CHAPTER 1.37 - VILLAGE LIFE: III
Hugo wakes with a start, a formless anxiety dream skittering beyond his reach the moment he opens his eyes. He sits up, momentarily lost, before centring himself. Of course: Highbarrow, the Hunter’s Hall, a good night had by all. A tremor of anxiety returns as he recalls the moment he was certain Anuk had caught him, mere seconds after he had replaced her book. Cursing himself that he had sacrificed an ally for little gain as the woman frowned at him. Then his heart restarted as she slurred something that sounded like an apology before promptly falling back asleep.
He still isn’t certain that he’s in the clear, hopes her absence isn’t by way of a storm off, but busies himself feeding little Three. Thaesurala’s bag of nuts and seeds is almost expended, but the wee man never has trouble feeding himself. It has, he thinks, been pleasant to have a bag of the tastiest treats, gastronomy for sciuri. Particularly while his own possessions have been so scarce.
His stomach rumbles, his tongue is sticking to the inside of his mouth, so he puts all other plans on hold and begins the search for breakfast.
-x-
A short while later, following a reviving ‘brunch’ courtesy of the hall’s clean-up crew, Hugo strikes out. Also thanks to the crew, he has a bead on his friends. Sure enough, as he closes on Bertak’s, the forge is ringing merrily and he spies Thae sitting at the threshold. He tries to wave, considers calling out, but enough of the villagers seem delicate this morning for such an action to break the peace. Besides, the half-elf seems mesmerised by Bertak.
Or rather…
The smith is working on something closer to the forge; Rian, instead, is manning the anvil. Hugo understands Thae’s fixed focus as the big man is shirtless, sweat sheened over rippling muscles as he hammers away at some blade. He wishes he could collar Thae, have a private word about yesterday, but the cleric looks round at his arrival, reaches out to squeeze his shoulder and shifts up the narrow bench to provide him a seat. So: nothing so broken that it needs imminent fixing, he thinks. He pauses to question his own phrasing, wondering if the thought was shaped by his location.
It is, he’ll admit, mesmerising watching Rian work. The pair who left Caladria together sit happily in silence and warmth for a while, Hugo understanding how the woodsman seemed possessed of such boundless stamina. Rian looks as though he could juggle boulders like apples. He catches himself as he realises he’s being lulled towards sleep by the rhythmic pounding. Just as the tempo is abruptly shattered.
Enter Anuk stage right, swearing explosively. He starts again, paranoid that he’s her target until her rant resolves. She’s cursing about Atheran. Or at Atheran. Certainly, Atheran’s her focus. It seems the woman had some words with Anuk about the man on the table, expressed some strong opinions. Anuk stands, hand on hip, eyes flitting around the four stunned figures in the forge. She seems oblivious to Rian, frozen like a statue of Heracles clubbing a centaur to death, a drop of sweat trickling its way between his huge pectorals. The woman curses once more for good measure, turns on her heel and storms off.
The moment extends, curdling as Hugo wonders whether he should say something to Thae, then Rian brings his hammer down as Bertak, obviously chewing something over, politely says the man’s name. The spell’s broken as Rian carefully places the hammer down, wipes his face with one hand, announces “Morning, Hugo” and turns to initiate a hushed conversation with the smith. Thae and he try not to eavesdrop. The older man seems to be cogitating something delicate, urgent but not, to Hugo’s read, dangerous. The pair push through the door adjoining the smithy to Bertak’s home.
As he tries again to form some apology or explanation for Thae, the half-elf broaches the previous day. “I failed to congratulate you on your plan, Hugo. You saved a lot of people their lives, and perhaps the entire village their liberty.” He looks up at his friend’s face, expecting a “…but…” Instead, Thae carries on “And last night? What a show. I am truly sorry I was too tired to stay up.” Again, Hugo searches for the disapproval, some moralistic lesson or dictate he should follow. He sees complicated thoughts behind his friend’s expression, but these seem pointed inward. Thae’s showing him nothing but approval, support.
Hugo sighs. “Thanks, Thae. And, look, I’m sorry I haven’t checked in with you. You doing okay?” Some of the haunted look evaporates from Thae, face beaming with pleasure. Almost clean pleasure, as the half-elf gestures to indicate the village. “Look at it, listen to it. Your plan lifted a rod from these peoples’ backs.” In response to Hugo’s raised eyebrows, his friend offers “Your plan, supported by the efforts of your friends.” Thae gives an embarrassed smile. With only a tiny tinge of sadness.
There’s something there, or more accurately something missing from the statement, but Hugo can’t put his finger on it. Another surprise visit, this time Atheran, her long hair radiant in the noonday sun that’s bathing the village. “Mornin’ folks, Oi’m lookin’ fer yer man Rian, is he here?” The woman’s eyes scan the smithy as though the huge human might be hiding behind the anvil. They settle on Hugo, and he can see the cogs turning in her head as she frames: “Oh, eh, good work last night, ya know. About toime these people got to let their hair dewn.”
The effort of it isn’t lost on Hugo, who beams at her and bows slightly. In ironic flourish he notices Rian return to the forge from Bertak’s house, talking over his shoulder to the smith. On seeing Atheran, the big man mutters something under his breath, then greets her. “Atheran, good afternoon.” Bertak awkwardly steps in behind Rian, flushed with some kind of embarrassment, mumbles “Good afternoon Atheran.” He looks like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, although Hugo wonders whether this is simply the effect of the elder’s stern presence. The sheen and shade of her hair is, he supposes, quite fetching in this light.
