The saga continues: The pebble and the Rock

[SighehelmofKent]

-His letter turned a parchment, and he leaned back running a hand along his left lower arm, pensive, then leaned forward again, writing-

I have challenged Tyrun, the viking to a duel. As per custom he has chosen the place and the weapons. It is the place that fills me with dread, a board a ship dear brother. It fills me with fear I will nae express, for my feet nae respond to water, salty water foremost that well. Know that my belongings are packed well, and I will leave instructions to have them, and all that is Kent's to be returned to you should the water claim me.

- His breathing is somewhat faster, and he can feel the beating of his heart. He nae like the water, he never has, it makes him nauseous, and unbalanced, and it brings back black memories of disorientation. He wipes his left hand on his britches, then along his brow and curses his own weaknesses, the fears that build inside him, yet chivalry codes will nae allow his feet to do naught but "walk the plank" He grins at the metaphor and writes on-

Mother once told me that water nae takes people, God does. My prayers to the Lord God have increased, and yet the content thereof has changed. I will nae ask him the impossible again, for such is nae wise. He will nae stop the sea from bobbing, nor a brook from flowing because it instils fear within me. As much as he will nae change a father's mind. It has been said, my brother, that I should claim what I wish, what I need. Yet it is not land we speak of, it is woman of flesh and blood. Of late I watch her and see a young woman, yet also very much a young girl. Princess Edfeil reminds me of Marianne afore she married, yet so innocent, so innocent. I nae even know how to approach her of late. It seems futile.

-His left hip troubles him, and he raises from the chair, stretching the limb, all the muscles within, his arms extended upwards, seeking to ease the pain, and indeed it does, for it is nae a pain anymore, just a discomfort. He walks to the windows, moving the tapestry aside, morning has broken, and his sleep must be forfeited. He turns, walks back and rolls the parchments, ties a ribbon around them, then walks out, the feather quill and inkwell a testimony of his presence.-

[SighehelmofKent]

-He looks at the small woman before him, smokes his pipe with deliberate care, slate grey eyes reveal little, and yet his ways are less ............... calm. He stands and walks to the window of his chambers, looks out, yet the evening does not allow him to see much.-

Ye place a heavy burden on my shoulders, my queen. One I nae know iffn I should carry, Righarde is king of Kent.

-as he speaks the words the last one is almost lost, a mere whisper. The small woman, clad in black, the only adornment the silver band around her head, follows him with her eyes, blue like perrywinkle, yet her face is as solemn as his.-

Kent nae asks you to take the tasks of your King, but of those ye were...........born .......to. Kent seeks to enhance her trading routes, to expand the harbours.

-she stands and walks to her son, and as she stands beside him she looks out too-

It be nae the task of King Righarde. He be nae a diplomat, but a warrior.

-she places her small hand on his arm, the tall man beside her finally turns to look at her, inhales the fragrant smoke from his pipe and takes it fom his lips, but does not speak for a while. And so his mother continues.-

Your loyalties must lie with Kent, my son. Nae here.............nae even with the princess, nae now, Sighehelm, nae now.

-Sighehelm looks out again, the night as black, as relentlessly opaque as his heart feels now. He hears the words of his mother, and knows them to be true. Yet it is not truth that feeds his heart, it the care he has for a woman who resides here, who rules here. A deep intake of breath and he nods-

Ye have told the princess we leave, my Queen?

- He leans closer to her, his arm around her, and then kisses the top of her head. The woman he holds does not talk, but merely nods, the gesture marked, and he releases her. He will nae ask how long he will be away, nor will his mother discuss that matter with him, and so it remains unspoken. -

Then we leave upon the morn. Mother. Now I need time to write some letters. We leave at the break of dawn?

-The small queen again nods, walks to the door, and only then her voiced words sound-

Yes, Sighehelm of Kent, we leave at dawn.

[SighehelmofKent]

I woke, and remembered, the tavern at Windstorm. My feet have brought me here again. Exactly 6 years have passed. Six years in which I have done King Righarde's bidding, but above all Queen Aethelbred's, my duties with Kent, the lands I was birn. I have toiled to Improve, enhance, expand trading routes for Kent. Now I sleep here again. Here were my heart has never left. Duty is nae something I choose to adhere to, for it is part of a man, part of his honor, and in my case part of my upbringing.

