Getting along to protect

((First off, dear Abracadabra, don't worry about it. :) I am just going back to classes during college and will no undoubtedly be very busy over the next 15 weeks because I'm in a professional development program that requires you go out and do at least 75 hours of classroom work outside of class, so I don't mind if you are a little inactive occasionally. :) And I'd agree that the next few posts will be come smaller, so don't worry about that either.))

Meilin stared at the reins that were offered to her. She may be a lower position than him but there were some things she just didn't do. She would have said something along the lines of "I'm sorry, your grace, but we guards aren't hostlers", if she wanted to once more be outside in the stables that night. Instead she quirked an eyebrow and simply didn't take the reins. Instead she got off her own horse and followed the princess so that the young woman would not be left unattended in the forest. As she moved with her horse she pulled off the outer jerkin she wore that held the king's emblem on it which showed her to be one of the royal guards from the castle and capital. Quickly, without letting the princess out of her sights, or in some of the more inappropriate points, the horses eyes, nor out of her hearing, Meilin pulled out a plain tunic that she pulled on without revealing an inch of skin--a little skill that she had learned when training with so many men. It was only a few moments before the young woman looked nothing like a guards woman but more of a lowly bodyguard for hire, though a well equipped one.

In the few moments that she had gotten done, she had started to think of other ways that the nobles stay in the stables could be made easier. While she was off her horse, she pulled the two blankets out of her pack and put them on top so she would remember to give them to the young man. She also pulled out a warm shirt like thing that she had been told was warm no matter where one was. It was a tad bit too large for her and thus had only brought it because she got cold easily. Putting that on top of the blankets, she looked for the princess and bowed, "Whenever your highness is ready," she said politely--far more polite than she had spoken to Elyaevin the whole day. She would give the blankets to the other noble before they left.
 
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Elyaevin's arm began to grow sore when at last he pulled out the necessary cloths. When he turned to bark at the guardswoman about it, his face drained of color. She was but a speck in the copse of trees several meters away, getting dressed. His eyebrows furrowed angrily and he pursed his lips in barely bridled fury. Yanking his steed along with him, he marched towards them just as Meilin turned to Princess Isabella and appeared to speak to her. He marched towards them with purpose and planted himself between them.

"Guardswoman," he said loudly, "if we were not in haste I would strongly reprimand you for your lack of attention to my orders. As it is, I can only ask that you prove to me in future you are worthy of my mercy. Just because Her Highness – bless Her soul –" he added, inclining his head respectfully to Isabella before glaring at Meilin again, "finds the generosity of heart to spare you, means not that you should take advantage of this leniency to abandon all obedience and find yourself above your duties. May I remind you that you are a commoner?" he spluttered. He was getting worked up and calmed down his voice (it had a very unmanly tendency of cracking when he was distraught, and that simply wouldn't do). "We are both guards, but if guards was all that was needed for this expedition, a lowly employee of the state would not be here. You are here to make sure the needs of me and our great Princess are satisfied."

He exhaled, realizing suddenly that he'd gone on a rant after all. Just like he had promised himself not to. His mother had warned him about this. But now there was no going back. He shoved the reins toward her and turned back to the Princess, bowing to one knee rather awkwardly, as his left arm was still outstretched. He held to her the tunics from his pack. "When turned inside out, these should be suitable for Your Highness's trader's guise," he said, reverently keeping his eyes at the level of her feet, since it would be imprudent to face her while discussing her changing clothes! He was beginning to feel nervous about what he'd done. Whenever there was an issue with impertinent servants in his home, his mother Fraecilla had dutifully taken care of it. He hoped his actions had not been tactless, rash, ungentlemanly. Above all he hoped the snooty guardswoman had gotten a good fright. But now was no time to contemplate his vengeful feelings – he awaited the Princess's answer, ready to move on and come back to the topic at hand before nightfall.
 
Meilin was in shock, plain and simple. She had never been on the receiving end of a noblemans fury before and it truly was spectacular. Her hand itched to go out and slap the man silly for yelling so loudly when they were supposed to be in hiding. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from showing her distress, she instead glared at him. She didn't care any more if he slapped her or ordered her without food for a week, she glared her hardest glare at him with her dark eyes. And she had been considering being kind to him and giving him a commoner shirt and warm blankets for the night.

