a/n: All right, thank you again for your great comments. They're so helpful. I hope you all don't mind, but I have to tell you: a movie I worked on just came out on DVD. It's called Everything You Want. If you're interested, I think Wal-Mart is selling it, and your usual slew of stores. It's at least available at them all online. Anyway, on with the story—
Responsibilities in a Far-Off Land
She didn't leave her room after she spoke with Tristan. It'd taken the whole night to calm herself, to console herself that it was better to know and move on, than to waste her life desiring someone who never would desire her back.
Expect now, she had told Tristan, in no uncertain terms. Would it make things harder for her? She feared seeing him, feared the awkwardness that she knew would exist, at least for her. She kept telling herself that Tristan was a good man—obviously, for she cared for him—and he wouldn't make things harder on her. He wouldn't hold this against her, would he?
Even if he did, he certainly wouldn't show it.
The next day, Vanora invited her over. Jaelynn couldn't refuse her; the children wanted to see her, and if she didn't show her face sooner or later, it would only raise concern in Vanora, and then it would spread like wildfire to everyone else.
She kept up a cheery smile and prayed Vanora wouldn't see through it. If the red-head did, she didn't question Jaelynn about it.
Jaelynn left and walked through the village. She kept her eyes downcast, fearing she just might see Tristan. For once, she hoped she didn't see him.
She went to the black smith. One thing she distracted her mind with was the need for a sword of her own. It wasn't really lady-like, but she wasn't a lady. She was a healer, and she needed her own weapon, especially as she and Gawain continued her training. He had knocked on her door today, asking if she was coming out to train. Jaelynn used the visit to Vanora as an excuse.
The smithy looked surprised when she entered. But it quickly became a look of contempt.
"What do you want?" he asked gruffly. Jaelynn almost groaned; this wasn't what she needed. She had enough opposition in her life right now. But she stood straighter and narrowed her eyes. With a deep breath, she hid away any emotional response.
"I need a sword," she declared. The smithy was hardly convinced.
"Why does a girl need a sword?'
She could have grabbed the nearest sword and run him through. Well, not really, but she imagined it briefly.
"That's my business, not yours," she said. "What do you have?"
The smithy glared. "Take your pick, lass, if you can afford any of them." He gestured overdramatically at the swords in the room. Jaelynn smirked at him and began looking around the room.
Short swords, long swords, thin and wide, with decorative hilts and plain ones too. She had no idea what to even consider. Maybe she should have brought Gawain to help her. Jaelynn turned to the next selection of swords.
And standing by them was Tristan. Their eyes locked immediately, and Jaelynn felt her heart stop. Her stomach lurched, and she just wanted to disappear. He looked about the same way.
"Ah, the scout," the smithy muttered. "What do you want?" It bothered Jaelynn that the smithy was a bit more civil to Tristan than her. Callous man. Tristan turned away from Jaelynn without nodding or addressing her at all.
Suddenly, she didn't want a sword anymore.
"I need this sharpened," Tristan said, and he handed over his long, slightly curved blade. He left it in the smithy's hands, and then left the shop.
The smithy turned back to Jaelynn, but she felt like someone had stabbed her through the heart—again. She didn't expect him to totally ignore her, not really. But he just did. One side of her mind said it was only natural. It had been less than a day since their return and her talk with Tristan. But the other side of her said it was just proof that she should move on; Tristan didn't love her, and never would. Why hurt anymore over him?
"Find something you like?" the smithy asked. Jaelynn snapped out of her thoughts. She stared at the smithy and then shook her head. She quickly ran back to her room, and stayed there the rest of the day, even neglecting her healing duties.
Jaelynn reported to Hilden early in the morning, her mind resolutely pledged to abolish Tristan.
"How was your journey?" Hilden asked cheerily. His hair was newly shorn, and he wore the brightest of smiles. For some reason, it sickened Jaelynn. She cleared her throat uneasily.
