Knight, Interrupted
by katyclismic
A brief note on language: Chinese is italicized, Elene is not. I figure it's better to start now, so everyone will get used to it. :)
Chapter 3: Technical Difficulties Please Stand By
Shampoo was finding it hard not to throw her arms around this beautiful man and kiss him senseless. To find such a considerate, intelligent, gorgeous, and above all sympathetic savior after the months of total hell she had been put through nearly had her on the edge of tears any number of times in the last few hours. Someone was finally willing to listen to her, feed her, and generally not act a total lout, apart from the whole not-handing-over-the-box thing. It was almost too good to be true.
She kept that firmly in mind, however, especially since there was another reason she felt less than charitable toward her new acquaintances: Intentionally or not, he had literally dragged her out from her hidey-hole, forcing her to leave the meager comforts of her hidden den and follow the magical lure of the pearl box.
As she had finally realized the day before, Shampoo's connection to the box was physical as well as mystical. When she was first transported to this world, she stuck close to the thieves because they seemed like a good source of plunder while she figured out what was going on. An encounter on the road was discouraged further exploration, too, because the party's guards had shouted and threatened her, apparently afraid of her looks and her abrupt arrival. It didn't seem like a good idea to wander to far into the wilderness alone, and she didn't know if she would find any help beyond the woods anyway. So it seemed logical, even natural, to hover a couple of kilometers away from the thieves, and wait.
In retrospect, of course, she knew that her lack of initiative was somehow grounded in her ties to that damned little box. When Bevier had broken up the thieves' camp and moved them toward the town, Shampoo felt a painful tug on her very essence, demanding that she move in their direction. Within minutes it was almost crippling in its intensity, driving a confused Shampoo to her knees, gasping in pain. She stumbled out of her den and took a few steps, and the tug subsided. She stopped in relief, then cried out as the pain returned again, doubled. Stumbling forward, she grimly realized that something new was afoot in this peculiar enchantment.
It took her a matter of minutes to reach the thieves' camp, and she knew its destruction meant trouble. Another few minutes of tracking, and she discovered the scoundrels were being led by the very man who she had raided earlier that day, the one who looked so very much like a Western knight. Astonished, she sat for only a moment before deciding to free her handy scapegoats, but that had hardly gone well. More wary after the knight's show of strength, she crept behind them as they traveled to the village, and hid herself in the forest just beyond the edge of town. There they stayed until dawn, until Shampoo, shivering and stiff from sleeping on the ground, was once again pulled painfully down the road. She didn't understand - the tug was somehow coming from the knight now, rather than the thieves.
Keeping pace with the galloping horses gave her one of the most intense workouts she had been given in while, for sure. By her calculations, she could be no more than three or four kilometers behind them before the tug on her soul urged her forward. The pain got worse when she fell farther behind, so her leaps from branch to branch grew longer and more outrageous with every mile, even as she used their elasticity to her best advantage. It was exhilarating and terrifying – she didn't know what would happen if she put a foot wrong and her progress stopped. Would that terrible pull be enough to kill her, if they got far enough away? She didn't know. And the trees seemed to be thinning.
By the time Shampoo realized that they had stopped for a rest, she had almost caught up to them, shaking from muscle exhaustion and what felt like a hundred cuts from wayward branches. She was hot, parched and dearly wanted to inflict some serious pain on the person whose silly idea it was to gallop around like that. Watching the two travelers from the surrounding trees, she observed the knight taking off into the trees, conveniently leaving behind his helmet – head shot? - and separating himself from his companion, who was tending to the horses.
Eyes lit with an evil smirk, she followed him through the woods, slowing as he came into view. She halted a ways away, bemused at his playful behavior at the stream. The clearing was pretty, and he seemed to have some appreciation for it. Okay, so maybe he's not a complete barbarian, she mused, watching his peaceful meditations. The realization made her perversely furious, though, considering what she'd been through that day, and that was the emotion foremost in her mind when she confronted him that morning.
On further acquaintance, Bevier really didn't seem to be that bad, though. While he was certainly wary of her, that didn't stop him from trying to communicate with her, something nearly heroic compared to the amount of help she'd had so far. When he revealed Great-Grandmother's pearl box, so familiar and unexpected, she knew she had to reevaluate the situation. She hadn't ever seen those damned thieves with it, but the knight must have taken it from them when they were captured. And while he wasn't going to just give it to her, he seemed to be willing to help, and she was willing to take whatever she could get.
