The Book of Vinwald

Note: You may recognize some characters from "The Book of Twila". And while it's not necessary to read that one, it might help, especially with later chapters, as some events will be *heavily* referenced.



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He had fallen completely and irrevocably in love when he was nine years old.



The day he met her had started out as a normal day; he had helped his mother and aunt open their shop that morning as usual, sweeping the floors as he did every morning before his mother and aunt opened their door to customers. Then he would set out, laden with packages and a list of locations where they needed to be delivered to. Sometimes other boys would jeer at him for working in a ‘dress shop’, but even at nine he was large and intimidating enough to cause other boys his age to back down, and to handily beat the ones who wouldn’t back down in a fight.



But he never fought while he had packages in his care. He would not disappoint his mother by betraying her trust. It had taken him quite some time to even convince her that he was old enough and responsible enough to handle the deliveries. Besides, he could always go back to find the boys later and teach them a lesson then.



He had just finished with his deliveries and was returning to the shop when he heard the sounds of a scuffle. He could recognize some of the voices as boys who tended to run together, picking on anyone they perceived as an easy target. He had had several run ins with them before, and usually managed to come out all right, if not a little worse for the wear.



He was debating whether or not if he should help the victim of the group, when he heard the sharp, pained cry of a little girl. That cry made up his mind for him, and he turned to run down the alley the noise was coming from. He found them in a small vacant lot that had once been a garden; the house was vacant and the stone wall that bordered the alleyway was in severe disrepair. The wooden door and a large chunk of the wall were missing, the loose bricks having been carried away by scavengers. A scrawny boy who was at least a head shorter than him was standing defiantly against the leader of the pack of boys, his face already bruised and his nose bloody from the leader’s fists. It was obvious that the scrawny boy was trying to protect the little girl who was seated on the ground behind him, equally obvious that this had been going on for some time. The girl was crying, a nasty scrape on her knee where she had fallen (or rather, where she had landed when she had been pushed, he thought angrily), what had been a small bouquet of flowers scattered on the ground next to her. He could see at once what had happened; she and the boy had gone into the ruined garden so she could pick flowers, not realizing that the group of boys frequented this spot. The boys had, of course, seen the two and thought they could have some fun here.



Before anyone quite realized what was happening, he moved forward as the leader of the boys gripped the scrawny boy by the collar of his shirt and landed a blow that dazed the boy. He was able to catch hold of the leader’s wrist as the boy drew back to land another punch, and, having caught the leader (and the rest of the boys) by surprise, he wrapped an arm around the leaders neck from behind, pulling his arm behind his back as well; putting the leader in an awkward, almost certainly painful position that left no doubt in anyone’s mind as to who had charge of the situation.



“Keep fighting that way and your arm’ll get dislocated.” The rescuer said in an almost conversational tone. “Now, I’d think better about picking on these two again, or girls in general, or else I…” He trailed off in surprise as the little girl, tears still rolling down her cheeks, got to her feet and lunged forward, kicking the leader in the shin hard, before trying to hit him with her small fists.



“You hurt my brother!” She was sobbing out, “I’m telling my parents on you!”



“Twyla!” Her brother looked alarmed, hurrying forward and grabbing her about the waist, pulling her back, still not mindful of his own wounds.



“Not only will she tell her parents, but I’m going to make sure they know who did it so they can talk to yours. I’m sure they’d love to know just who you were hurting today.” The rescuer growled at the leader, overcoming his surprise at the girl’s outburst. He let go of the boy, shoving him away. “You don’t hurt girls.” He said firmly. He usually didn’t believe in tattling on others, but this was a special case. Picking on other boys was one thing, but picking on girls was another matter entirely. Actually hurting a girl (in his young mind) turned the offender into one of the worst types of people in the world. He looked at the rest of the pack, “Do I have to lay in to the rest of you too? Get out of here!” He thundered once more, the boys scattering, the leader shooting him a venomous glare before following the rest.



“Thank you.” The scrawny boy said, drawing the rescuer’s attention back to the brother and sister. “I’m Roland. This is Twyla.” She had all but gone limp in her brother’s arms, crying once more. Not that she had really stopped during her outburst of temper.