"It's good to be back," she said. "Do you need more herbs from the market?"
Hilden shook his head.
"No, we'll have to gather some from the forest," he said. "Would you like to help me?"
She nodded eagerly.
"Good," he said. Hilden's smile faded. Jaelynn wondered why, but she busied herself gathering a few baskets for the herbs. "So you don't like the travel, eh? I was hoping you would."
Jaelynn straightened up, four baskets in hand. "Why?"
"There are more villages to visit," he said. "I was hoping to stay here for awhile, and if the journey agreed with you, I would have no qualms about sending you. But—"
"You wish me to go again?" she asked. This last journey was so unpleasant, in so many ways: from thinking Tristan was dead, to discovering he was alive, to the whole Morlo problem, to her return and declaration to Tristan.
But you could get away. Maybe a little distance was what she needed. Inside, her heart beat rapidly. This could be it—this could be her answer, her solution to avoid the awkwardness, to start afresh, to break her mind and heart from Tristan.
Hilden shrugged. "Only if you want to. You've learned so quickly that you're experienced enough to handle showing the other healers what to do, and the village healers need some help sometimes with other things. . . . But I hate to send you so soon—"
"I'd be happy to go," Jaelynn said. She swallowed, and her breath was quick with her newfound excitement. Hilden frowned for a moment, and she wondered if her reasons were transparent. Then, he grinned, and laughed jovially.
"Excellent!"
-0-0-
Tristan hadn't seen Jaelynn since the smithy. It was two days' past now. His false words from when she confessed her affection to him kept repeating in his mind. Well, not his words, because of course he was too cowardly to actually say anything. He just kept seeing himself shaking his head, denying Jaelynn and the love she offered freely.
It doesn't matter. It's past now, and you still don't deserve her.
He kept himself hidden. He found himself scurrying whenever he was in public view, and felt calmer and safer in the shadows of the stables, his room, or the council room.
He sat numbly at the round table now, waiting for Arthur and everyone else to assemble. There was no urgency in the gathering, but he wondered what was needed.
Galahad and Gawain sauntered in together, with their laughter announcing them before Tristan could see them.
"Tristan," each knight said, greeting him. Bors' voice boomed down the hallway, and all three knights glanced at the door until he came in.
"What's wrong now?" Bors said by way of any greeting. He grumbled as he found his normal seat. "Every time we come here there's some problem."
"Yeah, but at least Tristan's here this time," Galahad said. He grinned mischievously. "So we know he's not the trouble."
Bors laughed loudly at that, eyeing the scout. Tristan grunted.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled. "You want me to stay home next time someone takes Vanora?"
That shut the loud knight up. Galahad cleared his throat.
"Yes, it was because of Vanora that you went." Bors and Gawain cracked a grin, and Tristan just rolled his eyes at Galahad's sarcasm.
"Speaking of Jaelynn," Gawain piped up, "I asked her if she wanted you to teach her archery. She said she wasn't interested in archery anymore."
Gawain, Galahad and Bors stared at Tristan, just waiting for an explanation. Tristan wondered if Jaelynn had told anyone about him. He doubted it—Jaelynn wasn't a whiner, and she probably preferred to keep this to herself. But the fools in front of him still grinned and waited for an answer.
Tristan stared back blankly.
"Knights," came a voice they all knew. Tristan was relieved when he saw Arthur. They all sat, and Tristan was a little surprised that no others joined them. No Britons, not Guinevere—just the knights. For some reason, it made him feel more at ease. It was like old times.
"Tristan," Arthur said with a nod in his direction. "Good to have you back. Are you all right?"
How does he know about – Oh. Arthur wasn't talking about Jaelynn. He meant Nasica. In truth, he hadn't thought about the woman in awhile. That should tell you something. He didn't really care for her, or not deep enough for it to affect him for long.
Maybe that's because of Jaelynn.
"Fine," was all he said back. Arthur accepted this, and turned to the others.
