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 Posted: Wed Jul 09, 2014 6:18 am
ELEVEN
Fiuurin rubbed the pattern of the woven threads. "It's wonderful," she said sleepily. She rested the hand with teh ring against her heart and began to subside back into sleep.
Haradrin rolled the loose threads up into a ball. Should he ask her now? He would. He would say "Fiuurin, how do I explain to Tillian that I love you too?" He suddenly froze, barely breathing. How could he have been so foolish? He could not ask Fiuurin such a thing, he would be betraying Tillian's secret feelings! Haradrin had been so wrapped up in his own feelings that he had forgotten that Tillian's were still private to anyone but himself and Haradrin, who had been told in confidence.
Haradrin would have to work out what to do himself. He listened to Fiuurin breathing softly. Would he need to say anything? Was it the cowards way out to stay silent, or was it the best thing to do, for everyone? He would have liked to ask Fiuurin, but he had the feeling that this issue would not be easy by either route. He could not see a third option.
Haradrin rocked Fiuurin's shoulder. "Breakfast?" he asked. All of this introspection and worry had made him very hungry.
Fiuurin groaned. "Yes, I should get up. May as well get up and have breakfast."
Fiuurin slid out of bed. She looked floppy and when Haradrin tried to prop her up, she leaned against him with her eyes half closed, as though she might fall asleep on him on the way to breakfast.
The began the trek to the kitchens. Once upon a time, when there had been many children in the mountain, meal times had been set. Now, breakfast was made and kept heated until lunch was made. if the breakfast was still there, it was lunch. If someone was feeling unwell, someone would bring them food, but for all the able bodied of the mountain, if you wanted to eat, you had to walk for it.
The walk revived Fiuurin and she stopped leaning on Haradrin, even though when she stood up straight, he seemed disappointed his assistance was no longer needed. "I wonder what's on today," she said.
What was made in the kitchen was largely dependent on who was making it. Long ago, only dragons, the mates of dragons or dragon recessives lived in the mountain. The dragon family had grown in numbers, but family members had left. When Brittania had so many children around and her time was taken up with helping Yarrow when she was very ill, she had been forced to invite normal ponies into the mountain to help care for the rest of her family. Fiuurin liked having normal people to talk to. Haradrin did not know any differently. Everyone was nice to him.
Ramla Emuet, the first pony to live in the village down below, had joined first. She loved children and it seemed to her that the only children around were the ones in the mountain.
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:19 am
TWELVE
Pleia had joined soon after. She had still been a teen, but she was meek and liked to know what she was doing, instead of having to decide for herself. Jin's son, Stayne, had noticed her and had developed an almost indecent protective instinct over her. It had seemed odd, especially as Stayne had never felt protective of anyone at all. By all accounts, they were happily together, though Pleia still worked in the mountain cleaning it and Stayne's father was the patriarch.
Duncan, the sailor, had come when he heard of normal ponies being taken on. He was not a cleaner, or a carer, but a guard. He, like Pleia, was a person who liked to be told what to do. The similarity ended, there, though. Duncan wanted to spend his life in a great cause. Protecting a large and vibrant family seemed to be a good enough cause as any, when there were few to go around.
All those who stepped foot on the mountain had to be checked out, but Fiuurin had never had a pinch of doubt about them, though Pleia's relationship with her brother had surprised her very much. It helped that Ramla and Pleia were seers and could, theoretically, foresee dangers. neither had had any visions of catastrophe, and one would think having two seers should cover up any possible blind spots.
'Hope its pancakes," said Haradrin.
"Mmm," said Fiuurin. When she and Haradrin got closer to the kitchens, they could smell the cooking. Inside, they found both Pleia and Ramla. Pleia was drying dishes, Ramla was putting them away.
Ramla turned to them as they entered and gasped. "Oh, Haradrin, is your cheek all right?" she asked in utter concern, snatching up a dish towel and touching it to Haradrin's cheek.
Haradrin blinked. He was surprised; nothing was wrong with him, that he could feel.
"He is fine, Ramla," said Fiuurin, confused.
Ramla took the towel away and saw Haradrin's perfect scales underneath. "You're right," she said slowly. "I'm sorry I startled you."
