"The Box of Green Glen"

Photo credit: DugganArts

I could hardly believe it was actually mine. I ran my hands over the smooth wood of the box; it felt like silk. There had barely been a moment to think of the consequences if I hadn't won the swordfight. I was too busy blocking the big man's awe-inspiring onslaught. My left arm ached even now, just thinking about the weight with which his sword had struck my shield again and again. I admit for a long time, I merely defended myself and fell back before him. Finally we drew a little ways apart to begin again. This time I was prepared and he was tired. I nimbly sidestepped and darted in and out, here and there. I don't know how long it took, but I had finally disarmed him and he yeilded. The men watching were stingy with lavishing applause on me, but they were honest. Out came the beautiful wooden box I had won, and out came my mother from where they had kept her in a rough cellar nearby. More precious to me, personally, than the box or even its contents is the look of quiet pride and utter joy on my mother's tired face when she saw me standing there, panting in the sunshine. But to the rest of the people of the Green Glen, the box and the secret it holds is precious. I placed it on a piece of soft wool and wrapped it carefully before slipping it into my saddlebag. Mother had rested, and we could continue on our way home. I had worries, however, worries that even yet the box may not arrive safely in the Green Glen. The way home was long.

Copyright 2012 by Perry Elisabeth

(5 words: mine, lavishing, swordfight, awe, joy)