Waiting for bones to knit

A couple of days after Gidon's injury ... 

Shepherding Village

This is the home of a small, proud, and independent people who live primarily by herding sheep in the open lands south of the Great East Road. Once driven from this region by troll depredations, they have returned and appear to be prospering, perhaps because they can also profit by trade on the Great East Road. There are many sturdy houses and smaller huts clustered on a hill here, safely ensconced behind a deep ditch and wall. The ditch is filled with thorn bushes ... and the gate to the village is by a removable walkway over that ditch. Clearly the possibility of attack, whether from trolls or something worse, has not been ignored.

A long, low, whitewashed building, sprawling along the hillside below the caravanserai, appears to the south. The thatched roof spills down to the tops of its lead-paned windows, thick glass aglow with firelight.

Obvious exits:
Gathering House, Caravanserai, and Great East Road

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                      Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
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Real Time is:       Fri Jul 17 17:07:53 2009
IC weather is:      Wind:  - Clouds: moderate
IC Moon is:         First quarter
IC time is:         Morning
IC date is:         May? (flashback, a day or two after the attack on Gidon) in the year 3047.

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[Irin(#19030)]
    Today is a rather unspectacular day whisps of clouds are strewn across the bright blue sky. The sun indicates that is is sometime before mid-day, and its rays beam down upon the small village intensely, although the heat is negated by a cool breeze coming in from the north.

    At the previous of the Dunlending camp, one might observe a small group of the dark-haired southerners still lingering around, hefting supplies to and fro. One particular man clad in Hawk colors speaks in rather broken Westron to a taller figure, also cloaked in dark grey but obviously not of the same kin as the people of this camp. His bright red hair blows gently in the breeze as he scans the surrounding area casually, asking of the Dunlending, "Is that the fellow - over there?" A finger is pointed towards a rather stout man standing at the far edge of the field. The Dunlending man shakes his head, indicating that this is not the man Irin is looking for.

Not from the camp but from the fields comes another figure, this one clad in a cloak that beneath the mud is not grey but dun. Brev's comings and goings from the village are hardly unusual what marks him out this time is the leathern satchel slung over one shoulder - that and the grim lines into which his face is set. He halts beside Irin, and demands curtly of him, "What do you want?" His scowl, though, seems directed against the world in general rather than this man in particular, for as he looks the other up and down a thoughtful look comes onto his face.

[Irin(#19030)]
    Irin happens to be facing in the other direction, and so doesn't catch the sight of his arrival. That is, until the other Dunlending man offers a nod toward the oncoming Brev, saying, "That's him." Turning around to face the new arrival, only to encounter a scowl and an unpleasant greeting, Irin's expression remains cool and neutral. "Ah - I've been askin' around for you.. I've brought something you might need." He withdraws a small woollen sack from beneath his cloak, and opens it so that Brev might see its contents. "Dried berries and such - they're enough to feed a few people." He pauses, before briefly switching subjects. "Did y'hear what happened to the Bree lad? He told me that he knew you.."

Brev takes a deep breath, as though to steady himself, and peers dispiritedly at the sack and its contents. It is at the final question, though, that his features soften. "Aye, I heard." Another scowl, this one clearly not directed at Irin but at some nameless other, for his head turns briefly toward the village. "Gidon says precious little at the best of times - and he's been in no state to say anything." His jaw tightens. "But ... one of the village folk said you'd tried to help. For that I thank you." His mouth pulls back into a brief smile, before a worried replaces it. "Kiern! Wish I knew more about fevers. I can stitch a cut, but it's Saffron who knows the women's stuff, and even she's not certain if the local healers are any good ..."