Her shoulders straightened and she stepped away from them so tat she would be out of arms length should either of them find it necessary to thwack her for her next statement. "As far as I was aware, I was assigned to protect the Princess. I am not a holster, nor do I want to take up that profession. You should know, noble man," she said, stressing the words, "that if you simply let your mounts reins fall to the ground before them that they will not wander. After all, were you not trained in--"

"Enough, guardswoman," the princess said as she picked up the clothes that the man was offering to her. Her words clipped through the air, silencing Meilin immediately. "Ely, I thank you for these garments. They will surely do what they have been intended. Guardswoman Trival, since you are ready, I request that you go and watch the side of the road for any possible intrusion. Cousin Ely I request that you stay on the other side of a tree while I change so that you may hear if anything happens that is not right."

Meilin's eyes were on the ground as she had been spoken to. She had once more lost control over her blasted tongue--to the same man. She grabbed the blanket and shirt off her saddle and placed them quickly by Ely as she performed a bow at the same time to both of them. "Of course your Highness," she said before turning and leading her horse away. Maybe, she wondered, this wasn't the best place for her to be. She knew how to treat nobles. She knew that they could get testy. She should have just shut her trap and held the reins. After all, as Elyaevin had so blatantly reminded her, Meilin as nothing more than a commoner. She pulled out a few arrows and stuck them int he ground when she found the best outlook over the road and forest. Should any try to near the woods, they would find a well placed arrow in their way. Next she pulled free her bow and attached the string. Her fingers nervously ran over the bows flesh, glad that she had brought the bow she had bought three years previous rather than the one she had been given on her birthday three weeks previous. This bow was made of some of the finest wood and had taken all the money she had saved up for four years to buy. It had taken another year for her to get it's grip right, and then another half-year before she could successfully repeat her best shots. To her, Tilth was the best bow that a woman could have.
 
((OOC: Poor Meilin … it would've sucked to be a commoner in medieval times -.- At least she'll get the show of her life when Elyaevin has to be a pauper below her status in the inn!!!! XD XD XD [insert diabolic laugh]))

Elyaevin was shocked when the guardswoman retaliated. Her glare paralyzed him with fear because it was so terribly reminiscent of his own mother. Except she'd never look at him like that! He was her most beloved son! He'd never dare anger her! He hoped she didn't see him cringe. When Isabella came to his rescue, he felt confident again, curtly nodding approval and feeling the warmth return to his cold, dampened face. A smug air collected around him as he watched the guardswoman to see her response to the reprimand.

To her credit, she was a gentleman. She did not object, managed to maintain her dignity, kept a straight face, and dutifully deposited the necessary materials beside Ely. He couldn't help casting her a glare, but it was a bit more out of jealousy than real rage. A bit. The princess's command to stand behind a tree reminded him that there was work to do. He nodded humbly and positioned himself in the wished place, not feeling even the slightest bit awkward. In the countryside, peasant women and servant ladies were half-naked all the time. On the hottest summer days they could be working out in the fields wearing nothing but a shift. No matter how hot it got in the house, though, Fraecilla never permitted the household staff to be so scantily clad – she cleverly identified it as an unnecessary and imprudent distraction for her sons and, though this was obviously left unspoken, most certainly her husband as well.

The Princess proclaimed, "I am decent. You may dress yourself now, Elyaevin," and Ely hastily turned to put on his own clothes. Out of his peripherals he saw Isabella walk away towards Meilin, closer to the road. He stripped, slid into the white shirt, which pressed onto his chest and arms in all the wrong places, and collected the blanket and his removed tabard under his arm.. He led the Princess's horse and his own towards the guardswoman, dressed well as – well, a guard, and succeeding very much in appearing as a man with a guard's helmet*, and the Princess, looking like a rather delicately built and lumpy-clothed trader. But a trader nonetheless. He nodded his approval, then glanced sharply at the princess's face when he realized she wasn't looking at him, more downwards, at places where dignified ladies did not look so blatantly. But when he followed her gaze, he realized what was the matter.

His dirty white shirt was all right, though it did a little too little of disguising his copious chest hair, which made him feel a bit self-conscious in front of the two women. But his purple leggings, with the bunched gold pantaloons and expensive, polished leather shoes, did not fit the pauper theme. At all. He gulped as he realized the implications of this, avoiding looking at Meilin as much as possible. If his mother could see him now! How sorry she would be for the sacrifices he had to make! How she would console him! He kept his face stiff, ceasing the self-pitying thoughts. Nonsense. She would tell him to stand tall, man up, and face what came to him with unflappable valor, so that the Princess would know him for his true courage. He'd show the both of them that he was worthy of his responsibilities.

And he would have to wear a woman's pauper's clothes.

((* Again … I hope this is not hijacking of any kind! I just thought, guards had helmets, right? And it would be sensible to use it as part of a guard's disguise, right? Of course I'll change it if not!))

