The Glen

[Dream Loxley]

The Servant arrived just as Halethala and Dream were about to leave the Hall. Now it was Dream's turn to receive a message and her eyes lit up when she saw the Loxley seal. Almost fumbling within her pocket to retrieve a coin for the messenger, she looked at Letha and then again at the folded parchment within her hands which by now were visibly trembling.

"Oh my......oh.......please....will ye excuse me fer just a moment......I.....'tis......'tis word from my Robin at last." She smiled brightly although her heart was racing and her mind already imagining the worst.

She broke the seal with a crack that could almost certainly be heard throughout the Castle and devoured each written word. Her eyes scanned over the writing again to make sure she had not missed anything and then she held it to her heart and smiled softly, nodding her head as if to acknowledge him. It was very hard not to allow those tears of relief and happiness to overwhelm her as she turned once more to Halethala who had waited patiently.

"He 'tis safe.....and speaks of many folk following him home......seeking refuge and a place to live......home Letha.....he comes home!" Her joy at last could not be stifled any longer as she hugged Halethala close, savouring the moment before finally pulling away with a concerned expression.

"He also asks of Gerrad and what may have happened here........he is with Robin now, and safe......but Robin worries of an affliction Gerrad carries......methinks 'tis his heart breaking......." Her words were a mere whisper, and she spoke no more of the contents of the letter, knowing that when Gerrad did return, Letha would have to face him and whatever decisions she would make.

"Robin seeks word from our Queen......he dares not to bring these people home unless they shall be welcomed.....I have to send word to her. Forgive me.....we shall meet in the Courtyard upon the morn and progress with our adventure to the village."

Kissing Letha's soft ruddy cheek, she turned on her heel and almost ran to the Queen's chambers, although she knew it may be some time before she could give Robin the advice he so desperately needed.

((Forgive the forced posting please. I shall begin a new thread with the letter for Edfeil, in the hopes she finds it when next she visits the boards *VBS*))

[Halethala]

((*grins* No apology necessary! May her response be swift and decisive!))

Letha’s well guarded emotions gave way to a plethora of facial expressions as she watched her friend wordlessly. Cheeks rising into a smile that did not reach her eyes, apprehension tightening her features as the servant handed over the sealed missive, a braced flinching at the cracking sound, breaths shallow and tense until relief dared to match that of Lady Dream’s herself . . a determination of happiness for the understandable exuberance that pulsed through the embrace she found herself wrapped into . .

. . and before she could lay her tongue onto the words she had already begun to speak, she strained to hear every whisper of the added news of Gerrad . . and her heart plunged again.

Her eyes spoke more clearly than her muttered nod. Duty bound the Chatelaine to pass along the request as quickly as possible. Of course they would be welcomed . . it was the way of Windstorm to embrace all who sought refuge, and the Queen herself was once one such refugee. She would not hesitate for an instant. Still, it was right to formalize the appeal . . and dispel any doubt.

Her hand drew up automatically to rest on the tingling cheek, and the air grew heavy with Dream’s absence. Left to her thoughts, Letha slowly settled onto a low stool, and folded herself down onto her tightly clasped hands as they wedged atop her knees . . and for the span of time it took for an arrow to arch up and over the castle proper, she collapsed into muffled, quaking sobs before steeling herself against them again.

She would write . .

She stoked the fire in her quarters against the chill of early spring, and sat for longer than she intended, watching the wavering flames. There were so many colors . . depending on the condition of the wood that fueled it. Fire was not always predictable.

Neither were hearts.

“My Dear Gerrad,

I have no way of knowin’ whether my last letter reached you, nor whether this will have any more success, but I must trust that it finds you . . and finds you bent on trying to keep the promise I asked of you . . that you would not always set aside your own needs, that your wound is mended. That you are well.

Although word has come through Robin that the latter may not be the case, and such news worries me deeply. It has been such a dark spring, at times almost as if it does not want to come at all, and even in this good news, that Robin is preparing to return to Windstorm, and hopefully you with him, each day of delay is as if winter will not let loose its cruel grip.

