Happy Endings and All
Happy Endings and All
Word Count: 6719
Summary: Tristan's life has always been about pleasing his mother and brother. He is alright with that, but things change when a fairy makes it so that every time he speaks fine gems and flowers come out of his mouth.
Il était une fois une veuve qui avait deux fils…
Tristan never really minded all the work his mother asked him to do. What he minded was the fact that his brother was never bothered with anything. Tristan was not the stronger of the two or the best looking, but he was still human, and so still entitled to fair treatment. No? He often wondered how he drew the short end of the stick.
His friend Cindy was at one point in the same circumstance as him, but she went on to marry a prince. His friend Blanche was a complete slave to those dwarves who lived on Enchanted Forest Drive, but that was out of choice, and it helped her get away from evil step mother. And she married a prince! That was the thing though; both his friends were treated badly by their step mothers. His mother was his own, and yet she insisted on treating him like the friendly maid. And where the Hell was his prince? All the guys that ever even looked at him twice were either quickly distracted by his unbelievably better looking older brother, or they were scared away by his intimidating mother.
Why did he have to be the ugly duckling?
Then again, even the ugly duckling-or Duckie as he preferred to be called-was living with a step family of ducks and once he found his own family he was beautiful again. He didn’t marry a prince, but be realistic, what prince was going to marry a talking swan?
“Tristan!” his mother shrieked from her bedroom. It was 9:31; he was officially a minute late getting her breakfast.
“Good morning.” He smiled as warmly as he could while setting her tray of food on the bedside table.
His mother removed her blankets and sat up in bed. “Open the blinds Tristan. This coffee better be warm.” She put the tray on her lap started poking at it. “Where is my croissant?”
“On the tray, Mother.” He tried not to sound exasperated, but the woman was honestly just looking for something to say.
“Don’t take that tone with me, child!” She said sharply.
Tristan bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
She made an unintelligible sound as a reply. “Did you at least get Thierry his food on time?”
Tristan nodded. He wasn’t lying about that Thierry’s food was on time, he just didn’t eat it. No, he was much happier throwing it at Tristan because he was not in the mood for eggs that morning. Maybe if Thierry had been the one who actually collected the eggs from those devil chickens he may have been in the mood. There was something about getting pecked by twenty or so angry hens that always made Tristan hungry.
“Where is my dear son, anyway?”
She was shameless; most mothers would at least pretend they didn’t play favorites. “He’s shopping. He and Victor have gone to town. Donkey Skin Shoppe I believe he said.”Actually, Thierry had told him very precisely where to shove it before getting into Victor’s carriage.
“Very good then, I’m thinking of heading there myself. Call Edmund and tell him to get the carriage ready. While I’m gone clean the house, I want dinner ready by sundown, and make sure to get water. I’m thinking of taking a bath today. Yes, get enough water for two baths actually; I’m sure Thierry would also like one.”
Tristan resisted the urge to groan out loud. He hated collecting water. Why couldn’t they be like every other person in town and bathe in the local bathhouse, or at least bathe at the river like he did? Then again, if they were like normal people, they wouldn’t be Tristan’s family. And, despite all the work, he should be grateful he has a parent alive.
“When would you like the water heated?”
“Don’t rush me; I’ll tell you when I’m ready.” She spat out her mouth half full of chewed croissant. “Now go get the house clean, and it better be spotless, we’re going to be having guests over tomorrow.”
“Guests?” His eyes widened as he started praying to his so far nonexistent Fairy Godmother that he had heard wrong.
“Listen to what I say. I hate having to repeat myself.”
“Sorry mother; I heard. We are going to be welcoming guests tomorrow.”
“Yes, very important guests. Powerful men who were once friends of your father.”
His ears perked up at the mention of his father. His mother rarely spoke of him; it was as though the second he passed away, he no longer existed. Maybe these guests will be different because he remembered his father as a great man, and any friends of his father must be good people.
“I want you to get two of our finest rooms ready for them. Make sure to make them absolutely gorgeous. Do not embarrass me. And make sure that while they are here you make yourself scarce.” With that final warning, she shooed him out of her room.
Tristan despairingly made his way down the stairs towards the back exit. Edmund and his wife Margie lived in a little cottage near the cottage half way to the Enchanted Forest. They had two children who were now fully grown that they used to often try to lose in the Enchanted Forest, which was a terrible neighborhood for children to be. It wasn’t that they didn’t love their kids, but there was a time when they were dirt-poor. He remembered when he was younger his mother often suggested that they strand him there. Luckily, by the time his father died, he had learned how to earn his keep.
Edmund was a nice man, but his wife was almost as bossy as Tristan’s mother. Every time Tristan was there, she would find something for him to do. Out of respect for Edmund, he never objected. There was something wicked about mothers who inhabited Happily Ever After. The majority of them made Tristan’s mother almost saint like, after all, she only made him clean.
Tristan tugged his warn coat closer to him once he reached the cottage. There was always a strange inappropriate cold drift coming from the Enchanted Forest. Taking a deep breath, Tristan knocked carefully on the door, afraid that if he was too loud Margie would feed him to the witch who lived in the center of the Enchanted Forest. He took a deep breath, readying himself for whatever horror awaited him.
Luckily, Edmund was the one to open the door. He opened it quickly and stepped out; shutting the door behind him in way that wouldn’t allow anyone to see who was outside, or maybe so Tristan wouldn’t see what was inside.
“Yes?” Edmund sounded impatient and unhappy for the interruption.
“Mother needs to go into town.”
Edmund scratched the back of his balding head and worriedly checked behind him. “Alright, I’ll be there,” he mumbled to himself, looking uncertain. “Now off you go. Go on.” With that Edmund went back into the house and slammed the door shut.
That was certainly out of the ordinary. Then again, in Happily Ever After, everything was out of the ordinary. He would be surprised if he ever met one mother who didn’t want to strand her children, or find one prince who wasn’t looking for a real princess or a fairy Godmother who helped people who actually needed the help. He was bitter, which was a nasty personality trait that he really didn’t need to add to his list of faults. He calmed himself down and got on to doing his chores. He would fill up the tubs first because they were the most time consuming of his jobs, it would take him up until lunch time, then he’d get on to cleaning the house. Fortunately, cleaning and cooking were something he could do at the same time.
---
Il fallait entre autre chose que ce pauvre enfant allât deux fois le jour puiser de l’eau à une grande demi-lieue du logis…
With two wooden buckets in either hand, Tristan started his thirty minute walk to the well. If it weren’t for the urgency in which he had to finish his chores, the walk to the well would have been pleasant. After all, it was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, birds were singing, little woodland creatures were singing, flowers were singing. He still couldn’t get used to that. It had just started happening in the past year. All the small animals and the flowers in Happily Ever After had started singing. Rumor had it that there was a fairy somewhere near. Granted their singing was rather beautiful, but after the first few weeks, constant music started becoming exceedingly irritating.
Tristan frowned as he almost tripped on his third singing squirrel that day. He’d really wished that the supposed fairy had stopped at singing flowers or maybe just the frogs. Ever since the squirrels discovered their knack for the musical arts they had taken up dancing. It was a rare day when a person could go past a squirrel and it wasn’t trying to tap dance its way to a job with Twelve Dancing Princess, a recently established touring troupe.
“Greetings Tristan!” Lilly sang from her spot on the ground.
Tristan smiled and crouched down so that he could hear her better. “Morning Princess. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine sweet friend of mine.” Lilly was incapable of saying something without singing it, which Tristan found to be a curse. Lilly didn’t seem to mind though because she was always chipper. Even when it rained and her soil became soggy.
