Satin's Tale: Dealings Done

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Sharing the Fun

He passed Whistler and her charge, at the camp bounds, and more of their wounded who were able to walk on their own as he headed back.  As he passed the open commons towards the hall again, the shouting was silenced, replaced by one slamming door, then another.  Satin recognised the man that stormed from the house as one he had treated during the night.  He still bore a carefully bandaged forearm that had needed a long line of stitches and thorough cleaning besides, where it had been laid open by a particularly vicious blade.  He had been one of the few villagers actively fighting back during the attack, and hadn't been pleased to have one of the 'murderous outcasts' tending him.  Now he crossed the square in an agitated fury, not looking where he walked, and Satin had to leap backwards out of his way to avoid a collision.  He looked up for a moment, and spat at Satin's feet, snarling.

“Blasted villains.  Good riddance to the lot of you, I'd rather have every one of you put paid for the trouble you've caused.  The sooner you're gone from here...” His stare flicked over Satin, looking at him clearly for the first time.  The mask of contempt and scorn began to falter, giving way the the fury that was boiling just beneath.  “Wait a minute...  It was you, wasn't it?  Had to be...  ”  He surged towards Satin quickly grabbing the front of his shirt.  Satin raised his own hands to grip the larger man's wrists, but no more as he was lifted roughly off the ground.  Even though he was still growing, Satin knew that he would never be described as tall.  Marren's father, in his full height and anger towered above him, and was large and strong to go with it, lifting him easily.  Satin held his eyes, keeping his thumbs pressing just lightly on the underside of the man's wrists.  Enough pressure, and he would lose his grip, letting him drop to the ground, but he waited to see what the man meant to do.  

“You swine! You bastard!  Thieving, murderous, wretch.  I'll kill you with my own hands for this!”  Satin felt a fleck of spit strike his cheek as the enraged father shouted at him, but kept silent.  “How could anyone think you've any sort of honour?  You pretend to help us, then turn about and defile my little girl like that?  Sneak in while we mourn and force yourself on her, no better than the other monsters you killed?  You've spoiled and ruined her, and disgraced our whole family!  Answer me, you wretched boy!”  Satin felt the man shake him and his forced calm began to crack.  His eyebrows drew down.

“Your family are all still alive and well, from what I see.  Can I say the same of mine, who lost their lives protecting yours?  You can only hold me like this now because I mended your arm for you myself.”  His voice was cold and angry, more than he'd realised, but it didn't seem to deter the other man.  Rather, it seemed to fuel his ire further.

“How dare you, you rotten little...”  One of the hands holding his shirt let go and Satin released it as it drew away.  He didn't take his eyes from the other man, but in the side of his vision he could see him making a fist.  One punch.  If it came to it, he'd let the man have one punch.  The fist paused, drawn back.

“Satin!  You! Let him go.”  Whistler's voice drew his eye.  She was standing a short distance away, apart from the gathering collection of on-lookers, a grim expression marring her features.  She had half drawn her sword already as she challenged him.  Satin turned his face to her, raising his free hand.

“Stop, Whistler.  None of us have done anything to hurt anyone in this village and I want to—”  A hard impact set his world spinning, bright flares of pain blocking his vision for a moment.  He felt himself hit the ground and roll, then stop as his back struck something painfully uneven.  A fresh sear of pain announced the gash on his back breaking open again in several places.  He rolled onto his hands and sprang to his feet again, making a small jump backwards on instinct. 

His eyes darted about for the moment it took him to right himself.  Marren's father, over-reached from the force of his punch, only now beginning to regain his balance.  Whistler, as she was, her teeth bared in a snarl, but still with her word mostly sheathed.   Around them, a number of villagers some of them now looked surprised or shocked, and he caught sight of several covering their mouths in appalled gasps.  He suppressed the desire to smile to himself, instead keeping his face calm.  Lifting one hand to touch the side of his face gingerly, her looked back to Whistler and gave a very slight nod of his head.  He was sure she was the only one who caught it.

“And I want to keep it that way.  I'm sure Marley does as well.”  He finished, then turned back to his attacker.  The man's cheeks were a bright, flushed red now and he seemed more furious than ever.  Before Satin could speak, he burst into more angry shouting.

