Shoeing and Tea (Rossana)

[Gareth Cleaver]

6th of Tredecimber, 08:00

Gareth sighed as he looked out the window at the newly risen sun. He was having Rossana over to get her horse shod. He liked the girl and had liked her father. Emmet Doyle had been a good man, always fair and honest. He thought about his youth and the times spent with Emmet and Rossana's uncle Caleb as he put on his most presentable work shirt. This one only had two holes and they were low on the sleeves. Since he was just shoeing today he figured he would try and look nice for the young the woman, especially since the shoeing visit always turned into a social visit anyway.

Gareth also knew that part of this visit would be dominated by discussion of young Benjamin. Gareth laughed to himself, the boy was quite popular. How could such a silent young man attract so much attention? His looks, must be the looks. Poor lad Gareth thought to himself, maybe I should make him a fly swatter and see what he says. However, it was true the boy had some handsome features to him and Gareth wasn't really surprised. Oh well.

Gareth went down to the "shoeing post" as he called it. Basically it was a small stall out behind the smithy with a little post on which he could rest the horses hoof. It was simple and he knew that other smithies had actual barns for shoeing but he worked with what he had. And Apollo, Rossana's horse and closest confidant, did not seem to mind either. Apollo was a beautiful animal. Apollo was actually one of the most cooperative horses in town. He was so cooperative he actually seemed to like it.

Gareth went back inside and waited for young Rossana to show up and wondered if she would bring rolls again.

[Rossana Doyle]

The day was young, the winter air crisp and fresh and Rossana Doyle took a deep breath in, appreciating it as she sat atop her handsome black stallion Apollo. The big horse was setting a jaunty pace that quite matched the young woman's mood on their way to the town smithy. She wore a russet wool skirt and white blouse embroidered with maroon rosettes around the sleeves. The blouse hung becomingly over her slight but feminine curves, while the skirt was bunched and gathered in a most carefree and unladylike fashion as she rode, equally improperly, astride. Her loose amber curls bounced around her shoulders and fell into her eyes.

"Be a darling, Apollo and keep going, won't you?"

She murmured and let the reins go, trusting Apollo not to run off with her. He tossed his big head, thick black mane flying and squealed, pretending defiance. She didn't flinch and clucked at him, then brushed the stray locks from her eyes: she'd raised the spirited stallion, had even been there for his birth and knew that as much of a handful as he could be sometimes, he wasn't a mean horse and wouldn't think of dumping his rider on the ground.

"You great fake, you."

She chided him and he snorted, kicking up his heels just a bit in mock protest: she automatically tightened her grip on his barrel with her thighs to keep herself from bouncing. Well, she amended, as she picked up the reins again, he wouldn't ever dump her on the ground. A nervous rider might not be so fortunate.

The slender young woman adjusted the linen wrapped bundle she held in her right arm: it was still warm and contained two things. A fresh baked dozen honey raisin rolls (she knew Mr. Cleaver was exceptionally fond of them) and a package of her special rose petal black tea. They might seem unusual things to take to the smithy, but she had her reasons. The caffeine was useful for boosts of energy during late nights at the forge. It was the smithy favorite, apparently and they usually ordered a package of it every month. This being the beginning of Tredecimber, she was fairly certain they'd be running low and she felt like saving them the trouble of traveling across town. True, she was visiting the smithy to get new shoes for Apollo, but Gareth Cleaver had been a childhood friend of her father's and their visits were as much social as they were business. He was the closest she had to family anymore.

A change in her mount's pace brought her attention to the fact that they were passing the entrance to the town graveyard on Hallow Hill, which meant they were near the smithy. Soon the squat building came into view and she slowed Apollo as they approached, stopping him beneath the dappled shade of some large elms and hopping easily off his back. There was no one in sight and no sounds of hammering came from the forge but it was entirely likely the men were only just stoking up the fires for the day and had yet to start work.

"Mr. Cleaver!" She called, her voice with its ever present lilting accent (courtesy of being brought up by a father whose second language was Gaelic and a mother whose mother tongue was Italian) as cheerful as her ocean blue eyes. "If you've slept in I'll be takin' the tea straight back home with me and give all the honey rolls to dear Apollo here!"

[Gareth Cleaver]

"Dont you dare young lady!", Gareth exclaimed.
Had that horse gotten bigger? Christ!, Gareth thought to himself. The sheer size of Apollo amazed him every time he saw the beautiful animal. The horse had been a gift from her uncle, Caleb.

