Part 3: Learning To Trust Again.
Maeve:
The redhead yawned and tried to stretch but found herself unable to move. Her eyes snapped open and looked around, she was tense until she saw Eyolf sleeping beside her. Memory rushed in and she groaned, wondering if he thought she was a slut for her shameless behavior the other night. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care. For the first time since she'd been forcibly ejected from the Nomad to find Dim-Dim on her own, she felt safe.
She jerked in pain, her arm felt like it was on fire. Eyolf woke and loosened his grip around her. "What is it?" He asked, then stopped to see the fresh blood clinging to her robe. "I'll get Mag."
"No, don't do that." She said, focusing on closing the wounds. Her face twisted in a grimace of pain before relaxing into a pleased smile. "What happened?"
"You don't remember?" He settled back down when it became apparent that she would be fine.
Her brow wrinkled in thought, she spoke slowly as a faint memory formed. "I remember a snowstorm and pain, then warmth and you were there."
Eyolf nodded. "There was a terrible snowstorm last night, you were caught in it. Mag cleaned and dressed your wounds, sometime this morning they started to heal and she went up to bed, thinking that you would be all right." He made his last words sound like a question.
"I am." Maeve answered. "I hate to ask this and sound ungrateful, but do you have anything I can change into?"
"Of course. My mother was about your height." He stood up, stopping when she grabbed his arm. "What is it?"
"You will come back, won't you?" Her eyes met his in the bright room.
There was a fear in her voice that startled him. Fear and Maeve had never really been hand in hand in his mind. He bent down and picked her up. "Come along. I think you'd rather get dressed in privacy anyway." He explained when he saw her surprised look.
"I would, actually." The sorceress smiled, allowing herself to enjoy someone else's strength while she pondered what she'd felt during the night. She knew exactly when it was that she'd begun to heal, it was when she'd felt a gentle touch on her soul. But only one person was capable of that. Unfortunately she had been dead for many years. Wasn't she?
No one else would have bothered with her pain. And she knew from looking at her wounds, that they weren't as bad as they should've been. So, was she alive?
"Here we are." Eyolf's chest rumbled under her ear and she looked into the room he stopped at. It was a large study filled with scrolls and boxes. He gently placed her down on the chair by the roaring fire.
She looked at him curiously, gesturing towards the fire. "Did you know we would be coming here later?"
"No. The fire helps preserve the books and helps heat the upper floor." He answered, lighting a lantern.
"Firouz would love this room." She remarked, watching him move some of the boxes. He found the chest he was looking for and carried over to her, opening it. Her breath left her in a gasp of delight. There, lying in neat piles, were clothes of various colors and richness. "They're beautiful!" She fell to her knees and began to go through them.
Eyolf watched her for a moment, smiling. "Take whatever you need. I'll go find us something to eat before it gets any later." He dusted off his hands and stood, surprised when she rose with him. "Is something wrong?"
She shook her head, her eyes were shining with gratitude. "Thank you, Eyolf, for being you."
"I'd say you're welcome, but that might sound arrogant." His hand brushed her check, moving a strand of loose hair behind her ear. They stared at each other in friendly silence before he cleared his throat nervously. "I'll go see about that meal now."
She watched him disappear around the corner and sighed, feeling disappointed that he didn't kiss her. "What's with all this lovey-doveiness? Snap out of it, Maeve, my girl. He knows you've been ill, why do you want to rush this?" She scolded and took herself firmly in hand. Choosing a light blue, loose robe and a pair of dark pants, she dressed and went down the hall, following the smell of good food.
Mag was sitting at the table and looked up when she entered the room and, studying her critically. Her heart was beating happily, before her stood a woman who was good enough for her brother. In fact, she thought sourly, she might be too good. "You look better, though half-starved. I hope you aren't one of those gals who goes into self starvation. Eyolf here was telling me that he was going into town after we eat. Why don't you join him? Some fresh air will do you good." She ignored the ferocious glare Eyolf sent her and shamelessly continued her matchmaking. "Unless, of course, you're husband would object?"
