Then suddenly a familiar voice called out from above,
"You!"
The Blooming
Chapter II
Then Haedley was frightened and he shuddered with fear. For he remembered that voice. It was hers. He knew not what to do, and he did not think that he could face her; instead he turned and sought to flee down the stairs.
"Wait!"
She called.
And then Haedley halted. Moving no more, and he was as still as a statue. He did not know what to do. It was plain to him that she knew that he put the flower there, his nerves were shattered and broken to many pieces. In the candle-light he saw a shadow move, and then there was the sound of a thud upon the wooden floors. He was unaware that she had been sitting on his own bed and not the bunk beneath it where he thought for her to sleep during her stay in Harwick - how ever long that would be. There were foot steps approaching and Haedley's face was flushed with embarassment, he was terrified of what she would think of the gesture; and thoughts of what she may think of it hurried about in his head, he assumed the worst: That she would think him strange, a queer who gifts a flower to any woman who he comes across.
"Did you put this there?"
She asked and showed the pink flower.
Thus he turned to behold her, and when he looked upon the familiar woman's face he felt afraid, and shy. His gaze could no longer behold her, no matter how much he enjoyed to look upon her. Yet there was no rage, nor ire in her tone. Her asked words were very much more gentle than the way he thought that they would have been, he swallowed down his fear and managed to respond with a small nod. Ever keeping his gaze from hers, and his heart beat was so hard that he thought it would fly from his chest.
"Aye,"
He said in a soft and shy tone.
Then the woman smiled and she was grateful. It seemed as though the mere gestured had filled her with joy, and her appreciation did the same for Haedley who still could not look upon her. He was terribly shy, and fear still claimed a tight grasp upon him. She held the flower close and looked upon it; it was a gentle thing, fragile; easy to break. Much alike to the person who had given it to her. She seemed to see this in him.
"Thank you."
She said with gratitude of the highest.
Haedley dared to look upon her, and he felt a great relief. For she did not hate him nor the gesture. She liked it, and this filled his heart with joy that he had never before felt. His smile was broad and his hopes were high; yet he could not find any words to express himself and perhaps thought that there were none. Actions may have done so, yet these were the kinds of actions that he feared greatly, for it would be swift, sudden and intimate. He doubted that she would ever take kindly to them, and yet the wish for those actions lingered heavy upon his mind.
"No man has ever done something like this for me."
She said, and thus broke the silence.
However, it was not only Haedley's nerves that were on edge. Hers was too; she was nervous like him, and shy too. This was perhaps a good thing in some ways. For their feelings were alike. Yet not bound to remain that way. Haedley looked away again as shyness took its toll upon him.
"I am Melowen, daughter of Hafred, what is your name?"
She suddenly asked him.
Then Haedley's eyes lit up with cheer, for he wanted her to know him, and most of all he wanted to know her.
"Haedley, son of Haeden. You are very welcome, Melowen, daughter of Hafred. I did not think that I would be the only to give you such a gesture,"
He answered with a great deal of courage.
Then Melowen's mood seemed to change, for she began to think of all the men who she had experienced in her past days. It did not seem to be pleasant memories, and to Haedley she suddenly seemed like a broken maiden with hardened skin to protect her from further ruin. He pitied her as he managed to look upon her yet again. He felt as though he could take this burden from her, and indeed he wished to take it from her. The moment seemed to move swift, and she began to speak of a past experience with sadness in her tone, she spoke of a man who had betrayed her love long ago; and Haedley hated the thought of any man ever betraying Melowen. His heart beat swift as he looked upon her, she spoke, and spoke, and spoke - but her words were never meaningless. They were wrought from what was within her. Then within the swiftness of the moment Haedley made a sudden decision, he hardly thought much of it; he merely wished to take her grief from her:
Haedley pushed himself forth and embraced her in his arms, he set his lips against hers and kissed them with love; meanwhile his heart was bashing with both fear and delight within his chest.
