Aldren Haravean and Moira Kerrigan's long and unusual courtship is well known to the folk of Greenshire. Less known is the friendship between Sir Shepard Kerrigan and Lady Wenna Haravean…at least until now.
| The Healer and the Knight |
| Summary: | The story of the friendship of Sir Shepard Kerrigan and Lady Wenna Haravean (later Riverwynd, even later Kilgour) |
| OOC Date: | 2/3/2014 (OOC) |
| Related: | None |
| Players: |
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| Fields of Greenshire - Barony of Blackforge |
| These scenes primarily occur in Greenshire, in the lands near Slaughter Castle. The final log takes place on the outskirts of the castle in the Barony of Blackforge. |
| 213 2E - 228 2E |
The day is warm and late spring sun shines down land surrounding Slaughter Castle. Wenna done with studies in the castle infirmary and hiding from her womanly training is out gathering wild herbs from the banks of a stream that runs into the sea. Hair has been braided into a single braid and she is dressed in a plain linen gown of sage green that is patched and thread bare in places. The gown has been tucked up into her belt and it shows off her bare feet and calves that are covered in mud. In the crook of her arm rest the handle of a large wicker basket. The basket is filled with herbs and flowers. The stream cold and clear tumbles over rocks and babbles as it calls out for the coming of summer.
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Young Sir Shepard Kerrigan rides across a span of tall grass in the lightly rolling plains that this stream runs through. His father brought him and Sir Alton along with him during a brief visit with Count Aldric, and the young Kerrigan couldn't be happier about it. He's a bit on the dirty and disheveled side himself, with an already-reddening bruise on his cheek from Sir Alton's waster during their last sparring session. Each bruise is a lesson learned, as Sir Alton says, so the young lord doesn't mind…too much. Especially when Sir Alton allows him some free time afterwards, which he's making good use of now.
"Whoooa!" He reins in the steed as he notices he's not alone out here. Indeed, he reins it in a bit -too- much, and the animal rears, pawing at the air while Shepard clearly struggles to remain in the saddle.
Sadly, it's a struggle he fails, and with a yelp of surprise, the young squire very nearly flies off of his horse. Thankfully, he's spared serious injury by the fact that he gets pitched right into the cold, cold stream. Which just means he ends up wet and muddy rather than say, concussed. It does create quite a terrific splash, though.
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The sound of horse and rider cause the young woman to turn and look in his direction. When he reins his horse in and gives the wrong cue, the woman's eyes grow wide. Then he is effortlessly launched in to the cold waters of the Stream. She stops and calls out to him. "You okay?" Quickly she goes to capture the horse and lead the horse over to the side of the stream he is in. She holds a hand out to him to take so she can help him up."
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Fortunately the stream's not too deep or rushing so fast as to sweep him away. Shepard sputters and sits up, looking somewhere between immensely shocked and tremendously embarrassed, "I…I'm fine, thank you." He starts to try to get up, quickly realizes it's going to be quite a chore if he tries to do it himself, so accepts Wenna's hand with a sigh and a look of much-chagrined resignation, "Thank you…" He says sullenly as he manages to regain his feet and trudge over to dryer land.
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"Your horse is chagrined and you need more time in the saddle." Wenna says none to helpfully as she pulls him to his feet. Stepping aside when he reaches dry land she holds out his horses reins to him. "Luckly he is not a bolter." She says with a nod of her head. She looks him up and down. "Hrm.. my brother rides better." She says to him with a bit of pride then she offers him an impish smile that for a moment is like Aldren's. "So.. running away from work? Or just out for a stroll?" She pauses and offers him anmother smile.
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"I just didn't want to run you over!" Shepard protests defensively, then pauses, frowning, "No. That's a lie. I'm sorry. I usually do ride better than that." He adds, clearly regretting the fib that had already spilled past his lips, "I was just out riding. Sir Alton gave me some time for the afternoon." He glances down to his wet and muddy clothes, "Oh Gods…I'm a mess." He doesn't lament it -too- much, just shaking his head and giving a rueful smile towards Wenna, "So…I'm Lord Shepard Kerrigan, having the most embarrassing introduction of my life."
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There is a snort of laughter from Wenna. "At least you did not steel the horse and you will dry. Cop a squat over there and dry off in the sun. You are lucky you landed there in the water and not on your head. It is a pleasure to meet you, young lord." She says to him as she reaches up to scratch her head as bead of perspiration make her scalp itch. She moves to pat the horses neck and stroke his shoulder. "Nice looking horse." She then looks down at her basket and up at him. There is the awkward moment, then she blurts out. "Looks like rain. I know your father."
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"He's new. Not entirely used to me yet, which was probably part of why I got thrown." Shepard notes, frowning and still looking sullen, though after Wenna makes her statement he frowns, tilting his head at Wenna, "You know my father? Surely you mean you know -of- my father, don't you?" He pauses, studying Wenna's appearance and dress, "Unless you moved her from Ashenfell or something…" Yes, clearly he's taken her for a peasant girl, at this point.
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"You gave the wrong cue, it is quiet clear, you have sat deeper with your seat." She tells him with a petulant voice. "No, I know your father." She tell shim with a narrowed gaze. "You are not calling me a liar are you?" She is defensive now. She moves over to the bank of the river and she scoops up mud and holds it in her hand as she eyes her.
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"What? No!" Shepard frowns, "I just…thought you might have mis-spoke, that's all." Shepard doesn't seem intimidated by the mud, eyeing Wenna more intently, "You just don't look like someone my father would know, that's all." He pauses, realizing how that might sound, before he adds, "I mean, you're very pretty, but…oh nevermind. I'm just making things worse."
