Hearth Wisdom (Fanfic)

[Lugh]

Beron Sugar, Spice, and some advice Thunk! the axe head struck the wood block with a satisfying impact. The wood split quickly into two smaller quarters and Beron found it suited his mood perfectly. Stacking another log on the block, he tried to shake off the frustration but was unable to. And so he swung the axe with vigour not truly required for the task. Sweat was beading down his shirt, his jacket long hung on a peg left for such purposes.

He had known the Mistress of Kitchens would have caught up to him eventually, he had once taken a chore with the hogs and in his zeal to practice knife work had destroyed much of the useable meat he had been tasked with carving. Lost in a daze this morning, he had lingered too long at the meal table and been ceased for extra chores.

Crack the axe once again split the wood, the muscles Beron had acquired since beginning his Drin training paying off as he gave vent to his frustration. It had nothing to do with his punishment, he had been careless and had known he would make amends; and truly as chores went, chopping wood was one of the better ones for the kitchen. The Soldier who was working nearby, grabbed his growing stack of wood, the split quarters floating on air as he practiced weaving. It had taken the Soldier a few long silences to read Beron’s mood and leave him to silence.

Bright blue eyes, a single blue petal and the smell of oil and florals caught Beron in a daydream, and he attacked the never ending wood pile with vengeance, trying unsuccessfully to lose himself in the task at hand. Finally he split the last quarter of wood, and stood there trying to sort through his thoughts.

It hasn’t been that many days, you’re just too bloody impatient. You know you didn’t imagine her squeezing your hand like that, and asking if she’d see you again, Beron thought to himself as he wiped sweat from his brow. He had been buried in chores and weapon practice since the afternoon at the lake; and he couldn’t help but feel annoyed. He knew there was little to be done about it, and that her schedule would be the same even if his had not been.

I just hope to the Light that she doesn’t think it was something I do often, Beron worries to himself as he fretted and helped the Soldier stack the wood that had been cut. Sure I’ve enjoyed a couple of soft kisses, dances at festivals, but I only ever gave them tired feet and a smile. This is new, and I don’t know what to do, Beron snarled to himself as he banged away at the firewood.

And she’s an Accepted too, so the rules would fall twice as hard on her if I do something stupid, thought Beron as suddenly he felt the swat of a thick spoon against his back.

“Light child, I’ve been asking you for four minutes if all was alright. Now don’t go staring at me like you could chew rocks, come inside,” said the Mistress of Kitchens, her tone much softened from the morning meal. As she chatted and fussed around with some of the items awaiting seasoning, she deftly made and placed a plate of food before Beron. As his eyebrow slowly raised, she chuckled at his surprise.

“I’m not one to hold a grudge, and I knew you’d be hungry after slaying my wood pile all morning,” she paused only to hold a hand up and shoo away a Novice who was hovering nearby.

“Now, if you were one of my kitchen boys and grousing over a girl, I’d have you up to your eyes in soap and kettles,” she said with a laugh when she noticed Beron’s stare. “Don’t look so surprised Beron, I’ve been here a long time; and I know only three things that will make a man look as if he can eat granite. Worry; Anger and Love, and I think it’s pretty clear you’re not worried.”

“Well I can’t really talk about it here, but thanks for the meal,” Beron said quickly as he stood and bobbed a farewell.

“Sit son, you don’t need to talk, just listen. If you were a Soldier they’d hide you in the Citadel or bury you in the Library. A Novice would find herself scrubbing Ajah quarter floors till the idea made her panic. But you’re a Drin which means you can get yourself to the weapons Yard and work yourself out of the lather you’re in. Whatever you did or didn’t do will come out right in time. You men think with your chest hairs and want to fix everything before the sunsets. Give it time to settle. So quit scowling and get to work. Now shoo,” she said with a smile and wave of her large apron.

Beron thanked her again, his frustration a little eased even if his mind was still racing. But now he at least had some advice and the semblance of a way to keep distracted. Now he just needed to grab a practice weapon, and maybe a sparing partner.