Some JeriKole for Lilybud on Oneshot Wednesday!
All night, the lonely sounds of a lute player's song had Kole tossing and turning in her cot. When she woke that morning, the notes were stuck in her head, clanging around her skull. The smith's ward had never been one for music.
She'd grown up at the forge; the only music she'd needed was the dulcet tone of her guardian's hammer against the hot metal. Gregory hadn't had the words to tell the girl to leave when she first arrived on his doorstep, practically a babe, cold and attracted by the forge's heat, and the two had been inseparable ever since. The other townspeople could talk all they wanted about the halfwit smith and the strange girl who tended to him. No one could deny that they were the best smithing duo in all of Nol.
Kole's precision at positioning crystal and gems in an artful fashion, in particular, had set the two apart from other smiths. It had also caught the prince's eye and moved them from their distant forge to the protection of the castle. The prince had requested a new sword a couple of weeks past, patterned with roses and thorns on the hilt, and the moment it cooled, Kole snatched it up for delivery.
Wrapping the sword up carefully, so that no one could see its beauty and be tempted, she called over her shoulder to Gregory. "I'm headed to the castle," Kole yelled, fighting with the clamor of mallet on steel. "I'll be home soon."
Gregory shouted back, an incoherent call that sounded something like "gnnaaark." It was the only sound he had, meaningless to an outsider, but Kole heard "Fine, come back quickly" in his tone. There was probably more gemstone work to be done before the day was out.
The blast of cool air when she walked outside hit her first, even before the chatter. As Kole passed, the ambient sounds grew low, almost a whisper. She knew the whispers were for her—really, for her association with Gregory—and paid them no mind. The sun was shining and the winds were fair. Kole needed nothing else to put a spring in her step.
She never dealt directly with the prince, but there was always a trusted servant outside the castle to take their work. Most often it was Victor, one of the few servants large and intimidating enough to stay the hands of potential thieves, and Kole grinned widely at the sight of his sturdy frame. "Well hello there, little lady," he said with a grin.
"Hi, Victor!"
"Anything good for us today?" he asked cheekily.
She held out the sword in front of her gleefully. "Wait 'til the prince sees this!"
Slowly, Victor unraveled a bit of the cloth and whistled. "You and Gregory, you've outdone yourselves this time. The prince will be pleased." Kole beamed up at him, overjoyed at his response. Victor reached into his pocket and put a small purse of coins in her hand. "Here's his payment."
The purse was heavy, filled to the brim with gleaming gold coins. "Give him our thanks," Kole said softly, in awe of the number of coins in the purse. Victor nodded and turned to re-enter the castle, sword in hand.
Kole had told Gregory that she'd be back promptly, but she wanted to get something sweet for them to share when she returned. He'd earned himself a treat or two; the sword had been more his work than hers. As she turned down the alley that would take her to the baker's shop, Kole caught the taunting speech of a few male voices and craned her neck to see where it came from.
"Lute player, sing me a song, would you?"
"He can't, he won't speak a word, will you, little fool?"
"No point mocking him, he's too stupid to make head or tail of what we're saying."
"Deaf and dumb, well, at least the pretty girl's got her lute and her flowers."
Kole saw them around another corner, a blonde lute player with a flower behind his ear in the middle of a group of three older, larger boys, and felt her blood begin to boil. She didn't mind when people talked about herself and Gregory, but seeing this boy mocked was unacceptable, even if it had probably been he who kept her up all night. There were never more than whispers about her and Gregory, because Gregory could grind them all into dust. Audible speech, on the other hand, was apparently reserved for the small and lonely. Without thinking about what she was doing, Kole found herself at the boy's side, glaring at his attackers.
The largest of them snickered. "Look, here's her playmate!"
"The scrawny little stick from the forge!"
Kole rolled her eyes. "The scrawny little stick from the forge wants you to leave this boy alone."
Another guffaw. "Or what?"