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Lips purse and that mud flies in his direction. "I am seven years into my healer training at Slaughter Castle. I know a lot of nobles." Muddy hand is now resting on her hip along with her other hand. She stamps her foot. "My brothers would not like hearing that. I am not, my mother is beautiful and pretty, I look like my brother." She frowns. "Yes you are, you should start with thank you, for helping me out of the water. The horse is mine and I did use the wrong cue because he is new. Then I would say how is your afternoon?"
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"I -did- say thank you when you helped me out of the water." Shepard looks just plain confused now, though his reflexes are quick enough to duck under that clod of mud, "What's -wrong- with you? Are you -angry- because I called you pretty? Well you are! Sorry if you don't like that, and I don't care what your brothers think."
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"I am not and have been told so, my brother is handsome and so am I." Wenna's nostrils flare. Her lips remain pursed. "Now, Young Lord Shepard. The day is nice? I am or was enjoying the sun and my freedom from the infirmary. I am hoping to gather more herbs and perhaps show myself to the hall and be cleaned up before dinner or my mother will scold." She takes a deep breath and calms herself. "I have to care what they think." She plops on the ground next to him. The skirt of her gown fans out around her.
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Shepard says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your afternoon. I just wanted to ride my new horse and take in some sun and air and not get thumped by wooden swords for a few hours before din-" Shepard pauses, frowning, "Wait…you…the Hall?" Shepard isn't -stupid-, and with enough evidence he can start to paint a picture, "Oh Gods…You're Lady Wenna, aren't you?"
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"Glad there is mind floating between your ears." She tells him and then she offers him a wicked grin. "Tell you what, if you look surprised when we meet in the hall tonight and I will tell no one you got dumped in the stream." She spits in her hand and holds it out to him. "None need to know I am out here or you met me without any shadows. Deal?"
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"They're likely to know -something- happened. These mudstains aren't going to disappear themselves." Shepard notes, tilting his head at Wenna, "I -should- take you right back to your father. But just because I'm angry with myself and embarrassed doesn't mean you have to be embarrassed too, so." He shrugs, reaching over and taking Wenna's hand, shaking it firmly, "I won't tell anyone about you. I'll just say I was a fool and miscued my new horse and fell in a stream for it. That way I don't have to lie to anyone." Seems he takes the "honesty" part of being a knight relatively seriously already.
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"Thank you, and I will say nothing of your fall." She tells him as they shake. "How are you enjoying your stay here?" The anger and defensiveness has fallen away. She lies back in the tall grass to lie on her back and enjoy the sun. The basket full of flowers and herbs has been set aside. "Dry out and the mud stains will be easier to deal with. My father no doubt will be cross with me, but even you did not realize I was of his household until I spoke of the hall. My virtue is safe." She points out to him. "You know, you could say nothing unless they ask."
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"They'll ask about the stains." Shepard pauses, "Or maybe not, I suppose. Father and His Excellency do tend to have a lot of drink and be in good cheer when they're together." He glances to Wenna at mention of her virtue, blinking a few times, "I thought you were a base-born girl, but I wouldn't…I mean…" He flushes, realizing he's probably just going to dig himself deeper if he keeps going so he falls silent a few awkward moments, before he grins just a touch impishly, "I -do- think you're pretty, though."
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"I will tell my brother you think he is pretty." Wenna comments back and her voice is warm with humor. A daisy within arm reach is plucked and tossed at him. "Aye they drink a lot. My mother says it is an excessive amount." She laughs. "Exactly because you thought I was baseborn you would have just showed off and rode away."
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"Probably. Or just flirted a little and thought I'd brightened your day. Being all important and lordly and such." Shepard smirks a touch, plucking the daisy off his chest, and studying it a moment before setting it down to his side. "I guess it's still kind of better to meet you this way. More honest, in a way."
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Oh her laugh is warm and rich and unrestrained. "Aye, when I am around my father and in the hall I get very quiet and proper. I will speak with my brother, but I have learned to silent." She tells him. "This is a more honest encounter as you said. I like the sun, the feel of grass and moss beneath my bare feet. I like it when mud squishes between my toes. I spend my time under the tutelage of the master healer and the apothecary. This is my time just be me."
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"You shouldn't have to be silent." Shepard notes, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "My mother wasn't. She and father would just sit and talk for hours sometimes. About house business, or Moira and I, or…anything really. Father always said she was his best advisor." He adds, "But I guess quiet -is- considered proper. Seems kind of silly though. How're you supposed to know a person if you can't really talk to them?" He shrugs his shoulders, "I like riding, and training to be a Knight. It's all I've ever really wanted, really. I just hope I'll be a good one. Father and Sir Alton say people don't think Greenshire has good knights. That we only have good Rangers and archers."
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"We do only have rangers, farmer and archers." Wenna points out. "You will make a fine knight. My father and mother speak. But, I am not to speak and I do not. Instead I listen, much can be learned by doing this. The only reason we do not have more knights is because we are just too poor." She grins and rolls on her side before she stands. "It is time for me to head home."
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Shepard rises to his feet, dusting himself off a bit, "All right, well." He laughs softly, "Nice meeting you, Lady Wenna. I hope you have a pleasant afternoon." He chuckles softly, "And I guess I'll see you at dinner and pretend we haven't met before."
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With a nod of her head an impish smile Wenna darts off towards the castle.
END
It's a pleasant spring day in the lands surrounding Slaughter Castle, and once again Lord Rinder Kerrigan has come a-calling. Along with him comes his son, Young Sir Shepard Kerrigan. He's nearly 18 years old, now, and has grown tall and strong since a certain rather wet and muddy day a few years ago. Still, not altogether unlike that day, Shepard has been left to his own devices for a while, and so he rides. He's sure in the saddle now, deftly maneuvering the steed along the rolling plains, until he comes to a familiar spot, bringing the horse to a smooth stop and watching the stream roll by with a bit of a wistful grin.
