#6 Alone
Gawain watched as the old woman came wearily towards him. He had heard her words to Kirra and it had filled him with fear. He didn't like the feeling. His whole life depended on the whim of some temperamental, half-grown woman-child and the old woman had just let her ride off. But he also felt sorrow for the girl.
Her life would be even more disrupted then his. At least he would go back to all he knew. She on the other hand, would be returning to a land she didn't know, with a man she didn't know, to a brother she obviously didn't know, with the thought that the people who raised her and were supposed to love her more then anything in the world would never know she had ever existed. It was a blow he was certain one could never truly recover from.
He did note -- to his extreme disgust in himself -- that Kirra looked very good sitting on the back of her horse. She was confident and moved as one with the animal. It was very easy to see her heritage when she was mounted, though he doubted there was a Sarmatian woman as small as she anywhere in the world.
He eyed Niara warily as she passed him and said, "Come let's get you cleaned up a bit. Kirra will be back before the day is through."
Gawain didn't ask how she knew Kirra would be back, truth be known, he didn't want to know how the old woman knew. He didn't want to be here and he would have given his right arm to be with Kirra on that horse going anywhere, but here. He watched the black mare's fleeing figure awhile longer before rubbing his jaw and having no other choice followed the Fate into the house.
Niara led him to the back of the house to a small room. It was unlike any he'd ever seen before, but some things in it were similar other things he was used to. What looked like a large, white bathing tub sat in the back and there was a funny little white seat in another corner and alongside it a basin. He glanced at Niara who been digging in a cupboard. She pulled out a fold of fluffy cloth and turned to him.
"Let's see how your bandages are holding up." She reached to flip up a corner of his shirt, but he stepped away, uncomfortable with the old woman, Fate, whatever she was.
He folded his arms and primly said, "No."
She chuckled at his tone and said, "Suit yourself." She was in no mood for an argument, "Keep the bandages on, they will keep your stitches from getting wet." And she quickly told him how the knobs over, what did turn out to be a tub, worked.
He had a hard time not showing his delight when she showed him that one released hot water and the other cold. She told him to play with them until he found the temperature that he liked. Then she surprised him even more when she pulled a small knob and water rained from the ceiling, she pushed it back down and the 'shower' stopped. It was amazing. He realized that this must have been what Kirra was talking about when she told him he needed a shower.
"Gawain, are you paying attention to me?" Niara's question brought him out of his thoughts.
"No," He answered honestly and made more of an effort.
"Well, as I was saying here is soap for your body and for your hair," She motioned to a little cake of some solid white substance and then opened a funny looking bottle. The familiar fragrance of jasmine wafted toward him. It was the same scent that he had smelled on Kirra and, now that his head was clearer, it was the same light floral scent he had smelled when Kirra had brushed his forehead that first night.
"That smells like … a woman," He said, stopping himself before he blushed.
"That bothers you?" There was something in Niara's question that made him uncomfortable as if she knew what he was thinking.
"No."
She raised a white eyebrow, "Good, well have fun and take all the time you want. Oh, and if you need to relieve yourself, you may do so here." Niara demonstrated how the 'toilet' worked. She left, chuckling again at his amazed face and ready for a strong cup of tea. It would be a long while before she saw him again.
Gawain took his time, relishing the hot water as it pounded his sore muscles. He groaned slightly and leaned on the wall shifting his weight to his good leg, his bad leg ached, his shoulder ached, and his side ached, although he was feeling much better having boiled many of the aches away.
Anxiety knotted his stomach at the thought that somewhere his fellows were looking for him and not finding him. Gareth would most likely not be taking his absence well. What would the others say and if he was to return with the woman, what would they do? Gawain stuck his face into the falling water, what would Tristan do?
Letting the soap and water wash away any residual dirt and blood and breathing slowly he tried to relax. What would happen when he returned would happen, he couldn't change that. Right now he just had to find a way to get back home. Hoping against hope that the Fate was right and Kirra would return to help him, he turned off the water as the Niara had shown him.