After their extended mime session, the knight put her on their third horse and was now leading her to some unknown destination. Of course, for all she knew, it was straight to a jail, or to a priest who would try to exorcise her. She knew the group of bandits she had been attached to certainly thought she was some sort of imp, though that was mostly a perception she herself had cultivated. Bevier seemed more intelligent than that, though.
Bevier kept her horse on a short reign as they traveled, probably to prevent her from bolting with it, but the proximity gave them the chance to work on their communication. Shampoo had missed human interaction a lot more than she thought she would in the last few months. It didn't hurt that the man was really just stunning, even if he was a bit older than her. He left his helm bouncing against the saddle, and his black-blue curls waved, lively in the wind. His sparkling blue-grey eyes were intent on her, his animated interest a pleasing change from the last couple of months of non-identity.
Yet it wasn't the kind of interest she was used to, not at all. He seemed friendly, pleasant and totally uninterested in her as a woman. They took turns pointing at things and saying the names in each language, and even when she pointed to her lips and long, bare legs, his friendly good humor never wavered. Peeved, Shampoo found herself making each gesture graceful and languid, and touched his shoulder more often, though it was still encased in armor. Still there was no reaction that she could see.
Shampoo gave herself a good mental thump, thinking, Of course he's not interested in me. When are the best ones ever interested in me? She made a pouty face, frowning at the flicking ears of her horse. Well, I've spent the last few months deliberately avoiding any sort of interest in myself, so I suppose it's a little more won't hurt. Get a grip, woman. …I'm such an idiot, always drawn towards the ones that aren't interested. ARG. The guy behind them was a perfect example – he was respectful enough, but the look in his eyes was nothing if not appreciative. And naturally, he wasn't attractive in the slightest, not to mention old.
The male customers at the Cat Café made enough comments that she was fairly confidant she could attract almost any man she chose – but that almost still burned a little. That idiot Mousse had finally been dragged back to the tribe last year by his fed-up parents, so there had even been a couple of seriously interested suitors coming by the shop for a while. They were never of the same caliber as Ranma, of course, but it made Ranma's lack of attention less crushing than it used to be. And now this guy, she thought gloomily. Well, what's the likelihood that a man like Bevier isn't already attached to someone, anyway? The thought made her want to break something, but in the lack of available porcelain she settled for a dramatic sigh. Bevier turned to look at her, inquisitive, but she waved it away. "You wouldn't get it, Gorgeous."
The language lessons eventually moved on to scenery, though Shampoo was sure that she couldn't remember a single word that he had told her in the last hour and doubted the next hour would be any different. In any case, they had very pretty trees, generally similar to those of her world, and the autumn colors brightened up the view. It had been early spring in Japan when Great-Grandmother had given her that cursed box, so the two worlds weren't entirely in sync.
It could've dumped me here in the middle of winter, for all she knew, she grumbled to herself. I can't imagine what she was thinking. Actually, Shampoo had thought that she knew what her Great-Grandmother was thinking, but it was more along the lines of punishing a wayward granddaughter who 1. failed marry her conqueror in the tribal tradition and 2.refused to leave her new home in Japan. The old lady had threatened to bring Shampoo home by force to face the Amazon counsel, but nothing had ever indicated that Cologne planned to send her great-granddaughter flying off into an unknown world.
It had occurred to Shampoo in the last couple of months that perhaps this was not what Great-Grandmother had expected the spell to do, but the idea of her not having the situation in complete control was hard to believe. Ranma and company had foiled her plans a number of times, to be sure, but the elder knew the old magic like it was her own child.
Shampoo missed her friends in Nerima, she truly did. They bickered a lot, and seeing Ranma and Akane so happy together was a constant niggling reminder of her failure, but after four years there she had been happy and settled in the noodle shop. The availability of sparring partners was convenient, and they had a special bond from their Jusenkyo misadventures, even after the cure was found. And then her grandmother had gone and done this.
One way or another, Shampoo was sure that the little box was her ticket home, now that she knew it came to this world with her. Bevier's continued possession of the box was a bit of a problem, though. She was fairly sure she could wheedle it out of him eventually, or simply steal it when he was asleep. She wouldn't mind getting a little close to him, either way. The thought made her perk up a little.
They were walking the horses through farmland, now. A farmhand or two waved from the fields occasionally and Bevier waved back in a friendly way. Shampoo couldn't figure out if he was known personally by the residents, or if his white shirt and armor signified some sort of status, or both. He continued to point out various words as they went, though the slow-moving scenery gave few new words after a while. So, they started on sentences.