Oh Gerrad . . . I’ve sensed in my heart that he is dead. Sinold. If not that his life is spilled into the soil of his homeland, where I have had only rumor that he has gone . . . an’ tis more than possible . . then dead at least to me. If he has not intended to abandon me, the sense of it remains nonetheless. By his own people’s very laws, he has become dead to me . . as has his child I carried for all too brief a time.

I cannot help but feel responsible. It should have been him who filled my thoughts when I knew the little life within would not survive . . but it was your dear face that I kept seeing. Your voice that brought comfort. Your embrace I yearned to feel.

Come home safely, Gerrad. Come home soon.

With Love,
Letha"

[Dream Loxley]

She lifted one hand to shield her eyes, the other clasped tightly around young Thomas' shoulders, drawing him closer as they watched the bird soaring higher and higher. Ellissia clapped her hands together and applauded, her feet lifting from the ground in excitement as she too watched the bird as it disappeared from view.

"It will find him Mama....it will it will!" She exclaimed as Thomas frowned, the lad staying silent as he so often did. No doubt he would be as eager as his older Sister when their Father did eventually return.

Dream simply smiled warmly and nodded her head, before drawing both children toward the Castle once more. The sun would soon be setting and bedtime lingered. She would light the candle that remained a constant within the window, and read to them as they were tucked up into the large family bed. She had to wonder just how much time alone she would get with her beloved as the children seemed to have taken the bed for their own. Her smile was softer as she climbed in beside them, perhaps sleep would be kinder this night, knowing he was safe and soon to be home. The morrow would be a goodly day spent with Letha and in the village.......who knows just what delights they would find.

The Pigeon settled within the tallest tree, having flown for most of the night. Soon it would find journey's end, the scroll safely attached to it's body, sealed with the Loxley seal and containing two letters. The first from Queen Edfeil herself:

Me dear friend,

sometimes prayers are answered in ways we nae expect. This must be one of those instances for here be a solution that I had nae even thought of, and it comes in the form of loyalty from men, strangers to me now, but friends hopefully soon, to one who has so oft deserved it. Aye... aye me friend. Prithee bid them all welcome and all the crown can do to make it easier for them to adjust to their new home will be done.
Do let me know iffen some of the old cottages need to be cleaned out and repaired before they arrive or iffen they prefer to build new ones or to chose encampment in the woods for now. I will be glad to do all that can be done.
Thank ye, and thank yer husband a thousandfold for yer service to Windstorm.

Be loved and blessed,

Edfeil (R)

The second, more personally from Dream and their children:

My beloved Robin,

How my heart lifted to hear word from you again. I count the days until I can hold you close and the children miss you still. You must not worry for us as all is well here. Edfeil has granted her permission as you requested of me, and you will read her own words and know this to be true.

Gerrad must speak with you if his heart is to be unburdened, I beg you listen and aid him in every way only you can. What afflicts him be none that herbs nor healers can mend.

This bird carries our hearts to you my dearest, and we shall see you within our slumbers as always. Stay safe and well.

Till soon, my beloved, till soon.

Dream, Ellissia and Thomas.

As day became night, the Moon and Stars watched over those of Windstorm and it's lands......soon a new day would come...........

[Robin of Loxley]

It was the days since He had let the pidgeon fly and to say that He was anxious would have been the biggest understatement of his life.

He was focusing on his mens efforts and the logistics of moving so many people towards Windstorm if word came that it was acceptable to the Queen, that he did not notice the pigeon gliding into the encampment.

It was only when He heard the sounds of running feet coming towards Him that He looked away from the Ranger in front of him and saw the parchments in the sprinting mans hands.

"Message has come from home Robin" the Ranger spluttered and held three missives forth.....

He took them from the Ranger and studied them carefully....then opened the one from His beloved Dream and read the contents......

His heart beat faster as He read the missive....he was already counting the days to when he would be able to hold her again..... be there for her and his children and protect them against the troubles of their world.. He sighed softly.....

The next line of the message did not surprise him ...


"Gerrad must speak with you if his heart is to be unburdened, I beg you listen and aid him in every way only you can. What afflicts him be none that herbs nor healers can mend."

He pondered this for a moment... Gerrad had been silent and withdrawn since his return and He knew that there was something amiss yet they had had no time to just sit and talk...as they had done in the past..... obviously it needed to be a priority.....so He would do so shortly.....

