Sad Songs and Waltzes [Torin]

[Finn]

Finn was generous enough in an impromptu duet. He had gauged the man's voice well enough to select a key that suited his baritone, then added a lighter tenor harmony over it with his own voice, ornamenting the melody rather than competing with it. A man with two small children stopped to listen, then a woman with a child of her own. Aware of his audience, Finn flashed them smiles of welcome. This was right; it was a song that children picked up and carried on as they grew up.

One little child tried to clap along. Another tried to sing along in a piping little voice.

Finn's Mesmer reached out to encourage the parents, and then, by the third verse, the blacksmith had a small chorus backing him up as well. When they reached the end, Finn added another round of the chorus, ensuring an earworm so the children would be singing it for the rest of the day. He liked sharing that working song; it seemed appropriate to remind the high and mighty of Kalzasi that their height and mightiness rested on the backs of the proletariat. As much as he loved a good heroic epic, there was much to be said about the experiences of the commoners.

"That was excellent singing!" he gushed at the children. It was good to encourage artistic expression, he found. If he hadn't been encouraged, he wouldn't have made it as far as he had, after all. Patronized by House Zatrian, known by the Shinsei, growing a small body of original work while developing his skills. The parents gratefully donated to his lute case, and when they moved off, his smile turned toward the blacksmith.

"That's one of the benefits of this job—inspiring people."

[Torin Kilvin]

There had never been music framed around him before. He had taken part in whatever songs he was allowed to but it was different having someone accompany him specifically with both instrument and voice. It filled him with questions that his simple and unintentional education in music had no answers for. It was unfortunate that the only person he knew who might have the answers had taken a dislike to him that Torin didn't quite understand. He sort of understood why Arvalyn reacted poorly to him. They were from vastly different backgrounds, certainly, and mocking Torin had been the order of the day upon each of their meetings. Being around the elf felt like being around a combination of a stuck-up noble who was too good to talk to a tradesman and the childish animosity the children of his village held for him. It wasn't that he was an elf, of course. Sivan hadn't treated Torin that way even when they'd first met. A little distant, perhaps, but he was a stranger in a land that didn't speak his language.

The large apprentice grinned when he heard over voices rising to join him, some who knew the song, some who were trying to puzzle it out in their young voices. Perhaps the song wasn't as unknown in the city as he'd imagined.

Clapping along with the crowd for the minstrel as the song came to a close, and the children he was graciously encouraging, Torin wondered if maybe he could ask him a few of his questions. Not at that moment, obviously, the man was working. Unlike Torin's own trade he couldn't answer questions and continue to work at the same time. He seemed open to imparting a love of music to others though, even those little ones who could obviously not pay him for it.

He turned back to the lutist when he was spoken to, nodding,

"I try to encourage the younger ones I work with, however I can." He blushed a little after the sentence, wondering how something that sounded like bragging had slipped out of his mouth. Taking a step nearer and holding out his broad hand to shake he tried to cover his awkwardness with his name,

"I'm Torin. Thank you for the song. It brought home back for a bit."

[Finn]

Finn shook the man's hand, his smile pausing, though not wavering. The name was familiar, but he supposed it wasn't an uncommon name and he couldn't remember where else he had met a Torin before.

"I'm Finn," he replied. "Pleased to meet you, though now we already have a musical career together. Things are moving so swiftly."

He winked and laughed, self-deprecating more than he was teasing the blond man.

"You should teach the other apprentices to sing, though," he opined. "My mother scoffs at the notion, but I've told her she taught me more about rhythm than any music teacher I've had. There are rhythms to the bellows depending on how hot you want the forge, rhythms for the hammer..." He didn't list them all, assuming Master Torin knew his craft and could connect the dots himself.

"If nothing else, they'll be much better equipped to sing along in the taproom and impress the other patrons." He grinned. As much as he was trying to master his own craft such that he could produce high art, he was also keenly aware that art was for everybody, and just because there was a power in high art, there was much the same in so-called low art. He wished there were better terms for them, but they lived in a classist society and it was going to take more than a would-be bard to change that.

"If you're ever in the Low-City, I play at the Crown and Lion a fair amount. If you're scared of the Low-City, there's a salon of student work being performed at the Academy soon. Admittance is free and the work is a mixed bag, but you might enjoy it."