((OOC: Also, a question - what does the Princess look like? In terms of hair color, eye color, etc.? I imagine her with dark brown hair and lavender eyes, but that's just because I love Angie Sage and I think of her as a grownup version of the princess Jenna character in Sage's series. What do you think?

Fantasy Princess Wallpaper__yvt2.jpg
))
 
Meilin had stood when the Princess arrived, her eyes never leaving the road however. During the time it had taken both of them to change, the guard had allowed herself only to watch the surrounding areas. It was beginning to become hot under the helmet that she had secured to her head when she'd reached her point. She hated the thing, though she knew how important it was after the first time she had had her skull cracked by an opponents club. It always left her with hair that stood on ends and she had been told by one of her friends in the guards barracks that it made her look even more sinister for it hid her hair but let anyone have a clear view of her dark eyes.

It was only when the dukeling arrived that she took her gaze off the road to see what the disguises were. She blinked several times to look over the young man, surprise evident in the girls eyes. She never would have believed that there was a nobleman that had chest hair. Of course she knew that men did for she'd seen her share of shirtless men from the barracks during practice or drills. She had heard a rumor that all nobles felt it was unnoblelike to show off any hair other than what was on their heads and faces and had thus taken to cutting it or having it stripped away in a highly unpleasureable process of pouring wax on and then ripping it off. She had never understood those rumors--who would ever want to go through pain just to look 'noble'? Obviously this noble didn't, or the rumors were just untrue.

And then her gaze fell on the pants and shoes. It took her a moment to blink away the surprise and frown a little. This was less of an angry look and more of a confused one. Biting back an unnecessary remark on how he looked like a nobleman trying to be a pauper, she turned and started to rummage through her packs. Taking out several things, she held them up to inspect them before folding them and then searching again. Turning to eye his feet, she went back to searching in her pack. It wasn't that she liked over sized clothes. She hated them--too much folds for an enemy to grab a hold of during a fight. She had just learned that sometimes baggy clothes could prove useful when one was hiding weapons--or wearing hidden daggers.

Finally, she stepped away from her horses packs and held them out to the man, her gaze obediently on the ground like any commoner should. She had sworn up and down that she would not make a third mistake. "Your grace, these may fullfill your disguise better than those. They are a bit big for me so I believe that they may fit you. I can search again if your shirt is not to your liking as well." The words came out cold, but were well within the 'attitude' of a commoner addressing a noble.

((yeah, I'd suppose that they would have helmets :) And that picture does kind of suit what I had in mind for the princess.))
 
Elyaevin was steeled for ridicule when the guardswoman approached him, but a strange feeling of gratitude filled him as he accepted the dutifully proffered clothing. "No thank you, this shirt will do," he responded. No shame, he thought to himself sternly. It would be suspicious if his shirt were of a finer, thicker cloth. He placed the tabard on his horse and stepped behind another tree to change. He was thankful that the clothes provided ample room for his thick legs, but they were still uncomfortably tight around his hips and between his legs. He emerged once again to pack his leggings and large trousers, putting on Meilin's shoes, unable to stop a flinch as he felt how uncomfortable they were compared to the usual comfy footwear he was used to. At last he was in a suitable disguise, and saw the princess nod approval.

He straightened. "Right, then," he said. "Let us proceed."

Riding in those pants was Hell on earth. If only his mother hadn't taught him not to swear, if only Princess Isabella weren't riding an arm's reach in front of him, he would be bellowing out obscenities at this very moment. Each graceful plod of the horse was a maddening lurch, a swaying shift that resulted in the most unpleasant sensations. He gritted his teeth and kept his face impassive, but every now and then he couldn't help a desperate twitch. He was very glad when they reached the inn. He slid off his horse with great relief and took one step away from it before he realized it would be his job to take the horses into the stables. He was no longer Elyaevin Palfile, Duke-Scion to Hoblingtonshire – he was playing the role of a pauper.

He stiffly took the reins from Meilin and Isabella's horses, awkwardly managing to lead the three steeds into the stables. They were dank and moist and horridly smelly. He stepped into something disgusting with a squelch and emitted a small shriek. Two stablehands at the other end turned to look at him, their faces disguised in the dim light, and he regained his composure quickly. As soon as the horses were secured, he took a deep breath, straightened his disheveled shirt, had to resist the overwhelming impulse to brush all the horsehair off himself, and scraped his peasant shoes on the cobbled floor as often as needed until he was sure most of the horseshit had come off. He left the stables in a dark mood, but decided to watch Princess Isabella and Meilin enter the inn to ascertain they were safe before getting ready for bed.

