Jo's Journey

[lochinvar]

Loch lay back against the pillow. A shave would be good. He had grown a beard, once, but had shaved it off when Ellen had objected. And with that random thought, the door he had not wanted to open yawned wide, the thing he had not wanted to see stared him in the eye.

This was the other reason that moving closer to this young woman was probably foredoomed. She was an innocent, and he…was not.

Once he had been young, strong, self-assured, confident of his own abilities, thinking himself equal to any challenge. In his arrogance, he had taken a woman’s heart for safe-keeping, vowing to guard and defend it against all harm or foe. He had made her believe that he could make her life good, and for a time had even believed it himself.

Then he had watched that life turn to water and leak away through his fingers, powerless to halt or hinder the going. All that had remained were the hollow husks of his own promises, mutely mocking.

Now he understood, viscerally, that the earth he walked was not solid. At any moment it could gape without warning, swallow all that he held dearest, and close again without trace or sign.

Could he risk that, again? Having fallen once, had he the courage needed to leap again blithely into the darkness? Could he convince himself that this time there would be a place to land safely on the other side? Love is best left to the inexperienced…or to the very brave. And, sadly, he was neither, anymore.

And yet…he was drawn to that very innocence, like a frostbitten sentry drawn to a fire. She still saw life as a coin new-minted, shiny, bright, not dull and worn with time and usage. The future for her was still exciting, full of promise. If he could see the world through those eyes, even vicariously, perhaps by some alchemy he might re-awaken hope within himself.

To see each day as a new present to be opened, not just another stony wasteland to cross…that might be worth striving for…

But it terrified him, this thought. It had been no easy matter to hold out his heart at twenty; how much harder would it be now, when there was even less assurance that the gift offered would find any favor? At least now he could take some small pleasure in watching her, hearing her voice. What if he broached this other thing? She would flee like a fawn from the hounds. He would never again see her without finding scorn, or pity – or worse, amusement! – in those dark, earthy eyes.

No. Better far to watch the light through the window, than try to enter the house and be driven into the darkness altogether.

[DamedEscrime]

"Are you ready for your shave?" Jo asked cheerily as she reentered. This time she brought with her a basin of warm water, a fine lye soap, several softened towels and an ivory hadled straight razor.
Loch looked at her with intrepidation. "Do you plan on doing this yourself?"

"Why, yes I do," she replied. "I am actually quite good at barbering."

"Then let me ask you this," he said with a grin. "Are you as good at this as you are at weilding a sword?"

She took a deep breath wanting to answer defensively, thougt better of it and said ever so softly, "No, I am much better. Now, would you like to try sitting in the chair for this?"

He answered by trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed. Pain seared him from top to bottom. Though he tried to mask it, the grimace on his face told all. Jo saw and not wanting to immasculate him held her tongue allowing him to do for himself. She did, however, move closer to him lest he loose balance and fall. Gingerly he stood upright. The pain is his leg, being the most unreasonable, forced him to take small laboured steps. Placing his hand on the back of the chair he carefully lowered himself and breathed a sigh of releif.

Jo placed a warm moist towel around his chin to soften his peppered wiskers and proceeded to produce a soapy lather making small circles on the creamy bar with two of her fingers.

"You know, I could do this for myself,"Loch mumbled through the towel.

"Shh, let me. It's the least I could do considereing you saved my toes from certain destruction at the ball," she said playfully.

Loch pulled the towel from his face and said as seriously as possible, "You mean that I will forever more be know as le sauveur de doigt du pied? Such a distinction."

Jo giggled and began to apply the creamy lather to his face, her fingers repeating the smooth circular motions that she previuosly reserved for the soap. A fresh fragrance filled his nostrils as her touch sent warm sensations through him. He closed his eyes and for just a moment forgot his past. Then with his eyes still closed he ask, "Lady, why are you doing this to me?"
Jo assuming that he meant the shaving replied simply, "Because I want to."

