Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Jan 22, 2009 13:53:09 GMT -6
Epiphany dawned cold, crisp, and clear. There was not a single cloud in the January sky, and the endless blue beckoned to her through the windows. A rare cold day in which she moved with relative ease about the castle, she nevertheless spent most of it at Mass, and then overseeing the preparations of food and details of entertaining a castle of interesting mixtures of believers and non-believers on one of the holiest days of Christianity. Yet after the celebrations of the magi completed, and twilight overcame the deep blue, sunset piercing the horizon in a thin band of miraculous colors, she found herself on her own once again. She was a private woman by nature, given the difficulties of maintaining friendships when she had so many secrets to bear, but she realized aloneness had led her into loneliness. She stood by the window in her parlor, watching the last of the colors slowly fade from the sky, her thoughts not so well contained in privacy. Yet hope glimmered there, absurdly, and she turned away from the window to make her way to a chair by the hearth. The ghosts of those who were not present during this holiday seemed quite content to laze on the carpet before the roaring flames, but it was not a pained look that crossed her eyes as she took her seat, but rather one of acknowledgement. Her choices had been difficult, but they had been correct.
It was not like her to be so nervous on the journey from Scotland to the Isle of Skye but it simply couldn't be helped. No matter how often someone had told her that she would do fine, and to trust her judgement, she felt uneasy with the ever present looming of war that the Spring would bring down on them. As the ground thawed, and the heather bloomed over the fields, Clan Campbell would take up arms in the name of the Duke of Aberdeen and no few would be lost. Gwen prayed that such loses would be worth it to those who came long after they all had past. Their journey did not seem to stress her young charge, and indeed he seemed taken with the idea of sailors and ships. Indulging him a moment or two with the captain had been done with in a manner that would suggest that she gave in often to the whims of her lady's son but he was sweet natured and eager to ask question upon question. The captain, a man of some formidable years with children long grown of his own doted on the young master like a grandparent might, answering the variety of 'why' questions as if he were speaking to an adult. Oddly enough, it seemed to suit well the serious eyed lad.
When they disembarked there was some fuss as to whether or not the lady knew well where she was going, and she was obliged to put her foot down, as dainty as it might have been firmly and with an impassioned brogue that suggested that she was not one to be trifled with. Having found a suitable means of transportation, she gave the man instructions to see her to Griffin Castle and when she did indeed get there with young Aldric at her side, she stalked immediately to the guards and demanded to be given an audience with the Lady of Lamont. Baffled, they complied without asking any questions and Gwen was near overjoyed unto tears over it! Soon Aldric would be with his mother, and she could take a breath a little easier perhaps warm was simply knocking at the door any longer. Still young by the current standard, she sported an arisaid of the Campbell clan rather than that of Lamont and the cokeade at her shoulder suggested she was happily rooted with them. Few knew that Gwen of the Hills was a Lamont, and those that did spat whenever her name came up. It was the little death of reputation she was willing to bear for her lifetime it if meant that peace would someday come to Scotland. Holding fast to her young charge's hand she followed the guards through the castle until they were shown to the quarters that Rosalind kept. From here, she only hoped things would get better. Knocking briefly, she waited a moment to be given the order to enter before they did, Aldric first and then she. [/color]
If Rosalind had any inkling of what Colban had put Gwen up to, she would have throttled him. Yes, she would have wrapped her lean hands around that bear of a man's thick neck and squeezed. And then kissed him. But the simple fact was, Rosalind had no idea that Colban had made these arrangements. Aldric was presumed far safer within Campbell hands, his father's people, than with his mother, who had very few allies and even less security. Very little had caused such a great argument between Rosalind and Colban over the years, save her marriage to Fearghus, and her subsequent denial of its existence until she could have it anulled and finally speak the truth. The one point they were always necessarily unwavering about was the safety of their son. Rosalind had not been able to take Aldric with her to Aberdeen in the autumn, when she knew Lady Mary was plotting Rosalind's escape to Skye. She thought she had said her goodbyes then, and once more at Lanark. They were not here, but they were in her heart. She listened to the fire crackle along for what felt like ages, and had nearly dozed off to sleep when she heard the rapping upon the door. She nearly sent her maid to open it when she realized she had given Annabella the feast day off to be with her family in Turas Lan. And so she climbed to her feet, a matter that took a bit of extra maneuvering given her mangled leg, and had nearly reached the door when it opened to reveal Gwen, and her son. Her heart simultaneously jumped into her throat, which might explain the painful lump she felt when she tried swallowing, and panged all the way into her stomach, a fierce sensation that nearly brought her to her knees. "Oh, my boy," she whispered to Aldric's excited shout of "Maman!" She picked her boy off the floor and swung him around before drawing him into her chest for a great hug that left him squirming for air. She buried her face in his flaxen hair and inhaled the scent of him. She knew she must somehow find words for Gwen, to at least greet her, but she had lost the power of speech. She raised her eyes above Aldric's head and met Gwen's.
