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Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown Ch 6.3b, The Brightest Blossom

Although 'tea' was hardly a real meal in any sense of the word, Friar Arlowe considered it one of the greatest meals he'd had in days because it was one he shared with Cruffington. The young Raccoon Dog had, under the care of Doctor Brownell made an incredible recovery. While he was far from healed he was able to sit up in bed and join the Monk for a combination of tea, juice, and several small, semi-sweet cakes. Those final items, in fact, were what had the young man's attention.

Cruff had polished off two and was working on his third when he addressed Friar Arlowe, muzzle still half-full of confection, "Wow... where oo oo fink e gets eese?"

The Monk smiled pleasantly, "Swallow, and try again."

The young scholar reached for some tea, swallowed his bite of cake, and then took a swig of the drink and swallowed again. "These things are amazing... you think there's a bakery around here somewhere?"

The door to the care room opened and Dr. Browell came in carrying a small tray with a collection of medical instruments. Friar Arlowe smiled at her and then at his son, "Well... here's the good doctor now. Why don't you ask her where she gets these wonderful cakes?"

The Monk sat back in his chair, smiling as he broke off a small piece of cake and gingerly set it into his muzzle. Cruff sat up a little straighter and winced a little, but his smile remained, "Thank you again for your help, ma'am."

The Mouse's welcome expression became a little more severe. "I am not just a woman, young man... I am also a doctor."

Cruff fidgeted, "Oh... uh.. I'm sorry... Doctor. Thank you for your help, Doctor."

The smile returned easily as she set the tray down on the night stand. "You're very welcome. Now... what was it you wanted to ask me about?"

The young Raccoon Dog's eyes went to the tray and Friar Arlowe watched as his son's gaze lingered on some of the bladed instruments, "Just... uh... where you get... um..."

Dr. Brownell traced Cruff's gaze to the weapon-like tools, "Those are only for changing bandages... nobody's getting cut open today."

A shout from the next room superseded Cruff's response, "Dr. Brownell? Mr. Severna says he needs to see you-- it's urgent!"

The Mouse sighed and put on a playful smirk, "Well... nobody in THIS room is getting cut open today... excuse me."

Before she left, Cruff managed to blurt out, "Where did you get these great cakes?"

Dr. Brownell turned back and smiled, "You really like them, do you?"

The young Raccoon Dog nodded, "Yea... is the bakery nearby?"

Her smile widened, "Yes... two rooms over. I make them myself."

Cruffington seemed taken aback, but Friar Arlowe couldn't blame him; he was surprised as well. The young scholar finally managed to voice his confusion, "But... aren't you a Doctor?"

The Mouse smiled, giving him a wink as she left, "Yes... but I am not just a Doctor, young man... I'm also a woman."

Friar Arlowe chuckled at that and slid the last of the small cakes onto his son's plate, "I'm glad your hunger has returned."

Cruff nodded, looking down at the cake with a pleased expression, but he didn't eat it. Instead, the young Raccoon Dog looked up at him and blinked, "The Church really attacked the Yew Tribe... I can't believe it."

The Monk reached out and took one of his son's paws in his own, "There is more to it than we can see at first, Cruffington. We've heard a lot of conjecture during the time you were unconscious and it leads me to believe that there is something going on... something important that the average layman does not understand or see."

His son's ears raised thoughtfully, "Like what?"

The older Raccoon Dog smiled sheepishly, "Unfortunately I am far too much of a layman to know, Cruffington, but Prince Malcom thinks that there is reason to--"

"Prince Malcom?"

Friar Arlowe paused, "Yes... he is here in Vallara."

Cruff blinked, "We're in Vallara?"

The next twenty minutes were spent providing his son with a review of the events that had transpired during the time he was unconscious and anything that hadn't stuck in his memory during his alternating bouts of coherence. Cruff remembered the group fleeing the Yew Village; he recalled something about an inn room; his recollection of snippets of time in Dr Brownell's care was spotty. What he did remember however was losing Vic, and he fell silent at that.

Friar Arlowe reached out and took hold of Cruff's paw. "He was a good young man, Cruffington. The world is less for him not being in it... but he is in a better place now."

His son shook his head, "We should have been able to bury him."

The Monk sighed, giving Cruffington's paw a light squeeze, "We did what we were able with the time we had. When everything's over we can--"

Cruff looked up again, "When everything's over? HOW will everything ever be over?"

Friar Arlowe gave a faint shrug, "Aodhan has been petitioning Prince Malcom to get his aid in helping us rescue the captured Sisters Divine... he is going to get the Church to set them free. I don't know if that will make everything be 'over', but it will be a start."

The young Raccoon Dog nodded, looking down at his blankets, "And what about us?"

The Monk let out a breath, took in another, and then sighed, having very little to say. "I don't know."

The silence spread out between them for some time. Friar Arlowe continued to try and find something to say-- anything to say that could help ease his son's fears. Unfortunately he couldn't come up with anything and the silence continued.

Ultimately, however, it ended when Cruffington spoke up. His son gave his paw a light squeeze, "... so... a sweeper, huh?"

The Monk looked up at his son, whose gaze was focused entirely on him. "What?"

