Back in the City of Exiles

Well I have been back home in the motherland for a while now. Nearly three weeks actually. I arrived in Vladivostok on the twenty-seventh of August after nearly two days of flying in airplanes and sitting in airports for hours on end. On arrival I was greeted by my friend Sasha along with his friend with great excitement. The old chums were back again. It was good to see a familiar face in a different country. What Sasha noticed about me, aside from my beard and silly hat that I always wear, was that my bag was so small. Did I mention that Aeroflot Airlines lost my bag while I was in Moscow? So all I had was my carry-on, which only contained souvenirs for all my friends back in Chita!!! So as we walked nearly the entire day in Vladivostok, he showed me a place that I could buy some cheap clothes so that I would be able to change into some new clothes for the train. Back in Chita, my friend Yulia and my host dad Nickolai had already taken care of my train ticket. Surprisingly, even train tickets in Russia can be taken care of through the Internet. Sasha and I walked around the whole city until I was dead tired really; we had been to the harbor to watch all the sailors from around Vladivostok, Korea, Japan, and even some American sailors get off their ships in celebration for yet another Russian holiday. He and I met a couple of American Navy-men from Arkansas and Detroit, and they also turned out to be a couple of idiots in my point of view, but what else is their to do as a sailor in a foreign land but drink and find some ladies to get lucky with? Later at around ten Sasha and his friend took me to the train station with all of my stuff, after first taking me to a grocery store where I could stock up on Doshirak (ramen noodles). At the station, we said our small farewells, hugging and shaking hands without much concern. We knew that we would see each other again on my way back.

So now I am on the train late at night, in a small room with a sailor heading to Chita and some other woman as well. I had put all my things away and was ready for sleep in less than ten minutes. I have to thank Sasha for all that walking, because falling asleep was pretty easy that night. Once I woke up in the morning I noticed that someone else had joined us and was up in the top bunks with me. Some really big dude who snores well.

To say the least nothing really interesting happened on the train while traveling to Chita. I did however make good friends with the sailor named Max, and even befriended him on vkontake, I drank a few Stella Artois beers with one of the guys that joined us on our merry adventure. But the most interesting thing that happened was while I was walking outside with Max to get some fresh air at the station stop. While we went to a small kiosk there were people crowded around all trying to get some fresh goods for there long ride, and the amount of Russian surrounding me was unsurprising. What was surprising was the small amount of English I heard with an American accent. I turned around to see a man asking questions in English to another Russian and saying small Russian words like пиво (beer) and большой (big) with an accent that I recognized far too well. So what do I do, approach the obvious foreigner and ask him where he's from. Boston Rob. Not the one from Survivor, but just as cool. We got along just well and we exchanged information, and he told me the cart he was, which happened to be in First Class. Later we met up in the restaurant and he bought me a beer and my lunch. It's nice to have comfort that you can assure yourself is actual comfort.

On the early night of the twenty-eight, I arrived in Chita with a new friend in the Navy, and a great eagerness. I looked around at the station for my friends and saw them coming right towards me. However as they were approaching me, they were still looking around for someone. I had realized that they thought I was someone completely different because of the beard they had never seen on my face. So when they finally realized who I was, Leausha, Glaya, Katya, and Oleg all screamed with excitement!!!..... Galya with probably the most. The exchanging of hugs and kisses came and the questions flew. And as we walked down the station walkway together with all of us filled to the brim with excitement that I had truly come back to Chita; I saw my host brother Leusha (or Alexey, and yes there are lots of Alexeys in Russia) walking towards me alone. He saw me and ran at me to hug me, and I obliged him. Then he told me, "why the fuck didn't you call me?!?!?!" with a smile on his face. We laughed. After walking around the station in the late night, my brother got a taxi and went back to the apartment, and I looked out the window and realized that pretty much everything I knew about Chita had stayed the same. I was back.

Almost There

Well I have nearly made it back. All I am waiting for is my Russian visa to come through, and to pay for my flight tickets, and to rake in the last bits of cash I can before leaving back to the motherland for a month. Some of the ideas I had to make money were kinda ridiculous, but some of them were ones I was nearly considering doing due to my desperation: playing guitar in Portland, selling books, selling my guitars, selling anything. Luckily, held back on most of those.

A month seems so small in comparison to the year I spent there, but I'll have to be satisfied with the fact that I am returning back to Russia, and that I'll be returning in the summertime. Seriously, not one day has gone by where I haven't thought about Russia and the return back. It's been a year and ten days since I arrived back home in the evergreen state of Washington, but my memories have kept me placed in the small city in Siberia in the Zabaikalski Krai. Nothing has changed really, except for a bit of my Russian, and my face. I wonder what my host parents will think of me when they see my beard?... I wonder what Yulia will think of my beard? I wonder what kinds of changes all my friends will see in me since I left?

I can't wait to see Leusha and Katya get married, it has been the main reason to go to Russia this entire year I have planned to return. This will be my first Russian wedding that I will take part in, and from what I have heard about all the weddings in Russia, they are sure to be a blast. Just imagine all the opportunities for the American groomsman at a Russian wedding, especially when considering all the bridesmaids that will be there. :) Suites, dresses, honking cars and ribbons, men, women, boys and girls, and lots of champagne and vodka to go around. What a wonderful party to be at!

