Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Maids of Silva ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

AN: A huge thank you for all the reviews given for the last chapter, all three of us were stunned by the response. I hope that you enjoy this chapter as much ^^ Thank you for reading!

The Maids of Silva

By Happily Ever After (Goldberry, Iris Anthe and kmf)

Chapter Two

by kmf

When the wind had turned to the north and started to blow hard, Peygan knew that snow was on its way. His back had started to ache, the joints on his fingers swell and his age hung heavy over him. However warm the cottage was he could not escape his old man's curse of foretelling the weather by the pains of his body. The aches left him feeling bent and twisted, gnarled as the ivy which grew up the side of his home.

The girls had seen his discomfort and prepared the cottage accordingly; wood was bought inside and stacked by the fire, shutters closed and rags stuffed into any cracks through which the wind would otherwise find its way. They had moved Peygan's favourite chair close to the fire, placed cushions upon it, a blanket beside it and himself in it.

Peygan sat in his chair and surveyed his home like a King upon a throne. His castle was indeed tiny; there was only one room with a gallery tucked into the beamed roof space accessed by a ladder. A single large stone fireplace that also served as the cooking fire warmed the home; brass and wooden utensils hung from racks on the chimney breast easy to hand for preparing hot meals. The cottage's inner walls were white washed lime, with exposed wooden joists stained a deep brown from years of exposure to smoke. The little white washed panels of wall had been decorated with pictures of wild flowers and insects that Hilde and Relena had painted and the stone flags of the floor were covered with brightly coloured rag rugs. From the beams hung bunches of drying herbs and flowers gathered from the forest. Even in the middle of winter the cottage felt like spring and summer combined.

The girls slept up in the eaves of the cottage on the gallery platform sharing a closet bed that Peygan had once shared with his wife. It was a magnificent bed made from panelled rosewood, polished with bees wax so that it shone golden red. When the heavy blue velvet curtain was drawn across not a single draft would enter to disturb their sleep. The girls had added their own touches to the elegant drape by embroidering silver stars and a full moon so that it resembled the night sky. Peygan had been pleased to give them the bed when they were old enough to clamber up and down ladder safely as it had become his habit to always sleep by the fire, comfortable in his chair to sit and doze. He no longer needed the deep sleep of his youth.

Relena knelt beside Peygan presenting him his pipe well packed and tampered with his favourite blend of weed. He placed the stem of the pipe to his old lips as she bought forth an ember from the fire and held it to the weed in the bowl, swirling it around in a tight clockwise circle. Peygan puffed hard, his whiskery cheeks hollowing with the effort until the tobacco started to smoulder and he could take mouthfuls of the dark rich smoke.

"Thank you child." he smiled, his pipe secure in his mouth held in the gap in his teeth where years of smoking had caused the pipe stem to wear his teeth away.

Relena smiled up at him, her bright yellow hair reflecting the orange of the flame, her blue eyes twinkling. She said nothing; she was always the quiet one only speaking when she felt there was the need to. She sat back on a little stool beside him and picked up some sewing, embroidering in the soft light of fire and bees wax candles. Her nimble fingers pulled silken threads through the wode dyed linen painting a picture of blood red and snow white rose blooms entwined with strands of ivy.

Hilde busied herself over a bubbling pot that hung suspended from the fire hook over the low burning embers, adding finely chopped vegetables, barley and herbs to create soup for their supper. She raised a wooden spoon to her red lips and sipped, before grinning at Peygan, adding another handful of herbs and giving the brew a stir. Her short-cropped dark hair fell over her eyes causing her to push it back in irritation.

Peygan smiled as the aroma hit his nose. He was truly blessed with these two children who saw to his comfort in his old age. He blew a smoke ring considering them as Hilde sat next to Relena, her arm around her sister complimenting her needlework. Indeed, they were no longer children, but rather young women, a fact that could not be hidden by their smocked loose dresses and high cut aprons. Had so much time gone by since they had come into his life?

