Five Golden Rings by Anna
Four men sat in a pub on Christmas Eve. It was late, and it was cold, and their faces were far too grim for the season. They were good friends, all of them, had been for years, but a recent revelation threatened to ruin their good standing. You see, these companions had the bad luck of all being in love with the same young lady. Even worse, is that all of them had the same rather unoriginal plan of surprising her with a ring on Christmas day. And so they sat, staring morosely into their pints, and arguing bitterly with one another. The barkeep pretended to be busy, but was listening intently to their conversation.
“Look here,” said the first man, “The best thing to do is to think of the lady, and who could provide her with the most happiness. I am clearly the man, for my fortune is far greater than any of yours. I would cover her in jewels and furs, and she would never want for anything. You men are like brothers to me, but none of you can offer her the life of luxury she deserves.”
“You may be wealthy, but I am by far the cleverest among us,” whined the second man. “Your fortune came to you by luck, and you will surely squander it away within a few years. With my intelligence I will succeed at any endeavor I undertake, and entertain my bride with witty conversation for all our days. Your money will be a cold comfort when you have nothing to say to each other across your giant fancy dinner table.”
Now the third man chimed in, “Your arguments are pointless gentlemen, as you are both far too ugly for any woman to fall in love with. Have you looked at me lately? My hair is gorgeous, my skin is perfect, ladies faint when they see my masculine figure and ruggedly handsome face. The girl won’t be able to resist me.”
“That’s nonsense,” sneered the fourth, “even if you were handsome…which you’re not… beauty is a temporary thing. Soon you’ll be a sad old man, reminiscing about the days where you were able to convince a few maids to hop into bed with you. I should marry the girl because I am of noble birth. Our children would be related to royalty, and my wife will be welcome in the very highest society.”
As this petty conversation droned on, the barkeep put on his worn yellow coat and slipped out into the cold to say a final goodbye to his love. He walked through the empty streets to her house, thinking melancholy thoughts, and watching the clouds of his breath sink down to the ground. He reached the girl’s house, and threw little pebbles at the window until she awoke. When she saw the familiar yellow coat on the street below, she smiled and hurried outside.
“My good friend, what brings you to my door at this hour?” she asked.
“I came to say goodbye,” he said, his voice breaking, “I had hoped one day to make you my wife, but I learned that four worthy gentlemen are coming tomorrow, each one with a golden ring for you. I realized that I could never hope to compete with such men. I am not rich, or clever, or handsome, or of noble birth. I can’t even buy a ring for your pretty finger, so good luck my love, I wish you great happiness.”
He turned to go, but the girl caught his arm and pulled him back. “My dear,” she said, “Your love is a far greater prize than anything those silly men boast about. They are too enamored with themselves to ever truly love another.”
The barkeep stared back at her in disbelief. He was afraid to say anything, sure that he had heard incorrectly. “Here,” said the girl, gently placing his arms around her, “your old coat makes a fine ring around my waist, doesn’t it?”
And so the two of them embraced in the freezing winter night, wrapped in a worn yellow coat and dreaming of the many happy years to come.
