When the future lies waiting...

[Rhys]

It was clear that she was finally after the last few days starting to feel overwhelmed by it all. There were questions swimming around in her eyes, burning to be asked, but instead she had chewed on that pretty bottom lip of hers and.........shut the door on his face.

He blinked. His jaw set to a side angle contemplating on his course of action. First thought.

Stupid door. Not that it was the door that was shutting itself, but the idea of a door dividing them. He never understood that, wives were meant to sleep with...werent they? He'd asked his Uncle that once, why they had two rooms. His Uncle had simple laughed and said cause there were times it was just safer to have your own space. Needed.

He didn't like it. But for now he was willing to let it go. She had, had a long and trying last few days. They had both been married to virtual strangers, but only she had been up rooted from all that was familiar and known and plunked down elsewhere with only her maid as friend. He lifted his hand to knock, to see if she needed anything else she needed when it opened.

There was barely enough time for him to nod, let alone reply before she shut the door in his face again. His jaw ticked. He was not going to begrudge her a bath....she'd earned it...and in fact he likely should do the same.

He still glared at the shut door. Something about it being shut on him irritated him. Rolling tense shoulders, he thought about a bath, dinner...a little time to get to know one another, he'd explain things to her. Like shutting a door in ones face is rude...

Turning to go it opened again, and he smiled as her turned thinking she had finally come to her senses and was going to apologize. Or better.....an apology followed with an to bath with her...

What? A man can hope...

Bath...trunks. Of course, M'lady I'll see...................to it at once.

His voice thick, eyes narrowed slightly...jaw ticking. He'd not even finished his sentence before the door shut again. The urge to rip the thing of its hinges flashed across his brain, before a calmer breath was taken and cooler head prevailed. He wasn't a heathen, he'd allow her some leeway. She was tired, clearly not thinking. Shaking his head he gave one last look at that door...next time it opened, it was staying open.

Leaving her to her devices, he sent her maid, and a servants to fill a tub... and of course someone with her trunks. His wife 'seen to', he spoke to the kitchen staff before heading out to bath in the creek. Not that there wasn't another tub and water for heating, but the cold dunk....was going to do him good right about now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner time. He'd meant to have it a small affair. Just the two of them. An intimate dinner........ The staff, his men.... and other ideas. This was after all a cause for celebration. Their 'official' wedding night. An people rarely missed a change to throw a party. It had been in the works for weeks.

The hall had been transformed in a matter of hours. Swags of evergreen hung, pretty beeswax candles lit and fragmenting the air, center pieces of sunflowers adorned the tables... even a band had been rounded up from neighboring lands. A band.. a flute, a fiddle and a harp...still it was pleasing to the ear.

And he waited impatiently for his new wife arrive. His eyes trained on the door that she would enter through.

[Lady Aethelyn]

She wasn't anticipating a party.

She had come in, on the ground floor, face pink with merriment, a big basket stuffed with bruised up apples, she was going to make cider, might as well add these to the bruised apples from her old home. She was industrious, at least.....and industrious she was scented of hay and cedar chips, for she had seen the barns, the sheep, the cows, the horses, the dogs, the barn cats in the hay loft, and the small gaggle of geese that lived on the marshy river banks.

She was clean, yes, but decidedly not ready for a party.....

Which......it seemed they were having. She mounted the steps to the main hall, eyes bulging momentarily as she saw no fewer than ten couples, some musicians, a few children, more dogs, and one angry cat all muddling about and setting out food. A heart beat's time. Silence. Everyone sort of looking at her, and she at them, and then........

She smiled.

The basket was set down and she clapped her hands, delighted, looking over the festive adornments. She didn't know what they were so darn happy about, but it looked like fun. Her laugh was hale and warm, as she entered the midst of men and wives, children and the rush and press of hot dishes and sliced bread, the pour of wine, and the setting out of all this fine fare.

There were lampreys stewed with onions, and spiced cookies, some pound cake with a honey and lavender glaze, and roasted meats, pork and game hen, and venison. More food in one place than....well.....that she'd ever seen.

Someone escorted her away from the work, and she was sat at a bench at the head of the great table. Beside her on the bench with her, sat the grim looking man she was to call husband.

She leaned in, shoulder nudging his....

"Is this for us? Have I straw in my hair?"

She grinned, amused, and looked to his scowl. "Och, try and look less bent out of shape. It's sweet. They must like you, then, to go to such effort."

[Rhys]

They had tried to keep her busy. Sent one of the stable lads out to watch her and 'keep her busy' That had been their first mistake. The boy, hadn't give a care as to how she was dressed, or a thought that afterward he was to make sure she entered for the party, clean would be a good way to do it...

Well she was clean...more or less. There were cat hair clinging to her, and her knees might have a little dirt smudged on them, and yes there was straw in her hair. He could see it from his seat as plain as the basket in her hands which he wondered over. Apples? Hadn't she just said they had to much food, what on earth was she collected more apples for?

