Dancing round the issue

Harvest is over, and winter is on its way. Perhaps it is some primal fear of the approaching dark days, the \'wolf time\' when food, warmth and sometimes life itself are snatched away by winter\'s icy grasp, that causes Harthunn\'s settlers to celebrate life so determinedly. The harvest festival is in full swing. Contests of barrel-lifting, log-tossing, and of course beer-drinking have been held and won. Others have concentrated on cooking the finest food that local bounty and a skilled hand with the seasonings can achieve. Later they may rue the excesses, but for now .. they celebrate.

The ramshackle-looking barn that serves the village as both tavern and meeting-hall is full tonight, and the reason for that becomes clear as a local lad balances precariously on an empty barrel and strikes an off-key chord on some stringed instrument, then fumbles with the pegs, frowning, whilst others \"Get on with it!\"

[Carac(#32384)] Almost entirely unseen since their arrival in Harthunn, Carac slips quietly into the barn. Hoping to remain unnoticed he keeps close to the walls of the barn, looking for some place in the packed barn where he might remain quietly to watch and listen.

All this is but an exercise in futility, for a man of his size is quite easily noticed, and there are many who call out to him as he slides through the crowd.

[Saffron(#15443)]

Such smiles on everybody\'s faces! How everyone eats and drinks with such gusto! How good natured the name-calling! Every line of hard work and toil etched on their faces deepen with their laughing and merriment. There are pockets of private conversations here and there, but mostly, the crowd circles the music-makers - not quite a band - and wait anxiously for the first note to strike.

Sitting at the back of the room is Saffron. With a bit of ale in her, even the stale jokes being cracked by Thomas Four Finger the butcher, seems funny. When Carac enters, she waves at him, though she must lean forwards and backwards in her chair to see him.

Brev is already amongst the crowd gathered here dark curls gleam in the dim torchlight as he turns his head this way and that. Those curls are new-washed and neatly tied back out of the way, though he has still done nothing about the beard gained his time in the Gap. In respect for the peace of the Festival, he has set his usual leather aside - which means wearing his old red tunic (clean at least, though mended in a couple of places). Thus clad, there is no chance that /he/ will escape notice in this crowd however, he doesn\'t seem to be trying. He leans against the wall, arguing some point of carpentry and shaking his head to an offer of another ale.

As he glances round his gaze falls first on Saffron and then, following the direction of her wave, Carac. His features brighten immediately and he pushes off from the wall so that he may intercept him. \"Evening,\" he offers, grinning slightly. \"Long time no see. Was hoping those scrolls hadn\'t turned you into a toad or somesuch.\" Looking to Saffron, his grin grows even wider. \"Were you remembering you owe me a dance?\" The words are quite loud enough to embarrass.

Satisfied with his tuning at last, the lad with the lute nods to his fellow musicians and launches into some seemingly well-known song about the perils of golden ale. Folk sing along, and bang mugs or feet in time.

[Carac(#32384)] Carac gives Brev a smile as he returns Saffron\'s wave. \"I had not wanted to leave the Elders until there was some news I could offer,\" he says in explanation of his long absence. He gives a slight shake of his head and snorts softly.

\"They bicker and argue like old hens,\" he says then. \"They are either unable or unwilling to tell me much of what the scrolls hold.\"

[Saffron(#15443)]

Fortunately, one of the bickering hens - the Elder Woman who warns of curses - could not hear Carac as she sits in the other corner with her little crowd of believers. It is as if there is a dark cloud that lingers above that little corner.

But most people continue to celebrate, oblivious to them. The crowd noise goes up several notches as the first song of the evening begins to play, and the people press back to make room for the dancers up in front.

\"I have not forgotten, Brev. But I\'ve not had enough ale to get me out there!\" Saffron raises her tankard and takes another sip.

\"Come sit!\" she urges both Brev and Carac. \"The night is young!\"

Brev shakes his head at Carac\'s words. \"Then forget them, for a day or two. Plenty of ale to spare - women too, if it\'s your thing.\" He hesitates, then murmurs, \"There might be another way to find out. They say that at this time of year the boundaries between worlds wear thin. You could ask the spirits.\" This is sensible, practical Brev speaking? Surely the ale must have got to him - though his face is not flushed, and his steps are steady.

At Saffron\'s words he shakes his head. \"How much ale do you need? /I\'m/ not carrying you if you pass out. Hurry up and finish it then.\" He folds his arms and rearranges his features into a seeming scowl - his eyes are twinkling, though.

And indeed, as the first song ends eager voices start shouting for \'something the young\'uns can dance to\'.

