“A stone that floats upon the surface of the water? Do my eyes deceive me?” mused Jonathan out loud. The young man picked up the stone again, and again dropped it into the water where it again descended into the depths, but soon rose again to the surface. Then a thought occurred to him…
I am more than sure that this stone of stones could span the distance of the river. Just one throw, perhaps even just one skip with an eighth try could more than bridge the gap of my frustration… But I am equally sure that it could buy my freedom as well. Perhaps elevate me to a position of power in the realm… Maybe even to the hand of my princess? (For there was yet another obsession tucked secretly away into the son of the weapon master’s heart.)
Thus, in an instant, the boy grew to be a young man; a young man with real opportunities, with real temptations, and with real choices. Do not all suddenly discovered treasures have a tendency to produce such quandaries… such, inner battles?
- The Runoff -
Samuel was seven and almost seventeen at the same time, the second son of Kathryn and John of Scharp, a young lad ahead of his actual days. The night before his birth, his mother had a dream whereby he was found to be lying upon a forested bed in a nest of feathers and guarded by majestic birds of prey. They were birds of multiple hued feathers with talons as long as thorn pegs. In actuality, he was born with two umbilical cords and his mother often stated that half of him was for her and the other half belonged to the heavens. His eyes, even at birth, seemed to be seeing somewhere else and unlike his Da’ and his brother’s green eyes, Samuel’s eyes were as clear as a bright blue sky.
Though somewhat absent from this world, he was a good and obedient boy and at the moment was making his way to the river’s edge looking very much like a monk for his hair was cut so short around and above the ears that his scalp could be clearly seen. Around his shoulders he wore a thick brown cloak made of bear skin that his mother insisted he wear for the long and forlorn winter months were rapidly approaching. In his hand were two thatched buckets lined with pitch used for carting water to and from the family’s small stone cottage. While he walked he hummed a tune (for he always hummed a tune) and somewhat post-toddled his way toward the river’s edge. Once there, he found his brother seated by a clump of trees daydreaming about some far off place, and perhaps even, some far off time as well.
Samuel was always ready for a game, and when he spotted Jonathan near the clump of trees where he had often found him flinging stones into the current, he decided to sneak up on him. He had looked up to his brother in not only a literal way, but also a figurative one as well. It’s only natural, I suppose, for a younger brother to admire the elder. Perhaps it was due to the fact that the elder had braved the rapids of new and naïve parenting or perhaps it was the fact that the elder was just simply the larger of the two. What had never crossed his mind, and what Samuel could not possibly fathom, was the fact that there were actually times when Jonathan would admire the younger with equal vigor. And that, perhaps, was due in large part to the way in which the parents treated the younger for at times they treated him as if the younger had been the actual firstborn. Nevertheless, the two brothers ended up with a mutual respect and admiration that allowed them to interact on the friendliest of terms. Therefore, when Samuel snuck up on his brother with a large stick in his hand, he was confident that a game would soon be afoot.
Samuel hurled the stick up and over the clump of trees with all of his strength, not knowing at what angle it may come down. To his utter amazement, the stick came down right between Jonathan’s legs and stuck fast into the mud that lay in pools before him. Jonathan didn’t even flinch, so lost was he in contemplation, about what Samuel could only guess. Searching for another projectile, the little one continued to stealth his way around the clump of trees.
Surely, the breaking of branches will snap him out of his thoughts, thought Samuel to himself. However, his rustlings produced no response from the elder so it was only right to toss another in his general direction. Thus, up and over the hedge went another stick of considerable size which, at that time, would have ended up almost directly upon the head of Jonathan if it were not for his quick reflexes.
Jonathan, the consummate would-be warrior, instinctively kept one ear and one eye upon his surroundings at all times. He had known that his mischievous brother had approached earlier and had also known the precise moment that he was present and thereby had hidden the green gem in the folds of his cloak. He also knew that with the toss of the first stick in his direction, a second would be a calculable fact which was proved correct… (For what seven year old could possibly show any respect let alone restraint whatsoever.)
As the second projectile was on its heading to strike Jonathan in the top of his lid, he snapped his eyes in the direction of the danger and instantly made a sweeping arc with an outstretched hand thereby catching the stick in mid-fight. As he whirled around, he thought the better of returning the missile from whence it had come due to the fact that serious bodily harm could have been afflicted upon the young misfit. Electing rather to sprint in the direction of Samuel, he could hear the giggling yelp of the younger as he took off in another direction all together. Thus, the chase and game was on.
Samuel ran like a leaping roe in and out of the shoreline dodging low branches on the way and yelping the whole time. It was just what Jonathan had needed at that moment to shake him out of his very adult-like contemplations and he was more than happy to play along. It was one of the things that caused the elder to admire the younger. Somehow and in someway, Samuel had a way of bringing peace, if not healing, to whatever situation he happened upon. That was his gift, and it was always a welcome one in the Scharp household.
Jonathan slowed to a trot, and with stick in hand, prodded Samuel on his backside which produced only more hilarious yelps from the youngling.
“No, you can’t poke at me… That’s not fair,” yelped Samuel.
“But you can throw gigantic logs at me, eh brother?” taunted Jonathan.
“But I never hit you.” continued Samuel as they both raced along the shoreline, splashing in the water the whole way. Samuel was oblivious to the fact that Jonathan and the Da’ had a falling out as of late, so that made Jonathan’s willingness to play along undiminished. Finally, beginning to tire, the elder gently tossed the stick in front of Samuel’s legs where it just caught the pitter patter of Samuel’s feet at the right angle to cause him to trip and fall into the water. Falling face first into the current, Samuel outstretched his arms and momentarily bobbed…, then suddenly became a still and seemingly lifeless object floating deeper and deeper into the river’s sway.
All at once, Jonathan felt the emergent feelings of guilt and panic.
“Samuel…? Samuel…?” he shouted at the still lifeless form. It was one of those moments that freezes one in time; a moment that feels like at eternity, when in actuality, it’s only seconds long. Without a further thought, Jonathan leaped with lightening fast reflexes into the swirling current and placed a hand on the floating bearskin cloak of his brother and flipped him over. Once there, he was met with a rather sheepish grin emanating from the face of the younger.
“What, you were jesting?” questioned Jonathan.
Samuel snickered the only kind of snicker that would fend off a slap in the face.
“You’re fortunate enough to have the face that you have or I would drown you in the surf, you skunk!” retorted the elder brother as if he were a parent himself.
Together, the two made their way to the river’s edge and onto the shoreline once again. There, they sat in the mud and just laughed together, Jonathan’s heaviness melting away like a spring runoff. The mud that they had collected upon themselves would have had their parents verbally raising the rafters of the family’s home. In fact, at the moment, the two of them even pictured the thatched roof coming apart at the seams and the anger of the Da’ beginning to light the straw on fire. They read each other’s thoughts and at the same time turned to the other and verbalized their inner converse…
“WHOOSH!” they said aloud and laughed