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Vale of the White Horse
Topic Started: 5 Jan 2010, 13:03 (19,326 Views)
Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
He had to start moving soon, he thought. His body was making it quite clear that if he didn't relieve himself soon, he'd wet the hay - something the innkeeper was bound to take offense to. Holding his breath, as if that somehow would prevent Essylt from waking, he slipped his arm from underneath hers and got up as quietly as he could.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
She felt her eyes flutter, sending flashes of light into her darkness. She thought of a faltering candle, and moved herself further into the blanket. It was very warm now. Essylt remembered the owl and the night, Morcant’s fever. Was it morning yet? She groaned softly, reluctant to leave the warm, dozy half-place that she was now.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
When he felt human again - though his head still felt a little woozy and he found it hard to breathe through his nose -, Morcant walked back. Just outside the barn though, he decided to wait until Essylt had fully awoken. If she'd been able to put her arm on his without him noticing it, she must've been awake for longer than he had.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
It really was morning, rather a bit ruthless as far as Essylt was concerned. She moved her hand to her face to rub the sleep from her eyes and noticed that Morcant had left. There was still an imprint of next to her. She sat up straight, her belly rumbling. There was hay in her hair. Running her fingers through it to filter out the strands, she found Morcant close to the end of the shed. She looked at him as she approached. He had kissed her. Not on her mouth, but in her neck, much like Marcus Lentulus had done. It sent odd shivers through her body.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Small footsteps made him turn around. He smiled at Essylt, whose eyes were still heavy with sleep. She looked adorable, with a bit of hay sticking out of her unruly curls. 'Good morning,' he said. 'Did you sleep well?'
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘Eventually.’ Had she still embraced his shoulder when he’d woken up? A part of her hoped not. ‘What about you? Do you still have a fever? You did, this night, but I don’t know if you noticed it. You were sleeping…’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Ah. So that's why he dreamt the way he did. 'My head feels like the hay sneaked in and replaced my brain while I was asleep, but otherwise I'm as well as one could be after a mid-autumn swim.' He grinned crookedly.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘At least you’re not a pessimistic sort of person.’ She plucked another straw out of her hair. ‘I feel like food for the goats.’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
'I just like to make the best of things, no matter how bad they look.' Morcant rubbed his hands over his face and ran his fingers through his hair. 'Speaking of food, we might as well go get provisions on the market.'
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
And a scarf for her head, Essylt thought. It would shelter her against the wind – why hadn’t she thought of this when packing? And the man last night had worried her. It wasn’t the moonshine in her hair, but she knew that she must stand out; perhaps someone would recognize her or remember her long enough on his way to Two Lakes. She knew that her father was sending men-at-arms in all directions to look for her, probably Romans and Dobunni alike. That must not happen. Essylt thought about his broken, sad eyes and the drooping mouth – the image she’d seen in her dream – but clenched her fists hard. This was, for now, the right decision; even if it ripped open his heart till it bled.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Rufus arrived in Cavern Hill none the worse for wear and wasted no time in demanding to speak with the chieftain, despite his own less-than-formal attire. The woman who'd let him in had the air of one who ran this household, but not that of a chieftain's wife. He thought he vaguely remembered something about the man's wife dying in labour, but he didn't care enough to actually keep track of this sort of thing. Rufus sat himself on the ornate chair in front of the fireplace, sprawling his legs out in front of him.
Not long after, a tall, lean man strode in. His hair was dark and his thin lips curved into a sneer so identical to the one he'd worn when Rufus had left a year ago that he wondered whether the expression had left the man's face at all.
'Lord Rufus,' Higueid said and made a fluent bow. 'It's been a while.'
'Quite,' he answered tersely. 'I came to check up on the situation here. I heard you've been quite busy.'
'Of course, what would you like to know?' If the man understood the subtle implication in his remark, he didn't show.
Rufus smiled. 'Everything, by preference. However, I'm lacking the time to go over a whole year, so why don't you just tell me the highlights?'
'If you wish.' Higueid sat down and gestured at a servant, who left quickly only to come back with two cups and a pitcher of spiced mead. Rufus was quite content sipping the mead while the man told him of his activities the past months. Every now and again he'd ask a question that would seem inconspicuous, but provided him with all the proof he needed to figure out that the chieftain of Cavern Hill had indeed been quite the bother, and would most likely turn into an adversary if he was left unchecked. Just as he was debating the best way to get rid of the man, something caught his attention.
'Did you say your wife? I thought she died in childbirth before I met you.'
