♦
The fires burned bright, the drink flowed freely and shadows leapt to the rapid beat of the drum: the Ox-clan knew how to throw a harvest feast. Lheuwen sat by one of the larger fires, pleasantly full and a little tipsy; her grandfather, Cunvawr, and his family close by.
Her family too, of course – she still needed to get used to that again. She shook her head, smiling ruefully at the thought. It had been... almost easy to fit back in among these people. Whether they felt guilty for what had happened to her, or they had genuinely missed the cousin from the Stonedeans who used to visit often as a child, she didn't know; but almost everyone had been warm and friendly, and several had gone out of their way to make her feel truly at home. She didn't really blame any of them... she had even almost forgiven her grandfather. Almost.
And... it helped that she had missed all this, too. Everything around her – she hadn't quite realised how badly she had wanted to be back among her own people, so different from the Bree-land way of life: the sound of her mothertongue, the smell of pine smoke, the clothes, the buildings – down to curious, tiny details: they even wove baskets differently here.
Not to mention the men... Breeland had nothing like the men of Dunland, she reflected, watching them wheel around the bonfires, dancing shadows playing across their bronze shoulders...
A young woman, with dark chestnut hair, separated from the dancers around the fires and came and flopped down beside Lheuwen, breathless, her face shining.
“Come on, Lheu! You must be rested by now.”
Lheuwen smiled at her.
“Nearly... sometimes it's nice just to watch and take it all in too.”
The other woman nudged her, caused Lheu to lose her balance slightly and almost fall sideways.
“That's not the Lheuwen I remember. You were always incurably bouncy. It was exhausting.”
Lheu shoved her back. The other woman giggled, undeterred, and greedily accepted the drinking bowl as it came back around.
“Oh, I am not done for the night, I promise you that. I think I'm just... I want to take it all in. I want to... to remember every detail...”
The other woman eyed her judgily over the rim of the drinking bowl.
“You could just stay, you know. I think you should.”
Lheuwen allowed her eyes to not make contact.
“Thanks, Ess.”
Ess passed her the bowl, wiping her mouth. Lheuwen smelled the grassy sweetness of mead. “Either way, it's much too perfect a night to be thinking of such distant things. Clearly you haven't had enough to drink. Perhaps we need something stronger...” Ess twisted where she was sat, looking around for signs of anyone drinking something more distilled. Lheuwen sipped the mead in the meantime, her eyes drawn back to the dancers... perhaps one in particular.
Ess followed her gaze, and grinned. She leaned over to whisper conspiratorially:
“I don't suppose you remember Cadvan... he wasn't exactly one of the popular boys, way back when you used to visit.”
Lheuwen stared at her, then back at the dancer.
“That's Cadvan?”
Lheuwen paused reflectively.
“... he's grown up.”
Ess laughed at her, then jumped up, extending a hand.
“Come on. Enough watching. You must dance!”
Lheuwen smiled, and gladly joined her. Ess seemed to have a new agenda she had not anticipated however, for within a couple of minutes Lheuwen found herself at Cadvan's side, with Ess on the other looking pleased with herself. To her satisfaction, she could see that he recognised her almost at once – though they could not easily talk before the next tune began and it was all Lheuwen could do to keep up.
All night the drink flowed, and the festivities spun on; Lheuwen's feet were bruised and exhausted, but she couldn't remember ever being so happy in her life.
Just as the first light of the sun was beginning to colour the sky in the east over the mountains, Cadvan, hungry-eyed, took her by the hand, drawing her away from the bonfires; and the two of them ran for the seclusion of the woods.
♦