Still, going back to Chita will be great; but it will feel different without the other American to be by my side in my adventures. Half of the things I did there were with Michelle, and now it seems like I'll go back half full. But I guess that means it will give me the opportunity to see things out on my own again like I did before. And if you are reading this Michelle I hope that you are doing well and having a blast at whatever you are doing, and that I miss you very much.

Hopefully everything will go according to plan, and that everything will turn out alright and I'll be enjoying myself on a train to Chita in the next couple of weeks. Россия, я жду тебя.

*Note: Did I mention that I will be one of the three siblings out of five that will be in a foreign country all at the same time? (Me in Russia, Ashley and Kenny in Europe, Erica in Italy).

Almost Another Year

It has been nearly a year since I left Russia. In one month twenty-four days I will have departed on the Trans-Siberian from the city I grew to love so dear to me. In one month twenty-seven days I will have gotten onto a plane and flown to the United States. Funny how the time has already gone so far past me. I have already turned nineteen and my class is graduating and moving on with their lives, where they will most likely go off to college or a university to pursue a better education to work towards a career. I still am stuck behind them all, on my own behalf, and will not graduate with them. Not only am I stuck in school, I am stuck in Russia.

Everyday is still awakened with a thought of my past year in the old country. Every conversation I have with my dear friends eventually winds onto a road of my experiences in the cold Siberia I love. The smallest things trigger a chain reaction of thoughts and memories that constantly flow through my mind as if it were the blood in my head. Random notes and papers are left around my house with the cursive Russian words and sayings I learned to speak and write, bled into the notes in various inks. Some of them meaningful, some just words. Sometimes they're sad, mostly they're funny. I constantly look around at Clark College and see the faces of random people, but I also see faces that I remember in Chita.

Though I still think everyday about the good times spent there, I have forgotten some of my Russian; since I never practice with anyone but myself and the rare phone call to a friend or family member in Russia. I'll have a conversation with myself in my own understanding of the language and realize my vocabulary is smaller than what it used to be. I'll hear or read something on the internet in Russian and hear a word that I know I know, but can't place a finger on how I know it, or when I use it. Regardless, I still breathe, eat, sleep, speak, and think Russia. Her white is my skin, her blue are the jeans I wear, and her red is my blood...

I am stuck in Russia. My friend Miranda was right about the toll it is taking on my social life, and my personal life as well. My exchange has given me so many things that I have utilized in my daily life back home, but in that aspect it has also created an obsession that I'll never let slip from my mind. What's worse is that I am already an obsessive person. Anybody who knows me could agree with me on this characteristic. Some might say it is just persistency, but it's just another word really. The fact that still remains is that I am lost in the sea of my fixation for Russia, and I am drowning in it.

With all this time that passes by, I wonder if every one of my friends who travelled with me feels the same way that I feel. I know we all miss it dearly, but I wonder if they are as crazy as I am about it. They are all moving on with their lives and finding great things along the way to cherish their memories, and they seem to be content with it, in my perspective (which is unreliable). And as the time goes by we all seem to forget the little things and traditions we used to all do. I remember when we used to say that we loved each other, and we would say it so often as the time came closer to leaving. The months after went by and we all still were reminded of it. But now it seems that has all changed, and I don't know why. I would still like to remind them all that I love them dearly, because I still do. But doing that would be awkward and disrupt us from the nature of our current lives. I'd like to say that I am the only that feels this way. I'd like to say that all of us feel this way. But I can't even be sure of both anymore.

Things have changed, and they are still changing between all of us. I can't expect things to be like they used to because that would be ridiculous and only a dream. I still picture that house I talked about with Michelle once, with all of us put in it living together and being a family of friends. Since things are changing, no one wants that life but me, and this image will never come true in my world. I am fine with that, because it is quite childish for me to dream about that. Reading those words again is ludicrous itself. Though I wish that life was one that could become a reality. One's thing is for sure: life will go on and things will get better because they always do, but they rarely ever happen the way any of us say they will.

Still, it would be beautiful.

Chita

Wrapped in winter's freezing hands
She brings warmth in her glory
Her life lingers slowly here
In the tundra below forty

The hills of birch surround
As the moon covers her soft
The snow falls into place
Laying down to make her loft

She lays there in the forest
The forest of everlasting old
The wind beats fiercely
It's voice whispers cold

Her shadows stretch into night
Covering all in a robe of darkness
While approaching the morning dawn
She casts out the shadows' heartless

Then spring raides her lands
The sun shines down so bright
The snow dispears from around her
And brings her into a world of light

Now she dances with life
Summer's beauty is in her
But beauty only lasts so long
She'll dance until winter.

