thank you thank you for the reviews!
well here it is Sunday morning-afternoonish, and here is the next chapter: chapter 10. enjoy.
same warnings & disclaimers apply...
Chapter 10: Waiting & hoping
Arthur and his knights had been gone six, going on seven days. And no matter how Vanora tried to hide her growing panic and worry, it was still showing.
"Vanora—quit your pacing!" Halaga said, clearly annoyed. "You'll only make yourself sick with worry—and not to mention you're with child. And besides, Bors always comes back.
"He always has, that doesn't mean he always will," Vanora said coldly, staring at Halaga, "any of them could be killed at any moment…Svent for instance." Halaga's eyes instantly shot up to Vanora's.
"At least I know Svent enough to trust him on these missions and not worry pointlessly." Halaga said, swelling with some pride at seeing Vanora's eyes fill with rage. Mirran simply watched from where she leaned against the wall, finding it wise to avoid conversation (and being alone) these days, and her thoughts returned to Tristan for the umpteenth time. Fervently she hoped and prayed he would return alive—and somewhere in her heart she knew he would. A sense of life was flowing in the easterly breeze and death seemed far away. Mirran jumped as the sound of shattering clay filled the air. She turned and saw Magda's restraining hand on Halaga's shoulder as Falia stood alongside a silently crying Vanora. Her seventh pregnancy, like all the ones before it, was wrecking havoc on her emotions and the added absence of Bors did nothing to help.
"We'll have no more of that," Magda said, scolding both women, "we'll all think on happier things—like what will be done once the knights return." Magda suggested, raising her eyes searchingly. "Mirran dear—you've not said much at all."
"Her lover must be rubbing off on her." Falia said, smiling suggestively.
"What will you do upon Tristan's return?" Magda asked as Mirran felt her cheeks redden even more.
"I expect I shall do…whatever…my heart tells me."
"Your heart," Halaga said bitingly, rising, "women in our line of work don't have hearts, remember? We don't love—"
"Halaga, what has embittered you so?" Mirran suddenly asked, meeting her eyes that were fuming. An old anger, hate and sadness smoldered inside Halaga as she stared coldly at Mirran.
"She was wi—"
"No!" She snapped, cutting Falia off. "If I wished Mirran to know of my past, I would have spoken sooner." With that, a silence fell and Mirran, sighing in defeat and confusion, turned her head back to the open doors and beyond. Suddenly the easterly breeze brought with it a heaviness that weighed upon its earlier lively nature. 'A homecoming for all…but all are not as they were…yet all are as they are.'
"The men are back." Mirran quickly said, not even waiting for the other women to respond before she left the tavern at a quick walk.
Sure enough the dust stirred from the ground by the horses still hung in the air as Mirran approached the stable yard. One by one, the knights and their horses came into view, and while there seemed an air of success, there was most certainly a weight of loss and sorrow.
She slipped inside the gate virtually unnoticed for Vanora came rushing in behind her, running straight for Bors. Mirran found Tristan right away, meeting his dark eyes long before reaching him.
"Wonderful to see you again." She said relieved as he smiled lovingly at her, his eyes heavy with loss. "What happened?"
"Berkan." He simply said, his eyes moving from hers to Berkan's hose bearing his lifeless body.
"Oh no." She said quietly, the light in her eyes falling away, replaced by solemn sorrow. Her secret had died with him…now only Tristan knew. And even though Berkan had her worried sick for a time, she still felt sorrow at his loss. Tristan wrapped his hand gently around hers, squeezing it comfortingly. A hand suddenly fell softly on her shoulder, making her quickly turn.
"Mirran."
"Gawain." She said gently, her smile returning.
"Come," Marvlin called quietly, "we go to bury Berkan." All three looked up and noticed a mostly empty stable yard, seeing Bors and Dagonet bear Berkan's body towards the cemetery, followed suite by the others. Silently they turned and followed. Walking side by side, Mirran slipped her hand in Tristan's again as he laced his fingers lovingly in hers. She could not be more thankful for his return. Later, when they would be alone, she would throw her arms around him and pray he would always be granted safe returns home. But she knew deep down that fear would always be there, and that she would in all likelihood have to face the harsh reality of his death in battle. Such a thought terrified and sickened her. Yet as they walked towards the cemetery to bury a fallen one, she could not help but wonder what she would do when the fallen one would be Tristan.
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The service was solemn, respectful and short. Arthur and his knights as a group were men of few words. And what words were not spoken aloud were said in looks and gestures. After Arthur planted Berkan's sword to mark the head of his grave and Dagonet laid Berkan's shield atop the earth as a permanent reminder of the honor Berkan forever possessed, the knights turned and headed back to the fort.
