Topic: The Kindness of Strangers

Elspeth Bradan

Date: 2016-08-21 07:40 EST
June 22nd, 1616

The summer sun beat down on the plains of Machaire Mor, the southern half of the kingdom of Carib, baking the soil where it could find it. Yet there was not much soil to find, nor was there a definitive road. The tribes and clans of the Horse Lords roamed all over the grasslands they called home, never leaving much of a trail to follow. So it was with this journey. Clan MacTeer wound its way through the waving grasses, out-riders set to guard against any bandit foolish enough to try their hand against such fierce warriors. No harm would come to those who were riding in their midst - the sister of the king who would be, and the ladies who traveled with her.

Elspeth Greville, as she had been known in Pomerania - now Princess Elspeth of the House Hasperan - rode with unaccustomed dignity in the midst of the leather-clad warriors all around her, a wilting rose in the summer sun but determined not to slow the pace of their journey. She was eager to see her brother again, and to see Brynhilde, her new sister, too. Unlike the other ladies, including Thomas' wife, she had listened to the comments made by the clan when they had first met, and risen to the challenge to ride, rather than travel in a cart, something they believed was the sign of a weak mind.

Seven days into the journey, she was beginning to overcome the pain of being saddle-sore, able to sit upright without wincing on the mare that had been presented to her as a gift by the leader of their fearsome escort. In just a few days, they would reach the capital city. All she had to do was survive those few days without breaking, and she would have won a rare victory - the respect of the horse lords who already thought her to be delicate as it was.

But not all who escorted the Princess on her journey to Cluaine Mor to join her brother were Horse Lords. There was at least one among them who was a nobleman, one who had sworn his loyalty to Queen Brynhilde. He'd found himself drawn to the gentle young woman in their company, sensing a gentle strength in her and a rare intellect. Of course, it did not hurt that she was fair to look upon, but even the prettiest of faces was boring after a while if there was no personality to match.

Aware that her pale skin was already marked with fresh freckles from the unrelenting sunshine, something she would have to get used to here, Elspeth let out a heavy breath, glad of the breeze that cooled her as they rode along. Glancing about surreptitiously, she looked down at her hands, painfully peeling back the glove on one to look at the sore skin beneath. The combination of sweat and friction was producing a most uncomfortable rash. Just one more thing to conceal from the horse lords around her. Hopefully someone in the capital would know how to deal with such things.

He had been watching her from where he rode a few lengths behind. She was a proud one, to be sure - too proud to ride in the cart with the other women and endure their endless chatter. Despite the quiet strength about her, perhaps she had been quiet too long. Few had dared speak with her, save the Archon's son, and though they had shared a few glances, they had yet to share in conversation. Well, it was always better late than never. He kicked his horse forward to ride at her side, just as she was poking at her glove. "My lady," he ventured, noticing the frown on her pretty face. "Are you well?"

Startled, Elspeth jumped, and the mare she rode reacted too, tossing her white head worriedly before her rider reached out to soothe her. Laughing at little at her silly response to just being spoken to, Elspeth turned her gaze onto the man now riding beside her. "I am well, sir," she assured him. "Unused to the sun and the heat, perhaps." She smoothed her glove back into place to hide the rash on her palm. "I do not believe we have been introduced, Lord ...?"

"Whoa," he said, moving closer so that he could help if the mare got spooked. "A little jittery, isn't she?" he asked, offering a somewhat nervous smile himself. "Bradan," he replied. "But you may call me Miles. I am only my father's second son. Hardly a lord."

And I am a commoner's daughter, she thought to herself, but she knew enough not to say it aloud. Not here, in this new land that needed to believe she was a princess. "Lord Bradan," she nodded, absorbing his name as best she could. "You are still of noble blood, that makes you a lord. Though I had thought younger sons were devoted to the Church. What makes you different, I wonder?"

"My father, no doubt. He feels I am worth more to him and to Carib if I remain close to home, rather than be devoted to the Church." He smiled as he lowered his voice, for her ears alone. "To be honest, I threatened to run away from home and never return if I were to suffer such a fate as that. Blasphemous, I know, but second sons tend to be somewhat rebellious." He shrugged and smiled.

Despite herself, Elspeth giggled at the intimation. She had never learned to entirely school herself, and it was unlikely she would now. "I think you would have made a most scandalous priest," she suggested, and a hint of her more worldly side showed itself in her next words. "Though I hear that there are brothels where a great deal of money can be made from the sacrilegious."

"And how would either of us know of such things, my lady?" he asked, a slight smirk on his face. She had a nice smile when she deigned to smile, and a laugh that was soft and feminine without being girlish.

Despite her smile, Elspeth felt the first flare of panic rise in her chest. She didn't know if Henry wanted people here to know they had been raised as commoners, and without knowing it, she didn't dare to share that information. But she had let something slip there that gave a little away. "I ....I know more and less than most ladies you have ever met, I imagine, sir," she said, hoping to cover her slip with some of that charm her family said she possessed in abundance.