“Lying cur!  Not harmed anyone?  After what you've done to my daughter?  You've destroyed her!  You've no honour at all, you baseless, bleeding monster!”

“Marren seemed well and hale enough to me last I saw her, and what we,” he made sure to emphasise the word, barely hiding the scorn in his voice. “Did, was done as two individuals, together, both desiring.  Maybe if you had listened to your daughter while you were shouting at her, you'd know that.  I could hear her telling you as much, even out here.”  Satin could tell there would be no calming the man now, no matter what he tried.  His hands were clenching repeatedly into large, tight fists and he was breathing heavily.

“You leave my daughter out of this!  She doesn't know anything about the world, or your type.”

“And you for all your years cowering here in imagined safety know precious little more!”  Satin snapped back at him without thinking.  The other man gave an incoherent growl, unable to form words through his fury for a moment, before stepping forward and raising his fists in what Satin guessed was his fighting stance.

“I'll bleeding well crush your skull for that you runty bastard!”

“No you will not, master Durnald.”  Satin's eyes flicked towards the sound of the voice, old and tired, but right now full of a very determined command.  The town's elder had come to the entrance of the mead hall, and Satin caught sight of Marley slipping quickly around the back of crowd to join Whistler, where they exchanged hurried words.  “Whether you agree with my decision or not, I have given these people the hospitality of our town, until sunset.  That is a short time off still, and if, as it appears, you have already broken this hospitality, and struck this man, I would have your answer for it.”  To his surprise, Satin watched the other man struggle to master himself until he managed to stand straight and face his leader.

“Yes I stuck this wretch.  I have a mind to continue doing so until he is gone or dead.  I have not wronged you, Thane.  Your hospitality was already betrayed by him, and it is less than he deserves.”  The old man's eyes turned to Satin briefly as Marren's father gestured in his direction, before turning back.

“Tell me of this, then.”

“The cowardly traitor crept into our house while we were all at our weakest and raped my Marren, defenceless in her own bed!” His answer was a wrenched cry, as much of frustration and loss as of anger, but Satin could feel no pity for the man.

“I did no such thing!” He realised that the shouted words were his only after they left him, and made a conscious effort to relax his tense body.  The elder held up a hand.

“Peace, boy, you may answer his accusation properly if you wish.  What have you to say?”

“I think you should ask Marren.  Why argue over what took place, when she would tell you both?”  Satin glared as he answered, and again had to force his features to relax from their scowl.

“You think then, that she would vouch for your honour in this matter?”  Satin nodded but Durnald spluttered, making a cutting motion with his hand to ward off the idea.

“Marren's word cannot count in this, Thane!  He has filled her head with nonsense and lies.” 

“So you say, Durnald, but I have seen a deal of this young man since he came to us, and I witnessed your daughter talking with him as he worked to save our wounded in the small hours of the morning.  I did not think matters would go so far, but, if he says that he did not force the matter, and young Marren vouches for him, then I am sorry, but I am very much inclined to believe them.”

“You cannot trust the words of an outcast like this! He is a traitor and a thief, a murdering coward that preys on what others have worked and sweated for!”

“It is not his word I am trusting, master Durnald.”  The elder's voice grew loud and stern as he stared the other man into silence.  “It is your daughter's, and it is yours.  So answer me truthfully, Durnald, and remember that you have already defied my extended hospitality once today.  If I were to call Marren before me now, and ask of her, would she say that this man, Satin, took from her more than was willing offered?”  Satin spared a quick flick of his eyes across to the other man.  Durnald stood with his teeth clenched and his fists thrust down by his sides in angry bunches.  His arms quivered as he fought himself.  After several long, forced breaths his head dropped.

“No, my thane.  She would not say that.”

“And if I asked her if she thought you were justified in striking Satin as you have, what would she say?”

“She...  She would say I was not.”