For the first time, the sneer was replaced by a different expression as Higueid's face darkened. 'I remarried six moons ago.'
Rufus pursed his lips. 'The lady at the door?' he asked, though he suspected what the answer would be.
'No.' Higueid didn't seem happy admitting it. 'The ungrateful brat ran away after four moons.'
He had to try his hardest not to let the grin that wanted to break free escape. Even a consummate politician such as himself would have trouble keeping his face in check under such highly amusing circumstances. 'Oh dear,' he said mildly.
The man shrugged. 'I'll get her back and make her wish she'd never been born. I sent many men after Gwenllian, and she can't escape me forever.'
Suddenly, Rufus sat bolt upright. 'Gwenllian, did you say?'
'Yes; that is her name.'
'Pale girl, with red curls and about twenty years of age?'
A suspicious look spread across Higueid's features. 'Yes,' he said slowly, leaning forward. 'Have you seen her?'
Oh, this was too rare! Suddenly, a lot had become clear to him and a whole new vista of possibilities spread before him. If he'd correctly interpreted Gwenllian's confession concerning the night of the murder, marital fidelity was the last thing of her mind. And if he'd correctly guessed Rhywallon's character... Well, now. 'I have seen a girl of her description and bearing the same name, that is all I can say.'
'Where?' Higueid had jumped up from his chair, a vein throbbing on his forehead. 'Tell me, man!'
Rufus got up and looked calmly at the fuming chieftain. 'Relax, my dear friend,' he said silkily. 'Even if I told you, you wouldn't be able to send men there to get her back. She's currently enjoying the hospitality of Caer March, in the Vale of the White Horse, a chieftaincy I myself have been charged to protect. However,' he went on before Higueid could protest, 'accompany me on your own and I will slip you inside the castle to get your wayward wife back, if it is her.' But he didn't really doubt that.
The man sank back in his chair, passing a hand over his face in thought. 'What do you want in return?'
'Oh, I'll think of something when the time comes,' Rufus said easily. 'I'm pressed for time, and I'd like to leave as soon as possible. I take it you agree?'
'Yes. Yes, I do,' Higueid answered. 'I'll prepare for our immediate departure.' There was a dark look in his eyes that bode ill for Gwenllian.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
Since Marcus Lentulus had taken it upon himself to minister the protection of their borders, Briallen found there was some choice of men-at-arms for her own assignment. She’d asked Eiluned for a fast rider, because Shadow Well was a long way from the Vale, just across the border into Gwynedd. She had heard nothing from her uncle since her unusual dispatching to Caer March, yet the condition of her mother could hardly have improved. She felt bad about it, too; it seemed that the Vale of the White Horse with it’s mysterious environment and it’s small, desperate chieftaincy had wrapped her in like a cocoon wraps a butterfly before it breaks out in the warm days of spring. Enveloped as she was, she had given very little thought about the dying woman that surely missed her with every passing hour.
A man entered the hall. He was young, with the same barley-coloured hair as Cunedda – this was perhaps her father. He was dressed in plain clothes, but wore a sword and a dagger on his belt. ‘Eiluned told me you required a rider, my lady. I am fast.’
‘Thank you. Are you Haf’s husband?’
The man gave a single nod. ‘I am.’
She nodded as well. ‘I want a message sent to Gwilym of Salt Lake’s Reach, and possibly also to Shadow Well. That’s in Gwynedd, of the Silures tribe.’
Haf’s husband gave another nod. ‘I can make that in two weeks.’
‘That’s good.’ She had nearly journeyed three weeks and it had worn her out. ‘Tell them that I send my fondest greetings. Say that all is well with me, but that I long to see their faces once again. Tell my mother that I love her, that I think about her and that if it’s graced to me, I shall see her before she passes the veil.’ Briallen had to swallow. She was glad that the man looked the other way, delicately interested in a small bird that perched itself on the windowsill. ‘Unfortunately, issues demand my attention in such a way that I can’t permit myself to travel so long a distance for now. That’s all.’
‘Yes my lady. You are of the Silures, my lady?’
‘Well, partly.’ Briallen turned to the window to look at the courtyard. It was nearly empty now; how different from Shadow Well, where servants and craftspeople and artisans always found some business to be out. ‘But I share your Dobunni blood from my mother. You can go now; ride safe.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
For the last week, after the chores and tapestry-repairing, Gwenllian had made some time to sew new clothes out of the fabric she'd gotten from the settlement. It had been a rather nervous affair going there at first, but with Rufus out of the way there wasn't all too much to worry about. Today, however, she'd put on the clothes which she had first arrived in. Wayland's Smithy was compromised mostly of old stones, moss and earth after all. Humming to herself, she walked around the caer until she'd found Briallen.