"Hilden has come to me, requesting that Jaelynn be sent out to more villages," Arthur said. Tristan sat a little straighter. "The villages could use some more help, and Hilden wants to stay at the Wall."
"Lazy bum," Bors mumbled. Arthur shot him a look. "Well, why send Jaelynn?"
"Do you know of any other healer?" Gawain brought up. Bors shrugged.
"She just started learning."
Arthur began to pace calmly in front of the men. Tristan wondered why he didn't just sit. "Hilden says she knows enough," Arthur said, moving on. "The reason I've asked you here is for Jaelynn's protection. We wouldn't normally send Hilden with a guard or escort, but with Jaelynn I feel we should."
Tristan nodded along with the rest of the knights. Any lady should be sent with an escort, and being Jaelynn, he wholeheartedly agreed. But then he thought about where Arthur was heading.
"Which of you would like to go?" Arthur asked. "The journey should last a few weeks, and I'd rather send someone she knows to accompany her."
Instantly, all eyes turned to Tristan.
"Bors," he said by way of defense. "You should take her."
"Nawh, Vanora'd kill me," the loud knight said. Galahad and Gawain exchanged looks, and Tristan didn't miss the subtle grin on their faces.
"Well, Lucinda needs me here," Gawain said. He was a bit too loud as he said it, and it easily gave away his lie. But Arthur didn't protest.
"And Jaelynn and I didn't get along too well," Galahad said. Tristan rolled his eyes. Could his lie be any worse? Everyone got along well with Jaelynn! Arthur raised an eyebrow. Galahad rephrased his objection. "Not as well as she and Tristan get along. He should go."
As if to further emphasize his choice, he pointed directly at the scout. Tristan shifted in his seat and began to shake his head.
"Are you willing, Tristan?" Arthur asked. There was that concerned but authoritative tone to the king's voice, and he frowned at Tristan. "I know you've just returned, but you do like the travel more than any of us."
"He doesn't have anyone to make him stay behind," Gawain added. Tristan's hand casually went to his dagger. Gawain leaned away from the table.
The scout glanced coolly from each man to the next. "I thought I get in trouble every time I leave."
Galahad snickered. Arthur glared at the knight.
"I trust you can take care of yourself, and Jaelynn," Arthur said. There was sincerity in what he said. He wasn't just trying to match-make or jab him about anything.
Which is why Tristan agreed.
-0-0-
Tristan.
Of all people. Of all the Briton warriors, or the knights.
Tristan was accompanying her. "To protect you." That just rubbed coarse salt in the wound. She probably needed protection, to an extent, but from Tristan?
Of all people!
But of course, Jaleynn couldn't object. To do that would make way too much apparent to anyone. So she smiled politely and nodded along to what Hilden and Arthur told her. Inside, she was fuming.
All she wanted to do was get away. Escape. Focus on something else. Something more worthy of her time and thoughts. But no—she wasn't fortunate enough for things to actually occur as she planned. And now, she would be traveling with Tristan for three weeks, at least!
Two weeks ago, she would have been elated. Now, she dreaded it. Jaelynn resolved that her heart would not be hurt anymore. But one look from Tristan or one of his rare words could make her doubt. She was tired of that game, of trying to find alternate meanings or intentions to his every movement. Hence, why she wanted to remove herself from the situation altogether.
Thwarted, yet again. Could she suffer any more bad luck?
It was when they were a day into their journey that Jaelynn started to fume over the situation more. She was the one who had a mission here. She was the one who needed to travel, to serve the villages and offer her limited healing knowledge. Someone assigned her protection—a guard, really. Maybe that's how she had to view things now.
For once, it wasn't raining, snowing, or freezing. It actually was a warmer day for the winter month. Jaelynn removed the hood around her face, and enjoyed some rare sunshine. She sat tall in her saddle. Her eyes never once wandered to the scout beside her. She simply wouldn't allow it. Once again, this was her turf; her mission. She wouldn't let Tristan spoil it.
