What Is a Week-end, i. [Torin]

[Aurin]

Lake Udori
7 Frost 121

"Can I gallop now?" Timon asked.

The road wasn't much of a road up the eastern shore of Lake Udori. There were no cities of size in this direction, only the odd fishing village. But the road ran through a field here, and by Aurin's novice estimations, they were very nearly as far as they needed to go so he might not get another chance. Aurin glanced at Torin, but the young smith deferred to him in most things, so he replied.

"Sure, all right. From here to the treeline, then, and wait for us there. Don't fall," he warned, "or the ride back to the city is going to hurt."

Timon winced, already a bit saddle sore after a few hours of journeying. But he gave a heroic cry and urged the rented mount inexpertly with reins and heels and the poor beast sped up, then trotted, which was the gelding's revenge upon the boy, no doubt, before picking up into a canter that was quite fast enough for the city born and raised boy.

"He won't fall," Aurin promised, then hooked a hand around Torin's elbow to pull him close for a kiss.

They only planned to be gone for a couple of days. The Forge apparently being watched by one of Torin's friends, the Theater set without any foreseeable need for him until he returned, and his other people generally going about their business with no problem. Aurin didn't really understand the concept of a vacation, but here they were. It wouldn't be a fuck fest with Torin if Timon was there, but that was all right. They would have a little time and space outside of the city so Timon could stretch his legs and they could all learn a thing or two about survival—though Aurin had packed food in case fishing turned out to be a bust.

Then he grinned something self-assured at the smith's reaction.

"Want to gallop after him?"

[Torin Kilvin]

The trip had been a spontaneous seeming thing, though they had talked about going several times. Sivan had been happy to stop by the shop and sit with it when he wasn't working, though Torin had assured him it would be boring worth, with nothing to keep him company and no customers to speak of. Torin had left one of his lamps, with Sivan, packed the other in his saddlebags, pleased to be getting near-constant use out of them.

The horses were well bundled down, though most of the gear was light, blankets, a thick canvas tent, lots of layers of clothing. The ride was beautiful, in a different way than it had been either of the previous times they had made their way. It was nice to be getting to know the land. Kalzasi was in the north of the continent, and ice was already clinging to everything, shimmering and glittering.

They had to keep pulling Timon back to a comfortable walking speed the entire trip. The boy hadn't been on a horse but once or twice in his entire life and never for a prolonged period. Torin had figured he'd not have enjoyed it, but, in his irrepressible enthusiasm seemed to have conquered whatever discomfort he was in. At last, as they were drawing near to their destination Aurin gave the lad permission to 'gallop'. Torin wasn't about to argue with him, and figured that, at worst, Timon would fall and break something. Most boys broke a bone or two at some point in growing up and Torin knew how to set one, so long as it was a clean break.

He and Aurin had been riding with their knees almost touching most of the way, talking comfortably, so when Timon whooped and raced away and Aurin pulled Torin close it was something he'd been wanting. He still wasn't sure how he felt about showing affection in public, or in front of his apprentice. It wasn't that Aurin was a man, he would have felt the same way if he'd been in love with a woman. The smith was just shy and private about such things.

There in the empty field with Timon well distracted, Torin put his hand on Aurin's thigh and kissed back, not hard but for as long as their horses would allow it.

By the time the beasts moved out of step with each other the blond was warm to his toes and grinning to beat Timon's expression when they made it to the trees. The end of Ash had been hard, harder than he knew how to make sense of, but he was beginning to be able to lean away from the dark thoughts and razor emotions that had risen to pull him down and eat at his soul.

In another fifteen minutes, they arrived at the beach, with its memories of swimming, learning to fight, and begging for love in many forms. Aurin told Timon to go find firewood, which had him running about, while the redhead set up camp and Torin tended the horse. He wasn't a horseman, normally, but he had a lot of experience soothing, unsaddling, and tending to horses. They were the only animals he did have experience with, gained in being raised by a blacksmith. Every sort of horse from plow nag to noble mount had been brought to them to be reshod, regularly or after having thrown a shoe.

A small mountain of dried driftwood and fallen branches from the surrounding forest grew up beside where Aurin had started a fire before Timon finally tired himself out and asked what was for lunch.

[Aurin]

At the campsite, Aurin dismounted and gave the reddish beast a bit of affection. The woman he had rented them from had laughed and said he matched the mare, to which he had only laughed. While Torin took the mounts in hand, Aurin set up camp. He started with making a bit of shelter for the horses with tarp and rope. If it rained or snowed, they wouldn't get wet. It might also trap some heat when they huddled in there for the night. He unpacked the tent and laid things out, but waited to set it up entirely. He wanted Timon's help with it so the boy would know how if he ever had to do it alone.

