Chapter 18.
She was laying in shadowy glen, a gentle lullaby on a gentler wind, the caress of the soft pink blossoms soothing her fear, though she had long forgotten what had made her heart stutter and her pulse race. But now the creaking of the timbers around her sang to her so softly that she might have been imagining the noise, except for the peace that welled up within her. Her rest was undisturbed, there among the roses and the trees, with the shadows of the dancing leaves painting a masterpiece of timeless eternity upon the warmth earth beneath her. Until she heard the faint steps of a heavy beast, its deep, rasping breaths cutting through the still silence that had held the glen suspended in its perpetual calm.
But despite the hollow gasping that slowly washed over her prone form, she felt no fear. Rather she felt her lips curve up a smile, filled with the sensation that comes with the unexpected arrival of a long lost friend. She did not stir as the heavy foot falls approached, rather stayed as she was, eyes half open, watching the flickering of the sunlight through the canopy that reached like a lover's arms above her, as if to shield her from the true harshness of the light.
Her view was disturbed however when a black shadow cut across her hazy vision. She opened her eyes completely to pull the shape of a giant wolf's muzzle into focus. The beast towered above her form, the summer's sky looking down on her from its eyes, the only flaw in its shimmering black pelt, a small scar running up the right side of its maw.
The fierce beast should have made her afraid, but instead she found herself reaching up to caress the fur of the massive beast, watching its eyes roll shut as it tilted its head into her scratching fingers. For a long moment, they remained in that state, the hulking monster quietly holding vigil above her as she caressed it's soft fur. But after an immeasurable moment, she felt the call of sweet darkness call to her and her hand grew limp in its coat.
The creature tilted its head, ears flicking forward in curiosity, its summer's sky eyes studying her with the clarity that only creatures who live in the world as it is can know. Then with a soft breath out, the massive form shifted, and with an elegance of water flowing in a deep river, the beast settled its form to lay beside her, slowly dropping its massive head to rest on her belly.
She sighed in contentment, and the eyes rolled to look at her as the head tilted from its resting place, before it shifted slightly to angle toward her face , and after watching her for on more moment, flicking its tongue out in a quick caress of her cheek, before the head shifted back across her belly. The beast shifted once more, to ensure its muscles were all comfortable and settling with a huff, its summer sky eyes slid shut, and its steady easy breathing lulled her eyes shut and together they drifted away.
She awoke slowly, warm and comfortable under the covers, before the gentle rocking of the ship encouraged her to open her eyes. Slowly the Captain's Quarters came into focus as she took a deep breath and stretched, feel calmer than she had in a long time. Her spirit was still, something that had not been since her parents and son had been kidnapped.
She took another breath before flicking the covers back and swinging her feet over the side of the bed, smiling slightly when her feet landed in the two worn spots on the carpet. She swept her bare feet back and forth a few times to try and leave her own memories embedded in the worn fibers before she stood.
She was slightly startled when the small green book slid from her lap to the floor with a soft thud, and she picked it up with a gentle hand, regarding the thing with affection, before she turned back to the bed to search for the reason for the book. Pulling the covers back into place, she found the small blossom laying unharmed, and with a feeling of fierce protectiveness, she picked it up, slipping the stem betweent he cover and the front page of the book before turning to the rest of the room.
She was unsurprised to find a plate of fresh fruits with biscuits and honey already on an intricate platter for her, a small scroll resting on top of the garnish that decorated the edge of the plate. She considered the roll of parchment for a moment before deciding to eat first, settling herself in the straight back chairs of the table, setting the book in her hand on the table beside the platter.
The fruit was cool and fresh and the biscuits were still warm and flaky as she dined, the water she drank again hinted with lemon, but crisp and cold. she had eaten no better quality even at the castle. As she ate, she considered the book and flower, her mind remembering the story she had read.
The tale of man and his wife, and their unborn child. The man was called away to war and in the years he is gone, the woman gives birth to a health son. One day, the woman and her son are attacked by a strange man, and in an effort to protect her child, she attacks the man. But the man was able to get the advantage, and was going to kill her when her young son took his father's knife and with the strength of the love of a child, he was able to fatally wound the man, allowing his mother and him to escape, and the man to lay there and die.
So afraid was she by the ordeal that she wrote to the man, begging him to come home and help raise his son. But the man had found out, while he was away at war, that his father had been killed, and so he ignored the letter in favor of finding the one responsible for his death and getting revenge. To ensure he was not called home again, he had word sent that he had died in combat, and the woman was devastated. The man wasted many years in his search, missing his son growing up into a man, while the woman mourned him and tried to move on.
Eventually, a fisherman caught her eye and won her heart, and slowly she healed. The fisherman taught the boy his trade and taught him how to be a man, and somehow, they became a family. The boy gave his mother the knife of his father, for he needed it no longer. The knife that had once used to defend the family was no used to feed it.
But the man continued his mission, now driven into madness by his quest, and eventually he traced the knife back to the village he once used to call home. At night, when he arrived a house furnished with flowers and looking through the open window, he saw a women laughing as she cut vegetables, and did not know here. But the knife in her hand was the one that had slayed his father, and the madness that had driven him for so long made him mindless. In his fury, he took the torch in his hand and threw it into the thatching, and watched the house burn.
it was only as the flames became unbearable that he heard a voice cry out the name of his son, and suddenly the madness lifted and he understood what he had done. He dropped to his knees as the flames dances in the night and wept for all he had lost at his own hand, and where his tears fell, pale pink blossoms, the color of the blush of his wife's cheeks and his child's laugh. He spent the rest of his days there in that glen, his regret and tears in the night keeping the roses alive long after all else had passed away.
It was such an odd story, not at all what she thought would be the origin story of such a fragile looking flower would have, but in some ways, she felt that perhaps it made it all the more meaningful. She finished her meal and reached out to brush her finger along the petals of the flower, allowing herself a few more moments to mule over the story, before she decided it was time to start the day.
She reached for the scroll, pulling the little ribbon loose to unroll it, taking in his elegant script.
Good morning Lady Swan. Today, I've tasked you to tidy the forehold and coil all the rope on deck. The skies should stay clear for you. Best of luck.
And watch out for the rats. They don't have food stores to eat from anymore so they could be might bit hungry.
A second page contained the more detailed descriptions and instructions. She threw the scroll back onto the table with a scoff, before she took a breath.
"Well I suppose I should get to work then," she said to the rose, pulling it from its spot in the cover as she stood, making her way back to the bed and the small pile of clothing that sat on the chest at the end of it. Placing the rose down carefully, she stripped off the gown she had been wearing the last few days and the shift that was under that before hurriedly pulling on the closes he had given her, feeling the strange discomfort that comes from being bare in a foreign room.
As she slipped the vest over her tunic, tying it up, she felt different. The trousers and tunic were comfortable and practical, and not having a corset one allowed for an immense range of both movement and deep breathing. She made a mental note to write and ask him for a bath and some creeping clothes, before she bundled everything up and places it on her plate, remembering his words about cleaning her dirty things during the course of the day.
She hesitate for one more moment, before taking a deep breath situation the plate in one hand and picking up the flower with the other.
"Shall we then? To our first day of work."
And with a strange sense of purpose, she marched out of the cabin, placing the dishes and old clothes outside the door as asked before heading out into the sun.