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin was nodding and grinning as he looked down at his feet, enjoying the gentle banter Finn made use of so artlessly. It reminded him of Aurin's banter except the subject was the speaker instead of the one being spoken to.

His eyes came up at the mention of music in the forge and he nodded again, more in earnest now, meeting the other man's eyes.

"Aye, I feel just that way. The rhythms guide me. I do often sing as I work, sometimes even that song."

He gestured to his temple, "Runesmithing too, for me, it's music in my head. Have you ever watched someone doing it?"

He had spoken to few other runesmiths in his time in the trade but those he had tried to bring up the way the magic flowed like sound in his head and beyond his head had been met by bemusement or scoffing. Blacksmiths could appreciate a steady rhythm but it didn't seem to be the same as it was with him, not since he'd left his old master.

"The other apprentices don't have cause to listen to me. Well," He took it back a little, "One does but he, poor lad," He laughed to show the affliction was more amusing than awful, "He's got a bit of a lisp, lost his front teeth, and hasn't gotten them back yet."

"I am often in the low-city. I find the people are more..." He considered a descriptive word and failed to find one. "The way they talk reminds me more of home. I feel less like I have to stand up straight, does that make sense?" Torin's full height wasn't something he was entirely comfortable with yet, having gained another inch since arriving in the city, and he tended to move in ways that made it less whenever he could. "I'd love to come see you play, I often just wander, trying to learn the city, and end up in a tavern or an inn for music and supper. How often are you there?"

The offer to visit a salon was something new. He knew of them but had always assumed they were for fancy folk. A place where students played though, testing out their talents, sounded both entertaining and less formal than a concert.

"Will you be performing at the salon?" He might show up either way, but it would be an excuse in his head to remind him.

[Finn]

"Oh, no—" His eyes widened a bit, though he began to strum lazily at his lute. "Mum didn't muck about with anything magical, unless you consider turning ore into tools magic. Which it sort of is if you think about it. Her mum was a witch, so her rebellion was to be normal." He laughed easily. "I have been to the Shinsei's forge once to thank him for a favor he did me. This was before he became... a god, mind you. He didn't have enough help so I offered. But it was just with the mundane blacksmithing, nothing so lofty as the magical variety."

Finn had a way of listening with his whole body, turned toward Torin, actively listening with nods and reactions to what he said. He laughed again.

"Sounds like the perfect time to teach your young friend to whistle." There was a silver lining to missing teeth, and the mouth was a part of the human instrument. Its shape and changes did affect how one made a sound.

"Oh, aye," he said, still chuckling. "I make sure I wash my face and hands before I come up this way." His hygiene was just fine, but the wealthy always assumed the unwealthy were dirty. "I used to play there quite a bit, but now I'm taking some classes at the Academy—the Shinsei persuaded me to petition House Zatrian for patronage there—and so I mostly play on the week-ends. I've a room upstairs so it's the easiest of venues. And I'll be at the salon. It's not so fancy you couldn't attend as you are, but as it's free, I'd show up a bit early to make sure you have a seat. Some people mill about and there are refreshments, though. Oh, and children are welcome if your little friend would enjoy it." He offered more particulars: the exact location to ask for at the Academy, the time it would start, the time it would probably end, etc. The better for Torin to plan if he wanted to come.

"Sometimes the crowd is sparse. It's mostly only advertised by word of mouth."

[Torin Kilvin]

The younger man's eyes widened at the mention of noble houses and working directly with the Shinsei. His own offering now felt inadequate considering the patronage and gifts the busker, nay, likely bard, must receive on a regular basis.

The worries and fears that welled up, made him question if he was being an annoyance or taking up too much of Finn's time began to soothe almost immediately. Perhaps he was important, had done well, but if he wanted Torin gone it seemed unlikely he would be inviting him to multiple events. It could just be for the custom but it seemed doubtful he would ever be without as many listeners as he desired. It felt genuine, it was hard to look at the man, listen to him without feeling that he was being genuine. After all, they had both grown up village boys and while Torin might not know the heir to the throne personally he was in negotiations with a noble house who wanted his services himself.

"It's nice to see another boy from the villages doing so well, gives me hope for my own future. Do you ever go home to see your mother?"

Torin too had a way of giving his whole attention to a person, as though what they said was important and they mattered for themselves. It was no magic, only a lonely childhood fueling the need to give attention where it was wanted.