After a few tries, Bevier managed to say in Mandarin, "My name is Bevier." Clapping her hands, Shanpu gave him some more to work on. He couldn't quite seem to hear some of the consonant distinctions, but his memory for the vocabulary was phenomenal. Resigned, Shampoo told him, "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure I'll have to learn yours, not you mine. Of course." He gave her a quietly sympathetic look, apparently hearing the frustration in her voice.
She tappd his arm and gestured toward the horse blanket they had given her as a makeshift saddle. "I'm getting sore, I need to stand up for a little while." He didn't seem to get her motion, so she just stood up on the horse as they went, stretching to the sky and shaking out bowed limbs. Then she had to grin at Bevier, who was looking up at her with an expression warring between consternation and astonishment. Standing in the saddle was something she hadn't tried before, but her footing was firm enough. She raised one foot slowly up above her head and smoothly switched to a handstand. Behind the curtain of her falling hair, she could see Bevier's startled expression, and he held his hands out uncertainly like he expected to catch her. She laughed.
It was the first time she had laughed out loud since she had come to this world, and the sudden good feeling almost surprised her. Flipping upright, she stretched her whole body once more before arranging herself lengthwise across the back of the serenely plodding horse, her boots bouncing off its rear – hocks? Withers? I've never been that great with horse stuff. Its butt, anyway. Riding balanced in such a strange way took a little extra toll on her stomach muscles, but the burn felt good and she didn't think she could take more friction on the inside of her legs just yet. Plus Bevier's expression was really funny.
"Kite?" he asked in a concerned tone, one hand still outstretched.
Shampoo blinked at him. "What?"
"Kite," Bevier repeated. He thought for a second, then fluffed an imaginary pillow and acted like he was sleeping on it blissfully.
Shampoo shook her head, grinning. "No, sleep." She outlined a diamond shape and flung it in the air, saying, "Kite! This is a kite."
Bevier studied her hands, his face puzzled. Wait, I never even told him the word for kite, Shampoo realized. So how…? "Say again, please?"
"Kite," Bevier repeated – only it wasn't, not quite. Shampoo's eyes widened a bit as understanding dawned. The syllables were very similar, but it was obviously a word in his own language.
He still looked adorably confused, though, so she allowed herself to relax into the sway of the saddle and closed her eyes, feigning slumber. She let a moment pass before her eyes popped open again, and she confirmed in Elene, "Sleep, yes?"
Still slightly puzzled, he nodded. Shampoo snorted quietly to herself as she settled herself more firmly along the horse's spine. A kite is 'to sleep.' As if this weren't confusing enough. "And no, I'm fine. Teach on, O Wise One."
They plodded onward, giving halting lessons to each other as the shadows lengthened and the sunlight turned pink and gold. The colors were warm, but the brisk wind eventually sent Shampoo into a more normal position on the horse, hiding her bare legs behind the folds of the horse blanket.
After a moment Bevier seemed to notice her shivers, because he called the servant up and had him dig out another blanket from his bags. Rather than handing it to Shampoo, as she was expecting, he shook it out and pulled it around her carefully. "Thank you," she said awkwardly in Elene. He corrected her pronunciation a little and patted her on the shoulder gently.
Again, Bevier's concern sent tears to her eyes. Would he stay this nice, wherever they were going? But noticing Shampoo's tearful gaze, he snatched his hand back and looked horrified, apologizing as best he could. "Sorry, sorry. Bad arm?"
She shook her head firmly, drying her tears with a chilled palm. "No, no, it's okay." She spent a few seconds thinking of a way to explain her reaction without words, but concluded that if nothing else he'd attribute it to 'girl stuff' or possibly 'alien stuff', both of which were somewhat true. The girl was silent for a long while, letting Bevier mutter happily to himself in broken Mandarin.
Shampoo was curious what they had planned on doing for camp, since she hadn't seen any promising public accommodations. Still uncertain how she was going to cope with other people in this mostly hostile world, Shampoo felt a little relieved when Bevier halted at sheltered copse of trees to make their camp. Neither man asked her to do anything, so she sat wrapped in her blanket, feeling useless, as they arranged the campfire and horses.
The soup and bread were very welcome. The snack they had given her earlier had taken the edge off her terrible hunger, but the smell of a real meal nearly drove her nuts until it was done. She tried to be circumspect about it, but she knew the knight noticed her impatience. Displaying her weakness irritated her; it was not something she was used to doing, and she felt ashamed that her survival in the wilderness was less than ideal. An Amazon woman is supposed to be able to take whatever is thrown at her, turn it into a weapon and use it to gut her enemies, and she had failed in that. Well, maybe my metaphor needs a little work.
