OK, the whole idea of Leofwen and her skeletons in her closet comes from Camreyn. If you like the chapter, thank her, not me. I'm only the messenger.

chiefhow-There is no writing-induced hurt that writing MRC cannot cure!

ElvenStar5-You don't think anyone could have done it better? I'm very flattered!

lindalee4-The paragraph made perfect sense to me. I talk like that-much thought and no sense. I like being the first story to be dubbed a page scroller. Thank you for reviewing as always.

Veronica-This isn't much happier or more romantic, but the next few chapters are going to be very angsty, but I have a very long one planned just bursting with mushy romantic crap (MRC). Hope that pleases you.

SunsetSparrow-I do like stuff that makes me cry, and Pearl Harbour is just another film in a very long list...My friend who I saw King Arthur with went out to the bathroom in the battle scene and thought I was dying or something when she came back and I was crying.

Camreyn-No, it was my idea to kill Tristan. You just gave the idea about Leofwen's past, which will be slowly revealed over the next few hundred chapters...

MonDieu666-I don't agree! Funny, most writers are biased towards their own stories.

BillieLiv-Why would I heal you? It keeps you addicted to my story! (joke) ...

A HUGE thank you goes to BillieLiv, who sent me this truly incredible birthday present. If you want to see it, I'll email it onto you. It's really brilliant. Thank you so much (hugs BillieLiv and gives her a lot of birthday cake).

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

XII: Skeletons that do not belong in a Coffin

It hides away and will never be heard of again

Vair me oro van o
Vair me oro van ee
Vair me oru o ho
Sad am I without thee.

When I'm lonely, dear white heart,
Black the night or wild the sea,
By love's light my foot finds
The old pathway to thee.

Vair me oro van o
Vair me oro van ee
Vair me oru o ho
Sad am I without thee

Thou'rt the music of my heart,
Harp of joy, oh cruit mo chridh,
Moon of guidance by night,
Strength and light thou'rt to me.

Vair me oro van o
Vair me oro van ee
Vair me oru o ho
Sad am I without thee

Aibhilín finished her song. It was an old one, but Leofwen had loved it. It seemed extra appropriate now.

She laid down her rosemary garland. Rosemary stood for remembrance and loyalty, and both of those where placed on gravestones. To make it personal, she'd entwined a strand of late jasmine flowers. Jasmine was Leofwen's flower. It was sensual, strong and sharp. It was very much her. Aibhilín sank down her knees, and gracefully curved her legs so that she was sitting staring directly at Leofwen's grave. She did not say anything, she just was there.

Leofwen's was on a hill, with one ancient oak tree as the marker. On it, her sisters had yesterday carved:

Leofwen

We will remember thee for as long as this oak stands

Sleep in peace

They had buried Leofwen in a mixture of Woad and Christian rites. Stuck up in her grave were the three daggers; death, deceit and the eternal dance, blades into the ground. Ealusaid had freely given them up. It had just felt right. Guinevere had cried, but Ealusaid and Aibhilín had not. Ealusaid had felt that she had to stay together. She was now the eldest sister. Granted, Leofwen had only had the role for a day, but she was an excellent friend, and would have been a good sister. Ealusaid felt that she couldn't fill her place.

As for Aibhilín...she wasn't read to cry. All there was inside of her was an empty gaping void that she somehow knew tears wouldn't fill. And also, there was dread. Pure, unexplainable dread. She couldn't understand it, but she knew that something was going to happen. Something bad. Part of her wanted to dismiss it as the aftermath from Leofwen's premature death, and the whole battle. It unnerved the mind in strange and complex ways.

The breeze was strong, and Aibhilín's hair was being whipped about her face angrily. She tried and failed to tuck it behind her ears, so she just let the wind do its work. The autumn was falling, and surrounding the grave were leaves of many infinite hues-red, yellow, russet, gold. They were a fitting ornament for a grave.

Another strand of Aibhilín's hair whipped in front of her face, followed by another clump of jet-black hair. She had to spend a second just getting it off of her face, when a tiny pressure could be felt in her lap. She held her hair back with one hand and stuffed it down the back of her dress before looking. It was a tiny scrap of bark, peeling of one of the trees that Aibhilín knew grew near the Woad encampment. Her blood ran cold. She had not been back to the camp since Leofwen had died, though she had a shrewd idea what had happened...she gave a sharp intake of breath. The kiss. Oh, Goddess how stupid was she? She had kissed Lancelot in front of her people. She knew that that kiss would raise controversy. Her heart was gripped in a claw of ice, and she froze.

"You haven't even opened the note yet"

Aibhilín raised her head sharply. In front of her was Rossa. His usually merry eyes were grave and red-rimmed.

"What are you doing here?" Aibhilín asked, though not unkindly.

"Dauídh told me that Leofwen was buried here, and they asked me to bring this note along to you"

Aibhilín fingered the bark nervously. She unfolded it with trembling fingers and deciphered the runes.