He opened the Message from Queen Edfiel and instantly a smile spread across His face.......He beckoned the Ranger he had been talking to and instructed him to send word to all villages and settlements that it was time to move to the rally point, already discussed, in two days from now...... He also asked for a full listing of occupations and trades to be written...... The Ranger raced off with a gusto uncommonly seen amongst men.......

Looking at the last message and seeing it was for Gerrad........he sought Gerrad out and found him sitting against a large oak.

"Gerrad... Ahh have a message for ye from home..... an i dun nae recognise the writing" ... He handed the message to His second in command and asked ..."Would ye like me to stay while yer read it Gerrad"

Gerrad nodded yet said nothing so He sat on a log a short distance away and watched Gerrad as he opened and read the message......

Gerrad read the missive and then stood up.... a myriad of expressions passing across the mans face......joy, sorrow, sadness and confusion to name a few......

Robin moved forward and clasped the Rangers arm firmly.....

"Gerrad.... I think we need to talk"

[Gerrad]

Gerrad stood still and silent as His leader approached and laid a hand to his arm. With one quick motion he surrendered the missive to Robin and made the makings of a small fire whilst Robin read through the letter.

He was confused at best, yet hopefull and joyous... did she speak to him as he thought or was it a cruel mis-understanding.

One that would turn like a blade through his heart and rip out his love. Either way he thought, she did love him in some way, as apparent by the missive.

He silently hoped against hope, that Sinold would nae return, He wished that the child Halethala had carried had survived, He wished above all that he could take away the pain from his...

His what?

His love?.. His Sister? ... No!!! he wished he could just take away the pain that was so obvious in the letter that he had just read.... He finally looked at Robin....

"Robin.. i never thought i would love again ... in fact i ... is it wrong for me to ..."

He stopped as Robin raised a hand and looked at him....

"Gerrad.... I love ye like a Brother... I stand by ye like a brother... I knew your wife as a sister god bless her.... And i'll stand by ye in anything that ye decide."

Robin paused and looked Gerrad intently...

"Follow your heart Gerrad and ye will nae go far wrong.... Nae let her go ... for i think you both will regret such"

He handed back the letter to Gerrad and smiled ....."Now you talk and i'll write for ye .... for such a letter deserves a reply"

They sat for some time and Gerrad poured out his heart and feelings...Robin sat and wrote ....

"Halethala,

I am safe, i am amongst friends.

I worry that you did nae get my last message, for your messenger did reach me and i did reply.. mayhaps he was accosted on the return journey... I have been in much pain since leaving the Glen.. yet each day i find that it gets less, so i'm getting better i think....

However there is but one pain that will not go away... and that is the news of the loss of your child. I greive for you and at the same time curse he that has abandoned you....

I have looked apon ye, in the past, as a sister and someone to protect...for that was our bond.... yet since my return to the Glen and what happened .... i look apon ye as much much more...

Halethala we leave to return within a day or so.... I hope to speak to ye when we arrive home if nae sooner....

Gerrad"

Robin sealed the letter after reading it one more time......took it to the pigeon master and watched the bird fly away....

[Halethala]

The news had spread quickly, as was often the case in the closely knit village surrounding the castle. Need was something many understood all too well, and the chance to extend aide wasn’t given a second thought, many having been in the same place one time or another. Still, Letha could not help but marvel at the generosity, giving what seemed beyond their ken, their lot in life often on the very edge of poverty. She’d blinked hard as one young mother laid a tiny ensemble across her arms with as much reverence as the Queen’s robe . . until a nearby servant explained the obvious. Their losses would not be entirely in vain. They would go on to bless another mother’s child.

And so it went, the stocks growing steadily in anticipation of the influx of folk approaching the sheltering lands of Windstorm, the thanks expressed often through a nod of gratitude and unspoken condolence. Letha took to spending nearly every waking moment in the impromptu and unrequested effort, the work filling her days with an excellent usefulness that kept her thoughts well occupied. Almost fully. A seasoned servant, ample in form and heart, stood watch over the willowy Lady, often steering her to take nourishment and get off her feet now and then, and Letha obliged without too great a protest. Invariably, the fraying letter was drawn out of a deep pocket and laid across her lap, though long since memorized. Her heart had stuttered over the one extra “much” in the otherwise plainly worded note. It was more than she could expect, more than she deserved.

