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Folwren's post


Bror turned away from Riv and walked quickly and half blindly towards the door. He stumbled against Skald and looked up. The blood that had left his face when he first saw Riv instead of Skald hanging from the ceiling, came flooding back. He grabbed his shirt sleeve and before Skald could resist, had pulled him in silent furry into the hall outside the kitchen.

‘You great blundering idiot,’ he fumed, ‘anyone would know how that trap works if you only stopped to think for a moment. Where’re your brains? You should have known that cutting that confounded rope would have brought him down faster than a boulder. Now I’m off to get the healer ‘cause Riv thinks he’s broken his collar bone.’

‘It’s not my fault!’ Skald replied shortly.

‘If you weren’t such a -’ Bror seemed to stumble on the next word - ‘fool then it wouldn’t be your fault and none of this would have happened. At least he wouldn’t have fallen. Do you think I’d rig such a thing and be stupid enough to not have a way to let you back down when you stumbled into it? Why was he there, anyway? Why weren’t you? Oh, never mind,’ he growled, and before giving Skald a chance to reply he turn and ran off as quickly as he could go. He tore up the hall to his own room, dressed himself properly as quickly as he could, tugged on his boots, and headed back out to get the healer.

The dwarf doctor was very surprised at being woken by Bror pounding on his door so early in the morning. He came out and as soon as he heard Bror’s report, hurriedly got what he thought would be needed and went out with him.

‘How on earth did Riv Stonecut break his collarbone before dawn this morning?’ he asked as he and Bror hurried along the dim corridors and halls. ‘Did he fall out of bed?’

‘No,’ Bror said sourly, ‘he got tripped up by some ropes.’

‘Ropes, was it?’ the old dwarf repeated, glancing shrewdly at Bror.

‘Well, I set a trap for Skald,’ Bror admitted, wanting to talk too much to keep silent, and being completely unable to tell a lie just now, ‘but Riv stumbled into it and Skald, the bloke, cut a rope and sent him tumbling. I didn’t even have a chance to tell him he could just untie the thing and let him down as safely as...well, the upshot of the matter is, Riv fell and says he thinks he broke his collar bone and I was sent to get you and I don’t think he wants his wife and son to know because he told them he was just fine.’

‘Ah. I see.’ He asked no more questions for the rest of the way and Bror remained silent.

When they arrived at Riv’s kitchen, Skald had gone. Unna was there, dressed and prepared for the day, making breakfast. Leifre sat at the table with his hands on the table in front of him and his eyes wide and moist. Unna looked up from the stove where she was frying eggs and her eyes were sharp and piercing as she looked at the healer.

‘He’s in the other room. I think he’s waiting for you.’ The dwarf nodded and went off. Bror began to follow him, but Unna’s words stopped him. ‘You can’t go in there, Bror. Riv wouldn’t like to see you just now I don’t think. Besides,’ she added in a gentler voice as a look of pain crossed Bror’s face, ‘Leifre needs company. He’ll be alright, though,’ she said even more quietly.

Bror nodded and turned to go to Leifre. ‘Want to help me take down the rest of these ropes while we wait for breakfast?’ he asked. The boy looked up at him and then got down from the chair. Bror was surprised when he came and took his hand and practically led him to the pantry.

‘Yes. Will you tell me what happened? Papi wouldn’t tell me.’ They stopped in the doorway and Bror looked with fallen and crushed pride on the ropes that hung loosely from the ceiling and lay limp on the ground.

‘I was trying to catch Skald, but your Papi stumbled into it instead. Then when Skald cut the wrong rope...well, then you know what happened. Come on.’ He dropped the lad’s hand and bent to work. Leifre stood still with his head to one side.

‘It was supposed to be a joke?’

‘My dear Leifre,’ Bror replied with his back to him, ‘this was the best prank I’ve completed ever. It was pure bad luck that it was Riv who happened to land in it. And it was even sorrier luck that Skald got to him before I did.’ He stopped and bit his lip, coiling a length of rope as he thought. The bad luck hadn’t stopped. He had known as soon as he saw Riv hanging there, before Skald had told him he was as good as dead, and long before Riv had just about confirmed the statement by telling Skald that he probably was dead, too, that his prank had gone wrong in more than just one direction. He knew that Skald may have been angry with it, but he wouldn’t have been into very much trouble, but Riv had done nothing to deserve this. Bror would never have dared to intentionally hang Riv upside down like a ham. Now he’d done it, accidently, to be sure, but he’d done it nonetheless, and Riv had gotten hurt, which made it ten times worse, and he had no idea what his older brother would say (or do) once he was in some sort of state to do so.

All he could do now, though, was wait. Leifre was there by his side now, untangling ropes and helping him coil them and when they were finished, they took them back to Bror’s room. When they returned, breakfast was ready and Unna invited him to eat with the two of them. He accepted her invitation.


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Pio's post --- a truce is called for . . .


‘Hold still!’ Riv stopped his wriggling as the healer manipulated his shoulder area, sending lancets of pain coursing through his chest. ‘This isn’t the first time this collarbone’s been broken, is it?’ asked the healer, running his fingers along the thin bone’s length.

‘Well, no . . .’ Riv answered cautiously, the tips of his ears reddening as he recalled one of Skald’s pranks. There had been a set of seven smooth stone stairs leading down from Skald and Riv’s room in their younger years. Sometime, in the middle of the night, Skald had sneaked out of his bed and oiled the second and third one from the top. Riv, as was his routine, bounded out of bed and made for the stairs at the sound of breakfast being made in the kitchen. He’d lost his footing, of course, and managed to slip and tumble head over heels to the landing. The sound of his brother’s laughter still echoed in his ears.