Then he unpacked much of the rest of things.

At Timon's question, he handed him a wooden bowl with a top that screwed on. Confused, the boy opened it. Inside was fecund dirt.

"What the...?" he asked, then peered more closely at the movement. "WORMTH?"

Aurin smirked. "We have to go fishing for lunch."

"But I'm hungry now."

Aurin handed him a bag of meat pies still warm for being well packed.

"Leave one for Torin and then let's go learn to fish. You can join us when you're ready." He turned his grin toward the smith, then scooped up the fishing poles and threw an arm around Timon's shoulders. "C'mon, kid."

With Timon, he walked toward the lake proper. They were up a bit to have some shelter from the lake winds. "You know," he began, "on the river where I grew up, we used to tie hooks onto string and just drop them into the water. Took us a while to figure out bait. This is a bit more complicated, but..." Aurin took the lad down to a stone outcropping where they could drop their lines into the water. For all his story, he was no great fisherman, so he figured dropping line was best. They could figure out casting later when he needed to reel in the kid's attention once more. And he didn't want an errant hook catching in Torin' while the man came up behind them.

They would be sitting there on the edge, fishing poles propped so they could use their hands to eat their lunch.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin watched the exchange between the two people he probably cared for most, circumspectly as he rubbed down one of the horses. He should really teach Timon basic care of them so the lad could do as he'd done while his own master had pounded new shoes.

At the unexpected exclamation, he choked on unexpected laughter as he left him, loud, from his belly. It felt strange, and realizing it did, also felt strange. Had it been so long since he'd laughed? He kept watching as Timon set out Torin's lunch for him with the exaggerated care of childhood before skipping after Aurin towards the lake. It wasn't frozen over yet, as it would be later in the season. so the fish would still be easily accessible. Easily caught was another thing altogether.

Torin had watched other boys fishing sometimes in the summer but had never made the attempt to tie string and hook to a stick himself. The attempts had never seemed to profit them any food, so he'd assumed they did it for the company. Torin had pleasant company of his own to look forward to now, yet he hesitated.

Squatting down by the ring of stones that remained since the last time he and Aurin had been there he settled onto a log seat and ate his still-warm lunch. It was a good moment to think; nothing pressing for his attention, nothing needing to be done.

Ash had started out with such hope, and though there had been moments of shame and fear they had been the outliers, and from them had come greater levels of joy and trust. But the later end had felt grey, like cold, hard rain falling over his head and his heart. He knew, had been told, that Arvalyn had attacked him with magic, had manipulated him to feel Finn's physical pain as well as the emotional trauma. Torin had been pleased, though he hadn't been able to feel it, that he'd been able to carry some of the awful things his friend was enduring. It made sense to put them into Torin since Arvalyn had to navigate them through the city and explain to the healer what had happened.

All involved claimed the magic had stopped, but Torin still felt as though he too were healing. His body was fine, as strong as ever, though at times he found it harder to drag himself from his bed in the morning. He found himself spending any spare time he allowed for thinking dwelling on the worst parts of his life. What he remembered of his parents, being shunned and attacked in his village, being sent away by his master, and then finding out about his death. The smith wasn't even sure all the things he was remembering had actually happened anymore, they just kept getting deeper and longer in his mind, building on themselves. So he tried not to give himself time when there was nothing to do but think. The circumstance had been good for his business, allowing him to churn out work for his noble patron house faster than he'd originally promised, as well as throw himself deeply into the making of those few personal items he wanted ready before Glade came again.

As time went by the pressure seemed to be easing, but not enough that it felt gone. The clouds were less heavy and less black, but they were still there.

Standing and dusting the crumbs away the blond decided that, if it was still bothering him by the end of this season he could ask Finn's advice, since he was also a Mesmer, one that Torin trusted, and perhaps seek the assistance of a healer.

In five minutes he was settling down on the rocks with Timon between him and Aurin, in case the boy decided to lean too far out.

[Aurin]

"Well, if you keep arguing so loud," Aurin was saying, rather pointedly, to Timon was Torin approached, "you'll scare all the fish away and you really will have to eat worms for dinner. I suppose we could roast them on a hot rock for you, though, so they'll stop wriggling before you have to swallow them down to survive."

