3. Jerrs Lessons

Jerrs Lessons


  • He returned to the tent shaking his head trying to clear it. What he was and wasn't spinning round his head as he had spent the night talking to Pink and to Penny. He had been glad to have Lill there as she had provided him with a mental anchor, someone normal to look to and remind him of what was real.

    Mica was sitting just inside the tent, waiting for him. "um . . . daddy?"

    Jerr smiled. It still did his heart good to hear them call him that, though he did not insist upon it. "Yes Mica?" He scooped the four year old up onto his knee and set down heavily on some wolf furs to one side. "What can I do for you?"

    Mica looked to Jerr with the serious eyes that a four year old can get, usually when explaining why they need another sweet. "you should stop those classes, daddy. they scare me."

    Jerr frowned. "Scare you? Did you follow us?"

    "no daddy, i no want you to be dragon . . . you die then." The eyes were unwavering.

    "We all die sometime, Mica. I am what I am . . . .I cannot change that, lad" Jerr spoke softly, trying hard not to show his inner feelings.

    "no daddy no. when you dies the last time, when you no comes back to us, you dies as a dragon. so i no wants you to be dragon then you my daddy frever." Mica was warm in his lap . . . .almost too warm. Jerr leaned over and kissed his forehead and frowned.

    "It's ok, Mica. Pink lady tells me I won't be a dragon, that I can't be one." He smiles, fever dreams and he had almost thought . . . .

    "she lies, sometimes. thinks it pertecks you. you were dragon in cave . . . i saw it."

    Jerr sat back and thought furiously. Had he ever told the children of the time he became a dragon? Was Mica misrecalling a story? "Yer a bit warm, Mica. Let's get you some fresh air and some food and then we can snuggle and I will tell you some stories, OK? We can talk about daddy being a dragon another time."

    Mica snuggled in and murmered something that sounded like 'K' but was soon snoring in his arms. He spent the rest of the day holding the boy even though the fever faded soon after he went to sleep.

    Sudden fevers, Jerr knew that, or what it had meant for him. He so hoped he was wrong. Because if he was right . . . .


  • He sighed as he entered the courtyard and Tila came running up. They had spent many an hour here and Jerr always brought some fresh meat to feed, the fountains provided food. Tila even would chase a string, because the skald seemed so amused when it happened but the wolf always was a bit sad. Now Jerr knew why.

    "I was changed, had a chance to be like you." He looks around. "I loved it. I was free for a while, no responsibilities, no worries. The hunt . . .ah the hunt was fun. Blood in your teeth and on your muzzle. But they called me home, reminded me that I had others to care for."

    He pauses and looks in the wolfs eyes. "As do you. I think you will help ground him and I have been wrong to keep you here. I am truly sorry."

    The wolf nuzzles the skald, not able to say anything. He hugs and holds Tila, tears running into the fur, before he stands and looks about. "Right, we have to get you home again. But you will remember me, right?" he ruffles one ear and leads the way through a doorway to Norwick. Chuckling he watches the wolf nip at an odd string hanging off of his pack.

    responsibilities are the chains of life. They can weight you down, or hold you back, but the best use of them is to anchor you to yourself and others about you


  • The kids giggled and whispered amongst themselves. Finding Dad in the bathroom with Lilin had been a bit of a surprise. His shirt was off and she was holding a knife to his throat when they had bumbled in for morningwashing up. (One did NOT come to the breakfast table dirty when your mother carries a greatsword)

    Dad had taken one look at them, rolled his eyes and looked to Lilin. "Maybe here is not the best place. If they bump your elbow at the wrong instant . . ." Lilin nodded and smiled weakly at the children. Off they went. Giggles followed them out of the house, Jerr hurrying before tales got told to Amith.

    "Water, we do need water." Jerr muttered looking south and then into Jiyyd. Smiling they went in past the usual crowd to the quieter area, ironically by the gong. Jerr drew a buck of water and made a small fire. Heating some rocks he dropped them into the bucket until the water was warm.

