The Broken Blade: A Tale of Camelot

Part Three

By: Llachlan

Portland was beautiful in its own way, but life had been very busy lately and Saltspring was just so...not busy. "For a street kid you sure have a thing for nature Rickster." Her words echoed in the loft, the wooden walls adding depth to her tone.

They'd taken a walk along paths carved by the passage of innumerable sheep and Xena had told her that it was a lot like the Isle of Avalon, the same greens and browns interspersed with the cool gray of exposed rock. Then Xena had wryly laughed and pointed out that there was one small difference - New Years on Avalon meant snow and lots of it.

Shaking her head at the pleasant memory of frolicking along the shoreline, she turned her attention to the laptop and switched it on.

Rickie reached up and hit the start key, shutting down the machine. Images of long dead Knights, a young man caught in the grip of destiny and an even smaller baby danced in her head. Shaking off the melancholy that threatened to wrap her in its vise like grip, she set aside the most disturbing images and gathered up her notebook.

Maybe, she thought, writing this wasn't such a bright idea after all. Her happy mood from this morning seemed to have evaporated under the weight of delving into the past. Delving into Xena's past...Reflexively she twirled her pen around her fingers. That was part of the problem. How did Xena feel about having motives ascribed to her actions - events that were mere history to Rickie, turned over and examined by her lover?

And why did she feel so...connected...her inner voice supplied, to Artos.

The sound of ringing metal on metal caught her attention and she descended the ladder, suddenly needing to touch Xena.

Thrusting the hot metal into the quenching trough, Xena watched the steam rise into the air, wiping her face as it condensed on her forehead and hair. The metal gleamed dully in the glowing embers from the forge. When the water had stopped steaming she returned the length of iron to the anvil.

Deftly hammering the edges she drew the malleable substance into a shape conforming to the mental image she had been carrying around in her head. Losing herself in the intricate work, the warrior let time slip away - the world reduced to fire, metal and the rhythmic pounding of the hammer.

"What is it?" A voice tinged with curiousity and awe.

Xena looked up and smiled. "Candlestick." Passing the object over for inspection after grabbing an extra pair of gloves. "Use these...it's still warm."

"It's beautiful." And it was. Rickie ran her fingers over the still warm surface, using the gloves to hold it in her other hand. The iron twisted delicately, three separate prongs twining about a fourth, coming to together at the top to form a shallow bowl like depression to cradle a candle or other adornment. "It's beautiful."

"What's wrong Rickie?"

"Busted hunh?"

"Not like you to repeat yourself. And you get a crinkle in your brow right here." Xena had removed her apron and swiped a grimy finger across a pale brow, darkening it.

"I was writing."

"Ah."

"I can't help feeling bad for Artos...I mean I know what happened later...but I feel bad for the young man with dreams of glory. He reminds me..."

"Reminds you of yourself." Xena finished for her. "He was a lot like you...a lot like Gabrielle."

"A Dreamer."

"The world needs Dreamers Rickie...to remind the rest of us what is possible." Xena hesitated, unsure of what to say, unused to seeing her normally ebullient lover melancholy. Drawing Rickie closer, she wrapped her arms tightly around the distraught teen. Waiting silently for the younger woman to continue.

"I've been having these dreams."

"Telesco...?"

"No. Nothing that specific, images and impressions mostly." Rickie clarified wistfully.

She'd been concerned that the nightmares of Telesco's brutality or memories of Jeanne's games had returned to haunt her partner's dreams. "Gabrielle?" Most of what Rickie had remembered of the Bard, had so far been pleasant, but Xena knew it was inevitable that some of the darker ones would surface, especially since Rickie was so focused on Britannia.

Xena felt Rickie's hands circle her torso as though she were trying to physically meld the two of them. Worried she rested her chin on the blonde head and stroked the flesh between Rickie's shoulder blades, moving reassuringly in small circles. "C'mon."

Not losing physical contact with Rickie, she carefully guided them from the small smithy back to the cabin. Tears had begun to slide down her lover's pale cheeks and her green eyes shone with the pooled moisture. She pushed aside the rumpled quilt and sat on the edge of the chesterfield, a gentle tug and Rickie settled onto her lap, immediately burrowing into her chest.

This was serious, so she continued to wait, letting her physical presence and soft touches communicate that she was there.

It was almost dark before Rickie stirred, swollen eyes lifting to meet hers.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Being here."

"Rickie, I love you. I will always be here."

"I'm sorry."

Xena smoothed Rickie's hair, and tucked it behind a delicate ear, taking the abrupt shift in topic in stride. "Don't be."

"Can I ask something?"

"Anything."

"Does my writing about Artos bother you?"

Xena thought about how to answer, turning the new clue over in her mind. "Not the way it bothers you." She shifted around slightly so that she could clearly see Rickie's eyes.

"So it does bother you?" Rickie looked stricken.

"The only part that bothers me is seeing something about it is upsetting you."

