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Author Topic: A Time To Heal Chapter 15  (Read 3392 times)

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Offline Evie

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A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« on: November 05, 2010, 11:12:28 pm »
Chapter Fifteen

   February 20, 1133
   Rhemuth Castle, Duke of Cassan’s apartments


   Sir Jass stood at attention before the Duchess of Cassan.  “Your Grace, the Duke informs me that Ballymar Castle is now as fully secure as we can make it.  However, if you wish to remain in Rhemuth….”  His voice trailed off as Mirjana shook her head vehemently.

   “No.  We shall return home.”  She gave him a faint smile.  “Oh, I’d love to stay here longer, but I cannot allow the people of Cassan to think that they can scare me away permanently.  Besides, we shall be returning to Rhemuth soon enough, shan’t we?”

   “For Easter Court just over a month from now, yes, my lady.”

   “And Caoilainn hasn’t had any more troubling premonitions.  At least none that she’s mentioned to me.”

   “She’s mentioned none to me either.”  Jass paused.  “By the by, my lady, the true reason for your sudden departure from Ballymar is not commonly known.  Since the only eyewitnesses to Lord Deasun's treachery besides myself, the Duke, and Ailidh were the two tower guards, and since His Grace has managed to ascertain the loyalty of the rest of Lord Deveril's household beyond doubt, he has allowed the misconception to continue that Deasun simply either slipped or jumped off the Castle wall.  That was the initial rumor that spread among the staff when his body was retrieved, and His Grace thinks it best to allow that impression to remain, to avoid further pain and shame falling upon Deveril's family were it to become more widely known that he died attempting treason against Your Grace.  And Deasun was known to have seasons of despondency, so few seemed surprised that he died in such a way.”

    Mirjana stared into the fire for a few moments.  At last she looked back up at Jass with a sad, resigned smile.  “And my lord husband thinks it better that poor Lord Deasun be thought a suicide, his soul in eternal peril, rather than be thought a traitor or, worse, a martyred hero whose actions are to be emulated until someone manages to succeed in my removal?”  She sighed.  “If the Duke my lord thinks it best to allow the rumor to stand, I shall do as he thinks best.   Such a belief can hardly hurt Lord Deasun further at this point, and if it helps to ease his family's suffering, I should hardly wish to deprive them of that solace.”  Mirjana closed her eyes, feeling heartsick.  “Can we head back home in the morning, then, once the children are awake and have broken the night’s fast?”

   He nodded.  “I’ll make the necessary preparations, Your Grace.”  He bowed, turning to leave, but her soft voice stopped him.

   “Sir Jass?”

   “Yes, Your Grace?”

   “Is there a reason you only address me in your most correct Court dialect?”  

   Jass looked startled.  “I—well, yes, my lady!  So you can understand me more easily.”  He shrugged self-consciously.  “The Border dialects can be difficult to make out for folk who aren't used to it.”

   She gave him a slight smile.  “I see.  I do appreciate your thoughtfulness and all your efforts on my behalf.  However, my lord, am I not the Duchess of Cassan now?”

   His bewilderment grew.  “Aye...Yes, Your Grace!  Of course you are.”

   “Sir Jass, I can never become truly of Cassan, or of your Borders, if I do not learn how to more fully adapt to your culture.  And that includes your language.  Please feel free to speak to me in the same manner that you would speak to my lord husband, at least when we are not required to be formal.  I shall never learn to understand your dialect if I am not more frequently exposed to it.”  She grinned.  “You cannot possibly be more incomprehensible to me than Caoilainn is.”

   Jass laughed.  “Nay, Yer Grace, mayhap no', but doubtless I gie her a run for her money.”  He bowed once more.  “As ye wish, m'lady.  We'll have ye talkin' like a Transha lass in nae time.”

   Her smile grew.  “I'll settle for being able to understand the average Transha lass.  I'm not expecting you to work a miracle!”  She studied him a long moment.  “Would you convey a message to Lady Ailidh for me?”

   “Aye, m'lady.”

   “Please tell her that I would count it a great honor if you both would call me by my given name in private.  I have only a few friends here, and fewer in Cassan.  I greatly value the ones I do have.”

   Jass bowed deeply.  “Th' honor is ours, Mirjana.”