He laughed along at the comment about Timon, "I would if he wasn't already using the opportunity to whistle enough that it drivers our master to distraction. I should bring him along just to teach him a few new tunes."

Looking down at his own hands, just to make sure he'd washed them properly before his jaunt into the city he grinned,

"Aye. I can't ever seem to feel clean enough with noble eyes on me. But then, the forge often leaves soot in places I haven't a mirror big enough to show. But you would know all about the mess a forge can make of a man." The blond was very clean, or tried to be, but while he knew when his scent had become unlovely it was harder to tell when he'd rubbed black all over the back of his neck.

Fetching out a little notebook from his pocket he jotted down the particulars. A concert was just the thing he'd enjoy and, being as it was on a weekend, he could probably get Timon the time to come with him. The boy liked anything to do with fancy folk and like as not some of the students would be the children of the nobility or at least wealthy merchant houses. "I'll be sure to mention it to anyone I run in to who might enjoy it."

Not that he knew many people who would take his advice, but maybe Sivan enjoyed music. It would be a new thing to talk about with his friend anyway.

[Finn]

"Oh, aye," he said, "several times a year. It's only a day's ride in the back of a cart and a driver will usually let me ride without complaint for a few hours of song, which I would be doing anyway. Have to practice when there's time, and the rhythm of the hoofbeats and cartwheels and nature and all... I don't know, the road can be inspiring, as well."

He whistled a thoughtful snatch of melody, wondering what earworm he might teach the younger apprentice in Torin's shop.

"Well, I can't sing it now as we're in polite company, but if I do see you at the Crown and Lion someday, I'll sing a song I know about the blacksmith whose husband complains about getting soot on the sheets. It's a bit bawdy, but the good folk of the taproom won't mind a bit of that, perhaps when they've had a few drinks." Finn grinned. He could perform rakish on stage better than he could in his own interpersonal dealings, but then it was difficult to feel confident in one's bawdiness when courting a courtesan who wanted him and not his coin.

"Thank you, Torin," he said sincerely, glad there might be more people present for the little show. Most of the music would be works-in-progress, allowing the student-musicians to get feedback from diverse new audiences. At least, that was the premise. The academicians didn't really understand how being a working artist worked sometimes, hence the word-of-mouth nature of its advertising.

"They always say Lord Vako Zatrian might attend, but apparently that's rare. I think they just want us working harder, vying for the chance to catch his eye, seeing as his family is one of the greatest supporters of the arts and education here. I'm more interested in meeting the dragon he apparently bonded to. How does one even attempt such a thing? Seems like there might be fodder for a song there..."

[Torin Kilvin]

The thought of returning home himself had fled him like a ghost when he'd gotten news of his master's passing. The journey had felt long when he'd made it the first time, every hour, every minute filled with a greater sense of homesickness and loss for the man who had been still a boy despite reaching his majority a month before leaving. The way Finn spoke of it made it seem shorter, easy even, a day's ride if he had a good horse, two in a cart. The thought troubled him as it rearranged his understanding of the world. As he grew and aged the world seemed to shrink with his understanding.

"It must be nice, to see your family so often. To have a family." He was still smiling, not trying to turn the conversation downward, despite his own discomfort. Running a hand through the back of his golden hair he said,

"I haven't been back. The man who raised me he... died. I guess I haven't felt like there was anything left for me there." He was beginning to suspect that the runesmith's wife and children, who he'd grown up with, would be interested in seeing him. None of the man's children had shown an interest in the forge and he'd always meant to leave it to Torin, putting his own offspring into apprenticeships of their choosing as they grew. The idea of coming back and claiming the forge, of taking up the mantle of provider, man of the house for the family made him sick of heart and head and stomach all at once. They would be well taken care of, the runesmith had been wise with his money, so he pushed away guilty whenever it tried to surface. It seemed better than he should give up the claim and let the man's wife sell the forge, which wasn't attached to the house. Yet he hadn't written to her telling her to do so. The idea of never again being able to claim a place in the forge he'd spent more time in than anywhere else in the world also made him heartsick. He would have to, eventually, be an adult and do the right thing. But, perhaps he could go back one time first, to say goodbye properly.

Grinning and letting go of thoughts of the past and future he laughed a little,

"I would like to hear your song. Is it based on personal experience listening to your parents? I'll be sure to tell Timon, the other apprentice, about the possible appearance of such a great lord, but whether he shows or not it'll still be a thrill for him."