Recent days have left my mind in disarray. I still had grave doubts concerning my visit or even my return to Windstorm. But my illness, prolonged and grave has urged me to retrace my steps, back to Windstorm.....back to her.

The bed at the local tavern was smaller than I wuidhave wished, but there was none bigger for love or money. The bed linen was nea even close to the foot of my bed, but somewhere at my left, about an arm length, my arm length away. And so I was cold, frightfully cold, my limbs felt like ice, the fingers of my right hand even numb as I moved them, trying to get some feeling back in them. I had been sleeping on the other hand, my body warmth had sustained some form of warmth within it. As I was prone to sleep nearly naked, the cold was intense, I raised myself from the bed, stood up and shivered. I welcomed this feeling of ice, as it activated my senses, and for a while at least drove her lovely image from my mind. She had been in my dreams again, yet this time they had been different, they no longer featured horrible feats of death, wounds and desolation, as they had in many a fevered one the last months. Yet I was nae happy with the subject of these dreams either. A woman, a child, a man. The woman clearly the pebble of Windstorm, the child clearly her own, the man, I never did see him fully, just his hand, his foot, or a part of a smile. One thing I did know. It was nea me.

The letter from my mother and that of Sabhb rested beside the bed on the floor. Their concern for my health was as ever present. I wuidnot tell them my lung still hurt as I coughed. How the itch was constant companion these days, and travelling by horse actually tired me. I still coul nae travel more han perhaps 4 hours, needing sustenance and rest to enable me to travel again the next day. Mother begged me to return home, to let her and the ladies of the court tend to me, replenish my energy, and no doubt in the process find me a suitable spouse. She also spoke of the young girl, my grand child. She needed me so it seemed. Why she wuidneed her grandfather I did nea understand. A man is always a poor substitute for a mother, and I knew my mother wuiddo a much better job then I would. Sabhb did nea write to invite me, as she was nea at liberty to invite me, I had in a way outstayed my welcome at the Covent of the Silent Virgin, yet her worry was clear. I grinned as the past 7 months spent in her care, and that of the sisters of the order had been enough to try my patience to the very limit, and theirs. There is only so much pious dedication a man can stand, and likewise there is only so much silent displeasure a woman, even a religious woman, can stand.

I dressed with care, as was my want. The britches a faded black, the shirt and tunic much the color of moist mud, the tunic leather again, iron studs adorning the front giving my chest area an extra protection. A design by Kent’s Master of Arms Roderick, a clever man indeed. Atop it I wore a knitted sweater, the collar high allowing warmth to infuse into my body. A knock on the door, and I answered affirmative when a girl asked to be admitted. While I set on the edge of the bed, and put on my boots, she walked in, followed by a man, from what I knew the tavern keeper himself. One tended to the fire, the other brought in a strong and hot breakfast of porridge, eggs, bacon and rye bread, a jar of honey and another of milk complementing all of it. I glanced at the girl, a woman already, primed for child bearing. Her garments were a wise choice, sturdy, strong, but they could nea fully hide her hips and breasts, both luscious and wide. A moment I wondered about the weight of the latter in my hands. I looked down again and laced my boots feeling the all too familiar tightening in my groin. It was easier dismissed than the itch in my lungs, and I sat up, I coughed so hard that it made both look up in concern.

While coughing, I raised a hand indicating I needed no help, gesturing them to leave. I do nea like people to see my weaknesses. Yet as I lay back on the bed, the coughing ceased, and I tried to calm my breathing. I allowed a simple sound to express my discomfort, grunted as I got up and moved to the chair by the now warmer fire. The flames attempted to lick the peat with determination, I had the porridge, added several spoons of honey, and finished it all. I disregarded the eggs and bacon like I did most mornings of late.

Then and only then did I set to work to write to my mother and of course Sabhb. Assuring both I was well, recounting of my travels since I left Sabhb’s care some 4 weeks afore. I was well aware my sibling did nea approve of my departure, but unlike my mother she knew and understood the reason why. My mother wuidnot be told of my destination just yet, and I had my sister promise she wuidneither. There was time enough to tell when next I travelled home.

