The Friendship
        **Written at request- so sorry it took so long!***

     As she lifted the goblet to her mouth, she caught him peaking at
her. His hazel eyes lit with happiness as they met her dark, mysterious
ones, and both grinned mirroring grins. She waved him over and he
shook his head, always hesitant to make his friendship with her known
when in front of the noble persons of the court and especially when in
front of her father, the king. Tara dismissed herself from the table, and
retreated to the veranda, knowing Patrick would soon join her.
     He came to her a few minutes later, hiding with her out of view, just
around the corner. "My friends and I are having a small party after the
banquet tonight," Tara whispered, not wanting her father or anyone else
to hear. "I would so like it if you'd come."
     He shook his head. "I cannot, Milady."  He was only joking in
addressing her as such, and she knew it, giving him a playful punch in
the arm and scoffing him.
     "Please, Patrick? You're my best friend. I want you to be there."
     He nodded. "I would be, Tara. Except that I've a horrible pain in my
head and I feel bloody tired."
     Tara pouted but stopped to see him smile. "Fine. But I'll come see
you tomorrow and tell you everything, all right?"
     Patrick smiled. "All right."
     She disappeared back into the banquet hall, glancing back one
moment longer to mouth the words, "Feel better."
     He grinned, glad to know she cared, and set off to his tasks, filling
the wine goblets, and clearing the leftover scraps.