The boy scowled down at the water, but fell silent. A smile twitched at Aurin's lips, blooming into something more full when he looked up to ensure that the approaching footsteps were Torin's. His smile was still his out here far from civilization, but it was less sharp and more warm, as though even his expressions could say I love you out here where it would be a secret. Of course, he had noticed Torin's gloom since last season, but he hadn't yet pried out of him what was bothering him. He wanted Torin to be forthcoming, but he also wanted to extend some trust to him that he would come to Aurin if he needed help.

In any case, it was likely just the stress of starting a new business, moving into a haunted home, and trying to make life work as a man grown instead of a young apprentice. It was difficult; on one hand, Aurin wanted to do things for the people he cared about; on the other, he wanted them to be confident that they could handle things and he couldn't do that by doing everything for them. Torin was a competent man, even to the point of knowing where his weaknesses were and seeking out help for those. He could help with the business side of things, even helping train Timon to hone his natural acumen in that regard. Timon, too, was becoming someone he cared about rather than just an extension of his responsibilities toward Torin.

Fatherhood was highly unlikely for him, but if he could help a few people turn out better than he did, then it might amount to the same thing.

"Shh," he admonished with a patently false glare at Torin. "You'll scare away the fish and force Timon to eat roasted worms for dinner."

"Not eating roathted wormth for dinner," Timon muttered under his breath.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin watched the exchange between what some might call his man and his boy, though the associations he had with the first term were nothing like the association he had with the second.

The way Torin was Aurin's boy was nothing like the way Timon was Torin's. Although... Not wholly different. Torin hoped he could take as good care of the younger blond, now scowling down at the lake below them, as the redhead took of him. Sitting himself down he took the remaining pole and carefully slipped a wriggling length of pink worm onto the barbed hook. Surviving in the wild was something he knew more about in theory than he did in practice, but even that knowledge was slim. He could climb any number of trees, find water by listening, perhaps hunt down obvious berry bushes or dandelions for food, but the majority of the time he had spent in the forests around his home had been attempting to avoid being found.

A different sort of survival than what Aurin was trying to teach had driven his time alone so he could go perfectly still, walk over leaf-carpeted ground without being loud about it, hold his breath for long stretches of time, but hunting, fishing, and similar arts were as new to him as to Timon.

Torin had to fight a smile harder than he'd thought he would when Aurin's stage whisper found him, having made almost no sound at all as he approached and baited his line. Stifling the amused expression he took up a more serious one and nodded, pressing his lips tight together and flicking his rob a bit to get the line to fall just a little farther than either of the others' had.

Time began to pass, quietly and in comfort and Torin leaned back, turning his face up to find what warmth the Frost weakened sun could provide and closing his eyes. The hand not holding onto his fishing pole made its way behind his apprentice's back toward's his master. It didn't quite make it, but it was reaching, and if Aurin wanted to, he could easily touch it. If he did not, well, there was something about reaching toward's Aurin that felt good, all on its own.

[Aurin]

Aurin saw the hand reaching for him blindly and smiled unseen for a moment before he reached out and took it firmly, his thumb running back and forth over the smith's. Timon's attention was on the stillness of the water below him, but if he turned and saw, Aurin wouldn't mind. He wasn't hiding his relationship with Torin from Timon. He wasn't hiding it at all, exactly. Not from people that saw them together. He did try to keep some distance between them in other ways, lest anyone with a problem with Aurin seek to take it out on Torin.

His knee nudged Timon's, who scowled at him, but then grinned his gap-toothed grin when Aurin winked at him. Of course, he wasn't going to feed him worms.

"We're going to have to get Torin to teach us how he sneaks through the woods so well, eh? Otherwise, he'll win any game of hide-and-seek without a challenger. And maybe we'll find some cloudberries that are hanging on for dear life."

Timon liked to think he was too old for such games, but his grin didn't fade at the thought of games out there in the wild. He was a city boy much like Aurin, but he was game for a good time.

He was going to say more when Timon yelped and all his attention went to his rod, which was dipping toward the rippling rings on the surface of the lake. Aurin let go of Torin's hand, pinned his own pole with his knee, and grabbed for Timon's line.

"Don't let go!" he urged, and tried to help the boy with his first catch ever. Aurin would have to gut and filet it, of course, but if he wasn't good at fishing, at least he was good with his knives.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin had come to accept that, as often as he and Aurin had fallen asleep before the kitchen hearth, often wearing little more than a blanket thrown sleepily about their waists, Timon would not remain ignorant of the nature of their connection long. If he even still was in ignorance of it. It wasn't as though the adolescent lad was unaware of sex or adult relationships. He wasn't nearly as uneducated in such matters as Torin had been at his age.

