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The Heartwood
Waverider’s Watch
The Dirkwood Forest, One Day East of Waverider’s Watch
Marketday, the Fourth Day of Yrick

Pietro and Lyric

Now that was interesting.

For Petro and Djinni, the ride lately had been quiet. They had been told a few farmhouses back that this was indeed a trail that he was on, but that it was a Rhoni trail, one that ran towards sunset only a crossbow shot away from the Dirkwood Forest.

Indeed, the Forest cast such a dark shadow he could understand why only the mainland’s most experienced wanderers traveled this way. It was secluded, almost secret, and if one were not used to open fields, wolf howls and the yowling of slinks, one would probably swear off traveling. That and the Dirkwood had a palatable pall. It just felt dark, angry and hungry.

Djinni just whuffled; she was a quiet mare, rock steady. She wasn’t even really fierce for a destrier. But as one of the older Knights used to say, “...mare, stallion, gelding, it doesn’t matter. The best destrier is the one with the one that works best with you and is not afraid to fight.”

And he and Djinni were a team.

The last few days had been different, however.

He knew he should be getting close to the sea; he had traveled enough days that there could not be too many left at all. There were even times he could have sworn he tasted salt in the air.

The farmers, they had been telling an odd story over a shared meal, one heard from their neighbors, which placed it about a day south. The story said that a large number of horsemen were also riding to the west. But he had not seen any sign of them; probably because they were – if they actually existed – a day to the south. Out here, that probably meant Jvrillians; but beholden to who? Not the Kories. Yes, they did hire mercenaries, but they served in the city – the whole purpose of the manor system was to provide non-mercenary footmen and Knights to serve the Noble Lords.

Especially since these lands, technically, belonged to the youngest of them. And he did not seem to be the type to hire folks out. His allowance probably wasn’t that big.

But that wasn’t what had intrigued him this afternoon.

It was that he wasn’t alone on the trail.

He had just topped a small hill... which wasn’t odd at all. The fields in this area not only had lots of hills, but scattered bits of trees, large rocks from foot to house side, and many small creeks and little streams. Topping the hill, he was looking down on another traveler.

This one was walking all alone on the path ahead of him and seemed to be heading in the same direction.

And that person had noticed him.

Lyric had been walking these fields for several rising and settings of the sun. Lyric’s own travels were but recently begun. Task set, walking from home to here, and finding mostly nothing. The sun was nicely warm, which was a comfort, and the weather had been pleasant, which was also new. But it did nothing to aid in the completion, let alone the very start, of a journey.

So when of the first person seen was a man upon a horse, definitely armored, looking down from the top of the hill...

...well it was definitely a first.

This was definitely a more interesting discovery than the horse tracks that had been seen a day past and a day south.

So far, one looking up, one looking down... and no one had drawn steel or tried to kill each other.

In its own way, another first.

Lyric

The brown haired girl would appear to be of little threat to escape. She was on foot, with a rucksack style of pack nearby her there at the edge of the road. She herself stood a few feet away from it just off the road on the grassy embankment. She was holding a scratch of gathered flowers in her hands. An assortment of blossoms and their leafy stems and she sniffed them as she looked up that last hill she had only just recently walked, at him. There was no horse anywhere near her, nor had there been any evidence along the trail the shiny knight had ridden this day...

And so, the chance she might escape an armored knight astride of warhorse was nigh on unlikely, if not impossible. She certainly didn't seem inclined to try either it seemed, for when her eyes lit upon something nearby to her, too far away for the knight himself to see clearly at his distance, she turned her attention from him and stepped through the obscuring tall grasses to investigate.

Turning her attention away from the knight on the hill indeed. The girl beamed at the newest find. Taking up the thin fabrics of her light tunic so she could step through the grasses to get where she now needed to be, she moved several steps further along the embankment and down a little farther from the road itself. She knelt for a moment, mostly obscured in the grasses, but it didn't last long.

More flowers. Her scratch had definitely become more like two handfuls worth of blossoms. She smelled them again and her shoulders fell a little, perhaps relaxed, in the contentment.