Gareth missed Calep and Emmet. He could see so much of them in Rossana. Gareth had grown up with the two brothers. Gareth had been the quietest of the three boys. It was commonly believed that Caleb and Emmet were the trouble makers of the town and that poor little Gareth tagged along out of lack of anything better to do. Gareth always joked it was their fault that he was a blacksmith. Gareth had been made an apprentice after Caleb and Emmet had dared him to stampede a local farmers sheep through the main street of Benevolence. It was decided that the boys were a bad influence and that young Gareth needed some direction in his life, thus his apprenticeship began.

Emmet, Rossana's father, had died when she was child and Caleb had moved out of Benevolence to follow his calling, raising horses. Which is where Apollo, Rossana's black steed, came from. It was a remarkable gift, Apollo had been given to young Rossana as a colt. This horse was her pride and joy, not to mention her friend. It was fitting that these two beautiful creatures would be friends. Rossana always told Gareth she felt that she didnt belong in the town of Benevolence, this is because she was very much her mother, who was not a native to the town. Apollo was also not a native of the town, which is why the friendship was perfect.
"Rossana, you look gorgeous m'lady", Gareth said in mock honor. "Would Apollo like the brass shoes or the steel shoes today my dear?", asked Gareth.
The shoes were always Apollo's choice not Gareth's or Rossana's. He was a kind animal but also very fussy with his equipment.
"Oh, and why have I really been graced with your presence Rossana? You only come with the raisin rolls when you have questions for me".

[Rossana Doyle]

Rossana laughed as the big blacksmith strode out of the shadows from within the forge and into the young daylight. He was one of the few people left in Benevolence she felt comfortable teasing. When he was standing beside her, she handed him Apollo's reins and gave him a quick, tight hug, being careful not to squash the rolls. As her godfather, he truly was the closest she had to family in the small town anymore. Apollo lipped at the smith's sleeve with his dark lips and pricked his ears forward.

Apollo says he'll take the steel shoes, sir.

Rossana said, stepping back with an exaggerated curtsy. When she straightened, she handed him the finely wrapped package of tea and played with a lock of her hair, trying to feign innocence as best she could. Which wasn't very well, but still, she tried. Gareth had known her since she was a newborn babe: he could read her like a book no matter how skilled she was at keeping things under wraps from the rest of their neighbors.

What if I was just being a good goddaughter? Bringing you and Mister Benjamin some rolls and tea. I do think I'll give them to Apollo!

While her facial expressions were utterly sincere, her voice gave her game away, as did the ever so slight twinkle in her eyes. Rossana put one hand on her slim hips, clutched the still hot bundle of honey raisin rolls to her chest with the other and tried her best to appear righteously indignant at his question. Of course she wanted to know - for Bess's sake - if Benjamin had spoken to Gareth about possible romantic interests. If he had spoken about Bess, Mr. Cleaver would have been the one he'd have spoken to. And she knew Bess liked the young blacksmith's apprentice very much. Hopefully Benjamin would have shown even the slightest inclination of interests: she realized she ccouldn't ask for much more. He was such a quiet young man. But she wasn't about to go about asking first thing and out loud.

[Gareth Cleaver]

"Oh, but you wouldn't deprive young Ben for my transgression", Gareth laughed.

"How are you dear?", Gareth asked as he hugged the young woman.

Rossana was a slender woman, but not weak. He could feel the strength in her. It came from her father. The tenacity came from her mother, true Italian that she was. Rossana was one of the most incredible women that Gareth knew, he was proud to be her considered her friend and her uncle of sorts.

"But really Rossana m'dear, I know you want to ask me something".

He could always tell. She was easy to read, and this was a trait that was hers alone. Gareth could never read Emmet, or Caleb for that matter. However, Rossana's mother she was the worst. The woman's emotions were locked in the fortress known as her heart. Rossana's mother foreign to Gareth both in geographical origins and in manner. Gareth had always felt that he was pretty good at reading people even if he wasn't all that great at interacting with them. However, the Doyle family was the exception. They were not an emotionless family they merely treated their emotions like fine china ware and only brought it out on special occasions. Emmet, until the day he died, never spoke how he felt about his sisters death. He was obviously distraught and saddened, but he never spoke of it. Rossana was not this way. Although she did not speak of her feelings, she was easy enough to read as to their direction. What is she going to bug me about this time, he thought.

