Date: Thu, 24 Jul 2008 07:27:41 -0600 From: Kris Olsen <dragonwriter@comcast.net> Subject: A Fairy Tale... Sorta Another flight of fancy for me! I have to thank Elizabet A Lynn, Anne McCaffrey and Tanith Lee for providing me with the raw material with which to create my own ideas of dragon, magic and especially fire. Those of you familiar with Medieval Europe will hopefully find much to please you in it. It takes place in no absolute time or place and I'm sure I have anachronisms all over the place, not to mention the little bit of Japanese culture mixed in just to keep things confused! For those of you who care, the music I listened to while writing this was Goo Goo Dolls Greatest Hits Vol.1 with some Queen off of Classic Queen mixed in. A Fairy Tale--Sorta Ch 1 - The First Meeting "Nicco!" Mother's shout echoed down the stone hallway of the castle to my small room where I sat hunched over a table laboriously copying a faded text onto one of the newly invented bound books. "Nicco!" I sighed and put my quill down on a scrap of leather so it wouldn't leak ink all over my table. My shoulders ached and as I stretched, I caught sight of the early evening sky out of my small window. I had been hunched there copying for most of the day! Small wonder the girls in the castle called me `little monk', though to be fair there wasn't much else someone crippled with the hand disease could do. I didn't have much grip; even on the days my fingers would straighten out enough to grab anything larger than a quill. My father, the Arms Master, tended to ignore this son of his that couldn't wield a sword. "NICCO!" Mother's voice had that "move it before I cuff you into next month" tone so I obligingly hurried down the hall, wondering what on Earth was so urgent. And also dreading the visual overload that was a consequence of entering Mother's rooms. Mother liked colors; it was like stepping on the tail of a peacock to enter her sitting room. However, this time she met me at the door, her face scrunched up in anger. Mother was a lovely woman, tiny and still smooth skinned after having six babies. In her hand was her favorite teakettle, the spout twisted to the side, she took a half hearted swing at me that I easily dodged. I had been taller than Mother for several years, something I couldn't decide if she was pleased with or disappointed about. Over her shoulder, I saw a huddled figure by the fireplace, sobbing softly. "Melly?" I started forward but Mother blocked my entrance. "Forget her, the stupid girl dropped my kettle and broke the spout." Mother's beautiful blue eyes flashed in anger. "Take it to the blacksmith, Nicco, and get it fixed." "Now Mother? It's nearly dinnertime." Anger flashed across Mother's face again as the pot hit me in the chest. "And I am supposed to do without my tea tonight all for YOUR convenience?! And for what did I do all that work bringing you into this world for, just so you can be lazy and ungrateful!" Mother's voice was getting louder and higher and soon there'd be an audience gathered to watch her chastise her ungrateful youngest son. Embarrassed I decided against pointing out that she had other kettles and grabbed the pot. I dropped a quick kiss on her cheek under the edge of her barbet and fled down the hallway to the stairs, my face red and my ears ringing with the word `ungrateful'. Father's position as Arms Master meant we had pleasant quarters in the East Wing of the castle, not too near the main family' lodgings in the main part of the castle but nicer than the servants quarters in the North Wing where the wind made winter such a misery. The castle had originally been a garrison around a donjon, but had been rebuilt in the last century to make quarters for the Lord's family in the center. As more people came to the castle to live or work the wings had been added on with the current L-shape being the result. I scurried down the connecting stairs dodging servants and sundry other people. Some days I could go through the whole castle without seeing another person I knew, there were always so many people constantly coming and going. The inner stair ended at the Great Hall, which was a flurry of activity as preparations for dinner were underway. I dodged around a pair of men carrying a long bench and headed for the main doors. Usually I would take the back stairs to the courtyard but this way was closer to the garrison smithy, which was located near the main gates where they crossed over the river. This provided the smith with a constant source of water as well as sun most of the day. The courtyard was nearly empty, the itinerant peddlers having packed up and moved out to camp by the village below the castle. Even my father's domain, the practice field, was empty except for a lone servant who was raking and stomping the hard ground for the next day's use. The smithy was quiet but light flowed out the open door of his cottage. I paused on the threshold and peered into the busy room. The main floor of the cot was hardly much bigger than my own room and was crowded with the giant smith, his wife, children and their wives and children. For a minute I despaired of getting anyone's attention in this chaos but suddenly I had three children pulling on my sleeves, dragging me into the cot. I fumbled to keep my grip on the kettle as my hands were sore from writing and swollen from the hand disease. "Hey, hey," the smith said standing up from the table and walking towards me. "Go easy yeh ruffians, yeh'll hurt tha lad owt wise." I flushed embarrassed. I should be used to people thinking I was made of glass just because of my hands and monkish habits but it still rankled. And standing in front of this tall, broad shouldered man with the thick arms and huge hands, I doubly felt the pain of my slender build and crippled hands. I made a quick bow to hide my red face. "Master Smith," I said straightening up. "My Lady Mother is in need of an urgent repair and has sent me to implore your assistance." The smith held out his hand, his eyes twinkling as he hid an irreverent smile. We both knew Mother would never beg from a craftsman. But he was too respectful of Father's rank to laugh in my face. ""Hmmm," he turned the kettle around in his hand examining it. "Yer Arms Master Doemin's young'un, eh? Ah'se heard much of yeh." He looked over his shoulder, "Chohee come `ere." Before I could work up the courage to ask what he'd heard and from whom, we were joined by another man, nearly as tall as the smith. His dark hair and bright eyes revealed his kinship to the smith, and his powerful build meant he was an apprentice at the very least. Chohee took the kettle and examined it closely. "Tis a weak spot theh, t'wont take much to break tha whole spout off," he looked up at me. "Tha spout needs recastin fore puttin it back t'way t'were." "Yeh," the smith rumbled. "Ah sez the young sir should take it along to Tamas in town. E'll do 'im as fine a job as befittin 'is Lady Mother." "Will