The place was terribly noisy. Lanterns on each wooden table illuminated rugged travelers' shady faces and from each corner of the room, oil lamps flickered on the walls. Harried-looking barmaids carried huge tankards of beer around the tables, called here and there by impatient, red-nosed men. The abundance of alcohol and ribald behavior shocked the noble; even in the countryside his father's habits had been frowned upon. In the far end of the tavern, a rickety staircase led upwards to what would presumably house the travelers. Elyaevin stayed near the doorway, shifting his gaze nervously around the room and searching for any sign of the guard and trader.
 
The 'trader' and guard had been led up to a room in which were two beds, a table, two chairs , a fireplace and a window. The rooms were decent enough for a trader and their guard. Meilin inspected the room before offering the young girl that had led them up one of her own coins as a thanks, though she inwardly cried at the disappearance of the money. If she had not been sent on this mission, she would have been saving up for a new quiver to match Tilth. But Meilin couldn't very well ask the princess to spend her money on courtesy tips to the young girl who had been their guide.

"Please have the food delivered here as soon as possible," Meilin ordered with a kind voice before turning and pulling out a package from the pack that she had brought up with her. She waited until the girl was gone before bowing to the princess and holding up her food. "I am going to go take this down to the duke-scion. It has some money for ales and some food for him that'll be better than anything he could get in his status here. Please, do not wander, your highness. It will only take a few moments, but I do not trust the men here to not try something if you are unguarded."

After a nod from the princess, she left the room and closed the door behind her. Looking both ways down the hallway, she went towards the stairs and dashed down them and towards the door that would lead to the stable. She was almost out the door when she saw Ely. Looking around carefully, she grabbed him on the shoulder and played the merry guard that was off duty. "There ye are, you rascal, come with me, I got somethin' for ya," she said in her best city mans drawl before almost dragging the man out of the inn. When they were out of the building, she quickly released him and looked around to make sure no one was there to overhear, "Pardons your grace, didn't mean to offend. I was able to get my hands on some of the better food for you since it would seem strange that a pauper buying some of it. There's also a little coin in there of the lesser notable kinds--copper and bronzes--that you can use to buy drinks or whatever you wish to do with your time this evening, your grace."

She spoke in a soft whisper so that anyone that did pass would only hear murmurs. She had also made sure on the way down that the paper that was wrapped around the food was similar to that that the inn used sot hat he wouldn't know that the food came from her own stores of food. She didn't want him thinking that she was being nice. It might have smoothed his feathers and made him less angry with her for her outbursts earlier, but she didn't want to lose the reputation for being cold just because she was being nice to some noble.

"I must return quickly though. The Trader is alone in her rooms. I just wanted to get this to you," she said as she gave a small bow to show respect, though not low enough for anyone to think she was actually bowing to a pauper.
 
Ely was still looking when a guard grabbed his shoulder and began speaking rudely to him in a most frightful accent. When he realized it was Meilin, his eyes widened and he let her drag him out of the inn without protest. "Pardons Your Grace, I didn't mean to offend," she said. "I was able to get my hands on some of the better food for you since it would seem strange for a pauper to be buying some of it. There's also a little coin in there of the less notable kind – copper and bronze – that you can use to buy drinks or whatever you wish to do with your time this evening, Your Grace." He accepted the package with a brisk nod.

"Thank you, guardsman," he said. Under his breath he added, "Tarry a moment – let me reimburse you for the coin." He dug into his pockets and got out some silver sovereigns, pressing them into her palm. It would hardly equal the spare change she'd given him but if the guard and trader wanted to pose as such, having some coin to show for it couldn't hurt. And anyway, he was glad that she had settled comfortably into the less intimidating role of servant towards him – her proper place, where he wasn't threatened by her tongue at every turn. He preferred it that way and thought it would be prudent to reward her for her commendable behavior.

"Well, then," he said. "Good night." He turned and walked back to the stables. It was officially past evening now, and the chilly wind brushed right through his peasant's shirt, which seemed more and more like a thin blouse to him with every step. He was surprised at the relief he felt to be back in the stables with the horses' warmth and the guardswoman's blanket – and of course the food. Elyaevin did not intend to spend his night in the inn tavern – it was loud, boisterous, and filled with drunkards, everything he stood against. Instead he'd stay here and guard the horses like a proper nobleman. Well, like a proper nobleman with that peculiar duty in his circumstance.

He chewed the gamey meat strips and hard, dark, crusty bread, their novel taste not really bothering him. He wasn't one to be picky with food, and he was far less used to fine foods than city nobles, since there wasn't much of a market for caviar and oranges in Hoblington. When he was done he set the scraps of the meal aside, burying it a bit guiltily under some hay, and lay with his blanket on the cobblestones, uncomfortable and cold. It would be a long night.
 
