Imraldera Cleans House by Missy

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Now, enter into the Haven and discover a charming tale of what happens when..

Imraldera Cleans House

by

Missy

The Haven was the sanctuary for all who needed one.  It was simultaneously forest and dwelling.  It was kept by a Knight of the Farthest Shore, and she took this responsibility very seriously.

           Imraldera, or the Lady of the Haven, kept it neat and tidy.  She minded the Faerie building well, and it was always peaceful and comforting for those who by some fate found themselves there or who were led there by followers of the Prince to this place of safety where they might bring their Master’s beloved when weary and in much need of rest.

This was the case with Bard Eanrin, a fellow Knight of Imraldera, and in her opinion somewhat of a nuisance at times.  Only, he had not brought a weary traveler on some quest or other, rather he had come there for a visit.  He came often to the Haven for no apparent reason.  When he was there, he would try out a stanza or two about his lovely Lady Gleamdrene, and always ask how Imraldera liked it.  Usually, she said nothing, but this only encouraged the Cat more!

“With eyes gazing toward the sun,

Don’t you know my love is more than fun?

My love is true, can’t you see,

How, Lady Gleamdrene, I love thee?

With golden hair, so silky fine,

How I wish I could come up with the next line!”

“Well, that’s what I’ve got so far,” Eanrin said.  He was standing with his hand over his heart, serenading Imraldera yet again.  “I’m still having trouble coming up with the next line, though.”  He left his stance and joined Imraldera where she was sorting beautifully bonded tomes.  “I’ve had a few ideas,” he continued, “like: there is no other like your kind, or your eyes are like a very green pine, but they don’t seem to really fit, do they? What do you think about it?”

“I think,” Imraldera said, as she put the last book where it belonged, “that you spend way too much time thinking about your Gleamdrene Fair, and not enough time about what’s more important.”

“What could be more important than my beloved?”

“For starters, your chamber here in the Haven.”

“What’s wrong with my temporary dwelling?” asked the Cat-man.

“It’s a mess, that’s what!” Imraldera exclaimed.  “And it’s not your ‘temporary’ dwelling any more, considering how much time you spend here lately.”

“There’re a lot of important things in there that can’t be disturbed!” Eanrin explained.

“More important than Gleamdrene?”

Eanrin paused and then said with conviction, “Yes, much more important than her.”

“Well, whatever’s in there, it needs cleaned up because it’s beginning to smell.  And if you don’t do it soon, I will,” Imraldera warned.

“Alright, alright, I’ll get to it sometime, but right now I must continue on my newest tribute to you-know-who!”  And with that he strode off, singing as he went:  “With golden hair so silky fine, you, my love, are truly divine!”

Imraldera watched him go, making a mental note to stop by his chamber later to clean it.  There was no doubt in her mind that the Cat wouldn’t so much as touch one thing in an effort to make his room neater.

Imraldera was wrong.  In fact, the Cat did make his bed a little neater by removing some articles of clothing and some nutshells from an earlier snack.  He dropped the clothes on the floor, and threw the nutshells into a pile with others from previous snacks that was now becoming a mountain.  All this was done so he might sit on the bed and write his newest ballad for Lady Gleamdrene.  As he wrote, he wondered how long he would have to keep this up?  Would he ever be able to tell Imraldera how he really felt?  As he thought about his fellow Knight, he remembered about their conversation.  He looked about the room.  There was crumpled paper and old, half-eaten pieces of fruit as well as his mountain of nutshells and other odds and ends.  Maybe Imraldera was right.  It was pretty messy and did smell a little.  “Most of the stuff in here is rubbish!”  thought Eanrin.  But not the letters!  Oh, no, not the letters!  Eanrin looked at the desk where he kept them.  They sat, at least a dozen of them, waiting to be read by a certain woman.  But no, she would never read them!  It would be the death of the poet!  So thinking, the bard got up and left the chamber, half-heartedly promising to clean it more thoroughly sometime.

As soon as Imraldera saw Eanrin leave the Haven and enter the Wood, she knew her chance had come.  Swiftly, she made her way to his room.  When she opened the door she gasped.  She almost shut it again to give it up as a lost cause, but she realized that if she didn’t clean it no one would, so she got to work.  She started with the half-eaten fruit and nutshells.  Putting these in a large sack, she began to see the floor once more.   

That’s when Eanrin walked in to fetch his cap that he’d forgotten.  He let out a yowl that seemed more cat than man and asked, flabbergasted, “What are you doing?!”

“I’m doing what you should be doing.  I’m cleaning up this mess!”

“No, what are you doing with my fruit and nutshells?!”

“I’m throwing them away of course,” came her reply.

“But those are my collections!”

“Oh, grow up, Eanrin!”

            “Fine, but don’t touch my crumpled paper collection!”

Imraldera didn’t say anything, but grabbed some folded parchment off the desk, which she assumed was part of Eanrin’s ridiculous collection.  However, she discovered that they were folded letters and they were addressed:  “To my Dearest Imraldera.”  Not just one, but all were addressed to her.  She was speechless for a moment and then said, “What is this?” She held up the letter.

“Aughhh!  Look away!”  Eanrin screamed and snatched the letter from her hand and gently, but swiftly pushed her from the room.  She let him, and once they were out, Eanrin shut the door behind them and said, “You don’t have to worry any more, old girl; I’ll clean my chamber right now and shall henceforth keep it that way!” And that’s what he did.  He threw away the unnecessary things he had, and even got rid of his crumpled paper collection.

Something he did keep though was the letters.  However, he now hid them in a place where he was sure his dearest Imraldera could never find and read them… at least not yet.