(no subject)

[equal_of_any_man]

Olivier sings to himself softly as he prepares an ointment for Athelstan, to help keep the cold out in the long winter. The rich smell of mustard seed and goose fat warms the air. He doesn't realise that he's singing one of his mother's songs, one he has not heard in many years. Not since his mother died.

Comments

[a_rare_benedictine]

"You have the desire to do it well. That goes a long way to win goodwill, while you learn."

[equal_of_any_man]

"I hope so." He closes his eyes, enjoying her touch. "Will you sing to me? Please? There's so much I want to show and tell you but... I miss your song."

[a_rare_benedictine]

She leans down to kiss his forehead.

"There will be time enough for showing and telling later."

And she begins to sing one of their lullabies.

[equal_of_any_man]

Her song soothes his heart, lifting a heaviness that had plagued him since he left the land of his birth. He wants to stay with her, to make the most of this night but her song brings deep peace to his heart and he drifts.

[a_rare_benedictine]

She encourages it, wanting her boy to get the rest and solace he needs. When he wakes, if it's before the night is over, she'll still be there.

[equal_of_any_man]

Olivier sleeps, deeper and better than he can ever remember sleeping and wakes to the breaking of dawn. He looks for he but knows the night of wonder has past. But still it lingers - the smell of her perfume and the warmth of her touch. He feels a great lightness in his heart with this dawn and goes down to tend his garden with gladness in his step.