I read the words just written“ye have my word I will nae travel while winter had the lands in his firm grasp. Yet be aware mother I will nae travel home to Kent afore the spring is there. I have some matters that need atten…….” I stopped writing almost cursed, morbidly amused with my own weakness. Love this deep, as deep as I feel it, had felt it, and so I knew wuidfeel it, had been a part of me for a more than half a decennia. While I was away from her, the longing had been a dull vibration in my body, a soft murmur in my mind. But here this close to her, there were times the roar within my heart was louder and more intense than mere words spoken to me. Seeing her again was like a kick to the gut, the sensation making it harder to breath, harder to think even.

I was nae a man to love many, nea accept love with ease. Man was born to protect, support and provide, where woman was born to care, bear children and run a household. Anything beyond that was a possibillity, and with it a choice. So far that choice had nea been mine, for duty tied my hands. Or .........I leaned back, almost wishing I could smoke my pipe without expelling my lungs.........was I hiding behind a duty I had payed already in the last 6 years? If I wuid ask Righarde how he wuid feel if I took a wife, and built a home outside Kent, did I nae know how he wuid answer? And did I nae equally know how my mother wuid answer? Was I a fool? Or may hap even more....a coward. Was it easier to love and suffer nae having whom I loved, then to step beyond my birth right, my duty, my king and country and claim her?

My hand reached to my pocket, from it I took 17 white pebbles, selecting five, returning 12 back to it. Once, now near 6 years ago, I had thrown away 51 pebbles, believing that I could this way rid myself of her image, the sound of her voice, the scent of her skin, but I could nae, had nae. And so for each week of my bed ridden state, I had Haedrian bring me a smooth white pebble.

Only recently, in fact before I travelled to Windstorm, I had made the journey to Aerenstown, convincing the old man to work his magic on the pebbles. His was the hand which had hammered the new crown of Kent, and now his was the hand which had worked the pebbles. They had been embedded with a black piece of granite, rugged and untreated, the pebbles hollowed out to allow the granite to rest within a small casing of silver, wedged within the hollow. The five pebbles had been mounted with an eye on each side allowing any simple jewelers to link them together. As much as there was a reason for the number of pebbles I held in my pocket, there was one to number of six I held in my hand. I slipped them back in my pocket, and finished my letter.

"….tion. Be well Mother, may God be kind to you and Kent. Tell Righarde the leaf he requested is in my satchel. I will bring it with me when next I travel to Kent."

[SighehelmofKent]

-The tall Kent man adjusted his tunic, his britches and actually looked at the state of his boots. Rumor had it a lady had been looking for him, a small lady, dressed in black, a solver band around her head, whose carriage broke down. The girl at the inn spoke of diamonds in her hair band, the Innkeeper refuted it and said the band was driven copper. She had been seen talking to the smithy, Kyle, and had eyes of periwinkle blue. She is particular in her food, quite a handful in all else she wishes and desires, oh yes she drinks only goats milk. Sighehelm shakes his head, runs a hand along his scalp for he knows full well the Queen of Kent had arrived in Windstorm. He looked at the shadow reflected on the wall, and patted his stomach. His mother would not be happy with the way he looked. His still showed the slightly pale tinge to his cheek, though his eyes were nae as dull as they were once.

He wondered what news his sister had written in her letters. Sabhb however was known for her tact and diplomacy, and knew as well as he did how his mother could react to any bad news with regard to her children. Aethelbred was nae a woman to wail and lament, but one to act and take measure. In the case of his illness this had meant that he had been confined to the convent of the good sisters for near 13 weeks, with Sabhb to tend to his needs. The last three weeks had been long, and in the end he had willfully ignored her wishes and made arrangements to travel. The weeks in bed had given him time to think. The six years past had been long, fruitful and successful, but above all.............lonely. He had spoken to his brother at various gatherings where hands were shook, deeds signed, alliances formed. Yet he had nae seen his mother, nor his daughter Marianne, and her child. He was a respected trade's emissary to Kent, yet his feet never walked Kent soil, until 8 months ago.

He turned, his face almost expressionless. Marianne had contracted gangrene. A wound on her ankle, probably while tending to the Kent Gardenia garden, which had progressed, unstoppable, relentless, claiming her life within a mere 8 days. Sighehelm had been in Venice, the news reached him after 11 days. He returned post haste, but never found his beloved child alive. Her death hit hard. He neglected himself, threw himself into the negotiations with Normandy and Venice on new trade concessions. Never allowing himself time to think, time to accept. His prayers would not help, and even an audience with the pope in Rome left him angry, full of spite. He blamed God, but foremost himself. He had not wished to return home, yet neither did he wish to remain in the care of the sisters, and so he travelled; seemingly without aim, but it was nae true. He followed a longing in his heart, stronger than his reason and pragmatism.