[Irin(#19030)]
    "Aye - but I didn't really do much to fend off his attacker, actually. There was another man there one of those Ranger types. I don't know what happened, or where he went - I had to run off, b'fore the other man killed me. I don't doubt he would've," Irin explains, visibly wincing a bit as he continues to hold the sack with both hands. Eventually he drops his right arm to the side limply, with a slight wince in his expression. He says nothing of any injures he might have suffered, though. "Gidon's his name, is it? I last saw him the other day in Muirgheal's house. I think he's recoverin' pretty well - should be able to talk a bit more, soon." A distracted gaze wanders off to inspect Brev's satchel as Irin finishes speaking.

Brev focusses his frowning gaze on Irin, and regards the other steadily as he winces. He waits until Irin's words have finished before speaking himself. "Hope you've got someone treating that arm, you don't want it to take the rot." So much for keeping the injury secret. Likely local gossip has included it. He pauses a while, deliberately, then offers, "I can take a look at it, if you like. In exchange for information."

[Irin(#19030)]
    "What kind of information?" Irin responds quickly, and lets his left hand, holding the small sack, fall to his side. He now flicks his gaze back onto Brev. "I hardly think I know anything that would be of any use to you."

"About him. The fellow that attacked Gidon." Once more Brev's jaw sets. "Anything you saw, anything you heard ... Fair deal?" His glance rests briefly the small sack of berries, and he comments lightly, "Figured you'd rather barter for those separately, for a price of /your/ choosing. Still," and he shrugs, "up to you."

[Irin(#19030)]
    "Oh - well, I'm afraid I can't tell you much.. it was too dark for me to get a good look at 'is face. But he did seem rather strange-looking. Almost looked like.. some kind of a cross between an animal and a human. I know that sounds ridiculous - but 'e certainly wasn't from around this place. The way he spoke, and.. the way he was growlin' - it wasn't human." A pause. "The other man who was fighting, the Ranger, had met him before, apparently. He called him a southron. I dunno much else 'bout where he came from, though. All I know is that both the men arrived in the village at the same time, late at night. I don't know why they came here." Irin shrugs, and finally returns to the previous subject regarding his injuries. "I actually don't 'ave anyone tending to it. Just been cleanin' the wound myself.."

    The man then asks a prying question of his own, "I'll give you th' berries, but only if y' tell me why exactly you've come to this place. And why you're bringin' along that Bree lad."

Brev's frown deepens at Irin's tale, and at the end he snorts. "If he can take down three men, including one of those mythical rangers, with nary a scratch, then the fellow sounds all too human. Damn good fighter he must be. Doubt the likes of me would stand half a chance against him. Kiern!" He spits, then dismisses the subject. "And in other words, you /do/ need someone to take a look at that arm. Come on, this way." He jerks his head towards the place where a small fire, likely for cooking, his still burning, appropriating on the way bowl, water, cloth - and, more uncomfortably, he draws a knife. "Let's see it then."

The activity has provided plenty of cover for not answering Irin's question, but he does mutter, "Gidon's - he's- Lad needs someone to look out for him, that's all." He is inclined to be surly about it.

[Irin(#19030)]
    Irin's expression remains neutral, as always, and he seems largely unaffected by Brev's comments. He nods to the other man's instruction, and follows him over to the small firepit, where he then lowers himself down onto a small rock sticking out of the ground, flat enough to be used as a chair. A glance is given to the knife - wary, perhaps? He places the small sack of berries down beside him, and then proceeds to slip off his cloak with his left arm. After having removed his shirt with some slight difficulty and apparent pain, one will see a somewhat weathered bandage wrapped hapharzadly around his shoulder, and upper back. The skin around that area, as he begins to unravel the bandages, appears bruised. He hesitates as the cloth is pulled off of where the main injury is, and he handles the removal of the bandage as gently as possible. The whole shoulder, as Brev will see, appears to be deformed and asymmentrical most likely he has broken the bones in that area.

    "That still doesn't answer my question, you know," Irin says finally, in response to Breveg's mention of watching over Gidon.

