A Private
Annick walked slowly, her boots making marks on the hard mud that were her home's roads. The soft mountain winds played over and around her, whistling and chilling; the sounds of babbling creeks, running over the millennia-smoothed stones; the mountain grasses, their sweet smells still familiar even years after she had left.
Seeing a small tree, covered by snow and ice, Annick unstrung her pack. She began to root through the small leather bag-- a handful of mountain berries, a bit of salted fish, and some cheese, along with a small bit of wine gifted her by her father-in-law.
Before Annick might eat and drink and make merry, she heard the sound of a beast- only for it to cut off in alarm. She looked up-- but saw not a beast.
Instead, a bare-footed woman with a crown of flowers, a dress of simple linens and an almost matronly gaze walked to her. Despite the cold and the stone, the bare-footed woman seemed scarcely to notice.
Almost without thinking, Annick fell to her knee, for there before her was Rhya.
"My Goddess, I--"
"Oh dearie, I am no goddess." The matron pulled the Dame to her feet, hooking her arms around the leather clad limbs of the warrior.
"But, I saw the flowers bloom where you walk, and the cry of beasts silenced-"
"If you will not believe that I am not the Earth Mother, believe at least that right now I come to you as equal." The matron laid down, cradling her head in her hands, relaxing and looking at the sky. "What a day! Can you believe some people would tear this apart?"
Annick slowly sat down next to the woman, yet tense.
"Now then, there is, I think, something we need to talk about. Take it from someone who knows-- a house, even a palace of a home, cannot stand divided between two peoples. What seems to be the issue?"
Annick, perhaps weakened by hunger, or merely tired of stoicism, or touched by the Goddess-- or maybe combination of the three-- sighed. "The first time I met Godfrey, I was not impressed. I was a loud, proud child-- and he was emotional, comforting, peace-making. Everything my Clan considered the Flat-Landers and worse."
"But then I saw him beat the hell out of those bullies, and it was enough. I could have done it myself-- but it angered him, young or no, outnumbered or no, to see people who would have been his equals dare treat someone like that. And suddenly I could relate."
"Then came the Borderlands. He failed there, and he was fearful there-- but he did not stop trying, ever. Ever. And then he broke through that fear in a tide of lances and fire and death, and in doing so saved the world."
"But now, now...a few fairies come, bearing their ephemeral threats and their magics, for our own daughter-- our flesh and blood-- and he cannot even muster words to try and buy time?"
"I was denied a choice as a child, and hated it; then could console myself with the belief that he would be my equal, not my lord; but now he falls silent, and will not even have the strength to argue necessity, but instead treats me as a flower, one of the whimpering Flat-Landers. I am no flat-lander."
The Matron consolingly placed an arm over Annick's shoulder.
"More than that, he has given our flesh, our blood-- the supposed consummation of our love-- to be ripped of our home, and taught by strange beings in foul arts to do her bidding in every corner of the world."
"There are worse fates in this world than to be a Damsel," The matron spoke as Annick stopped, "Many, many worse. She will have choice-- there will be no betrothal, no chains upon Eleanor beyond that of goddess and conscience. And though she might be driven far from home, and in corners long forgotten, she will not long be gone-- and in her, the light will have a champion once more. But I have peered into your heart, Champion-- it be not anger alone that drives you, but fear for this, your daughter. And since the Good Knight and I alike have seen that words will little dissuade you, here, a gift."
The matron walked to the nearest brook, a babbling, slight thing, and filled a small vial with running water. She spake, slight words-- and like that the flowing earth-blood became pure once more. "So long as this vial remain so clear, and so goodly, I you promise-- Eleanor yet lives, and yet loves." The mother strung a slight piece of twine into the stopper, making a necklace of it, and gently placed it in Annick's hand. "Now rest."
She yawned-- and then was out, sleeping soundly.
--
The next Annick woke, she saw Godfrey standing above her, looking concerned and holding Fleur's reins in his hand. Greenskin blood coated his armor, and his helm was dented, forcing him to leave it off and expose his golden locks. "Are you well?" Concern, openly shared, played over his features.
"I am...I am fine, my good sir Knight."
The two stood in awkward silence, he shamefaced, she yet clutching her necklace.
"So..." He finally spoke, "If you'd like, I can have someone bring Stomper up?"
"No, no, mine husband. I think I would prefer to ride back with you." Flaring her cloak, Annick leaped onto the horse with grace, at the back of the saddle.
--
This is the last thing I will be writing before I close the vote for stuff.
