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Old 04-08-2006, 06:20 PM   #201
Firefoot
Illusionary Holbytla
 
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Join Date: Dec 2003
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Firefoot has been trapped in the Barrow!
As Æðel examined and treated his foot, Léof offered no more in the way of conversation, sitting quietly and resentfully. This feeling only grew as Degas came and went – doing his job. Oh, Léof did not hold this against Degas. The work did have to be done, and he was quite unable to do so at the moment with Æðel in control of his foot. But this did not change the fact that he felt that he ought to be doing it – he wanted to. His line of thought was broken off as another set of footsteps echoed at the end of the stable – Eodwine this time. Léof had little strength left to feel anything other than resignation: no desire to flee, no hope of deceiving the lord.

“How is the foot, Léof?” he inquired as he drew nearer.

Fine, just fine… “Æðel has not yet told me,” Léof answered somewhat stiffly, biting off any further and probably sarcastic comments. She had let him stew in his silence, and Léof now wondered if she was annoyed with him as well… let her be, then. He was annoyed with her, too.

“I think,” she began, more to Eodwine than Léof, it seemed, “that complete rest will not be necessary, although it might be better. A couple of toes are certainly broken, but the rest seems to be just very badly bruised.”

“I can still work,” said Léof firmly.

A look that Léof could not quite read crossed Eodwine’s face. “Léof, I do not want you to overwork yourself. Neither Thornden nor I will judge you harshly on account of an injury. You are doing fine work here in the stables and can continue to do so when you are properly recovered. The position will not go away because you are laid up for a few days.”

A thread of relief wound through Léof’s mind, but in other ways he felt no differently. Eodwine did not seem to have a full grasp of Léof’s motives for wanting to continue to work, and Léof did not know how to explain. He felt a further sense of duty here, but more than duty. He belonged here; here in these stables, he was in charge. Having someone else, or a few others, take over his duties even for a few days would be like… well, like some other woman taking over his mother’s duties and running her household for a few days. Léof felt protective of his job, all the more so after the incident earlier, when Gárwine had not quite known how to handle the spooked Herefola. Not that there weren’t others capable of handling the horses – probably mostly feeding them and mucking out their stalls, anyway – but Léof still felt responsible. To sit idly by while others worked with “his” horses in “his” stable felt wrong to him.

And, of course, if he was forced not to work for a few days, it would mean that his foot really was as hurt as his friends had figured. For them to be right… what pride remained to him would shrivel up to a small, hurt speck.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, and meant it. That did not mean he intended to give up, however; he was a fighter, or otherwise would not have survived. Nor had he forgotten that he was still irritated with most of these people. “But if it’s all the same, I would prefer not to completely give up working. It wouldn’t feel quite right.”
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