Jo's Journey

[Swordsman]

Whoa, down girl! This is fencing.net, not harlequin.com.

Age difference...

[DamedEscrime]

After sometime the good doctor and Jo had cleansed and bandaged each wound. Most seemed superficial, one deep laceration required several stitches, but the blow to the head must have been substantial causing Lochinvar to drift in and out of consciousness.

Dr. Abernathy held Loch upright as Jo slipped a fresh dressing gown over his head. The soft white linen fell over him like water over rocks, dancing over each ripple. The doctor lowered his patient gently to a recling position while Jo adjusted his pillow and pulled the fabric down over his hips. Then she covered him, tucking the comforter under his chin. Taking his large calloused hand in hers she sat closeby his bed in a stiff wooden chair to keep vigil.

The quietness of the room gave her pause for thought and time to remember her own headache, now throbbing. Exhaustion soon overtook her. She lowered her head onto Loch's chest and closed her eyes listening to his heart and slow even breath. "Mort pour
qui faire ce la chose," she thought.

[lochinvar]

Oh, I don't know, Swordsman...I kinda like being brawny, smooth-muscled, and hairy chested...and making a pretty girl's pulse race...ya know?

[lochinvar]

[Ed. Note: Loch was transferred from the great hall sometime during the ministrations of Jo and Dr. Abernathy; he now is resting in his room on his bed]

The first thing Loch noticed when he woke was pain. God, he hurt! The second thing he noticed was a weight on his chest and arm.

He glanced down to the top of a head, crowned with lustrous dark hair. The head was attached to the Lady Josephine. She half-lay on him, the rest of her stretching between the bed and a chair set close. She slept, unaware of his waking, his hand on that side clasped loosely in hers.

He settled back quietly, not wanting to disturb her. Soft daylight spread across the plain, whitewashed ceiling, diffuse…early morning, he guessed, or late afternoon…he had no idea how long he had lain here. His mail shirt was gone, and he wore a light linen gown.

He remembered bits and snatches: Josephine, and another man, poking, prodding, moving him, as sporadic waves of pain washed over him from various parts of his body.

Not that that was anything new, of course. He had lost count of the number of times he’d awakened with people bending over him, washing, probing, binding, stitching. But the familiarity of it didn’t make it hurt any less. At least this time he was warm, dry, and somewhat comfortable--not lying on sharp stones or cold mud on some God-forsaken field, in the middle of who knew where.

He took stock of his injuries. The persistent throbbing in his calf; that was probably a bad one. It might have been cauterized, though probably not – THAT he was certain he would have remembered! He flexed the foot, then the knee, tentatively, so as not to awaken the sleeping girl. It hurt to move, but it seemed to function normally; no severed tendons, at least. Further experimentation could wait for later.

A dull ache radiated from his ribcage, most likely a bruise. He raised his left hand to feel gingerly along the back of his head, where his fingers found a lump; touching it brought a sharp stab that made his breath draw in with a hiss. He did not know where that one had come from; possibly from the cave-in.

During his brief periods of consciousness, he had asked about that situation and been told that men were digging. He stifled the urge to climb from his bed and go help. Zelda was there; she could handle whatever needed handling. He would only be in the way, in his present condition.

The side of his face was hot. He hand brushed lightly along jaw and cheek; the crackly texture of singed eyebrow and hair led him to the logical surmise: a burn. At least it wouldn’t scar -- he didn’t feel any blisters.

A bandage swathed his left forearm to the elbow, legacy of the sword that had slipped under his mail sleeve. It twinged when he moved it, but it didn’t seem serious. He noted that the thin black braid he wore about his wrist had miraculously escaped being severed by the thrust; the bandage began a scant inch above it.

The rest of him just ached. All things considered, not a bad inventory.

He lay back, drifting. Questions came to him: Where was Zarcon? Was revolution running rampant through the castle, or had the plot been subdued? Who had released him?

He probably should be doing something, making inquiries, but he didn’t want to end this moment. He glanced down again, to where a single tiny bar of light lay across Jo’s shoulder, illuminating the soft skin of her neck where it lay exposed above the collar. He could just see the delicate pink curve of her ear through the dark hair. The arch of her ribs rose and fell rhythmically with her breathing.

There was something excruciatingly pleasant about the feel of her warm, sleeping weight on his chest. Here was an eddy of peace and calm amid a sea of dark storm, a refuge from time and worry. He would have to leave it soon, too soon…but for now, he was content to just drift on the tide. He slipped back into sleep.

