Talking to Himself {Open}

[F'rendil]

Time Reference: Same day as other QD20 events around Western. Directly after Fresh Meat.

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"What does he want this time?" F'rendril asked aloud as a smile cracked his roguish features. Somewhere in the distance, his dragon T'wenth replied to him in the mysterious manner known only to dragonriders. His piercing gaze stared off into the distance at some object only he could see for a moment. He pursed his lips and shifted his stance, his helmet tapped against his trousers, "Oh, I see - well, that's important. Sure let me check." From his belt, he withdrew a pouch and poked his finger into the top to pull the circle open. Using his fingertip, he rooted through the coin purse. 

The brownrider stood not far from a fruit vendor from where he purchased not long ago a half dozen pears and two redfruits. He leaned against a barrel as he checked his marks, his legs crossed at the ankle. The blue and gold braided knots on his riding jacket marked him as a Wingrider for Great Cliffs, and the five-colored draconic patch as a Guardian. After a pause, F'rendil looked at nothing again. "Tell her I have seven."

Though clean-shaved, the dragonrider ran his forefinger and thumb along the underside of his nose and down the edges of his mouth as though he had the facial hair to stroke. Another laugh and a head shake put his amusing friend aside. He withdrew a pear from his satchel and went back to his main profession at the moment. People watching. As he surveyed the crowd with a casual yet observant glance here and there, he began to eat his lunch.

[Jannasper]

NPC Joliffe:

Walking by the fruit stand was an older-looking man. He was stooped over slightly, with a pack on his back that appeared to be heavy enough to cause him to walk so. His tunic was well worn, and threadbare in some places, and his trousers, patched at the knees, looked in need of a good washing. His head was hooded, covering the dirty blond hair, and hiding the piecing hazel eyes that seemed to take in everything around him with practiced ease. He browsed over the fruit stands wares as if considering what to buy. The peddler was a familiar sight to the holds around the Western continent, as he traveled between them, offering the trinkets and wooden toys he made for food or a place to stay for the night. He always seemed amiable, ready with a smile or sympathetic word. He smiled to himself at the sight of the Guardian, seeing him as more of a challenge than a warning.

With the brownrider seemingly distracted, he examined one or two of the pears, quick and nimble fingers slipping a few extra up his sleeve while distracting the vendor by asking about the redberries he kept in the back of the stall. He sighed resignedly, thanked the vendor for his time, paid for the two fruits visible in his hand and started to walk away.

[F'rendil]

Since his fingers did the searching and not his eyes, F'rendil stayed alert enough to catch a glimpse of the vagabond merchant through the crowd. When he became a customer at the nearby fruit stand, the "old" man in both form and voice attracted F'rendil's attention and he looked at the peddler and marked his path. But the Guardian watchman, not being the law-keeper of the Hold, did not pursue the hooded tinkerer.

He continued to eat his pear. "So good..." someone nearby might hear him murmur. He tossed the remains into a nearby bin, uncrossed and crossed his ankles again in the other direction. That was something Lord Holder Feytolian made clear to them. 'You lot can stay but don't interfere.' As far as the brownrider knew, Joliffe was not related to the Syndicate. Let the holdfolk take care of their laws.

"Still - the vendor missed it for sure. I hate to see the loss." He said to no one in particular. Or perhaps to his dragon? Instead of following the thief, once Joliffe disappeared from view, F'rendril turned his attention the fruit vendor and waited until the merchant turned around. He made sure the vendor saw him.

Only then the brownrider strolled over to the stall. From within his pouch, he produced enough mark pieces to pay for the stolen pears and set them on the edge of the merchant's stall. With his now-empty hand, his gestured to the space where the pears had been with an apologetic smile. "Be wary of your inventory, next time, my friend. That peddler is a known thief. Due to hunger, I’d wager. Here’s a little something for your trouble."

F'rendil only paused long enough to pay Joliffe's debt. He tightened his coin purse again and spirited into his inner pockets. Then at a leisurely stroll went away from the small courtyard. From his satchel, he produced a redfruit and began to slice it with his table-knife. "Oh, tell Engmyth I have six now." Still eating his lunch, F'rendil started a walking patrol. It happened to be in the direction he saw the tinkerer take...