Meet me by Leofwen's grave. We must talk

It was unsigned.

"Who gave this to you?" she asked Rossa.

Rossa shrugged. "I don't know" He moved away from Aibhilín and sat by Leofwen's grave. Aibhilín left silently and left him to his pain. She cast one little glance back, peering through the dishevelled mass of her hair. Looking at Rossa, a sudden though came into her mind, fully-formed.

Rossa has loved Leofwen.

Aibhilín, who mainly because of her gift had had very few surprises in her life, had had too many recently. She stared for a second, and then another thought popped into her mind, this time in the form of a vision.

Someone else knew the secret. If Rossa obviously was not scared of showing open affection for Leofwen near Aibhilín, than it was someone close to Aibhilín who knew. And Aibhilín had a good idea who knew...

That evening, as they were heading into the hall of the Round Table, Aibhilín slipped in between people and stood beside Ealusaid. "You knew?"

"I knew what?"

"Leofwen and Rossa" Aibhilín whispered. Her voice was not angry, just sad.

Ealusaid nodded. "Leofwen told me a while ago. She was going to tell you two, but you left on a scouting mission the next morning"

"That was why she wanted to obey Dauídh's order" Aibhilín understood. "The one about me and Lancelot. She needed to stay in favour with Dauídh if she was going to marry him"

"Leofwen had a whole life that we didn't know about" Ealusaid told her. "She had secrets...like we all have. I just wish we knew more of them"

There was a pause.

"I miss her too" Aibhilín whispered in a slightly choked up voice.

"I know" Ealusaid nodded. She slipped her hand into Aibhilín's and her fingers made contact with the barkleaf note.

"What's this?" she asked. She gently pulled it out of Aibhilín's hand, and speedily deciphered the runes.

"Do you know who sent this?"

"No"

"Are you going?"

"Yes"

"Then I'm coming with you" she said determinedly.

"You're not"

"I am"

"You're not"

"I am" Guinevere sat down just in time to hear that last argument.

"This is really annoying me, did anyone think of that?" Guinevere put in from her position next to them. "Anyway what are you two talking about?"

"Aibhilín's just had an anonymous note from someone and she's actually going to go and meet them alone"

"Look, I have a shrewd idea who sent the note and believe me, if it's who I think it is, you don't want to be there" Aibhilín told her.

"What if you're wrong?" Ealusaid asked her in a tone unlike her usual calm. "What if it's someone else? I will not lose another sister!" The words spurted out angrily from her mouth, and she regretted them almost instantly when she saw the look on Aibhilín's face.

"Calm down" Guinevere advised. "I have an idea. We will go"-

"No!" Aibhilín protested.

"-but we'll stay in the shadows. That way, they won't know that we're there"

Aibhilín nodded reluctantly. "If you must. We will meet in the outer fortress at midnight, and then we will go"

They did not raise the subject again. The sisters ate and jested with the knights as usual, but Aibhilín left earlier than usual that night. She went up to her room and lay down on the bed. She was getting strangely used to it. She was getting used to a lot of strange things.

Like losing her sister. She had come to a conclusion. The reason she hadn't yet cried was because she was past the stage of needless tears and wails of desolation. She was accepting and understanding what had happened on some level, and she didn't need to weep or wail about it. What she didn't realise was that surrounding herself was a wall of ice, and you have to melt your own path through to reach the real Aibhilín.

Her door opened, and Lancelot entered. His face was concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asked, hating himself for the inadequacy of his words.

"Just tired" Aibhilín said, even though that was not the truth. "Ealusaid's angry with me"

"Why?"

"I'm leaving to go back to my people. Just for tonight" she assured him. "I need to tie up some loose ends"

Lancelot lay down beside her and kissed her. "Just make sure you do come back"

"I will" Aibhilín promised. She lay into him and tried to gather a fraction of warmth and comfort from him. They lay together, perfectly entwined and perfectly balanced. When the dusk had fully fallen, she gently struggled upright. She had made up her mind. She would go now, before Ealusaid and Guinevere would ever think about leaving. That way, they wouldn't get caught up in this.

"Must you go?" Lancelot asked her, oblivious to what she had been scheming.

"I must" She kissed him, a slow and lasting kiss. She made for the door, and just before she left she turned back. "I'll come back. I promise"

Aibhilín walked through the forest, quickly and silently. The note was not specific, but she knew that someone was following her. Her hand closed over the sword she had brought for safe keeping.

"Show your face" she said, not very loudly but in the still wood it echoed a thousand times and seemed to fill it with noise.

A rustle of leaves behind her made her turn around. There stood the person she hated most of all.

"Taidhg" she said, trying and failing to keep the note of disgust out of her voice.

