A wee adventure

[Lady Edfeil]

*Her plan had been simple: to go to the wedding of Cricket MacGregor. Taking along 10 guards with her as she had promised. Then spend the night there in one of the guest cottages and come home with naught but a pleasant memory.

Nature had decided otherwise. They nae had reached Clann a Chedd, but got caught in an unexpectedly violent spring storm! Only the experience of the captain had saved them from the worst and in the grey hours of the eve, they had been able to dock somewhere in a strange harbour.

Their arrival had been the cause of some commotion, and afore she knew what was a happening, a brawl was starting at the docks, with her wide eyed amidst of 't.
Nae one had been given a chance to lay hand on her though. The guards would nae have allowed such, but amidst the turmoil, three others came to her aide: Goodman Sinold, with whom she needed to have a word about sailing with his cold, Captain Tyrun who has a warehouse there, and.... -to her utter surprise- Lord Sighehelm of Kent.
The large man arrived shortly after she did, aboard of another ship that also seemed to have braved the storms.

While the dockguard and watchmen took care of the brawl, Captain Tyrun led them, the men flanking her protectively, through the throng and into his offices. There they had rested, and while the conversation was pleasing, she had lost the fight with exhaustion.
In the warm office, before the warmth of the fire, she had fallen asleep in the chair.*

[SighehelmofKent]

*His self imposed task was simple; to watch over her. It was not that he did not trust the King's men. On contrary, the group of ten were able bodied, strong and dedicated men. By now he had acquainted some, and befriended 2 of the party. But as always his own heart pressed him to find a boat, rent the crew and ....well he would dub it….escort her, even if the lady did not know.

His legs were never sea legs, and would never be. But the entire trek he stood near the mast, his usual stance; feet slightly apart, hands behind his back, the heavy cloak billowing around him, his tall 7'1" frame trying to move with the rolling of the waves, while he fought the nausea in the pit of his stomach.

The sea was never one of his loves, and these past days, like a fickle lover, she had been ill natured, foul tempered. His fists had clenched seeing the boat of the Princess buckle and fight the waves, as much as his did. Perhaps even more as the captain of the lady's ship chose to steer the ship into Port Thunder. His frustration mounted as his own could not break the current battering the bow.

But the Captain persisted, the prize offered no doubt urging him on. The tall man standing there, his mind on the woman that had likened herself to a pebble and he smiles while the storm rages. Then as the ship moors, he is leaps to find terra firma afore the captain has lowered the sails and secured the ship. His long strides take him to her, watching as a throng of men form around her. Sinold, Tyrun.....the king's trusted guards, the port watchmen, as well as a collected group of trouble makers whose hands were yearning for a fight. He remained outside the group, eyes as ever watchful, upon the lady and his heart ached as he saw her fear, his fists at the ready, his dagger close, seeking the strongest and most eager looking to unhand as soon as trouble would start.

For a moment there the hot blood of the Norseman nearly started the fight, but the handsome looking dashing Tyrun took control of the situation, and led the Princess to safety. All the while Sighehelm chose to form the rear guard, the last in the tail of men that protected the royal lady. He watched as the throng of eager fighters was ordered to leave, and return to their tankards, vessels, pestles and goblets of oblivion. For an instant he stood face to face with one willing to start the fight despite all efforts, but Sighehelm bested him quickly, a side step, an outstretched foot, and the man had landed face first in the dust; thus the fight ended afore it began.

The next few hour or so were spent in the offices of Tyrun, a cavalier and dashing fellow. Quite trustworthy Sighehelm decides, Goodman Sinold close to the princess, and he himself watched all with attentive eyes. Sleeping arrangements and a chaperone for the Lady were discussed. All were to sleep aboard a ship. He watched the small woman fall asleep, and then looking down upon her silent trusting face lifted her in his arms, not much more weight he thought then many a burden he carried in life, and slow, secure steps led him to the ship.

He did not hurry his pace, his cloak protecting her from the winds that possess the island. and when placed on the bed, he smiled one strange, warm smile, bowed his head in respect, greeting her, watching her curl up. A woman closed the door on him decidedly, a frown on her face, and she glared at him. He just laughed, his own sonore laughter, and decided that sleep would not be his friend, not until the woman inside was safe ........ within the embrace of her father, Windstorm.....

His walked the ship and marvelled at the splendour of it. Then seeking a place to crouch, and watch the door to her hut, he finally allowed his mind freedom to think. These past few weeks he had been watching her, as ever quiet, his need for words few. And he has noted her to be one of simple, but cultured taste, a kind word for all, a warm heart for any whom she meets. Her smile pleases him, her quiet blush charms him. He can see the task upon her shoulders, and at times he notes she finds it a heavy one.

He wonders why his feet have dallied. True he has no purpose to his wanderings, but that he should return home soon, to see Marianne and his grandchild. But he knows his brother, his son in law.......he grins..and his mother will care for her. He can afford to walk where his feet wish. And as the matters stand, he believes he had best not head home yet. Then why does he not walk on?

In the dark of night his hand move to one of his pockets, and the large weather marked callous hand finds a smal object. His hand outstretched, open, almost vulnerable, the round, smooth pale stone lies nestled within. He just looks at it, admires the simplicity, the way it reflects the sparse light that shines upon it. It reminds him of a visit to be made to the hamlet near windstorm to seek a tradesman. His mind made up, he nods, closing the hand around the small object of nature, almost reverently, and just holds it, allowing it to move within his protective hold, feeling it touch the palm of his hand......... Yes, he will stay a while longer.

He will escort the Princess home, and then he will sit and write a letter to his loved ones.

[Lady Edfeil]

*She had awoken the following day, almost rested. The movements of the boat, even in the harbour felt strange, but had nae disturbed her sleep. Still, at the first yellow light of morn, ‘t had been time to leave. Her Father surely expected her home, and they would already be late more then half a day. There was nae need to tell her, nor the guards what such ment. ‘t was nae good news for any iffen the King of Windstorm worried about His daughters safety.

She had seen him as soon as she left her cabin. The large man that seemed to hold a vigil she nae understood. He nae intimidated her as men of his size oft did. A lingering reminder in his ways made her think of Goodman Caius. The memory in itself a recommendation, and one that made her smile at him.
She said her farewell to Captain Tyrun, expressing her gratitude and sincerely wishing to see him again soon. Each of them departed on their own ship. Though this time, the ship rented by Lord Sighehelm sailed in convoy with the ship carrying the Windstorm Crest high in it’s banner. And both battled the storms that seemed to punish the isle together.

The storms, the chill winds and pelting rain robbed Edfeil of energy. By the time she arrived at home, she but took the opportunity to thank those that accompagnied her, and brought her home safely, afore retiring to her chambers.*

[Lady Edfeil]

She had found her smile again, but a hint of sadness touched her eyes. Still, the talk with Lady Dream last eve had done her well, had repaired some of the hurt that callous words had inflicted. She was strong, aye, but nae above hurt, for she allowed herself to be open to 't.

Siya's words had cut her to the quick, but she nae allowed the pain to linger. The warmth and her smile was back. Mayhap she was a bit quieter, meeker even then afore. But the strength within could nae be undone, nae even by her own doubts. She would nae let distrust be sewn within, and instead longed for the next day, and the joys of company and kindness again.*