he be able to do it tonight?" I asked anxiously. I'd far rather miss my supper than risk the wrath of my mother. "Chohee grinned, "Oh ayuh, the fire an himself, theh be betwixt and between." "Chohee!" hissed a young woman standing near the fire. He grinned at her, "Ah tis aw ri, Tamas'll no `arm this wee un. E'll be glad o' tha distraction and tha chance to call up fire agin." He looked back at me. "Tamas'll be in `is forge if e's not up wi tha gypsies. Go to town and turn ri down tha street o' tha carpenters and follow yer nose to tha end o' tha lane and theh yeh'll fine Tamas. Yeh'll no miss it." "Thank you sirs," I said and bowed. Chohee returned the kettle with a flourish and a grin and followed me to the door. "Heh, young sir, tell Tamas we'll be needing `im next week, if `e can pull `imself away from `is beloved." I blinked and stared up at Chohee, who burst into laughter and made a shooing away gesture. I shrugged and turned down the path towards the gate. After nineteen years of whispers behind hands, I had given up expecting much else from people, everyone knew about the Arms Master's poor son. Though as I thought about it, it felt more like the Smith and his son had treated me like a peer instead of something pathetic. It was a welcome relief after the condescension or pity I usually received at the castle. The porter at the gate door waved me through with a smile. I'd come down to the gate when I was a child and listened to the stories his father told. It was because of those old stories that I started learning to read and write and took the job of copying in the archive when the old monk archivist's eyes got to weak to read the faded scrolls. His Lordship had been far more pleased than my father to find a job I could do and do well. Freeloaders were not appreciated at the castle, especially not young ones who hadn`t earned the right to rest. The sun was slowly slipping further down in the sky and I doubled my pace across the mile to the village. I feared that I might catch the smith too late to work on Mother's kettle and I dreaded the words accompanied by her hands that would land around my ears if I returned without it fixed. Mother would never be accused of being a patient woman and I, her youngest, had the special talent of making her especially impatient. The road to the village was reasonably well maintained with no brush growing alongside it for bandits to hide in and no deep ruts cutting through the packed earth. A culvert ran down one side, water sloshing sluggishly through long grass. A brown and white goat strained at its tether to reach the grass. Several fieldworkers waved as I ran past, I waved back feeling oddly more at home than in the castle. Perhaps they mistook me for a servant on an errand, in my plain dark doublet and hose. Truthfully they really wouldn't be far wrong if they did, since I wasn't able to spend my days learning arms and practicing with a sword because of my hands, I had become, as soon as I could walk, Mother's errand boy. The town gates were open and I joined the crowd of people going in for the evening. The Street of the Carpenters was easy to find off to the right as Chohee had said and I ran down it feeling only slightly winded. At the end of the street I paused and took a deep breath through my nose since he`d told me to "follow yer nose". The smell of hot metal and a few other scents I couldn't identify made me wrinkle my nose . Cautious I walked towards the long, many windowed, tile roofed structure in front of me. I was about 20 feet from the door when I heard a shout. My first thought was that someone had been injured but it was repeated a moment later: pure exultation. Curious I ran to the door to see what was happening. I stuck my head through the doorway and stopped in shock. My mouth dropped open and I lost my grip on Mother's teakettle, which dropped to the paving stone floor with an audible clank. The room in front of me was long and well lit from the row of windows on either side. At the far end was a fireplace and bellows, in front of it an anvil and a couple poles bristling with metal implements. But what made me stop in shock was the person in front of the fire. I had expected a large broad shouldered man with a permanent coat of grime on him like the smith at the castle. What I saw instead was a tallish, broad shouldered, long bodied boy about 3 years younger than me with hair the color of flame pulled back into a braid the width of my arm which hung to his belt. His back was to me, bare and criss-crossed by lines that looked like tiny flames; as he held out his hands to the fire I watched the flame leap to his hands and run up his arms to wrap around his head. He threw back his head and cried out again and I smelled a heavy musky odor. Flame raced up his arms and shot out to drop to the floor in swirls that coiled around his feet like snakes. Terrified I looked around and spotted a bucket of water near the hearth. Racing to it; I grabbed the handle and swung it up to fly into the face of the red haired boy. The water sputtered and hissed into steam blocking my view. When it cleared I was face to face with the red head, water streaming down his face and bare chest and a look of outrage and shock on his face. Terrified I clutched the bucket and backed up stumbling over something behind me. The bucket dropped from my hands as they scrambled to find something to stop my fall. "Tam!" I heard the shout and the world tilted sideways. Then something stopped me from falling and my left arm swung up and grasped a handful of flame colored hair. "Ouch!" My vision cleared; the red head had caught me from falling and in my panic I had grabbed the closest thing: his hair. And now my fingers in their usual twisted way had curled up and I couldn't let go. I stammered an apology, my face as hot and red as the forge. "Ah now young master, hold still, I'll get ye unhooked in a jiff." An ancient man, slightly taller than the boy and every bit was wide in the shouders despite being somewhat hunched, peered down at me with a smile and reached for my hand. "Tam-boy, stop yer squirmin laddy, yer making this even harder." "Hurts Granfa," the red head scowled. "Well if ye'd cut that bloody great mass o' curls, ye'd no have this problem," the old man retorted cheerfully. "But I like it," the redhead pouted. "Me too," I said before thinking. "Ha, see Granfa, it isn't just me," his voice cracked slightly and the u in just flattened out to joost. He looked at me, his face all alight, "D'you really like it?" I flushed again and nodded looking down. The red head's arm was still around me and I could feel his heat through my clothes. He felt so much hotter than anyone else I'd ever touched and I wondered if that was the result of spending so much time over the fire. The old man had called him `Tam-boy' so this must be the smith I had been sent to see. But he was just a boy, albeit a strong one but a boy nevertheless. My hand slid out of