The Great Girl of the Rose, Part 3

In which a problem is encountered, and a solution is proposed.

Introduction

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Gentle dreams filled all four Elementals’ heads that evening,
Dreams that let them slumber as they slept in their warm beds.
But, at length, the bright Spring daylight filtered through their windows,
And at once the four of them woke up, all in a row.
“Ah, good, you’re awake,” said Daisy, coming through the bedroom.
“Well, come on!  I have breakfast prepared for you all now.”
“Ahh,” cooed Marin, leaning back against the clean white pillows,
“How long has it been since we’ve all slept in a real bed?”
Their room had two beds.  The girls had shared one bed between them,
While the boys had shared the other one between themselves.
“Well, let’s go,” said Terry, throwing off his blankets, rising.
“We should pay her back by making sure that we’re not late.”
“Get a move on, fatass,” Ardo said while nudging Marin,
Laughing as he ran off.  Marin cried, “You little shit!”
She ran after him, her navy hair behind her flowing.
“Wait, wait!” Terry shouted, and ran after both of them.
Saera sat there, rubbing sleep from her eyes, sighing, shrugging,
Blinking as she much more slowly lumbered out of bed.

Daisy had prepared a breakfast, simple but delicious:
Jam and bread and cheese and meat, with warm and lovely tea.
“Thank you once again, so much,” said Terry at the table,
Picking up a biscuit and beginning to devour.
“Yes, we’re all so thankful,” Saera said, and nodded gently,
Then she blushed as Marter sat down just across from her.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked them, and Saera couldn’t answer,
Staring as she was down at the food upon her plate.
“We slept great!” said Ardo, laughing, chewing on some sausage.
“Those were comfy beds.  You guys are awesome, really great!”
Daisy laughed.  “I’m glad you all have found yourselves at home here.
Orchid and Chrysanthemum are playing in the fields.
When they come back I will have them show you round the town some.
You will see that we are very slow, and very soft.
Not much happens here.  We are not bothered by the world much,
Though most of its roses come from us, by ways and means.”

Even as she said this, though, the door came bursting open,
And her two young children ran in, faces filled with fear.
“Mama!  Mama!  THEY have come again!” said Orchid, frightened.
And the Elementals had no time to ask what was,
For just at that moment they heard an enormous banging,
Something that went sparkling, crackling, echoing in air.
“Oh, the fire guns!” Chrysanthemum yelled in her terror,
Hot wet tears now flowing down her soft, cherubic cheeks.
“Sounds like a Gauss rifle,” Terry whispered now to Marin.
“Or a plasma cannon,” Marin whispered back to him.
“Come on, children, come on,” Daisy said, and started moving,
Shepherding her children back into the inner rooms.
Marter said, “I want to see.”  “Oh, fine,” said Daisy, sighing,
“Take our four guests too; they should know what is going on.”
Marter sighed, and mumbled then.  “You four, please all come with me.”
“All right,” Terry said, and rose; his friends all did the same.
So they left the table and they walked across the kitchen
And they followed Marter out the door into the street.

Many folk were gathered there, some in their nightgowns, bedclothes;
All had come to watch what was transpiring outdoors.
Six men stood right in the square that marked the village center,
Burly, and with scarred arms, and with armor, firm but light.
They carried long rifles that were sparking with blue fire,
And one of them had some kind of launcher on his back.
“Top o’ the morning to you all!” one of them yelled loudly,
“We don’t mean to cause a fuss to you fine people here.
We’re just here to take our share of what you owe our master,
And to make you all remember to pay off your debts.
Let’s go, boys!” and then they moved across to a long vessel,
A long tractor with a trailer covered in soft cloth.
“What is going on here?” Terry asked, his brown eyes searching.
Marter sighed.  “They are the servants of a great warlord,
One who has claimed territory that includes our village,
So his men come once a week to take tribute from us.”
“Tribute?” Saera asked, and gasped, for then she saw them moving,
Driving out into the nearest field of roses bright.
With a horror she beheld them ripping roses upward,
Using a great hoe to tear them up out of the ground.
“Yes, they take those from us,” Marter said, his eyes gone narrow.
“After all, the roses are the things we value most.
They take some, and sell them, and become our competition,
Even though the flowers that they sell all come from us.”
At that moment younger children ran across the courtyard,
Fearful, screaming, running to and fro before the men.
“Let the children come to me!” the leader said, and grabbed one,
Grabbed a young girl, and he pressed his rifle to her head.
“Just in case there were some of you that were getting thoughtful,”
Said the man.  “In case one of you wanted to be brave.”
“Motherfucker,” Ardo snarled, and started stepping forward,
But Saera and Marin grabbed him firmly by the arms.
This was a good thing, if they desired to keep their secret;
Even now were Ardo’s palms emitting whiffs of smoke.
Fortunately Marter did not see the start of fires,
But he merely watched as their tormentors carried on.
So the backhoe thundered, with its black smoke flowing skyward,
And it ripped and tore the earth to strip the roses out.
Saera gently gasped; the devastation was tremendous,
Such damage was done to the rose beds, and to the fields.
Saera’s silver eyes were bulged as she beheld the purging,
Saw the ripping, tearing of the backhoe, with its scoop.
Roses were ripped up and dumped into the truck’s great basin,
Til it now was filled with roses, strained and pulled and limp.

