An Old Wound ((Leshya))

[FireThorne]

A tall, slim form strode slowly through the halls of Telgar, obviously rather subdued. Eamon’s face was coolly blank, but his dark black eyes were troubled and tired. He had heard some very disturbing news from a fellow journeyman of his that had passed through this morning. On his way to Crom, he said, but had heard that Eamon was at Telgar and decided to stop in and greet him. The harper, while lounging a little lazily in the gardens and picking a soft tune on his guitar, had spotted Ovar while the man was admiring the scenery a bit, and they had grinned like fools and when they spotted each other. The two knew each other since they were apprentices at the Hall, and they had made a trio with Nevon at their backs. Not that they had ever caused any real trouble or anything, but they had been known pretty well in their teen turns. Ovar had been wild as a buck, actually, and the other two not much better, but they were all cool, respected men now.

However, the news the man shared served to dishearten Eamon well, and he had been in deep thought for most of the day. It was news he felt he needed to share with the Lady Leshya, but he was not looking forward to doing so. Coming to the hall where the Holder’s apartments were, the harper pulled aside one of the lady’s maids and inclined his head to her. “My lady, I seek an audience with your Mistress, Lady Leshya. Would you please tell her Journeyman Eamon requests her presence at a place of her choosing? I have news that she must know.” Watching the maid bob a quick curtsey and hurry off, the Harper sighed and leaned against the wall, folding his arms and staring out the small window across from him. The sun shone bright, and he could hear merry voices from the courtyard rise to him, but none of that could break his melancholy.

The Journeyman awaited the return of the maid, a dark look in his eyes but maintaining that cool exterior. Many who passed him, especially drudges, gave him a wide berth, so he obviously looked foreboding. Eamon never had been a muscular man, but though he was a tall, slim figure, he held a cool, assured air about him that made others respect him. Today, though, he was feeling his rarely-stirred anger arise. He had always considered Nevon to be one of his best friends, but to hear what the journeyman had done to the Lady Leshya had made him detest the man, but now…things were different. The news, coupled with the epidemic that seemed to be spreading to the young and elderly, made the harper very much dark and not at all like his usual personality. He only hoped this news, added to Telgar’s current worries, would not break the Benden daughter he favored so well.

[kayla]

Leshya was in the office she shared now shared with her husband. She'd been spending a lot of time with the sick of the Hold proper - not being able to go out to the further reaches of Telgar lands, though she made sure that they were sent supplies, and that meant doing some work in the office, and accessing funds that she needed Enald to sign off on. When she heard the knock at the door, she shuffled those skins under some normal Hold ones and called out, "Come in."

Seeing it was one of her maids she relaxed, "What is it, Dena?"

"Lady, Journeyman Eamon says he would like an audience with you. At the place of your choosing. He says that he has some news for you." The maid seemed bothered which caused Leshya to frown.

She wondered what the problem was, but nodded, "I'll see him here, Dena. If you'll bring him here, please."

She had not been dressing in her best dresses since she started helping with the sick. There was no sense in letting good dresses get ruined, or in being worried about something as frivolous as clothing when trying to help a child's fever break. Today she wore what was once a nice dress, but had faded and now had some stains from helping wiht the children. Her hair was up simply, to get it out of her face, and her eyes were tired. It hurt her to see so many sick children. She hoped a cure would come soon.

The lady's maid would curtsey to her mistress and hurry out to find where she'd left the Journeyman Harper. "Journeyman? My mistress says you are to come with me. She'll see you in the study."

[FireThorne]

The Harper watched the maid return with veiled eyes and nodded in reply, motioning silently for her to lead the way. He was still angry, and still hurt, and it was not hard to tell by his cool expression and pained eyes. Eamon rarely let his temper show so much, but when a man heard news such as this, even a Harper could not completely school himself. Walking into the study behind the maid, the Journeyman could see the Lady Holder behind her desk, and felt his anger slip a notch. Even though his ire was not lessened against the bandits…he still loathed them, but in seeing the woman, even that emotion paled.

