How Sweet the Rain
Chapter 1
The man sat patiently in complete silence, just below the brow of a small incline, above a tiny stream that ambled its way gently through the lush trees and forest green that embraced its small banks on either side. He perched comfortably on a slight mossy mound, hidden from view by the tall ferns which, fortunately for him, were now in their full burst of life.
From this most convenient spot, he was able to see the small clearing alongside the stream which opened out from the mouth of the forest track which he believed, led back to that small village that lay to the south of the fort.
He could smell the rain in the air as he lifted his head to the sky and breathed in deeply.
'Would she still come?' He thought. Then the memory of the first time he had seen her flashed before him and he smiled to himself. Of course she would…….
He had been returning on foot across the very brow top where he now sat. Leisurely, but without a sound he had trod the ground, content with his catch of a half dozen hares that swung from his belt in rhythm with his silent strides. He loved to hunt; it kept him sharp and tuned his shrewd, primal senses. Each and every kill he took with his bow. No snares or traps for this hunter. His skill as both archer and swordsman was without comparison and in the more peaceful times, he would often set off alone amongst the nearby woodlands, in search of prey on which to practice his art.
It was on this day that he had happened upon the woman he now waited for. The rain had been steadily falling for a half hour or more but the air was thick and warm, the heat of which had conjured an almost magical mist to rise from the forest floor. The hunter had thought to return back to the fortress after the mornings kill but instead, with the onset of the welcome shower, he had decided against it.
He loved the rain. He loved to feel the sweet droplets pattering gently upon his upturned face. He loved to hear the sound of rain drumming out its song upon the leaves and the ground. But most of all, he loved the smell of the lush green forest after a downpour. It smelt bursting with life. It was as if all around had been reborn, so fresh and dazzling and along with it, himself. It was in these moments he truly felt invigorated and alive. These moments - and when, upon the battlefield he took another's life. Such sweet satisfaction it was to him to watch the flame of life flicker and die from within the enemy's eyes. Each death at his hand, a reminder how alive he truly was. He lived to feel the rain upon his face and he lived to kill.
He had heard her gentle laughter first. His keen ear instantly drew him to the sound. Intrigued slightly, he had moved silently towards it, taking care not to draw attention to his presence.
His eyes fell upon a woman, face and arms raised towards the sky, her eyes closed, her mouth opening and closing as she tasted the cool sweetness of the rain that fell. She gave out a gentle laugh once again. as she spun round on her toes and smoothed down the length of her sodden tawny locks thatclung looselyaround her smiling face.
She was alone, he sensed that in an instant and to his surprise he found her child-like display amused him. Even more so, as she no doubt believed herself to be completely alone and unjudged by those who might disparage her innocent pleasure.
He continued secretlyto watch the woman from his place between two elderly oaks, not wanting to encroach upon her private joy. He thought, several times, to continue on his journey but found himself curiously captivated
Before he had realised it, he had settled himself down to observe her in more comfort. Bewilderingly, there he was, hiding amongst the forest flora, witnessing a stranger's most clandestine behaviour. He hadn't meant to spy; and anyhow, he didn't consider it spying, by the Gods! No, he was just watching, that was all. He meant her no harm. It was just that he found her intriguing & he supposed to himself that, she was quite pleasing to the eye - if only in a simple, peasant type way.
But then, as the rain eased away, she had stopped her foolery and set to her task. The hunter had watched as she sat herself down on the bank of the stream and prepared to launder the pile of linen and clothes that lay there. He had unknowingly held his breath as he saw her hitch up her skirt, revealing the length of her long white legs that parted wide around a large rock that lay between them and thus she began to scrub the now soaked garments, clean upon it.
He watched, still holding the breath in his lungs, as the water from the stream trickled deliciously down her legs. The light glistened and bounced upon the droplets as they meandered their way down the length of the woman's thighs. He had begun to feel a familiar stirring and he swallowed deeply as thoughts of being between those wet and inviting thighs sprang unsurprisingly into his head. A murmur began to rise in his throat when suddenly he thought, 'What in hell's name, am I doing!'