"You know if Ms. Bell wants to meet Ben, she should come to the smithy. I mean if say her father needed a new axe head in two days I might need to go to town for candles that day. Ben would have to make the axe of course, a task the boy could use some practice in", Gareth said and winked at the young girl.

She undoubtedly would be surprised that he knew about this new development, but Gareth was just as interested in the goings on in Benevolence as any housewife. He had noticed young Ms. Bell eyeing Benjamin in town just the other day, and had known then that a visit from his dear Rossana would not be far in the future.

[Rossana Doyle]

Oh they've met. That's not the problem, Mr. Cleaver.

She said, speaking to him with a casual familiarity despite the honorific "Mister" being included. It was habit to do that, but she addressed him as she would a godfather, for again, he was exactly that and the only family she had left. Thank the gods for Mr. Gareth Cleaver, she said silently and couldn't help smiling. The doe eyed, giggling maid still ever so slightly present in her had just come to the mischievous conclusion that it was quite a fine laugh to be goddaughter to one of the most handsome and eligible bachelors in the village of Benevolence. Never mind the fact that he had come of marrying age the year she was born: the point was, she was closer to the rugged and stoic but sweet mannered blacksmith than any of the town's women would probably ever get. While she was uninterested in relations of that sort to the man who had been as much, if not more her uncle than Uncle Caleb had been, it was still a worthwhile paradox to consider. It was only after she began her sentence that it occurred to her that Mr. Cleaver had known that she would ask about Bess and Mr. Benjamin before she'd said a word. She raised a dark eyebrow at him, its curve as graceful as a swan's wing.

And it's not if Bess is interested or not. The matter I'm curious about is how your Benjamin feels about it. And it's now also about how you know all of this anyway!

The young woman gave him a pointed stare and tilted her head expectantly, her sea blue eyes quite direct, though they still contained their ever present sparkle. Gareth Cleaver wouldn't lie to her: she was convinced he couldn't. For all his gruff silence and quiet ways (she couldn't begrudge him the solitude she often favored for herself, though) and hunting prowess, she knew the man was like a child's stuffed bear at heart. A stuffed bear with real claws on his paws to be sure, a but a soft bear. He could no more lie to her than he could deny the rising of the sun every morning and in return, she did not ask him too many questions despite her curious nature. Suddenly, in the midst of her musings, a though meandered into her mind and she started.

Dio mio! Mr. Benson isn't about is he? We couldn'a have him hearing all this! Please. Tell me he's asleep still, or out to town!

[Gareth Cleaver]

"No, Ben is in the smithy. Don't worry, when he's working he's working. He won't even know your here unless we go and tell him."

Benjamin was a very focused young man. When the young apprentice was at the forge he was completely and utterly consumed by the task, thus his fine craftsmanship. However, there was something also very sad about his focus, something melancholy. Of course there was the death of his family, which would explain the majority of it, there was no denying that, but there was something else as well. Whatever it was it was something seeded deeper in Benjamin's being than the death of loved ones. It worried Gareth, he feared that one day he would lose the lad that deep seeded something. At the present however he would let it go and just be happy to have an assistant with such an incredible work ethic.

"Look what did you want to ask me m'dear?" Gareth wanted her to get to the point. He liked having someone to jest with but when it came down to gossip and stories he wanted them straight out.

[Rossana Doyle]

Knowing that Benjamin wasn't going to overhear them relieved her considerably, but she still made sure to speak in a voice that didn't carry. She stepped to Apollo's side and nearer to Mr. Cleaver so that she wouldn't have to raise her voice in the least. It was odd, she thought, that Benjamin Benson was so near her age and lived in such close proximity to her godfather and yet she hardly knew the quiet young man. In fact, she would probably not even recognize his voice: he spoke so seldom and they crossed paths so little.

I was wondering if there was any indication that was interested in Bess as well.

She began unsaddling Apollo as she spoke, to keep the conversation appearing as casual as possible. Her slim hands with their long, graceful fingers worked the leather and fastenings deftly: she took the girth firmly in one hand, braced her elbow and forearm up against the horse's side and with her whole weight, jerked upward, freeing the strap from the buckle. Apollo huffed and snorted contentedly as the girth released his barrel. Rossana, patted the black steed's rump as she made her way around him, undid the buckle on the right side and tossed the girth up over the seat of the saddle. She reached up for the saddle, going up on her toes, for while Apollo was a big horse and he was far from the size of the plow pulling giants that she often worked with, she was still quite short. Saddle in arms, leaning back to counter its weight, she nodded towards the back of the smithy where the stables and shoeing post were.

