A Knotting // A Walk
Who: Rodric, Dalanor, Emmi
What: Dalanor walks the tables, and afterwards Emmi joins him on a walk through the orchards.
Where: Dining Room, Harper Hall // Orchards, Fort Hold
When: Day 11, month 8, Turn 13, of the Interval. It is a summer evening.
Dining Room
This room is large, although only half the size of the magnificent Great Hall. The smooth flagged stone of the floor is kept scrupulously clean and has a faint sheen to its surface. The walls of stone are impervious to time, the only breaks in their stolidness being the large hearth inset on the east wall and the massive windows painstakingly carved into the bulk of the west wall. Thick, hinged metal shutters can be easily moved into place in inclement weather or during threadfall. Glow baskets wink from between narrow, painted cloth hangings. Taking up the bulk of the floor space are the tables, with three long trestles and benches in the middle. The smaller ovals of the journeyfolks' tables cluster to the north, with the Masters' large, round table to the south. Close to the hearth is a small table for the paying students.
A narrow door to the south leads down to the lower hallway, with the broader kitchen entrance to the southeast. Two large door, usually wide open, lead back north to the main hall.
It's the tail end of a rather riotous dinner hour, several promotions have already been announced and Master Rodric is clearing his throat and calling for attention again. "C'mon everyone, pipe down, there's more to go still!"
Dalanor is cheering. It seems the thing to do. But with every promotion where his name isn't given there's a diminished return in his enthusiasm. About now, he's down to a trio of claps and a faint smile of encouragement. Those around him don't ask why. He's likely not the only one nervous about his testing results.
"All right then, now next we have a young man who's returned to us after a stint Standing at Ista. He's proven himself dedicated to the Craft and we're thrilled to give him this knot this evening. "Dalanor! WALK!" Rodric says in a voice meant to carry. The chant is picked up all around the tables, several apprentices cheering and clapping.
Emmi has been sitting at her place at the table, clapping and chanting loudly at each turn. "Walk! Walk!" With each, her mood seems to get brighter. But it's when Dalanor's name is called by the Masterharper that a smile breaks on her face, and she turns to each of those beside her, sharing a grin.
Dalanor almost didn't catch his name. The din around him became deafening. He starts to look around for the lucky fellow when the pats on the back practically shove him out of his bench. He stands, trips, rolls to his feet and stands their poised like he meant to do that. It might even have been plausible but for the blush on his cheeks. A few gestures for his compatriots to calm themselves and he starts to head up towards the journeyman's tables with a bewildering display of expression on his face. Is he happy, confused, uncertain? Who knows. But then its probably the same mix of emotions that happens to every newly knotted former-apprentice.
Rodric crooks a finger at Emmi, inviting her up to the front of the room. "We have right here, a nice fresh knot for Dalanor, Apprentice Master, will you do the honors?"
Emmi rises from her place, still smiling widely. "I will indeed, sir," she says, coming to the front of the room and taking the new Journeyman's knot, then approaching the man it now belongs to. "Well done, Dalanor," she says warmly, before reaching to affix the knot in place. "You've earned this."
By the time Dalanor's reached the front where Master Rodric and Emmi stand, he's gained his composure back and walks more confidently. In fact, he eyes the knot curiously. "Nice and fresh, eh? Does that mean I have to eat it right away? I mean you work so hard for these things I'd hate to not be able to savor it."
"Well if you eat it then I won't be able to post you out now, will I? For now though, we're keeping you here to assist with some of the classes." Master Rodric sticks his hand out towards Dalanor, grinning as Emmi pins the knot in place. "Congratulations Journeyman Dalanor. Go take your place amongst your fellows."
"And I doubt you'd find it very tasty, anyway," Emmi remarks, smiling back at the Masterharper, then once more at Dalanor. "Congratulations, Journeyman!" she echoes, "And savor the moment, if not literally the knot itself. I guarantee it's one you'll remember."
Dalanor clasps the hand of the Master firmly. "Ahh. Well. We can't have that now can we?" He nods, more of an almost bow, and then looks to Emmi with a broad smile. "I don't doubt it." He looks to his shoulder as if to burn the image into his mind before moving out of the way towards the journeymans' tables lest there be others getting congratulated tonight.