She looked back up the hill she had recently walked... and she smiled at the shiny knight, on a horse, upon a hill.

And why not?

It was Yrick, and Harvest Season brought out the last blooming of the wildflowers. She was warm, and that made her warm as well, and the air was a breeze of scents, and the flowers' fragrance was intoxicating.

The shiny knight, on a horse, upon a hill, his intentions as unclear as his purpose upon the trail, was not now... now was where she stood. The shiny man was then, and when he came down the hill, as he was almost certain to do, because this was the path and he was on and the direction he travelled, then he would be here in the now. But now was now and then was then, one becomes the next but never do they meet. There is always another now.

Until then became now she would enjoy her flowers.

That might make a very nice song...

Pietro


Reaching forward to pat his mounts neck caused a slight bell-like tinkle from the ornament - a darksteel wagon wheel - hanging from a silver chain around his neck. Pietro lifted it briefly and spun it, enjoying the slight sounds it made but not necessarily cheered by the thoughts and memories it brought to him. He dropped the pendant and clapped his horse on the neck.

"You don't remember your dam any more than I remember my mother, do you, Djinni, my friend."

When he'd patted Djinni's neck, he noticed that the red horse mark with the two gold stripes was nearly worn away. He thought briefly that he might not freshen the horsemark any time soon; while the mare pretty much ignored it once it had dried, she did so hate having it applied.

Besides, the red and gold emblem was repeated on the small guidon at the end of his lance and then again, in a way, on his small buckler shield, a round steel target painted red with two concentric gold circles around its rim. That was enough to let anyone know of his fealty to Lord Rames even if his demeanor did not do so.

Pietro adjusted the handaxe hanging from the right side of his belt and the shortsword on his left as he and Djinni crested the small hill and then stopped.

There was a woman down below on the trail, a young woman walking and, yes, gathering flowers. She looked up at him and seemed to smile but she was yet a long way off and he could not be entirely sure of her expression. The squire looked around, saw no horse, no companions, and the smile which had started to appear in response to hers froze. He looked around again to make sure there were no imminent threats to the young lady, saw none, relaxed and lifted a hand in greeting.

Pietro leaned forward and the mare, understanding, resumed her measured pace along the path and down the hill toward the young woman. Pietro smiled as they approached her, pulled Djinni to a halt and dismounted in one smooth movement.

Somehow he did not want to be looking down at her.

"I greet you in the name of Lord Rames," he said with a smile.

"It appears to be a fine day for the gathering of blossoms."

Lyric

While it was not a truly a road, the path itself might as well have been for it was really the only sign of civilization in these parts. And, as paths go, this might as well be a road, for whoever trod the earth to still the growth of grasses over time, had understood that higher ground, although winding along the contours of the terrain, would endure the encroachment of the grasses and the passage of time between the treks made by the path-treaders better than a mostly direct route.

The looming Dirkwood was altogether too close for the comfort of most, but the girl seemed oblivious in her carefree contentment. If one could throw a stone very far, or perhaps fire a crossbow bolt then one might have a fair chance to hit a tree at the edge of the dark and oppressive wood. That was how close it was to the path.

The shiny knight, on a horse, upon a hill was no longer on the hill as he rode closer and closer and was once then but that became now. She still lacked worry or concern for either her circumstance or his the shiny knight's approach.

She watched as the shiny knight, in a clatter of clanging metal dropped from the horse more gracefully than she assumed he might be able given the extra weight he carried.

Lyric shifted her focus to the knight's horse, her own eyes soft, trying to meet those of the warhorse. The animal was so very pretty. But her attention was drawn back to the man as he announced himself in a formal greeting. He upon the path, her a few feet down the grassy embankment, she affected a bow of sorts... perhaps even courtly, after a fashion.

"My Lord," she replied with deference and courtesy. Her accent was that of the High Tarn. "Forgive me, I must seem terribly awkward, for I did not recognize one such as yourself, of such stature and prestige to be named after a God, would wander the same path as I this chase of She across the sky."