            *                    *                    *

     "Have you seen Patrick this morn?" Tara asked one of the maids,
who simply shook her head.               
     Another replied, "He's not arrived for his duties Milady. We don't
know where he is if he isna here."
     Tara thanked then and wrapped in her cloak to brave the outdoors
for the short trip from one side of the castle to another. The sleigh man
was more than glad to see a customer, as it was the dead of winter and
seldom a person ventured out for a  ride through the snow. "To the
stables," she instructed, handing him a shiny token.
     He tipped his fur cap and, as she snuggled under the mantle
provided for the sleigh passengers, shivered a little to think what might
be wrong. Patrick was not one to neglect his duties... and she was very
eager to see him.  It had been a wonderful party and she had much
gossip to tell him of the noble class's relations.
     The ride was only five minutes time, and Tara thanked the man for
his kindness as she entered the stable house where Patrick kept himself.
As she looked around the place, she did not immediately see him, nor did
she even a minute later as she paced upon the barn to search for him.
"Patrick?" she called out, and immediately behind her she heard someone
clear his voice. She whirled around to see Patrick standing there behind
a horse, his freckles hidden by the typical dust and dirt of the stable.
     He tilted his head slightly to the side and smiled a broad smile to
see her fair form. He sniffed and ran the back of his hand under his
nose.  His was a look as typical as any stable lad, but his striking
features stood out in abundance as if his charm were shining through. 
With his head tilted, his hair flopped to one side, long bangs hiding half
his face, the other half holding a slight smile. "Good morn, Tara," he said
weakly.
     She was smiling widely as she went to him, expecting her usual
kiss, and received none. "Good morn, Patrick. I was a bit worried when
you weren't in the kitchen. Are you alright?"
     He nodded. "Aye, well en.. enough... hachoo!" he sneezed softly,
bending forward at the gentle but powerful force. He changed his mind
and shook his head. "To tell you the truth, I've a wee sniffle. I thought it
best to stay away from the noble folks and tend to my duties in the barn
here. But it's naught fer a bonny lass as you to worry about."
     "Oh?" she asked, observing the sallow, sullen face and the tired,
dreary expression he wore beneath his happiness. "You do look a bit
under the weather."
     Just as she stated the obvious he began to cough, in moist, strong
coughs, shaking him hard.  The horse jumped, startled at the sudden
loud noise, but he could do nothing to help it. He put a hand on his
throat and coughed into the fist made by his other until the fit passed.
Then he cleared his throat and patted the horse's back firmly. "Aye," he
said, his voice weak and scratchy. "That's a good horse. Keep calm now."
     Tara frowned sympathetically at him. "You sound terrible, Patrick.
I think you'd better take it easy and get some rest today."
     He sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand again. "Aye, I
should. But I have a wee bit o' work to do still. I canna be lying around
all day while the horses... the hor... hashhho!" he sneezed freely, not
letting it stop him for a moment. "The horses need tending to and I... I..."
face drooping unhappily as he lost his composure, "hah... hasho!" His
sneezes were soft, light whispers that seemed not only to spill from his
nose but take him over for the few seconds, controlling him to do
something he wanted nothing to do with. "I'm the only one who c-c-c-
shoo!" hardly at regular volume as it took him, causing his handsome
hazel eyes to close and his un-cut red waves to topple over part of his
freckled face. He sniffed and recovered stubbornly, realizing how
miserable he felt, but knowing that there was nothing he could do about
it. "Excuse me... I'm the only one who can tend to them right now."
     Seeing him shiver again, she wondered if he might not be a bit
worse off than he was letting on. She felt his forehead with the back of
her palm and drew back in a moment, her joke becoming a scary reality.
"You're burning up; you poor darling!" she exclaimed, taken aback that
he be dressed in such skimpy attire and insisting that he continue with
his work. "I'm sending you to bed and that's an order!" she giggled
lightly, though she meant it.
     "Aye," he whispered so softly she nearly missed it. "I am a wee bit
warm, but I can manage."
     She shook her head. "You most certainly cannot! I won't let you."
     This time he laughed. "There's naught *sniff* you can do, Tara." He
turned back to finish grooming the horse. Tara watched him a full minute
to see how badly off he was, deciding she had to do something as she
watched his nose twitch and him desperately try to hold off the sneeze
so she wouldn't notice. He bit his lip, his eyes closing, and was
overpowered by the sweet and forceful urge, causing him to bow forward
as it came out. "HahhhhhShoo!" He put his hand on the stall division to
steady himself and straightened up with an embarrassed look upon his
face. "Excuse me," he croaked, his voice leaving.
     "'Tis alright, Patrick," she assured him, stepping closer to him.
"Come on, why don't you have a short-lie down.  I'm sure it will make you
feel worlds better."
     He shook his head, insisting he would be fine. "Don't... don't
worry... hashh! *sniff* worry about me, please."
     She wondered how she could do otherwise when he could barely get
through a sentence without sneezing. "Patrick, you're my friend. It's up
to me to make sure you take care of yourself. And if you don't, I should
be the one to."
     He raised his eyebrows. "Take care of me? Tara, ye're in no pos...
pos... hahh..." the sensation faded under his will.  He continued. "Ye're
in no position to. And besides, ye're a year young... youn... ha-hashoo!"
it came out so fast he didn't have time to cover his mouth and nose.
Regaining composure and breath, he looked at her, a miserable
expression on his face, helpless, overpowered, expecting. He sneezed
again, turning his head to sneeze to the side twice, the sneezes light and
tickling as they came, making him still feel as if he were going to sneeze
after each one came. "Hashoo! hashh! hasha! Hachhsh!" filling his nose
completely and quickly spraying into the cold air.
     "Bless you!" she told him, wanting to make him feel better.
"Patrick, why don't I help you to lie down for a little bit?"
     He nodded reluctantly, giving up to the stubbornly sweet girl as
she led him out of the stall and towards the corner of the barn and the
pile of hay he slept in. "We'll get you all wrapped up and warm in you
blankets and you can take a little nap..."
     He began to shake his head. "I have... hashoo! no blankets," he told
her as they neared the spot.
     "What do you mean?" she asked, seeing him many times and
knowing that where he slept was as warm as any other place in the
castle.
     "Don't have them any more. Gave them away yesterday to a little
girl who... who... hashh!" he sneezed, moving forward, and stumbling
over the words as he tried to explain with his nose continuing to tickle.
"The girl was freezing and she... she didn't... ha-have-hashoo!" he
sniffed and rubbed his nose with his finger. "She didn't have good
cloth... cl... Ehshhh!" it sprayed, wet and dripping but quite light and
melodic.
     "Hush," she silenced his mouth, though his nose continued to
sneeze and sniff regardless of the best of actions to stop them. "I'll take
you to my room. It will be warmer there anyway."
     "Yer room!" he exclaimed, sniffling helplessly as his nose ran. "I
could not think to do such a thing! Ye're a woman, and the princess; it's
nay proper!"
     "More proper than you ill and freezing to death in a stable! Now, I
don't want to hear one more word against this. You're coming with me
and that's final."
     He continued to protest until he felt a rather large sneeze coming
on.  He tried rubbing it away, sure that any more would prove too much
for a nose that was already a little sore, and that any more would
convince Tara that she was in the right.  As much as he looked favorably
upon sleeping in a warm bed, he wasn't sure he wanted to risk being
caught by one of guards being a young man in the even younger
princess's chambers. But the sneeze had no concerns about such things.
Egged on by his worsening cold, it built quickly and strongly in his
nose, warning that it would come out at any second. He rubbed it with his
finger, but that didn't help in the least. He straightened up and tried to
ignore its urges, and then finally gave in, submitting to it, "Ha-
shoo!shoo!... ha-choo!" he sniffed, glad it was over, but was taken once
more. "hacheoo!" into his hand, held up in front of him to hide his face as
much as he could. 
     "Bless you," she replied, feeling more sorry for him than ever.
"Come on. Just for a little while. I'll get you all warmed up and comfy in
my big bed and you can take a little nap until you feel a bit better. Come
on, Patrick. Please." He gave in to her urges as well, and let her hold his
arm to take him outside where they met up with the sleigh man.
     They climbed into the back, cuddling together on instinct because
of the cold air and the snow which was lightly falling again in beautiful,
light flurries.
     Tara kept close watch over Patrick and it was but a moment after
their departure that she noticed he was colder than was healthy for
anyone in his condition. "You're shivering badly, and it's started to
snow again. Here," she slid out of her cloak and wrapped it around him.
"Take my cloak."
     "I c-can't." He tried pushing it back her way, but she would hear
none of it.
     "You need it more than I, Patrick. Please keep it to stay warm."
     He nodded as she drew it tighter around him, the thick velvet
blocking out much of the cold. "Alright, Tara." He closed his eyes as her
arm came around him, drawing him close to her, comforting him as only
she could. "I'm glad you came for me," he told her. 
     She nodded, kissing his cold cheek. "So am I."
     Immediately, he felt a sneeze, and tried to hold it back, but it was
too strong and it exploded out of him, soft but filling, almost spraying
Tara. He apologized profusely and sniffed a dozen times as his nose ran
dreadfully.
     "Do you have a handkerchief?" she asked him, at which he shook
his head no. "Well, then, take my hanky. You seem to be in need of one."
     He nodded, taking it gratefully and holding it in his cold, shaky
hands while he prepared for the impact for the next sneeze he already
felt coming. "Ha... hashoo!" he sneezed, catching it in the handkerchief
this time, nose and mouth hidden mysteriously beneath its folds.
"Thanks," he sniffled as his nose ran and tickled beyond his control.
     Patrick yawned quietly and felt his eyes closing to the soothing
rhythms and turns of the sleigh. Feeling Tara's warm body beside him,
he snuggled against it and quickly dozed off without really meaning to.
     Patrick was awakened less than ten minutes later, the sleigh
resting under an overhang, just outside the chambers of the noble
people. Nervous about who he might meet once inside, he was hesitant to
get out, but Tara's gentle words could make him do anything, so he
obeyed her commands and squeezed her hand as they paid the sleigh
driver and mounted the stairs for the princess' third floor room.
     They were met outside by a pair of guards who frowned at Tara's
guest and insisted he could not enter. Tara shook her head and stood on
tip-toes, whispering into the ear of one of them. The guard nodded. "All
right, Miss. The lad may go in.  But only for a little while." 
     Tara thanked them and led Patrick into her room, shutting the door
behind her to find her room much warmer than the drafty castle hallway.
     As a royal, her room was as rich as her title, filled with luxuries
that most in the kingdom did well without. There was a large, king-sized
canopy bed with two goose-down mattress, numerous thick blankets, and
more pillows than one could count on a set of hands. Across from the bed
was a large, showy fireplace, the mantle detailed with intricate carvings.
There was a station furthest from the door for cleaning, a brass chamber
pot, a wash basin, even a flowered curtain to give privacy. There was a
wooden armoire, and a dresser which accompanied the finest gold mirror
in the kingdom. A number of precious possessiones adorned the shelves
and level spots of her room- a silver hair brush on the dresser, a gold
locket draped over the small portrait of her absent mother, even a
purple dress of lace trim and gold buttons hung outside of the armoire