"Come. Walk with me." Tristan said softly, pulling Mirran by their still interlaced fingers off towards the surrounding woods—the same place their first kiss was shared.
"It is said the dead don't die," she said quietly, "that they stay to watch over us, whispering words of enigmatic guidance."
"Enigmatic guidance…" Tristan repeated, half as a question, half as a statement.
"It's a simple voice on the wind…nothing more," she paused and brought her other hand to his forearm, "listen." Immediately the scout within took over, listening for anything—snapping twigs, the faint thunder of hooves…anything.
"I hear nothing." He answered truthfully.
"Listen harder…and without your mind. It is only trained to hear everything in the world, except the world itself." Looking at her somewhat doubtingly, but knowing somewhere in his heart it was true, he actually tuned out the warnings of his mind and just listened, knowing that for a moment they would be safe.
"What do you hear?" She whispered, her breath tickling his ear. Every sense within him awakened at her simple touch. 'You will find that the world has changed forever.'
"You will find…," he started slowly, "that the world has changed…forever…" He stopped, expecting more to follow, but nothing else was to be heard.
"Because it has." She simply said, placing an enticing kiss on his cheek before moving away from him.
"Who whispers these words?" He heard himself ask, curious how she knew of their existence and somewhat saddened that she had moved away from him.
"Spirits of the past look on those in the present. Different words come to different people," she answered without hesitation before pausing and smiling fondly, a hand raising to a tree branch, "I imagine it's my mother…guiding me, telling me of things to come. …She speaks now of a kindling flame soon to be ignited." She stopped and stepped around the tree, disappearing momentarily from Tristan's view.
"I still hear the same words—a forever changed world."
"Then you truly fail to see it—guidance is only repeated until the listener believes." She said daringly, inwardly wishing she hadn't said so. Only soft footsteps across the dead earth greeted her listening ears as she bit her lip, fighting to find something to say. "You've heard the wind once, changing your world—and every time you listen without aide of your mind—"
"That requires opening the heart." She turned and met his eyes through the branches.
"No—it appeals to the soul. The very essence of being hears another being."
"That is well, for only you hold the former power." He softly said. She smiled warmly, her love for him plainly visible. She stepped around the tree towards him, feeling his hand fall to gently graze over the stitches in her forehead before moving down her cheek. She leaned towards him, her lips almost to his. SCREECH! She jumped back from him, her breath caught in her throat. Tristan, an amused smirk on his handsome, dark face, stroked the hawk that now sat perched on his arm.
"And I thought we were alone." She said laughingly, stepping back to Tristan's side and gently petting the bird's feathers.
"Never are we alone out here. Always there are eyes…and voices so now I am told." He noticed a somewhat embarrassed smile play across her face before he turned his eyes to the hawk. "What're you doing here, eh? You should be off—it's approaching prime hunting time." He said mock-scolding as the bird looked back at him as though understanding his every word. Without warning, the bird lifted from his arm and disappeared as quickly into the cloudy sky as she had come. Mirran let her eyes fall back to his. Something about this natural environment made her sapphire eyes seem to glow—as though her natural magic lit her eyes in this natural setting. And that cross she always wore, bearing its own sapphire gem, glistened in the woods' surrounding as though it too bore powers beyond the earth.
"Care to see what she sees?" She suddenly asked, turning from him back to the tree she had been looking at earlier. He looked at her curiously, genuinely curious and interested to know just what she meant. Quickly and almost effortlessly she pulled herself up onto a tree branch, before reaching out for another and climbing higher. He watched her easily climb, finding no words to say. "Join me…the view is nice from up here, even if it is cloudy." She said, dangling her legs over a branch and looking down at Tristan.
"I'm fine on the ground." She looked down at him understandingly.
"It took me years to get used to climbing trees," she said, "a branch broke with me on it once…and that about did it for me. But I still love it." She sat on a lower branch, watching him watch her.
"You watch too much…." She said, coking her head to one side and looking at him searchingly.
"And you not enough." He said gently, watching a shocked, surprised look cross her face.
"I watch enough." She said mock angry, swinging down from the branch and landing a few feet from him. "I'll prove it to you—"
"You have nothing to prove to me." He stepped closer and she saw the jest in his eyes. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks and she turned her head momentarily away from his, trying to brush it off.
