A/N: Here's a nice long chapter. This is where it starts to get good. Let me know what you think of Trestan, and if Isabelle begins to show any Mary-Sue-like tendencies.
Chapter 4
Around midnight, Isabelle awoke. The door to the great hall was pushed open. A tall man with a torch in one hand entered. His other hand held a heavy-looking pack with a sheepskin strapped to it. Although the man was in his early twenties, he looked as if he had seen much hardship and loneliness. He had tousled brown hair and a strong, slightly stocky build. His eyes, as silvery as the stars in the sky behind him, scanned the room as he walked toward Isabelle's place in the shadows.
Isabelle pressed herself against the wall, trying to keep herself hidden in the shadows. She barely breathed as he passed her. She crept along the wall, trying to escape before he noticed her presence.
The man whirled around, spotting her. Isabelle cowered in fear, eyeing the sword the man carried at his belt. Never turning his back to her, the man strode to the door and threw it open.
"Out, wolf," he said gruffly. There was a certain sympathy behind his words.
Isabelle stood, petrified. She had been deceiving herself with her hopes of being able to stay. The man walked in a wide arc, now putting Isabelle between the door and himself. After setting his pack at his feet, the man rested his hand on his sword.
"Go on, out," he said determinedly. He spoke with a slight accent that Isabelle could not place, but not the same type of accent that the people of this region used. He advanced a few steps, trying to intimidate her. Soon they were only ten feet apart. The man drew his sword. The clock beneath the balcony began to strike midnight. The man slid his sword back into its sheath. As the white mist descended on Isabelle she heard the man swear. A moment later, the mist was gone. Whilst the last echo of the bell faded, he girl Isabelle was now facing a bear.
"Man, come back," Isabelle screamed, searching the room for him. "Aidez-moi! Help, please, come quickly! If you want me to leave, I shall."
"You do not have to leave," the man's voice rang out through the hall. "Unless, of course you wish to."
Isabelle looked around for the source of his voice. He spoke again.
"You do not have to be afraid," he added good-humoredly. "I am not going to eat you."
"What are you…Wait," Isabelle took a deep breath. "Are you the bear?"
"Are you the wolf," he asked wryly, scrutinizing her as if to size her up.
"Oui," Isabelle replied. The girl had a moment of epiphany. Perhaps, she could find out how to break her spell from him. Maybe he would allow her to stay here for the night.
The bear shrugged his burly shoulders. "Have you, by any chance, offended an old woman lately?"
"Why yes," Isabelle said suspiciously, "how did you know?"
"Sarcastic guess," the bear replied. They stood facing each other in an awkward silence. The bear closed the great entrance door and retrieved his pack. He began to head down the nearest hallway. "Going to stand there all night?" he shot back over his shoulder.
Isabelle clambered after him. They walked through a labyrinth of rooms, doors, and corridors and finally arrived at an imposing kitchen. A fireplace as large enough to roast a whole side of beef took up one of the walls. Several smaller ovens and hearths were built into the walls. There were shelves and hooks for the dishes and pans, but most of these were strangely empty. Two sturdy tables stood in the room, lined with benches. A few windows covered by wooden slats were near the raised ceiling.
As Isabelle examined the room, the bear banked the ailing fire in one of the small fireplaces. He disappeared into one of the rooms adjacent to the kitchen for a moment, returning with a string of sausages and three eggs. An iron skillet hung on a hook within easy reach of the fireplace. When they were nearly finished, he dug in his pack and pulled out a loaf of bread. Wordlessly, he handed it to Isabelle along with a kitchen knife. She cut two slices and set them on the earthenware plates that the bear had brought from a shelf near the fireplace. After the bear ladled them each a cup of water, they both sat at the table.
As her host began to eat, Isabelle sat quietly, staring at her plate. She could not believe that he had not driven her away or had reproached her for trespassing. He had even given her the first hot meal that she had eaten in days. Why was he being so kind to her? The bear broke her reverie.
"Something wrong," he asked politely between mouthfuls.
"Non," she said hesitantly.
"Going to let the food grow cold, then?"