She kept the slight bow and offered both handfuls of flowers out to him. "If you wish them, you may have them M'Lord."

Pietro


She was lovely and seemed the very essence of innocence and amity and he wondered how she had managed to appear here alone, so far away from home and hearth.

He held up a hand in a slight forestalling, or correcting, gesture.

"Oh, I am not a lord, milady, and neither am I named for Lord Rames. That would be a terrible presumption on my or my parent's part."

He smiled and glanced up at the sun as She crossed the sky.

"I am merely a squire dedicated to the service of Lord Rames the Protector. My name is Pietro."

He decided this occasion deserved a bit more formality.

"Pietro Keir Hansson, late of Talantal." He noticed her attention to his mount.

"And this is Djinni, my friend."

Pietro leaned forward and smelled the flowers when she presented them to him. He smiled and selected one of the flowers, a red one, of course, and tucked its stem under the edge of his chain hauberk.

"Perhaps just one."

Lyric

Of all the things he said, by way of a proper introduction and one she now understood more clearly, his mention of the horse's name and relationship was the first thing she responded to.

"Yes... she is," the girl replied, again looking at the horse. It was a confident reply at that, as if she were stating a fact she could perceive.

She nodded again as he took his choice of flowers and tucked it into the shirt of woven metal links.

"I am called Lyric," she added as she looked at the flower... a symbol of peace atop that of war. It looked as though she might get lost in thought staring at the single red flower. She was certainly in no hurry.

Pietro


Lyric... what an odd name... he thought.

"Lyric... what an... interesting name. Are you then a singer of songs?"

Pietro stepped back and reached into a coarse jute bag hanging from the mare's saddle and pulled out three small apples.

"Would you like an apple?" he asked Lyric as he held one out for Djinni to take.

"They are not the prettiest, not like shiny Winelace or Westkeeps, but they are firm and tart and..." he grinned, "sweet and juicy."

"They are called Sugar Crisps and Djinni and I like them."





<< editied to Heartwood-ize the apple types; Winelace from Highgaard and Westkeeps from the lands about Sherman's Keep >>

Lyric

"I am," she stated without hesitation. The accompanying nod of her head and widening eyes matched her smile. "A singer of songs, yes."

She watched him reach for a bag hung from his friend's saddle, and she took another deep sniff of her remaining flowers, the fragrance giving her a visible sense of happy contentment. But all of that stopped the moment he withdrew the three pieces of fruit. She looked at Pietro of the Many Names, and then the fruit and back to him. She offered an eager nod.

"You are very kind to ask."

She could feel the saliva in her mouth building and she swallowed. There was a hopeful anticipation as he shifted all the flowers to one hand, but didn't dare extend the now empty one. He hadn't actually offered her the fruit, but rather just asked her if she would like one of them, and it would be rude to be presumptuous of the Knight's abundance of provisions that he set aside for himself and his friend. She watched as he offered one to Djinni and her smile widened at the interaction between them. But it was the hope that she hadn't misread the Knight and that he would offer one to her as well that dominated her thoughts in the now.

Pietro


The squire looked at the apples in his hand and, after a moment, nodded slightly and, selecting the one with the fewer blemishes, extended it toward her.

"I hope you like it as much as we do."

Pietro took a bite of the one in his other hand and chewed it happily as the juices burst from its ruptured flesh and filled his mouth.

Lyric

"...very generous as well," she added softly with yet another nod. She allowed him to drop the apple into her hand as that seemed most appropriate and sensible given their respective stations. He a Knight of Lord Rames and she... not.

Lyric drew the apple close to her face and she smelled it deeply. Her eyes closed, the inhalation was protracted, as if she were trying to extract every bit of scent from the skin of the apple itself.

