There'd be no respite from the cold today as Jack cut wood at the mill just outside of town. He wasn't doing this to get paid, but rather just because it'd look good on his father if he helped. All he did was mull around half-asleep either sawing logs or carrying piles of lumber back and forth. Cutting into oak wasn't an easy task, and it was mostly men who worked the mill. Jack started chopping firewood as a chore when he was ten, and from then on marveled at how the adults could get it in such a perfectly straight line or in a single swing of the axe. He could barely get the damn thing over his head when he was younger, but years of practice gave him decent enough skill along with fairly toned arms.
He was used to laborious chores; it was always up to him to make the two-hour walk up the hill and back when it was time to herd the sheep. At least that job he got some time to himself, here there was no such thing as a moment of privacy. Not even in his own home, where the walls were as thin as paper, did he feel he could get a moment to himself. As he grew older and wanted to explore his changing body, the last thing he needed was to be heard or caught in the moment. He could only get away with such an action at night, so long as he kept his face buried in his pillow and his gasps and grunts at a minimum. Jack had some crushes in life but never acted on them. For some reason, he preferred to pretend he didn't exist around a girl he liked, and these feelings were always short-lived. He found himself struggling to recognize the difference between love and just regular hormones. It was a thin line at his age.
During his work, Jack thought about how exhilarated and alive he'd felt in his dream. Now he was as inert as the deadwood on the slushy ground. People bumped and trotted past each other, speaking to each other but not saying a word to him—he was invisible, though he sometimes liked it that way. Only sometimes. He thought dryly to himself, Maybe one of the logs will fall on me and then I won't have to go to the stupid ball. Despite his mother's pleading, he only planned to sink into the walls and stare at the clock until the night was over. There wasn't anyone in particular he was looking forward to seeing, and he knew that the others felt the same way about him.
The only time anyone did bother to speak to the teenager was whenever someone wanted to vent their frustrations or give him a typical, "When I was your age..." lesson. Jack either only nodded or gave one-word, succinct answers as he tried to do what he could to leave the one-sided conversation. He only liked to listen to the elders when they had stories to tell about their travels outside of the kingdom, stories about different cultures and exotic-looking buildings and places, the strange foods they tried. If his family had the money, Jack would beg to cross the sea to Denmark or The Netherlands, or even go just a few damn miles outside of his hometown. Then he could have interesting conversations with people who found him interesting and not 'off his rocker.'
Two hours in and Jack was already needing to sit to give his arms a break. There was a cat that liked to hang around the mill and hope one of them dropped their food for it, but it was usually shooed off. Jack didn't care for cats, but he had no reason to dislike this one since it didn't pester him. He tried sometimes to call it over and perhaps pet it, but it was too used to avoiding humans for that. He didn't blame it for running off anyway; why it stuck around here he'd never know. Jack sometimes wondered if it had a litter of kittens somewhere and that's why it was so desperate for food. When he began to ponder that, he started sneaking some extra meat from the night before and leaving it at the edge of the grove for it to find. He was always told never to be wasteful, after all.
Today, the cat was rather friendly to him. It brushed its face against his ankle, but still didn't seem to want a pet when Jack reached down to scratch it. "Playing hard-to-get, huh?" He smirked. It meowed back. It was quite the vocal animal too. It preened its whiskers against his leg before trotting off somewhere else. Maybe in my other life, I was a cat—we just want most people to get the Hell away from us.
Those were about as profound as his thoughts got when he was working; he was too busy counting the sawn logs and focusing on measurements otherwise. Then he had his other chores to worry about once he finished at the mill. Cleaning the house, feeding the animals and cleaning their pens, and then of course avoiding his mother's wrath by finding something decent to wear to the party. His mother had been aching over it for two weeks, so at least after tonight, she'd finally relax for a while. Mary was already being told not to wrinkle her new dress once he got home; she was much more fit for these events. She'd wanted to be a proper lady from birth it seemed.
"I need gloves, Mom!" She was saying in her room. "I can't go without any gloves."
"You need ones that match. And I don't have any that aren't already stained."
"Keep your hands together and no one will notice." She suggested.
Jack, meanwhile, was lucky if he owned any pair of gloves. Satin ones were expensive, so the only ones he owned were made of black cotton for the winter, and he'd already worn them to work that day. He would have to do without them, then. Emily came trotting into Jack's room, "How do I look?" Jack turned to see his mother looking prim and poised.
"You look nice." He answered. Meanwhile, his hair was still wet from his wash.
"Oh, promise me you'll behave nicely! That there won't be any tricks or japes this time!"
"Mom, relax. It's me."
"Exactly!" She said with ardor.
"If it were up to me, I wouldn't go at all." He found a black coat that looked relatively more 'proper' than everything else he owned. Even though he made his opinions clear, he'd do whatever it took to keep his parents appeased. Though, no matter what he did, his mother always had something to say about his tousled hair, which went in whatever direction it pleased. She suggested he wear one of his father's hats, but Jack refused. "If my hair is everyone's biggest concern tonight, then it this has to be the worst party of the year." Emily had to agree with him that time. There wouldn't be much more time to argue over who wore what since it was already time for them to start walking to the town hall. Even a gathering as informal as this was quite the event for the Overlands. Everyone else could afford nice silks and fabrics while they were lucky enough to get by with what they could scrape up.