Nw his mother travelled to meet him, find him, and no doubt convince him, even order him to travel with her to Kent. Her motives he did not quite understand, not all; part of her reasoning was shrouded. He looked up as there was a knock at the door. He turned, and acknowledged the knock-

"Come in!"

-The focus of his musings walked in, followed by the Lady Siobhan of Erindale. He approached her, kneeled and greeted as courtly manners commanded-

"Greetings Queen Aethelbred"

-He raised himself to full height, ignoring the itch in his lung, smiled and closed the distance between them, embracing her.-

Mother...........

[SighehelmofKent]

-The small woman extended both her arms, the hands revealed as the heavy silk of her sleeves moved up her lower arms, The pointed black sleeves were adorned with equally black beads, which merely showed when the glint of daylight or candles hit it. Her embrace was welcome, much needed, but as ever he felt the reservation within them. His mother, Queen of Kent was not pleased.-

“You look gaunt, Prince Sigehelm of Kent.”

A simple statement, but with it she illustrated all she was, both Monarch and Mother. She looked back over her shoulder, breaking the embrace, and a hand movement ushered her lady in waiting to leave..~

“leave us, Lady Siobhan”

- She looked at her child again and Sighehelm smiled. His choice of words was meant to alleviate the strain in the upcoming battle of words. And he knew he would run if he could. But there is no choice, he will nae allow himself that choice. The Queen of Kent would have no mercy and even less so his mother. He nae wonders why she was she here, but does wonder what arguments she would she use to convince him of travelling with her.-

“Yet I am well, and nearly healed. Sabhb wrote to you, mother?”

-The woman so much smaller than he was sat down on one of two chairs in the room, looked up at the Kent giant, and her seated position did nothing but made the difference in stature even more apparent-

“She did not, Prince Sighehelm”

-again his name, his title, he turned and hid a smile, for he knew his mother very well. As her level of anger, or displeasure grew, so her need for formality showed. He would be in real trouble if she reverted to his full title again. Should she choose to call him Rock or Rock of Kent he knew the argument would sway his way. He cleared his throat as the woman continued. He walked to the window and looked out. Autumn clouds gathered and he realized his mother would have to travel back soon, or be Windstorm’s guest for quite some time.-

“It was Mother Superior who informed me that you choose to deny you sister peace of mind by remaining where you were. Instead you travelled to where I find you now. If you chose to travel, your feet should have carried you to Kent. It needs you, Sighehelm of Kent.”

-Sighehelm considered his answer carefully. He could make his speech long winded, trying to appease her afore telling her he would nae travel with her to Kent, or he could choose the valiant way and state his intent clearly, directly. He turned again, feeling the itch in his lung. As his agitation grew, or he became more tense, he noticed the itch got worse. He cleared his throat, ran a hand along his forehead. No longer did fever lurk to take seat in his body, at least that he had won. –

"Mother, my Queen, I will nae travel to Kent before spring. The King has informed me that my duties can wait indefinitely, neither do you my queen need me, Kent is strong, As are you. Kent prospers and needs no protection by my arm and sword, for none threaten its borders. As for my grandchild Anne, she needs no man, but the care of a woman. For now that care will be best supplied by you and the ladies of the court, who I am sure will supply her amply with such.”

-His mother stood up, intending to speak, but Sighehelm closed the gap quickly, his hand on her arm, kneeling beside the chair, quiet plea in the pressure upon her arm was applied, and she sat down again. Their eyes now almost level to each other; slate gray steel meeting periwinkle ice.-

"I choose to be here, because I must be here. The story, my story of the Pebble and the Rock is nae ended, mother. Let me write the story as best I can, let me seek the ending it need for good of bad. I did your bidding 6 years ago, a loyal subject to Queen and country. Now I owe it to her to be all I can, for I deserted her once. I will act as my conscience dictates, as my heart whispers me to.”

