Back to The Waterworks: Customs

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 1 PM -- Holymolders]

> A moment later, the travellers stepped through. A moment after that,
> to equate temporal terms to the vexation of scholars, the travellers
> emerged from a similar tunnel mouth in a cleared spot in a tribal
> village nestled against the Great River Kirith. Lord Erik and his
> escort had arrived at the Holymolders.
>
> And as Tramma had predicted, they were expected, and made very
> welcome.

Tramma’s message to her Holymolder “contacts” had not included a high
degree of precision, as the bard herself did not know their estimated
time of arrival when she’d magically reached out to secure permission
for their arrival. But she’d managed to give a rough approximation, and
that was good enough for the cleared spot off to the side of the
Holymolder winter camp to have been kept under constant observation.
When the quartet of visitors arrived, there was a cheerful shout, echoed
a moment later by another voice, and then another. Within moments, the
entire camp was ringing to the calls of the local villagers.

Fortunately, it was apparent even to someone as “human factors
challenged” as Finfin that the calls were not of alarm or distress, and
the locals running up towards the visitors *probably* lacked any ill
will. To be certain, there was no sign of any serious weaponry being
readied against the visitors. Instead, as each villager arrived, they
fell into a quickly forming set of vaguely parallel lines leading into
the camp’s interior. All seemed to be excitedly calling out a phrase
that readily translated as “Great Chief Erik!”, and all were eagerly
waving the visitors along the makeshift path to the village center.

“We really *ought* to be returning to Sibley,” Finfin pointed out to
Erik. “Mithi and I do have to get the Abbot and Company out to the Plains.”

“Fin!” Tramma gently admonished the elf. “You’ve got better manners than
*that*! His Honor can’t be in *that* much of a hurry to get back to the
swamp, and it’d be bad manners to come all this way and NOT say hello to
Grandma Rayga.”

Next to Finfin, Mithi nodded her concurrence. The apprentice mage had
picked up on what the bard had left *unsaid* – opportunities to visit
the aged Great Medicine Woman were rather few, and he might well be
advised to take advantage of the moment *now*, as it might not be
repeated in the future.

The elven officer was not generally counted as among The Wise. But even
*he* knew well enough to strongly consider – and usually accept – the
advice given to him by the ladies in his life. Particularly when
confirmed by his sweetheart.

“We can certainly stay long enough to be polite,” he mused. “It is
always worth taking the time for that.”

Mithi grinned, and thought back to a phrase from her childhood. “Oi
mean, good manners don’t cost nuffink, do they?”

“Besides all that,” Tramma announced airily. “If I deprived Morden and
Sabia of the chance to meet a gorgeous hunk like you, I’d never hear the
end of it. That’s those two drop-dead gorgeous acolytes right over their
licking their chops and hoping we don’t notice them primping to make
sure they are ready for battle; dear friends of mine.”

The bard’s words were indeed true; approaching the visitors down the
center of the impromptu path were two *quite* attractive young ladies,
the beadwork and fringe in their fetching outfits announcing that they
were junior members of the local Medicine Lodge. And they both did look
quite pleased at the look of their visitors.

Coming right up to the designated “telepad”, the two ladies bowed
deeply, though one of them giggled to Tramma on straightening, “We
*think* that is the proper greeting.” The lady was speaking the local
tongue, which by benefit of either magic or training, all of her guests
readily understood.

The other lady shushed her friend, and intoned formally, “Great Chief
Erik, and dear friend and Tribal Bard Tramma. Welcome to the
Holymolders.” Rather apologetically, she added, “Honored Witchdoctors?
Please forgive me the terrible slight for misplacing your names.”

“I still think it had something to do with fish,” the other acolyte
stage-whispered with an impish knowing grin to Finfin. “I’m sure the
other one had something to do with fables or legends or something.” She
gazed avidly from Finfin to the Great Chief Erik, and announced happily,
“one look at our esteemed guests quite scrambled my wits.” She batted
her eyelashes hopefully at the two men.

“Sabia, behave,” scolded the more serious of the acolytes, but she was
grinning, too. “I am sure we can find SOME way to make it up to you,
honored Witchdoctors.”

“I’m sure they’ll forgive given the legendary hospitality of our
Holymolder allies,” Tramma assured her warmly. “For those twitterbrains
needing the reminder, this is the elflord Finfin, that was his
spectacular spell that brought us here. And this is his apprentice and
lady Mithralia, also a powerful and notably sane and benevolent Witch
Doctor.”

The acolyte Sabia nudged her friend and mouthed silently, “told ya”.
Morden just rolled her eyes, drawing a laugh from everyone present. It
was not hard to see that the two fun-loving acolytes had probably
planned the whole gambit of ‘forgetting’ the two guest’s names all in
good fun.

