Chapter 8 - Hal Takes a Dive
Tasha managed, although just barely, to stifle a yawn as Ceorn loudly and at great length praised the Dirgen's Pride. Contrary to the way that it appeared, the ship held together fine on the high seas. Just by taking a look at it, no one would guess how well the captain and his crew kept their vessel shipshape and afloat. They just did very little to make it look presentable; The deck seriously needed to be washed, as did the mainsail and there were enough barnacles on the hull to act as decoration. But, beyond the cosmetics of the boat, it worked just fine.
The kelt didn't go so far as to say that the Dirgen's Pride was the fastest or smoothest vessel to sail the oceans, but he claimed to have been aboard worse. "At least th' weather's not too bad," he remarked vaguely.
All aboard were pleasantly surprised by the lack of storms during the first leg of their journey. They had been at sea for close to four days, with winter just around the corner, waiting to pounce. All the passengers thanked the Gods for the respite.
And there were passengers! At least twenty people had decided to spend the winter season with relatives across the Inner Sea. Dirgen had conveyed his considerable surprise at the size of the crowd to Tasha early on. He was determined to offer passage so late in the season every year from that time forward.
Tasha stood at the ship's prow, the salty wind flowing through her lengthy blonde hair and ruffling her cloak. Ceorn unabashedly watched the way that she moved, his eyes following her suggestively. Seeing her shiver from the wind's chill, he stepped up to her side and gently placed his thick cloak over her slender shoulders. " Here lass," he said with a toothy smile. "Ye' look like ye' need this more'n I do."
Accepting the cloak with a polite smile, Tasha carefully wrapped it around her shoulders while keeping a wary eye on the kelt. She had been feeling very uncomfortable around him as of late. After the initial shock of meeting his personality head on and being overwhelmed by his charm wore off, Tasha realize that there didn't seem to be much else to him. Primarily, Ceorn was just trying way too hard. What came across as being almost boyish at first ended up feeling quite forced and hard to swallow.
Ceorn was leaning against the ship's railing and staring intently at Tasha's face. She flushed intensely and looked away. With a slight, unconcerned shrug, Ceorn smiled and gazed past her. After waiting a few moments, what Ceorn undoubtedly assumed was a very long time, he turned back to Tasha and saw that she was still adamantly avoiding his yellow-eyed stare.
A sudden, sharp gust of wind slipped in through Ceorn's loose clothing at that particular moment. Still from the corner of her eye, Tasha watched with amusement as Ceorn began to shiver but then aggressively tried turning it into a unique stretch with both of his arms thrust out to the sides and his head snapped back. He then snuck a look at Tasha to make certain that she didn't see it.
"Would you like your cloak back, Ceorn?" Tasha asked ever-so-casually.
The kelt took a moment or two to collect his obviously tumbling thoughts before answering. "Ach, no! No' at' all!" he said, chuckling in his practiced way. "Back 'ome, in the Clanlands, we live in the mountains. An' I tell ye, it gets so cold up there sometimes that, well... Let's just say that we get a bit chilled under our kilts." Ceorn then gave an elaborate wink at that point and chuckled again. Tasha chuckled along politely and changed the subject.
"So," Tasha said blandly. "Garn has his theory, I have mine, and we wondering what you thought about it."
Ceorn stared at her blankly for a long moment. He unconsciously scratched at his head, ruffling his short cropped, spiky yellow hair before admitting his ignorance. " 'Bout what?"
Tasha motioned vaguely over towards Hal, who was busily coiling up the thick and heavy ropes that were used for rigging the sails. Despite the chill of the wind, he was simply dressed in his patchwork leggings and a loose, sleeveless jerkin. Sweat stained the back of his jerkin lightly and his hair hung limply down over his face. In short, the big man looked bone weary. Since the very moment he set foot aboard the Dirgen's Pride, the grimy dwarven captain had given every single heavy lifting or degrading job to Hal.
Ceorn was still lost. "What about him?"
Tasha motioned conspiratorially with her hand. "You know what I mean," she insisted. Trying not to smile as the kelt's confused face openly declared that he no idea what she was talking about, Tasha explained. "How do you think he managed to get us passage aboard this ship for so little? I've talked with some of the other passengers and they all paid an arm and a leg for this trip. It just doesn't make any sense for the captain to have simply had a change of heart. Garn's guessing that Hal offered to do the work of half of the ship's crew and I'm inclined to agree with him. What do you think?"