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

[DamedEscrime]

Jo's fingers were cool on his skin as she took his chin and tipped it back exposing his neck. [you don't wanna know what I'm thinking of writing here] Loch sat very still as she placed the shiny blade against his throat. Surprisingly her stroke was smooth and fluid, even relaxing. Efficiently she wiped the razor on a towel, swished it in the warm water then repeated the process.
As she finished his neck she moved directly in front of him. He opened his eyes then and took her in just as she reached for that spot over his upper lip. A look of shear determination was on her face. Their eyes met and her contenenced changed. A coy smile came to her lips. She pulled her hands back and said, "So, tell me, Does this please you?" He returned the smile and replied,"Lady, you could not please me more. You are an excellent barber and the most exquisite one I have ever seen." This made her blush. "Thank you, sir. Now shall I finish?" "By all means," he said and once again closed his eyes as he locked his hands behind his head.

Jo's eyes were once again drawn to the braid about his wrist. Now, being the curious one that she was she could not resist asking, "Please, would you tell me who is the lucky lady whose token you wear about your wrist, Sir Loch?"

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: DamedEscrime ]

[lochinvar]

Such a simple question!

A tsunami crashed over him.

It had been wonderful to feel a woman's touch again. He had sat back, closed his eyes, relaxed. His senses had seemed somehow more open, more awake - the smooth, soapy glide of her strong fingers across his cheek; the dull, sandy rasp of the razor along his stubble; the scent of soap and, from time to time, a hint of lilac as she bent nearer to check her handiwork; the delicious contrast of the cool steel sliding down his warmed cheek. He stole glances at her slightly furrowed brow every now and then, when he thought she wouldn't notice. He drank in those dark, dark eyes - perilous, so very perilous, those eyes: a man could get lost in there, he thought…

Now and then, as it seemed to him, her hands had lingered slightly longer than required, at his temple, along the line of his jaw. It had been so slight that he wasn't sure that he didn't just imagine it. It didn't matter; he wouldn't question, but simply revel in this humble ministration, so mundane and ordinary, yet so unfathomably intimate. Soothing calm washed him, and the pain receded a bit.

Then she had asked. In all innocence. A normal question. And it had all disappeared in an instant. And the guilt come crashing in.

'WHO'S TOKEN DO YOU WEAR!??' He mentally flayed himself, laying the lash on heavier with each syllable. 'One whose token I am unworthy of,' he answered himself wretchedly. Liar! Deceiver! How could he sit here, enjoying the presence of another woman? Where was his honor? Where was the memory of his sweet Ellen? Had she meant so little? How unutterably low and vile he was.

He had to answer, though he dreaded to. He would not shirk it, though; rather, he would embrace it. Whatever happened now would be no more than he deserved.

[lochinvar]

Jo had just been in the act of reaching to finish his shave, when she stopped. One moment he had been sitting, relaxed, comfortable, waiting for her to finish. They had been bantering - she wouldn't call it flirting, surely it hadn't risen to that level! She was feeling very good at how this encounter had been going…maybe even a little smug.

All in an instant, he had changed. She sensed it. Without moving or changing position, he had become a frightened animal, every muscle taut and rigid - a cornered, stag, ready to either fight or flee for its very life.

Then, just as suddenly, again without changing position, he had gone limp as a bladder with the air let out. She had never seen anything quite like it; confusion overtook her, and she stayed still.

The silence stretched for just a bare moment, and then he spoke, gratingly, as if pulling each word like a rusted nail out of the old, darkened timber of his chest. "It is a lock of hair…from my lady wife."

The universe collapsed into an infinitely small space, encompassed entirely by that single word. Wife?? WIFE??! She stood, stunned. Then hot embarrassment flooded her, and anger, mounting to her suddenly flaming cheeks. Oh, what a FOOL she was! What a simple, simple fool!

It had all been a lie, a pretty game - the compliments, the flattery, the looks, the gallantries - all a vile, hateful sham. He had deceived her so easily!

…Or, had he? Had she misread, imagined what wasn't there, mistaken mere politeness for something else? Confusion mounted upon confusion. She fealt utterly wretched.

"I-I…see." She heard the catch, the stumble in her voice, and hated herself for it, but was totally, flatly unable to control it. Buying time in her shock and confusion, she took refuge in the patterns of courtesy, though she hardly knew what she said. "So… H-Have you traveled ahead, then, and will she be following after?"

She did not want to hear the answer. All she wanted was to flee headlong from him, and this place, and cast both from her mind like a rotten pear - or melt like water into the cracks between the flagstones - or anything, so long as she didn't have to stand here another instant. But she could not run, or move; she was rooted to the floor.

Another long moment, and then more rusted nails: "No, she will not be coming. She…died,…giving birth to our daughter, two years ago. The babe did not survive her."

