Post by figgsthepirate on Sept 1, 2011 11:30:58 GMT 10
Title: Only in Public
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,399
Card: Summer
Bingo: fresh + cotton + lazy afternoon + friends + fruit
Summary: Two old friends banter on a lazy summer afternoon.
AN: The last installment! I have to say I was a little unsure of how this was going to end, but I pleasantly surprised myself . I hope you guys liked reading it as much as I did writing it. It was definitely different from my usual fare. Now to figure out what to do for Autumn Bingo...
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“Mithros,” Wyldon muttered under his breath, feeling his knee twinge in discomfort as he swung his leg over the saddle and landed lightly on the ground. At his side, Cavall’s Heart snorted and turned her head, eyeing him with something resembling concern. “Never mind, girl,” he told her, looping the reins through his fingers. “It’s what happens when you get old.”
“Talkin’ to your horse again, milord? You know, th’ Duke might call that a sign of insanity.”
Looking ahead into the relative dimness of the royal stables, Wyldon allowed a slight smile to alleviate his normally taciturn expression. “Queenscove knows very well that any symptoms of insanity I may express are merely harmless side-effects of working every day with a passel of half-grown trouble-makers – his son especially.”
Stefan grinned through the straw thrust between his teeth. “A pity the youngest of ’em is the most tryin’. I never did see how ye could put up with the lad.”
“Neither do I,” Wyldon muttered, slipping a bridle over Heart’s elegant face and hitching her to the outside of her stall. With fingers that were still nimble in spite of their age, he undid the buckles of her bridle and slid it off beneath the halter, hanging it and the reins on the hook beside the stall door. Neither he nor Heart batted an eyelash when Stefan dumped a bale of hay just beside the door and straddled it, arms folded across the slight paunch that was his belly.
“Heard about t’ bandits.”
Wyldon ignored him for a few minutes, busying himself with the saddle and blanket. A barrel stood nearby; dipping his hand into it, he pulled out an apple and began to slice it with his belt knife. Heart, ears pricked, waited patiently as he fed them to her one by one, teeth chomping delightedly on the offering.
“I was a bloody fool, Stef,” he said at last, giving Heart the last apple and wiping his juicy hands on her velvet muzzle. She snorted playfully and lipped his hand, searching for more, but his mind was elsewhere. “Taking the garrison commander’s word that the hills were free of bandits…” He stopped, shaking his head. “Six pages are alive because one of them had the presence of mind to conduct a proper defense. One. What does that say about my methods as a teacher?”
“It says you’re still learnin’, even after all these years,” Stefan replied stolidly. “Ye never get too old t’ learn, Wyl-boy.”
Wyldon’s faraway eyes sharpened, and he looked down at his old friend with surprise. “You haven’t called me that in years.”
Stefan grinned lazily. “Aye. Does a man good to remember he’s still a boy at heart.”
“How did you get to be so wise?” Wyldon muttered, selecting a hoof-pick from the rack on the wall. “Don’t answer that.”
The head hostler laughed, slow and rich. “If I ’ad a copper bit for every time ye asked me that, I’d be a rich man. Easy there, she’s got somethin’ in ’er frog.”
Wyldon paused and lifted the pick away carefully, keeping Heart’s foreleg cradled against his leg. “What is it?”
“Dunno. Stone, mebbe.” Ambling to his feet, Stefan ran his hand along Heart’s side and bent to inspect the lifted hoof. “Nah. Splinter. What ya been doin’, missy, kickin’ your stall door?” His voice fell to a soothing murmur as he felt gently with his gnarled fingers for the offending splinter. When he had pulled it free, he straightened up and held it to the light. “Nah. Picked it up on your stroll.” He slapped her rump affectionately and returned to his perch. “Nice afternoon for a ride.”
“Yes. I’ve a few weeks reprieve until the next training season.” With a groan, Wyldon released the hoof and straightened. “Mithros, I hate getting old.”
Stefan cackled. “Ye complain worse’n an old biddy.”
Wyldon just hmphed in reply, and moved to the next hoof.
“You’ve got somethin’ on your mind,” Stefan observed, leaning back against the stall door and folding his hands over his stomach. The knight glared up at him from his task.