“Who would buy those roses?” Saera asked, her voice a whisper.
“They all look quite awful, and their petals have grown limp.”
“Many, you will find,” said Marter, coming to her side then.
“Roses have become extremely rare, it seems, these days.
Even limp, damp roses will command a pretty price now.
So they steal from us, and reap a good reward in turn.
But their harvesting does lots of damage to our soil,
And so we must work much harder to repair the mess.”
“Let us help you,” Terry said.  His bronze eyes brightly glinted,
And it seemed the ground beneath their feet just barely shook.
“No,” said Marter, tired, sad, his green eyes gleaming gently.
“No, you are our guests; it would be wrong to make you work.
You should rest, and be at peace after all of your travels.
We will all repair the damage, as we long have done.”

So he said this, and he wandered off, along with others,
In the company of many men among the town.
Off they trudged, their shoulders bent, their backs already hurting,
As the thieves and brigands, with their vehicle, drove off.
“Pleasure doing business with you!” rang the voice out cruelly,
As the truck drove off, with all the men riding inside.
Ardo’s lip curled, as the Elementals stood together.
“We should have been stopping them,” he said, his red eyes bright.
“No,” said Saera, softly, sighing, and the winds were soothing.
“No, we should not have revealed our powers, no, not yet.
Maybe we will have to, some day, to protect these people,
But for now I think it best we keep our secret safe.”
“I agree,” said Terry, sighing, shaking his head slowly.
“This is awful, but we have to keep our secrets now.
We will have to--” “We’ll have to do WHAT?” snarled Marin, seething.
“These people have been so kind to us, now look at this!
If we could help them--” “Or maybe,” Terry said with fervor,
“Maybe if we tried to help them, we would only hurt.
All these months now, every time we’ve tried to use our powers
In order to help people, we’ve always made a mess.
So for once let’s keep our secrets.  Keep our powers hidden.
Or else the Technocracy will soon be sniffing round.”
“Fine,” said Marin, blue eyes narrowing in her displeasure.
But she sighed, and then the four of them turned round, and left.

“So sorry you had to see that,” Daisy said morosely,
When they were back at the house and all four had sat down.
There was still some breakfast there, a little toast and jam left,
But they did not have the appetites they had before.
“I had hoped they would not come this week,” said Daisy, sighing.
“They usually come each week, but sometimes they do not.”
“How long have they come here?” Ardo asked, grabbing a biscuit.
“I am not sure; it has happened since I was a girl.
They make us work so much harder, for when they steal from us
They damage the soil, which we labor to repair.
Our own harvesting techniques are much gentler than theirs are,
So they force us to expend great effort and great toil.”
“We lose money, too,” Chrysanthemum said, glumly eating.
“Yes,” said Daisy.  “They steal from us profits we could use.
But there is no hope of change!  We are so meek and lowly,
And we have no weapons like the ones those brigands wield.”
“Where do they get all their weapons?” Saera asked her gently.
“From their master, who is a great warlord some leagues off.
He titles himself a baron, but no bishop’s crowned him.
He is merely strong and mighty, and he makes us fear.”

So she said, and so they ate, and spent the long day waiting,
Eating all their meals and wandering about the town.
Marter reappeared as afternoon gave way to evening.
He had come in from the fields and was festooned in dirt.
He was sighing, shaking, sweating, body bent in torment.
Even his young strength had met its match in the hot sun.
Saera quickly came to his side.  “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” Marter said.  “I need a bath, and then a nap.”
“Do you really do this every week?” asked Saera, troubled.
“Most weeks,” Marter said, “along with all the men in town.”
“Have you ever thought to try to stop those men from coming?
Try to make them go away--” “How would we do such things?
We are merely farmers, gard’ners, gentle rosebush tenders.
We do not have strength of arms, nor any warriors.
So instead I shall be patient, shall be meek and humble,
And I know that some day, things will work out for the best.”
Marter sighed and shook his head.  He headed for his bedroom,
Leaving Saera standing there, alone amid the hall.
She turned to the west, and through the windows saw the sunset,
Saw the deepened red—rose red—that painted all the sky.
Saera sighed, and gentle breezes swirled a bit around her,
Stirring her white hair amid the growing gloom of night.