“I’m heading to the well. Would you like me to bring you back a drink?”
“I think I’d like a drink. If it’s no trouble get it for me on the double!”
Double ended on a high elongated note which had Tristan fighting the urge to cover his ears. It wasn’t that the little flower sang badly, just that the fairy had given her a really high pitched voice.
He reassured his friend that he’d be back and continued on his way, avoiding any other magical woodland creatures.
The walk to the well was usually never-ending, but he’d been so distracted with the guests that would be coming that he soon found himself there. He set the buckets down; first thing first, he was going to get a drink. It was a beautiful day, and beautiful days often included bountiful amounts of sun. When he’d finally arrived he was sweaty and covered in dust and bits of grass. A drink and a couple of minutes to rest weren’t going to put him too far behind schedule. He took a deep breath full of fresh air and leaned back against the well.
It really was a nice day, not a single cloud in the sky. It was days like that which made his grateful to be living in Happily Ever After and not the Enchanted Forest. The forest was covered by canopies of leaves and branches, a person couldn’t even see the sky. That was why people often got lost; because of its lack of sky and light, every corner of Enchanted Forest looked the same. A person could be going in circles for days before realizing it. That’s what had happened to his father. He was lost in the forest until one day a traveling gypsy found his body. No one knew how he ended up there, but the gypsy had said he was holding onto a rose surrounded by fine rubies. Tristan’s mother had thought he was cheating on her on with some gypsy tramp, as she put it, and even in death she never forgave him for something he’d never done.
Tristan felt that sometimes he should have resented his mother, but the possibly that his father had left her always made him quickly forgive her actions. He’d seen how horribly people acted when they were hurt, and maybe his mother had a reason for being the way she was. And no matter how badly she treated Tristan, he would always remember that she was his mother. He was thought to respect his mother and he did.
But it was no time to start reflecting on his life. He still had to make the trip back home and then another trip to the well for Thierry’s bath. It was going to be a long day.
---
“Tristan!” Thierry called from the dayroom in a sickeningly sweet voice reserved specifically when he had guests over.
Tristan didn’t want any of Thierry’s friends to see him. His thin cotton shirt was worn and ripped and his trousers were covered in dirt and suds from having been on his knees scrubbing the floor.
He fixed his clothes to look almost presentable and headed to the dayroom. In there Thierry was sitting on a chaise across from a fat little blond man Tristan recognized as Lord Hansel, Edmund’s son. Hansel was dressed in such finery that almost put Thierry’s clothes to shame. Edmund and Margie may have been poor enough to be working for Tristan’s mother, but Hansel and his sister had come across a great fortune during their time in Enchanted Forest, and refused to give their parents a dime of it.
Tristan sketched a bow out of respect after he was in the room.
Thierry eyed Tristan’s clothes disapprovingly before speaking, “Get us tea and some sweets.”
Hansel’s beady little eyes lit up at the mention of sweets. “Yes I would like some candy.” His cheeks flushed a bright red as he wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief. “Especially if they come in the form of a brown haired beauty,” he added eyeing Tristan up and down.
Tristan was about to make a polite comment to get him out of the situation when Thierry laughed loud and sardonically. “Don’t be silly Hansel. A man of your large stature can do so much better. Why I’m sure there are many ladies and gentleman out there chasing after you.”
If possible, Hansel’s face got even redder. He nervously ran a hand through his prematurely balding head. “I haven’t had any offers.”
“I’m sure they’re just shy.” Thierry squeezed Hansel’s shoulder, smiling reassuringly.
He bowed again even though the two had lost interest in him, and then left the room.
Tristan really didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved. He picked relieved because no matter how insulting Thierry had been, having Hansel trying to court him would have been worse. He wasn’t one to rely on wistful fantasies to guide him through life, but he wanted a prince not Hansel, even if not a prince, at least someone who would look at him with more than hunger and not even the lustful hunger. Hansel looked at him like he was a piece of chocolate cake covered in frosting. For once, he was glad for his brother’s constant insults. It was better that Hansel didn’t think that Tristan was worthy of him.
He returned to the dayroom and placed the plate of cake and candy on the coffee table before he snuck away quietly. Thierry and Hansel were discussing all the fine young ladies and handsome gentleman that would be lucky to have Hansel. That was one thing that Thierry was always good at, lying at the expense of making people richer than him feel better. There was no questioning of what his motives were in befriending Hansel. Life in Happily Ever After was about who you knew and how much money they had or how powerful they were.
That was one of the reasons Tristan had no friends. The other reason was probably his awful personality. That had to be it because an optimistic part of him refused to believe that all people thought about was money and power. There must be something more important.
When dinner was finally ready and the house spotless, the sun was almost completely set. After he served his mother and Thierry dinner, he made to retire to his room. He would have to wash the dinner dishes in the morning. His body was aching and his head was pounding. His fingers were raw and his brown hair hung limply in his face. If he looked as badly as he felt, people would start mistaking him for one of the wicked witches; all he needed was a wart on his nose a hunched back-which he was sure to achieve if he continued lifting water buckets from the well everyday.
As he was making his way upstairs, there was a loud ruckus outside. There were horses neighing and two distinct male voices talking loudly, one sounded young about his and Thierry’s age, the other far older and wiser. Curiosity drove him to glancing outside the window. Were these people the guests they were receiving? Would he have to answer the door when they knock? His mother had made it clear that the guests were not to see him, but she probably meant he wasn’t to mention that he was her son. That was always their best kept secret.
He walked back to the main floor and waited in front of the entrance for them to knock. He knew better than to make their guests wait. He stood anxiously waiting; debating whether or not to let his mother know there were people at the door. He certainly hoped they were their guests arriving early and not some poor travelers looking for rest. His mother had always been against helping strangers. Then again maybe his mother hadn’t noticed, and if they were travelers, maybe he could offer them the stables. They weren’t much, but it would shelter them from the night wind.
The loud knock on the door shocked him out of his thoughts. He counted till ten, and then opened the door. He wouldn’t want too seem over excited if they were their guests. He bowed then stood up straight, hoping his posture would distract them from his clothing.
In front of him there stood two cloaked men. One was tall and broad and the other short and fragile looking. The shorter man removed his hood revealing a face that must have once belonged to a handsome and powerful young man. “Is this the Fée house?”
“Yes, my lord,” Tristan replied. “Are you the guests we’ve been expecting?”
“Yes, I’m afraid we over calculated how difficult crossing the Enchanted Forest would be so we’re a bit early. I hope its no bother.”
“It’s no bother at all, sir. Your rooms are ready. Let me get the Madame of the house. I’m sure she’d like to welcome you herself.”
“That won’t be necessary; she’s probably already turned in for the night.”
“My lord, she’d be quite upset with herself if she missed welcoming her friends.” That was a blatant lie; his mother just needed to make sure that Tristan wasn’t embarrassing the family.
He led the guests to the dayroom lighting the candles along the way with the candle he had been using for light. “Please take a seat and rest while I go get Madame. Would you like anything to drink or eat?”
“No thank you we’ll be fine.”
Tristan nodded at the man and the man’s friend and ran up the stairs. He hoped his mother had yet to go to sleep because she hated being woken up after she’d fallen asleep. He pondered the possibility of getting Thierry too, but knowing his brother he probably had some young lady in there with him. That was something he wouldn’t want to walk in on.
He knocked on his mother’s door softy. “Madame, our guests have arrived.” He waited for a little while, and when he received no answer he knocked again.