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A young man on a tall leggy chestnut that looks like it was bred for racing comes trotting up over the hills. The young man's hair is hidden by felt a wide brimmed straw hat and he is dressed plainly in hunter green wool breeches and a leather brown tunic stamped with the sigil of the Haravean's. From this distance he almost look like he could be Aldren, except for the rider is too slender. Raising a hand the rider approaches at a good deft trot. When they come closer to Shepard the horse is brought to a walk.
Shepard raises a hand in return, turning his horse about to face the new arrival, tilting his head curiously, "Good day to you." He does peer more closely as they draw near, attempting to see if he might recognize the rider. Still, a polite enough smile remains on his features.
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"Good day." Comes a female voice. "Lovely day for a good ride I would say. This is Mirth." She introduces the leggy racing mare. Her voice is alto and has a kind timber to it. "It has been ages, if you are who I think you are. Did they let you off your leash?" She teases.
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"Ah." Shepard chuckles, smiling a bit, "Your tongue has been sharpened a bit since the last time we met, Lady Wenna." His smile grows more warm now, and he brings his horse alongside Wenna's, "Yes, I have been set loose upon your lands. Sadly they sensibly refused me the permission to pillage and plunder, so I'll settle for riding instead." His horse looks familiar…older, calmer, and well-attuned to his rider. "I see you required a cunning disguise with which to escape your own bonds."
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"Aye, I am a full healer now, and am done working in the castle infirmary for the day. I pilfered aldren's wardrobe. He will not miss them." She looks flat and the well muscled Aldern's tunic is loose on her. Though her shoulders are broad and there appears to be some strength to her. Her arms are well toned and her legs well muscled and strong. She is healthy looking unlike many courtly beauties. Her skin even has a very light tan to it. Her laugh is warm and unrestrained. "Loose in our lands, well curse me that means we should race in a bit unless you prefer the quiet then I can continue on with my ride."
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"I'm not adverse to a race, Milady. After all, I do have no small need to redeem myself after our last meeting." Shepard grins mischievously, "The best part being that even if I lose the race, just managing to stay in the saddle is at least showing improvement, and if I should fall and crack my skull, you're fully trained to take care of me." He wheels his horse about so that they're both facing in the same direction, "What shall our destination be?"
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"That first hill over there." Wenna smiles is radiant and her seem all the brighter for it. "On the count of three." She readies herself into slight two point position. "One two and three!" She signal her horse with a silent signal to have her mare leap into a canter from a standstill. The mare listens and that long legged beast shows off just how good of a runner she is. More silent commands are given and Wenna has the horse stride out. The pace is ground eating. She leans forward and down close to the horses neck. She also stands slighting in her stirrups in something called a two point. The horse continues to run a good gallop. The mares nostrils are flaring.
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"Ha!" Shepard laughs, lightly spurring his own mount into a gallop, and leans down to let the breeze wash over him as the two horses race across the plain, both easily leaping over the stream in the midst and continuing at their near-breakneck pace towards the hill Wenna mentioned. She takes an early lead (having been the one to give the count, after all), but as the moments tick by, the Sutherland Strider that Shepard is riding closes the gap, and for several moments the pair are neck-and-neck, until finally, as they draw ever-so-closely to the hill, Shepard's mount just -barely- inches ahead, and he slows to a canter, laughing merrily, "You ride exceptionally well, milady. I thought you had me at the start." He brings his horse back down to a light trot now, "Well…I hope your estimation of my riding ability is somewhat improved, at least."
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Wenna slows her horse from canter to a walk, the mares ears are pricked forward and there is a light in her eyes. "I think your riding ability has vastly improved, since I last saw you and that was the best race I have ran in a while. For an old boy your horse runs well." She is grinning from ear to ear and showing off her good teeth. "How long will you be here or are you just passing through, if my father allows some dancing will you ask me to dance? I am not as graceful as my mother or some of the other ladies but I promise not to step on your toes too hard." She asks him. "I usually dance with Aldren or my other brother, but I do not think my father would mind I danced with you. If not I do understand, since you do have a sister. Just no fighting this time with Alden, it causes me headache as he is pain to deal with when is temper has flared." She is candid with her speech. "You will also not drawf me like you will other girls and I will not dwarf you." she adds.
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Shepard laughs, "I'd be happy to dance with you, Lady Wenna. Though hopefully your brother will not take offense at it, I…" He glances away a moment, looking a combination of shamefaced and a bit sad, "I wish I could apologize for my temper when you and Aldren and your father visited last, Wenna…I truly do, but your brother…" He sighs and shakes his head, "He wasn't treating her as a Lord should treat a lady. Much less one that is a prospective bride." He pauses, "I suppose I -can- apologize, though…to you at least. I confess that when father suggested he might attempt to match me with you…" He quirks an ever-so-faint smile, "Well…I did not find the idea disagreeable. At all. So I -am- sorry, Milady…for any headache or pain my wroth caused for you." He sighs, "Father was…well, he was angry and yet…not. It's hard to describe, but I know he was disappointed in how matters unfolded." He looks to Wenna once more, questioning, "Is it terrible of me to sometimes wonder if it might've been better to ignore my brother's warning and simply stayed and kept speaking with you?"
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"Lord Shepard, I am just happy to have a friend. I am not one that makes them easily and most woman find me to their liking as tongue is not refined. You have nothing to apologize for and consider yourself lucky, that you escaped having to be married to me. Your father will find you a good match and the woman will a have good dowry." Wenna keeps smiling. "I will go to whom my father chooses, I am his eldest child, he will find will find some knight or lord to pawn me off on. I do not know what will happen, but do not fret and do not dwell upon the might haves. For now, while it is allowed, I would like your friendship. I know my brother better than any here alive in our fair kingdom, you do not need to apologize to me. I will just tease you about it until you are greybeard is all."
