Catching Up With the Chasind
It has been some time since you last checked up on the Chasind. Admittedly, your merchants have been visiting them and informing you that at the very least the clans aren't at each other's throats, at least in any literal sense of the word. Still, you need to see how things are progressing with your own two eyes.
You begin, as usual with inspecting the warriors. Partly because they are the source of most of your problems, partly because they are what you are most interested in and partly because you are not entirely certain you did not make Cocycus up in some kind of haze.
You find the group in the same place you last found them. The ground looks much flatter, and very little grows there now. The tramp of two hundred feet has left the clearing entirely barren. Still, the results speak for themselves.
The Chasind do not look like any military formation you have ever seen. Neither the wide dispersion of scouts, nor the closed ranks of heavy infantry. The closest analogy you can think of is a force of light cavalry, but even they would fight in closer order.
"You call that a throw?" Cocycus yells. "My grandmother can throw a javelin further than that! Go get it and do it again, this time try aiming!"
You emit a short, quiet laugh, it had been a rather abysmal throw. Though you suspect that the flamboyant mercenary is lucky the proud Chasind do not speak Thedaslta particularly well.
Then again given his penchant for duelling, perhaps it might be some kind of tactic for establishing his authority. Provoking and winning duels sounds like the kind of inane nonsense humans would respect.
You approach Cocycus when there is a break in his instructions. You have no interest in distracting him from his task. When you approach the man sweeps into a rather flamboyant bow that sees his sleeves flapping wildly.
"Ah, my most august patron. Come once more to witness the magnificence that is me." He asks loudly.
You take a moment to adjust to Cocycus's, everything.
"I am here to see how the training goes, and to ask some questions." You reply with all the calm you can muster.
"Ask away, Cocycus has no secrets! Though women do sometimes keep secrets from him, so he cannot always be sure who is married and not." The man says with a wide grin, which vanishes quickly. "Who gave you all permission to stop practicing!"
The Chasind who had begun to watch the two of you start and turn back to their tasks, you ask, "How is the training progressing?"
"Better than I had feared." Cocycus says, gesturing widely to the once more training Chasind. "Though they suffer from comparison to perfection, they are learning, slowly. I assure you that there shall be no finer caetrati in this kingdom!"
"I am pleased to hear it." Though you doubt it is much of a compliment, there seems to be little in the way of light infantry among the warriors of Ferelden. "What time frame are we looking at to complete their training."
Cocycus' face falls. "Ah, there lies the trouble. I estimate that they should be ready by years end, assuming nothing happens to slow our training."
You nod slowly. "That sounds as though it is good news, yet you are clearly displeased. What troubles you?"
Cocycus sighs. "I am pleased with their progress, and they assure me that they have come into a method to arm themselves. Yet, perhaps it is merely that my standards are too high, but I cannot help but feel as though they are not yet ready."
You gaze over the Chasind, and think you see what he is saying. There is a lack of urgency, a certain degree of showboating that would be absent from more experienced soldiers.
"Some things can only be learned with experience. Is this one such thing?" You ask.
"Somewhat." Cocycus admits. "Though if I had another half a year I could make them truly great."
You sigh. "Sadly, we do not have that time."
"So it ever is." Cocycus sighs, then grins widely. "The day is never long enough for all the adventure one might experience. Many are those who have wished their time with the noble Cocycus might stretch into eternity. Alas! All were disappointed."
Personally, you wonder what was wrong with those individuals.
"Oh," You say, as though realising a mistake. "I appear to have distracted you, please do not let me get in the way of your lesson."
Cocycus gives you a calculating look, before laughing proudly. "Never fear, completing two tasks at once is a simple matter for one such as Cocycus! Feel free to ask any other questions you may have!"
You force a smile. "Of course, I should not have underestimated you. I will do so, if needed."
Cocycus grins once more, then returns to instructing/berating the Chasind warriors. For your part, you withdraw to the outskirts of the clearing to consider your next move.
You are at something of a war within yourself. You could take this time to continue spending time among the civilians, integrating yourself further into Chasind society, perhaps even learning something more of their language.
Another part of you wants to put a final end to the division between the two clans. You are keenly aware of the approaching Blight, and you know well how division among the free serves the Lord of Darkness.