As he sat in front of the warm fire, Peygan shifted slightly in his chair. His back was stiff from an ancient wound long since healed, but which had left him the legacy of dull aches in damp weather. He had gained the wound whilst fighting for his King and country in his days as solider. And that was a long time ago. How many years was it? His brow furrowed at the thought. Years most certainly had turned to decades and the way his bones were feeling this evening the decades could well have turned to a century. He drew on his pipe, casually blowing smoke rings that floated across the room to where they were drawn up by the draft of the chimney merging with the wood smoke of the fire.

In truth, Peygan had no idea how old he now was. He would hazard that he was in his eighties, an amazing age to be sure. Especially when he considered how often he had courted death in his long life. He chuckled softly to himself; no one would think it to look at him now but once upon a time he was the Captain of the High Kings Guard, sworn to protect the life of his King.

"Uncle..?" Relena had placed a pale hand on his knee and was looking at him in concern. Peygan smiled at her.

"Memories." he murmured. She smiled up at him understanding what he meant and went back to her sewing.

He had been proud of his position even though it was a dangerous one; there had been frequent attempts on the Kings life. Back then they had been at war with the Duke Dermail who rather than fight the Kings men in honourable battle sent spies and assassins to try and win the realm. Peygan himself had thwarted many an attack, his skill as a swordsman being second to none at that time. And when the Duke and King had finally come together on the battlefield, Peygan had been at his lord's side in the thick of the melee willing to give his life to protect the King.

And he almost did.

The Duke did not fight honourably and had instructed archers to shoot at the King even when he and the King were duelling. Peygan had seen a pale arrow speeding towards his master and had thrown himself in its path. That had been the end of the battle for him, and almost the end of his life. The King had been enraged at such dishonourable tactics and had with righteous anger swiftly killed Duke Dermail. The Duke's captains had fled the battleground and disappeared with the Dukes infant sons, the troops had surrendered and the war was over.

The King himself had pulled the arrow from Peygan's back and had sent for his best healer to accompany his faithful soldier back to the castle's infirmary. Peygan smiled wistfully at the recollection of the months spent recovering. The healer had been a pretty shy young thing, with soft brown hair and hazel eyes. His heart had been lost to her from the beginning and by the time he was healed and deemed well enough to leave the infirmary, she had consented to be his bride.

He drew on his pipe again savouring the warm smoke on his throat and half closed his eyes. He always felt such warmth and contentment when he thought of his wife. The King had happily given his permission for them to wed, together with a gift of land, a cottage and a bed, although to Peygan's disappointment the King had insisted that he leave his service. It was a time of peace, the King had said, rest your sword arm. Go make babies. Peygan again chuckled at the memory, unable to suppress the laughter even though he knew the girls would be looking at him askance.

The lands that Peygan had been rewarded with were not vast, nor were they productive. They were surrounded by rich farmlands that kept their owners fat and happy; minimal labour produced bountiful crops of plump wheat, rosy apples and grapes that produced the most delicious fruity wine. His lands, however, consisted mainly of woodland filled with large majestic oaks, beech, rowan and elms whose canopies glowed emerald green in the height of summer and whose roots where blanketed in soft moss that begged to be laid down upon. It was a place to wander and dream in, a place that seemed untouched by time; warm and comforting.

Although the woods appeared thus to Peygan and his wife, to the people who lived in the surrounding land it was a place to be avoided. Rumour said that if you strayed to deep within the forest the goblins that lived amongst the dark roots would eat you. Indeed many a hunter who had sworn to find the centre of the wood and vanquish the evil sprits that lived there failed to return. It was an evil place it was said and Peygan had the sympathy of his neighbours at being given such a poor pension when he had served his King so well. And as time progressed fear of the wood extended to the strange couple who lived next to it, suspicion bloomed amongst the town folk that they had become possessed by the woods magic and that they should be avoided as the wood was avoided.