Her eyes fluttered open briefly, her smile ever widening until it seemed her face couldn't possibly contain the joy she expressed. Following suit, she too bit into the apple, allowing her teeth to rend the crisp skin and tear into the meaty, fibrous meat of the apple. Immediately her eyes closed again as she was awash in the taste and texture and smell that flooded her. If Pietro were a worldly man, and there was no presumption made in the telling of this either way, then he might recognize that her current impassioned expression, with eyes closed, combined to the soft shudder and shiver he might witness, was something quite akin to an orgasm. Despite the indelicacy of the appearance of such she certainly seemed oblivious to him now as the fruit-born sensations kept her in a state of rapture as she started to chew.

Pietro

Well, there was hardly a doubt that she was enjoying the apple, In fact her reaction was almost... well, embarrassing was the only word for it. Pietro blinked several times, swallowed and cleared his throat.

"Well, uh... glad you like it," he said, his voice just slightly hoarse.

Again Pietro looked around the area, gauging their surroundings as had become a habit to him, for any possible threats. He frowned slightly as he looked at Lyric.

The one question that kept echoing in his head was an obvious one, but he was not sure how exactly to ask it, how she might react. He did not want to upset her and she was... well, she seemed a bit odd.

Nice, but odd.

"Uh... Lyric," he said and paused briefly.

"Are you waiting for someone? You're not out here all alone, are you?"

Lyric

If there was anything that Lyric could claim to be an expert at, then it might be the fact that she could read an audience by the very sounds they made, from their breathing and heart rates, the nervous non-verbal cues, throat clearing, to the changes in their vocal intonations, in pitch and tenor.

She opened her eyes, halting her next bite of the apple, red lips wrapping the fruit as she looked wide-eyed at her benefactor.

Slowly, sensing a misstep in etiquette, she pulled the fruit away from her mouth. The bite marks all but revealing the second advance through the apple's skin.

She thought to wipe her mouth upon her sleeve, but even where she came from that would be quite rude. But, allowing the juice to roll like a dribble from her lips to her chin felt just as unseemly. So she settled for a quick lick of her lips before speaking again.

"Yes, thank you so much. It... is... wondrous."

She glanced at the apple, remembering her place, and made a mental vow to keep her exuberance in check... or to at least try harder.

"No, kind Ser."

When she couldn't resist the tickle on her chin, she wiped the droplet forming there with the heel of the hand that held the apple whilst masking the effort with the flowers from the other. It was awkward at best.

"I am not waiting on any one. Though I will admit when I saw you crest the hill, I did wait... It would have been rude to ignore you. And so, now that you are here with me in the now, I am not alone."

Pietro


Yes, definitely odd... still nice, but she seemed almost... Pietro searched for words which would describe something - someone - new to him.

She seemed almost ethereal, almost as if she only partially inhabited what Pietro considered the real world. She was definitely one worthy of his protection, however.

While he considered all this, Pietro reached into his saddlebag, rummaged around a bit and came out with a slightly rumpled, but clean linen handkerchief which he extended toward her.

"Here, try this," he said, smiling.

"It is nice to be... not alone, to have company," Pietro said, trying to lead the conversation in another direction.

"And, since we seem to be headed in the same direction, would you like rest yourself upon Djinni's back - I assure you, she would be a gentle ride - while I walk and stretch my legs?"

Lyric

She blushed when he present the crumpled kerchief to her, but she accepted with a curt nod, her eyes slightly averted.

"A Gift. I will cherish it."

His offer to allow her to ride atop Djinni was yet another kindness and an unexpected one at that. She demurred and shook her head in the negative.

"I have nothing to offer you in return, and, for my part, it is not custom to be beholden or indebted to another's kindness and grace without the hope of returning the same in greater measure. And you have been generous beyond my measure and worth. So please do not be upset. I mean no disrespect or dishonor."

Her pause was just a moment though. Enough for her to make that last step up from the grasses back onto the path.

"But if you would allow me to travel alongside you as we find out where this trail will lead us both, then I might earn the keeping of your generosity. And I might learn that there is something of value that I can offer to you along the way in the now."

She seemed pleased by this self-negotiated arrangement so much that she she smiled and exhaled deeply with a final nod.

"And since I too like to... stretch my legs... the three of us could walk together."

Pietro


He had not meant for the handkerchief to be a gift, more a loan of sorts but he was loathe to correct her. Besides it was a small thing and she seemed to derive pleasure from it.