The door was wretched open in front of him making him recoil in surprised fear.
“What do you want?” His mother bellowed. She must have been sleeping. Her hair was sticking up every which way and her face had some weird green concoction on it.
Tristan fought back the urge to whimper in fear and replied. “Our guests are here.”
“Why did you not tell me?” She slammed the door in his face.
There were noises inside, a lot of crashing and cursing, which indicated that she was getting ready. Less than a minute later his mother reopened her door, looking as radiant as she normally did. Her face was cleared of the green goo, and her hair was tamed and tied up. “Well?” She barked, this time quieter than the first. “What are you waiting for? Show them their room and take their bags. Then get them something to eat and drink.”
“But…”
“This is not the time to argue with me Tristan; you have already messed up once today.” With a flourish she glided down the stairs.
Used to her maltreatment, and afraid of what would happen if he disappointed her, Tristan went down stairs to their awaiting guests. He showed them their rooms while balancing the few bags they had brought, refusing any help the cloaked figure had offered. With their bags in their rooms and the guests sitting comfortably in the dayroom, Tristan headed to the kitchen to prepare coffee and reheat what ever was left from dinner. When he reentered the dayroom, his mother was animatedly chatting with the two men.
The other man had finally removed his cloak and the sight of him made Tristan’s breath catch. He’d never seen anyone quiet like him. Even Blanche’s prince, who was the fairest in all the land didn’t match up to this man. The man’s blue eyes following his every move made his face heat up and his palms sweat.
Without saying anything, Tristan set the food down and made his escape back to the kitchen. Something about the beautiful man had unnerved him. Living in Happily Ever After, Tristan was more that just used to seeing good looking people. He lived with them, he worked for them. Almost everyone important in Happily Ever After was either gorgeous or hideous. There was no middle; the only normal looking folk were the insignificant peasants like him. The man’s looks should not have had any effect on him.
He was over reacting; it was okay for him to be effected by an attractive man. It was normal, it wasn’t every day that a man as good looking as that one was in his presence without Thierry to distract him. He should enjoy what little time he had with the idea that the man could maybe be interested in him before Thierry had a chance to bring reality crashing back.
---
Tristan didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he woke up the next morning at dawn. Outside the rooster was crowing loudly enough to wake people at the Enchanted Forest. It wasn’t the first time that he wanted to cut off that rooster’s vocal chords so that it no longer crowed. His head was pounding and the sound of the bird-one of the few that were spared from the fairy’s gift-wasn’t helping matters. It was a miracle how Thierry and his mother slept through the noise.
He needed to get started on his chores, despite the lack of sleep. But first thing first, he needed coffee otherwise he might make a fool of himself trying to function without being awake.
He buried his hands in his hair, it was greasy and knotted because he didn’t have a chance to wash up recently. He made it his goal that day, that once he was finished he’d walk the few leagues further to the river when he went to fetch the water and bathe. He could still feel the grime from the day before on his body. He detested when guests visited because it always more than doubled his work, and his mother was nastier than ever.
Tristan reluctantly got out of his chair and dragged himself to the stove. He put what was left of the water to boil and made his way to the cupboard. He would just have to make enough for himself. If their guests were anything like his family, they wouldn’t be up for another four hours or so.
While the water boiled, Tristan got started on the dishes from both dinner and tea with the still nameless guests. But, knowing his mother, he wouldn’t even get introduced to him. After all, he was the help, and the help was to remain out of the way working diligently to please. That was what he was going to do. Drink his coffee, get breakfast ready and served, then spend the rest of the day doing work that needed to be down outside, minimizing his chances of running into the guests.
Once the water was boiled he poured himself a mug of it and mixed it with the coffee. He sat at the table ready to enjoy his few minutes of respite before the rest of the world awoke. Coffee was one of the few guilty pleasures he allowed himself. It was expensive, but he saw no problem if he also had some of it if his family insisted that he buy it, as long as no one found out. Taking a sip of the rich dark drink, Tristan let his head rest back against the seat. It really was good coffee.
A loud cough demanding his attention startled him into standing up, almost knocking over his mug. He clutched the sides of the table in attempts to calm himself. Tristan glanced up to see who the intruder was, but immediately averted his eyes when he saw that it was the handsome guest. His eyes took an unexpected interest in his mug and what little coffee left that hadn’t sloshed onto the table top. The man had a developed a habit of catching Tristan when he was looking his worst. Then again, his best wasn’t any better.
“Breakfast will be ready shortly, my lord. I’ll bring it up to you.” Tristan’s eyes remained fixed on the table as he spoke. It wouldn’t do him any good to see the man, it was bad enough that he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
He heard more than saw the man pull out one of the chairs at the table and sit down. “That won’t be necessary; I’ll be having my food here.”
“Yes, sir,” Tristan replied his voice low. He turned clumsily away from the man and set to preparing his breakfast, cutting the fruit and buttering the bread. The work was a good distraction from the eyes he could feel watching him. He almost dropped everything he’d prepared when he turned and his eyes met with the man’s brilliant blue ones. Something about the way the man was looking at him set his heart a flutter.
He frowned bemused and set the food in front of the man. “Would you like anything else?”
“No, thank you…” he let the sentence hang. “What is your name?”
“Tristan,” he replied unsure of whether or not it was such a good idea to give his name, or even be talking to the man.
“Nice to meet you Tristan. I am Marcel.” He gave him a half smile before digging into his plate. “Would you like to join me?”
“No thank you, sir.” He immediately ran out of the room. He wouldn’t give his family a chance to catch him dawdling when he should be working, even if it meant not getting to spend time with the handsome man. Marcel.
---
Through out the day as Tristan chopped wood, collected eggs, served breakfast, and worked at cleaning the house without being seen, his mind was on one thing alone. Marcel had managed to capture his thoughts and refused to let go. It was a curious feeling he’d never experienced before. It made him feel like singing, and Tristan absolutely hated singing.
Speaking of singing, Lilly was gently swaying back and forth in the wind humming an undistinguishable tune. She waved a little leaf that Tristan assumed was supposed to substitute for an arm at him when she spotted him. “Morning fellow!”
“Hello Lilly, are you thirsty?” he asked holding out a flask of water.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
Smiling, he poured half the contents of the water on her. “Better?”
“Most definitely good sir,” she chirped. “You must be going to the well, but come back soon otherwise I’ll think you fell.”
“Actually, I’m going to the river first. I’m afraid I look quite a fright.”
Lilly giggled. “You’re the handsomest man I’ve ever seen. In the looks department, you my friend have been blessed.”
“Don’t be silly, I’m the only man you’ve ever seen.”
Lilly shook her head, her leaves shaking in the wind. “Not true! The fairy is a man through and through.”
“Describe him for me Lilly.” He sat down cross legged in front of her, intrigued. He had time to waste; his mother and brother were taking their guests to a ball thrown by Cindy’s prince.
“He was strong and handsome! There is no one like him, any where at all.” She started to sing. “And when spring came, music for me to sing he did bring.”
“He sounds charming,” Tristan commented.
“His eyes were big and blue, and I was broken when it came the time to say adieu.” An amorous smile played on her lips. “He was so handsome and nice for giving me this gift so I can hum.”
Tristan patted Lilly’s head softly. “Well I think it’s time I go bathe. Wouldn’t want you to wither from my smell.”
