War Prize

[MrAdam]

Fleece was impressed. He’d hoped by making the climb sound matter-of-fact it would ease any anxieties that Ellie might have about climbing the ladder. It was safe enough, but it looked far higher from the top than it did from the bottom.
“Well done, Ellie” said Fleece, as she reached the edge of the platform. The informal address felt comfortable for the first time. He offered her his hand to pull her safely up, and put his arm around her waist to guide her safely onto the platform.

The structure was a low treehouse – a small, open landing space no more than a metre or so square, then wooden walls covering three sides, with the fourth opening onto the landing space. The shelter was large enough to allow two people and their equipment to sleep comfortably enough, though the roof was low and Fleece had to stoop to enter. Inside was Fleece’s stash – spare equipment, arms and pieces of armour, a couple of waterproof scrollcases, two little iron strongboxes, and a number of other coin pouches and a rather fine jewellery box.

“I got lucky when I found this place” said Fleece, rather proud of his little den, “it’s an old ranger post from before the war, when there were regular patrols. They used it to keep supplies safe, to sleep in, to leave messages for the next patrol, that kind of thing. We found a map which marked out their locations, but this was the only one more or less in one piece. I’ve had to repair a few planks, cleaned it up, and it’s serviceable again.”

“I needed some things” he said, taking in his stash with a sweep of his hand, “gold, silver, maps… a few other things I can’t leave behind”. He quickly started packing, throwing things into a couple of saddlebags and belt pouches.

He passed Ellie a pouch with needles and threads and a small pile of clothes.
“I don’t know how to do this, exactly, but… your dress is too distinctive, especially tattered like that. We’ve got that cloak you can wear over the top, but the hem still shows, and it’s not… I don’t know, it’s too distinctive. Can you put something together? Or fix the dress, or… I don’t know. Is there anything you can do with this lot? I’ll head back down while you try, obviously...”

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"And you did a very fine job." Although the girl was clearly exhausted, her praise was sincere and her tone pleasant. The situation might be precariously dangerous, but her lot of late had certainly improved compared to hours earlier, hadn't it?

Ellie carefully stepped on the full of each board as she curiously considered the wooden dwelling, politely distracted from his packing but mindful for instruction. When he tossed her the small bag of sewing material and handed her clothing, she seemed just as uncertain about the dress as he was.

"The dress is distinctive." She murmured, her delicate fingers running over the rougher fabric of the plainer clothing. A thought came to pretend came to her but she was too embarrassed to voice it. What would Sir Tomas think of her or her house if she suggested such scandalous deceit? No, no, she would mend her dress and they would just have to chance riding side saddle. But...the blue color...none but the very wealthy would have it, he had said. It would draw attention, attention they could not afford if Fisher pursued them.

...attention SHE could not afford! Her father no doubt was turning the countryside upside down. If word was out she was missing...well, she was her father's only heir. A woman far from home and without a husband, heir to a very powerful, very influential man.

Terrible stories of forced marriages and stolen claims drifted back to her. She needed to be practical. Decorum wouldn't do her or her father any good if she didn't make it home, or if she made it home with a new kidnapper in tow.

Tomas would understand. He had promised not to judge her poorly.

"A...a man and a woman traveling might be remembered, remarked upon. Especially in such a dress. B-but two men..." Color was coming to her face but she didn't dare look at him, glancing down at her diminutive frame with the slightest of frowns. She might not make for a very convincing man.

"Well. Maybe a man and a boy." Those honey colored eyes flicked up to him in askance. "That would...that would hardly be noteworthy to most, correct?"

 

[MrAdam]

Fleece looked sceptical. He looked Ellie up and down for a moment or two, appraising. He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands.

“My lady, you’re not… I mean… you’re… you’re what my poor sainted mother would call a girly-girl, with all due respect. You’re no tomboy… your eyes, your lips, your cheekbones… it might work if you were just pretty… there are some boys who are pretty… but the fact is… you’re… beautiful. And you’re… I mean….”

Fleece ran out of words. Or least ran out of words that he felt comfortable saying to her.

“I mean… you’re sm-…. petite. Delicate frame, I mean. But… anyone with eyes… I mean….”

His eyes lingered on her form. If there was an appropriate way to tell a noblewoman that her curves were definitely feminine, Fleece couldn’t find them. He looked at the pile of ill-assorted fabrics and clothes in his treehouse. It would need more time and skill than they possessed to make a dress out of that lot.

“But… it’s better than proceeding as we are. I doubt a disguise would fool anyone for long, but probably all we need is to fool people about what they’re seeing as we gallop past. With a hood and a baggy cloak, riding like a boy… maybe people will see what they expect to see. It might just be enough.”

“Can you..?” asked Fleece, indicating the pile, “I’ll….”

He made his way towards the rope ladder, ready to climb down to give her some privacy.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The color to her face blossomed further as he tried to tactfully explain why it was not the best of ideas. She was a lady. A woman of breeding and, hopefully, good charm-but to be called beautiful made her feel more than a little tongue tied herself.

