The following excerpt is unedited and unproofed and may differ from the final product available soon from Triskelion Publishing. ©2006 by Betty Hanawa

 

 

More Than She Wished For

 

"This one, dearie," the crone in the Renaissance Faire calligraphy tent handed Juniper Montgomery a small book.  "This is the perfect book for an lovely young woman like yourself."

Juniper started to hand it back when its cover caught her eye.

A delicate line drawing, similar to a tarot deck’s Lovers card, graced a traditionally made soft vellum cover, not the modern day vellum made of cotton.  Unlike more traditional decks, these Lovers were clothed, framed so three-quarters of their bodies were visible.

The woman wore a long-sleeved, ankle-length gown, much like Juniper and numerous other women at the Ren Faire wore.  Juniper unconsciously squared her rounded shoulders, straightening her slumped posture in mimicry of the woman’s regal stance.  A band of leaves rested against the drawn women’s forehead, circling around her head.  Somehow, Juniper didn’t think this queenly woman’s crown was silk juniper leaves with plastic berries like hers.

Juniper idly wondered why the artist had chosen to show the female lover’s hair shorn close to her skull, contrary to the usual depiction of long flowing locks.  She kept her own hair cut short, to less than an inch all over her head, simply because life was too short to screw with hair dryers, mousse, and continual appointments with a hair stylist.  She walked into the cheap, chop shop for a fast scissor cut every six weeks.

The male’s physique reflected someone who didn’t work in a cube, or exercised at a club where the main purpose was to pick up dates.  He stood inches taller than the woman and was nearly twice as broad.  His tunic hung across a flat stomach, its long sleeves delineating thick sinews running across his shoulders and cording his arms. 

Juniper wondered why she thought of a dancer at first glance. He was much larger than the men in the ballets she attended with her grandmother.  

When she looked closer, she realized the artist had infused energy in the drawing, as if the man was aware of everything in his vicinity.  Alert, watchful. The muscles bunched in the man’s legs as though he were ready to leap in any direction at a moment’s notice.

Behind one pointed ear, a thick braid hung over his shoulder, nearly touching the belt tied around his waist.  The hilt of a long sword showed above one shoulder, its bottom edge shadowing the opposite thigh.  The handle of a double-bladed ax was tucked into his belt and the end of another hilt indicated a second sword on the opposite side.  Knife handles protruded from each boot.

The weapons reminded her of Viggo Mortensen’s Aragorn, when he unloaded his armament at the threshold of the King of Rohan’s castle and the waiting soldier’s unspoken question of "Is that all?" She bet this fierce-looking warrior would have probably given the flunky of a soldier the same silent reaction as Aragorn had, as if threatening, ‘Do not even think about frisking me.  I’ll cut your throat with the knives you don’t know I still have’.

Despite his being armed to the teeth Juniper found herself drawn to him. 

The skilled artist had drawn the man’s eyes as though he had known worry and pain, yet persevered with humor and joy in life.  Although at first look his frown dominated his face, the man’s face also showed astonishment and pleasure as he looked at the woman in front of him.

He held his hands loosely at his waist, ready to either reach for one of his weapons or the blossom the woman was offering.  According to artists, hands were the hardest things to draw.  Yet the detail in this drawing made Juniper think this  man was as skilled at touching a woman’s body as he was with his weaponry.

Juniper’s enchantment with him increased when she saw a small boy, also with slightly-pointed ears,  peeking from behind the baddest, bad-ass.  A tiny dragon curled in the crook of the boy’s arm like a kitten.

Odd.  When Juniper looked closer, the woman didn’t have pointed ears like the two males.  Hers were rounded scallops against her short hair.

"Here, dearie, let me wrap the book up for you, too."  The woman handed Juniper her purchased calligraphy poem, rolled in a protective tube, along with a credit card slip and pen. "You can read it at your leisure.  Just be certain to follow the directions very carefully."

"Oh, I’m sorry.  I’m wasn’t planning to purchase the book."  She handed the charge slip back to the clerk to have so that the book’s cost refunded.

"It’s a gift."  The old woman handed the charge slip back, tucking it Juniper’s hand.  White hair framed her forehead like a crown, her thick coronet of braided hair wound around her head shimmering from grey to silver. Her teak-colored face firmed as though she were a queen whose word was being doubted.  "I didn’t charge you.  The book is fated to be yours.  Be careful with it."

Juniper scrutinized her charge slip.  Only the cost of the parchment for her parents showed. "Oh. Thank you so much for your offer but it’s such a valuable book.  I can’t take it.  You’re too generous.  I don’t want to muck up your profit margin."

A quick flip through the book revealed hand-made paper pages covered with beautiful calligraphy.  The pages were bound together with the vellum cover by red tapestry thread.

"The book is your fate, should you choose to follow its lead.  It takes courage and perseverance to follow dreams.  If you have the strength, all you wish for will be yours."

The title page’s ornate calligraphy was almost illegible with curly, swirling letters.  Juniper blinked once then a second time as the letters suddenly became readable:

The Still Sexy Single Ladies’ Guide to Dating the Immortals

 

(c)2006 by Betty Hanawa