3. Jerrs weddings

Jerrs weddings


  • Jerr yelled before entering the Featherflight camp. "COMING IN!"

    He knew that he did not have to, but he also knew that one twitchy young guard could make him regret not doing so. The bowmen and their axe counterparts were gathered off to one side. Jerr spoke the usual words of greeting and waited for either being ignored or being taken further into the camp.

    "Shaman wants to talk to you." Grunted the eldest of the guards, eying Jerrs axe with unconcealed envy.

    Jerr nodded and moved further in, past once proud walls of some former town that now sheltered the last of the Featherflight tribe. The rhythmic sounds of wood being worked and arrows whistling through the air gave a strange counterpoint to the silence of the tribe members as they watched the stranger walk through their camp. Many knew OF him but he had spoken to so few that stranger he was.

    In the distance he saw that his son was off working on forming a bow in a starting woodcrafting group of much younger children. Bel looked up and smiled and then bend his head to the task of making a bow out of an old piece of wood too brittle to be used for a true weapon. But it was his, made by him and that made it all the difference.

    When he arrived at the shamans tent they went through the usual gifts and greeting before he sat by the fire and looked out to the camp. It was because of this he was surprised by the woman coming out of the shamans tent behind him.

    "You are the skald?" She asked in ano nonsense tone. She looked him up and down in a manner more fitting the examination of livestock.

    "I am, dear woman. You are . . . .?"

    "The old fools wife." She jerked a thumb at the shaman who grinned apolegetically. "So, when am I going to meet YOUR wives?"

    "Wives? I have but one."

    "Pah! I was told you followed the old ways. Now this you tell me? Tell me the ways of marriage in a tribe." An empress could not have more imperial a tone as she.

    He drummed his hands lightly as he chanted in an older version of Damaran "A shaman marries but once, for the other half of himself. Warriors do not marry but take mates as time allows. The skald is the rarest of them all so he marries many and wide. From every tribe that he visits, he should be looking for a bride.." he stopped stunned by the old song "but but but."

    "Are you following the old ways or not? He told me you had spoken an oath to the afterlife to bind the tribes and teach the old ways. You and Jarek. Now he is gone, did he take your half of the oath with him?"

    Jerr hung and shook his head.

    "So, next time you come I will have you meet the eligible women of the tribe. You WILL choose. Now I will let you and the fool talk. I have weddings to prepare for."

    Jerr does not remember much of the rest of the time he spent in the camp, all he could hear was the sound of a great sword being drawn as he pictured trying to tell Amith, his wife.

    :? 8O :evil: :!:


  • He struggled to get into the ceremonial outfit. She smiled as she helped him do it up, tsking when it proved a little tighter than last time. " <e>Maybe I no let you visit the kitchen anymore."

    He smiled down at her. "More of me to love, Love. Damn I am more nervous than I was when I did the Legend singing."

    " <e>This is more important."

    He paused, hesitating while he thought about her answer. 'It is, isn't it? Last chance to change minds, Love"

    She slapped his bicep and snorted. " <e>You? Change mind?" He turned chuckling and missed the look of concern on her face as she looked from her hand to his arm and wiggled her fingers. Slapping him was becoming like hitting a wall. For all his look of being fat he was solid, very solid.

    He faced the door and held his head high, white hair flowing with just a hint of colour deep in the roots. "What if they say no?"

    " <e>What if they say yes? Go, husband, face the battle."

    He smiled down at his wife and said softly. " <e>Till the stars leave the sky and the oceans dry up, I will always love you." Then he headed out of their room and down to dining hall where they waited.

    Little faces turned to look as he and Amith entered the room. Amith went past to the kitchen and stood in that doorway. Looking about Jerr saw several of the sisters standing in other doorways or sitting off to one side. Nicahh was at the door to the garden, her face a mask of calm.

    He looked to the little faces and thumped his drum softly. A lighter beat echoed him and he smiled to the lad who was studying drumming the dawn. "I said that when the time came to tell, you would be told. Now is that time." He looked out at them and was amazed . . . they were being quiet and listening to his every word. "You came to this house because you lost your families. I have spoken with Nicahh and Amith and they both agree that I . . .well you . . . "

    Damn, here he was messing it up again. Some skald he was, couldn't even speak to a bunch of children. He paused and spoke low, but in a voice that filled the room. Instead of some prepared speech, he spoke from the heart. There was no more hesitation, no flubbed sentences, just the power of a skald, and his voice.