So, the internal debate rages. On the one hand, spending time with the civilians might prepare you better to heal the divisions between them, on the other the time doing so would take might let the division fester and boil over once more.
Ultimately your decision falls upon healing the division as much as possible. Is this decision swayed by the time you have spent in contemplation of your past of late? Perhaps, yet you think, on balance, it is the more pressing of the issues. Especially since you hope to leave the Chasind to their own devices once the Blight passes.
"Cocycus." You say, once there is another moment you can do so without interrupting. "I wish to speak to some of your students, would doing so disrupt your lesson?"
Cocycus glances at you, then back to the group of Chasind warriors. "That would depend on who you're taking and for how long."
"Velkind and, the other one, the one he was fighting with. I do not think I ever got his name." You say, kicking yourself for not finding it out earlier. "I do not know how long it will be, but I do not foresee needing either of them for an hour."
Cocycus does not respond immediately, instead looking carefully over the Chasind as they drill.
After a few minutes he grins widely and replies, "Well, you are my employer. By all means, take aside the two your heart so desires."
After a brief contemplation over whether you should take umbrage to the man's phrasing, you take Velkind aside for a short conversation.
"Velkind, a while ago you said that the other clan had to pay for what they had done. Well, here is your opportunity to tell me what they have done that is so worthy of revenge." You state calmly.
Naturally you have no intention of punishing either clan for their misdeeds, however you are more than willing to allow Velkind to assume that is your plan if it will get him talking.
Sure enough, the Chasind's eyes widen in glee. "Brightstar. You are coming to the rightmost place."
Velkind's explanation is surprisingly verbose, given his relatively limited vocabulary. The gist of it seems to be that the two clans settled close to each other, and after an incident where the other clan stole all Velkind's clan's (the name of which you finally find out is Beragrāp clan) food, the two became enemies.
After that there is an endless litany of offences that can basically be summarised as 'they raided and fought us'. It is nothing you were not expecting.
When you speak to the young man who nearly assaulted Velkind, Hatian, he tells a different story. It is hard to understand given his extremely poor Thedaslta, but he attests that the Beragrāp clan's chief kidnapped the daughter of his clan's (Morgensteorra, incidentally) chief. The food was then lost in an attempt to rescue her, which ultimately failed.
Which is followed by the same 'they raided and fought us' rhetoric that Velkind used.
You dismiss the young man and sit in contemplation. This is an old feud, and worse, it is one where those involved are all long dead. It is akin to what happened after your father passed, yet so much worse, as there seems to be no grand gesture that can heal the division.
Well, nothing obvious anyway.
Well, you could speak to them on the matter. You doubt it would be particularly effective, but it would be low risk. You even briefly contemplate doing so as well as doing something else. Ultimately, you decide there is simply too much risk of annoying the people you need on side, so you choose not to.
However, you have another thought. Earlier you had been considering the civilians of the clan, and what might be done with them. They are currently unengaged, and more importantly, without their warriors. In theory you can safely bring the two groups together. It might not be a solution, but it will give them a place to interact safely.
Of course, you cannot simply force the two clans together. If you know these matters as well as you believe you do, then the civilians will be as invested as the warriors, if more so. Simply forcing them into the same area without any plan or idea is asking for brawls or some kind of bizarre gossip circle or whatever other cruel and unusual tortures the human mind can concoct.
You leap astride Orundómë and ride towards Velkind's clan, or the Beragrāp clan as you suppose you should call them now. As you do so, you consider your options. Some kind of festival might be the best option you have. It would give the civilians something to do and start creating positive memories. Some time to learn of the other clan might even help highlight the fundamental similarities between the atani.
The only question is what to have it on, maybe a celebration of the warriors' successes? No, that risks too much competition. Something neutral that everyone can benefit from. In the end, you arrive at the Beragrāp clan before you decide on an event worth of celebration.
You find Jezzail without too much trouble. With the traders coming and going, more civilians are actually starting to pick up Thedaslta, which is helpful. The woman does a strange half bow, half nod that screams of someone who is uncertain the exact rank distinction between you.
You would clear it up if you had any idea of what it is yourself.
"Brightstar. What be want of clan today?" She asks seriously.
"I was hoping that you would assist me in running a festival for the Chasind." You reply with a smile.
"Fes ti val?" Jezzail asks with a frown.
