The Sword Thief

Hidden rooms and lonely goodbyes

Matilda's P.O.V 

            We make our way back to the castle and luckily father isn’t there to punish me. They're off somewhere battling another one of our never-ending wars. I'm supposed to be heading to an etiquette class, but what a bore that would be. I slip out when the old woman is in the bathroom, and head over to the stables. My horse Damien neighs at me knowing I'm approaching.

“Good boy.” I tell him putting on his saddle. Mounting Damien, I make sure my archery bow is ready to go. Originally I had wanted to be taught the art of fighting with a sword, but being a girl that is heavily  frowned upon. But through a little extra chores and behaving, I was able to convince my dad to let me take archery lessons. To everyone’s surprise I had a natural nag for it and i soon found myself better than the teacher. So I eventually found a new teacher, one with years of experience.

            Jumping on Damien I head out into the cool crisp fall air. We trot through my favorite areas in the woods automatically filling me with a sense of peace I cant find anywhere else. Closing my eyes I let my horse take me through the path he now knows all to well.

Arriving at the teacher’s house I leap off Damien and tie him to a tree where he grazes lazily on grass. Patting him one last time I, walk into the small cute cottage.

“Matti! It’s about time you arrived! You were supposed help me hunt for my dinner long ago! Now we only have about two hours to get the job done!” Krista, my teacher, shrieks.  

Chuckling I laugh “missed you too.”

“There’s no time for missing anyone when you might just starve!” she replis hastily grabbing her archery bow.

“Okay, okay, but you wouldn’t starve to death if you had taken my offer on living with me in the castle!” I remind her for about the 100th time. I always offer her one of the spare rooms in the castle whenever I come here.

“Hah! I’ll never set foot in one of those blasted buildings again,” she murmurs getting her horse Hazy saddled. 

            Apparently Krista had lived in a castle. A different one, her husband was the kings right hand man. When in battle the army committed mutiny killing her husband and the king all together. The villagers wanting new rulers killed the queen and were after her next. Using what little archery skills she had then, she escaped the village and made a life on her own. Being in her early thirties most men didn’t consider her when they wanted marriage. To old, she couldn’t give them as much kids as was needed to survive in this era.  So somehow now she seems to think that everyone who's working for the King or Queen will eventually turn on her, so she stays out in the woods where she thinks she will be safe, incase they do.

            Not wanting to pursue the subject any longer, Krista jumps on Hazy’s back and heads out to find her dinner, to busy in her thoughts to notice that I haven't followed her. Just as I'm about to head off, the bit in Damien’s mouth breaks. Grumbling I trudge back in the house searching for a bit. I search for about twenty whole minutes before finally giving up, and deciding to just wait until Krista comes back. But why just sit when I can snoop around? Maybe I can find a picture of Krista’s deceased husband? Maybe a secret stash of bits? Who knows, but I am not going to pass up the chance to get to know my teacher more! After about five minutes I'm officially bored. I found nothing interesting! Or at least everything I found I already knew she had. Grumbling yet again I sit in a couch that immediately swallows me up, comfy, but claustrophobic. Tilting my head up to stare at the ceiling I count the cracks in the roof. 1...5…7… wait a minute that's not a crack.

            Jumping to my feet I stand on the couch to get a better look at the line above me. It looks as if someone has put it there on purpose. Why have I never noticed this before? Following the line I trace it to the center of an empty wall. Walking to the wall I strain my eyes to see any nicks in the paint. Aha! Slowly I slide my finger through a whole in the wall about the size of an arrowhead. Nothing. Hold up, the size of an arrowhead? Duh? Grabbing an arrow from my bag on the floor I nudge the tip of it in, till I hear a click then I turn the head a full 180 degrees. Taking the arrow out I hear a light groan and the wall in front of me slowly opens! Jackpot!

Garrett's P.O.V.

It seemed the news of me going to prison spread through our small village like wild fire. As soon as I stepped foot in our small one roomed hut, all eyes stopped on me. My six brothers and sisters all just stared. Some disappointed others just curious.

“Where’s mama?” I ask my voice cracking a little from all the attention.

Looking me over my oldest sibling Marla answers, “And what makes you think she wants to see you?”

 “Mars, don’t do this. Just tell me where ma is?” I answer not in to mood for one of Marla’s famous guilt trips.

“Don’t Mars me! Your foolish stealing habit has finally come back and bitten you in the butt! You selfish idiot! With no dad, you are all these kids have as their male role model, yet you waste your days away stealing worthless knick knacks!” Marla explodes.

“Mars-” I begin

“What’d I say about calling me Mars! Look Garrett If you want to waste the rest of your days sitting in a dingy dark prison, be my guest! But just don’t make other people feel bad about you willingly leaving! Mama doesn’t need this. YOU were the closest thing she had to papa; YOU were the closest thing any of us had to papa! Yet you chose to leave for your stupid adrenaline rushes. Selfish! Papa would not be  proud.” She says whispering the last words so that I barely hear them.

What? Who was she to judge whether or not papa was proud of me?

“Hmm? I didn’t hear that last part” I say sarcasm dripping from every word.

She gives no reply just stands there staring at the dirt ground. Sure my stealing problem has gotten a lot worse since papa’s death, but how could you blame my old lost and confused eleven-year-old self. I had needed away to provide for my family and at the same time I needed a distraction from the empty feeling. So I stole. The adrenaline rush I got from just stealing a simple item never seemed to cease. Plus when I would give one of my little siblings the stolen object, they always seemed to cheer up. Forgetting that papa was gone just for a moment. That made it worth it.

“Fine Marla, lecture me on the last day you may ever see me. But if any of you, I say addressing the rest of my siblings, feel like giving me a proper good bye, now’s your chance.” I finish with my arms open wide ready to receive a hug of some sort. No one moves. Not even Mayla. She looked like she wants to but is fighting the urge. As for the rest of them they completely ignore me. Averting my gaze and going back to what they were originally doing.

 Fine.

I didn’t have the strength to send curses to every one of them, but send up a silent prayer hoping they’ll all some how regret this. Slowly, I leave the house just incase anyone changes their mind, and I head off to Fleeters hill feeling like a knife is plunged deep in my heart. 

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Intense right? i wonder what Matilda found in that secret room! Anyway it turns i wrote most of this story in past-tense so i now have to go back through it and make it present-tense!!!! -__-!!!! but oh. well. I guess it gives me something to do! so if there are any parts that the tense still doesn't agree, please do tell! Picture on side is actually pretty close to how i imagine Matilda, except with longer hair. It's Emma Stone By the way