NEW FANFIC: THE MEETING III 2/6
Vi Moreau (vi@moreaufamily.us)
Tue, 18 Mar 2003 21:13:58 -0600
THE MEETING III by Vi Moreau et al
vi@moreaufamily.us
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Another part of the Renaissance Festival
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"No, don't worry, I'm not getting any ideas," Alexa said, poking Methos in
the shoulder playfully.
His eyebrows rose. "Why would I think you were getting ideas? Just because
we're watching an exquisitely-staged Renaissance wedding, complete with
costumes and positively swimming in flowers, taking place in the very
romantic," he looked at the sign, "'Roman Basilica' at the Renaissance
Festival--why would that give you ideas?"
He was playfully mocking her, of course, but he also wanted to find out if
she really did want to get married. Because if she did.
"It's a beautiful wedding. And the bride's beautiful."
"Brides are always beautiful," he observed. This particular bride, dressed
in a floor-length satin blue dress, complete with wimple, and looking at her
husband-to-be as if he were the only man in the world, was an exceptional
example of pulchritude. She reminded Methos of Mariah, a little.
"Penny for your thoughts," Alexa said.
"I was just thinking of my fortieth wife. Or maybe forty-first," he
answered truthfully.
Alexa giggled. "So if we got married I'd be your forty-second wife?" she
inquired sweetly.
"No. My sixty-ninth," he replied.
She shook her head. "You are really weird, you know that? But then, I
remember you sitting out in the rain, just sitting."
Methos still wanted to know. "Do you want to?" he persisted.
"What?"
"Do you want to get married? We can do it, you know."
"Well, yes, but--"
"If I went to those charming young people and asked if we could steal their
thunder for just a moment and invited them in return to borrow my cabin on
Bora Bora for their honeymoon, I'm sure they'd agree."
It was a measure of how flustered she was that she didn't ask about his
cabin on Bora Bora. "But.we have to plan--"
"Plan what?" he interrupted. "We're already on a 'wedding' trip. Let's
just do the wedding part of it now, today."
"We need a license."
"Yes, yes. But the minister there, the official can say the words, and we
do the paperwork later."
"Later? There's no later, Adam."
Damn. Well, hell, he couldn't censor every word he said, and he started to
object, but she herself rallied, asking, "Who would give me away?"
<Good for you, Alexa!> "Hmmm. Now that is a practical question. I suppose
the person to give you way would be Joe Dawson." Alexa's only living
relation, a faraway second cousin who knew Alexa was terminal and had been
informed of Alexa's trip with Methos, hadn't even bothered to see her one
last time.
"I'd love for Joe to give me away. But he already has, hasn't he?"
Methos thought back to Alexa's farewell to Joe. Clearly the sentimental
barkeep thought of Alexa as a surrogate daughter, a precious flower to be
entrusted to Methos for safekeeping until the end. "Take care of her old
man," Joe had said to him. "She's special."
"I told you, Joe," Methos had replied. "One in ten lifetimes. She's in
good hands. I have some experience in these matters," Methos had answered
with a superior smile.
Methos didn't feel superior now. He was clearly her inferior in the guts
department. But he would try to rise to the challenge. "Tell you what. If
we find an appropriate person to give you away.maybe we can persuade his
Majesty, King Henry--"
"Oh, no, Adam. That's too crazy," she said, shaking her head.
He pulled a stray lock of hair back behind her ear and took both her hands
in his. "Do you want to get married? Just say the word."
"What do you want to do?" she countered.
He couldn't quite figure out what that catch in her voice meant. He wasn't
sure what she wanted, and she wasn't telling him. But he could tell her.
"I want to make you happy." Damn, that was maudlin, and needy. <You can do
better!>
"You can't make me happy, Adam. Only God can make me happy--with my help,
of course. What you can do."
"What?"
"What you're doing is fine, Adam. It's wonderful. It's a dream come true,
don't you see? Cinderella at the ball. Sleeping Beauty being awakened.
Snow White. What a damn sendoff I'm getting!"
Methos fought to keep his voice steady. "You're not going anywhere yet,
lady mine."
She smiled, tossed her brown hair back and said, in a deep solemn voice,
"Babe. I got you, babe."
He kissed her lightly and they walked on, arm in arm. A few minutes later
they were at the Arena.
"Feels good to sit down," Alexa sighed, sinking into the wooden bleachers.