    "First thing. Warmth is nice, not absolutely needed but nice. Second thing, the blade." He pointed to the dagger he had handed her earlier that morning. "It must be sharp, it must be an excellent blade. Amith made that one for me and it is very well made and holds a good edge. I take good care of it, oiling it and keeping it sharp with a piece of leather. If you ask one of the better crafters I am sure you can find a good one too . . ." he washed his face with the now warm water as he spoke and then sighing sat down before her, facing away.

    She looked at the dagger and then at his back and reached around him. "Where do I start?" The dagger trembled a little in front of Jerr's eyes and he tried not to flinch.

    "There is an order to the passes. But before you touch me we should cover three things." He turned a little to look her in the eye, if he remembered to look up. "One, the dagger is sharp and I will be cut. I know that, you know that. So do not bother to apologise, it is what happens. Two, hair has a grain to it, the way it wants to lie down. For this first pass you will follow the grain, not against it, not across it, with it." He looks to see if she understands.

    She looks down at him and rubs her hand first one way and then another on his face and nods. "With the grain, yes. You will bleed and you know I am sorry." She pauses and then asks. "What is the third thing?"

    He grins. "No asking for a divorce while you have a blade at my throat. It isn't playing fair."

    She laughs and relaxes a little. "What woman would divorce you? Easier to become a widow." She taps the end of his nose with the dagger point and squeeks when a droplet of blood appears.

    "Very sharp." he says dryly and wipes at the tip of his nose. "Now the first pass is down the left side of my face, near the ear and going down to the jaw." Over the next hour she carefully sliced hair and skin from the skald who was calm and relaxed about the whole thing. It was hard not to notice that his skin was tougher than most peoples and that even the sharp blade sometimes skidded where another would have been sliced. The small creek feeding the swamp was slightly pinkish as he washed off and looked at her.

    "I am sor . . ." She stopped and grinned at his held up hand and then spoke different words and the small wound vanished from his face, though tracks of blood still ran down his chest. "Did it hurt much?"

    "I managed not to cry . . . Lilin I have been tatooed across chest leg and arm. A few scrapes on my face is not going to kill me nor make me break down and cry." He felt his face and took the dagger back. "You did well, Love."

    She touched his face and smiled. "You are a good teacher . . . but what if I have to shave myself?"

    "Same rules, same pattern. With the grain. Sharp blade. and have healing ready. And if you want more practice then we can always do this again in a few days. Like a lot of things you will get better with practice." he wiggles his eyebrows and smiles wickedly.

    She snorts. "Just as I was beginning to like you, you do that." Scooping up her things she heads back to the house, leaving him by the well.

    "Aye lass, I do." He watches her walk away and shivers, but not from the cold. "I have to . . ." With a whoop he turns and leaps into the cold cold stream and washes himself off before stepping out and pulling on dry clothes. The cold water helps . . . some. The stirges that come flying out of the swamp upstream are less helpful, but they do take his mind off of things for a while.

    //ooc reference for the pattern . . .

    http://www.en.nassrasur.com/razorcentral/nums.html


  • *** sometimes we teach the lessons, but more often we learn*** Jerr

    He sat by the fire with another bottle in his hand. His knuckles ached and he almost welcomed the pain, to match the one in his heart. They came up the hill and he just spared them a glance before looking back into the fire, emptying another bottle and tossing it aside.

    It hadn't been hard to follow him, Nicahh and Lilin had just followed the trail of broken bottles and broken orcs. Oddly none had a single axe mark on them and some were actually staggering back to their feet. The two women had glided aorund them and followed him to his favorite hill in the plains.

    Nicahh looked at him slumped there, clumsily opening another bottle with his belt knife. "Would you want the kids doing this, if you fell?"

    He glared up at her, she was playing dirty. "drinkin? or killin everythin in sight?" he slurred.

    "Both"

    "no" he mutters sullenly. His bloodshot eyes come up to meet hers, and Lilins. "she was a spoiled little brat . . . and his daughter."

