Summer and Ships

Part 4 of A Hellrider’s Fond Musings

Come to hear another tale, have you? Sit, settle in then. Pour yourself a cup of tea while I stoke the fire and think of where to start this time.

Ah, yes. I had just come to the cottage. That alone had taken months. The heart may know something is right and good but sometimes it is the mind that needs time and urging. Ena, bless her, she never pushed. The door remained open and my place remained waiting. All I had to do was take it when I was ready.

The day came at the height of summer. I had visited so often in the time after the invite and yet I had always left to return to Rivington. This time as the weight of full summer heat settled heavy upon the gardens I sat behind the cottage and just existed.

The body and mind do not seem to know how to behave when at long last freed from shackles they may not have even known bound them. That was where I was at that moment, a ship snapped free of a mooring and set adrift on a vast, uncertain sea. It was terrifying and exhilarating and yet I felt ridiculous too. All these years and I felt like this? Preposterous, I told myself.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against a tree trunk as I turned my face to the sky. The sun warmed my skin as I let myself get lost in where I was. I could feel every blade of grass, every leaf of clover under my fingers as they settled on the ground beside me. The lazy buzzing of bees slowed by warmth and plentiful nectar was pleasant, a peaceful sound shot through with distant birdsong and the far off laughter of children as they played. An occasional nicker sounded from my old destrier as he grazed on the far side of the cottage, a sign he was well and safe.

It was the smells that eased tension from my shoulders, little by little. Flowers, so many flowers. Had there always been so many flowers? I was learning all of their names now and better still, their scents. Roses and lilies, lavender, lilacs, honeysuckle, hyacinth… my favorite is still apple blossoms though. It was honeysuckle and lavender that drifted around me that day, sweet and comforting. I was learning about trees too. Cedars, pines, maples, oaks, birches, willows, each so different yet so beautiful and so taken for granted by me for too long. Pines and maples offered me shelter this day, the piercing scent of pine thankfully muted.

Isn’t it a wonder how just feeling the world around you, immersing yourself in every detail of sight, of scent, of sound and touch can make you feel so alive yet so at peace? I opened my eyes, suddenly certain I had found where I needed to be, no matter how I feared the change that would come with it. I was ready to be free of my mooring. I was ready to be.

 I heard her before I saw her. She always snapped branches or crunched leaves underfoot to make sure I would not be surprised. I turned where I sat to greet her and she held a finger to her lips. Since I had moved away from the tree I sat under she knelt behind me and untied my hair. I chuckled but said nothing as I closed my eyes once more while she combed her fingers through my hair and began working into braids that befitted an elven gentleman not a cragged tiefling. Truth be told, I adored when she did this. There is a profound tenderness to intimacies like this that go beyond contact. The trust and care, the respect and acceptance, it felt as sweet as summer.

I knew when she was done by the embrace she offered, her arms slid around my neck from behind as she pressed her cheek carefully to mine then let go. I stayed still, for risking a nick from my horns was not something I wished for her. She got up and sat beside me to bask in the sun.

“You truly wish me to stay?”

She turned a sidelong glance my way when I asked the question, a brow arched with subtle amusement. She said nothing, though.

“I think I’m ready.”

That made her smile as she nodded, just once. How I loved when she smiled. She got to her feet and held out a hand in offer to help me up. I chuckled and accepted her hand though I needed little assistance. The tug drew her towards me and left us bumping together once I was on my feet, my arms instinctively around her to help steady her against my chest as she looked up at me.

I’ve told you about her eyes before, I know, and I likely will again. That blue, with that delicate ring of silver in the center, it was so pure. That knowing that lived in her, it shone so clearly through them. That trusting gaze, warmed with humor yet tinged with sorrow, and I wanted to stare into it forever. I brushed back a tendril of hair from her brow as she looked up at me, possessed by a yearning that scared me more than any monster I had before faced. My fingers curled under her chin of their own accord, under the command of something other than myself, but when she answered the touch by lifting her chin in encouragement I stepped away.

It probably hurt her when I stepped away. She’d never say so but how could it not? I could not breathe as I turned away and clutched my chest. I closed my eyes and focused on the flowers.

Lavender, honeysuckle…

She stepped up behind me and hugged me gently. Her cheek rested between my shoulder blades as I trembled and fought for air, for clarity, for a sign from a god.

Lavender, honeysuckle, apple blossoms, cedar and wood smoke. Her.

“This might be a mistake,” I did not open my eyes as I spoke.

She said nothing. She only listened.

“Don’t let me ruin your life, Ena.”

Her arms tightened but she held her tongue still. I felt her press a kiss to my back through my shirt. It broke something in me. That ship, free of its mooring, could be as dangerous as a carelessly wielded sledgehammer or as harmless as a childhood toy in a tub. Which was I going to be?

“I’ll go work on supper.”

She gently let me go, the feel of her fingers as she brushed my hips as searing as flame. I held a hand to my chest again and willed my heart to slow. I did not dare look back at her, too cowardly as I feared seeing pain or regret on features I was so fond of.

“I’ll be here, when you’re ready.”

Her soft words, her steady and patient voice, I did not know what to say. I lowered my head as I nodded and left to return to the cottage.

Now, I could go on and on telling you the boring details of what I cooked and what else that night entailed but I think this time I will spare you that. This time I will leave you to consider how frightening vulnerability is when you do not feel worthy. What becomes of a ship finally free of the wrong mooring and left alone at sea? Maybe we’ll explore that another day.