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"Oh good. Father, Drogan, and Moira already vowed to do such a thing. It wouldn't do to not have a complete set of friends and family to never let me live down my fit of temper." Shepard smiles warmly, "But a friend I can be, I hope. Regardless of anything else. I wouldn't be entirely sure my father has given up on the idea yet, though." He adds, "And I still would not find it disagreeable. You're a good and strong Greenshire woman, and a refined tongue isn't a necessity for a good wife and partner." He adds, perhaps a touch hastily so as not to seem as though he's getting too far ahead of himself, "Nor a good friend."
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"It is good that you think that as my brother says if you ever really want to hear a truthful comment about something just seek me out as I seem not to be able do anything but speak what I think." Wenna explains with a laugh. "You may also write to me, I have a decent hand. " She explains to him. Her eyes are bright. She holds a hand out to him. "Friends it is Lord Sheppard, when do you get your spurs?"
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"Friends." Shepard takes Wenna's hand, giving it a companionable squeeze, then grins, turning the back of it upward and leaning down to briefly kiss the back of it before releasing it, "But I'm not giving up all hope." He chuckles, taking the reins of his horse once more, "As for my spurs…One never knows, but…it will be soon, I think. Sir Alton is suggesting that I might enter a tournament as a Mystery knight soon to prove my skills."
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"Damn mystery knights." Wenna offers him a wink. "I have a feeling he may try your skill before that, there has been murmuring in the court my father did say. Hopefully that will not happen and you will earn those spurs as a mystery knight. I have no fear about that; you have learned to keep your seat." She teases him with another toothy grin and a chuckle. "How are you enjoying your training with Sir Alton, I know nothing about the man."
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"Well…he's the quiet sort, so it's not too surprising." Shepard notes with a laugh, "And he's a Hedge Knight, but you probably already knew that. Father wanted someone to train me who he could keep close so I wouldn't be able to slack in the lessons -he- had to teach me…stewardship and the like." Shepard smiles, "He's a great teacher though…hard when he needs to be, easy when it's warranted. He pushes me to my limits, but only rarely beyond them. I feel as though I work hard, but not that I'm working in vain…He never lets me forget my goals."
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"That is a sign of a good teacher." Wenna says to him. "You are very lucky and I should begin to make my way back before I am guaranteed to get caught. You should write to me!" She tells him as she turns her horse to head towards the castle she looks over at him. "Ride well and safe and I will look forward to that dance."
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"Of course, Lady Wenna. I'll see you at dinner tonight. Assuming father lets me in the same room as Aldren." Shepard notes, only half-joking. "Enjoy the rest of your ride, and I'll do the same." He smiles to Wenna, bowing slightly in the saddle, "Until later."
END
AGE 18:
"Lord Shepard,
I believe that I am the first to write. Not much has happened since we last met. My father is determined I am to leave the castle and go on rounds with him. I would have told him I would rather join the temple but Aldren pointed out that it was not a wise decision. Instead I will suffer in silence, frowning at my twin while appearing to be the mst perfect and dutiful daughter that the kingdoms have ever created.
I think even my mother would be proud. I know that her and father argued at great lengths about me and Aldren recently. She stated it would be better if I was to marry someone in Greenshire. Father point out that it would be waste. The argument lasted for some time and then he said something I have never heard him say to her. "You are my wife know your place." She is now sharing a room with me and has left our father to his own devices, he is getting a burnt half planned dinner for dinner and we who are the women in the family are eating in our rooms. I am fond of this idea, it means I do not have to watch Lady Ella sigh and look upon my brother with false adoration.
With all this said how are you doing my friend, have you been able to be that Mystery Knight do I need to start addressing these letters to a Ser Sheppard? How is your horse and how is your family and the Knight who is training you?
Healer Wenna Haravean"
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"My Friend,
Yes, it would appear you struck first in the great war of letter-writing. Alas, I am truly undone but I suppose I had best counterattack lest I be fully routed. I am sorry it took so long to respond but I have indeed been rather busy. Sir Alton did indeed enlist me in the Nar tournament in Weston. I competed as "The Applewood Knight" and much to my own surprise (as well as Sir Alton's) I performed quite well. I was the third man standing in the sword-on-foot competition, and while I finished fourth in the Joust, I was not unhorsed once! Sir Alton nearly smiled, and the crowds seemed to enjoy my performance.
But now the even more exciting news! Your father had been in attendance (I confess my disappointment he didn't bring you along to see, but I suppose he still doesn't know we've met more than the one time). He was very surprised when I was "unmasked" at the conclusion of the tournament, and as my father had suggested, I took the opportunity to make a public apology to Count Aldric for my behavior at our last "official" meeting and the…incident…with your brother. My words must have moved him, because he asked Duke Ruxton to knight me on the spot! I'm probably rambling like a giddy pageboy but I can still scarcely believe it. My spurs are earned at a mere 18 years…that's nearly unheard of! I hope I'm ready…I know many already think I am not, regardless of how well I performed at tourney. I thought I was before the tournament but now that it's happened it's nearly overwhelming. Greenshire is not famed for producing skilled knights, so some of the older ones from Weston and Lakeshire and Sutherland seem to think less of me. It makes me angry, but Sir Alton says the best way to release that anger is on the tournament field. Unfortunate father didn't have a tournament running when you and Aldren visited, eh? Might have spared some trouble….
The celebrations afterward were quite enjoyable, and offered more than few new experiences, but I won't bore you with details. I've been going on and on about myself and I'd best not let all this knighting business go to my head or I'll do a poor job of maintaining a proper Knight's humility! I know you are a full healer now, but no doubt you continue to study and learn…how is that progressing? I can imagine how difficult it is to maintain silence when you hold strong opinions. I've had to deal with a bit of that where Sir Alton and my Lord Father are concerned, but no doubt far less than you have. At least Sir Alton and my father will explain their decisions to me in private afterwards, provided I carried out whatever task they assigned me with diligently in the meantime. I suppose it's all part of that "character-building" our more-aged family members seem so fond of.