One Day, Many Laughs

You know I really don't have much to say these days. On the contrary, I have much to say, but never seem to write it down. My moments I guess are short lived when it comes to fill the roll of being a writer, or one of those people that write down every word and emotion from their mutated type writers in the court rooms. My best advice for myself is to just let anything flow from my head to my fingers to the keyboard. I just got back from spending time with my dear Tovia and her friends. We went to the local movie theater in Vancouver known as Kiggin's. For only a dollar on Monday's we get to watch Terminator: Salvation and Star Trek, even though I had watched them already in Russian with Michelle at our movie theater called Udakon, back in Chita, Russia. This time I understood the plot fully, and mostly made fun of many scenes, saying that the director wanted to be as original as possible by making the starship a model on a string. I also remember a drunk and somewhat deaf man confronting us in the park, while the girls were awkward about it I remained calm. It brought me back to the time in Vladivostok at the bus stop. All in all, it was a lot of fun that day, as soon as it started really, besides the fact my mom just got home from surgery on her colon and her being in a tired condition.

Doug threw me a letter today that made it one of the highlights. The letter was from my dearest Michelle, and as I read the words in a language that we share it overjoyed me, especially towards at the p.s. mark. She had also included two pictures, one of a newspaper article (she had also sent it) about guns, another of her holding it and making a face she says was just for me.... Special me! Oh how sweet the words marked in blue ink were, the personal highlighted sections of the articles she had selected for her personal editing. Seems now I have a pen-pal. It feels that I owe it to her. Nobody takes the time to make a letter, yet even to make it as interesting as the one she sent me. The cursive blue markings in Russian and English, small little pathways she had created from her hand that so vigorously moved and marked its history on a paper tablet...... there I go getting poetic and descriptive, but it is probably the only thing that keeps me half sane.

I played Tovia's mom's mandolin today, small and tedious to move my fingers but a fun time I had playing it. I fell in love with it within a five minute sit-down. Maybe music runs in my veins.....

I had just realized how long I have been gone from my country. Too long it feels already (If you have noticed I have the used the word Already). Amazing how only ten months can change you, it made me fall in love with so many things, I grew more than ten months worth, saw many things. But yet this two months out still has not adjusted so well to my behavior. I noticed people have noticed a change in my behavior, people I don't know really show the amount of oddity I have when I come in contact with them. Just ask Tovia's friends I met today what they think of me. But back to my explanation on being a fish out of water, the air is weird and I can't swim. I am fueling myself on the sugary carbonated drink that Mountain Dew has so eagerly bottled for customers like me. That green liquid so delicious yet killing me with each small sip/large gulp I take. But I am not the only thing that undergoes changes, my brother has also grown more into a man since he has been alone for the most part, at least without his other half, and I am glad he has. My two cats have gotten much bigger since the last time I saw them, for health reasons I would declare this as a negative change. So much change I tell you, many things have been in and out and all around me since my last journey. Though being back is nice, it is still not enough to fulfill me.

Anyways, I work now. The typical cashier at a local store, just with no name tag. Pays fifty more cents above minimum wage so I am doing all right. Plus it isn't a hard job to take on, just do the work, take people's money, and close up everything at closing time. I have it made. Every paycheck I receive is one more step towards my goal/primary objective. Next on the list is a mandolin. I think I fit in well this job, very social with customers and workers so I do fine with people, and have a good friend as my boss who is my best friend's dad. Definitely has it's perks I tell you. Let's just hope I don't screw it up.

I tell you, not a day has gone by where I haven't thought of Michelle Ike or Anders. Just realized that if I were to get a tattoo someday, I would take into consideration of getting M.I.A. tattooed on my body somewhere. It just kinda struck me in a certain way that it happened to be the acronym so perfect, but I doubt I will commit due to the three's say in my decision. Most people would see it and think Missing In Action. But it would also mean Michelle Ike Anders, I am truly Missing In Action without them. Interesting how everything plays out. It seems to be contagious [My thoughts], how they stick around in there and never leave. So contagious I infect other people with them by letting them lose through my words. Some listen, some listen intently, some get sick of the stories, but I assume it is just because I tell it too much, or they want me to get out of the "Michelle and I would" "I remember when Ike was" "Anders always liked to" scenarios. They want to find a cure for my disease sometimes, but I would rather die with it.

Currently song writing for me hasn't been too inspired. Trying to be creative while reading books doesn't always help me, neither does listening to other music, I would feel that I would be copying their style too much. Maybe I am not a musician born, but maybe one that will be molded. Some people are just natural at it. Me.... well I just get by in this learning process. Some people seem to enjoy a song I write, but I haven't ever really written some true ones except for one. I'll never forget how many times I was re-writing it because I thought it wasn't good enough, and then I finished it and still thought it wasn't to the standards. Ike told me that all artists hate their work at first. I still wonder if I could make it out in the music industry, big time. I don't have a really good chance, but I don't make it seem to be my goal, if I could get one record out to anyone that would be my accomplishment enough. But why do I worry so much, I am eighteen, a long time to worry about it and just get become greater.

So that much is said from me, and I had something to say but I lost it as my friend Tony came over for a visit. We talked for a while about getting married and the problems of it, women and relationships in general. Most of my views came from what I heard from Michelle actually, I don't why, but I guess I trust her more than anyone..... I don't guess I know I trust her more than anyone.

So I hope the next time I have something to write it shall be intriguing for you all, whoever you are that read my entries besides one that I know does. I am going to get to work on writing the next letter for Michelle.... now that I think about it: I think I should work on letters for many of my friends.