'I got everything we need, so we're all set,' she said after greeting her.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘Ah. Yes.’ It hurt a little, to rip herself from her mother’s side like this. But this was her new life now, Tudwrig the one she was given to. So in turn, it was only appropriate that she gave herself to Tudwrig. It could not happen in the marriage bed – and that hurt too, but to stand by his side as he was man or beast was the thing she’d do with every fiber of strength that she possessed. Briallen hitched up her skirt when she entered the courtyard, where two horses had been brought out for them. She looked at Gwenllian. ‘This time, I won’t go back without answers. The Fair Folk must acquiesce to that much, if they are the cause of our misfortune.’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Gwenllian nodded and mounted her horse. She'd by lying if she said she was looking forward to this, but it was just one of those things that had to be done. Sooner rather than later, too, because avoiding problems only tended to make them bigger. 'At least we know what to expect,' she said out loud and smiled at Briallen. Despite her nerves, Gwenllian was glad to be able to accompany her. it wouldn't have felt right to let her face this alone, after all Briallen had done for her.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘Do we?’ She kept her eyes fixed on their path ahead, knowing that her face must look pale. The horse had the same irregular stride as two moons ago, when she had arrived travel weary and disheveled at this small hillfort. As for expectations, they could never be relied upon where the Annwn was concerned. Sojourning into the unexpected depths of Wayland’s Smithy might be more dangerous than dashing into Tudwrig’s room.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
'Well, as far as that strange feeling when approaching the Smithy goes,' Gwenllian said and licked her lips. Concentrating on that rather than on the things they didn't know seemed like a good idea to her. Her heart had quite snugly settled itself in her throat already, anyway. They rode on until the burrow came into view. Though she'd expected it, the strange pull came somewhat as a surprise. It seemed different, but that could just as well be her imagination.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
She dismounted in silence, her eyes searching the cavern for every detail. The broad beams of sunlight had painted the rocks last time, but now there was no such thing. She did hope that the Fair Folk would welcome them back in. ‘Here,’ Briallen murmured, pointing to a flat rock just before the entrance. ‘Put the gifts there.’ She took an oil burner from her own pockets, lighting in and sheltering the little flame with her hand.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Gwenllian opened the bag she was carrying and put the various gifts they'd brought along down: some fruit, a flat bread, and more of that. 'There,' she said softly, 'please enjoy it.' She straightened again and walked towards Briallen, glancing into the murky depths of the cavern.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
She knew it with the first unsteady step on the soil inside: the burrow stretched his arms around them, granting them passageway beyond the sweet elm trees around Caer March. So they had business, Annwn and her own household. Briallen held the oil burner higher, the flame unsteadily illuminating their steps ahead. It was like holding a lantern before their feet – nothing could be seen except their own small circle of light. She felt as though they were nothing more but a star in a sky full of clouds.
It was not long before she identified the place where she and Gwenllian had fled from last time. There was no prospect of that now. The oil burner lifted the circling veins in the rock. This was Setting Sun. She turned around. ‘The rising sun – touch it.’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Without saying a word, Gwenllian nodded and walked towards the carving in the stones. It felt like the proper thing to do, so she didn't hesitate to put her hand against it. The old rocks felt alive, just like last time. She breathed in the age-old aura of the Smithy whilst trying to contain her nervousness.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
She pushed her own hand against the carvings, not sure what she was hoping or expecting. The stones were moist. She felt the relief of the icon pressing against the palm of her hand. ‘I don’t know what this means,’ she said against the darkness of the burrow. ‘I don’t understand anything, while I think I’m finding the whispers to an answer, but aren’t we just conjuring up more questions, or –’ She looked sideways. Had something moved in the depths over there? Briallen thought she had sensed a shift in the colour of the shadows. Slowly she dropped her hand, turning around fully. Perhaps it was just a wild animal. But would animals ever venture in here, or make their den into this place? She thought not. ‘I’ve seen you,’ she whispered.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Her heart was beating a steady rhythm of expectation and nerves, and she copied Briallen's movement. There was something moving; it looked like a single rock had come loose from the wall. But when Gwenllian squinted her eyes to get a better look at it, she saw that it didn't move as falling stones were supposed to move: that is, up the slightly sloping floor of the cavern towards them. Her breath caught in her throat and she shot a quick glance at Briallen.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