“I’m Vinwald.” He said, looking them over. They were both dirty, Roland’s shirt and trousers torn and spattered with blood (almost all of it surely his), his sandy blonde hair almost matted with blood and dirt. Twyla was better off, though her dress was ripped and bedraggled, face tearstained and adorned with smudges of dirt, blood running down her leg from the scrape on her knee; other, smaller cuts like cat scratches on her arms and legs. Vinwald thought they looked quite the sorry sight, but while there wasn’t anything he could do for Roland (aside from finding a healer to take care of his face) he might be able to help calm Twyla down.



He knelt down in front of her, which left him a little shorter than her. “It’s all right.” He told her rather awkwardly. He didn’t have much experience with little girls, let alone crying ones. “They’re gone. You and your brother are fine now.”



She reached up to rub away her tears with a grimy fist. “They stepped on my flowers for Mama and hurt us.” She whispered, tears finally starting to subside.



“They won’t hurt you again.” Vinwald assured her, “I won’t let them.” He looked to Roland, “Come on, I’ll take you to see my Ma before you head home. Her shop is close by and she can help clean you up a little before you head home to your folks.”



The battered boy looked torn between uncertainty and gratitude. “Thank you, but I think we should be fine on our own.”



“You weren’t doing well on your own a few minutes ago.” Vinwald pointed out in turn, before looking back to Twyla, seeing how she was favoring her injured leg. He didn’t think she was injured all that badly, but decided he could use it as an excuse to make sure the two got home without further incident. “I’ll carry her piggyback.” Vinwald told Roland, “Her leg is hurt and I don’t think you’ll be able to carry her to wherever it is you live. Don’t even think you’ll be able to walk far yourself.”



Twyla’s eyes widened. “I get a piggyback ride?” She asked, excitement creeping into her voice.



“Sure.” Vinwald said confidently, motioning for her to climb onto his back. She moved with surprising swiftness, considering how she had been favoring her leg only a moment before. Once she had her arms wrapped securely around his neck, he reached around to grip her behind her knees so she wouldn’t fall, and stood slowly, earning a squeal of delight from Twyla.



“I’m gettin’ a piggyback ride, Roland!” She cried, her arms tightening around Vinwald’s neck.



Roland looked up at his sister with a resigned smile, before looking to Vinwald. “… She loves piggy back rides, by the way.”



“I can tell.” Vinwald chuckled, turning to head out of the abandoned garden towards his mother’s shop. “But at least she isn’t crying anymore.”



“Yeah.” Roland agreed, moving to walk beside Vinwald, “At least there’s that.”



“What were you two doing back there, anyway?” Vinwald asked, hiking Twyla up higher on his back. His question had been directed at Roland, but Twyla was the one who answered, beginning to chatter like a magpie.



“Mama went to get my dress and Roland wanted to get a book so we were taking a shortcut and I saw the flowers through the wall and wanted to pick some for Mama, but then those boys came and they started callin’ Roland names, and then they hit my hand and I dropped the flowers, and pushed me into the thorn bushes real hard, and started hitting Roland and I was stuck and-”



“-I think I understand.” Vinwald said quickly, hoping to cut her off. “Do you always talk this much?”



“Iunno.”



“She does.” Roland gave a faint smile. “Arthur and I are hoping she grows out of it soon. Dad says since she’s a girl she won’t.”



“Arthur?” Vinwald asked, earning a giggle from Twyla.



“He’s our brother, silly! He’s thirty.”



“Thirteen.” Roland corrected automatically.



“An’ Roland is eight, An I’ma be five tomorrow! It’s why Mama is gettin’ me a new dress.” Twyla confided.



New dress… Vinwald realized with a start. Aw man, please don’t let their Ma be at my Ma’s shop… He was worried he would get in trouble with his mother for fighting (again), and also worried that if Twyla and Roland’s mother saw the pair in their current state, she might blame him for it, which could cost his mother a customer, which would make Vinwald’s punishment for fighting even worse.



“Where is your Ma getting your dress at?” Vinwald asked, trying to sound casual, but only managing to sound nervous, envisioning several scenarios that ended with his father taking a switch to him and leaving him unable to sit down for a week or more.



“Ang’lista’s.” Twyla said promptly, causing Vinwald to let out a groan of dismay.



“Aw man… Angelista’s is my Ma and Aunt Olivia’s shop.” He groaned.



Roland paled slightly. “You mean you’re taking us to the same place where our mother is?” Apparently, he knew how his mother was going to react, and it was along the same lines as Vinwald.



