She slept that night in a comfortable bed in an attic room, deeply and without dreams. When she rose in the morning, she had a sudden impulse, and seeing no reason not to give in to it, she dressed herself, but left the mail and the sword in the attic, and came down stairs.

"Good morning." Jonathan greeted her with a smile, and then a blush.

She smiled back. "Morning. Is there breakfast?"

"Yep. Almost done. Just porridge though, we didn't have anything else," he sounded very apologetic.

"Porridge is fine. Perverse as it may sound, I actually like the stuff," she said with a grin. "At least provided you have honey, or sugar for it."

"Your choice of both, actually. And molasses too."

"Wonderful!"

After she had cleaned her bowl, Jonathan said, sounding a little regretful, "I suppose you'll be moving on now."

"Oh, eventually," she said, "But I thought I should repay you for your hospitality. Is there anything I can do to help out? I'm quite used to household chores and chopping wood and that sort of thing."

He looked a little surprised. "Well... there's always work that needs doing around here. It's the tag end of planting now, and I was going to spend the day out putting in some late vegetables in the kitchen garden. You could help with that, I suppose."

"Terrific!"

She spent the morning with him, making mounds for the seeds, or holes, or occasionally just sprinkling them carefully on top of the soil, depending on the plant. Her back was sore from all the bending over, but she had to admit it was rather satisfying to plant things. There was something about putting seeds in, about knowing that they were going to sprout and produce plants that would eventually be food, that was deep and rewarding. With both of them working they got the entire garden done before noon.

Ariana stood and stretched after she reached the end of her last row. "Man, I'm going to be stiff in the morning," she said. "And I'm staving again. Is there lunch?"

Jonathan laughed. "You sound like my brothers. Yes, there should be lunch, Mum should have made us something by now."

They ate a modest lunch of bread and cheese, and when it was done, Ariana said, somewhat thoughtfully, "There's really no point in my flying further on today, it's too late for me to get far. Would it be all right if I stayed here another day? I can lend a hand again this afternoon, if you like."

Jonathan hesitated, then shrugged. He had enjoyed her company this morning. She was a cheerful conversationalist, and was certainly easy on the eyes. And she had worked hard too, every bit as hard as he had. "Sure. Since the garden got done in half the time I'd planned, I was thinking of mending some things in the stable, I've been putting that off for too long. I don't know if you know leatherwork..."

She laughed. "I know it quite well. I learned how to keep my own gear in shape when I was in training, and that included fixing the leather if it got worn or broken. I've got a whole random assortment of mending skills. I can even do a little very basic blacksmithing."

"Do you know how to shoe a horse?"

"Oh yes. All too well. And I have mastered the fine skill of managing to get kicked by pretty much every horse I ever tried to shoe!" she said with a grin.

"Well, ours is a somewhat elderly and very placid fellow, so you have an even chance of escaping it this time. Could you? I was going to take him down to be shod again next week, but if you could do it here... We have a few tools, my uncle used to do a little smithing, but I don't know how to use them."

"Let me have a look at what you have."

The setup was indeed basic. The anvil had seen better days, and the forge was tiny. You couldn't forge a sword here, or even a plowshare, but it would be possible to shoe a horse. "Yeah, I think I can work with this."

She knew a good farrier could have had it done in an hour's time. It took her most of the afternoon. But she got it done properly, and didn't even manage to get kicked once. The big brown draft horse was indeed a very placid and patient animal.

"Whew," she said, stepping into the house. "Can I get a bath, or something? That was quite a workout."

"We don't have a proper bath house here," said Jonathan's mother, "but there's a good deep basin. I'll curtain it off so you can have privacy. And I've got soft soap, not lye."

"Oh good." She wrinkled her nose. "I hate lye soap."

Standing in a basin and soaping herself down wasn't quite as good as a bath, but she felt much better for the wash when she was done. She helped carry out the bath water, and then helped with the last of fixing dinner.