[LATE WINTER - FEBRUARY]
I do not know what to do, and that is an uncomfortable circumstance for me. I have had a row with Roisin—and I fear that I have irreparably ruined our relationship.
It was a stupid thing, really—a difference of opinion about the policies and oversight of the Silver Tower. I have come to see some glaring omissions in their care of those they claim the right to govern. She, on the other hand, seemed to see only the good they do.
At any rate, our discussion grew quite heated, and I said things I should not have. I cannot believe I ranted at her for her optimism and forgiving nature, when I have been the fortunate recipient of both. I realize now that my own experience, the frustration and the hurt from my interactions with them has likely made me overly critical. At the same time, her experience has been positive and good so she is more inclined to forgive their faults.
In the end she left me to my temper tantrum—as she called it—and drove away. Fool that I am, I actually congratulated myself for sending her into retreat—until my temper cooled. And, despite trying to convince myself that it does not matter—it does, more than I can bear contemplate.
Ash simply disappeared for the duration of the argument, as he usually does when I get surly. I have tried very hard to keep my temper in check with him, so as not to frighten him, but I am not a saint—some friction is inevitable. All the same, we are achieving a workable arrangement.
So, why is this blow up with Roisin so different? Because Ash needs me—Roisin does not. She has always said that my part of our alchemical enterprise is invaluable, but that can continue without any closeness—that is what I fear. As much as I hate to admit it, she has become dear to me, and losing her friendship will hurt more anything than I can imagine. How will I get by without her?
I simply do not know ...
Niall rose early. Having tossed and turned all night, he saw no point in lying in bed listening to the annoyingly cheerful chorus of the birds. His life had gone upside down and he was having trouble coping. The chores that usually went by with ease seemed interminable.
Ash rose at his usual time. Sensing Niall's upset, the boy ate his breakfast in silence. He watched Niall pick at his food until he himself finished, when it went in the swill for the pig they had recently acquired and penned out near the shed. The heavy silence continued while they washed the dishes.
"Are we doing lessons today?" Ash asked as he hung the dish towel to dry.
"Actually," said Niall, rubbing his forehead, "not today. You may go and see your friends, if you like."
Ash nodded and, grabbing his heavy cloak, he hurried out the door. He did not turn toward Gerny's or Sefton's, however. Cutting across the fields, he hurried as fast as his feet would carry him to the healer's cottage. A plume of smoke rose from the chimney and a look at the small barn showed the pony cart still inside. Going to the door, he knocked.
"Coming ..." Called Roisin from inside. The door opened and she peeked out. Seeing Ash, she immediately grew concerned. "Ash? Is something wrong?"
"Well," said Ash slowly. "Yes and no."
"You had best come in," she said, swinging the door wide, "and tell me about it."
"Thank you," said Ash properly, scooting inside her warm, cozy cottage. He removed his cloak and hung it on a peg. At a gesture from Roisin, he sat.
"Now, what is the problem, Ash?" she asked, sitting in the next chair.
"I am worried about Niall," said the boy simply. "He is all upset and sad."
"Oh, Ash." Roisin reached out and lay a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "It was just a tiff, nothing more. Such things happen, even with the best of friends. It is not the end of the world. You know that, do you not?"
"Oh, yes," said Ash nodding vigorously. "I know that. I argue with Gerny and Sefton sometimes—mostly Gerny." The boy frowned. "But the thing is, Roisin, I am not sure that Niall knows it."
"What?" Roisin gave the boy a searching look. "What do you mean, Ash?"
"He was up early," explained Ash. "Even earlier than usual. And he did not eat any breakfast and didn't want to do lessons. He is really, really upset."
"I see." Roisin paused to consider. With another boy, she might think it was an exaggeration, but Ash was not one to embellish the truth. If it was anyone else, she would have wondered why such a relatively minor spat should cause such reaction. But this was Niall, whose experience with normal, healthy relationships was nil. It made sense, now that she considered it, and she was a bit upset with herself for not realizing the possibility at the time. "Are you going home?"
"Well," said Ash slowly, "Niall said I could go see my friends."
"Go and see your friends, then," said Roisin. She rose and went for her cloak. "I will go up and see if I can make Niall feel better."
"Great!" Ash flashed her a grin.
In moments she had seen Ash off and went to harness her pony to the cart. It was unusually warm for February—the snow had melted several days ago, and the temperature was bearable. Frisky stepped out briskly, and needed little guidance, so Roisin had time to think.
Ash was remarkably astute for his age. If he wondered about Niall's state of mind, it was wise for her to heed his misgivings. Did Niall really think that their disagreement would cause an end to their friendship? She had to concede that it was possible. Actually, the more she considered it, the more likely it became.
After all, she knew his circumstances. Growing up as an orphan, he had been too busy trying to survive to build relationships. Osram's cult was the closest thing to a family Niall had ever known, and in the Scarlet Ossuary, she suspected, a disagreement would earn not only the severing of the relationship, but enmity.