“We’re going to Mama?” Twyla asked eagerly, not understanding the boys’ reluctance.



“Looks like.” Roland muttered as they reached the shop. “You go first.” He instructed Vinwald, “She’ll see you with Twyla first and be so worried over her she’ll forget about me.”



“Chicken.” Vinwald muttered, carrying Twyla through the door of the shop, where a tall, elegant looking woman with flaxen hair was talking to his mother, an equally tall, stately woman, with light caramel colored skin and raven hair. They two women looked over as he entered, their smiles turning to looks of horror at the state of the little girl on Vinwald’s back.



“Mama!” Twyla cried out, all smiles, releasing Vinwald’s neck and sliding off his back, while he stood with a sheepish look on his face.



“Twyla!” The blonde woman knelt, holding out her arms and catching Twyla as she ran to her; embracing her tightly before holding her back, inspecting her. “By the light! What happened?” She then caught sight of Roland, who was standing half behind Vinwald, hoping not to be noticed. She visibly paled, looking as if she might faint.



“Vinwald Dantez!” Vinwald’s mother demanded, having paled a bit herself, “What have you gotten up to?”



“Vinwald saved us!” Twyla said, looking at her mother with wide blue eyes, “There were a hundred boys-”



“More like ten.” Roland muttered.



“Eight.” Vinwald corrected, causing Twyla to wrinkle up her nose at the boys before continuing.



“There were eight boys,” She amended, “And they were pickin’ on Roland and me and they hit Roland and pushed me into the bushes and then they hit Roland a lot and he tried to hit them back and I was stuck but got out of the bushes and it hurt and then they pulled my hair and pushed me again and I hurt my knee and then Vinwald came and he grabbed the boy who was hittin’ Roland and made him stop and he rescued us just like the knight in the story does.” She finished breathlessly, before her eyes widened further at the realization of the last part of her statement. “He’s my knight in shinin’ armor! Only he’s not in armor.”



Vinwald flushed red at that statement, even as Twyla and Roland’s mother gave him a grateful look, accompanied by a smile. “Thank you, young man.” She murmured, holding Twyla close.



“I didn’t do much, just scared ‘em off.” Vinwald managed, “’Sides, you just don’t hurt girls. Guess their Ma’s didn’t teach ‘em that.”



The woman laughed, before looking to Vinwald’s mother, “You’ve raised him well, Amarante. And I am quite glad of it.”



“I do my best.” Amarante chuckled, looking to Vinwald with a fond expression, “Now if I could just stop him from fighting…!”



“Aw Ma, I had to this time!” He protested.



“I’ll let you have that, at least.” His mother conceded, “Do you know who it was who was picking on them?”



Vinwald gave a nod, before quickly rattling off the names of the boys he had recognized, Roland and Twyla’s mother frowning slightly, obviously recognizing some of the names.



“Can you come to our house later and repeat those names to my husband, as well as tell him what happened?” She asked when he was finished, looking quite serious.



Twyla let out a gasp of delight at that. “He can come to my party!” She declared, before looking to her mother, “Please, Mama?”



Her mother looked uncertain, glancing at both Amarante and Vinwald, “I’m not sure that he’d want to, dearling. There will be several girls there, and no-one near to his age-”



“-He can play with Roland and Arthur!” Twyla hastened to add, “He has to come! He’s my knight!” She turned a pleading gaze on Vinwald. “Please come. It’ll be fun.”



Vinwald wasn’t able to stand up against the full force of her expression; big blue eyes both pleading and hopeful, and to add to it, there was the fact that she was still tearstained, with smudges of dirt and blood on her face. It just wasn’t possible for him to say no.



“Sure I’ll go.” He agreed, earning a cry of delight and a radiant smile from Twyla, who promptly ran over and hugged him about his waist. When he reached down to awkwardly return the hug, she kissed his cheek.



It wasn’t until the next day when he arrived at her house to find all her wounds had been healed, that she was dressed in a beribboned and beruffled blue dress that was only a few shades darker than her eyes, her blonde hair caught up in two bouncing tails, did he realize he was her willing servant. When she threw her arms around him and pulled him down to kiss his cheek, declaring that her knight had finally arrived, he realized he was quite smitten. It only took a few years longer to realize he truly loved her, and had since the day he had rescued her and she had first called him her knight in shining armor.