Timeless by SheWalksWithRavens
A/N: Wow. So I really wasn't expecting to already have nine reviews when I just posted it late last night. I guess that it goes to show, that you never know. Thank you to Katemary77, the sarahnater, jenni, Sekhmet88, Essenceofcrazy, Daydream1, hunt4max, KnightMaiden and of course Mistaken Love (glad you liked your cameo.) The only thing I can think of since you all seemed to enjoy it, is that I will continue it. I just made more work for myself now because that means I'm juggling three stories on plus a screenplay that I'm doing with friends. Phew... Anyway, I have no clear plan for this story, so I'm just going to let it go where it goes. To answer a few questions, yes you may see a few familiar knights lurking about, and no Gareth is not a reference to a King Arthur legend, he comes strictly from my imagination. Thank you all again, and please review afterwards.
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They sat there in a comfortable silence until darkness claimed the sky. Tristan was the first to jump back down from the wall, landing perfectly and turned to look up at Isolde. She had positioned herself at the edge of the wall so that way she could follow suit, but Tristan surprised her by reaching up and grasping her at the hips, helping her down. Isolde felt comfortable in this stranger's arms, his scent of his cologne filling her nose as she steadied herself on his chest.
"Thank you." Isolde said softly while looking up at him through her thick lashes.
He didn't respond but inclined his head to her. Isolde realized that Tristan wasn't a man to waste himself with words when a simple action could convey the same meaning after having known him for only an hour. She put her hand out for him to shake to say goodbye, but he took it in his own, brought it to his lips and kissed it softly. Tristan made a mental note to think his womanizing friend later for that move.
Isolde couldn't help but smile to herself as she walked away from him back to the path that would lead her up to her house. Glancing back over her shoulder she watched Tristan's back retreat in the opposite direction. No sooner had she turned back to her own path, did Tristan turn to watch her form, only a mere silhouette against the darkening sky as she climbed over the hill. The ghost of a smile played over his lips before he headed down to the side-street where he had parked his car.
When Isolde returned to her house later that evening, she could still not wipe the smile off her face. Pushing open the front door, she didn't think twice about who may still be in the house or not. Thankfully, Vincent had left after the dinner fiasco. But unfortunately, her family still lurked there.
"Isolde! Where the hell have you been? Your mother's been worried sick!" Her father said sternly.
Isolde rolled her eyes at him and took off her jacket placing it on the back of an arm chair.
"I am twenty-five years old, I didn't think I had to clearly everything I did with you. And we both know mother doesn't care about me, she cares that I embarrassed her in front of the precious Gareth and Vincent." Isolde spat.
"Isolde, I admit inviting Vincent without your consent, was rather rash and inconsiderate to you. But he has changed otherwise I would never have agreed to it. But don't ever accuse your mother about not caring about you. Sure she may not show it, but she loves you." Her father had disappointment in his eyes and that hurt Isolde more than his words.
"Dad, I didn't mean..." She started but he held up a hand.
"Don't say it to me...tell your Mother. She's upstairs in the bedroom." He said pointing to the staircase.
Isolde took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, stopping at her parent's room open door to knock a few times on the frame. Her mother sat at her vanity, running a brush through her hair and glanced at Isolde through the mirror.
"Mum...look I'm sorry that I ran off like that." Isolde said softly before walking up to her mother and taking the brush from her and starting to brush the long strands herself.
"Isolde...I just want you to get married, settle down, have children. The Lord knows I'd like to be a Grandmother before I die. Vincent is a good man, he loves you, he always has. You know that he's never even dated since you broke it off with him? He's not entirely without appeal, that poor waitress down at Bors' and Vanora's pub, has been making eyes at him for the past year and he still hasn't given her the time of day. Sweetie... for me please just have dinner with him, that's all I ask. Give him a chance, you won't regret it." Her mother reached up and squeezed Isolde's hand.
"Fine...just one dinner. And its gonna be in a very, very public place." Isolde warned.
"Of course sweetheart, whatever you want."