"Then we shall all three stretch our legs as we enjoy Her warmth, Lyric," he said.

Pietro reached down, picked up the young woman's rucksack and hung it from the cantle of Djinni's saddle.

"Since she will be carrying neither of us, I am sure Djinni will not mind carrying your rucksack, Lyric. I doubt she'll even notice the weight."

He started off walking, following the path they stood upon, turning his head to make sure she was following him.

"Perhaps you could do me a favor, Lyric," he said after a few moments.

"Do you write your own songs?"

Lyric

Her rucksack was laden with a number of things, not the least of it were the sundries of her crockery cup and such things but also to include the weight of several sets of tunics, both over and under. There was a tartan cloak of fine quality, and a finer looking formal garment judging by the glimpse of the material. But more importantly and possibly quite notably, there were pieces of leather armor, leather breeches and boots. And there was the hilt of sheathed dagger as well.

She herself was not particularly tall though she carried herself with her head high and bright eyes. The tunics she wore currently seemed to be of a summer weight fabric in a couple layers, over an under tunic. She was unarmed and seemingly unconcerned by that fact as well. she wore simple leather shoes meant more for cobbled streets than the open and dusty road.

The one thing she did do was untether an oilskin tarp that had been wrapped around a bowl shaped object with a neck and then tied at both ends by the same strap of fabric. She slipped that over her back. No doubt it was an instrument of some sort, possibly a mandolin by the shape of it.

With this man taking charge of her belongings, leaving her to carry her flowers and the apple and now a kerchief she skipped a couple steps to catch up to him.

"I make my own music if that is what you mean. I ... don't read or write Colonial. But I have a very good memory for things I hear. And I remember everything I have made of my own."

Pietro


"Djinni and I will be very careful of your belongings, Lyric," he said, doing his best to reassure the young woman. He held up one hand.

"You have my oath as one dedicated to Rames the Protector."

He watched with interest as she slung the oilskin wrapped instrument (?) upon her back and skipped to catch up with him. He shortened his steps to match hers, but not that much as he was not a very tall man, perhaps five and a half feet.

"I am neither poet nor singer, but I have tried over the last few days to compose a poem of sorts. Two lines came to me, perhaps in a dream, lines that I meant something to me, but since then, I have worried over it repeatedly, but cannot come up with even the rest of one verse."

He looked to his side and slightly downward toward her and smiled.

"Perhaps you could help me... it would be a goodness."

Pietro's smile widened slightly.

"Would you like to hear what I have so far?"

Lyric

"I accept your oath," she said solemnly, giving it the same respect as it was offered. A part of her wished he hadn't but, it was offered and accepted now and that was the way of things.

She smiled, trying to think on other things and the knight was obliging to that end as well.

"I most assuredly would want hear these words of poetry... and I hope I can help."

Pietro


"And then you would have repaid what I do not consider a debt," he said with a smile. He thought for a moment, then cleared his throat and intoned.

"I slept and saw that life was beauty,
Awoke and knew that life was duty."

Pietro grimaced slightly. Now that he'd said it to someone else, it seemed... small and insignificant and he wished he'd kept it to himself. He glanced at her apprehensively, certain that she would criticize his effort.

Or not... he thought after a moment. She seemed too nice for derision or criticism, but he did not really know her yet.

Lyric

She listened as she walked, and then after she repeated this couplet to herself, over and over. She considered the man walking beside her, and how committed he was to his Duty. He wore his armor in the high heat of Her presence above them, despite the many hours he had likely already passed without incident upon this trail. She knew it was likely without incident because it had been so for her and her rode behind her Then until Now. And if it had been otherwise he would have mentioned it in his sense of Duty to Protect others.

He was a man who balanced the Now against the What Might Be and found the What Might Be to have a clearer weight upon his core sense of self.

Thus, these were fitting words from him. And yet...

"The words are..." She thought hard for a word, "...evocative. Do you feel this way, Ser Pietro?"

