Boy Day (March 2997) - [One-Shot]
May 18, 2018 10:13:57 GMT -5
Post by Runa on May 18, 2018 10:13:57 GMT -5
The sun was rising, peeking over the horizon of the Riddermark and painting the velvet sky of night into hues of orange, pink, and yellow. The grey-blue sky of March would not be long to follow, for swift it seemed that dawning passed. Runa could hear the songs of the birds as she stood in the quiet at the fence of the training rings. Her shield was held in her hand, her sword sheathed at her hip. Ahead, within the ring, milled about a slew of boys that sought to turn the Eored into their life’s work. Swords, shields, spears—they glinted and caught the early light, from boss to points.
It was her day off; perhaps Runa should have made a move to sleep in, to not rise herself before the sun and let her body rest. Yet, stillness left the young teen’s heart to roam, and these days there were not many joyous tracks for her to ponder. Ceolmund, her best and only friend, had left in October for his first ride with the Eored. This in and of itself was not surprising, for he had been working toward such service for as long as Runa had known him, and she was proud. Runa had thought her world would change enough with him out upon the plain for months at a time, no longer at her hand, sitting and watching the birds at dusk, or having lunch by the silver stream with her. Yet never had she considered that he would leave completely.
But he had.
Ceolmund lived now in Aldburg, and from what she had heard from Beorhtric upon his own return, as well as pieced together from the letters her uncles had sent since they transferred there, the city was nice enough. Pleasant. Perhaps more so to her friend than Edoras ever could be, for Ceolmund was free of his harpy of a mother, and able to finally spread his own wings like the birds he so loved to watch with her.
Runa knew he had promised to come back, and selfishly she wished him to, for there were none others in the city who she could deem, truly, a friend. Adelais had been swept up in a romance of her own, and often had no time to spare for Runa. Though, even if they had time, there was not much for shared interests between them. With Ceolmund gone, she felt alone. And yet, even so, Runa knew that there, so far away, was going to be good for him, and that if he chose to stay she would understand why. Perhaps she would move there; surely healers were needed…
Often her mind trailed down these thoughts, yet grim Runa’s face appeared. She did not know what was to come, what she did know, though, was that she felt empty. It was why she thought it best to not sit idle. She worked to claim any shift the Matron and her mother would allow her, and when they connived to force a day of rest, there was no better way to occupy herself than to head down to the training grounds and join Captain Heruthain’s newest recruits for their paces.
Today, her day off, she had suited up as she had watched Beorhtric do many times, and made her way down to the rings. Laughter filtered through the air upon the wind, and Runa’s already stoic face turned hard to frown. Her eyes, galeish and cold, found Reidar.
He was impossible to miss.
Fourteen years of age, though barely turned come the previous December, he was a year Runa’s minor. Yet he was the tallest of the boys that were in Heruthain’s class this time, with a mop of tawny hair he kept long and braided rather than combed and washed. The start of bristle had come in about his lips and along his jaw, though Runa wondered if he could grow anything beyond the shadow he was sporting.
At his flank, his pack. At his fore, Bjarr.
The boy was small; he did not even look to have reached the twelve years needed to enroll into the training, yet Runa had seen him about and trained alongside him since she had joined in November. The boy was sprawled upon the dirt, wriggling backward along the beaten grass, afraid to rise. His eyes looked trained upon the boys’ feet, perhaps to gauge their follow, though perhaps to hide the glint of tears Runa could see forming.
“What’s wrong? You don’t want to play? But you’re going to be one of us, Baby Bjarr!” Reidar remarked, a snide curl to his lip. Runa could see the shield Reidar was already bearing upon his arm, and her brow pinched further. “Can’t have a cry baby in the ranks! Orc would overrun us for sure!”
“Leave Bjarr alone,” Runa demanded, voice low in a growl as she made her way forward. A few of the smaller, weaker boys that had been clinging to Reidar’s side as he had leered over Bjarr seemed to suddenly no longer feel this was a good idea, and began backing away with quick steps and allowed Runa to pass. She stood between them; Bjarr, behind her, had eyes wide like saucers, Reidar, at her front, seemed undeterred.
“Ah. The sprout,” Reidar sneered, harkening to the name Heruthain used for her. Runa scowled harder. The boy did not seem to care that Runa radiated energy like a summer storm from the plains, and he took a step forward. “Thought you were going to be being a girl today, up in that Hall! Looks like it’s boy day, though.”
