The Hill-King's Bride: an Allegory for the Modern Church

The King's Homecoming

Howe didn't ask any more questions, even though she liked listening to her companion's voice. Her teeth were beginning to chatter and she was trying desperately to hide her shivering in order to keep him from slowing their pace on her account. She must not have done as well as she'd hoped, because in the early afternoon, he veered from the path to another partially-hidden cabin. "Are we too far away to make it to your home this day?" Howe asked, feeling a sense of failure because she hadn't walked quickly enough.

"Not at all," he denied promptly. "But there is a warm blanket inside and judging by the blue caste to your lips, your clothing isn't warm enough for you. It's meant for the warm valley, not these wind-swept hills, after all."

The armored king disappeared inside the little sod hut and returned quickly to wrap Howe in a thick, woolen blanket. After that, he handed her an apple and a slice of cheese to munch on while they walked.

Howe stared at the scenery, awed by the view from the hills when the trees thinned out. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Bryn Ma'ar's voice was quiet, but he'd obviously been paying more attention to Howe's reaction than she expected.

"I've never seen the like," she admitted. "It's more beautiful than I could ever have imagined."

"Wait until you see the view from atop my fortress," he promised. "It won't be long now."

Revived by the food, Howe hastened her steps. "I'm looking forward to it," she told him, and to her surprise, she was.

By the time the sun began to set, they'd gone over two hills and were nearly half-way up a third. Each hill they'd climbed had been taller than the previous one, and this last promised to be the tallest of them all. Of course, if it were the hill upon which sat the Hill-King's fortress, then according to legend, it was the tallest hill.

The trail had widened out and as the sun sank down beyond the horizon, people came out to line the trail, each bearing a torch, a ready smile and words of greeting to the king and his ragged traveling companion. Never having left the little valley in all of her life, Howe found their dress wild and alien, though they all spoke the language her parents had spoken within the confines of their family.

The women and men alike were dressed in a combination of cloth and leather garments, leather trousers and cloth shirts with leather jackets. The women wore a kind of cloth skirt over their trousers as a nod toward gender, and their jackets were cut for a more feminine fit. Everyone wore bright colors, though they would be able to fade into the forests and hillsides when required.

At the top of the path, where the torchlight faded, Bryn Ma'ar turned to face the expectant crowd, one gauntleted hand at the small of Howe's back. She stood beside him quietly, not sure what to expect.

"The day we have long prepared for is here," he announced. When the cheers subsided, he continued. "Please make welcome the daughter of Rhys Broderick and Lily of the Cliffs, Princess of Anazaria!" Once more, Bryn Ma'ar had to wait for the cheers and calls of welcome to subside.

"My Friends," the Hill-King's voice called for sober attention. "The chiefs of Anazaria would see their kin returned by force, if need be. We know this to be true. I must remind you, all of you, to keep our Princess Broderick's presence with us a closely-guarded knowledge for now. She has agreed to remain with us for the winter and decide in the spring, where she would reside. For now, let us make her welcome and see that she has what she needs to be comfortable among us."

"My king, your dinner is waiting and your father would like to welcome you and our princess," a woman's voice called from partway down the hill. "We are pleased to see you and Princess Broderick safe, but we, your people, bid you both a pleasant evening."