He opened his eyes, and looked straight at her. His eyes were painful to look upon, the eyes of something haunted, hunted. Words failed her.

[lochinvar]

There. It was said. It was over. Now he would look, and she would be gone, never to return. Or, if not, she would despise him for the weakling he was. And he would dwell in the outer darkness, forever. Where he belonged.

He took one breath, two. The silence reigned, untouched. Surely she was gone by now. He opened his eyes.

She stood there, still. Her mouth worked, but no words came forth.

She still limply held the forgotten towel and razor. Slowly, infinitely gently, he reached through the stillness and took them from her unresisting hands. "You've been more than kind, gentle lady," he said softly, "but perhaps it would be better if I finished this myself."

[DamedEscrime]

Jo saw a broken man before, a man in pain, and her heart broke for him. She knelt there beside him, took his hands in hers and looked directly into his sad eyes. "I am so sorry. I did not mean to stir the grief you so valiantly cover. I see that it is an unhealed wound. Forgive me for wounding you further."
Tears weld up and threatened to overflow as the guilt she felt over a hasty judgement of him overwhelmed her. She hid her face in his lap to hide the her shame, but there was no mistaking the tremble in her shoulders.
Loch looked down at her,wanting to comfort her. But for what? Why was she crying? He was the one who had been deceitful. He was the one who bore guilt like an iron anvil.
He pulled one hand free from under her, lightly brushing a breast, the sensation of which gave him a start. He held his hand in midair arched above her, fearing to touch her again. Then slowly he lowered it and gently patted her back to a soft "Shh, shh."
He had expected her to flee, but she had not. Instead she cried. He knew then that this truly was a woman of deep passion.

[DamedEscrime]

Just then, Nani, the old castle cook and Jo's latenight confident, came bursting into the room loaded with a basket of freshly picked apples. She was a plump little woman with a kind face.
"I thought perhaps the patient would like..."
She stopped in mid sentenced and surveyed the scene. There was Loch in his nightclothes, Jo head was in his lap and she was crying. His hands were on her.

Nani dropped her basket, apples tha-bumped across the floor as she rushed at the pair arms waving ready to salvage Jo's honour.
"L'ampèreheure, le petit, qu'a-t-il fait à vous? Monsieur, qu'avez-vous fait? Pourquoi continue-t-elle ainsi?"

Loch shook his head, his eyes grew wide. He had faced men in battle rage, but this was a strange animal that now rushed at him, something like a she-bear protecting its cubs.
"Madame..." he managed to voice.
Jo jumped up and stepped between Nani and Loch, hands outstretched. "Non, Non, Nani. N'est pas il ce que vous pensez. Arrêt! S'il vous plaît. Laissez-moi expliquer."

Nani stopped, cocked her head, and looked sideways at Loch as Jo tried to tell her the whole story.
"Are you sure, ma petite? He has not harmed you?"
"No, Nani. I am fine. Here let me help you with these apples." Jo stooped to pick up a fine green one that had rolled her way. "I am afraid, though, that you will have to make sauce with these, now," she smiled.

[ 09-26-2001: Message edited by: DamedEscrime ]

[ 09-26-2001: Message edited by: DamedEscrime ]

[DamedEscrime]

"Nani, go back to the kitchen. I will finish here and join you," Jo directed.
Nani gave a leary glance at Loch as she exited the chamber. "Are you sure?" she asked.
Jo replied,"Truly, I will be fine and I am in no danger from this injured man. Besides he is highly respected by our king."
"Very well," came her response. "But if he is not a gentleman you will tell me and he'll answer to me."

Jo turned to Loch. "I am sorry for my display and for Nani's. She is quite over protective. Please forgive me."

"Lady, I fear that I could never hold against you a thing such as this. It is I that need forgiveness, I am afraid I should have told you my truth from the beginning. It would have saved us both from this stress."

"Then let us begin afresh, shall we?"

She looked hopefully at him and noticed how drawn he had become. "Oh my, you need to get back to bed. Let me help you this time." She came near and guided his arm around her shoulder. His body felt warm against hers the presence of which gave her a secure feeling. He tried to not lean on her as he fear knocking her over, but was gratful for the support and the nearness of her.