He was not a man to be creeping around in the undergrowth, sneaking looks at innocent women like some depraved degenerate. He had felt a slight stab of shame at his own uncouth behaviour and decided to leave quickly, while he still had the will…..
That had been two weeks past. Against his own better judgement and morals, (which, if he were honest to himself, were not many), he had returned to the place where he was now with hopes that he might see her again. She had not disappointed the hunter. She was there on every occasion.
He told himself, the first time he ventured back, that he was returning merely out curiosity and that maybe, if he had found her there, then he would perhaps make her acquaintance.
But the hunter was rarely truthful unto himself where his emotions were concerned. She more than intrigued him and never yet had he made his presence known to her. Instead he would watch her, quite spellbound. Many times she would sing quietly away to herself. He heard her gentle laughter often as she worked tirelessly away and he wondered what thoughts swept through her mind to make her smile so. Was it thoughts of happy times past perhaps? Or maybe memories of a lover's kiss? That thought peculiarly, the hunter found most irritating and he found himself wishing it were thoughts of him that painted such a smile upon the woman's face. She was so full of life, and it was this shimmering light that held him captive.
He longed to speak to her but could find no conversation to offer. He had a great many skills but polite banter was not one of them. He had always been a man of few words. A natural consequence of the lonely life he led these past years. So, for now he had to content himself with admiring her from a distance.
But on this day, his dilemma was taken from out of his control with the unforeseen help from a familiar friend.
It had been as if the bird knew his quandary and had set in motion her plan of resolve. The hunter's attention was captured by the sight of his hawk swooping down from the now clearing sky. She perched effortlessly on a low hanging branch that stretched across the stream in front of the woman - giving a short cry as she did so.
"Ohhhh!" the woman exclaimed, as startled, she fell back on her heels and throwing back her hands behind her to steady the fall. Keeping quite still, she regarded her unexpected visitor wide-eyed & mouth agape.
The hawk simply shuffled from one leg to the other, gripping the precarious branch with her expert talons. When she was content with her perch, she squawked once more and ruffled her tawny plumage, her eyes all the time trained on the woman in front of her.
The woman nervously began to push herself backwards with her heels. She was well aware of what dangerous creatures these birds could be and never had she been so close before. The hawk squawked once more, causing another startled cry from the woman, in reply.
"Do not fear, she won't hurt you"
The woman's head shot round in the direction of the deep voice that spoke from out of nowhere. There stood, not three feet behind her, the hunter. She was momentarily lost for words. She had heard no approach and bewildered; she wondered where this rather unruly and dishevelled looking stranger had appeared from.
The man gave out a sharp whistle and the hawk instantly took flight. With just a single flap of her wings, she glided gracefully across and landed upon his outstretched hand in total silence.
The woman, still sat upon the ground, gathered her wits and in an astonished tone asked.
"She belongs to you?"
The stranger caressed the bird's silky breast and with a shrug of his shoulders he replied without taking his eyes from the hawk.
"No……I think maybe it is I who belongs to her."
There was a peculiar hint to the man's voice. It was a steady, deep voice but it was the slight echo of an accent that caught her notice. He was certainly no local, she thought immediately. And besides, men in her village didn't look like him that was for sure! As he continued to pet the bird, the woman regarded the man before her more closely.
He was tall, his body slender but most visibly strong. His hair was dark, long and most unruly, adorned with irregular shabby braids, which at that moment rendered his facial features hidden from her view. He wore tan breeches & a tunic which told of hard work and toil. 'They could do with a good wash' she thought to herself with a hint of amusement. There was a quiver and bow across his back and a short blade in his belt which hung at his side. He looked as wild as the bird upon his arm. But the woman sensed keenly the unmistakable air of graceful dignity about him which seemed so much in disparity with his dishevelled looks.
