A smile on her lips, a dream in her eyes, she leaned her head against the cool, cool glass of her window, listening to the rain make its steady, dependable, pitter-patter. Waiting, her eyes searching the path in front of her home idly, waiting for him. Spotting him, her face brightened with pleasure, as if a light had gone on inside her. She waited impatiently for him to make his way inside, where she stood, waiting.
His eyes warmed at the pretty sight of her, with her lithe form fairly vibrating with energy. Pausing at the threshold, he said,
"Another story you want today, my love?"
She laughed, full and free. "Am I that obvious, then?"
"To me, you are." he said, amusement plain in his face and voice.
They settled into their quaint little kitchen and she leaned forward across the table towards him, with anticipation plain in her eyes.
"Alright then, I'll tell you a story that I was told by my grandfather and, and to him by his grandfather and so on for as far back as anyone can remember."
"Sentimental men? Most legends or stories are passed down from the mother", she said.
"Yes, we are a sentimental lot. Do you want to hear the story, or not?" he asked with mock annoyance.
"Oh, please tell, by all means" she said, in a voice quivering with suppressed laughter.
And he began.
"There lived a maid known by the name of Gwen. She was of humble birth, but the breeding of a lady showed in her bearing and manner. She had hair as pale gold as winter sunlight, and eyes as green as moss. Her beauty was known throughout the land, as she had a slim and pleasing form, but she was a modest maid who held herself with pride. Since her blessed mother had died giving birth to her, she kept a little cottage tidy and welcoming for her aging father. She did as she was bid and expected to, and no-one ever heard a complaint pass through those perfectly formed lips. Though she was seen from time to time, walking the cliffs in the evenings and staring out over the sea as if she wished to grow wings and fly away, to a land of her own choosing."
He paused here, holding out a hand for her. She gave him a questioning look, but he only smiled and grasping her hand, drew her towards the large windows, which showed their almost perfect surroundings drenched in the downpour, and somehow, sunlight still peeked through, here and there. Drawing her close and leaning her head on his shoulder, he continued:
"No-one knew what was in her heart, or if they did, they couldn't say. Perhaps this is something she couldn't properly recognize herself. But still, she kept the cottage, cared for her father and walked the cliffs, alone. Always, alone."
She made a small sound which might have been of pity, or sympathy, he didn't ask. Turning her around, her back towards him, he rested his chin on her head and they both gazed out at the wet beauty in front of them.
"Did she stay alone all her life, then?" she asked, quietly.
He softly kissed her hair and inhaled the scent, rubbing his cheek against the softness. As he spoke, a silent stream of sunlight shimmered through the rain, through the window, to pool quietly on the floor at their feet.
"One day, when she was taking flowers to the grave of her mother, she met a man - or what she thought was a man. He was tall and straight, with thick, dark hair and eyes as blue as the skies above her. By her name he called her, and his voice was like music in her head and set her heart dancing. And in a flash like lightening, they fell in love over her mother's grave with the breeze sighing through the tall grass like faeries whispering."
She smiled up at him, her dimples giving her a cherubic air. "Love at first sight, huh? God, I love that romantic in you."
He grinned back at her and squeezed her playfully in his arms so that she yelped. "Be quiet and let me speak."
"It was not a simple matter of a maid and a man taking hands and joining lives, for he was Aidan, the faerie prince, who lived in the silver palace under the hill where her cottage sat. She feared a spell, and doubted his heart, her own, and the love they felt. The more her heart yearned for him, the more she doubted, for she had been taught to beware of the faeries and wherever they gathered.
Even so one night, when the moon was round and full, Aidan lured Gwen from the cottage and onto his great winged horse, to fly with her over the land and the sea and show her the wonders he would give her if only she would pledge herself to him. His heart was hers, and all he had, he would give to her.
It happened that her father saw his young Gwen swirl out of the sky on the silver winged horse and the faerie prince behind her. In his fear and lack of understanding, he thought only to save her from the spell he was sure she was under. So he forbade her to meet the prince again, and to ensure her safety, he betrothed her to a steady young man, who would provide for her in a fair manner. Gwen, a maid with great respect for her father, dutifully tucked her heart away, stopped walking the cliffs, and prepared to be wed to the one her father had chosen."
How many of you want to know more? =P
The entrance. Grabbed chairs, strained our necks and backs wrapping the slippery pink chiffon on to the poles and pinning it in place. Then cutting out flowers of silver paper, cutting out minuscule circles of purple and pink crepe to stick inside the flowers. Stuck the flowers onto silver dori and looped it around it the whole pole, scattering a few flowers at the bottom. Then tying up the trailing cloth with silver dori.