"I'm not married, nor do I have any takers." Maeve laughed, this little woman had a way about her that made it hard to be angry by her words. "And I love food." She added, sitting down and grabbed a thick slice of bread, covering it with jam.
"Then the men outside our lands are fools." Mag said, bluntly. She then turned the conversation onto more conventional lines.
Later, as Maeve and Eyolf moved through the marketplace, she watched him move through the crowds. The children loved him and men eagerly sought his counsel, why then, was he still unattached? Of course, she didn't understand the way the women here thought. But, thinking back on something he'd said earlier, she got the feeling they liked their men rough and heavy handed.
"What's the matter? Is that piece of silk evil?" Eyolf's teasing voice broke into her thoughts.
"Huh? Oh, no." She shook her head at the dealer and moved off with Eyolf to a quieter spot. "I was just thinking."
He let her go in front of him and chose their place to rest. "About what?"
"Why aren't you married?" Her face flushed instantly, her hands covered her mouth. "I'm sorry." She stammered, stopping when he laughed and took one of her hands in his.
"Maeve, I don't mind. My sister always asks me that." He paused, then continued. "Don't take this the wrong way but...I met this girl, I think her name was Maeve. She made me feel like it was okay to be gentle and kind. Unlike the women who live here, she saw some value in it. Anyway, we parted because our lives ran on different paths. But ever since I met her, I've been looking for a woman who sees value in what I am."
"Oh." She was silent, studying him. Her heart beat faster as she recognized the power a woman had over a man ran down her spine. It was her, or rather, her influence on him. Her voice was slightly breathless as she spoke. "But you didn't pressure me or take advantage last night."
"No, I didn't. That wouldn't have been fair to either of us. You were in no condition to say yes or no." His brown eyes were steady as they bored into hers. "I would have lost your respect. More importantly, I would have lost my own."
She appreciated his directness with her, it was something she was unused to. Her hand squeezed the one still holding hers, then the world exploded in a wave of pain. "BRYN!" She cried as she fell over. Eyolf pulled her limp body into his arms, worried.
One of his crew members walked over at that moment, looking concerned. He'd been watching the pair covertly from the moment they showed up, knowing that the rest of Eyolf's friends were as worried about their captain because of this unknown redhead. After all, she could be death in disguise.
Eyolf forestalled his questions by asking him to prep the Rhiannon. "We'll be going south to find Sinbad. Ask Mag to prepare supplies for a long voyage." He finished.
"When would you like to leave, sir?" Rolf asked, sending a worried look to the girl in his Captain's arms. He was a young man and had joined the crew after the "Maeve" incident. His reddish blonde hair shone like bronze in the afternoon light as he chewed his mustache thoughtfully, his dark eyes searching the crowds for other crew members.
He found a strong, steady pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. "Tomorrow, if it can be arranged. No later than the end of the week."
"Sir!" He gave a sharp salute and followed after Ulric.
"Peppy lad, isn't he?" Maeve commented, smiling weakly up at the worried face.
"He's new. So, who's Bryn?" He asked.
"An old friend." She suddenly laughed out loud, remembering what she had seen. "And I should've known that she would cheat death! That little smart aleck."
"What do you mean?" Eyolf asked, watching her glowing face. He had never seen her like this, knowing that he could easily get used to it.
Maeve sat up, running a hand through her hair. "Long story short. Once upon a time there were five girls born with a special mission to save the world. We did but lost Bryn to death. But we were wrong, she eluded death. I don't know how she did it, but she did." She said quickly as if trying to avoid the harsh pain, but she was wrong.
"There's something else, isn't there?" His eyes narrowed and studied her intently.
The sorceress was silent for so long, Eyolf was afraid she wouldn't answer him. Finally, she spoke, pain laced her every word. He flinched at the sound, though he didn't let her see it. "I was leading us in the attack and Bryn jumped into the flames when it seemed that Donestk would escape. She died. It was my fault. I, as the leader, should've made that sacrifice."