Whilst Irin is struggling to remove his shirt, Brev is busy mashing up a concoction of some root or other that is added to the water in the bowl. He looks up, and whistles. "Kiern, what a mess." He begins to wash the area nevertheless, the motion swift rather than gentle. "Take it you can't move the arm much? Shouldn't have been waving it around at all - only way it's going to heal is strapped up in a sling. Hope you're not the fastidious type who likes to change his clothes." He grins briefly at the other. The knife lies on the ground forgotten, but he probes the injury with his fingers, perhaps assessing the extent of the damage, heedless of the pain he causes, for it will surely not be comfortable. He is frowning now. "How many days past was it? Might need to rebreak it if it's started to knit."

It is only when he's made that threat that he chooses to answer Irin's own question - well, if one could call it answer. "What exactly was it you were wanting to know? Gidon was with us because it was useful - and because he and I shared an interest in common." At the use of the past tense, 'frown' becomes full-blown scowl. "And the rest of my people are just passing through. Looking for kinsmen." He leaves it at that.

[Irin(#19030)]
    Irin, at last, loses his rather emotionless expression and scowls as Brev tends to the wound. "I can't afford to have my arm in a sling for so long - have to be able to use both arms if I need to, just in case." His eyes widen in bewilderment when Brev mentions breaking the bone again. "Are you crazy?" He mutters in a low tone. Apparently he's not too familiar with the healing process of these types of injuries. "It's been a few days. Is that too long?" He falls silent for a second, before addressing the topic of Gidon once more. "I'd like to know why exactly a group of southerners travelled to Bree - I'm assuming that's where y' picked up the boy - and then came backwards into the trollshaws. Trading doesn't seem t' be your main objective, I've noticed." He lets it drop when Breveg finally gives some sort of an answer: looking for kinsmen. "Why? Has someone of your group gone missing?"

At Irin's response, Brev shrugs. "Fine, then. You can go on as you have been doing, and do without full movement of that arm for the rest of your life. Up to you, really - personally I'd prefer a few weeks of discomfort to a lifetime's loss of use of an arm." He turns away and rummages in the satchel slung over his shoulder, this time coming up with a handful of downy leaves, which are crushed to a pungent-smelling pulp. "Want it wrapped and set, eh? I think ... yes," his voice fades as bone shifts under his probing fingers, "it's not knit yet. Might hurt a bit ..." He's already found a roll of clean-looking linen to act as a bandage, as though he expects an affirmative.

"Oh, and none of our group's gone missing. Suppose I might have to." He shrugs at that.

[Irin(#19030)]
    "So - you mentioned that you and Gidon have some common 'interests'. What are they? I just can't help being a bit curious about the whole situation." He falls silent again, and watches as Brev withdraws the putrid-smelling crushed leaves. Irin winces as Brev feels around to see how the bones have healed, but then nods at his question. "Sure.. might as well," he says. He then observes silently while the Dunlending handles the new linen. "Gidon told me a bit about Carac. So, I take it he's in charge of this whole thing, along with you?" Irin does not even know much about Carac, besides his name, but uses this just to fish for more information from Brev.

This time Brev actually takes the time to answer the question first. "We're both looking for someone," is all he offers in response to the mention of Gidon Irin's final comment, though, wins a level, assessing look. "Carac's our leader. If you wish to travel with us - or anything else - it's him you'll have to speak to. My comings and goings are my own ... and I'm not about to leave young Gidon here with naught but strangers for company. If that means I don't travel on with the rest, so be it." He is surprisingly calm about it.

Even as he talks he is busy smearing the pungent-smelling herbal paste over the bruised and broken area that done, Brev takes the bandage and, manipulating the poor abused limb back into place as best he may, begins to wrap. There is a surprising amount of control in his thin, wiry frame, and his motions are swift. He grunts as he works, and mutters, "Kiern! They made this look so easy back in Forthunn ... Think I'll stick to arrows and nice clean cuts in future. Least if you get it wrong the one you're treating isn't alive to complain." He smirks in Irin's direction. "Now for some sort of sling ... hmm." One-handed he reaches for another strip of linen, this one perhaps a bit less clean.