There's more applause and Rodric calls a few more names and postings and at last it's over, the apprentice tables thinned out considerably. "Now I'd like to make a brief announcement!" The masterharper calls out through the din, face growing more serious.
Emmi returns, as well, to her seat a the journeyman's table, continuing to clap and cheer as the rest of the apprentices-turned-journeymen make their way. At the last, she turns her attention towards the Masterharper.
Dalanor sits, still a bit in a daze, as he lets the moment sink in. When Rodric calls for attention again, he glances towards the Master with the curiosity that's been trained, if not already bred, into him.
"I'm sure by now, that you've all heard about the Threadfall over Crom and the confusion of two Weyrs flying that Fall. There were many injuries and lives lost. I'd like to take a moment of silence for remembrance, and also reiterate that whatever you may hear, there's no blame to lay here. I am however going to ask some of you, especially archivists, to assist with some research in the archives about situations where two Weyrs could be said to provide coverage for the same area." He smiles around at the group then, solemnly. "All right then, silence please for a moment."
Emmi nods solemnly with a look of recognition-- yes, she's heard. Her eyes close and her hands fold in her lap in silence as a blanket of quiet falls over the room. She breathes in and out, deeply, contemplatively, at thoughts of those lost in the confusion of that 'Fall.
Dalanor could very well have been one of those people. Not now, but if he'd impressed... and in the future... but in some tangent of his mind he empathizes. He's seen threadscored mounts and dragons firsthand. Been told the stories and learned the dangers. A shadow crosses his face as morbid reflections cross his mind and settle into a vague sense of loss. Then something more specific.
The Masterharper joins the others in waiting head bowed then he lifts his eyes up and looks across the crowd. "I'm counting on all of you not to spread any unfounded rumors, or lend any credence to anything you might hear that isn't true. As harpers, even apprentices, your word carries weight." He waits a moment to let that sink in then clears his throat smile returning. "That's all for the serious things, now let's celebrate, all apprentice will be getting a glass of wine or mug of ale tonight to toast our new Journeymen! Congratulations all, enjoy your evening. Also don't forget to say your good-byes to those posting out."
Emmi looks up from the moment of silence and back to Master Rodric, listening attentively and nodding as he continues to speaks. After he finishes, it takes several beats for her cheerfulness to return, but even the serious young woman is swayed once more by the sense of celebration in the room. She reaches for her wine glass, raising it high in yet another toast to the newcomers to the table and to those soon departing. She turns to look at Dalanor, a nod of her glass in his direction.
Dalanor smiles back across the table to Emmi and lifts his own in reply. "It would seem that at least some good comes to those with patience. I'd move along to the next great ambition but I think, at least for tonight, I'll savor the moment."
Rodric walks amongst the tables, shaking hands and offering more congratulations and quiet words of wisdom or a joke, then slips away when the merriment is at its height, face rather drawn and serious.
Emmi misses the departure of the Masterharper among the chaos of celebration in the room, her attention instead on Dalanor. "There's a time and place for ambition," she says wisely. "Me? I think you're ambition's brought you somewhere today. So you're right. Your next great ambition can be chosen in the morning."
Dalanor chuckles, taking a sip from his wine once he's calmed himself. "In the morning. Which does rather leave me with a long night free. I was thinking I might go out for a stroll. Evening's about the best time for it if you want any relief from the heat." He lowers the glass thoughtfully, looking to her. "I wouldn't mind company."
"I wouldn't mind a stroll," Emmi says, taking a sip of her own wine and placing her glass once more on the table. "The din in here's a bit too overwhelming. I can't take so many people being so celebratory for so long."
"It must have been murder on you then. When you were knotted that is." Dalanor clarifies his first. "A phenomenal performance /and/ a knotting?" He downs the last of his glass and puts it down on the table before standing.
Emmi rises, as well, leaving the tail-end of her wine still in the glass. "It was so overwhelming, at a certain point, I wasn't sure it was really happening anymore," she admits, her expression turning to fond reminiscence. "And how does yours feel?"
"Ask me in the morning. I'm still.." Dalanor cants his head as it examine his own psyche. "I think its still sinking in. To be fair, it wasn't quite the dramatic event that yours was. Then, I also think I'm a little jaded to special events now... what with the build up at the hatching. I'm almost sorry for that. I should be more... something than I am now." He frowns at that and starts to wind his way around to the edge of the room and the exit.