---
The river was as cold as always, but it felt refreshing after the long walk to get there. He stepped deeper into the river, completely submerging his lower body, up to his torso. He scooped the water into his hands and washed his face clear of sweat and grime. He felt the stubble that was growing along his jaw and regretted not bringing a blade to shave with. He’d just have to do it when he got home. Hopefully his mother wouldn’t notice his scruffy face. She hated men who didn’t keep clean. His father had been such a man. In the winter time, he kept a beard that completely covered his neck, and he let his hair grow past his shoulders. His mother hated anything that reminded her of her late husband, so she insisted that both her sons keep their hair shorter. Thierry’s fashionably reached a little passed his jaw line, while Tristan’s was closer cropped. His hair was long enough that it was constantly in his face, but not long enough to be tied.
Tristan ducked under the water drenching his hair thoroughly. When he resurfaced he caught sight of a shadow. He needn’t worry himself though; it was probably just another little fuzzy singing creature. When the shadow passed again, he turned to see what it was. A surprised gasp tore out of his throat at what he saw, and he went deeper into the water in attempts of preserving his dignity.
Staring at him from the river bank was an elderly woman clad in rags. She looked tired and warn, like she was about to fall over. She was calling out something to Tristan but because of the rushing water her words were lost.
“Madame, if you’d turn around, I’d really like to be dressed while speaking to you.” He walked closer to the river bank keeping a crouching position to insure nothing was seen.
Obediently the woman turned around.
Tristan ran up to where he had left his clothes and began dressing. It was starting to prove to be a strange couple of days. “What can I help you with, Madame?”
“Oh my dear boy, I’ve been walking for the past few days and I’m exhausted and hungry.” She turned to face the now fully clothed Tristan. “Can you help and weary old woman out?”
“Of course, but I’m afraid we’re a bit far from the house.”
Grabbing onto a tree, the lady lowered herself down to the ground. “I’d don’t think I can do much more walking today.”
“If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll go and fetch you something to eat.” He offered feebly. “You’ll be fine right?”
“Yes, yes my boy. I’ll just rest until you return.”
That day, Tristan’s walk from the river to the well and then to the house and back to the river again had been the fastest he’d ever moved. Fear for the well being of the old women kept him distracted from the ache in his feet or the stitch on his side. Breathing heavily, he set a plate full of breakfast leftovers in front of the woman, along with a pitcher of water he’d gotten on his way back.
“I’m so glad you returned dear, but you didn’t have to trouble yourself and create such a feast for me.”
Tristan chuckled running a hand through his damp hair. “It’s far from a feast.”
“You really a nice beautiful boy,” the lady said between bites. “I don’t know what I could have done if I hadn’t run into you.”
Tristan hopped from foot to foot, his face heating at the lady’s compliment. He wasn’t used to being called beautiful, even if it was an old woman calling him that, he still felt light headed. Is that how Thierry felt every time someone complimented him? It would certainly explain why he was constantly looking for someone to notice him. “I’m sure there would be many people who would gladly help you.”
The woman set down the piece of bread she was currently eating and her face sagged unhappily. “I certainly hope so. The world would be a much better place if people weren’t too concerned with themselves to stop and help an old woman.” The shadows from the low hanging trees that grew by the river making her look sadder.
Tristan glanced uncomfortably at his surrounding, his eyes bouncing from the river to the trees, and then back to the woman. He hated to admit that there was too much truth to her words. If his mother knew that he’d given her food for free he would be punished, despite the fact that the food would have been discarded anyway.
“For your help I will reward you.”
Before the woman got a chance to continue, Tristan interrupted. “It’s really not necessary. It wasn’t a problem.”
“No, no, don’t argue with me. Everyone should get what they deserve.”
“But I’m sure anyone else would have done the same…” he continued.
“Don’t be silly, son. You and I both know no one would have bothered for I am just a poor beggar woman. What have I to offer?” She gave him a look that said he better not interrupt again. “For your kindness and good heart I will make it that with every word you speak, a flower or a precious stone shall fall from your mouth.”
“I did not do this seeking…” Tristan immediately stopped speaking. Out of his mouth came out a ruby, a pearl, two roses, and two small diamonds. His eyes wide with fear, he caught the treasures in his hand before they fell to the ground. He couldn’t feel them; if the sun hadn’t reflected specks of light from the jewels he would have never known they were falling.
“And that is why I grant this gift to you. It is those who do not seek that are the most deserving.” She reached over and patted a bewildered Tristan on the head. “Now, I think its best you go back home before your mother has a chance to scold you.”
Vous êtes si beau, si bon et si honnête, que je ne puis m’empêcher de vous faire un don. Je vous donne pour don. Qu’a chaque parole que vous direz, il vous sortira de la bouche ou une fleur, ou une pierre précieuse…
Tristan’s walk back home was full of thoughts about what had just happened. Had he finally met his Fairy Godmother? No, she would have said so. Maybe she was just a fairy and he’d been lucky enough to be the one there to help her. Who the woman was, was the least of his problems. What was his mother going to do when he spoke and jewels came out?
The answer to his problem was a simple one. He’d just have to keep him mouth shut while there were people in his presence. He can never speak again. At home it wouldn’t be much trouble; his mother would probably be grateful to him never speaking again. He could always point at things when he didn’t to stop by the market place. It wouldn’t be hard at all, as long as he remembered.
He pushed the weathered wooden door that lead from the garden into the kitchen open. He had to make dinner and clean the bedrooms. The house was uncommonly clean since both Thierry and their mother had taken their guests to the opera. They weren’t due back until around the ninth bell or even later.
The beautiful rocks were burning a hole in the pocket of Tristan dark brown warn cotton trousers. It felt as though they didn’t belong to him, as though he’d stolen them, nothing had ever made him more dishonest. Diamonds and rubies did not belong anywhere near someone dressed like him. He knew that if his mother were to ever find out she’d say the same thing. She was in the habit of always going through his things to make sure that he hadn’t stolen anything from her. That was ridiculous; no one steals from their on mother.
He’d deal with the gemstones later; he’d just have to be really careful for the time being.
Thierry’s room always proved to be the hardest to clean. If Tristan didn’t know any better he’d have to assume that he was purposely messy so that Tristan had more to clean. But Thierry had been a messy child long before Tristan was even put in charge of the cleaning. He had clothes strewn over his desk, under his bed, in every place but where they belong. Cursing his brother under his breath, Tristan set about putting away the clean laundry and the dishes from the morning’s breakfast.
His mother’s room had the ability to frighten him every time he entered it. It was spacious and dark with no trace of color in it. Though cleaner than Thierry’s, the room was a greater pain to clean. His mother demanded perfection and no less was acceptable. He had to make sure that the room was spotless every day. That everything that shined should be shiny and everything that should be folded should be folded according to how she liked it. There were many instances where he’d folded something wrong and couldn’t lie on his back for weeks afterwards.
Every guest they’d received before at the house had been exactly like his mother and brother, messy and inconsiderate. So when he’s walked into the room of the old man and found it to be completely clean and organized, aside from the dishes which were placed on the bedside table, besides a bed that was made, he was more than pleasantly surprised. Marcel’s room proved to be no different. It was neat and organized and smelled nicely of the woods. One night only and the room already smelt distinctly of the young man.
Tristan really wasn’t in his right mind when he crawled into it to see how good it smelled. He also wasn’t in his right mind as he pulled the covers over his head and sunk deeper into the bed taking in the woodsy spell. He’d never though that any human being could smell that good. It was as though Marcel spent most of his days out doors bathing in the river. Bathing was not something Tristan should imagine Marcel doing. He was going to be in trouble enough if he were caught in the man’s bed, the last thing he needed was to get caught aroused in the man’s bed. How embarrassing that would be.
