The Best Kind of Poetry
By: Manna (Kitten Kisses)
For Dreamcatz. You're right- there needs to be more HectorLyndis out there.
The sun, its ever-glorious self, was sinking slowly in the distance, the rays of orange and red light beaming their farewell to the earth as they slowly started to disappear, not to be seen again until the next morning.
He was not much of a romantic, himself; being the brazen, bold man of the little army that had been home to them for months, now. Though he was sure that people talked about him a bit, wondering if he dabbled in the arts, or, perhaps something refined. The truth was, however, that he cared nothing much for art, could hardly understand a line of poetry (whatever happened to just saying what you were feeling?), and while he could admit to a few people that dancing, in its own right, was fun, the work of finding a partner was most decidedly not.
Despite being a rather non-romantic man, he found the sunset to be one of the most spectacular events of the day. The way that fiery ball plunged to the other side of the earth, leaving trails of red and pink and purple behind it was something that even the best writers could never describe to perfection. He would never try it himself, he knew.
It was as difficult a feat as trying to win the affections of someone who had never known you existed. An impossible task, to be certain.
His bulky frame leaned on the trunk of a beautiful oak, the wide leaves moving gently as the breeze prodded at them. If someone would happen to see him, they would certainly think him to be brooding angrily- most likely at Matthew for saying something obnoxious, or at Serra for her loud squawking. But he was doing nothing of the sort.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest the best his armor would allow, and leaned back so far that, if he happened to close his eyes, he could fall asleep in an instant.
Though they had fought not one battle in almost a week, he was drained. Perhaps it was emotionally, for Hector was never one to battle his emotions like he'd been doing as of late.
People were only now getting talkative, he decided, as he saw Sain telling one of his "Ye Gallant Knight" stories by the fire, his friend rolling his eyes at his older companion's over-exaggerations, and the others leaning forward eagerly to soak in the likely amusing tale.
A few had gone off to bed early, most likely to catch some shuteye before the louder sleepers retired.
His eyes roved over the camp, unconsciously searching for one person in particular. It only took a moment for him to spot her- she was impossible to miss. The way the setting sun played with the long strands of her hair, reflecting the shimmering tresses back to him, who was sitting just far enough away that he could read the expression on her face.
Eliwood- bless the man- had been nothing short of absolutely correct concerning her. She certainly was striking. Her features were not like most nobles of Lycia… but neither was the way she walked, or talked, or spoke. He could not help but be a little respectful of her for speaking so freely. If she weren't a Lady, he was certain that people would frown upon her for speaking out so often.
Perhaps it was that she hated being told what to do, as he often did… He had never asked her, personally, of course, because it seemed that no matter what he said, it would come out sounding so…offensive.
It wasn't just the color of her eyes, or the soft skin of her legs that he caught a glimpse of in battle every now and then, though her bare skin was enough to render him nearly useless in a fight, catching him completely off-guard… It was just….her.
Lyndis. Lady Lyndis. Lyn. Whichever name he used, it was all the same. He could see her soft hair falling over her shoulders, past her waist; her emerald eyes, sparkling in mirth as she teased him mercilessly for doing something stupid. Sometimes, he even saw the little wrinkle in her forehead, when she was struggling with something internally, whether it was her feelings or her personal goal to get stronger.
She was near the horses, looking as if she belonged there- and he meant that in a good way, not in a condescending way, now. The grass blowing beneath her feet, the wind in her hair, and in the horses' likewise… her lightly calloused hands resting on the nose of one mount, and the neck of another, whispering words of encouragement, or asking for advice… It was all like staring a beautiful painting.
Talking to animals had never been his strong suit. He'd tried talking to a cat, once, and, finding that it spoke not a word of his native language, he'd felt like an idiot, and had never tried again. But Lyn… and as far as he knew, several of the other people in the camp, spoke to their horses on a regular basis. The Lady of Caelin had no horse of her own, but she had more than enough love to go around for everyone else's.
Hesitantly, he wondered if she had enough to share just a little with him.
"Lord Hector, what do you think you're doing up here, all by yourself?"