[Carac(#32384)] Carac moves to take a seat where Saffron indicates. \"The spirits have not been called in some time . . .\" he says to Brev with a slightly raised brow. \"It is a possibility though. I will give them a few more days, they have let some things slip here and there. Those pieces have helped me to remember some of what Elrabin taught me.\"

He pauses then and shrugs slightly. \"Still this is a time of celebration, we can speak more of this later.\"

[Saffron(#15443)]

With the speed that would put some men to shame, the former mistress of the chicken coop finishes the last of her ale, and stands up.

\"I hope you are wearing thick boots, Brev. The villagers will surely flog me if I cripple their only carpenter with my stomping!\"

With a carefree laugh, she curtsies, which seems at odds with her hardy frontierwoman\'s dress, and Saffron makes her way towards the front of the crowd.

At the crowd\'s urging, the music-makers invite a singer to sing a current song, a song that\'s been written and popularized in this century.

While the crowd have their backs turned, the Elder Woman begins to creep closer to where Carac sits.

Brev meets Carac\'s raised brow with a level one of his own, then shrugs. \"What do I know - about anything? I\'m still not convinced half of those squiggles /are/ words. Looks like someone sat on an anthill to me.\" It is at this point that Saffron stands, and he grins, brushing the matter aside. \"Later you can explain to me how to decipher those wretched blotches. /After/ you\'ve given Saffron the next dance.\" He winks and moves off.

To Saffron he chuckles, and provides a mock-bow of his own as he too works his way to the front. He holds out a newly calloused hand, and murmurs to her, \"Don\'t worry, you\'ll be fine. It\'s just counting - you can count eggs, can\'t you?\" Perhaps he should have asked that /before/ those ales.

Up on his barrel, the lute-player glances across at the singer then launches into a lively (though marred by the occasional jarring chord) jig that provides the backdrop to a light-hearted, jaunty-sounding little ditty.

[Carac(#32384)] Carac chuckles and gives Brev a nod. \"I\'ll be happy to tell you all I know,\" he replies. \"If I\'m going to dance though, I\'ll be needing to get a couple ales in me.\" He turns to in search of his ale and comes face to face with the Elder Woman.

\"Sure you want to be out after sunset?\" he asks a bit coldly. \"Isn\'t this the time all your ghoulies and creepers come out to play?\"

[Saffron(#15443)]

The music kicks up and the crowd cheers with youthful energy. The skirts begin to twirl as women raise one arm in the air and spin. Men showed off their fancy footwork, toe heel shuffle toe heel shuffle. But in Saffron\'s corner, the best she could do was

\"Step together stop, three.\"

Holding Brev\'s hands, she looks down at her feet as they shuffle clumsily. It is amazing how she can be so off the beat.

\"Step together stop, three.. no wait. That\'s step together stop AND three?\" She laughs at herself helplessly. \"I told you I cannot dance! Let me see if you can dance those fancy steps!\"

Amidst the laughter, the dark cloud continues to rain down on that one little corner.

\"You mock me, son of I\'racil. But I warn you, the death of the infant of Ada is but a sign of things to come. Bad things. Bad things!\" She waves her oustretched palms into the air, her eyes bulging. \"The other Elder is a fool. Do not listen to him!\"

Brev chuckles at Saffron. \"Yes you can. Just relax - it\'s harder when you\'re panicking. Like this, see?\" He shifts his grip to her shoulder and starts to push and pull her round the room as best he may with the ease of much practise - seems like she\'s not the first dancing partner he\'s had with such a predicament.

His features wear a serious, focused look, as he \'step-together step-and-three\'s carefully, avoiding both the inebriated pair hurtling their way with careless abandon and the edge of a nearby table. He may be nothing to speak of in any contest of strength - indeed, when those came up he has been conspicuous by his absence - but swiftness and long legs do come into their own occasionally. And he\'s not trodden on Saffron /yet/. If she\'s stood on him, he hasn\'t protested aloud.

[Carac(#32384)] Carac gives another snort and shakes his head. \"I have heard all your warnings, but if we do nothing then nothing will change. We will continue to fight and kill each other over scraps of land that in the best of times barely provide us with what we need to live. If we want the fighting to end we must win back the land that was stolen from us, and to that we need allies. Allies which those scrolls you so fear may tell of.\"

[Saffron(#15443)]

The song ends, only to be followed by another one. The dancers keep going, their faces red, their breathes coming in quick gasps. Children will long remember their parents dancing like youths, their usual toils and worries erased from their faces.

After one disastrous steps after another, Saffron has at last caught on to the basic concept of dancing.

\"Like this?\" She mimics the steps of those around her, and her hair begins to flounce in time with the music this time. She looks up from her feet to catch the serious expression on Brev\'s face as she suddenly notices how carefully and skillfully he navigates through the crowd. \"You have done this before!\"

At the same time the crowd goes into a frenzy, the old woman glaring at Carac straightens her back.

\"Nothing ever good comes of change! Leave the way things are, be! THAT is what happens when you try to change!\" She points through the window to the little grave where Ada\'s baby is buried.