Eyolf studied the ground, wondering what he could say to relieve the guilt.
"What? No grand speech to make about how it wasn't my fault? That these things happen to everyone and I should just get over it?" She mocked, feeling exposed and uncomfortable.
"No." He said simply, meeting her gaze. "Those are words that will not mean anything to you coming from me. You need to hear them from Bryn." Then he moved and pulled her up with him. "I will tell that sometimes a leader must stand back and learn to accept their limits. We all have them, that's why we work in teams."
A soft rose colored blush lit her face. "Bryn would like you." She leaned into his warmth and raised her face to his, waiting to see what he would do. She studied his eyes, not surprised to read his uncertainty in them. Shaking her head slightly in amusement, she took the initiative and pulled his face towards hers and kissed him. It was kind of awkward and clumsy, but she put all of her feelings into it.
His mind reeled as he felt her confusion, fear, and awakened passion through that kiss. He instinctively pulled her closer to him, offering her the fear he felt and also his warmth. Then he gentled their kiss, urging her to take her time in this their first kiss.
The Rhiannon floated out of the harbor two days later, catching hold of a strong southern breeze. Maeve stood by Eyolf's side, her borrowed fur coat pulled tight around her to fight against the chill evening air. The sleek vessel moved through the rough waters with graceful ease that the Nomad would envy. The redhead sighed with pleasure, conscious of a feeling of rightness. It felt good, genuinely good to be on the sea once more. Guess there is more sailor's blood inside than I had thought, she mused, allowing herself a small grin.
Her face fell as she caught wary glances from the men on the ship, directed her way. There was also, she thought ruefully, distrust and fear in those gazes. "Don't think about it, Maeve." Eyolf murmured in her ear, a shiver ran down her spine at the husky sound. "As soon as they see that you mean me no harm, they'll ease up."
She shot him a doubting look, then her look turned mischievous. "And are you so sure I don't mean you harm?" Maeve was shocked by her behavior, but she couldn't seem to help herself.
"I don't think I'd mind that kind of harm." He drawled , a lilt in his voice before becoming serious, turning her so that he could meet her eyes. "If things become uncomfortable for you, I want you to handle it yourself."
"Wouldn't that undermine your authority?" She asked, though she was happy to comply with this request.
He shook his head. "You might think so. But these men are Vikings, used to women standing up for themselves. In fact, my sister divorced her husband because he was an abusive, controlling man. Their negative behavior towards you would only increase if I stood between you and them."
"I see. How can your society do this?" She asked, further explaining at his look of incomprehension. "Have men and women be equals. Doesn't it upset the male superiority?"
"No. The men are sailors or explorers, we are rarely home. It is the women who own the land, businesses, have the responsibility to protect the home. As far as I know, there has never been a problem. But then again," He paused for a moment to shout out an order, then turned back to her. "Our society has lived like this for hundreds of years. We've never really known anything else."
She brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes, thinking about his words. "My village used to be that way. But I remember it used to cause a great deal of strife when new people moved in. The adjustment was hard on them, most left or gained high positions and changed things." Her voice trailed off, she hadn't thought of her old home in years. "I wonder if things got better after Donestk's armies left the place."
Eyolf touched her shoulder, brushing a lock of her hair, as he passed her. "I'm sure things have. After all, this is the village that produced you."
She stood at the prow for a long time, thinking about how things were moving so quickly now. It meant something was going to happen, would she be able to meet it after what had happened to her in the past? Twirling a piece of hair around her finger, something Bryn said came into her mind.
"It doesn't matter if we win or lose. What matters is that we make the effort. Success
isn't measured by winning, it is measured in trying even when we fall short of our own expectations. No one is judging our efforts but us. And by that standard, we will never measure up."
