--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Memories of Things


Date:  September 8, 2002
Place:  Benden Hold's Great Hall
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kassi's Note:  A late-night appointment to meet her great-uncle 
Yrinnen, a Master Vintner at that Craft's Hall, brings Kassima to 
Benden Hold in time to make the acquaintance of a young woman from
Nerat.  They discuss homesickness and what they remember and miss over 
an impromptu meal.  It's a short scene, but enjoyable; I decided to 
post it since Elauren will have more of a place in Kassi's life 
later. :)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Log:

The metal doors slide open at your touch, and you step into the Great Hall.

Kassima's riding gloves, dangling loosely from her right hand, slap against
her leg in time with her meandering stride into the room. Her head's turned
back to look over her shoulder, and she mutters something under her breath
before giving a brief, rueful headshake. "Intractable beast," she murmurs.
More audibly, to the room in general, "Duties t'Benden and her Lady, as
ever--"

"Pardon ma'am? What beast?" A woman drawls back at the greenrider. "That
wher means no harm. He's just deafer than my Uncle Jordan. If that's what
yer referin' to," the woman adds. She gently pushes away her nearly
finished woven basket. "Benden's duties ma'am."

Kassima flinches automatically at the M-word, her eyes squinching shut.
"Nay ma'am," she pleads, daring to open one and peek out towards Elauren.
"Please--I'm nay old enough, nor respectable enough, for that; 'Kassima'
would do better. Or Kassi. I'm nay picky. 'Twas speaking of--to,
really--the green thing that follows me around a lot. And insists it should
be called 'Lysseth.' She wants t'sharpen her claws in your Courtyard, and
while I *tell* her she shouldn't... didn't meet the wher, fortunately or
unfortunately." Cocking her head to one side, she asks, "Is he often
problematic? The wher, I mean."


Elauren:

	Here you see a young lady of approximately 16 Turns. There's not 
really a whole lot that makes her stand out in a crowded room. She's average 
height with broad shoulders and stocky limbs. Her arms bear well-defined 
muscles, evidence of the demands of her work. Looking closer one might 
notice long, dark lashes that frame her frost blue eyes. Freckles speckle 
across high cheekbones and a small, flush mole spots her right temple. Her 
oval face rounds out with a soft, gently pointing chin. Her skin, although 
still smooth with youthfulness, bears the tone of one who's worked outside 
for many Turns. Mouse-brown hair is long but braided in two, tight, Fortian
braids that dangle against her back. She carries herself in a very
unlady-like fashion, trudging about heavily as she walks.
	Elauren wears a simple tunic of blue gingham. Flaxen trous, died a 
dark indigo, cover her stocky legs. Several pockets are found on the trous 
to hold tools in. Comfortable, dusty boots adorn her feet. On her head, she
wears a finely woven straw hat with a brim that shields her eyes from the 
sun.


"My pardons ma', I mean Kassi," Elauren replies, raising from her seat. She
gestures towards a seat across from her, offering a polite but reserved
smile. "Ma'am and sir are often used where I come from, no matter the rank.
We tend to treat everyone with respects," she explains. "And as for your
lifemate, well, I ain't gonna stop her from clawin' anything." The smile
grows a bit at the latter. "But the wher's not much, far as I can tell.
Just a bit mouthy as far as any where I e'er met."

Kassima accepts the seat with the brief flash of a grateful smile, sinking
into it with a protesting creak from her leather jacket. "Nay a problem the
first time; m'parents taught me much the same, at least for people off the
Holding. We're nigh all close enough kin that we don't much bother with it
amongst ourselves; calling someone 'Cousin Sir,' never had the right sound
to it, somehow. 'Tis just prolonged use of it t'refer t'me that gives me
hives. I'm nay intruding on aught, am I?" After a quick glance around the
Hall, she adds, "It seems quiet enough, relatively speaking. *You* might
nay stop her, but someone would probably have m'hide if'n she leaves
furrows and raked-up dirt everywhere. Bad for relations. Ah, now, that's
reminding me of the High Reaches wher I saw once then. *He* would bellow
if'n anyone so much as breathed near him."