He laughed, a few brave enough to follow his lead echoed behind him. Still, there were many of the boys who gave Reidar wary sideways glances, and eyed Runa’s gaze and lips of lightning as if to decipher when the girl would strike forth. They did not wish to be burned along with him.
Runa’s jaw tightened. “Bjarr, can you get up?” She asked, yet the words almost seemed cold, and she did not turn to look.
“Yes,” the feeble sound came in reply. Some of the other trainees came and helped haul him to standing, and Runa listened until she was certain he was out of the way.
“You know, you don’t have to be confused anymore,” Reidar grinned. His eyes dropped pointedly, crudely letting his eyes rove over the young teen’s shape. Runa’s eyes flashed, and her jaw set tighter. “Your woman parts finally came in.” Reidar snorted, lifting his eyes back up to her face, though he was met with the fury of a bull.
“Tread carefully,” Runa warned, brow knitting together in a scowl.
Reidar laughed, finding her threat empty despite the boil of fury that hinted at dark promise. “I just thought maybe you’d need to talk about it! All those years, thinking you’re a boy like us. Had to be a shock.”
Her eyes flashed as lightning, and her nostrils flared. “Not nearly as much of a shock as it will be when yours come in,” Runa offered sourly. A few of the boys snorted in laughter.
That had been enough insult to send the young boy into a fit. His face pinched darker, and his light eyes turned to fire. “You little—”
“We’re done here,” Runa interrupted. She motioned with a flick of her chin to an area further away. “Go sit and wait for Captain Heruthain to get in.”
“Hmph,” Reidar huffed. His eyes raked over the trainees, assessing the damage to his reputation such a sling of words had done; he saw more laughter in his classmates’ eyes at his expense than he was willing to allow, and his eyes snapped back to the golden-haired girl before him like rabid hound. “You have no business being here. Not even sure why the cap lets you train! Poor Baby Bjarr can’t even learn to fight his own battles.”
Runa did not grace it with a response and settled her things on the ground. Her shield fell heavy, and she turned away. “Are you hurt?” She asked Bjarr instead. She could see in the coming morning light that his lip looked swollen and red, though the boy shied away from her examination before she could rightly judge the extent of the harm.
“You never even show up to the good spars,” Reidar hurled next. His words were quick, perhaps desperate. Runa stilled, and slowly turned back to eye him, frost etched upon her face. Her cold incredulity seemed enough to inspire Reidar to press further. “Bet it’s because you know you can’t beat a real man.”
A real man.
Runa knew well a real man, and he was away in Aldburg, not there on this field picking fights with those smaller than him. He stood up for the weak, like a real man should. “I could beat you with no weapon and no shield,” Runa corrected sternly.
Reidar’s eyes glinted like flint, and he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin in bold defiance. “Yeah? Then prove it. When I throttle you, maybe the cap’ll finally see girls have no place here.”
“Runa,” Bjarr squeaked; his eyes seemed large and swimming in concern, though Runa marked him with but a passing glance before she turned back toward her challenger.
“And when I prove not so easily beaten,” the girl drawled, widening her stance to offer more power and staidness to her feet. “Think of me when you wish to be cruel to someone else.” She drew a deep breath, and lifted her hands in guard.
The boy lifted a cry, not even pausing to draw his sword. His blood felt hot, his stomach tight and churning. Reidar hardly afforded the others of his class time to scramble away from the fracas; a step forward he took, long for the length of his legs, and into it he poured what brute strength he could. His pride was wounded, stinging by Runa’s accusations, and he wished to prove to all around he was no girl.
His shield barreled forward; he sought to end this skirmish even as it started, bruising the true girl’s ribs and sending her flying into the dirt, yet Runa could see by his stride his intent. She offered a fade, the shield extending nearly beyond her shoulder, and grunted.
Her hands flew to the shield before the boy was able to retract it once more to his center, and with a twist, she wrenched his arm about. Runa pressed the shield flat, and it pivoted with ease to lie across the back of Reidar’s forearm, pressing down upon the elbow.
The wrench was not without pain, and the Reidar immediately cried out, his fingers loosening upon the grip. Runa could feel it, and pulled the shield free of him, and set her own hand to wielding it.