The truth was, she had gotten the feeling that Niall was biting his tongue, metaphorically speaking, more and more often of late. A man of his intelligence had to have opinions and ideas, but if they differed from hers he was stifling them. She felt guilty now, because this last time she had quite deliberately goaded him into an argument, wanting him to express himself. It was good that he had, but now she saw that she should have considered this as a possible outcome.
Poor Niall. He was probably thinking that she hated him and that they were no longer friends. The very idea brought tears to her eyes. She had never intended to hurt him.
As she passed the front gate of his cottage she glanced up and saw Niall sitting on a bench next to his shed. Despite the chill, he wore no cloak and didn't look up or acknowledge that he even knew she had arrived. As she stopped the cart and stepped down, her heart clenched. His entire carriage screamed of loss and melancholia, worse than when he had first arrived. Frisky would have to wait for a bit, she decided, as she hurried toward him.
"Niall," she said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder as she sank down beside him. "Oh, Niall I am so very sorry."
"Roisin?" He raised his head to look at her and the surprise that layered over the stark expression of sorrow on his face nearly made her weep.
"I did not think ..." She had to swallow a lump in her throat, then she tried again. "I did not realize that you would be so upset, or why. It was just a silly argument, Niall. People have them, it is part of being human. It does not mean that I do not like you anymore or that I am not still your friend."
"Truly?" He said, looking searchingly into her eyes.
"Yes, truly," she replied fervently, taking both of his hands in hers. "Oh Niall!" she exclaimed. "Your hands are like ice." She rose, and tugged him to his feet. "Go in and make a pot of tea for us," she instructed. "I will stable Frisky and be right in."
Niall nodded, and she gave him a nudge in the direction of the cottage. He went toward the door as she went toward her cart. The remnants of his fear and sorrow warred with his astonishment and hope, making him feel strange, almost numb. The warmth of the cottage made him realize just how chilled he had become, sitting outside.
Going to the kitchen, he set about making tea. It was fortunate that he could do it automatically, as his mind was not on what he was doing. His mind was trying to assimilate what she had said. He would be the first to admit that his social skills as concerned relationships were abysmal. He had learned to debate and defend his position, but making the other person angry was never an issue before.
He heard Roisin wipe her feet before she opened the kitchen door. She swung her cloak off and hung it on the peg just as she always did. Then she came over to him and simply wrapped him close in a warm hug. With a deep sigh, he returned the gesture and something very tight inside of him loosened in the warmth of her embrace.
It was not until the kettle began to sing that he loosened his grip and stepped back. The smile she gave him seemed to melt the numbness away. It was really going to be all right. His smile was just a bit sheepish as he turned to finish the tea. Roisin sat in her usual place as he made the tea and brought it to the table.
"I'm sorry ..." He began, as he sat down.
"No, no, Niall." Roisin waved a hand in the air. "Do NOT apologize for having opinions, or expressing them forcefully." She leaned forward and covered his hand with hers. "Yes, I got a bit heated, and so did you. It happens. Friends argue, families argue. We'll likely do it again, now and then. But we can get past it, learn and still remain friends."
"You are sure?" Niall turned his hand over and loosely clasped her fingers. "I would rather cut out my tongue than drive you away," he admitted roughly.
"Niall, you have a right to your views and opinions. You do not have to agree with me," she said reassuringly. "In fact, I have to agree with some of your points." She smiled warmly. "The thing is I WANT you to feel free to express yourself with me, even when we disagree. No one agrees all the time, and learning to deal with that and not injure the relationship is part of being friends."
"You WANT me to argue?" He asked with a quizzical expression.
"If you have an view to expound," she replied, grinning. "I don't mean that you should argue just for the sake of arguing. But I do want you to feel secure enough with me that you're not afraid to express an different view, even if it IS the opposite of mine. Admit it, you've been stifling yourself."
"I have," he said quietly.
"Because you were afraid I'd get angry?" Roisin asked gently.
"And leave," Niall added.
"But, don't you see," she said "I want you to speak up. I want you to be able to tell me what is on your mind."
"You called me a cynic," he said softly. "And often I am."
"And you called me an incurable optimist," she replied with a smile. "And I do tend to be. Also, you were absolutely correct on several points. It is true that the Tower has grown rather complacent about some things, especially the care of the poor, widows and orphans."
"But I like that you are an optimist," Niall confessed. "If you were not, I suspect I would have been left to my own poor devices."
"And, believe it or not, I appreciate your cynicism," Roisin confessed in turn. "I tend to think the best of everyone, and sometimes I should not. So, it is a matter of situation and perspective, is it not?"
"Yes, I suppose so." He grinned ruefully. "I overreacted. I see that now. It's just that you have done so much for me and I ..." He paused, searching for the right words. "I need you in my life. You and Ash, you ground me and give me something to keep me focused" He rubbed his forehead. "It IS hard sometimes. I don't like to complain, because of all you've done already, but there is so much that is new and sometimes with the binding ... It makes me ... irritable."
