FIVE

(Long Lost)

As Rowen reached the top of the ladder, Leland flew from her shoulder to perch on the headboard. Blair was muttering softly to herself, her back turned as she packed things back into a small bag. The man on the bed watched her silently, his pale eyes moving from Blair to Rowen as the girl stood straight.

“Welcome back to consciousness,” She offered softly, moving to sit in a chair at the head of the bed.

“I’d rather I weren’t,” The man winced, his fingers playing softly along the bandages on his chest. “It pains me to breathe – not that I can do much of that in any case. The aroma of those herbs is so strong I can nearly taste it.”

Rowen waved the comment away.

“It’s for your own good, you know,” She shrugged. “The aroma calms the soul – it helps with the healing process.”

The man said nothing to this, and instead looked over at Blair again. The Elder still said nothing, but finished putting things back into her bag. With a nod towards the two across the room, she made her way quickly but carefully down the ladder. The man watched her until her head disappeared, and then turned to Rowen with thoughtful eyes.

“I don’t believe she likes me very much.”

Rowan regarded the man with cool eyes when he turned towards her. She let her gaze wander to where Leland was looking at the man warily.

“Why would you think that?” Rowen finally responded, moving her eyes back to the man.

“She seemed very… anxious to finish redressing my wounds just now,” He answered, putting great thought into his response. “It’s almost as if it made her nervous to be around me.”

You can’t even begin to fathom why, Rowen thought, biting her lip softly.

“She’s never been comfortable around strangers,” She shrugged, reaching over to move the man’s hand off of his wrapped wounds. “You’ll infect them if you keep doing that.”

“And if I do, the two of you women will just heal me again,” He responded with a soft, teasing smile.

Rowen offered him a smile in return, and moved her hands as Leland moved from the headboard to her knee. She scratched his head with an absent mind, losing herself for a moment as she stared out of the window across the room. A fleeting vision of her earlier encounter with Meadow crossed her mind, and she started at a sudden realization.

“What is your name?” She asked the man, who raised a curious eyebrow in her direction. “It’s only fair, after all – I’ve given you mine, and I have yet to learn yours. Besides – you are a guest in my house.”

The man smiled softly, nodding once as in agreement.

“Gareth,” He offered after a moment. “My name is Gareth.”

“I suppose I should assume that you’ve mastered the use of a spear?”

Gareth raised an eyebrow and laughed, but it was cut short by a grimace.

“Why would you assume that?” He asked, his pain making him a bit breathless.

“That’s the meaning of your name,” She responded softly, picking Leland up and holding him towards Gareth. “It means ‘he who rules the spear’.”

Gareth nodded thoughtfully, reaching out a hand towards the hawk. Leland tilted his head to one side, regarding the man with wondering eyes. He opened his beak, watching the man’s reaction carefully as he slowly closed his beak – gently – around the tip of one of Gareth’s fingers. Gareth raised an eyebrow towards the bird, and then looked up at Rowen.

“He’s welcoming you to our family here,” She responded, watching the bird with slight awe. “He’s normally much… less accepting.”

Gareth smiled and scratched the top of the hawk’s head, watching as Leland stepped from Rowen’s hands to the bed’s mattress.

“My apologies,” He teased, glancing at Rowen from the corners of his eyes. “You have nothing to fear – I won’t steal your friend’s loyalties.”

Rowen shrugged away his playful jest, and instead watched as her guardian made friends with this new man. After a moment, she leaned forward, supporting herself by placing her elbows on her knees.

“Where are you from, Gareth?” She asked softly, remembering the black cloth that had been found with the man.

There was silence following her question. Gareth stared ahead absently, continuing to stroke the top of Leland’s head with a finger. He finally answered her, though he continued to stare at the wall across the room.

“Originally or recently?” He asked, and then shrugged as if her answer wouldn’t affect his answer. “I don’t remember. Judging by the pain at the base of my head, I would gather that a head injury has something to do with that.”

“You don’t remember anything?” Rowen asked, a little suspicious. “You remembered your name.”

Gareth smiled at her response.

“I don’t believe I said that I remembered nothing,” He offered with a sly smirk. “I simply said that I don’t remember where I come from.”

Rowen sat back, and bit her lip softly.

“When we found you,” She started cautiously, pointing her Leland and herself, “We found the remnants of a black robe on you. Where I come from, that would mean that you’re a master in the black magicks.”

“If I dabbled even the slightest bit in black magick, wouldn’t that ward me off?”