Felt Importance, A Feeling Of Greatness

Lately I have been thinking about my importance. In life, to people, as an individual, the need to know what it is. I know I have something in this world of mine that makes me significant, abnormal, fun, but importance is something of the lacking value. I have felt the need to know for a while. I thought a lot about my short eighteen year old life, myself, and other people important in this life of mind. I wondered about the impact and effect they have on my life, but always wondered about my own impact in their own lives. But as usual, there are people that say things summed up into the usual form of, "Grant you have made so many people's lives wonderful and brought good upon them, and they couldn't imagine what they would be like without you." I tend to believe the first people of this kind, but as the seconds and thirds and so one's repeat the same, It tends to lose it's meaning. It seems as if that only comfort phrases keep me from losing myself and snapping into depression. I realize that the world could still move on without me, like it has done with so many other lost souls of the world, and the thought of erasing myself from existence would seem easier to fathom without trying to find the conflict of it. I knew that these things said to me are also true in the sense of how I really do know people in my life, but it didn't seem enough to keep me satisfied, until I would find something of true importance in my life, or to be important in some place of this world; so that I would realize it. The common words of morphine eventually would wear off and I would be wondering, where is my fix? Then I would realize what an illusion it is. To me, I needed to find the importance myself, or be an addict to sweet words.

I know that is something that has been on my mind in many random times of my life, with space to think in it. But it was something that would keep haunting me, and it came back. But the answer came into a story. It goes like this:

There was once a young girl of great beauty and love. She was born in a family of courageous warriors, where she was taught to be strong like the men of her family. She learned to never be afraid of things that were of this world, and to always stay strong. One year her family sends her on a journey to foreign lands. They wish for her to face and know the people and other things not of her homeland that she has lived in her whole life, and to set relations in a village of the kind of people she descends from. There she lives in a land of different culture, language, and lives in a small modest village. The time slips by quickly, quietly, and calm. But then one day something terrible happens as she sleeps in her bed. She has horrific nightmares of the fear of her village turning against her and doing away with her as they please. The nightmares haunt the young girl for days and months. The nightmares become clearer and intensely frightening. Becoming more real with each night, the young girl heads out for another province to escape these nightmares. Her travels take her to a country near the sea, and she settles far from the village she lives in.

She enters a local tavern, where she meets a variety of different people. She sits in the tavern, and soon after sitting down has the horrific visions again. It causes her to scream out with fear. She faints, falling to the floor.

She wakes up in a bed, with a young woman with beautiful hair attending her. She tells her not to worry, that she was having a nightmare and fainted. She was a tavern maid and saw what had occurred, and had brought the young girl to her house to take care of her while she slept. The tavern maid asked her why she was here in such a large city and the young girl explained the dreams she had that drove her out of the town she lived in previously; she had felt safe telling another woman. The maiden said she may stay as long as she wanted.

Now in the large city lived three men, who were friends of the tavern maid with beautiful hair. One man was a knight, courageous and braver than anyone in the city. He was handsome and was a favorite of the lasses that inhabited the city. Another man was a philosopher of great intelligence and bright wits. He was also a writer of great skill, and often was favored by the majority of his peers for his writing. Last there was a young farmer, who was kind, caring, and loved by all his friends. The three are called to meet the tavern maid at her house to meet the young girl.

After they introduce themselves to her, they talk for hours. The young girl explained that she was having dreams that haunted her. They were interested in this, and asked what the dreams were about. But the young girl was too afraid to speak of them. Eventually they decided to speak of other happier matters. They made jokes, told stories, and were quickly growing fond of the young girl. As the night falls, the brave knight must leave to protect the city, and the philosopher leaves with the maiden to his home to share some wine. The young farmer stays in the house, and tends to the young girl. The girl asks him why he is here, and the young farmer explains that he built this house for the tavern maiden without pay, for she was a great friend of his. But one year his house had caught fire and burned down to the ground, and he hadn't repaired his home yet. Not having enough money to re-build his house, the young farmer had lost his land. The young tavern maid took him into her home to repay the farmer for what he had done for her. For her help, he tends her fields and he explains to the young girl that anything she asks of him, he will do it.

She then asked the question of how the fire started. The young farmer seemed hesitant, but answered that while he was sleeping someone had torched it. He had woken inside the burning house and had no way out, and would have died. But the brave knight burst through the side of the flaming wall and saved the young farmer. The farmer said he forever owed his life to the knight, who had later become a great friend. He would do anything for him if asked. The young girl was shocked as to why he hadn't told her that he was in the fire, and he simply replied that he didn't think that it was very important.

The young girl then asks the young farmer how he became friends with the philosopher. He explains that the philosopher was a great friend of the knight, and that he had given the young farmer words of wisdom and pieces of advice. The young farmer was always in amazement of his friend’s great writing and ideas. He would listen intently to his friend, and would do anything he asked of him. He often met these friends in the tavern where the maiden works, and had many great times.

The young girl notices the care the young farmer has for his friends, how loving he is to them. She admires his kindness to all he knows, and how modest he is in his life. But the fire is something that still makes her wonder about the farmer, that he had said nothing of the sort, until asked.