It was so easy to see the love that this woman had for her child, this mother who left her only son behind because it was considered safer. To Gwen it was a moment of absolute stillness within the world where nothing of war and intrigue mattered. This was the very basis of life, something she would fight for until she drew no breath. "My lady, it is good to see you hail." She said nothing of what the Laird had asked of her, nor would she unless questioned. What was between Rosalind and Colban was betwix them and was no business of hers. Patting at the wheat braid that fell negligently over her shoulder, she flicked it aside before laughing brightly. Gwen was long thought of a descendant of the fae because of that laugh but she simply couldn't help herself. "Take a wee while longer why don't you? Tis nae as if I am goin' tae vanish in tae thin air." Happy to take Rosalind's place by the fire, she just sat with those wide, and some thought still naive eyes and enjoyed the fount of emotion that poured off Rosalind.
They had a lot to catch up on, mother and son. Aldric had all sorts of stories about sailors and ships, mermaids and water monsters. She wondered who was filling his head with tales of water horses, those frightening devils used to scare devlish children, and merely shook her head slightly. The boy's father had a vivid imagination, which was part of his charm, and something his son had inherited in spades. Rosalind told Aldric about Epiphany, which piqued Aldric's curiosity. Far too young for religion, he could certainly appreciate a story about long travels and ancient kings from afar traveling by the light of a star. When all his stories of travel and mythical beasts seemed to peter out, and his energy with it, she fetched a few of the blankets piled at the seat of a chair and created a small pallet for him by the fire. She bundled him in, tucking a knit woolen blanket under his chin, and stayed by his side until he fell asleep. It was not long -- he still was young enough to fall into instant, deep sleep. Rosalind barely slept these days, for many reasons she could hardly express, and watching him reminded her of how much she missed untroubled sleep. She set a jug of wine down on the table before Gwen. There were two goblets on the table, which she filled, but she did not take a sip of hers yet. Before she settled down in her chair, she clasped Gwen tightly to her. "Thank you. I do not know why or how, but I thank you. For him."
Gwen had long understood the need for a child to express their imagination whether through stories or play, and her younger charge had been no exception. If anything he had excelled at drawing others into his play. Although he was still too younger to understand it, Gwen saw already he was naturally born to lead others. It was a trait she suspected he got from both of his parents. There was something about Rosalind and Colban that inspired others to follow them, to catch onto the fervor of their belief's and make their quests their own. For a certain there was something of Rosalind that Gwen could not shake, willingly or otherwise. Happy to allow them their time together she waited until the wine was poured before drawing it to her mouth for only the most tentative of sips. She was stil likely to find herself balling out tunes that were less than ladylike if she drank to much, and generally kept her intake of libations to a minimum. Letting the wine soothe the cold from her skin and blood, she let it settle then into her bones before setting her goblet aside. "You should not thank me, but that of your errant ... that of the Lord Campbell. It was his idea that I should bring him. All is not well in the highlands at the moment, my lady. He thought it best ... given the situation with the Lamonts that Aldric come here to Skye. Me thinks though that the Lord Campbell is well in the mind of a bollicking when you see him next." Rosalind could be cagey when confronted by the relationship she had with the Laird of Clan Campbell, but Gwen had seen the love between them and generally enjoyed teasing Rosalind whenever possible.