[Irin(#19030)]
    "Lookin' for Gidon's father?" Irin chirps up, but does not expect an answer. He clenches his jaw tight and fists both of his hands, turning away as Brev puts the bones back into place. As soon as it all over, he shoots a rather concerned expression in Brev's direction. "You mean you've never done that before?" He arches his eyebrows. "At least I don't have a life-threatening injury. I'd hate t' be stuck with you out in the forest without a healer." He relaxes his posture a bit, since finally the worst is over. "But if you do stay - how will you ever catch up with the rest of the group? You won't be able to find your way alone in the shaws."

Brev shrugs. "Done arms before - but not a shoulder." His tone is brutally honest. "Out there," he jerks a head in the general direction of the Gates and Outside, "I'm often the nearest to a healer there is. Men die from wounds when it comes down to it," his amber eyes are level, "I'd just as soon they didn't. Now-" He eases the shirt back over Irin's injured shoulder, then loops the second strip of linen in a figure-of-eight around wrist and neck, knotting it carefully. "Try to keep your arm like this as much as possible. If you have a woman, get her to help you do things - it's a good excuse to get her close." He winks. "Bone'll take six weeks or so to mend. Likely you'll get fed up before then and start trying to use it - if you do and cause damage, it's not my fault. I'm not your nursemaid."

Irin's final question does not elicit an answer worth the receiving, merely a shrug and a muttered, "Kiern knows." Something else, though, has clearly been heard, for suddenly Brev's eyes harden. "What do you know about Gidon's father?"

[Irin(#19030)]
    "Fine, then," Irin brushes off Brev's last comments about causing damage to the bones with a slight cock of his head. He then straightens his shirt with the unaffected hand, and adjusts it here and there so that it'll fit comfortably again. "Well - I told Gidon that I'd seen a middle-aged man out in the forest 'bout two months ago. He was sitting 'round by a campfire alone he had a horse, too. But I didn't see much else - I didn't wanna get too close. He had hunting supples with 'im," Irin nods assuringly. "I don't know what 'appened to him, though. Saw him riding his horse a few days after that, bit further east. But that's the last I saw of 'im."

Brev listens in silence to the story, his expression thoughtful. "Riding east? Then heading on with my folk might tell more - if they're not long gone by the time the lad's on his feet again." He scowls. "Ach. We'll find a way." He rises to his feet, scraping the last of the leaf paste into the fire (where it smokes and hisses) and lifting the water-bowl in one hand. "Thanks for the information - it was indeed worth a little time." He nods toward Irin's shoulder. "Hope that mends well - look after it and it should. I'll leave you to haggle with our trader over berries, she's the expert on bargaining." For just a moment his lips curve in a smile that is not smirk then he shakes his head and it is gone. "Might see you later, eh?" With that as his farewell, he turns and steps away, no longer scowling.

About a week later ...


[Nob(#16122)] Gidon has spent most of the past week and a half sleeping, and full of drugs for the pain. (Whatever drugs they have in this day and place...) But Muirgheal has been chivvying him some now to get up, and so it is that, with Rhifaroth's help, the boy has staggered outside and is half-lying under a tree leaning against the trunk. His arm is tightly bandaged and splinted, and a sling of sorts keeps it from moving too much.

The warm summer are is stirred slightly by a breeze, and sunlight dapples the leaves. Gidon is watching the dancing shadows in a dazed sort of fashion, not quite focused on anything.

That warm breeze stirs the dark curls of the man who approaches Gidon now. Brev is clean-shaven - whether as some perverse reaction to Muirgheal's taunts or for some other reason, who knows? - and that only serves to throw the frown on his features into sharper relief. As he approaches he drops to one knee to look the boy up and down, the frown on his features only deepening at the sight of him. "Gidon?" His sing-song Common is surprisingly gentle for once. "Can you hear me?"