for show. It was the room of a princess, yet more her own than
appearances lead anyone to believe. The couch in front of the fire was of
her own desire, as was the tall bookcase which was filled of books she
hoped to one day read every word of. A single geranium was planted in
the pot on the window sill of the incredibly tiny window and even in the
dead of winter it bloomed beautifully.
     Patrick studied the room just as closely, wondering where she
meant to keep him in it but feeling to poorly to protest to anything she
chose. He sneezed again, and rubbed at his nose, looking over at Tara
with soft, tired eyes.
     Her eyes melted in response, and she kissed him briefly on the
cheek and whispered. "You'll be all right. I promise."She helped him
off with his worn boots and top clothes so that he was left only in his
undergarments. She walked him to the bed and pulled down the blankets
for him. He climbed in and she covered him up to his waist as he coughed
miserably.
     Tara retrieved the washing basin, finding the water a little cool,
but not ice-cold. "This may be a bit cold, but a good wash will make you
feel better in the long run."  She held up a wet cloth and began wiping it
against his face, the dirt from the barn coming off with minimum effort.
When she was done, she wiped his face dry with a towel and told him to
wash his hands now. Patrick shook his head, insisting it was too cold,
but Tara insisted, so he finally complied, shivering at it.
     As he retreated back under the covers, he sniffed and shivered
again, and Tara was confident she'd done the right thing for him. "There
now, get some rest."
     Patrick rolled his eyes as he sniffed. "Easy fer ye to say!"
     "You're right," she agreed. "You'd best let me help you fall asleep
then."
     "And how are ye planning on doing that?" he smirked, sniffling. 
     She shrugged. "Not quite sure...  maybe tickle you until you
cooperate and close your eyes?  Or maybe I could threaten to try you for
treason?"
     He sighed. "All right, all right, I get it. I'm resting now am I no?"
     "Aye, you are." She took a seat on the edge of the bed, no knowing
what she could do to help him but wanting to do everything possible.
     Patrick looked a little worse with his red hair in a mess, his eyes
bloodshot, his nose red at the nostrils, and his striking visage now clean
but also a sickly pale, highlighted by a sea of light brown freckles. He
coughed, moist and hard, and Tara's heart went out to him. "How're you
really feeling, Patrick?" she asked her friend softly.
     He shook his head. "I feel awful. You, Tara?"
     She laughed. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."
     "Hechoo!" a rather sudden, soft sneeze caught him off guard. He
sniffed after and rubbed his nose. Then he looked around half
desperately.
     "What do you need?"
     "Hanky," he answered, his face scrunching up, drawing back,
drooping, getting ready for another sneeze, filling his nose, compelling
him to follow its lead. "Hershoo! hetchoo! hashoo!" He raised his hand,
holding it in front of his nose. "hashoo! Hepchoo!" nearly fluid as they
came in graceful motions, "harchhh!" the last wet and forcefully strong
but still only a gentle push.
     It took Tara this time to locate one for him, digging it out of her
dresser drawers. She handed it to him as he tried thanking her, only to
erupt with a few more sneezes. He covered his nose and mouth to sneeze
a remaining two, then blew his nose, shrinking back below the covers.
"Excuse me," he snuffled, sounding congested. "Maybe I should leave. I
wouldn't want you to get sick, too." He sniffed and rubbed some more at
his tickling nose. "And I'm in your bed!" he exclaimed upon the sudden
realization. He quickly started to rise. "This is where you need to sleep.
What was I think... think..." his voice raised, face drooping but he
scrunched it up, trying hard to keep himself from sneezing, "th... " his
breaths were too deep and strong. "HA-choo!" he sneezed, raising her
handkerchief to his nose and wiping, sniffing. He finished with a low,
soft tone, "thinking?" He shoved the covers off and stood up, rubbing
the back of his neck. "I'll go."
     "Patrick!" Tara said, shaking her head. "You really shouldn't."
     "But I don't... hashoo! *sniff* Excuse me. I don't want ye to catch
this from me."
     She shook her head. "Do you really think I care if I catch your
cold?"
     Sniffing, "You should; it's awful. I'd feel terrible if... hashoo! If I
got you *sniff* sick. So I'd better go."
     He got as far as the door before he put his hand to his head and
leaned against the wall. "T-Tara..." he whispered. "Could ye... hashoo!
Harshoo! *sniff* give me a ha... a haahh... hand-hashoo! I don't feel so
well..." He dropped to his knees, his eyes closed as he winced at the pain
that was shooting through his aching body. He struggled back up to his
feel in a moment, feeling worse to do so but remembering that he didn't
want her to catch his cold.
     Tara rushed to his side with a hand on his back and the other on
his forehead. "You're much warmer. Come on, back to bed with you, now.
And this time, no protesting. You're not well enough and you know it." He
made no reply. "Come on, Patty."
     With one hand flat against the wall to hold himself steady and the
other clutching the handkerchief as it hovered just below his chin, he
looked over at her. She hadn't called him that since they were children. 
He flashed upon the moment's they'd spent as children when there were
no class differences to get between them.  When a romp in the meadow
was the only way to spend a morning and when a chain of daisies meant
true, undying friendship.  He was her knight and he was her lady and in
their worlds of make believe there was nothing to separate them, least of
all rules and formalities of status and decency. Softly, he answered her,
"Okay, Tara."
     She led him back to her bed, covering his muscular but weakened
form with her think, soft blankets. Tara saw him shiver and she glanced
at the fireplace. Coals were left only, no flames to further warm the room.
She patted Patrick's arm. "I'm going to call the maids to have one get a
fire going in here. I'll be right back."
     Patrick nodded, his eyes closed, his nose running slightly, barely
noticeable. "Okay."
     Tara left the room, tapping on the arm of one of the guards who
stood by her door. "Could you send the next maid who passes by into my
chamber, please? I need some hot tea and a fire made."
     The guard nodded. "Yes, Milady."
     She turned to go back in but hesitated as one more thing pushed at
her from the back of her mind. "How goes the invasion? They've not
broken through our first lines of defenses yet, have they?"
     The two guards exchanged looks. "We know not, Milady. But it's
naught for you to worry about."
     She nodded, used to hearing nothing of the important news. "Aye.
Thank you, then, Sirs."  Out the window behind them, she could see the
smoke that had been filling the skies for days- the smoke of the cannons
and rifles firing off int eh distance, just over the northern mountain
range. She curtseyed and reentered her chamber to hear Patrick
coughing loudly. Tara took a seat on the large bed.
     Regaining his breath, Patrick blinked his handsome green eyes.
After a few silent minutes, "Are ye just gaing to sit and stare at me?"
     She smiled. "Yeah, I thought I'd do just that."
     He grimaced, rubbing boyishly at his nose. "Don't you have
anything else to do? What does a princess usually do all d... day... Oh
God... here comes another one... hah... hashoo!" he sneezed, a fluid, easy
sneeze. "hachaah! hashoo!Choo!" They came gently but quickly. "hashoo!
hachoo! haCHOO!" He sniffed, opening his eyes, "Ugh, excuse me." She
smiled to watch him blow his nose and he raised his eyebrows. "What?"
     Tara giggled. "Just thinking of the last time I saw you sneeze like
that. Do you remember?"
     He nodded. "How could I forget? Five *sniff* years ago down by the
stables with that flirt Dorian."
     "Aye," she giggled. "Your first crush."
     Patrick blushed, the first bit of color Tara'd seen in his face all
day.
     "You told her to meet you and she came with... what were those
flowers she had in her hair?"
     "Hyacinth.  The on... only... hashoo! Hachoo!" He began sneezing
again.
     "The only thing you're allergic to," she finished for him.
     "Hashoo! *sniff* Aye... haah... hashoo!"
     "You couldn't even tell her how beautiful she looked because you
were sneezing so hard. And she left with her nose in the air, the proud
thing."
     Patrick rolled over on his side, still looking up at Tara. "You
remember what happened af... *sniff*" he fought to control the tickles in
his nose. "After that?"
     Nodding, "Aye. I laughed at you and then dunked your head in the
horse trough."
     "Always jealous..." she shot him a sharp look and he quickly
corrected himself, "but at least it stopped the snee... snee... hashashh!
sneezing *sniff*"
     "Aye," Tara pushed his long, red hair from his face and tapped her
finger on the tip of his nose. "Maybe I should try that this time, as well."
     "Hehh," he chuckled, smiling for the first time since he'd seen her
that morning. "Given that it's cold enough to snow *sniff* perhaps not."
     Tara agreed. "Wouldn't do much for that fever of yours either.
Nay," she giggled as he sneezed again. "I'll wait to do it until you're
feeling a little better."
     "Oh, hah-hachoo! *sniff* Thanks so much," he remarked
sarcastically, keeping his grin.
     There was a soft knowing on the door. Tara stood, going to answer
it and finding a maid with a tray of cups and herbs. "I need a fire
started. And some tea made up for my friend," Tara requested, sitting
down in a chair by the fire and spreading her skirts. "Have you any
news of the invasion?"
     The woman looked at Tara then shook her head. "No, Milady. She
started a large fire and put on a kettle of water, keeping a close and
skeptical eye on Patrick. "And I'm nae one tae say, Milady, but there are
codes about men being in young ladies" chambers, are there nae?"
     Patrick coughed and struggled hard to sit up in bed. "Maybe I
should *sniff* should gož"
     "Nay! Hush, Patrick!" Tara scolded from across the room. She
turned back to the maid. "And there is a code against servants telling
the royalty what to do, is there not?"
     The maid took the hint and made the tea quickly. She left with a
quick but polite curtsey.
     Tara took the drink to the bed, mumbling.
     "Excuse me?" Patrick asked, taking a cup and closing his hands
around its warmth.
     "Mmm, nothing," Tara said, rolling her eyes. "I'm just a little tired
of having to deal with those people."
     "Careful," Patrick warned, playing with her and taking a few sips
of the tea. "I'm one of those people."
     "You mean you're a prissy, know-it-all chambermaid whose
business is more gossip than helping out a friend in need?"
     "Heh, heh, nay, I guess not. Al least, not... hahchish! hachoo!" he
wiped his nose. "Not last I checked."
     "Bless you," Tara said respectfully. "How's the tea?"
     He swallowed. "Wonderful, thanks. Feels nice ta my throat."
     "That's good. You warm enough? Need any more blankets?"
     "Nay, I'm fine."
     Tara put down her drink as he stared at her. "What?"
     He was sniffing constantly. "Just thinking how nice this all is. To
*sniff* be in a warm *sniff* bed with warm tea and with ye here *sniff*
taking care of me."
     "Instead of freezing to death out in the barn, you mean?"
     "Aye *sniff*" he blew his nose and sniffed again. "Must be nice to
be royalty."
     She shrugged. "Must be nice-bless you- to be free to do what you
want and not have to worry about a country trying to kill you and your
father... you want another handkerchief, Patrick?"
     Her concern was understandable as one sneeze became ten, and
Patrick held his cup tightly so as not to spill as he was forced forward
by each sneeze. As a result, he was sneezing quite freely. His nose
wrinkling at each tickle, nostrils flaring with each inward breath, body
tensing and thrusting forward with each light release, all made way for a
next sneeze, and then a next to that, and yet another next, until both
wondered if he would ever stop.
     Finally Tara lost patience and as his face scrunched up and he
recoiled to give yet another sneeze, she quickly placed a finger below
his trembling nose.  His face froze, fell, and then his eyes opened to see
her. "Are you okay, Patrick?" Tara asked, concerned, wondering if
something more might be wrong.
     He gave her a weak smile and sniffed forcefully, answering with
final admittance that he truly felt horrible and needed her.  "Take care
of me, Tara. Please?"
     She nodded.  "I will, Patty.  I will."

