Ruins Castle

source: Pixabay

Rain pattered softly against the worn stones as Edith pulled her hood over her hair. She gazed up at the crumbling castle walls, tracing the jagged gaps where whole sections had collapsed over the centuries. Vines curled around broken parapets, and moss crept over ancient carved faces long worn smooth by the elements. This old place had seen better days.

Edith sighed, looking down at her muddy boots. As a child, she would come here and her grandfather would tell her stories about this castle. How it once bustled with feasts and tournaments and knights in gleaming armor atop proud steeds. The great battles it had weathered. The king and queens who had walked these halls, now open to the gray sky above.

She stepped through an arched doorway, its heavy wooden door long since burned away for firewood. Her footsteps echoed in the empty great hall, the stone floor slick with moss. She paused beside a high backed chair covered in lichen, resting a hand on its surface. How many lords and ladies had once dined at the great table, now collapsed in a rotten heap?

This place had history. It deserved better than to crumble away, forgotten.

Edith was a local girl, born and raised in the nearby village. She came from simple folk, but her heart had always reached for more. As a girl she would slip away to play among the castle ruins, imagining the grand parties and intrigues that once filled these walls.

Now she was here for a purpose. She had spent the last five years studying architecture and restoration in the city university. Working odd jobs on weekends to pay for her courses. Everyone told her she was chasing fairy tales, but she was determined to save this castle. To bring history alive again.

She left the great hall, ducking through a low stone archway. Her steps carried her up a winding staircase, cautious of missing stones. At the top was her favorite spot - the south tower.

She crept out onto the parapet, gazing across the misty countryside. From up here she could picture the castle's former glory. Sturdy walls ripe with banners, villagers working the fields beyond. A knights' training yard full of ringing steel...

Edith smiled to herself. This view was worth the climb, treacherous as the crumbling steps had become. She sat atop the parapet, legs dangling over the edge as she ate a simple lunch. The autumn breeze carried hints of woodsmoke from the village chimneys.

As she ate, her eyes wandered over the ruined walls, her mind already planning. The east wing would need bolstering and bracing. The gaping holes in the roof patched to keep the weather out. Rotted floors replaced. Collapsed sections rebuilt from the surviving stones...

It would take time. And money. But failure was not an option - she was determined to see this through. This place deserved a second chance.

Edith stayed up in the tower until the light began to fade, sketching out plans. As she descended the winding stairs, her eyes caught on a weathered statue ensconced in an alcove.

A proud knight stood vigilant, one mailed hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword. His features were worn by centuries of wind and rain, yet still noble. As a child she had imagined him the castle's protector, keeping watch even as all others fled.

She gave the statue's shoulder a supportive pat. "Don't worry, we'll restore this place together." His stoic stone face stared back at her, unmoving. But she swore she saw understanding in those faded carved eyes.

The following days fell into a comfortable rhythm. By sunrise, Edith was already on site, a thermos of hot coffee in hand as she surveyed the day's work. She started small - patching holes to keep the weather out, shoring up weakened sections at risk of imminent collapse.

It was tiring work, but she kept at it with steady determination. In the afternoon she would unroll her plans, studying and refining. Mulling over which area to tackle next. How far her budget would stretch.

Bit by bit, the castle felt a little more whole.

When she grew weary, her eyes would find the stone sentinel, still standing resolute in his alcove. She liked to think he approved of her efforts. That if he could, he might nod and tell her to keep going.

Work was progressing well when Edith arrived one morning to find a man standing in the courtyard. He was studying the crumbling walls critically, making notes in a leather notebook.

"Can I help you?" she called out, suddenly protective. This was her project - she couldn't let some government official step in and take over now.

The man turned to her in surprise. "You must be Edith," he said. "I'm Jonathan, from the city's historical society. I had to come meet the woman who's taken on the old castle ruins single-handedly."

Edith's shoulders relaxed. "It won't be easy, but with determination, we can restore this place to glory."

Jonathan smiled. "That's quite a vision you have. Have you considered looking for benefactors? A big dream like this requires more hands on deck."

Edith hesitated. She hadn't considered asking anyone for help. This was her childhood dream, after all.

As if reading her uncertainty, Jonathan put a hand on her shoulder. "Think bigger. You'd be amazed how many people want to help preserve history and would rally behind you on this."

In the end, Edith was swayed. With Jonathan's help, they reached out to wealthy individuals with a passion for history. They hosted dinners and gave tours of the ruins, letting people grasp the vision.

And the funds began to trickle in. Then pour.

Within a year, Edith stood in the bustling courtyard directing a team of builders and artisans. Scaffolding surrounded the soaring walls as the castle truly began to take shape once more.

One cool autumn afternoon, she climbed the winding stairs up to the south tower parapet. The view looked just as she remembered from her childhood outings. But so much had changed.

This place was coming back to life. The crumbling ruins were now sturdy walls, built to last centuries more. She could imagine the grand reopening ceremony, people marveling at how history had been reclaimed from the clutching vines and moss.

She turned to the stone sentinel in his alcove. Reaching up, she laid a hand on his weathered shoulder.

"My old friend, we did it. This castle will stand tall for generations to come."

The statue gazed back at her, noble and vigilant as always. She thought she saw pride in his faded stone eyes. Together, they would stand sentinel over this castle once more.