[Iwant2bafencer]

Loch woke what he thought was hours later, but it only had been a few minutes. He found the Lady Jo still asleep on his chest, and rested is head back on his pillow. (Again so as not to wake her.)
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, and a girls head poked around the corner.
"Lady Jo. ." Lochs finger went swiftly to his lips. The girl clsoed her mouth, and the door.
"You must be the famous Lochinvar." She whispered." He nodded.
"I'm Lady Rosaline"
"Pleased to meet your aquaintence." He whispered back.
"Like wise. I say where's the queen? I was told she was here with you."
"I was told she was still in the dungeons."
Rosaline shook her head. "My my, that woman does like to get lost." Loch chuckled softly.

(That's all I'm righting tonigh cuz I'm tired (We just played a tennis match. Our team is still undefeted. Go Us!) Any ways just throw me in where ever. I know I haven't been writing lately, but I've been swamped. Everyone's stories are great. Right now mine are jst kinda there. Oh well talk to ya later.)

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Carpe Diem

[Zelda]

I KNOW WHERE I AM (I think!) (sorry!!!)

[lochinvar]

"...famous Lochinvar."??

Hey, look, ma...I'm famous!

Thanks for the ego boost! First I'm a hairy-chested manly-man, and now I'm famous!

I'm liking this thread more and more...

[Fencing Angel]

ya know kids if we let loch's ego get any bigger Craig is going to have to find a bigger hard drive to hold it.. and that couldn't be a good thing..

[Iwant2bafencer]

haha Uhoh I think Angel is right. I should stop being so blunt! j/k

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Carpe Diem

[Fencing Angel]

either that or we could just get Loch a bigger box for his ego..

ya know.. if we could find a way to tranfer ego into power.. wow.. ending of the hydo-electric age.. Ego-POWER!!!!

(so much for the rolling brown outs.....)

[DamedEscrime]

Jo's deep brown eyes fluttered. Bright sunlight entered through a crack in the heavily draped window making her squint.
She moaned softly at the stiffness that had set in from sleeping in such an awkward position. She still held Loch's hand in hers. She was intrigued at the contrast of them, hers small and delicate, his powerful looking; scarred here and there and calloused. She lifted it to her lips and gently kissed his palm, whispering,"You'll be fine. I just know it."

Then she noticed the thin braid of hair about his wrist. She fingered it wondering to whom it had belonged. A token from some love? Or a souveneir of death? She'd made a similar one when her mother died as was her people's custom. She'd worn it until it started to fray then tucked it away in a lovely jewel encrusted trinket box along with some other small treasures.

Loch now stirred. He looked up to see the Lady Josephine, the sun dancing on her hair's red highlights. Though she appeared to be a bit worn something about her presence comforted him. He felt as if he belonged in this place at this time.
Slowly, laboriuosly, he lifted his hand and touched her cheek. She turned her face to him and smiled. "You're awake. How are you feeling?" His brow furrowed when he got a good look at her. Her left eye was black and swollen, her cheek abraised. She could feel his gaze and concern as she dropped his hand and brought her fingers to her temple. He tried to rise,saying, "Who did that to you?", but she placed both of her palms firmly on his chest gently pushing him back down. "I'm fine, really. Just a battle scar, a flesh wound. At least I hope it won't scar."
"But who? How?" he inquired.
Jo replied,"We'll talk about it later. We need to get you well now. Let me get you some breakfast and then we'll talk."
Then she rushed out of the room not giving him time to argue.

[arcon]

hmmmmmm King loch......has a good ring to it...........hmmmmmmmmmmm lets see.......

Lochonia.....hmmmmmm not bad.........hey gang
do you think it fly?

King Arcon

[Iwant2bafencer]

Arconia forever!
Luv ya an all Loch, but I gotta stick with the direction ym sword points me. That direction is towards Arconia.
(Either that or I just need sleep. Not to mention we cant let your ego get TO big! j/k)

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Carpe Diem

[lochinvar]

Arcon, if you're thinking of abdicating and putting me on the throne, you can just get that idea right out of your little head.

You'll have to clean up your own mess!

[DamedEscrime]

She returned shortly laden with a tray of colourful pottery. Inside the largest bowl was a porridge warm and cream-like, dotted with bits of smooth fresh butter. Under a napkin was crusty bread straight from the royal ovens. Ripe red rasberries peeked over the edge of a tiny silver bowl, fresh and succulent and steaming cammomile tea. filled the room with its relaxing aroma.

Loch noticed none of this, only the radiance of her smile caught his attention. He watched her as she moved beside him and placed the tray on a bedside table. She propped him up on several cushions allowing him to sit up and then perched herself on that same hard chair. Taking up the largest bowl she pursed her full lips, blowing gently to cool its contents while she stirred. Satisfied that the porridge would do no harm she brought the spoon to his lips.