The younger Raccoon Dog blinked. "You said before the Church recruited you that you were going to be a sweeper."

Friar Arlowe smiled faintly and nodded, "It was enough for me... all I ever wanted was to be able to live a life full of family. I didn't need money or prestige or fame as long as I had you and your mother."

Cruff nodded, "If-- I.. I mean, WHEN this is all over do you think you'll go back to the Church and keep being a Monk?"

The older Raccoon Dog shrugged, "I honestly couldn't say. I made a vow to serve God for as long as the Church would have me... and they decided that I should be put to death."

His son started laughing, "Well... if there was ever a sign that they didn't want you, execution would probably be a good one."

Despite the severity of the discussion, Friar Arlowe couldn't help but join his son in laughter. It felt good; it felt very good. The smile stayed with him for the rest of his visit with Cruffington. After another hour their idle chat finally came to a close when Cruffington yawned, and Arlowe insisted that he try to get some rest. The young Raccoon Dog objected, of course, citing that he'd spend DAYS resting, but it was not a point to which the Monk was willing to argue. He gave his son's paw one more squeeze, and then showed himself out.

The living room of the small home was empty save for Prince Malcom's animal companion, the big brown wolf he alternatingly referred to as Berro and Gut which, to the Friar Arlowe's understanding, meant the same thing in the different languages. Berro's head and ears were up as he tracked the Monk across the room. As the Raccoon Dog approached one of the arm chairs the large lupine let out a very distinctive "Uf.".

Friar Arlowe looked toward the wolf but made sure not to stare, "I guess you're probably just waiting around for Prince Malcom?"

Berro set his head back down on the enormous pillow atop which he was laying. "Uf."

The Monk smiled to himself, "I'll take that as a yes."

He jumped in his seat when a firm, confident female voice spoke up behind him and to the side in halting Lehsunian, "You... talk with... with wolf?"

Friar Arlowe stood up and turned around to face a Horse. The Mare was dressed scantily in little more than a loin cloth and a halter-- each was a simple strip of hide wrapped around her body. The beads and feathers adorning her windswept mane was pure confirmation that she was obviously from a Tribe. The Monk offered a sheepish smile while averting his eyes from her nakedness, "I was... um... talking AT him... not really WITH him."

She didn't seem the least bit bothered by his discomfort at her lack of decency, "I look for Wild Wolf. That is Berro. Berro is--"

The Monk nodded, "I know... his pet. Prince Malcom is--"

The Mare shook her head, "No... not pet. He is... is..." she was searching for the right word but settled on "More."

Friar Arlowe nodded, "Then I apologize... but, yes, this is Berro, and Prince Malcom WAS here, but he left earlier to--"

"Slower."

The Raccoon Dog paused, "I'm sorry?"

The Mare let out a snort, "Talk slower. I no speak Stone words fast."

The Monk felt his ears redden slightly and was just about to try again when Doctor Brownell came down the stairs interrupting the conversation; his eyes, the Mare's eyes, and Barro's eyes all focused in on the Mouse and the wolf's big, furry tail beat out a simple one-two tap against the floor before he lowered his head again. The Doctor smiled at the newcomer and bowed her head slightly, "Oani Hamah."

Friar Arlowe knew it was a greeting among the Tribal Folk but, by the time he'd realized that the two were already off in a conversation that he failed to understand, let alone keep up with. He realized at that point how the poor Mare must have felt about his rambling. Toward the end, he recognized the Mouse speak his name admits several words while gesturing toward him. The Mare seemed taken aback but recovered quickly and responded in kind.

As the discussion came to an end, Dr. Brownell looked toward him, "This is Among-the-Reeds. She is going to wait here for Prince Malcom."

The Monk nodded courteously to the doctor, and then to the newcomer before trying to get the greeting right. "Ah... um.. Oh-ah-knee hah-muh."

His attempt was enough to make the Mare's stoic face scrunch up slightly into a barely restrained smile which made his own that much more comfortable. She took a seat in an armchair across from him and lowered her hand to gently rub Barro behind one of his ears; the wolf didn't seem to mind in the least. "You not like other Men of Symbol."

It wasn't exactly the best thing for starting a conversation, but at least it seemed to her that it was a good thing so he wasn't about to object. "You... uh... you know Barro?"

Among-the-Reeds nodded, still looking at him and still continuing to pat the wolf, "Yes. I know Wild Wolf and Barro. I come to get Wild Wolf and bring him to Grass Tribe."

It was a bit of a surprise, and more than a little alarming, "He is busy here... helping the people of-- of the... uh... Rock Tribe."

She flicked an ear and stopped scratching Barro. Sitting up a little straighter she leaned forward, "We need Wild Wolf... other men come to Grass Tribe from over big lake."

The Mare's word choices confused him somewhat. "Other men? Big lake?"

She nodded, "They no talk to us but talk to him. They say they wait for him for one moon and then kill tribe."

Complicated situations had never been Arlowe's strong point, and he realized things were definitely heading in that direction. Letting out a sigh he slumped in his chair, "God, if you do not at least have a sense of humor then you have nothing."