Emmi follows Dalanor towards the exit of the room. "More...?" The one word is said questioning, curious. "Less dramatic is good. Mine was almost too much. I'm not the kind of girl who needs all that. Not that I'm complaining-- that evening was perfect."
Dalanor leads the way out into the courtyard and takes a deep breath as he looks into the sky. "Oh I don't mean more dramatic or more attention or anything like that. I mean more here..." He puts his hand over his heart. "I mean I feel a slight buzz of... accomplishment I suppose? Still, even at the hatching, with the moment right there before me, I couldn't get excited. It was as if I was guarding myself against failure. Not that I could affect that particular fate either way, but still."
Fort - Orchards along the River Bank
As you stroll the path to the riverbank and the lake, you pass through Fort's fragrant orchards. Rows upon rows of fruit trees follow the curves of the river for a fair distance. Redfruit, plum and pear trees are the most abundant, but there are rows dedicated to other types as well. The trees, depending on their variety, are at different stages.. some have only leaves, others are covered with a great deal of young fruit, ripening on the branch. The green grass below is soft and healthy, yet well trod upon by gardeners and beasts alike. The long shadows from the trees seem to be reach out for you just as the sun sets in the horizon.
After passing by the last row of fruit trees, there's a small grassy rise and then the river lies before you, widening to form a lake. The lakeshore is comprised of tiny smooth pebbles, whereas the riverbanks are littered with large boulders.
Beyond a row of trees, the roads leading throughout the Hold are visible, the
bank of the river barely visible in the opposite direction.
Emmi continues to talk quietly as the two Journeymen make their way out of the Hall proper and towards the orchards, obvious relief on her face at leaving the din of the dining room behind them. "It's a very different experience. I would think," she says. "This is work and skill and talent. A Hatching is luck and chance and who's right for the dragons that shell that day. Noemie and I were both hoping one'd pick you. Noemie, especially, and her Naijath, of course. I admit, a part of me was hoping a little that your place would be back here with us. You've talent and a heart for music."
Dalanor smiles softly at that, a hand reaching up to brush the branches overhead. "Its like a whole other world. I saw things I'd never have dreamed of. Things that'd make me blush. /Did/ make me blush. Still do I suppose." He hangs on a branch slightly, looking out at nothing. "It was a cross section of Pern... in all of its best and worst. With its own flare." He smiles wryly, glancing to Emmi. "But then you've been to Ista quite a bit I imagine."
"A bit. Not as much as I'd like. And I /still/ blush." Emmi tugs a leaf from a tree, rubbing it lightly between her fingers as she speaks. "Ista is its own place, certainly. Sometimes I'm surprised that my sister has made such a home for herself there. But then, we've always been two very different people."
Dalanor shrugs resignedly. "It was Naijath that made the decision for her I think. But I suppose she could have asked for a transfer if it really mattered to her." He lets the branch go and it springs back to its original state. "I have to admit I loved the water. But even for that, I always felt.. out of place? The women there were..." He chuckles lightly at some thought. "I think I once jested in a letter to Thirion that they were maneaters."
"The women there are... something," Emmi agrees. "Though a few of them that I've met are very nice." She tears bits from the leaf in her hands, letting them drop and flutter to the ground, and looks up at the sky through the trees. "It's gotten quite late, hasn't it? Perhaps we should head back. I have a habit of early mornings."
Dalanor nods agreeably. "So do I. Not that I think I'll sleep much tonight. And I agree. They are nice. Some of them are just... a little too friendly." He laughs. "To think. This coming from the guy who used to like flirting. It really gives you a sense of perspective." He looks back towards the Hall and offers Emmi his arm. "Too much of the holder in me, I bet. I don't mind being free with kindness. Affection is something else entirely." Put delicately to be sure.
"And free with affection, of a lesser kind-- to those deserving," Emmi amends, of her own perspective, her tone of voice layered in meaning-- she's picked up on the new Journeyman's delicate tone. She takes his arm with a thankful, tired look, and turns her step back towards the Hall. "A good evening, to be sure," she notes, on a vastly different topic.