Shall we? Rossana suggested, shifting the heavy saddle in her arms. Even though she was accustomed to its weight, she was still a tiny young woman and the saddle was awkward to carry and cumbersome. You know him best, Mr. Cleaver. If anyone were to know how Benjamin Benson feels, it would be you.

[Kitty McKay]

A gentle, tinny clang and a quiet feminine yelp announced the presence of another. It was Miss Kitty McKay, listening. She had a terrible inclination to do that -- listen in when she shouldn't have. What she had learned was very interesting, of course; and either way, she wasn't the type to carry on rumours. She just... investigated them. Her curiosity all too often got the best of her. If the most marriageable young woman in Benevolence truly did fancy the least marriageable young man -- and said young woman's best (only) friend admitting to such an affection nearly cemented the supposition -- then there would likely be a scandal in the coming months, because the Bells would not stand for such a match.

Kitty slipped around the smithy corner, her eyes downcast, and into view of the others. Her effort to assure that she could get away before they rounded the smithy and followed her had resulted in a toe caught in a rusty bucket and a very embarrassing reveal. Even so, she had a purpose. Bypassing the fact that she had just been eaves dropping and had learned a very interesting titbit from it, she gestured helplessly to the two of them. It had taken her quite a few weeks of contemplation, doubt and nervousness to come to this point. After all, the situation was hardly ordinary.

"Mr. Cleaver..." She said, her voice soft and slightly too quiet. "There is some matter of importance that I wish to discuss with you."

[Gareth Cleaver]

"Ah, Ms. Kitty McKay did you hear anything you liked lassy?", Gareth asked.

The young woman was always snooping around sniffing out the gossip. She was harmless really, actually a very sweet young woman, but always attempting to be at the center of things. She didn't even hunt down the gossip to spread it, she just wanted the truth out of the matter. It was a rather noble form of eavesdropping, or more like its cousin, twice removed of course. At any rate the girl perplexed the middle aged man who had never understood women in the first place. This is most likely why he never married and never intended to. Who would want to marry a smithy anyway was his thinking.

"My I seem to be rather popular with the younger set this morning. Well if you want to wait inside you can Ms. McKay. I'm currently discussing a matter with young Ms. Doyle, and; seeing as how she brought me vittles and you are sneaking about she we will be helped first.", Gareth announced in a very stern manner.

He could tell that Kitty was a bit shaken by his tone as was Rossana, but he knew how to play them. He had watched them grow up it was easy to set them up.

"Aye, pep up ladies I'm havin' a laugh at you," Gareth exclaimed. "I'm not mad lassy, head inside I'll be with you shortly".

[Rossana Doyle]

A loud clang from around the corner of the smithy brought Rossana's head up as quickly as Apollo's and the young woman's brows knit slightly as a shamefaced Kitty McKay presently decided to show herself.

Kitty McKay, I don't know what you heard, but I hope you're not going to breath a word! Really, she knew Kitty probably wouldn't, but it didn't do any harm to restate it. The girl wasn't a gossip, she was just curious. Really, Rossana thought, if anyone had to overhear it was better that it was Kitty. Had it been Beatrice Bell or even Delilah Strangeway there would have been trouble. Kitty, say you won't tell! You know how much trouble there will be for Bess... She said, knowing that Kitty was a kind girl and likely wouldn't want to cause anyone harm with the knowledge she'd just gained. Please, Kitty. she thought desperately. This town is so quiet without gossip, please let it stay that way!

Then Mr. Cleaver spoke up and Rosie's eyebrows shot up in indignation. Really, he was too much sometimes. She couldn't always tell if he was joking or not. Clutching the buns close to her chest, she glared at him implying that if he kept talking that way he'd never get his raisin buns.

"Aye, pep up ladies I'm havin' a laugh at you,"


The big smithy chuckled and Rossana flushed indignantly, a more flustered than embarrassed that he had read her so well again. Really, she told herself, she should be used to it by now. She shook her head at the tall man, whipping out a hand and slapping him with a flat hand on his upper arm. It made a satisfying thwack! and left a lovely little pink spot where her hand had been.

Shameless! She scolded him, mostly succeeding but still not quite keeping the laughter out of her voice. I think you should apologize to Miss Kitty and me!