[Jannasper]

Joliffe browsed a few more booths, giving a friendly hello to the vendors he knew before leaving the market. He slipped out the pears he had stashed up his sleeve, letting them fall discreetly into his pouch, while he held the one legitimate purchase in his hand, taking a big bite of the firm, juicy pulp. He sighed, licking the juice at the corners of his mouth. It had too long since he had anything fresh. Dried meat and fruit usually had to tide him over on his travels between holds. He chuckled lightly to himself at having put one over on the Guardian. Not that he could do anything after Lord Feytolian's declaration. Not that the guards here had to wits to put together.

So caught up was he in these thoughts that he didn't notice the foot that was stuck out, neatly tripping him. He fell forward, loosing his pear as he put his hands out to brace his fall. He hit the ground hard, falling into the mud. His pack fell from his back, some of the contents spilling out. Wooden bowls and spoons also fell into the mud, as did a small children's toy, a dragon made of wood with wheels that could be pulled along the ground, with wings that flapped as it was pulled. Two young men stood over the peddler, wearing smith badges, both sneering with disdain at him.

"Careful there Old Man," one of the men said. "Wouldn't want any of your 'wares' getting dirty."

"Anymore than they already are!" said the other man, and both laughed.

Joliffe didn't look up at the two men or say anything. He tried to put back the pieces that had fallen out. Still laughing, the two smiths walked away, one kicking a bowl, and sending it sailing across the ground, while the other stepped on the toy, breaking one of the wings.

[F'rendil]

Each time Joliffe stopped at a stall, F'rendil watched him carefully, scrutinizing each movement. He kept his distance. The Guardian had several Turns of practice shadowing suspects. Although he didn't make any effort to conceal his presence, he did stay far enough away from Joliffe to ensure it was not immediately obvious he was being followed. When the dragonrider finished his redfruit, he stowed the remnants in his pouch. Though F'rendil made mental notes on any other items that he noticed disappeared up Joliffe's sleeve, the fruit vendor was the only place F'rendil stopped to compensate the owner. Any other stolen goods remained tallied but unmentioned.

The peddler had enough of a head start on F'rendil that the brownrider witnessed the assault by the smiths without being able to do anything to prevent it. He shook his head in disgust and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. F'rendil watched the smiths walk away. He recognized the elder as an 'upstanding' member of the craft specializing metallurgy. When he neared the scene of the crime, F'rendil bent enough to scoop up the kicked bowl. He turned it over to examine it and brushed off the debris and mud with his forearm as he closed the distance between them. With the toe of his boot, he edged the broken wing closer to Joliffe. As he offered the bowl to the other man, he said, "Some people can be so inconsiderate. Here, let me give you a hand up. Are you all right?" 

[Jannasper]

Joliffe didn’t look up at the approaching footsteps. He grabbed the few wooden utensils that had fallen out, stuffed them in his bag, and pulled it close to his body, expecting another assault. Instead, he heard the Guardian’s voice. He saw the toe of his boot push the dragon toy toward him. He looked up to see F’rendil holding the bowl out. Silently, he stared at it. He started to reach for it, but stopped. He gazed suspiciously at the offered bowl, then snatched it from F’rendil’s hand, as if he expected the brownrider to pull it away at the last moment.

"I'm fine," Joliffe mumbled as he gave the bowl a cursory glance before stashing it with the rest of his things. "I don't need your help." The word 'now' hung in the air, unspoken. He picked up the broken toy and looked at it sadly. The wing sat at an odd angle, the small dowel that hid the string that made the wing move was broken in two.

[F'rendil]

F'rendil waited for the toymaker to decide what he wanted to do with the bowl. He didn't react at all toward the suspicious glance or seem bothered by the pause and silence between them as Joliffe pondered what to do. There was no tension in the Guardian's grasp, no resistance that suggested he meant to use it as leverage. And so Joliffe took the bowl from F'rendil with ease. When the peddler finally did speak, F'rendil pursed his lips and spoke with a soft, "Hmm... I'm not sure about that." And despite Joliffe's words, F'rendil gathered two other escaped bowls and set them closer.

