Story: Moving on... Without you

Chapter Synopsis: Serah enjoys a night with the Farseer tribe, with Noel as her guide. Noel opens up to Serah about his past.

Chapter 13*: Warming up

[Day 19: suppertime...]

Warmth – (noun): liveliness of feelings; enthusiasm; fervor.

Enticed by the promise of a meal that did not consist entirely of meat, Serah left the tent and followed her nose through the Farseer's camp. Right in the center of the ring of tents was a large bonfire, though she could barely see the flames through the crowd of people. The tribe was buzzing with activity and it seemed that everyone had a task in the preparation of the evening meal.

Young men were tending to the fire, where a large slab of meat, most likely a behemoth hind leg, rotated on a spit. The man currently in charge of its rotation was hardly more than a boy, with thin, lanky arms. His skin glistened in the firelight, sweating as he used both arms to turn the spit. As Serah observed, another young man, slightly older and leaner than the first, offered to replace him. The first boy shook his head, adamantly holding his position, though it was obvious that the effort was straining his muscles. The second man nodded in respect of the first's decision and walked a few steps back to wait his turn. Serah thought the boy was being foolish, but it seemed that there was an unspoken admiration of strength in this tribe that Serah was still getting used to.

The rest of the bodies that surrounded the fire were men and women working together to cut up green cactuar and succulent fruit. Both were mixed with what Serah later understood was minced flabanero, which provided a spicy flavor that was favored by the tribe. The mix was sautéed over the flames.

Serah noticed Niva among the older women who were kneeling around a large flat-topped rock. They seemed to be kneading some type of dough. Hanging back at the edge of the crowd, Serah felt a pang of self-consciousness. She wanted to help, but she didn't want to give the wrong impression by approaching Niva and the other older women. It seemed that every age group had their own work to do. Noel would know what to do, Serah thought, as she turned to head back to the tent where she'd left him. As if reading her thoughts, a hand at the small of her back made her abruptly aware that her "husband" had joined her.

Fighting the urge to squirm away, Serah tried to calmly comment on the situation, "It seems like everyone has their job to do…"

Noel looked down at her and then back at the flurry of activity before them. "It was like that with my tribe too, back then," he said wistfully. "The boys would work themselves to exhaustion preparing the fire and roasting the meat. It was always a competition. Strength always won, though not necessarily physical strength," he noted inclining his head towards the young boy Serah had been watching. "Strength of will is just as important.

"The married men and women generally felt no reason to compete anymore and would help with the more mundane aspects of the meal, so they could visit with each other. The older ladies put in the most effort and would start around midday so the bread would be ready for supper. The old men would rest up in the tents until the meal was served."

"What about the children?" Serah asked, curious as to why she hadn't seen any children below the age of ten.

"They come back from playing right before the meal," he said, now pointing to the darkening shadows of the trees. "Here they come." The kids bounded forward towards the old ladies. "They wrap the dough around sticks and bake it over the fire."

"Oh," Serah exhaled in understanding. She looked down as she shifted her feet. "Where do we fit in?" she asked timidly.

The tone of her question let Noel know that she'd been agonizing about how she could help out, but was too afraid to do something wrong that would embarrass herself and possibly Noel as well. That is so like her, trying to lend a hand, even when she doesn't know how.

"Well," he started, grasping her wrapped left hand in his, "as a newly married couple we should be sitting over here," he indicated one of the many logs gathered around the fire.

It was a ways back from the supper preparations. The shadows grew thick in this area and Serah became aware that there were a few couples scattered in the darkness. Just as she was going to ask what they were contributing, she realized what these couples were doing. Kissing. These couples were completely entangled together, and blissfully unaware of anything to do with supper.

Serah blushed and looked away. "Noel…" she said in a small uncomfortable voice.

Noel laughed. "But you'd rather be over here," he nodding to the fire, "tending to the kids, right?"

Smiling in relief, Serah asked, "Is that… okay?"

