Ten Years Ago

Wyn was eating lunch alone again. Even though his mother had made too much, he did his best to eat it all by himself. In the front of the classroom, the other students bragged about their lunches, comparing them to each other and trading back and forth, but Wyn was left out of it. For some reason, trading lunches was seen as a big deal by the rest of the children in the village, and since his mother made “gross food”, no one wanted to trade with him. He was pretty sure that was just an excuse though, he didn’t have many friends even before.

The class was a small one, held by the village priest Fenfreth. Nobody knew why he did it, or why he thought education was so important, but during the winter, when the children weren’t needed to help farm, they would gather at the church to learn basic math, reading and writing. The lucky ones like Wyn were allowed to attend three days a week, year-round. Perhaps thanks to this, Wyn had a better grasp on the subjects than most of the older students, and he found that reading in particular was something he really enjoyed.

“Alright alright, settle down everyone,” Fenfreth called out, quieting the class, and indicating that lunch time had come to an end. Slowly, people made their way back to their seats, creaky wooden chairs that would probably break if anyone other than children sat in them, and makeshift desks that sometimes gave you splinters. Wyn had gotten several before.

“We’re going to have a new student joining us starting today, so please be nice,” He gestured to the doorway, and a small boy with white hair walked into the room. The boy's eyes darted around, like they couldn’t stay in place for very long as he glanced at everybody in the room.

“H–hello, my name is Corrin. It’s nice to meet all of you,” He smiled big and wide, like he’d just done something very impressive. The boy was rapidly tapping his foot on the ground, and his voice trembled slightly, but it didn’t seem like nervousness.

It was quite odd, Wyn thought, that a boy would join their school halfway through the year. Where had he been before? Maybe his parents hadn’t wanted him to join for some reason. Wyn shrugged it off though and tried to refocus and do the rest of the lessons.

He was unsuccessful though as the boy took a seat at the back of the classroom, right next to Wyn, and stared out the window, already ignoring what Fenfreth was saying. All Wyn could think was that he seemed like a bit of a delinquent, and he was dressed in quite poor clothes with scrapes and bruises on his legs and arms. Maybe he got into fights.

Corrin caught him staring and grinned widely, showing off a missing tooth. Wyn gave a polite smile back before finally turning back to the front of the class to listen to Fenfreth. What a weird kid…

***

Wyn got home, early as always. As he walked in the door, his father was helping his mother make dinner and turned to see Wyn walk in. Wyn’s father shared his raven black hair, though like usual, it was dusted with white specks of flour from his job as a baker. Every day when Wyn got back, his father would ask him the same question, and today was no exception, “So Wyn, did you make any friends today?”

“No, not today.” The answer never changed. “Sorry mom, I couldn’t finish all my lunch again today. It’s ok if you want to pack less.”

His mother grabbed the bag from him, eyes twinkling, “I’ll try to remember for next time dear.”

Dinner was simple, just a meat and vegetable stew that his mother made. But the most exciting part of Wyn’s dinners was always the dessert. His father was a baker and made bread and cakes for a good majority of the town. Since most homes didn’t have their own ovens, it was a respected job—at least among the adults—and their family was able to live comfortably.

Comfortable might as well have been the best descriptor for Wyn’s entire life. He woke up, helped around the bakery, went to school, and then spent the rest of the night with his family. Often times the time would just be spent talking at the dinner table, slowly eating whatever pastry his father had made as they talked into the night, until inevitably, Wyn would get tired and the day would slowly come to a close.

When it was time for bed, his mother would take him up to his room and tuck him in under the nice warm wool blanket, and sometimes she’d tell him stories. This was one of those nights.

“Tell me the one about the boy and the dragon!”

“Again? You asked this last time!” His mother smiled.

Of course he did, it was the best one. And he told his mother just that, causing her to laugh softly.

“Well ok, I’ll tell it again… Once, there was a boy who lived in a small town, even smaller than this one. And it just so happened, this boy was the son of a baker.”

Wyn still thought that was an unbelievable coincidence, what were the odds?

“One day, an evil dragon came to the village, and demanded the villagers pay it gold and food, or it would attack them. Of course, it was a dragon, so the strongest men in the village gathered…” she trailed off, pausing with a smirk on her face, “and handed over everything they owned.”

Wyn frowned, it made sense not to fight the dragon. It was a dragon. But something about that part always bothered him.

“The dragon came back again and again, and the village kept paying it not to attack them. Until one day the dragon came to the village, but they had nothing left to give him. The people of the village had gone hungry because the dragon ate all the food, and they didn’t have any money to buy any, because the dragon took all the gold.”

His mother raised her hands into the air, making a scary face, and roaring quietly, “The dragon attacked the village in anger! The villagers ran away… and the boy was running away with them.”

Wyn’s grew more excited, this was his favorite part.

