Ewen & Paris
Ewen did not have an early morning patrol next day and so, somehow, it had seemed not too selfish to agree when he suggested that he could walk her home this evening. They had ridden most of the afternoon, Paris learning something of the routine of the horse patrols, what orc signs they had seen in the past, what signs they watch for in case they came upon any Black Church ritual site. None of the half dozen she had ridden with had magic sight, so they were meticulous, she observed, about investigating any physical abnormalities.
At any rate, it had been a day with no untoward trouble. [Oh, I suppose they might have run down a goblin mage and his orc patrol - but it would hardly be worth mentioning once Paris' sword had sucked up the fireball.] There had been much shoptalk. Even the senior knight had loosened up when the discussion went to tactics. They were all interested in what Paris could tell them of fighting Dark. There were mostly Fell in these parts but, though no one was actually willing to say it, it didn't seem unlikely that what was in one part of Tara might be found in another. No one really knew how the Enemy had managed magical teleport in so comparatively widespread a manner. Not enough human mages had the power. Well, not enough loyal citizen mages, at any rate. Why, Paris wondered, did not all those gifted by the Change rally automatically to the defense and aid of all those hurt by the Change? It seemed so - natural - and yet even those she adventured with didn't always seem to feel that. Well, she shook her head ruefully, she set her priorities at times, concentrating on the Quest and not just seeking out people who needed help. Rhori had once argued with her about that. Who was she to identify behavior as 'natural' or not? She must work harder at staying objective, at not judging where she had too little information.
"A copper for your thoughts," Ewen's voice broke softly through her reverie.
"I'm sorry," Paris returned. "It is inconsiderate of me to so drift away. Silly too," she smiled, "when I cannot think of anything I enjoy more than being with you."
"What took you away?" His voice was still soft.
"I was thinking about this afternoon. Then, somehow it drifted into thinking how difficult it is to always live up to one's ideals and how easy it is to judge hastily. It occurs to me, now that I've put that into words, that I - had hoped to learn from -- Prince William how to be a better judge. Not that there was anything to judge this afternoon," she assured him. "But that is the job of my Order." She smiled slightly. "Though it would have been embarrassing to have had to tell him how often I have had to work to remember Lady Gryphon's lessons on judgement. Of myself and others. On actions. Not on thoughts, real or imagined. Sometimes," again she smiled, "I think it would be better if I did more feeling and less thinking."
"But sometimes I wonder if we can afford feelings. I know how dangerous it is to be a soldier. I know how sometimes it is sheer simple luck that brings a soldier home alive, no matter how skilled the soldier or his fellows. I know that I cannot even say 'be careful' without sounding foolish. We do what we must in our profession and use care as often as we may, but..." her voice trailed off. "I - do not fear for myself, but - Prince William's death has taught me to fear for others in a way I dare not think about too much lest it be incapacitating. How - how do other soldiers deal with that, Ewen?"
For a moment they walked along together, matching pace in the dark quiet. Ewen moved his arm up to her shoulder, to squeeze it in a brief hug. "Soldiers deal with it by not fearing for themselves. We all get convinced that we are good enough that nothing can happen to us. That carries you through the first battle or two. Then, well. You're different after the first battle, as you know." Another pause and step. "What Lord Gryphon never taught was how to stay at home and see another that you care for go out to battle. That wasn't something we men ever had to learn before. I never thought about what the women went through staying at home watching their husbands go off to fight, not until, well, you." Another pause and step. "How did Lady Gryphon teach you to cope with that?"
Paris was silent for a few moments. Then, in something close to quiet awe, she said, "Ewen, you are something wonderful! Like Lady Gryphon, you teach me to answer my own questions. No," she shook her head, "coping was not a lesson that Lady Gryphon had time to teach me. Most of my lessons from her I sought out myself. But this -- I can guess the answer, from her actions and from those of Lorraine and other women of Westmore." She paused, marshalling her memories into words. "Women -- deal with war, with their fighting men -- by discouraging the idea of war as simply technique or simply glory. Thus saving those who would go out to die completely unprepared. That is the reason for the strictures about 'suitable' conversation. Then, when their men must go, the women must make sure they go knowing their woman waits and loves them still. So there is something worth fighting for and worth coming back to. And then the woman keeps herself busy doing what must be done: the tasks that have always fallen to her lot -- the home, the children; those that need doing now that the man is gone -- the farm, the workplace; and those that war forces upon them -- nursing, fortifying. Keeping busyis the key; I know it myself. Lastly -- when there is nothing else to be done, the woman may go weep and pray where it will disturb no one else's happiness. But she must never turn cold; never forget to love. Lest Fear make her forget all this and despair. I -- suspect that it is not that different for men -- watching their friends go into danger. "
She looked up at him through the darkness. "Thank you for reminding me. It seems I have capacity to get lost within questions and need to find the words in order to see the way clear again. Thank you for being a light again."
"It is different," he said quietly, "watching you go out into danger, and watching some other friend, warrior, go out." She wished she could see his face, but it was shrouded in the darkness. "I hope they come back, truly, but I fear for you."
Paris hesitated, then went on. "I -- never intended -- to make others fear for me. Or to have to cope with -- wondering about my fate. But intention seems to have little to do with how I have lived my life. I am not an island and cannot stand alone. My -- heart leaps every time my journeys have turned towards home -- and the hope that I will see you again."
He stopped and turned towards her. "And I pray every night that I will return to the manor and find you returned in a puff of magic. That the woman of fire and steel loves me." He leaned in towards her to kiss her. "Please, always come back."
For a moment Paris felt flushed and shivery. The darkness felt as though she had stepped through once again into Tarot: colours and magic hiding just behind the curtain of night. Was this -- how -- friendship -- grew into love? She whispered in wonder. "If -- there is Love to come back to -- how can I not return?"
They kissed.
"Thoughts & Feelings" copyright 2000 P. Shea & S.Knowles. The contents of this site are copyright 2004 Sheryl A. Knowles unless otherwise specified. All rights reserved.