It was true that the woods were full of magic; seasons seemed hardly to touch it. In mid winter whilst snow drifted in high banks making it necessary to dig an exit from the cottage, the woods themselves would be free from snow; the leaves of the trees still green. Long after all fruits had withered and died on winter frosted brambles, long after orchard trees slept under white blankets, long after hedgehogs and squirrels had settled down for their winter nap, his forest still was awake.

Dozing and on the point of slumber, but still with the underlying awareness that Peygan had come to know and appreciate.

Unfortunately whilst the wood was blessed with the gift of life, Peygan and his wife were not. Although they wished with all their hearts for a child, it was not to be. They had both quietly accepted this after many years, even though Peygan knew that his wife would wish upon every falling star that she saw that she and he would be granted the gift of a child. Even when they were no longer youthful, but old enough to be grandparents rather than parents, she did not stop wishing. He asked her about it once and she had smiled and told him that it was habit. It had pained him greatly that the one thing that she desired above everything else, he was unable to grant her.

And then one evening not so long ago, what was fifteen years in a life that stretched to eighty years, he and his wife had been walking through the wood at sunset as was their habit when they came across a wonderfully majestic stag. It had stood in a clearing, taller than any beast Peygan had seen before. Its hide glowed white in the moonlight, its antlers tall and branched were golden. Its eyes were clear blue and shone with wisdom, intelligence and empathy. It was a thing of such magic that Peygan had thought they had stumbled across the very heart of the wood.

They had stood staring at each other for what felt like hours, the stag's eyes focused on them both as if it was assessing their hearts. Finally it had bowed its head and moved to one side revealing a basket on the ground. Silken blankets lined the basket and upon the blanket laid two babes. One dressed in white was asleep, its thumb firmly in its mouth, its head almost bald of hair apart from white fuzz, which promised the babe would be blond. The other child dressed in red was awake, its arms raised examining its fists with wide innocent eyes, its hair dark and wispy standing on end.

Peygan's wife had cried out in surprise and had rushed to the basket, kneeling beside it almost too scared to touch the tiny souls in case they disappeared. When they did not she carefully pulled the dark haired baby into her arms holding it tight, her face alive with wonder and awe.

Then the stag had spoken. Its mouth had not moved, but rather its words had floated into Peygan's mind.

"For many years I have watched you care and nurture this wood. You have protected its inhabitants from poachers and have only reaped from it what you and your wife have needed to survive. This wood is sacred to me and my kind and because you have venerated it and cherished it I would grant you your hearts desire."

As the stag talked, a bright shimmering light surrounded it glowing to such intensity that both Peygan and his wife had to shield their eyes. When the light dimmed the form of a stag had been replaced by the slender shape of a youth. He had been dressed in a shimmering white tunic and leggings, his feet bare. His eyes were blue, piercing and intent on honesty and his hair fair waved slightly in the evening air even though there was no breeze.

"You have both oft wished for babes of your own, this wish I cannot grant. But before you lie twin girls who lack both father and mother. Would you take care of these children, raise them for a time as if they were of your own flesh?"

"Be warned before you accept. I foresee that their time with you will be limited for they are both made for great destinies beyond the limits of your glen. They both have been blessed with gifts of magic granted through the love of Earth Mother and Sky Father." He had knelt beside the basket, his luminous finger touching the downy head of the sleeping baby "Her name is Relena and she is under the blessings of the sun. She will glow with warmth and brightness and in the light of her shining spirit no man will be able to lie. Hear this well and remember: three times only in her life will she be able to heal a mortal wound." He bent his lips down to the child's head and kissed her gently smiling as the baby shifted waking from her sleep, her eyes opening and looking solemnly up into his.

The youth had then turned his attention to the babe that Peygan's wife held. Again he reached out a finger and stroked the baby's black hair.

"Her name is Hilde and she is under the blessings of the moon. She will be quick and quiet and no man will be without hope even in the worst of times when she is near. Hear this well and remember; three times only in her life can she become invisible and cast her enemies into a deep sleep."

