Toasted Cheese
Words are only painted fire; a look is the fire itself.
~ Mark Twain
"I feel like such an idiot," Gwendolyn berated herself as she walked, one hand on Dunbar's withers, "First sight of blood and 'kerplop' down I am on the floor. I find it highly unpleasant."
"It's a perfectly natural thing to do," Colin said, glancing at her. "I'm scared of frogs."
Gwendolyn gave him a scathing glance, "No, you're not."
"Well…no, you're right."
After about half an hour of lying in the mud, Gwendolyn had started to recover. Walking helped clear her head and she walked, stumbling every few steps. Aravis was feeling decidedly worse, her head ached beyond belief and when Gwendolyn had gathered enough courage to look at her again, she had diagnosed her with a concussion. Aravis rode in agony, her head bent, wishing with all her heart that they would be there soon. Tears poured down her face, half in pain and half in grief over her horse.
'There' of course was Prince Corin's house. Colin had declared that the prince wouldn't mind in the least and he led the way, carefully taking the longer route. He very much doubted Aravis wanted to see the death her beloved horse had suffered and he was quite sure Gwendolyn would be swooning again if she did.
The clouds were still heavy above them, but sunlight was streaming through in places as if a great person had taken a knife and sliced the sky to let it through. Dunbar walked with his head up, the terror of the storm forgotten. Now as they walked, they came to where the trees were still standing, tall and mighty, yet not so mighty as they seemed in the path of a tornado. Afternoon had come and gone, Gwendolyn realized. They were well advanced on evening.
The road took a turn and a moment later they were stopping at a pair of wrought iron gates, tall as Colin and taller still. Colin pulled a large iron key out of his pocket and presently they were going down a shaded, graveled lane.
"Did Prince Corin give that to you?" Gwendolyn wondered.
"What?"
"The key?"
"Oh that?" Colin shrugged, "I filched it when he wasn't looking."
Gwendolyn heard Aravis snicker.
The storm had torn leaves from the trees that surrounded them and they lay on the road, undersides silver in the fading light. Flickering between the gray trunks, Gwendolyn had a glimpse of the house ahead, lights lit against the gathering gloom. It was a lovely place, red stone, noble, yet somehow homely all at once with ivy growing heavy between tall windows.
They passed sculpted bushes and shady walkways and at last, Colin brought Dunbar to a halt before the front door just as it burst open. An old lady stood on the doorstep waving frantically. At the sight of her, Colin shoved Dunbar's reins into Gwendolyn's hands and ran to meet her. The old lady grabbed him and sent him staggering and a great deal of talking seemed to go on before the Colin flashed a grin and returned.
"Follow me," he said to Gwendolyn as he lifted Aravis down from the horse and carried her up the wide marble steps that lead to the front entrance. Gwendolyn found herself in an entrance hall, black and white marble underfoot. She followed Colin through a side door and a moment later, he was laying Aravis down on a brocaded couch, heedless of the mud.
"Oh my poor, poor duckling!" the old lady cooed.
"Maybe something to drink?" Colin turned to the lady, then glanced over his shoulder, "Tea, Aravis?"
"I'd like that," Aravis said, closing her eyes.
"She's Corin's house keeper," Colin said in a loud whisper as the old lady left the room, "Lady Gertrude."
"Oh."
"She thinks I'm younger than I am," Colin continued, "She's convinced I still haven't grown up."
"Imagine," Gwendolyn nodded. "Who could possibly think a thing like that?"
Colin stared at her for a moment, then turned away to hide the grin that was constantly leaping to his face.
"For some reason no one takes me seriously," he said.
"That's terrible," Gwendolyn said, her eyes like saucers.
Colin took the poker and stirred up the embers in the fireplace, then dropped another log or two on the andirons. The flames licked over them happily, giving the grand, beautiful room a homely look as the darkness closed to the edge of the firelight.
"Tea, bread and cheese," Lady Gertrude had returned with a tray, closing the door expertly with a foot. She winked, "I know how much you like toasted cheese, Master Colin."
"Thank you madam," Colin said, bowing as he took the tray, "This is most kind of you."
"And when do you want supper, sir?" Lady Gertrude asked.
"When will it be ready?"