Tramma went on to carefully introduce the two acolytes and several other
notables in the greeting party, most especially Morden and Sabia, the
two acolytes performing the greeting. Prominent among those who had come
down to greet the visitors was the village's own Witch Doctor, a woman
named Dray.

“Not as formal a visit as the last time, eh, Finfin,” Dray reminded
their visitors. Clearly she had not forgotten that previous visit.
“Hopefully you’ll be here long enough we can manage that spell trade we
talked about.”

Finfin did not need Mithi’s significant glance at him to know when to
agree. “It would be both my honour and pleasure,” he replied formally.
“Great Medicine Man Kenobi wishes for all of our allies to be able to
reach us at a moment’s notice, in case of emergencies.” To himself, he
simply shrugged. His plans for an immediate return were already being
pushed back. But any military person knew that such was the fate of plans.

“Don’t sweat it,” Tramma suggested sotto voce. “I can easily get word
back to the others of the delay, and it’s not just polite, it’s good
diplomacy to help out an ally.”

The acolyte Tramma had introduced as Sabia had been watching the
interplay between what was clearly her *good* friend Tramma and the two
Witch Doctors, and suggested, “It would most *certainly* be my pleasure
to extend to Witch Doctor Finfin my *personal* hospitality tonight, on
behalf of our people, of course.”

“Of course,” Tramma chuckled. Rather than saying more, she just smiled
and watched in gleeful anticipation.

Finfin, however, looked rather uncomfortable at the suggestion, even as
he glanced at Mithi grinning back at him.

“I am afraid…” the elf began.

However, perhaps showing more daring than might have been expected,
Sabia raised a gentle hand in interruption. She’d most certainly
observed the look between the two wizards, and had an additional
suggestion. “You *both* would be most welcome.”

Now Mithi was actively giggling, and even Tramma was trying without much
diligence to hide a smile. Sabia was a lot of fun, but she was also very
perceptive and quite good at putting guests at ease. She and Morden made
quite a team, there was a reason the wise revered head Medicine Woman of
the Holymolders usually delegated them to represent her in greeting
parties despite their junior status. Their youthful enthusiasm and humor
had so far always worked out to a net positive, and always given the
tribe a lot to talk and laugh about in the process.

“I truly admire and respect your offer,” Finfin answered, and paused to
see Mithi’s nod. “And under other circumstances, we both would be
*quite* honoured to accept. But unfortunately we have Witch Doctor
business back with Great Medicine Man Kenobi tonight that cannot wait,
and the Lady Mithralia and I must return.”

“Awww, perhaps next time,” Sabia wistfully lamented. “Of course, I
understand all about duty.”

“But Great Chief Erik and you, Bard Tramma,” Morden smoothly
interjected, “*will* be staying tonight?”

“So far as I know, yes, but please give us a moment to sort that out,”
Tramma smiled. “The Great Chief and Great Medicine Man Kenobi have just
finished conferring about the alliance between our peoples and ongoing
plans that may greatly benefit us all. Great Chief Erik realized it
would be well to consult the wisdom of Great Medicine Woman Rayga and
your tribal Council about some of the challenges our peoples face
together, and here we are.”

Pleased smiles and a murmur of appreciation at this acknowledgement of
the importance of their remote village in the affairs of the powerful
Wagon People ran through the Holymolder welcoming delegation. Tramma
turned to her party, and said quietly, “that gives us a moment to sort
out how you want to handle things. I am certainly willing to spend the
night, and help make polite noises for however the rest of you want to
handle things, and of course enthusiastically do my part for good
relations.”

“Tis a far better thin’ ya do,” Mithi advised gravely. “Jes close yer
eyes, an’ fink uv the settlements.”

“What, and miss all the fun,” Tramma smirked. “I’m no silly toff. I go
to my fate with eyes wide open, I ain’t afraid.”

Chuckling at the antics of the two ladies, Finfin did feel compelled to
remind the bard of a promise he’d made that she could not possibly have
heard. “Ah, Tramma?” he observed quietly. “We did rather make a promise
to Siaye that we would… help Josie tonight.” Silently, the glanced
heavenwards where soon the full moon would be rising.

“Oh,” she glanced up at the sky. “The moon, right. Well, that’s kinda a
sacred obligation. Josie is worth keeping on an even keel, though I am
*hoping* Val’s stories about how bad it can get are exaggerated. Tribal
Ragnarok, or something. Best to never find out, I figure.”

“Indeed,” Finfin agreed.