                     *     *     *     *     *

     Patrick crawled out of the bed, looking down at Tara who lay curled
and shivering slightly as she had given all blankets to him for the night. 
Though he was still cold, he gave up half for her, draping them over her
lovely form and wrapping the remaining ones around his shoulders as he
sat down on the couch. 
     Immediately the door to the chamber opened and in came a young
maid with trays of food and fresh linens.  Patrick quickly jumped up, his
head rushing at the quickness. He approached the maid, who looked at
least five year younger but still outranked him, and bowed respectively.
     She corrected him. "Nay, Milord.  If you're a guest of the Princess'
you'll not bow to me."
     He nodded.  "sorry."
     "Mist Tara must really like you, " she said, going to remake the
fire.  "I'd heard from rumors in the kitchen that you're very ill."
     Patrick shook his head.  "Nay. It's only a wee cold in my head.  But
Tara's sweet.  She let me stay over."
     The maid stood on her toes to feel his forehead.  "Aye, she's a good
lass.  And you're warm with fever.  Come, rest here on the couch."
     She got him a pillow and a few more blankets, covering him as he
got comfortable.
     He smiled thankfully.  "Tell Miss Tara to ring for more breakfast
when she wakes and I'll be sure to bring up a cup of my mother's herbal
tea- guaranteed to make you feel a hundred times better."
     "Thanks," Patrick said, rubbing his nose.  He felt a terrible sneeze
coming upon him but was nervous about sneezing in front of the maid.  if
she saw how sick he really was, she might make him leave so as not to
infect the princess.
     "You're quite welcome," she replied.
     The urge to sneeze was growing inside of him, building up to feel
quite strong.  He was having trouble even keeping his eyes open and his
breathing constant.
     "You get some more sleep now, all right?"
     He nodded, afraid to speak.
     As soon as the maid retreated out the door, Patrick let himself relax
entirely, his tickling nose taking over as he sneezed straight out, "HAH-
SHOO!" He sighed, sniffed, and let his eyes close with wariness, sneezing
as they came and not caring to cover his mouth and nose now that his
hands were tightly tucked under the blankets. 