Rowen followed Gareth’s pointing finger to where a small vine of Morning Glory flowers grew on the windowsill. She smiled softly, glad that the man wasn’t completely ignorant in the ways of her homeland.

“If you follow that superstition, I suppose,” She responded, winking towards Gareth. “However, the Morning Glory is one of the most poisonous flowers if made to be. That’s why no pollen-collecting insect will land on it.”

Gareth laughed softly.

“Well played, Brigit.”

Her mother’s name startled Rowen at first, but then she remembered the name she had given him to protect her whereabouts. She watched as Leland moved from one end of the bed to the other, as if watching for any intruders.

“Come on, Leland,” She held her arm out to the hawk. “I can see that you’re getting restless.”

The bird moved onto her arm, and Rowen stood and crossed the room. She opened the window, and kissed the top of Leland’s head.

“Not too long,” She asked. “I expect you home by the time I wake tomorrow.”

Leland chirped softly, and flew away. She shut the window after him, and stood at the window and followed his flight until the trees and distance obscured her view of the bird. She frowned softly, knowing that he was heading towards Dunhaim. She prayed to the God and Goddess to return her friend home safely.

“I remember traveling a lot.”

Shaken from her reverie, Rowen turned towards Gareth, who was watching her with almost tender eyes.

“Traveling where?”

Gareth shrugged, lifting his shoulder as much as the bandages on his chest allowed him to.

“Many places,” He answered, watching as she crossed the room to sit on the foot of the bed. “I traveled with the militia. I suppose we traveled to many different countries – I remember traveling by boat the majority of the time.”

Rowen nodded softly, thinking about Malone, who was now helping her late friend’s father run her home country. She felt something sour in her stomach, a feeling she had come to recognize as homesickness.

“Do you have a wife?” Rowen asked, pulling her feet underneath of her.

Gareth laughed softly, shaking his head.

“I’m sure I’m not much older than you,” He smiled. “And even if I were old enough to take a wife, my life with the military would be unsuitable for a family.”

“Would you like a family?”

Gareth stared at a point past Rowen’s shoulder, and his brow furrowed. Rowen almost mistook it for a look of pain, but then Gareth responded to her question.

“I would like the family I believe I had at one time,” He answered, meeting her curious gaze with his own. “I believe I had a sister at one time, but the memories of her stop where the memories of my life in the military begin.”

“What was she like, your sister?”

Gareth closed his eyes and smiled softly.

“She was very mischievous,” He replied. “I seem to remember her being scolded often. I don’t think she liked having nothing to do – she was always very anxious when she was told to be still. A very active girl, to say the least.”

He opened his eyes, and there was a familiar warmth in them when he met Rowen’s gaze.

“Your eyes remind me of her,” He said softly. “Your eyes shine with warmth like hers did before… before…”

Rowen leaned forward, placing a hand on Gareth’s ankle.

“Before what?” She asked, her voice an excited whisper. “What happened to your sister, Gareth?”

The man blinked, his eyes settled on Rowen’s hand.

“I don’t remember,” He answered. “I believe… that she died. That may have been the reason I joined the militia in the first place. Perhaps I felt that I could avenge her if I fought for a noble cause.”

“Violence is rarely ever noble,” Rowen heard herself muttering softly.

“An’ harm ye none,” Gareth responded. “I’m aware of those beliefs.”

“Don’t you follow them yourself?” Rowen asked. “You must – you know too much about those beliefs to not follow them yourself.”

“I may have,” He nodded. “At one time. I can’t remember enough to be sure.”

Rowen frowned softly – for a moment, Gareth had reminded her of Alastair. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe they were one and the same (she was sure they’d never meet again, sadly), but she found herself disappointed when she couldn’t relate to him as she may have her lost friend. Rowen patted Gareth’s ankle softly, and then stood.

“You should rest now,” She suggested, crossing to where the ladder stood. “I’m sure Blair will be up to check on you before she retires for the night.”

“What about you?” Gareth called to her softly. “I enjoyed your company.”

Rowen found herself smiling as she made her way down the ladder. She looked up at him before her head disappeared under the floor.

“I’ll visit in the morning with your breakfast,” She promised him.

Above her head, Gareth rested his head against the pillows, smiling softly as he inhaled. He didn’t mind the cloying smell of jasmine and chamomile so much anymore; Rowen’s scent mixed with the herbs, and he fell quickly into a restful sleep.

--

“What is it that steals your attention?”

Rowen looked down the length of her nude body, watching Meadow lift his face from her stomach. She smiled softly, reaching down to run a hand over his long hair.