When he eventually got over his fright at the sudden voice behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, a feeling of dread overtaking him. The cleric behind him gave the blue-haired Lord a bright smile, the side of her mouth turned up in an almost snide way.
She said, not waiting for a reply from him at all, "You do realize that you can't simply stare at her all evening, do you not?"
He sputtered indignantly, moving to stand, put she put the tip of her staff on his head, pushing it down lightly.
"When the sun goes down, and you're still sitting here, in the exact same spot, staring there, even after she's gone, you'll only look like the oaf you really are. What say you to that?" She snorted a little, turning her head to the side and giving him a sly look.
"I say that I enjoy my peace and quiet," he answered her, his tone dark. "And you'd do well to let me have it, you see."
"How dare you!" she huffed. "And after all I've done for you! Well, fine, be that way. But you'll never win her affections without my help!" Her staff was clutched tightly in her hands, partly due to her sudden outburst. "Staring at her will get you nowhere!"
He couldn't resist replying, though he was rather sarcastic in his reply. "Oh. And what do you know about such things, huh?"
"Well, I never!" Sticking her chest out a bit, she put her hands on her hips and glared down at him- a look that would have intimidated a lesser man. "You could write her a poem, perhaps! Anything but staring. You'll only serve to make her think you are a stalker of sorts!"
"Poetry?!" His loud voice would have been enough to wake the entire camp, had they all been asleep. Luckily for him, most were busy listening to Sain, and didn't notice a thing. "Are you daft, woman?" His gaze wandered back to Lyndis, and his tone softened. "Someone like her…they don't need poetry or prose."
Serra was silent for a moment. "What do you mean, exactly, Lord Hector?" she asked finally, her normally loud voice relatively quiet.
He whispered, still focused on the woman that was the cause of his turbulent emotions, "Just look at her. Can't you see it?"
"Huh?" His companion looked at Lyndis, and then back at Hector, before tugging on one of her pigtails. "What are you talking about? Have you gone mad? I'll help you if you only ask-"
He cut her off, not really caring if she took offense or not. "Don't you see? She doesn't need something as silly as all that. The way that she looks right now? That's the best kind of poetry I know. Better, even, then poetry."
He continued to watch her as she patted the horses and spoke to them in hushed tones. "Sometimes I can't understand that woman, but other times, I really want to. That's more than I can say for a silly poem!" He snorted a bit, then, but couldn't tear his gaze away from her face against the brilliant backdrop of the setting sun.
"Never mind," the Cleric said, a bit baffled. "I suppose you don't need my help after all! I never would have guessed you to be the romantic type!"
"What?" he asked her suddenly, turning in her direction. "We fight like cats and dogs! Nothing romantic about that!" He scratched the back of his head in confusion, wondering if their main healer had gone crazy.
"What you just said, stupid," she told him bluntly, smacking the top of his head with her staff. "Any Lady's heart would just melt to hear that! Now why don't you tell her that, before someone like Sain steals her heart away!"
"He'd better not," he retorted, bristling with something almost akin to anger.
She waved a finger in front of him, her eyes fairly twinkling with mirth. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Putting her hand to her hair, she flipped it flirtatiously and flounced away, leaving one Lord sitting in absolute disarray.
"She's nuts," he mumbled to himself. "Absolutely nuts." But he felt his eyes wander back to the Lady of Caelin, and he couldn't help but continue to watch her.
Perhaps… he should at least say hello and make some sort of an effort to not start an argument with her, for once…
Ahh… just kinda random. I've had this idea written down for a while now. Actually, it wasn't quite an idea. And to be honest, this turned a complete 180 from what I originally intended the story to be. So the title had to change and everything!
So, let me know what you think. I actually shipped LyndisHector before I started liking KentLyndis. So I felt I had to do at least ONE story on them that wasn't humor. I hope I got Hector's character down right.
Thanks for reading! Critique is more than encouraged- it's law! (Well, maybe not, but still.)
Please review if you bothered to read. I'd really appreciate it. (Plus, they're downright encouraging.)