his hair and I pulled it back clutching it to my chest. The boy brushed aside my stammered apologies and held out his hand. I stammered some more looking around frantically for an easy escape.He made an impatient noise and grabbed my hand, cupping it in his larger ones. Heat flowed out of his hands and into mine, heat stronger than even the castle stones on the hottest day of summer. I felt my fingers relax and straighten a bit. I sighed. The redhead nodded and took my other hand, pressing it between his. "All the old aunties and uncles come here to get their old bones warmed and sooth their aching joints," he said softly. "But you're no old man, you`re only a wee older than me." "I was very sick as an infant and the hand disease is the result." "Hmmm." He nodded and I braced myself for the words of pity that inevitably followed upon learning about my illness, but nothing came. Instead he let go of my hand and stepped back. The old man patted my arm and smiled, "You'll have to forgive my grandson. He gets carried away when he calls the fire - it's the firedrake in him." "Granfa, I don't think he made the trip down from the castle at this time of the day to hear about my parentage." He winked at me and I grinned. "How did you know I was from the castle?" "You threw a bucket o' water at me," he quirked a wing shaped eyebrow. I flushed and stammered out another apology. He laughed and swept it away. "I'm sure you saw more than you expected. I didn't think strangers would wander in this time o' day or I'd' a been more careful." He shrugged. "I won't tell anyone," I stammered looking around. The boy shrugged again, "I'm not afraid o' them; I'm the one that makes their weapons." He laughed, a pleasant deep rumbling laugh, when he finished growing he would have a voice like thunder. "Tamas Kindersson, journeyman smith, at your service." he bowed with a wild sweeping gesture. "Oh!" I started, "Mother's kettle!" I crossed the room in a few short strides and scooped up the kettle. Turning it over, I let out a wail of anguish; there was a fresh dent on the side. Tamas held out his hand and I handed it over. He turned it and studied it. "Well the dent won't be but a wee bit o' hammerin to pop it out good as new, but the spout is going to be a bit o' trouble." He looked up at me. "It will need recasting and reattaching, be a couple hours work, for all that the metal is soft. It won`t be exactly the same but I`ll make it fine enough for a lady." "That's what Chohee said, he said you`d fix it the best." He looked up and grinned, "Hai, did he now? Well, that's mighty fine o' him, I expect he'll be thinking now he gets a discount on my services." I started to stammer out an answer but Tamas only grinned. I flushed unused to being teased. Tamas turned and walk to the bench along the wall under the windows facing out into the small cul de sac in front of the smithy. He rummaged around on the table for a minute until he found a small piece of metal bent and hammered to a fine edge at one end. He looked up at me. "You can sit here, sir, or out in the courtyard as it gets awfully hot in here." He gestured across the smithy. "The kitchen is that way if you fancy a drink; Mum is probably within hailing distance." He nodded again and returned his attention to the kettle. I glanced around and found an old stool that looked reasonably safe to sit on. Perching precariously, I watched the sure steady hands of the redheaded smith. Long, slender, straight fingers prodded and poked the metal, gently prying the mangled spout off. He carried the small piece of metal over to the fire and dropped it into a small metal cup, which he placed deep in the fire with a pair of tongs. He stood up and stretched. You won't throw more water at me?" He asked with a grin over his shoulder. I flushed and shook my head; He winked and held out his hands to the fire. Suddenly the fire roared to life bursting at the edges of the fireplace and licking at the fingers of the smith. He raised his hands pulling the flame up; it roared a noise like some ancient animal getting ready to feed. Tamas laughed and lowered his hands slowly; the fire retreated with an audible growl like noise. Tamas leaned forward and blew into the fire; it twisted and spit at him. He laughed again and leaned closer. The fire retreated like a punished animal until it was just a glow that hurt my eyes to look at. The redhead kept that position for several minutes. "Granfa, the tongs, its ready," Tamas said straightening up and walking back to the bench. Behind him the fire hissed as if displeased at him leaving. Tamas' grandfather pulled the cup out of the fire carefully and carried it over to the bench where Tamas stood holding a wooden box packed with straw from a bale under the bench. Carefully the old man poured the hot metal into the box and then returned the tongs to the fireplace. Tamas peered into the box tipping it gently side to side. Grandfather returned and placed a clamp around the box tightening it until Tamas said to stop. Tamas set it carefully back against the wall under the window. He peered out from under the eave at the sky. "Be dark `fore that's cooled and hardened enough to attach it. I hope your Lady Mother isn't awaiting your immediate return. I'll have it done quick enough after it's cooled but it will take an hour or two. I can heat it fast but cooling it is best left to its own nature if we want it to be strong." I sighed, "Mother is going to yell at me again." He raised an eyebrow and hrmmed. Tamas walked to the backdoor and stuck his head out. "Kinna!" He roared. A scant moment later, a small boy of about 6 or 7 appeared in the courtyard. He crossed the courtyard at a run and skidded to a stop in front of the door so abruptly he rocked forward, arms pin wheeling to maintain his balance. He was dark haired and mischievous looking. "Whoa, laddy you fall and hurt yourself again in my forge and your mum will skin me alive." Tamas steadied the small boy who looked up at the older boy with worshipping eyes. "Kinna is my youngest apprentice. Give him a message to take up to the castle for your mother." I looked at the small boy in surprise; he was a smith's apprentice! Tamas smiled at my confusion. "Kinna only works the bellows and cleans at this point. As he gets bigger and stronger he will begin working in earnest, for now he's learning to respect the fire and the metal, aren't yeh laddy?" The boy grinned and sucked on the back of a knuckle. "Did yeh get Mum to put medicine on that burn?" Tamas asked taking the hand away from the child's mouth. The boy nodded but stayed mute. Tamas studied the hand then ruffled the boy's hair. The smith looked back at me. "About that message?" "Ummm, do you have anything to write on?" I asked glancing around. Tamas looked surprised, "Oh, you can write?" He asked walking back to the bench, the small boy at his heels. I flushed and looked down at my hands mumbling an affirmative. Sounds of metal clanking