    Lilin looked at him and asked "His?"

    Pain stricken he tried to make them understand. "Jareks."

    "As most little girls of leaders are . . . " Nicahh said with a calm voice watching as he continued to struggle with the bottle.

    "He denied her nothing." Jerr sobs, finally opening the bottle.

    "A mistake in the end." Nicahh confirms and frowns as she watches him down the contents of the bottle in one desperate gulp.

    "i . . knew that . . ." he whispers "she had all the training of a . . . dammit SHE HAD NONE!" he ends with almost a scream. " a shiny sword . . she had that." He ignored Lilins suggestion that he stop drinking as he used the but of the knife to break the neck of the next bottle and drank it down. " i will . . .when I run out."

    Nicahh stood taller and for all her beauty, shone like a deadly blade. "You will now, or I will knock your ass out and drag you home." He squints up at her, as though considering her threat. She frowns at him. "You know I can do it.

    "Amith is in charge of beating me up. I know you can . . . everybody can . . . "

    "I am a nearwife, I can beat you, too. I have authority."

    He nods at her. "Hells, even the orcs hit me." He drinks from yet another bottle, pulled from the pack. " . . . useless old fat man. . . ."

    "Jerr. Stop." Lilin sounded pained to see him in such a state. It got through to him when the threats had not.

    Staggering to his feet he carefully gave each of them a bottle of wine from his rapidly diminishing stock. "Manners, shorry."

    Nicahh frowned at him crossing her arms. She did not take the bottle so he set it at her feet. He glared back at her. "Don't like to see me drinking? Fine!" There was no song. He reached into the weave and wrapped it about himself, vanishing from sight. "There!" They hear a gurgle, burp, and giggle. A pause and then . . . "damn, out of wine." There is a pause and then . . ."are ya gonna drink those?"

    Nicahh puts hers away, her lips white with anger. Lilin hold hers out taunting. "You just have to get it."

    "what are you askin of me?" the skalds voice sounds confused.

    "You have to catch me, that's all." She holds the bottle towards the voice and grins impishly.

    "last time i caught you I gave ya a kiss."

    "so?"

    "This time for a bottle?"

    'If you can stay standing long enough to catch me, both." Lilin catches Nicahhs eye and nods.

    There is a pause . . . then a soft "dammit, sunset."

    He comes into view as he releases the weave and puts out the campfire. His boots smolder a little but he kicks them off, along with his armor. Standing there in a breechclout he slowly turns to face the west. And sings, ignoring the women.

    "Ya came and went
    Bloody sun
    took someone with ya
    someone young
    go to the darkness
    good riddance sez I
    the young of my tribe
    should not have to die

    Tempus she loved you
    but you ignored her in the end
    she would fight to be with you
    now she is, in the end

    Uthgar she had no
    totem of her own
    but may the spirits guide her
    to her final home"

    His head hung low as his voice mockingly came back in echo. Slowly he dug in his pack and pulled out very old tribal robes. "I'm sorry." whether that was to the women or someone else, it was uncertain. Nicahh nodded as he continued. "For a lot of things." He walks past them and down the hill. "If anything comes between us and the house, let me do the honors."

    "As you wish." Nicahh replied.

    The orcs fool enough to attack him, regretted it, briefly.

    Nicahh continued into the house, but Lilin stayed to make sure, "Are you ok, Jerr?"

    "One tribes person falls, and I fall apart. What if I DO get the tribes to unite? There ar enot enough grapes in the world, to make the wine."

    "Lots more tea leaves though." Lilin replies, smiling softly.

    They spoke long into the night, in the end . . . he was better, perhaps even better than he had been before the girl had died.

    If I don't learn from my deaths, I hope someone else does Heyokarr proverb


  • And so it went, each child had time in the day with Amith, Jerr, or several of the sisters. Each was allowed to grow in their own direction and choose their own path. The only limits set upon them were safety and love.