Riedar was fuming, and barreled toward her without true thought for anything but returning his shield to his hand, and he reached to rip it from Runa’s fingers by force. The teen, though, was quicker than he was, and with a sweep of the shield was able to redirect his arms and hands to an unhelpful angle. Closer she pressed in, rolling the shield upon its axis like a wheel, biting the edge into the teen’s shoulder. She did not stop her stride forward, and so off balance, the boy faltered and spilled back into the dirt with a resounding thud.
“Hmph,” Runa grunted, loosening her hold on the shield as she leered over him, tossing it off and away for him to fetch later. “Now we’re really finished,” she said dryly.
Reidar was aghast, staring upward. “Son of a warg—”
“Ye think they’d be tired of pickin’ fights yer involved in, eh, Sprout?”
Everyone turned to spy the source of the amused tones; there, a few paces from the tossed shield, stood Captain Heruthain. His red hair blazed in the streaming sunlight, his face ruddy already for his time spent under its rays. His eyes were bright and dancing.
“We’re finished, Captain,” Runa answered quietly, almost subserviently.
“Yer uncles’d be right proud of that work you just did. Bean, too,” Heruthain looked to Reidar, finding he, like many of the other boys, was avoiding looking upon him. At the mention of Bean, of Ceolmund, Runa almost grimaced, and her loneliness once more surfaced for a breath. “Sprout here’s been trainin’ longer than almost any of ye. Thanks to Braids, though, I know what yer workin’ on today. Unarmed versus armed technique! Line up!”
Reidar grumbled under his breath, yet dusted his britches off. The boy tossed a cold glare to the girl who yet stood nearby, though Runa did not flinch. Instead she bent and took into hand her own shield, one smaller and lighter than that which she had been using with Reidar. “Bjarr,” she said lowly. “Partner with me?”
Though, despite the question-like inflection to the remark, perhaps she did not leave much of an option. The young boy nodded, his eyes wide and unsure.
Runa could spy the discomfort of the boy’s face, and attempted to offer him a smile, though it was small and somewhat stiff. His lip was certainly swollen, though it did not appear to be too bad. “You’ll do great,” she assured. She paused, the students milling about to fall into formation with an early morning sluggishness to their routine. “You remind me of someone,” she finally added. For a moment, his face flashed before her in memory.
“I do?” Bjarr asked, though soon his tone dropped sadly. “…Are they weak, too?”
“No. They’re one of the best,” Runa answered looking to Bjarr once more as Heruthain took his place before the class. “You will be, too.” If the gods were kind, Runa would get to see him soon. Yet now was the time to train, for the young healer of golden hair did not wish to let her mind dwell there, with him, for long.
It was her day off; perhaps Runa should have made a move to sleep in, to not rise herself before the sun and let her body rest. Yet, stillness left the young teen’s heart to roam, and these days there were not many joyous tracks for her to ponder. Ceolmund, her best and only friend, had left in October for his first ride with the Eored. This in and of itself was not surprising, for he had been working toward such service for as long as Runa had known him, and she was proud. Runa had thought her world would change enough with him out upon the plain for months at a time, no longer at her hand, sitting and watching the birds at dusk, or having lunch by the silver stream with her. Yet never had she considered that he would leave completely.
But he had.
Ceolmund lived now in Aldburg, and from what she had heard from Beorhtric upon his own return, as well as pieced together from the letters her uncles had sent since they transferred there, the city was nice enough. Pleasant. Perhaps more so to her friend than Edoras ever could be, for Ceolmund was free of his harpy of a mother, and able to finally spread his own wings like the birds he so loved to watch with her.
Runa knew he had promised to come back, and selfishly she wished him to, for there were none others in the city who she could deem, truly, a friend. Adelais had been swept up in a romance of her own, and often had no time to spare for Runa. Though, even if they had time, there was not much for shared interests between them. With Ceolmund gone, she felt alone. And yet, even so, Runa knew that there, so far away, was going to be good for him, and that if he chose to stay she would understand why. Perhaps she would move there; surely healers were needed…
Often her mind trailed down these thoughts, yet grim Runa’s face appeared. She did not know what was to come, what she did know, though, was that she felt empty. It was why she thought it best to not sit idle. She worked to claim any shift the Matron and her mother would allow her, and when they connived to force a day of rest, there was no better way to occupy herself than to head down to the training grounds and join Captain Heruthain’s newest recruits for their paces.