and objects being moved brought my attention back to the bench. Tamas was smoothing out a piece of paper. He looked up. "I don't have any ink nor quill but I've paint and brush." "That will work," I said visualizing Mother's surprised face. Tamas snapped his fingers and gestured to the other end of the room. Kinna took off like a shot and returned in a moment carrying a small pot by its wire handle. He tugged on Tamas' belt until the smith leaned down. He listened to the small boy, and then straightened up with a smile and another ruffling of his hair. "Good thinking laddy," He looked at me. "Kinna thinks you can probably use the stylus we use for marking our goods to write with." Kinna held up a long thin piece of metal with a groove down the center and a pointed end. I took it with my left thumb and index finger and turned it over. Might be a little awkward but I was sure I could write a legible message with it. All three smiths watched in fascination as I worked the thin piece of metal into my right hand over the index finger and wedged it in firm with my thumb. I reached for the paper and Kinna handed me the open pot of paint. I thanked him and gestured to him to place it on the bench. He crowded up to watch. I glanced up at the red-haired smith who smiled, ruffled the boy's hair and moved him to my other side where he couldn't jiggle my writing arm. "A quick note to Mother saying I had to take the kettle to the smith in town. He is highly recommended and the kettle will be even finer than before," I grinned and Tamas grinned back. "And then tell her not to worry about me I'll be all right and will get back safely." I blew across the note lightly to dry the paint and sat still looking at the paper. I wondered if Mother ever did worry about me or if she'd only worry about getting her kettle back. When the note was dry I rolled it carefully and handed it to the small boy. "Take this to the porter; tell him Nicco Doeminin gave that to you for Lady Doeminin." The small boy nodded and bowed. He waved to Tamas and ran out of the smithy and disappeared up the Street of the Carpenters. I looked up at Tamas. "Will he be okay? He's awfully young and its getting late." Tamas nodded. "Oh, he'll be all right. The little urchin has been disappearing and reappearing all over the place since he was born. That's one reason he's apprenticed to me already, someone to help his mum keep an eye on him." He chuckled. "Granfa, I can finish this on my own from here. Go get some supper and rest." The old man thanked him and went out the door into the courtyard toward the kitchen. Tamas watched him affectionately. "Granfa is my Mum's da. He was the smith here forever but lately it's very tiring for him. I worry about him." He sighed looking for the first time like a sixteen year old boy instead of a confident, in control craft master. He gestured for me to follow him out into the courtyard. I trailed behind him, studying the broad shoulders in front of me and wondering what it would feel like to lean on that back. Heat rose to my face and scrubbed my face with my fists to hide it. The redhead stopped at the well next to the house and drew up a bucket. His large hands splashed the water onto his face. He scrubbed his face and looked up at me with a grin. I found myself blushing and grinning back.He chuckled and tipped his head back to look at the darkening sky, steam hissed and floated off of his chest and face. I studied his profile: high sharp cheekbones, full lips and a straight nose. Elegant wing shaped eyebrows soared over large bright blue eyes, a tiny trail of freckles crossed his nose and cheeks, another tripped across his chest just below his collarbones. Soft looking reddish orange hair feathered across his chest down to disappear under his belt. I shivered feeling even more inadequate than usual, being slender as a girl and rather gawky with crippled hands and a scholar's hunch. "Nicco, eh?" he said softly "Nicco Doeminin, Arms Master Doemin's youngest son," I answered. He nodded and looked up again, after a moment he started talking again. "I heard the Arms Master's son was crippled, but no one told me you were so pleasant." He rolled his head sideways, "Or that you were such a beauty." I squeaked a protest which he waved away. "Oh you are. Once I got almost nose to nose with a doe who had eyes exactly like yours, though her face was a wee more hairy than yours." He grinned, his face lighting up against the darkening horizon. "To be honest," he said softly his accent broadening. "I`d expected yeh to be more messed up than yeh are. It's joost yer hands, the rest of you is..." he paused, "very appealing." "Eh listen to me nattering on, like a girl," he blushed, the broad accent gone again. Someone, probably his mother, had taken great pains to teach him to speak clearly. "The fire..." I said valiantly casting around for another safer subject. "Hmm?" He turned to look at me. Fire rippled lightly across his cheeks and crackled in his eyes. He leaned forward close enough I could feel the heat. I shivered and stepped back half a step. He chuckled and the flame was gone. "I'm a firedrake," Tamas said simply. Bu-but that's a dragon!" I sputtered. "Yea, `tis. My da is a wyvern, haven't seen him in years, that being the nature o' wyverns." "Bu-but," I stammered flushing in embarrassment. I waited for him to burst out laughing and to chide me for being so gullible, but he didn't. Tamas leaned back against the well and crossed his arms over his chest. "I can't change yet, soon I hope. I've only been able to call fire for three years now. I'm finally gaining the control o' it needed to change." "Call fire?" I asked. "Hai, you saw at the forge." He held out his hand and a plume of fire burst to life in the palm. The small flower leaped and crackled like fire on a hearth but the smith showed no sign of pain or discomfort. I stared at him mouth open. The flame snuffed out and he cupped my jaw leaning in to kiss my lips. Surprise made me jump backwards, breaking off the kiss. His fingers tightened slightly on my jaw. I felt heat flow into my face for a moment and I wondered briefly what the chances were of living if anyone made this person angry. He let go of me, his hand dropping to his side to hang loosely. "Sorry,I musta misunderstood all yer blushes," he muttered not looking at me. Once again I saw the boy struggling to be a man. I laid my twisted hand against his breastbone, feeling the welcome heat sooth the ever present ache. "You just surprised me, that's all," I said softly not looking up. Tamas tipped my head up again. Excitement had lit up his face and eyes. He leaned forward and spoke so softly I had to strain to hear it. "So if I ask first, yeh'll let me kiss yeh?" I nodded against his hand. "May I?" His voice was soft. "Yes," I whispered. His hands framed my face and pulled it close. Tamas' lips were soft but firm and his tongue like silk brushing over my lips. I wasn't exactly a