Quietly Making Noise

Disclaimer: No shirt, no shoes, no service. No, wait…wrong thing. Not mine. Never had ‘em, never will and I’m not making any money from this fic. Seriously.

This is AU…like really AU. Multiple chapters. Posting a couple of times a week until Jen gets married.

For the lovely JenBachand and her groom, Gataca42…as the countdown to the wedding begins, I hope this offers you a smile or two, Jen. Always remember, the wedding is not nearly as important as the marriage. All the best.

Major shout out to the uber amazing Kristen Elizabeth. She is the world’s best cheerleader and beta extraordinaire…this would not have been started much less posted without her help and encouragement.

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The grey cloaked rider sat so completely still, that were it not for the occasional ring of the horse’s bridle, one would have thought he was a forest tree converted to an intricate carving either by craftsmanship or enchantment.

The sun had begun its lazy movement from directly overhead towards the west as a wagon rumbled its way around the curve of the forest road and lumbered towards the rider, wood and wheels creaking. Finally moving, the man atop the black horse raised a hand and the dapple grey pulling the wagon slowed to an easy stop.

The young man holding the reins sighed and shook his head. “I would have stopped her in time, m’lord mage.”

The rider inclined his head. “It does her good to be reminded who her master is; it would do you well to remember the same, Gregory.”

“As if you would let me forget, m’lord,” the sandy haired cart driver responded with a cheeky grin.

“Your tongue will earn you a cuffing yet,” the rider muttered but without heat or malice as he swung his leg from the saddle and lightly touched down to the earth. Moving with slow deliberation, he led his horse to the rear of the wagon, tying the reins securely to the handle of the drop gate.

“Head on and begin unloading when you get there. I shall make the rest of my way on foot.” He fixed his young apprentice with a steely eye as he removed his staff from the back of the wagon. “Do not stop in the village for draught, nor to attempt to speak prettily to the tavern wench.” Gregory seemed somewhat crestfallen, having been so easily read, and the mage could not prevent the slight lift at the corner of his mouth. “Straight to the castle and once you’ve everything in the tower and you’ve assured Arawn a rub down and some oats, you may do as you will until the morrow.”

“Do I have to feed him myself? The beast has the black heart of a demon…he means me ill.” The young man’s protest was more of habit than heat; true, there was no love lost between the stallion and the mage’s young helper, but they had established an uneasy peace over the last few months and it had been over a year since the last bite.

The mage let out with a sound something between a snort of amusement and a sigh of exasperation. “No, you need not feed him yourself…I am sure there is some brave and cunning stable boy who can manage the feat of daring.” The stallion nickered softly as his master rubbed his neck, “Arawn, show poor Gregory some mercy and behave yourself.” The horse blew out a breath in seeming protest, but the mage produced some dried apple from within his robes and spoke again, “No biting or kicking…unless it is absolutely warranted.” The horse, eyes firmly on the sweet fruit as the man moved it up and down seemed to nod his head in agreement, causing the metal of his bridle to jingle merrily.

The mage gave the apple to the beast and then moved to the front of the wagon, extending another, slightly larger portion of dried apple to the cart horse. “And Cigva here…she has worked hard and stayed true on our journey. Make sure she is tended as well.”

Cigva extended her muzzle towards the proffered fruit and almost delicately took it between her teeth, removing it from her master’s grasp, munching happily as he gave her neck a few affectionate pats.

“I will see to both and the goods, m’lord. And I will see you on the morrow.” Gregory flicked the reins and with an impudent salute, the cart, the driver and the two horses slowly rumbled away.

The mage stood at the side of the road for a few minutes, quiet and still. When the cart was out of sight, he breathed in deeply, taking in the forest air, the smell of the trees mingled with damp soil permeating the air. He breathed in again, filling his lungs, closing his eyes. He was happy to be home, but senses were sharpened to detect any changes to the environment. It all smelled of the wood and the earth and life and home. He could neither smell nor see any changes, and as the noise of the wagon faded into the distance and the birds took up their welcoming song, he could hear none. Yet he frowned as he felt an energy that had not been here before.

Change was on the air and he felt himself grow wary.

Breathing in deeply one last time, he reminded himself that change was more constant than the seasons. He raised the hood of his dark grey cloak and taking firm hold of his staff, strode forward on the forest path toward the village and the castle beyond.

He moved with purpose, but not in a particular hurry, slowing when he saw animals or movement in the trees ahead of him. No point in startling a helpless animal or intimidating a dangerous one. He noted the sounds of the forest and its inhabitants as he moved along the path, noting the new growth on the forest floor, the plethora of rabbit and the lack of grouse.

He had gone less than half a league when he heard the voice calling. “My lady! My lady!” Pausing under a tree and leaning on his staff, he watched as the short, pixie of a woman wove her way down the path calling for her missing mistress. He recognized her as one of the Queen’s maids, but he could not recall ever having conversed with her. Judith, he believed her name to be.

