An Unbroken Bond

It’s one thing being a horse, but another thing being Romeo Montague’s trusty steed. The name’s Penelope and I have been Prince Lover boy’s horse since he was three years of age. We have been through the whole caboodle together from broken bones to heartbreak and adventures that ends up getting us into an affliction. We were a great team when he was younger, creating undisclosed pathways to escape imaginary monsters, and jousting like legendary knights. He loved me and I adored him, we had a supernatural bond that nothing and no one could detach. Well, until he hit puberty that is.

Oh how becoming a man can change an adolescent boy’s outlook on life. Everything was just peachy between him and me until he started having outrageous fascinations with the female species. When he was only the age of fifteen, he claimed that his first “true love” was a peasant girl that lived within the village. Personally, I just thought the lad’s lack of sleep was throwing him off and causing him to act peculiar of the sort. Much to my surprise, I was extremely wrong after he showed me the youthful lass that had apparently stolen his eager heart. Her name was Portia, and the poor girl had a worse overbite than me. She could more than likely eat a freshly picked apple right through a picket fence, but hey who is judging. Her lengthy jet black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall and her beady sapphire blue eyes lit up at the sight of him. Their love affair consisted of the usual hand holding, strolling along giggling and an occasional kiss on the cheek. This infatuation lasted approximately a week or so. I believe it diminished after he spotted the innocent face of Myra, the baker’s daughter. She was as darling and saccharine as the pies her father made in his bakery, and acquired the face of an angel. Her eyes were hazel and warm like the summer sun, with a sugar coated smile that could make any young gentleman’s heart melt. Unfortunately, my dear Romeo was caught up in a matter of seconds like a bass on a fishing hook, and she was just the girl to reel him in. They became inseparable within mere days of their encounter.
Now, I was not jealous if that is what you were thinking. Humph! I mean, he loved me first, and most definitely knows me better than any other female in this vast world. The lad may have forgotten to feed me in the evenings, replenish me with water, or even take me on our accustomed stroll through the garden. I still love him as much as had before though. Even through the neglect and lack of attention. At least Romeo’s best friend Mercutio has not forgotten about me; if it weren’t for that young gentleman, I would probably be a mere rack of bones galloping around. That would be a sight to see.

For the past two weeks he has been treating me like his own. He Groomed me as he would his own horse with those strapping arms of his and was suave telling me absolutely everything that I wanted to hear. For instance, by stating confidently that Myra was just a phase and Romeo would soon be back within my stable tending to me before I knew it. In our time together, however, we spent days on end just gossiping like two young lasses would. He was no Romeo by any means, but I soon began to admire Mercutio. For he was not at all impressed with his dear friend Romeo’s foolish ways, and found his romanticized ideas about love tiresome and completely obnoxious. The quality that I admired most deeply was the fact that he understood me. For some reason no one ever seems to, I mean I was brought up speaking English, whatever that is totally beside the point.
I know this may sound rational, but hmmph! I did not even care if Romeo came back to me… I did not miss him, nor did I…. Oh! For carrots sake! What fabrication was I speaking of! I missed my dear prince with my whole horse-sized heart. Every muscle in these hind legs of mine! Every fiber of hair in this thick mane I possess!

Three weeks had passed like a flock of geese fleeting south for the winter. I began to have a routine of staring out of the wooden oak gate bestowed upon me. I gaze out longingly. I see nothing. The only thing to comfort me was a simple icy breeze that drifted through my shedding winter coat in this lonely stable. Stomp! I stamp my hoof with immense frustration and anguish. My heart began to ache.
But wait! What’s this? It couldn’t be! I blink twice. A third time and then know that these midnight eyes of mine were not deceiving me. There he was meandering towards my stable with the strut of a wildcat, acting like he owned the place. I snicker at the sight of him, because he clearly needed a haircut. “Uhm, Good morn Penelope my beautiful mare.” Romeo articulates with an amorous and heartbroken tone. He comes into my stable and sits upon a bucket while he stroked my velvety nose tenderly. Our eyes met and I gazed into his invigorating emerald eyes, clearly noticing that he was upset. I nudged him gently, and soon crocodile tears began to seep from his once sparkling eyes. The last time I had seen him cry was when his pet fish Edwin desist, but that was years ago. When the poor heartbroken lad stopped sobbing, he began to pour his heart out to me.

All I can say is, lucky for him, humans do not understand me, or the villiage people would be hearing about his little crying incident. Apparently he and Myra did not work out. Thank the Lord. He had a little bit of a trust issue. The lass was seen by one of Romeo’s guardsmen talking to the candlestick maker’s son. They were allegedly getting “intimate” when he asked her how much a dozen rolls were. At least that is what Romeo told me. She claimed that it was strictly buisness, but he could not come to believe such nonsense. Why in dandilions name would he want to buy freshly baked bread? Now it just makes no sense, now does it? Myra was obviously sneaking off with the candlestick maker’s son. Not. I wanted to tell him how foolish he sounded but instead I listened like a good horse would. And I listened. Then Listened some more. He talked about her for approximately two hours straight, causing me to almost vomit up my breakfast oats. I finally could not take it anymore and whinnied out of annoyance shaking my head.

