Where Faeries Live Still ...

 

Pen name:  Pittwitch

Story:  Where Faeries Live Still

Prompt:  Season

Fic type:  FlashFic, up to 1,000 words

Warnings: none this chapter

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“We have much to finish before the season changes,” Aine observed tiredly as she dusted her hands on her white apron, handing the jar to the novice.  The girl nodded solemnly, taking the jar with careful hands and moving towards the shelves.    “So much to learn, to prepare, to complete,” she continued , softly, almost speaking only for herself.  She paused and studied Connor’s still form at her hearth.  She smiled at his back, secretly pleased with his accomplishments of late.

Connor studiously gazed into the flames, avoiding eye contact with his Mistress all while focusing his true attention solely on her.  His brow wrinkled in concern, feeling her eyes upon him.  He did not dare a glance, yet.

“You are free to return home,” she dismissed the younger girl.  Connor started slightly before regaining control, and his Mistress noticed with displeasure, a grimace ghosted across her weary features.

“Thank you, Mistress Aine.  My parents will be so happy!”  The lucky girl nearly laughed in her giddiness, barely containing her dancing feet as she scurried around the kitchen to finish her chores.

“You are quite welcome, young one.  Return on the morn after the full moon,” Aine added with a smile as she removed her apron to hang it on the hand-bent hook near the door.  “Connor, saddle her pony and yours,” she ordered tiredly. 

“Yes, Mistress!” he replied eagerly, moving instantly for the door. 

Aine smiled as he obeyed without question.  Still, Connor had progressed so nicely since the Yule.  Small tears formed in her eyes.  Hastily, she brushed them away on the back of her sleeve, chiding herself as she did, “Now is’n the time to go soft, Ainerin.” 

She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, reining in her emotions before either her future sister in law or her pet saw her weakness.  She moved to the large sink, and dipped her hands into the wash water, removing all remnants of her days’ work.  She splashed some of the water on her face, patting it dry just as her novitiate skittered back, her small bag already packed for the short journey.

“Remember what you have learned, child,” Aine reminded her, grasping her face in her now cold hands.  “Practice with your parents just as you always have.  I am proud of how well you study,” she offered as rare praise. 

The novice nodded and Aine pushed her towards the door.  “Go now. Be quick.  Send Connor back tonight, if the weather holds!”

“Will you not bid him goodbye?”  Brynda asked, surprised.

Aine chuckled.  “He’s not leaving, merely escorting you home.”

“Aye, Mistress Aine,”  Brynda replied embarrassed by her apparent mistake.

“Child,” Aine began, “Connor and I do not need to be attached at all times.  You will need to learn to be stronger as well.  Your marriage is not for undying love of poets.  My brother can be a harsh, even horrible man to live with.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she answered, eyes downcast.

“It is, however, my fondest hope, that you will be able to drag some love into my brother’s life.  He’s become so involved in the new politics and religion that I fear for his sanity.”

“I know, Mistress.  I will do my best,” Brynda vowed, subdued.

Connor called from outside, “The horses are ready!”

“Go now.  Enjoy your freedom these next few days.  I will make you work extra hard to make up for the time.”  Aine pulled open the heavy door,  allowing the cold winter air to invade the warmth of her cottage.  She shivered.

“By your leave, Mistress,” she curtsied and a wide grin graced her face as she swept out the door. 

Aine watched, satisfied, as Connor assisted Brynda with mounting the solid looking little bay that she rode.   He made sure his charge was well seated before he looked up to his Mistress for approval.  Their eyes met across the open yard.  Aine smiled warmly at him, showering him with unspoken praise.  He beamed back at her, overjoyed with her approval. 

Gracefully, he swung himself into the saddle, and with a nod from Aine, he spurred his pony towards the trail that would lead them directly back to Brynda’s first home. 

Aine offered a prayer for safe travels, and a greedy thought for a speedy return of her pet, alone, finally alone. 

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This started with what was going to be a Twitfic entry, but then the bunnies showed up. 

 “Much to finish before the season changes.” Aine dusted her hands on her apron, handing the jar to the novice.  The girl nodded solemnly.  (138 characters with spaces)