Part Two
Word Count: 6719
Summary: Tristan's life has always been about pleasing his mother and brother. He is alright with that, but things change when a fairy makes it so that every time he speaks fine gems and flowers come out of his mouth.
Il était une fois une veuve qui avait deux fils…
Tristan never really minded all the work his mother asked him to do. What he minded was the fact that his brother was never bothered with anything. Tristan was not the stronger of the two or the best looking, but he was still human, and so still entitled to fair treatment. No? He often wondered how he drew the short end of the stick.
His friend Cindy was at one point in the same circumstance as him, but she went on to marry a prince. His friend Blanche was a complete slave to those dwarves who lived on Enchanted Forest Drive, but that was out of choice, and it helped her get away from evil step mother. And she married a prince! That was the thing though; both his friends were treated badly by their step mothers. His mother was his own, and yet she insisted on treating him like the friendly maid. And where the Hell was his prince? All the guys that ever even looked at him twice were either quickly distracted by his unbelievably better looking older brother, or they were scared away by his intimidating mother.
Why did he have to be the ugly duckling?
Then again, even the ugly duckling-or Duckie as he preferred to be called-was living with a step family of ducks and once he found his own family he was beautiful again. He didn’t marry a prince, but be realistic, what prince was going to marry a talking swan?
“Tristan!” his mother shrieked from her bedroom. It was 9:31; he was officially a minute late getting her breakfast.
“Good morning.” He smiled as warmly as he could while setting her tray of food on the bedside table.
His mother removed her blankets and sat up in bed. “Open the blinds Tristan. This coffee better be warm.” She put the tray on her lap started poking at it. “Where is my croissant?”
“On the tray, Mother.” He tried not to sound exasperated, but the woman was honestly just looking for something to say.
“Don’t take that tone with me, child!” She said sharply.
Tristan bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
She made an unintelligible sound as a reply. “Did you at least get Thierry his food on time?”
Tristan nodded. He wasn’t lying about that Thierry’s food was on time, he just didn’t eat it. No, he was much happier throwing it at Tristan because he was not in the mood for eggs that morning. Maybe if Thierry had been the one who actually collected the eggs from those devil chickens he may have been in the mood. There was something about getting pecked by twenty or so angry hens that always made Tristan hungry.
“Where is my dear son, anyway?”
She was shameless; most mothers would at least pretend they didn’t play favorites. “He’s shopping. He and Victor have gone to town. Donkey Skin Shoppe I believe he said.”Actually, Thierry had told him very precisely where to shove it before getting into Victor’s carriage.
“Very good then, I’m thinking of heading there myself. Call Edmund and tell him to get the carriage ready. While I’m gone clean the house, I want dinner ready by sundown, and make sure to get water. I’m thinking of taking a bath today. Yes, get enough water for two baths actually; I’m sure Thierry would also like one.”
Tristan resisted the urge to groan out loud. He hated collecting water. Why couldn’t they be like every other person in town and bathe in the local bathhouse, or at least bathe at the river like he did? Then again, if they were like normal people, they wouldn’t be Tristan’s family. And, despite all the work, he should be grateful he has a parent alive.
“When would you like the water heated?”
“Don’t rush me; I’ll tell you when I’m ready.” She spat out her mouth half full of chewed croissant. “Now go get the house clean, and it better be spotless, we’re going to be having guests over tomorrow.”
“Guests?” His eyes widened as he started praying to his so far nonexistent Fairy Godmother that he had heard wrong.
“Listen to what I say. I hate having to repeat myself.”
“Sorry mother; I heard. We are going to be welcoming guests tomorrow.”
“Yes, very important guests. Powerful men who were once friends of your father.”
His ears perked up at the mention of his father. His mother rarely spoke of him; it was as though the second he passed away, he no longer existed. Maybe these guests will be different because he remembered his father as a great man, and any friends of his father must be good people.
“I want you to get two of our finest rooms ready for them. Make sure to make them absolutely gorgeous. Do not embarrass me. And make sure that while they are here you make yourself scarce.” With that final warning, she shooed him out of her room.
Tristan despairingly made his way down the stairs towards the back exit. Edmund and his wife Margie lived in a little cottage near the cottage half way to the Enchanted Forest. They had two children who were now fully grown that they used to often try to lose in the Enchanted Forest, which was a terrible neighborhood for children to be. It wasn’t that they didn’t love their kids, but there was a time when they were dirt-poor. He remembered when he was younger his mother often suggested that they strand him there. Luckily, by the time his father died, he had learned how to earn his keep.
Edmund was a nice man, but his wife was almost as bossy as Tristan’s mother. Every time Tristan was there, she would find something for him to do. Out of respect for Edmund, he never objected. There was something wicked about mothers who inhabited Happily Ever After. The majority of them made Tristan’s mother almost saint like, after all, she only made him clean.
Tristan tugged his warn coat closer to him once he reached the cottage. There was always a strange inappropriate cold drift coming from the Enchanted Forest. Taking a deep breath, Tristan knocked carefully on the door, afraid that if he was too loud Margie would feed him to the witch who lived in the center of the Enchanted Forest. He took a deep breath, readying himself for whatever horror awaited him.
Luckily, Edmund was the one to open the door. He opened it quickly and stepped out; shutting the door behind him in way that wouldn’t allow anyone to see who was outside, or maybe so Tristan wouldn’t see what was inside.
“Yes?” Edmund sounded impatient and unhappy for the interruption.
“Mother needs to go into town.”
Edmund scratched the back of his balding head and worriedly checked behind him. “Alright, I’ll be there,” he mumbled to himself, looking uncertain. “Now off you go. Go on.” With that Edmund went back into the house and slammed the door shut.
That was certainly out of the ordinary. Then again, in Happily Ever After, everything was out of the ordinary. He would be surprised if he ever met one mother who didn’t want to strand her children, or find one prince who wasn’t looking for a real princess or a fairy Godmother who helped people who actually needed the help. He was bitter, which was a nasty personality trait that he really didn’t need to add to his list of faults. He calmed himself down and got on to doing his chores. He would fill up the tubs first because they were the most time consuming of his jobs, it would take him up until lunch time, then he’d get on to cleaning the house. Fortunately, cleaning and cooking were something he could do at the same time.
---
Il fallait entre autre chose que ce pauvre enfant allât deux fois le jour puiser de l’eau à une grande demi-lieue du logis…
With two wooden buckets in either hand, Tristan started his thirty minute walk to the well. If it weren’t for the urgency in which he had to finish his chores, the walk to the well would have been pleasant. After all, it was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, birds were singing, little woodland creatures were singing, flowers were singing. He still couldn’t get used to that. It had just started happening in the past year. All the small animals and the flowers in Happily Ever After had started singing. Rumor had it that there was a fairy somewhere near. Granted their singing was rather beautiful, but after the first few weeks, constant music started becoming exceedingly irritating.
Tristan frowned as he almost tripped on his third singing squirrel that day. He’d really wished that the supposed fairy had stopped at singing flowers or maybe just the frogs. Ever since the squirrels discovered their knack for the musical arts they had taken up dancing. It was a rare day when a person could go past a squirrel and it wasn’t trying to tap dance its way to a job with Twelve Dancing Princess, a recently established touring troupe.
“Greetings Tristan!” Lilly sang from her spot on the ground.
Tristan smiled and crouched down so that he could hear her better. “Morning Princess. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine sweet friend of mine.” Lilly was incapable of saying something without singing it, which Tristan found to be a curse. Lilly didn’t seem to mind though because she was always chipper. Even when it rained and her soil became soggy.
