In the depths of night, she sought the solitude of the garden. Crisp cold air greeted her, the night seeming just a breath away from snow. Clouds veiled the moon, only a sliver peeking from behind their shroud as she crept past the frozen pond and stable swathed in her furred cloak.
Behind the shielding trees, the princess worked to fashion a rough patch of pebbles and stone on the snowpacked ground. Huffing and stomping and patting, she finally created a suitable platform. Wood was next, not the conveniently chopped pieces kept around the castle, but twigs and branches that she pried loose from the snow. The only concession to ease she made was a few handfuls of straw from the stable.
Content with her creation, which would no doubt be a wet smokey fire should it start at all, she knelt before it, a small satchel in her lap. She peeled free her sodden, dirty gloves and heavy cloak, the princess now clad in a simple brown woolen gown with a woven leather belt. A low undulating hum began deep in her throat as she used the flint from the bag to strike sparks, foreign words slowly forming in the eerie tune, the chink of the flint providing the rhythm.
As the melody reached a peak, Garnett struck again, and the straw caught in a sudden blaze, illuminating her thin face. For a moment, the flame faltered, and the tune took on a pleading tenor. The fire surged, small snaps sounding loud in the silence of the night, its light cast over the walls and trees. She leaned in toward it with her arms outstretched, as though she would embrace the flame, but she moved no closer.
Her gaze focused deep into the dance of flames, images flashing before her eyes. The fire devoured them nearly as soon as they rose. Heat coursed over her face and body, flesh chilled by the cold air now stinging and aching as the flame warmed it. Sweat beaded on her forehead and beneath her gown, but she remained. Suddenly, the wind howled around her, ripping at her hair and clothes, but she never wavered, hair bound in a stern knot at the base of her skull.
Ancient lilting words passed her lips as her arms fell to her sides, the satchel snatched up once more. Blues and greens flashed in the fire when she threw a handful of something into it, and another handful drew reds and purples.
Please hear my prayer, gods of my mother and father,
of my home, of Leugeilean, of the earth.
A breeze rippled through the flame, on it a weak breath of a voice:
You are far from home. We listen.
I am to be wed. I beg your guidance
that I may be a good wife and one day, a fair queen.
I beg your blessing on this union, on my Uhtred,
that we may know happiness and have strong sons and daughters.
That you will help me quell his fears and give him the strength
and wisdom he needs to rule and to live.
We grant our blessing, but we have no power here, child. Not over your beloved nor over you.But I need your help, please.
You must leave us behind. His god will not tolerate us here, even now..it is a struggle.Another toss of herbs onto the fire, colours swirling, tears seeping down her cheeks, words dead on her lips.
His god must become your god, child, and his people your people. It is the way it must be.But what of you? I need ...
You must not call to us again. You must not senselessly bring his god's wrath on you. Accept what must be, just as you've acce....herbs, more, child.Another handful seemed to strengthen the flame, Garnett's watery eyes locked on it.
..accepted him.No words could pass her tight throat, lips trembling as tears crept from her eyes.
Burn it all .. all you have to reach us, child, and we shall stay with you for the night. Then, in the morning, we will be gone.And so the night passed, the princess in supplication to her gods for one final time, prayers whispered and advice sought. The night chill never touched her, nor did the flame falter until light began in the east.
Farewell, child...
Sat Aug 30, 2008 6:59 pm