Rosalind was pensive at first, wondering what Colban had been thinking, and then after coming to her conclusions, why he had thought Aldric would be any safer with Campbells coming to Skye. Was he afraid of Lanark falling? Of all of Clan Campbell turning to complete disarray? It was certainly Fearghus's intention, and one he might well succeed at if war came early. "I would laugh, but I think he is correct." Their relationship was one of love and affection, but no longer of passion. Defined by mutual understanding, and now their son, they had reached a state in which faults were as easily recognized as strengths. In an age when such alliances often led to marriage, putting this relationship into the past, particularly with an illegitimate son, was not precisely something easily explained. It had ended, and so very rarely, it had ended well. Rosalind picked up her glass of wine and took a sip, then set it down again. She usually took at least one before attempting to sleep, watering it down that it might last a few hours. "I do not know if I will ever see Colban again, but I shall certainly have a few words for him." Rosalind could understand any misgivings Gwen had about Lord Campbell, or any Campbell, for that matter. She was not deaf and blind to what had happened over the past fourteen years, and certainly not to the massacre at Inveryne. That she and Colban had the ability to overcome mistrust that should have been natural, was merely because of a foster situation her husband's father had fortuitously arranged. "I know the weather is unkind at this time of the year. Was it a great hardship arriving? How were your travels?"
Smoothing the folds of the arisaid, she let the wine soothe and the fire crackle. That Rosalind would have words with Colban she thought a given. The Laird of Clan Campbell did not seem like the sort of man who went easily away into the twilight. Oh no, she was certain that there was more to it than that. "Aye, the weather was fierce, but the wind was swift thanks be to God and we arrived safely and only slightly addled." Of course there were still some that thought Gwen a bit addled but she enjoyed the distinction that came from the faulty conclusions of others. "In every corner ye turn in the hills, there is talk of war. It grows so loud that at times it contends even with the wind." Sipping again from her goblet, she regarded the fire, before her gaze narrowed in on Rosalind and remained there. "Had yer leg been paining you much of late my lady? I brought with me a new recipe that might ease it for you at night." Always the coddler, was Gwen. Always worried about the aches and pains of others. It was easier to deal with someone else's problems verses her own.
They made quite the pair -- Gwen, with her remedies for everything and positive attitude, and Rosalind, who was practical bordering on cynical but with absolutely no regard to her personal well being. Some would see this as a war that might never be won. Rosalind, however, thought Gwen's personality was the perfect dose to her own stark realities. They had, for whatever reason, forged a friendship despite awkward beginnings. "It is painful, but ... I don't know. I think it is something that I will always live with, and I do not think about it that often. But I would not be beyond trying something new." She thought about Gwen's words about the coming war. No wonder the whispers of war had grown into shouts. Stopping at any tavern in Turas Lan yielded a host of opinions, and all about battle. Even the words at the Epiphany Mass had been a demand for peace, uttered rather hopelessly by a priest who had seen too much of war to know when Scotland was hell-bent upon starting one. "When you are rested, I would like to show you about Turas Lan. I think it is far larger than any town you may have seen. I know it will be cold, but it is almost worth it, for the food they sell in carts by the docks."
Gwen would always abide by Rosalind's decisions, and it was amusing to her that they played this tug of war so regularly. Though their initial meeting had been a strange one, she was just as deeply rooted in her stubborn opinions now as she had been then. "Aye, well ... ye'll try it and see if it helps. If it does, then blessed be. If not ... then we'll try somewhat else. You cannae go about after the young master in pain." She had seen what grabbing up her young son had cost her, even if that pain was concealed skillfully. Gwen simply knew when others were not at their best and considered it a knack that she could help them. Rubbing her hands together greedily she all but cackled at the thought of exploring her very first city. "Oh aye, I'll be ready in tha' morn fresh as a bride. When we came in tae port I nearly choked on my tongue. I cannae believe that such a place exists, but then ... I've never ventured farther than the hills, sae perhaps I am bit of a turnip, eh?" Clapping those rubbing hands then, she slapped them to her knees and eased from the seat. "Now, where shall I lay my head, after I've settled this one into yer bed. He does nae toss any longer, but sleeps as if boneless!" Happy that her charge would sleep well through into the night, she lifted him with the familiarity of a person who had cared for him for a long time. "I remember when he was a bit lighter, and certainly nae as quiet in his sleep as he is now. Tis for a certain so short, this life." Waxing poetic, the ever romantic at heart Gwen jostled and hummed while waiting, patient as Job himself for her mistress.