virgin; I had been kissed a few times, mostly to see if only my hands were crippled. Once I had even been sucked to ejaculation, but the serving girl had taken off shortly afterwards and wouldn't look at me again and I`d heard whispers about my manhood being as stunted as my hands. But this kiss, this kiss was fire and molten metal flooding my system. Smooth and liquid and hot as the melted spout earlier, I felt fire under my lips and my hands against the smith's broad chest. For the first time in my life, I felt warm, truly warm. My body felt the most relaxed I'd ever known and my knees appeared to forget how to work. I sagged against Tamas who shifted his weight and arms to hold me up, never breaking off the kiss. My mind was empty, all I knew, all I felt was the heat of this oversized boy next to me. How long we stayed like that I don't know. I could have stay that way forever. But all too soon we were interrupted by a shout from the kitchen. "Tam! TAMAS!" "'Tis Mum," Tamas breathed against my lips. He let go of me and turned towards the kitchen. "Hai hai, I hear you." A small woman with dark hair coiled up on her head and wrapped in a knitted shawl stepped out into the courtyard. For a moment, I thought she would shoot fire as well; it was easy to tell she was Tamas' mother. Even in the patchy evening light I could see she had the same face as the tall boy. Her mouth, set in a determined line was nevertheless trying to smile, and I was sure she had the same grin as her overgrown son. "Don't you `hai, hai' me, boy! Where are your manners? Did I not raise you better than this? To keep a wee lad like him standing around in the courtyard when it's obvious he's missed his dinner as well? Can you not think of anything beyond your forge?" Tamas turned bright red and mumbled an apology. His mother sighed and grasped his arms spinning him like top. I stared at the sight of this small woman manhandling the large boy. He looked so chastised I had to hide a laugh in my sleeve. "Don't be apologizing to me, you great lunk of a child. I'm not the one who missed my dinner." She tugged affectionately on the flame colored braid. "Come get a couple bowls from the kitchen." She curtsied to me, "It's only stew young master, but the bread is fresh and there is sweet butter." "It sounds wonderful," I took a deep breath. "It smells marvelous. Truth told I had forgotten about dinner." She smiled, "Ahh boys. And you are not much older than my Tam, right?" "Muuuum"! "Oh shush Tam, and go get some food and remember SPOONS!" She sighed and looked up at me, "That boy just pours it in and is off and running again. Like his Granfa, he is." I grinned, one eye watching Tamas disappear into the kitchen. His voice floated out of the kitchen, a low rumble punctuated with the occasional crack. Someone else, a woman, spoke to him and he responded to low to actually hear words. My attention was brought back when the small woman beside me pulled her shawl up and wrapped one end around her neck. "Oh! I'm sorry you asked me a question! Please pardon my manners." She made a waving motion, "He distracts everyone. Has since he was born, that bright hair and overflowing personality." She chuckled. "By the by, I am Nayne Huronsdottir, I brought that boy into this world sixteen years ago." "Nicco Doeminin," I bowed to her. "I was three then, just turned nineteen last month." "A pity you were born in the castle," Nayne shook her head and took my right hand in hers. Lightly stroking my hand she spoke again. "Had you been born here, the old healer would have splinted your hands so they wouldn't curl on you. You should visit the healer perhaps he knows of something to help. He`s not as good as his mother was, more impatient, but he`s better'n the doctors up there." She jerked her head toward the castle. Tamas appeared in the kitchen doorway carrying a wooden tray laden with two soup bowls and a loaf of bread. He stopped and looked over his shoulder and spoke to an unseen person inside. His voice floated out a mixture of annoyance and impatience. "I can carry it Gisela, don't worry. No, we don't need your help. Stay here. I mean it, if you step a foot in the courtyard I'll heat the ground so hot it'll melt your shoes." He crossed the courtyard his gait jerky and I feared for the stew getting to us still in the bowls. Beside me Nayne sighed and murmured that he was angry. While inside the house he had put on a shirt of unbleached cotton. The shirt was haphazardly tucked into his trousers and mostly unlaced showing a wide patch of red chest. The light cream color highlighted his complexion beautifully. Nayne murmured something about some men not realizing their own power, which puzzled me given that I had seen Tamas control fire perfectly. Tamas stopped five feet from us and took a deep breath. "Mum, can't you do something with that girl! She's all over me, all the time!" "Oh not all the time, she stays out of the forge," Nayne said with a smile. "That's only because I threatened to burn her if she stepped foot in there." "Yes, I heard. Kinna kindly gave me ALL the details." "That kid! Wait til I get aholda him!" "Tam watch it, you're going to spill the tray. All right, I'll talk to Gisela again. I hate to think of firing her, her mother needs the money so badly." Nayne sighed again and pulled her shawl closer. She walked to the kitchen door and paused a moment to scan the sky before entering and shutting the door behind her. "Looking for my da," Tamas said matter of factly as he sat down cross legged, balancing the tray in his lap. "She looks every night. Been um five, six years since he returned." He juggled the tray shifting one bowl off to the ground, the plate with the bread and the bowl of butter joining it a moment later. "Wyverns aren't good family men, too independent. When I see him next, I'm gonna knock `im a good `un." He scowled and I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing. This boy was no child, he had a man's body, you could ask the serving girl, and a man's attitude towards his family. "And firedrakes?" I asked. "Are they good family men." "Absolutely," Tamas said looking me in the eye. "Loyal and devoted to a fault." "Here eat," Tamas placed the tray in my lap and handed me a spoon. "It's not as fancy as you'll get up there, but it's good and it'll fill you up." He cut a piece of bread and buttered it. Handing it to me he went on, "Mum's cooking is the best. You'll see." I took the bread awkwardly, inwardly willing my fingers to work. The stew was rich and thick, full of vegetables and chunks of meat. I wolfed it down only now realizing how hungry I was. As I ate I watched Tamas eat, and while he wasted no time or energy, he could have given lessons in manners to a great many of his so called `betters`. When both us of us had eaten our fill, he piled the dishes on the tray and set it by the well. "Just leave 'em here, Mum will send Gisela out once we're in the forge." "You're popular with