Pitchforks and Forges [attn: Bella/Derren]

[Roan]

Paks

The new schedule Paks was on meant more chores in place of combat training, and one set of chores had her at the stable for a good chunk of the afternoon. The stable master was waiting for her when she arrived and handed her a pitch fork and large bucket, “You’re the lucky one who gets to help me with the stables, eh? Well get started picking out the stalls.”

Giving the man a blank look, Paks replied, “I. . . uh I don’t really know how to do that.”

The man rolled his eyes, “Of course they send someone green. Follow me.” He led her into one of the barns and into one of the stalls, “We bed the horses on straw. To keep the straw as clean as possible, we pick out the manure and the damp straw. You use the pitchfork to do pick the soiled straw and manure, put it in the bucket, and dump the pile in the large compost pile behind the forge.”

“Where is the forge?” Paks asked.

The stable master frowned, “Follow me.” He stalked off down the aisle, not waiting to see if Paks followed.

Feeling more uncertain about the tasks she’d been assigned to in the stables, she followed, and realized she heard the sound of what she assumed was a hammer hitting an anvil. As they exited the barn, she saw the forge, and a man working a piece of red hot metal.

“The forge. Behind it, you’ll find a compost pile. Dump the filled basket, then go back, rinse and repeat. Now get to it, Ji’val. I’ve got other things to see to and don’t have time to babysit,” the man replied before stalking off.

Paks watched the man walk off. Before getting to work, she walked to the back of the forge to see the compost pile. Wrinkling her nose, she shook her head, “This is going to be a long day.”

The summer day was warm, and within an hour of working in the stalls, Paks shed her jacket and rolled up her sleeves. Sweat trickled down her temple and neck, leaving streaks in the dust that seemed to coat her face. Setting the pitchfork down, she grunted as she picked up the full and heavy basket. She wondered, not for the first time, why the stable master didn’t have wheelbarrows since it would make the task of cleaning the stalls a lot easier.

As she reached the forge, her grip on the basket started to slip. She desperately tried to adjust her hold, but it was no good as the bucket and its smelly contents tumbled to the ground. Her own momentum nearly saw her fall face first into the manure, “Mother’s milk in a teacup! This is not what I signed up for!”

‘You didn’t sign up for anything, as I recall,’ Jesi’s image said with a playful smirk.

‘Shush you.’

‘Well, but you didn’t, did you? I mean not really. I mean, I guess you ultimately did, but the way you put it, you didn’t have much choice in the matter, eh? Oh. . .you might have company.’

Paks used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat off of her brow, smearing a bit of the dust. She picked the bucket up and set it on the ground next to the mess she’d made before looking around to see if there was another pitchfork nearby. Behind her, one of the horses still in its stall winnied, as if laughing at her. Looking over her shoulder, she gave the beast a flat look, “Who asked you?”

[Bella]

The young woman who was mucking out the barns this day was not one who usually did so. Derren knew this because he spent a great deal of his spare time at the forge, and so he saw pretty much everyone who worked in the stables. Generally, it was the usually group of hands, and then a few regulars who wanted to spend time with the horses.

Occasionally, people were sent here as a punishment. The Grey Asha'man wondered if this was such a case.

He certainly didn't look like an Asha'man on that day, however.

Work in the forge was hot by nature, both due to the environment of the forge as well as the hard physical labor that went with it. Such labor had done well to keep him in shape, even if his own personal aesthetic was not a high priority. He was shirtless and covered in a sheen of sweat, although not looking worse for wear. He was used to it.

When the girl fell and retorted to the horse, Derren's dry wit--often so dry, it was impossible to detect even by him--asserted itself. "Few people ever ask them, but they always answer," he called to the woman. "Do you need a hand with that?"

[Roan]

Paks

The Ji’val’s head snapped towards the voice. She knew someone had been working the forge, but she hadn’t really paid much attention to the man until he addressed her. He caught her off guard, and there was no way she could hide her surprise. “Uh,” was her initial response when she looked from him to the pile of manure at her feet.

When she looked back to the blacksmith, Paks made a face, “I think all I need is a shovel or pitchfork. You don’t happen to have one lying around in the forge for any reason?” She looked over her shoulder to the barn she came from, “I could go back to the stall I was working on, but it’s on the far end of the barn, and I’ve already made the trip back and forth countless times and haven’t even finished half the stalls.”

Thinking back to her previous train of thought, Paks barely gave the man a chance to respond, “Or. . .perhaps you know where I might find a wheelbarrow? It would make the work go a bit faster and a bit easier.” It didn’t occur to her that most learning ranks sent to the stabled were probably paying penance for some misdeed, “These buckets are a pain in the arse to haul back and forth.”

[Bella]

Derren's lips curved just a little one side. "I often wish they would relocate the whole of the pile to somewhere nearer the barn and spare the forge its presence," he commented. "But alas, they have their reasons, and I've chosen not to press the issue." He wiped his forehead with his forearm and looked around the open-air building. "I have a shovel."

Moving around, he grabbed it and brought it out to the woman, handing it to down to her.