He sensed something in her, some brief faltering or uncertainty. While he tucked the information away in the back of his mind, he did not let her know he had noticed, his smile as friendly as before, as if nothing at all had been amiss. "Miles," he corrected once again. "You need not worry in my company, lady. I am only a second son. There is no need to impress me and certainly no need to call me sir."

A part of her wanted to explain that calling him sir came far more easily to her than his name; that a part of her still considered herself far beneath the exalted circles she now moved in. But she didn't dare, offering a soft smile instead. "Thank you, s- ....Miles." A little at a loss for what more she could say, but liking the company that had been offered after several days of riding in near silence, she cast around for some other topic to touch on. "You say you are a baron's son," she said thoughtfully, "yet here you are, riding with horse lords. What brought you down to the south' I was led to believe that the barons viewed the clans with distaste."

His smile broadened when she said his name, pleased he had convinced her of that, at least. She was a princess, and as such, far above his station, but she was also alone and a stranger in a strange land, at least for now, and the least he could do was offer her friendship. It seemed more than anyone else in their entourage was doing, save perhaps the Archon's son. The thought of that made him inwardly wince, knowing he couldn't hope to compete against such a rival. He hoped she thought the frown was only due to her question - one that was somewhat difficult to answer. He shrugged mildly. "My father is not of the same mind as the other barons. He believes in a unified Carib. We are stronger together than apart, after all, and if we wish to stand up to our enemies, than we must stand together as one people - horselord, baron, and commoner alike."

Elspeth Bradan

Date: 2016-08-21 07:41 EST
Lorcan MacTeer, the Archon's son, had been surprisingly solicitous of her comfort, it was true, but he was also big and brash, and appeared to be allergic to wearing a full shirt. Elspeth found him a little intimidating, unable to look directly at him even when he was speaking to her. It was easier with Lord Miles, and his apparent eagerness to be friendly was soothing her natural shyness in the midst of all these strangers.

"As I understand it, you are a rare being then," she complimented him without thinking. "And you are embraced both sides of the border, in north and in south?"

"Perhaps tolerated is a better word," he replied, with a smile once again, softer and edged with just a hint of uncertainty. It was a tenuous peace, hinging greatly on the rule of a new King and Queen, but his father was hopeful. "My father has worked hard to unite north and south, and not everyone is pleased with his efforts, but so long as we have a strong king and queen to guide us, I am guardedly hopeful. I will tell you this much - though I am a lesser son, I will swear fealty to your brother and his wife, and as such, you need not fear while you are in my company." He was, in a way, assuring her of her safety so long as he was near, that he would protect her with his life, if needs be, though she was unlikely to need his protection.

"The queen has always written warmly of your father, Baron Bradan," Elspeth told him, surprised to hear herself so eager to reassure him in her own turn. Surprised, too, to realize that she had noticed how handsome he was without comparing him with her brother, who was the handsomest man she knew. Jane had told her that one day she would meet someone and not instantly compare the two men in her mind, but she had not believed her friend. A part of her wished Jane was here to see it, but Jane was far away, a new wife and a princess in her own right. She would have to content herself with a letter, written soon. "I must confess, I am relieved that they have allies so close to home. The situation was very different when she arrived, I believe."

"I am sorry to say that is true," he admitted with a thoughtful frown, unsure just how much the princess knew about what had happened before her arrival, but this was not the time to lie to or coddle her. She deserved to know what kind of place this was and what to expect her, and not all would be quite so welcoming. "There was an attempt on the queen's life, but the guilty parties have been duly punished. I will not lie to you, lady. We are a country that has been divided for too long with certain parties abusing the lack of leadership for their own selfish gains, but I am hopeful we will become united again under a strong leadership with your brother and his wife to lead us." Bold words for a young man whose loyalties could just as easily have gone the other way.

Elspeth's pale face could not get much paler, but the sombre expression that found a place in her eyes assured him that she knew they were still in a precarious position. "How ....how dangerous is the capital still?" she asked him quietly, wincing just a little as her hands flexed, rubbing that painful rash against the inside of her gloves. "I am not a fighter, I cannot protect myself against an enemy I cannot see."

Of course, he knew nothing of what she'd suffered back home, believing her to have been raised as royalty, alongside her brother. He noted the wince, but was unsure if it was due to the topic of discussion or something more. He judged her a fragile flower to be protected and almost wished he were in a better position to do so himself. "It is not so dangerous anymore, but you would be well advised to use caution." There was some irony in this, considering he was a stranger himself, and the thought of that made him frown. "Your brother would not send for you if he thought you'd be in danger," he reasoned logically, and so long as she was surrounded by clansmen, she'd be safe enough.

"My brother did not want me to follow along as quickly as I am," she pointed out to her new friend, for a friend was what she was inclined to consider him. "I was supposed to wait until the trade winds were confirmed, not be on the vessel that confirmed them." Blue eyes glanced toward him above a very slightly mischievous smile. "I have never been so far away from my brother before. I was not inclined to be left behind for months until he deemed it safe for me to travel. Left to him, I might never have left Francia."