Isabelle shook her head and tucked into her plate. The sausage was warm and spicy, the perfect complement to the eggs and bread. Isabelle ate until she could hold no more. While Isabelle finished eating, he had banked up the fire and unstrapped the sheepskin from his pack.
"Done then?" He asked when she had completed her meal.
Isabelle nodded, then said nervously "How is it that I can understand you when you are a bear?"
"We are under similar spells," the bear said, slinging the sheepskin over his shoulder and grabbing a torch. He started down the labyrinth of rooms and halls again. Isabelle followed, wondering where he was headed. In the second-story hallway, he opened a door. He peered inside a room and moved to the next one. After doing this a few times, he had found what he had wanted. The bear handed Isabelle the torch and the sheepskin. She heard a few quiet footsteps retreat into the darkness. She was alone.
She entered the room, holding the torch high. Fine wood moldings lined the joints between the walls and the ceiling and floors. The peeling walls were painted a dusty turquoise with gold swirls. The floor was of the same stone that made up the castle. The room was not very large, but it accomplished its purpose. There was a large wardrobe in one corner, but it had been tipped on its side. A draft from the window made Isabelle's torch flicker. Beneath the window was a writing desk with three legs. A high four-poster bed dominated the other corner of the room.
Isabelle flung the sheepskin onto the bed. After blowing out the torch, she took a running jump and managed to scramble onto the bed. She spread out the sheepskin, pulled her cloak around her and fell asleep more comfortable than she had been for eleven days.
Isabelle woke about mid-morning. The bed was so warm that, for a moment, the girl thought that she was back at the Fernette manor. Isabelle half-fell out of the bed and wandered down to the kitchen. There was a lukewarm pot of porridge sitting on the table. The bear was nowhere near. If the porridge had not been there, Isabelle would have sworn that he had been a dream. She shoveled the grey, tasteless stuff into her mouth. When she was finished, she half-heartedly scrubbed the pot with some of the water in a bucket nearby.
The pantry door stood ajar. She anxiously glanced around the room, hoping that she was not doing anything wrong by looking inside. She entered. The bear had stocked the little room well. The shelves bore salt pork, smoked beef, ham, sausage and bacon. On the cool stone floor stood crates half-full of apples, turnips, and eggs. There were two large canisters of flour and salt. Half a dozen vials of seasonings and honey lined the uppermost shelves.
Isabelle tiptoed into the kitchen again, a little overwhelmed. Isabelle started. The bear was seated at the table, eyeing her amusedly. It seemed as if he had appeared out of nowhere. Isabelle had not heard him while she had been in the pantry, even though she had left its door open.
"Hungry?" he asked casually.
"No," she said, still startled. "Just curious."
"Do you like bacon?" He said, rising to leave.
"Well, yes," Isabelle answered cautiously.
"Good," the bear said, "Bacon's for lunch." He lumbered to the door.
"Where are you going?" Isabelle called after him. She felt so awkward standing in front of the hearth doing nothing. She had no inkling what she was supposed to do with herself. Isabelle was even at a loss about how to appear busy. When she explored, she felt as if she was intruding. She did not even know the bear's name. It was too early to make lunch, the only thing Isabelle could think of to do. There was already plenty of food; why should she bother to make more?
"Out to the yard," the bear said. Isabelle struggled to read his expression. Should she follow him, even just to appear like she was being useful? The bear guessed this, saying, "Come, if you wish."
Wrapping her maroon cloak around her, Isabelle departed after the bear. Once they were outside, he turned into a courtyard which had been between the manor and the stables. Some wood was stacked along part of one side of the yard. An axe was stuck into a chopping block waiting to cut more of the jumbled logs that lay nearby. One side of the yard was filled with walnuts, still in their greenish husks. They were laid out on the cobblestones, waiting for their outer shells to turn black and fall off.
"How long have you been here?" Isabelle asked, gazing at the nuts and the wood.
"Thirty-eight days," he replied shortly as he began to stack some of the cut logs.
"Do you own this castle?" The girl said. She wished that the bear was not so curt.
