Ailsa (A Medieval/Renaissance Romance)

Chapter 2

This story is very focused on music, as you can tell. I am a violinist and singer myself and I love to do Celtic music, so I am writing about things that I feel personally. Music moves me in a way that little else can, so I try to convey those feelings into this story. I've added music to the first chapter so you can hear what I was listening to when I wrote the beach scene. There's another song added in this chapter's media section as well, and I'll probably add one for each scene that describes music in the rest of the story. There's also a picture of Arthur!! :D The cover picture is exactly how I picture Ailsa, in case you were wondering.

So if you're reading on a phone, make sure you look it up on a computer later so you don't miss out on the music and picture, since it doesn't show extra media on the phone display. Please vote and comment!! :)

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Chapter 2

Two weeks ago

Arthur's dark eyes glittered as he raised his bow. Squinting against the midday sun, his gaze found the elusive elk hiding in a patch of distant bushes. He waited, his bowed pulled and ready to release, until the elk's head appeared in view. He released the bow, sending the arrow silently to it's target. The elk fell with a crash. It was a glorious prize, one that would win him much acclaim from anyone who would see it.

But still he did not smile. No one would see his prize. He hunted only out of necessity.

Arthur pushed his way through the bushes until he reached the fallen creature, still taking ragged breaths as its life faded away. He pulled out his knife and effortless slit the animal's throat, ceasing it's suffering. He then proceeded to hang the beast in the trees so the blood could drain.

While the elk was draining, Arthur prepared his simple camp. He started a small fire and set his bedroll near it, putting pine branches underneath it for added comfort and separation from the damp September ground. He brushed his dark brown hair away from his eyes as he worked, not stopping until everything was just as he wanted it. He took his water-skin to a nearby stream and filled it, then drank long swigs. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he returned to his camp and pulled down the elk carcass. Working swiftly and efficiently, he skinned the creature and cut long strips of meat which he then lay across several stones near the fire. They would cook there and give him much needed supplies for the remainder of his journey.

The journey he had forced upon himself.

Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he worked in the heat. Before long his satchel was filled with strips of cooked meat. He set other strips off to the side to dry in the sun; these strips would last longer.

He had a long way to go.

Arthur finally set out the last of the meat to dry and settled back on his haunches. This kill would feed him for a couple weeks, and he was pleased. But still no smile graced his lips.

Stretching his tired muscles after several hours of work, he pulled out his sword to polish it. As he wiped the cloth back and forth, memories came unbidden to his mind.

“Why must ye go, son?It wasnae your fault. We need ye here.”

Shaking his head, he pushed aside the thoughts and tried to focus on the task at hand, but in the back of his mind they kept returning.

“Arthur! Help me! I cannae make it!”

Groaning, Arthur stood. He needed to stop these thoughts; they would only cause him more pain. He decided to practice his swordplay; that would take his mind off it for sure. He spent the rest of the afternoon in this manner, until sweat rolled down his face and his limbs quivered with exhaustion.