#

   February 21
   Ballymar Castle, Cassan


   Dhugal drew his wife into his embrace, his lips brushing her veiled hair.  “I've missed you, sweeting.”  His amber eyes darkened with concern as he studied her tired expression.  “Have you been well?”

   Mirjana shrugged.  “I've not slept too well of late, but other than that, I am well.” She offered up a smile.  “Our baby flourishes.”

   “I'm glad, but I wish you were better rested.  Is it just the babe disturbing your sleep, or have you had unsettling dreams?”

   “A little of both,” she told him, attempting nonchalance.  “Do not fret, my lord.  I am at least alive to have unsettling dreams.”

   Dhugal drew back slightly, a little self-conscious as the two MacArdry retainers brought their children through the Transfer Portal.  Duncan Michael ran forward to hug his father's legs.  The Duke grinned, disengaging from Mirjana to crouch down and sweep his son into his arms.

   Mikhail held back, a shy wistfulness in his eyes.  Dhugal looked up, seeing the boy.  He beckoned him forward to wrap an arm around his shoulders also.  “Hello, lad.  And how was your visit to Rhemuth?”

   The boy's face lit up.  “I saw the whole Castle from up above, and we visited the horses, and I've got a knight!  See?”  He held up a carved wooden knight.

   “So I see!”  Dhugal admired Mikhail's new toy.  “And does he have a name?”

   “Oh, yes!  He's Sir Brendan.  The Earl of Marley gave him to me,” Mikhail proclaimed proudly.

   The Duke suppressed a grin.  “'Sir Brendan,' is he?  Well, I'm sure the real Brendan must be quite flattered, especially since you've granted him the accolade three years ahead of time.”

   “Well, he shall be a knight someday!” Mikhail assured him.  “And so will I.  I'm going to be a hero!”

   “Ah.  I see.  That's good; Gwynedd needs more heroes.”  Dhugal looked up at the boy's mother, a twinkle in his eyes.  “I can see you've had a very eventful week.  I'm looking forward to hearing all about it.”

   Ailidh popped back out briefly to bring Duncan McLain through the Transfer Portal as well, since he had not visited his former home in the brief months since it was constructed and therefore wasn't familiar with its signature yet.   The Duke welcomed his father warmly.

   “Lord Deveril's family will be very comforted to see you, Father.”  He gave the bishop a rueful grin. “For that matter, so am I!”

#

   February 22
   Ballymar Castle nursery


   Ailidh peeked in on the ducal nursery just after sunrise.  The children were still sound asleep.  She replaced the blanket that Ciaran had kicked off during the night and gave the room a quick visual sweep.  All looked to be in order.

   Glancing down at the closest trundle, she spotted Mikhail, his right hand clutching his brand-new wooden knight close to his chest.  She smiled, crouching to take a closer look at the crudely painted device on the carved shield.  The lad had been covered with paint when his mother had discovered him late the night before, falling asleep over her paint box which he had somehow managed to smuggle into the nursery.  It had been an hour’s work to scrub him down thoroughly after, and the toy had been set aside to dry.  He must have awakened sometime during the early morning hours to retrieve it.

   Ailidh took a closer look at the shield device.  Yes, it was as she'd suspected—Mikhail had painted an unskilled but recognizable depiction of the Marley arms.  She sighed.  She could hardly fault the lad for his newfound devotion to the young Earl of Marley, but there were also the feelings of the Cassani members of the Duke's household to consider.  Not all of them would be so understanding of their Duke's new Furstán stepson having a sudden fascination with Bran Coris's heir.

#

   February 23
   Ballymar Castle parklands
   

   Séamidh sat on one of the garden benches in the early afternoon sun, his warm woolen plaid wrapped around both himself and Caoilainn, snuggled into his side for warmth.  His strong arm encircled her waist, pulling her closer to him.

   “You look sleepy,” he observed as she laid her head against his shoulder, her eyes drifting shut momentarily.  “Are you resting any better than you were before, when you were having all those visions about Her Grace?”