"A gathering? A party?" You try to her obvious confusion. "A time when people come together in celebration of something?"
You can see the woman processing your words carefully. She stands up suddenly and fetches a weaving of some kind. There, in careful stitching and paint, is a crude depiction of a festival.
She points to it and asks. "Hālig dæg?"
"You nod. "Yes exactly. A festival, a gathering of people for a celebration."
Jezzail's face becomes very serious indeed. "What for, Brightstar? No know any fes ti val for day."
You pause on the verge of asking after what the Chasind might celebrate when a thought occurs to you. Something you have not had the chance to do in a very long time.
"The stars." You say quietly. "A day to celebrate the beauty of the stars."
A star festival[1] is a tradition that predates the division of the quendi, said to be one of the very first things your people did. Though you are sceptical of that claim, having spent some time in an Arda dominated by Morgoth, you doubt that.
It is rather simple as the celebrations of your people go. It usually takes place away from the cities. All lights are extinguished, and everyone spends some time marvelling at the beauty of the stars. Food is usually served during this time, and children are taught the constellations and names of each star. It is usually a quiet time of reflection.
Jezzail's nod startles you from your thoughts. "It be done."
"Both clans will celebrate together." You state.
Jezzail pauses, then nods. "Yes. Stars for all yes?"
You pause, surprised. "Exactly. The stars are for all."
Jezzail nods and heads out to begin organising.
Evora has a similarly serious reaction to you informing her of the festival, even with the correct word to use. You suspect that there is some cultural significance you are missing, perhaps a tradition of these feasts happening at truces or something of that nature.
It works to your benefit, so you throw yourself into making this the greatest star viewing festival ever. Naturally, you have to make some concessions to human's poor eyesight, so some lanterns and fires must be lit, but you insist there be as few as possible.
You send for your staff, to have them join in. This gets you access to the talents of your cooks, who ensure there is a wide spread of excellent food. The warriors and other workers help set up the festival. They do not understand the significance of a star viewing, but they are happy to have an excuse to party.
By the time the warriors return at sunset, all is in readiness. When their families tell them of what is happening, they treat it with the same seriousness that has characterised the Chasind thus far.
The schedule sees everyone eating together first, as the sun sinks low and the moon begins to rise. There are games and challenges created around, but for you the main attraction is the small clearing that has been set aside in total darkness. There you, Evora and Velkind, as well as anyone who is interested, sit and look at the beauty of the stars.
Your favourite part is how silent and reverent everyone is in the star viewing glade. You hear the Chasind muttering to their children, pointing up at the sky, which is appropriate. You would have liked to join in, but you did not know these stars, their names or constellations.
Still, the patience of children is not infinite, especially when there are games and toys nearby that they could reach. Most people do not stay long, even the adults more interested in the games and in talking to others. Out of respect for you, or perhaps merely a perception of the importance of this place, they choose to have their conversations elsewhere at least.
You are pleased to see humans of the Chasind and Ferelden intermingling with elves. It is a moment of perfect unity where all previous bonds are forgotten, at least for now. The shouts of children running and playing well past their bedtimes echo even in the clearing, despite the efforts of their parents (clear to your hearing though too soft for a human).
"They are beautiful, aren't they." You say quietly as the moon rises to it height.
No one answers, as you are the only one still here. But it does not matter.
The stars may be foreign, but they are still beautiful.
Buying and Selling
"Well, I guess this is goodbye." Martin says.
"No, I thought you got all your stuff together and went to the door as an exercise." Aaron replies sarcastically.
Their mother looks at Sarah leadingly, before sighing and swatting her younger son on the head.
"Behave." She says firmly. "This is a goodbye, and I expect you both to be speaking after today."
"Yes mother." The brothers chorus resignedly.
Ignoring Aaron, Martin turns to Sarah. "It was nice to meet you, don't let Aaron get you down too much."
The young woman giggles nervously. "I don't think I need to worry about that. I'm very fond of him."
Martin turns to his mother, but she points at Aaron with a stern expression. Martin sighs and turns to his brother.
"Thanks for putting me up. Your wife is lovely, and I hope you," Martin's breath catches slightly. "I hope you have a long and happy life."
"Maker Martin, you talk like you're dying." Aaron rolls his eyes, then frowns. "You're not dying are you?"