    The most important lesson of all, however, was the love of the family. The children had come from all different backgrounds but they found the two main adults in their lives were always willing to listen, to laugh, or to kiss a sore spot and make it better.

    In the end, perhaps, this might be the greatest thing that Jerr and Amith did for the land, for the Nars. They raised a good group of children who could respect others and often gained respect for themselves and the family.

    It was not that Jerr and Amith had planned this to happen. An old skald and a Battle Priestess. But it did, just the same. Ting had once told Jerr that he was different because he was always trying to attain something bigger and better for the world. Jerr had thought about this and then told her a koan of his people.

    "I climbed a mountain, trying to reach the stars. I did not reach the stars, but I did climb a mountain."


  • He smiled as he stood in the doorway into the garden and watched Tiggles talk to young Sarah. "You feels them growing and you cheers for them. If they gets sick you cares for them or pulls them before they makes others sick too."

    "Like ghouls" Said Sarah with a small voice.

    Tiggles brightly nodded and pushed on with the lesson until Sarah saw her father . . . "Daddy!"

    She was a thin thing, it had taken a lot fo work to get her to eat properly. He scooped her up over his head and then in for a hug. "Hey love, you having fun?"

    "Yes Tiggles teaching me sooooo much. But she says she talks to the plants, that's silly, right daddy?"

    "Yer mother talks to me, and I am not much better than a plant . . . no it is not silly. It is her way. Now sit here and tell me about your day." They took a bench and Sarah launched into a rambling tale of dirt and worms, grapes and birds, and all the things that Tiggles said that were silly.

    Jerr listened with half an ear and sighed, snuggling her close. Sarah was the oldest, not counting Bel. He had hoped for so much from his kids and when she had said that she wanted to be a farmer it had taken all of his skaldic training to keep his face from falling. Of course, he had not fooled Amith . . . .later they talked.

    "She very brave, Sarah is."

    "A farmer?"

    "She wants to fight all the world, or conquer it. Farmers still have to defend land but they also have to fight weather and plants and pests and animals all who want to stop them from growing food for people. Very brave."

    Jerr considered this but Amith did not let up. "You say you let them choose. That only true if they choose what you like?"

    He chuckled and held up his hands. "You know better than that, woman, You are not playing fair."

    "Sarahs life, my daughter." The priestess nodded. "I no play fair when family involved."

    "That is why I love you." He took her in his arms as they looked at the kids scattered about, all asleep. "Neither of us plays fair."

    "But we win."

    "Oh love, I won a long long time ago." He kisses her neck and drags her out of the room and back to their own bed. This time the lesson was his. Farming would be a greater battle than any orc war . . . and she would be ready for it. The very next day he spoke to Tiggles and even ran south to find Fadia. Sarah would have teachers of weather and plant, animal and land. The Circle would see to that. She might not become a druid, but druid taught was still the best way to learn what Sarah needed.


  • The two drums rang as one, the echos from the rock cliffs around them mixing and adding to the rhythm. "The key is to place yourself so they come back in time to your own beat." The old man said. "To use the environment to anhance the hymns and songs is one of our lesser secrets."

    The boy frowned and looked about fitfully and lost his own beat as he tried to hear the returns. "Aw . . ."

    The teache smiled and touched his shoulder. "One beat at a time, son. One beat at a time. Now strike and listen, then repeat and try to time your second strike to meat the first. Keep it up and you have your echo rhythm."

    The lad started, stopped, then started again and soon slipped into the drumming that called to itself. The skald nodded in time to the music and looked about, a weather eye for any enemies who might be drawn by the sounds. A bow to one side of him and an axe to the other, most enemies would find the reception warm, but not welcoming. He looked up to the sky and saw back to his own past, when ha learned the same lessons.

    "Now, tell me of the death of Fenghir."

    The lad kept the rhythm and started the simple tale of a heros death, practicing memory and tribal songs. Jerr corrected the occasional flaw in story or rhythm but let the tale unfold in the boys own way. As was the tradition. A new skald for the land, Dyson, skald of the Nars . . . and the old one taught on.