"Thank you." She said quietly, a small curtsy. "Perhaps...perhaps it was a silly idea..." She went on to murmur, but then he relented, perhaps realizing their limited options. She inclined her head as he moved to descend-and then returned to her somewhat fretting feelings of worry.

Ellie had done a bit of needle point of course, all noble women did that. But...well, she would have to manage. She held up a pair of simple rough hewn trousers. As scandalous as it would be for her to wear trousers, she didn't see very many other options. Sir Tomas was correct on her being small, there was no modest doubt in Ellie's mind of that, unlike with the other things he had said for the sake of practical argument.

Being a woman all alone had proven to be dangerous. She had a protector in Tomas, but she didn't want it to come to that. She didn't want anyone else to get hurt.

The dress drew too much attention. It made for poor riding. It was also in a terrible state of disarray. No, it would not do. She would wear the pants. She would take in this tunic with a few careful stitches so that it did not entirely swallow her up-but upon pulling it over her head and on top of the long sleeved shirt she'd found, she realized it was much too long for her height. She found a piece of rough rope and made do with it for a belt.

The boots were much too big-she rolled her slippers up one at a time and slipped them into the toes of them, then drew the laces tight around her slender ankles and calves. She hesitated when it came to her hair. Long and loose, it was appropriate for an unmarried woman. Touching the honey gold waves she opted to secure it simply at the nape of her neck, tucking the long tresses beneath the collar of her overlarge shirt.

She couldn't bear to cut it. Such an indignity simply could not be suffered alongside this one.

She was now as ready as she'd ever be-though now she had to climb down.

"P...promise you will not laugh overmuch!" Her hesitant plea accompanied a burning face as she made the very careful-and surprisingly more simple in trousers-climb down, once more on solid ground.

Ellie's petite, slender figure allowed for such a disguise so long as the clothing was loose-even if she made for a ridiculously pretty one. She smoothed her sleeves a moment, partially to avoid meeting his gaze. "I...I am merely striving to be practical, however best I can." It was difficult to tell who she was justifying the disguise to-him, or herself.

 

[MrAdam]

“I won’t laugh, I promise” said Fleece, from the ground.

Fleece waited for her at the bottom of the rope ladder. As she started down it, with more grace and confidence than he expected, he held the latter in place at the bottom to prevent it from swaying. As Ellie came close to the end of the ladder, Fleece had a sudden instinct to pick her up off the ladder, spin her around, and deposit her on the ground in front of him. Shaking off the impulse, he instead offered her his hand.

He looked at Ellie, beautiful angelic face, hair the colour of honey, tied back. Wearing what were clearly someone else’s clothes. Fleece couldn’t help it. He broke his promise, and laughed at the incongruity of it, doing his best to suppress it, but failing. It wasn’t a cruel or mocking laugh, but one of surprise and not a little pleasure in the strangeness of it.

“I’m sorry Ellie-“ he started, trying to control himself, “You look… preposterous. That’s the worst disguise I have ever seen… I’m sorry. You’re just too cute. I’m sorry, but there it is. Downright… confusing is what you are. But it’s fine. It’ll do. It’s still less noticeable than the bright blue dress, and on horseback, with a cloak, at speed… that’s all we need.”

“Your father will have his men everywhere… everywhere, looking for you. And they can’t be far behind you… all we have to do is find them, then all this will be over… over like a bad dream.”

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Fleece broke into laughter, and Ellie had the sudden urge to hide, color coming to her face. That fetching blush only served to make her prettier. “S-sir Tomas, you promised!” She admonished without any bite to it, finding the disguise almost as ridiculous as he did.

She looked down at herself and shook her head. A Lady in boy’s clothing...it was a rather dreadful thing. She supposed she should be grateful she was not too convincing of one-and, a little...it was nice to see a smiling, mirthful face.

“I shall ask that we do not speak of this, once it is over.” Court was full of enough whispers, given her father kept her home and away from it.

Over like a bad dream…

“The dream is not so very terrible, now.” She reached up to stroke Tempo’s nose, offering a smile to the horse. “I’ve you to think for that. Still, I should be glad to be home. I’m very worried for my father.”

 

[MrAdam]

“Do not speak of it? Nonsense!”, he teased, “I shall give a speech at your wedding – whether or not I’m invited - and tell everyone about it, every last detail. I shall tell them how preposterously pretty you looked as a boy. And I shall tell them…” his tone changed, gradually become more serious… “I shall tell them how brave you were. How well you spoke to those men, in spite of your fear. How you braved adversity, but kept your head. Kept your wits. Showed concern for others, appreciated their help, rather than demanding it… in spite of everything, and worried more for your father than for yourself.”

Fleece looked away for a moment, his dark eyes breaking contact with hers. He’d started talking, decided against just teasing her, trying instead to be nice, and lost himself.

“Or… make sure I’m so drunk I won’t utter a word… either is fine for me!”

“We should get moving again. We won’t need to ride so quickly as on the way here, but I want to put some ground between us and anyone who might be chasing. We’ve got a decent start, they won’t know which way we headed, so I’m quietly confident. Are you okay to ride in front of me again?”

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

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