For a pain in the butt, Bryn was hardly ever wrong. At least, she giggled on matters concerning their battles. She knew that she would need all the confidence her friend used to give her in the coming days. After all, she couldn't afford to alienate the crew but she couldn't allow them to kick her around. Her head rested on her hand, watching the sea flow under her as she contemplated her problem. It was a quiet voyage, except for a few tussles between her and the crew that were quickly resolved when she proved more than a match for them.
Halfway there, they met up with the Nomad. Maeve and Eyolf boarded the other ship, greeting Sinbad and his crew. Her eyes scanned the ship, looking for something. A confirmation that what she had felt in Utgard was true and not some delirious dream. With a stomach full of knots, Maeve walked down the steps that Peri and Coral had just abandoned. Soft, faltering footsteps led her to a cabin that used to be hers, she took a deep breath and tried to swallow as she opened the door.
A soft snore reached her ears and a smile reluctantly formed on her face. The redhead entered the room and studied the figure on the bunk. Her hair was darker than she remembered and she appeared to be much smaller, thinner, than she should be. But it was undoubtedly Bryn.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it is rude to stare?" An amused voice asked, the long lashes lifted to reveal a pair of laughing hazel eyes. "My, oh, my. If it isn't our illustrious, if prodigal, leader Maeve. What brings you to visit this lowly servant with such a look on your face?"
"You...you...you're really here. I didn't kill you." Maeve stared at her, trembling.
"Maeve." Bryn pushed herself up, holding out her arms and beckoning to her. "Let it go. Your guilt is killing me."
Maeve fell down on the ground, tears running down her face. "I can't. I know I should, but I just can't."
Bryn joined her, slowly because her body was still unhealed. She stroked her friend's hair and rocked her gently, her words in reply were slow in coming. "Let the security blanket of your guilt go. I know it has been a faithful friend to you but it has also been your grave. Let it go."
Maeve's only response was more gut wrenching cries. Peri and Coral walked in and saw them, they moved back out. "Will she be okay?"
"I don't know." Peri said, squeezing her hand. "Let's go make sure they have privacy."
Maeve:
The redhead yawned and tried to stretch but found herself unable to move. Her eyes snapped open and looked around, she was tense until she saw Eyolf sleeping beside her. Memory rushed in and she groaned, wondering if he thought she was a slut for her shameless behavior the other night. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care. For the first time since she'd been forcibly ejected from the Nomad to find Dim-Dim on her own, she felt safe.
She jerked in pain, her arm felt like it was on fire. Eyolf woke and loosened his grip around her. "What is it?" He asked, then stopped to see the fresh blood clinging to her robe. "I'll get Mag."
"No, don't do that." She said, focusing on closing the wounds. Her face twisted in a grimace of pain before relaxing into a pleased smile. "What happened?"
"You don't remember?" He settled back down when it became apparent that she would be fine.
Her brow wrinkled in thought, she spoke slowly as a faint memory formed. "I remember a snowstorm and pain, then warmth and you were there."
Eyolf nodded. "There was a terrible snowstorm last night, you were caught in it. Mag cleaned and dressed your wounds, sometime this morning they started to heal and she went up to bed, thinking that you would be all right." He made his last words sound like a question.
"I am." Maeve answered. "I hate to ask this and sound ungrateful, but do you have anything I can change into?"
"Of course. My mother was about your height." He stood up, stopping when she grabbed his arm. "What is it?"
"You will come back, won't you?" Her eyes met his in the bright room.
There was a fear in her voice that startled him. Fear and Maeve had never really been hand in hand in his mind. He bent down and picked her up. "Come along. I think you'd rather get dressed in privacy anyway." He explained when he saw her surprised look.
"I would, actually." The sorceress smiled, allowing herself to enjoy someone else's strength while she pondered what she'd felt during the night. She knew exactly when it was that she'd begun to heal, it was when she'd felt a gentle touch on her soul. But only one person was capable of that. Unfortunately she had been dead for many years. Wasn't she?