The brunette nodded encouragingly. "Often women who don't have children of their own yet take care of the little ones." When Serah hesitated at his side he added, "Well, if you prefer, I can find us a spot on the log…" to which Serah pushed him playfully. She headed over to the kids.

"Hi there, pretty girl," she said enthusiastically to an adorable five-year-old. "What have you got there?"

"Sticky bread!" the girl replied happily.

In the flickering orange light, Noel watched Serah interact with the kids as a smile played on his lips. She's a natural mother, he thought. Then he shook his head violently. Where did that come from? he wondered. With a great effort he turned his gaze away. A few of the men gathered around the fireand made eye contact with him. One of the young hunters looked down at Serah and then back at Noel, giving him a thumbs up and a knowing grin. Noel abashedly grinned back.

As the food was being passed around, the Elder said a few words about how blessed they were to have a meal to eat and company to eat it with. He introduced Noel and Serah to the tribe. Then he noticed their matching arm bands. The blessed one, Serah, hadn't been wearing one earlier when he'd talked with them. He raised an eyebrow, to which Noel shrugged. So, in front of everyone, he offered his congratulations on their (very) recent marriage.

Well, Serah thought as her cheeks reddened slightly, it's too late to go back on this story now.

As they ate, Noel tried to explain as many Farseer traditions as he could remember. Many of the tribespeople came over and introduced themselves, and offered their congratulations. It came to the point where Serah was so overwhelmed with information and names that she figured she'd probably have to forget something to make room in her brain.

The food smelled wonderful. She tried to eat some of the stir-fry, but the spiciness of the dish left her fanning her mouth wildly. As she looked around for something to drink, the old man next to her offered his cup with a grin. Without a second thought, Serah downed the entire contents hoping to extinguish the flame on her tongue. Unfortunately, the burning sensation tore down her throat as she swallowed, and a horribly strong taste of alcohol remained in her mouth.

"I tried to stop you," Noel apologized to her, handing her a glass of water, which she gratefully gulped down. "Old people tend to drink a lot in this tribe. And their drink of choice is pretty strong."

Serah's head was already swimming. Though the taste was now washed down, the burning in her throat hadn't left, and was now spreading to her stomach. "What was that stuff anyways?"

"They call it 'Cieth Killer'."

Warmth – (noun): the quality of being intimate or attached.

Later that night, Serah was having a little trouble navigating her way back to the tent. Noel held her with one arm around her shoulders. The tent was dark. Serah collapsed on the heap of blankets while Noel lit the few candles that were provided. When he was done, he was at a loss of what to do. It seemed like Serah had passed out. Before, he'd promised her he'd sleep on the other side of the tent, but there were no extra blankets. The cold autumn air seeped into the tent and it was, without a doubt, too cold to sleep without one. Even Serah's new cloak would have been helpful, but it was twisted beneath her unconscious form.

Noel was torn. On the one hand, his brain was telling him that Serah wouldn't mind him sleeping next to her, because they'd slept this way so often in the last two weeks. But his heart told him that things had changed. He'd put his claim on Serah, which made her weary of his every move. If she woke up after drinking and found him snuggled up against her, she'd automatically accuse him of the worst behavior. He didn't want to give her any reason to doubt him.

So, as uncomfortable as he was, he laid down on the other side of the tent.

A few minutes later, there was some shifting of the sheets. Noel rolled over and peeked over at the woman in the bed.

"Noel…" she mumbled, her fingers crawling over the covers. "Mnnh," she groaned when her fingers met empty air. She made a whining noise as she lifted her head and inch and opened one eye. In the corner of the tent she could see Noel shivering. He sat up when he noticed she was awake.

"Is something wrong?" he gently asked.

In her foggy state of mind she said, "Why… are you... over there?"

"I was sleeping. Or rather, trying to."

"But… it's cold?" Sure enough, his teeth began to chatter. "Idiot... Come here!" She lifted the covers and slid over to one side.