All three of them spun around at the sound of a deep, painful indrawn breath. Pleia, who had been silent, watching, leaned against the bench for support. She whimpered in fear and Ramla rushed over to envelop her in her arms. "There will be..." Pleia began, her voice soft and frightened, "there will be violence."
Haradrin stepped forward and touched Pleia's arm.
Pleia put her hand on his cheek. "Poor Haradrin. I'm sorry about your face. I saw..." she paused and looked at Ramla and then back at Haradrin. "I saw... someone hurting you."
Fiuurin looked from Pleia to Ramla. "Then, what did you see, Ramla?"
"I saw her vision,' said Ramla. "Which was triggered when I spoke... Pleia's sight is more powerful than mine, but mine is more precise."
Haradrin looked at them all and managed a smile. He rubbed his cheek firmly, his scales rasping, as if to say 'It's completely normal now!'
"Do you know when this will happen?" asked Fiuurin, worry creeping into her voice.
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:24 am
THIRTEEN
She watched the two prophets shake their heads. "We shouldn't worry," she pronounced. "It could happen in ten years."
"Of course," said Ramla. "That's the best way to think about it. Now, breakfast?"
Haradrin ate his food, but the visions Ramla and Pleia had had had reduced his appetite. Ramla, to apologise for all the fuss, had even made him a batch of pancakes, which he could hardly refuse. Fiuurin seemed to sense he was not feeling up to finishing the entire stack and helped him out by eating a few. He hoped Ramla was not offended by them sharing, but he saw Fiuurin shoot a glance at Ramla, who nodded in reply, so he thought the girls had all of it sorted out. Whatever it was...
Who would hurt his face? Maybe Nania was right, and he was really like Grampa Jin, getting into fights. He tried to turn his thoughts away from the prophecy- he suppose he could lose his mind asking questions about things which had not happened and may never happen at all. As they sat at the table, digesting an unintentionally large meal, Haradrin asked Fiuurin, "Why have you still got the ring on?"
She seemed surprised and looked at her hand. "Why wouldn't I have it on?" she asked.
"You don't wear what Tillian makes you."
"Oh," said Fiuurin. "The things he makes are pretty, but they don't feel like me. They feel like him."
"This feels like you?" asked Haradrin, touching the ring.
"Yes," said Fiuurin slowly. "I suppose you know what I like and you make things I like! Truly," she said in a subdued voice, "I don't want to upset Tillian by refusing his gifts, but I'm sure he makes them more for himself than for me." She turned the ring on her finger a few times.
Haradrin thought he understood. "I didn't make this for you," he said. "But I was thinking about you when I made it and it wanted to be with you." He checked that Ramla and Pleia were busy on the other side of the room and kissed Fiuurin near her mouth, but not quite. "You inspired me."
Fiuurin smiled at him and she held the hand which wore the ring up to her heart.
A moment later, the door crashed in and Stayne barreled into the room. "Pleia!" he pulled her away from the counter and began looking her over for any signs of harm or distress. "Ramla called me, she said you were upset. Are you upset?" He continued to look at her, his head darting around to see her from all angles. Pleia did not speak, but she held his face still between her hands and he could feel how steady they were. There was a moment of stillness between them. Then, Stayne took Pleia by the hand. "Ramla, I think Pleia needs an afternoon to get over the shock. We'll see you tomorrow."
And so, without saying a word, Pleia was whisked off by her lover. She was smiling, so she obviously did not mind at all.
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:27 am
FOURTEEN
Tillian picked through the drawers in Haradrin's room, rattling beads, gems, clasps and other things in his search. Haradrin didn't usually have anything better than he, Tillian, had, but it was always a good idea to check. If he asked for something, Haradrin would usually say yes.
Since Haradrin had told him a few weeks before about Pleia and Ramla's predictions, Tillian had greeted his friend with an inquiry on how many fistfights he had been in since he had last seen him, and Tillian always crowed with laughter afterwards. The idea of Haradrin getting into a fight with anyone was ridiculous.
Haradrin was sewing a silk vest for Tillian. It was of a colour between his blue hair and purple scales. He had asked for it the week before and hung around to wait for Haradrin. It was nearly finished; Haradrin was assembling it today. He had spent hours embroidering the panels.
"You're running low on weaving threads," commented Tillian idly. "Been using them much?"