No one else would have bothered with her pain. And she knew from looking at her wounds, that they weren't as bad as they should've been. So, was she alive?
"Here we are." Eyolf's chest rumbled under her ear and she looked into the room he stopped at. It was a large study filled with scrolls and boxes. He gently placed her down on the chair by the roaring fire.
She looked at him curiously, gesturing towards the fire. "Did you know we would be coming here later?"
"No. The fire helps preserve the books and helps heat the upper floor." He answered, lighting a lantern.
"Firouz would love this room." She remarked, watching him move some of the boxes. He found the chest he was looking for and carried over to her, opening it. Her breath left her in a gasp of delight. There, lying in neat piles, were clothes of various colors and richness. "They're beautiful!" She fell to her knees and began to go through them.
Eyolf watched her for a moment, smiling. "Take whatever you need. I'll go find us something to eat before it gets any later." He dusted off his hands and stood, surprised when she rose with him. "Is something wrong?"
She shook her head, her eyes were shining with gratitude. "Thank you, Eyolf, for being you."
"I'd say you're welcome, but that might sound arrogant." His hand brushed her check, moving a strand of loose hair behind her ear. They stared at each other in friendly silence before he cleared his throat nervously. "I'll go see about that meal now."
She watched him disappear around the corner and sighed, feeling disappointed that he didn't kiss her. "What's with all this lovey-doveiness? Snap out of it, Maeve, my girl. He knows you've been ill, why do you want to rush this?" She scolded and took herself firmly in hand. Choosing a light blue, loose robe and a pair of dark pants, she dressed and went down the hall, following the smell of good food.
Mag was sitting at the table and looked up when she entered the room and, studying her critically. Her heart was beating happily, before her stood a woman who was good enough for her brother. In fact, she thought sourly, she might be too good. "You look better, though half-starved. I hope you aren't one of those gals who goes into self starvation. Eyolf here was telling me that he was going into town after we eat. Why don't you join him? Some fresh air will do you good." She ignored the ferocious glare Eyolf sent her and shamelessly continued her matchmaking. "Unless, of course, you're husband would object?"
"I'm not married, nor do I have any takers." Maeve laughed, this little woman had a way about her that made it hard to be angry by her words. "And I love food." She added, sitting down and grabbed a thick slice of bread, covering it with jam.
"Then the men outside our lands are fools." Mag said, bluntly. She then turned the conversation onto more conventional lines.
Later, as Maeve and Eyolf moved through the marketplace, she watched him move through the crowds. The children loved him and men eagerly sought his counsel, why then, was he still unattached? Of course, she didn't understand the way the women here thought. But, thinking back on something he'd said earlier, she got the feeling they liked their men rough and heavy handed.
"What's the matter? Is that piece of silk evil?" Eyolf's teasing voice broke into her thoughts.
"Huh? Oh, no." She shook her head at the dealer and moved off with Eyolf to a quieter spot. "I was just thinking."
He let her go in front of him and chose their place to rest. "About what?"
"Why aren't you married?" Her face flushed instantly, her hands covered her mouth. "I'm sorry." She stammered, stopping when he laughed and took one of her hands in his.
"Maeve, I don't mind. My sister always asks me that." He paused, then continued. "Don't take this the wrong way but...I met this girl, I think her name was Maeve. She made me feel like it was okay to be gentle and kind. Unlike the women who live here, she saw some value in it. Anyway, we parted because our lives ran on different paths. But ever since I met her, I've been looking for a woman who sees value in what I am."
"Oh." She was silent, studying him. Her heart beat faster as she recognized the power a woman had over a man ran down her spine. It was her, or rather, her influence on him. Her voice was slightly breathless as she spoke. "But you didn't pressure me or take advantage last night."
"No, I didn't. That wouldn't have been fair to either of us. You were in no condition to say yes or no." His brown eyes were steady as they bored into hers. "I would have lost your respect. More importantly, I would have lost my own."