Still, she looked absolutely adorable, her face lit up the room as she smiled, clearly pleased. It relaxed some of the tension within him. He'd thought she might be angry, he, had not been overly pleased. Something quiet, a little one on one time with her where they could get to know one another, again, better.

Everyone had stopped as she entered, the room quiet as they looked at her, and she looked at them. A quick sizing up, this was to be their lady of the house after all. At her laugh it seemed she passed some sort of test, and within moments the music was started again, bodies were hustling to put out trenchers of food, and fill goblets of wine.

Someone escorted her to him, an he rose gallantly as she approached, offered her his hand and seen her seated beside him, before dropping down beside her a slight scowl on his face. This wasn't what he envisioned. Rhys was a good man, but he had one teeny tiny flaw....he liked to get his way. But at her nudge to his shoulder, her scent, mixed of sage, barn and animal, teasing his senses he found it hard to be upset, much. She'd not hidden in her rooms but had been exploring her new home.

He turned to look at her more fully, a lopsided grin as he picked straw out of her hair, his voice smooth as silk, a tad richer and deeper than it had earlier, tenderness.

Aye, its for us. No, no straw, not anymore, you look lovely.

And not just me, Us. To welcome and congratulate us in finally being able to consummate our marriage... that...and an excuse to have a party is never wasted.

His hand lingered in her hair, rubbed the silken strands between thumb and forefinger, before taking his goblet, and raising it up into the air.

To the new Lady of Carwin, my wife, Aethelyn Gryffudd

[Lady Aethelyn]

"Thank you all. You are so kind."

She smiled weak as water towards him, her own glass raised in toast to this most.....dubious........of beginnings. Was it wrong to say her life flashed before her eyes? Was this it then? This was the future, staring right square in her face, right back at her?

She swallowed the smallest mouthful of wine, it was dry as ashes, and bitter as alum. Crackling along each and every nerve....the sore muscles....the shivering spine.......was this wariness of confronting whatever it was this man might bestow upon her. For one? Her name.

Aethelyn Gryffudd.

She rolled it around in her mind. Aye-tha-lynn Griff-uth.....Ayethelun. Gruffiff. Sounding it out, pealing it over her thoughts, as the tightness in her throat compounded, and grew. She was a wife, not in the abstract, as she had been for a year and a half solid...but to a flesh and blood, did not die in the Crusades, man.

And what did she know of pleasing him?

Nothing. What is she failed?

Failed badly?

With trepidation and an aching heart, she picked at her food, trying to look like she were completely calm, which she most assuredly wasn't. By the time the meal was over, she all but wanted to crawl from her own skin. The bedroom, her future...their...future? Loomed up, huge and scary, like a cold and hot entity, powerful and unknowable.

He was trying to be kind.

He was not a cruel man, nor violent.

Kindness was the worst poison though, and it made her want to cry. She ought be happy. She was lucky. He wasn't ill formed, or bad to look upon, nor sour in moods. Why then, why, did she want so desperately to cry? She wasn't a crying sort. And so better, she felt, to charge in, she took his hand and looked him straight in the eyes and sealed it.

"I'm tired. May we retire soon?"

So much for subtle.

[Rhys]

Good food, good drink, good music, they had it all. People came up and congratulated them and introduced themselves to her, names she likely would forget the moment they stepped away. What she was less likely to forget were the stories they couldn't seem to resist rehashing... like the Whitman's.

"Do ya remember that day you streaked across old-man Barristers field?

Margi, I dont think this is the time to...

Oh come now, E'as to remember, come on laddie, dontcha remember, rumor had it you was running from Lord Macky. Eyed up his daughter ya did...I think you were bout twelve or so

*some one shouted out* More than eying if'n he was running buck nekkid...

Mr.Whitman, his face redder than a tomato, grabbed his wife by the arm, looked as tho his eyes were going to pop out of his head, his voice high and thin, as he stammered an apology.

Begging your pardon. Come on woman, Causin' trouble is what you were doing, now lets leave these people to their supper, 'afore you upset Lord Carwin and his wife. Blessed be...

He could only shake his head, he didn't even try to deny it, simply looked a lopsided grin on his face. There was really no point in denying that he'd had an interest in woman before her. They both knew he had, he wouldn't insult her intellegance pretending otherwise. While they had been promised to each other from the time they were children...she had quiet literally been a baby. He was a good knight that had gone on crusade for what he believed in, not a monk...he still never intended to parade it before her either.

Evening wore on, and he could see that it was taking its toll on her. She smiled at those that came to wish them well, but though he didn't know her well, he rather thought she seemed tense... upset.. about to ask her if there was something wrong when she told him.

He didn't smile, not at all, in truth he felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut. It was unexpected, she surprised him. Not a word was said, he simply looked down at their joined hands, and then meet her eyes... He didn't ask if she was sure, he simple stood and led her from the room...the sound of cheers accompanying out into the hall..

It'll be alright Linnie....