the village girls." I shivered remembering the heat of the earlier kiss. He scowled and started toward the forge. I matched my stride easily to his. Although he was a couple inches taller than me his body was long so our legs were fairly evenly matched. "I was," he said shortly. "Oh, I suppose I still am though I've no had anything to do with them for a year or more. Most of `em just hope for a redheaded dragon child to make their lives better, we`ve no redheaded fatherless children running round so I guess they were unsuccessful." He paused on the threshold of the forge and looked at me intently. Flustered I smoothed my doublet and checked the lacing at the sleeves, I couldn't tie them myself, Melly usually took care of that every morning. When I looked up Tamas was studying me with an amused look on his face. "Dragons mate once, for life, the rest is just sex." He paused. "Not their life, the mate's life. After Mum dies, Da will choose no other mate. I'll do the same." He stretched out his a finger to my lower lip. I felt my knees threaten to buckle. Tamas nodded softly. "Usually dragons don't take a mate until they're a hundred or more, but I wonder if I can wait that long." He flushed and turned sharply on his heel entering the dark quiet forge. I followed him my mind whirling with the implications of what he'd said and done. Did that kiss and lesson on the mating habits of dragons mean he was interested in me? ME! The crippled man with the twisted hands? Tamas made a sharp gesture and the fire roared to life, followed by a row of lanterns hanging down the center of the room. A second row hanging above the workbench flickered lazily into life. Light filled the room and shadows hopped in and out of corners and from behind the poles. Tamas crossed the room to the bench and picked up the small wooden box. He held it up to his nose and took a deep breath. I watched puzzled as he nodded to himself and unscrewed the clamp. He set the box down and separated the two halves, brushing straw off the spout shaped piece of cast iron in the center. For a moment I was horrified to think that might go back on Mother's kettle, but then he separated the iron sliding them apart. He looked up at me. "The inside is coated with wax so the metal doesn't stick to the iron; it melts off and runs out. Another of Kinna's chores." "Speaking of Kinna," I said looking around, "I wonder if he's back. Maybe something happened to him." "Nah, he's back," Tamas said with a shake of his head. "His mum would be down here lookin for him if he weren't." Tamas plucked the spout out of the mold and held it up. A true artisan had made that mold. The curve on the spout was shaped somewhat like a swan's neck with a single vine snaking up one side. The mold seams were barely visible, they fit together so well. Simple but elegant enough for Mother's sitting room. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Tamas set it down on the table and picked up the kettle. He chose a small mallet and a piece of wood with a rounded end. Setting the kettle on its side against a larger block of wood, he inserted the rounded piece of wood inside and up against the dent; then struck it lightly with the mallet. After a couple strikes, he set the mallet and wood down and picked up the kettle. With eyes and fingertips, he examined the side where the dent had been, then set it down against the block again. He repeated his actions three times before he was satisfied the dent was gone and all was smooth. After that he tapped out a couple more spots and held the kettle up to the light. Obviously pleased he set it down and picked up the spout. The broad end of the spout had three small tabs that fortunately fit with the three slots on the front of the kettle. He confessed to me at this point, that he'd had some concerns about the fit. But they slid in with a minimum of force and were bent flat inside the kettle. He studied the fit then carried it over to the fire. Removing a small iron from the fire he carefully heated the base of the spout til it glowed red. Putting the iron back he returned to the bench and picked up another piece of polished wood and smoothed the seam. He held it up to a lantern and scrutinized the spout. "I do believe that will please your Lady Mother," he said handing it over to me. I took the kettle and examined it closely, thinking as close to Mother as I could. I could find nothing to criticize about the workmanship. In fact it was even finer and more attractive than before, a fact I mentioned to Tamas. He nodded and took back the kettle. . "Da made that mold. He's a bit of a silversmith when he stays still long enough," the boy shrugged and scowled. Tamas walked to the bench at the other end of the room. Opening a small pot he scooped out some silvery goop with a scrap of cloth. I watched fascinated as he polished the kettle to a shine that would have made the moon blush in shame. "What's the charge for this?" I asked reaching for my belt. My hand froze and I groped at my hip in horror. I had run out of the castle so fast, I had not grabbed my wallet nor had Mother given me any money. I sputtered in embarrassment and panic. Tamas laughed and said over top of my stammered explanations that mothers did have a way of sending their sons running before they knew what was what. He waved off my apologies. "I was going to go with you back to the castle anyway, to make sure returned safely. I'll get paid for it at that time. "He studied his hands. "I better clean up so your Lady Mother doesn't run screaming from me." We returned to the house after a slight pause at the well to draw up a bucket of water that he poured into a smaller bucket and carried with him to the house. Tamas pulled up a chair for me in the kitchen near the fire. He disappeared into the main room and I heard him give orders to someone to go close up the forge. Two men about my age came into the kitchen. They nodded to me and went out into the courtyard, their voices floating up into the darkness. Nayne followed them in and asked about the food. I assured her it was delicious and filling and I was certain the cooks at the castle couldn't make such a fine dish. She blushed and demurred but I insisted it was the best I'd ever had. A heavy clomping noise behind me signaled the approach of Tamas down a flight of stairs I had not noticed in an alcove beside the fireplace. He appeared in a clean pair of parti-colored, blue and white, hose and a fresh cream colored shirt covered by a thigh length doublet, only partially buttoned, dyed a light blue, topped by an elaborately twisted chaperon that matched his doublet and hose. All that blue made his eyes shine even brighter and made me feel drab in my black doublet and hose. Finishing off his transformation from forge worker to gentleman was a pair of well made leather boots, dyed red, with a slight heel that accounted for the noise on the stairs. A pair of traveling cloaks were draped over his arm. My