She appreciated his directness with her, it was something she was unused to. Her hand squeezed the one still holding hers, then the world exploded in a wave of pain. "BRYN!" She cried as she fell over. Eyolf pulled her limp body into his arms, worried.
One of his crew members walked over at that moment, looking concerned. He'd been watching the pair covertly from the moment they showed up, knowing that the rest of Eyolf's friends were as worried about their captain because of this unknown redhead. After all, she could be death in disguise.
Eyolf forestalled his questions by asking him to prep the Rhiannon. "We'll be going south to find Sinbad. Ask Mag to prepare supplies for a long voyage." He finished.
"When would you like to leave, sir?" Rolf asked, sending a worried look to the girl in his Captain's arms. He was a young man and had joined the crew after the "Maeve" incident. His reddish blonde hair shone like bronze in the afternoon light as he chewed his mustache thoughtfully, his dark eyes searching the crowds for other crew members.
He found a strong, steady pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. "Tomorrow, if it can be arranged. No later than the end of the week."
"Sir!" He gave a sharp salute and followed after Ulric.
"Peppy lad, isn't he?" Maeve commented, smiling weakly up at the worried face.
"He's new. So, who's Bryn?" He asked.
"An old friend." She suddenly laughed out loud, remembering what she had seen. "And I should've known that she would cheat death! That little smart aleck."
"What do you mean?" Eyolf asked, watching her glowing face. He had never seen her like this, knowing that he could easily get used to it.
Maeve sat up, running a hand through her hair. "Long story short. Once upon a time there were five girls born with a special mission to save the world. We did but lost Bryn to death. But we were wrong, she eluded death. I don't know how she did it, but she did." She said quickly as if trying to avoid the harsh pain, but she was wrong.
"There's something else, isn't there?" His eyes narrowed and studied her intently.
The sorceress was silent for so long, Eyolf was afraid she wouldn't answer him. Finally, she spoke, pain laced her every word. He flinched at the sound, though he didn't let her see it. "I was leading us in the attack and Bryn jumped into the flames when it seemed that Donestk would escape. She died. It was my fault. I, as the leader, should've made that sacrifice."
Eyolf studied the ground, wondering what he could say to relieve the guilt.
"What? No grand speech to make about how it wasn't my fault? That these things happen to everyone and I should just get over it?" She mocked, feeling exposed and uncomfortable.
"No." He said simply, meeting her gaze. "Those are words that will not mean anything to you coming from me. You need to hear them from Bryn." Then he moved and pulled her up with him. "I will tell that sometimes a leader must stand back and learn to accept their limits. We all have them, that's why we work in teams."
A soft rose colored blush lit her face. "Bryn would like you." She leaned into his warmth and raised her face to his, waiting to see what he would do. She studied his eyes, not surprised to read his uncertainty in them. Shaking her head slightly in amusement, she took the initiative and pulled his face towards hers and kissed him. It was kind of awkward and clumsy, but she put all of her feelings into it.
His mind reeled as he felt her confusion, fear, and awakened passion through that kiss. He instinctively pulled her closer to him, offering her the fear he felt and also his warmth. Then he gentled their kiss, urging her to take her time in this their first kiss.
The Rhiannon floated out of the harbor two days later, catching hold of a strong southern breeze. Maeve stood by Eyolf's side, her borrowed fur coat pulled tight around her to fight against the chill evening air. The sleek vessel moved through the rough waters with graceful ease that the Nomad would envy. The redhead sighed with pleasure, conscious of a feeling of rightness. It felt good, genuinely good to be on the sea once more. Guess there is more sailor's blood inside than I had thought, she mused, allowing herself a small grin.
Her face fell as she caught wary glances from the men on the ship, directed her way. There was also, she thought ruefully, distrust and fear in those gazes. "Don't think about it, Maeve." Eyolf murmured in her ear, a shiver ran down her spine at the husky sound. "As soon as they see that you mean me no harm, they'll ease up."