Ceorn stared at Hal's large frame for a short time, as if the kelt could somehow glean the answer from staring at him. He turned away when the big man glanced up and their eyes met. Tasha was surprised to see a sullen look in Hal's but didn't get a chance to think on it before Ceorn monopolized her attention again.
Lochlaven shrugged broadly. "Ye' got me, lass."
"You'd like to think that," Tasha muttered under her breath.
Ceorn tilted his head at her. "Beg pardon?"
"Hmm? Oh, nothing."
Tasha thanked her lucky stars for the slight commotion that came from behind them at that exact moment. A sudden harsh laughter sprang up from the crewmen as the sound of booted feet came scampering across the deck at full speed. Both Tasha and Ceorn turned to see Garnthalisbain, his dark robes and long black hair streaming along behind him, running for the ship's railing with one hand clapped over his mouth and a greenish tinge to his face. He lunged the last few feet to the rail and swiftly hung the top half of his small frame over it. Ceorn, afraid the man might slip, caught a hold of Garn's belt and steadied him as the mage proceeded to vomit noisily over the side.
When he was finally done, Ceorn hauled Garn back and set him on his wobbly feet. The frail mage leaned against the wooden rail for support and took many shuddering breaths.
Ceorn jovially slapped the mage across the back, almost knocking Garn to his knees, and asked jokingly, "Seasick, lad?" Then he chuckled in that way of his.
The mage glared darkly at the taller man for a moment before pushing himself away on the rocking deck. He ran a sleeve across his mouth, apparently trying to remove the taste of bile from his lips. "You know something, Lochlaven?" he asked. "That joke wasn't even funny the first time you said it... four days ago." With that, Garn shoved past the former gladiator and stumbled back to the cabins below.
Ceorn kept on chuckling. "Poor bastard," he muttered.
Tasha shot a look his way that the kelt missed utterly. It wasn't a particularly nice look. She was starting to agree with Garn's personal opinion of Lochlaven. Of course, she admitted to herself, if Hal had been the one that Ceorn was bothering, he and Garn would probably have been the best of friends. Tasha sighed and pushed the thought aside to worry about what was really bothering her.
Basically, Tasha was nervous. It was a feeling that was typically unusual for her to be having. Normally, people back home in the Vineyard Grove revered her highly, giving her a regular, every day sense of accomplishment. It was something that she felt quite withdrawn from and lacking. But not too terribly. The last few weeks had brought out in Tasha a determination that she'd always known she had but was never given the chance to use and explore. The fighting and travelling through chilly weather, all of it added its own little part. Tasha was able to admit to herself that she wasn't as stable as her travelling companions, in regards to what they were doing. At least, not yet. But she knew that she would be and that she had to be. Tasha really had no choice, seeing as how she was the unspoken leader of the group.
It only made sense in some ways, but little in others. The obvious choice for group leader should have been Garnthalisbain, in Tasha's mind. The mage was the oldest of the original three and the most worldly. That along with h
is obvious intelligence and magical abilities made him the strongest contender.
Now that Ceorn was travelling with them, a decision that Tasha was beginning to regret having made Hal accept, Tasha believed that he also deserved some consideration. He probably wouldn't be a bad leader, she thought to herself. He was by far the oldest and most travelled. Not to mention an exceptionally gifted, though somewhat deranged, warrior.
Regardless, it fell to Tasha. Originally because it was her idea to follow the vision in the first place, the others just sort of came along with her. And at first that was exactly how she wanted it. But now, after having actually seen what the world was like in all of its harshness, Tasha would have gladly given the mantle of leadership over to someone else. But no one would willingly take it, except maybe Lochlaven - not that she was seriously considering it. Garn wouldn't accept it at this point, he was having too much fun watching Tasha flounder her way through everything they encountered. And Hal wouldn't touch the idea with a ten foot pole for fear of making a mistake, which, she quickly decided, was probably a good thing. Hal was a very dedicated person and powerful warrior, but not a leader.