He didn't need to be told twice. Noel practically jumped beneath the blankets in an effort to stave off the cold. Serah reached over and grabbed his arm.

"You're... freezing!" she exclaimed in a tired voice, as she began absently rubbing his arm with her hands. Still not fully awake, Serah's eyelids drooped and then shut altogether. Her hands continued their back and forth motion for a while, slowing until finally they stopped altogether.

To keep up appearances, Noel extracted his arm from her grasp and made sure he wasn't touching her in any way. It was much warmer in bed. Letting her steady breathing and warmth lull him to sleep, he closed his eyes.

"Noel…" whispered a voice right next to his ear. Moving only his eyes, he glanced at Serah, whose eyes were still closed and seemed to be asleep.

"Yes?" he whispered back as quietly as possible.

"Were you married?"

Noel lifted his head suddenly and replied in a nervous voice. "No. Never. Why do you ask?"

Serah seemed to mutter something to the pillow that was too low to hear. Resting his head back down, Noel whispered "Hm?"

"Your arm."

"Oh." Noel looked down at his right arm, wrapped in leather cords. For a while he said nothing. To the sound of Serah's soft breathing, he stared up at the tent and remembered when he'd been 'wrapped'.

"That was a long time ago," he said softly. "It was after a wedding in my tribe. The last one I can still remember." Placing his hand on his right arm, he continued. "I was a boy then, maybe eleven years old. Yeul was nine. After the ceremony, I found her crying by the well. I asked her what was wrong, and she replied 'I'll never get to wrap anyone'. At the time I was confused, and tried to cheer her up telling her that she was too young to get married anyway. When she got a little older, I explained, she'd find someone and fall in love.

"I still remember how she looked at me then, her face was so serious and sad, it was heartbreaking. She told me she wouldn't live long enough for that to happen. It bothered me how she always talked about her future as if she'd already died. I mean, she was only nine.

"So I told her that she could wrap me," Noel smiled and chuckled softly. "I didn't actually propose to her, but I really wanted to cheer her up. I said I'd wear the cords as a promise, that one day she would fall in love and marry someone. Until that day, I'd wear them for her.

"Tradition dictates that the person who proposes generally makes the leather from animal skins. Together, the couple wrap each other's arm. Women generally choose to add beads and adornments to their wrappings. I made the leather. Yeul made the beads she used on me. The number of times the straps cross each other is supposed to signify how many children the couple wishes to have.

"Yeul was so happy the day she wrapped me. She'd chatted on and on about having three kids and what she would name them. I was just glad she wasn't sulking anymore."

As he spoke, his chest tightened uncomfortably. The rest of the memory continued without his consent.

Later that same day, Caius had found him training with his swords. The older man had grabbed the cords, causing them to bite into his skin.

Wincing, he'd demanded, "Caius, what are you doing?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

The young hunter-in-training shrugged him off. "I was just trying to cheer her up, ok?"

"False hope is worse than no hope at all. As a Guardian, you'll need to learn how to protect her feelings as well as her body." The tone of Caius' voice was threatening.

Not understanding why he was being scolded, Noel had lashed back at his mentor. "I didn't see you stepping in to protect her feelings when she was off crying by herself!"

"There are some things even I cannot do, Noel. But this… you've crossed the line."

"How can you say that? You should've heard her, talking like she was going to die any second."

"ENOUGH!" Caius had yelled at him, then. It was rare that the Guardian would raise his voice. "You'll learn. One way or another, you'll learn not to make such futile promises."

A quiet voice brought Noel back to the present. "Did you wrap her, too?" Serah asked.

"No."

"Did you want to?"

He sighed. "I don't know."

Painful memories of Yeul's smiling face that day awaited him behind his eyes, so Noel stayed awake, staring at the roof of the tent for a long time. He'd figured Serah had fallen asleep again.

Barely audible above the sound of the wind blowing in the trees, Noel later heard her say, "I wanted three kids, too."