[Kitty McKay]

Kitty was taken aback by the fierceness in which the two responded -- but she didn't feel that she really had to reply to Rossana about telling no one about Bess. She would never do such a thing, and Miss Doyle knew it. Still, it was noble of her to so diligently protect the interests of a friend. Kitty smiled and nodded in response, though she was soon gawking over the hard tone of voice from the big blacksmith. As gentle as she knew him to be, Gareth Cleaver still looked like a barbarian warrior, and that was hard to pass up.

She let out a hesitant giggle as the joke was revealed, still nervously occupied by her current mission. Rossana didn't joke like that with many. Usually she was the quiet wallflower, and it was mostly by choice. Although her exotic looks gained for her an eye of suspicion from most villagers, they certainly didn't find such an audience among the young men.

"Actually," She broke in, lifting one hand amongst the banter in order to impose and air of seriousness. "I have a message from someone, and it is urgent. Mr. Cleaver..." She took in a deep, soundless breath, her eyes keen on his face. She wanted to see if he remembered Nerys at all, before she went spouting off about strangers in the woods. "...what... what significance have eyes like... like jade, to you?" She wrung her hands, her expression intense.

[Gareth Cleaver]

Eyes like jade? They consumed his every waking thought, and occasionally, his unconscious thoughts as well. But how could young Kitty McKay know of those eyes. Gareth had told no one. The owner of those beautiful orbs was Gareth's best kept secret, one he had even been able to keep secret from Ben and Rossana.

His long pause was becoming obvious at this point and he knew it. He would have to trust these two young women. It scared him half past dead but, he knew he had to.

"Girls, you have to promise me to tell not one soul."

How would he tell them this. That he had fallen in love with one of the beasts in the forest. How was he going to tell them what happened that night. He knew that the woman in the woods had visited Kitty. How else would she know of those eyes. Kitty had to have met her. Maybe he would get to see her again. Maybe she wouldn't have to leave this time. Truthfully all he wanted was answers. Why had she not killed him? Why had she left him in the woods that night?

"Rossana, tie off Apollo, then meet me and Kitty in the kitchen. We need to talk", Gareth said as he turned and went inside.

[Rossana Doyle]

Gareth's sudden change in tone quieted her (but that was a barely notable reaction for she was nearly always softspoken) and she took Apollo's reins back without question, shooting the tall smith a questioning look as she did so. She had thought she knew all about Gareth Cleaver, but here came Kitty McKay with a piece of gossip from the gods knew where and he wasn't just stoic and silent as he normally was: he was downright tonguetied. Despite what she apparently did not know about her godfather, she knew first hand that Mr. Cleaver's usual manner of speaking was short and sweet, but while this response had been short it was far from sweet. He had seemed....his reaction had been difficult to place, she realized as she led Apollo wordlessly to the stables around the back of the forge. The big horse had, with his infallible instincts, sensed that something was up, and was acting up: snorting and tugging at his lead, lipping at Rossana's hair and prancing like an over-large yearling colt.

"'Ey!" She clucked firmly at him, giving the lead a tug and getting him to settle...mostly. Her thoughts raced back to Gareth Cleaver's response to Kitty's "eyes like jade" and realized that it was so confusing because it seemed to be many things at once and not one solid thing at any time. There was nervousness for sure - why, she didn't know, but it had been there and so had excitement and longing. The longing threw her off, for the big blacksmith was like an uncle to her and he had been unmarried her whole life: romance was not a concept she had ever been made to aquaint with him and she was not sure how to reconcile the thought of her godfather as a lover. True, he was handsome, but he was her godfather! Then again, she supposed she had to consider that he was still a man. Strangest of all was the confusion and the slight tinge of fear that mixed with the heavy dose of desire she had sensed clearly in his gruff voice.

Rossana was willing to wager on the fact that the green eyed person Kitty McKay was talking about was a woman and this woman, she deduced (having read so many novels with twisting plots was proving invaluable at the moment) was almost undoubtedly the reason her Mr. Gareth Cleaver had never married. But what a woman she must be! Rossana thought as she tied Apollo, her amusement mingling with her curiousity. In all her years she'd never seen any of the women who had ever tried to garner a proposal or even a fling from the rugged smithy and hunter succeed. And a fair few had tried; townswomen and outsiders alike had found the burly blacksmith's warm but quiet nature charming. All of them had been at the least fairly attractive, some quite pretty and a few genuinely beautiful. He had shown interest in none of them. Yes this green eyed woman must be something, she thought as she opened the back door to the smithy and stepped out of the sun to join Gareth and Kitty.