Though porridge was his least favorite victual, he ate hungrily as if he could not get enough. He felt the warmth of it as it slid down his throat to his empty belly filling him with pleasure. She followed each bite with one plump, juicy rasberry, the tart sweetness awakening his palate. Delicately, she wiped red juice from him as it trickled down his scruffy chin. He could get used to this he thought as she tore off small pieces of bread and dipped them in honey. She brought her fingers to her own lips as an overflow of bee's nectar threatened to drip onto her skirt, the tip of her pink tongue drawing it in. Finally she poured two cups of the soothing yellow tea.

[lochinvar]

"Now, lady," Loch began, as he cradled the cup of tea in his hands. "I need to ask --"

"Please, call me Jo," she interrupted.

"Very well…Jo. And call me Loch, if you would. What of the king? How goes the rescue?"

"Oh, yes! When I was in the kitchen I asked after everything, because I thought you would want to know. The digging party broke through early this morning. The king and Lady Moon were brought out, and evidently neither had harmed the other. The king, however, broke his leg when the roof collapsed, and is resting in chambers. The Lady Moon has been confined to quarters under guard. The Lady Willow watches over her."

"Well, that's all to the good, so far," Loch said, his face relaxing somewhat. "Later, I think I'll want to talk to Moon, and this Lady Willow. I was thinking of seeking her out before all the excitement. They say she's a sorceress; is that true?"

"Yes, I have heard so."

"Good. Maybe she can shed some light on this spell business. And now," he said, fixing his blue gaze on her with mock sternness, "you'll be kind enough to tell me how you came by that love-tap on the side of your head."

"Oh," she ducked her head and dropped her eyes, raising her hand to the bruise. "Well, it happened like this…" And she launched into the tale, telling everything that had happened to her since they had parted at the ball - the feeling of needing to DO something, confronting Moon, the blow, being returned to the castle by old Tim, and the rest.

As she talked, he found himself only half listening. The memory of an occasional brush of her fingers against his lips as she fed him bread and honey was still fresh; each small contact had sent a pleasant tingling sensation through him.

The hair was lighter, the eyes much darker, the skin ruddier, but beyond these she shared many traits of his late wife - a form more sturdy than slim, amply and pleasingly curved; a mobile mouth with full, sensual lips; a wide, sunny, intelligent gaze. She possessed an unconscious grace he had noted on the dance floor, and brought a certain - 'vivacity' was the word that came to his mind - to her movements, a youthful enthusiasm to her speech…

Ah…there it was. She was younger than he, and though the years between them were not excessive, as these things were measured, still they potentially could be enough to render fruitless any thought of something more than friendship.

How must he look to her? A plain man, a rough man, not dashing, not young. Not old enough to be her father, certainly, but old enough to be looked upon as an older brother. Was this solicitude motivated by any particular feeling? Or was it just kindness from a gentle heart to a friend of her king? Or maybe no more than courtesy for a guest…or perhaps even simple duty, fully and conscientiously rendered, her charge, as assigned by the doctor.

Such perilous thoughts chased each other through the chambers of his mind as she finished her tale. Well, she certainly didn't lack for spirit! Chasing Moon into the night, alone, in dancing clothes? That she was even alive was a tribute to blind chance and the Lady Moon's forbearance.

"They say 'Be careful what you wish for'," he quoted, "and it would appear that they were right." "Excuse me?" she said, puzzled.

"Last night at the ball, you said you wanted adventures. Well, now you've had one, and I'm happy it didn't turn out any worse for you than it did. They're not nearly as glamorous and exciting as they appear from the outside, once you're in one. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Well, I suppose so," she agreed reluctantly. "But if I had paid better attention when Naekos was trying to teach me swordplay, it might have ended differently."

"Och, aye," he agreed. "It might have ended with you dead. I've seen Lady Moon use a sword. You're lucky she didn't consider you a threat, else you wouldn't be talking to me now - and that," he added almost shyly, "would have been a great loss to me."

[DamedEscrime]

His tone did not go unnoticed by the Lady Jo. It caught her by surprize yet delighted her at the same time. She wondered at his intent. Then she wondered at her own motives. Surely he was not her responsibility, but she did feel compelled to look after him. What was this gravitaional force that pulled her toward him?

Quickly she began to gather the breakfast dishes. Her hand shook as she placed them on the tray. Being careful to not make eye contact she gathered her burden and headed for the door. "I'll be back with a razor and soap, you need a shave," she said with false confidence.

Loch's hand went to his chin and felt the stubble there. Then he grinned.

[three_hundred_fifty_five]

Is pig latin allowed?

[ 09-24-2001: Message edited by: three_hundred_fifty_five ]

[Fencing Angel]

umm.. to easy to decypher.. sorry man.. i know third graders that know pig latin..

[Moonitic]

Note: I have deleted the "bathroom humor" post that 355 seemed compelled to write. Take the spite off the public board, please.