Meilin stared at the silver in her hand and then after the nobleman as he walked away. She wasn't sure what to say, but by the time she got the guts up to say anything he was already in the stable. A frown on her face she turned and walked back up to the room where the Princess sat, eating the food given to them. She gave the coin that Elyaevin had given her to the princess before taking her bowl of warm stew and eating it slowly. She remained a respectfully quiet the whole time until the princess was fast asleep. Then she rose from the bed in which she slept. It was far too comfortable for her.

It was well into the night by this time, and there was no one left in the common room as she slipped silently through the tables and out the front door. Then, like a thief in the night, she moved into the stables and moved towards where their horses were. Her first noise came when she tripped over something on the way into her horses stall. She swore mercilessly as she grabbed her knee where she had come down hard. She turned to look at what she had ran into and froze. In the middle of the cobblestone path lay the noble. She wouldn't mistake him for anyone.

She crawled over to see if he had awoken during her extraordinary attempt at somersaults. She had let her hair fall down around her when she'd been getting ready to sleep and so it hung around her face as she glared through the dark to see the noble. "Your grace, did I awake you?" she asked softly, hoping that no response would be given.
 
Elyaevin was dozing, his eyes half-closed as he looked up into the dark shadows of the stables ceiling, imagining it was the high vault of a cathedral by night. Suddenly something hit his foot and hit the floor a couple feet away. He jerked upwards, heart beating, a shout in his mouth. His hand flew to his belt, but his sword was attached to his horse. He had forgotten to put it back on when he changed. In the total darkness he couldn't see a thing, so he was greatly reassured when harsh swearing came from nearby in a familiar voice. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he sensed the guardswoman crawl nearer. "Your Grace, did I awake you?" she whispered.

He propped himself up on his elbows. Something soft brushed his hand and he jerked it out of the way, only to realize that her hair was open, hanging about her like a pale sheet of rain. Sweet stars, if he didn't know better he'd wonder if she was trying to seduce him. "No," he said gruffly, his voice a little rough from becoming a bit sleepy, not bothering to keep the irony out of his voice, but then remembering the kindness she had shown him after the princess's reprimand. "I must have been blocking the way," he added reasonably, sitting up and pulling his legs out of the path. "What are you doing here?" He kept his voice low, remembering the two stablehands from before. It was doubtful that the stables would be empty.

((OOC: LOL, when Ely gets up later to sleep closer to the horses out of the way of the path instead I'll have him lie down right in some more horse dung :D I like this stables setting!))
 
Meilin was inwardly distressed that he was awake. How much use would he be as a guard if he was tired the next day? Sitting back on her heels, she pushed angrily at her hair, trying to get it to stay behind her ear and out of her way as he sat up. She really wish she hadn't left her leather tie that she used to keep her hair out of her face back in the room. "I am sorry to have woken you, your grace.I came to see the horses. I am not used to the kind of bedding that they offered for the trader and I to sleep in. It was far too soft for me, your grace." She told him, "I thought a walk and maybe a little visit to get to know the horses would calm my nerves and give me a chance to become tired."

She sat back after making sure with her hand that there wasn't anything nasty awaiting her. "I suggest you get as much sleep as possible. The blankets I gave to you should make the rest of the night more comfortable and less cold, should you wish to use them, your grace." She time she spoke she made sure to dull the words 'your grace' so that only he could hear them. With blind hands she rolled up her legging and checked her knee for any kinds of damage. She hissed as coarse fingers ran over a skinned knee. "Damn it all, this is going to hurt tomorrow." This was more to herself than to the duke as she lightened the touch of her fingers to see how extensive the damage was.
 
Elyaevin smirked to himself as she said the bedding was too comfortable for her. Figures, he thought to himself. He belonged in that room with the princess all along. But he respected Isabella's judgment. He became concerned when she swore as she felt her knee. She hadn't seemed the whining kind. "Is it that bad?" he asked politely, wondering why he even cared. Perhaps because she'd gotten the injury tripping over him, splayed out in the cobblestone path like some idiot. His brow furrowed. "And shouldn't someone be guarding the Princess?" He was very worried about this. The inn hadn't seemed like the sort of place he'd leave a princess alone. Though Meilin probably had a better feel for such things than he did.

He tore off a shred of his shirt before remembering it was the guardswoman's. Oh well, plenty more silver to reimburse her. He dunked it in the cold ale, which he hadn't partaken in, and offered the moist cloth to her. "To soak up the blood," he said. He wasn't a doctor and he'd flunked every healing class his mother had ever signed him up in, but he'd had his share of hunting accidents and was no stranger to first-aid techniques. He remembered with a pang of discomfort the time the shire doctor had decreed the way to cure his middle brother's venomous snake bite was to douse it in pig's urine. When this was done and Ely's brother didn't get better at all, the doctor was promptly dismissed and a new one hired, who did the right thing by attaching leeches to his legs. Ely shuddered, glad the darkness disguised his movements, and decided it was a good thing they had a guardswoman in their entourage, for she would probably be able to deal with the party's medicinal needs. He sure hoped leeches wouldn't be another sacrifice his fate called for.

