Kiern's Court <<Pond>>
Serenity abounds in this small, quiet park. The large trees that once gave the area a secluded feeling are no more, their billowing branches and proud trunks consumed by the greed of the great fire ... yet hardy plants have taken root in the cleared ground, nature reclaiming the area. The ground is carpeted in green, and in summer the faint scent of flowers hangs in the air. Benches are placed here and there, bindweed and ivy curling long tendrils over them. A pond, small but sparkling clear and deep enough to swim in, lies amidst the shrubs. Along the northern edge of the park someone has erected a small shrine in remembrance of those lost in the fire. The very air breathes tranquility and renewed hope - this place is a living reminder that from the ashes glory may rise once again.
In a place such as this, one cannot help but speak in hushed whispers for fear of ruining that sense of peace. The gently waving grasses make their own rustling conversations.
Contents:
Shrine
Obvious exits:
West leads to Parade Ground.
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
Real Time is: Thu Jun 10 06:16:39 2004
IC weather is: Wind: fresh - Clouds: moderate
IC Moon is: Not visible
IC time is: Dusk <about 7 PM>
IC date is: Mersday, Day 25 of May in the year 3032.
Evening is creeping on, the warm summer air moist with the memory of past rain - indeed, even now the clouds are massing overhead, and perhaps there will be another shower to come. But for now, at least, it is dry, and a pleasant time to be out in the leafy grottoes of Kiern's Court to catch the last of the daylight.
Over by the lapping waters of the pond, two dark-haired figures are crouched, man and boy, hunched over to peer at something the man holds. From the broad-shouldered man whose dark locks are now flecked with grey comes a thread of nasal speech: " ... wait until I've tied the line fast. You don't want to lose it." That would be Barseg. His smaller companion, a boy of perhaps seven summers or so, twitches impatiently, sending untidy curls bobbing this way and that.
[Ryanne(#30418)] The young-looking healer strolls into the area, looking a little tired, yawning as she walks. She appears to be holding a couple of sheets of what might be parchment, glancing down at them and then up again, as if she's trying to memorize something. She's dressed in her usual old clothes, a red shawl tied around her waist, the ends flapping against the calves.
Barseg does not look round at first, head down as he concentrates on the thing he's holding. After a moment, "There." Then, a moment later, "Want to try putting it on the water now? Remember to keep tight hold of the line."
Young Breveg at his side nods, once, then practically snatches the item he's offered - a shallow hollowed-out piece of wood, clearly meant to represent a boat. But what a strange-looking boat it is! Instead of the oars that might propel a craft on the turbulent waters of the Border River or nose it through the reeds of the Swanfleet, this 'boat' bears an upright twig at its centre, and affixed to that a piece of red cloth.
Barseg gets slowly to his feet, straightening stiff legs with a groan - and it's at that point he notices the sound of the light breeze whipping cloth against cloth, and turns to focus on the source, the approaching healer. Slowly the right side of his mouth curls up as he greets her, "Good evening, Ryanne. What's that you've got there?"
His query is interrupted by a complaint from Breveg. "It floats, but it's not going anywhere. You said it would move!"
[Ryanne(#30418)] Hearing someone speak her name, the young-looking woman turns her head, eyes still a little out-of-focus as she attempts to locate the speaker. A small smile stretches her lips when she identifies Barseg, moving to face the clan chieftain and dropping a small curtsy in that direction. She saunters across the narrow space between them, flourishing the pages in her hand, "These?" When she is close, she turns both papers around showing the man delicate drawings of leaves and plants, "Studying... I have a hard taskmaster..."
"Wait," Barseg instructs the scowling child behind him without turning. "When the breeze shifts a little, and fills the wind-cloth, then you'll see." His own attention is mainly for Ryanne and the papers she carries, and he peers at them with interest. "Healing herbs? Wonder if I'd know any of them ..."
Breveg glares mutinously at the adult pair - after all, isn't /he/ meant to be the one getting Barseg's attention here? - then heaves a loud sigh and goes back to watching the toy boat for any signs of motion.
[Ryanne(#30418)] A grin twitches on Ryanne's lips as she switches her gaze between father and son, though she speaks to the father, "Do ye know any of these? Miri asked me to memorize these, shape and form as well as the writing for each of them ... and the words are like worms!" Rustling the parchment, "I knew it might be easier studying with Miri because Healer Axel confuses me with all his rambling but this is turning out to be harder."
"Lets see, now ..." Barseg reaches out a hand for the topmost of the two parchments, a slight furrow appearing between his brows as he studies it anew. "I know the Laeg herbs, some of the Caerdh ones - hmm. That'd be yarrow, you'll know that one ... there's comfrey, with the downy leaves, it's used to seal wounds as well as for the lungs - and that one is Kiernsroot, the bush grows in Caerdh though it's rare. And that," he frowns quizzically, turns the parchment sideways as though that might help, then shakes his head, "I've never seen before. Some southern herb they use for wound-sealing, maybe? I think-"
But what he thinks will never be known, for at that moment Breveg gives a cry, "It's moving! It's moving without oars." Indeed, the breeze is shifting and a capricious gust has filled the 'wind-cloth' of the little boat, which is now bobbing jerkily away from shore.
[Ryanne(#30418)] Ryanne who had craned her head around the sheet that the chieftain held, nodding as Barseg named each herb, repeating the names softly to herself, turns around at the young boy's cry; her dark gray eyes trailing from Barseg's son to the little boat that bobs. She gives a smile, enjoying the sight of exuberant youth at play.
Barseg turns dutifully to view the little boat, the right side of his mouth quirking up in a grin. "Aye, it's moving. Mind you don't let go of the line now," he warns. "If you do, I'm not going for a swim to get it back."