Rosalind laughed at Gwen's words. She certainly had a way about her. It blasted away any desire Rosalind had to be pensive, as brooding just wasn't something Gwen tolerated. "I want to try it," she insisted, hoping her usual stubbornness wasn't coloring Gwen's ideas about how willing a patient she would be. The recovery from the initial break had not gone well. Aside from nearly losing the leg, it hadn't mended right, causing untold amounts of grief for herself, and the poor healer who had taken the task upon himself of saving her leg. She was, understandably, just a little protective over the limb, and a tiny bit cynical. Poppy brews made her fuzzy-headed and useless, the horrific nightmares were enough to nearly stop her heart, and yet nothing else came near to its potency. She decided to stop brooding on the issue and trust Gwen's abilities. "A turnip? Never. You will fit in as if you were born here. Even I felt out of place when I first arrived, but it is easy to adapt." She rose from her chair, bearing her weight on her left leg, and grabbed the cane she kept nearby just in case. "There is a second room I allowed my maid, Annabella, to use for herself. I know it is customary to have young maids sleep with their mistresses, but it is a custom that never grew on me. We will see what to do with sleeping arrangements tomorrow, when Annabella comes back from town." She nudged open the door with the cane as she passed, and led the way into her bedroom. "Can you believe he grew so quickly? It has only been six months, but he has grown so heavy. Here, to bed with him," she added, smiling. She pulled back the covers and stood out of the way for Gwen. After her son was tucked in, Rosalind sat on the edge of the bed. "I may watch him sleep for a while yet, Gwen. Please, you must be exhausted. I will see you on the morrow."
Any time Gwen thought there might be a dour mood coming on her mistress, she had endeavored to brighten it or at least, tried to help her shelve those ghoulish burdens that cropped up from time to time, refusing to stay buried in the past It was perhaps one of the reasons why she admired Rosalind so much. "Aye ye'll try it. I am told it is not a miracle, but it helps. And ye donnae even have tae drink it!" Of course, that could mean she would have to do a good many other things in order for this miracle to work, but Gwen thought to have a little fun and let Rosalind stew over the untold options for administering this new medicine. Settling Rosalind's son into bed, she clucked her tongue over the sleeping arrangements. "Och, tis no great thing. If it comes to it, I'll sleep in front of the fire. God knows I've done so often enough in my life. I'm young yet, and my bones can take a hard floor well enough." Which was certainly true of her upbringing. When she righted herself from settling her young charge, she fondly looked over mother and son before agreeing with widening eyes and a wicked smile. "If pushing comes to shoving, I just might fancy that guard I saw earlier. I'm sure he has a bed I could ... borrow." Laughing, she shook her head and cupped her elbows to her before wandering toward the door. "The morrow it is, and I still cannae wait tae see the full of this city."[/color]
It was not like her to be so nervous on the journey from Scotland to the Isle of Skye but it simply couldn't be helped. No matter how often someone had told her that she would do fine, and to trust her judgement, she felt uneasy with the ever present looming of war that the Spring would bring down on them. As the ground thawed, and the heather bloomed over the fields, Clan Campbell would take up arms in the name of the Duke of Aberdeen and no few would be lost. Gwen prayed that such loses would be worth it to those who came long after they all had past. Their journey did not seem to stress her young charge, and indeed he seemed taken with the idea of sailors and ships. Indulging him a moment or two with the captain had been done with in a manner that would suggest that she gave in often to the whims of her lady's son but he was sweet natured and eager to ask question upon question. The captain, a man of some formidable years with children long grown of his own doted on the young master like a grandparent might, answering the variety of 'why' questions as if he were speaking to an adult. Oddly enough, it seemed to suit well the serious eyed lad.
