ARWIN

Looking out over the field and listening to its mournful sounds in the breeze, he realized that he very much didn’t want to go home. In a whole new world, a dazzling place he’d never before known, where he didn’t dare close his eyes, he felt free of all that had been dragging him down these past weeks and excited about what might be discovered here. Why, there might be a magical flying carpet and a playful, ever-hungry monkey in his near future. Maybe even a comically lovable genie. Who wouldn’t enjoy that?

He made his decision, and his mood rose. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Come on, strange new world; show me what you’ve got.”

The first step was to survive here. He needed to learn more about his new environment. Hopefully, he'd be able to find some friendly people. Failing that, at least he needed some food and shelter. He didn't relish the thought of filling up on depressing berries and sleeping in his car in the blue grass field all night. He might wake up at two in the morning feeling suicidal. He shuddered.

Arwin picked a direction at random, which turned out to be northwest, and set off. Having always enjoyed forests, he entered a thicket of tall, blue spruce. The trees had blue-tinged bark, and the needles were a dark pastel blue, similar to blue spruce trees back on Earth. Soft ground strewn with dead, brown needles sank gently underfoot with each step. The clean smell of evergreens, er, everblues, permeated the air. Luckily, the sorrowful mood brought on by the blue grass field quickly faded behind him.

Gazing around, the forest floor seemed oddly tidy, as if — ah. He got it. Blue spruce — spruced up. To spruce up meant to make neat or trim, to take particular care in external appearance. The magic of the trees evidently included keeping their immediate environs clean. It seemed to apply to them, too, as each tree was a model of its kind with no sap dripping from wounds nor bug infestations to be seen. Even the branches seemed to have taken special care in where they’d sprouted so as to grow in an orderly fashion.

The blue spruce eventually mingled with other non-blue trees, and the forest appeared more normal in most respects. Arwin heard voices ahead and soon came across two young ladies.

They wore elaborately embroidered dresses evocative of Renaissance France, but the outfits were more slender in shape, without the wire frame inside that had been used on Earth to flare out the bottom of the dress.

He was elated to have come across other people! The women sat together on a log bench in a small clearing in the woods. He paused at the edge of the clearing, surprised. The skin of both women was light blue!

One of the ladies looked up and gave him a sad smile. “Oh, hello.”

The other made a melancholy wave. “Hi.”

Arwin approached. Both women had the most stunning blue eyes. Lips that might have been tinted with lipstick back home to get this blue hue appeared to be natural here.

Unable to stop himself from grinning at the sight of them, Arwin replied, “Hello.”

The first woman stated, “You must be a traveller.”

Arwin affirmed, “I suppose I am. How did you know?”

The second replied, “You’re not blue. This is the Blue Region. All of the human folk here are blue by nature.”

“You mean they’re sad?”

She shrugged, “Perhaps a little more prone to being down than some, though not terribly so. I meant our skin colour.”

“I see.” He politely nodded, hiding the thrill coursing through him at meeting people from another world. This was incredible! “It’s a sincere pleasure to meet you both. My name is Arwin.”

The first rose and met his gaze with bright, round eyes that sparkled like sapphires, as clear as a winter’s sky. Watery-blue curls fell in swirls and waves about her bare shoulders. Her fancy, sky-blue-and-white dress was festooned with ribbons. “I am Bleu, a belle of the Blue Region.” She offered her hand, and when he took it, she daintily curtsied.

The second rose and looked at him with fine, mysterious eyes shaped like almonds. They were the shade of lapis lazuli with flecks of gold, and one look made you feel like you could drown in her mysterious gaze. Her hair fell long and straight to her waist, such a dark blue that it was nearly black. Her silk dress was two-toned, black and cobalt. “I am Aoi, also a belle of the Blue Region.” She, too, curtsied, though in a more sultry manner.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Arwin noted, “Blue belles. A pun.”

Aoi confirmed, “We are.”

“We are two of the most beautiful women in Blue.” Bleu twirled, the hem of her dress riding up high enough to show two perfect feet in white high heels.

Arwin wasn’t sure how practical high heels were in the forest, especially white ones. He opened his mouth to ask one of the one hundred and two point six three million questions on his mind, but a faint tinkling of bells in the air interrupted him.

At once, both women drooped.

Arwin asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the sound of bluebells.”

“They are the most beautiful of musical flowers.”

Arwin was confused. “But, why would that make you cry?”

Despondent, Bleu answered, “Because the sound so touches our hearts.”

With sad frustration, Aoi added, “And because they are forever beyond our reach.”

