Forge sighed, reluctant to leave such fine food and company, the sound like a gentle breeze through bare tree limbs in winter, longing for the warmth of spring.

 

But he had work to do, and the iron didn’t shape itself. Rising to his feet, he excused himself, making sure that Thorfinn knew where to meet him later. Perhaps young Morris would come along, as well. Regardless, the giant Ogier’s thoughts were already on the tasks ahead, even as he was picking up his travel pack and the ever-present two wicked-looking axes that were slung from its loops.

 

As he squeezed through the too-small door to the inn, it wouldn’t do to tear the doorframe out, he slung his pack over his shoulders and decided that searching for Nerome couldn’t be put off any longer. The young man would like to hear the news that Forge carried, and the Ogier felt like it was way past time for the good news to be delivered. He had several other errands to take care of today, but this was at the top of the list now that he had reunited with Dilora’s merry band.

 

The 12-foot-tall Ogier strode through Tar Valon in the midst of an ever-present wave of enthralled humanity. Ogier weren’t mere legends of fable here, but they were very respected and still uncommon enough to be noticed. And Forge was especially noticeable today.

 

Apart from his large size, even for one of his kind, he was still unwashed and unshaven from the rigors of the road. Not to mention that his dust covered clothes were well splattered with bloodstains from the spot of trouble that Nerome had left behind. He hadn’t been able to get them out no matter how hard he scrubbed. And of course, there were the axes.

 

There were always the axes.

 

Forge wished he could toss them aside like waste scrap metal, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe in time that would change, but that time wasn’t now. Grimacing at the morose thoughts, he sighed again. Like the borderlanders say, duty is heavier than a mountain. I wish I could just set it down for a while. he thought to himself. But there was no one else to pick it up, so he did his best to manage the burden.

 

He was headed to the training grounds of the White Tower. Hopefully, someone there would know where Nerome was. And if not, he could at least leave a message. Trying futilely to re-kindle the happy thoughts of earlier in the day, Forge walked. Alone in the crowd.

 

“Nerome! Someone has come looking for you.”

 

Faith’s voice rang out loud, disturbing Nerome. Arc of the Moon paused midway in the air momentarily, before the slash continued on. Sweat was trickling down his face and back, his pulse was racing and all his focus was bent on the hope that perhaps this time, the form would come down even faster. Speed exhilarated Nerome. The faster he worked, the less he thought on anything else, the more he wanted to increase. When the trainee persisted in demanding his attention, Nerome stopped with reluctance. Irritation darkening his face, he asked snappishly if Faith didn’t have better things to do than go around running errands. She was a trainee, not the local messenger, Nerome thought in his annoyance.

 

The younger trainee, as expected flushed brightly, hers ears especially taking the beating from Nerome’s words. “Well! I just thought it would be helpful if you were to know an Ogier is waiting for you by the trees up ahead. I guess I was wrong!” The raven haired beauty stormed off, causing Nerome a slight pang of guilt. He would apologise to her later, he decided- the more essential thing to do now was to puzzle out just what Faith had meant. An Ogier? In the yards, to meet him? Unforeseen didn’t quite cut it, he felt as he made his way to the location Faith had described. The shade wasn’t very far away from the grounds- a short sprint would get him there in a minute or so, but Nerome chose to walk carefully down, wiping his sweaty face as he did.

 

The last Ogier he had met with, were from a story several months before. Forge and Jeran had been their names. Reflecting on their names led his mind back to old memories. Golden memories of laughter and mistakes, of danger and vengeance. He wondered what could’ve brought either to the Yard, for neither could he call a friend, even though they had been through considerable amounts together. Curiousity bubbled inside him and he strode by a little faster, in larger steps. It would be good to meet one of them either way- Nerome had never been able to dig out the final end concerning the fate of the Darkfriends and it would be well if the Ogier could inform him. Worry struck him suddenly as a new prospect entered his mind. Could the darkfriends still be out in the open? If that was the impromptu meeting’s cause, the days were going to be grave indeed.

 

Finally reaching, he recognized him immediately. “Forge!” he cried out loudly, heart flaring with happiness as he approached his old acquaintance. “It has been long, but you look the same. How have you been?”

 

~Nerome

horrid post >.<

Hearing Nerome’s voice shout his name, the 12-foot-tall Ogier stood to greet him. The young man was coated with a slick sheen of sweat, understandable with the oppressive heat of the day. Which was why Forge had been waiting in the shade of a large oak tree. But considering the lad’s hasty pace, perhaps he had too many irons in the fire and wouldn’t have time to discuss the events Forge had come to share.