What: Dalanor walks the tables, and afterwards Emmi joins him on a walk through the orchards.
Where: Dining Room, Harper Hall // Orchards, Fort Hold
When: Day 11, month 8, Turn 13, of the Interval. It is a summer evening.
Dining Room
This room is large, although only half the size of the magnificent Great Hall. The smooth flagged stone of the floor is kept scrupulously clean and has a faint sheen to its surface. The walls of stone are impervious to time, the only breaks in their stolidness being the large hearth inset on the east wall and the massive windows painstakingly carved into the bulk of the west wall. Thick, hinged metal shutters can be easily moved into place in inclement weather or during threadfall. Glow baskets wink from between narrow, painted cloth hangings. Taking up the bulk of the floor space are the tables, with three long trestles and benches in the middle. The smaller ovals of the journeyfolks' tables cluster to the north, with the Masters' large, round table to the south. Close to the hearth is a small table for the paying students.
A narrow door to the south leads down to the lower hallway, with the broader kitchen entrance to the southeast. Two large door, usually wide open, lead back north to the main hall.
It's the tail end of a rather riotous dinner hour, several promotions have already been announced and Master Rodric is clearing his throat and calling for attention again. "C'mon everyone, pipe down, there's more to go still!"
Dalanor is cheering. It seems the thing to do. But with every promotion where his name isn't given there's a diminished return in his enthusiasm. About now, he's down to a trio of claps and a faint smile of encouragement. Those around him don't ask why. He's likely not the only one nervous about his testing results.
"All right then, now next we have a young man who's returned to us after a stint Standing at Ista. He's proven himself dedicated to the Craft and we're thrilled to give him this knot this evening. "Dalanor! WALK!" Rodric says in a voice meant to carry. The chant is picked up all around the tables, several apprentices cheering and clapping.
Emmi has been sitting at her place at the table, clapping and chanting loudly at each turn. "Walk! Walk!" With each, her mood seems to get brighter. But it's when Dalanor's name is called by the Masterharper that a smile breaks on her face, and she turns to each of those beside her, sharing a grin.
Dalanor almost didn't catch his name. The din around him became deafening. He starts to look around for the lucky fellow when the pats on the back practically shove him out of his bench. He stands, trips, rolls to his feet and stands their poised like he meant to do that. It might even have been plausible but for the blush on his cheeks. A few gestures for his compatriots to calm themselves and he starts to head up towards the journeyman's tables with a bewildering display of expression on his face. Is he happy, confused, uncertain? Who knows. But then its probably the same mix of emotions that happens to every newly knotted former-apprentice.
Rodric crooks a finger at Emmi, inviting her up to the front of the room. "We have right here, a nice fresh knot for Dalanor, Apprentice Master, will you do the honors?"
Emmi rises from her place, still smiling widely. "I will indeed, sir," she says, coming to the front of the room and taking the new Journeyman's knot, then approaching the man it now belongs to. "Well done, Dalanor," she says warmly, before reaching to affix the knot in place. "You've earned this."
By the time Dalanor's reached the front where Master Rodric and Emmi stand, he's gained his composure back and walks more confidently. In fact, he eyes the knot curiously. "Nice and fresh, eh? Does that mean I have to eat it right away? I mean you work so hard for these things I'd hate to not be able to savor it."
"Well if you eat it then I won't be able to post you out now, will I? For now though, we're keeping you here to assist with some of the classes." Master Rodric sticks his hand out towards Dalanor, grinning as Emmi pins the knot in place. "Congratulations Journeyman Dalanor. Go take your place amongst your fellows."
"And I doubt you'd find it very tasty, anyway," Emmi remarks, smiling back at the Masterharper, then once more at Dalanor. "Congratulations, Journeyman!" she echoes, "And savor the moment, if not literally the knot itself. I guarantee it's one you'll remember."
Dalanor clasps the hand of the Master firmly. "Ahh. Well. We can't have that now can we?" He nods, more of an almost bow, and then looks to Emmi with a broad smile. "I don't doubt it." He looks to his shoulder as if to burn the image into his mind before moving out of the way towards the journeymans' tables lest there be others getting congratulated tonight.