[Nob(#16122)] There is a pause, then the boy's head moves so that he focuses rather blearily on the man beside him. "Brev?" he asks, his voice thin. He moves a little, winces and subsides. "Sunny," he tells the man, groggily.

"Aye, Brev." Dark curls sway as the man nods. At the other comment he squints upward. "Too bright, eh? Lets see if we can move you back into the shade - it /was/ just the arm that was hurt, wasn't it?" He shifts round to the youngster's good side, but stops short of any pulling or lifting yet.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon isn't tracking the most speedily, and there is a discernable pause before he answers again. "Aye.... m'arm." Some expression - hopelessness, despair - flickers in his face. But he lifts his good arm to Brev's, shifting his legs to get leverage against the ground.

Brev gets his shoulder under Gidon's good arm and heaves - slight as he is, the lad is hardly a great burden. "There you go." He pauses, eyeing the lad speculatively, then at last says lightly, "You scared a few folk there. Kiern, you don't do things by halves. Going to tell me what happened? I've heard fragments, but ..."

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon scrambles, with Brev's considerable help, back further into the shade, to lean against another tree. He lets his head rest against the trunk, his face white and his eyes shut. They flicker open to look at Brev as the man speaks, then shut again. "He said..." he starts, and squeezes his eyes shut tighter, "said he kilt m'da..."

Brev tenses - clearly that information is new to him. "Who said? The-" he pauses, dredges his memory and comes up with a word used by Irin, "the Southron? The fellow who incapacitated three men and just walked away? Kiern!" A black scowl comes across his face, and something else ... the muscle starts jumping in his cheek.

[Nob(#16122)] "Dunno," Gidon says, his eyes still shut. He lifts his good hand and rubs his face, trying to hide the tears that he can't keep back from the man. "Had n'axe."

Brev, squatting beside the tree, watches Gidon scrub at his face and swiftly looks away. A moment's pause, then he reaches out his own hand to grasp the boy's shoulder briefly, not looking round. "Do-" He hesitates, swallowing hard. "Do you want to avenge him? If so, we can find a way. I'll not take him on in a fight, but-" he shrugs, "there's other means ..." He lets the words trail off suggestively. He is not silent quite yet, though instead he mutters under his breath, "Why him? Why now, when- Damn, damn, damn."

[Nob(#16122)] Vengeance hasn't occurred to the boy, and his eyes open, startled. "I ..." he says hesitantly, and then, though he has managed to stop crying, his voice comes out full of longing. "I don' know - I just - I just want my Da."

Brev's hand returns to Gidon's shoulder. "I know." The words are flat. "Can't do much about that for you. Kiern, I can't even say if the fellow who attacked you spoke truth or lie? But you don't have to stand alone. You think on it- what you want. I'm not going anywhere." He looks steadily into the distance as he speaks, and heaves a small, quiet sigh.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon nods, falling asleep again, the comfort of the man's hand warm on his shoulder. But one thing filters through into his groggy mind. "..lied?" he whispers, "You think maybe..." There is a desperate hope in his eyes, but he can't stay awake. And his head sags back, his muscles relaxing under the influence of Muirgheal's syrups and potions.

Brev remains resolutely silent, doing nothing to dispel the false hope he has planted. When he feels Gidon's muscles relax under his hand, he looks round and sighs again. "Oh, Kiern!" he mutters softly. He sits with the lad a while in silence then, when it becomes apparent that doze has become sleep, he rises and steps softly away, his jaw tight.



A few more days later ...

The slanting rays of the setting sun peer through a mass of tattered cloud, bathing rooftops and wet cobbles alike in a reddish glow. The rain that had fallen for most of the day seems to have cleared, and the summer evening is fine. Through the haze walks a single-figure, new-approached through the gates. Brev has been absent for several days now clearly he has been hunting, for slung across his shoulder is the limp body of a hare. Quite how far he's had to travel to find /that/ particular species of game, who can say?