The thought of his apprentice walking into the kitchen one dawn and finding the two of them wrapped around each other and bare was still enough to make him insist on putting his smallclothes at least back on whenever their nightly activities ended in him wearing less. But the oddly intense fear that Timon would realize Aurin and Torin were sexually active had dulled somewhat. The smith still had no idea what he would tell the boy if he ever asked any questions, but, along with all his other emotions, fear just seemed like it wasn't worth the energy required now.

Aurin's warm hand running over his knuckles eased the weight fogging over his heart some.

The bantering between the two who shared the small cliff with him went on for a moment before it was broken by the excitement of Timon's line going taut. Watching Aurin teaching without seeming to teach as together they pulled up a good-sized fish made Torin wonder just how many things the foxlike man had taught him without him ever realizing he was being instructed.

Torin caught his own fish, a few moments later, struggling with it for a good five minutes before finally wrenching it from the water only to send the other two laughing at its tiny size. Timon caught another, almost losing it while trying to bat Aurin's hands away, insisting he could now do it for himself. Aurin caught a few of his own and together it seemed like enough to serve as their evening meal.

They made their way back, Timon triumphantly leading with all the fish held before him on one of the lines. When they arrived both the adults were surprised to find that the boy knew better than either of them how to gut and clean a fish.

"My Aunt taught me." He proudly declared while attempting his best to pretend it was no big deal and that having something to teach in turn would be one of the high points of the trip for him. Torin watched closely to see how to get all the scales off and attempted it himself on his own small catch, managing without ruining the meat at least.

Aurin gave his fire-starting tutorial to both the blonds, who gave it their undivided attention.

When fish and fire were both were ready they all worked to spear the meat onto hickory sticks and place them over the fire where Timon happily sat to turn them when they needed it. The sun was beginning its rapid descent and Torin went to check on the horses once more, taking a bucket of water to them. He was rather hoping Aurin would come and find him, there in the shadows away from the fire, but he would return once the work was done if he was left alone to complete it.

[Aurin]

All this was sort of a dress rehearsal in Aurin's mind, proof that he had been hanging around theatrical types too much between Arry and the courtesans with lofty dreams and the people living those dreams at the Golden Peacock. They were too near the safety of civilization to truly worry, but they were learning a thing or two about surviving in the wild. He hoped it never came to that, but he wanted his boys to be ready should the need arise. One never knew with life.

They could fish, albeit inexpertly, and while Aurin was good with a blade, he took Timon's instruction in the special use of them upon piscine flesh. Perhaps the lad was just sick of his utilitarian cooking; thankfully, he had packed some seasonings, though the fish smelled so good on the fire, he didn't know if it would need much. Lake Udori was cleaner than some of the shores of the river passing through Cathena City, where pockets could get brackish and littered with the detritus of settlement. He helped a bit with all of it, and treated Timon like he would any adult teaching him something he didn't know. He saw how the lad's back grew straighter for the respect he was accorded, and Aurin wondered how he might have turned out with the same treatment.

In any case, it didn't seem to dampen the lad's interest when he saw Aurin flipping his knife and catching it by the blade as if he didn't fear for his fingers.

"Don't burn my dinner," he said, standing up and ruffling Timon's hair. The boy batted at his hand.

"Don't meth with my hair."

"I fixed it." He smirked and trailed off after Torin toward the horses.

Timon smirked after him, then focused on not burning their dinner.

Aurin wasn't sneaking; in any event, Torin was better at sneaking out here than he was. But he didn't announce himself before his hand came up from behind the smith to take him firmly by the throat. There was the faintest smell of fish even after he had washed his hands, but it was clean, smelling more of water and life than what people complained of when fish lay rotting at market. He kissed Torin's neck, his shoulder, and then bit his ear lightly, growling through his teeth.

"Once the boy's asleep, you're going down to our fishing spot, taking off your clothes, and waiting for me, boy."

[Torin Kilvin]

R E V I E W

Lore:

Aurin:
Survival:
Packing for Frost Weather
Starting a Fire
Setting up a Camp
Baiting a Hook
Fishing for Your Supper
Keeping a Backup Food Supply
Gathering Firewood
Quiet to Not Scare Prey
Listening for Someone Approaching

Animal Handling:
Tending Horses

Torin:
Survival:
Packing for Frost Weather
Starting a Fire
Setting up a Camp
Baiting a Hook
Fishing for Your Supper
Gathering Firewood

Animal Handling:
Tending Horses

Medicine:
Setting a Clean Break
Wrapping a Broken Bone

Points:8 each, not for magic

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: None

Notes: Oh my.