Staring Down a Garden (Attn: Nick)

[Leala]

Jhanic studied the instrument in his right hand for a few moments. The Asha'man that had given it to him to work his personal gardens had called it a "trowel" when the soldier asked him what it was. It had small bits of dirt on it, and perhaps some remnants of plants as well, but there was no spot of rust. The instrumental part of it looked rather like a spoon, but much more thick and with a pointed end. It was not sharp, and Jhanic could tell that it was used for digging in the earth. Plants were few and far between in the Three-Fold Land. He knew what a shovel was, but other tools for moulding the land to suit people's needs were new to him. The man that had given him the task, as if he were a gai'shain...no. Being a soldier was not the same as being gai'shain, but that did not excuse the dismissive attitude that the Asha'man had used. The man had told him to "weed" his garden, which was puzzling.

He was very fortunate, however, that his roommate was a wetlander in this case. Oen Harida was over a decade younger than Jhanic, but he was of a height with him, unusual for a wetlander. He knew little of the younger man except that he was from Arafel, one of the lands on this side of the Spine of the World that bordered the Blight. He had somehow been roped into this exercise. Perhaps he would have some input on how they were supposed to "weed" this garden.

"Oen Harida," Jhanic said, lowering the trowel, then looking at the overgrown garden. The Asha'man had claimed that he had just come back from a long trip for a mission, and that he needed his garden to be workable again. Something seemed off about that explanation. With gateways in effect, couldn't he have come in to perform maintenance? It was not for him to question. "How does one tell a 'weed' from other plants?" he asked, examining the snarl of green in front of him. It seemed like a trowel may not be sufficient in this case.

[Nick]

Oen grinned at the choice of moniker from his roommate. "You know you can call me Oen if you like, Jhanic. Just Oen." It was not the first time he'd told the man, and he somehow doubted it would be the last. "It is common for wetlanders to use only one name among friends." He'd let Jhanic decide if he considered Oen a friend yet.

On his knees, Oen stabbed his own trowel into the dirt and dusted off his hands, sitting back on his feet. He hadn't cleared much yet, but took a look over at his Aiel roommate, who looked decidedly out of place amongst such greenery. Or, brownery, as the case might be. "A fine question, though." He frowned down at the snarl of plants ahead of them. "I suppose you don't have many plants like this where you're from ... in the Three-Fold-Land?" Oen had already made the mistake of calling it the Waste; that had not gone over well with the surprisingly sensitive Aiel.

"From what I know, weeds have very strong roots. If it comes out easily, it's probably not a weed..." Oen reached down and plucked a spindly weed from a larger tangle; the one benefit of this garden going somewhat dry, the weeds as well were more brittle. "And, give them a sniff," he said, and demonstrated, inhaling the musty scent from the broken end of the weed. "Weeds are usually more ... strong-smelling. More earthy, dusty; not like flowers or herbs." He took a broader look at the plants in the garden and frowned in concentration. "It looks like the Asha'man is growing roses," he held up a spiny stem for Jhanic to see, then did the same for a few more he recognized, "mint, sage, aloe, blood clover," most of that was long dead. "I'm not sure what this blue-ish green plant is, or this strange, feathery one, but they don't look like weeds to me. But, this soft, furry leaf is goat's ear, and that tall one with the little leaves is lady fern." He looked about, pushing aside some shrubbery, peering over others, frowning, but impressed with his own memory. "My family grows many plants," he explained, then almost to himself, "and chops down many others."

"All the rest are likely weeds," Oen said with a shrug. "But, if you're unsure, give a shout and I'll see if I know what it is..." He wondered then if he should've borrowed an identification book from the Library. "I say we weed, clear out the cobwebs and birds' nests, give it a drink of water, and call it a day. Sound good to you?"

[Leala]

As Oen explained how weeds were identified, Jhanic took note of differences between him and his roommate. Not only were there differences in their ages and their backgrounds, but their dispositions were very different as well. Oen was very animated as he pointed out which plants to look for, and he seemed to have a sunny disposition. Jhanic wasn't morose by any standards, but he was rather reserved, using as few words as possible. And yet, he still got along with his unusual companion. His long-winded friend gave him many words to focus on when he was beginning to feel overwhelmed in this new place.

Glancing around at the plants before him, Jhanic took in the attributes of the plants that he was looking for and nodded before kneeling at the garden to start uprooting the unwanted plants. "Yes, you have told me about your naming before, Oen," he said as he began to pull and dig at a plant that he had seen the other soldier take up before. "It is a habit, and it may take time to remember, but I do not do it with a mind to offend." It was still difficult not to tell everyone his clan and sept upon introductions.