                     *     *     *     *     *

     Tara woke to an empty bed, looking about for the one she most
wished to see, hoping that he had not left in the middle of the night to
return to the coldness of the barn.  Relieved, she located him on the sofa,
warmed by the crackling fire which danced to entertain him in his misery
as he shivered, blankets drawn tightly around him.  She glanced out the
window to find it gloomy and still snowing, an overcast sky of snow-
filled clouds that either hid the castle from the danger of a possible
invasion or made it more susceptible.
     Returning to her guest, she saw him straighten, his face wearing
an expression of expectation and distress.  Relaxing, his jaw dropped
halfway and his bright green, glazed-over eyes closed.  His breaths were
deep and slow, then sped up.  In... Out... In... Out.. In.. Out.. In Out-In-
Out-"Huh!" lightly, audible, nostrils flaring, drawing in and back.
"Chushhhh!" forward with gentle motion, pulling up with a deep breath.
In. Out. In-Out-InOut-"HA-Chooo!" sneezing just as freely, thrusting
forward again, bending at the waist, then bobbing back up.  His face
froze awkwardly.  Ready, waiting for the next. His nose twitched, face
scrunched, eyes remaining tightly closed, nostrils flaring for a quick,
"AHShoo!" He fell back against the couch with a soft groan, rubbing his
sore nose and lifting the handkerchief to it as it ran.
     "Bless you."
     His cheeks flushed bright red and he turned to see Tara, feeling
embarrassed that he hadn't covered his nose before.  "Excuse be," he
sniffed, keeping the lower part of his face buried in her hanky.
     She sat down beside him, a hand laid softly against his forehead
and the other on his leg.  "Are you feeling any better?"
     "Aye, a wee." He sniffed, a tingle in his nose playing with him. 
"The dight o' rest did be good."
     "You still feel warm but not half as bad as before, which is a very
good improvement.  Your nose still giving you trouble, I take it?"
     "Aye, a wee.  I've beed sdeezig bost the bordig."
     She rubbed his head as if he were a puppy.  "Well, just stay warm
here under these blankets and I'll see to it that you make a full
recovery."
     He nodded weakly, feeling drowsy from the fire's warmth and
comforted by the soft, soothing strokes of her hand.  He closed his eyes.
Suddenly a sneeze came upon him. "HAR-SHEOO!" He opened his eyes
again.  "'Scuse be," he said softly, embarrassed, again. "I dod't beed to
be such a brobleb."
     Tara shook her head.  "You're not a bother at all."
     He stifled a few coughs.  "I said 'brobleb,'" he enunciated.
     Tara giggled. "Oh, problem- that too," she corrected herself.
"You'd best blow your nose. You sound terrible."
     He smirked, raising the hanky to his nose and giving it a strong
blow. "Tacks fer noticig."
     She patted his leg reassuringly. "Don't mention it."
     As he blew his nose again, she stood, dawning good clothes and her
cloak.  "I'll be back soon.  I need to go ask a few people a few things.  If
anyone comes for me, tell them I'll be here at lunch.  Can you manage
that?"
     He nodded.
     She leaned over and kissed his forehead.  "Feel better, dear."
     He nodded, settling back into the couch with a sniff.  "I will." 
     She left feeling a bit guilty to leave him alone but knowing there
was much she had to find out.

                     *     *     *     *     *

     Tara returned at noon, as promised, bringing with her a tray piled
high with food.  She found that Patrick as feeling better but still not
very hungry.  However, he nursed the mug of warm tea and herbs she
gave him, sipping slowly, in between strong sniffs from his runny nose.
     "A ban stobbed by fer ye *sniff* He said he'd returd after ludch
tibe tae talk wi' ye."  Even through his congestion, Tara could detect his
accent strengthening as he grew more tired.
     She nodded.  "Tall man, cape, dark face?"
     "Aye, that was he."
     "Good," she sighed.  "That means he may have news for me about
this."
     He nodded, not really knowing what 'this' was but too preoccupied
with his nose to bother asking.  He led his face over the warm vapors of
the mug, which helped to open his breathing passages as he tried to
inhale deeply. He coughed a few times and turned to Tara.  Seeing the
look on her face of sympathy and overwhelming concern, not to mention
how tired she looked from staying up with him the night before, he
realized that he could take care of himself the rest of the way.  "Tara,
ye've beed sweet tae me, but I think I should be headig back sood."
     She narrowed her eyes at him.  "Are you feeling that much better?"
     "Aye," he lied outright. "Buch better.  I'd like tae go back tae the
stables to sleeb, if ye dod't bide."
     "Are you sure? You still sound... sick..."
     He nodded, trying to make himself seem excited and confident
when, in truth, the nodding itself made his head spin with dizziness and
his throat ached again with coughs. "Aye. I wadt tae go back."
     Tara could do nothing to keep him there, so she decided to let him
do as he wanted. And besides, her head was starting to hurt a bit from
lack of sleep and she needed a good nap before she faced the reality that
there might be a full-scale invasion.
     "All right, Patrick.  if you really want to.  Here, I'll help you down
the stairs and call you a sleigh.
     Tara saw him off with a smile. "I'll by come tomorrow morning to see
how you are," she assured him. He climbed into the sleigh with two extra
blankets tucked under an arm. She quickly retreated to her room, where
she instantly slid into bed and drifted off into a quiet and sound sleep.

     Tara woke a few hours to a stuffy nose and a scratchy throat. She
groaned, pulling herself out of bed just long enough to use the chamber
pot and grab a clean handkerchief from her drawer.  Then she crawled
back under her covers, feeling restless, drowsy, and sniffily. She felt
the first sneeze come almost unexpectedly, filling her nose and urging
her forward with a small jerk, "achooo!" she politely covered her nose
with the handkerchief, feeling another on the way. "Ah-achoo!" she
sneezed again, eyes tearing at the soft but powerful force. She sniffled
and kept the cloth at her nose as she closed her eyes, needing to rest.
She drifted off directly, knowing that the misery she'd helped Patrick
through was now upon her.