“I’m heading to the well. Would you like me to bring you back a drink?”
“I think I’d like a drink. If it’s no trouble get it for me on the double!”
Double ended on a high elongated note which had Tristan fighting the urge to cover his ears. It wasn’t that the little flower sang badly, just that the fairy had given her a really high pitched voice.
He reassured his friend that he’d be back and continued on his way, avoiding any other magical woodland creatures.
The walk to the well was usually never-ending, but he’d been so distracted with the guests that would be coming that he soon found himself there. He set the buckets down; first thing first, he was going to get a drink. It was a beautiful day, and beautiful days often included bountiful amounts of sun. When he’d finally arrived he was sweaty and covered in dust and bits of grass. A drink and a couple of minutes to rest weren’t going to put him too far behind schedule. He took a deep breath full of fresh air and leaned back against the well.
It really was a nice day, not a single cloud in the sky. It was days like that which made his grateful to be living in Happily Ever After and not the Enchanted Forest. The forest was covered by canopies of leaves and branches, a person couldn’t even see the sky. That was why people often got lost; because of its lack of sky and light, every corner of Enchanted Forest looked the same. A person could be going in circles for days before realizing it. That’s what had happened to his father. He was lost in the forest until one day a traveling gypsy found his body. No one knew how he ended up there, but the gypsy had said he was holding onto a rose surrounded by fine rubies. Tristan’s mother had thought he was cheating on her on with some gypsy tramp, as she put it, and even in death she never forgave him for something he’d never done.
Tristan felt that sometimes he should have resented his mother, but the possibly that his father had left her always made him quickly forgive her actions. He’d seen how horribly people acted when they were hurt, and maybe his mother had a reason for being the way she was. And no matter how badly she treated Tristan, he would always remember that she was his mother. He was thought to respect his mother and he did.
But it was no time to start reflecting on his life. He still had to make the trip back home and then another trip to the well for Thierry’s bath. It was going to be a long day.
---
“Tristan!” Thierry called from the dayroom in a sickeningly sweet voice reserved specifically when he had guests over.
Tristan didn’t want any of Thierry’s friends to see him. His thin cotton shirt was worn and ripped and his trousers were covered in dirt and suds from having been on his knees scrubbing the floor.
He fixed his clothes to look almost presentable and headed to the dayroom. In there Thierry was sitting on a chaise across from a fat little blond man Tristan recognized as Lord Hansel, Edmund’s son. Hansel was dressed in such finery that almost put Thierry’s clothes to shame. Edmund and Margie may have been poor enough to be working for Tristan’s mother, but Hansel and his sister had come across a great fortune during their time in Enchanted Forest, and refused to give their parents a dime of it.
Tristan sketched a bow out of respect after he was in the room.
Thierry eyed Tristan’s clothes disapprovingly before speaking, “Get us tea and some sweets.”
Hansel’s beady little eyes lit up at the mention of sweets. “Yes I would like some candy.” His cheeks flushed a bright red as he wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief. “Especially if they come in the form of a brown haired beauty,” he added eyeing Tristan up and down.
Tristan was about to make a polite comment to get him out of the situation when Thierry laughed loud and sardonically. “Don’t be silly Hansel. A man of your large stature can do so much better. Why I’m sure there are many ladies and gentleman out there chasing after you.”
If possible, Hansel’s face got even redder. He nervously ran a hand through his prematurely balding head. “I haven’t had any offers.”
“I’m sure they’re just shy.” Thierry squeezed Hansel’s shoulder, smiling reassuringly.
He bowed again even though the two had lost interest in him, and then left the room.
Tristan really didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved. He picked relieved because no matter how insulting Thierry had been, having Hansel trying to court him would have been worse. He wasn’t one to rely on wistful fantasies to guide him through life, but he wanted a prince not Hansel, even if not a prince, at least someone who would look at him with more than hunger and not even the lustful hunger. Hansel looked at him like he was a piece of chocolate cake covered in frosting. For once, he was glad for his brother’s constant insults. It was better that Hansel didn’t think that Tristan was worthy of him.
He returned to the dayroom and placed the plate of cake and candy on the coffee table before he snuck away quietly. Thierry and Hansel were discussing all the fine young ladies and handsome gentleman that would be lucky to have Hansel. That was one thing that Thierry was always good at, lying at the expense of making people richer than him feel better. There was no questioning of what his motives were in befriending Hansel. Life in Happily Ever After was about who you knew and how much money they had or how powerful they were.
That was one of the reasons Tristan had no friends. The other reason was probably his awful personality. That had to be it because an optimistic part of him refused to believe that all people thought about was money and power. There must be something more important.
When dinner was finally ready and the house spotless, the sun was almost completely set. After he served his mother and Thierry dinner, he made to retire to his room. He would have to wash the dinner dishes in the morning. His body was aching and his head was pounding. His fingers were raw and his brown hair hung limply in his face. If he looked as badly as he felt, people would start mistaking him for one of the wicked witches; all he needed was a wart on his nose a hunched back-which he was sure to achieve if he continued lifting water buckets from the well everyday.
As he was making his way upstairs, there was a loud ruckus outside. There were horses neighing and two distinct male voices talking loudly, one sounded young about his and Thierry’s age, the other far older and wiser. Curiosity drove him to glancing outside the window. Were these people the guests they were receiving? Would he have to answer the door when they knock? His mother had made it clear that the guests were not to see him, but she probably meant he wasn’t to mention that he was her son. That was always their best kept secret.
He walked back to the main floor and waited in front of the entrance for them to knock. He knew better than to make their guests wait. He stood anxiously waiting; debating whether or not to let his mother know there were people at the door. He certainly hoped they were their guests arriving early and not some poor travelers looking for rest. His mother had always been against helping strangers. Then again maybe his mother hadn’t noticed, and if they were travelers, maybe he could offer them the stables. They weren’t much, but it would shelter them from the night wind.
The loud knock on the door shocked him out of his thoughts. He counted till ten, and then opened the door. He wouldn’t want too seem over excited if they were their guests. He bowed then stood up straight, hoping his posture would distract them from his clothing.
In front of him there stood two cloaked men. One was tall and broad and the other short and fragile looking. The shorter man removed his hood revealing a face that must have once belonged to a handsome and powerful young man. “Is this the Fée house?”
“Yes, my lord,” Tristan replied. “Are you the guests we’ve been expecting?”
“Yes, I’m afraid we over calculated how difficult crossing the Enchanted Forest would be so we’re a bit early. I hope its no bother.”
“It’s no bother at all, sir. Your rooms are ready. Let me get the Madame of the house. I’m sure she’d like to welcome you herself.”
“That won’t be necessary; she’s probably already turned in for the night.”
“My lord, she’d be quite upset with herself if she missed welcoming her friends.” That was a blatant lie; his mother just needed to make sure that Tristan wasn’t embarrassing the family.
He led the guests to the dayroom lighting the candles along the way with the candle he had been using for light. “Please take a seat and rest while I go get Madame. Would you like anything to drink or eat?”
“No thank you we’ll be fine.”
Tristan nodded at the man and the man’s friend and ran up the stairs. He hoped his mother had yet to go to sleep because she hated being woken up after she’d fallen asleep. He pondered the possibility of getting Thierry too, but knowing his brother he probably had some young lady in there with him. That was something he wouldn’t want to walk in on.
He knocked on his mother’s door softy. “Madame, our guests have arrived.” He waited for a little while, and when he received no answer he knocked again.
