The warmth of the tavern was extremely welcome after the February damp; the assault on the senses on opening the door a familiar welcome. Loud voices, singing, laughing, arguing; the smell of cheap beer, cheap candles, burnt meat, and people who had been working hard all day; the stinging caress of smoke on eyes and throat. It didn't matter where in the land one travelled; taverns were always much the same. Gerard found an empty corner and sat; moments later, Aelindis joined him, carrying drinks for them both. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the ale for a moment.
“Nice work rigging that decoy for the grindylow earlier, Aelindis, though you really should tell me your plans a *little* earlier - I almost didn't have time to get into place,” he said, sitting up.
“Thank you, my lord. Sorry, my lord.”
“Not to worry, just keep it in mind for next time. Still, we got the beast! No more drowned children in this village. We've done good today.”
“Yes, my lord. Do you want me to tell everyone how well you fought? Perhaps they could put the arms up over the bar.”
“No, no, I think I'm too tired tonight. Maybe later. Though they can have the arms if they want.” Telling Aelindis that it wasn't necessary to tell everyone was part of their routine - he didn't think it was appropriate for one to boast too much, but he couldn't deny the glow he felt on being greeted as a hero, as she well knew. She was thoughtful like that - the best servant always knew what her master wanted before he’d even thought of it. Despite her sarcasm, he was continually glad to have spotted her skills and taken her from the village.
“Did my lord want me to find a suitable local girl? I've already taken the liberty of speaking to the young woman in the green dress - over there, to the left - and I think she would be amenable,” Aelindis gestured to the girl, who gave a smile full of promises. Gerard smiled back, awkwardly.
“Really? I, oh, I don’t know, I'm still river-mud almost to the waist - got most of it off but I really don’t know if you’ll be able to save these trousers - I really don’t think I'm at my best.”
“Trust me, my lord, you’re… I don’t think any woman would complain. But perhaps, then, a bath?”
“Oh Saints yes. Yes please.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
The copper tub was dragged up to his room and filled, and before long he lay stretched in it, eyes closed in bliss as Aelindis worked the soapwort through his hair. Her touch was gentle, at odds with her usual abrupt demeanour, and felt wonderful.
“Shall I have her sent up for when you finish, my lord?” she asked.
“You’d have to stop what you’re doing for that,” he responded, eyes still closed in pleasure. “Don’t stop.”
“Then… if my lord would like…” Her voice was hesitant, a tone he’d never heard before. “I… I could warm your bed for you, my lord. If you wanted.”
Gerard sat up, turning to look at her.
“Aelindis! You know I would never expect that of you. I would never take advantage like that.”
“Of course, my lord.” She paused, then, taking a breath, reached out and put a hand on his bare arm. “But if you did, I… wouldn't be opposed to the idea. If you wanted to.”
He looked at her blankly for a moment before understanding dawned.
“Oh! You mean - OH! I…” Suddenly he realises he is naked, and blushes furiously. “You… really? I never thought you… really?”
She smiles, almost shyly, and lets her thumb stroke his arm.
“Really.”
“Oh. Then… if you’re sure.” He runs a hand over her hair and draws her in for a kiss.
The bed is soaked and ruined by the time they fall asleep, soap suds still in his hair, but neither of them much mind.