It seemed to him that she answered to his kiss, perhaps hardly; but he felt that there was answer, even if it was brief. However it was her who pulled away from him soon enough, and when she looked upon him his cheeks were a bright red. He took one look into her eyes and then released her, stepping back; he was ashamed and embarassed.
"I..."
Melowen sought to speak.
"I....I..."
Haedley tried as well, but he managed to finish his words,
"I am so sorry!"
He said.
Then Haedley turned and hurried down the stairs; he felt beaten and bashed, like a fool who did something that was beyond foolish. Perhaps it was. Yet his heart continued to bash within his chest. Melowen lingered behind, and this time made no move to stay him as he fled with his great haste. His feet thumped as he went down the stairs, and his armour rattled at his going.
It did not take long before he was out of the barracks, and there he cursed his foolery and the day. He could not find peace in his mind, he was tired and wished to sleep, but Melowen would sleep upon his bed that night. Worse yet: he feared to go nigh her, he did not wish to see her and he thought that she may yet remain awake for a while. Haedley paced, and paced, and paced upon the floor before the barracks, his nerves were tense and his heart continued to bash in his chest. If he was afraid of what she would think of him earlier then now he was terrified of it; he wished to know, but he also did not. Thoughts were conflicting in his mind and he knew not what to do.
The night was chilly but he did not feel the sting. The town was dark and the only lights to be seen were those by patrolling night guards. None of them seemed to pay much heed to Haedley's pacing, for their patrol was of more importance. Back and forth, back and forth he went on that same spot before the door of the barracks. He was indecisive; his thoughts only lingering upon what had just happened, and it seemed as though the fear upon him only yet grew greater. He was fragile, and though a fully grown man he was he was close to bursting into tears and weeping of his folly. Yet he stayed them, but grew sad nonetheless, for that was his way. He would seldom grow angry at times like these, and then many have never seen Haedley express anger; it was as though it was an emotion that he did not have, or perhaps did not ever reveal.
After about twenty minutes of pacing Haedley could pace no more. His feet were beyond weary and he longed for a bed; he sighed and so went back into the barracks. It was dark, all the candles were out. There were no other sounds save for the snoring of soldiers.
Haedley took one glance about the darkness and then knew his way. For he had walked those halls many, many times. With steps as quiet as he could make them be while wearing his armour he made his way towards the sleeping quarters, but was once more challenged by the noisy stairs. He felt the desire to curse once more; but remained silent. It took him a moment or two to muster his courage, or think of a tactic before: CREAK! His first foot went down upon the first stair, he hesitated and thought to turn away; dreading that Melowen would still be awake. Though his desire and need for rest was greater, thus: CREAK! CREAK! CREAK! He continued to make his way up the stairs, keeping as quiet as he could, pausing between some stairs. When he got half way he thought to turn back again; he looked back and down into the darkness, but thought that there would be no victory if he turned back. He had already began this, it would not do him well to suddenly surrender.
CREAK! CREAK! CREAK!
Haedley went on. Eventually he found his way to the top, yet there was no chance for him to celebrate. He was fortunate, for everyone - including Melowen - was fast asleep. It was indeed a victory, but this was only the first of three battles. The second was removing his armour, he dreaded the thought of removing it, but he knew that he had need to. Carefully and slowly he began to remove his armour, making as little noise as he could as he lied it down upon the floor, and what a relief it was to be rid of the wearying weight that pulled him down. Soon he would be free of it all.
Then suddenly a gauntlet slipped from his hand and he panicked! He was swift to catch it once, and his heart raced harder. There was a soft sound of stirring from his bunk where Melowen slept, he could see the bundle in dark. Quietly he set the gauntlet down, and found himself in what shabby clothing he wore beneath his armour.
Now it was time for the final confrontation: Getting into bed without shaking it too much, lest he awoke Melowen. However, this task was easier than the rest. He slowly slipped beneath the covers of the bunk beneath Melowen's, and then set his head down upon the pillow. His eyes closed and it then it felt as though all his worry went away from him, robbed for a only but a while by the bliss and embrace of slumber's darkness.