There's more applause and Rodric calls a few more names and postings and at last it's over, the apprentice tables thinned out considerably. "Now I'd like to make a brief announcement!" The masterharper calls out through the din, face growing more serious.
Emmi returns, as well, to her seat a the journeyman's table, continuing to clap and cheer as the rest of the apprentices-turned-journeymen make their way. At the last, she turns her attention towards the Masterharper.
Dalanor sits, still a bit in a daze, as he lets the moment sink in. When Rodric calls for attention again, he glances towards the Master with the curiosity that's been trained, if not already bred, into him.
"I'm sure by now, that you've all heard about the Threadfall over Crom and the confusion of two Weyrs flying that Fall. There were many injuries and lives lost. I'd like to take a moment of silence for remembrance, and also reiterate that whatever you may hear, there's no blame to lay here. I am however going to ask some of you, especially archivists, to assist with some research in the archives about situations where two Weyrs could be said to provide coverage for the same area." He smiles around at the group then, solemnly. "All right then, silence please for a moment."
Emmi nods solemnly with a look of recognition-- yes, she's heard. Her eyes close and her hands fold in her lap in silence as a blanket of quiet falls over the room. She breathes in and out, deeply, contemplatively, at thoughts of those lost in the confusion of that 'Fall.
Dalanor could very well have been one of those people. Not now, but if he'd impressed... and in the future... but in some tangent of his mind he empathizes. He's seen threadscored mounts and dragons firsthand. Been told the stories and learned the dangers. A shadow crosses his face as morbid reflections cross his mind and settle into a vague sense of loss. Then something more specific.
The Masterharper joins the others in waiting head bowed then he lifts his eyes up and looks across the crowd. "I'm counting on all of you not to spread any unfounded rumors, or lend any credence to anything you might hear that isn't true. As harpers, even apprentices, your word carries weight." He waits a moment to let that sink in then clears his throat smile returning. "That's all for the serious things, now let's celebrate, all apprentice will be getting a glass of wine or mug of ale tonight to toast our new Journeymen! Congratulations all, enjoy your evening. Also don't forget to say your good-byes to those posting out."
Emmi looks up from the moment of silence and back to Master Rodric, listening attentively and nodding as he continues to speaks. After he finishes, it takes several beats for her cheerfulness to return, but even the serious young woman is swayed once more by the sense of celebration in the room. She reaches for her wine glass, raising it high in yet another toast to the newcomers to the table and to those soon departing. She turns to look at Dalanor, a nod of her glass in his direction.
Dalanor smiles back across the table to Emmi and lifts his own in reply. "It would seem that at least some good comes to those with patience. I'd move along to the next great ambition but I think, at least for tonight, I'll savor the moment."
Rodric walks amongst the tables, shaking hands and offering more congratulations and quiet words of wisdom or a joke, then slips away when the merriment is at its height, face rather drawn and serious.
Emmi misses the departure of the Masterharper among the chaos of celebration in the room, her attention instead on Dalanor. "There's a time and place for ambition," she says wisely. "Me? I think you're ambition's brought you somewhere today. So you're right. Your next great ambition can be chosen in the morning."
Dalanor chuckles, taking a sip from his wine once he's calmed himself. "In the morning. Which does rather leave me with a long night free. I was thinking I might go out for a stroll. Evening's about the best time for it if you want any relief from the heat." He lowers the glass thoughtfully, looking to her. "I wouldn't mind company."
"I wouldn't mind a stroll," Emmi says, taking a sip of her own wine and placing her glass once more on the table. "The din in here's a bit too overwhelming. I can't take so many people being so celebratory for so long."
"It must have been murder on you then. When you were knotted that is." Dalanor clarifies his first. "A phenomenal performance /and/ a knotting?" He downs the last of his glass and puts it down on the table before standing.
Emmi rises, as well, leaving the tail-end of her wine still in the glass. "It was so overwhelming, at a certain point, I wasn't sure it was really happening anymore," she admits, her expression turning to fond reminiscence. "And how does yours feel?"
"Ask me in the morning. I'm still.." Dalanor cants his head as it examine his own psyche. "I think its still sinking in. To be fair, it wasn't quite the dramatic event that yours was. Then, I also think I'm a little jaded to special events now... what with the build up at the hatching. I'm almost sorry for that. I should be more... something than I am now." He frowns at that and starts to wind his way around to the edge of the room and the exit.
