A Baring of the Soul

A soft breeze wafted into the room filling the air with the sweet fragrances from the garden below. The lone figure lying within stirred a bit as the breeze made its way over the bed. A smile slowly grew upon the sleeping figures face, only to be replaced with a grimace. His face showing the unmistakable signs of healing a great burn could not take the punishment of movement. His eyes, sealed shut by the bandages, which covered them, moved under the wrapping, but even this caused pain.

The figure seemed to tense. Sweat began to seep through the bandages, as if expending a great amount of energy. The only movement apparent was a minuscule movement where fingers would be under the coverlet. A few seconds later the figure appeared to collapse from exhaustion.

This scenario was played out upon each awakening. Over and over for weeks, until one day he managed to get to a sitting position. A victory! Though short lived, he immediately fainted onto the floor. A short while later a women entered the room to check on her patient. Upon seeing the figure lying on the floor she turned to get help muttering, "Bout darned time."

The man seemed to gain strength each day, though the progress was slow. Too slow for one in as good a condition as he obviously was, even for one of his age, but all the same, would heal properly. Each day the healer would enter, struggle to feed him, change dressings, and massage his tightening muscles.

Finally one day when she entered, he was leaning against the wall next to the window. Though his legs were trembling from the strain, he stayed rigid. He seemed to be searching for something he could not find. "I see you're feelin' better today sir knight" she said happily. His only answer, "The garden?" "Aye M'Lord, young Tanny has been tending it as you have instructed." she said with an all knowing smile. "Maybe after a rest you would like to visit it?" she asked knowing his answer and the fight that would ensue. "Why not now?" he asked weakly but with a bit of irritation. "You are not yet strong enough you old goat! Now ta bed with ya!" she answered in the tone and manner only a healer could get away with when addressing a knight. He thought of arguing, but then better of it. He was tired, and he did owe her much for bringing him back to health. "Aye M'Lady, as you wish." She crossed the room to help him back to bed. "Tomorrow." She told him as she went about her daily routine.

When she entered the next morning she found him still in bed, though awake and quite anxious. She prepared him for his first trip out of the sick room since his arrival more than a month past. When she was satisfied, she had him first sit up slowly, then she helped him to his feet. "You are gettin stronger. But we'll take it easy today." She told him with a stern but caring voice. "I have someone else to look after for a bit. Another will help you to the garden. Will this suffice for you?" she asked. Taking a deep breath, he thought it over, he didn't really want another to see him as such. But knew fully well too that she couldn't have been the only one to enter his room in all this time. "Aye." He answered anxious to get down to the garden. He soon felt strong hands attach, one each to an arm and his shoulder.

As he slowly made his way down the stairway to the lower level he stumbled on a step and almost fell. Just before he hit the steps, strong arms clasped him and pulled him back against a female chest as they both settled to the steps, her sitting and him cradled in her arms. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed as she held him close to check for injuries. "Are yea okay M'Lord?" she asked frantically. "Aye," he answered slowly, "just feelin useless! Cain't see and me legs be as weak as a wee babe!" he slapped the steps in frustration. As he tried to get up he thought he smelled something familiar. It brought back a memory of another. He slammed his fist into the steps again and sat up. "Dang." He took a deep breath, "Can we please try agin?" he asked after calming a bit and apologizing. "As you wish." She answered with a catch in her voice.

They made it to the garden this time without any problems, though he was exhausted by then. She led him to the bench in the center. He seemed to gain strength as he sat there amongst the roses that surrounded him. He sat for quite a time before he felt strong enough to stand and walk around the garden. His aide knew he knew this garden like the back of his hand, that even blind, he was in no danger, so she merely followed behind watching over him.

One at a time he felt each bush, each bud, and each bloom. He seemed to care not that the thorns tore at his hands. As callused as they were, they were gentle enough not to damage a single petal. When he was sure that each was in good shape he returned to the bench to retrieve a small knife from a container he himself had placed there many years ago which he used to cut a pink rose. He then returned once again to the bench and sat. Leaning over he returned the knife to its container, smelled the rose, removed the thorns, and then presented it to the woman who had helped him to his garden. "For you M'Lady."

"Why thank ye good sir," she said accepting it and breathing deeply its beautiful fragrance. "I've always loved thy roses."

"Aye, many have." He said with a sigh. "Guess I put a lotta me inta them. Spent many a day here. Shoulda seen the garden when I first came here! Was quite a mess it was," he remembered back. For a while afterward he sat silently staring blindly in the direction of a bush different from the others, separated, and with a larger number of petals than the rest.