   The duchess’s tiring maid shrugged.  “I’m no’ havin’ nightmares anymore, if tha’s wha’ ye mean,” she told him, “though I cannae say I’m restin’ much better for a’ tha’.  I’ve had th’ oddest dream, an’ it’s happened twice now, so I’m sure it means somethin’, but I dinnae know wha’.”  She opened her eyes again, turning slightly to look up at her suitor.  “It’s like Her Grace is walkin’ along a dark road—th’ dream’s sae dark, I can hardly even see her in it—an’ after a bit she gets tae a fork in th’ road.  One way leads downward intae more darkness, an’ th’ other leads through a ragin’ fire.”  She shrugged.  “It’s no’ th’ sort o’ dream tha’s meant tae be taken literal, though, an’ I dinnae know wha’ it means for her.  I suppose it’s a choice ahead or summat o’ th’ sort, but blimey if I know wha’.”

   Séamidh mused on the girl’s dream for a moment.  “Which path does she end up choosing?” he asked.

   Caoilainn shook her head.  “Both.  I mean, th’ first time I dreamt it, she took th’ first path, and got swallowed up in darkness sae deep she never came back out.  But th’ second time, she walked straight intae th’ fire.  I worried she was goin’ tae burn up.  But she got through it, albeit a bit singed an’ blistered, an’ after tha’ her path went upwards intae th’ light.”  She fingered the edge of his plaid.  “I reckon it means she’s go’ a tough choice ahead o’ her, an’ it’s no’ set which way she’ll gae.  But I cannae tell what sort o’ choice it be.”

   The duke’s squire nodded.  “Have you told her about the dream yet?”

   “Oh, aye!  An’ th’ Duke an’ Sir Jass as well, as I tell ‘em all my visions, for what tha’s worth.”  A shadow crossed her features.  “I just wish I could see somethin’ tha’s actually helpful.”

   He gave her waist a squeeze.  “Well, it could be that just knowing she has that sort of decision ahead of her might be helpful somehow, even if you can’t see how just yet.”  Seamidh glanced at the pretty maid in his arms.  “So, what was Deryni travel like?”

   Caoilainn laughed.  “It was right queer!  One moment we were standin' in tha' little room off th' undercroft here in Cassan, waitin' for th' Duke tae come back tae say we could gae through.  Then Lady Ailidh started pokin' about in me mind an' tickled it somethin' fierce, an' th' next moment there was this odd lurch an' everythin' went dark for a wee bit, like I was about to swoon, but I dinnae.  Instead, I found meself in this cozy room—some sort o' library, I think it was—an' there was a priest there waitin' tae lead us though some sort o' magic door tha' also tickled inside me head, an' it just disappeared after we come through it.”  She grinned.  “I know, ye probably think I'm barkin' mad, but tha's wha' it was like.  But I suppose it was a' right.  Better than a long trip on a horse, at any rate.  I ain't never sat a horse, an' bein' jounced about in a carriage for days doesnae sound like much fun.”

   Seamidh looked startled.  “You've never been on a horse?”

   Caoilainn raised an eyebrow at him.  “Am I dressed like some fine lady?  Nay, I havenae sat a horse, nor a pony neither!  Me own grandpapa marched off tae war on his own two feet, on account o' his lord dinnae hae enough beasts tae spare for a’ th' men tae ride.  An' as for me da....”  She gave a derisive snort.  “If he had two coins tae rub together, he spent it on drink or doxies, damn his wastrel hide, wi’ hardly any left tae spare for his wife an’ bairns, far less a beast tae feed!”  She eyed her suitor.  “If ye're courtin' me serious, Seamidh, ye need tae know I'll no' stand for a man wha cannae keep his pocket filled, his tankard dry, an' his trews up, ye hear?”

   His lips twitched.  “Will you settle for a man who can keep his pocket filled, his tankard only occasionally refilled, and his trews up until he gets home to his wife?”

   “I'm serious, Seamidh!”  Despite her indignant tone, she giggled slightly.

   “Aye, so am I!”  His eyes twinkled down at her.  “I'll not wrong you, Caoilainn lass.  But I like an ale or two at the end of a day, and I'm hoping for a warm wife to come home to, not a nun.”  He grinned.  “And if you want to see what Ballymar looks like on horseback, maybe I can take you out riding on your next half-day.  If you'll have me, you'll be a knight's lady someday, after all, so it's time you learned something of horses.”