She carefully guided his steps then turned him to sit on the edge of the bed. "I can take it from here,"he said. She allowed him to pull himself up unassisted, but couldn't resist pulling up the coverlet. "Rest now, dear Lochinvar and I will try to convince Nani that you are not some wanton beast set loose in the palace."
She received no reply as his eyes were already closed in slumber.

[lochinvar]

Old Tim was sitting in the kitchen talking to Nani and eating biscuits when Jo came in. “Nani, I –“ she began, then stopped when she noticed the old man at the table.

“Here, now…I know you!” said Tim. “You’re that young lady what I fetched back here early this morning. How you feeling, lass? How’s the head? Looks nasty, I ‘spect, but no lasting harm, was it?”

“It’s…fine, just fine, thank you,” Jo said, slightly flustered, but recovering quickly. “I’m glad to see you again, sir, as I never got the chance to thank you properly. Thank you again for your kindness this morning; God only knows what might have happened to me if you hadn’t come along. I hope it wasn’t too much bother for you. I haven’t much money, but I’d be happy to do some small favor for you, sir, if I could, in repayment.”

“Sir, is it?” said Tim, scratching his chin, the hint of a smile hovering around his mouth. “Well, I don’t know about that, I’m thinking. Just Old Tim will do, if you would, miss. ‘Sir’ is much too grand a title, I think, for the likes o’ me. And you would be…?”

“Oh, sorry; I seem to have quite forgotten my manners today. I am the Lady Josephine, si – Old Tim,” she corrected herself, curtseying. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, and at your service.”

“Well, now, that’s very kind of you, I’m sure. And as for a repayment, well…” He glanced at Nani, his eye twinkling. “If you could see your way to wheedling a few more of these superior biscuits out of this fine speciman of womankind, here, I know an old man who would be much obliged.”

“Oh, La!” Nani set her hands on her hips, pretending to be cross. “You see, ma petite, that is the way of men. They tell you pretty compliments, but they always want something in return.” She fetched a shallow pan from the oven and thumped it down on the table. “There. Eat. But you will bring me more oak, next time. I cannot bake properly without oak.” Then she turned and went about her chores.

Jo sat down across from Tim as he contentedly dipped into the baking pan. “If you don’t mind my asking, Tim, why are you here?”

“Oh, well, I come here once a week, delivering wood for the cook stoves. That’s my trade, you see. Started…what…five, six years ago, now, weren’t it, Nani?” The cook half glanced in their direction, nodded in quick dismissal. “Yes, well… So, that’s what took me out on such a wet morning, marking trees for cutting – only I didn’t get far, before I come across a young woman in a ball gown, lying in a puddle. But you know that part of it. And so, once a week, I’ve come to this kitchen table for a few of these marvelous biscuits. She do bake a fine biscuit, that one,” he said, nodding in the cook’s direction.

Nani examined the apples she had dropped in Loch’s room. “Ah, that man! He makes me angry, and now they are good only for grinding. I should dump the sauce on his head!”

Jo stifled a giggle behind her hand. “Oh, Nani, it was nothing, really. There was no harm, and it was all my fault, honestly. Please don’t hold it against him.” The cook huffed, and carried the basket to the dry sink.

“Here,” said Tim quizzically around a mouthful of biscuit. “What’s this?”

“Oh, nothing, really,” Jo repeated, suddenly shy. “I was giving Sir Lochinvar his breakfast, and…well…” she finished weakly, not knowing quite how to explain the situation.

“Oh, Lochinvar, is it? Well, no need to explain, miss. I think I have the lay of that land,” he said, not unkindly, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “Don’t take it hard; your not the first to have heart-flutters over that one. Why, half the girls in the town were walking around for days after they heard the tale, moonin’, sighin’, gazin’ all starry-eyed into the distance. Shouldn’t wonder it got you, too. It’s a good story, and just the type to make a young lass like you go all buttery inside.”

“Story?” Jo asked, curious. “What story? Tell me.”

Tim stopped chewing, mildly surprised. “What, you haven’t heard it? Well, you’re about the only person in these parts that hasn’t, then. I’ll be happy to tell it to ye, but…,” he said, glancing slyly at Nani, “storytellin’s a dry business; makes a man thirsty, don’t ya know? Lookin’ at them apples puts a fellow in mind of a pint o’ cider – just to make the tellin’ go a little smoother, o’ course…”

Jo smiled at this transparency, and got up. “Well, if that’s all it takes…Nani, we could spare a mug of cider for this poor, parched soul, couldn’t we?”