-he could see the woman clench her jaw as was his want, and he lowered his head, again hiding a feint smile. He swallowed, a moment’s relief for his lung, a mere moment. How much he was like his mother, and still how much like his father. Where Righarde could charm his mother to acquiesce to his will, so Sighehelm would do so by sheer force of will, his silence oft the best weapon. He did not speak again, and his mother filled the silence. -

“Ye seek to find what can be found in Kent too, Prince Sigehelm; a wife, a mother. Anne should nae leave Kent…..ever!”

-Sighehelm raised himself again and this time looked down at the woman-

“Women follow to go where men lead them, be it they are guardian father, husband, or grandfather. Anne’s fate will nae be a bad one, mother. Should I nae marry again, she will find care and love at your court, and then with her future husband. If I do take a wife, she will travel here…..to Windstorm.”

-This time the blue eyes of the queen shot shards of ice, and she did stand up-

“Your duty is to Kent, Prince of Kent!”

-Sighehelm’s clears his throat, again fighting the incessant itch, his voice lowered and he looked at her, meeting fire with determination-

“Mother may hap my duty is to Kent, but my heart belongs nae to one of Kent. If the pebble will have me, I will make her mine, and my heart will be home, here in Windstorm. If she will nae, then my heart still belongs to her, and I return home…..to fulfill my duty. But I will nae wed again, ever.

I will seek to find the one who will grant me the right to court the Lady Edfeil, Queen Edfeil. Until then I will be of service to Windstorm, support her heavy burden as a friend, may hap as her intended if fate allows. This means mother that I hope one day, Righarde will relieve me of my duty to Kent, and I may freely offer to Windstorm.”

-He raises his hand as the queen again tries to interceded, makes a sound almost like a cough. He does not speak of his brother's agreement to appoint him Ambassador to Kent in Windstorm should he succeed in his quest to win the hand and heart of Queen Edfeil. He does nae raise his voice, but he does emphasize every single word-

"No Mother, I will nae change my mind. Not this day. I remain here at Windstorm."

-Anger was clear in the woman’s actions, the way she almost yanked at the material of her heavy skirts as she turned and walked to the door-

“You will seek audience with Queen Edfeil of Windstorm for me, Prince Sighehelm of Kent. I have matters to discuss with her!”

-Then as she is almost out the door, she turns, waits for him to walk to her and lower his head. She kisses his cheek, most tenderly, a strange gesture when set out against the last words spoken-

“I will see you are given some calf’s heart and liver, Rock of Kent………..to bring the color back in your cheeks.”

-Only then does she leave, followed by the Lady Siobhan of Erindale who had been seated outside. Sighehelm waits, his ears attentive to the sounds of his receding mother, her voice and words short, staccato, clipped, for she is angry. Then as he hears no sounds from the small hallway he expels his breath, sits and finally give in to a coughing fit of extreme magnitude. Though it leaves him weak, and there is actually pain which lingers longer than he would wish, there is a contented smile on his thin lips as he wipes them with his sleeve, and he tries to regain his composure, seeking to breathe evenly as Sabhb taught him.. This battle he has won, yet he wonders iffn the Pebble will be as victorious as he was, or will she nae even wish to? His mind is made up, his heart and will dedicated to just one cause. And he knows that this campaign will be the most important in his life, for it IS his life. From his pocket he takes the pebbles, looks at them, his eyes drawn to the six which have been crafted especially. Then he stands, and as he slips them in his pocket again, he readies himself to go to mass, to seek God’s absolution and approval.-

[SighehelmofKent]

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the Great Hall, and say to Repsol
Good afternoon, me brother.. *she offered happily*

Repsol, First Knight of The Crimson Order of Windstorm Castle says to Edfeil Stormblade: He draws the parchment from his tunic and lays it aside others which where laid upon a table in the corner of the great hall and summoned a messenger, the table had become somewhat cluttered as he plied the parchments into a kind of orderly mass in his hands, he turned as the boy arrived and handed them to him with a wink and a copper coin the lad bowed and disappeared

Sir Repsol, Knight of The Crimson Order, Windstorm Castle says to Edfeil Stormblade: "I bid thee warm greetings M'Sis" Walking towards the fire side with pipe in hand

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and say to Sir Repsol: *She chuckled brightly* That lad be getting rich of ye, ye know that? And well it is, for his parents be having eight others to feed.

