A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews.

Sunkissed Guacamole: I'm glad you like the chapter title, but see below, because it's not mine. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Nutz Nina (x2): Thanks! Please keep reading. nativewildmage: that is a good idea, but I'm not sure if I can handle it right now. I have at least two other ideas for spin-offs of this! Thanx for reading and reviewing. Confusedknight: Lucky you, no hurricanes. We weren't hit bad. Thanks for keeping me in mind, and thanks for your review. Mars: Thanks! I'm glad you like it. Keep Reading! The Inklings: Thanks for reading. Mage of Dragons: Jolly is a great word. My sister named her parakeet Owen, and she wants to teach him to say 'jolly.' It's really funny to watch that bird, because he's kind of porky, and he sits on a plastic LOTR horse that we've now nicknamed 'Happy.' Sorry Aragorn… (but it's okay because my other sister took the Aragorn that used to ride on the horse, and he now is perched atop a white rat. Don't ask; It's painful. Anyways, (three years later) thanks for r and ring.

To All: I guess I'd better disclaim something else (That sucks, huh?) The chapter titles are not original. Each of them is from another book that I have in my personal library. If you're interested in knowing more about them, I put a little information (Author, VERY SHORT summary) on each in my bio.

This chapter is jolly. It's Owen's turn to tell his love story. I had fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it. Hey- I just remembered! I get to claim something! An original character! Clayr is all mine! I made her up! Yay! The quotation marks are getting old, aren't they! I'm even annoying myself! Ignore my stupidity, and please read and review!

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Redeeming Raoul
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Chapter Three: Where Have All the Flowers Gone?
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Tournament
August 19, 467
Fief Hollyrose
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Kel squeezed Neal's shoulder comfortingly, and even Owen had sense enough to be quiet until the story was over. Raoul cleared his throat, signaling that he wanted to continue. Emotions were growing too thick in the small stable room.

"Now maybe something about how much you miss her?" Cali offered.

"Very well," Raoul said, looking at the people around him. He still needed help. "One of you must have a story. And all of you owe me at least one favor."

"She used to help cook for Wyldon of Cavall," Owen said, remembering his squire years. He played absently with a dried and faded chain of daises that he kept in his saddlebags. "I miss her like the sun misses the flower…"

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Summer
458
Cavall
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Owen of Jesslaw was squire to Lord Wyldon of Cavall. The former training master worked the lad like a dog, but Owen was glad not to be doing any more tedious desk work.

The first time Owen had seen Clayr, a scullery maid, she hadn't even noticed him, as she was busy, head bent over kettle, stirring. But Owen watched her daily, while he ate lunch by himself. He was intrigued by her, but he wasn't sure why. Perhaps this was like one of Neal's crushes, easy come, easy go. But the jittery feelings inside him stayed, telling Owen that this was something more.

Eventually the young lady noticed Owen. He winked at her, and she blushed, turning her head back to the vegetables that she was slicing. The next day, Clayr smiled at Owen when she saw him. He slipped over to her and introduced himself.

The friendship stuck. Owen and Clayr found that it was easy to talk, and they did. Clayr liked to hear about Owen's days as a page, and he listened to stories that Clayr told of her five older brothers. For Owen, life was perfect.

One morning, a messenger rode into Cavall to see Lord Wyldon. Owen was given a whole day to himself. He was suspicious that it had to do with the mysterious message, but he didn't rightly care. He had time to himself.

He wandered around Cavall all morning. As he headed to the kitchens to find lunch, he came upon Clayr. She was sitting in a little nook in the large wood pile that supplied the kitchens' hearths and fires, reading a book. Her brown muslin blended in with the wood around her, as did her tawny curls. She had them pulled into a braid that trailed down her back. As Owen passed, oblivious to her, she snapped her book closed.

"I've been waiting for you," Clayr said from her perch. Owen looked over, startled. When he saw her, he grinned.

"My day just gets jollier," he said, helping Clayr to her feet.

"I was hoping that you'd like to have lunch al fresco," the kitchen maid said, picking up a basket.

"I'd love that," Owen said. He and Clayr hiked for nearly an hour before they settled on a spot for their picnic. They went into the hills surrounding Cavall, and found a field of wildflowers that overlooked the town.

They spread out a blanket from Clayr's basket, and she unpacked the food: carefully made sandwiches, ruby-red apples, and tiny chocolate cakes.

They talked as they ate, about Owen's sisters, and Clayr's family, and various rumors at Cavall, although Clayr didn't know how Owen drew breath. He was certainly a good eater. After she had watched Owen eat, picking at her own food, Clayr put their trash back in the basket.

She felt a hand brush her own. Butterflies crash-landed over and over again in her stomach. Owen turned her head so that he was looking straight into Clayr's pale blue eyes. He gently pressed his lips to hers. He felt Clayr tense, but she relaxed just as suddenly as the kiss flowed through her.

Although enjoying the moment, Clayr was the first to break it off. She pushed Owen back playfully. He was resting on his elbows, looking up at the sky.

"What was that for?" he asked. Clayr didn't answer, but she came and sat beside him, snuggling up to his form. He pointed out a cloud that he thought was shaped like a bunny. Soon Clayr joined his game. But she seemed distracted. Eventually her thoughts came out.

"Owen, is the rumor true?"

"What rumor?" he asked.

"Are we going to war with Scanra?"

"Probably," Owen said truthfully. He felt Clayr twinge in his arms. She rolled away from him, lying flat on her stomach, and started to weave a chain of daises.

"What will happen?" she asked.

"I guess the troops will start gathering and head north," Owen said.

"Will you go north?" With this question, Clayr sneaked a peek at Owen.

"If my lord does," Owen said. Clayr set her flowers down and leaned towards him.

"Owen, will I ever see you again?"

"Of course. Someday, when I'm a knight, I'll come back, and sweep you back to Jesslaw, where you'll be my wife," Owen said.

"But I'm common," Clayr protested.

"So? I think all women are equal. Like…" his eyes searched for something. He plucked one of the daisies and held it up. "Like flowers,"

"What, we shine for a day or two, and then wither away?" Clayr asked, teasing laughter behind her eyes.

"No. You know how my lord brings his wife big, expensive gifts when they argue?" Clayr nodded. Lord Wyldon was famous in Cavall for his apology gifts. "And then you remember how much she liked the little bouquet of flowers that her brother sent for her birthday?"

"Yes, but I don't understand what Lady Wyldon has to do with any of this."

"Let me put it this way," Owen said. "I'm like the sun. When I'm with my flower, I have beauty to give light to. And when I'm away, my world will seem like winter."

"And what makes you think this flower wants your light?" Clayr teased. Owen feigned pain and fell back off of his elbows, so that he was lying flat on his back.

"I'm not finished. When we are reunited, spring will return. Then we'll reign with light and beauty."

"I didn't know that you could say anything so beautiful. If you expect me to wait for your return, you had better write beautiful, soppy love letters," Clayr said resting her head on his shoulder.

"Of course."

As the sun began to sink behind the tree line, Owen and Clayr walked back to Cavall. Although the threat of winter and war hung over their heads, the hope of spring hung between them in their clasped hands.