    "I have spoken with the women and they have given me their blessings to offer you this choice. Amith and I would adopt any who wish it. You would have a family, us. You would still live in the house but you would not be orphans anymore. You would be members of my tribe, the Heyokarr. You would be my children. I do not plan to force this on any of you. If you wish to wait for another to adopt you I will understand. I am not a rich man, nor am I a powerfull warrior. I am who and what you know, Jerr, Skald of the Nars. But if you will have me I will also be your father. I will care for you as best I can. If my dying is what is needed for you to live then I will do that, too. But that is true right now. I don't want to pressure you or make you make a big decision quickly. So I will ask you tomorrow . . . " He paused and looked down at the second youngest who had quietly moved beside him. "Yes?"

    "I decide, daddy"

    Tears filled his eyes so that he could only see Amith as an outline. He could, however see the children getting up from the table and moving to stand beside him. The small drum beat softly, perfectly and he looked down at the lad with pride. At all of them. Every last one. He wiped his eyes and looked over to where Nicahh had stood but the door to the garden was quietly closing. Kneeling he held out his arms and was bowled over in a wave of hugs.

    :hug:</e></e></e></e></e>


  • He staggered away from the fires, exhausted. A full legend sing had taken a lot out of him. His voice had been off, the words almost forgotten but her had somehow made it through the telling of the sword and the introduction of Olivia to the tribes.

    Then had come the wedding announcement. Or, to be more accurate, the fact that the wedding would not be taking place because he was a chief as well as a skald and a chief was not bound by skaldic rules. It had been met with, for the most part, stunned silence. Jerr used that silence to make his escape as now it would be the usual trading and bragging. He turned his back on that to face a task he both looked forward to and dreaded.

    Amith was in the kitchen bustling about in such a way that would make most decide that now was not the right time to ask or tell her anything. Jerr stepped into the kitchen noting the position of various possible weapons other than the sword at her back. He didn't expect trouble but it was a good habit to have, with Amith.

    She did not look up from the latest batch of cookies. "Well?"

    "Did you know I was the chief of the Heyokarr?" He watched for her reaction. It was a brief nod. "And you didn't mention it to me?"

    "You didn't ask, you had left." Something in the tone told him that chasing this thought down might not be a good idea.

    "Chiefs are not skalds. They are nor bound by the same rules."

    She stopped stirring and turned to face him. "and?"

    "And a skald need six wives, a chief may make his own rules. I am not obligated to marry any more. YOU are my wife and that is enough for me."

    The one thing Jerr had always noticed about Amith was he speed. She either moved with the deliberation of an avalanche or the speed of a viper. He did not see the move that put her right before him, looking up into his eyes. She was there and then she was here. "You no marry another?"

    "One wife, you."

    She paused. "What about children?"

    "I'm willing but won't the food burn if we go back to the room right now?"

    The punch was low, but light. She wasn't mad, just reminding him. "Are you adopting the children?"

    He pauses and looks at her. "They deserve a family. They're good kids and yes, I would like to adopt them . . . but . . ."

    The second punch was even lighter. "We already cook and care and teach them, what is the difference?"

    "Belonging. It makes all the difference in the world, Love"

    "Then adopt." She pauses then hugs him. "I thought I lose you to tribes, instead you bring a tribe to me."

    "If they agree. I will let the children decide . . . . they have to want to come to us, not be 'taken'"

    She hugged and smiled . . . knowing the answer already.


  • He had paced out the area in the plains and nodded to himself. Perfect. The area was large enough to accomoodate all the people he hoped would arrive for the ceremony. A few orcs interupted him as he paced about but he didn't even bother drawing his axe.

    Rico showed up as Jerr tried to find a suitable orc to carry the message. "Mine" He said pounting to an orc off in the distance. "He gets to live. I need a message carried"

    Rico looked curious but nodded as Jerr walked over to the orc and easily dodged the attacks as he told the orc the message. "The next moon, these plains are ours. Stay out." He then struck a thunderous blow to his drum that sent the orc scurrying home and turned to go back to the sisterhood.