“Ach! Mendiant sans scrupule!” Nani threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. “Next you will want a duck, with sauce! Here,” she said, taking a tankard and filling if from the cask in the corner. Handing it to Jo, she said, “Now, let me get on with my work! Some people have more to do than eat and drink and talk all day.”

[ 09-28-2001: Message edited by: lochinvar ]

[lochinvar]

[Ed. note: I apologize in advance for the length of the following post.]

[lochinvar]

“Well,” old Tim started, when he’d taken a long pull at his cider and set it by his elbow. “It was like this…”

“A good number of years ago, now, this Lochinvar was courtin’ a lady by the name of Ellen. She was a beauty, so it’s said: fair skinned, with hair black as a crow’s wing and eyes blue as a robin’s egg. I don’t know how they met, but I know they courted for a number o’ years.”

“He was just a minor son of a minor house, then, and truth be told he ain’t risen far in the world to date. She was the daughter of a powerful house, though: old Lord Graeme was her father, and he had lands all about, and tenants, and flocks, and a goodly number of men-at-arms in fee. He cast a dim eye on this romance o’ theirs; seems he thought she was too good for the likes o’ him, and could make a better match elsewhere – one that’d add to the Graeme lands and the Graeme income, too, on the side. He was never one to pass the platter without takin’ a helpin’ for himself first, if you know what I mean.”

“Anyways, Lochinvar left his home and came to these parts with Arcon. That was long before Arcon became the king, mind. He was no more’n an adventurer himself, back then, and was working for his supper. He had taken up bandit chasin’, and Loch came with him, to get a bit o’ money set aside against his marrying. Seems he thought that if he saved a bit he could win the old Lord over, and get the old skinflint’s permission to wed his daughter.”

“Well, now, they were gone for almost a year, and no word back to Netherby Hall as to the young fellow’s fortunes. The bandits hereabouts took a mite more tamin’ than anyone thought they would, and Arcon and Lochinvar were kept busy.”

“Meanwhile, the old Lord had clapped his eye on another fellow for his daughter to marry, a man with prospects, and land. She wouldn’t have none of him, though; see, she was burnin’ a torch for that fellow lyin’ abed now over our heads, and was determined to wait for him to come back for her.”

“But weeks followed weeks, and turned into months, and the old man was at her day and night to marry this other, and increase the family fortunes, and secure the inheritance, and how it was her duty to the family, and to her father, and such like. ‘Course, the other fellow didn’t pay much court; seems he was a dullard, and didn’t fancy affairs of the heart too much. But he didn’t have to, as her own father did his work for him, as it were.”

“Finally, I guess, she lost heart, and decided Loch wasn’t ever comin’ back after all. He’d been gone so long with no word, and she couldn’t stand the constant houndin’ and harryin’ anymore. So, she consented to the marriage, and a date was set. I don’t suppose a girl ever went to her wedding more unhappy, or more unwilling, or so I heard it told.”

“Now, I don’t know just how young Loch heard about it. That part was never made clear to me, but no matter. Hear he did, and without so much as a by-your-leave, he hops on that big beast of his and gallops off into the night, going to stop the wedding if he can.”

“I hear tell he outrode a half-dozen outlaws at one point, and swam his horse across a big river at another, when he couldn’t find a ford close enough to suit him. Two days of hard ridin’ he had, and I wonder that the poor beastie under him didn’t drop in its tracks, but it was all to no point. For, you see, he arrived the very night of the wedding, with the vows already said, and the drinkin’ and dancin’ commencing. He was too late.”

“Now, another man might have taken thought on what to do; I know I would’ve. For you have to know that Lord Graeme was not a small man, nor a soft one, and he had three strappin’ sons besides, and weren’t none of ‘em goin’ to be pleased with seein’ this upstart hedge-baron come crashin’ in to cause a scene. But never a moment did he hesitate, that one, but walked into the party as bold as brass, with the stink and the dust of the road on him, and all.”

“’Ho!’ says the old man. ‘What do ye want here, young Lochinvar? For if it’s trouble you’re lookin’ for, you’ve found it, and plenty.’ ‘Nay,’ answered the lad. ‘I’ve come for the weddin’, for I can’t pass a party. You wouldn’t grudge me that, now would ye? You’ve had your way at the last, and there’s nothing I can do. So, I’ll have a jar, and a dance, and then be on my way.’”