He had heard of the dragon of the Lord of Players (as the Low-City folk sometimes referred, cheekily to Lord Zatrian) but hadn't been sure the tale was true. The house was patron to Finn though, so he must know the truth of it.

"Aye, seeing a real dragon would be something, for sure. I wonder what it would be like to make armor for such a creature." His eyes grew distant briefly as he was obviously considering the process. "I've made armor for a horse before, hmm. Do you think it would be still and let itself be measured?"

[Finn]

"It has been nicer recently," he admitted. "Getting the chance to learn more at the Academy was a big step after everything mostly leveling out. I suppose it's like I'm in an apprenticeship now, and when I'm done I'll be able to do more than just make ends meet, you know? Build a life and all that."

He smiled, even as he heard Torin's spirits dip. The tall blond was thoughtful for a moment; no doubt talk of home had struck a chord, which was made clear when he mentioned his deceased father figure.

"Sorry to hear that." His fingers plucked out a minor chord. "Well, when you get sick of the city and need to step away, I can assure you that my home village is what people here would call picturesque." He laughed. "The lake is pretty, anyway. There's a small inn if you want a little vacation away from the hustle and bustle.

"As for the song... I didn't write it, but I do distinctly remember my father complaining about soot in the bedding. Sometimes I think she did it just to watch his eyes bug out." He laughed. He didn't doubt his parents were in love or in a permanent partnership, but even so, they could get under each other's skin. "And I hope if the Lord Zatrian does attend, he leaves his pet dragon behind. It'll be hard enough not to let him upstage us, let alone a hulking beast. And as for armor, well, I suppose it would depend on the dragon and how persuasive the Avialae is. They say the Shokaze's daughter is a dragon-rider in Antiris, and if people are riding them into battle, they probably have saddles, at least, so why not some armor? Though dragonscale is supposed to be armor already, no? Magical even."

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin nodded, seriously, though his expression remained open and relaxed. He well understood what it felt like to contemplate coming out of an apprenticeship and being able to do better for oneself than merely getting by. Not that he himself had been struggling to make ends meet in the seasons since coming to Kalzasi, but he had done his best to save every penny, (which a few notable exceptions in the interest of making friends) in the expectation of having to set himself up with a forge and living space after the ending of his official education.

He hoped his education continued well beyond his apprenticeship, into the whole of his life. The opportunity to possibly study both in the Academy library and the great works of ancient Runesmiths had dropped into his lap of late, leaving him to marvel at the blessings the gods saw fit to bestow on a village boy barely yet called a man. Looking at Finn he wondered if the gods prefered to place their favor on village boys tossing their lots into life in the city.

Brushing away thoughts of his past he said,
"Your village sounds lovely. Mine isn't nearly as nice but it is on the direct route to the city, so it got enough traffic to support a country runesmith." It hadn't been until he'd moved to Kalzasi that he'd realized how rare a thing his master had been. The man had been, self-admittedly, only a low-level runesmith and not able to progress farther. He'd made most of his money on plain blacksmithing, but there had been some call for his magical skills as well.
"I might take you up on that, once I'm established enough that missing a week of custom won't beggar me." He was mostly joking, with the contract he was negotiating he should be alright to take a short vacation every season should he so wish. The first one should really be to Starfall, but after that, it wouldn't hurt him to get to know the area around the city better.

He laughed along, though a little abashedly, at the commentary on Finn's parents. It was funny but it felt private somehow, the relationship between a married couple, particularly as it touched on their relationship (however non-sexually specific) in the bedroom.

"I suppose it would be wiser for His Lordship not to bring a deadly creature into the streets or a performance hall, no matter how a small boy, or even a larger one, might long to observe it." He conceded with gentle self-deprecation. "You're right, anyway, their own natural armor is like to be better, and more magical, than anything I could devise for them, alas." His sadness was exaggerated playfully and then dropped. Glancing up at the Searing sun as he passed overhead he squinted and then turned back to Finn a final time.

"I should be off, I'm meeting a friend. It was good to meet you. I'll come by the Crown and Lion soon, or if I don't get the time I'll be at the concert for sure. I hope the gods bless your busking."

With a smile and a wave the lad turned and made his way catching strains of lute music following him for much longer than he had hoped he might.