"Ah, then there is something of the rebel in you, as well," he said, that smile returning as he found some common ground between them, what little there was. "My lady, if I may be so bold ....I know you do not know me, but I would be most honored to offer my friendship and protection. The queen holds my father in high esteem, and he is influential in both the north and the south. I can only hope to gain your trust, as he has gained that of the queen's."

"My lord, I hope you do not consider it forward, but I am inclined to consider you a friend already," she countered gently. "I am not a bold person, but I can appreciate warmth and kindness, and you have shown me both. I would be pleased to call you my friend, if you would allow it."

"Of course, I would allow it! I would welcome it very much!" he replied, with a small chuckle, since he'd been the one to ask it of her, in the first place. "Perhaps you would allow me to give you escort once we arrive at Cluaine Mor," he suggested mildly, not because he was hoping for any special favor, but only because he found himself enjoying her company.

Elspeth's smile returned as he agreed. "I think that could be arranged, my lord," she giggled back to him, but her attention was diverted by the sight and sound of a rider galloping toward the group in which they rode.

The Archon's son met that rider, and words were spoken - too quick for Elspeth to follow yet, with her as yet still new understanding of the language. But whatever was said spread through the clan around them with fury and fear. Weapons were suddenly in hands, both men and women, as Lorcan MacTeer rode through his ranks, shouting orders to his clanspeople.

"Princess," he said, drawing up short beside Elspeth and Miles. "We will leave you protected."

He frowned, nodding to Miles as though handing the protection of the king's sister over to the other man, and wheeled away, the majority of the clan following. All who remained were the older warriors, what few there were; the pregnant women, the young children, and the ladies they were escorting.

Elspeth looked at Miles in alarm. "I did not follow what they were saying," she said worriedly. "What has happened?"

Miles' hand went to the little-used sword he kept at his side. Though he was skilled in its use, it was more ornament than weapon these days, and yet, he had sworn to protect the princess and her entourage, not to mention the horse lords' women and children. "Bandits," he replied with a worried frown. "They are attacking the herds," he explained, shouting a few orders of his own in the native tongue of Carib to those few warriors who were left to escort them.

Elspeth Bradan

Date: 2016-08-21 07:44 EST
"Bandits?" Instinctively, Elspeth turned her head toward the cart in which her friend, Louise, and the other ladies were traveling. She knew without needing to be told that to have them bunched together in a moving vehicle made them a tempting target, forgetting for a moment that she was the richest prize here. As the warriors left behind spread out around the knot of vulnerable people, she turned her eyes back to Miles. "Where should I be?"

"Behind me," he replied. "You would be safest in the middle of the group," he told her, though he wasn't sure if she'd comply with that request. She was the most valuable person in their company, but the bandits would not know that. "Try to blend in as best you can. They do not know who you are, and with any luck, they will not find out." Hopefully, they were indeed bandits and were only interested in horses, not women, and especially not princesses or any valuables they might be carrying.

To blend in with the other women, Elspeth dismounted, hitching her mare to the cart loosely as she wrapped one arm about a small boy who seemed to have temporarily lost sight of his mother. But of all the women there, she was the only one with pale skin and blazing red hair; she stood out no matter how much she wished not to. For what seemed an eternity, there was nothing but the sound of the wind in the grasses, and the thump of hoofbeats around them. Then voices rose on the wind, the screaming charge of bandits who were used to preying on the clans. Barely more than ten men, fierce and desperate, and eager for blood.

Though prepared for a possible attack, even Miles was startled by the sheer ferocity of the bandits' attack. He hoped the attack on the herd was not merely a distraction meant to rob the princess' entourage of their most capable fighters, but he had sworn to protect her at all costs, and he would abide by that oath. The horsemen that were left needed no orders or leader to know what to do. They would defend the princess and their own women and children to the last man, if necessary, and take as many bandits with them as possible. As for Miles, he had drawn his sword, his face pale but determined. He had never been tested in such a way before. Perhaps this is what was meant by the words "becoming a man".

With Miles were only five warriors of the clan, older men who were considered past their prime but held the experience of long lives in the saddle. They were a match for the bandits, certainly, but that was dependent on what the bandits were after. With six engaged in fighting, that left four to plunder as they saw fit, and it was not only Elspeth who screamed as two of those desperate men came straight for the cart and its bounty of breakable women.

While Miles' main concern was that of protecting the princess, he could not very well allow helpless women to suffer at the hands of bandits who seemed more interested in rape than robbery. Shouting a warning to the other warriors, he didn't wait for an answer, but wheeled his horse around to intercept the bandits, sword drawn and ready.

With surprising presence of mind, Louise pushed half the women out of the cart before their attackers reached it, the group scattering into the chaos of the horseback melee, denying the bandits their easy plunder. The boy under Elspeth's arm ducked underneath the cart as they both flinched away from the sweep of a galloping horse, pulling a knife from his belt to cut through the harness that held the load-horses to the cart. They could hear pain and shouting all around them, the cries of men wounded, of men dying, as battle was joined in defense of the vulnerable carts - not merely the women and children, but the food supplies and precious things being transported from the port to the capital.