--

((OOC: Should anything happen to the Princess while Ely and Meilin are having their … painful rendezvous … in the stables? ;D))
 
(( OOC: x3 I feel so sorry for Ely right now, but I'm having way too much fun laughing at him. I was going to have Meilin say something about setting up evil surprises for anyone that tried to sneak into the room. >3))


"Tis only a scrapped knee, our grace," Meilin answered as she fell back into the speech that she had grown up around--that of the middle class district of the main city. "As for the princess, your grace, I left some nasty surprises around the princess' bed along with around the windows and door. I warned her ahead of time so she knows where they are should she need to wake and move about during the night. I would never leave the princess in harms way purposefully." She took the cloth with a grateful smile, though she knew he couldn't see it.

She let out another volley of curses as she draped the cloth over her wound. Every inch of it seemed to be on fire. She stuffed the side of her left fist into her mouth to keep from speaking any louder or any more vulgarly in front of the duke. When her skin had gotten used to the sting of the ale on the wound, she let out the breath she had been holding in with a grateful sigh. "Bless the royal line that always hurts," she muttered before taking the shirt bit and feeling the coarse material for the first time. She was glad that the dark hid her shocked face. He was still wearing her shirt? It wasn't so much that he had torn it that made the girl speechless but the fact that he still wore it when he could easily have traded to one of his better night shirts.

"Thank you, your grace," she muttered.
 
Something about the disconnected tone in her voice as she thanked him made him realize she had probably noticed the cloth came from her shirt, and realized what impression it would make on her if he so thoughtlessly vandalized the clothes he'd borrowed from her. "I did not mean to ruin your shirt," he said quickly. Back home he could do anything with his clothes, servants would mend them within hours and the apparel would be good as new. He treated his clothing thoughtlessly. "I'll pay you for the damages," he said with a wry smile, wondering if the guardswoman recognized the allusion to legal terminology. Probably not. Then again, she had seemed extraordinarily clever for a commoner. The idea, to have him end up here in the stables … the thought was amusing to him now.

He was surprised when she mentioned leaving behind traps in the room. What an idea! "That's quite ingenious," he said. "I couldn't lay a trap that's not for rabbits for the life of me." He bit his tongue. This was getting a bit too informal. He was just used to chatting with women, even flirting with strangers. In his hometown women were honored to converse with him and found remarks like the one he'd just uttered drop-dead charming. He didn't want to make the wrong impression on her. It wouldn't be the first time a woman thought too much of a night of brief passion. The commitment they expected scared him, the dreams he was forced to shatter in the awkward ensuing conversations pained him. It would not do to have such complications on this journey. Though the guardswoman seemed like a confident person – one who could perhaps consider an entertaining night and think nothing of it. But they barely knew each other and like she'd said before, sleep was the best preparation for the grueling travel ahead of them. And she had made no advances whatsoever – surely any move on his part would be highly unwelcome, and that would be, in two words, totally humiliating.

If she could read his thoughts! He shook his head vigorously and got to his knees, inching back out of the way of the path so he wouldn't be woken up again that night by someone tripping over him. He kept his back straight, since he somehow wanted to talk more with Meilin. "Guess you've had worse wounds before," he remarked. He'd never told a woman that before, and it seemed a bit strange to say it now, but it would be interesting to hear about the life of a guardswoman. He never could trust his friends' exaggerated boasts about the trials they had to endure, from battling unknown raiders to falling off impossibly high cliffs – or, his personal favorite, jumping after a lady who fell into a waterfall.
 
Meilin shook her head int he dark before hmphing as she was forced to push her hair once again out of her eye line. "No need to give me reparations, your grace. It is an old shirt and I'm sure I can get another one when I return to the guards house," she replied calmly, as she squeezed the last of the ale out of the piece of cloth and stuffed it inside her shirt. "And besides that point, you gave me far more silver than was necessary for the amount of coin I gave you with your dinner. I gave it to the princess to return to you. If I'd known we would be speaking, I would have returned it to you personally." She paused in speaking when he told her that it was ingenious--her putting out traps.

