Yes.. I would love for you to make me an icon. Sorry I did not respond. I lostmy password.. I'll tell you this on Gaia.. since you prolly won't get this for a bit

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All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him
Gerard Manely Hop

A second entry for Song Jewel. A different note this time. Corrected

The road to Nuala’s happiness

Nuala sat idly rubbing her claddagh ring. Her green eyes were puffy and red from crying. She’d cried so hard her eyes burned, yet more threatened to come. Guilt and grief plagued her normally happy life. She hadn’t felt the same since her last visit to the doctor, when they told her the news that had shattered her bright future. Every image of the happy life she and Orm would share had been twisted and warped. They had only been together for a year, but it felt like so much longer. And Nuala always envisioned forever when she looked into Orm’s pale blue eyes. He had taken her away from the life that she knew, and given her an exciting new one. He had paid for her food, and clothing. Taken care of her during her terrible bout with the flu. And he had never asked for anything in return, well not out loud. But she could see in his eyes a longing for something. Something she should be able to give him. But she couldn’t. And she didn’t have the heart to tell him. He knew something was wrong. She could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the way he quietly watched her. The way he’d backed off from his usual frisky behavior. He was giving her space. He was waiting for the axe to fall. And Nuala feared that when it did, it would severe the bond that held them together.
So here she was at ten minutes to five in the evening, crying her eyes out. While Orm was making swords, knives, and armor for the excited visitors or the Renaissance fair.
She’d been here all day, if you could call it that. She’d slept until one, Orm had been setting up before dawn. And hadn’t woken her when he left. And when she did wake she’d only gone as far as the small bathroom in their RV. Where she’d curled up behind the closed door and sat. She hadn’t cleaned the dishes, or made dinner for Orm, she’d just sat there rubbing her ring. Numbness filled her body and a hollow feeling washed over her. She had to tell him, he deserved to know. And then when it was over she would go home, or maybe just wander like a gypsy.
She heard the fall of his heavy boots as he entered the camper.
Orm’s heart sunk as he entered the darkened camper. He knew Nuala must still be battling with what she’d been keeping from him. He knew he should ask, but he felt that if she wanted his help she’d have come to him. Nuala never kept things from him. He’d never had to wonder what she was thinking. She always shared things. Her heart and mind had been open to him for so long, it felt like a part of him was missing when he’d discovered it closed. He’d waited in silence for three weeks. He could bear the silence no more. He’d given her space. He hadn’t tried to make love to her, hadn’t pestered her about the little things that she’d been shirking, or how late she’d been sleeping. But he couldn’t stand by in ignorance anymore.
They were a couple her problems, were his problems and what ever the problem Orm knew he’d find away to fix it.
He squared his muscled shoulders and approached the bed.
“Nuala. Nuala are you sleeping?” He said softly as he pulled back the cover to find the bed empty.
He turned and scanned the dining area and the kitchen. Then his eyes fell on the closed bathroom door.
“Nuala” He said softly, while he rapped lightly on the door.
His face grew pale at the sight of her as the door opened. Her hair was still in the braid she’d worn to bed the night before. Her pajamas were on, her green eyes were puffy red and brimmed with tears. She stood there unblinking looking at him as though her eyes were sending him a message and he couldn’t understand the specifics, but he knew the general message was ‘help me’.
“Nuala my love.” He said pulling her against him.
Nuala sobbed and leaned into him. Breathing him in. He smelled of sweat, the forge, and sage. He smelled of Orm. She clung to him in silence. And he held her for awhile before speaking.
“Nuala, Nuala talk to me.” He cooed softly. “Nuala, what is wrong? Baby tell me. I can’t take the silence.” His voice was pleading and full of uncertainty and misery.
Nuala shook her head and buried it deeper in his shoulder, and the tears that had been waiting to come began to fall.
“Nuala tell me. You can tell me anything. What ever it is, I’ll fix it. I’ll take care of you.”
Nuala sobbed harder at Orm’s declaration.
She knew he meant it with every fiber of his being. He would do whatever it took to fix it.
“Nuala are you unhappy with me? Have I done something?” He said his strong voice cracked as he held her tightly in his arms.
Suddenly he felt very afraid. What if what she was hiding from him was that she wanted to leave him. Nuala would never hurt anyone, what if he was the cause of her misery.
A million horrible thoughts began to pour into his head stealing the air from his lungs causing a crushing sensation in his chest.
“No!” Nuala said her fierce response pulling him from his terrifying inner thoughts.
“No Orm, you’re the only person who makes me feel this way. You fill a part of me that no one else can, because it’s shaped like you and it’s such a funny shape.” She said sobbing.
It was almost comical the way she’d said it, but he knew she meant it as a declaration of love. He sighed his heart’s burden lifting for a moment, before it fell again at the realization that the problem was still unsolved.
Nuala was shaking and hugging him fiercely. He could hear her mumbling into his shoulder.
“Nuala, what’s wrong?” Orm asked his eyes pleading desperately.
“Nuala, please let me help you fix it.”
Nuala shook her head again and pulled free from his arms.
“No Orm, you can’t fix it.”
“Let me try.” He said soothingly taking her small hands in his and rubbing them.
She shook her head again.
“No Orm. No one can.”
“Nuala, what is it? Please tell me.”
Nuala looked at him her eyes filling with tears again.
“I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything” Orm said softly pulling her back into his arms.
“I can’t. What if you don’t love me anymore?” Her voice cracked and she started to shake.
“Nuala, are you crazy?” Orm said a bit more gruffly than he’d intended.
He puffed up his chest and then sighed he knew getting worked up wouldn’t help.
He breathed deeply until he’d found his center and then spoke again.
“Nuala there is nothing that you could ever tell me that would make me not love you.”
“Nothing?” She rasped softly.
“Nothing.” He said firmly.
Nuala paused and then said slowly, “I can’t have children Orm. I can never give you a baby.”
Orm paused. It was like time had stopped. He now knew the burden that had been weighing on her heart. And it nearly broke his to hear it. But now wasn’t the time to get reflective, Nuala needed him.
He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.
“Baby I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He said over and over almost chanting.
He held her while she cried, while she wept for the loss of their children. And he cried too. He held her until she fell asleep and then crawled into bed and held her all night.
All the while thinking. Trying to think of some way that he could lessen her pain. A way to ease her burden. And then he remembered. Vionna, the shaman in his home village. It was rumored that she had powerful herbs and rituals to help a woman become with child.
It was worth a shot. He’d do anything for Nuala. Anything to give her back the happiness that had been stolen by this ill news. He slid out of bed at just before dawn. But instead of going to set up his stall. He pulled out his map and began to chart the road back home.
The road to Nuala’s happiness.

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All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him
Gerard Manely Hop