The boy reached out a hand for Elspeth, wanting her to crawl under the cart with him, but as she reached for him, she felt the unpleasantly familiar sensation of a rough hand taking hold of her braid. Dragged up onto her feet as the rider turned his horse away from the cart, she tried to fight, crying out for help in the noise all around them.

With everything in chaos, Miles swore under his breath, cursing the horselords for leaving them so undefended and susceptible to attack. There was nothing to be done for it now but do his best to defend those who'd been left behind; those who were unable to defend themselves. Adrenalin took hold, and he acted without thought, letting his training and instincts decide his actions for him, as he cut down one bandit and wounded another, wheeling his horse yet again when Elspeth's scream reached his ears. He paid for the distraction with pain, when a blade unexpectedly sliced his sleeve open and drew blood, but the wound was not deep enough to cause him to lose hold on the reins. Just as he was raising his sword to defend himself, one of his own company moved in to cut the man down, and Miles turned to pursue the bandit who was attempting to drag Elspeth away.

For a gentle person who had said she was not much of a fighter, Elspeth was certainly giving that particular rider a lot of trouble. But then, she had been raised as a commoner, and common girls learned a few things their noble counterparts were not supposed to know. Like what happens when you elbow a horse hard enough in the ribs; like just how loud a man will scream if you pinch him in the right places; like the fact that your teeth are the best weapon you have in a tight spot. The bandit already had his hands full when he realized the nobleman was bearing down on him, releasing the redhead with a rough hand to send her sprawling into the dust as he turned his horse to face the oncoming threat.

Miles was quick to react and not trample the now abandoned princess, steering his horse around her to charge toward the bandit, his already bloodied sword at the ready. He gave the man no quarter, steel meeting steel, and though the bandit might be a better skirmisher, he was no match for a man trained in the ways of battle, even if such a man was as yet untested.

Death came swiftly to that ill-fated bandit, as it did to all his compatriots at the hands of the old warriors they had deemed easy to subdue. Ten men fell in their own time, their horses rounded up and claimed as bounty for the injuries they had inflicted. On the ground, the women turned their attention to counting heads, making certain no one had been lost or run off too far. Face down in the dust, Elspeth groaned, rolling onto her back as she coughed the dust from her lungs.

Miles' gaze moved over the scene, as the battle seemed to come to an end. None too soon either, as his arm was aching, a dark stain on his torn sleeve he could do nothing to hide. It was his first battle, and despite the wound, a small smile found its way to his face, proud of their victory. His gaze found Elspeth then, sprawled in the dirt, very much unbecoming of a princess, but she appeared to be all in one piece. He slid off his horse and moved to her side to help her to her feet. "My lady ....Elspeth ..." he stammered, calling her by name, a hint of concern in his voice. "Are you all right?"

She groaned again, letting out a huff of breath that was close to laughter as he helped her to find her feet again. Her scalp ached, and she was certain there would be bruises and scrapes to find when they settled for the night, but she was, as he had already determined, all in one piece. "Nothing a hot bath will not cure," she assured him, looking around at the disarray left behind in the wake of the attack. Her eyes turned to him, finding the dark stain at his arm with no little concern. "You are hurt."

He looked relieved to find she was mostly unhurt, though he, too, knew there would be bruises and scrapes for her to endure. He touched his fingers to her face without thinking to gently push her hair back from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek, the wounded arm held tightly against his chest, almost forgotten but for the pain and the sticky feel of his shirt against his skin. "So long as you are all right," he replied, as if his own wounds were of little concern or consequence.

Elspeth Bradan

Date: 2016-08-21 07:45 EST
As if the heat and exertion were not enough, the touch of his thumb to her cheek - an intimate touch she had not allowed anyone but blood relatives until this moment - was enough to flush her cheeks with bright rose, her instinct drawing her away from his touch with just the faintest flash of fear. Only one man not her kin had ever touched her in such a way, and he had hurt her with his supposed kindnesses. "I-I am quite well," she said uncertainly, glancing about them once again. "You should see to our defense. I will bind your wound when we are once again safe."

"Sorry," he apologized as she drew away, as if his touch scalded her flesh though it had been gentle enough. He remembered his place at once and offered a bow of his head as he backed away. "Of course, Highness," he replied shortly, believing he'd offended her in some way. He said nothing more, but turned on a heel to do as she asked, first ensuring one of the old warriors in her escort would stand guard to ensure no further harm came to her while he gave orders to secure the area and see to the dead and wounded, even if they were only bandits.

Sensing she had offended him somehow, Elspeth opened her mouth to call him back, but stopped herself before any sound could come out. How could she possibly explain herself without revealing her baseborn background, and exposing Henry's, too' Shaking her head, she turned to gather the women of her own entourage and give them their own orders.

By the time the clan returned, several hours later, they had struck camp for the night, prepared to tend the wounded and wait for morning before moving on. The Archon's son was full of apologies for leaving them so poorly defended, many of his comments seeming to suggest that it was Miles Bradan who had been the reason for so many injuries until Elspeth drew him up short.