[Kitty McKay]

Kitty didn't know what to think, but she felt the pit of her stomach tighten in excitement as her words registered across his face... important. Desperately important. She had stumbled across something deep and fascinating, she could tell. In her ecstasy over the discovery, she momentarily let the stony, desperate look in Mr. Cleaver's eyes slip by her conciousness, and did not worry that she may have just gotten herself in a big spot of trouble. She just wanted to know! She was in too deep now to back out. His clipped, gruff demand elicited rapid nods from her, and a look of sincerity bellied by a little hand placed over her heart.

The very fact that he knew Nerys, and that her memory was so significant to him, opened up a whole realm of possibilities. It gave merit to her claims, all of them, including the one about being bonded to a monster. Would Mr. Cleaver know this? As she trotted into the smithy behind the large man who was its owner and into the cramped kitchen, she desperately hoped that what she would hear would not be anything along the lines of She is a madwoman, I made a mistake, I regret ever having been involved with her. But she felt that the flash of recollection in his eyes had said something else entirely.

[Gareth Cleaver]

Gareth turned and walked inside. How the hell did that young girl know of the woman who haunted him from the woods? Had she met her? Maybe young miss McKay would be able to answer some of his questions.

"Ladies inside now please", he said in a much more polite and controlled manner than he had stated his first request.

As the large, bearded blacksmith and the two young women walked in Gareth realized that this was a mite comical. In light of the fact that the situation, for him, was of such importance he knew the girls would act more than their age, however it was still amusing that these would be his confidants.

"Girls please sit," Gareth said. "I have a secret to tell you. Though I know that you, Rossana, won't tell a soul, I must trust you both. Kitty you seem to already know more than you should anyway you rascal."

"I have a story to tell you. A story of a much younger Gareth Cleaver, a story that must never leave this smithy. I fell in love, many years ago, with a woman I do not know and have met but once under the strangest of circumstances. I was hunting late in the day, and became turned around and was stuck in the forest at night. That was when I saw her. She was beautiful with the most amazing jade colored eyes. It only struck me as odd later in hindsight that she was completely naked, for it was cold out. I clothed, was frozen through to the bone, however she showed no sign of being affected by the cold."

Gareth paused. The next part he knew would be a little awkward for the girls but it was important too he guessed.

"We said nothing to each other, but there was a feeling that any words would spoke would be insufficient to describe how we felt. We slept together that night. I had the strangest dreams of wolves becoming human and humans becoming wolves. When I woke in the morning she was gone, but in her place there were the pawprints of a wolf. When I rose I noticed hundreds of the pawprints in the damp soil around me."

"I believe that she may be one of the monsters that we fear at night. The wolves that prowl those woods are not wolves in whole. They are also men and women at the same time. Why she and her pack did not kill me I do not know. Despite my fear that she is of the clan of beasts in the forest, I love her and I know that she may love me in return."

Gareth took a deep breath. That actually felt really good, finally telling someone and all. He found that he was smiling a little.

"I only ask two things of you. Do not tell Benjamin and, Kitty, tell me what she told you."

[Rossana Doyle]

Rossana entered the smithy and shut the door quietly behind her, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the low light. Kitty and Mr. Cleaver were already seated at a sturdy and simple oak wood table and on matching oak chairs just as Spartan in design. The unembellished but carefully and strongly constructed furnishings about the place reflected the nature of the men who lived there, Rossana thought to herself as she took a seat. She did so quietly, for the big blacksmith had already begun his tale and his husky voice halted now and then with emotion. Her teal eyes, already doe-like to begin with, widened further and she cast a quick glance over at Kitty to see how the younger lass was taking everything in.

"We said nothing to each other, but there was a feeling that any words would spoke would be insufficient to describe how we felt. We slept together that night...."

