<font color=#254125 face=times size=2><font style="text-transform:lowercase">may you sing the deeds of glory</font></font>

may you sing the deeds of glory
IP: 82.19.140.112
Posted on October 6, 2013 at 07:08:43 PM by t r i s t a n

Despite her reluctant smiles and strained laughter, Tristan still found himself frowning a little in concern. There was something in his friend�s eyes, something deeply troubled as if it had gone further than her thoughts and begun to gnaw at her soul instead. It was with a sudden jar of realisation that the boy realised why the look was so familiar. He had seen it before. The Prince could not remember a time when his mother had been well. He supposed she must have been when he had been born, and for some time after, but he could not recall it. She had had good periods and bad ones. The good times had sometimes lasted weeks or months, but the bad ones had never gone far. As Tristan understood it, his mother�s illness had been the result of her mental connection with Gwythr. He could only imagine how horrible that must have been. His poor brave mother...if for nothing else, Tristan hated Gwythr for what he had done to her. He would not allow a memory, a fluke, to do the same to his friend. �You�re a very kind person,� the boy told her firmly as her hand closed over his, warmth radiating from her palm, �the kindest I know, and I bet Gibbs thought so too.�

Tristan felt the wolf�s chin against his side, and moved his arm to give her head more space. His fingers scratched gently behind her ear and he smiled at the feel of her fur. It was softer and smoother than Celidon�s wiry coat, but not as silky as the puppies�. He hoped his father would relent and allow him to have them back with him soon. He missed having them sleeping on his bed, and waking up with them draped amusingly across his legs with their tongues lolling out. The prince was distracted as Alethea eased his fingers apart and slipped her own into the spaces, lowering their hands to rest upon the fabric of her dressing gown. He had not held hands with a girl before...at least, not when it wasn�t some kind of court occasion or dance where it was expected of him to do so. He had seen adults do it, and the older children of the court pressed into corners and whispering in hushed voices.

Tristan was glad when she offered him a distraction. �I�m fine,� he reassured her, grinning in order to emphasise just how fine he was. �I mean, as soon as Father decides I�ve learned my lesson I am going to go on so many long rides and go climbing because I am fed up of looking through boring books.� Lifting his face in order to look her in the eyes again, his own stretched wide in a playful search for sympathy �he�s had me reading about economics Thea! Economics! He might as well have just told her that he�d been stabbed in the arm, and Tristan would have argued that it was a most apt comparison. He thought he had learned more about trade in the last week than anyone would want to know in a lifetime. �Oh yes,� the prince continued �he lets me out...and six o clock in the morning...in the training yard...with a very heavy sword. I�ll have arms like a blacksmith by the time he�s finished, you watch.�

_{photography by Dominic�s pics | Mark Cutler at flickr.com}
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