Episode 3: Annoying and Cryptic, Chapter 1

"This is beautiful," mused Cassandra, running her fingers over the artfully crafted frame.

Within the frame, an illuminated manuscript displayed a dozen lines of poetry. The three verses, all carefully penned onto the vellum, each bore a colourful first letter the full height of the verse entire. Gold leaf picked out the edges of scrolling serifs. Green leaves and red berries picked out on the pale parchment gave the document a wintery feel. Their curling vines and spiked edges were echoed in the dark wooden frame to such an extent that the one could only possibly have been done to match the other. A movement behind her told Cassandra that her hearer had joined her by the frame.

"Aye, it is," nodded Flora. "'Twas an anniversary gift from my third husband. He made it himself."

"Really?" Cassandra turned to the old woman with wide eyes. "He made the whole thing, frame too?"

"You have a keen eye, child," she replied with a smile. "Aye the frame too. Not the words though: those he borrowed from another. He never was good with words of his own. Excellent at choosing the right words of others though."

"He must have been very artistic," sighed Cassandra. "Very talented."

"By that point he had had a lot of time to practise," grinned Flora, nodding at the manuscript again. "In the years he spent here, he helped restore many of the old books and scrolls that haunt our little library."

"So he was a librarian, too," laughed Cassandra.

"Who was?" Jacob asked, elbowing his way through a door with his arms full of scrolls.

Cassie looked round, her eyes brightening. "Flora's third husband," she said, taking some of the scrolls from him and helping to spread them out on the desk. "He didn't just buy her an anniversary gift, he made her one. Well, that one anyway."

Jacob followed her gaze and he walked over to the frame. He gave a short laugh and read the poem aloud.

"When I first met you I knew that I had come at last home,
Home after wandering, home after long-puzzled searching,
Home after long being wind-born, wave-tossed, night-caught,
Long being lost.

And being with you was normal and needful and natural
As sleeping or waking; and I was myself, who had never
Been wholly myself; I was walking and talking and laughing
Easily at last.

And the air was softer, and sounds were sharper,
And colours were brighter, and the sky was higher,
And length was not measured by milestones, and time was not measured by clocks...
And this end was a beginning...
And these words are the beginning of my thanks.
"

"It has been a long time since I heard someone read those words aloud," murmured Flora, watching Jacob closely. "You read them well, like you mean them."

Jacob shrugged. "I probably read more poetry than most guys these days. I know this one. Been reading it a bit myself lately," he glanced over at Cassie. "It kinda... rings a bell, you know?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes and looked down at the table, but not fast enough to hide the smile and the blush that began spreading across her cheeks. "Which, um, which anniversary was it?"

"Oh, one of the big ones," shrugged Flora, shaking her head. "It was a long time ago."

"You must have been together a long time," said Jacob, joining the two woman at the table.

"Never long enough," smiled Flora, "but enough of that. You are here for the land's history, not mine. Here, give me any scrolls you can't read and I'll translate for you."

They filed through the scrolls, passing any illegible items over to the Cailleach and dividing the rest between them. By the time they had finished perusing and taking notes from their own individual piles, Flora still had another of equal size before her.

"Go, eat," she said, waving them away. "You're no help here and more a hindrance anyway. There's broth on the stove in the kitchen. You know your way. Mhairi will be about down there at this time of day if you need anything."

They left the room, hand in hand, with another glance at the exquisitely ornate frame and its contents on the way. When they had put a good distance between them and the door, Jacob stopped. He opened a door nearby and led them into a beautifully decorated room, with tall windows overlooking the water of the sea loch. The weather had been calm for a few days here, and the water lapped peacefully by the shore, shining in the sunlight like it was strewn with diamonds.

"Here's a funny story," he began, drawing Cassie close to him by the window. "Did Flora happen to mention when her third husband made that particular gift for her?"

"No, why?" Cassandra replied, her brows knotting.

"It looks old right?" Jacob persisted.

"Well, yes," said Cassandra. "It was illuminated ink on parchment, gold leaf and all. The sort of thing you see in ancient bibles and such."

"That sort of thing, yes," Stone nodded, "but not. That poem is by A. S. J. Tessimond, a twentieth century writer. There's no way it could have been done before the nineteen twenties at the earliest! Tessimond didn't even publish a book of poetry until nineteen thirty four!"

"So what? He worked on restoring old manuscripts," Cassandra pointed out with a laugh. "He would have known all the right techniques. Maybe that's how they met and he wanted to make her something that would remind her of that too."

"Oh," Stone seemed to deflate a little. "I guess that would kind of explain it. She must have been old when they met though. I wonder how long they were married for."

"Old people are allowed to fall in love too you know," Cassie teased.

"No, I know," Jacob floundered, "I just meant... She said it was an anniversary present, for one of the big anniversaries. Well, that's what? Twenty five years? Forty? Fifty? If she was then as she is now..."

"So her husband probably lived to a ripe old age," laughed Cassie. "So what? Did you actually drag me in here to gossip about our host's love life? She's nearly a thousand years old: it's gonna take you a while!"

"No, I," Jacob started, looking about him as if searching the room for words. "I didn't drag you in here to talk about that. I didn't... This whole conversation has just not gone the way I planned, at all. You do realise that?"

Cassie giggle and pulled a face that answered clearly in the affirmative.

"I just," he sighed and looked away again. When he looked back, he met her gaze steadily. "I just wanted to tell you that that poem back there: it's exactly how I feel about you. I was lost until I met you. I have never felt so completely myself, so at home, until we finally got together. And I don't ever want that to end. I want to spend the rest of my life making your world better. Making you smile. I want to build a home with you, Cassie. A family. I love you. You are my whole world. My everything. Will you marry me? Please?"

Cassandra's gaze dropped. The soft sound of the waves filled the expanding silence. She took in a long deep breath and let it escape slowly from her lips.

"Cassie?" Jacob said softly.

"No," she replied, not looking up. "I know we haven't really talked about this, and maybe we should have, but no. I don't want to get married. I love you, I do, but I just don't want to get married. To anyone. I..."

"I don't understand," said Jacob, his voice quiet and raw. "I thought..."

"You thought because we did a spell that said we were true loves, we would settle down, get married and raise a brood of children in a little house with a white picket fence and we would all live happily ever after."

"No, I..." he began.

"I don't want the white picket fence, Jacob," she continued. "I don't see the point in a piece of paper that proves we love each other. We know we love each other. Why do we need a huge fuss to tell a ton of people we hardly ever see will probably never see much more of ever again that we love each other. Everyone that really matters already knows, at least on my side. I just... I just don't see what's wrong with the way things are? You spend most of your time at my place anyway. Why not just move in? It makes more sense than spending hours of planning and buckets of stress and ridiculous quantities of money planning an event that might not even happen if we don't also manage to save the world while planning it. Probably several times!"

He stepped away from her, one hand running thoughtfully over his chin and his eyes downcast. She moved towards him, but stopped at a gesture from him. "No," he said. "I just... I gotta think about this. Let things settle."

Cassandra watched him turn and leave the room. Only once the door swung shut behind him did the panic start to rise again. She sat down on the windowsill and focussed on controlling her breathing. The sough of the waves painted gentle, soothing patterns on her eyelids. Gradually, her breathing returned to normal, following the constant rhythm of the waves. Only then did she let the tears begin to fall.