“But then, he saw that the dragon had grabbed a girl, someone he didn’t even know. And before he knew it, it was flying away, back to its lair, taking the girl with it!”

“Before he knew what he was doing, the boy ran towards the dragon. But the dragon was fast, and it soon flew away, towards the mountains in the distance. The boy didn’t give up though, and he followed the dragon, determined to save the girl…”

The tale continued as the boy ventured through a murky swamp, bargaining with a troll for passage, then crossed a blistering desert where he learned how to use a sling, and climbed the treacherous mountains, meeting a wizard who gave him a magic sword. Until finally, he reached the dreaded creature’s lair.

“The dragon had made a big stew, and he was going to add the girl as the main course, so he could gobble her up!” His mother grabbed his hand and started chomping on it gently as he laughed. When he first heard the story, this part had scared him… but he knew what came next.

“When the dragon saw him coming, it roared, and the boy was very afraid. But with the sling the desert-folk gave him, he shot a rock at the dragon, which hit it straight in the eye! Then, even though he’d never used a sword before, the boy held out the magic sword and started to fight the dragon! The dragon was strong, but the boy fought as hard as he could, and since it couldn’t see, after a long fight, he defeated the evil dragon! The boy had saved the village and rescued the girl, and from that day on, everyone called him the hero who beat the dragon… the end.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Wyn smiled, “Heroes are so cool!”

His mother pulled the covers up further, “Yes they are, maybe you’ll grow up to be one someday…” she gave him a kiss on the forehead, “But for now… it’s time to sleep.”

She stood up to leave, blowing out the candles lighting his room. She was about to walk out the door when Wyn stopped her, “Mom?”

“What is it sweetie?”

“If a dragon attacked… Do you think I could be like the boy in the story? I might be too afraid…”

“The boy in the story was afraid too,” his mother said softly, “that’s what makes him a hero, because he helped anyways… And Wyn, I think you’d be a great one.”

His mother closed the door, and Wyn soon fell asleep, dreaming of dragons and heroes.

***

The next day he woke up to the smell of baking bread. Even though he woke up early, he could never get up before his father, who started his day even before sunrise. He walked down the stairs, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he walked through the door connecting their house to the bakery.

“Morning Dad,” He yawned. There was no response. “Dad?”

Something grabbed him by the waist and thrust him into the air. The grip changed to his feet as he began to spin around in the open space. “Goooooooooood morning Wyn!”

Wyn flailed helplessly, laughing at the same time while his father spun him around in the air, all traces of drowsiness fleeing his mind.

“Wait! Put me down!” He managed as he started to get dizzy. His father set him on the floor and Wyn laid there laughing until his side started to hurt. After a moment he gathered himself enough to look up and see his father sitting by the oven, looking entirely too casual.

“Are you alright there Wyn? You look like someone just grabbed you by your feet and spun you around in the middle of the room.”

“Wha–you just did it!” Wyn pointed.

“No I didn’t, I’ve been sitting here the entire time watching this delicious bread rise. Maybe it was just a dream you had. That’s a weird dream, but you’re a weird kid so maybe that’s how it works.” He took a long, loud sip of tea.

“No it wasn't! And yes you did!”

“Nope.”

“I–” Wyn just gave up, honestly his father could be so childish.

“Well anyways, now that you’re up, why don’t you help me out buddy?”

“Fine, but you have to spin me again later!” It had been fun after all.

“It’s a deal,” His father said, before beginning to direct him around the kitchen.

Wyn enjoyed working in the kitchen, and he thought there was a certain pride in the work of a baker. He knew his father liked making yummy food for everyone to eat, but for Wyn, it was the routine, and the simplicity of it all. His work made people happy, and it was fun to do. Rolling the dough, kneading it into little shapes for special pastries, there was a certain amount of creativity to it, even while being methodical. They both worked without speaking as the sun rose, more light streaming in through the windows as Wyn’s mother walked in, kissing them both on the head before going to the family kitchen herself.

Hours later, Wyn walked back into their house to eat. He’d eaten little sugary dough balls to stave off his hunger–much to his mother’s disappointment–but it was about time he ate some real food. Not content with the bland foods of the village life, his mother had thrown together some berries and oats, mixed in a bowl of milk. Unfortunately, much like the rest of her cooking, something was just off about it. Maybe the berries she used were too sour, maybe something was wrong with the oats, but it just wasn’t that good.

Wyn finished it quickly and snuck off to read a book. According to Fenfreth, he’d started earlier than most of the other kids. Though he still couldn’t read very well, it was something that he could do alone. Which was good, since he didn’t have any friends to play with before school. He’d already finished most of the children’s stories he’d been able to get his hands on, so he could only reread them for now until he got better at it. Still, his mind wandered amidst the fantastical places described on the pages, and he hoped that someday, he’d be able to see them all, and become a hero like those in the stories.