“Don’t you have some work to do, hostler?”
“Nope,” came the cheerful reply. “So ye might as well tell me.”
Grumbling under his breath, Wyldon finished Heart’s hooves and threw the pick back into the rack. “It’s Mindelan. For the life of me I can’t pin that girl down. As soon as I assign a new weakness to her, she defies it.”
Stefan examined his nails idly. “Not to mention she has excellent commandin’ abilities.”
“Don’t even get me started,” Wyldon muttered. “Is there any fresh water around here?”
“In t’ rain barrel, same as always. Your avoidin’ t’ question.”
Again Wyldon was silent as he seized two buckets and ducked outside to fill them. It was a clean summer day, with just the slightest tinge of coolness in the air suggesting autumn’s approach. The scent of fresh-cut hay drifted over the stable-yard, and he breathed it in, savoring the familiar sweetness before heading back inside.
“She’s the best page I’ve trained in years,” he said bluntly, tipping the buckets over Heart. She shook her mane violently in appreciation, sprinkling both men with water. “Absolutely the best, and I can’t reconcile it except to say that I’ve been a great bloody fool for most of my life.”
“Well,” Stefan observed, “at least ye have the courage t’ admit it, aye?”
Wyldon was sorely tempted to make a face at him, but resisted. Instead he threw one of the buckets at his head. Stefan caught it, laughing.
“Temper, temper, milord,” he chided. “The gal’s terrified o’ heights, isn’t she? And she got herself, five pages, and a dog up a cliff face under fire.”
“I know what she did,” Wyldon snapped. Then, scowling, “You’re one of the few people who can provoke my temper on a regular basis, and by Mithros, you get me every time.”
“I’ve been takin’ lessons from Queenscove,” came the unhelpful reply.
Wyldon snorted, and began slicking the water from Heart’s hide with a bristle-brush. “Father or son?”
Stefan sniggered. “Both.”
“I have a second bucket here if you’d like to press your luck,” Wyldon offered.
“No thank ye. I’ll jes’ sit and watch ye work.” At his friend’s suspicious glance, Stefan held up his hands. “I’m head hostler, Wyl, I can do what I like. An’ what I like is watchin’ ye work while I jes’ put my feet up.”
“Oh, aye. Should I tell Vivienne to be concerned?”
“Pshaw! I’m not fightin’ her for your old carcass. She can ’ave that all to herself.”
“You think you’re so funny. What would George say if he knew his old friend was eyeing his wife’s worst enemy?”
“Eyein’ isna actin’, Wyl-boy, and I’ve done that an’ more. I’m perfectly content w’ my horses now, ye know that.”
“Yes, I do. And I’m perfectly discontent with my little string of ducklings.”
“Haw! An’ ye do look the mother duck, wit’ t’ whole line of ’em trailin’ behind ye…”
“Thank you, Stefan, for that impeccable metaphor. Make yourself useful and start polishing my tack.”
“Of course, milord, right away, milord. Silk or cotton rag?”
“Silk! Mithros, Stefan, you had to ask?”
“Aye, aye, I know. It’s jes’ your shoulders is so nice and muscular when ye move ’em like that, I’m distracted no end…”
“Stefan, close your mouth. What if there was one of your impressionable young stable-hands about?”
“Then they’d know a sight more than we did when we was their age.”
“Heart, bite him.”
“She won’t. Says she doesn’t understand why two old stallions like us are frolickin’ like a pair o’ foals in the sunshine.”
“I resent the term frolicking.” With a last flick of his brush, Wyldon sighed and stepped away. “We are conversing like two perfectly respectable people of our venerable age and standing.”
Stefan muffled laughter behind his arm. “Venerable, hey? That’s a good ’un.”
“Yes, well.” Wyldon turned Heart into her stall and closed it before slumping onto the spare few inches of hay bale. After a surreptitious glance to see that they were alone, he let his hand drop off his thigh to lay over Stefan’s. “Only in public.”
Stefan closed his eyes and leaned back, grinning as he laced his fingers with Wyldon’s. “’Tis a good thing we’re not in public, then.”
