Post by Lisa on Nov 26, 2009 11:13:34 GMT 10
Title: Wyldon’s Little Women
Rating: G
Summary: A hero is welcomed home in Cavall
The younger girls play tag in the sunny courtyard when Eiralys calls out from the top of the perimeter wall. “Riders are coming – I think it’s Da!”
Sunarine gathers the littler ones and they head toward the gate. Eiralyn runs down the stairs in the tower and stands with them next to the guards. The riders have come around the bend in the road and they can see that it’s their parents.
“They’re riding slow,” Margarry says with a pout.
“Slowly,” Eiralys corrects.
“Da’s hurt,” Sunarine reminds them. “That’s why Mama went to Corus – so she could nurse him to health and bring him home. Maybe he can’t ride too quickly.”
Cathrea tilts her head to one side – she’s contemplating something, they can tell. “We should meet them at the bridge.”
They don’t discuss it. They exchange grins and race down the road, long hair trailing in the wind Ribbons fly off behind them, and little Margarry loses a slipper. Eiralys, who has lately put an emphasis on the dignity of her thirteen years, shrieks in delight as she races with Cathrea. Sunarine is far ahead of her sisters; she loves to run, like her father.
When they reach the creek, they slow to a stop. The girls double over, tired from the long run. Eiralys clutches at her side with one hand while holding on to the stone wall of the bridge. Their parents are close enough that the girls can see their smiles.
“And who are these little monsters who’ve replaced the respectable girls I left behind?” Lord Wyldon asks, his voice carrying down the road. He and Lady Vivenne approach the stone bridge slowly. His arm is in a sling, and as he rides closer, they can see that he is in pain.
The girls know the story – before their mother left for Corus, she told them that he had saved the king’s children when hurrocks and centaurs attacked the royal nursery. Their grandmother stayed with them in Cavall while they waited for his return, and told them every bit of news that came their way. But it’s one thing to hear of his wounds and another to see his face pinched in pain. Their father is invincible to them.
When they finally reach the bridge, Vivenne dismounts gracefully from the saddle. Her riding habit is dusty from the trip, but the girls still throw themselves at her, hugging whatever they can reach.
“I’ve missed you, too, my lovelies,” she says, kissing the top of each head. “But you have to let me help your father.” They back away so she can help him keep his balance as he climbs down from the saddle.
The girls don’t throw themselves at him, as they would like to. His has a gash along one side of his face and he is cautious with his wounded arm. They stand back, waiting for him to call them to his side.
“Come, Eiralys,” Wyldon says, pulling his eldest into a one-armed hug. “Have you been watching out for your little sisters?”
“Yes, Da,” she answers, kissing his cheek. “Grandma helped me.”
“You’re growing into a delightful and responsible young lady,” he says, kissing her forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”
She hugs him again, then steps back to stand next to her mother. They look alike, with their straight dark hair and bright blue eyes. He knows that she will be a beauty like her mother, and part of him is said that she is so close to womanhood.
He beckons Sunarine to his side, and she hugs him carefully, her wild brown curls tickling him. “I love you, Da,” she whispers.
“I love you, too, Suni,” he murmurs back. She’s his sensitive girl, who likes to be petted and coddled. “Your mother tells me you helped the healers when the spidrens attacked last month.”
She nods. “Mama says I have steady hands, and I like to be useful.”
“Useful is good, but useful and kind-hearted is even better.” He kisses her and releases her, turning to his third daughter.
Cathrea is not a hugging sort of girl, but she leans against him, resting her head against his chest. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she says softly. “I knew you were in danger, and it frightened me.”
She is a Gifted with divination, and he worries that she Sees things that would horrify a seasoned soldier, let alone a girl of ten years. “What did you See?”
“Claws and blood,” she answers in a matter-of-fact tone. Her expression is distant, but he is accustomed to it. “I saw your face, and you were in pain.”
She clasps his good hand briefly. “Don’t get hurt like that again, Da.”
“I’ll do my best.” He kisses the top of her head and smoothes her long, brown hair.
Margarry waits patiently for her turn, tracing a line in the dirt with her unshod foot. When Wyldon calls her, she beams up at him and rushes to his side. He kneels down, as she is so small.
She gently places her small hands on his cheeks, careful not to touch the gash running from his right temple, and kisses his nose. They have always greeted each other this way, each summer he returns from Corus.
“I assigned you a particular job before I left. How did you do?” His voice is mockingly stern. Margarry likes being treated like a soldier.
“I watched after Mama, and she didn’t have any headaches or spells. I made sure she didn’t fret over you or the war or anything.”
“That’s the most important job in Cavall,” he whispers, hugging her tightly with his good arm. “And no one does it as well as you do, my Margarry.”
He stands very carefully, with help from Vivenne. She is concerned for him, but says nothing. She knows that he does not ask for help unless it’s absolutely necessary. But he was able to ride most of the way home, and that gives her some relief. His wounds could have been so much worse.
The girls walk toward the castle, turning frequently so they can see their father walking behind them. They need to look at him often, to reassure themselves that he’s there, and that he’s safe. Lady Vivenne takes the horses, leaving his free hand empty so small hands can slip into it as the girls tell him about their adventures during the last few months and ask questions about his injuries.
And Lord Wyldon smiles, reaching out to touch Sunarine’s light brown curls or Eiralys’s shoulder, which is so much higher than it had been last summer. The whole party pauses as he carefully stoops to pick up Margarry’s small pink slipper. Cathrea helps steady him as he stands again, her wiry arms strong. He is grateful to be home, with his wife and the girls he loves so dearly.