Then the young girl saw the evil visions again. The horrible nightmares invaded her mind again, and she starts to scream and spasm from the fearful images. The young farmer then approached the bed, and grabs her by the arms and picks her up. He puts her onto his chest hugging her firmly and strongly, telling her that he is there and not to worry. He assures her that nothing will happen to her while he is there. The young girl calms and the nightmares disappear from her thoughts. She looks into his caring eyes, and quickly falls asleep.

The next morning, the young girl awakes in her bed nicely tucked in. She recalls the night before, and then looks around the room. The farmer is sleeping in a chair across from the bed. He had waited by her side the entire night, for fear of the dreams, intruders, or other things unwanted. She tried to get out of bed without waking him, but failed as she stepped onto the floor. She greeted him good morning, and asked why he had stayed all night by her side. The young farmer replied that he was just making sure nothing else would happen. The young farmer then got up, prepared her breakfast, and left to tend to the fields.

The young tavern maiden came back to the house where the young girl was, and asked her how she was. The young girl explained that her nightmares had came back again that night, but this time the young farmer was there to comfort her, and held her strongly. She was surprised that when she woke, she had found him guarding her. The maiden then told the young girl a story of the young farmer. She told her of a time where they had traveled together to a small town far from the city. During the journey, a bandit encountered them and grabbed the maiden. She managed to escape and the young farmer grabbed him and beat him severely, nearly killing him. She knew that the farmer would do anything to protect the things he loves most in his life. When they would bunk down for the night, he often made sure that everything was safe first, and then would wait until the maiden had fallen asleep. The young farmer was on guard during all times of the day when from when they reached the town, and also when it came time to leave. The young girl, being curious, asked the question she had wanted to know earlier: why did the young farmer not mention that he almost died in his burning house? The tavern maid replied that he is a man who finds no need to mention things that could worry people. He is modest, and doesn't like to let many people know what he truly feels. The girl then asked about her night with the philosopher. The girls grin, and begin to laugh.

As the day goes on the maiden goes to work; and the young farmer comes back to bring the young girl with him to the tavern; where they would meet the knight and philosopher. The four sit together, and drink the ale that the maiden had brought them, and the men smoke their pipes together. They talk all together, of past times, of each other, of humorous stories. The philosopher, being very clever, intelligent, and funny, brings out his ideas for a new form of device that will make bulls and cows mate more often. He refers the name of his idea as a half man half bull that originated from Greek myths. After good laughs and merry times, they all venture home as the night grows late. The young farmer and the young girl travel home together alone, as the tavern maid was with the philosopher.

The road on the way to the tavern maid's house was long from the city, and through the forests. They talk the entire way to the house, and find each other to becoming good friends quite quickly. They share each other’s thoughts and feelings towards loved ones equally. As the young girl brushes her hair, the dreams come to her again. She saw the terrible visions of her village capturing her, and tying her to a stake as the fires were lit around her. She cries out again like the night before, and the young farmer races to help her. She spasms, and becomes uncontrolled of her own movements. He grabs her and brings her to his chest once again, and hugs her tightly. He tells her again that he is there and everything is alright, nothing is going to happen to her while he is there. Again like the night before, the evil dreams leave the young girl's mind, and she becomes calm and soothed. The young farmer picks her up and puts her to bed. When the young girl’s pretty eyes lock with those of the caring farmer’s, he tells her that everything is alright. She then falls asleep, but this time she has a dream of the young farmer protecting her, even in her dreams he protects her.

Yet again, the young girl wakes up in her bed to the morning sunrise. She sees she is nicely tucked into her bed, and finds the farmer sleeping next to her in the chair just as the night before. She is surprised that he had watched her during the night again. She tries again to see if she can get out of bed without waking him up, but she fails again. He wakes up yawning, then asks her how she is feeling. The young girl tells him that she had slept well, and asks him again why he didn't leave her during the night. The farmer then answered that he was just making sure that she was ok, just as he had answered the morning before. The young farmer gets up to make her breakfast, but this time the young girl insists on doing it herself. The young farmer had resisted many times for letting her, because he thought she still needed rest and that she shouldn't have to do it while he was there. Smiling, the young girl looked into his kind eyes with her beautiful eyes. They held each other’s gaze until she slowly lifted a finger to softly touch his nose. Quickly the young farmer then smiled and agreed. He soon left to go back and work in the fields again. Barely 10 minutes after taking his leave, had the tavern maiden entered. The tavern maid joins the young girl in the kitchen to help her cook and talk with her. The night before was explained by the young girl, who was very curious as to what the young farmer was thinking. She mentioned he watched her through the night again, and this time they had an interesting moment. The eye contact, the smiles, the farmer's modesty and kindness. The maiden listens to her, and asks how she feels about the young farmer being there while she sleeps. The young girl thinks, and replies that she finds herself to be out of harm's way while he is there. She feels safe and trusts his words. She mentioned that she had also seen the farmer in her dream that night, protecting her while slept.