“Hey, where’s Saera?” Marin asked, as they sat by the fire,
For the night had come, but their fourth friend had not been seen.
“I heard her say that she wanted to go outside briefly,”
Marter said.  “She said she needed wind beneath her toes.”
He looked upward from his book then, and he chuckled softly.
“What a strange way to express a need to take a walk.”
Ardo, Marin, Terry all looked at each other tensely.
“I’ll go find her,” Marin said, and rose up from her seat.
Her long navy hair trailed in her wake like a blue banner,
Swishing round her as she exited through the front door.
Overhead, the moon shone bright, would be full in a few days.
Marin looked about, amid the darkness and the stars.
“Saera?” she called gently out into the cool Spring evening.
“Saera?  Are you out here?” she asked, walking through the night.
Checking between houses, she looked out, but also upwards,
Knowing that her best friend might be flying in the air.
“Up here,” said a gentle voice, so up and right looked Marin,
And she saw a pale white figure sitting on a roof.
“Sorry,” Saera said, her silver eyes agleam in darkness.
“I just had to get out of the house, and think a while.”
“Can I come up?” Marin asked, and then from her eye’s corner
She saw a rain barrel perched against the house’s wall.
“Sure,” said Saera, and then Marin beckoned to the barrel,
Causing all the water in it to come surging out.
Marin swung her arm and then the water started rising,
Upwards to the roof, so that it made a foaming ramp.
Marin dashed up to the roof, ran on the water’s surface,
Til she stood upon the thatched straw surface by her friend.
“Ahh,” sighed Marin happily, and sat down next to Saera
As she swirled her hand and all the water was put back.
“That felt really good!” she said.  “I needed that immensely.
I haven’t really reached out to Water in days now.
I hate going so long without doing something with it.
It makes me feel weird, when I’m not using it at all.
Like I still can walk, but I am sitting in a wheelchair.
You know what I mean, right?” Marin asked, and Saera said,
“I do.”  And she sighed, and looked up at the moonlit darkness,
Gazing at the nearly-full moon in the sky above.

“So, what’s on your mind?” asked Marin, smiling at her brightly,
Trying to inject some sunshine into the dark night.
Saera drew her knees up to her chest.  Her arms wrapped round them.
She was staring blankly past her limbs, down to the ground.
“This is still about those bandits, isn’t it?” asked Marin.
“Yes,” said Saera slowly.  “I can’t get them from my mind.
I shall feel so awful if we stay here any longer,
Because if we stay another week, they’ll come again.
We could help them, Marin!” Saera said, her eyes aglimmmer.
“We could stop those awful men from ever coming back.
We’d have to reveal ourselves, I know.  But it’d be worth it!
Surely Terry could be persuaded to let us help.
We could stop them all, and then we’d leave—‘twould be that simple.
Terry can’t object to that, can he?”  Her eyes shone bright.
Marin sighed.  Her sapphire blue eyes twinkled in moonlight,
Flickering like when the moonlight shines upon the sea.
“I don’t disagree with you at all,” she said with firmness.
“I would love to help these people.  I know that we can!
But Terry will tell us no.  And when he spoke this morning,
He did make me think.  We tend to break more than we fix.
And what if us helping draws the Technocracy to us?
If we brought the Stalkers here, it would be very bad.”
Marin sighed; her hands came up and cupped her chin within them.
“Every time we try to make things better, we just fail.
Sometimes I’m convinced the only people that our powers
Help us us—JUST us.  Everyone else?  They just get hurt.
But even with all that, I still feel the urge to help them.
Terry, though, will disagree, and he has final say.”
“Hmm,” hummed Saera, silent for a moment.  Neither girl spoke.
Then Saera’s white eyebrows shot up as she had a thought.
“What if we could help in secret?” Saera said to Marin.
“What if we disguised ourselves—or what about just me?
One of us alone would be enough to fight those bandits.
What if we could make it so the townsfolk didn’t know?
And if I disguised myself, I wouldn’t blow our cover,
Wouldn’t let the Technocracy know that we are here.”
“Oh!” said Marin, pretty face now lighting up in smile.
“You could wear a costume, a disguise that hides your face!”
“Yes!” said Saera, and the two friends smiled at each other.
“If I hide my face, I can be helpful, but still safe.”
“Face and hair,” said Marin, and she tilted her head, squinting.
“Your hair’s too distinctive; we will have to hide it, too.
Hmm,” and now she hummed, a sallow finger to her mouth pressed.
“Hmm, a hood would work, and also… yes… and yes… and yes!”
“Marin?” Saera said as her best friend stood up abruptly.
“Yeah, I’ve got it!” Marin said, her fingers snapping loud.
“Come on, come with me!” she shouted, and from off the roof jumped.
Saera was startled but Marin burst into a splash,
Bursting into an enormous puddle that exploded,
But which quickly drew itself together as she watched,
And in no time Marin had emerged out of the water.
And she looked at Saera on the roof, and said, “This way!”
Saera watched her run across the dim and moonlit distance.
She sighed gently, chuckled, and then flew off of the roof.

