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fenellaSo it turns out that I'm really bad at this not writing fic thing. I had a Bruno & Boots floating around in my head, but instead I wrote TP, of course. It's the fandom that won't die. And even worse, it's fluff. Short fluff, but still. (Although, without a doubt less fluffy than the B&B would be. I defy someone to write unfluffy Gordon Korman fic.) It really is a sickness!
Kel/Lerant
933 words
Tobe gets in a fight, Lerant suffers, Kel is a crocus.
*
Ye Goffs
*
“Oh my Goffs,” Lerant was saying when Kel arrived in the stables. “My nofe!”
“Your what?” absently asked Joffrey, the Own’s chief healer, who seemed to be checking Lerant’s leg for breaks.
“My nofe, my nofe!” repeated Lerant, becoming slightly hysterical. He clutched at his nose emphatically; it was streaming blood.
“No, no” said Joffrey. “Don’t do that. You might shift something.”
Lerant, from his position on the floor, gave Kel a pitiful look.
Keladry closed her eyes but when she reopened them, the scene was the same: a healer attending to a battered standard-bearer – the latter looked only slightly better than the stables themselves – one bruised and bloodied boy and another, this one coddling a ruffled horse who seemed to be playing mother hen.
“Peachblossom,” snapped Kel, addressing whom she perceived to be the most reasonable of the culprits. “Your stall, right now.”
Peachblossom eyed Kel imploringly but after a beat of chilly stare, untangled himself from Tobe. The gelding slinked past the other boy, snapping at the air in front of the boy’s face, and over Lerant’s body, hoof clipping the tip of the injured nose.
“Ouff!” Exclaimed Lerant and Joffrey the healer, having attended to the leg to his professional satisfaction, turned his attention to moving cartilage.
“Tobe, what happened?” Asked Kel, ignoring the unfolding medical drama.
The boy glowered at Kel, his bruised mouth forming a swollen scowl, and remained silent.
“No,” said Keladry. “I left a meeting with my Lords Wyldon and Raoul for this – you do not get to give me the silent treatment.”
“Nothing happened, Lady. He said some stuff,” Tobe jerked his chin towards the other boy, “and I punched him.”
Kel opened and closed her mouth, discarding any number of sarcastic remarks. “And who, may I ask, is this?”
“I’m a stable hand, Lady. Dylan – joined up in Port Caynn.” The other boy introduced himself meekly, between glares at Tobe.
“Right,” said Kel. “Well, Dylan from Port Caynn-”
“Oh, no Lady,” said Dylan, a wistful look settling on his face. “I’m not from Port Caynn, though I just joined up with the Own there abouts when you were passing through a good three months back – I’m not actually from much of anywhere. Although sometimes I like to think that I belong to the underbelly of Queen’s Quay in another life. Lord High Magistrate of the docks perhaps, or Champion Fisher of King’s Canal.”
Kel decided that she didn’t want to know. Neither could she find it in herself to hate the kid, although she could see why he and Tobe would chafe.
“And Lerant?” She asked instead.
Lerant looked at Kel, mouth open about to speak, and fainted into a healing coma.
“He got in the way of the punching,” shrugged Tobe.
“And then your horse stomped on him,” added Dylan apologetically.
*
When Lerant came to, there was a large Keladry-shaped blur reading some documents by his bed in the healer’s infirmary.
“Hey, there you are” said Kel, coming into focus.
“Is it bad?” Lerant asked, eyes wide.
“You’ll live.” Kel smiled.
“Oh, that’s good,” said Lerant before lapsing into silence. He was dimly aware of the changing watch being called outside.
“Taken out by two fourteen year olds,” Kel teased gently.
“Don’t forget your horse, whom just may happen to be the Dark God incarnate,” snarked Lerant, attempting to sit up, wincing, and lying down again.
“Two fourteen year olds,” repeated Kel. “It’s a pity about your nose, though.”
Lerant’s hands flew to his face, “What’s wrong? Am I hideous?”
Kel grinned and Lerant looked away in offence. “You’re horrible Kel, worse than my Lord Raoul ever was, joking at the expense of a wounded man.”
“Oh come on,” said Kel. “It’s not as though you’ve never broken a bone before.”
