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Paths of Discontent

Neasa was sitting peacefully by the hearth as Tristan stormed in. She glanced up to see the menacing silhouette of Arthur's scout carrying a barely conscious Abigail in his arms. Neasa was ushering him to Abigail's small sleeping quarters before the scout even had a chance to breathe the herb laced air of the hut.

"What did you do to her," Neasa asked stonily as she pushed him into the room. Tristan ignored her accusatory question as he laid Abigail on the small cot. Neasa was by her side removing the wet garments before Tristan could turn to leave. "Don't just stand there, bring me some cloths and the water over the fire," Neasa ordered the wet scout. Tristan obeyed mechanically, not really paying attention to his motions. When he returned to the room, Abigail's soaked clothes lay on the floor while the woman herself was wrapped in a thick blanket.

Tristan placed the supplies beside Abigail's cot while Neasa quickly stoked a fire. Tristan found himself stroking the wet strands of hair out of Abigail's pained face. Neasa came up beside him as he longingly watched the prone girl. "What happened to her, Tristan," Neasa asked more calmly this time. Tristan moved to the side allowing her to tend Abigail.

"She stole Galahad's mount for a ride. The horse gets skittish in the rain. Must have tossed her," he reported quietly as he watched the elderly woman attend to Abigail's wrist without even being told of its injury.

"How long was she out there?"

"Over an hour. Took me too much time to find her in the storm," Tristan answered regretfully knowing that Abigail had little defense against the damp or cold. The woman didn't even reach Tristan's chin when she stood on her toes, nor did she weigh enough to avoid being tossed around like a child when Gawain or Bors was feeling affectionate. "I shouldn't have let her leave me," he berated himself.

"She will be fine, child," Neasa assured him in a way that anyone else would have feared to. "She is just chilled. She will be well in the morning, and her wrist will heal in its own time. It is not your fault that she is as strong willed as she is… Now let's get you out of those sopping garments before you catch your death," Neasa said as she turned to Tristan, having finished bandaging Abigail's wrist.

"I am fine," Tristan protested weakly through chattering teeth of his own. Neasa just shook her head and led him from the room. She guided him to a dark room on the other side of the house. Once inside, she lit a fire in the hearth, and placed a cauldron of water over it. There was a large stone tub in the center of the room, not unlike the ones in the Roman baths. Once the water over the fire had heated, Neasa retrieved it and poured it into the already waiting bath. The added water served to heat it sufficiently, and Neasa gestured toward the now steaming pool. "It will warm you, now get out of those sopping garments before you court yourself a cold," the elderly woman said as she shuffled toward the door.

Tristan just glanced from Neasa's retreating form to the bath and back again. But before he could utter a word of protest, Neasa was beside him pulling at the tunic that was sticking to his shaking chest. "If you do not heed my words, I shall treat you like the child you were when you arrived here," the sage healer warned as she pulled the tunic over his head and carried it toward the fire to dry. "Now, bathe yourself or I shall do it for you?" With that said Neasa removed herself from the room to check in on her charge.

Abigail had become like a daughter to the elderly woman when she had showed up on her doorstep in the pouring rain, not a year earlier. Abigail had had tears flowing down her cheeks in rivers to match the droplets of rain, but she was determined in her quest. Neasa had nearly refused the girl, because she could sense that the girl wanted the child more than anything. However, when Neasa heard who the father was, she immediately, though regretfully, brought the girl the herbs necessary for eliminating the child. Neasa was a healer and she hated to use her skills to eliminate a life that had never had the chance to grow. However, Neasa had heard that Abigail was to marry a Roman, and for the girl to bear a Sarmatian's child would be unsafe for both mother and child. Though it pained both women, the child had been destroyed.

Abigail had spent the entire night afterwards, telling Neasa how much she didn't want to marry the Roman. She only had eyes for Tristan, but if she were to go against her father's wishes she would have had to live in disgrace. The entire village would disown her, and she would have to depend on the care of Tristan and the knights. She loved Tristan, but she refused to be his burden. So she had chosen to bear a scar just as deep for the sake of all parties. It was most painful when Neasa had found Abigail at her doorstep once again, not five days ago. It seemed that her betrothed had only wanted a woman to make him look respectable while he went around dishonoring as many women as he could. Now Neasa watched the woman, in experience more than age, battle with the demons and loves of her past.

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Tristan quickly disrobed and slipped into the hot water once Neasa left. He wasn't willing to admit to anyone else, but the heated bath was almost as pleasant a sight as Abigail's return had been. The warm liquid soothed the tense muscles running through Tristan's body, and the scout found himself dozing in the serenity of it.

Neasa returned quite a while later to find the scout lightly dozing while sitting up in the bath. She grumbled to herself about stupid scouts and the dangers of sleeping in a basin of water, but she quietly heated some more water to warm the cooling tub for him. Tristan woke as Neasa poured a new cauldron of water into the bath. He quickly began to rise, realizing that he had been there quite long enough.

"Sit. There is no advantage to rising if your body would benefit more from relaxation. You work yourself too hard, then you expect your body to be in perfect condition when it is needed. You ask too much of yourself, Tristan," Neasa told him as she place a wrinkled hand on his shoulder so that he would sit.