"No. When I realized that this place was empty, I asked some of the villagers about it. They all believed it was property of the ghosts by now—been abandoned for half a century. Said that if I could live here, I could have the place."
Isabelle nodded. Obviously, the bear did not want to talk. If he would really let her stay, the girl would become insane through boredom.
After an hour of watching the bear stack firewood, Isabelle went inside. It was almost noon. When she told him she would be in the kitchen, he merely grunted. Isabelle found a knife and hacked a few pieces of bacon off of the massive chunk of it in the pantry. The girl made a clumsy attempt at building up the fire and placed a skillet with bacon on an elaborate tripod which stood over the flames. Once the bacon was warm, Isabelle put some slices of bread onto the drippings to fry. She made her way out to the yard and told the bear that lunch was ready. By the time she was back in the kitchen the bread was a little black. She served it to the bear anyway.
"Thank you very much," the bear said, after his second helping. "Definitely an improvement over what I used to have."
"I burnt the bread," Isabelle replied defensively, caught off-guard by his gratefulness.
"It was hot," he shrugged. "That is enough. I am sorry about last night;" he said wryly. "I will not try to herd you out of the castle again."
"What is your name?" Isabelle said, a little indignantly.
"You may call me Trestan," he said quietly. After a moment of silence, he added, "Yours?"
"Isabelle Fernette," she said a little smugly.
"Good to finally meet you," he said. Isabelle could tell that he added this last bit mostly out of habit.
A loud bell chimed far away; its sound carried through the empty halls of the castle. As it struck, the familiar white mist appeared around the two. Once the bell had struck a dozen times, the white mist faded, leaving Isabelle as a wolf and Trestan as a man.
The first thing that Isabelle noticed once the mist dissipated was Trestan's grin. His dark grey eyes shone like clouds reflecting the sun. He had pale, even teeth and a straight nose. He was rough-shaven, the stubble brown against his cheeks.
Even if he isn't talkative, at least he's handsome, Isabelle thought, as she sat on her haunches. Even so, it was going to be a long, futile winter.
"Know your way about here yet?" Trestan said cheerfully.
"Not at all," Isabelle said. She barely knew where the kitchen was.
"Come then," he said, "I will give you the grand tour."
They went down the corridor that led from the kitchen to the great hall. The ticking of the great clock was the only sound, aside from their footsteps. Once they had crossed the room, Trestan opened one of the ornate doors for Isabelle. This room was nearly half the size of the immense great hall and twice as grandiose. Two thrones dominated the room from their dais. At one time they must have been plated with gold and studded with jewels, but only their wooden skeletons and burgundy velvet cushions remained. On the left stood the larger throne, but both had sun-shaped back-boards that were now bare.
On impulse, Isabelle ran up onto the dais and leapt into the smaller throne. By now, the cushion's stuffing had nearly disintegrated making it lumpy and uncomfortable; Isabelle barely noticed. She surveyed the room, imagining what it must have been like when barons and countesses had graced the scene. Now the room was half-dark and filled with gloomy dust. All types of furniture covered with dust-cloths stood in the room like cattle milling about at pasture. Isabelle glanced at Trestan who carefully pulled the cover off of a giant cabinet. There were all sorts of wooden drawers and cupboards on its front. Trestan immediately began to search through them.
"What are you doing?" she asked from her perch on the throne.
"Seeing if they left behind anything useful," he said intently. "If you want to help, go uncover more furniture."
Isabelle was taken aback by this. She was used to being the pampered pet of her family. Isabelle stepped off the dais, grabbed the first cloth she came to in her mouth, and yanked it off. After the billows of dust settled, a beautifully carved oak bench was revealed. Isabelle came to the next very oddly shaped form. Underneath this cloth was a polished wooden harp. Although a dozen of the strings had snapped, the rest of it was pristine. Isabelle admired it, unaware that Trestan had finished his examination of the cabinet.
"Do you play?" He said softly, standing behind her.
Isabelle started. She wheeled around, saying, "No." Trestan nodded, reluctantly ending the conversation.