Methos agreed. Being a tourist was hard work, and she'd been walking all
morning. After they watched the Action Knights and Steeds, they would walk
over to the King's Feast at two, where she'd be able to get some food and
rest some more. He had persuaded Alexa to let him buy her one of those
princess cone-shaped headdresses with an attached gauze veil, but she had
agreed to wear it only if he wore a soft wool, feathered bonnet, which
contrasted almost comically with his jeans and open trenchcoat. If he'd had
a chance to dress in costume, his hidden Ivanhoe would have seemed, to the
untrained eye, to be of the Renaissance period; but he wasn't about to
explain to Alexa why he carried a sharp sword secreted on his person in the
first place. Over his long life he had shared the truth with some of his
wives--not all. This was not the time. Unless something changed in their
relationship in the next few months, he wasn't about to tell a young,
frightened dying woman that he was immortal.
Methos examined the jousting field. Though there were enough seats for
several hundred, they were filling fast. On the sidelines at the center of
the Arena was a large, tent-covered stage where the royal party had just
settled themselves. Beyond them was a pond. There were even swans in the
pond--nice touch, that. At one end of the Arena stood several tents
belonging to the jousting "knights." Methos could smell the horses from
here. He got Alexa a cool drink from a vendor, then went off to "see a man
about a horse." In fact, he went to make a suggestion to an official, and
to present the jousting group with a very generous cash contribution for
their re-enactment efforts.
Trumpets sounded, and a herald came out to announce the upcoming trials.
Methos had chosen a good-looking young man, reflecting that only a very
young man would be foolish enough to expose himself to this kind of
dangerous physical punishment. Of course, that's what very young men
throughout history had always done--usually for the sake of very young
women. This particular "knight" happened to call himself Gawain, wore
silver armor and rode a white horse. Alexa would love him.
After King Henry said a few encouraging words, the herald announced, "Her
Majesty Queen Catherine commands that the knights seek a favour from a
special lady in the stands."
Much cheering accompanied this, and all the knights rode out onto the field,
searching the audience for a fair lady. Sir Gawain rode directly to Methos
and Alexa, who were sitting near the middle of the third row. The "knight"
brought his white horse close to the wooden fence that separated the
audience from the lists, and lowered his lance directly in front of Alexa.
"My lady," he said fervently, "I find your beauty unsurpassed in this whole
crowd. If your lord permits," he nodded at Methos, who nodded graciously in
turn, "I would ask you for a favour to wear to the trials, so that the
memory of your grace and loveliness will inspire me to great deeds of arms."
Alexa's hands fluttered in front of her. "I.I don't." Several people
clapped around her, oohing and aahing, and she smiled at the patiently
waiting knight as she asked Methos, sotto voce, "What can I give him?"
Methos had just taken in a good mouthful of a hearty dark ale. He gulped
and suggested, "Perhaps the veil from your headdress, milady."
Relieved, Alexa removed the veil and wound it around Gawain's lance, getting
into the spirit of things enough to say, "My good will and love, and God's
favour, be with you, Sir--"
"Gawain," Methos and the knight said together.
"Sir Gawain. May you do honor to your family and to your king and queen."
Gawain pulled his lance back and tied the veil on firmly. Then, not only
did he bow from horseback, dipping his lance, but got his horse to bow as
well. "With such wonderful inspiration, sweet lady, how can I lose?"
"Oh, ouch! Do you think he's all right?" Alexa asked a half-hour later.
She'd been watching the loud and exciting jousting closely, cheering every
pass, and groaning whenever a man was unhorsed. At this moment she was
paying special attention to a fallen Sir Gawain, who, for all his pretty
words, had been roughly unhorsed on his first pass.
Gawain was helped to his feet and didn't seem hurt, although Methos knew
that at least one of the other "knights" had broken his arm, and that there
would be many bruises, hot baths, and visits to chiropractors later in the
day. "He seems fine," Methos answered. "He tried, anyway."
"I think it was very romantic of him to ask for my favour, and I'm wondering
if you had anything to do with it," she replied.
"Would it please you if I had planned it all?" he countered.
"Do you always answer a question with a question?" she asked, with a mock
frown.
He was all innocence. "Do you think I do?"
She sighed happily, leaning against him. "You're impossible, and I'm
hungry."
She wasn't always hungry. In fact, she hardly ate anything. Hungry was
good, and they had reservations for a six-course all-you-can-eat dinner.
"Your timing is wonderful," Methos said. "The King's Feast is set to begin.
We'll just follow the royal court to the hall." They waited until the
majority of the spectators left. When they got to the edge of the stands he
leaped down and reached back to take her around the waist and carefully
lower her to the ground.
"I'm not made of glass, you know," she chided him.
"I know," he agreed. <Worse, you're made of flesh and blood, and I know
better than most how fragile that makes you.> "But I enjoy holding you, so
unless you want me to stop--"
"I don't want you to stop," she interrupted, and they walked arm in arm
toward the king's hall.