Fin.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,399
Card: Summer
Bingo: fresh + cotton + lazy afternoon + friends + fruit
Summary: Two old friends banter on a lazy summer afternoon.
AN: The last installment! I have to say I was a little unsure of how this was going to end, but I pleasantly surprised myself . I hope you guys liked reading it as much as I did writing it. It was definitely different from my usual fare. Now to figure out what to do for Autumn Bingo...
_____________________________
“Mithros,” Wyldon muttered under his breath, feeling his knee twinge in discomfort as he swung his leg over the saddle and landed lightly on the ground. At his side, Cavall’s Heart snorted and turned her head, eyeing him with something resembling concern. “Never mind, girl,” he told her, looping the reins through his fingers. “It’s what happens when you get old.”
“Talkin’ to your horse again, milord? You know, th’ Duke might call that a sign of insanity.”
Looking ahead into the relative dimness of the royal stables, Wyldon allowed a slight smile to alleviate his normally taciturn expression. “Queenscove knows very well that any symptoms of insanity I may express are merely harmless side-effects of working every day with a passel of half-grown trouble-makers – his son especially.”
Stefan grinned through the straw thrust between his teeth. “A pity the youngest of ’em is the most tryin’. I never did see how ye could put up with the lad.”
“Neither do I,” Wyldon muttered, slipping a bridle over Heart’s elegant face and hitching her to the outside of her stall. With fingers that were still nimble in spite of their age, he undid the buckles of her bridle and slid it off beneath the halter, hanging it and the reins on the hook beside the stall door. Neither he nor Heart batted an eyelash when Stefan dumped a bale of hay just beside the door and straddled it, arms folded across the slight paunch that was his belly.
“Heard about t’ bandits.”
Wyldon ignored him for a few minutes, busying himself with the saddle and blanket. A barrel stood nearby; dipping his hand into it, he pulled out an apple and began to slice it with his belt knife. Heart, ears pricked, waited patiently as he fed them to her one by one, teeth chomping delightedly on the offering.
“I was a bloody fool, Stef,” he said at last, giving Heart the last apple and wiping his juicy hands on her velvet muzzle. She snorted playfully and lipped his hand, searching for more, but his mind was elsewhere. “Taking the garrison commander’s word that the hills were free of bandits…” He stopped, shaking his head. “Six pages are alive because one of them had the presence of mind to conduct a proper defense. One. What does that say about my methods as a teacher?”
“It says you’re still learnin’, even after all these years,” Stefan replied stolidly. “Ye never get too old t’ learn, Wyl-boy.”
Wyldon’s faraway eyes sharpened, and he looked down at his old friend with surprise. “You haven’t called me that in years.”
Stefan grinned lazily. “Aye. Does a man good to remember he’s still a boy at heart.”
“How did you get to be so wise?” Wyldon muttered, selecting a hoof-pick from the rack on the wall. “Don’t answer that.”
The head hostler laughed, slow and rich. “If I ’ad a copper bit for every time ye asked me that, I’d be a rich man. Easy there, she’s got somethin’ in ’er frog.”
Wyldon paused and lifted the pick away carefully, keeping Heart’s foreleg cradled against his leg. “What is it?”
“Dunno. Stone, mebbe.” Ambling to his feet, Stefan ran his hand along Heart’s side and bent to inspect the lifted hoof. “Nah. Splinter. What ya been doin’, missy, kickin’ your stall door?” His voice fell to a soothing murmur as he felt gently with his gnarled fingers for the offending splinter. When he had pulled it free, he straightened up and held it to the light. “Nah. Picked it up on your stroll.” He slapped her rump affectionately and returned to his perch. “Nice afternoon for a ride.”
“Yes. I’ve a few weeks reprieve until the next training season.” With a groan, Wyldon released the hoof and straightened. “Mithros, I hate getting old.”
Stefan cackled. “Ye complain worse’n an old biddy.”
Wyldon just hmphed in reply, and moved to the next hoof.
“You’ve got somethin’ on your mind,” Stefan observed, leaning back against the stall door and folding his hands over his stomach. The knight glared up at him from his task.