    "What was that all about" Rico asked.

    "There is to be a ceremony, tribes are invited and we will gather on the plains."

    "The orcs will object and attack."

    Jerr grinned wolfishly. "I warned them in the interest of peace. If they come, they die. Tribes and the sisterhood and others of my friends . . . . I pity the orcs fool enough to try anything. I HATE to be interupted durring ceremonies."

    Rico shook his head. Jerr explained that he would have to sing of a legend and then make an announcement about his next wife. The skald was grinning as he said this and it became clear that the old ways of the tribes were too strange for a modern man.


  • He staggered from Vrokas and looked both ways to see where Chaevre had gone. Nothing. All his things were bundled on his back in a mishmash as he headed for the house. It took him a minute or two to find the key and open the door and then he went in.

    He paused in the entryway and looked over to the couches and then towards the kitchens. Shouldering the load again he passed the tempting resting area and went through the dining hall and into the cooking area.

    She didn't even turn. "You know how I feel about you dying."

    He sighed. "Yes dear. Who told you?"

    She turned and looked him in the eye. "I don't need to be told, you fool, now go put your things in the room and get some rest. With all our kids back I need to cook more cookies."

    Jerr paused for a moment taking in the implications of what she said then, wordlessly, he swept her into a hug and turned to go. "<e>I will obey." He grinned as a sweet roll bounced off of the back of his head.

    Back in the room he set down his things and slowly sorted his pack back into a semblence of order. As he did so he worked out what had happened and the implications of it. The Undead Knight has said he was RECLAIMING what was once theirs. That implied that the undead were the former occupants of Mintas.

    It was funny. He and Lill and a few others had wondered who had once owned the city, what race or people. Now they were finding out, the hard way. The Knight had seemed very powerfull and the Dueregar had been on the run. It wasn't an ambush for them, that they had walked into . . . it was a falling back before the undead horde rising up from below.

    Jerr frowned. This meant they would see more displaced Drow Dwarves as they started looking for new digs. He would put the word out in town for the folk to be more carefull in the caves as the swamp and spider caves would be obvious staging points.

    He sighed again. Of course nothing so powerful as a Drow Dwarf was need to kill a stupid old skald. Two orc magi could do it quite handily. And had. He stuffed the clothes into their outer pockets after folding them carefully. Maybe he shouldn't go so far afield again.

    He looked over to the stand where his wedding clothes still hung. Weddings. He had asked a lot of people about what they thought, most of them didn't understand the duty and reasons for it and thought it some sort of silly tradition he should ignore. Chaevre had understood better than any. He smiled, thinking back on her advice.

    'Don't choose. Send to the tribe telling them to send a chiefs daughter with a suitable dowry' Simple and diplomatic, that would be. He shook his head. Pity he couldn't use that.

    But there were other tribes. If he was going to do this properly he would have to make contact with the Red Tigers next. He wondered about their Skald, old Thom. Then he realized that old Thom had been called that two decades ago.

    He sighed and lay back on the bed, door still open. A whuffling sound told him the badger was making its rounds. A couple of the younger kids peeked in, giggled and moved on towards the sitting room and garden. Weddings and dowries, tribes without skalds all started to swirl in his head as he slowly, comforatbly, went to sleep on his own bed for the first time in a long time.

    Amith found him there, hours later. She tsked as she saw the acid damage to his leathers and shoulder. Smiling she drew a cover over him and shut the door.</e>


  • In the Rawlins he practiced the steps and polished the rhymes. Goblins swiftly learned the price of interupting him as a small stack of bodies grew nearby. He drummed as he danced around a fire he had built, occassionallly stopping to feed the flames or rewrite a passage.

    And into the night it went. He went back to the Featherflights to pick up the costumes and practice pulling them on and off. He started to leave word for Lilly at the sisterhood that he would love to have her attend the ceremony (and bring the harp) when he realized that this was something more.

    He and Nicahh had spoken that the Sisterhood had no problem with him being the father of the children, if they could stay and grow at the Sisterhood. It was time to bring them home again. This would be the thing to do . . . now. Their homecoming would be part and parcel of the ceremony. And the children would learn something of the heritage they were becoming a part of. This would also give the tribe a chance to see thier new adopted members for the first time. He nodded and changed the invitation to include ALL the sisters.

