 Celidon’s tail began to beat a steady thump thump against the grass as Grim tickled him behind the ears. Tristan rolled his eyes and nudged his familiar with his knee. He had seen the cu-sith kill raptors and threaten armed pirates yet strangers (even very small ones like Grim) still made him anxious. Cel ignored his fairy and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the girl’s fingers as she found that special hard-to-reach spot at the back of his head. She wasn’t scary anymore.
“You can talk you know?” Tristan told his familiar with an amused smile as Celidon opened his eyes and fixed the prince with reproachful eyes. The teenager responded with a resigned shrug, “have it your way.”
The helmet tucked under Tristan’s arm was growing steadily heavier. He had not planned on an extended conversation in the summer sunshine, and after a morning of intense training he was really starting to feel the weight of his armour. He bent down to put the helmet down on the floor by his feet and whilst he kneeling down he started to unbuckle the greaves on his legs.
“I do,” Tristan replied to Grim’s question placing the first piece of armour on the floor next to his helmet, “Lady Nimueh.” It was evident from his expression and tone of voice that he was very fond of his grandmother. After his mother had disappeared Nimueh had been one of the few women in his life. She was different from his Auntie Morgana, softer and more comforting. When Tristan had wanted to cry he had always gone to see Nimueh. He didn’t have to brave around her and she had this wonderful calming aura which made everything feel better.
“She makes all sorts of things, not just cookies,” Tristan explained as the second greave joined the first, “little cupcakes, scones, biscuits, you name it, she can bake it. She’s an amazing cook too; you haven’t lived until you’ve tried her venison broth.” The prince turned his attention to the plates on his thighs; the buckles were larger and less fiddly and they quickly joined the growing pile by his feet.
“She smells of rosewater and has green eyes just like mine. She has long wavy black hair down her waist and her skin is very pale and she has freckles across her cheeks.” Tristan indicated their placement by running his thumb along the line of his cheekbone. “She makes her own dresses so she always looks lovely and she speaks Welsh.” Having removed all of the armour he could without help the prince returned his full attention to the little girl. “Prynhawn da” he said in the way his grandmother had taught him “Sut dach chi, Grimbaud?” Tristan grinned, “that means, ‘good afternoon, how are you, Grimbaud?’” he explained. “It sounds much better when she says it though.”
He considered Grim for a moment and then made his decision.
“Would you like to come and meet her now?” he asked holding out his hand to Grim. The prince looked to Gisli for any sign of disapproval. If the big cat was used to looking out for the little girl then he might be a bit skittish about her interacting too much with strangers. His familiar was a guardian too so he had some idea about how they thought.
“Can you carry this for me?” Tristan asked holding out the two thigh plates which were now lying with one stacked on top of the other. When Grim had taken them in her free hand Tristan up-ended his helmet and put the graves inside them. He then began to lead the little girl back in the direction of the castle.
“Oh, you’ve met Mallos?” he asked both girl and familiar as they approached the oak door at the foot of one of the towers, “then you’ve met my grandfather too. I’m glad you liked him.”
 |
|