Jack kept his word and played no tricks, not this time. He took note of how he was the only other shepherd's boy at the party—Ansgar was another boy from the humbler side of town. They'd known each other their whole lives but spoke scarcely. They played some as children, but their fathers' constant quarreling kept them at odds despite the two never had any dislike for the other. Jack and Ansgar would acknowledge each other every now and again, but never made plans of becoming close acquaintances. Ansgar was having a much better time than him, for he'd managed to pluck up the courage to ask a girl to dance with him. Jack wasn't afraid, per say, but he knew what the girls his age thought of him; troublesome, mischievous... they probably expected him to drop them on the wooden floor.
His own family had gotten so engaged, even Mary was with friends, and so Jack retreated from the group until he was alone, staying near the walls. Since he decided to keep his word tonight, he didn't have any ideas on how he'd amuse himself. He was worried his mother might try to bring some 'nice-looking girl' to him and make the entire evening awkward. Jack eventually slipped into a curtained recess, finally, somewhere he could watch and enjoy himself. Then he heard the gossiping of two young women who had the same idea just outside.
They were two of his old classmates, Arcadia and Hildur. Arcadia was always a bashful, soft-spoken girl, while Hildur had quite a reputation. She was popular with all the boys (most of them, at least). She was attractive, came from a well-off family, and a perfectly elegant lady... who was also exceedingly aware of her looks and privilege. Jack liked to provoke her in school just to see all the ridiculous things she'd say; he found her ego more amusing than anything else. He delighted in anything ridiculous.
Arcadia said to Hildur, "My mother can't make skolebrød to save her. I've eaten five of them tonight just to make her think everyone loves them."
"Well, now that you've done that, we'll never escape her baking," Hildur replied.
"On my word," Arcadia went on, "I've danced with so many boys tonight, I don't know which one's going to propose first!"
"Oh, please. It's just dancing. Besides, there aren't enough handsome young men here to court that I already haven't tried my luck with."
Arcadia gasped, "You know I saw Jack earlier. He's single!"
Hildur sneered. "Overland?" Jack listened more closely; things were always more interesting when they didn't know he was in earshot.
"Yes. Why not ask him? He's very handsome."
"I wouldn't be caught dead with a shepherd's boy. All he does is cause problems for everyone around him."
"He doesn't hurt anyone."
"No, but I know his type anywhere. They do it because they're so desperate for attention. I can't have that."
Arcadia laughed, "You're awful, Hildur."
Jack couldn't hold back his laughter then and he let out a snort. Since he was sure he was caught, Jack pulled back the curtain and stepped before the two. "Ladies." He bowed his head before walking off. The looks on their faces! He went to another private spot to mull over her words. I wouldn't be caught dead with a shepherd's boy. Well don't worry, I won't be caught dead with you either! He tried his hardest not to laugh too loudly before going back towards the crowd to find his family. His mother couldn't help notice his good mood and wondered if he'd 'met someone.' No, the night had just turned out to be more amusing than anticipated. It was enough that he let loose and got into the crowd for the next dance.
...
Mary had to be carried out the hall by Nicholas since she'd twisted her ankle later in the night. It had passed pleasantly otherwise, and the Overlands were quite pleased with themselves. Emily was happy to say, "I saw you smiling a lot tonight, Jack."
"So?"
"It's nice to see you having fun at a party is all."
"Did you dance with a lot of girls?" Mary teased.
"Nope. You were the only one lucky enough."
Nicholas stopped walking and the people around them started to make space on the street. The family watched curiously as a small group of men charged towards the town hall. Nicholas recognized them; they were the hunters that had gone up to the mountains almost two weeks ago. He could've sworn that there were more of them when they left.
Ansgar emerged from the doors when he saw them coming, and everyone knew why. "Father!" He called to Elrond. "I didn't expect to see you until morning." He pushed past his son and went inside.
"Daddy? Is something happening?" Mary pondered.
"It's probably nothing, sweetheart."
Jack couldn't help himself—his curiosity got the best of him and he said to them, "I'll go have a listen. I'll catch up."
"Jack—" Emily called but he was already pacing back to the building so he didn't miss anything. Already the remaining guests were fussed by the frazzled appearance of the hunters, asking the whereabouts of their missing members. They looked like they were going to lose an ear or a finger from frostbite.
"Listen well, all of you!" Elrond exclaimed. "We saw it. The creature that stalks Dead Man's Peak." His men were still in too much of a state to corroborate his words. Jack winced, This nonsense again. Might as well get one last laugh for the night. "It took three of our men... they fought bravely." The hall was silent as they listened. "But I dread we have not seen the last of it. A harsh winter may be among us. We must be ready; more wood for the fires, save what food you have."
"Elrond, please. Not this again."
"Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark; it was an animal."
"No." Shivered one of the huntsmen. "I saw it. Its eyes... they were a blue you've never seen. Blood as red as wine all over the snow... It knows no mercy."
"This creature you've talked of for thirty years has yet to show its face. When will you finally bring it home and mount its head on a spike since you so desire it?"
"One day." Elrond said. "For now, I warn all of you. I intend to go back in a fortnight."
Jack had heard enough. He quit the building and ran quickly to catch up with his family.