Soon the two of them were at the door of the main building,
Saera looked at it and said, “It’s locked, I’m sure,” aloud.
“No problem,” said Marin who again collapsed in water,
Fell apart into a puddle that went slithering,
Sliding underneath the door and into the great building.
A few moments later came the clicking of a lock.
Then the door came open.  Marin said, “Come on in, hurry!”
So they crept into the building, quiet, soft, and dark.
“Now, where is it,” Marin murmured, muttering in darkness.
“Where is what?” asked Saera; but then Marin said, “Oh, here!”
So into the room they walked, and quickly turned the lights on,
Which revealed the same room they’d been in the day before.
“The multiprinter?” asked Saera, for there it was resting,
Turned off, dull, and quiet amid the overhead lights.
“Yep!” said Marin, beaming, grinning, walking over to it.
“It made clothes for us; it can make a costume for you!”
“Well, sure,” Saera said, and smiled.  “Have you thought of something?”
“Yep!” said Marin, walking to the multiprinter’s side.
“Can you work this thing?” asked Saera, coming up beside her.
“Yep!” said Marin.  “It’s like one I used at our high school!
It was used in shop class—I was in shop, you remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” Saera said, and looked at her.  “That sure was weird.”
“Well I was just curious,” said Marin, nonchalantly.
“I was just a freshman, remember?  New to high school.
Before then we weren’t allowed to have any electives,
And I saw that one and thought that I would take a chance.
Lucky thing I did!  Come on, let’s make your costume happen!”
So she touched the screen and her ten fingers swiftly moved.
She made “hmms” and “umms” as she went working on the touchscreen.
Saera reached down on it and she said, “What about this?”
“Oh, yeah!” Marin said.  “Come on!  Feel free to help me do this.
You’re the one who’ll have to wear this, after all, I guess.”
So the two best friends went working, sketching, and designing.
Saera made suggestions and Marin would put them in.
It took near an hour before Marin pulled back, beaming,
And she said: “What do you think?”  “I like it,” Saera said.
“Now, we’ll need to use the treadmill,” Marin said, and grimaced.
“I shall do it,” Saera said.  “No, no, you ran last time.
I’ll do it this time; I want to do my part,” said Marin.
“And Ardo’s right; I probably could use the exercise.”
So she got upon the treadmill and she started running.
All the lights upon the multiprinter lit up bright.
“When the power meter hits one hundred percent, do it!”
Marin said.  “Push that big button glowing on the screen!”
So Marin kept running, even though she started panting.
She was curvier than Saera, not as lean and tall.
But the power meter kept on creeping upwards, upwards,
Past sixty percent, then seventy, then eighty, more.
Finally-- “It’s ready!” Saera cried, her voice triumphant,
And she pushed the bright green button glowing on the screen.
Marin sighed.  She came to a stop, huffing, puffing, breathing,
As the multiprinter hummed, and thrummed itself to life.
So it summoned from its depths the fibers that were natural,
Cotton, linen, and some silk went spinning through its guts.
And the multiprinter did its work quick and efficient,
Until, with a gentle DING!, it signaled it was done.
Both girls gathered round its open mouth in expectation
As it slowly slid out all the clothes that it had made.
“Try them on!” said Marin, with a note of pure excitement.
Saera chuckled, and began to slip her own clothes off.

Everything had turned out just as they had hoped—and better.
Marin had known Saera’s measurements down to a T,
And Saera had not much grown or shrank while they’d been trav’ling,
So the costume fitted perfectly—and Marin gasped.
“Perfect!” Marin said, and laughed, and clapped her hands abruptly.
“I did it again—of course I did,” she said, and beamed.
“All right,” Saera said, taking the cloak off of her shoulders.
“I’ll bundle this up and sneak it back into our room.
Coming with me?” “I’m a little sweaty,” Marin answered.
“I think I’ll turn into water, and slosh in the sink,
So that I’m clean.  I really hate going to bed dirty.”
“You’re so weird,” said Saera, with a bubbling, lovely laugh.
Both girls laughed and smiled, satisfied at their achievement.
Thus they exited the room, and turned the bright lights off.

If you like what you’ve read, please consider donating. Any amount is fine!

Patreon

Venmo: @Charles-Shoultz

CashApp: $CAShoultz

PayPal