“Well, the old man don’t like it, but there aren’t much he can do; he couldn’t just throw a guest out the door, you see, and him not causin’ any trouble, without seeming hard-hearted and penny-pinching. So he sits back down, and tells the musicians to carry on, and everybody goes back to drinkin’ and dancin’.”

“Well, by and by, Lochinvar ups and asks the bride to dance. Now, I don’t know what passed between ‘em on that dance floor, and I don’t know if he had it planned aforehand or it just came to ‘em on the spur of the moment, but they move around close by the door in their dancin’ – and quick as a cat, out the door they go!”

“He throws her up on that big horse, and jumps on himself, and before anybody can get their wits about ‘em, they’re gone into the night. He stole her clean away! And under her father’s very nose, and the groom sittin’ with his jaw all agape, wonderin’ what to do. And she didn’t go unwilling, either, but right glad to shake the dust of the place from her feet.”

“Oh, they chased ‘em, of course, but he’s a border-man; he won’t be found, if he doesn’t want, and the swearin’ and cursin’ and gallopin’ here and there must have been fierce to see, but it was all in vain. They got away clean, and that was that. Some hold her family never saw her again, though I doubt that’s true. She was a gentle thing, and loved her mother and her brothers, and so I’m sure they had a reconciling somewhere along the line, but ‘til the day he died, old Lord Graeme would never allow her name in his hearing – nor Lochinvar’s, neither.”

“They settled somewheres to the south, and found a priest to annul the first wedding, seeing it hadn’t been consummated and all, and they married each other, and was happy as clams.”

“So, that’s the tale, young miss,” Tim finished, reaching for his cider, “what set every woman and maid hereabouts from age fourteen to forty-four moonin’ and sighin’ for a week straight. It’s a rollicking good story, to be sure, and it was a wonder and a talk for more than nine days, it was.”

[DamedEscrime]

Jo sat elbows on the table, chin in her hands listening intently to Old Tim's tale. She soaked in every word like a sponge capillating water. "Is this really true, S.. Tim?" she asked hardly believing that any man could love a woman so.

"Oh don't listen to him mon cher. And Timothy, don't be telling this child such sotfull stories," chastised Nani.

Tim sat up straight, feigning insult, "Why mistress, do ya question me integrity? A 'course it's true. Why would I be repeatin' it ifin it weren't so?"

Nani was in no mood to argue. "Don't you think it's time to be going," she said shaking a finger at him. "I'm sure you have better things to do than sit 'round the kitchen table and gossip like an old woman."

With a wink he replied, "Ah, burstin' me bubble again are ye? Well, on o' these days, Nani, old girl, I may just ride up on a horse and carry YOU away and yer bisquits right along with ya."

Jo giggled at the exchange, especially when Nani whooped as Tim patted her derrier on his way out the door.

"Les hommes!" the old cook retorted.

"Nani, tell me now. Is it true? Did Lochinvar really steal away his Ellen?"

"Child, you know the older a story gets the more it grows. That's what legends are made of. But, I think there is some truth to it. Anyway, the poor girl died not long after, so I hear. Now, you see why I want you to be careful around him? I don't want him taking a notion to run off with you." Nani was sincere in her mistrust of Loch for she was of the mind that men did not change their habits. It just wasn't in them.

Jo felt differently though. She thought that this had been a noble love, one worthy of the legend it had sown. She also wondered if it were possible for that kind of love to happen more than once in a lifetime. It was the kind of love she had longed for.

"Nani, can you prepare something extra special for the noon meal? I'm going to freshen up and change. Please prepare a tray for two and have someone take it to Sir Lochinvar's quarters."

[DamedEscrime]

Unladylike Jo bounded up the stairs which led from the kitchen and conveniently to the sleeping quarters. She was intent on finding just the right dress to wear for an important luncheon. At the top and far down the corridor she saw that King Arcon and Lady Willow were speaking outside of Lady Moon's room. She could not here the conversation but the King's voice sounded stern. He stood there gazing directly at Willow. "Hmm, I wonder what that is all about," she tought as she neared them. As she passed the room she could not help but notice that the door was ajar. She glanced inside and saw a small figure through the double french doors leading to the balcony. It was Lady Moon and she was perched on the railing of the stone. Her arms were outstreched as a bird's wings as if she were about to take flight.