    'Jerr and Olivia will be going to the Featherflight camp on the next full moon for a Legend ceremony. The children and sisters of the house are invited to come. There are no requirements and all participation is optional, but it would be nice if those in the area could make it.'

    He set the note on the front deck of the sisterhood and went south again, to practice in the Rawlins and to visit the kids. As he went he tried to imagine how to tell them the big changes that had happened and were about to happen.


  • He came into the camp with a purpose and went straight to the shamans tent. Of course she came out first. It was what he expected and wanted.

    "I need costumes made. Bear, wolf and giant. See to it." His tone was solid and he seemed very sure of himself.

    She looked at him for a moment and then nodded. "Three days."

    "That will be soon enough." Jerr smiled and spun on his heel to leave.

    "Have you chosen?" She called after him. But he did not say another word as his red and black leathers vanished into the mist.

    Three days . . . he sat for the days working hard on the song and the changes. It had been a long time since he did a full ceremony and he wanted to get it very right.


  • Jerr walked away from the Sisterhood, drumming an old formal greeting song. Lill's voice followed him "jerr . . . I would" He thought about that as he walked. She had offered to come with him to the Featherflights, so that is what she meant, that she would come with him. He nodded to himself.

    The Hobgoblins and the Orcs tried to slow his passage. In formality he refused the battle and took an arrow in the shoulder for his troubles. One of them was damn fool and followed him into the Featherflight camp. It was not so much that he was hit with axes, it was more that the orc was flying in seven different directions, in chunks.

    "I am here" He said, formally, and stood there, still drumming the low slow beat of the drum.

    And they came to meet him. The unmarried women of the tribe formed a double row. The married, the too old, and the too young stood behind them. The men stomped their feet in time to the drum as he walked down the centre, looking neither left nor right at any one woman. It was hard, they were wearing bangles that rang, ribbons that fluttered in the breeze, and clothes that were calculated in millenium old ways to make a man a gibbering fool.

    Jerr chuckled to himself. you cannot make me a fool He thought, I am already there. Grinning at the thought he straightened up and walked proudly to the commons of the camp where a large fire was swiftly being built. Calling forth his power he struck the drum as he seldom did, hard and with an inner power. The ring of it thundered the camp and there was silence. "I am back, as I said I would be. I did not find the sword and will be going back out, but I am back, now."

    She was dressed in a robe of a Polar bear. Jerr winced looking at it and thinking of the mistakes he had made on the last hunt, sorrowing the druid, Wolf. The Shamans wife (he suddenly realized he had never learned her name) walked proudly beside her husband. Nudged by her, the Shaman spoke the words. "Skald we welcome you back. there is no need to offer food, drink and warmth. You are of the people. Sit and enjoy the comfort of being . . . home."

    Jerr sighed. He had not heard that word for a long time. Not in reference to himself. Deep down a part of him begged that he would give up the axe and move here, with his son and Amith. Amith . . . he sobered and the voice was driven back into its corner to whimper. He settled down and put the drum right to his side with one hand resting on it. He saw Bel flit through the crowd and then vanish. No surprise, this must be horrible for him, he is trying to live here.

    Then it began. The first women brought food, each serving something that they had made themselves. Others made sure his hand never lacked a drink. As each served him she, or the Shamans wife, would say her name. Jerr marvelled at the fact that many actually seemed to be trying to get his attention. And the night wore on.

    Dawn came and he sang the sun up with an air of relief. He had danced about the fire, sung old lessons, ate and drank to the point that the couch in the Sisterhood was beginning to look good. As he sang the welcome to the sun the tribe listened quietly . . . .except for one voice, from the very back that sang with him. He craned his neck as he sang the third hymn but could not see the singer. Her voice was pure and clean and not pandering to him but singing to the gods . . . .

    :sing: :nod: :!:


  • They were awake in that odd place where the sun always shone. Most had no idea what time it was. But they paid attention to the sisters and slept, or went into the tents, when told.

    And they talked but more importantly, they listened . . . .

    What they heard was odd. Jerr was going to be their daddy? And marry all the sisters? The nice elf who cooked their meals, wasn't he married to her? And when she brought them food now . . . .she looked mad. The children hid when they saw her face and one even cried when he couldn't hide fast enough.