Breveg surreptitiously wraps his fingers tighter around the length of string that's fastened to the stern of the boat, and simply watches it for a moment. The breeze slackens again, but the forward movement of the piece of wood continues, rather more smoothly. "Now what do I do?" he demands.
"Simply let the wind do its work, and then pull very gently if you want the boat to go in a particular direction," Barseg suggests, before looking back to Ryanne and murmuring, "When I was his age, we used to race sticks on the river. Never thought then of using the wind to help them along ... ah, what was I saying there?" His gaze is blank - the thought, whatever it was, is gone.
[Ryanne(#30418)] Still holding onto her second sheet, Ryanne stands beside the chieftain, watching both father and son, a hand covering her infrequent yawns, a soft air of reflection about her now. When Barseg refocuses on her, she just smiles, reaching out to take back her parchment, "Nay, not of much importance." Absently, she arranges both sheets together, curling them into a cylinder and thrusts both of her hands behind her back, holding the roll gently in them. "Ye're a gentle father, Sir. I've not met many like ye when it comes to their children. Most fathers I've seen are harsh and hard on the boys, showing little care and concern..." Casting a sideway glance, "Did ye grow up living next to a river?"
Barseg is by now dividing his attention between son and healer, casting swift glances to each in turn. At Ryanne's remark, he blinks, then sighs, lowers his voice so that if he's lucky the wind won't carry the words the child's way. "Maybe I'm a poor father. Grew up without one, not as if I could learn by example. You think I should be a bit harder on the boys than I am? I suppose Breveg deserves a thrashing sometimes ... but he reminds me too much of me." He gives the woman a lopsided smile. "And I .. ah, I grew up in northern Laeg, up by the Border River. I wasn't born into the Bear." An unfortunate admission for a chieftain to make?
Breveg, meanwhile, is engrossed in watching the boat, and tugging gently on the string to see if he can control the bobbing motion (though in reality the tugging doesn't seem to have much effect). A moment later he's risen to his feet and is moving slowly along the pond's edge, trying to guide the boat toward the opposite bank.
[Ryanne(#30418)] Darting another side glance at Barseg, the apprentice healer nods as Barseg speaks, interjecting, "Poor father? Nay, one judges the quality of the father by the quality of the son. And who's to say?" Motioning with her chin at the young boy in front of them, "He's lively and intelligent; he listens well too. What more from a son can a father wish for? I lost my father when I was young too but I was lucky my mother choose a good man for my second father. I chose to follow my step-father's clan affiliation because the love and welcome he's shown me. So ye see, I was also not born into Bear. My father was a Stag merchant."
One particular remark of Ryanne's elicits a chuckle from Barseg. "He listens when it suits him. Like father, like son some would say. Sometimes I feel I can do nothing right in his eyes." His expression is rueful, but the fades as he watches the child's interest in the task at hand. "At least he liked the boat." When he glances back to Ryanne again, interest flickers in his amber eyes. "And you have kin in the Stag too? I didn't realize that." Shared experience, indeed. "Tell me, lass - if so many of us are kin, why do we spend all our time fighting?"
The wind gusts a little stronger, jerking the boat, and Breveg tugs back on the string, hard.
[Ryanne(#30418)] Chuckling at Barseg's question, "Maybe it is because we are kin that we spend our time fighting. Aye, but sometimes it would be good to stop fighting and just enjoy each other's company but there are too many strong-headed with too many opinions ... Take my brothers for instance, my elder brothers, they stayed with the Clan Stag. But my younger brothers, they are Bears. And though I know they are close, every time they are together, they end up brawling with each other over the smallest things."
Barseg considers that answer. "Suppose you could be right. I've seen enough sibling squabbles to know it happens ... and can't pretend I've not picked fights within my own clan since I joined, either. Stilicon and I have gone head-to-head a few times ... but we're Bear, it's in our nature to state our opinions. Still, it would be good to-"
At that moment, Breveg lets out a disappointed cry, and Barseg lifts his gaze in time to see the small boat sinking beneath the pond's surface. Well, such things happen when opposing forces jerk a craft this way and that, causing it to become waterlogged. "Keep hold of the string and you'll be all right," Barseg calls out as he steps to the boy's side, lips twitching though no chuckle breaks out yet.
[Ryanne(#30418)] The apprentice grins, head nodding in agreement with the chieftain, "Aye, aye." before he gaze is drawn by the young boy's cry. She brings her left hand around, shielding the wide smile against being seen as she stays in place, her right still holding the rolled up papers behind her back. Now she has a wider view of father and son in the dimming light of the evening; she observes the scene for long moments and her calm expression softens, a little admiringly at the father while shaking her head, amused over the son.
Barseg has reached Breveg by now, and isn't able to respond to Ryanne further. "Just draw back on the string gently, pull the boat back in and we'll set it to rights - want me to do it?"
"But it sank! It can't have been built right if it sank." Breveg's lower lip wobbles a little rebelliously.
... and Barseg's mirth can hold back no longer, for he lets out a snort of laughter, hastily looking away and trying not to catch Ryanne's eye as he does. "Oho, and I suppose it had nothing to do with you jerking on the line so hard?" father enquires of son, shaking his head, then takes a deep breath and goes on gravely, "But you have a good point. Tell me, how would you make it better so it doesn't sink next time? Maybe we should think about that." Apprenticeships in craftwork begin young here, it seems.
[Ryanne(#30418)] The apprentice shakes her head, her body jerking a little in suppressed laughter, her hand still over over mouth. She decides to leave the two alone and heads a little further towards a bench, sighing again over her lessons.