When they disembarked there was some fuss as to whether or not the lady knew well where she was going, and she was obliged to put her foot down, as dainty as it might have been firmly and with an impassioned brogue that suggested that she was not one to be trifled with. Having found a suitable means of transportation, she gave the man instructions to see her to Griffin Castle and when she did indeed get there with young Aldric at her side, she stalked immediately to the guards and demanded to be given an audience with the Lady of Lamont. Baffled, they complied without asking any questions and Gwen was near overjoyed unto tears over it! Soon Aldric would be with his mother, and she could take a breath a little easier perhaps warm was simply knocking at the door any longer. Still young by the current standard, she sported an arisaid of the Campbell clan rather than that of Lamont and the cokeade at her shoulder suggested she was happily rooted with them. Few knew that Gwen of the Hills was a Lamont, and those that did spat whenever her name came up. It was the little death of reputation she was willing to bear for her lifetime it if meant that peace would someday come to Scotland. Holding fast to her young charge's hand she followed the guards through the castle until they were shown to the quarters that Rosalind kept. From here, she only hoped things would get better. Knocking briefly, she waited a moment to be given the order to enter before they did, Aldric first and then she. [/color]
If Rosalind had any inkling of what Colban had put Gwen up to, she would have throttled him. Yes, she would have wrapped her lean hands around that bear of a man's thick neck and squeezed. And then kissed him. But the simple fact was, Rosalind had no idea that Colban had made these arrangements. Aldric was presumed far safer within Campbell hands, his father's people, than with his mother, who had very few allies and even less security. Very little had caused such a great argument between Rosalind and Colban over the years, save her marriage to Fearghus, and her subsequent denial of its existence until she could have it anulled and finally speak the truth. The one point they were always necessarily unwavering about was the safety of their son. Rosalind had not been able to take Aldric with her to Aberdeen in the autumn, when she knew Lady Mary was plotting Rosalind's escape to Skye. She thought she had said her goodbyes then, and once more at Lanark. They were not here, but they were in her heart. She listened to the fire crackle along for what felt like ages, and had nearly dozed off to sleep when she heard the rapping upon the door. She nearly sent her maid to open it when she realized she had given Annabella the feast day off to be with her family in Turas Lan. And so she climbed to her feet, a matter that took a bit of extra maneuvering given her mangled leg, and had nearly reached the door when it opened to reveal Gwen, and her son. Her heart simultaneously jumped into her throat, which might explain the painful lump she felt when she tried swallowing, and panged all the way into her stomach, a fierce sensation that nearly brought her to her knees. "Oh, my boy," she whispered to Aldric's excited shout of "Maman!" She picked her boy off the floor and swung him around before drawing him into her chest for a great hug that left him squirming for air. She buried her face in his flaxen hair and inhaled the scent of him. She knew she must somehow find words for Gwen, to at least greet her, but she had lost the power of speech. She raised her eyes above Aldric's head and met Gwen's.
It was so easy to see the love that this woman had for her child, this mother who left her only son behind because it was considered safer. To Gwen it was a moment of absolute stillness within the world where nothing of war and intrigue mattered. This was the very basis of life, something she would fight for until she drew no breath. "My lady, it is good to see you hail." She said nothing of what the Laird had asked of her, nor would she unless questioned. What was between Rosalind and Colban was betwix them and was no business of hers. Patting at the wheat braid that fell negligently over her shoulder, she flicked it aside before laughing brightly. Gwen was long thought of a descendant of the fae because of that laugh but she simply couldn't help herself. "Take a wee while longer why don't you? Tis nae as if I am goin' tae vanish in tae thin air." Happy to take Rosalind's place by the fire, she just sat with those wide, and some thought still naive eyes and enjoyed the fount of emotion that poured off Rosalind.
They had a lot to catch up on, mother and son. Aldric had all sorts of stories about sailors and ships, mermaids and water monsters. She wondered who was filling his head with tales of water horses, those frightening devils used to scare devlish children, and merely shook her head slightly. The boy's father had a vivid imagination, which was part of his charm, and something his son had inherited in spades. Rosalind told Aldric about Epiphany, which piqued Aldric's curiosity. Far too young for religion, he could certainly appreciate a story about long travels and ancient kings from afar traveling by the light of a star. When all his stories of travel and mythical beasts seemed to peter out, and his energy with it, she fetched a few of the blankets piled at the seat of a chair and created a small pallet for him by the fire. She bundled him in, tucking a knit woolen blanket under his chin, and stayed by his side until he fell asleep. It was not long -- he still was young enough to fall into instant, deep sleep. Rosalind barely slept these days, for many reasons she could hardly express, and watching him reminded her of how much she missed untroubled sleep. She set a jug of wine down on the table before Gwen. There were two goblets on the table, which she filled, but she did not take a sip of hers yet. Before she settled down in her chair, she clasped Gwen tightly to her. "Thank you. I do not know why or how, but I thank you. For him."