That didn't mean she didn't feel the scout's eyes on her. Maybe, for a change, she was unnerving him with her silence. She hadn't spoken a word to him since they left the fort, and neither had he. They simply nodded to each other, and rode out.
The cry of a bird caught her attention. Gliding gracefully and basking in the sun, Tristan's hawk descended. It landed on the scout's outstretched arm. Jaelynn couldn't help but watch the bird. It hopped around before settling calmly as its master rode.
"Do you want to hold her?" Tristan asked. Jaelynn's eyes darted from the bird to the scout. He held his arm out, as if to urge the hawk towards her.
Jaelynn shook her head, and looked away. She gave her horse a little kick, and rode a few paces ahead of Tristan.
-0-0-
This was exactly what he suspected would happen. Jaelynn was ignoring him. Tristan could choke on the uncomfortable tension between them.
It's your own fault.
He shook his head, drawing a curious look from his hawk. He studied the bird's beady eyes, staring right back at him. The hawk tilted her head to the side, and he wondered what she was thinking.
Not wanting the judgment of even his hawk, he raised his arm suddenly to launch her to the sky. Maybe she'd find a rabbit for dinner. Another hour or so, and they would need to make camp.
He wondered how unbearable the night would be.
He found out later.
She still hadn't said a word to him. Tristan sat by the fire he'd built and turned the rabbit his hawk brought back over the flames. Jaelynn sat against a tree, a good twenty feet away, reading one of her healing scrolls. Her eyes never left the words she read.
Tristan grabbed his dagger and cut the rabbit up.
"Come eat," he said. Jaelynn glanced up. Her eyes focused only on the meat. Somehow, that disappointed Tristan.
She stood up and came to his side. He held some of the meat for her to take, and take it she did. She went right back to her tree to eat and read at the same time.
Tristan sighed. It was going to be a long three weeks at this rate. But he had no one to blame but himself. I should have explained why it wouldn't work. Aside from his invitation to hold the hawk and to eat the rabbit, he hadn't spoken to her—or seen her—since he was shooting arrows at a tree.
Should I tell her why now? She deserved an explanation.
It'll make it worse. That was true too. Maybe the last thing he should do was bring up the past. Kind of an ironic thought, coming from you. He grunted to himself and the dead rabbit before him. This was all so foreign to him. It reminded him of how out of place he felt in Rome. He shook his head at himself.
Peace offering. Maybe that would work. He couldn't use the meal—that flopped, quite obviously. What else?
The black smith. She was there, looking for something—a sword. Tristan's eyes moved to his saddle, where his extra sword was tucked. He had his old one strapped on his back. The new sword was well-made, and obviously a newer workmanship. The smithy had done a good job. It was a heavier blade though. Tristan didn't care for it as much as he did his old sword, even though it was newer and probably a bit stronger. Somehow, though, it wasn't enough for Jaelynn. She deserved something better.
He almost dreaded his next thought.
His old sword. The one he'd used against hundreds or thousands of men and women. The one that survived like he did through his servitude. He pulled the blade from his scabbard.
The long blade gleamed in the firelight. Tristan tested the edge where the smithy had sharpened it. It sliced into his skin, not enough to bleed, but enough to know it was dangerous. Too dangerous for her. . . That was an excuse, and he recognized it. He hated to part with this sword. But it was lighter, and Jaelynn would grow used to the length as she practiced. And maybe she would notice that it wasn't just any sword, but one that he favored for more than fifteen years.
Was he being a complete sap for even dwelling on this? Was a gift for Jaelynn the wrong way to go? Would it just confuse her? All she ever asked for was you. He would never be good enough for her. No man would.
And what will you do, when another man does try to win her? Morlo had tried, albeit quite foolishly. Gawain had even said he would court her, if it weren't for Lucinda. Tristan wished Lucinda a long life, just to prevent that.