"Oh, Niall." She reached out and held his hand between her two. "If you are having trouble, please don't hesitate to talk to me or to Ash. We care for you and would gladly listen. Talking does help, you know."
"I know," he replied, again rubbing his forehead. "I just don't want to be a burden."
"You are not." She frowned, noticing the signs of strain on his face. "Do you have a headache Niall?"
"Yes," he said simply. "I have had it all morning." Now he rubbed the back of his neck. "All night, too, actually."
"Let me get you a headache tincture," she said gently. It took only a moment to fetch the tincture from his alchemy room and another to measure out the dose and give it to him.
"Thank you," he said with a small grin. "I am sorry to be so ... troublesome."
"Nonsense,"said Roisin softly. "Come in the other room and lay down and I'll massage your temples."
"That's not necessary," Niall protested.
"I know." She stood and held out her hand to him. "I'm a healer. It's what I do." He took her hand and let her lead him into the other room.
Sitting at the end of the sofa, Roisin plumped a pillow and lay it in her lap, then plumped another, lay it beside her and patted the sofa. Niall hesitated only a moment, then sat, swiveled and lay down with his head in her lap. With the extra pillow under his back, he was able to relax as she began to massage his temples.
It was not long before his even breathing told her he was asleep. Still, she continued to massage his temples, occasionally brushing a gentle hand over his hair. Time passed, and eventually she heard the sound of feet on the mat.
Ash entered, rosy from the crisp air. He stopped and smiled at the sight of Niall sleeping with his head in Roisin's lap. He mimed to her that he was going to make dinner. She mimed an offer to help, but Ash shook his head vehemently. Roisin nodded and remained where she was.
It was the smell of the food that woke Niall. For a moment he was disoriented, not knowing where he was. Then he opened his eyes and found himself staring into Roisin's eyes of golden brown.
"I fell asleep," he said, then chuckled at himself for stating the obvious.
"So you did," Roisin replied. "How does your head feel?"
"Better." Niall felt oddly reluctant to move, but he knew he must. Sitting up slowly, he smiled. "Much Better." He sniffed the air. "Is Ash cooking?"
"He is," she said. "I offered to help, but he wanted to do it alone. I suppose he had to know how to cook something to get by on his own."
"Most orphans do," he replied. "It will likely be an original dish, but from the smell it will be tasty."
He offered his hand to Roisin to help her up, then guided her toward the kitchen. As they entered the room Ash, who was standing at the stove tending a large pot, turned around and smiled at them.
"You are just in time," he said with a smile. "Dinner is ready. I made stew."
It was original. It was also delicious. Besides the chunks of meat, there were potatoes, turnips, parsnips, carrots and pignuts in a savory gravy. They ate it all, and Ash wiped the last of it from the pot with a piece of buttered bread.
They talked in the parlor for awhile, and after Ash went off to bed, Roisin was getting ready to leave.
It was clear to her that Niall needed to get out of his isolation, but she wasn't sure if there was anything she could do besides encourage him. It would be a big step for him, and a risky one. While she had no doubt that the people of Heston were no longer inclined to be suspicious or hostile of him, Niall had no way of knowing that. She could tell him, but he would still have to get past his own fear to make the step.
'Niall," she began as she walked toward the door, "Polrava wanted me to thank you again for salve. She said Mama Cozy's cut has healed nicely."
"I'm glad it worked," he said with a smile. 'I've never tried it on a chicken before."
"I think she would like to thank you in person," she ventured. "And she's not the only one. You've helped a lot of people."
"You've helped them," he replied quietly as he took down her cloak and placed it on her shoulders. "I've helped you."
"Niall," she said gently as she fastened the catch. "I'll admit that at first some were suspicious and afraid. But they aren't anymore. They know we are friends and they know what you've done for Ash. Besides that, the other boys like you, too."
Since Ash had come to stay with him, the merchant's delivery boys had started coming up to the cottage whenever Roisin had been too busy. At first Niall had let Ash deal with them, only slowly making his presence known, until they became used to him. In time, their nervousness had dissipated. Now they visited freely, and his tarts were a favorite among the young males of the area.
"The boys are easy to please," said Niall. "All I have to do is feed them."
"True." Roisin lay a hand on his arm. "You may still be on parole, Niall. But you do not have to be a prisoner."
"I never liked the stares and the whispers," he said quietly. "The others, they liked seeing fear in people's faces."
"I've never believed that you were like that, Niall," she replied, "and this isn't the same village."
"I know," he agreed. "But I'm not sure I'm ready."
"All right," she said, not wanting to press too hard. "Will you think about it, at least?"
"I will," Niall promised.
"That's all I ask," she said as she hugged him. "Good-night, my friend."
"Good-night," replied Niall, then he added, "my friend."
As she drove home in the frosty night, Roisin felt a mixture of relief and frustration. As important as it was that he begin to forge other relationships, she could not push. Still, she hoped her words had taken root and would soon sprout.