She began to rise slowly from the ground, dusting her hands upon her long skirt as she did so. At the sound of her movement the man turned his head to look at her. She saw his face clearly now for the first time.
She spied immediately, two dark arrow-like markings which adorned either side of his high sculptured cheekbones and wondered curiously at their meaning. They gave him a rather dark, mysterious air which made her heartbeat quicken. Not an unpleasant sensation but confusing all the same. But it was his deep, golden brown eyes that arrested her. From beneath his shadowy brow, they danced mischievously behind his curtain of long shaggy locks. She held their gaze, entranced.
It was at that moment she had thought what a handsome looking man he was. She found herself overcome by an inexplicable attraction and quite suddenly she became aware of the tale, the quickening of her heartbeat was telling her.
Suddenly she realised she had been staring in to the stranger's eyes in complete silence for sometime. The enchantment he wove was replaced by an acute shyness and the woman felt a deep flush brush her cheeks. She quickly dropped her gaze from his and began to twist her fingers nervously. She felt embarrassed and foolish and bit her lip in annoyance. She had no idea what to say to him and wished desperately that he would continue the conversation and save her from the dilemma. The awkward moment was broken at last, when he thankfully spoke once more.
"Would you like to stroke her?" he asked quietly.
"Oh, no, no…" she answered quickly, shaking her down turned head and stumbling anxiously over her words.
"Don't be afraid" he continued with a whisper of a smile upon his lips "She won't bite, I promise"
"Oh, no, I erm…I'd rather not, I …er….." Her voice trailed away as she shuffled her feet uneasily. She felt self-conscious and utterly ridiculous in front of this man. Even the sound of his voice now brought the heat to her cheeks.
The man turned his attention once more to the companion upon his hand,
"Seems the little lady is afraid of you, girl" He said to the bird, the smile on his lips broadening.
The hawk gave a loud shrill and then effortlessly took flight, disappearing over the tree tops. He then looked back at the woman whose eyes were still concentrated upon the ground at her feet. The look she had bestowed upon him earlier and the subsequent shy blush had not gone unnoticed and he was both pleased and flattered that he had made her feel so. He narrowed his eyes playfully as he spoke once again.
"She said, it must be me you are afraid of, not her!" He spoke with gentle amusement and the woman looked up quickly.
"What!" She asked in a rather too high pitched tone. Again, their eyes met and unwillingly she found herself tumbling into those sparkling mischievous brown eyes of his once more. She struggled desperately to find something of sense to say to him when she heard him ask.
"Are you afraid of me?"
She knew he was teasing her. She was making a complete fool of herself and he must think her such a silly woman. She felt she could stay in his presence no longer and made a move to escape the humiliating situation.
"I….I don't know you…." she stuttered as she began to hastily gather up the garments that lay by the stream. The man stood quite still, his eyes following her every move.
"I'm sorry…I must go…" the woman began to back away as he regarded her silently, a bemused look twinkling in those eyes of his.
She swallowed slightly, "I shouldna be talking to you… you being a stranger an' all, tisn't right…. What would folks say...? I have to go…."
Swiftly she turned on her heel and trotted away towards the pathway that led back to her village. Her heart was beating rapidly and she could feel his gaze upon her back as she went.
"Tristan!"
The sound of his voice stopped her dead in her tracks.
"My name is Tristan."
She turned her head slowly until he was once again in her sight. He stood, a slight smile on his lips, his eyes still dancing behind his dark locks.
"Now I am no longer a stranger, no?"
She paused, taking a moment to absorb the pleasure of his enigmatic gaze once more. She felt an excited leap in her heart and with a shy smile she answered him.
"I'm Juna" with that, she turned and was gone.
Tristan listened to the sound of her retreating footsteps disappearing into the forest ahead until he could hear them no more.
He then began to feel the first gentle drops of rain fall upon his head. He smiled, welcoming their familiar touch. Turning around, he walked away in the direction of the fortress with thoughts of Juna and of the cool, refreshing rain