself in wonder why today, of all other days, there were so many coming to the beach at his hour. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary… but his hand… his hand shook? What?”
Try as I might, I hadn’t understood that vital detail of Fenne’s hand shaking. Not exactly. I gathered enough for there to be some meaning, other than the fishmonger was hungover, but I hoped to comprehend the ambiguous sign.
“My Lord, the day is gone,” I was told.
“...The fishmonger looked down at his hand doing a funny jig,” while I rephrased what his hand was doing, I envisioned it as if this were my own hand. “He wasn’t aware of what made his nerves so jumpy this morning, but now he was alert. A morning of nothing out of the ordinary wouldn’t do that to his hand.” An idea came to me on how I could envision this scene, so I gripped the book more firmly in my hands. “That very hand wanted to clench around something hard and true.”
“A warrior’s reflexes would do that.” I wasn’t sure if he said that because of the foreknowledge of what Haarlem had been known for... Or by experience.
There was only the faded trail of sunlight left in the blueish sky, but I kept pushing myself to read on. “...Something stood out in this ordinary morning if it made his hand twitch, palm itch, and sword-arm burn in anticipation -- You were right,” I said over my shoulder in acknowledgement. “...And all those who joined him on the beach felt the same way. He knew it. They were nearly all the same, as he was, aged but strong, weary but alert, frightened but angry, and readied to go at a moment’s notice once they knew what was coming.”
“An exaggeration,” Inze opined.
“I’m setting the mood,” I stated.
And after, I heard and felt the rumble of his laugh. Which was short lived. I cut the amusement out of him with a sharp jab of my elbow into his backside.
Without further interruptions, I continued: “...Then he heard it. They heard too, the ringing, over the splash and crash of the surf. Faint and far, very far away from here, but it rang and he could hear it. Everyone was awakening at the alarming sound. From that distance, from where he stood, it was a far-off noise, but one to be on the alert for: bells.”
For just a moment, I paused, waited, and listened to the evening silence. I heard the waves washing up the swishing sands. With a cooler night’s breeze blowing in and out of the sea, the tide would come closer and closer. And, of course, he would stay by my side to keep me warm.
That knowledge confused me. Moreso at this moment. He was wordless, but I felt on my back a change of rhythm to his breathing. My guardian wished to tell me something, but at this time, he refrained from doing so.
When the moment passed, I pressed on. “...The ringing was so far away though -- huh?” That was curious, and to give Inze an excuse to get something off his chest, I asked: “Should he really be alarmed by that?”
“Yes,” he answered. Then explained: “Even if the danger was not present, and if he’d experienced much combat, his instincts will jump into action.” I supposed he would know. “Go on.”
And I did. “But he heard it from the west -- west from Haarlem?” I tried to remember what was west of Haarlem, but could only picture the expanse of shoreline and never ending sea. “...And he turned away, cupped his ear, and to hear it in the east as well chilled him to the very bone. He’d heard the closest eastern town ring their bell by accident before and it had sounded much clearer, louder, and sharper than the dull echo coming his way right now. That would only mean he heard the community further down the coast --”
“As I thought,” to hear what he had to say, I held the last word my gapped open mouth was about to tell. “An exaggeration. The invasion was not instantaneous.”
I already told him this was to set the mood, but I just dropped it and stopped gapping. “-- aaand he jerked his head away with a winced, ‘Ah’ch!’ Now his close eastern neighbor rang loud and clear their warning bells.”
“If you are making this up, why not tell me as we walk back?” And I entirely ignored that suggestion because I wasn’t entirely making this up.
Continuing on, I said, “...Everyone was more than just alarmed by so many bells ringing, from up and down the neighboring coastline, all at once.”
“It wasn’t,” he stated as a fact.
“And at last,” I said between clenched teeth, “when he thought there was no pain worse than the migraine he had now,” which I now had, “an awful noise split his skull wide open. And deafened all voices.” I tuned out everything and pushed my reading for the end of this page. “To be heard now, through the cursing and yelling at one another, one had to push and shove, grab shoulders and arms, smash heads, anything for their attention, or one could run back and bellow from atop the boardwalk like a buffoon. That’d certainly grab someone’s attention, but Fenne doubted any would take a man like that seriously. This was a serious matter. As serious as it would ever become. And none bothered their neighbors to ask for the what, for they knew, as Fenne did, what to do. They ran to their homes, to be dressed and prepared.”
“So should we,” I heard over my shoulder. “Where have you thrown your clothes?”
“Over there, where I showed you before.” I paused long enough as to point out again where I had found this book. I felt the warmth of his back leave mine, then heard the quick swish of his boots storming up the beach.
“...Where?!” He shouted, and I turned around to point again.
“By the… I didn’t hang them up!” I saw him looking upwards at the outreaching shapes of tree branches. “On the ground!”
He did listen to me and had cast his gaze downward, but he obviously failed to notice where I had dumped my clothes from the way he continued to hunch over wherever walking. If he was going to take awhile, I would also take advantage of the chance to read more.