 

Still, it was good to see that the young warrior had made it home safely.

 

“Nerome,” the Ogier’s deep bass voice boomed happily, sounding like thunder rumbling in the distance promising a welcomed warm, summer rain. “Your name sings in my heart. But you are too kind, by far. I look rough and ragged as iron ore.”

 

Self-consciously, Forge tried to brush off some of the dust, sweat, and blood stains that coated his garments. It was reflexive but pointless, because the clothes were far past cleaning and the stains were far too evident to cover up. They had seen too many hard miles to worry about now.

 

Looking around to see if anyone was close enough to overhear, Forge lowered his voice so that no unwelcome ears would learn of his message.

 

“Nerome, do you have time to talk? I don’t know if this is the best time or place, but the friends of yours won’t be dropping by.”

 

His emphasis on the word friends was audible, and Nerome’s eyes grew wide with the sudden realization of what Forge meant.

Light, the Ogier literally towered over him! He had forgotten what it felt like to be small; training had boosted his height to that greater than most Cairhienin men and he had found himself equal in height to the average Tower Guard. Now here he was, straining his neck  so as to look at Forge as he talked. Nerome took one subtle step backwards to make it easier, nodding as he heard the other. He noticed too, as Forge’s voice continued to roll past, the Ogier’s clothes. Dust laden, blood smeared, worn out. A traveller’s clothes. Surprise quickly being replaced by anxiety, he wondered whether all really had gone well for the group they had left behind with the Aeil.

 

And the shifty eyes too. Fear gripped his heart, and then anger. He had not intended for any of the others to be near harm, and due to his foolish acceptance to accompany Dilora back, Forge was now here, worn and cautious. His mind leaped, skimming through the different outcomes that could’ve brought the Ogier here, in search of him. If the Darkfriends were still alive, he had little choice but to go after them, but if something else had occurred…ill fate of one of the merry band…Nerome weighed the options and waited for the other to finish before speaking. His voice he controlled, but still his eyes moved from blood spatter to thin tear in the other’s garb, and his heart shivered. “Nerome, do you have time to talk? I don’t know if this is the best time or place, but the friends of yours won’t be dropping by.” A wave of relief that was, but there was still something in his tone…

 

“Yes, there is plenty of time. The place is suitable- not many venture out here, so there will be no prying eyes, my friend.” Suddenly, he was awkward. He had no food or drink to offer the man, nor a place to sit. All they had was the comfort of the tree’s shade, and hedges that gifted them privacy. “I apologise for the lack of things to offer, but if you come deeper into the yard after this I shall gladly provide you with all that I can offer.” He paused, and listened. The Spring was still with him, but other than their breathing and a few birds, no footsteps were nearby. “What can I help you with?”

 

~Nerome

Forge dismissed the lack of refreshment with a shake of his head and a gesture with one large, heavily callused hand. Refreshment would come when the work was finished, and the lad probably had a lot he wanted to discuss.

 

“If you think it is safe to speak here, Nerome, then I will,” the Ogier responded, his voice still pitched softer than normal, meaning it sounded like a bumblebee the size of a dog rather than a pony. He gave one more careful look around just to be sure they were alone, however. “The friends of yours are helping the grass grow. They have seen their last sunrise in this turning of the Wheel. None escaped, and Thorfinn, myself, and the Aiel all survived.”

 

Peering directly into the young warrior’s eyes, Forge asked, “Is there anything you need to talk about, my young friend? You left with many things unsaid, and others had to tend the work you left unfinished. It certainly was a difficult thing for us, but I imagine you didn’t care for being made to leave, either.”

 

Gesturing to a comfortable spot beneath the shade tree, Forge plopped down to rest before Nerome made any move to do so. He was tired and still had a long, full day in front of him.

 

“As the Aiel say, ‘find water and shade,’” the Ogier chuckled. “We’ve got the shade, and I bet the water will be welcome in a bit. But for now, what is on your mind? Hopefully my news is welcome, but I feel like you’ve still things that are weighing on you.”

“They have seen their last sunrise in this turning of the Wheel. None escaped, and Thorfinn, myself, and the Aiel all survived.”