Eamon’s dark eyes took in the lady’s appearance, and he could feel sympathy pull at him. He knew how she must feel with so much occurring right now in her life, especially the sickness that seemed to be spreading faster than they could accommodate, and he briefly wondered if he should even tell her now. After all, she had much on her mind. However, she had told the Harper herself that Nevon’s betrayal was an old wound, and in being a harper he could read her quite easily. The tall man knew it still hurt. Besides, if she found out later, she would wonder why the Journeyman had not told her, and he would not lie and say he did not know. No…now was the time, he decided, though by Faranth if there was any other way, he would have taken it.

“Greetings, my lady.” He said softly, bowing. He waited until the maid left, then stepped towards the desk, stopping a few feet in front of her. The Harper had never felt so uncomfortable before Leshya before. She did not look nearly so bright and composed as she had when they had met in the library, but that just proved that much more what kind of woman she was. The Lady Holder cared so much for her people that she did not worry over herself when they were pained. She was a rare kind of woman. “Forgive me for interrupting you.” Eamon said, knowing in his heart that he was avoiding giving her the news he came to share, even though it was probably pointless. She knew him well enough to read his face and eyes. She had to know something was wrong.

“My lady, I do not find pleasure in adding to your burdens right now, but a fellow Journeyman of mine passed through Telgar this morning, and I feel I must share with you what he imparted to me. He told me….” Eamon felt his cool exterior slip, and pain and sorrow became etched into his features. Stepping around the desk, unable to be so emotionless with the Benden daughter he had known so well, the Journeyman took her hand and kneeled next to her chair. “My Lady Leshya, Ovar told me what became of Nevon. He was indeed returning to the Harper Hall to walk the tables to become a Master, but as he traveled the roads outside Fort, bandits attacked him. They robbed and wounded him. He died at Fort from his injuries, but they said he was unconscious when they found him. Ovar said…he thought I knew.”

[kayla]

Leshya knew that whatever had brought Eamon to her was very serious. While she would not put it past him to want to do something to lessen her stress, she had suspected from the report of her maid that there was something more than Eamon having a desire to just provide her an escape. Her suspicion was confirmed when he walked into the study. Leshya tried to recall if she had ever seen him look so conflicted, and she was pretty sure that the answer was no.

She smiled warmly at him as he greeted her, "Good afternoon, Eamon." She did not press him, though she knew something was clearly wrong. However when he then apologized for interrupting her, she decided if he did not get to what was bothering him soon, she would ask. Perhaps it was separate from why he came to see her, she didn't know, but he was her friend.

Her first thought when he mentioned a friend coming through was to tell Enald that they needed to tighten their borders until the disease was over. They did not need to be sharing this with the rest of Pern if they could help it. However, when he took her hand and knelt beside her, she completely focused, knowing that whatever it was was bad.

When he told her what happened she blinked at him, sitting in stunned silence as she absorbed what he told her. Her expression was unreadable, trying to process. "He... he didn't use me and throw me away?" She blinked, "He's... dead?"

She closed her eyes and hung her head as guilt hit her like a ton of bricks. "All this time... I thought.. oh shells... Nevon... I'm sorry."

Never for a moment would she think that being with Enald was wrong or a mistake. But the thoughts she'd had about Nevon had been so very uncharitable. She had assumed the worse and believed that everything he'd told her had been a lie. She'd doubted that he'd ever loved her. A tear rolled down her cheek.

She should have mourned him rather than hating him, but she'd hated him, hated him for making her believe his lies, but he hadn't. He had not lied. The first tear was joined by another and then others and before she knew it, she was crying.

