Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...
Summary: Oreius' gift became even more meaningful when she knew it was formed by his own hands.
A/N: This story was requested by WillowDryad and is part of my A Light in the Darkness universe. Enjoy!
Oreius' Gift
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It had been a number of years since I had last pursued any craft save that of a warrior. Still, I was pleased when I found the wrapped tool kit as I had not been certain if I had brought it to the Cair when the Four first established their court here. Unrolling the kit, I ran my fingertips over the tools. Swivel knife, stamp set comprised of beveler, pear shader, veiner, shell tool, camouflage tool, seeder, and background tool, and rawhide mallet – it had been long since I worked such delicate tools. I did wonder if my hands would remember this gentler craft.
Rolling the kit back up, I carried it down to one of the unoccupied leatherwork shops. It had been set up for those who preferred to make a pastime of leatherwork as opposed to those who pursued it as living. I was the only one using it this season as my mark was the only one set to the box of supplies. I set the tools on the long table that was at the correct height for a Centaur's ease during crafting, and then lit the hanging lamps.
The memory came of my dam's elder brother, Helios, watching me with a barely detectable pride as I cased the kidskin leather I had chosen, more than suitable for a lady's trinket. Waiting for the leather to dry to the appropriate dampness, my memories tumbled forward. It was not unheard of before the Long Winter for Centaurs who had been set on the path of a warrior to have a secondary training or to take up a craft to pass the time. After the Long Winter, though, after Jadis' first purge of the older generation, my father, the remaining elders, and the other Centaur herd leaders realized they would have to change many of their long-held traditions to protect the younger generations. The craft of a warrior was outlawed and practiced in secret or as 'hunting' skills. My sire shaped me to be a warrior and leader but he also saw to it that I learned a craft.
Under my uncle's watchful eye, I spent fifteen years learning leatherwork whenever I was not at my studies or training under my sire. Helios had set exacting standards but he was fair. Recalling one of his most frequent admonishments to a rather restless Centaur colt, I found the sketch I had originally outlined then copied it again. This time I made it with similar strokes to what I would do with the swivel knife, hoping to remind my fingers how to use the tool before I practiced on a smaller piece of cased leather. Checking the kidskin revealed it was still too wet and I returned to the practice piece, reforming a familiarity with the delicate tools.
My thoughts wandered more than once, not to Alambiel but back to my uncle. Killed during a raid for the sole crime of daring to stop one of Jadis' Minoboars from burning a house with a new mother and foal still inside, Jadis had had her Wolves tear him apart and then she personally burned down the house with mother and child inside. After a season of schooling and still adhering to my uncle's craft, my sire apprenticed me to Ardon's sire. Cephas focused my training on the artisan portions of metalworking, shaping the silver and gold and bronze into various trinkets, and allowed me to continue at leatherworking.
I shook my head. When the kidskin felt cool and like firm, wet clay, I set to work. The bold cuts of the swivel knife offered another distraction from many memories. So much care and concentration was needed to ensure the pattern was not marred from the outset. Finishing the cuts, I studied the pattern and nodded. It looked no worse than the last time I had crafted anything…a little under eleven years ago.
Forcing my thoughts to focus on my task, I proceeded to stamp the pattern. It was slow work as I did not dare to move at the faster rate I once used. This was one design I did not want to mar in even the smallest way.
The lamps had burned low and the sun was rising by the time I set the tools down and examined the finished piece. I had chosen not to dye it nor to mold it. It was meant for adornment, not armament, after all. And now it was time I found my lady.
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I was late for training. It's sad when that's my first thought upon waking to a knock. Brushing at the wrinkles on my dress and hoping there weren't any impressions on the side of my face as I staggered from my bedroom to the main doors, I really hoped it wasn't Oreius on the other side. Opening the door just a crack, I peeked out…it was Oreius. "Did I miss training?"
He gave me an amused look. "You are an hour late." His hand stopped the door when I tried to close it. "However, I thought you might join me for breakfast."
I opened the door further. "No training?"
"We can train longer tomorrow."
"Why is that your compromise? Never mind, don't answer that, I'll take it." I eyed him, considering if I should check for a fever, but it's not as though he was suggesting a true day off. If he ever did that, I'd have to check for a fever…or a concussion. Besides, we hadn't had a real breakfast date since news got around that we were courting. "Give me just one minute."
Ducking back inside, I scanned the room for my boots, but they seemed to have disappeared on me…again. I do wonder if Tuulea is putting Leeta up to it. Opting to forego shoes, I decided I could leave the tendrils that had escaped my braid as they were (Oreius liked it anyway) and paused only to rub at the red impression from my thumb ring currently decorating my right cheek. I was still rubbing at my cheek when I rejoined Oreius.
He captured my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. I grinned as we walked down the halls hand in hand. We only had to stop once as Remus and Romulus Greyback went racing by with…frogs clasped firmly in their mouths. I looked up at Oreius. "They're still trying to help Edmund recover from his rash."
Oreius chuckled. "And do frogs actually have some healing use?"
"Well, they think they do." I shook my head at the memory of Alithia's exasperation. "Although, I think they're going to get in trouble with Alithia soon…not to mention Mrs. Bridgewater and the rest of the housekeeping staff."
He had picked one of the smaller balconies overlooking the Eastern Sea and breakfast was waiting along with my special coffee blend. I smiled over my shoulder at him. But, for some reason, Oreius looked a little, dare I say, nervous. He cleared his throat and gestured to the table. "Alambiel, there's something I want to give you."
Picking up the long box resting on the plate he indicated, I opened the lid. A tooled leather wristlet lay inside. It was roughly eight inches long and about an inch wide save for the two inches in the center, which formed an oval centerpiece about two inches wide. The centerpiece had an intricate pattern: First, a stylized sunburst then within its center was a forget-me-not and within its center was a stylized star, Alambil, Lady of Peace. My breath caught when I spotted the 'A' formed by small decorative cuts in the very center of the star. Snowdrops and forget-me-nots formed the border and then trailed down until the leather straps ended in the ties.
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I studied Alambiel's face as her finger brushed over the pattern. She looked up at me. "This is beautiful."
"I had hoped it would please you. The pattern turned out clearer than I thought it might."
She looked down at the wristlet then looked up sharply, an unidentifiable emotion shining in her blue eyes. Her lips parted slightly before she stepped closer to me, still carrying the open box. "You made this?"
Suddenly feeling as nervous as if I were still a young apprentice, I nodded. Alambiel smiled brightly then rose on her toes to wrap an arm around my neck as she kissed me. Then she whispered in my ear, "That makes it even more precious. Thank you, Oreius."
Alambiel wasted no time in acquiring my assistance in tying the wristlet on her right wrist (even though she could have done it on her own). As she poured herself coffee, I was pleased to see how happy she looked. Alambiel smiled at me over her steaming coffee. "I thought you said you indulging in crafting was absurd."
"No," I countered. "You asked me if I indulged in whittling. That was absurd. I used to spend my evenings either tooling leather or metalworking."
"But, not anymore?" Alambiel tilted her head slightly as she set her coffee down.
I smiled as I reached across the table to take her hand. "No time and no motivation to make the time. Until now." Her blush was most satisfactory. Perhaps I should make the time to fashion her another trinket, metalworking this time I think.
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A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, I have no personal experience with leatherworking or leather carving beyond what I researched, if a detail is wrong, I apologize. And obviously, I have really missed writing some good KnockOut fluff. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.