It was much easier to think of her as only an old woman. The thought of her as the tall, powerful, ageless woman caused Gawain to shudder. Having been taken from home at such a young age, he had mostly forgotten the old ways. Besides what had the goddess or her Fates ever done for him? If they were so real then how could they have allowed he and Gareth to have been taken from their home? Or Kirra, for that matter. Gawain frowned in the steamy room, now they wanted more of him?
He dried off slowly and carefully, painfully aware of each little nick and bruise. Niara must've returned sometime while he was in the 'shower' because a fresh set of the strange clothing were folded and waiting for him. Sighing in frustration he thought, I want my own clothes, but pulled the new ones on anyway and left the room, shivering slightly in the cooler air of the hallway.
Where did he go now? Niara was nowhere to be seen and he thought, panicking a little, what if she had left already? He quickly strode into the main room of the house, the one that he had first been in and was surprised to see Kirra sitting on the couch and staring vacantly at the wall.
"May I join you?"
She startled at his voice and looked around, "If you want. Your hair is wet."
"I was wondering what that was dripping down my back. Looks like you've solved that mystery," He gingerly sat down and leaned back against the couch.
Her glassy eyes sharpened, "Ha-ha."
"That's all I get?"
"Ha-ha-ha."
"You don't like me much, do you?"
Wearily she said, "It's not that exactly." Turning to him she said, "Come on, what has Niara given you to go along with this whole hokey scheme?"
Hokey?
"Whatever it is, it is not sufficient enough to put up with you."
That got her attention, "So, this is a huge lie?" she asked, her eyes sparking.
Gawain rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed heavily, "No, I understand no more then you." He looked around, "Where is the old woman anyway?"
"Hopefully far, far from here."
"That is what you truly want?" He asked softly. "When it seems she is really the only one here who knows what is truly happening to us?"
"Yes," Kirra's tone was fierce.
He looked over at the dark-haired girl and was surprised to see that she really meant it.
Her shoulders were rigid, her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and she was glaring at him.
"There is no need to glare daggers. I desire to be here as much as you want me here." He said as he rested his head on the back of the couch.
She softened, "Sorry, it's just easier to be mad at you then even remotely consider the truth."
Gawain thought about that then asked, "What do we do now? I've no idea what she meant by 'key'."
"Me either, but she said it was inside of us." Kirra looked at him, "You been eating any keys lately?"
Gawain narrowed his eyes and rolled his head to look at her, "Oh yes, they are my favorite, right after that slop you made me drink last night."
"Two nights ago."
He shrugged and rubbed again at his eyes; he was quickly developing a pounding headache and was beginning to feel tired.
Kirra's instincts spoke almost before she thought, "Did you by chance eat anything this morning?"
"No. I was hungry, but lost my appetite."
"Well, you need to eat. Wait here and I'll be right back," She left the room.
Gawain had dozed off by the time Kirra had returned with a mounded plate of food and some juice. She stood and quietly regarded him for a moment. He looked like he had been put through the wringer and she wondered what kind of life had he led.
She had seen the bruises and old scars and all of the new injuries. What kind of life would you have to live to bear such marks? And so many? If all of this was true … she shook her head violently, not willing to believe, but looked back down at the knight. He seemed so much older then twenty-four. Kirra sighed.
Without opening his eyes Gawain asked, "See anything you like?"
She groaned and sat down, "I was just wondering whether or not to poke you to make sure you were still alive."
"Look that good, eh?"
"Yep, now open up those baby blues and eat something. It has been at least a couple of days since you ate last. Then I want you to go back to bed and take a nap," She gently placed the plate on his lap and sat back sipping on the juice meant for him.
He didn't move for awhile, so Kirra nudged him gently, "I am not going to leave you alone until you eat something."
It was Gawain's turn to groan, "Leave me be, woman. I'll eat when I am good and ready."