                    *     *     *     *     * 

     "Princess Tara?  You sent for me?"
     Tara, face down in her pillow, groaned as she realized her nap had
been a little longer than she'd meant it to be.  She pulled herself up,
turned herself around, and sat up against the head board of her large
canopy bed.  "Excuse me, Good Sir.  I seem to have overslept..." he nose
began to tickle.  "You have *sniff* news for *sniff* me?"
     The man stood quite tall and was dressed entirely in back, his skin
a dark tone of mystery and the cape he wrapped about him only added to
it.  He nodded, sitting down upon the edge of her bed and pulling an
envelope from the inside breast pocket of his suit.  "Aye.  One of my men
intercepted a telegram from enemy territory.  It says quite plainly that
they plan to attack at the crack of dawn tomorrow."
     Tara rubbed her nose at the side, trying to forget she was sick;
there were more important things to worry about.  "So they will reach
the castle... before noon?"
     He nodded.  "With the number of soldiers and weapons they are
estimated to have, perhaps well before noon."
     The urge in her nose was driving her crazy, so she decided to
simply let loose and allow the sneeze to come.  Her breath sped up a
moment before as it came out, "Ahh-TCHOO!" she quickly sniffed and
smiled to herself as she noticed the urge had dissipated almost
completely.  "And news of our forces?  They fair poorly?"
     He nodded sadly, dropping his eyes down, ashamed to speak
against his nation.  "Aye, Milady."
     Tara blew her nose.  "Pardon me."  He gave her another nod.  "Is
that all?"
     "Aye, Milady.  Do you... " he had a heart of darkness with a few
spots of light within, one of which belonged to his Princess.  "Do you
need anything?"
     She shook her head but smiled at his kindness.  "Nay, I'll be...
fine..." she hated to admit it, but she was scared to death about the
invasion, about the possibility that they would have no kingdom left,
about the possibility that the darned enemy might kill off every last one
of the people she cared about... Patrick included...
     As soon as the man left, Tara fell back against the bed, letting out a
series of delicate but substantial sneezes. "AhCHO! Choo! Ahh-CHeooo!"
Rubbing her nose, closing her eyes, easily falling back to sleep.

                     *     *     *     *     *
     "Tara? Tara?" Patrick's voice was a little congested still, but he
felt worlds better than the last time he'd seen her.  She, however, had
looked a bit better then.  Now her nose was red, as were her cheeks, and
the rest of her face was a pale, almost ghostly white. She lay shivering
but asleep under the blankets of her bed, and Patrick was a bit
concerned that she wasn't waking up to his gentle attempts at rousing
her.  He finally worked up the courage and reached out to shake her
very softly and meekly. 
     She stirred and woke, looking up into his eyes in desperation as
the look of helplessness appeared upon her face and a strong sneeze
came upon her.  "Ahh-CHEoo!" she sneezed, forgetting to cover her nose
and mouth. Her temperature was high; she remembered very little about
everything in that state. "Patrick?"
     He sat down beside her, scared to touch her for fear he might hurt
her.  She looked so weak and helpless.  "I was worried when ye didn't
come this morn and thought I'd return to see how ye were."
     She sniffed and whispered softly.  "I don't feel very well at all.  I...
I think I caught your cold."
     He nodded sympathetically, understanding exactly how she felt. 
"Would you like me to get you anything?"
     Before she could answer, a knock sounded loudly upon the door,
and they both jumped at it.  Seeing as how Tara didn't want to get out of
bed, Patrick answered it to find a set of guards and the maid who had
been so kind to him the morning before.
     "Where's Miss Tara?" the maid asked, sounding rushed.
     "In bed with a cold," he replied. "Why?"
     "The invasion's begun.  We must flee now. There's no time to spare. 
We will be heading across the mountains to Umbria.  Your father's cousin
still lays claim to Rubark Castle and they cannot touch us there."
     Tara sat up in bed, pulling her hair back with her hands.  "Patrick,
take the suitcase," she was glad she packed a little before she fell ill. 
"And collect these blankets here while my maid helps me dress."  In no
time at all, Tara was leading Patrick down the secret stair and hall
towards the inner courtyard where the royal entourage waited for her. 
She spotted her father's couch and, with Patrick's arm wrapped around
her waist to steady her weak form as she walked, they made their way
over.
     "Tara..." Patrick hissed, as they approached.  "I shouldn't be here. 
This is the King..."
     Tara stopped and looked up into his eyes.  "I want you here.
Please, Patty. Stay with me... I want to know you're safe."
     "But..." he tried to protest, but Tara's sweet, innocent smile
convinced him.  "All right. I just hope I don't make a fool out of myself in
front of your father."
     Tara cleared her throat and assured him.  "Don't worry. You
won't."
     They were face to face with the King and Patrick bowed lowly as
Tara curtseyed and coughed into her handkerchief.
     "Good morn *cough* Father," Tara greeted him, then looked up to
Patrick to get him to address him, as well.
     However, Patrick was preoccupied at the moment.  She could see it
in his face, and she quickly thrust the handkerchief in his face moments
too late for him to use it to stifle the deep, wet, "Hachoo!"
     The king looked upon him, then on his daughter, then sighed. "I
suppose it might have occurred to someone to tell me that half of my
carriage company is ill?"
     Tara shook her head, sniffing. "Sorry, Father."
     Patrick shook his head, too. "Nay, don't apologize, Tara. 'Tis my
fault, Yer Majesty."
     The king rolled his eyes. "I don't care whose fault it is. I just don't
want to get sick."
     Patrick helped Tara into the carriage and climbed in to sit beside
her. "Don't worry, Yer Majesty."
     The king nodded, getting in and sitting across from them with two
servants stepping in, standing at the sides, and closing the doors
securely. Tara, feeling drowsy, still, tried to lie down, but could manage
very little as the carriage seats were not quite long enough to do so
comfortably and still allow Patrick the room he needed to sit. The moment
Patrick realized the same, he moved over to one side as much as he could,
then patted his lap, signaling to her that he wanted her to lie on him. She
did so hesitantly, resting her head on his thigh. She felt the warmth of a
few blankets come over her, then the soft, strokes of Patrick's hand on
her head. Tara closed her eyes, sniffing, and let the sleep overtake her.