In any case, I hope you have been well, and that you find whatever you pursue to be enlightening and enjoyable in its' own way. I do not know when I will have occasion to see you again…Sir Alton seems to think I must prove I earned my spurs fairly by entering as many tournaments as we can find, and no doubt the training will be relentless in-between. But yes…the next time you see me (or write), I'm now "Sir Shepard Kerrigan." I cannot deny I enjoy the sound of it. Just be assured that I doubt the spurs will give me any particular advantage in our next race, whenever it may be. I will look forward to your response, if and when you get a chance to send it.
Your Friend,
Shepard"
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"Sir Shepard,
I rejoice in your brilliant news. I am sorry that I did not attend, I had much work that kept me at slaughter castle and my mother and father are still warring. Where you gifted with a new horse, or do you ride your same old charger? Did you get more amour? Your details of your knighting were lacking and I would like to get more about it. How did you fair when you did your vigil to the eight?
I am a full healer a journeyman, but a full healer. I have been working hard and diligently with my study and my work. I am also very happy that I have completed a dissection of the human body. One of the old master healers did pass and before he was to go to the funeral pyre he did ask that for eight days we diligently work on dissecting his corpse so that we his students had a better understanding of what the body was. He stated that the dissection of animals and the reading about the dissection of a human is much different than the actual dissection of the human body. I feel that in those eight days my understanding of the human body did grow. I have also as of late been doing more surgery. Last week we did the removal of a woman's breast that had become hardened with wasting sickness. The removal was a success but it will be a while to see if we were a success with the removal, if any of the diseased tissue remains she will get sick again.
Last week I did take my sisters out to go and flower picking in the fields. We had a grand time. The sun was high in the sky and the air sweet. We ran and tumbled and rolled down the grassy hills free in our conduct.
I am sorry that I did miss your knighting and for that my heart is heavy. But, knowing that my father gave you much honor and that your father was there brightens it.
No matter what you will be a knight who will be true to the code he has sworn to follow.
Healer Wenna"
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"Lady (Healer) Wenna,
Insofar as horses are concerned, while I still ride the trusty old Sir Mudtosser (however did he garner such a name? Surely, it is a mystery known to but a few), and he did serve me quite ably in the tournament, father has seen fit to bequeath me with a new Sutherland Strider to serve me in war and at tournament. Sir Mudtosser seems quite agreeable to being eased into a life of studding and more gentle use, as it almost seems as though much of his old fire has dimmed since the tourney. I think I may give him to Drogan and let him roam the fields of Ashenfell in his golden years. He has served me well and I will miss him, but Sir Alton has always warned me of growing too fond of an old horse. A Knight must recognize when it is time for a new weapon, and in many ways a Knight's horse is as much his weapon as any blade, bludgeon, or lance. Besides, Drogan would, I think, be overjoyed at such a gift.
Father did indeed gift me with a fine suit of armor, as well as a good sword and shield. It's all really quite splendid, though of course not particularly different from the arms and armor of any other knight. And of course all these gifts did not come until after the vigil and knighting. I confess that I did not feel over much different after my night of fasting and prayer (aside from being more hungry and more tired). Certainly no great visions or special insights flooded my mind. I do not mark this as any defect on my part or particular disfavor from the Gods…after all, I would judge being knighted at such a young age sign enough of some mild favor on their part! Besides, Sir Alton assures me that most do not find the vigil particularly revelatory. The dubbing was fairly straight forward. Myself and a few other knights were brought before Duke Jon Ruxton and knelt before him, swore our oaths, and received the touch of the blade upon our shoulders. The only difference was that in my case your father lent his blade to Duke Jon for the dubbing to symbolize that I was a Knight of Greenshire, not Weston (because Duke Jon is a knight, but your father is not, it would be judged improper in most circumstances to not be raised by another knight, if you are wondering why Count Aldric did not simply handle the matter himself).
They certainly don't allow much respite from the fatigue of the vigil, as celebrations then last much of the day and well into the night. When finally I was able to sleep, I can rarely recall such peaceful slumber. Of course, we had to rise early to begin our journey back to Ashenfell the next day. It is strange thinking of Sir Alton as "fellow knight" instead of "teacher" though in truth he has scarcely deviated from the latter role. Indeed, I feel as though I train twice so hard now as I did as a squire! While I knew not to expect any great respite, I think Sir Alton is bound and determined that I win a tourney soon to justify my being raised so young. Of course doing so will reflect well upon his teaching, as well. The only real difference is that I am no longer responsible for the care and feeding of Sir Alton's horse nor the maintenance of his weapons and armor. Sir Alton says I should start looking for a squire soon that I won't have to handle these things myself and can devote more time to…training! However did you guess?
I am pleased that your studies remain fruitful. I confess the prospect of examining a cadaver in that fashion is daunting to me. I think the courage of healers is often underestimated, though perhaps not so much so by men that have seen real battle. I do not know when that day may come for me, but I hope I am ready when it does (and that there will be healers at least half so skilled and knowledgable as yourself waiting for me should I need them). Sir Alton assures me I should not be eager for it, and in my head I know he's right, but my heart thirsts to prove itself in true battle. Such is the foolishness of the young knight, I suppose.
It may be that my letters will be infrequent for a time. Sir Alton and I are resolved to begin our travels of the tourney circuit soon, and we will soon be departing for Sutherland to begin the first leg of that particular crusade. I will write when I am able, and let you know if I will be staying any one place long enough to recieve messages. Otherwise do feel free to send them to Ashenfell and I will look forward to reading them upon my return. I should be in Ashenfell another week or two if it pleases you to write again, but after that will be on the move for quite some time, perhaps even until winter comes. Hopefully by then I will have lain to rest any doubts as to my ability. I hope the spring and summer will treat you well, dear friend, and wish you many a sunny afternoon of flower-picking and free conduct in the meantime.
