The Trader-Chapter 4-Storms

Fiction By Erin // 5/15/2010



Chapter Four
          All the fields looked the same. They had been riding through them for what seemed like days, although the light outside had scarcely changed. Jonathan saw another gate ahead. And more blank, hopeless golden fields edged by high blue mountains. He sighed, wondering how they would ever arrive at Pickingsworth’s house at this rate.
            Arianwyn was sitting stiffly behind him, trying to find a way to be as far away from him as possible. Once she had even tried scooting back onto the horse’s rump, but when Lior protested by swishing his tail and kicking out his hind legs, she seemed to have thought better of it.
            “Smells like storm.” For a moment Jonathan had forgotten the Elf was there in his hopelessness that they would ever leave the fields, and jumped when she spoke.
            Jonathan looked up at the sky. There were a couple of clouds covering the sun, but they were fluffy and white, nothing to be afraid of.
            “It couldn’t be,” replied Jonathan positively, looking ahead at the barbed wire fence.
            Arianwyn remained silent, but he felt her mocking his stupidity. He ignored this. Of course he was right. Nothing about that blue sky said anything about rain.
            Only a few feet away from the gate, Jonathan dismounted, firmly instructing Arianwyn not to get any ideas, and led Lior and the Elf over to the gate and opened it.
            Another field, excellent, thought Jonathan bitterly as he let Lior walk through the open space. He quickly clipped a rusted-out old chain to the hook attached to the wooden gate and re-mounted his horse. He turned him around and steadily walked ahead, still looking at empty golden field.
            There was no denying the area’s beauty, but one does tire of staring at blank canvases all day.
            Ari felt the storm like a crack in her bones. Tensely, she tried to scoot away from the human. If he got struck by the mighty sky’s lightning, she didn’t want any part of it. The horse swished his tail angrily, and she adjusted herself back in the position she was before, sighing. This human was a fool not to listen to her.
            Haela, she thought, closing her eyes and tilting her head to the sky slightly, vhett eyum sumte leam, (Haela, hold your son’s storm). Ari opened her eyes again and looked ahead, but all she heard was distant thunder. It didn’t seem to be apparent to the human.
            All humans be deaf, deaf and blind and stupid, she thought bitterly, staring venomously at the back of Jonathan Collins’s neck. The thief, scoundrel and liar.
            The man didn’t seem to notice, and if he did he was very good at concealing it. He turned his head to the side, with a smile that Ari would have loved to slap off his thieving face, and said, “See, now, there seems to be a village ahead. We should be there soon enough.”
            She hated being included in the ‘we’. She wanted nothing to do with this liar. But she stayed silent. He didn’t expect her to say anything anymore, it seemed. He used to pester her, try to make some form of conversation, but he appeared to have abandoned the idea.
            Another strike of thunder. It was like a knife through her abdomen. She winced and looked at the thief. He didn’t seem to hear nor feel the storm approaching. Ari could feel it approaching fast. She shook her head as another stab of thunder at her gut was made.
            Hamilton Pickingsworth saw lightning illuminate the sky in a white flash when he heard the knock on the door. Grunting, he heaved himself up from the arm chair in which he was resting himself. Once on his feet, he hobbled over to the door of his clean, sparkling entry room.
            Before opening the door, however, he pushed the small curtain that covered a thin slice of window beside the door aside and looked. He yelled aloud, then clapped a fat hand over his mouth. He backed away, trying to keep the sight of Collins’s hat out of his head. Deep purple, with a peacock feather out the back, there was no mistaking it. Just to make sure that he hadn’t been imagining things, he looked out again. This time he saw Collins’s whole body, and beside him was a stunning but obviously angry black-haired maiden. Hamilton could scarcely take his eyes off of the girl when his wife called from the bedroom.
            “Hamilton? Hamilton, what was that noise? Is something wrong?” she asked. Hamilton heard her footsteps. He anxiously stepped around in place, his eyes darting all around the room.
            “Er, uhm, nothing, Myrtle! I just have some……..guests! Just….uhm…..Stay in the room, dear! I have some…….” he thought rapidly for a moment, trying desperately to find the right words. “I have some business to attend to!”
            Myrtle’s face appeared around the hall edge. Her wavy brown hair fell around her, and she tucked it behind her ear. Her big blue eyes were concerned.
            “You sound like a nervous wreck, Hamilton,” she said. “Are you all right?”
            Hamilton nodded vigorously, though his heart and head told him otherwise. He shooed her down the hall, assuring her that he was fine. There was another, more irritated knock at the door, and Hamilton heard rain falling and thunder roaring.
            He opened the door, smoothing back his blond hair.
            Collins smiled, but his eyes were irritated. Hamilton wondered if he still held the ring, the key to all of his worries.
            “He-he-hello, Collins. Please, come in with your beautiful lady here….” Hamilton stepped aside, allowing the two to walk in.
            “I do hope that you don’t mind, Pickingsworth, but I put my mount in your stable. And you really should fire that groom. He could scarcely lead my horse, let alone untack him. I had to do so myself,” said Collins briskly, walking inside and looking about. Hamilton could almost sense him eying everything valuable.
            The maiden that was with Collins was reluctant to come in. She looked around as if his house were some sort of curse, and if she walked inside she would drop dead.
            “Please, do come in, miss,” said Hamilton. He reached to grasp her arm and lead her inside, but she flinched back and glared at him.
            Collins broke out of his trance and looked back at them. “Oh, you’ll have trouble get her in. She’s quite obstinate. Arianwyn, come in. You’re fine,” he said. Arianwyn? That’s a very unusual name, Hamilton thought.
            Arianwyn gingerly stepped inside, wincing as if it was about to rain lightning bolts (which it almost was, mind you).
            “See, you’re all right. Hurry up now,” said Collins. Hamilton couldn’t help but notice how his eyes softened when he spoke to her. He seemed almost guilty, but when he caught Hamilton watching him he hardened up again.
            The beautiful maiden stepped all the way in and looked about, mesmerized. Only when she pushed her long black hair back behind her ear did Hamilton notice, for the first time, that her ear had a pointed tip.



Ok, Hamilton, is an owesome name!!! Oh, and I know Jonathan likes the elf chick!!!! "Don't hide your feallings away Jonny!!! You must lern to expres yoursalf!!!!!" Good story by the way =]

Tayme | Mon, 05/17/2010


I don't know what to say, your writing is just so amazing!

Googleeyed95 (not verified) | Sun, 06/06/2010

Oh, wow. Thanks so much!!!

Oh, wow. Thanks so much!!!

Erin | Sun, 06/06/2010

"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond

Will you post these and any

Will you post these and any proceeding chapters at the Outpost? I'm intrigued.

Anna | Wed, 10/20/2010

I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief

So far I'm not.

So far I'm not. Unfortunately, I'm having some writer's block with this one. 

Erin | Wed, 10/20/2010

"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond


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