"Had Lord Bradan not remained with us, my lord, you might well have returned to a scattering of ashes and blood," she heard herself say sharply, surprised by her own bravery in standing up to the tall, well-muscled warrior. "I do not doubt you considered it necessary to abandon your charge with only the men you thought to be old and tired, but it was those men and my lord Bradan who saved our lives and defended us from brigands. Think carefully before you blame them for your own misconduct."

With Lorcan MacTeer staring at her, open-mouthed and shocked to be scolded so openly, she turned back to her own tent, dropping to her knees to start her own fire with practiced hands, seething at the sheer arrogance the man had displayed.

As for the man in question, Miles had busied himself the last few hours with making sure the wounded were tended to, the women and children were safe, and camp was struck for the night. They were obviously not moving on until morning anyway, seeing as how they had to tend to their own and wait for Lorcan and his men to return. The longer Miles waited, the angrier he became. Perhaps it was the differences between them, but Miles would never be convinced that horses were more important than people, no matter how high or low their ranking. With the help of one of the old warriors, he'd managed to bind his arm up for now, but it would need tending if he wanted it to heal properly. Still, there were graves to be dug and food to be prepared, and all of this needed to be done without the Archon's son and his men to help.

Still, as sunset reached them, the clansmen and women were returned, and fell quickly to those tasks that had been left to the women and children, and the few warriors who had defended them. Elspeth made it perfectly clear that she did not welcome Lorcan's company that evening, working with Louise to fix their own meal, to boil their own water and make their own beds for the night. But she did not forget her promise to Miles Bradan, and as the camp settled down to a watchful night, the young boy she had tried to defend sought him out.

"Bradan lord," he said cheerfully, "the princess wants you."

He had not witnessed Elspeth's defense of him, but he had noticed that a ripple of hushed gossip was making its way through camp, though he was not aware of what was being said. He had just sat down to tend to his own fire and see to his own wounds when the boy joined him. He winced a little at the summons, wondering if she would demand further apology for his mistake. He would never have forgiven himself if any harm had come to her or their people. "Can it not wait?" he asked, as he had the makeshift bandage already half unwound and he had not even started on his supper yet.

"The princess says now," the boy told him with a grin. "She's all alone and wants your company, I think. Mamai says that pretty women shouldn't be ignored when they want something." If Elspeth had known the lengths to which her young messenger was going to get Miles to answer her summons, she would have been horrified.

"Very well," Miles replied, somewhat gloomily as he got to his feet. "Be a good lad and bring me a bowl of stew?" he asked hopefully, knowing he would not be refused but tired of barking orders. He was no soldier and had given enough orders for one day.

The boy grinned once again, not giving a yes or a no to that request. He had, after all, come from the princess' own fire; he knew what she'd been cooking on the hot stones from the supplies she and her ladies had brought with them. And indeed, when Miles reached the ladies' tents, the aromatic smell of seared, tender sirloin reached his nose, overlaid with the more pungent scent of rosemary and potatoes, and thick, rich gravy. Elspeth was seated by the fire outside her own tent, comfortable on a blanket laid over the grass for her.

He could not help the sounds his stomach was making as the rich aroma of her dinner assaulted his senses, but he at least made an effort to keep his gaze from wandering to the fire and what was cooking there, for fear his face would betray him. He was confident the lad would be bringing him something to eat soon enough. "You wished to see me, Highness?" he ventured as he drew near enough for her to see and hear him, but not so close as to make any false presumptions with regard to their tenuous friendship. He looked pale and drawn, but that was to be expected, all things considered.

She looked up from her cooking, an apologetic smile on her face. "I am sorry I had to have you summoned to me, my lord," she apologized to him gently. "But I have not seen you for some several hours now. Come, sit with me, and eat. I promised I would see to your wound, but I would see you well fed first."

One brow arched upwards at her apology, which he did not really find necessary. In fact, he thought he should be the one doing the apologizing. "I have been busy making camp and seeing to the dead and wounded," he told her, though she probably knew that already. A true leader did not tend to his own needs before that of those under his protection.

"I know," she said quietly. "Please, sit down. You are wounded yourself, and it is the duty of the women to see to the men. Even I know that." She patted the blanket, leaning forward to flip steak from the hot stone onto a plate, with potatoes and gravy from the pots set in the embers. "I may not be the finest cook in the land, but I am confident that you will not die from my cooking."

Elspeth Bradan

Date: 2016-08-21 07:46 EST
"It is not the duty of a princess to see to that of a ..." He broke off. A what? A lesser noble" The second son of a baron who had no right to want or expect anything from her" "I cannot eat your food, Lady. Stew is sufficient."

"Well, I made it for you, so unless you'd like to sit there and watch me try and eat it all, you will oblige me by putting your nobility and your pride to one side and eat the meal set before you," she told him sternly. "If I am such a high princess, aren't you obliged to obey my commands" If you force my hand, I will command you to sit and eat and let yourself be tended to, but I would rather you did it willingly."