Elauren's face warms with a brief chortle as Kassima comes forth with the
'Cousin Sir,' explanation, and nods her head agreeably. "Well, true true.
Same as where I'm from really. South of Nerat," she notes, revealing the
origin of her dialect. "My name's Elauren, and baskets can be woven any
day. So nothin' to interrupt here. You fancy a drink? Or a snackin'?" is
asked as the young woman nudges her chin towards a night hearth.

"South of Nerat," Kassi repeats, with something like delight. "We're nigh
neighbors, then--'tis from Greystones I hail originally, and a piece
m'father Holds for the Lord. It doesn't have a name, though Da's been
trying t'think of one for five Turns or more now. Well met, and a pleasure,
Elauren." She glances towards the basket, but the mention of food draws her
attention away quickly: "If'n 'twouldn't be abusing hospitality? I'm here
t'see a great-uncle of mine, a Vintner, but he's busy with some customer or
other... so I'm left t'wait. And I missed dinner. I'truth, that's most of
what drew me in here, hoping the cooking might be nearly as good as when
Kathall reigned over the kitchens." She rises back out of the seat, though
as yet she only looks towards the hearth rather than approaching it.

"Oh, Greystones, yeah, I heard of that. Pa traveled there a few times. He's
a Farmcrafter. My Ma's a vitner. Part of the reason I'm here, really,"
Elauren replies, a soft smile lingering on her lips. "I can get you a
helpin. The stew's good, lottsa summer herbs. And the bread's never stale
here. That's a perk of living near the baker's training center. 'Scuse me."
The girl takes heavy, trodding stride towards the hearth, scooping an
extremely hardy bowl of stew for the greenrider and an enormous chunk of
bread. "Gotta keep yourself strong. I hear dragonriding's got lots of
physical demands. I'm always hungry after a hard day's work." She trods
back equally heavily, placing the plate and a mug before the greenrider.
"Hopefully yer uncle won't be too long then, so as you can get a proper
meal at home."

"Oh, you don't have t'be serving--" Kassi starts to protest, but when
Elauren starts for the hearth she settles back into her seat with a
ruefully amused expression. "Well, thankee; it smells wonderful. I daresay
the Hold will miss the Center when the Bakers move t'Tillek. Can't imagine
why they want t'move *there*; going from a place with good wine to a place
with foul wine doesn't make much sense t'me." Reaching for the mug first,
she curls her fingers around it and draws it in close. "Pshhh, this is
proper enough. Couldn't ask for better. You're right about the demands--so
you're up here t'study with the Vintners, then? Must make a change from
home. The weather's nay half as good."

"Oh? That's an afternoon snack for me," Elauren replies, referring to the
helping she's brought for the greenrider. She leans back comfortably in her
chair, absently reaching up to tug on one of her braids. "True enough about
the weather. Though makes work a little easier. I came to work in the
vineyards for a tad. Then, who knows. I may just apply to apprentice with
the craft. But now, I'm just a vineyard worker with handed-down knowledge
from Ma and Pa." She shrugs uncertainly as to the future. "Pardon my askin,
Kassi. But do you miss it back at Greystones at all? People's from these
parts are friendly and all, but you know, there's nothin' like southern
hospitality, I reckon."

Kassima dips a torn-off corner of the bread into the stew. "I only eat more
than this after or a'fore a Fall, usually... well, or mayhaps after a
strenuous drill. Or if'n the children run me ragged. Or if'n I'm pregnant.
Or... well, but 'tis a fine enough dinner for now, was my original point,"
and indeed she seems to approve of the stew, picking up her spoon to attack
it with as much vigor as table manners will allow. "You'd nay drown in
sweat as much," she reasons. "That's the main advantage Telgar has over
Ista or Igen, too. D'you enjoy the vineyard work? That's something I've
never done--we didn't have grapes on our Holding, the soil was wrong or
some such thing." She lapses into silence for a moment to listen and eat;
her answer comes after a quick gulp of juice. "Nay need t'be asking pardon.
I do miss it--I go back when I can t'be seeing the kin, but things keep me
busy... can't make the trip as oft as I like. Or t'Benden Weyr, either.
Even when I do manage a visit, I can't always stay very long. Have you been
back home since you came up?"