"Huh!?" Jo pushed past the king and Willow. Quickly and quietly so as not to startle she raced up behind the Lady. Willow and Arcon surprised by Jo's sudden move turned to see what had happened. Fearing that she sought retribution for a pommeling they too raced in after Jo.

At the same instant they both saw the same thing. Lady Josephine dove just as Moon disappeared over the edge of the balcony.

Jo screamed and lunged, grasping at the air. Her hands managed to snatch a bit of Moon's gown and hold on for dear life. Moon suddenly ware of her situation flailed her arms trying to grab what she could.

Now Jo was in danger of toppling over the edge herself. As her feet began to leave the sanctity of the floor she felt strong arms come round her waist, holding her fast. Then she heard Arcon command, "Lady Moon, stop struggling! Be still. We are here. Willow, come to my side and see if can can reach her hand. Jo,hold tight."

Together the trio began to lift the Lady Moon. She was a petite thing, but the awkward postion they were in made it difficult to lift her. Slowly the top of her head appeared above the railing. Arcon pulled Jo back little by little each time raising Moon a bit higher too. When Jo's feet were firmly back on the floor, Arcon without letting her go srepped to the side and streched out to Moon. He was then able to grasp her wrist and lift her sufficiently that the women could pull her in and over the rail.

Now sitting on the stone floor, Moon looked about bewilder and said,"What happened? What are you doing here?"

[ 09-29-2001: Message edited by: DamedEscrime ]

[DamedEscrime]

(as written by Moonitic)
"You...don't know?" Willow asked. When the girl shook her head, her friend continued. "You jumped off the balcony. You would have been a bloody mess if Jo did not catch you in time."
"I did not jump. I could not have jumped. I hate high places." Lady Moon said. She shook her head vigorously as she stated her case, only to receive sad nods from those around her. "No. Impossible." She sat there on the floor, trying to remember the events that led up to her near fatal accident. "I was in bed, and suddenly I was running in the woods. Someone...something...was after me..."

"Go on," Arcon urged. He kneeled at her right side, close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek.

She blushed, ducking her head at the memory of what had happened between them. "Willow," she mumbled, "please fetch a proper covering for me." As Willow did, she recounted the remainder of the events, specifically the end. "I was at a deep gorge, and a man appeared across it. He told me to jump, and that he would catch me. He said he loved me."

Jo opened her mouth to add to the conversation, but was halted by the King's angry voice. "Who was he?"

The Lady could not bear to look at him. Not into his eyes, not into his face. With her head bent, she said, "I do not know, my Lord." Willow noticed the exchange with some alarm. Moon had never flinched from looking into Arcon's eyes. In fact, she always met them with such closeness. Such warmth and friendship. And when had she ever said, "My Lord" to anyone? Quite a puzzle indeed. Whatever it was, Willow's companion seemed very unlikely to say anything else at this point.

Arcon had his suspicions...and his guilts. He could not discuss either with an audience. "Jo, Willow, take leave. I will see to Lady Moon myself." The women exchanged shocked looks, neither willing to budge. "At once," Arcon added. Then they scrambled to their feet, and hurried from the room. "Shut the door," the King called, "but one of you stand near."

When the women had done what he asked, Arcon stood. He stretched out a hand to the bewildered girl on the floor, then bade her take it. When, reluctantly, she did, Arcon led her to the bed. He tucked her in and sat beside it. Neither spoke for a long moment. Each lost in their own thoughts.

[DamedEscrime]

Willow was beside herself and Jo was visibly shaken. She trembled as the adrenaline of the moment seeped from her veins. She spoke quietly with her companion. "I don't understand, Lady Willow. Why is Lady Moon behaving as this? It is as if she were bewitched."
"You may be more right than you think, my dear,"replied Willow. "But, I see that you are trembling. Why don't you go to your room for a little quiet reflection. It will do you good. I will stay as the king has directed."

Jo suddenly remembered why she had come this way in the first place. It was near the noon meal and she needed to prepare herself. "Yes, of course,"she replied to Willow and darted off down the hall.

[DamedEscrime]

Once in her room, Jo leaned against the solid wood door for support. Her knees where weak from what had just happened. She looked toward her own balcony wondering how anyone could do such a thing.

She had to shake it o