Haradrin looked up with a twinge on guilt. "Yes." He had made Fiuurin a ring with them.
"I'll find you some more," replied Tillian. "You're low on a lot of things... don't you keep up an inventory? Do you just get more when you want to make something and can't?"
Haradrin shook out the vest. "I use you for that," he said. "If you're slack about it, not my fault."
Tillian snorted cheerfully. "Yeah, fine." He looked in the drawer where Haradrin kept his moonstones, wondering if his vest could have moonstone buttons. "Hey, where are all your moonstones? You only use them for special occasions. What did you make them into? Why didn't you show me?"
Haradrin shrugged. "Maybe I lost them. Try this on."
Distracted by the prospect of something for himself, Tillian extracted his hands from Haradrin's drawers and flung his arms out so Haradrin could slip the vest on.
Haradrin smoothed the cloth across his friend's shoulders, his critical eye checking for any snags or issues with the way it draped.
Tilliam admired the vest. "Looks nice. Good job." He sighed and scowled. "I wish you had a mirror in here," he said in annoyance.
Haradrin shook his head. "Not everyone is as vain as you."
Tillian shrugged and spun around. "Not everyone is as handsome as I am," he said simply. "Lets go show everyone how good I look."
Haradrin put away his craft things and followed Tillian out. He did look smart in his blue vest. He was proud of how it looked on Tillian. Haradrin had put off other projects to make Tillian's vest. He did it out of guilt. Tillian had continued to tell Haradrin about his big plans for his romance for Fiuurin. Haradrin wasn't sure if it was because he knew Fiuurin was in love with him, but he had started feeling that Tillian's plans were rambling and delusional.
"Fiuurin will love this on me," bragged Tillian.
Haradrin doubted it. Fiuurin would admire it, of course; Fiuurin was kindly that way.
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:31 am
FIFTEEN
But she was not into the sort of self promotion Tillian fancied. Haradrin had made her more things, using up almost his entire store of moonstones, but not for self decoration. He had made a wide belt for her and was halfway through making some attachable bags for it. She had appreciated a practical and also beautiful adornment.
She had kissed him when he gave it to her, but it had not been their first kiss. They had spent much more time together lately. They had even stayed up all night, watching the stars, and slept late in the morning in front of Fiuurin's window. The burden of not telling Tillian about how he felt towards her was the only dark spot on his comfortable horizon.
"So where is your hot sister?" asked Tillian mildly, his pace quickening.
Haradrin kept up easily. His legs were much longer than Tillian's. "Kitchen?" he offered, but he din't know.
Tillian glanced at Haradrin. He had seemed off lately. Secretive, but content. It was strange because Haradrin usually had no secrets. Tillian wondered if he had upset Haradrin with his constant appraisal of Fiuurin. He would try and stop. Haradrin didn't hold grudges, which was a reason why they got along so well; Tillian was not the perfect friend. "We don't have to find her, we could show your mum. Or Ramla. Oh, I get it," Tillian winked, "You don't want anyone to see how good you are at making clothes, because then they'll all want you to make them outfits!"
Haradrin forced a smile and his head jerked up and down. He wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but he sensed an olive branch.
Fiuurin entered the corridor in front of them and, seeing them, picked up her pace to meet them. She had been coming to meet Haradrin.
Tillian grinned and bowed to her, tugging out his vest. "Afternoon, Fiuurin!"
"Afternoon," returned Fiuurin. "I was coming to get Haradrin and go to lunch, most of the family is here and we thought it would be nice to sit down together. You're welcome to come, Tillian."
"Sounds like a great time," Tillian replied. "Come on, Harry, let's go." Fiuurin lead the way, but Tillian walked beside her, chattering to her about anything he could think of, but mostly himself. They arrived in the kitchen to find the rest of the family in the hall already. Tillian had never expected to find himself anywhere where it was reasonable for a home to have a hall, feasting or otherwise, but the dragon clan was sprawling and few other rooms in the mountain could contain their sheer numbers.
"We should go on," Fiuurin said. She opened the door.
Tillian noticed the ring on Fiuurin's finger on the hand holding the doorknob. It was the first time he had seen her wear jewellery. "That's interesting," he commented. "Moonstones..." His eyes flicked toward Haradrin.
"Thanks," said Fiuurin proudly. "Haradrin made it for me."