     With Tara asleep in his lap, and the King sitting across from him,
Patrick did all he could to keep himself quiet as his cold battled with him.
His nose tickled and itched dreadfully, and, realizing that it was doing
no good to bite his lip and hold his breath, the only other thing he could
figure upon doing was holding his nose with his finger. Raising a loose
fist to his mouth, the placed his bent index finger under his nose,
pressing up against his nostrils as inconspicuously as possible. Trying
not to draw attention to the sneezes he felt approaching, he closed his
eyes and concentrated on breathing in slow, shallow breaths. The urges
dissipated somewhat, but the tickles stayed there in the outskirts of his
nose.
     "You okay, lad?" Patrick heard one of the guards ask.
     He looked up to see a concerned face staring back at him. Patrick
nodded, pressing harder, feeling a sneeze coming but knowing he had to
hold it off. "Yes, Sir," he whispered lightly. Every second that passed
gave the sneeze more strength. He knew it was now only a matter of time.
He began rubbing gently, back and forth at the bottom of his nose and at
the tip. It was growing bigger and bigger, and he closed his eyes,
wishing it away with his last bit of hope. The sneeze struck a moment
later, his nose filling, commanding him, urging him forward with a large,
"Hashoo!" the strongest of his sneezes, yet it was still airy and delicate.
He sniffed, reaching into his pocket to get the handkerchief Tara had
given him.
     Before he could, he found one in his face, and the guard's hand
attached to it. "Here, lad. Take mine."
     He nodded a thank you, taking it and blowing his runny, stuffy
nose.
     "I wasn't feeling well, myself last week, lad," the guard said,
shaking his hand as Patrick tried to return the item to signal that he
could keep it.
     "Aye?" Patrick asked, rubbing at his nose again and wishing Tara
were well enough to take care of him instead of he taking care of her.
     "Aye, we'll no doubt clear the mountains by the time you're well.
Should be about a day or two, give or take. 'Twill be a nasty, bitter cold
on the way but when we reach Umbria it should be great, warm weather."
     Patrick nodded, a bit scared to be away from the castle for the first
time in his life.
     "You look nervous lad. You'll be alright. No need to worry."
     Patrick shrugged, sniffing. "I'm a wee scared of what we may
encounter."
     The guard smiled kindly and reached down, patting him on the
head. "Now, now, there's no need to be troubled over such things as
that.  Take it easy and look after the Princess and we'll get you all
through the mountains safely."
     Patrick nodded, trusting the words of the stranger as he knew
them to be the words of a friend. 

     Patrick woke Tara at meal time. The caravan had been halted so
that fires could be made to cook the food. One of the guards, hovering
over the two of them, still, told them to settle by a fire to keep warm.
Patrick helped the Princess out, wrapping her in cloak and blankets to
site on his lap by the fire. She was so much smaller and weaker than he,
even though there was but a year between them in age. She felt light in
his arms and, as she leaned against him and drifted off to sleep, he
remarked at how comfortable he felt with her. He had known her for as
long as he could remember, and yet, there had never been a time at
which he felt closer to her.
     "Patrick?"
     He sniffed, his nose running now from the cold winter air as much
as his ailment. "Aye, Tara?"
     "How are you feeling?" Just like Tara, that her first few words be
on his health. "Any bett... ah-achoo!" she sneezed suddenly, against his
chest. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and cuddled closer to him for
warmth. "Any better?"
     "Aye, I feel much better. You, Tara?"
     She shook her head. "Not much... ah... achooo!" When she sneezed,
it shook her whole body, and Patrick feared she was too weak to control
herself. "Ahchoo!" she sneezed again, and then again, and then again; it
was all Patrick could do to keep her on his lap as she shook hard with
the sneezes, her frail, weak form little match for even their full but
gentle urges. "ahh-CHoo! Ah-Tshoo! CHOO! *sniff* ahh-AHChoo! Ahh-Ah-
ahchoo!" came the last few, and Patrick helped her blow her nose on her
own handkerchief. 
     "There we go, no worrying. Ye'll be alright," he said softly, the
warmth of the fire warming him more than he'd been warm all day and the
flames dancing off his arms and Tara's pale face.
     "How far along are we?" she asked, rubbing at her nose.
     "I don't know. No one will tell me."
     She sniffed with a brief laugh. "I shouldn't wonder. If they don't
tell me when my own lii... ahchoo! *sniff* life is in danger, they won't tell
you when we're to safety will they?"
     "Bless you. No, I suppose not." He took the handkerchief from her
and wiped her nose with it, feeling his own nose tickling a little but
holding the urges back well this time. "Would you like a bite to eat or
something to drink? Tea perhaps?"
     She shook her head. "Nay. I think I should like just resting here a
wee bit with you, if you don't mind. This fire's nice and warm and I'm
dreadfully weary."
     He hugged her closer to him and rubbed a hand over her back. "Of
course, Tara, of course."
     She feel into a deep sleep in his arms, snoring softly from her cold.
And when the caravan was to move out again, Patrick carefully carried
her inside the carriage without waking her up. He was given some dinner
and ate it quickly and quietly as she slept curled, her head in his lap.
     The king inquired as to his daughter's health a few times, though
Patrick had no idea other than that all the sleeping would do her good.
And once, just once, the king inquired as to Patrick's own health.
Patrick answered stuffily but with a polite, "Much better, thank ye fer
asking, Sire."
     The king nodded and yawned. "I think I shall take my sleep now."
     Patrick nodded and watched as the king leaned against the side of
the carriage and fell into an easy sleep. About ten minutes later, Tara
woke, confused and cold.
     "Where are we?" came her shaken, misplaced voice.
     "About halfway, Miss Tara," one the guards told her and both Tara
and Patrick smiled to finally get a little information out of them.
     Tara sat up, rubbing the back of her neck and running her hands
through her hair. "I must look horrible," she complained.
     Patrick shook his head. "Nay, ye look beautiful. Ye always do."
     She blushed, the only color to be found on her pale face. "Well, I
feel horrible."
     "That," Patrick said, pulling the blankets closer around her. "Is
understandable."
     She nodded. "Aye. And yourself?"
     "Feeling much better. Nose is a bit tickley and my throat's a little
scratchy, but all in all much better. Wish I could be back in that warm
bed of yers, though."
     "Aye, me, t-too," Tara said, clearing her throat. "But it's this or
being run through in an invasion, so I'll take this any day."
     Patrick wiped his nose but looked worried. "How bad is it going to
be? I mean, if I'd stayed..."
     Tara shrugged. "Most likely, you'd be dead."
     "Ah..." Patrick sniffed and put the handkerchief back in his
pocket. "Well then. I'm glad that I was spared. And very sad that all the
others could not be."
     "Aye..." Tara said thoughtfully. She saw him shiver. "You cold?"
     "Nay, only a little scared."
     She nodded, her nose wrinkling as she felt another sneeze. "ahh...
ahhh..." she raised her hand and bent back at the breath. "Ahchoo!"
forward as her weak form shook. "Ahshoo! Archoo!" She sniffed. "Excuse
me." Tara rubbed her nose with her finger. "You shouldn't be scaahh...
Ahhh..." her nose wiggled again, nostrils flaring. "Ahchoo! Ahcha!
ACHIshhh!" strong and wet, freely in front of her, and she leaned back
against the side of the carriage, sniffling. "Dear me! Excuse me!"
     "'Tis alright, Miss," one of the guards said. "Neither of you should
be scared of anything. Just let us do our job and get you to safety,
alright?"
     Tara nodded, reaching out and holding Patrick's hand. "You are
cold!" she exclaimed, feeling his hand. "You need to wrap up in some
blankets and stay warm, I think."
     "There are none else. I'm fine, Tara."
     She shook her head. "We'll share. Come on. Don't protest now."
     He smiled, admiring her ability to take care of him despite how
poorly she felt. "All right."
     A few minutes later, they managed to get warm and comfortable.
Two of the blankets were wrapped around Patrick's shoulders and he sat
back against the side of the carriage, his legs stretched out on the seat
in front of him. Tara sat against him, the blankets around him wrapping
around to cover her a little, though his arms did a better job of that as
they hugged her comfortingly. Draped over her was the third blanket,
the thickest of the three, so that they were warm as they cuddled
together, sniffling and sneezing as they fell asleep with each other's
warmth and comfort to help them through their colds.