Or is he? Tasha mused, shifting slightly so that she could lean against the rail with her back and regard Hal without making it look as if she were ignoring Ceorn's endless stories of the battles he had fought. Hal had at last finished winding the seemingly endless coils of rope and was sluicing himself clean with seawater. His face was furrowed with weariness as he poured the water over his head. His eyes were closed as he rolled his neck from side to side, wincing now and again. Opening his eyes, Hal saw Tasha watching him and swiftly ran his fingers through his soaked hair and inclined his head politely. Then, seeing one of the crewmen motioning towards him, Hal turned his back on Tasha and began to work on the steel cables for the ship's anchor.
From the moment that Garn had told her how Hal had managed to convince Dirgen to lower his asking price for passage, Tasha had been very curious about her 'bodyguard'. He didn't seem to be acting any differently around her, or anything that obvious. Just the opposite in fact. He was still the same old Hal, stumbling along, always looking as if he didn't know what was going on.
On several occasions during the trip, Tasha had been tempted to use her new-found abilities and enter Hal's mind to see for herself what he was up to. It hadn't been until recently that Tasha had learned that she could actually use her abilities like that. The first time it happened completely astonished her. She had been eating dinner with Ceorn back at Wayfarer's Port, waiting for news from Hal and Garn. Ceorn had been working his charms on her with even more determination than she had ever seen anyone else use. Absently, Tasha had wondered what exactly the kelt had been getting at when she suddenly began to clearly register, in basic, fluttering images what was going on in the kelt's mind.
Tasha blushed faintly then, remembering what the kelt had been thinking about.
Since then, Tasha had been experimenting with several different people. Now, after a bit of practice, she was able to connect with and see the other person's thoughts and pull away with very little difficulty. Garn had called her new ability telepathy, or mind reading.
She continued to look at Hal, her gaze lingering on him. Feeling her eyes on him, Hal stole a look up and met Tasha's gaze. She could see, even from the fair distance, the gray in his eyes and the faint uncertainty behind them. What are you up to? she asked herself. Their gazes remained locked for a brief moment, then Hal looked back down to the cables and gave them one final twist. Silently, he stood up, stretched and walked past the ship's cabins and out of her sight.
Tasha sighed. She couldn't bring herself to spy on Hal's thoughts and invade his privacy without permission. She didn't know why not, but she just couldn't.
Ceorn nudged her arm softly. " 'Eh there lass. Is there somethin' troublin’ you?" He looked her in the eyes and winked with a smile. "I hope I'm not borin' ye wit' me exploits an' all."
Tasha refocused her gaze on the kelt and managed to smile. "No, not at all. Please, continue."
The kelt nodded his head, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. So, there me and me pal were. Stuck toe to toe wit' a big mother of a... "
Tasha quickly found herself losing interest in the sound of the kelt's voice. Not that he was boring on in the least unentertaining. Continually Ceorn would throw in his own personal anecdotes and editorials that were, for the most part, quite humorous. But, one can only hear the same joke used about twelve dozen times before it begins to get stale. Tasha was no longer able to count the number of times that she'd heard Ceorn say the phrase, "Don' call me 'sir'. I work for a livin' don't you know."
Unconsciously, Tasha found her thoughts going back to Hal again. His sword, the one he called Stormbringer, this time was the focus of her attention. He never used it in a battle, never drew it from his sheathe and, according to Hal's very own words, had never even wielded a sword before. This brought an interesting question to Tasha's mind. Why bother wearing it into battle if he won't use it?
She let the idea roll around in her head for several moments before concluding that he wore it for two possible reasons. One being that it was given to him by Lord Aeros and he was wearing it to honor his 'father'. The second was that another weapon can always come in handy in a fight. In all honesty, Tasha thought to herself with a faint smile. How much skill does it really take to swing a sword that immense? At least her blade was light enough to allow for combat strategies to be developed. Hal's sword was little more than a sharpened, metallic club.
At the sound of stringy music, Tasha swung her gaze past Lochlaven and over to the minstrel and his harp. He was a fairly young man with a round, boyish looking face. He had the blondest hair that Tasha had ever seen and was dressed in rather flamboyant garb. Most notably he wore a short cape that fluttered about his form, gleaming bright orange in the light.
Tasha had the opportunity to speak with him the day before. She learned that his name was Merrick. Lincoln Merrick, if she remembered correctly. He was a pleasant young man who was frankly surprised to be aboard. It seems that Captain Dirgen had approached him a few days before setting sail about providing entertainment for the voyage to Southmoor. Merrick had accepted immediately, always having wanted to travel to Southmoor. To meet the knights, learn the ballades and so forth.