"Nothing at all…?" She asked coyly, turning back to him and smiling mischievously. Swiftly and silently, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his warm body. Her breath quickened and she felt warmth emanating from his simple touch throughout her. His lips fell smoothly across hers, a sense of love and need passing between them. Her arms snaked around him as their kiss deepened, the first loving kiss of his return. Suddenly, what had been unnoticeable sprinkles of water, turned into a pouring flow of thick heavy raindrops. Their kiss froze and they pulled apart, both surprised at the suddenness with which this rain had come.
"Perfect…" She said laughingly, raising her eyes skyward. He laughed softly, releasing his arms from around her. She closed her eyes and raised a hand, waving it across her face and letting it swimmingly fall. …nothing.
"The powers that be need the rain here—it cannot be stopped," she turned her eyes back to his as they started back towards the fort, "yes, before you say anything, I believe in a greater power beyond myself," she said seeing the somewhat questioning look in his dark eyes, "and a greater plan for everything and everyone that even magic cannot change."
"Good—I wouldn't have you change anything." He suddenly said, his stoic face alight with a small smile, much to her surprise.
A chilly breeze had quickly followed the onslaught of falling rain and Mirran found her brown cloak to be of no more good to her, as it was drenched and her clothes soaked through. She glanced at Tristan and noticed how well the rain suited his rugged, wild look. With the rain dripping lazily from his long braids and running gently across his skin, he looked even more a man at peace with nature. And while she thought the rain suited him nicely, she was sure she was starting to resemble a drowned rat. Her curls always fell long and mangled, weighed down by the water, and stuck most unflatteringly to her thin face, which Tristan noticed was growing increasingly pale the more they walked in the cold winter rain.
"You look cold." He said quickly, holding her hand in his.
"Well, I'll warm up when we reach the fort…and get out of the rain." She said, feeling some embarrassment creep to her cheeks at the implication of her words. But honestly, it did not matter between them—once she had let him love her, and willingly, eagerly did she wish it again. He returned alive against the odds of death and she longed to have him close as long as that fact held true. He smiled back at her, a flame smoldering in his own eyes, a silent promise resonating as well.
The rain had not even lessened its rapid fall as they entered the fort and quickly wound their way to Mirran's room—the logic being it was the closest place to get out of the rain. And how often did love and logic coincide?
Her sopping wet cloak fell with a splat onto the floor as she shook the sleeves of her dress, sending water flying.
"Ugh—I hate being wet in a dress." She said, annoyed as she pulled the clinging wet folds of the fabric away from her legs. A warm, teasing kiss fell on her neck.
"Try wearing amour in the rain…" He softly said before kissing her again. She smiled and thought on that for a just a minute as she brought a hand up to the side of his face.
"I wouldn't want to." She said, leaning her head back and kissing his cheek. "But you've never worn a dress in the rain."
"No…and if it's as much trouble to put on as it is to take off, then I never would want to." He quickly said, kissing her neck before raising his head level with hers. His hands slid across the wet fabric of her dress as her eyes locked with his, a silent longing swirling about her sapphire eyes. Everything fled her mind—her dripping wet dress, the numbing cold in her fingers and toes—and all she knew was his touch at her hips and the loving want in his eyes. Her hands wrapped around his coat collar pulling him fully against her, lips locking in loving passion. Right away she could feel he wanted her as much as she wanted him. And all she wanted was to be lost in him and have his release. She slid his coat off and began on the ties on his tunic, feeling his fingers move to the laces on her dress as their lips never parted. His tunic soon fell to the floor, her fingers blazing hot trails over his smooth scarred skin and her dress now hung fully loose off one shoulder. Gently he picked her up, her legs wrapping loosely about his hips as he knelt her on the bed and lay down with her, knowing, seeing, and feeling nothing but her.
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Tristan and Mirran lay side by side, hearts pounding and utterly spent. Her hand lingered on his chest as he held her ever close. She tilted her head upwards and glanced out the window.
"What is it?" He quietly asked, his voice showing a sense of alertness.
"A voice on the wind," She said distantly, "whispering…."
"Of?"
"Of…?" She gently asked him, a slight challenge to her voice, knowing he could hear it too if he listened. His eyes closed for but a second.
"Of…an unnatural peace…and an ugly sort of beauty," he started slowly, his eyes meeting hers as she smiled softly. He leaned closer in and kissed her lips gently as she kissed lovingly back. Their lips parted and her eyes drifted shut as sleep overtook her in the arms of the man she loved.
yay for love. hope not too overly-romantic or too many errors (didn't have too much time to edit it). review if'n ya want. next chapter will be up soon as possible.