"As for the wheelbarrow, they seem to treat that like a crown's secret," he commented. "There are two for the barn, for when the regular stable-hands do the work. They are up at the stables themselves, at the back of eastern wall."

[Roan]

Paks

Paks accepted the shovel as the blacksmith told her the ‘crown secret’ on where the wheelbarrows are. She gave the man a small smile, “Thanks for letting me in on the secret. I think the stablemaster sees me as just any other learning rank sent to do penance, but working the stables is part of my daily routine at the moment.”

The Ji’val started to shovel the manure and soiled straw back into the bucket, “How do you stand the stench of that pile? On days like today, when it’s stifling hot and the wind just. . .carrying the smell your way? It can’t make it easy to work the forge every day.”

‘What’s this? You’re actually initiation conversation?’ the vision of Jesi always seemed to appear at awkward moments. Currently, she was standing just to the right of the Blacksmith.

‘What’s wrong with that?’

Jesi gave Paks a warm smile, ‘Nothing. It’s about time, is all. It is good to see you come out of your shell a bit.’

Paks watched as Jesi’s image seemed to fade, and looked back to the man as she wiped sweat from her brow again, just smearing dirt and sweat, “I’m sorry I’m only going to add to the odor.”

[Bella]

"It can be unpleasant at times," Derren agreed wryly, "but I also grew up around forges and horses and stables and so on. I also spend a lot of time here, so you just..." He waved his hand slightly. "...adapt. Just like with all things, really. It is my experience that most people are very adaptable."

He paused and considered what she'd said. "I suppose if this will be part of your daily routine for a while, you'll actually get used to it yourself. It doesn't take as long as you might think in order to do so."

[Roan]

Paks

The Ji’val continued to fill the bucket with what had spilled earlier, looking to Derren and wrinkling her nose, “I hope you’re right. It can be quite. . .pungent. It’s not as bad in the stalls as it is back here closer to the pile.”

Jesi appeared next to the blacksmith and eyes the shirtless man up and down, ‘Not a bad looking specimen.’

‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’ Jesi smirked. ‘You’re human.’

‘And he’s a man.’

‘As if you’ve never?’

‘Stop.’

Jesi smirked and disappeared.

It was one thing to use a pitchfork on straw, but trying to use a shovel to pick up what she spilled was proving to be more than a little challenging. Flipping the shovel over, she used it to ‘sweep’ the straw into a pile before trying to shovel all of what was left in one scoop. And because the Pattern was never so simple, she got maybe half of the last bit of straw up.

After ‘sweeping’ the straw into a pile and scooping it up three more times, she’d finally managed to clean up most of what she spilled. She handed the shovel back to Derren, “Thanks for the shovel.” She looked around, “I haven’t really ever spent much time around horses, even since coming to the Tower. I’m not. . . all that comfortable around the beasts.”

[Bella]

It never ceased to surprise Derren just how many people came to the Grey Tower and said things very similar. Having practically grown up with them in the house, it didn't occur to him until he was much older that it wasn't the same for others. Those who were very poor, or those who had grown up entirely in cities, had far less occasion to work with them.

"It wouldn't be a bad idea to try to cultivate that experience," he said. "You may find many an occasion where you need to ride or be around horses, and being more comfortable around them would be useful. I myself grew up around them and come from a stretch of family business around them. I think I'm more at ease with horses than people sometimes."

[Roan]

Paks

Reaching down, Paks lifted the basket up once more as she looked to the Blacksmith, “I wouldn’t even know where to start, if I were honest. The most experience I’ve had with horses before this was when we managed to catch rides from one town when I was with the group of performers. . .before coming to the Tower.” She paused a moment, then added, “They are so. . . big. ” The one who whinnied earlier did so again, and the Ji’val looked to it for a moment before looking back to Derren, “And I think that one is laughing at me.” The horse snorted in response.

“It must have been quite the childhood to grow up around them. What kind of family business?” Paks asked. She realized she was holding the bucket, and also realized it was quite heavy. She shifted it, but then opted to put it down until she actually intended to dump it. Work smarter, not harder, and all of that, right?

‘Look at you talking to someone other than the Yellow Aes Sedai. . .or being snarky to that red headed Gaidin. Color me impressed,’ Jesi appeared next to the blacksmith.

‘He’s been helpful, why shouldn’t I talk to him?’

Jesi smiled, ‘It’s just good to see you coming back out of your shell.’

[Bella]

"I wouldn't be surprised," Derren replied drolly. "He's got quite the sense of humor on him."

Pausing to turn back to the forge and make sure things were at a point where he could safely continue the conversation without burning everything down around him, although Saidin was of great use in the matter, he then turned back to the girl and folded his surprisingly (for anyone who knew him as the Grey and not the blacksmith) muscular arms over his chest.

"Breeding, raising, training," he replied. "Some branches of the family train warhorses and horses for the Saldaean cavalry." He smiled a little then. "It's a family business stretching over a hundred years." He waved at the horses out in the pasture. "Many of them are big," he agreed, "but there are many that are small. Some are kept as pets, no taller than your knee."