Now the young bard was entertaining a small group of ladies of some importance and a few small children with a jovial little tale. Tasha smiled, remembering the story from her own childhood. The story of a young man in love with a beautiful woman who didn't want him. The song told of the trials and tribulations the young man went through in order to, eventually, win her over to him. Tasha sighed, wondering if such a thing were really possible in life.
Judging by the tone of the kelt's voice, Tasha realize that Ceorn was wrapping up his story. Quickly she focused her eyes back on Lochlaven and smiled faintly. Ceorn finished his tale with a flourish, waving one hand out to sea dramatically. Tasha nodded slightly. "Fascinating," she murmured politely.
Ceorn smirked then and leaned in towards her. "Oh really, lass. Ye' think so?"
Tasha placed a hand on Lochlaven's chest and carefully pushed herself away from him. "Quite." She then cast around for some sudden excuse to leave his side without being too obvious about it.
"Excuse me," came a soft, high pitched voice. Both Tasha and Ceorn looked down to see a small child tugging on Lochlaven's kilt and looking up at them earnestly. Tasha felt her heart go out to the child for he had the biggest blue eyes that she had ever seen.
Lochlaven crouched down next to the child then, his face softening noticeably. "Eh, there laddie," he said. "What can we do for you?"
The boy looked at the kelt openly. "Why are you wearing a skirt? And your friend, why is she wearing pants?"
Tasha felt herself smile in surprise. She covered her mouth with one hand to keep from laughing, not wanting to make the child feel foolish. Ce
orn however laughed uproariously, nearly falling over in his mirth. He rose to his feet, picking the child up in his strong arms so the they could talk comfortably. "Ye' see, laddie," he began, still laughing gently. "What I'm wearin's called a kilt. All of the men from the Clanlands wear kilts. It's our symbol and tradition. And Tasha here." He paused for a moment, smiling at her. "I s'pose she wears 'em 'dere pants 'cause they're comfy."
Tasha laughed then, seeing the puzzled expression on the boy's face.
There came a slight commotion from the minstrel's small crowd. A young woman, dressed in basic brown clothing was calling out a name most frantically. The boy in Lochlaven's arms waved his small hand to the lady. "I'm here, Nanny," he said with a smile.
The woman, obviously relieved, strode forward and took the boy from Ceorn's arms, scolding him softly. Ceorn unsubtly ran his eyes up and down the woman's form before beginning to speak with her in earnest. The woman blushed slightly and conversed with the kelt in return.
Tasha gratefully took the opportunity to slip away from Lochlaven while he was distracted. Safely out of his sight, she breathed a soft sigh of relief.
She took her breather to stroll around the ship, passing several burly crewman who gave her an approving eye as she walked by. One individual actually went so far as to whistle piercingly. Tasha got very red in the face and found that, to her embarrassment, that she was smiling. I don’t have to read their mind to know what they’re thinking about, I suppose.
Tasha hurried past.
At the stern of the ship, Tasha saw the dwarven captain, Dirgen, at the helm. He was piloting the vessel effortlessly. Much the same manner in which a carpenter would have working with his tools. But he was high above her, on what was bizarrely referred to as the poop deck, and not conveniently close enough to talk to.
Rounding the cabin's corner, Tasha stopped in her tracks and backed up a pace. She peered around the edge and watched the proceedings.
Hal was sitting on top of some piled firewood with a large woodaxe resting nearby. On the deck before him sat what appeared to be the remainder of the children aboard, at least four of them. Over near the railing the family of one of the children stood, watching the big man amusedly as he spoke with the kids.
"Hal?" asked one boy curiously. "Why are you here, on the boat?"
Hal looked down at the boy very seriously, twirling a very small piece of wood with his fingers. "Why do you think I'm here, Jonn?" His voice was slow and precise, so that the children could understand what he was saying without feeling talked down to.
The boy, Jonn apparently, shrugged his small shoulders silently. "I dunno."
"I know why you're on the boat!" piped up one girl excitedly, bouncing up and down on the deck. The parents over on the railing chuckled then, pointing at the eagerness of their child.
"Well, then." Hal said, swinging his gaze over to the child. "Why am I here?"