Gwen had long understood the need for a child to express their imagination whether through stories or play, and her younger charge had been no exception. If anything he had excelled at drawing others into his play. Although he was still too younger to understand it, Gwen saw already he was naturally born to lead others. It was a trait she suspected he got from both of his parents. There was something about Rosalind and Colban that inspired others to follow them, to catch onto the fervor of their belief's and make their quests their own. For a certain there was something of Rosalind that Gwen could not shake, willingly or otherwise. Happy to allow them their time together she waited until the wine was poured before drawing it to her mouth for only the most tentative of sips. She was stil likely to find herself balling out tunes that were less than ladylike if she drank to much, and generally kept her intake of libations to a minimum. Letting the wine soothe the cold from her skin and blood, she let it settle then into her bones before setting her goblet aside. "You should not thank me, but that of your errant ... that of the Lord Campbell. It was his idea that I should bring him. All is not well in the highlands at the moment, my lady. He thought it best ... given the situation with the Lamonts that Aldric come here to Skye. Me thinks though that the Lord Campbell is well in the mind of a bollicking when you see him next." Rosalind could be cagey when confronted by the relationship she had with the Laird of Clan Campbell, but Gwen had seen the love between them and generally enjoyed teasing Rosalind whenever possible.
Rosalind was pensive at first, wondering what Colban had been thinking, and then after coming to her conclusions, why he had thought Aldric would be any safer with Campbells coming to Skye. Was he afraid of Lanark falling? Of all of Clan Campbell turning to complete disarray? It was certainly Fearghus's intention, and one he might well succeed at if war came early. "I would laugh, but I think he is correct." Their relationship was one of love and affection, but no longer of passion. Defined by mutual understanding, and now their son, they had reached a state in which faults were as easily recognized as strengths. In an age when such alliances often led to marriage, putting this relationship into the past, particularly with an illegitimate son, was not precisely something easily explained. It had ended, and so very rarely, it had ended well. Rosalind picked up her glass of wine and took a sip, then set it down again. She usually took at least one before attempting to sleep, watering it down that it might last a few hours. "I do not know if I will ever see Colban again, but I shall certainly have a few words for him." Rosalind could understand any misgivings Gwen had about Lord Campbell, or any Campbell, for that matter. She was not deaf and blind to what had happened over the past fourteen years, and certainly not to the massacre at Inveryne. That she and Colban had the ability to overcome mistrust that should have been natural, was merely because of a foster situation her husband's father had fortuitously arranged. "I know the weather is unkind at this time of the year. Was it a great hardship arriving? How were your travels?"
Smoothing the folds of the arisaid, she let the wine soothe and the fire crackle. That Rosalind would have words with Colban she thought a given. The Laird of Clan Campbell did not seem like the sort of man who went easily away into the twilight. Oh no, she was certain that there was more to it than that. "Aye, the weather was fierce, but the wind was swift thanks be to God and we arrived safely and only slightly addled." Of course there were still some that thought Gwen a bit addled but she enjoyed the distinction that came from the faulty conclusions of others. "In every corner ye turn in the hills, there is talk of war. It grows so loud that at times it contends even with the wind." Sipping again from her goblet, she regarded the fire, before her gaze narrowed in on Rosalind and remained there. "Had yer leg been paining you much of late my lady? I brought with me a new recipe that might ease it for you at night." Always the coddler, was Gwen. Always worried about the aches and pains of others. It was easier to deal with someone else's problems verses her own.
They made quite the pair -- Gwen, with her remedies for everything and positive attitude, and Rosalind, who was practical bordering on cynical but with absolutely no regard to her personal well being. Some would see this as a war that might never be won. Rosalind, however, thought Gwen's personality was the perfect dose to her own stark realities. They had, for whatever reason, forged a friendship despite awkward beginnings. "It is painful, but ... I don't know. I think it is something that I will always live with, and I do not think about it that often. But I would not be beyond trying something new." She thought about Gwen's words about the coming war. No wonder the whispers of war had grown into shouts. Stopping at any tavern in Turas Lan yielded a host of opinions, and all about battle. Even the words at the Epiphany Mass had been a demand for peace, uttered rather hopelessly by a priest who had seen too much of war to know when Scotland was hell-bent upon starting one. "When you are rested, I would like to show you about Turas Lan. I think it is far larger than any town you may have seen. I know it will be cold, but it is almost worth it, for the food they sell in carts by the docks."