F'rendil looked over the rest of the muddy wares and then cast a longer glance at the peddler himself. He watched the other man ponder the dragon's broken wing. "A pity." Genuine empathy rose into his tone, his expression showed the same. Mild sadness for the injury to the inoffensive object. "That is a good likeness too. How much would that trinket be worth I wonder? Can you repair it?"

[Jannasper]

Joliffe didn’t answer immediately. He continued to stare at the toy, turning it from side to side. "My master used to make these," he said finally. It had been a long time since someone asked him about his craft. “We knew we'd done we'll when he let us make ‘em for sale.” He frowned at the mud on it and started to wipe it away. "He’d start out charging a couple marks for one, but the bigger the child's smile, the lower the price would go, until he was practically giving them away. He used to say--you couldn't put a price on a child's smile." He smiled nostalgically for a moment, then realized the Guardian was staring at him. “Aye, I can fix it. Though there hasn’t been much call for them lately. Not here anyway.” He put the toy in his pack carefully, and then picked up the last stray bowls.

[F'rendil]

F'rendil listened without moving as Joliffe waxed nostalgic. He studied the toymaker's features as the other spoke with fond memories about both his master and his craft. "So, he's a woodcrafter..." his soft words though not meant for Joliffe were easy to hear with the sparse distance between them. The brownrider's expression softened somewhat and by the end, with the phrase "you couldn't put a price on a child's smile", the Guardian nodded with each word but continued to hold his tongue while Joliffe actually replied to his question.

A small smile creased the edges of his lips and he wiped his hand on his trousers then, extended it again to the peddler as a silent offer to assist the older man off the ground. "Your master spoke wise words. I happen to know a child who could use a smile. Not here, no but we have 'brats back at the Weyr who don't have much in the way of toys. Especially new, well-crafted toys. Those types of items never wind up being tithed to us. Not from here anyway..." Bitterness tainted his words. With a wave of his other hand, he dismissed some unspoken thoughts. "Fix it for me?" 

[Jannasper]

Joliffe cinched his bag closed before staring first at the offered hand and then up at the man who offered it. “I don’t need your charity,” he said gruffly, feeling a wound to his pride. He wasn't an old uncle yet! But neither was he a young man anymore, a fact he didn't like to admit to anyone, even himself. “But, my master would have sharp words for me if I passed up such an opportunity.” He took the Guardian’s offered hand. He hadn’t missed the bitterness in his last words, though neither could he blame his for them. He had his own conflicted feelings toward the place he had called home for so many turns. “It will take some time. I’ve not the resources I once had, but I'll find what I need. Somehow."

[F'rendil]

F'rendil met Joliffe's gaze as he waited for the older man to decide. When initially brushed off, F'rendil grunted as he began to withdraw his hand and his smile faded somewhat. "No charity, friend, giving a helping hand to someone on the ground is a courtesy. I'd do the same for anyone. Believe it or not, I like helpin' people."

As soon as Joliffe grasped his hand, the brownrider gave a gentle but firm tug to assist the other man off the ground and to his feet. When the peddler had his feet under him, F'rendril released his hand and added with a wide grin, "like I said, your master was a wise man." 

F'rendil's brows still furrowed at Joliffe's final sentences. The complaint, so similar to ones he'd heard throughout the Hold, was not unexpected. He nodded. "Mhm, troubled times we live in... and a lot of uncaring people out there. So what do you need to repair the dragon and how much will this set me back?"

[Jannasper]

"You're in the  minority then," Joliffe replied with a bit of a grumble still in his voice. He could count on one hand the number of people who offered a "helping hand" without some ulterior motive behind it. 

"You?" Joliffe asked as he tried to shake off the dirt and mud that clung to his already dirty clothes. "I'll not have you pay for another's misdeed. We've struck our bargain Guardian, and shook on it. One dragon toy for one child's smile. The only thing it will cost you is time, though some believe that to be a costly commodity indeed. No, I'll need naught from you other than a ride to your Weyr. I'll find what I need. I've still some supplies left from making this one. Should be enough to fix him. Now, if'n there are additional orders after, well, that's a different story." He smiled at F'rendil for the first time as he swung his pack onto his back.

