Elliotte

Chapter One

The year 1002

The prairie stretched forth in an endless spread of straw gold and basic nature. It was just another day in the lovely summer time.

The harvest was ongoing and she was having just so much fun prancing about the maize field with her skirts high in her claps and a beautiful grin.

Then all of a sudden the bright weather turned grey - dark swirls of intimidating grey – and the wind that had lent her swift wings ceased.

Her prancing stalled.

"Elliotte."

Instantly, she swirled around and met no one.

"Elliotte."

Again, no one.

"Elliotte.!"

"Who?"

The voice, like erratic whispers, were everywhere at once. This way, that way, here and there, all over. Calling her name in that hushed erratic whispers that reverberated throughout the frantic air.

"Elliotte! Elliotte! Elliotte!"

She picked her skirts and ran. Ran for all she knew and held dear. Ran for her dear life. Ran for fear. Ran for that was all she knew she could do at the moment. Run.

"Elliotte!"

With a violent jerk, she sprang to life and reality, to see Deidre's face floating above her.

Quickly, she hurried off tossing the beddings away from her, then blinked really hard.

"By St. Stephen's mutilated body" Deidre snapped. "It would take an apocalypse to rouse you, mi lady"

Elliotte rubbed her face with her hands and sighed deeply. "You still call me that"

Unperturbed, Deidre busied herself with clearing the bedchamber. "Dina fash yerself, mi lady," she said as she drew the drapes and began folding the beddings. "You are a lady by birth and it matters not that ya mama, God bless her gentle soul, was naught but a seed in this brook. You, mi lady, are still the only child of the Overlord.”

Elliotte scoffed, least interested in the analogy of her birthright and all. She left the bed and walked towards the wash basin.

"Now, mi lady" Deidre continued now she had squashed the lass' insecurity. It wouldn't do to allow her dwell on the hardships her birth had brought upon her. Lucinda, God rest her soul, would turn in her grave at that. "’Tis time for

the cooking and the gardening, mi lady. The brook must be run as yer papa is away."

Another scoff.

"The responsibility of it all now rests on yer dainty shoulders."

Another scoff, this time muffled.

"Now, make haste."

The large kitchen air bristled with the heat of the giant stoves now put to task with meal preparations. Everywhere was chaotic. There were mouths to feed and bellies to cater to after all.

Ernice called out from where she kneaded and a chorus of greeting reached her and she grinned.

"Dressed in servants' garb, are we, mi lady?"Ernice called out from where she kneaded and punched down the dough for bread.

Eliotte smiled as she picked an apple and accepted a the gift of a slice of roasted boar from Mr. Norman.

Deidre rolled her eyes heavenwards.

"And off she goes," Mr. Norman announced fondly as she dashed out of the kitchen to

adds the gardens her mother had been in charge of.

Ernice shook her head amused. "You're fond of her.” She smiled at Deidre who seemed helpless at her unsuccessful tutelage.

"The young lady is a sight for sore eyes, a balm for aching hearts and a test to every man's will!"

"She has her mama's temper,” Ernice said in a far away tone as she kneaded bread dough.

"And her papa's bearing."

"Do you ever think he would accept her truly?"

Deidre queried, a ladle suspended in the air.

"Some day" Ernice said with grave conviction. "he would have reasons a plenty to bask in fatherly pride"

"You certain?" Ernice asked, doubtful herself.

She got a vigorous nod for an answer from the doorway of the heated oven.

"She was born with the fairy star after all," Mr. Norman said pointedly.

A series of hushes reached him.

He slapped his hand over his mouth with wide eyes and squeezed it then shut.