Claywick rode into Pemberth with quite a bit of news for Caladna and Cutch.
“It looks as if your interference has caused quite a stir amongst the Wildwood invaders, Little Man”, Clay called out as he crossed the cottage’s main room from the front door to sit at the table near the fireplace.
From the bedroom, Cutch answered as he was gathering all his things on the bed, readying them for packing. “Well, if that whole mish-mosh has given them fits, then at least something was accomplished.”
Cally and Clay exchanged glances as Cutch tossed his empty bags on the bed, sizing up their capacity with the volume of the gathered pile of things to pack. “He still is not happy with himself”, Cally muttered to Clay. “He knows he should have handled that far better.” Clay nodded, but remained silent as Cutch joined them from the bedroom and, as was his custom, looked to the empty table, then gathered mugs for them all and the pot of coffee keeping warm next to the fire.
“Yes, Little Man has learned his lesson”, Cutch sardonically admitted as he poured them all steamy brew. “Time to go home, much enlightened. Seems She still wants me, lucky fellow that I am....”
“Luck has nothing to do with it.” Cally interrupted as she and Cutch sat with Clay. “You are in love with each other, and that is as plain as....’. She hesitated to find just the right words.
Clay took the opportunity to interject, grinning over the rim of his mug. “...as that great craggy lump growin’ out of the middle of your face. Can’t see what an Elf-maid would see in that, unless she was blinded by love.”
Little Man leaned back and sipped while glinting eyes regarded his old friend. “Too bad you have no more sense than a saddle sore, or at least a happier temperament than one. You might not be as blinded TO love.” He punctuated the remark by flicking wide eyes between Clay and Cally. Her ears reddened and she rose snorting through an embarrassed smile to find somewhere else in the cottage to pretend to busy herself.
Clay leaned forward giving Cutch a sideways squint. ‘There are some lines you should not cross, brother.”
Cutch leaned forward with an impish grin, and mimicked Clay’s countenance. “And there are some you should...brother. Or at least peek past?”
The bear-man sniffed at that and, setting down his cup, appeared intent on changing the subject, but Cutch noticed a new thoughtful hesitation in his friend’s customary retreat. Clay cleared his throat before redirecting the conversation. “So, the Wildwood is in a bit of an uproar now. With Gilmorwen gone, there are now four foul fellows competing for her position. One was chosen by the wizard, but as soon as the old goat left, three others crawled out from under their rocks to begin sniping about.”
Cutch accepted the change of subject, as it was never useful to press the Big Man on certain things. “And you are going to go back there and keep them riled up? Harassing each of them in turn? You and Teahesto?”
The big man nodded. “I suppose you have other things to do, now.”
“Aye”, Cutch answered. “A betrothed, her House and its members, a great number of things to tend to …. it will be good to get back. Will you and Cally take time to visit once in a while?”
Crossing his arms and leaning back, Clay smirked at his best friend. “As often as you two will visit us, brother, and I promise no better than that.” Having heard the subject change, Cally returned to stand at the table, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Clay.
“If we are going to make Ados’s before nightfall, we should get about it”, she said directly to Cutch as she plopped her packed bags on the table. Clay looked at the baggage, then after long moments ended the pregnant silence.
“I guess I can start loading our horses then”, Big Man sheepishly offered, reaching for her bags.
“I’ll clear the table and clean up while you finish packing, Cutch”, she directed, seeming to ignore Clay altogether. Both men knew when to go silent and let Cally lead, so they rose and moved quietly to their tasks.
The East Road connected Pemberth to Adso’s Camp via the town of Bree, entering through the South Gate, meandering up the high hill to the Prancing Pony before turning down, left and away, through the West Gate. Gathering clouds masked the early afternoon sun, and the dampening air foretold approaching rain. When it came, light but steady, the still air guided the raindrops straight down and filtered the noise of the town retreating behind them. The silence swelled. Cutch and Cally rode together while Clay lagged behind with the excuse of ‘guarding the rear’, meaning ‘leave me alone’.
Cutch murmured to her, ‘Do you remember when you teased me about having a girlfriend? Just before She and I left for the Falathlorn....?”
“And you told me it wasn’t funny, Cutch. And it still isn’t, so please don’t go there.” Cutch turned to look at her, but she had already turned her face away from him, thus hiding it under her wet hood.
Little Man badly wanted to say something perfect to her, to fix things. They had danced around the subject many times, teasing as a way of hinting at a tender truth about her feelings for Clay. It would most often end with a flippant remark, a warm warning that the topic was still off limits. Today, it was like a door being quietly but firmly closed and locked.