“Why would anything be adverting my attention from you?”

Meadow placed her elbows on either side of Rowen’s waist and propped his chin in his hands, letting the ends of his hair play along the skin on her stomach.

“My dear,” He laughed softly. “I’m allowed to be with you so infrequently that I pay very close attention on how to keep your focus.”

As if to emphasize his statement, he slid one hand gently down her hip, over her thigh and between her legs. Rowen bit her lip softly to keep from moaning – both Blair and Gareth were asleep in the house, and the last thing she wanted to do was wake either of them up.

“Forgive me,” She sighed softly, stroking his hair again. “Memories of home won’t leave my mind.”

Meadow’s brows formed a line of concern as he placed a soft kiss above Rowen’s navel.

“Tell me what it is that keeps pestering you, and I shall ease your mind,” He assured her softly.

“The man that we’ve taken in – Gareth…” She sighed softly. “He reminds me so much of a dear friend of mine from home. My father brought him to stay with us at the manor when I was twelve. He was one of my best friends, and I loved him dearly.”

Something dark passed through Meadow’s eyes, but Rowen didn’t have a chance to name it before he placed another gentle kiss on her stomach, this time below her navel.

“Why do memories of someone you cared for so much haunt you?” Rowen’s lover asked her softly, returning his eyes to meet her gaze.

“It was the last day I saw him,” She confided softly, playing her fingers through Meadow’s hair. “After I left Dunhaim, I never saw him again. I don’t know where he is, and whenever I inquire about him, Thoth neglects to answer my curiosity.”

Meadow’s kiss was placed on the soft crease between her stomach and her pelvic bone. Rowen shivered softly, her fingers curling tightly through Meadow’s hair.

“Why are you so interested in where he is?” The man asked thoughtfully, with something darker lacing his question.

“I’m not sure, honestly,” She sighed. “The last thing I said to him… I suppose I wish to apologize to him. I was unkind, treating him the way I did. I don’t believe he knew what he was doing when he killed those men the way he did.”

Rowen had told Meadow many times about her last day in Dunhaim – beginning with her father’s leaving, and ending with her indecency on the shoes of the guards who found her.

“Allowing yourself to worry about the past – something you cannot fix now – will only take away from the things you can accomplish now, my dear Rowen.”

Rowen said nothing, but nodded. Meadow’s hair slipped from her fingers as her lover began feathering her hips with slow, open-mouthed kisses. His head disappeared between her legs, and when the moist warmth from his mouth touched her folds, she felt her eyes roll back into her head.

“Again?” She laughed breathlessly. “When will I sleep?”

Meadow lifted his eyes to meet her gaze, smiling against her skin. He responded, keeping his lips close to her sensitive area so that she twitched when he talked.

“You are sleeping, remember?” He teased her softly. “And if I would like to have you again?”

“We’ve made love three times tonight,” She laughed, using his hair to pull his mouth away from her body.

“Ah,” Meadow smiled, climbing up her body so that his face hovered directly over hers. “But I have yet to have my way with you.”

Goosebumps erupted on her flesh at his words, and she reached up to receive his mouth. His hand worked its way down her body until it found the meeting of her legs, and Rowen whimpered against his mouth as his fingers pushed inside of her.

“No,” She breathed against him, pushing against him. “Not here.”

Meadow looked down at her and smiled, withdrawing his hand. He moved as though it were all one fluid movement – he stood, and collected Rowen into his arms. The door leading into the small house opened and closed silently, and the night air brushed over Rowen’s naked body.

“Where are you taking me?” Rowen demanded, laughing softly.

“Away from the house, naturally,” Meadow responded, lowering his mouth to her ear. “So that your screams won’t wake anyone.”

Rowen felt herself shudder as Meadow’s teeth grazed her earlobe softly, but said nothing else as her lover carried her through the woods. Rowen knew then that she must have been dreaming – though Meadow looked only at her, he avoided all obstacles that may have been in his way.

“You must have multiple pairs of eyes,” Rowen muttered, and her lover laughed.

“I have the instincts of a hawk, my love.”

His words made Rowen wonder about Leland’s whereabouts, but Meadow moved one of his hands against her folds, and the thought was gone as quickly as it had come.

After a few more moments, Rowen heard running water, and looked to see that they were at the same stream she and Leland had gone to earlier that day. Meadow set her gently on her feet, and laughed softly at her curious gaze.

