The next few weeks were busy. Nimue felt a tug as if she were fighting against Mother Nature. The Lady would only allow her to serve at the Tor as long as she was childless. She knew that she could bear children for she had had a son, once. Maric and she spent countless hours, wrapped in each other’s arms. Never had she felt so loved and eventually the dark shadow that she had created was gone from his eyes.<br/><br/>Maric had helped her prepare the cottage. He had worked so much on it, that the Lady would be in his debt for the improvements. Part of the floor now had a stone floor and the other part was made of smooth wooden planks that Maric had crafted himself. The stones were around the fire place so that no sparks could ignite the wood. These stones, Nimue had helped gather. They were the round river rock and they had had to make many trips to collect it. She thought the pinks, white and grays of the rock quite festive. She was proud of the old tapestry that created a soft wall for Faren’s privacy. The blues and faded reds of that gave the cottage a layer of textile that softened sounds, making the room feel cozy and intimate.<br/>In the evening, before the sun fell from the sky and while dinner was cooking over the open fire, Nimue practiced with her sword in the dooryard.  She sparred with Maric, using her old wooden sword but did sword play with her new sword alone with evening shadows.<br/><br/>"Maric, does your sword have a name? I think my sword has a name, I think I can hear it when I swing the blade in the air. I think I need to have a naming ceremony for my sword."<br/><br/>Before he could answer, she was off on another thought,<br/><br/>“How much longer before I am skilled enough to spar with my sword and not skewer you?” she asked, sweetly for the tenth time that evening. “I know that is a skill that is honed by time, but I am afraid to use it with you, lest I slip and cut off something, ahem…. Special.”<br/><br/>Her delicate voice peeled with laughter, but she wasn’t entirely kidding.<br/><br/>Maric would just shake his head and laugh at her. She didn’t care because he would pull her into his arms and tickle her. Nimue would playfully swat at his arms and soon their play would take on an earnest direction, which usually led to bed.  Today, though, when he started what was becoming their nightly ritual, she stiffened her arms.<br/><br/>“How soon before Faren returns?” she asked, seriously scanning his face. “Our love making will need to be more discreet.” She kissed him, softly, between words. “ and.” “I “ “don’t” “want” “to” “be” discreet”. Her voice lowered to a huskier tone,<br/><br/>“You have spoiled me to making love before the fire at night and upon the kitchen table in the morning. I look in anticipation at the way you bend me over the stile in the paddock and have you way with me as a way of greeting. Thinking of you on my way home at night, sends my breath into quick spasms and my body clenches in anticipation. What will I do when I can not have Maric four or more times a day?”<br/><br/>She pouted but a wicked little grin lit up her face.<br/><br/>“How many more days do I have you all to myself?”