 

Relief burst through with such unhesitating ease. Neatly through the walls he had built up around him, readying himself for a blow from the travel weary Forge, readying himself to set off on one more bloody vengeance. It warmed his spirits and mind, flowing coolly inside him as it undid tight knots of worry. They were alright, hale and hearty, and best of all victorious.  Nerome felt the expected temptation to sigh, audibly.  He resisted though, and drew on the surge of feelings. Wounds and fears, shames and guilt, they had been with him all through the journey back with Dilora, through every week and every sweat bathed day. How could it possibly be any other way? He’d led them into a snake pit, and walked out first of all. It was a grudge he had known he would hold against himself for many years to come, perhaps left behind only when he could forget, and even then, a sense of remorse would stay. It would claw, jeer and lau- But no. Harbouring on those days of dread was akin to the sour grape juice after only four days of having it bought freshly, a sheer waste.

 

Instead, the short Cairhienin who had a strong leaning to moving a few inches back while talking to his towering friend, smiled. A warm, boyish thing it was, with the traces of change that had come about in him when he had returned. Every emotion he felt, even the ones he usually guarded carefully, flitted on his face for brief moments. He let it be just that way- it was refreshing in a way and for some reason, he felt a bond between him and the Ogier. A trust developed.

 

Perhaps that was the effect of standing ready, weapon gripped, right beside the other. He’d felt the same with the thieves, his brothers, his family. They were scattered now, but none would forget. Distant thrills of the night, silhouettes of each other forever marked as one challenged the other to climb this roof or that. Yes, their nomadic life had been one of adventure, even in the low hand way thievery dealt with. Perhaps that was the effect of sharing the same anxious breath, the same terror twist before the rush of adrenaline. Perhaps that was what it meant to be part of a group. He wished with sudden regret that he could tip the sandglass over, tip it so that his time as Trainee could be redone. He didn’t have that sense of camaraderie with any of them, except Dorian, and that too was a friendship struck up in his later years.

 

Nerome attuned his attention back towards Forge, and only managed to hide his surprise, that too through a flake of luck concerning quick reflex actions. His question, so unnervingly close to the thoughts that were troubling him so much of late, shocked Nerome back to reality, and back to-thank the Light-himself. The play of emotions was written into his bones, after all. With a wry grin, he settled down beside the Ogier, wondering idly what an odd sight they might’ve been from a distance. He was proud to be of acquaintance with a person like Forge though. It was not something he had expected himself to find in his future, not in his wildest predictions.

 

“Your news is more than just welcome, Forge. It has released an anxiety in me that I’ve not been able to shake off for….” Nerome paused, and his eyes glanced at Forge, a little more humorous than before. “For…longer than that. Now that I’ve been raised to join the Guard, I’m beginning to wonder about some of the decisions I made when I was younger. If you ever need to write a novel about a foolhardy boy, with an almost appalling lack of understanding, you let me know. I might know just the person.” He grinned, to remove the heavy feel to his words. “Really though. It is impossible to look upon you now, friend, and think you could’ve ever done things that ranked amongst stupid and hopeless. Have you ever looked back and wondered, just what it was you’d been drinking that day?”

 

~Nerome

 

OOC: Meh, stupid reflection thread. It's making my boy depressed. I hope this was okay, Myth fantastic. :)

OOC: Vera awesome, you always do excellent work as you well know. hopefully i can measure up with my response. 8)

 

Forge watched as the deluge of emotions washed over Nerome’s face. For long moments, the young man looked so utterly alone, like a single, green aspen that stood amidst an entire mountainside wracked by fire. It almost broke the giant Ogier’s heart.

 

The young man’s face transformed again when Forge gave him the news, like the aspen blooming in the spring. It was a joy to behold. The Ogier was glad he was able to ease the burden that Nerome had been carrying for so long.

 

Listening to his words as the young Guardsman sat beside him, Forge couldn’t help but chuckle, the deep rumbling sound resonating ever so richly. In truth, he often forgot that if he were human he would be about Nerome’s age. Not that long ago he had been too young to travel Outside on his own, but now he was trusted to be wise enough to make his own choices. Nerome was apparently at the same point in his life, although it was doubtful he had seen as much of the world as the Ogier had. But that would come in time. These humans accomplished much in their short lives.

 

At Nerome’s last question, Forge boomed with outright laughter. The question was eerily similar to the thoughts in his own mind.

 

“I have indeed, Nerome,” Forge responded with genuine mirth. “When I was still a very young child, I wanted desperately to fly like a bird. I climbed the tallest tree I could find to see what the sky felt like and feel what the birds felt. Needless to say, that didn’t end well.”