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, Through fire to honour, bound to God is somewhere in the Castle, and says to ALL: -The boy passed him in the hall, and Sighehelm stepped aside, steadying the lad as I nearly ran into him. The boy stammered, apologised than waved the parchment stating he was in a hurry. Sighehelm just nodded and smiled. The lad reminded him of some one but for the life of him he could not say who. Perhaps the cousin twice removed on his father's side, his name was.............Thomas or Traughnat? He walked on, feeling the cold in the hallways,-

Repsol, First Knight of The Crimson Order of Windstorm Castle says to Sighehelm of Kent : Offers ye me hand, then seeing ye actions retracts it rather nervously, chuckling..I bid thee warm greetings Sire and bid thee fond welcome"

Repsol, First Knight of The Crimson Order of Windstorm Castle says to Edfeil Stormblade: "Eight!..I feel we should really find his parents a job for there be far too much energy in that household"...LOL

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and say to Sir Repsol: They work hard on the fields, but winter be quiet time.. *she said, and a slight blush infused her cheeks* I need to speak to ye of a missive I received.... it worries me. Ye see, I be sounding like the Master Sergeant now, seeing dangers behind every pillar.

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and say to Sighehelm of Kent : *She glanced up, following Repsol's movement, and then just... smiled. But that simple smile seemed to light something up inside her and part of the harshness in the line of her shoulders softened, eased.* Hoodooing, My lord Sighehelm.

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, Through fire to honour, bound to God is somewhere in the Castle, and says to Sir Repsol: -The tall Kent man looks up at the sound of a voice he nae knows to well. That is too say, not one he hears often, and yet he is the one man he wished to speak to for such a long time. A letter had seemed inappropriate, his formal request should be brought to the man's ears in person. He crosses his arm before his chest, the fist balled over his heart, a silent greeting for court demand this man is not the he should greet-

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, Through fire to honour, bound to God is in the great hall, and say to Edfeil Stormblade: - He turns as ever his ways formal, and yet as he bows, his fore arm never leaving his chest, yet the hand opens, covers his hear in an almost tender gesture, most unlike the Kent giant. His smile is cordial, his manner respectful, yet within his slate gray eyes, deep set like the hot ember which lies in the grey ashes of a fireplace his passions lie, almost naked, a mere moment, and he lowers his eyelids veiling the truth within as he was once asked to do when he first arrived at Windstorm. - Greetings Queen Edfeil, a new year is upon us, and King Righarde writes to bid you fortitude and solicitude. And he allows me to be the happy messenger of both. May the year bring you health and happiness. He bids me to tell you that if it is within his brother's power to add to your happiness............he........I am not to shun whatever measure I should take.

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and say to Sighehelm of Kent : A most gracious message... and a most gracious messenger. *She says, the smile widening and her eyes twinkling. There is something in yer nearness that makes life that much easier.* I have missed ye. *The words were simple, but as she looked up, they revealed much.* I hope... ye received yer christmas gift.. *And there it was, that one moment, her teeth upon her bottom lip in the gesture that betrayed her nerves*

Repsol, First Knight of The Crimson Order of Windstorm Castle: He chuckled to himself as he bent forward to light his pipe with a red ember from the fire, this was so much better than lighting it with stones, dare he speak of what he sees when the two people in front of him meet, he bit down upon his tongue hard and banished all thoughts as that would be a definite trip for the cat, he kept his thoughts to himself and lit the pipe he would allow things to take a natural course, though he may nudge them along all innocent like iffen he could

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, Through fire to honour, bound to God is in the great hall, and say to Edfeil Stormblade: -He raises himself to full height and approaches her, her question he takes as allowing him to do so- My gift your majesty............it was unexpected, and anonymous. The skill and dedication to the embroidery was one which speaks of patience and care. I hae nae dared to wear it yet. -He steps even closer, his eyes a moment on the silent companion of the queen. he feels every word he says now l be weighed and may hap judged by the man, especially so if his intentions are revealed-

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, Through fire to honour, bound to God is in the great hall, and say to Sir Repsol: -As the man moves, still quiet, the scent his pipe, makes Sighehelm pat his pockets to seek for his own, short pipe. These days he favoured the shorter one, travelling ad spending time in the sister's care had made it imperative to use one which was easily stored in a pocket, or hid in a small place. The long stemmed pipes did nae allow that. He brought his forearm up again to his chest, bowed- Greetings Sir Repsol. I would wish a private word with ye at your convenience?