The door was wretched open in front of him making him recoil in surprised fear.
“What do you want?” His mother bellowed. She must have been sleeping. Her hair was sticking up every which way and her face had some weird green concoction on it.
Tristan fought back the urge to whimper in fear and replied. “Our guests are here.”
“Why did you not tell me?” She slammed the door in his face.
There were noises inside, a lot of crashing and cursing, which indicated that she was getting ready. Less than a minute later his mother reopened her door, looking as radiant as she normally did. Her face was cleared of the green goo, and her hair was tamed and tied up. “Well?” She barked, this time quieter than the first. “What are you waiting for? Show them their room and take their bags. Then get them something to eat and drink.”
“But…”
“This is not the time to argue with me Tristan; you have already messed up once today.” With a flourish she glided down the stairs.
Used to her maltreatment, and afraid of what would happen if he disappointed her, Tristan went down stairs to their awaiting guests. He showed them their rooms while balancing the few bags they had brought, refusing any help the cloaked figure had offered. With their bags in their rooms and the guests sitting comfortably in the dayroom, Tristan headed to the kitchen to prepare coffee and reheat what ever was left from dinner. When he reentered the dayroom, his mother was animatedly chatting with the two men.
The other man had finally removed his cloak and the sight of him made Tristan’s breath catch. He’d never seen anyone quiet like him. Even Blanche’s prince, who was the fairest in all the land didn’t match up to this man. The man’s blue eyes following his every move made his face heat up and his palms sweat.
Without saying anything, Tristan set the food down and made his escape back to the kitchen. Something about the beautiful man had unnerved him. Living in Happily Ever After, Tristan was more that just used to seeing good looking people. He lived with them, he worked for them. Almost everyone important in Happily Ever After was either gorgeous or hideous. There was no middle; the only normal looking folk were the insignificant peasants like him. The man’s looks should not have had any effect on him.
He was over reacting; it was okay for him to be effected by an attractive man. It was normal, it wasn’t every day that a man as good looking as that one was in his presence without Thierry to distract him. He should enjoy what little time he had with the idea that the man could maybe be interested in him before Thierry had a chance to bring reality crashing back.
---
Tristan didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he woke up the next morning at dawn. Outside the rooster was crowing loudly enough to wake people at the Enchanted Forest. It wasn’t the first time that he wanted to cut off that rooster’s vocal chords so that it no longer crowed. His head was pounding and the sound of the bird-one of the few that were spared from the fairy’s gift-wasn’t helping matters. It was a miracle how Thierry and his mother slept through the noise.
He needed to get started on his chores, despite the lack of sleep. But first thing first, he needed coffee otherwise he might make a fool of himself trying to function without being awake.
He buried his hands in his hair, it was greasy and knotted because he didn’t have a chance to wash up recently. He made it his goal that day, that once he was finished he’d walk the few leagues further to the river when he went to fetch the water and bathe. He could still feel the grime from the day before on his body. He detested when guests visited because it always more than doubled his work, and his mother was nastier than ever.
Tristan reluctantly got out of his chair and dragged himself to the stove. He put what was left of the water to boil and made his way to the cupboard. He would just have to make enough for himself. If their guests were anything like his family, they wouldn’t be up for another four hours or so.
While the water boiled, Tristan got started on the dishes from both dinner and tea with the still nameless guests. But, knowing his mother, he wouldn’t even get introduced to him. After all, he was the help, and the help was to remain out of the way working diligently to please. That was what he was going to do. Drink his coffee, get breakfast ready and served, then spend the rest of the day doing work that needed to be down outside, minimizing his chances of running into the guests.
Once the water was boiled he poured himself a mug of it and mixed it with the coffee. He sat at the table ready to enjoy his few minutes of respite before the rest of the world awoke. Coffee was one of the few guilty pleasures he allowed himself. It was expensive, but he saw no problem if he also had some of it if his family insisted that he buy it, as long as no one found out. Taking a sip of the rich dark drink, Tristan let his head rest back against the seat. It really was good coffee.
A loud cough demanding his attention startled him into standing up, almost knocking over his mug. He clutched the sides of the table in attempts to calm himself. Tristan glanced up to see who the intruder was, but immediately averted his eyes when he saw that it was the handsome guest. His eyes took an unexpected interest in his mug and what little coffee left that hadn’t sloshed onto the table top. The man had a developed a habit of catching Tristan when he was looking his worst. Then again, his best wasn’t any better.
“Breakfast will be ready shortly, my lord. I’ll bring it up to you.” Tristan’s eyes remained fixed on the table as he spoke. It wouldn’t do him any good to see the man, it was bad enough that he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
He heard more than saw the man pull out one of the chairs at the table and sit down. “That won’t be necessary; I’ll be having my food here.”
“Yes, sir,” Tristan replied his voice low. He turned clumsily away from the man and set to preparing his breakfast, cutting the fruit and buttering the bread. The work was a good distraction from the eyes he could feel watching him. He almost dropped everything he’d prepared when he turned and his eyes met with the man’s brilliant blue ones. Something about the way the man was looking at him set his heart a flutter.
He frowned bemused and set the food in front of the man. “Would you like anything else?”
“No, thank you…” he let the sentence hang. “What is your name?”
“Tristan,” he replied unsure of whether or not it was such a good idea to give his name, or even be talking to the man.
“Nice to meet you Tristan. I am Marcel.” He gave him a half smile before digging into his plate. “Would you like to join me?”
“No thank you, sir.” He immediately ran out of the room. He wouldn’t give his family a chance to catch him dawdling when he should be working, even if it meant not getting to spend time with the handsome man. Marcel.
---
Through out the day as Tristan chopped wood, collected eggs, served breakfast, and worked at cleaning the house without being seen, his mind was on one thing alone. Marcel had managed to capture his thoughts and refused to let go. It was a curious feeling he’d never experienced before. It made him feel like singing, and Tristan absolutely hated singing.
Speaking of singing, Lilly was gently swaying back and forth in the wind humming an undistinguishable tune. She waved a little leaf that Tristan assumed was supposed to substitute for an arm at him when she spotted him. “Morning fellow!”
“Hello Lilly, are you thirsty?” he asked holding out a flask of water.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
Smiling, he poured half the contents of the water on her. “Better?”
“Most definitely good sir,” she chirped. “You must be going to the well, but come back soon otherwise I’ll think you fell.”
“Actually, I’m going to the river first. I’m afraid I look quite a fright.”
Lilly giggled. “You’re the handsomest man I’ve ever seen. In the looks department, you my friend have been blessed.”
“Don’t be silly, I’m the only man you’ve ever seen.”
Lilly shook her head, her leaves shaking in the wind. “Not true! The fairy is a man through and through.”
“Describe him for me Lilly.” He sat down cross legged in front of her, intrigued. He had time to waste; his mother and brother were taking their guests to a ball thrown by Cindy’s prince.
“He was strong and handsome! There is no one like him, any where at all.” She started to sing. “And when spring came, music for me to sing he did bring.”
“He sounds charming,” Tristan commented.
“His eyes were big and blue, and I was broken when it came the time to say adieu.” An amorous smile played on her lips. “He was so handsome and nice for giving me this gift so I can hum.”
Tristan patted Lilly’s head softly. “Well I think it’s time I go bathe. Wouldn’t want you to wither from my smell.”