"That's nice of him... Well I guess you'll have to start a roster of all the jewellery you have and rotate it every day, to wear out all the things I made you."
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:33 am
SIXTEEN
Fiuurin's face went blank. "Ah. I would be worried about losing your very nice jewels," she said quietly.
Haradrin looked on with growing fear. He did not want Tillian to be hurt.
"But you'll wear Haradrin's ring," said Tillian very quietly. "You don't care if you lose it, then?"
"I would make another," said Haradrin.
"Yes," said Tillian, his voice growing louder, angrier. "And I daresay that would be worn more than my jewels!" He looked between Fiuurin and Haradrin. "What is going on?" he growled.
"What do you mean?" asked Fiuurin. She could hear footsteps up the passage and realised her family had heard Tillian, or they had become worried about their continued absence.
"I have given you so many things I made from my heart!" exclaimed Tillian. "I did it because I love you and I want to show you how much, but you don't care about that! You'll wear some trash Haradrin makes, but not the jewels I make!"
Fiuurin stepped back from Tillian's angry words as though each one was a flame and they burned her. What was this? How could he be so angry; she had not meant to snub him by not wearing his gifts. he had never told her the significance of the gifts he gave her.
Haradrin would not stand for anyone to be threatened in front of him, least of all Fiuurin, he stepped between her and Tillian. He saw his father coming down from an upstairs passage and he pushed Fiuurin back further so they were not blocking the doorway. Unnoticed by Haradrin, however, the three other doors to the kitchen were filling up with members of his family who had gone around and come via other routes when they had heard the commotion.
Tillian was too angry to notice the new arrivals. He glared at Fiuurin, his anger building, not declining.
"It's not trash," said Haradrin finally.
"This is not time to talk about value!" snapped Tillian. "I make things of gold, you make, you make clothes."
"It's not trash," repeated Haradrin. "It's love." His face was calm, his breathing was even, but he was tense, alert.
Tillian began to scoff, thinking Haradrin meant family love, but he saw Fiuurin touch Haradrin's shoulder and the concern in her eyes and he suddenly realised what he should have noticed long ago; Haradrin was in love with Fiuurin. "You? You... how could you do this? You knew how I felt! You traitorous b*****d!" He slammed his fist into the side of Haradrin's face.
Haradrin weathered the blow. His head barely moved and his expression had not wavered. The blow had had different effects on those watching. Fiuurin gasped and prepared to throw herself around Haradrin at Tillian, but she respected that Haradrin wished not to retaliate. Jin Kyoshi growled softly, deep in his throat, his massive shoulders bulging. Brand leapt down the stairs to stand closer to his son. Pleia, standing with Stayne, began to cry, her hands lifted to her mouth in horror and fear.
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:40 am
SEVENTEEN
Stayne wrapped his arms around Pleia, his eyes blazing at Tillian. Brittania held herself very still, her claws gripping the walls in an effort to stop herself knocking Brand down and throwing herself on Tillian to tear him apart. The strength of her grip carved notches into the stone walls.
Tillian's reaction was barely less shocked than those of everyone else. He was shocked, betrayed, furious and heartbroken, but his fury welled up over his pain and shock until it was all he could feel and he wanted Haradrin to feel how much it hurt to be Tillian. He wanted to see the hurt on Haradrin's face. But he wasn't showing any pain. This was what made Tillian hit him again, his clenched fist punching into Haradrin's nose.
Haradrin's head reeled back and he saw points of light, but he did not move, or retaliate. The only really clear thing to him now was that to move, even to defend himself, would open Fiuurin up to danger. He did not think Tillian would hurt Fiuurin. Then again, part of Haradrin's mind still thought Tillian would not hurt him either, despite the fact he had already struck him twice. He considered himself an immovable bulwark. If Fiuurin's brother Rahar was a warrior to protect the family, Haradrin was an iron defense.
Tillian was beginning to doubt if this was what he wanted to be doing. It was one thing to have a fistfight over the affections of a girl, quite another to punch a friend who wouldn't put up their arms. "Too stupid to fight back? Too cowardly?" Tillian spat. "Well, it looks like your prophesy has come true, hasn't it? I wonder how many times they say you being hit?" Tillian heard Pleia whimper from behind him. "Ohhh? I bet they have, and it wasn't two."