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and say to Sighehelm of Kent : I am glad it was too yer liking and I be certain that anyone who took so much care in the embroidery... would wish for ye to wear it when the occasion be there. I have a wee gift too, or more.. something I have promised ye... *there it was again, that little telltale.* And there be much we should speak of mayhap later. I will... write yer brother to thank him for his wishes, and to speak of certain things. For now I be but grateful for yer return.. *she lifted her hand, a small gesture, allowing ye freedom from her presence and the restraints that etiquete would always place upon themn*

Repsol, First Knight of The Crimson Order of Windstorm Castle says to Sighehelm of Kent : Removing the pipe from his mouth, he turned to the taller man and smiled "M'Lord thou brings sunshine to A/all with thee visits to these lands, I be at thy call so me convenience be thy convenience, I be all ears of what ye wishes to speak of"

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, Through fire to honour, bound to God is in the great hall, and say to Edfeil Stormblade: he looks at her, as she mentions a gift, or more, his eyes shift to her lips, and he expels his breath slowly, for he knows the gift he wishes, needs, craves for, is nae one she can give him just yet. And though he has once stolen what was not he will nae do so again. As she smiles and allows him to leave her side, he can but be grateful for the fire which burns his heart, his loins, his very soul is without approv, and he will have his word with the man near to do so.....now- I thank you, your majesty. Please...........nae leave? -He brings his hand to touch hers, lightly , and he can clearly imagine the look of disapproval on his mother's face at such a gesture if it had been at the Kent court-

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, Through fire to honour, bound to God is in the great hall, and say to Sir Repsol: -He walks to the man, and actually smiles. His presence being likened to that of the sun has nae happened afore. But in truth it makes him look at the man in surpise. He gestures to a windows, inviting the man to walk with him- A word in private iffn ye may, a word from man to man, Sir Repsol

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and say to Sir Repsol: *She had been about to stand, about to find an excuse to leave, but the words from the man from Kent, the lightest touch of his hands stayed her. She averted her eyes to her hands for a moment, and that quiet blush infused her cheeks again.*

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and say to Sighehelm of Kent : *She could nae leave. Nae now. It might have been easier, but aside from the stables burning down, there would be little that would form sufficient excuse. She knew her brother. Knew he would understand. And yet... seated within her chair, she chose a woman’s way, in reaching for her embroidery hoop. The simple rhythm of the age old craft one that had suited her from childsdays on*

Repsol, First Knight of The Crimson Order of Windstorm Castle says to Sighehelm of Kent : He stood and moved alongside Sighehelm towards the window, laying his pipe upon the table as he passes, he looked to the Queen, her be as he always remembers upon their first meeting, the glow she will always hold, both in his eyes and his heart

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, Through fire to honour, bound to God is in the great hall, and say to Sir Repsol: Many years ago, I travelled to these lands, and I spent neigh two sun wends here, two times a new year started. When I left, I left apart of myself behind. Nae a part in the care of these lands, these peoples, the castle, the customs, the hospitality, but in the hands of one woman........your queen, my queen. I have nae returned, nae of my own choice Sir Repsol, but because a man cannae live incomplete, bereft of his own breath, his own soul. -Sighehelm speaks with quiet passion, yet his voice is strong enough to carry through the hall. He nae moves his hands, nor his body, it is just his words which prove he is nae a statue- events, very recent events have made me travel, despite the wishes of my mother to Windstorm, for my choices bind me here, God's guidance will make me stay here. I have made my commitment, the desire of my heart known to the queen, and she tells me she welcomes them. Yet I wish to ask formal permission to court the queen of Windstorm, Queen Edfeil Stormblade. As her father is nae here, she informs me you are the one I should ask.
- He again straightens himself, he stands 7’1”, a proud Kent man, his passions laid bare, his desire open for the man before him. Thus Lord Repsol, I formally ask your permission that I, Sighehelm of Kent, Prince of Kent, Son of King Charles the Silent, brother of King Righarde the brave, son to Queen Aethelbred, posted to Windstorm as ambassador of Kent, court your queen, your sister.