   The girl looked leery.  “I dinnae think so.  They're rather high, an' wha' if it spooks?”

   “You can hold me tight around the waist, then, and we'll go slowly.  Trust me?”

   She considered him a long moment.  “I suppose.”

   He leaned in to kiss her.  “That's my brave lass.”
#

   February 25
   Ballymar Castle solar

   
   Dhugal turned the wooden knight in his hands, a look of consternation on his face, before glancing back at Mikhail.  “I like the blue and gold colors,” he began, carefully keeping his voice even.  “Those are meant to represent Brendan, aye?”

   “Yes, Father McLain.”

   The Duke's lips twitched slightly at the boy's latest attempt to find a form of address for his new step-father that he was comfortable with.  At least he was no longer using the formal title 'Your Grace' all the time now, though he hadn't brought himself to use Duncan Michael's much more casual 'Da' either.  Unfortunately this latest form of address made him sound rather priestly, which was a bit jarring considering that he'd just spent the morning awakening the boy's mother in a manner most unfitting for clergy.  He'd have to see if he could steer the boy into trying some other form of address for him that wouldn't make him sound like some reprobate priest!

   But there were more urgent matters to deal with at the moment.  “I can understand that you are wishing to honor the present Earl of Marley.  Brendan is a fine man; I've known him since he was a page in Duke Alaric's service.  But there's a problem with using the Marley arms on your knight's shield, son.”

   Mikhail's face grew mutinous, the young features beginning to scowl.  “But he's Sir Brendan!  That's what he'd carry!”

   “Aye, it is, if this were the real Brendan,” Dhugal agreed.  “But see, that's part of the problem right there.  The Marley arms belong to Brendan Coris now, and to him alone.  No one else has the right to wear them save for the Earl of Marley.”  An unwelcome thought occurred to him.  “Did you ask Lord Brendan if you could use his arms on your knight's shield?”

   Mikhail looked downcast.  “No, my lord father.”

   Dhugal suppressed a sigh of relief.  “Well, then, there's nothing at all wrong with honoring Brendan by painting your knight in his colors, just so long as you don't also have him carrying the Marley shield.”  He paused, weighing the best way to explain the problem to the young boy.  “You see, son, it's not simply the young Earl who might be offended.  I'm sure Brendan would be flattered by your desire to pattern your wooden knight more fully after him.  But do you know who once bore those particular arms before Brendan did?”

   Mikhail looked confused.  “No.”

   “Well, he inherited his title in just the same way that Duncan Michael will someday inherit mine.  When you spent the day with Earl Brendan, did you two talk about his papa?”

   “Oh.”  The brown eyes looked troubled.  “A little bit.  His papa did bad things too.”

   Dhugal nodded.  “Yes.  The late Earl of Marley—Bran Coris, not his son Brendan—did some very bad things, and unfortunately he did many of them to the fighting men of Cassan and of Kierney.  A great many families here in Cassan lost their papas and grandpapas and husbands and brothers because of what Bran Coris did when he was bearing those Marley arms.  So, you see, some of those people might not understand that it's Brendan you're wishing to honor by painting your knight that way.  They'll only see the shield of Marley, and it will bring back bad memories.  And I know you wouldn't wish to make anyone feel bad, would you?”

   The boy's lower lip jutted out slightly, but he shook his head.

   “Here's what I think you should do,” Dhugal said, wrapping a comforting arm around the boy.  “Keep the blue and gold colors for your knight's clothing, if you wish.  When Brendan sees it, he'll know you mean to honor him, and you'll know also, even if not everyone does.  There might come a time someday, once Brendan has become better known for his own loyalty to King and Kingdom, when the Marley arms will be more welcome in Cassan again and not associated any longer with his father's treachery.   But for now, why don't you paint your knight's shield in Cassan's colors?”  He smiled.  “We also use blue as our dominant color, so it will go quite nicely with 'Sir Brendan's' surcoat and armor.  And while painting my own Ducal arms on it wouldn't be technically correct either, I'm sure seeing the roses and the sleeping lion of Cassan on your knight's shield would bring a smile to our loyal Cassani armsmen's faces.”  He ruffled the boy's hair.  “Especially if you're planning to be a hero in my service someday.”