While the young girl and the tavern maid are in the house, the young farmer is out in the fields; he is working during the nice warm day as the sun shines brightly across the wheat fields. He plants and cares for many crops. Mainly wheat, corn, potatoes, beans, carrots, and tomatoes. He tends to fruits as well. Pears, grapes, strawberries, and his beloved apple trees. On the farm he ponders about many of life's little mysteries. He has much open space and knows he is alone to talk aloud if he wishes. One of the thoughts on his mind is often about his person. He is a simple farmer and lives a simple life. He knows that he has friends that love him, his siblings, along with his mother and father. Though he is far away from his family his life is not poor. He is still alive and has much more to live for; if he is not caught by the plague of course. He is able to share a house that he himself has built with a true friend that he loves and cares for more than anyone. The young farmer has no doubt that his life is far better than most, but cannot help but think that he will be a farmer forever and nothing more. His true importance is unknown to him, and he yearns to find it. He talks in this field about many things to himself and often feels worse that he is talking with no one but himself.

But just because the young farmer talks alone in the fields, doesn't mean that he always talks alone. The tavern maid often talks with the young farmer. The two keep each other company and can tell each other how they feel in their small world. They make jokes, they laugh, and they often watch the fire in the house burn while drinking tea. Because of the environment that the tavern maid works in, there is time that calls for strength and bravery. She is mainly happy, but can be strong and aggressive. She naturally tends to the needs of others, and can tell how people are feeling. She sees the emotions of all the townspeople that she meets when working, and knows people better than they know themselves. She also knows at any time when something is troubling the young farmer, and the young famer knows that he can tell her anything on his mind. She listens to him intently, and knows him better than anyone else than she knows, even better than the young farmer knows himself. The young farmer knows that she is the one person that knows him best, and feels he can tell her anything at all. He knows that their true friendship is one of the most important pieces in his life.

After many hours of working in the fields, the young farmer finishes his chores for the day and goes back to the house to rest. There he finds the house empty, the day had ended and he finds a letter from the maiden on the kitchen table. She wrote saying that she took the young girl with her to the tavern, and that she would see him there. He exits of the house, locks the door, and starts for the tavern. He already had it in his mind of a well deserved pint of ale anyways.

He arrives at the friendly tavern he knows so well, and then sees the young girl, the tavern maiden, the knight, and the philosopher all sitting together around a table with four mugs of ale. The young farmer says that he'll get his mug before joining them, but the tavern maid says she is working the bar and the ale is for him. She leaves, and the philosopher decides to drink at the bar to keep her company; it doesn't take a philosopher to know that work at the bar can be quite a bore. But he left the three saying that he “ended the match”. They curse him jokingly as they repeated the words. The three that were left talked with each other, the knight and the young farmer recall the times that they had in other cities during their travels, and the small, but entertaining troubles they had gotten into while being there. Even a knight can surprise you sometimes, if you are talking of nobility that is. The knight and the young farmer sing their traditional songs together. The young girl speaks of her home, her family, pieces of her life, and throws in a funny joke every now and then. An hour passes and the ales are drunk. The knight sees a lass from across the tavern hall, who seems to fancy him. He excuses himself, explaining that the girl was in need of resucue from her loneliness.

The young girl and young farmer talk, talk, and talk they do. The young girl notices on the table next to them lies a stack of cards. She grabs them, and asks the young farmer if he would like to play a game that she often played herself. He smiles and agrees. She teaches him the rules of the game, and he learns faster and faster with each game. As he becomes better and better with each new game, the thrill and the love for it grows. They both decide that he has become good enough to place a wager on the next winner. The young girl demands that upon winning she will be owed sweets, and the young farmer demands a fresh cooked meal for him the next day. The next game is played, and the winner then received sweets.

The repetition goes on, and the hour draws nearer, it is time for the five to set forth for home. The knight waits for everyone to embark before he himself leaving, for he lives in the center of the city. The others head home in pairs, the tavern maiden and the philosopher go again to his house for wine, and the young farmer and young girl walk through the forests again on the long road back to the house. On their way, the young farmer asks what she thinks of the young maiden. She replies that she is kind and caring to all, and has her side where she can be that of a mischievous little fey. But she says that there is nothing bad of this tavern maid, and a woman that she has finds very easy to tell all of her secrets to. She asks the young farmer what he thinks of the tavern maid. He replies that she is a lass worth dying for, and that at any given moment would give his life for hers. She then asks, as many have asked the young farmer, if he is in love with her. He replies no, and says that the times would be hard for them together in such a way, and continues to say that she is like his dear sister. The young farmer is very content with his friendship with the tavern maid.

They approach the house, and enter it together. Night has fallen already, and it is dark with the moon and stars shining brightly. The young girl brushes her hair, and the farmer plays the mandolin while in another room for a brief moment. The young girl had changed and was now in her bed, and was expecting soon that the nightmares would flash through her mind. The young farmer comes in his dressed in his night ware, and sits down in the chair. The young girl asks him why he is sitting in the chair, he replies that he is making sure that nothing will happen to her through the night. The young girl is very clever, and asks again why he is sitting in the chair. The young farmer looks at her, and goes into further detail of why he is guarding her from her nightmares. The young girl tells him that he doesn't need to sleep in the chair, asking if he would like to join her in bed to guard her. The young farmer asks her if she truly wants him to share the bed together, and she says yes. The young farmer then looks at her, and she looks at him, they both smile. He crawls into bed next to her side, and they say goodnight. They shortly fall asleep, the young farmer with his arms around the young girl, soundlessly and warm. The young girl didn't have nightmares of her village that night, she had a dream of the young farmer again, as he protected her all through the night.