Isolde finished brushing her mother's hair before leaving to return to her own room. When she passed by Bridget's room she was surprised to find Bridget was alone in it. Isolde sat down next to her sister and playfully hit her with one of the many throw pillows.
"Oy, watch it. If you weren't my favorite sister, I'd duff you up." Bridget replied with a smile.
"I'm your only sister, you dolt...Want to tell me where Prince Charming ran off to?" Isolde said getting straight to the point.
"He had to return to London. Apparently there is this new case about someone coming forward to claim a very large Estate. But that's alright, cause now it means I get to spend some time with my family." Bridget said with a forced smile.
"Well, a large case is good. I mean, he'll make a lot of money on it, right?" Isolde said trying to stay positive.
"Right... So where did you disappear off to tonight?" Bridget said changing the subject.
"I went down to the Wall to think a bit." Isolde didn't realize that her face had lit up when she thought about Tristan.
"Isolde, don't get me wrong here. But if a Wall has the ability to make you glow, you've been without a man for far too long..." Bridget watched as Isolde's cheeks turned pink at the mention of a man.
"Oy, you do have a bloke then? Who is he?" Bridget said channeling the energy of a school girl.
"I don't have anyone... But his name is Tristan." Isolde said softly.
"I don't know any Tristans, but oh for Pete's sake...So when are you seeing him again?" Bridget asked taking Isolde from her reverie.
"How about never?"
"Never? What do you mean never? Isolde Pritchard you better see him again. If he can make you glow like this just from talking...I mean...think of the possibilities!" Bridget said grasping her by the shoulders.
"First of... you are entirely pervy. Second, I don't know how to get in touch with him. And who's to say he'd ever want to see me again? I'm not you Bridg, boys don't have competitions to kiss my feet." Isolde looked down her eyes full of sadness.
"Have I taught you nothing? When you meet a man who is utterly incredible, you get his phone number, you give him yours and you find out his place of employment. For heaven's sakes, I mean, Isolde you can't just let things pass you by." Bridget had gone into a full on rant and it was slightly scary.
"Look, I don't have time for any Tristans. I am never going to see him again, besides Mum is making me have dinner with Vincent." Isolde said sorrowfully.
"Oh no! She didn't! And you agreed to it?" Bridget said shocked.
Isolde stood up and ran her hands through her hair in frustration as she looked back at her younger sister. Bridget would never, ever understand Isolde. Glancing around she looked at a picture on her sister's mirror. It was from Guy Fawke's night, they had gone to a party where the theme was space-age tarts. Needless to say the clothing or lack-there-of left something to be desired.
"I can't believe you still have this."
"Please, that's like my favorite picture I have of you." Bridget said coming up to look at it.
"But I look like a drunken whore..." Isolde protested.
"I know." Bridget said with a smile.
Isolde slapped her sister's arm and walked out across the hall to her own bedroom.
"Goodnight, Bridget." Isolde said with some finality as she shut her door.
"Night" Bridget called from across the hall.
Isolde changed into her pajamas, and removed her contact lenses before stretching out her limbs. Her entire body was exhausted having had an early start that morning. But she knew she would never be able to go to sleep until she wrote all about today in her journal. Isolde went through a journal a month, and had been keeping journals since she was ten. Needless to say, an entire trunk at her flat in London was full of the things. But she was a big believer in keeping details accurate, always capturing every emotion felt at every moment, every memory close to her heart.
She pulled out a pair of cat-eyed glasses from her purse, along with her favorite ball point pen and sat cross legged on her bed as she wrote. It took her almost an hour to get down everything she wanted to say and with a resounding thump, she shut the journal and put it on her bedside table.
Lying back on the bed, she didn't even make it under the blankets before sleep took her. She had even neglected to remove her glasses, or braid her hair. But she didn't care, because she slept well in that house for the first time in years, as she thought about endlessly dark eyes hidden behind dark hair.
The next morning she woke up refreshed. She set her glasses down and had started to reach for her contacts, when she picked up her glasses again and set them firmly on her face. Isolde was determined to do everything right today, and she had no intention of wasting twenty minutes of her life attempting to get those things on to her eyes. After a quick shower, she popped downstairs and grabbed a scone from the counter. Her family had not bothered to wake up yet, and understandably so since it was only 6 in the morning on a Saturday no less.