Gwen would always abide by Rosalind's decisions, and it was amusing to her that they played this tug of war so regularly. Though their initial meeting had been a strange one, she was just as deeply rooted in her stubborn opinions now as she had been then. "Aye, well ... ye'll try it and see if it helps. If it does, then blessed be. If not ... then we'll try somewhat else. You cannae go about after the young master in pain." She had seen what grabbing up her young son had cost her, even if that pain was concealed skillfully. Gwen simply knew when others were not at their best and considered it a knack that she could help them. Rubbing her hands together greedily she all but cackled at the thought of exploring her very first city. "Oh aye, I'll be ready in tha' morn fresh as a bride. When we came in tae port I nearly choked on my tongue. I cannae believe that such a place exists, but then ... I've never ventured farther than the hills, sae perhaps I am bit of a turnip, eh?" Clapping those rubbing hands then, she slapped them to her knees and eased from the seat. "Now, where shall I lay my head, after I've settled this one into yer bed. He does nae toss any longer, but sleeps as if boneless!" Happy that her charge would sleep well through into the night, she lifted him with the familiarity of a person who had cared for him for a long time. "I remember when he was a bit lighter, and certainly nae as quiet in his sleep as he is now. Tis for a certain so short, this life." Waxing poetic, the ever romantic at heart Gwen jostled and hummed while waiting, patient as Job himself for her mistress.
Rosalind laughed at Gwen's words. She certainly had a way about her. It blasted away any desire Rosalind had to be pensive, as brooding just wasn't something Gwen tolerated. "I want to try it," she insisted, hoping her usual stubbornness wasn't coloring Gwen's ideas about how willing a patient she would be. The recovery from the initial break had not gone well. Aside from nearly losing the leg, it hadn't mended right, causing untold amounts of grief for herself, and the poor healer who had taken the task upon himself of saving her leg. She was, understandably, just a little protective over the limb, and a tiny bit cynical. Poppy brews made her fuzzy-headed and useless, the horrific nightmares were enough to nearly stop her heart, and yet nothing else came near to its potency. She decided to stop brooding on the issue and trust Gwen's abilities. "A turnip? Never. You will fit in as if you were born here. Even I felt out of place when I first arrived, but it is easy to adapt." She rose from her chair, bearing her weight on her left leg, and grabbed the cane she kept nearby just in case. "There is a second room I allowed my maid, Annabella, to use for herself. I know it is customary to have young maids sleep with their mistresses, but it is a custom that never grew on me. We will see what to do with sleeping arrangements tomorrow, when Annabella comes back from town." She nudged open the door with the cane as she passed, and led the way into her bedroom. "Can you believe he grew so quickly? It has only been six months, but he has grown so heavy. Here, to bed with him," she added, smiling. She pulled back the covers and stood out of the way for Gwen. After her son was tucked in, Rosalind sat on the edge of the bed. "I may watch him sleep for a while yet, Gwen. Please, you must be exhausted. I will see you on the morrow."
Any time Gwen thought there might be a dour mood coming on her mistress, she had endeavored to brighten it or at least, tried to help her shelve those ghoulish burdens that cropped up from time to time, refusing to stay buried in the past It was perhaps one of the reasons why she admired Rosalind so much. "Aye ye'll try it. I am told it is not a miracle, but it helps. And ye donnae even have tae drink it!" Of course, that could mean she would have to do a good many other things in order for this miracle to work, but Gwen thought to have a little fun and let Rosalind stew over the untold options for administering this new medicine. Settling Rosalind's son into bed, she clucked her tongue over the sleeping arrangements. "Och, tis no great thing. If it comes to it, I'll sleep in front of the fire. God knows I've done so often enough in my life. I'm young yet, and my bones can take a hard floor well enough." Which was certainly true of her upbringing. When she righted herself from settling her young charge, she fondly looked over mother and son before agreeing with widening eyes and a wicked smile. "If pushing comes to shoving, I just might fancy that guard I saw earlier. I'm sure he has a bed I could ... borrow." Laughing, she shook her head and cupped her elbows to her before wandering toward the door. "The morrow it is, and I still cannae wait tae see the full of this city."[/color]