It must be an old being. Briallen wanted to hurry backwards but instead held up the oil burner. Her hand was shaking so wildly that the flame looked like a living creature trying to escape. There was a face, with eyes, nose and mouth all similar to a human, or maybe rather like a broad, wide statue of a human. It was both young and ancient; it was hard to tell what was texture and what was feature. Who are you? she wanted to ask, but what did it matter? This one had come to them, heeding their unvoiced call – though possibly it was the other way around. The thought of that made Briallen cold. ‘Please,’ she said, hearing how her voice sounded awkwardly lonely. She didn’t even know what to plead of this creature and wondered if it would speak at all.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Gwenllian looked at the creature, her curiosity getting the better of the nervousness that plagued her before. It was absolutely uncanny, the way it moved in a way rock wasn't supposed to be able to move. She was mesmerized, but still had enough common sense to stay put, as she didn't think the Good Folk would appreciate it if she would lay her hands on one of them simply to find out what it [felt[/i] like.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
The silence bore an air of expectancy, but Briallen couldn’t tell if it was their own towards this member of the Good Folk, or that the creature demanded something of them first. If it did, she would not be able to identify what it could be and hoped she didn’t disappoint it. Something had to break the hush, or she and Gwenllian might find themselves lost in a thousand years before emerging from the Smithy. ‘I’m Briallen. This is Gwenllian. I’m here for my husband, Tudwrig.’ But surely this creature understood! ‘Please,’ she said again, ‘please help me to understand the curse he is under. I don’t want to lose him to it.’
And finally, it spoke. The voice was not a man’s sound, nor exactly that of a female. It sounded like earth, well, mostly like rock. ‘You. Seek answers.’
Briallen threw a swift glance at Gwenllian, for as much as she could see her within the shades. Had that been a command or merely an observing statement? ‘I am,’ she replied, leaving it up to this being to decide whether her own words were an acknowledgement or a defiant answer. ‘And I believe you and your kind know what I should look for. I think this because you let us enter a second time. So I beg you, please –’
‘The curse of the beast. It will only grow stronger.’
Briallen felt her heart jump with fear. ‘That’s why I’m here – to cure him, to –’
‘Perhaps you can’t. Maybe you can.’
‘I can!’ She had to stop herself from dashing forward and clench the Fey creature between her fingers. ‘With your help, if you tell me what it all means, I swear I will –’
There was silence. She swallowed three times in a row, wondering if the creature had merged back into the stones. But it spoke again, saying: ‘We will take your oath as a binding pledge. The land is sick.’
She blinked. ‘What?’
‘The land is sick.’
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
She thought of the Romans, and what she'd thought when Rhywallon had spoken of his sisters and his suffering. Was this little Fair rock saying that the gods had indeed left them? Gwenllian bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep the questions from spilling from her lips; this was Briallen's moment.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
‘From the curse?’ Her voice trailed off into doubt. ‘Are you the ones responsible for it?’
‘If you want to save the land, then you stop the illness.’
That wasn’t a reply to any of her questions. Briallen tried to think. Perhaps this was a test or even a trick; was it waiting for her to ask the right questions? ‘Well…How do we cure it?’
But the creature didn’t respond. At first, she thought it had started to make unearthly sounds and was desperate to retrieve a meaning from the stony gurgles that sounded low and hollow. There was a strange sense of melody to the humming – in fact, wasn’t it humming? The flame of the oil burner leapt in a strange movement as her hand jerked uncontrolled. This was the song, that melody that Cunedda and her friend had sung around their legs in the washing room!
‘The stones that will be singing,’ she said breathlessly, repeating the words she’d memorized from that day. ‘To let the morning wake.’
‘To go beyond the veil,’ this fey being murmured hauntingly, ‘treading on holy grounds, to western, holy vales.’
Then: silence again.
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Sonja
Red & dangerous! Rawr!
Gwenllian was confused. If the fey didn't mean the curse when he spoke of the illness, then what was the cause of their land being sick? The Romans? But they could not get rid of the Romans... And if it did mean the curse, was it telling them that there were more people like Tudwrig, doomed to a half-life between man and beast? It was all rather unsettling, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
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Marieke
Lief! <3 (and powerful!)
It was not going to give them more to hold on to. Briallen could detect this from the silence; it had a definite quality. ‘You’ve taken my words as a binding pledge,’ she muttered instead. ‘I don’t understand anything more. But I will try.’
The silence remained. She lifted the oil burner to see nothing but dead stones. She turned around, feeling heavy like a boulder. ‘Let's go.’
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