    They talked amonst themselves and the rumors grew, changed in each telling. They overlapped and soon were only distant relatives of what they had half heard.

    Then HE showed up.

    They rushed out to greet him, It did not matter what time it was, they knew he would tell them the real story. But, being children, the questions spilled out with no time for answers.

    "Jemi says you are our real daddy and you had married all our mommies before."

    "If you marry Tiggles will the babies be fat dwarves?"

    "Will we have to move away to the forest and eat leaves because you never have money?"

    "If you marry everybody can I marry you too, when I am eight?"

    "Are they right when they say Amithy is thin because you squeezed her flat?"

    "They said somebody beat you up . . . but that isn't true is it? Nobody beats up OUR DADDY!"

    "Can I bring my doll when we move to your castle?"

    "Will you only be married to Nyda when the moon is full?"

    "When are all our mommies going to have babies? Somebody said that you only marry if the lady is gonna have a baby? Can I name them? one of them? Can I hold them? One of them? can I? Can I?"

    'Do I have to call you daddy now?"

    On and on it went, Jerr standing there stunned. Helplessly he looked over to sisters on the edge of the group and saw them stifling laughs. He smiled to the kids and said, in voice that cut through their chatter. "Enough. When it is time for you to be told things, you will be told. When it is time for you to hold things, you will hold. But now is the time to do things and you must be bold."

    He caught the eye of one of the older lads who was always pounding along behind Jerr with whatever pot or toy he could drum on. A gesture brought him forward as Jerr spoke to the rest of them. "I am going away with Olivia and some others. I am sorry to leave you behind but it is something we need to do. But I am not worried about you . . . your safe here. I worry about my sun."

    "Bel is all grown up." said one young lass with stars in her eyes.

    "No no, the sun." h epointed up to the light above. 'Who will tell it to rise and set? Who will drum the days while I am gone?"

    "..o.x…x.s" Whispered the lad now standing before him.

    "What?"

    "I would, if I had a drum" he said a slight bit louder.

    "Well who would sing with you?"

    "we . . .me.. mememe. us we all would . . ."

    "Well then." Jerr reached into his pack and pulled out a small drum he had bought at Rinaldos. With great ceremony he presented the drum to the boy. "Till I return the sunrises and the sunsets are yours. Till I return you must watch the time and know when you are. Ask Rith to show you how to read the sundial until you can feel the days pass. Yours will be the duty and all will help you with it."

    The boy took the drum gingerly and rapped it with one hand. It thrummed a high beat. Squeeling with delight he danced about the shrine pounding and laughing.

    Jerr stood. "The rest of you help him, in song and time. I will come back when I can and then we will see what is what." He looked to the sisters at the edge of the group and smiled at them but the smile faltered. They weren't laughing at him but there was a gleam in their eyes that might have been tears. And something else . . . he shook his head . . . "no fool like an old fool"

    Before he had left the shrine two drums has called the eve and the songs had rung out over the sleepy village of Norwick. Hugging each one one more time he headed out to the north.


  • The way into the camp was quiet. Jerr did not sneak, but neither did he bang a drum as he came. "Quick in and out. that's all I need." he muttered to himself.

    no

    It was as though he had sent word ahead. Or they had known somehow that this is how he would arrive. They were everywhere. Peeking out of tents shyly or standing in his path challenging him. Some looked fearfull, others hopefull, and a few resigned to an odious task. The glares he got from the warriors made him question the wisdom of this errand. Mybe he should have sent Bel to deliver the message?

    no

    He was a man of the Nars. Women may intimidate him when they looked at him with eyes of hunger but he was also a member of the sisterhood. He knew that they were as dangerous as any band of men and he had little to fear here while they had his back. Mentally he started comparing the women to the sisters of the house. That one had hips like Olivia. The next, with a low cut top, reminded him of Hedia in the ways she looked at him with a challenge on her smirking lips. None could match the panther like danger that washed off of Nicahh nor the wild innocence of Tiggs.

    no

    Now was not the time to be looking and considering. He had a message to deliver. Finally . . . it seemed like hours . . . he was before the tent of the shaman. SHE was there.

    "I wish to speak with you and your husband." he said in a strong clear voice.