"Is this how you speak to all your subjects, or just those you've taken a liking to?" he asked, knowing he was bold for doing so, but he had never been known for his bashfulness. Quite the opposite, in fact. He still had not taken a seat, though he was swaying where he stood, his mouth curling upwards just slightly into what appeared to be the tiniest of grins.

She blushed in the light of the fire, but since she had begun this way, she was determined to get her way. "This is how I speak to bloody idiots who won't do what?s good for them," she informed him, displaying a comfort with coarse language that no other princess in Meringia could possibly lay a claim to. "Sit down before you fall down, my lord, or I will pull your feet out from under you."

"How can I possibly resist such a kind invitation?" he replied, almost enjoying the parrying back and forth of words between them. He did as he was told, however, taking a seat on the blanket before he collapsed. It amused him to no end that she'd sworn at him, as evidenced by the smirk on his face.

She didn't seem to have realized that she'd sworn, her blush more to do with the way his smirk made her feel than the way she had behaved. She had never met anyone who could make her feel so agitated just by looking at her; and yet it wasn't an agitation that was unwelcome. Settling down beside him, she handed over the loaded plate. "Now eat, before you faint," she told him. "You can hardly be my protector if you cannot even stand straight, can you?"

"Perhaps you have not noticed, Lady, but Lorcan has returned," he informed her, though he thought she must know this already. There was, perhaps, just a hint of wounded pride in the tone of his voice, though he was trying not to show it. Now that the Archon's son had returned, what did she need the likes of him for, or had he already forgotten the promise he'd made her"

"And he can stay on watch all night for all I care," she muttered ungraciously, reaching for her own meal. "We have already spoken, and I did not care for his tone or his implications. I would rather have your company than his - he abandoned us, and his own women and children, to protect a herd that represents only wealth, and expected me to praise him for it when he returned. Suffice it to say, I have little love for anyone who will turn their back so callously on the people who depend upon him."

There was that slight upward tick of an eyebrow again, surprised to find they were in agreement as to their assessment of the other man's behavior. "In his defense, he left me in charge of the company. I do not think he expected the bandits to attack anyone but the herd," he reasoned, taking full responsibility for the attack. Though he was in agreement with her regarding Lorcan's decision to leave, he wasn't sure he should say as much where he might be overheard.

"When charged with the defense of the queen's own kin, he should have been more aware," Elspeth said quietly, but she wouldn't say any more on the matter. She certainly wasn't going to speak against Lorcan at court; she had feeling his own people would make sure his father knew what had happened, at the very least.

"He frightens me," she admitted, her voice even softer now though she had switched to the language of Pomerania, the language of politics throughout Meringia. "He looks at me as though expecting to make a claim, as though I wouldn't dare argue if he did. I am sure he is a good man, but he expects something from me, and the last man who expected something from me ..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Forgive me, I should not burden you with my fears."

To his credit, he was a good listener, well able to follow the change in language. In fact, he was more than that - he was exceptionally observant, noticing how what she didn't say said more than what she did. Someone had hurt her somehow in the past and whatever form that hurt had taken had wounded her deeply. He was tempted to reach across the small space between them and take her hand, but that would be too presumptuous and he had made that mistake once already today. He could have said more about the horse lord, but it seemed that was not really what she needed to hear. "Forgive me for my bluntness, but some will see you only as a prize or a way to further their own ambitions. I cannot speak for the Archon's son, as I do not know him well. I believe his father is a good man, but the father is not the son. Whatever happens, I was sincere in my offer to protect you, and I do not expect any special favors in return."

"I know," she said softly. "And I must trust the judgment of my brother and his wife when it comes time for me to be married. I do trust them, but how will they know who is lying and who is not?" She shook her head, smiling at the thought. "It is the lot of a woman, Miles. But I am grateful for your friendship, and I hope I have not destroyed any chance of it with my bad language."

"It is I who worried I had destroyed it," he admitted solemnly, though he did not explain why he thought that was so. In his concern for her, he had forgotten his proper place in the hierarchy of nobles and that she was far above his station. "I-I was only worried for your safety, Lady," he told her, unable to offer any other excuse as that was the closest to the truth he dared offer. "As for your brother and the queen, I am sure they want only what is best for you, but perhaps if you tell them what you wish, they will be more able to make a decision that will be in your best interests." Goddess, he thought, he was starting to sound like his father.

"I trust them more than I would trust my father to choose for me," she admitted in amusement. "But Henry is stubborn enough to impractical where I am concerned. I can only hope Brynhilde can convince him, before it becomes impossible to tell the true from the false." Licking her fingers clean, she set her plate aside, washing her hands from a bowl of cold water nearby. "And how do you like my cooking, my lord?"

"Cooking?" he asked, as if just realizing he'd been eating while they were talking. In fact, he'd felt ravenous and had made quick work of the plate she had offered him. He'd had no trouble following the conversation, despite the change in language, years of lessons at last paying off. "You cooked this yourself?" he asked, a little surprised. Princesses were not normally known for their cooking, but then she was proving capable in ways he hadn't expected.