Grabbing her jacket from the chair she had left it on, she checked to make sure her keys were still in the pocket. Feeling the familiar metal and hodgepodge of key chains in her hand, she slipped it on without a second thought and headed out to her car. She slammed the door shut, and momentarily held her scone solely in her teeth as she attempted to fit the key in the ignition. Clicking on the radio, because driving anywhere was futile without having good music to listen to, she scanned a few stations but came up with nothing worth hearing, just a bunch of sub-par pop stars who were worse than the Spice Girls in her opinion.
She reached across into the glove compartment and pulled out her cd case. She cycled through a few mix cds before she found the one she was looking for and popped it into the player. A few moments later she was met with the ridiculously catchy melody of The Proclaimers "500 Miles." Singing as she drove, especially when no one was in the car to hear how bad she actually sounded was a favorite pastime of Isolde's. She drummed her hands on the steering wheel to the beat as her head bopped back and forth.
Her destination was in the heart of town, which was normally a ten minute drive from her house. But Isolde was so caught up in the moment with her singing that she ended up driving around for close to half-an-hour before she pulled up outside her favorite coffee shop in all of Britain.
It was a small café, situated on the corner where the High St met the town square. The woman who owned it was probably dearer to Isolde than her own mother, because Elanore Sinclair always was capable of brewing the perfect cup of coffee and to Isolde, coffee was more plentiful in her body than her own blood.
It took her a few moments to park, and when she finally entered the store she inhaled deeply the rich aroma of coffee beans and freshly baked muffins. Her dark eyes sought out the greying hair of Elanore, and she seemed utterly disappointed when she didn't see the woman anywhere in sight.
With a huff she walked up to the counter and rang the small silver bell to get the man behind the counter's attention. He gave her a smile, and walked over to her, his short yet scruffy beard unfitting on his boyish face.
"Hello, what can I get for you today?"
"Hi, can I have a Hazlenut Coffee, with light cream and two sugars..wait make that three..." Isolde rattled off, looking up from her purse only when she noticed he was staring at her oddly.
"Isolde...I honestly don't think you need anymore sugar." He said seriously.
"Wait...How did you know my name...Oh my... Galahad, bloody hell you grew up!" Isolde impulsively reached across the counter and pulled him into a hug.
"Gee, had I known that you would warm up to me like that I might have said something earlier...by the way your coffee is on the house." He said with a goofy grin.
Isolde smiled back and returned her wallet to her purse before shaking her head in disbelief as she looked at him again.
"I am still having trouble processing that you are the same little boy who I used to babysit, who once ran around the house wearing his father's kilt and naught anything else, screaming 'I am William Wallace!'"
"Isolde, can you not mention things like that here?" Galahad said under his breath as some of the customers had turned to look at him.
"You know I love you," Isolde took a sip of her coffee, "And now that you've made me a perfect cup of coffee I love you even more."
"I thought I heard racket out front," Came a kind voice belonging to none other than Elanore.
The old woman came out from behind the counter and gave Isolde a firm hug. When she finally let go, she instructed Isolde to spin around in a circle which did obligingly, her long curls flowing out as she did so.
"You look wonderful sweetheart. London seems to agree with you quite well." Elanore's blue eyes twinkled at her.
"I love it there, but I miss your coffee terribly." Isolde said as she clutched the cup close.
"Well you could always move back home..." Elanore suggested playfully.
"Is that before or after I sell my soul to Satan?" Isolde joked.
"So sweetheart, how long are you here for?" Isolde took a swig of her coffee as she grew enticed by a caramel swirl apple muffin staring her down in its display case.
"Just till Monday, then I am back in London till the wedding." Elanore took the muffin out and placed it in a bag handing it to Isolde.
"But, Isolde, how am I to wine and dine you and otherwise win you to my bed if you are leaving on Monday?" Galahad joked.