He wondered at what it was that Oen's family did. Had he told him once, without his paying enough attention? He could not remember. Any plants in the Three-Fold Land were either too spiny to uproot without practice, or they hid under the sand for the little nourishment that was provided. So many plants living in rich soil, surrounded by water was still bizarre to him. Throwing away "unwanted" plants was even more bizarre. Did weeds not have a purpose? Oen had said that they had deep roots. Perhaps they stole water from the other plants. As he continued, he noticed that the specific weeds he had been moving had dwindled down. He noticed some that seemed unruly compared to plants lower to the ground. It had a thick stalk and the leaves were pointed. Standing up, he looked down at it. It came nearly to his knee. "Oen, what is this one?" he asked, nudging it with his foot. "It seems unusually healthy in this plot. Is it a weed?"

[Nick]

Oen smiled over at his new companion and nodded along to the man's words. He had no doubt the man had a difficult time of learning so many new customs and behaviors. Light, when you don't even know the plants and animals around you, how could you possibly be expected to remember how far to bow or what names to call people? Oen was eternally grateful that he only had to deal with this dirty Power inside him, and not an entirely new world outside as well. He knew he should be sympathetic to the Aielman. "I take no offense, friend," he said, with a shrug to Jhanic's apology. "Habits are habits for a reason." Was that his mother he quoted?

So far, the Aiel's habits hadn't been altogether that strange to Oen. He had different preferences in the dining room. He seemed to favor the spear, or his bare hands, to a sword. And some social cues were simply beyond him. But these were all perfectly acceptable, and, frankly, predictable. Oen had yet to see the man don a veil and kill anyone, or set up a sweat tent somewhere on the grounds, or even smoke tabac or chew on leather. Jhanic was very little like the stories told back home.

Noticing movement, Oen turned his head to see Jhanic stand up and examine a taller, more robust stalk. Dusting his hands on his trousers, Oen wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and his upper lip. He eyed the water can, briefly, with a thought to stealing a drink, but forgot it when Jhanic asked for his opinion.

Although he was near enough to see the plant, Oen stretched out his back a bit and slowly pulled himself up to his feet. He was just shy of the Aiel in height, though he did wonder if he would actually outstrip him in the next year or so; assuming they both lived that long to find out. Stepping over alongside the older man, Oen crouched down to have a closer look at the hardy plant in question. Eventually, Oen responded, "I think it is a weed, though I've never seen it before." He gave a leaf a quick sniff, and tugged at what turned out to be a very stubborn stalk, and frowned. "You know, I'm not really sure…" He looked up at Jhanic with a quizzical look on his face. "And, some weeds do have other purposes. Some can be used in medicines. Not many, but some."

Looking back at the mystery plant, Oen slowly stood and stepped back next to Jhanic, "I wonder if we shouldn't leave that one, just in case…" He glanced down at his hand, not sure if his palm itched due to nervousness or because of some reaction to the plant.

"Would you be interested in taking a class on plants and herbs?" Oen asked, moving back to his old spot. "It might be useful." He might take it as well, come to think of it. There were so many plants that did not grow as far north as Arafel. He absently scratched at his palm - was it redder than his other? - and went back to clearing his section of the garden.

[Leala]

Jhanic stared at the plant as his roommate explained that it was likely a good idea to leave the mystery thing alone then to tear it down, if neither of them were certain. "Well," he said, nudging it with his foot again, watching as it jiggled. Such a strange thing, with a stalk as thing as a treeling's, but not a tree in truth. "The Asha'man who set us to this task will undoubtedly know what it is," he concluded. And if they were found to be to blame for it still being there, they could still not be to blame. The man gave them hardly any instructions. A leader like that would have been ridiculed, had he been among the Aiel.

He set back to his work, looked for other weeds. He almost did not hear his friend as he set to concentrate again. "A class on plants and herbs would likely help," he admitted as he yanked at some stubborn and tangled vines. He was beginning to see how the One Power would help with a task like this, and it was rather annoying that he could not use it as he saw fit. Still, it took the discipline that he had used for ten years to obey. "I think I would like to take one, one day."

"Hm," he said after he had pulled the vines free. He picked up a stake with the name of a plant on it, but it was a rather complex name. He was not sure if he could even pronounce it. He turned back to look at the garden, and he could not discern where the stake had come from. "This came out of the ground when I took out this." He held up each object as he spoke. "This sign is for identifying a plant, but I cannot identify it." He held the sign out for his friend to examine.