That was a bit much for Rosie to cope with sitting down, even though this was quite a story - and a captivatingly romantic one at that, Gareth Cleaver was her godfather. She had to get up and do something useful to help herself wrap her mind around that. Maybe it wasn't such a problem for Kitty because the smithy wasn't family to her: the lucky thing could just take it for the romance. Quietly she stood and unwrapped a thin linen packet of the special tea she had brought and stood, shooting Gareth one of her soft half smiles she knew he would be able to read as "Go on, I'm still listening. I promise." and put a pot of water over the fire. While she waited for it to warm she found some cups - clean, but stacked haphazardly on the counter and poured little dollops of honey in three of them. Some might be surprised if they knew that iron muscled and steel eyed Gareth Cleaver took his tea with honey, but Rosie knew that while the burly blacksmith might have the ready fangs of a wolf, he had the generous heart of a pup. The water began to send up tiny bubbles and she began to steep the tea. As the hot water darkened, Rossana marveled over her godfather's story. It explained so much about him and revealed a side of the tall hunter she never knew existed. If his love truly was, as he suspected, one of the cursed monsters in the forest, she wasn't sure if he was the bravest or the most foolish man she ever knew. He might, she thought, be both. Whatever he was, his loneliness nearly brought her to tears and she inexplicably felt for him. Though she had never been in love, she knew about loss and she did not want to imagine what it might be like to love and lose so suddenly and be lonely for years after. It must have haunted him so, his night with this otherworldly beauty. She had heard a rumour that the wolf-folk were unearthly beautiful, the better to lure in their prey. If that rumour were true, no wonder no other female had held a candle to his wolfen-beauty! Rossana cast a glance over to the pot: it was starting to send up a nice blush and she ladled out tea into the cups: the honey dissolved like amber smoke. Besides needing something to keep her hands busy after the shock of finding that yes, her beloved godfather had once been a young man and a lover, she knew by the light in his eyes that his confession would leave him in need of some comfort. First she placed a cup of the sweet, richly scented dark brew in front of Kitty.

"I put a dab of honey in it...I hope that's alright." she said quietly before moving to Gareth's side, the ochre material of her skirts a moving in a quiet swirl about her legs. Carefully, she set the hot tea down by his big callused hands. They were strong hands, slightly dirt and ash smudged from early morning work by the forge, with clean lines and they dwarfed her own slender ones, but she gripped one nonetheless and gave it a squeeze. It couldn't have been easy, getting up the nerve to tell a secret of this magnitude after so long, especially for a man so reserved. The story would be the village scandal for a year if it got out, but Rossana wasn't going to be the one to let it get out, gods no! And she had a feeling, Kitty wouldn't either.
"It's a little hot..." she said softly, hoping he wouldn't burn his tongue on it. Under normal circumstances she would have felt absurd, mothering him as she was, when he had been the man to teach her to tie her boot laces, but under the circumstances it seemed perfectly natural. She didn't think twice about it: it was like taking care of Apollo. He may be a big, tough stallion, but he needed help sometimes too. "Don't worry, Gareth. You and...." She realized then that she did not know the wolf-woman's name and it didn't seem that the blacksmith did either. No wonder he had never told anyone before! It was frightening enough that his lover was a woods-monster and stranger still that he hadn't been mauled and left for dead in the woods...but to have to admit to the impropriety of not knowing the name of the woman he had made love to! She wanted to reach out and embrace her godfather, but didn't want to embarrass him in front of someone he didn't know so well. Normally even she, with all her fantastical ideas and stories she had read, would find not knowing a lover's name imprudent and shameful....but she knew somehow in her gut that his actions had not been those of a careless young man with nothing but lust on the mind. He loved her - he truly loved her, whatever she was. She did not know how she knew, but she was as certain of it as she was that willow bark eased pain and valerian brought sleep, that honey soothed bee stings and licorice would tame a cough. And she found herself hoping fervently that the wolf-lady loved him back. "and your love's secret are safe with us." She said, looking at Kitty with pleading eyes. She doubted the young woman would change her mind now, for she was a kind soul, but it was better to ask and be safe than sorry. Looking at Kitty, she remembered that it was the young blonde's appearance that had brought this subject up in the first place. Her dark, elegant brows furrowed curiously. "But Kitty, how did you find out....?" She asked suddenly, her sweet voice letting the question trail.

[Kitty McKay]

Katherine McKay was overwhelmed. Although every word that Mr. Cleaver spoke confirmed and belied what she knew, supposed or even hoped, it also rekindled her fear. This was romantic, yes, extremely. The blush wouldn't go from her cheeks at talk of such... things... as were being confessed. Looking at Rossana, she could see that the other girl was affected similarly. Unmarried young women such as they knew nothing of such things (or so it must seem, even if they did have their hidden knowledge and suspicions).

The questions came at the end. It seemed that the key to the continuation of this romance was her: what she knew and how she knew it. She was at a loss for words at first. What if she said that she had met a lady in passing, and there was nothing odd about her except that she had lovingly asked to be remembered to Mr. Cleaver? It would betray their trust, and the trust of Nerys. With a shock Kitty realised that Mr. Cleaver did not even know his lover's name.