    She nodded as the shaman came out of the tent rubbing sleep from his eyes. The shaman looked at the women around the tent in a growing circle and then back at the Skald and shrugged helplessly.

    "I am going on a quest for a lost sword of the lands." Jerr said in the same volume. "I have some clues to follow and the sword does not belong in the hands of the giants. Therif would not want that."

    The murmers of the tribe rose and stopped as he continued. "I am not using this as a way to avoid my obligations. But I am letting you and all the ladies know that I will be away for a time. When I return I shall come back here and visit and see what the beauties await me. But if I fall out in the caves of the giants I do not want to leave a newly wed wife as a widow." He looked about. "None here deserve that."

    The shamans wife considered this for a moment. "Will you take some of the folk with you?"

    "No. I know they are fearsome warrirors and canny trackers but I have not yet worked with them in missions and I would not want to lead any more of your people to their deaths. This task is for me, and mine."

    "Your son told us of your 'run' the other night."

    Jerr hung his head. "I told him why that happened."

    "And he told us. You were willing to sacrifice yourself to save the others of your house. Are you still of that mind?" The shamans wife was trying to make a point but he could not see it.

    "I told the Biggest sister of the house that I would lay my lifesblood on that doorstep before I let another undead in. For friends and family I am a simple skald but I do what I can . . . .and what I must. Yes. I try not to die but I would do the same again in a heartbeat."

    "Try not to. Come back when you have completed the quest. But for now, stay and have warmth, food and drink." She spoke the ritual greeting and Jerr knew he was trapped. To refuse would be an insult.

    "I thank you and welcome the warmth, the end of hunger and the end of thirst." he replied in old Damaran. He sat down by the dying ambers of the fire and stayed until early dawn when he sang the sun up for the tribe. Dead tired he returned to his couch in the outer halls of the sisterhood and tried to sleep, fitfully. but the ocuches were too narrow and he kept falling off of them everytime he fell completely asleep.

    Hours later he staggered out into the sunlight of the afternoon and slumped down against a fencepost, looking worse than ever.


  • _A shaman has but one wife, his other half
    A warrior takes no wife, who would cry more than laugh
    A skald is the one who must have many wives
    Each plays her part so his knowledge survives

    From his tribe and others, for war and for peace
    He calls all men brothers, and is everywhere at ease
    Related to many, he is the conscience of the folk
    Till a successor is named, to take up the yoke

    He marries once for his love and once for his lust
    Once to be trusted and once in good trust
    Once for the future and once for the past
    But the one for the love is the one that must last_

    Jerr looked up from his camp in the plains and smiled at his son as he ghosted in.

    "I take it you have heard?"

    "You joking? The whole damn tribe is talking about it. I had to get out because women keep asking me questions about you." Bel blushes. "Some of the questions they ask . . . "

    "Sorry Bel. I didn't want this to spill onto you."

    "How is She taking it?" Bel looked to his father.

    "Badly. She has allowed that I may marry again but if I touch the woman your mother will kill me, then her. Beat me to a pulp before I got her to listen. She still thinks this is some trick of mine to bed someone else."

    "Dad, you were ambushed. The Shamans wife was waiting for you for a week. Women were questioning me BEFORE you came to the camp. This was not your idea . . . "

    "No, but I wouldn't advise you try to tell your Mother that for a few weeks. Right now she is . . . very angry."

    "Dad, I got to ask. One of the stream guards said he saw you run past, out here, naked and being chased by orcs and ghouls. What was that about?"

    I had blood all over my clothes and your mother was still mad. So I took them off. Then she stormed off and I heard something and went to check it out. Ghouls were sneaking up on the house so I . . . distracted them. Ran by and they chased me," he chuckles, "I had to stop to let them catch up once. Was hoping they ond the orcs would fight but the lot of them decided a naked skald covered in blood looked safer. So past I ran, with them in tow."

    Bel shakes his head. "Dad, do you know how odd that sounds? Any normal person would have run for help. You ran into the wilds."

    "Didn't want anybody else hurt."

    Bel looks at his dad and shakes his head again, a silent imitation of one of his fathers favorite gestures. "Only you, Dad, only you. So, what is your favorite color, food, scent . . . I am not going to ask some of the embarassing ones they asked . . . "

    Laughing the two sat by the fire well into the evening, father and son becoming friends.