If she hadn't been expecting a hit or punishment duty for the way she had been behaving earlier, she would have beamed at him for the complimented. But instead, expecting that he was simply waiting for her to get happy about something and then tear her a new one for improper manners, she only bowed her head and kept the smile for later. "Your grace honors me with such a compliment. Thank you. I'm sure that you could do traps far better than I." it was best to inflate a noble's ego wasn't it?

"The worse wound I've gotten my lord was a broken arm and that was from a particularly bad bully when I was but a year into my training. He thought it would be funny to twist my arm until it snapped because he was of the mindset that women couldn't fight," she confessed, with a small shrug before quickly adding 'your grace' at the end. She would not lose herself again. Even if he spoke in such a way-- as if they were comrades to a point--she couldn't forget her station. "I am sure that you have had worse your grace. After all, I have heard that noble's training is three times worse than that of guards for you must be trained to use all sorts of weapons and we only need to be trained in two: bow and sword."
 
Elyaevin chuckled drily when Meilin refused the money. "I doubt the Princess needed the money more than you," he said, then realized that sounded rather patronizing. "It is honorable of you to refuse it," he added. It would not do to make an enemy of her.

Elyaevin was flattered that she thought so highly of him. He was feeling more at home by the minute, where everyone addressed him as "Your Honor Duke-Scion" and hailed him for his illustrious lineage. When she recounted the memory of the broken arm. He had gotten an injury worse than that – two snapped ribs, when he was 15 and fell out of a tree. But at least that had been his own foolishness, not someone else's cruel intent. "That malicious little rat was not alone," Ely said. "I know many men of my company in the Great Shire of Hoblington that would be most astonished to hear ofguardswomen." He thought knowingly of his best friend Jedoce.

When she mentioned the training, he guffawed aloud, quickly regaining his composure and quieting down, lest they wake another stablehand nearby. "Training?" he grinned, the amusement still evident in his voice. "I only ever went to combat, horseriding and history lessons," he said. "I, ah … skipped all the rest. Had more important things to do. Like hunting and … painting, actually." The lie slipped out before he could stop himself. Thank goodness Meilin couldn't see his face. He wanted to do a facepalm. WHY? WHY HAD HE JUST SAID THAT? WHY? Was it really that important to act sophisticated in front of this pauper woman? Hadn't his mother told him from the beginning that honesty was the most important virtue in a man, paramount even to bravery? Ohh, she would not approve of this. Not at all.

In fact, one major thing she wouldn't approve of was his consorting with, well, a pauper. Meilin wasn't of his status – he should be ignoring her unless she was doing him a service. Instead they were chatting like siblings. Painting? It was all he could do to suppress a strangled groan. Seriously? Couldn't he have thought of something less snobbish, such as … reading? That would have been perfect, saying he liked to read. Instead he had strongly implied a definite interest and even skill in painting. What an idiot he was. He quickly changed the subject. "Ah – do you have any – any hobbies?" he asked distractedly. This wasn't exactly distancing language like his mother would have wanted, but at least he wasn't lying anymore. He hoped she'd just forget about that one word he'd uttered. For the life of him he didn't understand why he had said it at all.
 
Meilin was watching him now intently. No, she did not believe him. What man would want to paint when he could learn how to bash another persons brains in? Did he think she thought nobles were any less male than their commoner counter parts? She remained silent for several moments after he had asked what kind of hobbies she liked. She closed her eyes and took a mental step back. It was getting far too personal for her tastes. if it continued to go as such, she could not be sure she'd be able to keep her own counsel about what to say.

"Your grace honors me with these questions," she said, hunching her shoulders to blend better in with the darkness around her. If only her hair didn't stand out so. "Archery. I found that I enjoy archery the most of all the activities allowed a guard. I can be decent with a sword, but I've been told that my archery has neared even some noble's skill, which was a compliment given by my commander. I think he was only trying to butter me up, if you'll excuse the improper nature of that phrase. I would never dare compare my skills to that of a noble though. After all, are nobles given the finest tutors when it comes to archery? I learned through the guards and that archery is for school yard competitions and killing opponents that are trying to attack the palace." She couldn't let this man know how much that compliment had cost her commander--having been forced to give it because she had beaten his best archer during a court tournament when someone had said that their archers could beat any girl that tried to be a guard. She just hoped that this country noble hadn't been there to see that day. She had hated it because the few female guards that had been her friends had pushed her to enter.
 
