March 12, 2015, 7 p.m.
Forged In Fire: Chapter One
E - Words: 1,235 - Last Updated: Mar 12, 2015 Story: Closed - Chapters: 25/? - Created: Mar 09, 2014 - Updated: Mar 09, 2014 151 0 0 0 1
"See you later dad, dont work yourself too hard today!" Kurt yelled as he rushed out of their gate and down the cobblestone path into the village. Again, as it had been for the past few months, the sun scorched the stones beneath his feet and bleached them a pale pink. Kurt would be glad when the drought was brought to an end, the heat and lack of water made it hard to concentrate on his needle work as he sat holed up at the back of Mr Clearys shop. Kurt had taken the apprenticeship simply because it earned him money and suited him better than working on the land with his father. Kurt was not a dab hand with a shovel but given fabric, needle and thread he could do wonders. Sure Kurt was skilled, he had learnt a lot when he was young and used to sit with his mother as she made pinafores and darned socks, but Kurt did not particularly enjoy his job as a tailors apprentice, and he hated the small village in which he had grown up.
When Kurt was a young boy his mother told him stories of magical beings and ferocious beasts, wonders to be discovered and sights to behold. His mother had fuelled adventure in him and every morning since her death he had looked out the cottage window and wished to see beyond the forest that loomed at the edge of the village. He knew that all those who strayed into the forest never came back, apart from Kurt, who had run into the forest at eight years old and met one of the only people he had ever called a friend. Kurt was nearing twenty two, he had been a mere apprentice for too long, he had never seen the sea or the valleys or the mountains. He had never stepped foot into another village or town and that is how Kurt had thought it would stay until he ran into the village square and found its usually bustling traders and sellers at a complete standstill. The mayor, Mr Alderridge, a portly gentleman who only ever wore purple stood looking anxious as angry villagers and businessmen all yelled at him at once.
"Elliott!" Kurt called above the chatter, spotting his friend and the cobblers son over between the jostling bodies of the growing crowd. "Whats going on?" Elliott fights his way through the crowd toward him. "The last reserve is gone. Theres no more water. The village is begging the mayor to do something about it. They want to send someone into the forest to find water seeing as all the attempts at digging have been futile." Ringing his cap in his hands he watched as the rest of the villagers began to suggest who should be the one to locate a new water source all the while knowing that it could very well be a suicide mission.
At first Kurt thought that the village had come up with a terrible plan. How was anyone supposed to find such a thing in a forest theyd never ventured into, let alone find a way to get the water to the village? He would leave it to them to figure out. Tired of his squabbling neighbours he turned to leave.
"Hummel! That Hummel kid should go. Hes been in the forest before, when he was a little one." Kurt froze where he stood in the middle of the village square. He had been to the forest before, yet he remembered very little about it past the strange boy he had met in the clearing that day. He tried to protest, he had a job and what would happen to his father in his absence? But the villagers seemed adamant that it had to be him and he was sure that if he were not to return none of them would miss him. It was dangerous but wasnt this the adventure he was yearning for, the kind of quests that played out in his mothers stories? His father. His father was ill and if the farm went without water for much longer it was likely to fail. His father had suffered enough; Kurt could do something to change that. "Ill go," he decided, his chance to explore and escape the small minded village had arrived, "there must be a spring or something somewhere amongst the trees right?"
.oO0Oo.
"Are you out of your goddamn mind?!" Burt yelled at him his voice going hoarse.
"Dad, calm down." Kurt tried desperately; alarmed at the violent shade of red his father was turning. "Dont you dare try to tell me to calm down Kurt; no one who has ever entered that forest has ever made it out alive."
"But I did!" Kurt screams back frustrated. "I did! And stop telling me to wait until next rain. It hasnt rained in months, another week and the farm is done for dad just let me go!"
"No." Burt shook his head vehemently, sitting wearily in his armchair by the fire. "I let you go and I lose my son just like I lost your mother." Kurt flinches as if hed been wounded by the words.
"Youre so afraid of losing me that you wont let me live. This isnt just about the water and the farm and your health. I need this dad, Im twenty one I cant spend the rest of my life, living like this and not seeing beyond the streets of this tiny, close minded, stifling little town." Kurts chest heaved as he stood facing his father, years of longing and loneliness bursting forth from the fortress of thoughts he had kept secret. His father stayed silent for a long time and Kurt turned to leave, "I forbid it Kurt" was all his father said before Kurt had strode from the room and slammed the door behind him.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was acting like a stubborn child. He decided as he stuffed a leather and drawstring duffle bag full of clothes and supplies that he had to go for his own and his fathers sake even if he did have to go against his wishes. Kurt fretted over what shirts and pairs of pants to leave behind before he reasoned that being well dressed was not going to help him trek through the forest alone. Either way the village had made up their mind, who knew what theyd do if he changed his mind and refused. With his bag packed he went to sleep, determined to wake again in a few hours and leave for the forest before sunrise.
.oO0Oo.
Kurt tried desperately not to make any noise as he moved around his home in the lightening early hours. He packed a little water and some non-perishable food. He took a dagger from the bureau draw and strapped it to his waist in its sheath.
His letter to his father took a long time to write for how short it was and he could barely prevent himself from crying as he propped it up on the mantle for his father to find when he woke. Sniffling and rubbing at his eyes he crept from the house, striding up to the forest edge before stopping. He stared into the thick trees, still thriving, tall and ominous looking. With a deep breath he stepped into the darkness, heart pounding as he stumbled through, blind in the black predawn.