Finally he began to speak of the overgrown weeds and vines unattended for years. How he and Sir Dulain, another aspirant of KoRT, had been asked to clean it up, and how they had vowed to keep it up for the Lady Valeana, the gardens namesake. All the while his covered eyes never strayed from the direction of the bush.

His companion, still smiling with the rose held close to her nose enjoying it's sweet scent, noticed the deep pink rose bush that he stared at, though she knew he could not see. His intimate knowledge of the garden proved he knew where he pointed his bandaged face, and this intrigued her.

"And what of that large pink bush so prominently displayed M'Lord?" she asked.

He cooked his head slightly towards her, "What? What was tha' ye said?" he asked. Opening his mouth wide to take a breath, "Ahhh," he said pointing towards the bush he knew so well. "That be me own creation for sure." He started to rock back and forth ever so slightly, breathing deeply.

"I made that fer a great lady warrior I once knew." He answered as if far off.

"She musta been verra honored ta receive such a gift as that!" his companion replied.

"Maybe she woulda." Was his only answer.

"Maybe M'Lord? Did she nae see it?"

"Nay.." he stopped rocking now, though his hands began to wring his gown with white knuckles.

"How sad for her M'Lord." She said sadly.

"Aye, for both of us I think," stopping all motion.

"If I may? Did she die M'Lord?" she asked quietly.

"Die?" he repeated with a smile, "Nay, M'Lady. She was tha best knight in the realms! There was narry a critter, nor an evil about that coulda held a candle to 'er," he told her smiling, as if reliving a memory.

"Then..." she asked for more without tryin ta push.

"Then, I left on a quest one day an ne'er found tha time ta show 'er."

"Oh." Disappointment in her voice said she disapproved.

"Aye, tha big brave knight, huh." He said through a forced smile.

She noticed the bandages over his eyes where becoming damp, and when she reflexively reached to touch them he jerked his head away.

"Sorry M'Lady, I guess they are a bit tender still," he said hopin she wouldn't press him further.

"Tis alright M'Lord, I meant no harm. Tis but a habit when'aer I see some one a hurtin."

Taking a deep breath, "Tis that noticeable, is it?" he asked knowing the answered already.

"A blind man could'nae miss it...Ohh, M'Lord, I'm terribly sorry," she said, wantin ta take back what she'd just said, and not noticing that she was now gripping his arm to lend comfort.

"Tis alright," he said patting her hand which she had forgotten on his arm. "I once thought that time could heal up all wounds, guess maybe there be some that jus' ain't meant ta be healed." This time he gripped her hand as if lookin for absolution and understanding.

"Ye musta loved 'er verra much. Surely she knew?" she asked not knowin what ta say.

He took several slow breaths, while he thought the question and his answer through.

"If'n she did, I narry knew o it." he said plainly at last.

"But, twas best maybe. We was both needed ta do what we could ta help so many others at tha time."

"Surely though M'Lord, ya could'a found tha time?" she implored.

"There ya hit upon tha problem M'Dear. I could'a but di'nae do it, an there be my wound ta carry." He felt her squeeze his burnt arm, accepting the pain as a bit of punishment for his foolishness.

"I was narry feared o anythin nor anyone in me life, ceptin that one. Have ye er' wanted anythin so bad yer whole be'in pained? So much that if'n ye were'a denied that which ye sought, ya woulda na'er healed?" he asked tryin to get words that he wouldn't or couldn't get out. Under his breath he cursed himself for speaking of this out loud to one he knew not. But for some reason it felt good to bare his soul to someone, and if he had to do it, it might as well be one he couldn't see the expressions of distaste on, for he knew his story must sicken her as much as it did him!

"But M'Lord, have ye not already said that ye have that verra wound that wou'nae heal?" she pressed, tryin to help him see that his own reluctance caused that which he sought to flee.

"Bright girl." He said patting her hand again. "Took me thirty years ta see that, an ye grasped it in a thousand less sittin's than I."

He took another deep breath and patted the comforting hand that had never left his arm the whole time, "I must rest now."

"Aye M''Lord,"

She helped him to his feet, then to his room. He was comfortably asleep after but a few minutes, she left his room and made her way back to the garden.

She stood over the roses he had made for his love, admiring them, and smelling deep the truly sweet fragrance he had created. She had seen him enough in this garden to know these had taken him years to create. That his very heart and soul must live in them. And after his tale, she knew that to be true. She retrieved the cutting knife from its holder and cut one long stemmed beauty. Again she breathed deeply with closed eyes. Upon opening them, there was a hint of moisture in the corners.

"I wonder if he ever gave me rose a name?"