[F'rendil]

F'rendil nodded as he echoed Joliffe's grunt with a similar sound of agreement. "I wish I could disagree with you on that... though I believe that minority lives at the Weyr." His brows jumped at the sound of his other title, but he made no comment merely nodded again. "All right, no payment save a child's smile. Mhm, time is a precious commodity but I have time enough to spare for you, not to worry."

He took a step back to give the peddler some room for his weighty bag. Though he put his hands forward, he did not touch the bag, only served as a 'just in case' it tipped too precariously in one direction or the other. His smile turned to an open mouth one. “A ride? Ha! I thought I bargained for the toy, not the toymaker himself. So be it. In fact, all the better! Your skills will be welcomed there by both the 'brats and other Weyr residents alike."

His voice dropped into a serious tone and he spoke with level words, meant to resound as neutral rather than accusatory. "But, for that ride, I request payment." He put his hand out again. "I'll ask that you put a hold on one particular well-honed craft you possess. You'll not steal while you're in residency at Great Cliffs."

[Jannasper]

Joliffe just grunted again. His master would have agreed whole-heartedly. He, on the other hand, after the last ten turns, had experienced a much different perspective. He nodded gratefully to F'riendil's assurance to give him some of his time. He rarely got that from anyone any more.

His pack securely on his back, he was about to say something, but his mouth just dropped down into an open gape as F'rendil offered him work at the Weyr. He had only meant to get a ride for delivery and to see the transaction completed. He hadn't meant to insinuate himself into working for the Weyr. Though, he wouldn't turn down regular work. It had been a while since anyone came to him, ever since the younger, and better looking journeyman woodcrafter came to the hold. A man with connections and resources, neither of which he had anymore, but also questionable workmanship.

Before he could reply to that, the brownrider went into his penchant for property redistribution. He almost wanted to curse F'riendil, as his words and tone were nearly identical to those his Master had used all those turns ago when the wood crafter had offered the then young Joliffe honest work. He stared at the outstretched hand, his eyes half-lidded, in sadness? Regret?

"Not so well-honed as it once was," Joliffe admitted. "And not as satisfying as a good plane or precision chisel in these hands." He looked down at his free hand, callused from many hours of working and glueing his precious wood. "You know how to strike a bargain indeed Brownrider." He took F'riendil's hand again, sealing the deal.

[F'rendil]

The brownrider waited patiently while the older man considered his offer. Whether F'rendil unintentionally misunderstood Joliffe or had a philanthropic heart or the Guardian did have some angle in his offer, he made no sign. His eyes smiled as did his mouth and he showed every sign that his offer for a more permanent arrangement was, in fact, genuine.

He kept his attention primarily on Joliffe's hands but scanned the immediate area to ensure that they'd picked up all of the woodcarver's scattered possessions and no thugs decided to get rough with either of them. Not that most people expected anyone to pick a fight with a dragonrider who was also a Guardian, the average Western thought it a ridiculous notion, right? But one must be ever vigilant.

Finally, Joliffe took his hand again.

"Then, we're agreed," F'rendil said in a pleased tone as he squeezed Joliffe's hand and shook it with the same grip and easy strength as before. When he released Joliffe's hand, F'rendil took a step backward to give his new associate a chance to finish cleaning off his clothes and ready himself to get on the move again.

His voice became softer and when he spoke again it was in a faraway tone. "We have a guest coming home with us, be nice to him." Several heartbeats passed, and then F'rendil laughed with a sudden burst of mirth. "Ahha! Of course, I know that, T'wen. But he doesn't... oh he did? You can give him an update. Nothing to report but some new talent for the Weyr."

Afterwards, F'rendil returned to his conversation with Joliffe as he gestured to the street in the same direction they'd been originally heading. "If you're ready to go now, let's go. I could use a break from patrol. We can follow this avenue onward. After a piece, it curves outside the wall and around to a clearing where T'wenth can meet up with us. I should ask your name, so I can introduce you when we get there."