   Mikhail thought about the idea.  “I don't know how to paint a lion,” he finally said.

   “That's all right.  I could help you with that part,” the Duke offered.

   Mikhail thought some more.  “Does it have to have roses on it? They're a bit girly.”

   Dhugal forced back a grin.  “No, it needn't have roses on it.”

   Mikhail nodded.  “That's all right then, I suppose.”  He gave his toy a resigned sigh.  “I don't guess Sir Brendan would mind a sleeping lion, as long as it's a boy.  Girls can't go to war, you know.”

#

   March 5
   Ballymar Castle Great Hall

   
   “Your Grace, the dowager duchess Margaret was stricken by some sort of an apoplexy yesterday evening.  She is weakened by a paralysis on one side of her face and body, but seemed stable enough when I started my journey here, my lord.  Her steward thought you ought to be informed.”

   Dhugal nodded gravely at the messenger from Kierney.  “Rightly so.”  He glanced at Mirjana.  “I should go check on her.”

   His Duchess nodded.  “Yes.  And you should probably bring her back here after, if she is willing and if it's safe to move her. Such paralytic fits sometimes happen in series, so it would be best if she could be closer by for a while until we're sure she'll not suffer a relapse.”  She frowned in thought.  “Should I order a carriage readied?”

   “No, I'll make faster time without one.  She has one in Kierney that I've reserved for her use; we can use that one if she's willing to be brought back here.”

   “Will you be setting forth tonight or in the morning?” his wife asked.  

   Dhugal considered the question.  The sun had set an hour before, and the dangers of travel grew tenfold during the night hours.  “You say Duchess Margaret's condition had stabilized before you left Kierney?” he asked the messenger, who nodded in affirmation.  “All right, then; if we leave in the morning, that will give my retinue a bit more time to make ready, and...Oh, damn!”  The duke glanced at his duchess, then turned to the messenger.  “I will have need of your further services, I'm afraid.  I need you to deliver a message to our seneschal, who is currently at his own manor at Grangegaeth.  Fortunately, you shan’t have to ride far in the dark; you should be able to make it there in just under an hour.   I’ll arrange for you to have a fresh horse if you require one.  Wait here.”  He stood, glancing at Mirjana and signaling her to follow him into the small withdrawing room close by their dais.

   Closing the door firmly behind them, he took her hands in his.  “I shall have to send to Grangegaeth for either Deveril or Daivi to take charge of matters here in my absence.  I apologize, Mirjana; I hope you understand this is not due to any lack of trust or faith in you on my part.”

   Her ebony lashes swept downwards.  “I understand, my lord.  Duchess Richenda warned me that I must not expect otherwise, under our circumstances, and Lord Deasun's recent actions against me have made it quite clear how many of our people still feel about me.  Do as you must.”

   “Mirjana....I'm sure they won't hold themselves against you forever.  I shall give you your rightful due as my Duchess of Cassan as soon as that becomes possible.”

   She lifted her clear green gaze to his.  “I believe that you mean that.  It is enough for me that you trust me, even if others do not.”

   Dhugal lifted her hands to his lips, planting a kiss on each set of fingertips.  “Thank you for understanding.  I need to go up and write that message to Deveril.  Would you please go back out and tell the messenger from Kierney that I shall have it ready for him directly?”

   “I shall, my lord.”

#


   March 6
   Ballymar Castle inner bailey


   “Will you be gone long, Father?”  Mikhail looked up at the Duke his stepfather, whom he’d followed out to the stables once Dhugal had taken his leave of the children after breakfast.

   Dhugal breathed an inner sigh of relief, glad to have been demoted from priestly status.  “That all depends on what I discover when I arrive at Kierney, son.  But I hope to return here within the week, assuming all goes well.”

   His stepson looked relieved.  “Then you’ll be back in time for St. Joseph’s Day?”

   “Oh, certainly!  That’s not until mid-month.  The nineteenth, I believe.  Why?”

   Mikhail gave him a sunny grin.  “Because I’ll be five on St. Joseph’s Day!”

   “Ah, will you now?”  Dhugal smiled.  “Well, I shall have to think of some suitable way to celebrate such an important birthday, then.  You’ll have half a decade of years behind you, after all.”