Her mind had learned to pocket her thoughts nearly as easily as she re-pocketed Gerrad’s last letter, some of the pockets woven of steel and ice in a determined effort to cocoon them into numbness . . She’d had to, borne of a fear of going mad when they circled mercilessly. She rarely sat long, springing back to take again her place in the work.

It had caught the very corner of her eye, the flash of amber that circled the woman’s neck. So very similar to the ones in the warehouse . . exactly so, Letha would have sworn. Her thoughts bunched into each other as her eyes swept up to take in the face . . stunned at the ugly sneer that marred it. Aimed directly at Letha. No, it was her imagination, for the woman whirled and vanished into the crowd. Surely there was a reasonable explanation besides . . there were others that possessed such jewelry . . Her hand reached to her own neck before remembering that she’d purposefully removed it as she recuperated from losing her child.

As if sweeping up the pieces of a broken goblet, she’d pocketed the encounter. Refused any more darkness.

Ears ever straining for the cry of the sentinels, Letha decided she would write again if there was no word of approach by nightfall.

[Halethala]

As is often the case in those rare moments of insight, time seemed to slow down, crystallize, each tiny movement captured in the mind’s eye. She’d stood above the scarred wooden bowl, utilitarian in its plainness, fascinated as the shimmering, viscous fluid slid across the jagged lip of its casing, slithering into the bed of batter beneath. The pads of her fingers became keenly aware of the faintly pebbly textured fragility of the now empty halves, freed of their contents. It wasn’t the first she’d opened. She’d tried to make a game of cracking them with attention to skill rather than speed, to create a fault line as straight as the donor’s path of flight. But no matter how she tried, there was always the unevenness that must have pricked and tore at the escaping centers.

Letha felt a small rush of unreasonable sadness to think these would never propagate their kind, that in adding the eggs to her recipe, she was terminating line of these particular descendants forever. She became conscious of the timeless rhythm her own breathing, knowing full well that while they may not be fulfilling their original and intended purpose, they were filling a purpose just the same. Who could judge which was more important?

As her spoon stirred, she wondered at the term for the contents. Batter. One beats batter to best combine the different textures and flavors into something completely unlike any of each ingredient itself. She realized then that her heart had felt battered at each loss she’d endured in her life, when in truth, it wasn’t the losing that had brought her to this place, but the gaining that remained. You do not take something out of a batter once it’s mixed together. Indeed, you cannot. It’s there forever.

Later, she’d settled before the evening fire, two perfect biscuits thickly covered in fresh, rich butter filled a small plate on her lap. Left untouched for long moments as she enjoyed the contentment that rested around her shoulders as easily as the warm knitted shawl. The sense of peace would take getting used to, but she looked forward to being its pupil.

There was, first of all, the matter of explaining to Gerrad.

She reminisced back to the day in the village when her arms had suddenly felt so empty. The kind of emptiness that aches and insists and demands. A child-sized emptiness, not a thing she’d ever recalled quite feeling before, even with her miscarriage. She’d watched as a harried young mother passed by, struggling with two other offspring, maids, baskets and wrapped parcels in tow. Much against her nature, the undeniable empty feeling her rudder, Letha had quietly stepped before the woman and held out her arms. “Let me ‘old ‘im for a bit, Lass. Carry out yer errands and don’t worry about the lad.” The woman had only paused for seconds, sensing nothing of threat in Letha’s offer, before handing the wriggling bundle into her welcoming arms. The poor wee thing smelled earthy and sour and continued to squall unhappily. And though it took a full third hour of rhythmic bouncing, cooing, soft humming and tender strokes to his tearstained cheeks, he finally subsided into a hiccupping quiet of sleep.

Letha frowned slightly into the fire. There was nothing she could say to Thomas that his mother hadn’t already said with far greater love and wisdom, but Letha determined to reinforce the same message in his young hurting heart in whatever way she could. Lady Dream had said he rarely spoke, which seemed particularly sad from one so young. Letha understood, in some degree, perhaps no more than any other, but she had more time to give than some might. Her arms would always be an emptiness yearning to give.

She could not inflict herself upon another. She’d already lost two. Gerrad would understand.