Fiat Lux II: Part I

"Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: also our bed is green." Song of Solomon 1:15-16

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"Ian?"
"Mmmmmm?"
"Are you awake?"

Ian popped open an eye to look at his wife. Skye lay beside him basking in the summer sun on what they had come to think of as "their" rock, a ledge sitting on a hillside with a sweeping view of the valley below and Camelot off in the distance. Neither were clad in very much, but then again, what they had been pursuing did not require much clothing. He leaned over and kissed her." Very awake"

"And diligent. Don't forget diligent." She returned the kiss with a soft laugh, then pushed him gently away. "Someone's coming. I see a horse." She pointed to the valley floor and Ian stood to gaze down at the rider intently. He had on only a breechclout (and a dagger strapped to his leg) but at this distance no one could see either he or Skye unless they were of elven blood. He shaded his eyes as he watched the rider draw closer.

"Timmons. He always looks like he's about to fly off the saddle. Best we get dressed for company, love." He reached down with one calloused hand and she drew herself up to plant a kiss on his face. He chuckled. "We better hurry. I'm sure Timmons has some sort of bet going on just what we are doing on our outing."

When the Sergeant's horse finally reached the summit of the hill a half hour later, he found a scene of bland domestic tranquility. Ian sat with his back to a tree trunk, whittling away on a toy whistle for Shane. Meanwhile, Skye's head was bent over a piece of small embroidery. Neither looked up at him immediately so he coughed.

"Milord? Milady?"

Blackthorn looked up. "Why, Timmons! Whatever brings you here?"

"Why, you did, milord."

"Obviously." Blackthorn grinned and standing up, motioned his Guardsman to dismount. "But why?"

Timmons' jaw dropped. "You told me to ..."

"Iaaaan...." Now Skye was heard, her voice low..but not sounding pleased in the least.

"I did?"

"Aye, milord, you told me the minute I had this to.."

" Ian-BLOODY-vethallion Blackthorn! You PROMISED!"

"..bring it right here.."

"NO interruptions! NO duties! Just you and me and the stars and sky, you said.."

"And give it to milady Blackthorn"

"You slippery, deceitful, manipulative .... ELF!! I should have.."

She stopped, green eyes ablaze, as Timmons thrust a large bag at her. "What is this? I warn you, Ian..."

"Just open it, love."

"If this is some sort of joke, you will.." Her voice trailed off as she opened the bag and dug through handfuls of straw. What could have required such careful packing? "Ian. What is this?" She drew a clay pot sealed with wax out of the bag, then a rolled scroll. That had no answers for her, as it proved to be written in Arabic. She handed it to Ian in exchange for one of his daggers and set about prying it open as Ian read the note aloud.

'To my friend Iannon of the Silver Rose,
Greetings:
I have done as thou requested and have sent to thy wife sundry herbs and tinctures that have been harvested and processed here in warmer climes. I hope it pleases her and brings thee pleasure in her happiness. I have also sent several treatises and a scroll of instructions on the combinations that are most of use and efficacious.

Lastly, I send to thy wife seeds for those plants you told me would most likely flourish in those cold climes of your chosen home.

It has been too long since last we saw thee. Bring your fire dragon to meet the man who was saved by a savage ifrit from the north.

Im'shallah, we shall sit once more under the orange trees and speak of philosophy.

Ibrahim of Toledo'

"Im'shallah. God willing, my friend." Ian looked over at Skye, who had happily set each packet out reverently as she read their labels. "Surprised, shurrukai?"

"Ian, you wonderful man! Christos! Do you know what he's sent me? There's things here I've only heard rumors of being used!" She rose, most likely to kiss him, but was blocked as Timmons stepped in front of her, handing Ian a rather worn looking scroll.

"Sorry, milord. This is for you."

Blackthorn opened it, scanned it, then cursed before looking at Skye.

"It's from Brother Llwyd. There's trouble in Penally."