Today, her day off, she had suited up as she had watched Beorhtric do many times, and made her way down to the rings. Laughter filtered through the air upon the wind, and Runa’s already stoic face turned hard to frown. Her eyes, galeish and cold, found Reidar.
He was impossible to miss.
Fourteen years of age, though barely turned come the previous December, he was a year Runa’s minor. Yet he was the tallest of the boys that were in Heruthain’s class this time, with a mop of tawny hair he kept long and braided rather than combed and washed. The start of bristle had come in about his lips and along his jaw, though Runa wondered if he could grow anything beyond the shadow he was sporting.
At his flank, his pack. At his fore, Bjarr.
The boy was small; he did not even look to have reached the twelve years needed to enroll into the training, yet Runa had seen him about and trained alongside him since she had joined in November. The boy was sprawled upon the dirt, wriggling backward along the beaten grass, afraid to rise. His eyes looked trained upon the boys’ feet, perhaps to gauge their follow, though perhaps to hide the glint of tears Runa could see forming.
“What’s wrong? You don’t want to play? But you’re going to be one of us, Baby Bjarr!” Reidar remarked, a snide curl to his lip. Runa could see the shield Reidar was already bearing upon his arm, and her brow pinched further. “Can’t have a cry baby in the ranks! Orc would overrun us for sure!”
“Leave Bjarr alone,” Runa demanded, voice low in a growl as she made her way forward. A few of the smaller, weaker boys that had been clinging to Reidar’s side as he had leered over Bjarr seemed to suddenly no longer feel this was a good idea, and began backing away with quick steps and allowed Runa to pass. She stood between them; Bjarr, behind her, had eyes wide like saucers, Reidar, at her front, seemed undeterred.
“Ah. The sprout,” Reidar sneered, harkening to the name Heruthain used for her. Runa scowled harder. The boy did not seem to care that Runa radiated energy like a summer storm from the plains, and he took a step forward. “Thought you were going to be being a girl today, up in that Hall! Looks like it’s boy day, though.”
He laughed, a few brave enough to follow his lead echoed behind him. Still, there were many of the boys who gave Reidar wary sideways glances, and eyed Runa’s gaze and lips of lightning as if to decipher when the girl would strike forth. They did not wish to be burned along with him.
Runa’s jaw tightened. “Bjarr, can you get up?” She asked, yet the words almost seemed cold, and she did not turn to look.
“Yes,” the feeble sound came in reply. Some of the other trainees came and helped haul him to standing, and Runa listened until she was certain he was out of the way.
“You know, you don’t have to be confused anymore,” Reidar grinned. His eyes dropped pointedly, crudely letting his eyes rove over the young teen’s shape. Runa’s eyes flashed, and her jaw set tighter. “Your woman parts finally came in.” Reidar snorted, lifting his eyes back up to her face, though he was met with the fury of a bull.
“Tread carefully,” Runa warned, brow knitting together in a scowl.
Reidar laughed, finding her threat empty despite the boil of fury that hinted at dark promise. “I just thought maybe you’d need to talk about it! All those years, thinking you’re a boy like us. Had to be a shock.”
Her eyes flashed as lightning, and her nostrils flared. “Not nearly as much of a shock as it will be when yours come in,” Runa offered sourly. A few of the boys snorted in laughter.
That had been enough insult to send the young boy into a fit. His face pinched darker, and his light eyes turned to fire. “You little—”
“We’re done here,” Runa interrupted. She motioned with a flick of her chin to an area further away. “Go sit and wait for Captain Heruthain to get in.”
“Hmph,” Reidar huffed. His eyes raked over the trainees, assessing the damage to his reputation such a sling of words had done; he saw more laughter in his classmates’ eyes at his expense than he was willing to allow, and his eyes snapped back to the golden-haired girl before him like rabid hound. “You have no business being here. Not even sure why the cap lets you train! Poor Baby Bjarr can’t even learn to fight his own battles.”
Runa did not grace it with a response and settled her things on the ground. Her shield fell heavy, and she turned away. “Are you hurt?” She asked Bjarr instead. She could see in the coming morning light that his lip looked swollen and red, though the boy shied away from her examination before she could rightly judge the extent of the harm.
“You never even show up to the good spars,” Reidar hurled next. His words were quick, perhaps desperate. Runa stilled, and slowly turned back to eye him, frost etched upon her face. Her cold incredulity seemed enough to inspire Reidar to press further. “Bet it’s because you know you can’t beat a real man.”