“Then the matter is decided.  No wrong has been done to any here, Durnald, save by you yourself.  I understand your feelings on this, and that this situation is...”  he sighed and shook his head.  “It is a difficult circumstance for all of us, but I am still Thane here, and my decision is made.  Go to your home and cool your temper, and leave our guests unharmed until their departure, and I will leave your punishment at that.”  He stood where he was, folding his arms across his chest and watching Durnald until the other man nodded his head, staring at the ground.  It was another few moments of silence before he turned, retreating back towards his home and the Thane relaxed.  He shook his head and spared a last look towards Marley.

“Send a man to me when you're ready to depart, and we'll meet you by the western path.”  With that he turned about and passed through the doors again.

As the small crowd began to disperse, Satin let himself slide down to sit on the edge of the town's well, the uneven stones he had struck before.  He could feel his left cheek swelling, hot and tender, and wondered if his eye would black.  Marley sighed as he dropped down beside him and Satin looked over.  He felt a small smile touch his lips.

“Sorry old man.  Looks like I made more of a mess for you after all.”  He grinned wider when Marley laughed aloud, draping an arm about his shoulder.

“You'd be surprised, lad.  Handled that real well, you did.  Whistler told me what you did before I got here.  Smart move, letting him throw the first punch.  I reckon you didn't just let him hit you because it was smart though, did you?”  At this, Satin looked to the ground again.

“He's ignorant, and stupid, and sheltered, and I can't really explain it, but, I felt like I did owe him that much.  Couldn't tell you why, can't put the words to it.”  He shrugged and Marley chucked again.

“It's something you've got that was burned right out of me a long time ago, kid, and you know what?  I don't think you're any worse off for it.”  Satin glanced up at him again, arching an eyebrow.

“One was all he was getting, don't worry.  If he'd tried for another there'd have been trouble.”  Marley laughed again, then jumped up and stretched.

“Anyway.  We're about done, lad.  Fel and Whistler are going to help Speedy to her horse now, and then we'll be heading off.  How's the back?  You've got blood coming through in a few places there again.”  His eyebrows drew down as he tapped Satin's shoulder lightly, trying to turn him to get a better look.  With a small sigh Satin stood and pulled the shirt over his head while Marley pulled the well's bucket up.  He dipped the shirt itself in the cold water, then flexed his shoulders so the older man could dab quickly at the places where the skin had split again.  Marley passed him the wet shirt back when he was done.

“Keep that up to your face for a while.  The cool will do it good.”  He wasn't wrong, at least.  As Satin pressed the cloth to the swelling the sensation of cool soothing felt like a fantastic relief.  After another moment Marley clapped him lightly across the shoulder again.  “Come on, sun's nearly setting.  I sent Harry back to let the boys at the camp know about the orcs, and that we'd be late, but it wouldn't do to leave 'em alone out there too much longer.

The light was a deep orange by the time Satin was mounted along with the others.  Speedy was sitting her horse with a small smile, though it was plain to see she wouldn't be riding swiftly.  He still had his shirt off, the damp garment cooler than before from the growing breeze and the fading warmth.  The eye would probably still blacken though.  Several of the others had shared quiet cheers and laughs to see his injuries clearly, and he had heard Felaren taking bets over whether the back would become his first lasting battle scar.  Despite everything it made him smile.  Marley waved him over, along with Whistler.  He had taken the reins of each of the riderless horses and hitched him in a line behind him as well.

“Sit tight boys, we're almost on our way.  One last meeting to make this all worth the suffering.”  He turned his horse to lead out and Satin followed.  They only travelled a short way, not even out of sight of the others before Marley stopped  them again, raising a hand as he waited.  It was only another few moments before Satin picked out the figure of James riding from one side of the town, alongside several heavily laden horses and at least four or five others leading them.  The Thane rode beside him, his face closed and blank.  They drew up a few feet from Marley's horse and nodded to one another before dismounting.  The others follow suit, but Satin froze as he hit the ground.  Marren was there, amongst the people leading the pack-horses.  When his eyes met hers she looked down and away but it didn't hide the slight trembling of her shoulders, or the signs that she'd been crying. 

The Thane had begun talking to Marley again.  They made a formal show of what was happening; that as thanks for their timely help and intervention, he wished to offer them food and supplies for their continued journey, taken from the surplus of their own stores.  It was the least they could do, after Marley's band had saved them from certain death, and they were honoured to offer it.  Marley thanked him just as graciously.  Of course they were glad to have been able to lend their strength when it was needed, that it was the duty of all men of Rohan to help and protect one another where they could, that his gift was greatly appreciated and accepted with much good will.