The next morning the sun rose and woke the young girl first. She looks and finds the arms of the young farmer to be around her, and turns her head to see that he is sleeping soundly. She stays in place, and waits. After around twenty minutes the young farmer awoke as well. He sees that she is awake, and asks the young girl how she had slept. She replied that she had no nightmares at all, and that she had an interesting dream that night. The young farmer asks her what this interesting dream is, and she tells him that it was nothing. They lie in the bed they shared for another hour, just lying there and enjoying the time together. The young farmer doesn’t feel the need to tend to the fields today, he has other things to do. Many nicer things to do.

After the hour of lying in bed, the young farmer and the young girl go for a walk through the forests. The young farmer shows the young girl the trees that he has climbed, and the ones he has fallen from also. She shows the paths he takes from time to time when he has time for a walk, and shows the young girl the ponds and creeks he loves. If the young farmer can see an animal, he points it out and tells her the kind. Normally birds that fly past were the easiest to find. But now the young farmer shows her the area he had wanted to show her for quite some time. He leads her through an area of trees and brush, and pushes it away to reveal the ocean behind it. The young farmer feels such a calm feeling while walking here, the sound of the sea is a sound he enjoys deeply. They walk on the beach for some time, finding shells, pushing their toes into the sand, looking to the horizon. As they walk the beach, the young girl stops in her tracks. She says she needs to tell the young farmer what her dreams are about.

The young girl then explains the dream that she has to him. The villagers are rallied together in the main center of the town, and at night they plan to deal away with the young girl. The villagers see her as beautiful, too beautiful and feel that they will be overcome by sin with her presence. The men stare at her and the women become jealous of the beauty she has. As the night comes, all the villagers of the town rally towards the house of the young girl with torches, pitchforks, sickles, or other tools used to bring harm to her. They drag her out and mock her, they say sick words, and tie her to a stake as if she were a witch. They all throw their torches out onto her, and she catches flame. She burns, and dies. And the villagers laugh as it all happens.

The young farmer is shocked, but does not show his emotion that he is shocked. He is overwhelmed with sorrow and fear for her; he knows only one thing that he can do for her. He simply approaches the young girl, and grabs her around her back with his strong, kind arms, and holds her tightly and caringly. The young farmer tells her with his soft voice that he is there, he will do whatever she asks, and that nothing will happen to her. She moves her head closer to his, their eyes meet, and they hold each others gaze, she kisses him and says, “God bless you.” After some time, the young farmer and the young girl continue their walk on the beach, and soon head home. That night, they slept in the same bed together, as friends, and as companions. He held her tightly, and protected her through the night.

For many days the young farmer and the young girl spent their time together almost as lovers. They went many places together, spent time with their friends at the tavern, ate together and talked, even spending time in the field working together. They shared the same bed every night, and shared care and love for one another in all parts of the day. Often the friends would come and visit them at the house, the knight and the philosopher that is. There was no kept secret of the young farmer and the young girl's realtions. All other stories were kept between the two; at least this is what thought the young farmer. The tavern maid talked with the young girl more than ever. Discussing in paticular the young farmer. They talk about what she finds pleasent of him both in mentality and physical structure, she tells the maiden everything. If asked, the tavern maid would also tell her about her encounters with the philosopher. The young farmer kept out of asking what it is they talk about; he knew that lasses were lasses and would always be that way, no matter what age. One day the young farmer had become severely ill, and the only person that took care of him that day was the young girl. He later laughed that had it only been contagious by touch, the effects of it would show on the girl the next day. Things were great between these two, but they never married nor planned to marry. They had known all along that they would be found, and the inevitable truth would separate them.

Time passes, and pass it does for some time. The young girl and the young farmer are happy together, and have a great friendship. But as all had known, it would need to come to an end. Soon, the young girl would have to leave back to her village she was afraid of, for her family back home had recieved word that she was missing. Once they had found where their beloved daughter was, they sent letters demanding her to return to the village and continue relations there. This inevitable truth made times for the young farmer and the young girl difficult. Knowing they had only certain amount of time left, they could not see what they could have been together. Even though they might have been destined for eachother.

What was the hardest for them was that the young girl had to return to her village, and face the people again, as well as her dreams. She had told the young farmer of this, and he too knew it was unavoidable. He told her that no matter what time it would be, they would see each other again, as great friends. She has a conversation with the tavern maid about this. She talks to her for a long while about the young farmer, and how important he is, and more important than he knows. The maiden remembers this conversation well, and saves it for the proper time.

The young farmer once had a coat. His coat was very nice, warm, soft, and appealing to the eye. For some reason, everyone had wanted it except for the young farmer. It wasn’t his favorite, and he thought it would be better to give to someone that wanted it, then to keep it to himself. He decided to give it to the knight, who would wear it with pride. But eventually the tavern maid had wanted it, and while the knight slept over at the philosopher’s house she had taken it back home with her. She too loved to wear this coat that the young farmer had no interest in; it was a coat that suited her fashion and went well at the tavern. But again the coat is passed on from the tavern maid to the young girl; the tavern maid thought it meant more to the young girl than to her. The young girl loved it very much, every stitch and pocket, each armhole and each button. She loved its softness and the warmth it gave her, and would keep it for a long time. The best thing of the young farmer’s coat was that when she would wear it around her she felt safe, and that she felt she was still in his arms at all times.