Kirra leaned forward and pinched his arm -- his well muscled arm, she noted with an annoyed internal shake of her head. There was no time for thoughts like that and she wasn't sure that she even liked the guy, "Which is now. I don't have all day to sit here and baby-sit a grown man who should be old enough to know that he will never get better without eating something. I spent too much time stitching you up last night --"
"Two nights ago."
"-- whatever, two nights ago, to just let you starve yourself. Now eat." Kirra ordered not missing a beat.
"Fine," He opened his eyes and examined the plate, "What is this?"
"One of my specialties: scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Oh," she held up the glass she had, "and a half glass of orange juice, that will soon be nonexistent if you don't hurry and eat."
"Orange juice?"
She sighed, "Just eat. Are you always this difficult?" She questioned with a quirked eyebrow.
Gawain shrugged and started eating. He was surprised at how hungry he really was and was finished in record time. Kirra was watching him, with a bemused look on her face. She handed him the glass of juice, which he quickly drained.
"Wow, did you even taste anything?"
He was looking into the empty glass, "Just this, may I have more? What kind of juice was it?"
Kirra took the glass and headed to the kitchen, "Orange juice."
Somewhat exasperated Gawain said, "I know the color, but what is the fruit that made it."
In the same tone of voice Kirra called from the next room, "It is made from oranges. That is the fruit." She came back in with a full glass, "Wait until you see a pineapple." She handed it to him.
He drained the glass and echoed the word she had unwittingly said in English, "Pine-apple?"
Kirra grinned, "Yeah, feel better?"
Gawain nodded and handed back the glass, "Yes."
She sat the glass down, "Good, now you are going to go take a nap."
He just nodded again and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.
Kirra gave a small snort and grabbed his hand, "Not here. Come on."
He allowed himself to be pulled to standing and then pulled into the room he had woken up in. Kirra pushed him toward the bed and went to close the curtains, shutting out the light. Gawain lay back and pulled the blankets over him. He rolled over burying his face in the soft, clean pillowcase. He could get used to this.
Kirra brushed a cool hand across his cheek and wished him good night. There was a warm tingle and he felt his headache ease slightly at the light touch. Then she left and closed the door quietly.
---------------------
Gawain awoke to a quiet rustling sometime during the night. A single candle was burning on the small side table and Kirra was hidden behind the pages of a book. It was the turning of a page that had woken him. She was seated in the chair at his bedside and had tilted it back using her feet for balance. So intent was she on her reading that she didn't notice that he was awake.
Gawain took advantage of her distraction to examine her. She had on more clothing then earlier, but they were a strange selection for a woman to be wearing. She wore a shirt much like the one he had seen stained with his blood, but this one was a dark blue that accented her pink cheeks and gray eyes and she wore a pair of light blue trousers like a man would wear.
Her dark hair had a strange silvery cast to it even in the candlelight and it hung in loose waves around her face and shoulders. Having her hair down made Kirra look younger then she was -- which was young enough. She was short, but, he remembered with a smirk, most of her height was leg.
Her toes were painted a particularly violent shade of pink and around one toe a small silver ring gleamed in the light of the candle. Having seen nothing the likes of that before, he reached out and gently touched it, which caused Kirra to cry out in surprise and jerk back. Not the brightest thing to do considering her position. She lost her balance and crashed backwards onto the floor. Gawain dragged himself to the side of the bed and looked down on her.
He couldn't help laughing. Kirra lay gasping and red-faced. Her book had been thrown behind her when she had thrown up her arms in attempt to regain her equilibrium and lay upside down next to the wall.
He reached down to help her to her feet. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," she said primly, trying to salvage what little dignity she had left. "I like to be touched by a seemingly unconscious man in the middle of the night while I am reading Stephen King. Thank you."
Gawain watched her as she got to her feet and righted her chair then retrieving her book and marking her place with a little scrap of paper. She flopped back in the chair.
"What?"
"You can read?" He asked leaning back against the pillows.
