Sir Larg

THE COTTAGE Larg steps into the small cottage, ducking slightly to enter the short door. He finds himself in a comfortable, well lit room. The air is heavy with the smell of the fire and the aroma of fresh bread and meat. He realizes just how hungry he is.
"Greetings, M'Lady Spel. A fine house you have here. And a fine guardian in the woods."
He notices a little start in her when he mentions the woods. So she thought to have secrets, huh? Well, she will have to hide them better that that. He smiles.
"I hope I am not too early. My business went quicker than I thought. Not having to find a horse for you helped no end. I did not see a horse as I rode up. Where is he?"
As Larg enters her cottage, Spel just then realizes how large a man he is. And how obsevant, but then, he is a great warrior.
"Yes, M'Lord. A fine guardian he is. I told thee. I be not helpless."
She leads him to a fine carved oak table, modest in size. "If you would like to remove some of thy mail, I assure you, you will be safe without it on here. And more comfortable."
You look to be hungry. We can dine and talk more of this quest to find me."
Picking up the wine, she opens it and fills 2 goblets.
"My horse is roaming the glenn. She goes not far. When the time is ready to depart she will be ready. Worry not of that."
From a window, she glances, seeing her in the forest. She stands out like a ghost for she is pure white. The glow coming from the center of her forehead, bearly visable.
"As soon as you are ready, we will dine."
"I thank thee for your consideration, M'Lady." He removes his armor and stands it by the door. He removes his sword and props it against his breastplate. Dressed in a simple black tunic, again embroidered with the emerald rose on the chest, and black trousers Larg sits where indicated.
"I had worried about a beautiful young woman alone out here, to be honest. It appears my concerns were for naught. You are indeed well protected."
Larg accepts the goblet she offers and takes a sip. He nods his head in appreciation of the fine vintage.
"A good wine M'Lady and I am ready to eat when you are. Strange that one who appears so poor can afford such a luxury. Or maybe not, if you are truly the one I seek. I did not see you walking past the edge of the village and the road I traveled was visible from the square for at least a mile. Do you perhaps have means that you are not telling?"
He looks at her admiringly, taking in the total picture of her bare shoulders over her peasant blouse and the shapely calf extending below her skirt.
"Poor!" Spel laughs.
"I was not aware my appearance looked to be poor, M'Lord. I need no coins to make me happy. I have the what is necessary to live comfortably." She outstretches her arm, indicating her cottage.
"What need would I have for more. I have wealth in happiness and health."
"Please, Lady. I did not mean to offend thee. Poor is often relative to the situation. Where I come from, wine of this quality is rare and not cheap. And, truly, you seem to live comfortably."
Spel serves Larg meats and cheeses, on thick wooden plates.
Larg accepts the plate from her and tastes the food. It is good and he relaxes into the chair.
"We have time to get to know one another, without interuption." She serves herself the same and sits across from him.
"We can talk more of thy quest before retiring for the evening."
"You serve a fine meal, M'Lady. And you offer civility and hospitality. What more could a traveler ask for so far away from home."
He sits back and eats lustily and gulps the wine. It has been a long time since I have been able to relax and enjoy the company of another.
Spel hears a soft rain falling outside, lightly hitting the window pane. She goes to the fire while he talks and stirs up the ash, throwing another log in it. Then returns to her chair across from him.
"I also do not have opportunity to enjoy companionship in my home. I am some what of a loner."
He gazes at her, his eyes bright. It is obvious he is enjoying the view.
"So, M'Lady Spel, what can I tell you? What would you like to know of my land, my king or my quest?"
Spel refills his goblet.
"As for thy land, how long will this journey take? And this quest....what could thy king want with me?"
The room is getting dark. She waves her hand and a mysterious glow of her mage light fills the room with a warm soothing light.
"He has a great wizard. My powers are not great."
The light bounces around the room, her eyes sparkle from the glow.
She gazes at him, studying him. His hard, warn face. One of loneliness. Much as she is, but her loneliness does not show on her face, but in her heart. The light seems to soften the hardness somewhat.
She shifts in her chair, her hair flows over her left bare shoulder.
"Can I offer thee more to eat, M'Lord?", afraid he has noticed her studying him.
He starts suddenly, as if woken from a nap. He had been concentrating on the way her hair flowed over her shoulder and had not noticed what she had been saying except for the last few words.
"A little more wine and perhaps a bit of meat, M'Lady. As to the journey, I can not give you an accurate estimate of the time. It took me two months to reach the village but I was riding hard and stopped nary at all. And I fear there will be those who would try to stop us."
"Really, M'Lord," she states calmly. "Now I am curious. A journey and danger in one. And you can not state what my business might be there?
Larg looks around the room at the mellow glow that fills the room.
"It would appear that your abilities are being under stated. My king has a great wise man. He is no wizard. That is why I seek you and the more time I spend with you, the more I am conviced you are the one I was sent for."
He accepts the wine and meat and nibbles absentmindedly. The rain increases. He notices the sparkle in her eyes and the way her hair shines in the warm yellow glow. He shakes his head and buries his eyes in in the goblet.
'I must control my thoughts', he thinks.
"These powers I have are minor in comparison to some, great to others. Causing a glow is nothing. My strength can be seen by the brightness of the glow, "she indicates the beam of light. "As thee can see, my mage light is not strong, and will weaken quickly in a short time."
Spel clears some plates from the table. Her skirt flows around her as she turns, making soft "swooshing" sounds on the wooden floor. She stands to his right side, leaning close to him, reaching to pick up his plate. Her arm brushes his shoulder as she reaches.