The night passed silently and Haedley had awoken to a sudden thud in the morning. His vision was blurry and he could not guess what the noise was for the moment. He rubbed his eyes and nestled deeply into the warmth of his bed, he paid little heed to thud. Soon there was the sound of huffing and heaving coming from near his bed, he groaned and stirred once more. The late night had made him weary and he wished to remain in bed; nonetheless this did not fend off his curiosity. He opened his eyes and the colours of the room sprouted before them. He saw a shape lifting and lowering beside his bed, and so he sat up right to see what or who it was. Doubtless to say it was a man, a strong man. Haedley remembered him as the man who came to Harwick with Melowen. He wondered if this man was perhaps her lover, he could not say - but he was afraid at the thought.
For he watched as the man's thick muscles heaved him up with every push up, for he was not wearing his shirt. Haedley thought this to be strange, but on the man went, not even noticing the smaller Haedley(who in fact felt very small at the moment) watching him with curious eyes. It seemed to Haedley as though he would never end, Haedley sought to count but the amount of push ups went beyond the highest number that Haedley could count up to. Which was a mere fifty.
A shadow of fear then came upon him as he remembered what he had done last night. If this was Melowen's lover then Haedley could well consider himself a dead man! He nestled even deeper into the blanket, hiding his face. Just two blue eyes were peeking out as he watched the strong man. He became sweaty from his labour, but soon ceased. Then the man stood up and stretched his muscles, Haedley felt intimidated even though the man knew not that Haedley was watching, nor was this any gesture that was directed to any one. The strong man began to dress himself in his armour, it seemed that he was not yet weary and he wished to labour more.
Last of all the man was tightening his belt around his waist and it was only then when he had noticed two blue eyes looking up at him. He double-took on them and was confused, but soon gave a swift smile and bowed his head quickly as he greeted in the manner of the Eorlingas, "Westu hál," he said softly. Haedley merely gave a sheepish nod in awknowledgement and greeting.
Soon the man was off and away in an eager hurry, his boots thudding upon the wooden floors, and creaking upon the noisy stairs as he left. Haedley sighed and then slipped out from his blanket a bit, thus he look at the bed bunk above him. He began to think of Melowen, and thought back on what happened the night before, a gracious smile seemed to come upon his face as he thought of her lips and how she reminded him of the flower. Which then led him to wonder what Melowen had done with the flower, had she kept it after he left? He could not say. And though she was still sleeping he felt unlonely in her slumbering presence. Men were beginning to awaken and prepare for their day, but Haedley remained in bed. All he wished to do was to be near Melowen. It is certain that if he had the nerve to, and was permitted that he would slip right beneath her blanket to sleep right next to her. How he longed to linger in the warmth of her embrace, these pleasant thoughts made him feel strange inside. He could not explain the feeling, but he would say it as most folk would if ever he was to describe it: He had butterflies in his stomach.
After a short while many soldiers had gone to their duties and then there was a stirring upon the bunk above Haedley. He began to nestle deeper within his blanket, the stirring soon became slow movement. Then a pair of feet suddenly hung over the edge of the top bunk, his brows had risen and he stared with fear, for his fear was returning. He did not wish for her notice him, but he did wish to see her. His thoughts conflicted greatly in his mind, then the feet suddenly dropped to the floor with a thud and Melowen came after. She stretched, and Haedley's eyes went wide with fear. He nestled deeper into his blanket as he watched.
Suddenly she turned and she saw his bright blue eyes watching her. Her own eyes went wide as she beheld him, her cheeks blazed red with blush, and needless to say that his did too. Both in shock; neither had words, neither knew what to say. However, some one had to break the silence or the awkwardness of the moment, Haedley wished to nestle deeper beneath his blanket like a turtle that could hide in its shell when faced with danger. It was an awkward exchange of stares, and both of them felt it.