Sir Shepard"
-
"Dear Sir Shepard,
Your words brought a smile to my lips. You also painted a vivid picture, for that I am grateful. But what you say for healers is nothing new. We understand life and death more intimately than most it is a constant battle. They are constant reminders and that life is brutal and short. Sometimes we cannot win the battle. For myself I do not wish to die in battle, I just want to peacefully die in my sleep. I want to go the same way my mother went. I want to close my eyes and just not wake when morning comes.
I must keep this short as there is much to do and I have only a few moments to spare. Write when you can and we can share news.
Healer Wenna"
-
Several Letters are exchanged over the course of the next two years
-
AGE 20:
"Sir Shepard,
I write in a panic, my heart beats hard against my chest. I am doomed. My father has sold me to Sir Fallon Riverwynd for the price of some ancient boon. I am dead. I know this in my heart. My brother is not allowed to attend the wedding, it will be just my father and Fallon. I am sick to my stomach. I know the rumors and the whispers about the Baron of Blackforge.
Say a prayer for me, and perhaps I am over reacting. Perhaps there is nothing to fear and there is no fact rooted in those rumors. I will calm myself and hope and pray.
There is no hope for us; we are just to remain friends. The gods will be kind to you and will give you what your heart desires and she will be fair and kind. She will give you many sons and she will be as radiant as the first light of dawn.
Please write to me, and if I am able, I will continue to write to you.
Wenna"
-
"Wenna,
I am on my way. I should arrive by morning if I ride through the night. I've sent ahead for relay horses. If you've any freedom left in these scant moments, you know the place where I will be found. If you are not there by midday, I will know you were unable to depart Slaughter Castle. In either case, I will not simply abandon you to this fate.
Shepard"
-
END
The sun rose just a couple of hours ago, in the lands near Slaughter Castle. The sky is clear, the breezes are warm, and generally it's a very pleasant day. It almost seems unfairly so, given the circumstances that have brought Sir Shepard Kerrigan here. He waits, seated on the grass near a clear stream that runs between two grassy hills. Secluded from prying eyes. A place that has gained some small significance over the years. Indeed, it was this very spot where he met the young woman he now waits for. A pensive frown affixes itself to his face as he sits. There are signs of fatigue…riding through the night is never and easy thing, but not so bad that he's dozing off. Just a bit of dark circles under the eyes and a tiny touch of pallor.
-
The sound of horses hooves can be heard. Then over the rise a woman on a tall chestnut mare is moving towards them. It is the same mare that almost beat his old horse comes riding. The mare is moving at a swift gallop. When the mare reaches the stream the rider brings her to a walk and allows her to walk and cool off. She is pale and there are dark circles around her eyes and her face lined deeply with worry. She does not speak until she is closer. "Shepard?"
-
Shepard looks up, rising to his feet and dusting off his seat. He brought a cloak but it's warm enough it wasn't necessary after the sun rose. "Wenna." His face too, lines with worry as he approaches her horse, reaching out to take her hand should she permit it, and to help her from her steed should she wish. "I came as quickly as I could."
-
"I almost could not ride away but he is more concerned with how Aldren is acting than me." Responds to him. Her voice is tight and there are tears in her eyes. "Sold to a boon to a man my father would not give his prized horse to for safe keeping." She blinks furiously as she pats her horse's neck sweat darkened neck. "But, perhaps it is just rumor and nothing more, perhaps it was just bad luck that he lost his first two wives." She says to him as she tries to convince herself of this. She moves to dismount off the mare. She is dressed in Aldren's riding breeches and leather tunic that is too big on her. Running up the stirrups she loosens her horse's girth. "Thank you for coming, and I am sorry for hysterics." She tells him as she swallows hard.
-
Shepard folds her in a tight, warm embrace almost immediately. Propriety be damned, sometimes people need a hug. He holds it for several moments before releasing her, his expression grave as he adds, "I know it is enormously ill-advised, and could quite likely be just as dangerous as the alternative, but if you wish to flee…I will go with you."
-
Laying her head against his chest she starts to cry once she is in that warm embrace. Her tears are silent. When she is released from it she hastily wipes them away. "I cannot I promise my father, told me that I need to do this to protect the family and my brother, for this will release them from the boon. If I fled with you, your father would be disgraced and your family would fare well if my father acted out and used the King's justice." Her hands are wiping away tears. "Just promise not to forget me that is all I ask. Write to me."
-
"I know." Shepard replies glumly, "But I had to make the offer. What kind of knight would I be if I did not?" He asks, still holding Wenna's hands, "You know I will not." He gives them a small, gentle squeeze, "As frequently as I am able. Is there….anything else? Anything at all?" He shakes his head, "I hate feeling…useless. And helpless. I can only imagine how it must be for you."
-
"That is all I ask is that you do not forget me and that you will write." She squeezes his hands back tightly. "Keep my foolish brother from getting killed and keep him from defying my father." She lets go of his hand and from her pouch she draws out a piece of embroidered cloth. It is a strip of green silk that is two inches wide and it is about twelve inches long. The strip of fabric is covered with embroidery done in white silk floss. It depicts tall towering oaks and there are even acorns and leaves. She moves to press it into his hand. "Thank you." She says with a tight voice that is filled with emotion. Her green eyes swim with tears.
-
"He…" Shepard looks at the cloth, nodding slightly even though his words are quiet, "He doesn't deserve you. I can scarcely comprehend the injustice…" He shakes his head, seemingly steeling himself, "But I suppose there's little I can do, otherwise." He looks glum. Crestfallen, "If I hadn't…" No doubt he is once again blaming himself, for the incident with Aldren. Had that not occurred….