Rian squeezes the smith’s shoulder, joins Atheran as he realises she wants him to walk and talk. Hugo and Thae exchange glances and get to their feet, Thae rubbing legs that had gone to sleep observing Rian’s ‘show’
-x-
He tries to suppress a loud laugh as the source of Atheran’s puzzlement is identified. Not far from the treeline where they had pursued the goblins’ trail, a brace of rabbits lies on the grass next to a foul smelling basket filled with mushrooms. Pride of place in the arrangement, however, is a fox whose body has seen better days. It appears to have been beaten and stomped to death, maybe crushed with a rock. And one of its rear legs has been bitten off below the thigh.
It’s obvious to him that Filthstink has taken their giant saviour seriously even before Rian begins his explanation to Atheran. Hugo, still highly amused, advises that someone extremely skilled in foraging take a look at the mushrooms. Their shit-stained receptacle is nightmarish, woven amateurishly from leaves. Despite this, he watches Atheran calculate whether unpredictable, scattershot gifts of edible materials from the tribe might shift her village’s balance towards survival.
The three pointedly examine the mushroom basket while Atheran clears her throat multiple times, seeming choked on emotion. Presently, the woman gathers herself and asks, tone returning to iron “What the feck do we do with this poor beast?” Hugo fully bursts into laughter as Rian explains that the fox would be a prize, more valuable to the goblins than the rabbits. Explains that was probably why it wasn’t intact, a temptation similar to sneaking the nicest pastry out of a bag intended as a gift.
The big man advises setting up some kind of a spot for such deliveries, even just the stump of a felled tree. Leave the fox there along with any of the meat from last night’s feast too far past safety for human consumption.
Atheran catches on fast, nodding “Aye, show ‘em we appreciate the gift, give ‘em some of our own.” Thae bursts out: “Challenge them to improve their offerings!” Every bit the devotee sacrificing to a deity. Rian adds “They’ll eat what you won’t. And use any broken tools, nick nacks. Whatever.” Hugo thinks about the portion of Filthstink he saw, marvels at how both sides might win in this game. A perfect encapsulation of society that he knows he’s never witnessed, where each gives only what they can afford to lose and both sets are richer for the trade.
-x-
As they return to the forge, Rian’s obviously returning to work, so Hugo contemplates checking out the village merchant’s store. As they’re ready to wave the big man off, Thae is obviously intending to tag along with Hugo. Bertak, he notices, is grinning conspiratorially at the woodsman. Rian hurries over to the smith, looking back over his shoulder at Thae. “Just…wait a minute” the man spits out, loquacious as ever. He returns with the blade he was hammering, fresh from Bertak’s attention at the whetstone. The older man sits proudly, foot still on the pedal of the device.
Rian looks embarrassed as he offers the blade to Thae. It’s a rapier or fencing foil, a narrower, lighter blade than a longsword. As Thae takes the weapon with a look of puzzlement, Rian stammers. “I know the hammer’s…precious to you, but…” He looks tongue-tied, flummoxed, his cheeks burning. “I’ve seen you fight. You’re good. But you want something…” Rian looks perplexed, but Hugo jumps in. “He’s saying you want something more accurate, less brute-force, Thae. And I think he’s right!”
Rian looks grateful as the thought gains momentum in Hugo’s mind. “You’re not some brute, knocking down doors. You’re an artist!” Thae’s turn to look abashed, spots of red blossoming on the acolyte’s cheeks. Thae looks down at the blade, up at Rian. Seems almost as tongue tied as the big man. “Thank you, friend. Friends!” Magnanimously inviting Hugo into the warm circle. Rian’s social stamina seems exhausted, he withdraws towards where Bertak’s hovering near the forge. The smith seems excited to bend his ear.
Hugo slaps the half-elf’s back. “Shall we give your new gift a try, friend Thae?” Thae’s head flicks down to him, seemingly pulled from a deep thought. Hugo swears his friend’s eyes hold a tear. “Ahem! Pray, friend Hugo, may we?” Hugo basks in the warmth of their shared chuckle, asks to borrow Thae’s shield. He trusts Bertak to do any job fully and completely, blade sharpening included.
-x-
A strenuous hour later, it is Hugo and Thae’s turn to be glowing in the forge. Hugo desires nothing so much as a bath. He feels sweat trickle down a back already feeling unhygienic from the previous night’s partying. As Thae thanks the woodsman for his kindness, Hugo gets the sense they’re interrupting something surreptitious.
Rian was entirely correct. As soon as Thae had stretched out the kinks, the rapier became like a thing possessed. Seemingly everywhere Hugo’s guard was not, the slim blade was fully under the cleric’s control. And effortlessly so. While Hugo was panting trying to keep up, his friend was laughing with delight as the flexible metal sang and darted, slashed and guarded. Rian, barely suited to conversation never mind effusive praise, nodded seriously, promising that they’d train together soon. And always, Bertak was hovering. Too polite to dismiss them while seeming to Hugo to be wishing them absent.
There seemed to be no evidence of them working, or rather of them forging. Rian seemed to have been baking clay, an odd column of the stuff standing, cooling. The thing seemed to have been freshly baked, and Hugo was certain he could see a seam where the tube would open into halves. Well, one half and one slightly sagging, diminished half. He could see that Bertak was becoming antsy, looking like he wanted to physically block Hugo’s view when the man saw him scrutinising the failed clay.
Seeing the pair’s discomfort, and sensing Thae on the brink of yet another cycle of thanks, Hugo decides to show pity. “Thae, we’re happy you love the blade, but PLEASE can we scare up some water? You’ve quite taken it out of me, darling.”
As they move away, Hugo senses more than hears Bertak and Rian fall back into whatever conspiracy they’re guarding so jealously.