They all knew the truth of it, and for a moment Satin wondered why they made such a show, but he realised even as the thought finished; it was simply because, sometimes, it felt better to leave with a smile and shaken hands, rather than with blood on your blades, even if they were only pretending.  With the formalities done, they all began to help moving the loads over from the town's horses to their own.  Somewhere in amongst it, Satin took a parcel from Marren's hands and she flinched back, smothering a whimper.  He grit his teeth and kept working.  At last they were done and Satin swung back onto his horse with the others.  He looked to Marren again and found her staring at him, her eyes tracing his body before meeting his.  She was breathing heavily, her cheeks red, and her mouth was open by a tiny gap, as though she wanted to speak, but couldn't.  He couldn't make himself look away from her again, though it would have been easier, and he watched fresh tears welling in her eyes as Marley and the Thane spoke their farewells.  They turned their horses from each other and Satin realised he had to do the same.  His was the last to turn, even so.

 

“Satin!”  He stopped at the sound of her voice, rough with tears barely held back.  Both groups had stopped with him, and he wished they hadn't as many pairs of eyes jumped back and forth between the pair.  Marren was still standing as she had been, hands clutched tightly in front of her.  She was wearing the same dress, tied properly now, and her hair was braided.  “Why won't you stay?”  Something in her voice tore at him, but he forced it away.

“I told you, Marren.  This is who I am.  I'm sorry.”  The words were so simple, and yet, he could see the rending despair they caused as it passed through her frame.  Many of the others hung their heads and started to move off again, but Marren shook her head, her tight braid swaying back and forth.  When she looked up at him again, her teeth were clenched and his eye was drawn to the tiny gap.

“Then let me go too!” 

“Marren! What are you saying?”  The Thane spoke the same shock that the other villagers seemed to feel, but she didn't respond, staring only at Satin for his answer.  He hesitated, swallowing, then shook his head.

“No, Marren.  You don't want to live this life.  Please, trust me.  Stay here.”

“What, where I'm safe?  Really?  How can I ever feel safe in a place like this again?  They tell us we're safe, but that's not really true!”  Now the tears did break free and begin to run down her cheeks, but she seemed more determined than ever despite them.  “I've seen that we're not.  If not for you, that attack would have killed all of us.  How am I better off here, then?  Tell me that!”  Her hands had become small fists, held rigid at her side and as Satin stared at her the words died in his throat.  He was hearing the same realisation he'd come to himself, so many years ago, repeated back in her voice.  She continued, stepping towards him, away from the others standing beside her.

“I want to see the world as you see it.  I want to understand.”  Silence fell for a moment as Satin looked at the girl.  Behind him, Marley whistled softly, but kept quiet otherwise.  At last Satin drew a breath.

“Marren, before, I told you we don't get a lot of real choices.  It's not often we really have a chance to decide for ourselves what we are going to do.  I could tell you no, but, this choice isn't mine; it's yours.  You can stay here, live in peace for as long as you might, knowing that it could end at any time, and you'll be powerless to stop it, and maybe, you'll live a long and happy life, or maybe you won't.”  He paused, running his tongue over lips that felt suddenly dry.  “Or, you can come with us, and you'll probably die within a year or two, if you're lucky.  If you're really lucky, and you learn fast, you might live longer, but it will never be easy, or certain.  You'll have to pull your own weight, protect yourself, and fight for your life every day.  You'll do what you need to just to survive, even though it will be unpleasant, cruel, or painful, because it will be that, or die.  That's what this life is like.  I can tell you to stay, but the choice is yours.”  He looked down at Marren, but as much as he willed it, he knew in his heart that she wouldn't back down.  Her head dropped and she scrubbed at her eyes with both hands.  It was several moments before she looked up again, her face set.

“You took the blindfold away, Satin.  You can't put it back.  I'm going.”  He wasn't sure why, but her words sent a chord of sorrow through him and he sighed.

“Then come with me.”  He leaned down and reached out his hand.

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