Fiuurin leaned around Haradrin, still partly stunned. "Tillian, stop this!" she excalimed, but he had already pulled back his arm and shot it a third time at Haradrin.
This latest blow overcame Haradrin's tense calm; his shoulders slumped and his head hung down. Fiuurin tried to turn his head to see his eyes but he flinched as she touched his face.
Tillian finally turned around and fully noticed the spectators. Most of the family were glaring at him with hatred, others bloodlust. Some, like Pleia, were crying. He felt ashamed, but this shame was overcome by fear and then anger. "What now?" he taunted them more bravely than he felt. "Will you all kill me in your kitchen?"
"No," said Jin quietly. His voice was measure, controlled, and it seemed like it was emotionless, but in fact his neck was stiff with the effort of remaining passive. "You are no longer welcome in this home. Who will show Tillian out?"
"I know the way out-" protested Tillian, but they were ignoring him
"Dad, I will," said Stayne, motioning with his eyes to the still sobbing Pleia in his embrace. Jin moved over to them and his arms took the place of his son's. Pleia turned her face into Jin's chest.
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:41 am
EIGHTEEN
Stayne stepped out of the crowd as they cleared away from the door with the most direct route out of the mountain. "Rage?" he asked. "Are you coming?"
Rage, suddenly distracted from her simmering fury, jerked forward. She hadn't expected Stayne to ask her, but of course she was the logical choice. Rahar was too close to his sister and might harm Tillian, so despite him being slightly stronger than Rage, he would be a poor choice. It would not do, she knew, for a dragon to injure, or kill, a member of a weaker species. Like if a Seryph killed an earth pony with magic. "Yes, I'll come," she said sternly. She stalked behind Tillian to drive him towards the door. Stayne moved to block Fiuurin from Tillian as he left.
"After you," snarled Stayne. He could feel the anger of his family directed at Tillian and their support for him.
Tillian looked around him. He was frightened, now. If any one of these people decided to attack... He noticed his vest again for the first time in minutes. He tore it off and threw it on the ground. "Trash," he snarled at Haradrin. Then he strode out the door, with the members of the dragon clan like an honour guard on either side. Stayne walked beside him and Rage brought up the rear. Tillian could feel her eyes on the back of his head, like she was itching to shoot a blast of lightning at his unprotected back.
Haradrin coughed weakly. His eyes were beginning to swell up. Tillian was stronger than he appeared to be. He felt cool hands on his face and a familiar smell. Mother he thought. He felt her run her hands gently over his bruises with a soft rasping sound. Then, he saw Milfoil, his brother, come over to help. While they studied his face and how best to fix it, Haradrin reached out and Fiuurin caught his hand in hers.
Haradrin's grip was weaker than it used to be. She squeezed it harder. "I'm sorry that happened," she said. "I don't know why it happened, though..."
"Tillian, he," began Haradrin before wincing.
"Shh," said Yarrow. "Stop moving, or this will hurt more."
Haradrin obeyed. He may have been brave while accepting his beating, but it still hurt more that he liked.
"That boy," said Brittania, descending the steps, "had an unhealthy attachment to you, my dear." She stroked Fiuurin's hair. "You were too innocent to see and he was too cowardly to say." She looked around at the remainder of her family. "Everyone should go back to the hall and eat. We should not let one person ruin our lovely day." The ranks of family filed past, unusually quietly. Jin walked with Pleia in arm.
"It was a good thing you did, Haradrin," she said quietly. "I'm sorry for your pain."
Haradrin bowed his head in acceptance before his mother tilted his chin back up so she could see better.
"It won't hurt for much longer," said Yarrow softly. "You did the right thing. I am proud."
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:44 am
NINETEEN
Haradrin was not used to all of this attention and blushed.
Brittania cast a narrow glance at her daughter, "Have you something to say?" she asked quietly.
Fiuurin bit her lip, her fang exposed. "Only that Haradrin..." she paused. "Is my hero," she said.
Brittania smiled. "Well, then. Is our hero better?"
"I feel better," said Haradrin. His eyes were still puffy, but he looked healthier and even managed a watery grin. As long as Fiuurin sits near me."
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:46 am
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:48 am
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:50 am
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:52 am
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:54 am
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 11:02 am
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Reply