His favorite spot was a place he really wasn’t supposed to be, up on the roof of the bakery. He had to sneak out his bedroom window when his mother wasn’t watching. From on top of the roof he could see all the people milling around below, yet it was still somehow quiet.

“Oh, hey. You’re in my class.”

Wyn turned, surprised to hear a voice from his right.

It was the white-haired boy, Corrin. Who was apparently also on the roof, though Wyn didn’t know where he’d come from, he’d either climbed up, or jumped from the next building over. Neither seemed to make any sense, why would he do either one?

A simple, “Hey,” was all Wyn could manage back before Corrin took off again, running across the roof and leaping to the next one, continuing on his way to– wherever he was going. What a weird kid…

***

Wyn had resolved to try and make friends at lunch that day. But it was proving easier said than done.

“Nobody wants your mother's crappy cooking baker boy,” One of the older kids sneered, pushing Wyn away. He tripped and fell on one of the desks, clutching his lunch bag to his chest. They wouldn’t be able to get away with it while Fenfreth was in the room, but he usually left for most of lunchtime. Wyn went back to his desk. Oh well, he didn’t want to be friends with those kinds of people anyways. At least that’s what his father would say.

It still hurt though.

The truth was most of the kids in the class came from families that worked on the farms. To them, someone like Wyn, who was set to inherit an “easy” job like baking, wasn’t one of them at all. They tolerated him usually, and he could sometimes find people to play games with, but during lunchtime it was even worse.

He took out the sandwich she’d made for him, it was his favorite peanut butter and jam. As far as he knew, no one else in town made peanut butter besides his mother. But Wyn didn’t feel like eating anymore.

“What’s that?” Corrin appeared in his view again, why was he even here? The last Wyn had seen, he’d been talking to the main group of boys, all eager to trade lunches with the new kid.

“It’s um, a peanut butter and jam sandwich… apple jam that is. My mother likes making them.”

“Peanut butter?” Corrin said it slowly, like he was tasting the new word. “Can I try some? I’ll trade you.” He reached into his own bag and pulled out a chunk of bread with some cheese, breaking off a piece and holding it out to Wyn.

Wyn nodded wordlessly and traded back, putting the bite of bread and cheese in his mouth before he even knew what he was doing. It was dry, and maybe a bit stale, the cheese too was bland, and didn’t add much to the flavor. But for some reason, Wyn found himself savoring the bite.

Corrin on the other hand, lit up at the first bite of the sandwich. “Ish good! Um… Thank you.” He added the thanks after a moment, like he’d forgotten.

“Yeah, I like it… The apple tastes pretty good right? And what do you think of the peanut butter?”

“Your mom made it?” He asked, “That’s nice, I’ve never tried peanut butter before.”

“Yeah, my father is actually the baker here, but my mother makes my lunches.”

“Your dad is a baker too? You must eat really good stuff at home, the orphanage is all bread and stew, it’s so boring!” He complained.

“The orphanage? Oh I–”

“It’s nothing, it just means I have more time to play. If… If I was supposed to have parents, I’d have them.” His eyes got a far-away look while he said that, and Wyn had to wonder how much he really meant it.

“Well, if you want to eat other food… maybe you could have some of mine during lunch?”

Corrin grinned, “That’s a great idea! Why don’t we be friends then? What’s your name again?”

He talks fast.

“It’s Wyn.”

“That’s a funny name, are you good at tag or hide n seek? Do you win a lot, Wyn?” He laughed like he’d just said the funniest joke ever, and Wyn wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Trade negotiated, the two boys talked for most of lunch, and each enjoyed their newly acquired meals, even if they weren’t equal by any means. Once they’d finished eating, Wyn only had one question left on his mind.

“Why me?” Wyn asked, “You just got here, and you could’ve traded lunch with anybody, so if you wanted good food, or even a friend. What made you pick me?”

“Well, you were sitting here all by yourself, you weren’t even trying to talk to me, right?” Corrin said like it was obvious, “Everybody knows that the best treasure is the kind you have to seek out. So, since you were the hardest to talk to, that must mean you’re the best!”

“Everyone settle down!” Fenfreth yelled from the front of the room, it was time for class to start back up.

“Want to play after school?” Corrin asked as he moved back to his chair, “I found a tree I want to try climbing but I can’t reach the bottom branch, maybe you could give me a boost? I’ll pull you up after.”

Wyn had never climbed a tree in his life, “Yeah I can do that, but you’ll have to show me how.”

Corrin just grinned.

Yeah. He was definitely a weird kid…

***

Wyn got home late that night, covered in scratches from the branches and banged up from a fall. As he walked in the door, his father was sitting at the family table reading a book. When he heard Wyn come in, he didn’t look up, but smiled faintly and asked him the same question he did every day, “So Wyn, did you make any friends today?”

“No, not–” He grinned, a big grin so wide it hurt. “Yeah, yeah I did.”