   The boy looked puzzled.  “What’s a decade?”

   Dhugal chuckled.  “Ten years.  You’ll be half of ten.”

   Mikhail tilted his head consideringly.  “I shall, shan’t I?  Ten’s an awful lot.”

   Dhugal grinned.  “It is, isn’t it?  And just think, in just five years after that, you’ll be fifteen and a man grown, the same age that your friend the Earl of Marley is now, only by then of course he’ll have been ‘Sir Brendan’ in truth for quite some time.  And while you’ll just be entering young manhood, he’ll already have achieved a quarter of a century.  That’s my age.”

   The lad looked awestruck.  “That’s old!

   Dhugal laughed.  “Oh, not so very old as all that.”  He bent to embrace the child.  “Be a good lad for your mother, aye?”

   “Aye, Father.”

   “And you’ll keep a good eye on Duncan Michael and Trina for me, I hope?”

   Mikhail snorted.  “Yes, but Trina doesn’t do much yet except for crawl about and chew on her coral bauble.”

   “Then that should make your life easy, now shouldn’t it?”  Dhugal winked at him and stood, motioning to his groom.  The man led a saddled horse over to the Duke, who mounted, then looked over his shoulder at the small retinue assembled to accompany him to Kierney.  He glanced back down at the young lad.  “Go on back inside now, son, before you catch a chill.  I’ll see you in a week’s time, if not before.”

   “Aye, Father!”  Mikhail smiled happily, sketching him a bow before scurrying back into the Great Hall.  The Duke chuckled and led his men past the gatehouse and onto the road for Kierney.

#

   March 7
   Ballymar Castle


   Caoilainn woke up with a sudden start, her cheeks damp and her pillow drenched with tears.  She had the vaguest fleeting impression of danger, darkness or flames—that agonizing choice again—and a sense of suffocation as she came up flailing from the dream, like a swimmer nearly swept away by a fierce undertow gasping fiercely for breath.  But once she gained full wakefulness, she could remember no more of the vision.  She sobbed in helpless fury until she was spent, then drifted off again, her last waking thought being a hope that the vision would return in some more coherent form, but instead she knew nothing more until the morning light.
  

Chapter 16:  http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=597.0
« Last Edit: January 10, 2011, 05:46:14 pm by Evie »
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Offline Alkari

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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #1 on: November 05, 2010, 11:46:50 pm »
Quote
She eyed her suitor.  “If ye're courtin' me serious, Seamidh, ye need tae know I'll no' stand for a man wha cannae keep his pocket filled, his tankard dry, an' his trews up, ye hear?”

   His lips twitched.  “Will you settle for a man who can keep his pocket filled, his tankard only occasionally refilled, and his trews up until he gets home to his wife?” 

Love it.  And I look forward to her first time on a horse - naturally, she will find it absolutely necessary to hang on to Seamidh very tightly indeed.   

Quote
Mikhail thought some more.  “Does it have to have roses on it? They're a bit girly.”

Dhugal forced back a grin.  “No, it needn't have roses on it.”

Mikhail nodded.  “That's all right then, I suppose.”  He gave his toy a resigned sigh.  “I don't guess Sir Brendan would mind a sleeping lion, as long as it's a boy.  Girls can't go to war, you know.”
ROFL.  A most suitable compromise all round, and one that is sure to amuse all the adults.  Brendan and Sir Knight would approve!  :)

Looks like your USB drive worked, so glad we have had the new chapter quickly.

Offline Evie

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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #2 on: November 05, 2010, 11:57:26 pm »
Looks like your USB drive worked, so glad we have had the new chapter quickly.

Oh, trust me, I'm glad too!  The thought of having to reconstruct this chapter and the beginning of the next one from memory was rather daunting.   :D

"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Offline AnnieUK

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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #3 on: November 06, 2010, 03:34:10 am »
Hopefully Brendan will be able to demonstrate to all that he is a good and loyal servant of the king very soon, and become an even more suitable role model for young Mikael.

And "yay!" that the drive suffered no ill effects from a night camping out.

Offline Evie

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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #4 on: November 06, 2010, 02:40:35 pm »
Hopefully Brendan will be able to demonstrate to all that he is a good and loyal servant of the king very soon, and become an even more suitable role model for young Mikael.