"Oh." This time Rickie moved around, nestling into the space between her shoulder and the cushions. "I think part of what was bothering me was being worried about how you felt having me putting words in your mouth."

A small smile twigged at her lips, the déjà vu like quality of the question making it hard to hold her expression. "They're good words." Warmth from no longer painful memories of Gabrielle filled her tone.

Rickie craned her neck, a puzzled expression having replaced the distress.

Xena leaned slightly forward and planted a tender kiss at the corner of Rickie's mouth then pulled back. "Let's just say you're not the first Bard to 'put' words in my mouth." Her heart lightened as she watched a slow smile creep over Rickie's face, green eyes brightening as the meaning of the Immortal's words became clear.

"Gabrielle."

Her fingers toyed absently with the edge of Rickie's cotton shirt, the button warming under her fingers. "Several hundred scrolls worth."

The younger woman's eyes widened. "Wow. Too bad you couldn't have kept them. That would have been too cool."

Just about to answer she stopped, struck by another mischievous thought. Oh this was even better than Christmas. April 18 was still a bit away - lots of time. Hiding the full blown smirk that threatened to explode onto her face she drudged up her best poker face, replying sotto voice. "They'd be all Greek to you anyway."

She was rewarded with an eruption of soft laughter. "That was sooo bad Xena." Rickie finally managed to sputter, head resting on Xena's chest.

"Made you smile." Rickie's hands were circling over her stomach, sending tingles through her muscles.

"That's not the only effect you have on me you know."

"Really," she drawled, arching an expectant eyebrow.

"Really." The blonde dipped her head and nibbled at the open collar of Xena's shirt.

"Hey..." she whispered softly, not wanting to break the moment, but wanting at the same time to make sure Rickie was okay.

Instead of replying the teen worked her way up the sensitive skin of her neck, lingering on her lips before meeting her eyes. "I'm fine...one sensitive chat survived."

Xena chuckled. "Practice makes perfect..."

"...and I have many skills..." they chimed in unison, then laughed.

Rickie's eyes darkened to a smoky green and the Immortal thought no matter how trite it sounded, that she could easily drown in their depths. She felt her shirt being tugged from her jeans and she leaned forward, scooping Rickie into her arms.

Her lover fluidly adjusted herself and allowed Xena to carry her to the bathroom, all the while maintaining a continuous assault on the exposed skin of her neck and face. She stepped over the high side of the antique tub and swung Rickie down to stand next to her. Deliberately she drew the curtain shut and turned the knob on the controls.

A jet of cold water shot from the showerhead and she placed her body between it and Rickie, waiting for the hot water to kick in. The contrast of the icy water soaking through her shirt and the fiery trail left on her front by the soft hands that were slowly removing her top set up ripples of sensation as her skin pores anticipated being touched.

Waterlogged, her shirt slid of its own accord off her shoulders and she moved slightly to one side and let a cascading spray of warm water wash over Rickie, watching in fascination as the material first darkened, then clung suggestively to her slight form.

Mesmerized by the water running in rivulets through Rickie's hair and dripping gently from the ends, she nearly forgot to breathe, her whole world reduced to the soft hiss of water mixed with the gentle exhalations of the two of them.

Xena leaned forward and kissed Rickie lightly, barely touching her full, sensual lips. Though the kiss was delicate, one of promise and love, it had an urgency that was soon resolved when Rickie responded by moving closer.

They brought their mouths together fully and she heard a small whimper escape from Rickie as her fingers brushed the top of her jeans and tugged the shirt free from the waist band.

Rickie responded by lifting her arms above her head and Xena peeled the clinging material over her arms, dropping it with a wet thud to the floor of the tub. She played her lips across her lover's, alternating quick jabs with tender glides.

"Xena..."

"Umm."

"You've still got your boots on."

"So do you." She dropped to her knees. The water was pooling in the bottom of the tub trapped by the discarded clothing lying over the drain. Maintaining eye contact, she began undoing the laces on Rickie's Docs by touch alone. When she carefully lifted the left boot the blonde's hands came to rest on her shoulders. When both boots had been removed she turned attention to the buttons on Rickie's jeans, managing with only a little extra tugging to slide the wet material over her lover's hips.

Starting at the bottom, she gradually worked her way back up Rickie's body, captivated by the changing expressions on Rickie's face and in her eyes as she moved over sensitive spots. She left nothing untouched, the soap taking away the friction and allowing her to glide effortlessly along the creamy skin and firm muscles of her lover. After what seemed too short a time, she was standing again, scant inches from Rickie, close but not quite touching, only their eyes binding them. She softly brushed her lips against Rickie's savouring the unhurried passion of the experience, each of them aware of the outcome and fully enjoying every second of the journey.

Rickie leaned forward slightly, breaking the eye contact and whispered. "My turn." The warm breath moving over the wet skin by her ear sent a delighted shiver deep inside and Xena surrendered to the powerful connection running between them, losing track of everything, grounded only by Rickie's eyes and the love she could see reflected in their depths. They were together...again.