His steps lead him somewhat reluctantly toward Muirgheal's house.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon has improved rapidly from the infection and fever and though his arm is still immobilized and he is still being dosed with syrups for the pain, they are less. And he has begun to get a little restless. When the rain finally stops, he escapes the crowded confines of Muirgheal's house with its three small and noisy children. And when Brev comes, he is sitting on the ground beside the small house, half-tucked into a corner by a bush where, while not hidden, at least he might be less instantly noticeable. At least less instantly noticeable by the children who seem to see him as a repository of stories.

Brev's dragging steps come to a sudden halt at the sight of Gidon, thankfully before he trips over the lad. "Kiern! You /trying/ to break a leg as well as an arm?" he queries, shaking his head, but then his lips twist into a sudden grin. "That is - good to see you out and about. How are you feeling?" He peers down at the lad intently, as though trying to gauge his lucidity.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon tips his head back, and a faint smile moves his lips, though it doesn't touch his eyes. "M'all right," he says. His words slur a little as if his tongue is too big for his mouth, but his eyes seem clear enough. "Hidin'."

Brev sighs softly at Gidon's response. One dark brow lifts at the final word. "Hiding from who? If it was me you're out of luck. Or was it that half-Forgoil madwoman? Don't blame you." He drops the dead hare unceremoniously down beside Gidon. "When she comes out to find you, give her this, will you? Saves me having to rack my brains for some new insults." He gives a half-hearted smirk.

[Nob(#16122)] The tiny smile grows a little. "Not you. Them kids," he explains. "Keep buggin' me." His eyes follow the hare down to the ground and his smile vanishes like mist in the sun. Mechanically, he says, "Aye... I will." He shifts a little so he doesn't have to look at the animal, and lifts his eyes to Brev again. "You - ain't you s'posed t'be gone?"

Brev answers that with a shrug. "Am I? Sorry to disappoint - you don't get rid of me that easily." The smirk grows."Kiern, man, were you expecting me to leave you all alone, half out of your head with pain, in a village full of strangers?" Silence, then, for a while, before he states flatly, "Carac is gone. I figure he found what we were looking for."

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is silent, his eyes dropping to the ground again. "Y'don' hardly know me," he says softly. Quieter still, "Thankee." A pause while the boy stares at wet grass, then he looks up once more, and his smile is back. "Them rocks you wanted? Oh, people. Y'wanted people, right?" But a small frown is growing. "Carac's gone - you... y'should be with him."

Brev is rather carefully avoiding Gidon's gaze, now. The smile passes unseen as he gazes out eastward, away from the setting sun. There the gnarled woods are already fading to grey-black. "Not just people," he corrects. "Fighters." His features are carefully blank. At the final comment, though, he shrugs, and gives a mirthless smile. "My comings and goings are my own. Carac's used to it by now - or should be. And ... know what it's like to stand alone." His gaze pulls back from the east, and he rubs irritably at his cheek for a moment before his hand drops back to his side.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon nods, though he may not fully understand. "But you said..." He sounds puzzled, but shrugs after a minute, unable to remember quite what it was Brev had said about Carac before. Another pause. He schools his voice carefully, and says, "You'll go back to - t'Bree with me? Then go - home." And manages, mostly, to say it without any emotion.

Brev's head turns back toward Gidon. "Is that what you want to do? Go back to Bree? You don't want to go on looking, or-" He halts short of putting anything else into words. "If that's what you choose I'll do it." There is regret in his tone, and whether it is at the thought of heading back west or at something quite different, who can say?

He hasn't sat down, and now he shifts from foot to foot. "You look tired, I'll not disturb you further. When you're feeling more like yourself, then's the time to talk."

[Nob(#16122)] "Looking...?" Gidon's face goes very still. "He.. you think..." He can't finish. He clearly has forgotten the words Brev had said earlier. "But don't you want t'go back with your folk? That feller did say he saw..." The boy's confused words subside obediently at Brev's decision, and he nods. And the mix of emotions isn't hidden now as he grapples with this new idea, watching but not seeing as Brev walks away.