-
"Nay it is not your fault, never say that. It is my fathers. Do not blame yourself. Daughters are pawns to be used for good or bad. There is a reason most men do not like their daughters, they must pay to have them married off and then they become the property of another." This is said with bitterness. "Nay it is not you good Sir Shepard it is my ass of a father." There is anger in her words. "This will allow him to marry his other daughters to better matches. You may still become part of this family. He has three other daughters to dispose of." She turns to her back to him so he cannot see the bitter tears.
-
"I don't care about becoming part of your family, Wenna. I care about -you-." Shepard notes with complete sincerity, "The joining of our families has always been something for our fathers. If it happens, so much the better for them…I would not wish them ill of it. Still…" He sighs, shaking his head and once again reaching over to wrap his arms around Wenna, hugging her back against him, "I'll do what I can to look after Rorey and Brendolyn. And Aldren as well, of course…as much as my other duties and responsibilities might allow."
-
"And Jami, she lives in my shadow, she needs to be seen." Wenna tells him as she leans against him when pulls her back into a hug. "Rorey and Bren they have no mother. Aldren, just promise me you will do your best to keep him alive?" She turns to bury her head against him and she weeps. Her voice is muffled when she speaks again. "Then mourn for me and say that I am dead, live because I will not. I will have my wings clipped."
-
"I will not mourn. So long as one drop of hope remains, I will guard it for you." Shepard shakes his head, "I cannot say there is much to be found at present, but I refuse to surrender it entirely." He pauses, reaching up to lightly pat Wenna's hair, before tilting his head, "How long do you have before you must return?"
-
"Just few heartbeats more, then I must part. My father is going to let me have Mirth." She says softly once she gains some control back. "I have to return, there is much I must do before I go. Keep that sash and hold it for me. But, I must go."
-
"I…all right." Shepard glances to the sash, frowning. He seems conflicted over something, for a few moments, looking down to that sash, before he reaches a hand to tilt her head up, and unbidden, leans down to press his lips to hers. It's gentle and sweet, and lingers for more than a few moments before it is broken, upon which Shepard all-but-whispers, "Forgive me this impropriety Lady Wenna. There was little else I could offer but reassurances, and in this one small thing, at least, you can now know that Fallon Riverwynd will forever be denied." He smiles, just a touch, even in these bleakest of circumstances his irrepressible humor shows its' face, "Though I will understand if you are upset for the manner in which I stole it from him."
-
She is shocked at first but the sweet kiss is shyly returned before it is broken. Tear filled green eyes look up at him and she whispers softly. "Thank you." A tiny smile touches her lips. She reaches up and gently touches his cheek. "There is nothing to forgive; you have given me a true gift Sir Shepard." Her voice is soft and still tight with so much emotion. "But I must leave." She takes her hand from his cheek and steps away towards Mirth. She tightens her girth and then she mounts.
-
"Until we meet again, Lady Wenna." Shepard bows from the waist, even adding a little flourish, "Because I refuse to believe we will not. Be well, and I will write you soon." And with that, he watches her go…
END
Diplomacy in Blackforge is never a pleasant task. Sir Shepard Kerrigan knew that before arriving, just as he knew he'd soon be gaining plenty of practice in remaining polite and at the very least neutral while speaking with a man that he'd very much like to strangle with his bare hands. Of course, Lord Rinder couldn't have known the depth of Shepard's distaste for Fallon Riverwynd…no one could, really, except the one person in Blackforge he -wishes- he could see. Someone that entered this pit eight years ago and virtually disappeared since. Not a single letter returned, and not even the rumors of sightings. It was all Shepard could do not to level accusations in the middle of Fallon's home, but he knew that'd be a provocation at best, and a death sentence at worst. Too many of the Baron's men around. Shepard brought guards with him, but not enough to fight a war. So aside from a brief, polite inquiry as to the health and welfare of Baron Riverwynd's wife which was of course easily deflected, Shepard could not press the issue.
He hates this feeling of powerlessness. Even the attempt at diplomacy proved fruitless. All it does is bring to the fore years-old resentments and memories of a friend that now seems lost to him. He wasn't stupid enough to stay in Blackforge itself, not that the invitation was really made, and so Sir Shepard makes his way back towards one of the Inns in town. Perhaps gutsy that he has no guards with him just at the moment, but he's reasonably sure Fallon isn't -quite- stupid enough to kill the heir of another house in broad daylight, especially with no particular provocation.
-
The town when they arrive is quiet except for the sound of industry. Heads are bowed and none look up to greet or look at the visiting lord and his people. Outside of the town it is also quiet. Many of the farm fields are fallow. The mythical Baroness is dressed in red and black and is moving riding through one of those fields. She has no guards on her as he deems it unnecessary for she is in his mind well clipped. A long black veil covers her face and she is riding a quiet bay gelding. Her gown is of linen and it is crimson and the color of blood. The sky above is dark with stormclouds. The rider approaches the men and the visiting lord.
-
Shepard's attention is largely elsewhere, lost in ihs own pensive, angry thoughts as the party moves down the road at a leisurely pace. He glances over towards one of the guards and shakes his head, "Damn this place. We'll leave as soon as we gather our belongings. I'll not spend any longer than I need to waiting for someone to try to put a knife in my back." Shepard is older, obviously, and his features notably more careworn. This is a man that has seen blood and battle in as desperate and hard-fought a manner as any, but it has not broken him. His posture is proud, his head held high. At the moment, there are no signs of his characteristic humor, but the smile lines are notable on his face.
"Of course, milord. Ah…Sir Shepard?" The guard he was speaking to gestures, indicating the crimson-clad horsewoman that is making their way towards them. A thoughtful frown flits across Shepard's face, and he inclines his head as she draws near, "Good day to you…milady." He ventures as to her rank…commoners rarely dress so colorfully, "How may we be of service?" There's an edge of wariness. Surely Fallon wouldn't send an assassin such as this? Then again…what better kind of assassin is there than the one no one would suspect?