She shot him a doubting look, then her look turned mischievous. "And are you so sure I don't mean you harm?" Maeve was shocked by her behavior, but she couldn't seem to help herself.
"I don't think I'd mind that kind of harm." He drawled , a lilt in his voice before becoming serious, turning her so that he could meet her eyes. "If things become uncomfortable for you, I want you to handle it yourself."
"Wouldn't that undermine your authority?" She asked, though she was happy to comply with this request.
He shook his head. "You might think so. But these men are Vikings, used to women standing up for themselves. In fact, my sister divorced her husband because he was an abusive, controlling man. Their negative behavior towards you would only increase if I stood between you and them."
"I see. How can your society do this?" She asked, further explaining at his look of incomprehension. "Have men and women be equals. Doesn't it upset the male superiority?"
"No. The men are sailors or explorers, we are rarely home. It is the women who own the land, businesses, have the responsibility to protect the home. As far as I know, there has never been a problem. But then again," He paused for a moment to shout out an order, then turned back to her. "Our society has lived like this for hundreds of years. We've never really known anything else."
She brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes, thinking about his words. "My village used to be that way. But I remember it used to cause a great deal of strife when new people moved in. The adjustment was hard on them, most left or gained high positions and changed things." Her voice trailed off, she hadn't thought of her old home in years. "I wonder if things got better after Donestk's armies left the place."
Eyolf touched her shoulder, brushing a lock of her hair, as he passed her. "I'm sure things have. After all, this is the village that produced you."
She stood at the prow for a long time, thinking about how things were moving so quickly now. It meant something was going to happen, would she be able to meet it after what had happened to her in the past? Twirling a piece of hair around her finger, something Bryn said came into her mind.
"It doesn't matter if we win or lose. What matters is that we make the effort. Success
isn't measured by winning, it is measured in trying even when we fall short of our own expectations. No one is judging our efforts but us. And by that standard, we will never measure up."
For a pain in the butt, Bryn was hardly ever wrong. At least, she giggled on matters concerning their battles. She knew that she would need all the confidence her friend used to give her in the coming days. After all, she couldn't afford to alienate the crew but she couldn't allow them to kick her around. Her head rested on her hand, watching the sea flow under her as she contemplated her problem. It was a quiet voyage, except for a few tussles between her and the crew that were quickly resolved when she proved more than a match for them.
Halfway there, they met up with the Nomad. Maeve and Eyolf boarded the other ship, greeting Sinbad and his crew. Her eyes scanned the ship, looking for something. A confirmation that what she had felt in Utgard was true and not some delirious dream. With a stomach full of knots, Maeve walked down the steps that Peri and Coral had just abandoned. Soft, faltering footsteps led her to a cabin that used to be hers, she took a deep breath and tried to swallow as she opened the door.
A soft snore reached her ears and a smile reluctantly formed on her face. The redhead entered the room and studied the figure on the bunk. Her hair was darker than she remembered and she appeared to be much smaller, thinner, than she should be. But it was undoubtedly Bryn.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it is rude to stare?" An amused voice asked, the long lashes lifted to reveal a pair of laughing hazel eyes. "My, oh, my. If it isn't our illustrious, if prodigal, leader Maeve. What brings you to visit this lowly servant with such a look on your face?"
"You...you...you're really here. I didn't kill you." Maeve stared at her, trembling.
"Maeve." Bryn pushed herself up, holding out her arms and beckoning to her. "Let it go. Your guilt is killing me."
Maeve fell down on the ground, tears running down her face. "I can't. I know I should, but I just can't."
Bryn joined her, slowly because her body was still unhealed. She stroked her friend's hair and rocked her gently, her words in reply were slow in coming. "Let the security blanket of your guilt go. I know it has been a faithful friend to you but it has also been your grave. Let it go."
Maeve's only response was more gut wrenching cries. Peri and Coral walked in and saw them, they moved back out. "Will she be okay?"
"I don't know." Peri said, squeezing her hand. "Let's go make sure they have privacy."