Once the scout was seated again, Neasa went over to the hearth to retrieve some herbs and oils. "You went back for her," Neasa stated as she went through several of her jars and bags.

"No one else would have, if I had not," Tristan stated as he tried to relax once again, but the healer's presence unnerved him.

"You would not have done so for one such as the seamstress or the blacksmith's wife," Neasa challenged wisely.

"For they have husbands or loved ones to do so for them," Tristan replied coldly.

"Do not try to fool yourself because you are the only one who believes your own words. You still care for her deeply, and the only person you are hurting with your stubbornness is yourself. Do not think that Abigail needs you as you do her. The girl may love you with all her heart, but she will marry another if you do not act. Abigail was not made for solitude such as you or myself. She needs to be loved, and if you won't do it then she will be forced to find someone who will," Neasa informed him darkly as she placed several healing herbs in the water as well as a couple oils.

Tristan recoiled from the healing supplies and was about to get out when Neasa spoke for the last time. "Tristan, you have seen nearly fifteen years of war and blood. Do you not think it is time to put away the hatred and death and find something more pleasant to live for? Think about that, scout. I shall bring you fresh clothes when you are ready to depart," Neasa said wisely as she left the room once again.

Tristan sat in the shadows of the bath for many hours as he contemplated the old healer's words. He left the hut several hours before the sun rose, and reported to Arthur for his next assignment. Neasa may have been correct, but Tristan's fifteen years weren't over yet, and he still had work to do.

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Abigail woke as the sun was reaching its zenith. She was wrapped in a warm blanket and could feel the heat of the still glowing fire. Neasa was sitting beside her bed mixing a salve while she waited for a tea to boil. Abigail slowly sat up trying to remember what had happened the previous day.

"I am glad to see you awake, Abigail. I was beginning to think you liked the company of your dreams better than you enjoy my company," the old woman said with mirth in her voice.

"You know I value your company above all others, Neasa," Abigail retorted. "Did Tristan bring me back," she asked as though she couldn't tell if it was a memory she recalled or a dream.

"So you do remember. That is good, I thought you might have hit your head, but if you remember what happened then you shall be fine," Neasa said as she rose to examine her charge. "Your wrist is broken, but I think it will heal quickly if you do not overexert yourself."

"Broken? But I must work. Vanora will scream if I Am un-fit to help her at the tavern," Abigail worried as she tested her wrist with a cringe.

"Vanora visited me this morning looking for you, and she said that your health is what is most important. Now, let us get you out of bed. I have some new herbs I would like you to sort through," Neasa assured the younger woman as she aided her to stand.

Several hours later, Abigail sat with Vanora in the kitchen of the tavern sorting herbs while Vanora cooked what would become supper. "Is Arthur angry with me Van," Abigail asked as she braided several herbs together to hang and dry. It was a tedious process considering her wrist was barely useable.

"You know Arthur cannot stay angry at you for more than five minutes," Vanora laughed before saying, "And even if he was, Tristan wouldn't let him do anything about it."

"Would Tristan really interfere like that," Abigail asked with a hint of displeasure that Vanora didn't catch.

"Of course he would darling. He loves you," Vanora said as though those simple words explained everything.

"He has an odd way of showing it," Abigail said as she recalled her conversations with the scout the previous day. "Anyway, I don't want him interfering with my affairs. If he can't bear to speak to me, then he should not speak on my behalf," Abigail ground out.

"Honey, Tristan barely speaks to anyone. You cannot fault the man for his silence. I didn't even know he could speak Latin for the first three years of his service. Tristan lets his actions speak for him. He went back for you last night, did he not? He still cares deeply for you," Vanora explained pityingly because Abigail didn't deserve to be put through this. Vanora remembered the bright spirited girl that had once loved Tristan, but now all she could see was a woman older than her years whose heart was fading from misuse.

"Tristan never had trouble speaking to me, even when we first met. I was nothing but and obnoxiously silly girl, but he spoke to me like his equal. Now he tells me that I am too young and naïve for him. Perhaps he does still care for me, but I will not be cowed by him simply because he is too stubborn to admit his feelings. Galahad is not so bad once you block out his childishness. Perhaps he could make me happy," Abigail said on the brink of tears.

"Abby you can't do this to yourself. You won't be happy if you marry a man just to spite Tristan. Trust me; everything will come around in time. You must be patient with Tristan, he will realize his fault," Vanora said in a motherly fashion as she embraced the younger woman. Vanora wished that she could just make Tristan stop his stubbornness, but she knew that the scout had to come to terms with his own troubles before he could love again. "Now, let's get you fed so you can go back to helping Neasa in the healing arts," Vanora said lightly as she placed a bowl of stew before her friend.

"You always know what to say don't you Van," Abigail replied as she took a bit of the stew. "I just miss the way things were," Abigail said nostalgically between bites.

"I do too sweetie, I do too," Vanora whispered as she remembered when she had first met Abigail. Vanora missed the smile that Tristan had only for Abigail. That smile had died when Abigail left, but Vanora prayed that she would see it return before it was too late.

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Sorry that it took so long to update, life has been hectic and exhausting so I have been napping instead of writing. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you to everyone who reviewed the last one. Your thoughts and comments are always greatly appreciated. So please tell me what you think of this, it is very helpful.