"If you are finished, M'Lord, I can show you where you can wash. You'll find it very relaxing," wondering if he has heard her, for his eyes are fixed to his goblet....::
"M'Lord?"
"OH! Yes, M'Lady. A bath may be just what I need, thank you."
Larg mutters under his breath to himself but Spel can not make out what he is saying.
Larg follows her to the bath and accepts the rough towel and tallow soap she offers. He waits for her to leave before starting to undress.
"It's going to be a rough night here alone with her," He says to the walls.
Spel leaves him to his privacy, shutting the door behind her. She hears him talking, apparently to himself, so turns from the door.
Larg pulls his shirt off over his head and stretches his shoulders and back. He kicks off his boots and starts to pull his trousers off. He stops short, a small noise just outside the door. He stands perfectly still, listening. The noise does not repeat so he relaxes and finishes undressing. He takes the bucket and fills the small tub from the cauldron on the fire and from the rain barrel next to the door, being sure not to get the bath too hot.
"Wouldn't do to relax too much, would it my friends."
He appears to be talking to the flower in the planter outside the window.
Spel hums softly to herself as she finishes clearing the kitchen. Then she packs a few provisions for the journey in the morn.
She exits the door off the kitchen, carrying some scraps. The rain has stopped, and the air smells sweet.
Sampson meets her, jumping up and about knocking her over.
"Down, bad dog," she scolds him, then lovingly rubs his ears. He devours the scraps she brought.
She walks a small way from the cottage, and her mare approaches.
Spel rubs the mares nose, feeling the magic coming from the the star on her forehead.
Speaking low, "Camy, you will take me on this journey? With Sir Larg." Spel's eyes sparkle like the stars with the mere mention of his name.
"Please"... The mare shakes her head, understanding her every word.
"Thank you," Spel hugs Camy's neck.
Returning to the cottage, she can still hear him in the bath. She goes to the extra room, checking to see if all is in order. The room smells of fresh straw, the bed having just been stuffed. Fresh linens, crisp from hanging out doors, a down comforter folded on the end. A small table sets to one side. On the wall, a lovely tapestry, she stitched herself.
Spel whispers under her breath, "Strange how I made this room ready for a guest only days ago."
Spel remembers a vision of someone approaching that she had forgotten till now.
She goes to the heavy locked door off the kitchen, pulling a key from her bodice, attached to a small rope, she pulls it over her head. Inserting the key in the door, it creeks as she opens it.
She enters to a small room, having a bed that is larger than the guest bed. A dresser with a mirror, and a chair in one corner. Small but sufficient.
On the far end is a small doorway, a heavy curtain hangs in the center. Pulling the curtain to one side, she enters into a larger room.
Her potions and spells line one wall. Another has books and assorted bottles filled with odd ingredients. A table sits in the middle of the floor, neatly kept. Spel looks about for anything forgotten. There is a noise, she turns quickly, realizing she has forgotten to close the door.
"Damn," she mutters, and hurries through the curtain.
Having finished with his bath, Larg towels dry and dresses in in fresh clothes. He puts on a fern green shirt with a black rose embroidered on the shoulder, green hose and black trousers over that. He pulls on his boots, then empties the tub and picks up his dirty clothes and the towel and generally straightens the room. He walks into the kitchen and then outside. He drops the clothes in a pile just outside the door.
"Lady Spel!!" He calls out. There is no answer so he goes back into the kitchen. He notices the heavy door on the other side that was closed before but is now open. He starts for the door and almost bumps into her as she rushes out.
Spel rushes out the bedroom door, nearly falling right into his arms. "Pardon me M'Lord."
"OH, there you are, Lady. I was wondering where you had got to. Your hospitality has been gracious, M'Lady, but I am tired and would like to retire for the evening. If you could show me where I may sleep, I will trouble you no more this evening."
He averts his eyes from her, finding her disheveled look and radiance almost more than he can bear.
"Yes, yes..." trying to regain her composure, "...follow me. I will take you to your room."
Spel shows him to the bedroom, entering in front of him.
"I hope it will be comfortable. I will tend to thy clothing. I have a spell for that. Then retire for the eve' myself."
Spel turns to leave the room. Reaching the door, she turns again to face him.
"Is there anything else I might get thee before retiring?"
As she passes him in the door, her hand brushes against his for just a moment. Larg feels the electricity flow between them. With a massive effort of will he pushes down the feelings.
"No, M'Lady. Nothing, thank you. And you need not tend to the clothes unless it will be no trouble. I am not without my means for such things."
"It is no trouble at M'Lord. Good Night." Spel leaves the room pulling the door to behind her. He stands staring at the door.
"This is going to be a very long trip." He says to no one. He undresses and climbs into bed but does not go to sleep immediately. In fact it is several hours before he stops tossing and turning and finally relaxes into sleep.
Spel goes to the back door, opens it and picks up his clothing. She enters her room with the heap, and through the curtain. Placing all on the table.
Gathering a few viles from the shelf, she mixes a potion, says a few words and in a flash, the clothing is clean. She folds everything and takes it to leave outside his door.
"No problem at all, M'Lord. No time for conventional washing," she says under her breath.
Spel lightly touches the door with her fingertips, then turns to go to her own room.
She undresses, putting on her pink gown. Climbing in her bed, she relaxes. As she does, her mage light in the living room grows dimmer, until gone.
She thinks of what adventure might lie ahead of her with this noble knight.
A breeze blows through her open window, she pulls the comforter over her shoulders. Hugging her pillow, she realizes how lonely she had been, and never knew.
Finally she falls asleep, and dreams.

The Morning Click here