The girl stood up and walked over where big man sat and reaching up on her tiptoes. Even then Hal had to lean down so that she could whisper in his ear. She cupped both of her hands around her mouth as she spoke, her round little face getting a faint pinkish hue. Hal listened carefully to what she said and smiled. "Not quite, Sonia. Good try though."
"Are you a knight?" broke in the other boy. "My uncle Daven, he's a knight. He's got armor an' a sword an' a horse an'... an', an' other stuff. Are you a knight?"
Hal grinned down at the boy, gesturing at him with his little piece of wood. "Nope. Not a knight."
"Why do you have a sword then?" asked Jonn.
"And an axe?"
Hal's face froze for a moment as he searched for an answer, instinctively checking to make sure that his weapons weren't there with him. Hal looked down at his hands and apparently didn't like what he saw there from the way his face twisted in distaste. "I carry... my weapons," he said softly, gesturing vaguely towards the cabins with the stick. "Because I have to. And because I don't know how to do anything else." He clenched his fists suddenly then, his knuckles cracking noisily and the stick snapping in half. Both girls clapped their hands over their ears and made noises of disgust. Hal smiled again then and looked at the girls ruefully. "Sorry."
Jonn stood up, puffing out his chest and trying to look taller than he was. "Do you think I'll get a sword one day?"
Hal placed one of his hands gently on the boy's shoulder, effectively engulfing it, and stared down at him silently for a moment. "I hope not," he said earnestly.
The girl, Sonia, crawled up onto the firewood stack and wrapped her arms around Hal's thick neck. "Piggy back!" she cried out, jumping up and down excitedly. All of the other children looked earnestly up at Hal then, big smiles on all of their faces.
Hal ran his fingers through his shaggy hair and shook his head. The tail ends of his long hair flapped in Sonia's face and she spluttered, giggling. He looked down at the eager, happy faces of the children in front of him and sighed mock-ruefully. "Oh, all right," he said, obviously feigning reluctance. There was an intense cheer from all of the kids as Hal rose from the firewood. He took a single step forward and stood with both arms held out to his sides and stayed that way.
In a fraction of a second Hal was swarmed by small people and was soon caught up in their mirth. He began to giggle right along with them, swinging from side to side much to their delight.
Tasha was touched to her very core by the sight. Never before had she seen anyone deal with children so easily or with such familiarity. To her knowledge, Hal had no previous experience with children, be they siblings or what have you. She leaned against the corner of the cabin and watched with a smile.
She saw a movement from the people at the railing. The parents were instructing their oldest daughter to stay and watch while they went for a walk. The teenaged girl agreed fervently. Tasha saw with amusement the way the teenager was watching Hal and the little ones. When Hal effortlessly lifted one of the children up high in the air, the young woman clapped her hands and spoke her amazement.
Tasha took a closer look at the young woman and saw that she wasn't just amused by Hal's actions. Noting the way that the girl was staring at Hal and the way that she kept smoothing her dress out unconsciously gave Tasha her first clue. When Hal saw the young woman watching as he tossed the children around harmlessly, he smiled politely at her. Tasha saw the way the girl's face lit up and felt... something strange. She couldn't describe it. But she was sure that she felt something.
Surprise definitely. The thought that a woman would actually look twice at Hal was rather surprising. Then Tasha rearranged that thought, realizing its blatant unfairness. Of course women would look twice at Hal, she amended. After all, he‘s tall, strong... but handsome? Tasha had never thought of Hal that way. He was... Hal! Her friend and 'bodyguard'. Someone that she liked to be with but never...
She realize then that Hal had stopped moving around and was staring directly at her. Too late, Tasha noticed that she had moved around the corner of the cabin and into plain sight. The young woman at the railing glanced at her curiously, slight worry playing across her face.
There was a long pause. The little girl, Sonia, who was perched high on Hal's broad shoulders, leaned down to his ear and loudly whispered, "Is she your girlfriend?"
Hal glanced up at the girl, and looked her dead in the eye. "I don't think so," he said, also in a loud whisper.
Tasha smiled at that, chuckling quietly. Hal looked at her and shrugged, a goofy grin on his lips and a slow flush creeping across his face. Tasha leaned back against the wall and continued to watch. Hal resumed the game. He swung the children around in the air once more, their squeals of delight piercing the regular noise of the ship and sailors.