 

“That is the first time I recall making a very foolish decision, but there have been too many to count since then.” Chuckling at the memory, Forge added, “Trust me, my friend. You have no monopoly on mistakes.”

 

Leaning his head back against the tree trunk, Forge sighed with contentment. He felt closer to Nerome right now than he had to any human aside from Dilora Fashelle in quite a long time. I wonder, the Ogier thought again as he sat alongside the youth, if Nerome will be there when the wolves are at the door…

 

Setting aside the thought, Forge enjoyed the relaxing moment while it lasted. It had been a long time coming, and he still had much left to do today.

“I hope you’re right.”

 

There was no undercurrent to his words. He had simply said what first came to mind as Forge finished speaking, and in this case, Nerome’s hope played a large part in their discussion. Still, Forge’s story had cheered him up immensely, and he felt a boost of his former self emerging from the reflective side that today’s meet with the Ogier had brought. Trying to fly was just the kind of thing he could see a little boy-even himself, though that really was one territory he’d left unconquered- do, even if picturing a tiny Forge, and then picturing a tiny Forge jumping off a tree was a tad bit difficult.

 

The sharing of thoughts and feelings had added a nice feel to their sheltered peace. Nerome felt comfort around the Ogier that he hadn’t previously, which warmed him up immensely. A new friend who had come bearing good news was always a delight, and there was so much he felt he could learn from the other, while still enjoying the banter and merriment that true friendship provided two beings with. As their discussion lengthened, new layers were added to their relationship. He wondered curiously if Forge had noticed the development too, and how strong their bond could grow if the Ogier had time enough. And with that though, another question entered his mind.

 

“How long are you staying in Tar Valon, Forge?” Long, he hoped. While fighting beside the man, Forge’s technique and skill had always impressed Nerome, and it would be massive opportunity for him if his friend could stay long enough in Tar Valon to give him some lessons. “And where does your next destination lie?”

 

~Nerome

As Promised. ;)

“Hmmm?” Forge asked rhetorically, lost in his own thoughts as he was. Then, recalling the words, he answered without the need for Nerome to repeat them.

 

“Sorry about that. I was lost in the moment.” His ears twitching with his slight embarrassment, the giant Ogier responded, the deep bass of his voice sounding like a bumblebee the size of a large pony. “I don’t know how long I’ll be staying in Tar Valon, to be honest. It will be several days at the least. I’ve a few small errands to take care of today, but other than that I will be enjoying staying in one place for more than one night.”

 

Grinning at the thought of relaxing and getting away from the troubles of the road, Forge continued. “I will be traveling with Dilora Fashelle, the peddler. You remember her, I’m sure.” Nerome nodded, and the Ogier went on. “She is planning on heading to Cairhein, I believe. Although, she said her business here may take a while. What did you have on your mind?”

 

Leaning back against the tree, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the restful moment. Too few humans appreciate the quiet times, he thought, as he savored the stillness that came so rarely in the world of men. That is why they get me into so much trouble!

"Well, I was going to ask you for some lessons."

 

Nerome could sense the need for peace in Forge's booming words and actions, and rather than weaving out a long answer like he had planned initially for the question he had seen coming, he gave back simply and frankly. "Even if it meant just a few spars, I am sure that I could learn a lot." Spars where Nerome believed he would get crushed, spars that were necessary for growth and experience.

 

The mention of Dilora Fashelle, and then immediately after of his home nation had an unsettling effect on Nerome. He shifted slightly, adjusting himself against the tree as he linked the two images together. However, no matter how much gratitude he had for the peddler, the stronger image by far was that of home. He hadn't been to Cairhien in five years now, but every day since he had been raised the thought had haunted him, pulling at shut doors and closed wounds so far away from his normal thinking that the result was that he often found himself troubled over some issue or the other.

 

To find an opportunity here, so fresh, so welcoming, was alarming. Doubt had tied thick knots in his mind, just the way it had when he had been creeping through the night when he had first met Dilora Fashelle. Now, when he found himself stuck and discomfited, it seemed the peddler had found a way to come sauntering back into his life-without ale, this time though- again.

 

It would be so easy to ask. He could even just ask Forge himself and matters would swing into order nicely. However, two years as a Trainee had beaten some sense into Nerome. He would make the decision later on, because unlike Caemlyn, Cairhien was not a country he could enter with doubt lingering in his mind.

 

"What do you think? Would you honour me with a spar sometime?"

 

~Nerome

 

OOC: Our ten posts are done. :) So technically, if you wish to end the RP and have them move onto the next thread, that works.