Paladins at Meica
(Abandoned; preserve/pick up for 'The Dwarven Paladin' whenever)
The grounds of Meica chapter were growing fuller and fuller every week. Anina stared right and left as she hurried through the gates, looking at all the tired, dirty faces on either side. The tents and lean-tos against the buildings of the chapter had made a city out of every available space.
For all that, though, there was very little despair in the air. There was a bit of unhappiness - Anina didn’t like to think how some of them had suffered - and perhaps a wee bit too much restlessness, but on the whole, it was just expectancy. No-one imagined for a moment that the Paladins wouldn’t have things sorted out, given time. Nor did Anina.
She was brought back to herself by a polite little voice asking her for some of her bread. It was a little boy in the remnants of a lovely pair of shoes; he’d probably never had opportunity to beg before all this. She grinned and broke some off for him, but then hurried away before an unquenchable shower of other people’s requests could follow.
“Anina! Anina!” someone kept calling insistently as she prepared to retreat around the dormitory building. She turned, hugging her two loaves a little closer.
It was old Kylar, sitting in the shade of the shallow eaves. He waved her over as she turned to look, so she approached cautiously.
“Keep your bread, girl,” he said, shaking his head impatiently at her hesitation. “I don’t like to think how you paid for it. Has there been any change in town?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” she replied, sighing. “No more refugees coming, though.”
“Ah. Well, that’s one thing.” He sagged back against the building.
“Our Paladins are planning another ride-out soon, though,” she said encouragingly. “And there are reinforcements coming from Lystich way.”
Kylar brightened. “How do you always know all these things, girl?” he laughed. A moment after it had escaped his lips, his expression began to freeze, but Anina squared both shoulders and glared at him.
“For shame,” she snapped. It felt strange, because usually people were saying it to her, but oddly enjoyable. That was probably why they did it. “Shame on the thought and the lack of grace, old man. None of our Paladins would ever consort with my like.”
She left him mumbling excuses into his lap, sweeping on with that same strangely empowering feeling of righteous indignation, and rounded the dormitory corner to look for her ladder. Sometimes Mieda moved it, or accidentally knocked it down.
It was right where she’d left it today. Anina gathered her two loaves under one arm and started to climb, hardly noticing the willowy sway and buck of the wicker any more.
With the ease of practice she climbed right up to the roof, striding over the shingles with more confidence than she probably should have felt. The chapter spread out below and around her, a patchy quilt of proper buildings and tents and people. Its scattered trees poked above the mess of it all, but without much dignity; all but the hardest to climb were draped like flagpoles with washing and blankets being aired.
Poor things, she thought. I bet they’d all love to be house-mice like me right now.
Then she bent down at the gap in the roof which led into her crawlspace - her residence - and went inside, bemused by the second irony of the day.
It was actually a comfortable place to live. Genuinely so, and especially now that all the Paladins and chapter staff had moved into the one building, warming it with their body-heat. The crawlspace was bright, too; light shone up from the dormitory through dozens of large rafter-cracks, some of them big enough to stick two fingers through … or peek through.
Anina crawled right in, careful of her knees against the wood.
“Mum!” Mieda exclaimed. She was sitting in one corner, dandling Oi on her twiggy knees. “Watch this! I can make him dance!”
And now, as always - almost always - Anina felt another day’s heaviness slide away behind her. The good part of the day had begun again, making the rest of it quite irrelevant, but more necessary than ever.
“Come and eat,” she instructed, waving the bread. “And pass Mumma an apple from the - oh, bubbles, you washed the clothes!”
“Yeah,” drawled Mieda, glancing casually at the laundry as if it hadn’t been arranged for Mumma’s notice, and handed Oi over while she went for the apple.
Anina kissed his hair and tried to interest her grave little boy in a jiggling bit of bread.
“No,” said Oi. He didn’t speak many words yet, but he was very good with that one.
“Be good,” she said absently. “Look, it’s flying. Flying bread’s not easy to come by, you know -”
There were noises down below. Muffled voices and footsteps. Anina felt the smile spread full across her face.
“Quick, Mieda, the Paladins are back,” she urged, and Mieda crowded over at once to listen, squashing her face up against one of the rafter-gaps.
First to come in was Myrcain. Anina knew him from his perennially low, sleepy voice, and brightened even more the moment she heard it. Myrcain had been gone for a few days, and the others had just started to worry about him.
“Four,” said Myrcain down below. “Not too - ah, hello there, Nuni.” Nuni was one of the cooks. She did amazing things with pumpkins, everyone agreed. Her son was in Ittis chapter. “Yes, not too bad, all in all. I had the good luck of arriving when they had two rovers in, so we'll be getting good help.”
“Quite a lot of them drifting around this area now,” said Twynnar. Twynnar was adorable. He sang random little snatches of song whenever he walked around the chapter, particularly when he was hammering up new shingles on the roof. “No wonder, of course.”
