Okies- This is the story by Hawk and me... Cat.

So Quick disclaimer.. We own nothing Lackey owns it all.

Chapter 3

The years of Bardic education flew by for Allen, crammed with histories of Valdemar and it's surrounding neighbors, general instrumental lessons and another for a chosen instrument (his was the gittern). Then there were composition lessons, Bardic Gift lessons and even the occasional weaponry lesson. After all, a Bard couldn't always count of Bardic immunity, especially when he was out of the Valdemaran regions. He quickly progressed to the level of Journeyman.

Searching through the library one sunny afternoon, the complete opposite of the one in which he had joined Bardic Collegium; Allen noted a small band of brown. He pushed aside the books that were resting in front of it and reached back to grab it. It was a small dust covered thing, and he brushed the dust off in a vain attempt to find a title. Instead he ended up coughing and sneezing inside a huge dust-cloud. Once it cleared he carefully brushed off the dust that had settled on him, then off the surrounding furniture. He looked around to make sure he hadn't disturbed anyone.

Across the room, around a table, sat several Blues quietly arguing over a problem. Near them a Herald Trainee sat immersed in what looked to be a very dry book on laws. How they could find any excitement in those things, much less concentrate for more than a few moments was beyond him, but that wasn't his problem. Allen settled himself a bit deeper into the armchair and opened the book, raising another cloud of dust. Once the air cleared enough for him to see the writing on the page he groaned softly. This was an old book all right. The writing was faded. It would make it hard to read. The writing was also spidery. It probably would take him forever to read through this book.

Allen now regretted his choice of subjects for his next composition. When he'd decided on writing a historical piece it had seemed a good idea. Since entering the library however, he was finding that all the amazing history that all children - and the Bardic trainees - learned in their mandatory lessons were actually very small periods of time. It seemed that the history of Valdemar was full of long periods of dry as the dust that had coated this book, years from which the only heroic ballads could be about the heroic happenings of the past, interspersed liberally with short periods of time (a few months, or, if he was really lucky, maybe a couple years) of heroic deeds, exciting moments and happenings worthy of Bardic attention.

The problem was all those things had been written and sung about excessively. He wanted something almost unknown in this day and time. He wanted to find something buried deeply within the chronicles of history that had not been written about much and certainly had no compositions attached to it. He knew it was here; he just had to keep looking. He also knew that Shiron thought he was completely insane for looking for something exciting that had never been sung before.

Time passed as he worked his way through the hard to read book. He didn't realize just how long he had been sitting there until a Healer Trainee tapped his shoulder. Rubbing tired eyes, he looked up at the young woman. "Are you Allen?" She asked softly. When he nodded, she sighed heavily. "Thank the Havens! Healer Rafella asks you to come quickly." The Trainee was now pulling on his arm. He grabbed his bag and held tightly to the book, scared that if it fell to the floor it would crumble into a pile of dust. He stuffed it in his bag as he was dragged down the hall.

"What does Rafella need me for?" he asked, breathlessly trying to keep up with the shorter - but much faster - woman.

"She has a patient that she hopes you'll be able to calm. Beyond that she didn't say." With that the young woman deposited him outside a room in Healers and scrambled off, probably with another message to deliver. From inside the room he could hear the sobs of a broken hearted soul, sobs of grief, of total loss and agony that wrenched his own heart as he listened. It was sobs like those that he had wanted to be a Healer to prevent. He waited outside, knowing Rafella would come out in only a moment. He stuffed the book into his bag and took out his gittern and began tuning it.

Sure enough just as the gittern caught its usual tone, Rafella came out of the room, shaking her head worriedly. She spotted him quickly. "Thank you Allen," she said tiredly. "I need your help with this one."

Allen nodded; glad he could be of assistance. "The young woman inside she, she was," the Healer stumbled over the words in her anger, "beaten and raped repeatedly. She was lucky that one of the Empathetic Heralds caught on to this. No one even has any idea how long this might have been going on for. It wasn't the first time, though; I can tell you that, not from the way she's reacting. They, whoever they are, have got her convinced that she's downright worthless. I'd give her something to put her out but I'm afraid to. People in trauma generally don't react well to these kinds of things."

Allen nodded. His Healer training that he'd received before coming to Haven still served him well and gave him an idea of what she might need. "If you could think of something to calm her, while I fetch the MindHealer.?"