heart thudded so loud I was surprised that no one else could hear it. Somehow over the sound of my heartbeat I heard Nayne comment about having to do more laundry and Tamas responding, telling her to have Gisela do it, she'd enjoy having his braies in her hands. Nayne shook her head and shooed us out into the courtyard. We crossed the courtyard to the forge once again.. He paused inside for a moment to talk to the two apprentices then gestured to me to follow him as he stepped out the front door. Outside he draped one of the cloaks over my shoulders and pulled up the hood murmuring that it would get cold fast now that the sun was down. Tamas strode rapidly toward the nearest building at the end of the street. "Are those two, also your apprentices?" I asked glancing back at the forge, It looked asleep now with the shutters closed. "Granfa is the Master Smith here, I'm only a journeyman, so they are his apprentices. But he spends less and less time in the forge these days so they learn mostly from me." "But you said Kinna was your apprentice." "Hai, he is apprenticed to me, by his mum`s choice. By the time he starts working metal, I'll be Master and able to teach him properly." "It'll be a much easier trip if I borrow Sayji's horse." He stopped and looked at me. "You can ride, cant you?" "Well," I said embarrassed. "I can stay in the saddle but I can't grip the reins. Usually the times I've had to ride someone else leads the horse." I flushed, hating my twisted hands for the millionth time. Tamas nodded and hrmmed again. Striding up to the door he shouted at the same time as he knocked. "Sayji, I know yer in there. Come out yeh bloody great lay about." After a moment, the door opened and a blond head popped out. He peered up at Tamas and stepped out. Lean and long he still looked small against the massive red-haired smith. ""Wacher want, yeh great sooty nuisance?" He said with a grin. "I need to borry Molly, got a delivery up to the castle." "The castle? This time o' night?" "Well, you those folk, all bidding us lesser folks no regard fer day o' night." Tamas winked at me. Sayji glanced over at me then back at Tamas who gave a tiny nod. Sayji looked back at me in the dim light from the inside of the house. He chuckled. "Well, I expect yeh better delivery it `fore her da realizes she ain't in her bed." He laughed. "Moll's in `er stable, up to yeh to `splain why she needs to be going about at this hour." He laughed again and Tamas thanked him. He hurried toward me, grasping my elbow, he steered me around the back of the house toward a dark building. I sputtered incoherently at the indignity of being called a girl. "Shhh," Tamas said softly. "If he figures out you're a man, we'll be all night answering questions. Right now he thinks I need to get you home before your da comes lookin for you." I waited outside the stable while Tamas saddled the horse. I could hear him crooning softly to her in an accent so broad I couldn't follow a word of it. After several minutes the light went out and Tamas appeared leading roan colored mare. I doubted she was very old by her skittishness. Tam patted her neck and spoke to her again. "It's the dragon stink, horses don't like it. Neither do dogs," he said softly. "But cats now, they love me, always a few around where I am. Now up you go!" "Ahh!" I cried out as I was suddenly lifted into the air. I scrabbled at the saddle to steady myself. Tamas handed me Mother's kettle, then sprang up behind me settling himself easily. I tucked a corner of the cape into my belt to make a carrying pouch for the kettle. Tamas grunted his approval in my ear and gave the reins a light flick. The first part of the trip was sedate as Molly walked to the city gates, but once we were outside Tamas yelled to hang on and tightened his arm around me. I clung to the kettle. Molly surged forward at his urging. Her hooves pounded on the dried road, her head stretched out in pleasure at being able to run. "Some o' my best shoes on her," Tamas laughed. He leaned forward and urged her to go faster. It took only a few minutes to get to the castle where we left Molly with the porter, who had been watching for me and lightly chastised me for being out so late. I led Tamas in through the small door off of the main doors which would be bolted by now. The entry was deserted and dark We sprinted up the stairs like a pair of boys returning late from an adventure. The hallway leading to our quarters was lit by a lantern at each end, soon a servant would come through and snuff them out, fire being a real concern in a castle. I rapped softly on Mother's door and it was opened by Melly, who was sporting a bruise on her jaw. I gritted my teeth, tomorrow I would have something to say to Mother about it. Melly's eyes widened when she saw Tamas behind me and I wondered if she'd heard of the "dragon smith" from town or if it was just the handsome boy. She stepped back and let us in. In the dim light of the lamp and the fireplace, the riot of color was somewhat subdued but I still heard Tamas' low whistle. Mother was in her usual chair near the fireplace; a bright quilt wrapped around legs and hips. Her mouth was a tight line but her eyes were curious. I presented Tamas to her and he bowed as grandly as any courtier. Mother's mouth never changed but her eyes were warmer. She looked over the kettle nodding in contentment. She asked questions in her usual sharp tone and insisted he explain the repair work step by step. When she was fully satisfied, or at least could find nothing to complain about, she directed me to pay him from her purse. I fumbled awkwardly with the strings on her wallet and she sighed in annoyance. With a snort of derision, she snatched the wallet from me and counted out the coins into my hand. I handed them to Tamas, my cheeks burning with frustration. He took them and studied them for a moment before pocketing the coins in the sleeve of his doublet. He bowed again and murmured words of pleasure. Mother looked quite charmed in spite of his low born station. I ushered Tamas out of the room, promising Mother I'd be back later to attend to her. Outside in the hallway, I sagged against the wall and put my head in my hands. Tamas leaned against the wall beside me. "She's a right ole bear indeed" he said his voiced colored with barely concealed amusement. "It's the tiny ones to be on guard with. My mum is the same way, I'd never cross her and expect to walk away unharmed." "Uhhhhhh," I said struggling to regain control of my emotions. "I'm nothing but a disappointment to her. I can find the perfect smith to who'll stay up to fix her favorite teakettle, but I can even remember to take a purse with me. And even if I did remember to take it I can't even open i-." My protests were cut off by a kiss. I struggled to get loose fearing the approach of a servant or worse yet Mother coming to the door. But there was no way I was breaking the grip of this overgrown peacock. My fists pounded