She allowed a wicked grin to grace her features. "Or the scrawny little stick will tell her great oak who's been giving her trouble."
The color left each of their faces and the boys scattered like insects beneath an overturned rock. Kole bent down to look the lute player in the eyes. He looked pleasant, with a warm, round face. His green eyes were shockingly bright. Kole couldn't look away. "Are you alright?"
The boy gave a curt nod, smiling widely at her. Well, they were wrong about his being deaf, Kole thought. "What's your name?"
At this, his hands began to move rapidly, creating shapes that Kole couldn't make out, but he stopped once he saw her confused expression. Instantly, he frowned, and touched his throat; an old scar. "You can't speak," she whispered, her hand unconsciously reaching for his. Realizing that touching his throat probably wasn't the right thing to do, Kole stopped reaching and allowed her hand to fall, her face flushing.
He smiled again, but it was sad this time. His pointer finger reached for the dust at their feet, and slowly, he wrote one word: JOSEPH.
"Joseph?" Kole smiled, and so did he, more brightly. "I'm Kole, the smith's ward." They were silent a moment, and she realized that she was the only one of them who could break it. "Is it hard, not being able to talk?"
Joseph closed his eyes and his shoulders shook, like he was laughing, but there was no sound. It was all the answer that Kole needed.
"How did it happen?"
He raised an eyebrow, and Kole touched her throat. The eyes were sad again, and he shook his head. Stupid, stupid question. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" She was cut off by his hand on her shoulder, and his eyes telling her that it was okay. With his other hand, Joseph was writing again: NO ONE HAS EVER ASKED.
"Never?" He shook his head again. "They must have known it's not a question you ask people," Kole replied slyly, attempting to lighten the mood. It worked; the two collapsed into giggles almost immediately. In the dust he wrote: PROBABLY.
"Why don't you come with me to the baker's?" Kole asked once her laughter had subsided. "We can get some sweets, and you can come and meet my guardian, Gregory. Maybe he'll like the sound of your lute. And we can keep talking."
Joseph hesitated; she supposed he hadn't expected this to last much longer. The thought broke her heart. He started to write his answer in the dust, and Kole realized she didn't care what it was. "Not that way," she said sharply, taking his hand and ignoring his startled face. "You can teach me the other way. The things you did with your hands. Then we can really talk." She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. "You don't have to be alone out here."
Kole didn't know how she knew it was true. It just was. She could tell it in everything, in the way he sat, in his disheveled hair, in his sad eyes. It took her a few moments to realize that her hold on him was bone-crushing. He didn't seem to mind, but he wasn't telling her yes, either. Somewhere, Kole could see that his answer was no, but the knowledge only made her hold on tighter.
Gently, Joseph broke her grip on him and wrote: TOMORROW.
Kole wasn't convinced. "Do you promise? Will you be right here, this time tomorrow?"
Joseph removed the flower from behind his ear and put it behind hers, her left. He took Kole's hand and squeezed it, as tightly as she had his, and mirth was dancing in his eyes. She understood.
That night, when she heard the gentle strumming of Joseph's lute late at night, long after the flower had wilted, Kole was glad it kept her awake. Each note carried his thoughts, his hopes, his fears through the air and to her. Everything he was lived in his music, and tonight, it sounded brighter, happier. She could finally hear his voice, and every note of it brought her closer to tomorrow.
Fun fact: You would be surprised how prevalent the idea that "speech and/or hearing= intelligence" is, even with all that we know. I've worked in schools and seen deaf/ hard of hearing students get the same grades as their peers but other students often don't consider them to be on the same level because they communicate in a different fashion. The impairment has no impact on intelligence. Another fun fact: "Dumb" is an old slang word for "mute," and IS NOT acceptable to use today. It's considered highly disrespectful. The more you know!
Also this is going to actually be a two-shot because I want more now...Idk when I will get to it but I will. The end.