So distracted was she that when her eyes finally fell upon him, she gave a startled shriek, then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth and dipped into a deep courtesy, babbling as she did so. “My lord mage…I beg your pardon, m’lord. I did not see you there. I did not know you had returned from your journey North.” All of this tumbled from the servant as she remained bowed, close to the ground, face firmly turned from him.

Inwardly he sighed. The majority of times he cared not one whit what anyone thought of him, in fact he preferred to keep to himself and often times discouraged attempts at camaraderie and friendship. However, it was difficult at times to deal with the more superstitious people who had more fear than understanding of him and his work. “Rise, Judith.”

Wide eyed and pale, the woman did so. “You know my name?”

His shrug was careless. “Have we not resided under the same roof these last ten years, Maid Judith?”

Dumbly the woman nodded.

“And do you not know my name?”

Again she nodded before finding her voice, “Aye.”

“Well, there you have it. I know your name, just as you know mine. What I do not know, Maid Judith, is who you are searching for so frantically in the forest and why.” He watched as the maid flushed.

“The Queen’s niece, my lord.” She threw her head back toward the village. “She had not been to the village since she returned to us and had asked to go to market day. I was visiting with an old friend and turned to find her gone.” Judith sighed heavily. “I love the child, I do, but she vexes me terribly. She is a lady, not a brigand, and should not be wandering the forest alone.”

The mage pursed his mouth and nodded at her assessment. “Oh, I quite agree, the forest road is no place for a lady of the castle on her own…but surely your charge would know that? And I have been walking for quite some time; I believe I would have seen her if she came this way from the village.” He used his staff to indicate the direction from which he had come. “I have seen no one save you as I have come along the road. Perhaps she is in the village still or having realized you were separated made her way back to the castle on her own?”

Sagging slightly with relief, she sighed. “Yes. Yes.” Hurriedly, she curtsied. “Thank you, m’lord. I shall go find her now.”

He inclined his head. “You are most welcome, Maid Judith. I am sure you will find your lady wondering where you have got to. You’d best hurry.”

Dropping yet another curtsy, this one somewhat sloppy and distracted, Judith turned and hurried back toward the village.

Smiling slightly, he leaned against the tree and watched her scurry back the way she had come. Though she was walking quickly, with her short stride it was some time before she was out of sight.

When he was sure she was out of range, he quietly said, “She’s gone. You may come down now.”

A vibrant, albeit startled, laugh floated down from the leafy canopy overhead and after a moment he heard movement above him, descending from branch to branch to the one just above his head. A body swung down from the limb and dropped to the ground in a crouch and then immediately rose.

The young woman standing before him hastily smoothed the green material of her gown over her hips and unrolled her sleeves. The last time he had seen her she had been a gangly girl child, but now, she was indeed a young woman. Tall…all long, lean lines, graceful and languid in her movements, reminding him of a willow tree.

Her brown eyes sparkled in her flushed face and with belated dignity, she dipped into a curtsy. “Lord Grissom.”

Smiling, he bowed deeply. “Lady Sara.”

She had come to the castle after the death of her father; wide eyed and far too serious for one so young. He had noticed her hiding in the shadowed alcove of the stairs leading up to his tower and said naught to her. He was independent and did not like to be meddled with, but her mother was the Queen’s sister and she did no harm; he suspected she simply needed a quiet place to hide. Not everyone enjoyed the bustle and noise of the King’s castle and as he was of a like mind, he had left the girl to the shadows of the stone walls and the weapons that hung there.

A careless day at his work table and a leaping spark from the brazier and he had found himself trapped by a line of fire. She had darted into his rooms at his cry and he had urged her to fly for help, instead she had pulled down the heavy drapes separating his work space from his bed chambers smothering some of the flames, then doing the same with his bed curtains, allowing him to move past. She shuttered the window to stop the air from feeding the flames as he doused the rest with the buckets of water the maids had left outside the door that morning.

Sweating and gasping, he was torn between shaking her for her foolishness and lauding her for her bravery. He did neither as he carefully checked her for injuries (blistered fingers and singed cheeks) and she silently allowed his inspections. He cleaned her face and hands and began to apply salve to the burns and wondered if she could speak at all…then it occurred to him he had yet to speak to her. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, Lady. I feel sure you have saved my life this day. I shall tell the King of your bravery.”

Fingers, surprisingly long and surprisingly strong for one so young grasped his wrist as he dabbed the medicine along her cheek. “Please don’t.”

He sat back, frowning. “Surely you want some reward for your cunning…such quick thinking. I fear I would not have made it through the flames…the entire castle could have gone with the tower.”

“Please, sir, no,” she shook her head with vehemence.

“That is your real wish? That none should know of your courage?” He watched, fascinated as the girl nodded. Still frowning, he resumed his ministrations to her injuries. “How old are you, child?”

“This is my fourteenth summer.” Involuntarily, she drew back from his hand when he touched an especially tender spot. At his grunting admonishment, she leaned forward, allowing him to finish the application.