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and say to ALL: *She felt... proud... hearing the words. She almost felt herself enveloped in his strength as she listened. Her eyes remained on the hoop, on the stitches. These were matters of men. It was nae for her to interfere, but for one moment only, she allowed herself to look up, to maybe catch his eye and smile her gratitude-*

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, Through fire to honour, bound to God is in the great hall, and say to Edfeil Stormblade: -He did not look her way, in fact his back was to her, though every fibre in his body knew she was near, he had nae heard her move, get up walk away. She had to be here. It would be foolish not to admit he felt uncertain, much like a child seeking approval from a parent, and yet his eyes were fixed on Lord Repsol, nae looking away-

Repsol, First Knight of The Crimson Order of Windstorm Castle says to Sighehelm of Kent : He looked slightly upwards at the man stood afore him, he knew now he needed nae to offer a hidden hand to this matter, he was relieved, the man standing afore him would afford the Queen a steadfast and powerful partner, he was a man of Honour and steadfast, he smiled as he looked to the Queen.."M'Lord I owe thee more than ye shall know, for in me absence from this house and lands thou where a rock which supported the Queen her family and guests who visited these lands, iffen there be but one who spoke against thee I should nae consider once to nullify thy request............there be none, for one to request such shall be himself devoted for thy request nae be of simple men and Knights, I know enough that I shall nae hang o'er thee any threat, and I shall offer thee me hand and without delay grant thee thy request, and may it blossom as I pray it will, and let any man who questions this stand afore me". He held forth his open hand to thee and smiled

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and say to Sir Repsol: *She nae had realised she had been holding her breath, and kept the needle wavering over the fabric without sliding it through, until she heard ye speak and finally expelled that breath. There was a soft, feminine glow over her as ye granted yer agreement and blessing. She had been under yer authority on this most important matter by her own choice and prayed ye would share her feelings. The needle slid through the fabric now, and a quiet, serene happiness infused her being.*

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, through fire to honour, bound to God is in the great hall, and says to Sir Repsol: -The smile which paints his face is singular, and nae one for a woman to see. It speaks of triumph, possession, pride and liberation. He takes the man's hand and shakes it once; nae that of friends greeting or departing, but how a contract is signed. A contract engraved on his heart, etched onto his soul. He does not speak a word, yet as he releases the man's hand, he turns; his smile now changed, an illustration of how a man loves, deep, strong, loyal and eternally. He looks at her inclines his head, allowing her, and only she to see how his insecurity, uncertainness wanes and transforms into the love he carries in his heart-

Repsol, First Knight of The Crimson Order of Windstorm Castle: Feels the need to draw upon his pipe, he reaches onto the table and lifts it, the pipe is still warm as he draws upon it the red glow of leaf, he allows a narrow plume of smoke to stream from his nose.....what was he doing afore the turmoil of the last minutes/hours

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and says to Sighehelm of Kent: *And she looks to him. Though she has likened herself to a pebble, right now, at this very moment she seems like a rose in bloom, with all that be lovely within her showing in her face as she looks up to ye. Fears fade, and the curve of her lips is that of a woman, entrusting herself to the guidance of a man in the happy knowledge that she will be cherished, respected and cared for.*

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen is in the great hall, and says to Sir Repsol: Me brother... *she called out quietly, seeing the conversation ended. She nae had many words, but those that she had in her heart needed to be spoken.* Thank ye. *with this one conversation, ye had granted her what duty to her father and the throne had nae allowed her to accept earlier.*

Repsol, First Knight of The Crimson Order of Windstorm Castle: He dare nae speak of any matters of court at this time, they may wait for the Queens convenience, he takes his seat, and allows a smile to cross his lips

Sighehelm of Kent, Warrior with Veiled Eyes, Through fire to honour, bound to God is in the great hall, and say to Edfeil Stormblade: -Sighehelm looks from one to the other, clears his throat- Did I interrupt anything afore I .........demanded centre attention, for a most deserved matter, my queen? - He cannae think of another name to call her, but he knows it will grow upon him, as it will upon her. Despite that he knows his ways will remain most formal, always. It is his way, and one the court of Windstorm and the woman he courts deserves-

Edfeil Stormblade, Windstorm Queen says to Sighehelm of Kent: I... nae... that is... there are some ... worries... I have received a missive from Camelot that worries me, and the sergeant be worried about a man who be... on our lands.