"I see you got my message, my lady" he said. Taidhg's twisted idea of chivalry make Aibhilín want to vomit. He was only about as tall as her, with short bristly hair and brown eyes. To many women he seemed attractive, for Aibhilín could not wonder how else so many women crawled into his bed. Aibhilín knew that to him she was just another conquest, for she had eluded every attempt he had made at seduction. She despised him with every breath she took.

"Don't touch me" Aibhilín snapped as he made to grab her arm. "I'm not marrying you. My father will not allow it" She was hoping that Taidhg did not know what Dauidh thought about her marriage

"My father and your father say different" Taidhg was circling her now, and Aibhilín turned to make sure that she was always facing him.

"Me and my sisters will inherit the tribe someday. When that day occurs I will exile you or cut your throat" She spat out the words with relish.

Taidhg smiled. "Did you not know, my lady that one clause of our marriage agreement was that we should wed before my twentieth year alive?"

"I did" Aibhilín lied. She had never heard that before.

"Then you will know that this is my nineteenth year. We shall marry before you inherit the tribe" he informed her.

Aibhilín looked straight at him. "I will never marry you, if it means slitting my own throat"

He laughed. It was a cruel sound. "Don't be like that, my lady. This is a powerful binding"

"That's what is it. A binding. To man I don't love, nor even respect" Aibhilín told him.

His face clouded and without warning his hand whipped up and clasped about her throat. Aibhilín brought her knee up hard and jammed it straight into his crotch. He bellowed and released his grip on her throat. Seizing her chance, Aibhilín ran for the woods, knowing that when she was far enough in Taidhg would never be able to find her. She ran quickly and lightly, as if all her hopes depended on her reaching the wood. Which they did.

Suddenly, she was thrown to the floor. A clammy hand was about her ankle and it had holding on tightly. Aibhilín started to crawl away, across the foliage littering the woodland floor, kicking whatever part of Taidhg her foot could find. She loathed herself for touching his skin, but hatred gave her kicks power. She kicked out furiously, but he seized her other leg, and held it securely. He struggled up and flipped her over, so that suddenly she was staring at the night sky. She reacted quickly, and pulled out her sword. She did not usually fight with a sword, but it was as good a weapon as any. She twisted around painfully and managed to stab Taidhg's hand. He dropped her foot, and she kicked his other hand as quickly as she could. With both feet free, she struggled to her feet and held her sword at arms length, aiming for his throat.

"I suppose I could cut your throat now..." she mused.

"You could not" Taidhg gasped, even though he was sweating like a slug. "If you did that you'd be banished from the tribe forever"

Aibhilín smiled. "Marry a sluggard, or exile. I think I prefer exile" she flicked the sword away from his throat, leaving only a small cut on his throat. She moved away. "You try anything and I'll swing the sword into your throat"

She turned away. "A deal" Taidhg called out.

"No deal" she said, still walking away.

A sword flew by and landed in a tree trunk in front of her. She turned around. Taidhg's face was serious.

"A sword fight" he challenged her. "If you win, you walk away. If I win, you marry me"

"No deal" Aibhilín repeated.

A dagger sailed by her head. If it had been an inch lower, it would have been in her brain.

"Fight, or die" Taidhg threatened her.

Aibhilín raised one eyebrow in an expression of boredom. Internally, she was worried. Taidhg was not as good a fighter as her, but the forest was dark and treacherous and the sword was not her best weapon. She knew that if she did not marry him, Taidhg would probably get the blame, and lose any chance of leading the tribe. She was in a dangerous volatile situation and she knew it. She could not make a run for it without getting a dagger in her. She had only one option. She pulled his sword out of the tree and threw it to him. She held her own sword ready.

He stabbed towards her side and she easily deflected it. She realised that he would not try to draw blood, but it was hard to judge, especially in the dark. There was a good chance that this could turn very ugly.

She countered his moves, but they were skilful. Taidhg was using his own brutish strength to his advantage, and her sword arm was tingling from the shockwaves travelling down the metal of her sword. She was tiring, but she fought back viciously and soon was winning back. All that fuelled her was hatred and love.

Taidhg knew that the fight might soon go ill for him, and he started to look for a way out. He spied a small nettle bush behind Aibhilín. He smiled and pushed Aibhilín into it. She gave a small cry of surprise, and in the moment of uncertainty Taidhg grabbed her sword arm. Carefully, so as not to get slashed by the blade, he threw her into the clearing.

Not for the first time that night, Aibhilín found herself on her back. There was a sword at her throat, and it was only the sword's cold metal kiss that stopped her from fainting.

Taidhg's voice drifted into hr realm between a conscious state and a sleep.

"You lose" he told her triumphantly. "You are mine"

By the way, the song at the beginning is called an Eriskay Love Lilt, and I had to sing it twice in my singing class; once in English and once in only Gaelic! I couldn't pronounce any of it, and its quiet fast, so we all got very out of time and my teacher got cross. Just a little random note.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm