The beating was thorough, efficient, and entirely one-sided.
Ulric made a point of kicking the Elf's legs, bringing them knotting pain before working his way up to hard hooking body shots, brushing off the ineffectual attempts at chops and punches, and finished the lesson by breaking Joclyn's nose with a jab that snapped his head back and dropped him to the ground to groan weakly.
Hard were the Iriel'en. Harder still were the royal guards who he had trained with. Ulric couldn't stand long on equal footing with those veterans, but he had stood and received their ungentle instruction. If the rest of them were like this lot, these plainsfolk were kittens compared to their Deep Woods Cousins. Unlike the mercenary slaver thugs, these people had none of the cruelty or killer instinct of those criminals. It was like the two aggressive ones had been going through the motions of their more dangerous kin. Pitiful.
"Alright, I guess I'm done ruining this idiot's day. Somebody see to him. As long as none of you offers me or my wife insult, you can make yourself a camp, I did not walk all this way to water the roots with your kin or hold grudge with you." Ulric announced, hoping this decision didn't bite him in the ass.
Also, he'd called Taipan his wife, which was a bit of a blunder. Shit. He'd been so riled up by all these goings on, their cover story completely slipped his mind. He bit back a curse at his own mistake.
The peacekeepers went over and immediately took the battered young man away to the opposite side of the clearing, as he retrieved his sword and robe. Ulric saw a needle and thread emerge from a belt pouch and the long incision down the clownish fighter's arm was tended. He turned away to see the other Legranel had approached in a more subdued fashion, including scarred lady.
Taipan, meanwhile had joined his side. He felt her hand on his back, a reassuring touch. The spooky lady might have the mercy of a viper but she was supportive of him and it was incredibly comforting to know she had his back. A far cry from those early days in Irielhos when he'd basically kept one eye open, in case she decided to knife him for something or other.
"I apologize for my words before." came the unbidden words of the scarred elf.
She ducked her head to accompany the apology, as did the other two, for some reason.
"Your wife was right to criticize us, we should have stepped in to restrain our cousin's ill will, it was not justified, you had the right to your camp and we came without invitation. We also beg forgiveness and wish to offer our thanks, for not killing Joclyn. He is young and loud and too quick tempered for his own good." the male who had not spoken yet offered, ears dipping and voice layered with contrition.
Taipan spoke up before he could, for which he was glad, Ulric had no clue how to navigate first contact with the Legranel and, so far, it would be fair to say it had been a disaster. He hoped his partner would navigate them to a peaceful resolution.
"It is good that you apologize. My husband is also young and far too slow to collect debts from over proud fools. I, however, am not. I will permit you to speak now, Legranel, until your tongue offends me again, and then we will settle things rightly."
Ulric winced slightly. He probably should have known better. The plainsfolk didn't appear to mind though, and took that not so veiled threat with calm. The scarred woman even looked a little relieved. Elves. They continued to confuse the hell out of him.
The female that had overseen the contest even smiled a bit as she excused herself to help the others set up camp, moving away to bring large bundles into the clearing, now that Joclyn appeared to have been closed up rather swiftly. That lad simply did as he was told and said nothing. The male that had said little up to now remained behind, apparently to keep an eye on everyone and see that peace held.
"I am called Prenya, aunt to Joclyn." the scarred Elf introduced herself, much chastened, "Thank you for sparing him. This is his first trip between roosts and he wanted to impress the others. The debt, for my own part in this and his, will be addressed, my word on it."
Continuing on, the towheaded female's expression turned inquisitive.
"How does it happen that one of our reclusive Deep Woods kin finds herself company in one of the Valin? Please, come, tell us while my kin and I prepare food, if it please you to share a cookfire after our rudeness."
Ulric hummed to himself as Taipan graciously accepted tribute by food and led him along with the two Legranel. He recalled the angry exclamation of this Aunt to the idiot, and her slang, Treesleeper, for the Iriel'en. Evidently the temper ran in the family. Seemed to be a fleeting thing though, the whole lot of them were abashed and, so far as he could tell, intent on making up for the unpleasantness. So…things were just…fine?
Taipan had begun telling the now familiar cover story of their meeting in the wilds some years prior and traveling together, improvising to mention that they had enjoyed one another's company so much that she'd accepted his blundering offer of marriage when it came. Everybody was now, to all evidence, totally back to normal.
Unexpected meetings of strangers in the wild, some feelings run a little high, some unkind words pass, there's a maybe deathmatch, and then everybody just kind of moves on. He had to admit, that was rather par for the Elven course. They didn't really dwell on things too frequently. Which meant he had to stop being an awkward bastard for once in his life and be civil with strangers again. Damn.
The scarred elf, Prenya, looked over her shoulder and beamed a smile at him that startled him greatly for its warmth. The smile was accompanied by a decidedly approving once over and he realized he hadn't clothed himself with his robe. Double damn.
He was mostly certain his partner hadn't noticed, she was currently enmeshed in joking about the awkwardness with which they had gotten along in their early days together to the trio of Legranel, her attention on the male/female pair that had remained neutral throughout.
Ulric had to fight a frown off his expression at how little exaggeration that story required. Old Earth notions of courtship and proper steps to relationships were long since flown from the coop. Twice Ulric had unintentionally stumbled into an archaic Iriel'en manner for proposal and, the second time, Taipan had accepted. Her father, who had been angling for that outcome for months, ratified it with the approval of his wives, and, just like that, blammo, one married Glade Chief, a la mode.
He recovered his good cheer when he considered all the rather notably good sex that had followed since, on the regular. Yeah, Ulric mused, not going to complain about how that turned out. Taipan's mood was just about as much improved by the serial bonkings as his own. Her Uncle Uldin had once joked that a long dry spell had put a nice jagged edge on her mood, which was already a thing of notoriety amongst her people. Gone were the days. Ulric had gotten the impression, at times, that her kin viewed him as a welcome sacrifice to walk less softly around her.
Prenya over there probably should be a little more careful about how she looks at married men, Taipan didn't seem like the type to appreciate rivals sniffing about her territory. For his part, dalliance outside of wedlock wasn't that appealing. His needs were met, he lacked inclination to invite trouble into his own private affairs, and he was, frankly, shit at hitting up women in a culture with which he was intimately familiar, to say nothing of the still cryptic ways of Elves.
The first woman he'd known in this world was a warrior named Hal'et, a bouncy, joyful, laughing girl of indeterminate age who'd won rights to him on a drunken celebration night following the return of Brighteyes to his people. She'd done all the work, so to speak, of making her interests known and he had merely followed along. And along and along and…*cough*
Just sos everybody is in the know, when an Elf girl asks to be peeled like a jamfruit the answer must be, definitively, yes!
He shook away the musings as they came to the fire, dung heap coals still glowing merrily. A glance towards the source of their recent troubles noted a soft yellow glow about the wounds the overconfident youth had suffered at Ulric's hands. Well well well. The peacekeeper girl knew how to [Heal], that was fortuitous.
Ulric shrugged into the robe and secured it, closing his flesh off from the refreshing chill that lingered from the waning Winter. The air held that taste of coming spring and he was looking forwards to it. His first spring in a new world. His sword went into its clever sheath, which could be popped open to free the blade from his back in a moment. Taipan's Uncle Uldin was a genius smith and his craft would have been welcome in any machinist shop Ulric could name.
Now, what to do about the u-turn elf over there? Certainly, he wasn't going to encourage her. For more reasons than a healthy dose of fear about what his rather intense wife would do to him or to her. No, there was also the matter of his being entirely unwilling to risk putting himself into another weird scenario that spiraled out of control. Best to just be polite, as much as he was able. Ulric knew he had all the social grace of a wood rasp but he wasn't trying to make enemies. If anything, enemies just kept making him.
Anyway! Another more than warm glance and a pouting smile that he didn't return were being directed his way and he crouched to stir the poop fire rather than acknowledge it. Damn. What was her problem anyway? He'd just beat the shit out of her nephew, didn't that merit a little familial loyalty?
He looked to Taipan to see if she was picking up on…why is she smiling?
A presence at his shoulder caused him to look up into the slightly tilted lemon-yellow eyes of Prenya. Her approving gaze lingered before turning towards Taipan, losing none of its heat.
"Your wife's tale was fascinating. Ulric, was it? Yes, a tale of crossed stars, as if from story." the woman said.
"Let us start anew, to spring from more fertile soil than earlier, yes? We are traveling towards my home Roost, Isevor, whose marks are on this camp but a few days old. They are headed north and east, towards our end of Winter grounds, to await the thaw that will let our herds begin grazing and foaling. My companions are Hild, the woman who officiated your contest with my nephew, and her husband Tomas, from a neighboring Roost, called Jorn." the plainswoman rambled, all smiles now, as she pointed out each of her companions.
"Accompanying them are some of my fellows from Isevor. The woman who so deftly treated Joclyn is one of our gifted Handlers, she is young yet but has not lost a foal or calf yet, and goes by Days'e. Her brother Rik'e is a Handler as well but excels more towards breaking colts to ride." Prenya introduced her kin, the two peacekeepers who had tended Joclyn.
"You are, of course, now familiar with my little Joclyn." She spoke of the Elf as one would a troublesome younger brother, "He is a new Herdrider, on his first riding of the herd to market."
"And I am Prenya, riding with him to teach my nephew the ways while I keep an eye on him for my elder sister. It is a pleasure to meet fellow travelers under the Endless Blue." She indicated herself with a hand on a smallish bust, her ears bouncing slightly for emphasis on her greeting.
Ulric was now properly weirded out, especially by the jocular, league a minute pace of the Elf's introductions. She made out like they were old pals catching up, not a hint of the initial hostility. Was it because of Taipan's warning? Was it the fight? He hid his confusion though and replied calmly, "I am Ulric, and here is my wife Taipan. We are traveling the wilds and have been trading through the Winter as we make our way back North."
Prenya laid another glowing smile on Taipan, "Oh he speaks our language well! Did you teach him? Come, tell us more about yourselves. Let me see…aha!" The Legranel exclaimed after digging through her large traveling satchel to emerge with a clay amphora.
The cork came out of the bottle and a strong smell of booze wafted out across the camp. Ulric was something of an alcohol afficionado in his prior life and that clay container was breathing what had to be mead. He swallowed instantly, the moisture coming to his mouth at the remembered taste of a good strong honey wine. His greatest weakness.
Maybe these prairie people weren't so bad after all…wait, no, don't be seduced so easily Einar. On the other hand though, perhaps a peace treaty can be written…It had been a damned hard going for the last little bit. Ulric's reservations were lessened greatly when Taipan took a huge pull off the bottle, so to speak and passed it back to let the other two do the same.
"Phaaw, now that shaves the Ox!" Exclaimed Prenya after taking a hit from the bottle.
She offered it to the man and he could do nothing else but take a draw. It would be rude to do otherwise. He had to give them credit, as the bold flavored thick liquid burned its way down his gullet, these grass-fed Elves knew how to do a proper fucking mead. None of that filtered bullshit, there was still honeycomb in this bad boy, as the gods great and small intended.
He sighed with bliss and smacked his lips to savor the residual notes on his palette, before returning the jar to its owner. Joclyn's aunt was alright by him, he decided.
"That's the best mead I've ever had, you wanna trade for recipes?" Ulric offered, before quickly addressing his Shadow in Human, "Taipan, quick, you know how that Vanished Night is brewed? We need something to barter, I need this in my life." He implored.
Taipan's eyebrows rose slightly. They both remembered the last time he'd tried a single swig of that extremely potent liquor, which he'd used to help make the Anti-Bane treatment for Bald'rt. Well okay, he remembered the pounding headache of the next day and nothing else, but his lady wife certainly remembered because he wasn't allowed to have any more.
"Ulric that is a trade secret of the Iriel'en royal family, passed down twelve generations. It is as much a secret as the locations of the Havens where our people bunker during war times. I am certain you are the only Valin who has ever tasted it and probably the only one that would not be poisoned by it." Was her reply.
Looking between the Valin and the Aes'r-Iriel'en, Prenya smelled an advantage in dealing with the obviously excited man with the marvelous shoulders. She guarded her expression and returned a simple "And what might you offer for this knowledge?". She did not specify a very simple request that would have her handing over the recipe, along with her undergarments, even though she briefly considered it. Patience Prenya, you must not spook the quarry.
Ulric concentrated, being foiled of his first thought by his Taipan. Blast. Okay what else? Wait! Oh, thank you Earth, thank you for books on brewer's tips, thank you archivists for preserving Humanity's knowledge through the collapse, thank you Dad for sharing a love of fine booze.
"Alright! I have an offer that will help the both of us!" He began, failing to notice the discreet looks that passed between the women, and the small cough from the quiet Legranel male.
"Just to make sure though, your recipe, your process, it involves heating the must, the mixture of honey and water before you ferment it yes?" Ulric quizzed, knowing that was one of the more traditional methods.
Prenya's guarded expression smoothed somewhat, she was clearly speaking to a worldly traveler, no mere barbarian. He was possessed of detailed knowledge of the Brewer's art.
"That is so, yes. The Honey-pot must be heated to prevent the souring while it lives." She replied with surprise.
Ulric wasn't sure about the terms but he was pretty sure the phrase "it lives" meant the ferment, the period while the yeast was active. Alright, perfect. He didn't realize he was rubbing his hands together and grinning like a mad man.
"Very good, very nice." Ulric muttered before declaring, "In exchange for the recipe for your mead, I will teach you how to brew it without the heating that destroys some of the subtle flavors and more delicate notes."
The scarred Elf's ears bobbed, and so did the undamaged ones of her kinsman.
"Oh? You know how to do this, yet you still want the recipe from the Isevor Legranel? It sounds as if you know the method for mead making already." the now curious Aunt of Joclyn admitted.
Ulric refused to let this opportunity pass.
"I know the method, but the blend of ingredients is crucial. The right flowers for pollination, the type of bee making the honey, the other ancillary spices, herbs, or additions and whether they are fresh or aged, and their ratios, I need this information to know how to capture that rich bouquet in your possession. I've never met its match, and believe me, I have been around lady." Ulric gushed.
Prenya considered this oddly serious bit of business. Her clan traded in mead and while she would happily sell her personal stash, giving away the specific recipe was a far greater thing, one which she could not do lightly or she'd face repercussions from her clan. The traveling people of the plains did not cultivate vast fields or mine deeply from the earth, their trade goods were their livelihood. However, this was not merely an offer to take the recipe but a chance to improve its results. But how to know the oddly interested Valin was serious?
Her doubt was visible. Before Ulric could say anything more though, his Shadow pulled the woman aside and they whispered with muted voices and much gesticulation. There were a few worrying glances thrown his way and he was almost certain he saw Taipan, and her brother's now he thought on it, favorite accusation of his being "worms in the head" cross her lips but then they were turned away and he couldn't even try to lip read. That level of conspiracy just about got his hackles up, Taipan being up to something was frequently a prelude to his being sorely put out. Mostly it turned out okay, but she had a twisty, skew mind sometimes.
When they rose from their deliberations though, an agreement was had. Ulric would teach them the method for a heatless mead production, in return for the recipe to produce that mead specifically. The catch was, they would have to go to the Legranel caravan town of Isevor and show the method directly to the brew masters of Prenya's people, no second-hand information would be sufficient to reveal the secret. Furthermore, any trade of the mead by Ulric or his clan, would be done through Isevor first, they would not lose out on their clan's means of wealth. An acceptable bargain, sealed gladly. Two kisses, one over each eye to denote the oaths taken under vision of the gods of the skies were the final official signature to the deal.
A strange sort, were these Legranel, a bit more earthy than the Iriel'en and more intemperate, but also more open than the somewhat reserved Celestin and their Deep Woods cousins.
Two camps there were now in the clearing, one consisting of a single smallish teepee of a rather worn hide and the other of three larger yurts, whose exteriors appeared to be some kind of waxed canvas. Damned heavy things. Ulric found out how they managed to haul something like that around when a team of four large oxen pulling a massive flatbed cart was driven in, whose wheels were as tall as he was.
Watcher's tits, now that was a proper wagon! No wonder they didn't mind such luxurious, and heavy, housing. The oxen were of a similar largesse to the wagon. Great wooly creatures with tremendous musculature and heavy horns, which had been filed to metal capped flats, except for a bull who would act as protection for the rest. Ulric knew it was a bull because the great swinging danglers it pulled behind it might drag the ground if it hit uneven terrain. Sonofabitch. Those sweeping curving horns spread wider than his arms and looked like they could have gored a rhino. He had his answer to how the things didn't draw predators. It'd be a brave critter, or incredibly dangerous, to try to take on that bull.
Ulric's mind flashed back to the [Crimson Bull], all raw power and spark throwing hooves. It had taken a [Shadow Panther] a Greater Beast revered by the Iriel'en for its ferocity and incredibly dangerous ambushes to bring that massive creature down. Perhaps these open plains didn't hold an equivalently sneaky beast, although Taipan's brief lecture on plains predators gave him little hope he wouldn't be finding out, sooner or later.
With their yurts assembled, the Legranel got the fire rolling, building a sort of brick house of dung patties that drew air efficiently up between them, getting a far brighter and hotter flame than Ulric had managed. He watched eagerly to learn from the professionals the ways of patty flame barbecue.
The beating was thorough, efficient, and entirely one-sided.
Ulric made a point of kicking the Elf's legs, bringing them knotting pain before working his way up to hard hooking body shots, brushing off the ineffectual attempts at chops and punches, and finished the lesson by breaking Joclyn's nose with a jab that snapped his head back and dropped him to the ground to groan weakly.
Hard were the Iriel'en. Harder still were the royal guards who he had trained with. Ulric couldn't stand long on equal footing with those veterans, but he had stood and received their ungentle instruction. If the rest of them were like this lot, these plainsfolk were kittens compared to their Deep Woods Cousins. Unlike the mercenary slaver thugs, these people had none of the cruelty or killer instinct of those criminals. It was like the two aggressive ones had been going through the motions of their more dangerous kin. Pitiful.
"Alright, I guess I'm done ruining this idiot's day. Somebody see to him. As long as none of you offers me or my wife insult, you can make yourself a camp, I did not walk all this way to water the roots with your kin or hold grudge with you." Ulric announced, hoping this decision didn't bite him in the ass.
Also, he'd called Taipan his wife, which was a bit of a blunder. Shit. He'd been so riled up by all these goings on, their cover story completely slipped his mind. He bit back a curse at his own mistake.
The peacekeepers went over and immediately took the battered young man away to the opposite side of the clearing, as he retrieved his sword and robe. Ulric saw a needle and thread emerge from a belt pouch and the long incision down the clownish fighter's arm was tended. He turned away to see the other Legranel had approached in a more subdued fashion, including scarred lady.
Taipan, meanwhile had joined his side. He felt her hand on his back, a reassuring touch. The spooky lady might have the mercy of a viper but she was supportive of him and it was incredibly comforting to know she had his back. A far cry from those early days in Irielhos when he'd basically kept one eye open, in case she decided to knife him for something or other.
"I apologize for my words before." came the unbidden words of the scarred elf.
She ducked her head to accompany the apology, as did the other two, for some reason.
"Your wife was right to criticize us, we should have stepped in to restrain our cousin's ill will, it was not justified, you had the right to your camp and we came without invitation. We also beg forgiveness and wish to offer our thanks, for not killing Joclyn. He is young and loud and too quick tempered for his own good." the male who had not spoken yet offered, ears dipping and voice layered with contrition.
Taipan spoke up before he could, for which he was glad, Ulric had no clue how to navigate first contact with the Legranel and, so far, it would be fair to say it had been a disaster. He hoped his partner would navigate them to a peaceful resolution.
"It is good that you apologize. My husband is also young and far too slow to collect debts from over proud fools. I, however, am not. I will permit you to speak now, Legranel, until your tongue offends me again, and then we will settle things rightly."
Ulric winced slightly. He probably should have known better. The plainsfolk didn't appear to mind though, and took that not so veiled threat with calm. The scarred woman even looked a little relieved. Elves. They continued to confuse the hell out of him.
The female that had overseen the contest even smiled a bit as she excused herself to help the others set up camp, moving away to bring large bundles into the clearing, now that Joclyn appeared to have been closed up rather swiftly. That lad simply did as he was told and said nothing. The male that had said little up to now remained behind, apparently to keep an eye on everyone and see that peace held.
"I am called Prenya, aunt to Joclyn." the scarred Elf introduced herself, much chastened, "Thank you for sparing him. This is his first trip between roosts and he wanted to impress the others. The debt, for my own part in this and his, will be addressed, my word on it."
Continuing on, the towheaded female's expression turned inquisitive.
"How does it happen that one of our reclusive Deep Woods kin finds herself company in one of the Valin? Please, come, tell us while my kin and I prepare food, if it please you to share a cookfire after our rudeness."
Ulric hummed to himself as Taipan graciously accepted tribute by food and led him along with the two Legranel. He recalled the angry exclamation of this Aunt to the idiot, and her slang, Treesleeper, for the Iriel'en. Evidently the temper ran in the family. Seemed to be a fleeting thing though, the whole lot of them were abashed and, so far as he could tell, intent on making up for the unpleasantness. So…things were just…fine?
Taipan had begun telling the now familiar cover story of their meeting in the wilds some years prior and traveling together, improvising to mention that they had enjoyed one another's company so much that she'd accepted his blundering offer of marriage when it came. Everybody was now, to all evidence, totally back to normal.
Unexpected meetings of strangers in the wild, some feelings run a little high, some unkind words pass, there's a maybe deathmatch, and then everybody just kind of moves on. He had to admit, that was rather par for the Elven course. They didn't really dwell on things too frequently. Which meant he had to stop being an awkward bastard for once in his life and be civil with strangers again. Damn.
The scarred elf, Prenya, looked over her shoulder and beamed a smile at him that startled him greatly for its warmth. The smile was accompanied by a decidedly approving once over and he realized he hadn't clothed himself with his robe. Double damn.
He was mostly certain his partner hadn't noticed, she was currently enmeshed in joking about the awkwardness with which they had gotten along in their early days together to the trio of Legranel, her attention on the male/female pair that had remained neutral throughout.
Ulric had to fight a frown off his expression at how little exaggeration that story required. Old Earth notions of courtship and proper steps to relationships were long since flown from the coop. Twice Ulric had unintentionally stumbled into an archaic Iriel'en manner for proposal and, the second time, Taipan had accepted. Her father, who had been angling for that outcome for months, ratified it with the approval of his wives, and, just like that, blammo, one married Glade Chief, a la mode.
He recovered his good cheer when he considered all the rather notably good sex that had followed since, on the regular. Yeah, Ulric mused, not going to complain about how that turned out. Taipan's mood was just about as much improved by the serial bonkings as his own. Her Uncle Uldin had once joked that a long dry spell had put a nice jagged edge on her mood, which was already a thing of notoriety amongst her people. Gone were the days. Ulric had gotten the impression, at times, that her kin viewed him as a welcome sacrifice to walk less softly around her.
Prenya over there probably should be a little more careful about how she looks at married men, Taipan didn't seem like the type to appreciate rivals sniffing about her territory. For his part, dalliance outside of wedlock wasn't that appealing. His needs were met, he lacked inclination to invite trouble into his own private affairs, and he was, frankly, shit at hitting up women in a culture with which he was intimately familiar, to say nothing of the still cryptic ways of Elves.
The first woman he'd known in this world was a warrior named Hal'et, a bouncy, joyful, laughing girl of indeterminate age who'd won rights to him on a drunken celebration night following the return of Brighteyes to his people. She'd done all the work, so to speak, of making her interests known and he had merely followed along. And along and along and…*cough*
Just sos everybody is in the know, when an Elf girl asks to be peeled like a jamfruit the answer must be, definitively, yes!
He shook away the musings as they came to the fire, dung heap coals still glowing merrily. A glance towards the source of their recent troubles noted a soft yellow glow about the wounds the overconfident youth had suffered at Ulric's hands. Well well well. The peacekeeper girl knew how to [Heal], that was fortuitous.
Ulric shrugged into the robe and secured it, closing his flesh off from the refreshing chill that lingered from the waning Winter. The air held that taste of coming spring and he was looking forwards to it. His first spring in a new world. His sword went into its clever sheath, which could be popped open to free the blade from his back in a moment. Taipan's Uncle Uldin was a genius smith and his craft would have been welcome in any machinist shop Ulric could name.
Now, what to do about the u-turn elf over there? Certainly, he wasn't going to encourage her. For more reasons than a healthy dose of fear about what his rather intense wife would do to him or to her. No, there was also the matter of his being entirely unwilling to risk putting himself into another weird scenario that spiraled out of control. Best to just be polite, as much as he was able. Ulric knew he had all the social grace of a wood rasp but he wasn't trying to make enemies. If anything, enemies just kept making him.
Anyway! Another more than warm glance and a pouting smile that he didn't return were being directed his way and he crouched to stir the poop fire rather than acknowledge it. Damn. What was her problem anyway? He'd just beat the shit out of her nephew, didn't that merit a little familial loyalty?
He looked to Taipan to see if she was picking up on…why is she smiling?
A presence at his shoulder caused him to look up into the slightly tilted lemon-yellow eyes of Prenya. Her approving gaze lingered before turning towards Taipan, losing none of its heat.
"Your wife's tale was fascinating. Ulric, was it? Yes, a tale of crossed stars, as if from story." the woman said.
"Let us start anew, to spring from more fertile soil than earlier, yes? We are traveling towards my home Roost, Isevor, whose marks are on this camp but a few days old. They are headed north and east, towards our end of Winter grounds, to await the thaw that will let our herds begin grazing and foaling. My companions are Hild, the woman who officiated your contest with my nephew, and her husband Tomas, from a neighboring Roost, called Jorn." the plainswoman rambled, all smiles now, as she pointed out each of her companions.
"Accompanying them are some of my fellows from Isevor. The woman who so deftly treated Joclyn is one of our gifted Handlers, she is young yet but has not lost a foal or calf yet, and goes by Days'e. Her brother Rik'e is a Handler as well but excels more towards breaking colts to ride." Prenya introduced her kin, the two peacekeepers who had tended Joclyn.
"You are, of course, now familiar with my little Joclyn." She spoke of the Elf as one would a troublesome younger brother, "He is a new Herdrider, on his first riding of the herd to market."
"And I am Prenya, riding with him to teach my nephew the ways while I keep an eye on him for my elder sister. It is a pleasure to meet fellow travelers under the Endless Blue." She indicated herself with a hand on a smallish bust, her ears bouncing slightly for emphasis on her greeting.
Ulric was now properly weirded out, especially by the jocular, league a minute pace of the Elf's introductions. She made out like they were old pals catching up, not a hint of the initial hostility. Was it because of Taipan's warning? Was it the fight? He hid his confusion though and replied calmly, "I am Ulric, and here is my wife Taipan. We are traveling the wilds and have been trading through the Winter as we make our way back North."
Prenya laid another glowing smile on Taipan, "Oh he speaks our language well! Did you teach him? Come, tell us more about yourselves. Let me see…aha!" The Legranel exclaimed after digging through her large traveling satchel to emerge with a clay amphora.
The cork came out of the bottle and a strong smell of booze wafted out across the camp. Ulric was something of an alcohol afficionado in his prior life and that clay container was breathing what had to be mead. He swallowed instantly, the moisture coming to his mouth at the remembered taste of a good strong honey wine. His greatest weakness.
Maybe these prairie people weren't so bad after all…wait, no, don't be seduced so easily Einar. On the other hand though, perhaps a peace treaty can be written…It had been a damned hard going for the last little bit. Ulric's reservations were lessened greatly when Taipan took a huge pull off the bottle, so to speak and passed it back to let the other two do the same.
"Phaaw, now that shaves the Ox!" Exclaimed Prenya after taking a hit from the bottle.
She offered it to the man and he could do nothing else but take a draw. It would be rude to do otherwise. He had to give them credit, as the bold flavored thick liquid burned its way down his gullet, these grass-fed Elves knew how to do a proper fucking mead. None of that filtered bullshit, there was still honeycomb in this bad boy, as the gods great and small intended.
He sighed with bliss and smacked his lips to savor the residual notes on his palette, before returning the jar to its owner. Joclyn's aunt was alright by him, he decided.
"That's the best mead I've ever had, you wanna trade for recipes?" Ulric offered, before quickly addressing his Shadow in Human, "Taipan, quick, you know how that Vanished Night is brewed? We need something to barter, I need this in my life." He implored.
Taipan's eyebrows rose slightly. They both remembered the last time he'd tried a single swig of that extremely potent liquor, which he'd used to help make the Anti-Bane treatment for Bald'rt. Well okay, he remembered the pounding headache of the next day and nothing else, but his lady wife certainly remembered because he wasn't allowed to have any more.
"Ulric that is a trade secret of the Iriel'en royal family, passed down twelve generations. It is as much a secret as the locations of the Havens where our people bunker during war times. I am certain you are the only Valin who has ever tasted it and probably the only one that would not be poisoned by it." Was her reply.
Looking between the Valin and the Aes'r-Iriel'en, Prenya smelled an advantage in dealing with the obviously excited man with the marvelous shoulders. She guarded her expression and returned a simple "And what might you offer for this knowledge?". She did not specify a very simple request that would have her handing over the recipe, along with her undergarments, even though she briefly considered it. Patience Prenya, you must not spook the quarry.
Ulric concentrated, being foiled of his first thought by his Taipan. Blast. Okay what else? Wait! Oh, thank you Earth, thank you for books on brewer's tips, thank you archivists for preserving Humanity's knowledge through the collapse, thank you Dad for sharing a love of fine booze.
"Alright! I have an offer that will help the both of us!" He began, failing to notice the discreet looks that passed between the women, and the small cough from the quiet Legranel male.
"Just to make sure though, your recipe, your process, it involves heating the must, the mixture of honey and water before you ferment it yes?" Ulric quizzed, knowing that was one of the more traditional methods.
Prenya's guarded expression smoothed somewhat, she was clearly speaking to a worldly traveler, no mere barbarian. He was possessed of detailed knowledge of the Brewer's art.
"That is so, yes. The Honey-pot must be heated to prevent the souring while it lives." She replied with surprise.
Ulric wasn't sure about the terms but he was pretty sure the phrase "it lives" meant the ferment, the period while the yeast was active. Alright, perfect. He didn't realize he was rubbing his hands together and grinning like a mad man.
"Very good, very nice." Ulric muttered before declaring, "In exchange for the recipe for your mead, I will teach you how to brew it without the heating that destroys some of the subtle flavors and more delicate notes."
The scarred Elf's ears bobbed, and so did the undamaged ones of her kinsman.
"Oh? You know how to do this, yet you still want the recipe from the Isevor Legranel? It sounds as if you know the method for mead making already." the now curious Aunt of Joclyn admitted.
Ulric refused to let this opportunity pass.
"I know the method, but the blend of ingredients is crucial. The right flowers for pollination, the type of bee making the honey, the other ancillary spices, herbs, or additions and whether they are fresh or aged, and their ratios, I need this information to know how to capture that rich bouquet in your possession. I've never met its match, and believe me, I have been around lady." Ulric gushed.
Prenya considered this oddly serious bit of business. Her clan traded in mead and while she would happily sell her personal stash, giving away the specific recipe was a far greater thing, one which she could not do lightly or she'd face repercussions from her clan. The traveling people of the plains did not cultivate vast fields or mine deeply from the earth, their trade goods were their livelihood. However, this was not merely an offer to take the recipe but a chance to improve its results. But how to know the oddly interested Valin was serious?
Her doubt was visible. Before Ulric could say anything more though, his Shadow pulled the woman aside and they whispered with muted voices and much gesticulation. There were a few worrying glances thrown his way and he was almost certain he saw Taipan, and her brother's now he thought on it, favorite accusation of his being "worms in the head" cross her lips but then they were turned away and he couldn't even try to lip read. That level of conspiracy just about got his hackles up, Taipan being up to something was frequently a prelude to his being sorely put out. Mostly it turned out okay, but she had a twisty, skew mind sometimes.
When they rose from their deliberations though, an agreement was had. Ulric would teach them the method for a heatless mead production, in return for the recipe to produce that mead specifically. The catch was, they would have to go to the Legranel caravan town of Isevor and show the method directly to the brew masters of Prenya's people, no second-hand information would be sufficient to reveal the secret. Furthermore, any trade of the mead by Ulric or his clan, would be done through Isevor first, they would not lose out on their clan's means of wealth. An acceptable bargain, sealed gladly. Two kisses, one over each eye to denote the oaths taken under vision of the gods of the skies were the final official signature to the deal.
A strange sort, were these Legranel, a bit more earthy than the Iriel'en and more intemperate, but also more open than the somewhat reserved Celestin and their Deep Woods cousins.
Two camps there were now in the clearing, one consisting of a single smallish teepee of a rather worn hide and the other of three larger yurts, whose exteriors appeared to be some kind of waxed canvas. Damned heavy things. Ulric found out how they managed to haul something like that around when a team of four large oxen pulling a massive flatbed cart was driven in, whose wheels were as tall as he was.
Watcher's tits, now that was a proper wagon! No wonder they didn't mind such luxurious, and heavy, housing. The oxen were of a similar largesse to the wagon. Great wooly creatures with tremendous musculature and heavy horns, which had been filed to metal capped flats, except for a bull who would act as protection for the rest. Ulric knew it was a bull because the great swinging danglers it pulled behind it might drag the ground if it hit uneven terrain. Sonofabitch. Those sweeping curving horns spread wider than his arms and looked like they could have gored a rhino. He had his answer to how the things didn't draw predators. It'd be a brave critter, or incredibly dangerous, to try to take on that bull.
Ulric's mind flashed back to the [Crimson Bull], all raw power and spark throwing hooves. It had taken a [Shadow Panther] a Greater Beast revered by the Iriel'en for its ferocity and incredibly dangerous ambushes to bring that massive creature down. Perhaps these open plains didn't hold an equivalently sneaky beast, although Taipan's brief lecture on plains predators gave him little hope he wouldn't be finding out, sooner or later.
With their yurts assembled, the Legranel got the fire rolling, building a sort of brick house of dung patties that drew air efficiently up between them, getting a far brighter and hotter flame than Ulric had managed. He watched eagerly to learn from the professionals the ways of patty flame barbecue.