Martin sputters. "What? No! Where did you get a crazy idea like that?"
"You're the one who started talking about having a nice life!" Aaron replies, red faced.
"Boys!" Their mother exclaims. "Stop fighting and hug each other."
The two brothers hesitate, until she glares at them.
"Men." The woman sighs as the two embrace.
When Martin embraces his mother, her grip is tighter than he was expecting. He doesn't comment on it, merely holding her close.
"You come back to me, you hear." She whispers. "I don't want none of my sons getting killed in some damn fool heroic nonsense."
"I won't ma." Martin replies just as quietly. "I'll be safe, I know it."
The strangest part is, he believes it.
"You better be, or when I catch you in the Maker's light I'll give you such a hiding." His mother threatens, pressing her face against him.
The two separate, Aaron giving them a suspicious look. Martin ignores him and turns to the door.
"It was great to see you all." He says. "Next time I'll bring the whole family and the kids can play with each other."
"Aren't your daughters marrying age?" Aaron replies as Martin steps out.
"Nonsense!" Martin says with a forced smile. "They're my little angels."
There is general laughter at the jokes. If Martin's doublet has a wet patch, and his mother's eyes look a little red, nobody mentions it.
Delora grumbles as the carts are loaded with barrels from the storage.
"Nooo, don't tell Delora about the maturing wine in the cellars. Sure it sells for 25% more than the fresh brewed stuff, but she probably doesn't need to know about it." The elf mutters to herself. "Who even knows how long this has been sitting in the cellar ready to go."
One of the workers gives her a look as he rolls the barrel along. Delora sighs and waves him on. She didn't mean for anyone to actually hear her complaining.
It had been something of a lucky accident that had seen her finding the stored wine. She'd been looking around the storeroom for something one of the Chasind women had asked for.
Her cheeks flush bright red as she remembers the request.
She'd never found it, but she had stumbled across barrels labelled with dates from several weeks ago. She'd been almost grateful for an excuse to do literally anything else, and had tracked down the vintners.
Now here she was, one week of scrambling to find a taste tester and organising an auction for the higher quality wine later, getting ready to take it all the way to Gwaren. After that she needs to visit the Chasind and see if they're looking for anything.
The elf sighs heavily.
"As soon as you get back here, I'm taking three weeks off just so you have to deal with this nonsense." She grumbles beneath her breath.
Horses are terrible beasts. Delora always has the impression that they are considering whether or not her hair is edible. The fact that she can't look them in the eyes without looking up does not endear them to her either.
"Stop it." She glares at the horse that was sneaking up on her. "My hair is not food."
She swears the horse gives her a look like a child denied its favourite toy. The elf glares right back.
"Whatever human spread that myth about elves being naturally in tune with animals deserves a belt in the mouth." She grumbles to herself.
Of course, the more likely explanation is that the horse merchant sold her the worst, foulest tempered of the monsters he had available. Just another wonderful day of being an elf in a human's world.
"Stop it!" She cries at the same horse again.
The horse gives her an arch look.
"I'm watching you." The elf says.
"Oh my Valar! They're wonderful!" Anneth cries in delight, stroking the hair thief's mane. "She's so well behaved."
"For you maybe." Delora replies, glaring at the innocent looking horse.
"They can be a bit of a handful if you're not used to them." One of the other riders says.
"No she's not. She's an angel, aren't you. You're an angel, yes you are." Anneth coos at the horse.
Delora looks suspiciously at the usually serious woman. "Do horses have some kind of mind control power?"
The other rider laughs. "No, she's just a big softy for her horses. Loves them to pieces. Like they're a pet or something."
"Honestly! I can't believe my own troops would turn on me like this!" Anneth exclaims in mock outrage. "There's nothing wrong with taking care of your equipment, and our horses are living, feeling beings. They deserve all our care and attention."
"Plus she's wanted one since she was six!" Someone calls out from the crowd.
The leader of the rangers whirls to face her subordinates face aflame, telling the one who spoke up to show themselves. Naturally, they do not do so, only continuing to make jokes at her expense.
Delora leaves them to their jokes and monstrous creatures, hair mercifully unchewed. Next time, she's making Martin get the beasts.
[1] Meren élnen – literally a festival because of the stars. This is an old tradition even by elven standards and this is reflected in the poetic term for star being used. L