"Naw, I just got here," Elauren explains. "Still, I miss home. Ma, Pa, my
brothers, aunties, uncles, gramma, my friends. And bisquits with butter. I
reckon that'll pass. It's the first time away, really. I like the vineyard
work. It's hard work. Gramma always said hard work'll keep you young
inside. It's quiet too, though I suppose that'll change once harvest
starts." She pulls a wandering strand of loose hair from the end of her
braid and allows it to float to the floor absently. "You were at Benden as
well? I heard they had to leave or somethin'. I dunno, foul water or
somethin'?" she asks, tilting her head inquisitively.

Kassima nods her understanding over her spoon. "I remember what 'twas like,
when I first set out. I'm nay sure you ever *stop* missing home, but it
does seem t'be getting better when you've settled into a new place." She
gives a quick grin. "And the Bakers might be willing t'make some biscuits
with butter for you if'n nay else. Biscuits aren't that hard if'n memory's
serving. That *sounds* like something a grandmother would be saying." Her
eyes are cast briefly towards the ceiling in an affectionate roll for
Grandma-foibles everywhere. "Wonder which of the Bakers made this stew? I
really like the herbs they used; don't know if'n I've tasted quite this
combination a'fore. Aye, 'twas at Benden." Pride is clear in her voice.
"'Tis m'true home as much as Greystones; I Impressed there, flew there for
a few Turns a'fore we had t'go. 'Twere nigh right; the water supply dried
up. Lake went t'mud, 'twas a big mess--they didn't have the wherewithal
t'be supporting a full Weyr anymore, y'know? So a slew of us got shipped
out t'lighten the load, and this Hold came under Igen's Wings, which I find
nigh scandalous. But Benden finds some way t'stock its Stores with good
wine still."

Elauren's face again warms into a smile at the grandma commentary. "I
suppose they know best, seein' they're so experienced and all." She watches
almost approvingly as Kassi takes another spoonful of stew. "And I like the
stew as well. Don't know who's cooked it though I reckon they've spent time
perfecting it." There's a pause as she takes in the bit about Benden, and a
soft snort of a chuckle regarding the wine. "You musta liked it well there
at Benden then, I can tell from yer voice. What of Telgar then, do you
fancy it as much? I ain't sure the differences between them all, 'cept
who's beholden to who really. Never been to a Weyr. Though I plan to see
one at least once."

"Or at least they'd have it so," Kassi agrees with considerable amusement.
"Nay that I'm about t'be arguing with 'em." She's not too long about
emptying the stewbowl, and takes a swipe at its bottom with the last scrap
of bread to get as much as she can; when she's finished, she tugs a cloth
from her belt pouch to dab at her mouth with. "I loved it. Wouldn't have
left if'n duty hadn't made it necessary; I didn't *want* t'leave... and
i'truth, nay, I can't say I find Telgar as fair. That's nay so much *its*
fault--'tis just that 'tisn't home. Y'know? You might be fond of many
places, but they're nay all home. I could be telling you about 'em--" But
she breaks off as a man appears in the door of the Hall, one who's clearly
rather elderly but still strong and spry for all of that. "--Another time,"
the greenrider finishes. "That's Great-Uncle Yrinnen, and if'n I don't
catch him now I might *never* be getting t'taste his great new wine. It's
been a pleasure, though, Elauren, and I thankee for both the talk and the
stew. Mayhaps you'll have a chance t'get up t'Telgar sometime, hey?"

"I'll be sure to come lookin' for you," Elauren replies, a warm grin
flashing briefly over her plain face. "And the pleasure was all mine. It's
been the nicest chat since I left home I think. Clear skies to you and may
the wine be to it's fullest." She follows up with a polite nod of her head
towards her and the man who's come looking for her.

Kassima matches the grin with one of her own. "I'll look forward to it,"
she promises. "I quite enjoyed it m'self; reminds me of why I used t'get
out more often t'talk with people. Fair winds and clear skies t'you in
those vineyards of yours." She offers a nod of her own, a match for that
Yrinnen gives, then turns to follow her uncle outside--pausing only to call
back over her shoulder, "Oh, and duties and all that again!" before she can
forget.

Leaving the congenial atmosphere of the Hall behind, you open the doors and
walk out into the courtyard.