He soon whipes his runny nose with his cashmire sleeve and sniffles one last time. With the swift motion of his hand he grabs my sadle and slaps it upon the arch of my back. My heart begins to pound with excitement inside my chest cavity and adrenaline starts to flood throughout my whole body. “C’mon girl, we are going to the village!” With that being said, he slithers onto the bronze saddle smoothly and knocks me in the side with his heels telling me to progress forward quickly. I glide forward with graceful speed and agility feeling the weight of my dear Romeo on my back. If only he knew just how happy he makes me.

When we reach the village, he brings me to an abrubt stop. “Whoa girl!” he orders casually. He hops off my back and leads me along the brick pavement. Smoke and the sweet smell of honeysuckle envelope my senses. I was caught off guard completely when Romeo’s jaw completely dropped. Without as much as an explanation he ties me up to a nearby tree stump. As if that was really going to hold me there. I swear that boy was born without a brain. I watch him begin to follow a young maiden walking around with stringy golden hair. She could use a good grooming if you ask me. Mercutio shows up much to Romeo’s surprise, bumping right into him. “Who is that girl?” I see Romeo lip to Mercutio with a look in his bright eyes that I have seen time and again.

“I believe that her name is Rosaline. I have heard through the grapevine that she wishes to live a chaste life. So none of your romantic nonsense will phase her.” Mercutio answers off the top of his head.

“I want her to be mine. For she is my true love. The one my heart yearns for.” Romeo says holding his prominent hands against his thudding heart as he continuously talked of love and the possibility of he and Rosaline falling for one another. I hated to say, but the young man would not know what true love was even if I kicked him square in the face with it and left an imprint of the definition where he could read it.

Suddenly he stops. “The party! Oh my word. I almost forgot!” He clambers upon the saddle and we are off to the castle once more.

When we reach our destination, I am put back in the stable just as quickly as I had gotten out. The adrenaline had been washed away by tribulation. A drink of water would sure be nice though. Well! What do you know? No water? My parched lips tried to suck up the last remaining drops within the water ben, but I ended up unsatisfied and still yearned for something to quench my thirst. Instead I lie down and nestle into my straw bed and drift into a deep slumber.

I awake to the sound of Romeo’s voice. Oh how sublime his voice is to my ears. I perk up to aknowledge his presence, and come to find he is standing next to a young lady. My eyes meet hers. I could tell that she was very different from all the other females Romeo went after. She nearly glowed in the moonlight. Her heart shaped face was like porcelain with lips plump like a juicy peach and flushed rosy cheeks. Not a single hair on her head was out of place with her silky auburn hair braided to the side. He called her Juliet Capulet, one of our sworn enemies. Right then and there I raised my flag. I had met my match. This unfamiliar lass had defeated me. The way Romeo looked at her was not just any look. He held her so dear, and I could tell that their goodbye to one another had much sorrow. They parted ways and I knew that my dear Romeo would never be the same.

That same night he rounded me up and we made our way to her castle. I could practically taste the Capulet in the air. It made me sick to the depths of my stomach. We stop at a balcony alluminated by a single candle. Romeo hops off the saddle and starts to climb up the unfamiliar castle with ease. Once again, I swear that boy was born without a brain. I stay on the lookout for soldiers storming the premices; someone has to be intelligent around here.

Minutes that feel like endless hours fly by and Romeo is finally coming down from fair Juliet’s balcony. When he reaches me he says, “She has agreed to marry me. Tomorrow at noon, we shall be husband and wife and I do not care if my family gives me their blessing.” He smiles warmly at me and assures me that everything will be just fine. I do not want to believe him, but I do. The thought of something happening to him would be more than I could bear, and it was….

That night after he led me back to the forlorn stable was the last time I ever saw my dear Romeo again. What I have been told is that he fled the city with Juliet at his side and he drank something out of celebration that made him very sleepy? I am not sure. No one around here seems to fill me in with any sort of information. I always get the half end of the story. I just wish that I had given him my blessing or at least encountered the chance to say goodbye. I mean, I loved him first. I went through everything with that young lad. He was like the husband I never had. I just hope that he is auspicious and safe wherever he may be. Perhaps someday he will come back for me and we can share stories once more like we used to. Until then I will just lie here in this stable peeking out this desolate oak gate like I always do, waiting for my dear Romeo. Oh, Romeo Romeo, where for art though Romeo?





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