She gave him a disparaging look, "Of course. Can't you?"
"No," He said quietly, diverting his eyes and picking at loose thread on the comforter.
"Oh," Kirra said apologetically. "Sorry. I forgot."
He shrugged, "It is not your fault. My people are nomadic. They move too often to be bothered with parchments or heavy books. Our stories are passed from person to person through songs and stories. And the Romans, well, they would not take the time to teach any of us." He was silent as he thought for a moment, "Though that may not be entirely true. I think maybe Tristan was taught." He glanced at Kirra, "He is our scout." He stopped speaking when he saw Kirra's patronizing smile. "You needn't look at me in that way."
Kirra sighed, "Sorry, I really am. It's just that I am having a hard time believing that you really are Gawain from the stories and when you mention anyone else, I feel like either laughing or hitting you in the head hard enough that you start telling me the truth."
"I do not lie," Gawain stated softly.
The girl wearily pushed her hair from her eyes, "I know and neither does Niara, but this is just so outlandish. I mean Tristan and Arthur. You speak so easily and so familiarly about people who are nothing but legend to me. We learn the tales of King Arthur and his Knights as children in pre-school. Little boys dress up like them for Halloween. Little girls pretend they are princesses to be rescued by knights in shining armor."
Gawain's mind whirled. King Arthur? Halloween? Children in school? He had not the faintest idea of what Kirra was speaking about. But at the mention of tales he did.
He smiled engagingly at Kirra, "What do they say about me?"
She didn't miss a beat, "That you married a nasty, ugly, old woman, and liked her."
Gawain's lip curled in disgust, "That is what I am remembered for? Marrying an ugly, old woman?"
"Yep, that and that you could only fight well until mid-day and then you were as weak as a kitten."
Kirra was enjoying this. With each word Gawain's blue eyes were getting darker and stormier. She found that he had rather nice eyes and that she liked annoying him so that she could watch them deepen and change hue.
'I am going to have to do something about that," He vowed quietly.
Kirra grinned, "Well, with only being able to fight for half a day, you had better make it something big."
Stormy blue met sparkling gray and brightened instantly at the teasing observed there. "You are a wench, you know that?"
"Wench?" Kirra raised her eyebrows and thought for a second, then grinned, "I guess I am."
Gawain chuckled at her easy acceptance, "That is not necessarily a good thing." He said.
"Maybe, but you called me it, so I am thinking it is not necessarily a bad thing either. Because if it were then I would have to do this," And without any regard to his healing wounds, Kirra snatched the pillow from behind his head and smacked him with it. Hard.
"Whoa, girl. Take it easy," Gawain said blinking in surprise. "You are taking advantage of a wounded man."
Kirra laughed easily and handed him the pillow, "You didn't look too wounded when you came barreling out of the house this morning to rescue me."
"I was trying to be polite and you mock me." He looked so disheartened that Kirra immediately regretted having teased him. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh."
He looked up at her, eyes glittering, "Oh, I think you did and so am forced to defend my honor." And he hit her with the pillow she had just given back to him. It was so unexpected that it knocked her off the bed and back onto the floor.
She resurfaced giggling and sat a safe distance away in the chair. "Well, good to know that you are feeling better." She glanced at a wide leather band on her left wrist, "Man, it's late. I had better go to my room and let you sleep. Anything you need?"
He examined Kirra from the corner of his eye. She was flushed from laughter and soft looking in the dim light of the candle and Gawain thought her innocent question quite loaded, but kept his 'needs' to himself. He shook his head.
He was starting to feel tired again, though his body felt like he had only put it through a rough training session instead of a battle in which he had been severely wounded, it would seem that he needed more rest then he first thought. And it wasn't so bad, especially when there was such a lively and lovely young woman to nurse him back to health.
Kirra rose and took up the candle, "Well, I am just down the hall if you change your mind. Have a good sleep."
"And you," He said rolling to his side and noting that his pillow smelled faintly of jasmine before sleep claimed him.