The last day that the young farmer and the young girl saw each other came. The knight, the philosopher, the young tavern maiden, the young farmer, and young girl had spent the day swimming in a hot springs that the knight and philosopher had known. The relaxed, talked, ate, drank, and were merry before seeing the young girl off. The young girl and young farmer went out into the trees sometimes to observe nature from time to time, and as did the philosopher and tavern maiden without showing for long hours. It was a great day to end on, and was to never be forgotten.

The hour draws near, and they must all depart to their homes. That night, the young farmer slept without the young girl at his side, feeling lonely. He was experiencing many memories. Ones that hurt, ones that he loved, and ones that he was even able to laugh at. During this time the young girl and the tavern maid wait in the center of the city, and wait for the carriage to take the young girl back to the village, her village so far away from them all. As the carriage approaches, they exchange strong embraces and kisses. She steps into the carriage, tears in her eyes, and the door shuts. She sticks her hand out the window, and waves to her dear friend goodbye. The young tavern maid returns the wave, and as the carriage moves on, tears flow down her face. After the carriage has disappeared from the sight of the tavern maid’s eyes, she walks to the house of the knight to sleep; the knight is a very understanding friend and knows her pain. As a knight, brave and courageous, he has seen many things through in his life that have been hard; this is why knights are so strong.

The months pass by, and not easily for the young farmer, young girl, the knight, and the philosopher. Another friend was made and lost, but would still always be a friend. The young farmer returns to his daily life, in the morning he wakes up to the sunrise that he loves, goes to the fields and works, talks to in the fields, returns to the house with the maiden, meets the philosopher and the knight at the tavern they all favored. But, the feeling was not the same; it sometimes seemed morbid, and empty. The young farmer missed the friend he made, and missed the company of another partner that he never really gotten to share with someone new. The tavern maid missed the young girl that she talked with about anything their hearts desired. She had another woman to relate to and to spend time with. Their incredible friendship was strong. The knight and philosopher missed the jokes they could make with her, and the company of another friend. They also knew that the young girl was happy with the young farmer, and the young farmer was happy with the young girl. Many things had changed indeed.

Another day it is for the young farmer in his fields. He tends his plants that he has brought up and grown, and the harvesting of them is soon at hand. As he rids the crops of their weeds, he thinks to himself in the field, and starts to talk to himself. He starts to contemplate his life in details, how he is just a farmer in his world and nothing more. He feels that he has done a good job at growing his crops, has made the greatest friends, he knows he is healthy and young, and has a great life to live. He contemplates his importance, what is he? What will he be known for? Does he have an effect on other people he encounters? He feels that he knows he is important, but not enough to feel that he would feel good about himself. He wanted to know what it was that he really had an important effect on someone, and if so what his purpose was. Nothing the everyday townspeople would say could help. He knew that he would have to find it himself, or that it would come to him eventually.

He finishes plucking the last weed, and thinks that he has had enough for the day. He goes back inside the house, sits down with the tavern maid by the fire place. They begin talking, how nice the weather is, people, ale, tradition, dreams they have, their families, the future, and the world. But they also come along to the young girl, and they talk for a while about her. The young farmer then wondered about the question, he was wondering about how much he meant to the young girl. The proper time is now. The tavern maid tells the young farmer all he meant to her. She told him that the young girl loved his kindness, the laughter he brought her, how much he loved people, how romantic he could be, the strength he had inside and outside of himself, the comfort he brought her, the safety she had felt when she was with him. The young girl was very distressed during the time of her dreams, but the young farmer was there when she needed someone to help, and he had been the one exactly. He had been exactly what she had needed, a protector during the time she was scared and afraid. The tavern maid explained the dream that young girl had the night the young farmer slept in her bed with her, the dream that she almost had told him. The dream of the young farmer in her mind, keeping her at ease, protecting her all throughout the night. The young girl felt that no harm would ever come to her while the young farmer was around, and knew that it would be so. Even the coat that the young farmer had once had was a feeling of safety when she wore it around her. Without the young farmer, she knew that she would not have the feeling of protection. He was important to her in so many ways, and he had never known it. He was the very exact thing she needed, the very exact man she needed, and he never knew that he was.

Knowing this now, the young farmer felt so many things. He felt sorry for the young girl, how she was so far away with no one there to comfort her. He could imagine the feeling, almost as if he were stripped naked and left in the streets of the city as everyone watched him. He wished that he could be there for the young girl, and continue to protect her. But one very important thing that he felt was that he was needed. He was needed by someone, he was important to someone. He was a protector. He knew that he could be a protector, and it was in ways of not even being strong. The young farmer felt so happy, so amazingly great, and so strong. He felt that he was just a simple farmer, he was a protector in everyday life, and was strong in so many ways that were needed to be. He knew that the next time that he would meet the young girl, he would see how important he is, even as just being her friend.

That day, the young farmer loved his life, and he knew what he was. He was never the same again, but stronger since he knew the extent of his purpose and importance. And he knew that he would not ever have it any other way.