[The X Phial]

Borgand sat in his tent, trying not to sulk. The competition, the wonderful idea for saving his people, was underway and he could have no part in it. The dwarves were still gone on their mission for stone, and the settlement seemed to languish in the meantime. In truth, it was simply Borgand's own mood that lent this cast to events. The town was still progressing, focus on a central hall had meant that other projects had suffered a bit, but the former soldier's instincts about getting the one community center completed had been dead on. People were excited. Maybe it was the prospect of a place to call their own, maybe it was the prospect of fresh meat, or maybe it was simply the excitement of the upcoming feast and competition, but Borgand had not seen his people this excited since the first night of their arrival. If only he could share in their joy.

Illith bustled about the tent, deftly avoiding both her husband and the subject. Though a decent hunter and tracker before his injury, Borgand had not attempted a hunt since. His place was in the settlement, in any event, and Illith took care to remind him of his duty to the people and downplay his physical disability whenever she could. Still, he was in a foul mood, and since he had to keep up a face for the settlers, she got the worst of it.

"By the stars, woman, can you not be still for one minute altogether?" he demanded, peevishly.

"Actually, I can," she replied, smiling. "I'll take that as an offer to take Bregand out to the wall to find wood for tonight's cooking fire. It will gives me just the chance I need to be still for one minute altogether. Thank you."

With that she sat beside her husband and batted her eyes at him. Despite himself, the man began to laugh.

"Very well," he chuckled, "point taken. Come, Bregand, we're off to find some kindling for your mother. Though we needn't go to the wall for it. Let's go and see how the town hall is progressing. It should be almost finished, despite the rain and there are bound to be plenty of wood scraps to be found."

He lifted himself with his good leg and bent to take his small son's hand. The boy was eager to be out and about, fractious at having been kept inside by the weather. Though generally good tempered, he was still a boy, and as they emerged from the tent he pulled his father through the mud to the center of the settlement, heedless of the puddles and the mist, stretching his young muscles. Borgand looked down at the boy fondly and let go of his hand, allowing him to run ahead, jumping through the water. His footing was less certain than the child's and he had to be careful of the mud, but he did not begrudge Bregand his romp. In truth, it was good to see the child healthy enough to make a mess again.

Father and son made it to the building site and Bregand threw himself into the search for dry wood scraps with the focus only a child can muster. Meanwhile, Borgand spoke to the workers, encouraging them in their work. It was, in fact, almost finished. One more day would bring an end to this particular project and Borgand felt the infectious happiness of the settlement swelling inside him once again at the accomplishment. The town hall was going to be large enough to hold every settler for the feast, plus the 30-odd rangers. In design it was simple, but no less impressive for that fact. Their first real town project, the settlers had every reason to be proud of it.

A young soldier, barely of age, came running up to Borgand, splashing mud in his wake and drawing the attention of the assembled workers.

"Borgand! Oh, Borgand, smoke has been seen! The first of the game has been caught!" he shouted as he ran.

The former soldier perked and straightended, addressing the young man who was now directly in front of him and huffing after his exertions. "What color, Roland? Red or grey?"

"Grey, sir."

"Ahh..then the rangers have taken the first prey of the competition."

Borgand saw the settlers sink a bit at this news. He added, quickly, "Let us not forget that there are two prizes at stake here. First catch does not mean they will find the most game. Our men will show their stamina. After all, they made it here. I have every confidence that the rangers have no idea what they are up against."

The crowd murmered their agreement and went back to their work with renewed effort. The hall had to be done by tomorrow night to have time to prepare for the feast. Inwardly, Borgand did not care who felled the most game, he was simply thrilled that the herds had been found. Things were looking up. He called to Bregand and laughed when the boy appeared, crusted head to toe in mud, but carrying a pile of dry kindling in his shirt.

"Your mother will have a fit, so I guess we'll just have to get you cleaned up before she sees you. Come on, let's get that fire started and when the water's hot enough I'll give you a bath myself."