Trials of Endurance
Trials of Endurance
Trials of Endurance
Copyright (c) 2010 by Melrick (Tabooccaneer@gmx.com)
Rated: Contains No sex.
Codes: Romance, No Sex.
Synopsis: A man fights his way through a snowstorm in Stockholm, Sweden, to get to his ultimate destination.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Distribution: Please ask permission BEFORE you distribute this story to other sites. You do NOT have permission to distribute this to pay sites. If distributed, you must leave everything intact, including this header.
Author’s Note: This is a FlashFic (less than 1000 words) written in response to a word prompt – “Snow” – posted on the forum here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/18007-week-8-11-28-10/
It didn’t seem to matter which direction he was facing in, the wind always seemed to blast the snow directly into his face.
Allen slowly made his way north from the Rica Hotel in Gamla Stan, the old part of the city of Stockholm, Sweden. Stockholm has been described as one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and the only problem Allen had with that statement was the words ‘one of’. The beautiful old architecture – some buildings stretching back to medieval times – and the myriad colours of the bricks and stones combined to create a spectacular landscape.
Gamla Stan is crisscrossed with narrow lanes, which can be difficult for the uninitiated to navigate without getting lost, and with everything covered in snow, it made it harder still for Allen. As he was leaving, the staff at the hotel had told him the snowstorm was one of the worst the city had experienced in some years, and now that he was out in it, he didn’t doubt it. It never snowed in the part of Australia where Allen lived, so this was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on it. Having no previous experience to fall back on, he quickly realised he’d underestimated just how cold snow was! His jacket was waterproof, so it was effective at keeping him dry, but not so much at keeping him warm. His jeans were inadequate at both tasks. To cap it off, Allen realised he’d put little thought into footwear, beyond comfort. His shoes were certainly comfortable, but not waterproof.
The hotel staff had recommended that he take a taxi – they’d even call one for him – but he’d dismissed the idea, convinced in his woeful inexperience that it couldn’t be too bad. How dire could it be!
Allen’s education soon expanded to walking in snow. After falling on his behind twice, he had to resist the strong temptation to walk with his knees bent and spread wide, with his arms splayed out to his sides, whilst shuffling along like an old man. Allen was thankful for his strong willpower.
After pausing to browse a map he’d printed from the internet, and then looking up, he realised he wasn’t lost after all. The bell tower of the Stockholm Cathedral – known locally as the Storkyrkan, the ‘Great Church’ – showed the way like a beacon. The 13th century cathedral towered over the short, narrow lane that housed the Kaffegillet Restaurant.
After stamping off as much snow as he could, he stepped inside. Walking up to the counter, he introduced himself. “Allen Palmer,” he said, noting the collection of small tablets with candles on them.
The attractive waitress quickly scanned a list, before looking up at him and smiling. “If you’d like to come this way, Mr Palmer,” she said in near perfect English. The apparent Swedish talent for speaking excellent English still managed to surprise him.
Allen followed her to the back of the restaurant and down the narrow stairs to the 15th century brick cellar. Swords and pieces of armour adorned the walls, as well as some tapestry. Suits of armour loomed in small nooks. Each table had a clay wine jug with a candle in it, enhancing the atmosphere perfectly.
But it wasn’t the decorations or the vaulted ceiling or the fact that this cellar used to be connected to the cathedral via a now-bricked up tunnel that held his attention. It was the beautiful, blond-haired, blue-eyed woman sitting at a table at the back. The blond-haired, blue-eyed Swede might be a cliché, but the fact was, that really was quite a common trait. And she was just as beautiful as the cliché, as well.
Karin saw him and smiled, not just lighting up her pretty face, but lighting up the medieval gloom of the basement, as if a spotlight had suddenly been switched on, shining directly on her. Nothing mattered to Allen at that moment other than Karin; his surrounds faded away into obscurity and unimportance. The waitress may have said something to him, but her words failed to penetrate his laser-sight focus.
The biting cold, the snow, the wind, the wet clothes, the soggy socks, all became extremely minor trials of endurance.
“I’m so glad you made it,” Karin said, as she stood up and wrapped her arms around him.
“Nothing could have kept me away,” Allen whispered, meaning every word.
They held eye contact a moment before kissing. Snow couldn’t have been further from their minds.
The End