A cheerful laugh bought Peygan back to the present. Hilde had moved to the fireside where she stirred a little pottery cauldron, which now hung off the chimney crane as the soup had been removed and set to one side of the fire basket to keep warm. She was giggling and singing little snatches of nonsense as she worked which made Peygan smile. The youth in the forest had said that she would be quiet, but it seemed that he had that wrong. Hilde was hardly ever quiet, her mouth was always chattering giving joy to his heart.

Relena reached over and pulled the now extinguished pipe from his mouth. Peygan smiled his thanks as she gently tampered it and passed it back to him. Nor had the youth been particularly accurate with Relena's gift; she had been unable to heal Peygan's wife when she had suddenly collapsed with pains in her chest, her bright hazel eyes closing never to open again. Perhaps though it had been because her mortal time was upon her and that she did not die unnaturally. Peygan sucked gently on the pipe as Relena held a flame over it again, pulling the smoke into his mouth and blowing it away. He nodded his thanks.

Peygan had never seen the youth in human nor animal form since the day that he and his wife had been granted charge of the babes, however much he looked in the woods. He knew though that the magical creature was watching over them as from a very early age both girls would talk about their friend Quatre who would visit them and play with them. Whilst it made Peygan feel reassurance for the girls safety to have such a special guardian protect them, it also made him worry. The promise that the girls would not be his forever weighed greatly on his mind. He had lost his wife and it was only the presence of the two girls that kept him falling into despair at her loss, if they too were taken from him his grief would be tripled and he doubted that he would long be able to stand the unhappiness. He tried to push the thought from his mind.

Hilde was beginning to toss herbs into the pot, reciting as she did so. "One part honey, three parts water, violet leaves, strawberry leaves, sorrel, rosemary, balm, harts tongue, liver wort and red sage*." she said stirring furiously.

"Is that a potion to catch a young mans heart?" Peygan asked innocently, knowing that neither Relena nor Hilde saw many people isolated as they were in the cottage and certainly no eligible young men.

Hilde blushed almost as red as her apron, laughing as she sniffed the brew. "Aye! I plan to catch myself a prince to sweep me off my feet and take me away to a life of luxury. And seeing there is so much of my potion, a prince for my sister too!" Relena rolled her eyes at her sister's antics causing Hilde to poke her tongue out at her. "Im making mead to help soothe your aches dear Uncle." she said explained "The moon is too full to rack the blackberry wine, besides its much too cold. I had nothing else to do other than sewing and I simply have no patience tonight for that."

Relena smiled at her sister aware that Hilde never had patience for sewing. "Sing then, sister, I am sure that Uncle craves a song to take his mind off the snowy storm that blows outside."

Hide reached out and pulled the sewing from Relena's hand "Only if you accompany me, your rosebuds can wait another day to be finished. Besides, since when did rosebuds bloom in a storm!"

Relena smiled, and reached into the pocket of her apron to bring forth her flute. Bringing it to her lips she blew forth a few mellow notes before allowing her fingers to nimbly dance up the scale to produce a light and happy song. Hilde's voice followed it, clear and beautiful. No words were sung, just Hilde's pure voice and Relena's flute harmonising and bringing forth sounds that were like the essence of spring.

Soon however Hilde's voice formed into words and she began to sing an old song celebrating the passing of the seasons - how spring with its youthful promise becomes summer, buxom and fertile. Relena put down her flute and joined in with her own clear voice as the song turned summer to autumn, bountiful and giving. Relena's voice took prominence as they sung the last verse of winter's brief sleep bringing the rebirth of the world in spring. Hilde sang the alto to Relena's soprano; the two voices entwining into perfection.

Their singing was abruptly interrupted by a thud on the secured front door to the cottage. Startled, Relena and Hilde stopped mid line, their heads turning to the barred door listening for other sounds. The storm still raged outside blowing snow into deep drifts covering the land in its thick blanket; it was unlikely that any visitor would be out on a night such as this. For a moment or two nothing could be heard above the roar of the wind. Then a faint scratching started on the door, slow at first, then more frantic.

Something was trying to get in.

tbc