“Interesting pair, too. Both originally from Scala, I think. One’s a Dwarf and the other’s a Wood Elf, so it’s all rather bardic.”
“Aha!” Suthryn’s rougher voice exclaimed. “I’ve met that Dwarf, I’m sure of it. Agreddwyn chapter.”
“You mean you saw a town further than a mile away before you settled?” asked Myrcain slyly.
“His name was Lukhin,” said Suthryn with icy dudgeon. “Lovely fellow. Not like some rovers cluttering up the place.”
“Oh, the dust is caught upon the road
But settles on the same old trail …”
“Twynnar. Not the Rover’s Song. I’m very serious.”
“Why, yes, Suthryn, you are.”
Anina settled back, playing with irritable Oi’s feet, listening contentedly to the Paladins’ ongoing chatter down below. It was amazing how good friendship could make you feel, even when it wasn’t aimed directly at you.
She had lived in the roof for three years now - far longer than all the refugees outside, and longer than Myrcain or Twynnar had been in Meica. Successive Paladins let her stay without interference, since she was a little bit unwelcome in other places of refuge. Suthryn’s children still played with her Mieda sometimes, or so she’d gathered from her cheery burbling.
The Paladins had used to leave food for her, as well. She understood why they couldn’t spare it now. And she could never, never grudge them her present need to go into town and work the ladyless trade almost every day. The voices below kept her happy and strong, much as Bubbles and Oi did.
“Mum,” said Mieda eagerly, “I’ve seen Dwarves before, haven’t I?”
“Yes, bub. You’ve seen a few. And an Elf, once, though you might have been too young to remember.”
“Can I call down and ask them when the new Paladins will get here?”
“No, don’t shout down from the roof. It’s rude to eavesdrop.”
“But we always do!” she grinned, rolling onto her back to put her feet up against a brace-beam.
“Ah, but that’s our secret,” Anina grinned back. “No-one has to know. House mice, remember?”
“Okay.”
“Want to go play? You’ve been stuck inside all day.”
“Yeah.”
“Come back before it gets properly dark, though.”
“Yeah.”
Anina watched Mieda shoot out the ‘door’ and onto the roof, feeling a faint swell of pride as always for the shoes on her girl’s feet and the clothes keeping her warm.
Then she lay back to listen to the lovely, bright voices below, happy in the knowledge that she was a part of their daily lives whether they knew it or not.
(unsc.)
“The kids used to tell her horrible things.”
“True things?”
“What does that matter? They were still horrible things. I want her to grow up with good things - food and warmth and Paladins. And Oi, too. They’ll both go a different way.”
The grounds of Meica chapter were growing fuller and fuller every week. Anina stared right and left as she hurried through the gates, looking at all the tired, dirty faces on either side. The tents and lean-tos against the buildings of the chapter had made a city out of every available space.
For all that, though, there was very little despair in the air. There was a bit of unhappiness - Anina didn’t like to think how some of them had suffered - and perhaps a wee bit too much restlessness, but on the whole, it was just expectancy. No-one imagined for a moment that the Paladins wouldn’t have things sorted out, given time. Nor did Anina.
She was brought back to herself by a polite little voice asking her for some of her bread. It was a little boy in the remnants of a lovely pair of shoes; he’d probably never had opportunity to beg before all this. She grinned and broke some off for him, but then hurried away before an unquenchable shower of other people’s requests could follow.
“Anina! Anina!” someone kept calling insistently as she prepared to retreat around the dormitory building. She turned, hugging her two loaves a little closer.
It was old Kylar, sitting in the shade of the shallow eaves. He waved her over as she turned to look, so she approached cautiously.
“Keep your bread, girl,” he said, shaking his head impatiently at her hesitation. “I don’t like to think how you paid for it. Has there been any change in town?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” she replied, sighing. “No more refugees coming, though.”
“Ah. Well, that’s one thing.” He sagged back against the building.
“Our Paladins are planning another ride-out soon, though,” she said encouragingly. “And there are reinforcements coming from Lystich way.”
Kylar brightened. “How do you always know all these things, girl?” he laughed. A moment after it had escaped his lips, his expression began to freeze, but Anina squared both shoulders and glared at him.
“For shame,” she snapped. It felt strange, because usually people were saying it to her, but oddly enjoyable. That was probably why they did it. “Shame on the thought and the lack of grace, old man. None of our Paladins would ever consort with my like.”
She left him mumbling excuses into his lap, sweeping on with that same strangely empowering feeling of righteous indignation, and rounded the dormitory corner to look for her ladder. Sometimes Mieda moved it, or accidentally knocked it down.
It was right where she’d left it today. Anina gathered her two loaves under one arm and started to climb, hardly noticing the willowy sway and buck of the wicker any more.
With the ease of practice she climbed right up to the roof, striding over the shingles with more confidence than she probably should have felt. The chapter spread out below and around her, a patchy quilt of proper buildings and tents and people. Its scattered trees poked above the mess of it all, but without much dignity; all but the hardest to climb were draped like flagpoles with washing and blankets being aired.