He’d gotten back at him, though, the very next week. A half dozen old and fetid duck eggs tucked carefully inside Skald’s pillow. His younger brother had lain his head down intending to get a good night’s rest, only to have the stench of rotten eggs come fuming up from his pillow; along with the sticky goo that came through the ticking and clung to the side of his face and hair.

Riv’s thoughts were wrenched back to the present as the healer bade his assistant hold the thin, flat bar of unbending metal against Riv’s chest as he bound it on tightly, wrapping the wide strips of cloth over it and around Riv’s broad chest, then over each shoulder in a figure-of-eight pattern. It hurt like the blue blazes for a moment as the bone was pushed into placed. Riv bit back the string of curses hovering at the edge of his tongue. Leifr had already expanded his vocabulary this morning he was sure, and needn’t hear his father add a few more choice phrases. Once, though, the sling was in place, the pain subsided and Riv found himself able to use his left arm in a limited manner. With the aid of the healer’s assistant he was able to get his tunic back on. And by the time he’d reached the entryway to the kitchen, he’d managed to let his temper cool.

He stood in the shadows of the doorway looking at Bror and Leifr as they sat at the table and Unna as she moved about the kitchen making and serving them breakfast. Bror, he noted with some satisfaction, had a guilty, sort of shamefaced look about him. And Unna, he saw, seemed to be keeping up a steady stream of commentary as she poured the tea and milk or scooped the eggs and ham onto the plates. ‘Good!’ he thought. ‘She’s giving him a pointed lecture on the error of his ways!’ With a barely suppressed smirk on his face he made his way to his chair to sit down.

‘And just what are you smiling about?’ Unna asked him as he looked up at her. She pinned him with her dark eyes; hmmmphing as she served him up a plate. ‘You’re the oldest brother and the one who started all of this, I’m sure. Skald first and he, of course, carried it on with Bror. And didn’t I just hear my own son asking if it was a joke? And in a manner that made me think he’s quite interested in the whole process!’ She stabbed at Riv’s piece of ham with his fork and cut it into manageable pieces for him with forceful cuts of her kitchen knife.

And all the while asking the grievous question of how was it that she had given birth to only one son and yet had to deal with the actions of four childish males. Her voice rose sharply as her complaint continued and soon, the baby began to cry. ‘Now look what you all have gone and done!’ she declared. With a swish of her robe, she turned and left them staring at her retreating back.

‘Mami’s quite tired, son,’ Riv explained in a gentle voice to the wide-eyed boy. ‘Ginna fussed most of the night and wouldn’t be quieted by any but her mother.’ He smiled encouragingly at Leifr. ‘Let’s finish our breakfast; then you can help us clean up the kitchen. I’m thinking I’ll be needing a little help sorting through the new gems we got in yesterday. You can be my assistant.’ Leifr’s face brightened at the prospect of a day with his father and he began shoveling eggs into his mouth.

Riv sat back, picking at his own breakfast with his fork. Bror, still quiet, sat looking at his own plate of food. ‘Well, little brother,’ Riv said, looking closely at Bror. ‘What say we call a truce for now? My collar bone will take a good six weeks or so to mend. And my dear wife . . . well she will most likely be frazzled until the baby lets her sleep the whole night through. She’s more likely to snap than my collar bone if we do any more ‘tomfoolery’, as she terms it. If you’re agreeable, I’ll let Skald know where we stand.’

Leifr had finished his meal and gone to the slops pale on the other side of the kitchen to scrape off the few remaining crumbs of breakfast from his plate. Riv leaned toward Bror, his eyes twinkling with the thought of some future mischief, and said in an undertone, ‘After I’m healed, though, and Unna’s back to her sunny self . . . the white flag comes down and it’s every Dwarf for himself!

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Folwren's post

‘That sounds good,’ Bror said, looking up for the first time since Riv arrived. ‘At least I won’t have to worry about it for a while.’ He looked with a deal of chagrin at Riv. His older brother was composed, but something in his face told Bror that he was still in some pain. The white bandage and cast around his shoulder made him wince and he looked back down at his half eaten breakfast. ‘I ought to be going. Jollin will be expecting me soon.’ He pushed back his chair and got up slowly, as though he were tired from his rather exciting night. He paused with his hand on the back of his chair and looked again at Riv. ‘I’m sorry, Riv,’ he finally said. ‘It wouldn’t have happened like it had it gone my way.’ A small smile came to Riv’s face.

‘No, I dare say it didn’t happen like you wanted it. I would have much rather have seen Skald up there than myself. But, ah well, it can’t be helped. Until later, little brother.’

Bror turned and went out. His spirit lifted and he actually smiled again.

‘You actually got out of there unscathed,’ he murmured to himself, turning his feet in the direction of work. ‘But it won’t last like that for too long, don’t expect it to,’ he added quickly. ‘Until Riv is better and Unna is her old sunny self.’ He smiled even broader. ‘By that time, I may have been able to invent something not quite so dangerous, but as equally fun! Every Dwarf for himself, he said. That joins him in the game.’

But then a voice from the other side of his head replied. ‘That meant you, Bror,’ it said. ‘He’s not going to show the least amount of kindness when it comes to luring you into some sort of trap. You can expect something rather uncomfortable.’

However that may be, Bror could feel no worry about it at the time being. There were many weeks between now and when Riv said the white flags would come down and until then, Bror put it out of his mind.