"We weren't exactly expecting you, sir," Lady Gertrude said apologetically, "I'm afraid it won't be ready for a bit. I thought perhaps Princess Aravis would be able to drink some soup?"
"Excellent idea," Colin said with a grin. "Soup sound good, Aravis?"
Aravis murmured something.
"She likes the idea," Colin said.
"Very good, sir."
"Let's get at this cheese," Colin said.
Colin pushed Aravis' couch closer to the fire and for the next half hour, Colin toasted cheese and bread and they burnt fingers and tongues trying to eat it. Colin told jokes at the same rate he breathed until Aravis begged him to stop. Laughing made her head throb.
Gwendolyn sat cross-legged by the fire, her head against the couch Aravis laid on. Suddenly she was very tired and with shock she realized that the memories of that morning were as vague as if they had happened last week. She glanced up at Aravis and saw the dark, blue-black bruise on her forehead and her closed eyes. Colin glanced up too and Gwendolyn saw a shadow of worry pass over his face.
"What are you thinking about, Aravis?" he asked, his voice light.
"Calormen," Aravis said, crossing her hands, her eyes still closed, "I used to toast cheese with my brothers just when the moon was sliding up the sky and the night hawks were hunting. We could hear the jackals and the whisper of the palms; my brother, Horeb, would play his little ivory pipe and I would sing…haunting songs. Calormen songs are the most haunting songs I've ever heard."
There was silence and their minds wandered. A sudden blast of warm air touched Aravis's face and for one moment she was standing on the desert, the rolling desert, where the golden dunes rose like a sea, frozen yet ever changing as the clouds above. The sun burned like the eye of Tash and the sky burned like the sun. She could see Horeb, shrouded in white, his hawk on his wrist as he swung astride his horse, his feathered, long legged hound pacing behind like a gazelle.
Then she was back in the darkened room, looking down at two dark shadows before the fire where Corin and Gianna sat.
The door of the room opened a crack and yellow light streamed through.
"Supper is served," Lady Gertrude's pleasant voice announced.
~o*o~
For such an overcast day, the night was clear as glass. The wind had come and chased the clouds away and now the face of the moon was unshrouded in the heavens, looking down on a silver washed world. Gwendolyn paused to glance out the window on the landing and her breath was swept away as she looked up into the limitless heavens and saw the stars; trillions of them and as beautiful and numerous as wheat in the air at a threshing floor.
"Lady Gianna?"
Gwendolyn looked up the stair where Lady Gertrude stood waiting for her, candle in hand.
"Sorry," Gwendolyn took the stairs two at a time to catch up with her, then followed at a more sedate pace.
"This is the room Lord Colin wanted you in," Lady Gertrude said at the top of the stairs, opening a door. "My room is at the end of the hall. Don't hesitate to come if you need anything."
"Thanks much," Gwendolyn said, taking the candle the housekeeper handed her.
The room was a large one and pleasant. She had been half afraid it would be drafty with strange flickering shadows in the corner, but it was not so large that the candle did not light all of it. A fire all ready burned on the hearth and a night dress was laid out for her on a chair. Quickly she undressed and slipped into it, then turned to the bed.
Perhaps it was the way the coverlet was wrinkled that made her pause. Was that a lump? She pulled back the cover carefully and leaned closer when she saw something small and dark huddled on the sheet. At the sight of the light it sank lower, then made a feeble hop. Gwendolyn laughed and deftly caught it.
The frog felt cool on her palm as she held it up and watched its little throat flutter in the candlelight.
"Poor little thing!" she whispered. "Did you blow in with the tornado?"
In the washing room, there was a large copper bathtub and a wash stand. On the counter was a small wooden box with a cover filled with bars of lavender scented soup. She emptied it out and poured water over a hand towel to line the bottom. Her preparations complete, she put the frog in his new home.
"Sleep tight, froggy," she said, "I know I will."
A/N: Hopefully this chapter was a little brighter than the last. There are only two left to go; I'm sure you are all breathing sighs of relief :)
I'm curious, why did you start reading this story? Was it because of the summery? or the picture? or both? It couldn't have been our reputation... ;)
~Psyche
PS: We have a poll on our profile... interested in knowing what you think.