Rating: G
Summary: A hero is welcomed home in Cavall
The younger girls play tag in the sunny courtyard when Eiralys calls out from the top of the perimeter wall. “Riders are coming – I think it’s Da!”
Sunarine gathers the littler ones and they head toward the gate. Eiralyn runs down the stairs in the tower and stands with them next to the guards. The riders have come around the bend in the road and they can see that it’s their parents.
“They’re riding slow,” Margarry says with a pout.
“Slowly,” Eiralys corrects.
“Da’s hurt,” Sunarine reminds them. “That’s why Mama went to Corus – so she could nurse him to health and bring him home. Maybe he can’t ride too quickly.”
Cathrea tilts her head to one side – she’s contemplating something, they can tell. “We should meet them at the bridge.”
They don’t discuss it. They exchange grins and race down the road, long hair trailing in the wind Ribbons fly off behind them, and little Margarry loses a slipper. Eiralys, who has lately put an emphasis on the dignity of her thirteen years, shrieks in delight as she races with Cathrea. Sunarine is far ahead of her sisters; she loves to run, like her father.
When they reach the creek, they slow to a stop. The girls double over, tired from the long run. Eiralys clutches at her side with one hand while holding on to the stone wall of the bridge. Their parents are close enough that the girls can see their smiles.
“And who are these little monsters who’ve replaced the respectable girls I left behind?” Lord Wyldon asks, his voice carrying down the road. He and Lady Vivenne approach the stone bridge slowly. His arm is in a sling, and as he rides closer, they can see that he is in pain.
The girls know the story – before their mother left for Corus, she told them that he had saved the king’s children when hurrocks and centaurs attacked the royal nursery. Their grandmother stayed with them in Cavall while they waited for his return, and told them every bit of news that came their way. But it’s one thing to hear of his wounds and another to see his face pinched in pain. Their father is invincible to them.
When they finally reach the bridge, Vivenne dismounts gracefully from the saddle. Her riding habit is dusty from the trip, but the girls still throw themselves at her, hugging whatever they can reach.
“I’ve missed you, too, my lovelies,” she says, kissing the top of each head. “But you have to let me help your father.” They back away so she can help him keep his balance as he climbs down from the saddle.
The girls don’t throw themselves at him, as they would like to. His has a gash along one side of his face and he is cautious with his wounded arm. They stand back, waiting for him to call them to his side.
“Come, Eiralys,” Wyldon says, pulling his eldest into a one-armed hug. “Have you been watching out for your little sisters?”
“Yes, Da,” she answers, kissing his cheek. “Grandma helped me.”
“You’re growing into a delightful and responsible young lady,” he says, kissing her forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”
She hugs him again, then steps back to stand next to her mother. They look alike, with their straight dark hair and bright blue eyes. He knows that she will be a beauty like her mother, and part of him is said that she is so close to womanhood.
He beckons Sunarine to his side, and she hugs him carefully, her wild brown curls tickling him. “I love you, Da,” she whispers.
“I love you, too, Suni,” he murmurs back. She’s his sensitive girl, who likes to be petted and coddled. “Your mother tells me you helped the healers when the spidrens attacked last month.”
She nods. “Mama says I have steady hands, and I like to be useful.”
“Useful is good, but useful and kind-hearted is even better.” He kisses her and releases her, turning to his third daughter.
Cathrea is not a hugging sort of girl, but she leans against him, resting her head against his chest. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she says softly. “I knew you were in danger, and it frightened me.”
She is a Gifted with divination, and he worries that she Sees things that would horrify a seasoned soldier, let alone a girl of ten years. “What did you See?”
“Claws and blood,” she answers in a matter-of-fact tone. Her expression is distant, but he is accustomed to it. “I saw your face, and you were in pain.”
She clasps his good hand briefly. “Don’t get hurt like that again, Da.”
“I’ll do my best.” He kisses the top of her head and smoothes her long, brown hair.
Margarry waits patiently for her turn, tracing a line in the dirt with her unshod foot. When Wyldon calls her, she beams up at him and rushes to his side. He kneels down, as she is so small.
She gently places her small hands on his cheeks, careful not to touch the gash running from his right temple, and kisses his nose. They have always greeted each other this way, each summer he returns from Corus.
“I assigned you a particular job before I left. How did you do?” His voice is mockingly stern. Margarry likes being treated like a soldier.
“I watched after Mama, and she didn’t have any headaches or spells. I made sure she didn’t fret over you or the war or anything.”
“That’s the most important job in Cavall,” he whispers, hugging her tightly with his good arm. “And no one does it as well as you do, my Margarry.”
He stands very carefully, with help from Vivenne. She is concerned for him, but says nothing. She knows that he does not ask for help unless it’s absolutely necessary. But he was able to ride most of the way home, and that gives her some relief. His wounds could have been so much worse.
The girls walk toward the castle, turning frequently so they can see their father walking behind them. They need to look at him often, to reassure themselves that he’s there, and that he’s safe. Lady Vivenne takes the horses, leaving his free hand empty so small hands can slip into it as the girls tell him about their adventures during the last few months and ask questions about his injuries.
And Lord Wyldon smiles, reaching out to touch Sunarine’s light brown curls or Eiralys’s shoulder, which is so much higher than it had been last summer. The whole party pauses as he carefully stoops to pick up Margarry’s small pink slipper. Cathrea helps steady him as he stands again, her wiry arms strong. He is grateful to be home, with his wife and the girls he loves so dearly.