Poor things, she thought. I bet they’d all love to be house-mice like me right now.
Then she bent down at the gap in the roof which led into her crawlspace - her residence - and went inside, bemused by the second irony of the day.
It was actually a comfortable place to live. Genuinely so, and especially now that all the Paladins and chapter staff had moved into the one building, warming it with their body-heat. The crawlspace was bright, too; light shone up from the dormitory through dozens of large rafter-cracks, some of them big enough to stick two fingers through … or peek through.
Anina crawled right in, careful of her knees against the wood.
“Mum!” Mieda exclaimed. She was sitting in one corner, dandling Oi on her twiggy knees. “Watch this! I can make him dance!”
And now, as always - almost always - Anina felt another day’s heaviness slide away behind her. The good part of the day had begun again, making the rest of it quite irrelevant, but more necessary than ever.
“Come and eat,” she instructed, waving the bread. “And pass Mumma an apple from the - oh, bubbles, you washed the clothes!”
“Yeah,” drawled Mieda, glancing casually at the laundry as if it hadn’t been arranged for Mumma’s notice, and handed Oi over while she went for the apple.
Anina kissed his hair and tried to interest her grave little boy in a jiggling bit of bread.
“No,” said Oi. He didn’t speak many words yet, but he was very good with that one.
“Be good,” she said absently. “Look, it’s flying. Flying bread’s not easy to come by, you know -”
There were noises down below. Muffled voices and footsteps. Anina felt the smile spread full across her face.
“Quick, Mieda, the Paladins are back,” she urged, and Mieda crowded over at once to listen, squashing her face up against one of the rafter-gaps.
First to come in was Myrcain. Anina knew him from his perennially low, sleepy voice, and brightened even more the moment she heard it. Myrcain had been gone for a few days, and the others had just started to worry about him.
“Four,” said Myrcain down below. “Not too - ah, hello there, Nuni.” Nuni was one of the cooks. She did amazing things with pumpkins, everyone agreed. Her son was in Ittis chapter. “Yes, not too bad, all in all. I had the good luck of arriving when they had two rovers in, so we'll be getting good help.”
“Quite a lot of them drifting around this area now,” said Twynnar. Twynnar was adorable. He sang random little snatches of song whenever he walked around the chapter, particularly when he was hammering up new shingles on the roof. “No wonder, of course.”
“Interesting pair, too. Both originally from Scala, I think. One’s a Dwarf and the other’s a Wood Elf, so it’s all rather bardic.”
“Aha!” Suthryn’s rougher voice exclaimed. “I’ve met that Dwarf, I’m sure of it. Agreddwyn chapter.”
“You mean you saw a town further than a mile away before you settled?” asked Myrcain slyly.
“His name was Lukhin,” said Suthryn with icy dudgeon. “Lovely fellow. Not like some rovers cluttering up the place.”
“Oh, the dust is caught upon the road
But settles on the same old trail …”
“Twynnar. Not the Rover’s Song. I’m very serious.”
“Why, yes, Suthryn, you are.”
Anina settled back, playing with irritable Oi’s feet, listening contentedly to the Paladins’ ongoing chatter down below. It was amazing how good friendship could make you feel, even when it wasn’t aimed directly at you.
She had lived in the roof for three years now - far longer than all the refugees outside, and longer than Myrcain or Twynnar had been in Meica. Successive Paladins let her stay without interference, since she was a little bit unwelcome in other places of refuge. Suthryn’s children still played with her Mieda sometimes, or so she’d gathered from her cheery burbling.
The Paladins had used to leave food for her, as well. She understood why they couldn’t spare it now. And she could never, never grudge them her present need to go into town and work the ladyless trade almost every day. The voices below kept her happy and strong, much as Bubbles and Oi did.
“Mum,” said Mieda eagerly, “I’ve seen Dwarves before, haven’t I?”
“Yes, bub. You’ve seen a few. And an Elf, once, though you might have been too young to remember.”
“Can I call down and ask them when the new Paladins will get here?”
“No, don’t shout down from the roof. It’s rude to eavesdrop.”
“But we always do!” she grinned, rolling onto her back to put her feet up against a brace-beam.
“Ah, but that’s our secret,” Anina grinned back. “No-one has to know. House mice, remember?”
“Okay.”
“Want to go play? You’ve been stuck inside all day.”
“Yeah.”
“Come back before it gets properly dark, though.”
“Yeah.”
Anina watched Mieda shoot out the ‘door’ and onto the roof, feeling a faint swell of pride as always for the shoes on her girl’s feet and the clothes keeping her warm.
Then she lay back to listen to the lovely, bright voices below, happy in the knowledge that she was a part of their daily lives whether they knew it or not.
(unsc.)
“The kids used to tell her horrible things.”
“True things?”
“What does that matter? They were still horrible things. I want her to grow up with good things - food and warmth and Paladins. And Oi, too. They’ll both go a different way.”