"Oh, well you could shave that silly fuzz from your face for a start. Thanks for the coffee and the muffin, I'll be back in tomorrow and we'll have a proper chat." Isolde called from the doorway before exiting the shop to the tinkle of its bells.
Savoring her coffee, Isolde drove back out to the Wall to have what was in truth her second breakfast. Her stomach fluttered with the thought of seeing Tristan there again and she chastized herself for thinking about a man who she hardly knew.
Climbing up the hill she found that no one was at the Wall. Her heart sank and she hoisted herself up on to it, enjoying the warm muffin and what remained of her beverage. The wind whisked her hair back away from her face, before switching directions and giving her hair cause to fly into her mouth. Her attention was peaked however when she saw a hawk flying low above her. It surprised her by diving down low and landing just a few meters away down the length of the wall.
Breaking up her muffin, she threw a piece to the bird, who merely looked at it quizzically before taking off again. Isolde was disheartened, how could the hawk insult the amazing muffin like that? That was one of Elanore's muffins, a perfect muffin!
"She only eats meat." Came a voice from behind her.
Isolde nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized whom it belonged to. Her Tristan had come back. That was a weird concept, her Tristan. He was in actuality hardly her anything, except maybe acquaintance.
"But not even a pure carnivore can resist a caramel apple muffin. Its scientifically proven." Isolde said with a smile and broke off another piece handing it out to Tristan.
He took it from her hands with a nod of his head and popped into his mouth, his tongue darting out to catch the crumbs on his lips. Isolde was drawn to this action, and didn't realize that he saw her staring.
"You are right. I don't know what that bird was thinking." He answered before hopping up next to her and taking more of her muffin.
"Whoa, whoa. Don't go eating all of my muffin!" Isolde said covering the precious item with mock offense while her eyes twinkled with amusement.
"I wouldn't think of doing so, M'Lady." Tristan said putting on a chivalrous tone.
"And good Sir, what would you think of doing?" Isolde said playing along.
"Well, first I would find myself a horse, then I would slay a great dragon hoping against hope that my act of bravery would win me the muffin." Tristan kept a face of perfect seriousness.
All Isolde could think about was that he should most certainly play poker, as no one would ever be able to read him.
"Can you even ride?" Isolde said breaking their charade.
"I can actually." He replied as he stole another piece of muffin, but Isolde didn't seem to mind.
"Really? That surprises me."
"And why is that surprising?" Tristan said, his tongue darting out again and once again distracting Isolde.
"I honestly don't know. I felt like being difficult." She replied honestly offering him the last piece of muffin which he declined.
"Can I ask you a question?" Isolde said after a few moments of silence had passed between them.
"Hmm?"
"This is a pretty small town, and though I've been gone for a little while. I have never seen you in my life. So what brings you all the way to the lake country?"
Tristan took a moment in answering, his brown eyes fixed upon hers with an intensity that she had never known. It was almost like he was reading her, analyzing every glance, every breath to see if their was honesty in them.
"Business actually...I am here on behalf of an old friend. He sent me ahead to scout out some property he was interested in." Tristan answered.
"Oh.." Isolde said slightly disappointed.
Had it been a permanent move to this sad town, she would have found a reason to visit her parents much more often. He seemed to notice the change in her but she played it off with a quick smile.
"Well, I hope that you enjoy your stay here in Cumbria." Isolde said shortly before hopping down from her perch.
She had begun to walk back to her car, when Tristan's voice halted her.
"Isolde...Will you meet me here tomorrow?" His voice was so calm but she could detect a hint of nervousness behind it.
"I..uh...erm...shouldn't...oh piss it." She stammered.
"What did you say?" He said confused by her mutterings.
"I said what time?"
"Whenever you wish it."
"Midnight?" She offered with a quirk of her brow.
"Isn't that a trifle bit late?"
"Only if you don't see the fun in it. Have you no sense of adventure?" She said smirking.
"No." He said smiling broadly for the first time.
"Ha! Goodbye, Tristan." She called over her shoulder.
Isolde wanted to burst into a thousand squeals, giggle with her face in a pillow and spin around until she grew dizzy. What on earth had she gotten herself into?