Allen put his hand on her arm. She was babbling, and she only did that when she was very nervous about one of her patients. "Rafella have I ever denied you?" The Healer stopped talking and took a deep breath, smiling wearily at Allen. "You do what you need to. I'll see what I can do about calming the poor woman." Rafella patted his hand and walked away, sure she had left her charge in good hands.

Allen took a deep breath and began picking out a soothing rhythm on the gittern before he attempted to enter the room. It was a simple enough tune that he could play parts of it one handed, and that was vital in this case. He knew that the last person she would want to see would be a man, especially one moving towards her. One thing he'd learned was that often if they heard the music before they saw him they often didn't see him. Sure enough, by the time he had closed the small room's door the woman had calmed slightly and was crying softly staring out the window.

He had no idea why anyone would do something like that to another being. He hd learned in his helping the Healers that the main reason behind the rapist's actions was a desire for control that was lacking in their own lives. It was probably that sense of control, control and power that had driven whoever it was to do this to the young woman.

Even knowing the reasoning, though, it still made him sick to think that anyone would do this. The girl was pretty, with brown hair and soft brown eyes, but she couldn't have been more than sixteen. She was probably from Haven, judging from her clothing, and the wear and condition suggested that she wasn't

of the middle class. No, it was most likely that her parents ran a small buisiness of some sort and she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Allen kept up his soothing, soft tune until the young woman's breath came deep and even, signaling her fall into slumber. How many times he had played it, or something like it, he didn't know. Too often, that was for sure. He put away his gittern and stretched his neck and arm muscles, not wanting them to cramp up the next day, then left the room softly, leaving the woman sleeping. He met Rafella and the MindHealer walking towards the room and nodded to Rafella in answer to her questioning look. With another nod he left them both and headed outside.

The spring air had warmed nicely, drying the last of the puddles from the recent rainstorm. It had been a furious one, though nowhere near the one that had broken once he had enrolled in Bardic. Allen breathed deeply of the fragrant air, savoring the fresh spring smells; the warm grass, the first few flowers, and the occasional colder smell when he walked through the Palace's shade. With a sigh of happiness he headed towards the Grove. It had become a place of refuge. Somehow being there, in that place of mystical energy, inspired him, as if he could feel the magic of the place skittering along his nerves. At first it had made him wonder if perhaps he didn't have a latent Mage-Gift. He chuckled to himself as he let himself into Companion's Field. Heralds were more needed than Bards, if he did have that Gift, or any other Gift, for that matter, a Companion would most likely have Chosen him by now.

Wouldn't that be just like me, though? Coming to Haven to become a Healer, then being told I have to become a Bard, then, when I get to Journeyman, I get Chosen by one of our honored white horses.

As usual, none of the 'honored white horses' paid him any mind. He scratched one foal that came over to investigate this new creature in its world and nodded to both Groveborns. He ambled through the Field, whistling a random tune, picking his way over the occasional stone. Once in the Grove itself, he found a comfortable spot and sat with his back against one of the ancient trees. The falling sun coated everything that it reached, though it wasn't all that much, thanks to the thick trees, with a pinkish glow.

His bag sat oddly next to him. He went to move it and noticed its weight finally. With his eyebrows crinkled in confusion, he began rooting through the bag, wondering what could have caused the weight. Finding something hard, he grasped it and pulled it our, finding the book he'd been looking through when the Trainee had found him. He sighed, knowing that he would get into trouble for taking it out of the Library eventually. Those librarians could be downright vicious when one of their books was in danger. Right now, though, he was going to enjoy what was left of the day and read here in the Grove.

He opened the book to where he'd left off. The better light did not improve the scrabbled writing by much. He started reading the words again. He came to a page containing notes and pulled his gittern around to rest on his lap. With squinting eyes he played the notes haltingly the first time through. When he had a feel for the music he began mouthing the words along with the notes. When he was sure he had the words memorized, he allowed his tenor singing voice to join his fingers. It was a strange tune, like none of the others he had learned in class. Perhaps it was one that had come from some other place, like Jkatha, or maybe even further south.

Around him the Grove stirred. A breeze began threading among the leaves over his head, and even the ever present chirping of the birds was stilled. There was no sound, none but the music he was creating. He could feel the Power of the place gathering around him, causing his neck to prickle, and wondered just what was going on.

As he reached the end of the song, he felt something solidifying around him. When he let the last note go, it hung on the air, echoing slightly. Without another sound, Allen fell into the black void the words and tune had opened, losing consciousness as he went.

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R&R folks.. You know the drill!!!!