She was flushed and flustered when she lifted her eyes again to the eager faces of the others. Nerys might be a terrible danger... and yet... the eyes of Gareth Cleaver seemed to say that the possibility of death was not foremost among his considerations. So... she would start at the beginning.

"I was alone at the ruins late at night." Her eyes begged that, seeing as she herself had kept this delicate secret, they might not apprise her family of this unwise journey. "She came upon me so silently that I did not know that she was there until she spoke. She was very tall and pale, with a radiant sort of beauty I'd never before seen. Her hair was long and auburn, and her eyes... like cut jade. She wore a dress I can only imagine was nearly a decade old, and it was tattered and patched, much too short for her. We conversed..." She trailed off, squinting into the middle distance in order to recall the details of that night's meeting. She had gone over it in her head so many times it was carved into her brain like in stone.

"She said that she was not from the village. She said that her family traveled and, em -- that when she came of age, she left them to travel on her own. I was concerned for her, naturally. I told her of the monsters. She said that she knew them; that it was indeed due to one that she could not be with her love." She blushed, pausing to say, "I suppose that she meant you, Mr. Cleaver, before continuing: "She said that she could not come to village because a monster would follow her and put us in danger, though she was safe from them while she stayed in the woods. I asked her, then, about the beasts. She said... she said -- said that they were cursed. Wolves in the day but something else by night. She said that some enjoy thirsting for human blood, but some hate it. At night, she said, they can speak and are... cunning. Like humans, I think she said. But they are still beasts."

What came next? Oh yes. This was the part that had most puzzled her at the time. Now she was beginning to wonder if she had been given a riddle. "She said that the beast that follows her cannot kill her without killing itself, and that she herself must die if she slayed it, and therefore they are bonded. Involuntarily. Yet she said that she knew of no others that were bonded in such a way. She swore that she would protect me from any beasts that might seek to harm me, even her own. And then..."

Kitty wove the fingers of her right hand into her own hair absently, her eyes distant. "And then she asked about you, Mr. Cleaver. By name. She said that she knew you from long ago, and her face -- so full of pain and love. I asked her name. She said..." How monumental a moment was this, that Mr. Cleaver should learn the name of the woman he had loved tragically for years.

"Nerys."

She ran her tongue over her lip, the name feeling odd to her. So often she had repeated it in her mind. It had been her most important secret. "She asked for me to tell you that she was well and had not forgotten you. And then she faded away into the dark as if she'd never been there, but she said that she would follow me and protect me through the woods as I journeyed home -- she said 'Do not look back'. She said that I would neither see nor hear her, but she would be there, and would lead me only to the edge of the woods. She said that she knew about the cats -- she even called them Guardians!"

Her composure was fading quickly. "Oh Gods! How could I not have realised? She was... she was one of them! She thirsted for my... for my..." Kitty felt faint, but she couldn't rivet her eyes from the face of the blacksmith. She had seen the pain and love on Nerys' face. Here was it's subject, and now he knew her name and he knew her nature.

[Gareth Cleaver]

Gareth was stunned. He truly did not know what to say.

"Nerys", said Gareth under his breath. What a beautiful name. It truly fit the maiden of the woods. However, Kitty was affirming his fears, Nerys really was one of the monsters who dwell in the forest. Then there was also this other monster that even had Nerys frightened. What was he thinking, wanting to know all of this? He was now torn. He wondered if he had been better off not knowing any of this. Then he made up his mind.

"M'dear young ladies, I need to speak to Nerys. I love her and I am not goin' to let some monster harm her. Kitty I will need you to tell me how to get to the ruins. I will also need both of you to promise me that you will fight the urge to accompany me or go to the ruins yourselves. Can you do that for me?"

He knew that the girls would protest. Gareth was certain that both girls fancied themselves to rather brave. Bravery has always been a trait you learn by doing and then hoping it goes well. It truly is a trait you must come upon. This was not the proving ground he wished the two young women to attend.

"I know that in your own ways you are both very brave young women, however this is not the time for you two to be brave. You two are far too young to risk your lives. Please stay home at night, your like the daughters I never had and if anything happened to you out there I would never be able to live with myself."

Gareth stared at the two young women and then downed the rest of his tea.

"Damn fine tea Rosie, thank you!"