A/N: I apologise for the wait- please, enjoy! (Had initially planned for this to be a three-part series. Guess we're way over that xD)

Chapter 5: Complications Arise- that dratted Rascal!

Roderick volunteered for the hardest duty indoors, packing bags upon bags of potatoes and grain— chores that weren't strictly performed by the other serfs, having been deemed too manual for knights-in-training. He was soon dripping in perspiration and would be unfit for dinner in the hall with everyone else, but it did not matter. He felt an utter fool around the young Lady Cousland, and that he deserved the punishment.

He was having the most inappropriate thoughts about her, and these images loomed up at every turn.

When all the bags were finally arranged against the wall of the granary, Roderick sank down to the floor, letting out a long sigh.

He began to remember her firm, smooth hands, surprisingly-soft palms, the gentle smile she had when she spoke to him. Briefly, he wondered if they would ever become friends…

Roderick smacked his forehead in despair—and thought that perhaps the supplies could be rearranged again; the pile could certainly stand to be more neatly stacked against the west wall.

His mind was definitely not clear of these distractions—and so the red-headed Roderick began again, this time, shirtless, attempting to translate his emotions into energy for his exertions. It simply would not do to moon over the young Lady Cousland like a lovesick twit.

Rivulets ran down his face, but he forced himself to work, struggling (and failing) to keep her pretty figure out of his head.

Her determined demeanour now remained the one thing in his mind's eye, her tight jaw as she released each arrow—poorly aimed, but had definitely enraptured everyone who saw her.

He dropped a particularly heavy bag of potatoes that narrowly missed his foot, fingers slipping even on the rough canvas. The (initially untrembling) limbs of his seemed to turn to jelly whenever he thought about the lovely Elissa Cousland, but he had to concentrate on the task at hand. Hand, shoulders, muscles put to the test, mechanically stacking, focusing so hard on each strain in his back, waist and other various tensed places.

When that too was done, Roderick looked around, satisfied with the work, and though his body ached from the exercise, he felt much better. He yanked on his tunic and exited the granary, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air. This was when a large rat darted past him, its red eyes and hairless tail out of place in the open—almost the size of a kitten.

Roderick stopped to ponder on this, wondering if the granary had been compromised when something dastardly rammed into his knees, sending both the creature and him careening into the grey-stoned wall.

The huge (all muscle and bone) mabari scrambled off almost immediately, but not before giving him a lick in apology- his masters had taught him some good manners after all.

Still, there sat Roderick, head, shoulders, arms aching—in a petulant protest. However, the approaching sound of laughter brought some life back into him; it would not do to be caught in such a state.

Staggering to his feet, he dusted himself off before making the somewhat longer way back to the knights' barracks.

"Your hound, Elissa, I swear, will have rounded the grounds twice."

"You're exaggerating." Came a retort, falsely haughty and proud. Roderick stopped in spite of himself, wincing a little as he leaned back into the shadows.

Fergus Cousland chuckled. "Am I? We see neither hide nor hair of it—why, any moment now—"

Roderick sneezed, chilled by the brisk gust of wind that swept through the compound.

"Did you hear that?" He flattened himself against the wall of the granary, and cursed that he had chosen such a moment to complete his chores.

Footsteps approached, and suddenly, a raucous crashing and yelping echoed in the distance.

"Argh—Rascal's going to get it from Nan if he got into the scullery," Huffed the older Cousland as his voice became fainter—and Roderick breathed a sigh of relief.

But he was not safe yet, and when he opened his eyes, (soon-to-be) Ser Roderick Gilmore found himself face-to-face with the young Lady Cousland, yet again.

xOxOx

"It's alright, Fergus, I've got him," laughed Nathaniel as he dragged the protesting hound away from the precariously stacked white tablecloths.

Fergus grinned as he took hold the dog's collar, relieving his friend of the bulging mass that panted so heavily. "My heartfelt thanks, Nathaniel. If I have to hear another lengthy conversation involving the Antivan supply of lacy ivory linens—"

"And here I was, wondering when your complaints would start—my husband-to-be," some dulcet tones interrupted that thought, heavily accented, yet not unlovely. Even in the dim, Nathaniel could see his friend's ears blush an embarrassed scarlet, which earned a grin from the young Howe. He disentangled Rascal's collar from Fergus's clumsy fingers, and squeezed past the lovely Oriana.

His escape did not come soon enough, for he was still able to hear their whispers. "By tradition, I am not meant to see you until the wedding night, my—dove."

"And a chance meeting brings us together yet again, Fergus." But Nathaniel soon rounded the corner, and was out of earshot.

He pulled the mabari towards the kennels and Rascal, upon recognising the smell of straw and other unmentionable odours, charged forth again, eager to be let in for the night. The caretaker nodded at Nathaniel, who acknowledged the same, and walked back to the main castle. It appeared that the night would end quite uneventfully, though he had hoped to come upon Lissa, who—he felt, was owed another awkward apology.

But what he saw stopped him in his tracks—the sight of a very pink Elissa supporting the red-headed serf (who was now very shirtless), coming his way.

"It's fine—I'm well, Lady Cousland," the young man spoke weakly, though he seemed quite unable to stand on his own."

"You are most certainly not—the barracks are too far off—and the physician can be called much more quickly to the Keep. Just a little more—" And Nathaniel knew that he would have to render assistance to another Cousland, again this night.

P.S.: Work has been hectic. So do take pity on my ridiculous delays T-T