A real man.
Runa knew well a real man, and he was away in Aldburg, not there on this field picking fights with those smaller than him. He stood up for the weak, like a real man should. “I could beat you with no weapon and no shield,” Runa corrected sternly.
Reidar’s eyes glinted like flint, and he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin in bold defiance. “Yeah? Then prove it. When I throttle you, maybe the cap’ll finally see girls have no place here.”
“Runa,” Bjarr squeaked; his eyes seemed large and swimming in concern, though Runa marked him with but a passing glance before she turned back toward her challenger.
“And when I prove not so easily beaten,” the girl drawled, widening her stance to offer more power and staidness to her feet. “Think of me when you wish to be cruel to someone else.” She drew a deep breath, and lifted her hands in guard.
The boy lifted a cry, not even pausing to draw his sword. His blood felt hot, his stomach tight and churning. Reidar hardly afforded the others of his class time to scramble away from the fracas; a step forward he took, long for the length of his legs, and into it he poured what brute strength he could. His pride was wounded, stinging by Runa’s accusations, and he wished to prove to all around he was no girl.
His shield barreled forward; he sought to end this skirmish even as it started, bruising the true girl’s ribs and sending her flying into the dirt, yet Runa could see by his stride his intent. She offered a fade, the shield extending nearly beyond her shoulder, and grunted.
Her hands flew to the shield before the boy was able to retract it once more to his center, and with a twist, she wrenched his arm about. Runa pressed the shield flat, and it pivoted with ease to lie across the back of Reidar’s forearm, pressing down upon the elbow.
The wrench was not without pain, and the Reidar immediately cried out, his fingers loosening upon the grip. Runa could feel it, and pulled the shield free of him, and set her own hand to wielding it.
Riedar was fuming, and barreled toward her without true thought for anything but returning his shield to his hand, and he reached to rip it from Runa’s fingers by force. The teen, though, was quicker than he was, and with a sweep of the shield was able to redirect his arms and hands to an unhelpful angle. Closer she pressed in, rolling the shield upon its axis like a wheel, biting the edge into the teen’s shoulder. She did not stop her stride forward, and so off balance, the boy faltered and spilled back into the dirt with a resounding thud.
“Hmph,” Runa grunted, loosening her hold on the shield as she leered over him, tossing it off and away for him to fetch later. “Now we’re really finished,” she said dryly.
Reidar was aghast, staring upward. “Son of a warg—”
“Ye think they’d be tired of pickin’ fights yer involved in, eh, Sprout?”
Everyone turned to spy the source of the amused tones; there, a few paces from the tossed shield, stood Captain Heruthain. His red hair blazed in the streaming sunlight, his face ruddy already for his time spent under its rays. His eyes were bright and dancing.
“We’re finished, Captain,” Runa answered quietly, almost subserviently.
“Yer uncles’d be right proud of that work you just did. Bean, too,” Heruthain looked to Reidar, finding he, like many of the other boys, was avoiding looking upon him. At the mention of Bean, of Ceolmund, Runa almost grimaced, and her loneliness once more surfaced for a breath. “Sprout here’s been trainin’ longer than almost any of ye. Thanks to Braids, though, I know what yer workin’ on today. Unarmed versus armed technique! Line up!”
Reidar grumbled under his breath, yet dusted his britches off. The boy tossed a cold glare to the girl who yet stood nearby, though Runa did not flinch. Instead she bent and took into hand her own shield, one smaller and lighter than that which she had been using with Reidar. “Bjarr,” she said lowly. “Partner with me?”
Though, despite the question-like inflection to the remark, perhaps she did not leave much of an option. The young boy nodded, his eyes wide and unsure.
Runa could spy the discomfort of the boy’s face, and attempted to offer him a smile, though it was small and somewhat stiff. His lip was certainly swollen, though it did not appear to be too bad. “You’ll do great,” she assured. She paused, the students milling about to fall into formation with an early morning sluggishness to their routine. “You remind me of someone,” she finally added. For a moment, his face flashed before her in memory.
“I do?” Bjarr asked, though soon his tone dropped sadly. “…Are they weak, too?”
“No. They’re one of the best,” Runa answered looking to Bjarr once more as Heruthain took his place before the class. “You will be, too.” If the gods were kind, Runa would get to see him soon. Yet now was the time to train, for the young healer of golden hair did not wish to let her mind dwell there, with him, for long.