"I did, and laid the fire myself," she told him, expecting him to tell her off and remind her that she had servants for that sort of thing. Just about everyone else she knew would have made certain she felt foolish for still clinging to the skills that her mother had taught her over the years of her childhood. "I am not just a face to be admired, my lord. I have hands; why should I not use them?"

"No need to defend yourself. I meant no offense," he told her, lifting his hands, palms toward her, to indicate he meant no offense, but the movement cost him, and he winced briefly. "The truth is you are something of a puzzle," he told her, though he wasn't sure he could explain just why that was.

Elspeth Bradan

Date: 2016-08-21 07:46 EST
His wince caught her attention, a soft frown touching her own brows as she looked to the makeshift bandage on his arm. "I promised to tend your wound, did I not?" she reminded him, reaching for a bowl of clean water, boiled and left warm by the fire, clean cloths beside it. His comment on the puzzle she made brought a faint smile to her lips. "Do you intend to solve me, Miles?"

"That would be rather presumptuous of me, Lady," he replied, wishing to return to the easy friendship they had shared earlier that day, as short-lived as it had been. "You ride, you cook, you tend wounds. You protect those weaker than yourself." Yes, he had noticed how she'd protected the boy from harm, despite the danger to herself. "Is there anything you can't do, my lady?"

"There are many things I cannot do," she assured him, deft fingers gently undoing the makeshift bandage about his arms as carefully as she could. "I cannot understand politics; I cannot stand before an armed man without fear or, indeed, any man. Those skills I have are not the skills of a noble born woman, and have no place at court. I daresay they make me something of a curiosity."

He arched a brow at her again, watching as she unwound the makeshift bandage, but it was not that he was watching so much as the expression on her face as she spoke. "And yet, here you are with me, unafraid, but perhaps I do not count as a man," he added, a small smirk on his face, as if he were telling a joke with himself as the target of his humor.

Her eyes flickered to his briefly as she uncovered the wound on his arm, tossing the bloodied bandage into the fire. "I have grown very good at hiding my pains and my fears," she warned him quietly, dipping a clean cloth into the warm water to begin cleaning his injury with gentle hands. "It hurts the people who love me to see me afraid, to see me in pain, so I do not show them."

But he was not so foolish as to think she loved him, not when they had only just met, and he so far removed from her station. "You have no need to fear me, Elspeth, though I have no way of proving that to you. I'm afraid you will just have to trust me."

"You saved my life," she said quietly. "You killed the man who would have stolen me away and done worse than kill me. I would not have been able to defend myself against his wishes, no matter how much I would have tried. You did what no one else could have done in that moment, already my friend and now my savior, too."

Savior" He did not think he was quite worthy of that. "I only did ..." He paused to wince and grit his teeth a moment as she wiped at dried blood. Thankfully, the wound was straight and not so deep as he had feared, but it would be weeks before it was healed, and he'd have to beware of infection. "I only did what anyone would have done in my place," he said, once the worst of it had passed.

"You were there to protect me when no one else was," she reminded him in her soft way, setting aside the wet cloth to dry his skin carefully. "I will not forget it." Some troublesome imp took hold of her tongue to ask a question she should not have. "But ....if I had no virtue to save, would you still have done it?"

He knew she was, in her own way, thanking him for what he'd done - for putting his own life on the line to save hers, but not only hers, as the entire camp had been his responsibility after Lorcan's abandonment of them. But it was not that which caused his brows to arch upwards - it was the mention of her virtue, as if she might not have any virtue left to save. "I do not understand the question. What does your virtue have to do with it' My mother is no longer virtuous. Does that make her life any less precious?"

"Some would say that an unmarried woman's only value lies in her virtue," she said quietly. As she spoke, her eyes were fixed on her work, gently bathing his wound in water infused with healing herbs before setting pad against it to wrap the injury safe against outward dirt and infection.

Whatever it was she was bathing the wound with, it felt strangely soothing. So, he could add herbalist to the list of her talents. "Some, perhaps, but there are others who would not place blame for the loss of virtue that was taken against one's will," he said, guessing the nature of her prodding, watching closely for a reaction.

Ah, but she was good at schooling her expression when it came to such things as this. Not a flicker crossed her face as he spoke, though inside she felt a flare of something that might almost have been relief to hear him say such a thing. "And would you be of that nature, my lord, or do you consider a woman's virtue to be her only grace?"

"There is more to a woman's worth than just her virtue," he replied, watching her curiously and wondering why she had chosen to have this conversation with him, of all people. "Would you measure a man's worth by his order of birth, by his social rank, by his lack of title and land?" he countered.

"A man's worth cannot be measured in title or land, or social rank," she shook her head. "A man's worth is measured in his actions and thoughts, in his manner and bearing. I have known noble men who were not fit to rule the lands that came to them by birth, men who treated their lessers as nothing more than chattel. And I have known commoners who would have been great kings, if they had only been born in such a position."

"Then, why do you think a woman should be judged solely on whether she has ever been bedded, either by choice or by force?" He lifted his free hand as if to silence her before she could argue the point with him. "I am aware what society dictates and especially what is expected of a woman of your birth, but if you are asking what I think you are asking, it does not lessen you in my eyes. In fact, it only makes me want to make sure such a thing never happens again."