Saving the King's life during the ride up to the Hort of Orsal's Court in 1128 would have certainly helped in that regard, though this being in the days centuries before anything like CNN News, word of Brendan's heroic efforts would be better known in Rhemuth than in the farther-flung reaches of the Kingdom like Cassan.  And, of course, with the local prejudices against the Coris name and the Marley title, such rumors might well have been dismissed by many as mere hearsay, inconsistent with their own biases against Bran Coris and therefore ignored or outright denied.  Those closer to the Duke, of course, would come to believe in Brendan's loyalty--after all, hard to argue against the boy's heroic actions when their own Duke was an eyewitness--but not everyone in Cassan is in the Duke's inner circle, or even in his circle of vague acquaintances, so I think it's safe to say that it will take several such actions on Brendan's part before the Coris/Marley name is fully restored to honor even in the most outlying reaches of Cassan.

Quote
And "yay!" that the drive suffered no ill effects from a night camping out.

Well, the little camouflage pup-tent and the itsy bitsy bonfire probably helped keep it snug and dry, though I'm baffled at how it managed to come up with that small skillet, the tiny can of Beanie-Weenies, and that ridiculously teensy can opener....    ;) ;D
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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #5 on: November 06, 2010, 02:49:50 pm »
Beanie-Weenies?  You cannot be serious!

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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #6 on: November 06, 2010, 03:16:18 pm »
Beanie-Weenies?  You cannot be serious!

Hey, can I help it if my USB drive has strange dietary habits?   ;D
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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #7 on: November 06, 2010, 03:42:51 pm »
No, I meant, you seriously have food over there called beanie-weenies?  Sometimes I despair...

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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #8 on: November 06, 2010, 04:16:06 pm »
Yes, we seriously have food called Beanie-Weenies.  It's beans and cut-up hot dogs.  Not exactly health food, but it does exist.
"If having a soul means being able to feel love, loyalty, and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans."

James Herriot (James Alfred "Alfie" Wight), when a human client asked him if animals have souls.  (I don't remember in which book the story originally appeared.)

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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #9 on: November 06, 2010, 04:22:17 pm »
The alarming thing is not just the name, but that it actually seems to come "as" a regular and accepted tinned food - not something you'd just throw together yourself at home!   :D    But then, if you can actually get canned pumpkin, I shouldn't be surprised ... ;)
« Last Edit: November 06, 2010, 04:27:48 pm by Alkari »

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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #10 on: November 06, 2010, 07:06:15 pm »


Quote


Well, the little camouflage pup-tent and the itsy bitsy bonfire probably helped keep it snug and dry, though I'm baffled at how it managed to come up with that small skillet, the tiny can of Beanie-Weenies, and that ridiculously teensy can opener....    ;) ;D
And I suppose its tiny six pack of beer was from a micro-micro-micro brewery?   :D ;)
 Melissa
You can have a sound mind in a healthy body--Or you can be a nanonovelist!

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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #11 on: November 06, 2010, 07:14:42 pm »
It had a six-pack of beer? No wonder it didn't come in for the night!    :D

I am, of course, chortling at so much shock and dismay over the mere thought of canned "Beanie-Weenies" coming from a woman who hails from the land of fried pizza and fried Marathon candy bars!   ;D
« Last Edit: November 06, 2010, 10:12:53 pm by Evie »
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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #12 on: November 06, 2010, 10:15:10 pm »
The alarming thing is not just the name, but that it actually seems to come "as" a regular and accepted tinned food - not something you'd just throw together yourself at home!   :D    But then, if you can actually get canned pumpkin, I shouldn't be surprised ... ;)

I'm not as partial to canned pumpkin.  You need some seriously good tin-snips to carve those jack-o-lantern faces in those cans....   ;)
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
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Offline derynifanatic64

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Re: A Time To Heal Chapter 15
« Reply #13 on: November 08, 2010, 06:06:35 pm »
And with Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up, how about eggnog cheesecake?  I saw this in a dessert catalog I received in the mail.

Seamidh and Caoilainn's budding romance appears to be progressing nicely.



« Last Edit: November 08, 2010, 06:10:10 pm by derynifanatic64 »
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