With my nose back in the book, and raising my voice for him to hear, I continued. “...The bells rang again and again, hurried, violently, in desperation. Fenne had not gone yet, not yet. The mad dash of men was a terrible warning to him, for being well past his prime, he’d be knocked away only once and might not rise back up. He suddenly felt very, very much too old for a day like today. He’d looked up at the church tower, saw the massive and thick heavy bottom of his town’s holy bell being pulled, and with such force of strength too! That poor bell had more than one pair of hands tugging on its rope.”
This had me wonder just how big of a bell that had to be for two or more men to manage. It must have been huge!
“Those church folk were about to ring it,” and I wondered more on how loudly a bell of that great size would sound. “He knew now there was no escaping what was coming. No hiding. Out there, in the water, would be coming those who only desired to seize his people’s crops and fill their wicked bellies. Those things would rather kill and take than to labor on their own turf. He’d have to become the man he’d once been. What he was after those devils took everything!”
“A survivor,” I heard Inze quietly state from afar. “That can be worse than death.”
This had me asking, “You would know?”
“I may not have fought for my life, but when I was younger than you are now, I had seen battle.” By the sound of his approaching voice, I supposed he found my discarded clothes.
And he dropped the silky black fabric over my head. Pulling it off of me, I took a moment to set things aside.
“Get dressed,” I heard him command me.
...Which was enough for me not to do so. At least, not with that direct way of talking down to me. And certainly not right now when it had been implied doing so by his command.
“I will,” I said, then squinted down at the page to see if I could manage a word out in the moonlight. “...He huffed, shuddered, and shook with a queer furious fear, a sensation those who were innocent of war wouldn’t understand. He’d wished those people would never discover that feeling. Upset, he turned to the sea. Those creatures, dressed and crowned in leather and iron maille, would return to take from him again. The memories came back. He stared out at sea, reminded of something that every person should have: a family. He wiped at his eyes, clearing the strange blurry lens from his vision, and watched for what he should’ve watched out for when he was younger. When he still had someone to dearly hold --”
“Up,” he firmly stated. And as he said this, I was as well as firmly grabbed from under the arms and lifted up onto my feet. “It is night. Get. Dressed. Now.”
As he let me go, I had a thought and suggested: “Maybe we could stay the night here?”
“No,” was all he had to say on that subject.
But I wasn’t giving up on this. “I would like to finish reading --”
“Bring the book with you,” he simply said.
But it wasn’t going to end simple.
So I reminded him by saying, “He will take it.”
“I will take the book from you,” as he said this, an attempt was made to snatch it away from me. “Sylphet!”
He almost had it, but I somehow managed to jump away from his quick hands… And in the process of dodging him, I cringed when he shouted my name. I had made him angry.
“Once we are in his sight, I will personally surrender the book to Haraldr.” I didn’t like the sound of that plan.
“Let me do this, please?” He took a step, and I leapt back three. “Inze, please. Permit me to stay the night here. We can blame the Gelds --”
“Lord, come here.” I heard the tension in his voice, but that was all the more reason for me to stay away.
“Please?” I kept my distance from him and begged once more. “Just tonight. Inze, please?”
This time, I had stopped running and fell down to plant my knees in the now cold sand. I faced him for only an instant before clutching the book close against my chest and bowing down into a ball towards him.
“Please, Inze? Let us stay the night here?”
The dark shape of the man had finally stopped coming after me. I instead watched and heard him as he deeply inhaled, huffed, and lowered his face down to wipe the frustration away.
“Sylphet…” He said my name in the hollow of his palm. However ironic it was, the next thing he spoke of had filled me with a hopeful joy. “Haraldr will be furious.”
To me, hearing what he had said was one thing. Processing the meaning of his words had been another. This moment of silence had stretched itself out until I felt it was moving slowly to a crawl before I could ever have reached the next coherent thought.
I first had to be certain.
“He will be... Yes,” I agreed upon how much we would anger the steward. But I had to know, and tried to ask, “Does that mean --”
“Tomorrow, I will not be my best.” I took his meaning that we could stay.
To be sure of what this meant for him, I asked: “You would stay awake?”
“Who else is here to watch over you?” And he got smart with me, but for what it was worth, I didn’t mind it.
“Thank you. I promise,” I was going to reward him, but I had nothing to offer that which he couldn’t take. So I gave the idea up for him to decide by saying, “I promise a reward.”
“Get up, get dressed.” He had gone back for my clothing before returning to me with them. With irritation heard in his voice, he added: “Then, my Lord, you will sleep.”
“Inze...” I’d rather not be commanded, but if this was to be his reward... I agreed. “Yes, I will.”
Regardless of the always familiar scenery of my beach, my Inze had permitted me the dream of enjoying a night of freedom...
Thanks for the Chapter
Can't wait to read more about this Story.
Thank ya for letting me know! I'll certainly be adding more to this when I can.