He thought as he ministered to her. The death of her father was cloaked in some mystery and no mention was made of her mother’s whereabouts. She had been at the castle nearly a year, had lingered in the shadows around his tower nearly that whole time and this was the first he had heard her speak. She must be a shy child, one who preferred solitude to gaiety. He understood that well enough; he had been such a child himself. He would have hated any attention turned on him as well. He turned the thoughts over in his mind as he placed both cloth and ointment on the table.

He should not have been surprised when she picked the cloth up and began tending his burns with timid care. He found himself frowning again. It had been so long since anyone had shown concern for him. True, he fostered his reputation so people kept their distance; the few that did not fear him respected him, but none seemed interested in his friendship. Yet, this quiet girl…

He winced at the touch from the cloth, but she remained undeterred, cleaning his face in preparation of applying the salve, just as he had done for her. “Your name, child?”

“Sara, m’lord mage.” She did not meet his eyes as she stood to better access the skin of his forehead.

“Well, Lady Sara, it seems most stingy of me to not offer some show of gratitude…”

Her voice came out in a rush even as her cool fingers continued their slow and careful work around his hairline. “Teach me.”

The mage blinked. “What?”

There was silence for a moment and he watched her gather her words and her argument.

“If you truly wished to show your gratitude to give me a gift that I justly desire, then…teach me.” She put down the rag and picked up the salve, her middle finger dipping into the pot in a sure and graceful swipe and began dotting the balm to his face.

“Surely the Queen would arrange for tutors for you?” His brow furrowed, pain forgotten as he puzzled her request out.

“Oh, I am finished with schooling. I have had tutors…I can read, if that is what you ask.” She picked up the cloth and rinsed it in the basin. “I have read the ancient works and I have been taught arithmetic and the basics of natural philosophy. But you…” she looked around the room before picking up his hand and carefully cleaning the burn she found there.

“You know more than any book or scroll I have ever read; you know more than anyone I have ever known.” For the first time she looked directly into his eyes, her own sparkling with an earnest fire. “Teach me, please.”

So the shadow child became his pupil. When he agreed, he felt sure she would tire of the game after just a short while. But she did not. Her mind moved like quicksilver and lightening, asking, seeking, learning, absorbing knowledge, connecting concepts and always hungry for more.

He found himself with a fondness for the child and a grudging admiration for her ceaseless desire to learn. Never had he come across anyone so eager to study no matter what the subject. Telling her one new thing resulted in a dozen or more rapid fire questions. When she would begin her incessant questioning over some new piece of knowledge, he took to calling her a “chittering monkey” with warm exasperation. In truth, her craving to discover more of the world renewed his own joy in scholarly pursuits and his work in the natural philosophies.

But after little more than a year, she was sent as an attendant to her cousin, the Princess, as she married the ruler of the Western lands.Three summers she had been gone and now she stood before him, no longer the gangly child with fingers too big for her hands and feet too big for her legs and hair an untamable force of wisps and curls. In that girl’s stead stood this long, elegant woman with graceful hands, delicate face, hair smoothed and partially plated. He would not have thought this woman his former student Sara, save for the laughing brown eyes still alight with fire and life.

“Thank you, sir, for not revealing me to Judith.” Smiling widely at him, showing the gap in her teeth, she continued, “I fear she would have prevented me from leaving the castle henceforth had she found me here.”

He resumed leaning against the trunk of the large tree. “I am afraid it was more curiosity than mercy on my part. I thought you had finally turned into the monkey I believed you to be several years ago. I merely wished to observe the transformation.”

Her smile turned slightly wistful. “The mage of the Western kingdom had a monkey that rode upon his shoulder.” She lightly touched her own shoulder, as if in memory. “When I first arrived there and saw the creature, I was delighted. I thought to write to you to tell you though I had not become a monkey, I was keeping company with one.”

His eyebrows climbed into his forehead. “I recall no mention of a monkey in your letters.”

“No. It didn’t seem right. After just a day or two I could see…” she shook her head, sadly as she studied the ground. “Though he did much to make us all laugh, he always seemed sad to me. I imagined him lonely, so very far from where he was born, with no home of his own.”

“Ah, my Lady Sara, though that tender heart of yours will cause you much pain in this life, I am glad to know it still beats true.” He moved from his resting spot, offering her his arm as he continued lightly, “Such a soft heart should not be coupled with such a sharp brain. Many cuts will result.”

She turned a full, soft smile on him. “My tender heart and what passes for my brain are both most terribly glad to see you again, Lord Grissom.”

He wondered at the tightening in his chest as she laid her hand on his arm.

Madrigal-Chapter 1
Madrigal-Chapter 2
Madrigal-Chapter 3
Madrigal-Chapter 4
Madrigal-Chapter 5
Madrigal-Chapter 6
Madrigal-Chapter 7
Madrigal-Chapter 8
Madrigal-Chapter 9
Madrigal-Chapter 10
Madrigal-Chapter 11
Madrigal-Chapter 12
Madrigal-Chapter 13
Madrigal-Chapter 14

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