on his back but he refused to let go. Slowly my body started to relax and I sagged against him. Tamas raised his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "That's better," he said softly. "You are you, Nicco. A fine young man with a strong sense of duty. That's much to be admired in a man." "I-I." "Hm? Yeh listen to other people to much, laddy. Yeh need to listen to yehsef more, yeh'd know then what a fine man yeh are." He rapped me on the nose hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. I blinked rapidly clearing them. "Well, I haven't known you but a couple o' hours, so you could have some horrible habits or whatnot. But I know wicked when I see it and I don't see it ," he shrugged. "But before I make the ride back home, I want to see your quarters," he grinned. "M-my room? Why?" "Hmm, no reason." Tamas made a shooing motion. I sighed, it appeared that I was about to be drug along after this hurricane of a human whether I wanted it or not. And I was beginning to think I very much wanted it. The heat of the fire in him stopped my hands from hurting and I really couldn't remember a day in my life that I had smiled so much. Or had as much enjoyment from one of Mother's tedious errands. Tamas followed me up the hall, his boot heels clicking on the polished wooden floor. Father's rooms were on the floor above as were my brothers' quarters. My small room had probably been meant as a storage room, my private opinion was that someone hadn't divided the space on this floor evenly and my room was leftover space. I pushed the door open and sighed. The shutters were open, the room would be full of mosquitoes and other night flying insects. No doubt Mother had kept Melly to busy to come tend to my room. Having no servants of my own, I relied on Melly when she could get away from Mother. Tamas stepped in and looked around. The moonlight shed enough light to see the bed and table but not much else. Fingers snapping near my ear startled me only slightly less than the flame that roared to life over my shoulder. I jumped sideways and tripped over my feet to land in a heap on the bed. Tamas eyed me amused over the fire roaring on his fingertips. He grinned and snapped again. The lamp on my table lit up with a soft glow that made the room look surprisingly comfortable. The flame in Tamas hand went out and he looked around appraisingly. I sat up on the bed and swatted at a insect buzzing near my ear. Tamas clapped his hands together and slowly the room became cold. The fire in the lamp retreated to almost out; cold crept into my bones. My hands started to ache like the worst winter nights. I wrapped the heavy travel cloak around me and whimpered softly. A halo surrounded Tamas, who held his hands together for several minutes before walking to the window and shutting the shutters. The flame in the lamp perked up and cast a bright glow across the room. Tamas stepped away from the window and stopped in front of me. His face looked pained. "I'm sorry," he said holding out his hands. "I didn't think how much cold hurts yeh. Please forgive me." "What did you do?" I asked placing my hands in his. Again I saw the boy struggling to be a man, valiantly trying to do the best job he knew how. "I pulled all the heat out of the air into myself," he said, heat flowed out of him warming my hands and soothing the ache. "Sort o' the opposite o' calling the fire. But the night flying critters don't like cold much so they all leave for someplace warmer." His expression was pained again, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to impress you." My very warm fingers flexed and wrapped around his. I squeezed his hands the best I could. His face lit up and a new wave of heat radiated out from him. "I'm impressed," I said softly. "I'm impressed with everything you've done today and everything you've told me." Tamas squatted down and wrapped his powerful arms around me. Heat flowed out of him, warming me all the way to the bone. I pulled him closer craving the heat and the feeling of another human so close to me. He tipped his head up and I leaned down for another kiss. After several minutes I pushed him gently away. "Too much hot," I gasped. He grinned and let go of me. He stood up and looked around again. He gave a slight shake of his head and bent over to pick up his chaperon, which had fallen off when he kissed me. Muttering something about no mirrors, he pulled it on over thick flame colored curls. "It`s getting late, you`d better go before the gate door is barred," I said. He shrugged, "Chohee'd put me up, not that his missus likes it. She's a religious one, but she doesn't raise a fuss." He studied me thoughtfully. "I've been awrackin my brains all even' trying to figure out why I've never seen you here. I know I'd remember if I had." He flushed suddenly and looked away. "I suppose yeh don't leave here much, d'you yeh?" "Not a lot," I said softly. "Except to go to the archive or the kitchens. Cook saves me better bits if I tell them stories." "Hrmm" Tamas held out his hand again. I took it and was pulled to my feet. "OH! Chohee!" Perhaps the movement stirred up my brain because I suddenly remembered the message I was supposed to give him. "Hai, what about him?" Tamas looked puzzled and I repeated what Chohee had said. Tamas snorted and then chuckled murmuring he'd stop and leave Chohee a message. "Come to the forge tomorrow, I have work but..." his voice trailed off and he flushed and looked at his feet suddenly shy. I smiled softly. "All right, I'll come if I can get away without questions." His face lit up in a big smile and he hugged me. "Ai ai, stop!" I cried. "You don't know your own strength!" Tamas chuckled, "Mum says that too." Tamas kissed me again, a short quick one and let go. He paused for a moment in the doorway, a large overgrown boy in blue and red. I stored that image deep inside my head for later. Then he was gone. I heard heels clicking on the floor and then silence. My room felt smaller and lonelier than ever and I had the sudden urge to run after him. I sank down on the bed, the heavy travel cloak bunching up around my hips. I jumped up in surprise. I had forgotten I was wearing it. A smile sneaked across my lips that turned into a laugh. That rogue had left it on purpose! Now I had a perfectly acceptable reason to go into town on the morrow. I smiled and hung the cloak over top of my own on the hook by the table. Sitting on my bed, I found the boot jack, my eldest brother Lehi had carved for me, under the edge of the bed. My feet were as tired as the rest of me and it took a few minutes to work my low boots off. My warmed up fingers worked well enough to loosen the ties on my doublet sleeves and unhook enough buttons to pull it over my head. I unbelted the double belt holding up my hose, dropping both belts and hose on the floor. Undressed, I shivered in the cooling room and blew out the lamp. Tomorrow promised to be a even more interesting day than today!