All characters in this story belong to me. Grrr. No takey.

Chocolate

    I'm separated from my group, located in an entirely different room than the other travelers that I've only met a day before. Most of these men are farmers, journeying to get seeds for their village after a plague wiped out their last crops. How I met them, I still don't know, but they accepted me into their company and that is really all I care about for the moment. They were grateful when I paid for their rooms and meals as well. "How did a boy get such money?" They asked. I may be 16, but I am far from a child. They don't know that, though, and I told them that I got it from my rich uncle. Most of them looked unconvinced, but were happy enough that I picked up their tab. I've been on my own traveling for 7 years now, and to be honest, I'm pleased to have the company anyway. They even had a boy my age traveling with them.

    I first saw him when their scouting party had come up the road I was traveling. He almost ran me over, but his horse felt the darkness inside of me and skitted out of the way. Honey blonde hair and tanned skin. He looked like your average farm boy. He wasn't short and wispy, like I am- all willowy figured and the like. He was tall and strong, more like a man than a boy, and every movement he made spoke of power and confidence. I felt like a shadow in his presence; like one of the spirits that haunt the woods at night. He stopped for me, of course, and sincerely apologized for almost colliding with me. I was amused to hear that his voice was nothing like his physical form. Instead, it was smooth and innocent sounding, while deeper than a child's, not anywhere near as harsh as a man's voice. He offered to give me a ride into town, and when I told him that I was traveling beyond there, insisted that he and his group take me. And I agreed, allowing him to take me up upon his own horse- the poor beast almost reeling in fright when I made to mount- and rode with these strange men until we hit this town.

    When he learned that I was a bard, he requested that I sing for him, and we spent much of the first night together in my room, eating and recounting the pointless details of our lives and travels for each other's amusement; from my love of chocolate to his fear of heights. It was the first time since my childhood where I've actually been able to converse with another my own age about nothing and everything at the same time. The next morning, we awoke early and took breakfast in the adjacent tavern, before heading out to start to gather the supplies for his farm. He knew everything about farming and the way that the land worked, patiently explaining it to me as I questioned him why one would need a terrace for one plant or why another must be trimmed in a certain way. Lyson, for that was my companion's name, found my curiosity intriguing and was happy to give answers to whatever I asked.

     He described to me in great length what it was like to work as a farmer, and how it felt to know that your own hands were responsible for the growth and prosperity of another living thing. As he described it, he ran his hands over various tools, showing me right there in the bustling streets how to hold a hoe at the right angle so as not to hurt myself while tilling the ground, and how to irrigate the soil so that it was the perfect mixture of air and earth. I was so swept up in his powerful but innocent voice and his pure excitement and love of the trade that in the several hours that we spent shopping, I felt that I had grown up with him on his family's farm. I could feel the sun and the earth in his hands as they manipulated mine on foreign yet familiar tools and I could feel the cool, sweet breeze in his voice as he directed me on how to move my body, how to align myself with nature so that I became a part of it instead of an outsider. I felt so at ease there, in the streets with him, that I did not mind his casual touch nor the crowd that pushed by us in their frenzied hurry. For a while, I believed that I was at peace. I was able to fool myself into thinking that maybe I did have a place in this world.

    We returned to the tavern late that night. Both Lyson and I were tired, but neither of us went off to bed. Instead we went to my room, in order to recount the excitement of that day. We lay there side by side on my bed, worn out but fully relaxed in each other's company, until I felt his body shift and he was lying on his side next to me. "Come back with me." He said, "Come stay with my family on our farm." With his words I felt a surge run through my body, my fingers tingled and I could feel my heart flutter. Everything I had tried to tell lie myself into thinking that day was coming true- someone did want me, I did not have to travel alone anymore. It was everything I had waited for in my life being presented to me in this man-child with honey hair, and soft, gentle, but calloused hands. It was everything I had ever hoped for, and I was determined not to let it get away from me. "Of course." I believed that I'd have gone with him at that moment even if he had invited me to hell.

    He surprised me later that evening, presenting me with a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. "When you told me how much you loved it," He said smiling as I opened the box to find a small slab of chocolate, "I couldn't help myself. I had to get it for you." I couldn't hide my apparent joy, and broke off a small piece, popping it into my mouth. I had always loved chocolate, even as a young boy. It always reminded me of something, something out of my reach, as it melted in my mouth, rolling over my tongue in a thick sweetness. I kissed him then, looking for what the flavor reminded me of- the warmth and the protection that I knew I could never have, the love I knew I never deserved. When I kissed him, I looked for all of these things, searching almost desperately to try to fill some piece of me that was missing. Trying to complete myself with the earth and vivacity that Lyson's very spirit seemed to breath, trying to absorb his light into me to chase out the darkness of my nightmares. I must have nicked him with one of my nails, because as we kissed, I could feel his blood coat my hands and I lost myself to my passion and my hunger, allowing the thick, sweet liquid to fill me- to complete me. Allowing the very essence of his life to provide me with what I was looking for, to allow me to find myself, to define what I truly was, at that moment.

     As I lay here in my room, isolated from the rest of my party, I stroke the soft silky strands of honey colored hair away from his face, and out of his blank, unseeing eyes and allow the last bit of chocolate to melt on my tongue, trying desperately to remove the metallic taste from my mouth. The sweetness only causing me to gag, as it fills my pallet with a different taste- something the same consistency and just as rich and dark and sinful. I leave him here, planting one more soft kiss on his still lips before I go. This one filled not with searching and understanding, but with regret. As I walk out of my room, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the corners of my mouth darkened. My tongue flashes out of instinct to remove the sweet stains, and as I leave this chapter of my life behind, I can not help but wonder if it is blood or chocolate.