"But," Isabelle added, "I wish I did. Are you at all musical?"
"I can carry a tune," he shrugged, "oh, and whistle."
"Whistle," Isabelle said, taken aback. "When would you whistle?"
"Keeping myself company. I cannot live a normal life because…of the way I am," Trestan broke for a moment, took a breath, then continued more lightly. "This is the first time I have stayed in one place for more than a month in the last two years."
"That must be terrible," Isabelle breathed, then stopped. She too was half-wolf, half-maiden. Would she spend her life like that, roving from place to place, with no company, no home? How would she be able to survive?
"Brighten up, now," Trestan said, as if he saw her thoughts. "Not so bad. 'Get used to the independence."
"Would you please speak in complete sentences," Isabelle snapped. She instantly regretted her words when she saw the shock on his face. A moment later he was smiling again; normal, but for the bitter set of his jaw.
"My goodness," he said with an apparent epiphany, "You are right. I have not had a real conversation for years…" As he began again, Isabelle believed that she was panic in his eyes, a fear deliberately hidden, but unveiled and un-mastered for a moment. "You're right, my time is running out. I've tried so hard not to forget, sometimes too hard. I must remember. I will redouble with everything that I have. Too many years, too many places, oh, what I would give…it all matters so much. Too much." Trestan swore under his breath, and then turned to Isabelle. "You probably think me to be a lunatic."
"Non," Isabelle said hesitantly, then added, "you just need to practice having decent conversations."
"How would I go about doing that?" He asked, one dark eyebrow raised.
"By talking," the wolf said brusquely.
"About what?" he asked openly.
"Cheese, the sea, the state of the weather, anything," Isabelle said, nonplussed by his careless attitude.
"Shall we move on to another great discovery, then," he said, leading the way to another piece of hidden furniture. When he whipped the cover off a little too violently, Isabelle began an uncontrollable fit of sneezing. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, while Isabelle tried to regain her composure. She ignored him as he began to scrutinize the waist-high chest of drawers he had unearthed. Looking in the top right drawer, he paused for a moment. He held up a yellowed handkerchief, edged with a ridiculous amount of lace. "This must have belonged to a lady."
"You do you know that," Isabelle challenged.
"No self-respecting man would ever carry about something so ridiculous," he replied with a sarcastic snort.
"I shall just have to take your word on that," the wolf rolled her eyes.
Trestan shrugged, moving on to the next drawer. The only other item in the drawer was a pair of delicate blue stockings with holes in the heels and toes.
"Are you going to use those?" Isabelle said with mock sincerity.
"I don't believe that they would fit on my tiny girlish feet," he said, "You can fetch these later. I will leave them here."
Isabelle nodded. They unearthed a half-finished painting of a woman embroidering; a very large, very plain vase; eight chairs; various end tables; a small marble statue of a boy whose hands had been broken off; and a cedar chest containing cloth.
"This is so lovely," Isabelle cooed, running her paw over the top piece of fabric. The delicate velvet was a dark navy blue. Isabelle would come the next morning to search through the rest of the fabrics. If she could find a needle and lots of thread, she would not have to die of boredom this winter. Isabelle went back over by Trestan. He was attempting to lift up the cabinet that he had first looked at. When it would not budge off of the ground, he began pacing in circles around it, muttering to himself.
"You will never be able to move that all by yourself," Isabelle broke his calculations.
He looked up, startled for a moment that she was there. "You are correct," Trestan said roguishly, "That is why you are going to help me."
"Et alors?" said Isabelle, personally affronted, "I will not do such tasks. I am definitely not fit for it, especially since a strong man like you cannot even lift it."
"I do not ask for you to lift it," he replied "Mind over matter. There are ways that a single man could move the world. You will understand when we begin to move it. That is, once we find a place to move it to."
"All of this is below me," Isabelle said dramatically, "Come, let us find some new place to explore."
They went through barren rooms until supper that night. When they had finished eating, they sat in silence for a quarter of an hour, until Isabelle went up to her room. She leapt upon her bed, curled up, and went to sleep, utterly perplexed about her new companion.