---
The river was as cold as always, but it felt refreshing after the long walk to get there. He stepped deeper into the river, completely submerging his lower body, up to his torso. He scooped the water into his hands and washed his face clear of sweat and grime. He felt the stubble that was growing along his jaw and regretted not bringing a blade to shave with. He’d just have to do it when he got home. Hopefully his mother wouldn’t notice his scruffy face. She hated men who didn’t keep clean. His father had been such a man. In the winter time, he kept a beard that completely covered his neck, and he let his hair grow past his shoulders. His mother hated anything that reminded her of her late husband, so she insisted that both her sons keep their hair shorter. Thierry’s fashionably reached a little passed his jaw line, while Tristan’s was closer cropped. His hair was long enough that it was constantly in his face, but not long enough to be tied.
Tristan ducked under the water drenching his hair thoroughly. When he resurfaced he caught sight of a shadow. He needn’t worry himself though; it was probably just another little fuzzy singing creature. When the shadow passed again, he turned to see what it was. A surprised gasp tore out of his throat at what he saw, and he went deeper into the water in attempts of preserving his dignity.
Staring at him from the river bank was an elderly woman clad in rags. She looked tired and warn, like she was about to fall over. She was calling out something to Tristan but because of the rushing water her words were lost.
“Madame, if you’d turn around, I’d really like to be dressed while speaking to you.” He walked closer to the river bank keeping a crouching position to insure nothing was seen.
Obediently the woman turned around.
Tristan ran up to where he had left his clothes and began dressing. It was starting to prove to be a strange couple of days. “What can I help you with, Madame?”
“Oh my dear boy, I’ve been walking for the past few days and I’m exhausted and hungry.” She turned to face the now fully clothed Tristan. “Can you help and weary old woman out?”
“Of course, but I’m afraid we’re a bit far from the house.”
Grabbing onto a tree, the lady lowered herself down to the ground. “I’d don’t think I can do much more walking today.”
“If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll go and fetch you something to eat.” He offered feebly. “You’ll be fine right?”
“Yes, yes my boy. I’ll just rest until you return.”
That day, Tristan’s walk from the river to the well and then to the house and back to the river again had been the fastest he’d ever moved. Fear for the well being of the old women kept him distracted from the ache in his feet or the stitch on his side. Breathing heavily, he set a plate full of breakfast leftovers in front of the woman, along with a pitcher of water he’d gotten on his way back.
“I’m so glad you returned dear, but you didn’t have to trouble yourself and create such a feast for me.”
Tristan chuckled running a hand through his damp hair. “It’s far from a feast.”
“You really a nice beautiful boy,” the lady said between bites. “I don’t know what I could have done if I hadn’t run into you.”
Tristan hopped from foot to foot, his face heating at the lady’s compliment. He wasn’t used to being called beautiful, even if it was an old woman calling him that, he still felt light headed. Is that how Thierry felt every time someone complimented him? It would certainly explain why he was constantly looking for someone to notice him. “I’m sure there would be many people who would gladly help you.”
The woman set down the piece of bread she was currently eating and her face sagged unhappily. “I certainly hope so. The world would be a much better place if people weren’t too concerned with themselves to stop and help an old woman.” The shadows from the low hanging trees that grew by the river making her look sadder.
Tristan glanced uncomfortably at his surrounding, his eyes bouncing from the river to the trees, and then back to the woman. He hated to admit that there was too much truth to her words. If his mother knew that he’d given her food for free he would be punished, despite the fact that the food would have been discarded anyway.
“For your help I will reward you.”
Before the woman got a chance to continue, Tristan interrupted. “It’s really not necessary. It wasn’t a problem.”
“No, no, don’t argue with me. Everyone should get what they deserve.”
“But I’m sure anyone else would have done the same…” he continued.
“Don’t be silly, son. You and I both know no one would have bothered for I am just a poor beggar woman. What have I to offer?” She gave him a look that said he better not interrupt again. “For your kindness and good heart I will make it that with every word you speak, a flower or a precious stone shall fall from your mouth.”
“I did not do this seeking…” Tristan immediately stopped speaking. Out of his mouth came out a ruby, a pearl, two roses, and two small diamonds. His eyes wide with fear, he caught the treasures in his hand before they fell to the ground. He couldn’t feel them; if the sun hadn’t reflected specks of light from the jewels he would have never known they were falling.
“And that is why I grant this gift to you. It is those who do not seek that are the most deserving.” She reached over and patted a bewildered Tristan on the head. “Now, I think its best you go back home before your mother has a chance to scold you.”
Vous êtes si beau, si bon et si honnête, que je ne puis m’empêcher de vous faire un don. Je vous donne pour don. Qu’a chaque parole que vous direz, il vous sortira de la bouche ou une fleur, ou une pierre précieuse…
Tristan’s walk back home was full of thoughts about what had just happened. Had he finally met his Fairy Godmother? No, she would have said so. Maybe she was just a fairy and he’d been lucky enough to be the one there to help her. Who the woman was, was the least of his problems. What was his mother going to do when he spoke and jewels came out?
The answer to his problem was a simple one. He’d just have to keep him mouth shut while there were people in his presence. He can never speak again. At home it wouldn’t be much trouble; his mother would probably be grateful to him never speaking again. He could always point at things when he didn’t to stop by the market place. It wouldn’t be hard at all, as long as he remembered.
He pushed the weathered wooden door that lead from the garden into the kitchen open. He had to make dinner and clean the bedrooms. The house was uncommonly clean since both Thierry and their mother had taken their guests to the opera. They weren’t due back until around the ninth bell or even later.
The beautiful rocks were burning a hole in the pocket of Tristan dark brown warn cotton trousers. It felt as though they didn’t belong to him, as though he’d stolen them, nothing had ever made him more dishonest. Diamonds and rubies did not belong anywhere near someone dressed like him. He knew that if his mother were to ever find out she’d say the same thing. She was in the habit of always going through his things to make sure that he hadn’t stolen anything from her. That was ridiculous; no one steals from their on mother.
He’d deal with the gemstones later; he’d just have to be really careful for the time being.
Thierry’s room always proved to be the hardest to clean. If Tristan didn’t know any better he’d have to assume that he was purposely messy so that Tristan had more to clean. But Thierry had been a messy child long before Tristan was even put in charge of the cleaning. He had clothes strewn over his desk, under his bed, in every place but where they belong. Cursing his brother under his breath, Tristan set about putting away the clean laundry and the dishes from the morning’s breakfast.
His mother’s room had the ability to frighten him every time he entered it. It was spacious and dark with no trace of color in it. Though cleaner than Thierry’s, the room was a greater pain to clean. His mother demanded perfection and no less was acceptable. He had to make sure that the room was spotless every day. That everything that shined should be shiny and everything that should be folded should be folded according to how she liked it. There were many instances where he’d folded something wrong and couldn’t lie on his back for weeks afterwards.
Every guest they’d received before at the house had been exactly like his mother and brother, messy and inconsiderate. So when he’s walked into the room of the old man and found it to be completely clean and organized, aside from the dishes which were placed on the bedside table, besides a bed that was made, he was more than pleasantly surprised. Marcel’s room proved to be no different. It was neat and organized and smelled nicely of the woods. One night only and the room already smelt distinctly of the young man.
Tristan really wasn’t in his right mind when he crawled into it to see how good it smelled. He also wasn’t in his right mind as he pulled the covers over his head and sunk deeper into the bed taking in the woodsy spell. He’d never though that any human being could smell that good. It was as though Marcel spent most of his days out doors bathing in the river. Bathing was not something Tristan should imagine Marcel doing. He was going to be in trouble enough if he were caught in the man’s bed, the last thing he needed was to get caught aroused in the man’s bed. How embarrassing that would be.
Part Two