“I’m very curious as to how you look completely wet,” He offered, and held out a hand to her, which she took. “But first,” he growled softly into her ear, “I want to see you on your knees.”

Rowen nearly fell; her knees always went weak when they began their dark passion play. She lowered herself in front of him, feathering his stomach with soft kisses until he moved behind her. His fingers curled into her hair, and Meadow pushed her forward until she was on her hands and knees.

“You’re aware that I don’t like you behind me,” She whimpered, both from her role in this play and from sheer sexual excitement. “It’s barbaric.”

“Of course it is, dear Rowen,” He answered softly, his breath tickling the back of her neck as he moved to cover her body with his. “I’m the savage barbarian, and you, my pet, are helpless.”

She bit down on her lip against a cry when, with one hard movement, she felt Meadow press into her body. Her back arched as he withdrew from her, and the power from his next thrust made her body writhe so that her breasts pressed against the ground, and her arms reached in front of her.

She felt a stinging sensation on her back, and she arched against his hand as his nails traveled along her spine. She shivered, hissing out a soft breath when the first open-handed slap landed on her backside.

“Tell me about your houseguest, Rowen.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked back at him.

“Now?” She asked incredulously.

“Yes, now,” Meadow demanded, his voice almost a growl as he reached for her hair to make her face ahead again. “You have no choice.”

“He’s… We found him… In the woods,” She hissed, each part of her statement accented with the sound of flesh slapping flesh. “He was hurt… So we took him… to stay with us until… Would you stop?”

The hand in her head relaxed its grip enough so that she could turn and face him. His eyes were dark, and almost vacant, if it weren’t for that horrible emotion. This, Rowen knew, was not part of the act.

“What about him makes you so interested in him?” She asked, her breathing shallow.

“I could ask you the same thing,” He responded, forcing her not only to look ahead but also to lower her top half to the ground again. “He reminds you of the boy you used to love – why?”

“You’re angered by a boy I cared for years ago?” She bit out, whimpering as he slapped her rump again. “That’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“This man at your house,” Meadow growled, thrusting into her with force, “If he reminds you of a boy you loved, why is it impossible to fathom that you may love this man?”

Rowen couldn’t respond – the sharp pain in her lower back stole her breath away. When Meadow released her skin from his teeth, she pulled away from both his body and the hand in her hair. She turned and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Your jealousy is driving you mad,” She warned him, her breathing heavy from fear and anger now. “And I will not allow you to use my body as its way of release.”

“I am not jealous!”

“Horseshit,” She spat, standing up and wondering why she was allowing a figment of her dreams to anger her so. “Alastair is a boy I loved years ago. It was a love of friendship, if you had cared to know, and not one of romance. And if you had thought to ask me that before you starting abusing your role’s power, I may have let you continue.”

“Rowen, you must know that I care only for you – this man, he may try to have you as I do.”

“Where is my say in that matter?” Rowen glared down at him. “You are nothing but a dream, Meadow, and if I want to lay with a real man, then I shall.”

She turned to leave the woods, but something pulled against her arm. When she turned, she jumped at Meadow’s nearness – and the burning in his pale eyes. To her, it seemed most unnatural.

“You are mine, Rowen, and no other man shall have you – and that’s my say in the matter.”

Rowen’s anger disappeared, and it was replaced by some strange feeling. She hadn’t felt it since she and Alastair had parted. Her chest ached, and it felt as thought her heart had stopped beating.

“You’re not real, Meadow,” She whispered, and pulled her hand from his grip.

The man’s mouth formed a white line; his eyes burned against hers for a few more seconds before he scoffed.

“Be sure to put something on that mark of yours,” He pointed towards her back, driving his finger into the tender bite mark on her skin until she winced. “We wouldn’t want your other lover to see it, would we?”

Rowen lowered her eyes to her feet, and when she looked at Meadow, ready to apologize and to love him again, she saw that he had already gone.

--

Rowen woke up with a start on the couch in the den, and she looked around for what woke her in the first place. Her lower back ached, but when she pressed her fingers against the throbbing muscle, she found no tender bite mark.

It was only a dream, she assured herself. But if that’s so… Why does my heart ache as though I’ve lost someone forever?

When a glance out the window told her that the sun hadn’t risen yet, Rowen settled back on the couch, her mind racing and her heart beating it by twice the speed. There were no sounds in the house – both Blair and Gareth were still asleep, and Leland hadn’t returned from Dunhaim yet. Tomorrow, she’d tell him about her dream.

Tonight, she’d sleep the first dreamless sleep she’d ever had.