“Don’t you have some work to do, hostler?”
“Nope,” came the cheerful reply. “So ye might as well tell me.”
Grumbling under his breath, Wyldon finished Heart’s hooves and threw the pick back into the rack. “It’s Mindelan. For the life of me I can’t pin that girl down. As soon as I assign a new weakness to her, she defies it.”
Stefan examined his nails idly. “Not to mention she has excellent commandin’ abilities.”
“Don’t even get me started,” Wyldon muttered. “Is there any fresh water around here?”
“In t’ rain barrel, same as always. Your avoidin’ t’ question.”
Again Wyldon was silent as he seized two buckets and ducked outside to fill them. It was a clean summer day, with just the slightest tinge of coolness in the air suggesting autumn’s approach. The scent of fresh-cut hay drifted over the stable-yard, and he breathed it in, savoring the familiar sweetness before heading back inside.
“She’s the best page I’ve trained in years,” he said bluntly, tipping the buckets over Heart. She shook her mane violently in appreciation, sprinkling both men with water. “Absolutely the best, and I can’t reconcile it except to say that I’ve been a great bloody fool for most of my life.”
“Well,” Stefan observed, “at least ye have the courage t’ admit it, aye?”
Wyldon was sorely tempted to make a face at him, but resisted. Instead he threw one of the buckets at his head. Stefan caught it, laughing.
“Temper, temper, milord,” he chided. “The gal’s terrified o’ heights, isn’t she? And she got herself, five pages, and a dog up a cliff face under fire.”
“I know what she did,” Wyldon snapped. Then, scowling, “You’re one of the few people who can provoke my temper on a regular basis, and by Mithros, you get me every time.”
“I’ve been takin’ lessons from Queenscove,” came the unhelpful reply.
Wyldon snorted, and began slicking the water from Heart’s hide with a bristle-brush. “Father or son?”
Stefan sniggered. “Both.”
“I have a second bucket here if you’d like to press your luck,” Wyldon offered.
“No thank ye. I’ll jes’ sit and watch ye work.” At his friend’s suspicious glance, Stefan held up his hands. “I’m head hostler, Wyl, I can do what I like. An’ what I like is watchin’ ye work while I jes’ put my feet up.”
“Oh, aye. Should I tell Vivienne to be concerned?”
“Pshaw! I’m not fightin’ her for your old carcass. She can ’ave that all to herself.”
“You think you’re so funny. What would George say if he knew his old friend was eyeing his wife’s worst enemy?”
“Eyein’ isna actin’, Wyl-boy, and I’ve done that an’ more. I’m perfectly content w’ my horses now, ye know that.”
“Yes, I do. And I’m perfectly discontent with my little string of ducklings.”
“Haw! An’ ye do look the mother duck, wit’ t’ whole line of ’em trailin’ behind ye…”
“Thank you, Stefan, for that impeccable metaphor. Make yourself useful and start polishing my tack.”
“Of course, milord, right away, milord. Silk or cotton rag?”
“Silk! Mithros, Stefan, you had to ask?”
“Aye, aye, I know. It’s jes’ your shoulders is so nice and muscular when ye move ’em like that, I’m distracted no end…”
“Stefan, close your mouth. What if there was one of your impressionable young stable-hands about?”
“Then they’d know a sight more than we did when we was their age.”
“Heart, bite him.”
“She won’t. Says she doesn’t understand why two old stallions like us are frolickin’ like a pair o’ foals in the sunshine.”
“I resent the term frolicking.” With a last flick of his brush, Wyldon sighed and stepped away. “We are conversing like two perfectly respectable people of our venerable age and standing.”
Stefan muffled laughter behind his arm. “Venerable, hey? That’s a good ’un.”
“Yes, well.” Wyldon turned Heart into her stall and closed it before slumping onto the spare few inches of hay bale. After a surreptitious glance to see that they were alone, he let his hand drop off his thigh to lay over Stefan’s. “Only in public.”
Stefan closed his eyes and leaned back, grinning as he laced his fingers with Wyldon’s. “’Tis a good thing we’re not in public, then.”
Fin.