Mo Ghile Mear - My Hero- In progress

         He was a beautiful man inside and out and I claimed him for my own, as so did all the other women of my age. The silliness of my youth let me believe that he too would love me as much as I did him. However, I begged God for him and it seemed the more I pleaded, the more attached I became until one day I no longer could seperate my heart from him. Oh how much I would come to regret this. For now I beg my heart and God to let him go, but it seems neither will allow me.
         The first time that I saw him, on that godless morning as it seems to me now, he was plowing one of the local fields. I had only heard of him, as did the other girls my age. Word had spread about how handsome he was and the generosity of his spirit, but none of us could believe it when we experienced it ourselves. His shirtless shoulders were tanned from years of working out of doors, doing whatever it was that any of us imagined he did. Hard and muscled was this young stranger for one so barely a man. Not an inch of him had a mark of pox or anything upon him. He was so much different from what any of us had seen. So very much a man he was, yet he had no beard. His bare chest was thick and strong and his arms reflected his training. So beautiful he was, unlike the other men around us who were disgusting in their dirtiness and lusts. How mundane they appeared at that time, and how wonderfully earthy they seem to desperate women who later wanted husbands.
         In our land, it was not uncommon to see the noble peoples working the land and marrying lowers. Although I was from a high family, we were poor and so I too had to work the fields. That is how I met him. That is how I saw him before the others and claimed him for my own. There were lots of us like this, lots of unmarried girls that is. Although, there were few like me: high in titles, poor in money and forced to work. Most were either poor and kept indoors or rich and kept indoors. I was fortunate and unfortunate enough to experience the life of box sexes: the freedom of man's work and a lady's idleness, the slavery of work and the capture of a woman's future life.
         And so that is how he and I met. We had both worked the fields for days together, and I told none of the other women (I did not want to share my prize). For days I would stare at him, only to turn away when he looked in my direction. I was naive to believe that he was looking at me. It was more likely he was straightening his back and giving his body a rest. I let myself think that he liked me because of a few glances. To him I am sure those glances meant absolutely nothing, but my childlike self fed this to my imagination and allowed myself to hope. We never spoke.
         One day my father finally spoke to this local prince. I was embarrassed, because although my father was noble, I did not trust him to speak to my imagined lover. At this time my stupid self was suppose to be working instead of eavsdropping on my father. My brothers, whose mischievious characters did not benefit when my father's careful eye was elsewhere, began a game to quicken their work. I who was not paying attention was knocked off of the edge of the cart.
         "Bessie open your eyes", I heard.
         "She'll be alright, just a cut. Get up!"
         I finally opened my eyes to see my father and brothers standing angrily over me. Rightly so, for I should have been working.
         "Stupid girl, you should be working instead of dreaming..." my father said as I came to and recognized his voice. "Help her up boys".
         My brothers lifted me of the hard ground and set me up on the cart. Sean handed me a cloth so I could clean my face of the blood. The wound hurt, but I would live. Lucky was I, others have died from horseplay; I would probably have a small scar.
         "What is a girl doing a man's work for?" said a voice. Still in pain I did not look up to see who it was, but I knew anyways.
         "Sire we are poor and require work to be done. She is a great help. Bessie is stocky and can do good work," replied my brother. I became embarrassed by my secret. Although everyone can see what I look like, it was always my invisible secret. Since no one ever commented on my appearance, it was as if it didn't exist. Here Daniel was spreading the news to the world.
         "Well, if you wish your daughter to be a man and continue to be injured, then by all means, allow her to stay and work. My father nor I will stop you. But she will never be married if you work her like a horse. No man wants a wife with bigger muscles than his own." replied my beautiful man whose words caused my shame.
         It is amazing how when we love someone, we will take every word they say as true. And so I firmly believed the words of my handsome young noble named Gregory. My father also agreed with him, and that point on I was not allowed in the fields, or to do any work that was seen by others.
         Although we worked the fields of our higher nobles for extra pay, His sire Gregory did not. He like is harsh father had a micro-management style: be involved in everything because peasants are idiots. That is why he was working to cut the hay. He did not trust anyone to do a job correctly if he was not there to oversee it.

         Idleness for some can be dangerous. It can cause the bored to start fights, wars, and other mischevous acts. However, for a girl in might state it caused no more than simple boredom of mondane womanly tasks. Being a larger than normal woman, I was blessed with the allowance to do men's work. As hard as it was, it made me strong and independent. At first, after being banished from my prince, I detest the chores of cooking and cleaning. However, still under the delusion that I could some how win him, I took careful consideration of the feminine duties of the household. I threw myself into learning the baking of bread, the finding of herbs, the cooking of meat. I spent the next months learning those trades, much to the impress of my father and brothers. With no mother alive to teach me, they appreciated my abilities in running the household. Sean however, was on to me. I found it difficult to hide my motives from my observant brother.

         "Bessie, he is not going to notice you" he said around the corner one evening.
         "What?" I replied after a long pause, pretending that I had no clue of which he was talking. However, the moment he said it, I knew that he fully comprehended everything thought in my head. In addition, my pause informed him that I knew exactly of what he was speaking of.
         Walking towards me, he leaned over the fire pit to examine what was boiling.          "Gross. Are we going to eat that?"
         "Its your clothing".
         "Oh"
         Thinking that the conversation had moved on, I attempted to start another subject on the state of Sean's work wear, "Sean, your cloth..."
         "My point is,"he started, "you're my sister, but the truth lies in that you are not exactly capable of courting or being a wife. And while it is great that you have stepped up your efforts in the manor, know that he is a prince and will choose one of the attractive noblemen's daughters or probably more likely, some nobility from far away".
         My silence implied to Sean that I understood him completely and that the meeting was over. However, the severity of the things he came forth on not only hurt but frightened me as well. His frankness startled me. The comments made towards my appearance and personality bothered me. They were my abnormalities, and therefore private. Even more so, I hated the reality of life: attractive women were acceptable, the ugly were not. It seems that even my brothers thought that they best I could hope for was to be a servant to them until their dying day.