                       *   *    *     *    *

     Patrick woke to the sound of shouting, finding that Tara was just
opening her eyes at the same time. There were now four guards in the
carriage which, so they noticed, was no longer moving.
     "What's amiss?" Tara asked, rubbing her eyes to see her father
still asleep across from them.
     "Attackers, Miss."
     Tara sat straight up. "Attackers? Pyrans? Here?" She stood,
pulling her long waves back into a bun. "I need a sword!"
     One of the guards laughed. "Nay, Miss Tara. You'll be safer if you
stay put."
     Patrick stood, realizing that, besides a stuffed nose and a few
aches, he felt much better. "Tara, be reasonable. Ye're the Princess. Ye
cannot risk yer life like this. I'm sure the soldiers have all under
control."
     Tara, her nose speaking out against her as well, took the moment,
to urge he to sneeze in her biggest fit yet. "Ahh-CHoo! Ahh... Ahh-
AhhChoo! Chhoo! Ahh-CHOO!" Sneeze after sneeze, making her bend
forward and eventually sit back down on the seat to continue thought
giving her legs their needed rest. "Ahhh-CHOO! Ah-Ahhh-AHH-AHCHOO!
AHH-CHOOO!"  They were so strong now, full and forceful, but still as
dainty as ever, sounding just like the others but controlling her ten
times that so that she barely had a breath in between as they flowed out
of her. "Ahh-CHOO! Ahh... Ehh... AH-CHOO! AHH-CHOO! AHHCHOO! 
AHCHEOO!" AHCHUSHH!" They took a fierce hold and Patrick could only
look on and place his hand on her back to comfort her and reassure her
that she would be okay as the sneezes did their beautiful worst. Sneeze
after sneeze after sneeze took her body as it seemed as if the sneezing
spell would never end. So much so that when she was finally through,
she found them to be moving once more.
     "Ye're all right, Tara." Patrick said, putting a handkerchief to her
overflowing nose. "Ye're okay now."
     "Oh, Patrick!" she cried, falling against him in tears. "I'm
*sniff*sniff* so scared!"  She thought of her mother, who had been
kidnapped by the Pyrans, and her brother who had died in battle
against them.
     "Shhh..." he hushed her softly. "There now, lie still. Lie quiet for a
bit."
     She sneezed again and she whimpered, her nose hurting a little,
her body so weak she could barely help it, her head light and dizzy after
the intense sneezing fit.
     He held her tighter, rubbing her back, stroking her head.
"Shhhh..." he looked up at one of the guards, who nodded at him
assuredly, and he knew for the first time in his life that he was doing
something right, something good for her.
     She began rubbing at her nose again, and Patrick knew the signs
well enough. He thought to get out his handkerchief, but to hear her
quick, panicky breaths, he thought against it. Instead, he put his finger
under her nose, feeling her breaths as she began to feel the sneezes
come even harder. "Ahhhh... "  He pressed hard and found that she let
out a pleased, relieved sigh as he did so.
     "Thaks," she whispered, the sensations in her nose finally dying
down a bit to be held back by his gentle but firm touch.
     Suddenly, at the spur of the moment and as if all emotions he felt
for her were condensed into that one brief second, he kissed her.  Not a
soft respectful kiss on the hand nor a soft peck on the cheek, but a full
and warm kiss square on the lips.
     He opened his eyes after the kiss to see a smile upon her face.
     "Patty..."
     He shook his head, knowing now why he had been spared to
accompany her on the journey.. "Take care, Milady."  And with that he
grabbed his cloak and sword and slid past the guards out of the carriage
into the cold winter air and danger of the heated battle.
     Tara immediately forgot of her ailment, rushing to follow, fighting
past the guards who gently held her weak body at bay.  She pounded on
one's chest as she dissolved into tears and was held by his strong arms.
     "Hush, Milady.  He's a good lad.  He'll serve ye well in battle."
     She could only cry and shake her head.  Finally she pleaded with
them to let her to the window and see.  They did and she cracked the
curtains only enough to peak out.  The scene was a sea of their men,
muskets, bayonets, sabres, all stabbing loyally towards the enemy who
fought back just as nobly as several from each side lay dead on the cold,
hard snow.  But amidst them all, she caught a glimpse of the lad who had
been her only true friend for more years than she could remember.  And
just as she spotted him, she saw also a man in gray coming up behind him
with a sharp broadsword.  The blade was naked, longing to be coated in
enemy blood.  Tara gasped as she saw it penetrate and dropped to her
knees with a blood-curdling cry, "Patrick!"

                      *     *    *    *    *

     "You're a fool.  You know that, don't you?" Tara whispered to
Patrick who lay fevered but warm and safe in the bed of Rubark Castle,
deep in the heart of Umbria.
     Patrick nodded and winced as Tara tied off the fresh bandages.
     "What did you think you were doing out there?"
     His voice was soft, "Protecting ye."
     Tara knew as much but the answer still silenced her, save a small
sniff given from her still tickling nose.
     "How are ye feelin'?" asked Patrick.
     She smiled and, as if answering for her, felt her face fall
drastically as the feeling passed over her.  She gave a few tiny, quiet
breaths as it build, then gave a small but substantial sneeze, "ahh-
TCHOO!" She sniffed and smiled.  "I'm much better."
     He smiled back.  "Good."
     "Yourself?"
     "Aye, better."
     Tara giggled, sniffling.  "Your nose is red."
     Patrick nodded.  "I wouldn't be laughing.  Yers is, too."
     In a softer tone. "We must really look the pair then, aye?"
     Chucking, "Aye, Tara."
     He felt chilled from the fever and thought to ask if she might stay
with him through the night.
     She, of course, agreed, and cuddled beside him as the two fell
asleep, closer friends than they had ever dreamed they could ever
become.
~tarotgal