As the servant filled the bowls, she remembered that she had yet to be introduced to him. Oversight or social comment? She wasn't sure. Taking a chance, she asked him, "What's your name? Mine's Shampoo," and tapped herself on the nose. True to her hunch, he glanced at Bevier before answering, "Delric," followed by a garble of words in Elene.
Taking this as a cue to continue their language lessons, Bevier started pointing at various foods and dinner utensils and she responded in kind, trying to give him a vague idea of how they went together in a sentence. Her head was feeling very full after an entire day of instruction, but she was feeling good about it. Bevier was a better teacher than her Grandmother or her friends had ever been, though of course he was starting from scratch. She had no pidgin or bad habits to overcome here.
There was a pause after they finished eating, and a silence fell over the trio. She watched the two men, who made sporadic conversation with each other as the fire died down. They didn't appear to be talking about her or the box, but of course she couldn't be sure. Why won't he just give it to me? she grumbled to herself, feeling abused. Why is everyone intent on keeping me here? Bevier didn't trust her, that much was clear – he was very careful to keep it out of sight and out of reach. He might not have really believed her story, or mistrusted the thing's magic regardless of her innocence. She couldn't blame him for the latter; she wasn't certain of it herself.
Watching the flames lick up at the stock of firewood, so identical to fires she had made on training trips back home, made her homesick all over again. There were many similarities between her world and this one; the only exceptions she had seen so far were a few unknown furry creatures and insects. Neither had been particular threatening, so she hadn't worried about it. Now she wondered. Had she been transported to this world for a reason? After three stinking months following crooks around in the forest, the idea had been laughable. Now that she was traveling with this Bevier guy, however, things seemed to be moving forward – though to what end she couldn't guess.
There was a hum of conversation from the other two, and they began fussing around with bedding. Uncertain of what she was supposed to do, she waited and watched. Finally three piles of blankets were piled an equal distance from the fire, and she smiled at them in gratitude for sharing. Not that they were suffering much, since they had a ton of bedding to begin with.
Sitting on one pile, she tucked a blanket around her chilled feet and held her hands out to the fire. Bevier began undoing the straps of his armor, with Delric's assistance. Curiously, she watched as smaller pieces came undone, on shins, thighs, arms, then the massive breastplate. Finally he wriggled out of the chainmail shirt and the cotton padding underneath it all, and laid them on top of the stack of metal bits. Bevier rotated his shoulders, stretching.
Shampoo scooted closer to the pile of armor, curious. She ran a hand over the chain mail hauberk and wrinkled her nose at the smell. She couldn't imagine putting all that on every day, or needing to. Obviously this kind of warrior was built more for strength than speed. She glanced up at Bevier with a new respect, only to have her gaze arrested by the expanse of broad chest visible through the shirt he wore underneath. Her eyebrows rose involuntarily. Wow.
Bevier noticed her appreciative gaze and tugged his shirt closed modestly. Not even in an embarrassed way, she thought, miffed. Just in a polite way… Never mind, she reminded herself sternly, there's no reason he'd be interested in you. It's stupid to encourage anything, and there's every reason not to.
Keeping this new thought in mind, she kept her eyes downcast as she shook out her bedclothes into a recognizable bed. She quickly slipped into her nest, eager to escape the nippy air. Mimicking the two men, she tucked the extra edges of bedding underneath herself, adding a little more ground padding and sealing herself up in a cocoon-like bedroll.
Shampoo hummed to herself happily as she snuggled down in her bed. What she had been able to steal for her nest back in the forest hadn't been nearly as good quality, and not even remotely this clean. It made her aware of her own state of unwashed horror, however. Glad she was under the covers now, she made a face. For all of her staring at Bevier, the attraction was very likely not returned, given how filthy and smelly she was. Her dress, one of the few things she had brought with her from home, was sadly in need of repair and a wash. Maybe wherever he's taking me will have a bath, she thought dreamily. That would be amazing. And a hairbrush, ooo. The pleasant dream of finally being clean sent her off to sleep.
A/N: Yes, you read that right – Shampoo's curse has been cured at the time of this story. No shapechanging antics for you! …Although I should also warn my readers that may change at a much later date, given the right circumstances and a logical turn of in-story events.
Let me know what you think! I love hearing from people.