When he flung open the doors, Gwyn whinnied long and loud, and pranced happily, alarming the young stable-boy who was standing on a barrel to brush her mane.
"Hello Ugly," Gawain said, smiling, and tugged her ears as her great head bobbed low and pushed against his chest.
"Here, let me, please." Gawain smiled at the boy, and took the brush and comb. The boy looked sheepish, obviously in awe of the longsword warrior towering over him. "What is your name?"
"Lyas, Serre."
"Well Lyas, you have my thanks, and the thanks of this hideous nag. I can see you have tended her well in my absence, and I am in your debt."
Lyas flushed, and a gruff voice announced from the back of the stables "Aye, Serre, he's a good lad, that 'un, and will make a fine master one day.”
A dwarf strode forward from the gloom, clutching a bridle, which he was polishing. "I am Rudd, master groomer to his Lordship. Lyas is my 'prentice."
"Well met, and honour to you both."
"Honour to you, Serre, and to your fine horse."
"I am told she has been skittish of late?"
Lyas shook his head, and Rudd seemed surprised. "Gwyn? Skittish? No Serre, good as gold. Tired at first, cold and travel-weary, but perked up a treat now, as you can see."
"Ah." Gawain smiled, a glimmering of understanding shining through his confusion. "I must have misheard my friends."
"A fine horse, Serre." Rudd smiled. "I've only seen the like once afore, many years ago."
Gawain eyed the master groomer anxiously. "Indeed?"
"Aye. Can't remember exactly, Serre, me being so old, and having been kicked aside the head more'n once in my day. But a fine horse. It's an honour for us to tend such a noble beast."
"Thank you."
"No thanks needed, Serre. Come, Lyas, there's tack to polish afore supper."
Rudd smiled, his eyes twinkling in the light from glowstone lamps, and Gawain nodded his thanks at the old man as he disappeared to a back room with the young apprentice. Doubtless, Gawain knew, the master groomer would know a Raheen charger when he saw one.
"Now, hideous creature," Gawain sighed, "I don't know why good people like Rudd and Lyas should waste so much of their precious time on you with these other fine horses to tend, but since I feel sorry for them having to look at you, I think I'd best finish this grooming myself."
Gwyn bobbed her head happily, munching hay from a bale while Gawain busied himself. Still his mind turned to Elayeen, and the anguish in her hazel-green eyes.
An hour later, his duty done and Gwyn nodding haughtily, Gawain returned to the house, and the main room. He froze as he entered, noting the worried expressions on his friends' faces, and noting his weapons piled on the chair, the longsword propped against the hearth. Lady Merrin rose, and smiled weakly.
"What is it?" Gawain asked, his voice tight with anguish.
"Traveller," Merrin advanced, and rested a gentle hand upon his arm, "Your Lady is well, and is bathing. We have spoken, she and I. And come to a decision…"
"A decision? What? What sort of decision?"
Rak and Allazar stood, the former looking to the latter.
"Elayeen is confused, Longsword," Allazar began apologetically, "You must understand, this is all a great shock to her."
"A great shock?"
"Indeed!" Allazar announced, "Can you not imagine? For the whole of the time that she has been athroth, she has lived in a dark and lonely world, filled with waking dreams, never sure which dreams are reality and which realities are dreams…it will take some time for her to realise that all of us, all of this," he waved his hands, "are in fact real."
"I don't understand…" Gawain protested.
"She needs time." Merrin said softly. "And so we have thought it best, she and I, and my Lord and the wizard concur…"
"Concur?"
"We have agreed," Rak said diplomatically, "That under the circumstances, it might be best if…uhm…Allazar?"
"I?" Allazar looked suddenly alarmed.
"It would be best," Merrin said firmly, "If you were to take lodgings at the inn…"
"The inn!" Gawain protested.
"…Just until Elayeen has fully recovered." Merrin said hastily.
Gawain looked stunned. "But she is mithroth…If I leave her…"
"No, no! She is no longer athroth, Longsword." Allazar rushed to explain. "As long as she knows you are nearby no harm will come to her for your absence."
"Your temporary absence." Rak added hurriedly.
Gawain looked from one to the other. "I still don't understand."
"The wizard will explain it all to you, I am sure." Merrin smiled. "Won't you, Allazar?"
"Eh? Oh, yes…"
"It will only be for a short time." Rak assured Gawain. "Had we more rooms, perhaps…"
Merrin shook her head. "We do not, my Lord, and in truth it is best if Traveller grants his Lady time to come to terms with her new circumstances."
"Then I am to leave? Now? For the inn?"
"It's for the best," Merrin smiled.
Gawain did not look convinced. "You will send for me? If she calls for me?"
"The instant she calls for you."
"Or if she needs me?"
"In a heartbeat."
Rak picked up Gawain's quiver of arrows, his knife, his shortsword, and his old boots, and handed them to Allazar. The longsword he would not touch.
"I do not understand." Gawain sighed, his eyes blinking, one moment aquamire, the next steel-grey as his emotions rose and fell. Almost absent-mindedly he picked up the sword and slung it over his shoulder.
"Well. The inn is comfortable, my brother," Rak smiled, "if you recall, you rested there the night Travak was born?"
"Yes…the night Travak was born…"
Gawain allowed Merrin to guide him to the front door, and in moments it seemed he was standing bemused, in the snow, with Allazar beside him, the door closed behind them.
"I don't understand." Gawain sighed again.
"I'll explain it to you at the inn," Allazar said quietly. "If we can hurry? These robes of mine are hardly fit for the weather."
"Oh. Yes."
At the inn, Derrik, the landlord, smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Serres, there are no more rooms. The snows, you see. So many merchants, the roads and passes blocked…"
Gawain just stood there, dumbfounded.
"But!" Derrik announced, happily, struck by a sudden thought, "We can put up a second cot in the wizard's room! The two of you being friends, why, you'll be snug as muffworms and it won't cost an extra copper!"
"Just because I haven't killed him yet doesn't mean he's my friend." Gawain mumbled.
"He jests," Allazar grinned at the landlord as a hush fell over the assembled company, "For such a fearsome warrior, he has a rare humour! We'll take the cot, goodman Derrik, and glad of it. Come my friend!" Allazar cried enthusiastically, "To your new lodging!"
And he led the still-bemused Gawain up the stairs to their room.
It was warm, and faced north towards the Teeth, and Derrik had been right. It was snug.
"Small is a better word." Gawain sighed, staring out of the window while Derrik set up the second cot bed.
"Cosy!" Derrik enthused with professional cheer.
"Tiny." Gawain grumbled. "And I've got to share it with a whitebeard. I had better accommodation under the Teeth, and better company too."
"Old Martan?" Derrik sucked in his breath, in mock horror. "There's one miner can talk the hind legs off a horse. Stuck in a tunnel with Martan, eating frak and drinking dripwater, or here snug and warm in the light, with finest food and ale? Wizard for company or no, and I mean no disrespect Serre Allazar, I know which I'd choose."
"So do I." Gawain sighed, but did not express his preference.
A serving-girl brought blankets and pillows for the cot, and when the door closed leaving just Gawain and Allazar in the room, Gawain sighed again.