“Beyond your reach? Can’t you just go over there and see them?” Arwin looked toward the source of the sound, but thick forest and a rising hill prevented seeing the flowers themselves.

“We can’t.” Aoi looked hopeless. “They grow only in the garden of one of the local bluebloods. He killed off all such flowers in the region, keeping only a few for himself so that only he may enjoy them. And he guards them zealously.”

Arwin raised an eyebrow. “Blueblood? You mean aristocracy?”

Bleu nodded. “Yes. One of the vile nobles of the Blue Region. They are wealthy people who abuse their power and seek to keep treasures like this to themselves. They’re the worst villains around. Except for the Dark Enchantress, but she lives outside the Blue Region.”

There was a telling name. “Dark Enchantress?”

Bleu darkly informed him, “Wickedest witch in western Heartstone. Maybe in all of Heartstone. They say her heart is as black as the evil creatures whose company she keeps.”

Aoi scowled prettily. “She’s bad but a recluse, rarely venturing to our lands, whereas the nobles here oppress us every day. They’re active tyrants. They keep everyone in the Blue Village as peasants. They force us to build them fancy mansions and to slave away for them in the fields and mines. We are kept busy from dawn until dusk cooking feasts and sewing fancy clothes for them while we subsist on meagre fare, and most wear little more than rags. The commoners barely scrape by while the bluebloods live like kings.”

“But — and sorry if this is rude — both of you appear to be dressed very well.”

Bleu explained, “The belles and the beaus, our male peers, have it slightly different. From a young age, the most attractive of the villagers are kept like birds in sapphire cages, spared any and all work as children. We spend most hours of the day learning all the ways we will need to please our future patrons.”

He felt uneasy at the sound of that.

Her lips momentarily firmed into a line. “We’re raised for the sole purpose of entertaining them. That is, until we become too old or boring to keep around anymore, after which we, too, shall become peasants no different than the rest.”

Aoi sighed.

A surge of rebellion and anger rose within Arwin. Apparently, humans could be just as unfair and selfish in this world as in his own. He instinctively wanted to strike out at these bluebloods and make them pay. This was, no doubt, an emotional reaction due in large part to some of the events that he’d been through recently, but it also stemmed from who he was.

With a sour face, Bleu stated, “As children, life isn’t so bad. It’s mostly study and training. But once we become of legal age, our lives will no longer be our own.”

The girls glanced at each other, communicating sorrowful frustration.

Arwin's brows rose. “Ah, and you two...”

Aoi nodded, shoulders tense, her anger rising. “Yes. We’ve both come of age. We are to be taken away soon. We’ll spend the next decade closeted in their mansions, deprived of all freedom, unable to see our families or friends.”

Arwin frowned, and his heart went out to them. “That really sucks.”

Bleu gave him a sad smile. “Sorry. We’re not usually this negative. But the way things are about to change in the next few days…”

“I understand.” Arwin felt frustrated, too. He wished there was something he could do to help.

Aoi frowned for a moment, then shook herself and took a breath as if to wash her negative feelings away.

Bleu threw a longing glance toward the tinkling bells in the distance. “I do wish we could experience the bluebells up close. I know it seems silly and small to want something so inconsequential when there are bigger things in life. But it would cheer us up. That’s why we’ve been sitting here, listening. The flowers are in the garden of Lord Azamont, just there.” She pointed towards the thick part of the forest.

A breeze picked up, and a wave of tinkling bells carried to them. It really was a very pretty sound.

Arwin disliked seeing any worthy maiden, er, young woman in distress. The sight of their sorrow immediately compelled him to act. Sure, he probably couldn’t do anything about the bigger picture of their lives, but perhaps he could bring them some small measure of happiness right now, however temporary. Wasn’t that a worthy goal? He opened his mouth and began to offer his services when heart-rending images of the recent past popped into his head. Suddenly, he, too, felt very blue.

Betrayal.

Lies.

Pain.

His thoughts turned ugly. These two were probably just using their beauty and charm to manipulate him. They would probably lie and use him, encourage him to take risks on their behalf, and then throw him away as soon as they got what they wanted.

But a voice in the back of his mind told him that he knew better. He forced his depressing thoughts away. Deep down, it wasn’t fair to treat these women as his enemies just because of what others had done to him. He wouldn’t be someone who painted everyone with the same brush just because a few bad apples had spoiled the bunch.

Hmm. Was he mixing metaphors?

He took a deep breath and smiled, determinedly returning to good cheer. His personal issues aside, he felt a greater urge to strike out against people treating others so unfairly. Grasping a rising sense of boldness, he told them, “Belles, it truly makes me blue to see such lovely ladies lament. I shall fetch these flowers for you.”