Emmi follows Dalanor towards the exit of the room. "More...?" The one word is said questioning, curious. "Less dramatic is good. Mine was almost too much. I'm not the kind of girl who needs all that. Not that I'm complaining-- that evening was perfect."
Dalanor leads the way out into the courtyard and takes a deep breath as he looks into the sky. "Oh I don't mean more dramatic or more attention or anything like that. I mean more here..." He puts his hand over his heart. "I mean I feel a slight buzz of... accomplishment I suppose? Still, even at the hatching, with the moment right there before me, I couldn't get excited. It was as if I was guarding myself against failure. Not that I could affect that particular fate either way, but still."
Fort - Orchards along the River Bank
As you stroll the path to the riverbank and the lake, you pass through Fort's fragrant orchards. Rows upon rows of fruit trees follow the curves of the river for a fair distance. Redfruit, plum and pear trees are the most abundant, but there are rows dedicated to other types as well. The trees, depending on their variety, are at different stages.. some have only leaves, others are covered with a great deal of young fruit, ripening on the branch. The green grass below is soft and healthy, yet well trod upon by gardeners and beasts alike. The long shadows from the trees seem to be reach out for you just as the sun sets in the horizon.
After passing by the last row of fruit trees, there's a small grassy rise and then the river lies before you, widening to form a lake. The lakeshore is comprised of tiny smooth pebbles, whereas the riverbanks are littered with large boulders.
Beyond a row of trees, the roads leading throughout the Hold are visible, the
bank of the river barely visible in the opposite direction.
Emmi continues to talk quietly as the two Journeymen make their way out of the Hall proper and towards the orchards, obvious relief on her face at leaving the din of the dining room behind them. "It's a very different experience. I would think," she says. "This is work and skill and talent. A Hatching is luck and chance and who's right for the dragons that shell that day. Noemie and I were both hoping one'd pick you. Noemie, especially, and her Naijath, of course. I admit, a part of me was hoping a little that your place would be back here with us. You've talent and a heart for music."
Dalanor smiles softly at that, a hand reaching up to brush the branches overhead. "Its like a whole other world. I saw things I'd never have dreamed of. Things that'd make me blush. /Did/ make me blush. Still do I suppose." He hangs on a branch slightly, looking out at nothing. "It was a cross section of Pern... in all of its best and worst. With its own flare." He smiles wryly, glancing to Emmi. "But then you've been to Ista quite a bit I imagine."
"A bit. Not as much as I'd like. And I /still/ blush." Emmi tugs a leaf from a tree, rubbing it lightly between her fingers as she speaks. "Ista is its own place, certainly. Sometimes I'm surprised that my sister has made such a home for herself there. But then, we've always been two very different people."
Dalanor shrugs resignedly. "It was Naijath that made the decision for her I think. But I suppose she could have asked for a transfer if it really mattered to her." He lets the branch go and it springs back to its original state. "I have to admit I loved the water. But even for that, I always felt.. out of place? The women there were..." He chuckles lightly at some thought. "I think I once jested in a letter to Thirion that they were maneaters."
"The women there are... something," Emmi agrees. "Though a few of them that I've met are very nice." She tears bits from the leaf in her hands, letting them drop and flutter to the ground, and looks up at the sky through the trees. "It's gotten quite late, hasn't it? Perhaps we should head back. I have a habit of early mornings."
Dalanor nods agreeably. "So do I. Not that I think I'll sleep much tonight. And I agree. They are nice. Some of them are just... a little too friendly." He laughs. "To think. This coming from the guy who used to like flirting. It really gives you a sense of perspective." He looks back towards the Hall and offers Emmi his arm. "Too much of the holder in me, I bet. I don't mind being free with kindness. Affection is something else entirely." Put delicately to be sure.
"And free with affection, of a lesser kind-- to those deserving," Emmi amends, of her own perspective, her tone of voice layered in meaning-- she's picked up on the new Journeyman's delicate tone. She takes his arm with a thankful, tired look, and turns her step back towards the Hall. "A good evening, to be sure," she notes, on a vastly different topic.