\"Heed my warning, son of I\'racil. Or suffer the consequences!\" She warns one last time, before turning her back to head to the door.

Even Brev is showing the effort of dancing now, for his breathing has quickened and those dark curls that have broken loose of their restraining tie are plastered to his forehead. He grins back at Saffron. \"Sure. Said I\'d teach you, didn\'t I? There, you\'re dancing.\" He stops speaking long enough to avoid a flailing foot, then wonders, \"What comes next? Small talk, I suppose. Say something about her beautiful dark eyes - wait, that\'s for a girl. Eh, tell him how strong he is.\" He winks, the twitching at the corners of his mouth suggesting he might be immune to such flattery himself. \"Or if you don\'t like him say you have the bleeding pox. That usually gets rid of unwanted admirers quickly.\"

And then, right on cue, the music ends. Looking a little embarrassed - just how much of that did anyone else hear? - Brev steers Saffron back toward the nearest table. \"Want a breather? I can find you another drink...\" He moves off.

Most folk are interested solely in dancing or in ale, but one or two heads turn as the odd word of Carac and the woman\'s conversation drifts across. \"Fight? Allies?\" mutters one old fellow. \"Just who does /he/ think he is?\"

\"I\'racil\'s son,\" comes the answer from hsi companion, a grizzled-looking veteran with only one leg. \"Ru\'zanna\'s grandson. Yon old naysayer probably fears exposed as the charlatan she is.\"

\"Hush!\" admonishes the first, making the sign to avert the Evil Eye.

[Carac(#32384)] Carac grinds his teeth in frustration as the old woman departs before he has a chance to respond. \"That is what comes from not changing,\" he calls towards her back. \"If we do not find better lands for our people, more babes will die from their mothers not having enough to eat.\"

He pushes a lock of hair angrily from his eyes. \"Go back to casting your runes and playing with your candles,\" he finishes. \"Your time will soon have passed.\"

The first of the two oldsters rises at Carac\'s words, and stalks angrily off after the old woman. The second, the man missing a leg, raises his tankard in Carac\'s direction and then drains it. \"From your lips to Kiern\'s heart,\" he mumbles indistinctly.

As Carac\'s speech drifts his way, Brev pauses in his search for ale and moves to his friend\'s side. \"Better lands?\" he queries softly, frowning as he pushes sweat-soaked hair out of his face. \"Where would those be? Not down by the Forgoil - they\'re so ... bare.\" He shudders, then snorts. \"Kiern, I must need that ale. It\'s no fun being the only one who\'s left cold sober.\"

[Carac(#32384)] Carac is silent for several moments as he stares at the door after the departed woman. \"That is what I am hoping these scrolls will tell us,\" he says turning back towards Brev. \"The Elders agree that they mention other lands where our kin once lived, but none agree on where those lands are.\" He frowns and shakes his head. \"I seem to recall being told once that we are kin to the folk of Bree, so mayhap if the Elders can not tell us anything we should go there and look for ourselves.\"

\"Bree?\" Brev swallows, and the last vestige of the grin that had been on his face whilst he was dancing with Saffron fades. \"I haven\'t been there since I was five years old. Don\'t even remember it, really. All I remember is losing the thing I cared about most in the world. And you want me to go back?\" He stares at Carac as though the other had suggested walking into a dragon\'s den and not visiting a peaceful settlement of humans and hobbits.

[Carac(#32384)] Carac gives Brev a smile. \"I\'m not looking forward to the journey myself,\" he replies. \"I\'ve heard stories of the lands between us and Bree, it will be no easy journy.\" He turns towards the celebrants in the barn and sighs, his own celebratory mood long vanished.

\"We can try to contact the spirits if you wish,\" he says. \"Though that holds dangers of its own, but still we should get all the information we can before deciding where we should venture in our search.\"

Brev has no answering smile. Now that he\'s no longer dancing, sweat-soaked clothing is chill, and he shivers suddenly. \"You know how to do that?\" he queries, tensely. \"There\'s some in the spirit world I\'d like to speak to.\" He swallows and shakes his head. \"Oh, Kiern. I have too many ghosts.\"

It is at this point that the miller\'s daughter, a plump lass with pretty dark eyes, spies two young men unclaimed and hurries that way. \"Brev. You\'ll dance with me?\" she pleads breathlessly to the one she recognizes. Brev starts, stares. Oddly, his gaze slides past the gently moving buxom chest without interest instead his focus slips southward and he sighs softly. Then he shrugs off his pensive mood and summons up a rather strained smile for her. \"Sure.\" Looking to Carac, he asks, \"Get Saffron a drink, will you? Who knows, if you\'re nice she might even condescend to dance.\" He winks at his friend, and allows himself to be pulled away.