((OOC: I have decided to introduce a couple priceless seconds of supreme awkwardness. Prepare yourself :bsmile:))

"Ah," said Elyaevin. "Let us hope there will not come a time when it will be necessary for you to prove your commander's praise," he added politely. It was time to wish her good-night. What had possessed him to talk to her anyway? How had this conversation started in the first place? He still found it weird that she'd be checking on a horse in the middle of the night. Who did that? "Well, then," he said. "I wish you a good night." He leaned back and promptly heard a loud squelch. Cursing, he jerked back up again, feeling the horseshit slip wetly down the back of his shirt. "I think I ruined your shirt for good this time," he said with a laugh in his tone, sobering when he remembered that ruining clothing wasn't a laughing matter for commoners. Without thinking, he gripped the hem of the shirt and pulled it off over his head, discarding it in the hay beside him and rummaging around in his pack for a proper, but not too valuable, nightshirt of his own.

A breeze flickered in through the stable rafters and gave his bare chest a chill, and he was suddenly aware that he was half-naked and no amount of darkness would disguise the brightness of the pale white shirt lying in the hay beside him. Mortified, he quickly pulled a plain leather tunic from the pack that should keep him moderately warm and slipped it on, kneeling beside his horse and still feeling very embarrassed. Why hadn't he realized there was a woman not two feet away from him? It must have been all that talk about wounds and hobbies and archery. And the fact that the last time he'd seen her in clear light, she had looked very masculine. Was she even still sitting there? "I'll buy you a new shirt sometime," he said awkwardly into the darkness, wondering if he would hear a reply, or if she'd bolted out of the stables the moment he had removed her shirt. Good Gods, perhaps she thought he had intended to make a move on her! How horrid! He was immensely grateful that the shadows disguised his beet-red face.
 
((XDD Poor Ely, we luve you but must torture you just a little bit more!))

Meilin was trying hard not to laugh. It was hard, very hard. As he pulled the shirt off and went about finding a shirt for himself to sleep in, she walked over and picked the 'ruined' shirt up. Shaking it out, she tilted her head to examine it, a smile on her face. She didn't realize how close she was to the man until he spoke of buying a new shirt. "You needn't-" She said, turning to find that she stood no more than a foot away from him. She took a few steps back from him to increase the distance to a respectful one.

"You-You needn't buy me a new one your grace. I'll just get this cleaned right now and it'll be good as new in the morn. Maybe a bit stained and I wouldn't want to wear it for a little bit, but it'll still do for a night shirt or some other garment," the young woman said. She turned to walk away before stopping and looking back where she assumed he'd be. "Your grace, once this trip is over," she hesitated. She didn't want to do this, but her honor as a guard and never turning away from anything made her step up. "I hope that when this trip is over that whatever punishment you see fit for my two outbursts today will be quickly given out, your grace." As humbly as she could she turned and practically ran from the stables. Instead of returning to her room however, she went to the large buckets of water that were used to water horses and started to scrub the still wet mess on the back of her shirt. She should have just stayed in the room.
 
"You needn't–" Ely jerked backwards when he realized how close she was. He heard her take a few steps back and was grateful for it. "You – you needn't buy me a new one Your Grace. I'll just get this cleaned right now and it'll be good as new in the morn. Maybe a bit stained and I wouldn't want to wear it for a little bit, but it'll still do for a night shirt or some other garment," she said, this time further away. He chuckled softly and was about to respond with some joke, thinking of the amazing unwasteful resourcefulness of peasants, when another few feet distant, she turned, close to the exit, and the light cut through a crack in the stable walls to slice across her face in a thin spiderweb, shortly illuminating her black eyes. The sound died in Ely's throat as once again he was uncomfortably reminded of his mother Fraecilla. He stiffened his shoulders and decided not to entertain any more friendly conversation between them this night. The next morning he'd have to make clearer there would be no informalities between them. They were Duke-Scion and pauper, and he intended to keep it that way.

It was then that she spoke. "Your Grace, once this trip is over…" There was a small pause. Ely was worried she would say something inappropriately sentimental. "I hope that when this trip is over, that whatever punishment you see fit for my two outbursts today will be quickly given out, Your Grace." He heard her bolt out the stables door, and couldn't hear anything after that but the night crickets, the movements of the horses, and some water moving nearby. Water? He hadn't seen a stream anywhere near. Perhaps he'd missed it. More likely, it was the sound of pouring beer or someone urinating outside. He sighed. He should have known Meilin Trival was not one for sentimentalities, but now he wished she'd said something along those lines instead of those words, reminding him so distinctly of their social disparity.

He lay back in the hay after checking with his hand that there wasn't an unpleasant surprise awaiting him and exhaled deeply. He wished suddenly he could see the stars overhead instead of just darkness. The stable air was stuffy and smelly, the floor hard and uncomfortable. He was sure his muscles would ache from it tomorrow. At least the haybales made for makeshift pillows. He didn't think he'd manage sleep without pillows. He closed his eyes and let the night take over, hoping his dreams would be pleasant.
 
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