Post by Deleted on Feb 21, 2021 12:12:50 GMT -5
Origins of a Wherryman
T'was a long summer's day,
'long Southern Hold bay,
Where firelizards hatch young,
Near th' tips of their tongues,
With shellfish and spiderclaw abound on the beach,
I thought Firelizards must be in my reach!
But what did I spy with mine beady eye?
T'was wherries! Crowded and packed in the sky!
Quick I must think lest the eggs be for not,
But what in the world might I have forgot?
With neither stick nor cane I quickened my pace,
And punched wild Wherries, right in the face!
Elghinn Wherryman, Apprentice Harper
Masters Donovan and Albrecht stare down a much younger, much shorter Elghinn who doesn't look the least bit ashamed to have passed such ridiculousness on a prohibitively expensive piece of pulped wood sheet to the pair. "You mean for this to be your Appretices work," both elderly men ask. Master Donovan was the Master of Voice. Albrecht was a composer.
"I should stick you in the Drum Towers for this," Master Donovan shouted.
Albrecht countered with, "And let the boy figure out a way to shower Pern with this?"
"At least he'd do less damage there! And he might learn something worth a wherryhide boot!"
"His composition needs work, but it does have certain kind of charm you can't deny, Donovan." Master Albrecht cracks a rare smile as he re-reads the sheet, the faintest bit of twinkle in his eye signaling a desire to laugh, but position demanding he hold it in.
"Charm, Albrecht? Charm? You read that and see charm? If that boy goes out in the world reciting drivel like that, he'd turn the Hall into the laughingstock of Pern!" Donovan's voice rises higher and higher, booming in the cleverly constructed classroom meant to amplify sound. "Either you need your eyes checked or I should send for the Masterhealer to check your head!"
Through all of this, Elghinn can do no more than bite his lip to keep himself from laughing. He'd been biting so long wondered he didn't taste blood. Still, he stands before the masters, quiet as a tunnelsnake and every bit as clever. Master Albrecht already had his side. All he needed was Master Donovan's approval and he had a chance to advance to the Journeymans table.
"What does a Harper do, Donovan, when there's news to be had but not a lip will part with it," Master Albrecht asks, passing the sheet back to Donovan and carefully schooling his features of the previous amusement.
"Ply them with wine and son-"
"We play the Fool, Master Donovan. A Harper is a Harper. We're known to chronicle and meddle. Tight lips wouldn't spill a closely guarded rumor to a Harper. But they will pretend the fool doesn't exist." Now Master Albrecht smiles at the adolescent Elghinn, that twinkle in his eyes returning.
"Can you do that boy? Can you play the fool?" Master Donovan's stare is every bit as intense as his voice is serious. If looks were dragonfire, Elghinn was certain he'd be a greasy smear on the floor right about now.
Elghinn clears his throat before he finally speaks, his face a perfectly schooled picture of innocence. "Depends who you're askin' dunnit, Master Donovan? You askin' Elghinn the Apprentice Harper, or are you askin' The Wherryman?"
T'was a long summer's day,
'long Southern Hold bay,
Where firelizards hatch young,
Near th' tips of their tongues,
With shellfish and spiderclaw abound on the beach,
I thought Firelizards must be in my reach!
But what did I spy with mine beady eye?
T'was wherries! Crowded and packed in the sky!
Quick I must think lest the eggs be for not,
But what in the world might I have forgot?
With neither stick nor cane I quickened my pace,
And punched wild Wherries, right in the face!
Elghinn Wherryman, Apprentice Harper
Masters Donovan and Albrecht stare down a much younger, much shorter Elghinn who doesn't look the least bit ashamed to have passed such ridiculousness on a prohibitively expensive piece of pulped wood sheet to the pair. "You mean for this to be your Appretices work," both elderly men ask. Master Donovan was the Master of Voice. Albrecht was a composer.
"I should stick you in the Drum Towers for this," Master Donovan shouted.
Albrecht countered with, "And let the boy figure out a way to shower Pern with this?"
"At least he'd do less damage there! And he might learn something worth a wherryhide boot!"
"His composition needs work, but it does have certain kind of charm you can't deny, Donovan." Master Albrecht cracks a rare smile as he re-reads the sheet, the faintest bit of twinkle in his eye signaling a desire to laugh, but position demanding he hold it in.
"Charm, Albrecht? Charm? You read that and see charm? If that boy goes out in the world reciting drivel like that, he'd turn the Hall into the laughingstock of Pern!" Donovan's voice rises higher and higher, booming in the cleverly constructed classroom meant to amplify sound. "Either you need your eyes checked or I should send for the Masterhealer to check your head!"
Through all of this, Elghinn can do no more than bite his lip to keep himself from laughing. He'd been biting so long wondered he didn't taste blood. Still, he stands before the masters, quiet as a tunnelsnake and every bit as clever. Master Albrecht already had his side. All he needed was Master Donovan's approval and he had a chance to advance to the Journeymans table.
"What does a Harper do, Donovan, when there's news to be had but not a lip will part with it," Master Albrecht asks, passing the sheet back to Donovan and carefully schooling his features of the previous amusement.
"Ply them with wine and son-"
"We play the Fool, Master Donovan. A Harper is a Harper. We're known to chronicle and meddle. Tight lips wouldn't spill a closely guarded rumor to a Harper. But they will pretend the fool doesn't exist." Now Master Albrecht smiles at the adolescent Elghinn, that twinkle in his eyes returning.
"Can you do that boy? Can you play the fool?" Master Donovan's stare is every bit as intense as his voice is serious. If looks were dragonfire, Elghinn was certain he'd be a greasy smear on the floor right about now.
Elghinn clears his throat before he finally speaks, his face a perfectly schooled picture of innocence. "Depends who you're askin' dunnit, Master Donovan? You askin' Elghinn the Apprentice Harper, or are you askin' The Wherryman?"