"Give our apologies ta the folks 'ere, an' ask if we can take a
raincheck?" Mithi asked hopefully.

"You're helping out Josie," the bard replied emphatically. "She's a hero
around here. You'll be MORE than forgiven, they will think the world of
you helping her out that way. A little jealous, maybe, but that’s only
natural."

“My apologies for any hurt feelings,” Finfin added sincerely,
accompanied by Mithi’s nod.

Tramma turned her attention to the Norse knight by her side. “I am sure
I do not have to explain their customs nor the travel issues to Lord
Erik, at least,” the silver-haired bard noted with a quizzically raised
eyebrow. “We *are* close to 2 hour’s ride from the Ferry, and Gil’s
Grove is a bit beyond that, even, so staying the night here is quite
practical. Just remember, among the Forest People, it is considered
simple hospitality for the most eligible unattached members of the host
tribe to act as hosts or hostesses.”

“Oi *thought* they wuz makin’ eyes at the Abbot on our last visit,”
Mithi recollected.

“From what I’ve been told,” Tramma nodded in confirmation. “The Medicine
Lodge believes that, uh, sharing a night with a visitor who has power
among the Spirits is a particularly valuable way to build bonds and in a
fashion I only vaguely understand partake in their divine power or
something. But that’s just a special case of a general convention I
rather admire, you see.”

Mithi chuckled. “So it’s not just religious types, an’ them makin’ eyes
at Fin isn’t *just* cuz ‘e’s so ‘ot.”

“Or you and I, love.” Tramma chuckled. “The Forest People are kinda
Tramp heaven; I adore them. Should any young unattached member of the
tribe hit it off well with a visitor,” Tramma explained warmly. “What
happens in the guest wigwams between consenting adults is strictly their
own business. Good clean fun for all, and happy guests. If a marriage
with the leader of an important ally or some new blood brought into the
tribe results, all the better. Think of it as one of their dating
customs, I guess.”

“I have, perhaps,” Finfin mused, “certainly seen stranger.”

“There’s no obligation to accept any propositions,” the bard chuckled.
“But do please remember to be polite and give a plausible REASON. Now is
the time to ask if you need advice on that point. Their customs may seem
a little strange for those who didn’t grow up with them, but I know from
talking with some of my friends among the Forest People a lot of OURS
seem just as strange to them. In their eyes we are exotic and quite
desirable, and represent a powerful and fascinating ally they are eager
to build bonds of friendship and mutual respect with. They deal with our
folk out here regularly, and that has whetted their appetite for more of
what we can offer.”

“I may need your help with that,” admitted Erik with a faintly troubled
look. “While I would enjoy an evening in a tent with the ladies and
understand they are not worried over attachment,” the Lord of Fort
Resolute observed them gravely. “I’ve seen too many cads leave a trail
behind them, so I resolved to be very careful about such things.”

Finfin winced, and shifted uncomfortably as he thought back to his not
so far removed past when he was certain that he had deserved that
sobriquet. However, by his side, Mithi lightly touched his arm and gave
him a smile. She knew about his past, and was committed to helping help
himself along a new path.

Watching the interaction between the two wizards, Tramma gave them both
an encouraging wink before returning her attention back to the principal
speaker. “Oh, sure, NOW you decide you’re fine with some good clean
fun,” Tramma told Erik in a teasing tone. “You coulda figured that out
when I was making a pass at you right after your big entrance meeting
our wagon train back in the fall.”

“Call it a learned reflex,” Erik told her with a smile. “I have, after
all, been dealing with an endless string of brash young ladies throwing
themselves at me all my life.”

“Ouch, skewered by the truth again,” the vivacious bard chuckled,
clutching her chest comically. “That aside, I will, of course, help
smooth things over with the Honeyskin rendition of that. My suggestion
is you just tell the young Honeyskin ladies enough of the truth they
understand.”

“That given how I’ve made a hash of things,” the earnest holy knight
muttered a little sadly, leaning forward and lowering his voice to a
barest murmur so only Tramma could hear. Unlike a lot of less
experienced settlers he had a fairly accurate appreciation of just how
keen elven hearing could be. “It might go over like a longboat with lead
oars with a particular person back home. I feel like I’m sailing at sea
in a dense fog when it comes to affairs of the heart.”

“I promised to help, and I will. We’ll talk later,” Tramma assured him
just as quietly. “But first..” Her voice trailed off, and she shared a
significant glance toward the two wizards and all the waiting tribesmen,
then leaned away and raised her voice to comment brightly, “that will
work just fine. Our hosts will completely understand if you tell them
you are honoring that sort of promise. It worked on ME, after all. Let’s
not keep them waiting.”