Dumb scout. For all his observations of things and people around him, he was blind to realize he might be wrong. It made Tristan shudder. What if he . . .
No.
Why not?
What if he . . . was good enough for Jaelynn? Could he ever really trust anyone else to care for her as he did? To protect her?
And love? He wasn't really there yet, partially because of how he felt about their difference in age. But he wasn't her father. As much as he chided himself for being old enough to be her father, he really wasn't. That man was older, at least by five, ten, maybe even fifteen years.
Orange and yellow flames danced on the sword. Tristan blinked a few times, setting aside his thoughts. She was watching him, he could tell. He could always tell, and feel it. He didn't look up at her though. She would only look away angrily. Instead, he studied the blade, its imperfections from time, and considered if Jaelynn would really like it.
-0-0-
More riding. Her back bothered her from all the riding. Maybe the carriage was a better way to go.
Tristan hadn't said much today. He told her to get ready to go, and now they rode. That was it. Jaelynn prided herself on not responding back.
Am I being completely childish for ignoring him? Defiantly, she told herself no. She was mad at him. She had every right to be.
She didn't realize it, but her fists were balled around the reins of the horse. She frowned, making lines crease her face.
"What's wrong?"
She jumped, startled at the sudden words from Tristan. He nodded at her tense posture. Everything inside of her wanted to ignore him, but that would be childish when he asked her a direct question. She took a deep breath.
"Nothing," she said.
"You're lying," Tristan remarked. A flash of anger sent Jaelynn's blood racing. How dare he!
"And how would you know?"
Tristan shrugged as if her tone didn't unease him at all. She hated that about him. He was never nervous.
"I know you," he said simply. That did it.
Jaelynn pulled up harshly on the reins. Tristan's horse stopped too, but pranced around, as if wondering what caused the delay.
"You know me?" she repeated. Tristan had enough sense to not interrupt her. "Did you know why I decided to come on this trip?" The scout didn't move; not even one of his braids swayed in the light breeze. "Did you?"
Reluctantly, Tristan shook his head.
"That's what I thought," Jaelynn said. "How could you? You don't think about anyone but yourself." That was unfair, but she was too angry to stop. "Did you know I agreed to travel in Hilden's place because I needed to get away? I need my space too, Tristan. Maybe it's cowardly to run away from problems, but I learned it from you."
He shifted uneasily now.
"Do I ever come after you when you need your time to mope?" she spat out. "No. I respected you. But you don't even have the decency to give me my space, especially after . . ." After you refused me. That would be going too far, and it was too recent and deep a pain to lay out now. She shook her head.
"Why did you come?" she asked next. Tristan just stared blankly at her. Does the man show emotion, ever? "Why would you hurt me by making it harder for me?"
The wind picked up then, blowing Jaelynn's hair in airy swirls. Strands of her hair danced about her head. The chill of the air brought a shiver over her body, but Jaelynn still felt only heat from her anger. Tristan hadn't really moved. He sat atop his horse, his eyes at least downcast.
Do you think he's really going to answer you?
Jaelynn shut her eyes with a sigh. How she wished she were in a far-off land right now, with no one around her. Especially not him.
"I don't care if you're a knight," Jaelynn said, sitting taller in her saddle. Her horse jittered beneath her. "I have a purpose on this journey, and you have yours—to protect me." Her voice suddenly sounded a bit haughty, but she embraced it. This was for her own good, for her own protection. "As my guard, I ask you not to interfere and to stay out of the way unless danger is present. Don't distract me with your questions, and don't pretend to be anything to me but an assigned guard. I ask nothing more or less than that."
The request, or command, was unnatural coming from her, but Jaelynn emphasized it with a kick to her horse. The horse sauntered ahead, and Jaelynn rode with her chin in the air. There was a lump in her throat, but she swallowed it away. She had a purpose . . .
. . . and it was time Tristan stopped interfering with her heart.