Tree near a stream

Coralie nodded, "I like to think she is."

Coralie laughed, "I am sure you are in fact very good at your job...sometimes there is no need to be modest."

"That is good that you demand such perfection," she smiled, "perhaps you should work for his majesty as well."

Coralie eyes rose wide and she dropped her gaze, "oh...I am so very sorry, Monsieur." She looked up at his grave face, "I am sorry to have kept you...I can leave," she nodded nervously.

Coralie shook her head, "no, monsieur, I feel it is I, who have interrupted you in your time of remembrance."

Coralie gave a nod and took a step in the direction she had entered, when she stopped. "Unless...you wish for me to perhaps distract you further?"

Coralie gave a faint smile as well, though she could tell the gentleman was still sad.

Her eyes grew wide and she smiled, "yes, I do!" she beamed. "If you would, monsieur, allow me to run and get my lute, I could sing for you!"

Coralie giggled and shook her head, "oh, no, no, no, monsieur, it is not very far...and I have found a shortcut."

She turned and hurried toward the direction she came, yet quickly turned again, rushing toward him to give a little curtsey, "I shall be back in a moment." She gave a laugh and hurried in the direction she came, carrying her leaves firmly in hand as not to crumple them.

She hurriedly made her way back through the small woods, jumping over fallen trees and ducking under branches, until she reached a set of palace doors, and hurried inside. Her legs moved quickly as she ran to her chambers and found her lute, seated upon the chair beside her bed, and she quickly took it up, placing the leaves on her writing desk before she hurried back out of the room.

Coralie took her shortcut back to the tree near a stream, giggling, though slightly breathless, lute in hand and stray leaves in her hair from the trees. She gave Christoph a smile and sat upon a large root of the tree, placing the lute on her lap.

"Are you ready, monsieur?" she smiled.

Coralie gave a smile, placing her lute upon her leg. "This song is called "The Banks of the Sweet Viledee," she smiled. "It is a Celtic song my first nursemaid used to sing to me."

She struck cord, allowing her fingers to recall the once familiar melody, when she began to play, the song running through her mind and memory as quickly as the flowing stream before her:

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As she sang, her eyes rose as she told the story and she began to move and sway with the words and notese.

As Christoph joing her in song, Coralie laughed and smiled, giggling as he played out the rhythm on his legs. She began to sway and rock with lyrics and found herself happy taht she could make him smile.

She sang the last note, and gently lay her lute down flat across her lap. Her eyes were wide with excitement, and she found herself laughing more than she could speak.

"Did you like the song, monsieur?" she smiled. "And how did you know it, might I ask?"

Coralie smiled brightly, placing a hand under her chin to listen to her new friend.

"That is very interesting, monsieur," she giggled, "and to keep your name...oh, that is very interesting."

She gave a little sigh, her eyes growing wide, "from what my nursemaid told me and the stories she spun, I find myself often wanting to go to Ireland or Scotland."

Coralie giggled, "oh, the stories and songs enchant me enough." She looked up at him eyes wide, "I often think I should love to have a Celtic surname...just to be able to say I have such ties to such an interesting and strong history."

She placed her hand on her mouth, a bit embarassed at what she said, thinking of how appalled her mother would be at such an intimate thought being spoken aloud. Yet, she removed her hand from her mouth, thinking, perhaps Monsieur Sinclair had not noticed her wishing to have a name such as his; perhaps he did not notice what her mother would have, that the statement sounded as though she wished to married to a Celt.

She blinked, shaking the thought away, and leaned forward on her hands. "Do you know any stories or songs, Monsieur?"

He smiled at her candor. "You may not have been born with one, but perhaps I may give you one, a secret Celtic name of your very own, and no one shall know it but us." He smiled as they conspired.

He smiled once more. "Actually I do know a song, taught by my grandfather himself. It's "Th Gairdener Chyld." He hummed out the tune so Coralie could get the grasp of the chords, and began to sing.

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Coralies eyes grew wide, along with her smile as she leaned toward him, eagerly. "What name?" she beamed, "what is the name you will give me?"

Coralie listened to Christoph's voice, her smile never fading as he began to hum. She believed she had heard the song before, again from her nursemaid, but perhaps by accident, when she used to run to Fionnula's room and sneak in and listen as she sang, sewing by the fireplace with her back turned in a rocking chair.

Coralie nodded her head with humming, and began to move her fingers against the strings of her lute, searching for the notes and chords. When it came to her, she began to play the moving chords as Christoph sang, his deep voice filling the air of the forest.

Coralie's eyes rose and she smiled brightly. "Oh, I love it, monsieur...it sounds so very strong," she laughed.

As Coralie played the last of the note, she smiled as she looked over at Christoph. She was happy to be playing for someone, again, and hoped he was as happy as she was to be so free in the forest and away from court.

Coralie could not help but blush, "I am glad I do, monsieur Sinclair," she giggled. "You are a very good singer, Monsieur," she smiled, "I should like to have your voice to accompany a few of my songs and stories."

Coralie's eyes rose, "no has ever complimented it before?" She shook her head, smiling, "it is wonderful!"

Coralie gave a laugh, blushing slightly, "I must admit, I shall be quite nervous...and I should like to have a friend with me." Coralie gave a laugh, "Oh, I am certain everyone shall love your voice!" She gave a giggle, "and I am certain you shall have the ladies swooning."

She frowned a little, "do you act Monsieur Sinclair?"

Coralie laughed, "I am sure you would do very well, Monsieur Sinclair!" she smiled. She giggled, "I am certain it would be a side of you they would never expect...perhaps a good thing?" she tilted her head.

Coralie looked down at the lute in her hands, a faint smile on her face. "I was only asking," she smiled up at him, "I was wondering if you could perhaps voice some of my puppets."

Coralie gave a smile and nodded, "alright monsieur." She looked at her lute again, "you don't have to if you don't want to," she looked up at him.

Coralie's eyes wandered as she thought of performing puppetry before a room full of onlookers during one of the king's celebrations. She laughed aloud at the thought of her new friend, a strong and tall soldier, playing a puppet and singing along side her while the ladies of the room blushed.

She gave another giggle, "in fact, I could see why you would not like to."