Second chapter if anyone wants to know!!!!! This is actually Archer of Freedoms sister's story...lol. She is kind enough to let me use her membership cuz im too paranoid to have my own...
AN: Hey. i know you all find author's notes boring but deal with it. I am writing cuz i know that so far not much has happened, but that is going to change, i know this is also probably a really unorthodox story seeing as how it has nothing to do with any of Tamora's characters, but thats the reason why this site was put up, for creative minds to wrk off each other and their passions. So please stick hrough the story. i will try my hardest not to make it crappy... I promise over my horse's grave... okay?
Thanks,
Natalie
Disclaimer: I don't own the song Walking In the Air by Chloe/Celtic Women...but i love them! I also don't own any ideas that may have come from different stories by Tamora Pierce.
Now on with the story...
Chapter 2.
Philip and Mairèad ended their long afternoon walk at the Golden Griffin, a well known inn on the outskirts of the city Orinoco. They had met up with Vassily earlier on; and she dismissed him, instructing him to tell her mother she would be dining out tonight and not to worry. Then they rode their separate ways, the guardsmen to the great, stone castle perched high on the top of the hill, and with Philip and her making their way down the streets to the cozy tavern.
As they entered, they were greeted by the loud boisterous voices of men singing a drinking song. The bard was sitting by the huge fireplace at the end of the hall, surrounded by tables and chairs which were occupied an assortment of people. There were the serving maids, some trying to cater to the different needs that were being shouted out loudly, and the less respectable women were perched on a lap. Some were singing right along with the music creating harmony and others were just simply there to flirt.
Mairèad quickly maneuvered around the tables to a quiet table on the side of the hall against the wall. The pulled seats up and sat resting.
Philip caught the attention of a maid at the bar. She looked him up and down then glanced at Mairèad to make sure they weren't together. When she was satisfied, she sauntered over, looking very much like a cat on the prowl.
"What'll it be?" the women addressed them, directing the question purposely at Philip. He gestured to Mairèad to go first. "Cider will do nicely, thank you." She said. "I will have some of the newly brewed ale every man seems to be enjoying at the moment." Philip gestured amused to the group, which now had fallen silent, to hear a ballad performed by the bard. "Right away," the women purred, and brushed past him letting her hands linger on his shoulder.
"By now I should be used to it, but seriously, do you need to lead her on?" Mairèad remarked. "Her, you're lucky I haven't put my full charm on, otherwise their would be quite a few women over here." Philip countered, a hidden threat masked behind laughter.
Just then, the women returned setting a flagon of cider in front of Mairèad, and plunking a giant tankard of ale in front of Philip, the sweet alcohol slopping over the sides onto the wooden table top.
They offered her coin, and she swiped from their hands, greedily counting them in her palm. "Thank you kindly, and if you be needing any more services…" she glanced meaningfully over at Philip. "I'll let you know." He promptly replied. With a satisfied grin, she walked away.
Mairèad looked around, scanning the now tearful crowd of men, listening to the tragic ballad, thinking to herself how the men will deny ever crying, claiming that it was because of the drink.
"It is a good thing nobody knows us here, or is to drunk to notice us; otherwise they would be behaving themselves and robbing us of this fine entertainment." Philip remarked loudly, she could tell that he was starting to be affected.
She ignored him, smoothing out her skirts and bobbing her head to the melody. She turned her gaze to the other side of the hall, looking at all the people enjoying their meals and occasionally singing along to the rambunctious songs.
She was suddenly pushed off her chair. "Sorry Lady, I did not see you there," a soft lilting voice spoke behind her. She turned in her chair with a huff to reprimand whoever it was that had the nerve to be so rude. She stopped short of her curt reply.
She had come face to face with a tall and lean young man. His odd topaz eyes twinkling in the dim room. He pushed a hand through his messy bronze hair, and she watched mesmerized as it fell to her chair. "Are you okay, La-" he was cut off by a very loud Philip. "Get your filthy hands off her, donchya know who yer talkin' to? It's the Lady Mairèad, thaz who…" his speech becoming more and more slurred with each word he spoke. "My apologies', madam, I did not know I was addressing my betters…" he said, letting the sentence run off purposely as he turned, his gaze hardening, and strode away.
"Philip, gods bless it, I hope you have a bad hangover tomorrow. Now we won't have any peace!" Mairèad said exasperated.
She noticed the room had become silent. "What!?" she yelled, losing her calm, and letting her true self take over.
"Milady," a man slurred, 'a merchant by the looks of his rich but shabby clothes' she thought. "Yes?" she said impatiently. "We was wunderin', ya'know, me'n and the fellas, we was thinkin' maybe you could sing us a ditty or sumtin', we heard all 'bout yer pretty voice…" the men all murmured their agreement.
She looked around at all the hopeful faces, and then glanced at Philip. He nodded enthusiastically. "Yah, Mairèad, sing as a real pretty song, one of yer pretty imagining songs!" She sighed, and started to say no, but was cut short by a taunting, beautiful voice. "Yes, Lady, by all means, grace us with your wondrous voice," he sarcastically added, distaste dripping from his voice, "or are you too good for us, or could it be you're scared of us common people?" It was a flat out challenge.
The young man, as she sized him up and own, was no doubt rogue, definitely a dishonest, untrustworthy man. He was dressed all in black leather, and she could count numerous daggers and pouches that hung from a belt peaking out from beneath his cape. Or maybe he is an assassin; those daggers looked sharp and menacing. Nothing she couldn't handle, she assured herself.
She glared at him, and stood from her chair, making her way to the fireplace. She turned down the offered chair placed there, and turned to face her now intent and quiet audience. 'Gods, what have I gotten myself into' she thought to herself.
She took the bards' offered lyre and tuned it to the right pitch. "I will sing you the song of a dream of mine, it is something I have composed myself, and no one has heard it before you. It is my gift to this fine tavern and its equally fine people." She said, letting her voice carry throughout the hall to its darkest corners. Then she plucked the first note and began to sing softly…
We're walking in the air; we're floating in the sky.
We're walking in the air…
We're walking in the air,
We're floating in the moonlit sky,
The people far below are sleeping as we fly.
We're holding very tight,
I'm riding in the midnight blue,
I'm finding I can fly so high above with you.
All across the world,
The villages go by like dreams,
The rivers and the hills, the forest and the streams.
She smiled, as she heard the people exclaim their wonder, she would show that confounded boy who she was, and she would proudly hold her head high in the process…
Children gaze open-mouthed,
Taken by surprise.
Nobody, down below,
Believes their eyes.
We're surfing in the air,
We're swimming in the frozen sky,
We're drifting over high, see mountains floating by.
Suddenly, swooping low,
On an ocean deep.
Rising up, a mighty monster,
From his sleep.
We're walking in the air,
We're dancing in the midnight sky,
And everyone who sees us flees us as we fly.
Mairèad finished softly, and the first thing she noticed when she looked up was that the young man, who had been so rude, had disappeared. She was deaf to the clapping and compliments that were being shouted to the high heavens. A deafening whistle caught her attention.
"You were amazing, it was just like magic, the way your voice seemed to linger and the way you wove the words together, like magic I tell you!" he shouted excitedly, trying to talk over all the noise. Mairèad only nodded her head to acknowledge that she heard him, but she was lost in her thoughts.