"I have said nothing," she pointed out quietly, finally raising her eyes to his as the last knot was tied off and tucked away neatly. "But thank you. You are a better man than many I have met."

"Better than some, perhaps," he replied, though that was a matter of opinion, he supposed. If he was to be judged on his actions here today, he hoped he had acted bravely and honorably.

Drawing her hands away from his arm, the wound now neatly bandaged and hopefully not quite so painful as before, Elspeth folded her hands in her lap as they sat together. "Better than many," she insisted, her lips curving into a shy smile. "And if I were bolder, I would make certain you knew it."

He arched a brow at her, unsure what exactly she meant by that. Had the day's events addled her brain" Had she not pulled away from his touch earlier" What was it she hinting at then" "You are not angry at me then?" he asked, though it seemed obvious that she was not.

She shook her head, her smile deepening. "I was never angry with you, Miles," she assured him. "But I think you may now be able to tell why it was I pulled away. It was a touch I did not expect, unwittingly echoing another touch from a man now dead."

Elspeth Bradan

Date: 2016-08-21 07:47 EST
Though he was trying to understand, he bristled just a little at the comparison. "I am not ....I would not ..." he insisted, not quite finishing his statement, but hoping she'd understand his meaning. He had only brushed her hair away from her face. It had been an innocent gesture, and one that had been made out of concern and even burgeoning affection.

"And I have not accused you of it, nor even of the intention of it," she told him, soft but firm. Blue eyes held his with open honesty as she spoke, daring him to misunderstand her again. "I have told you of my fears, that I fear all men for the actions of one. It is not your intention I pulled away from, but the memory."

"I suppose the question, then, is how do I help you forget?" he asked, daring to reach for her hand, but not quite touching her. He only opened the palm of his hand and held it toward her, offering it to her, but without expectation or presumption, allowing her to decide for herself.

The offer of his open hand to her was a surprise she had not been expecting, her gaze dropping to his palm and back to his face as though asking him in silence if he was sure he wanted to make such an offer. Her fingers twitched in her lap, wanting to take the touch that was offered, afraid to make the leap that offer invited. Blushing dark, she swallowed, biting her lip as she fought that internal battle ....but slowly, hesitantly, her hand rose, touching gentle fingers delicately to his palm. "Why would ....why would you wish to take on such a burden?"

He did not answer her unasked question, except to hold out his hand until she decided whether or not she would accept his unspoken offer. "I do not see you as a burden, Elspeth. I see you as a treasure, not to be stolen or abused, but to be cherished and protected. A precious treasure who does not even know her own worth."

"You barely know me, my lord," she said softly. "We have spent but seven days in each other's company, and that in silence until today. But I find myself inclined to trust you, and perhaps you have given me reason to hope that my brother has not forgotten how to listen to me."

He wasn't sure if she was dismissing him yet again, or just being honest. While it was true they did not know each other well, that could change in time. "You barely know me, and yet, here I sit at your campfire, eating your food and enjoying your company. Does that not make us friends?" he asked, not daring to hope for more. "If your brother cares for you, he will listen," he added, for good measure.

"I had thought we had already decided to be friends, before all this chaos was unleashed upon us," she reminded him laughingly, daring to make her hold upon his hand a little bolder. "If you were not my friend, how could I possibly have confessed to you all that I have done this evening" It is not information freely given to anyone without trust."

"Friends, then," he said, tempted to bring her hand to his lips, but he thought better of it, instead giving her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. "You should rest. We break camp at first light," he informed her, not wanting to overstay his welcome or make too many presumptions regarding her intentions.

"I think, perhaps, you are right," she admitted reluctantly, gently reclaiming her hand from his with a soft touch of color about her cheeks once more. "Will you ride with me tomorrow" I would learn more about my friend before I must pretend to be a princess once again."

"I would be honored," he replied without hesitation as he moved to his feet. "Until tomorrow, then. Sleep well, Princess, and thank you," he told her, presumably thanking her for the food and the bandage and the conversation, though he was really thanking her for so much more - for believing and trusting in him when others did not.

Rising to her own feet - though not without a soft groan for her stiff muscles and aching backside - Elspeth inclined her head to him, once more managing to at least pretend to be the noble they all believed she had been raised as. "Good night, my lord," she answered him in kind. "I wish you gentle dreams." The flap of the tent behind her moved; Lady Louise was waiting to help her settle to sleep for the night, discreet in the knowledge she now had that even her own husband was not privy to.

He stepped back, offering a polite nod of his head, respectful of her title, even if they were supposed to be friends. He saw the flap open and knew they had not been as alone as he'd assumed, but then, that was to be expected when one was such as she. He waited until she was safely inside her own tent, pausing to have a word with the guard to ensure he kept careful watch before making his way back to his own tent to retire for the night. By the Goddess' grace, there would be no more rude surprises to interrupt this burgeoning friendship. Two days more, and they would reach the capital. Who knew what could happen in two days"