[FireThorne]

She spoke quietly and haltingly when she finally did reply, and the Harper shook his head when she realized she had not been tossed aside. “No, my lady, he did not.” Eamon said softly, watching with a pained expression upon his features as the reality of the tidings struck Leshya. He could imagine how she must have felt about Nevon all these turns, thinking that her lover had lied to her and abandoned her, when in truth nothing had been false between them. They might have had a bright future together, as a Master Harper and holder’s daughter, but now because of other men’s greed, they would never know. Nevon was a skilled man—he could have been a great harper if he had the chance.

‘But he does not.’ The journeyman thought darkly, cursing the bandits again as he had countless times that day. So much had been taken from so many people all because of their lust for marks. Leshya had been hurt, he and Ovar, Nevon’s parents…there were so many. Eamon had seen ugly things before, and he was by no means a naïve man, but this struck a little too close to his heart for comfort. A harper did not like feeling helpless. Yet, what was there to do? Nevon was dead, and nothing could change that, but he was no warrior, and could take no revenge for the death of his comrade either. A slim, tall Harper he was, with no muscle to really boast about and nothing but a long white knife in his boot that had only tasted blood when he accidentally cut himself.

Through his reflections, Eamon’s hands still clasped Leshya’s, and when tears began to glide silently down her cheeks, the drops fell and landed on their hands. Looking pained, the Harper wanted to hold her until she stopped crying, but knew that if anyone walked in on them embracing…the wrong impression could be made. He would not have her reputation sullied. Yet, the tears came ever more swiftly, and soon she was crying freely. “Oh Leshya, I’m so sorry.” The blonde said softly, so caught up in his grief that he failed to add her title before her name. Hating that he could not hold the one woman he cherished outside of his sister, the slim man held her hands close to his chin, and his black eyes sought hers until he held her gaze.

“My lady, I am sure Nevon would not want you to carry this burden and allow it to chain your happiness. He loved you, and he knew you loved him. Do not lament over the bitter turns.” Kissing her knuckles in a chaste manner, the Harper added softly, “And I do not like watching you cry, though I know this news is hard to bear.” It had been hard for Eamon to bear as well. When Ovar had told him about the bandits and their friend in the garden, the journeyman had taken his leave quickly, borrowing a runner from Telgar’s stables and taking a long ride across the lands. He had cried then, and allowed the tears to flow until they would no longer. The tall man did not like to let his emotions go around others. He wondered if a ride would do Leshya any good—being confined to the study and pouring over skins would certainly not aid to better her feelings. Eamon thought getting outdoors and away from everything for a while would do her well, but he knew she would have to make her own decisions—she was too strong in her beliefs to be talked into anything.

[kayla]

She could not even truly express her grief or the guilt that mingled with it. Grief over what might have been, guilt over the knowledge that she would not trade her life with Enald for anything - and not because it gave her rank, but because the love she had with Enald had a depth that she had never known with Nevon... though with time, perhaps she would have. Grief and guilt both for how she had carried Nevon's memory, hating him and judging herself rather than treasuring her first taste of love.

She even felt bad with her own realization that she had been comfortable with that hate and anger. It was familiar. It made sense in her world. None of her feelings were a betrayal of anyone - and now...

She shook her head as the tears fell. She could not think about that right now. It was simply too much. Enald loved her, he would understand right? He would understand that she would not trade her life with him... right?

She smiled a bit, though it was not really a big smile as it hurt too much to smile right then. She wiped her tears with her free hand. "All this time... I thought the worst of him. I just... its too much to ... to process."

"I... I don't even know... I don't know." She glanced over to the work on her desk. She couldn't do anything to help Nevon. He'd been dead for so long and she had believed... no, focus. But her people needed the help she could give them now. She didn't want to work. She wanted to go to her bedroom and curl up on her bed and cry herself out.

She rubbed her head, "I don't have time to mourn right now, Eamon." She sighed, "I want to, but the people of the hold need me now. Children are sick and dying, and the elderly and the weak. I have to help them. I have to not worry about how I feel right now."

She gently squeezed his hand as he held her hand, "I know you're hurting too, Eamon. You and Nevon were close friends... I'm so sorry. So very sorry."