Pietro


"Yes..." he said, drawing out the one word and then pausing briefly.

"And no... I do take my duty seriously, Lyric."

Pietro smiled almost sadly.

"In many ways, as I say in those lines, my duty is my life, but..." again he paused as if searching within himself for something which was truth.

"Sometimes I wish there was more time to appreciate... beauty."

Lyric

She nodded and was quiet for a time, and then some more beyond that. But it looked as though she was thinking, perhaps even dreaming in the awake a bit.

"I can not give you an answer to what it means, and that is what you really need... To understand the nature of this struggle between two things very important to you. Only you can do that for yourself. But that is the nature of true art. Be it music or poetry, or even a physical art itself. It must tell someone something about your heart and your soul. But to you it must express this first before anyone else can see it or hear and thus feel it."

Lyric closed her eyes as she walked now, her footfalls as sure as if her eyes were open.

"From a purely technical sense... you have written a couplet and those usually make up shorter poems. Couplets become whimsical and rhythmic by their very nature. Beyond 3 or 4 couplets they will lose their poignancy to move the listener or reader."

She didn't pause for long.

"I can not write the next lines for you, but I can give you something to think about and mayhap that will help you find the voice for the words that I already know are inside of you."

She took a bite of her apple and chewed on that as she walked along quietly. Hers was a pace that followed his and yet had an entirely different sense of urgency.

"Two more couplets... thus a beginning, a middle, and an end... You have framed your dilemma... You dream you can live in a world of beauty, and wake to find a world that is something else. So now you must ask yourself.... are these worlds not the same, if only you look at that which you love and see it for what it could be? And in doing that, might you not find the peace to realize the world of beauty is every where that you are right now, in being who you are?

Pietro


Much of what she said was nearly meaningless to him, went right over his head as his brother, Ataulf, had been wont to say, but her words sounded right and, even if he did not - or did not yet - understand them, they found a soothing spot in his oft troubled mind.

It occurred to him that, in the short space of time since he'd met the young songstress, he'd opened himself up and revealed himself more... well, nakedly, than he had since... well, since maybe ever. Pietro looked at her as she walked and ate her apple and his expression was one almost of wonder.

She might be odd, but she was easy to talk to and that, in itself, was refreshing.

"I will think upon your words, Miss Lyric," he said softly. "I do not entirely understand them, but I do believe they contain much in the way of truth."

Pietro took a deep breath, held it a long moment and then blew it out. He took another bite of his apple, chewed and swallowed it. Deciding he'd been philosophical long enough, he changed the subject.

"When you started out this morning, Miss Lyric, did you have a specific destination in mind?"

Lyric

He would uncover less in the thinking on her words than in the sleeping on them, after all, that was how the first words were joined to give him the clarity that he needed to find solace in this duality. Sleep, maybe several, would ease the barriers he imposed upon himself and the words would reveal themselves in due time.

"If you are asking if I had a purpose then Yes, I did and it was the same as was the morning before, and even the one before that."

She pointed ahead of her, along the path the three of them walked. "I was going this way," she stated with conviction.

A few more steps.

"But if you mean, did I have a plan... then No. I have no idea what lies ahead of me at the end of this day or the next. That is less important to me than the journey I take along the way. Thus I am never dissatisfied with where I am."

She lifted her flowers to her face to smell them again and she was reminded of the joy she experienced in finding them, plucking them, and even smelling them that very first time.

"And If I was more concerned with where I was going to be, then I might not have paused to see where I was, and maybe we would not be as WE are... in the Now."

Pietro


"Then I am going that way, too," he said and pointed in the same direction. He'd made no concrete decision but he could not imagine leaving her out here alone.

"A purpose or a plan." Pietro shrugged. "Or a destination."

He smiled and after a moment the smile warped into a rather crooked grin.

"Leads sometimes to a meeting, a friendly celebration."

Pietro laughed happily, clapped his hands and, behind him, Djinni snorted, perhaps derisively.

"Always a critic," he said looking back at the mare and then over at Lyric.

"But, awkward or not, I did it and I liked it."