-
The lady brings her horse to a halt near them. She is trembling like an Auntum leaf clinging to a tree before winter. Her voice is quiet and pensive, like she is not using it. "You best get out of town, ride and ride hard. Stay out of the bottom lands and do not go to the inns." The voice is so quiet. "His men will be coming soon. She then backs her horse up away from them. Her face is covered by that veil and that gown despite the color is very plain. "This is my gift to you for the gift you gave me. Now ride."
-
"I beg your p-" Shepard starts to question, and then his expression shifts to one of realization, if not recognition. His voice drops to a barely-hissed whisper as he leans forward, just loud enough for the crimson-clad woman to hear, "Come with us. We can be out of the Baron's lands before nightfall if we ride hard." He's making assumptions as to the woman's identity, it's true, but surely Fallon wouldn't know of "the gift" would he? Or could he have broken Wenna so thoroughly that she'd have admitted it and given the Baron every excuse such a petty man would need to try to kill him?
-
She backs her horse up few more feet from him. She raises her veil. He sees bruising and old and turning yellow and her green eyes are dead of someone who has no hope and is just waiting for death. They hold no spark. Her face is pale and etched deeply with pain her youth and spirit broken. "If I leave others die and there will be no honor to my family. I promised my father I would protect my brother from the boon." She says softly and quietly. "Nay my fate is here and if you do not ride you will be beyond my skill to heal if he catches you. Besides you and the rest of them forsaken me to this fate, tell my brother I forgive him." There is a hardness to her voice and bitterness. "Just go."
-
"Gods…" Shepard frowns deeply at the revelation of Wenna's face, "Boon be damned. The boon was fulfilled, it's the Baron's own damn fault if he mistreated you, and no doubt any sane person, including the King himself if need be, would judge it so." Shepard shakes his head, frowning once more at her talk of being forsaken, "What? We did no such-" Shepard blinks as another realization reaches him, "You never got them. I suspected, but…." He shakes his head, "Nevermind, it's not important right now. Come -with- me Wenna. Or if not with me than with someone…-anyone- you might hold the slightest trust towards. Just -get out-. If you don't trust your family or friends then go to the temple. Perhaps even one far from these lands. I'll take you all the way to the Eastern Isles if you ask it, but I cannot let you endure this one second longer!"
-
"What family do you speak of? My father the ass?" She says to him vehemently. "Nay he left me to my fate, sold me to it with a smile. My brother the knight or do you mean my perfect twin. Nay they are not my family, I have not seen them in eight years, not a word from them. My sisters are strangers, I am dead to them. What friends? I have none." She tells him. "Trust you speak of that is something that children have and give. The temple would sell me down a river to protect their own. Just go, if I leave here it will be on a funeral pyre or by what is left of my will and that will only be to protect Aldren, and still their blood will be on my hands. Nay you bastard, you do not know what it took to just bring you warning. Just go and before he catches you. If I ride with you I could not keep the pace you have to set. Leave me and this broken body alone. We pay our taxes to the king and to the Count. Just go and do not look back." She pulls the veil down. She backs her horse away. Shrinking from him like he has the plague.
-
"I…you don't know? Gods…he didn't even tell you…" Shepard looks supremely angry for a moment, a sound of frustration deep in his throat and chest before he looks back to Wenna, his expression somber, "I'm sorry, honorable Lady, but your father has been taken to the Gods. Some years ago. Count Aldren is the ruler of Greenshire now. So you see even in that you no longer have any boon to worry over. It was fulfilled. Nothing in that boon means you must endure this mistreatment any further, and as for people dying…" Shepard looks genuinely pained as he notes, "From what I have seen…people are going to die in either case."
Then she truly and completely rebukes him, and Shepard blinks, scarcely comprehending what he's hearing. He looks…hurt. Deeply, at that. No tears, but his eyes do sting a bit. For some reason, he reaches to place a hand over his heart, seeming to consider something, but the hand lowers, and he straightens in the saddle, his expression growing neutral but not exactly cold, "We will ride two hours to the south and wait off the road to the West for two hours. If you come, I will take you anywhere you wish to go. If you do not…" He shakes his head, "Then I will mourn anew for the dear friend I once had." He shakes his head, "You were not…No…you will not hear me even if I speak it." He looks to Wenna once more, imploring, "-Please- Wenna…get out. Whatever he's told you…your presence is not truly saving anyone here…but perhaps if your plight is brought to the attentions of others of greater authority…" He shrugs, "Then you could have the makings of the ruin of Fallon Riverwynd." And without another word, Shepard flicks the reins of his horse, and he and his guards begin to move away. True to his word, he will wait at the appointed spot, wary of ambush but uncaring if he has to spill blood to get her out.
-
"My plight is long forgotten, I am dead, just go." Pain and bitterness lace her parting words to him. Then he is gone. She sits there on her horse not moving. Head bowed as the rain begins to falls. She does not move she just remains standing there. Then she turns her horse and heads back to Blackforge. When the time comes there is no Baroness, only the rain and what Fallon may have sent.
-
As it stands, Fallon sends nothing, at least to the location Shepard waits. Wenna's warning means Shepard avoids any potential ambush by altering his schedule and paradoxically, by taking the most direct route out of Blackforge. Fallon, fancying himself clever, arranged ambushes on more indirect routes, figuring Shepard would suspect ambush on the "main" route and therefore take another. So Sir Shepard's retreat from Blackforge is a peaceful one…at least physically. Emotionally? Not so much for the Greenshire Knight…made all the worse less than a couple weeks later when rumors of the Baroness' demise start to filter throughout the lands.
Months later, some small relief would come when the truth of Wenna's situation is revealed, and some small degree of indirect satisfaction at the news of Fallon Riverwynd's death. It is bittersweet, however, as the Knight has no means of knowing whether the bond of friendship he shared with the Healer was forever lost. It does seem that only time will tell.
END