“Never on my face!” Lerant said indignantly. “Not all of us have a thousand and one uses beyond being beautiful, Lady Knight and Protector of the Small.”
“That’s stupid,” Kel said flatly, uncomfortable with the nickname, as Lerant knew she would be.
“Is it?” asked Lerant archly.
“Yes. Besides,” said Kel, avoiding the question. “You’re as pretty as a daisy.”
“A daisy?” Lerant scoffed.
“A peony?” offered Kel, while Lerant raised his eyebrows. “What, I think daisies are pretty,” added Kel defensively.
“They’re common,” retorted Lerant. “Like little girls. I would never call you a daisy.”
“What would you call me, then?” Asked Kel, suddenly curious.
“A crocus,” said Lerant after a moment’s thought. “Modest and pretty, too, in an understated sort of way. But tough, growing where others don’t, or can’t.”
Kel stared.
“You’re an odd one,” she said eventually, her cheeks a bit pink.
“Ah well,” Lerant said airily. “I never claimed I wasn’t.”
“Thanks,” said Kel getting up to leave. “For Tobe, I mean. I’d like to think that I can watch out for him everywhere, but I can’t. So it means a lot to me that -”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Lerant. “Really.”
“Okay,” said Kel doubtfully. She joked awkwardly, “And if you ever lose your looks, I could hire you to follow Tobe about, keep him out of trouble.”
“I’m afraid you’re getting the impression that I did this for you,” sniffed Lerant, shifting his weight and not entirely unreminiscent of Peachblossom. “Since when am I on your side?”
“Right,” said Kel uncertainly before turning to leave Lerant’s designated, curtained area. "I'll see you later."
Lerant watched Kel make her way back out of the infirmary, as she stopped along the way - calling jokes to, and chatting with her men – and just a bit on edge.
Lerant closed his eyes. “See you.”
*
Kel/Lerant
933 words
Tobe gets in a fight, Lerant suffers, Kel is a crocus.
*
Ye Goffs
*
“Oh my Goffs,” Lerant was saying when Kel arrived in the stables. “My nofe!”
“Your what?” absently asked Joffrey, the Own’s chief healer, who seemed to be checking Lerant’s leg for breaks.
“My nofe, my nofe!” repeated Lerant, becoming slightly hysterical. He clutched at his nose emphatically; it was streaming blood.
“No, no” said Joffrey. “Don’t do that. You might shift something.”
Lerant, from his position on the floor, gave Kel a pitiful look.
Keladry closed her eyes but when she reopened them, the scene was the same: a healer attending to a battered standard-bearer – the latter looked only slightly better than the stables themselves – one bruised and bloodied boy and another, this one coddling a ruffled horse who seemed to be playing mother hen.
“Peachblossom,” snapped Kel, addressing whom she perceived to be the most reasonable of the culprits. “Your stall, right now.”
Peachblossom eyed Kel imploringly but after a beat of chilly stare, untangled himself from Tobe. The gelding slinked past the other boy, snapping at the air in front of the boy’s face, and over Lerant’s body, hoof clipping the tip of the injured nose.
“Ouff!” Exclaimed Lerant and Joffrey the healer, having attended to the leg to his professional satisfaction, turned his attention to moving cartilage.
“Tobe, what happened?” Asked Kel, ignoring the unfolding medical drama.
The boy glowered at Kel, his bruised mouth forming a swollen scowl, and remained silent.
“No,” said Keladry. “I left a meeting with my Lords Wyldon and Raoul for this – you do not get to give me the silent treatment.”
“Nothing happened, Lady. He said some stuff,” Tobe jerked his chin towards the other boy, “and I punched him.”
Kel opened and closed her mouth, discarding any number of sarcastic remarks. “And who, may I ask, is this?”
“I’m a stable hand, Lady. Dylan – joined up in Port Caynn.” The other boy introduced himself meekly, between glares at Tobe.
“Right,” said Kel. “Well, Dylan from Port Caynn-”
“Oh, no Lady,” said Dylan, a wistful look settling on his face. “I’m not from Port Caynn, though I just joined up with the Own there abouts when you were passing through a good three months back – I’m not actually from much of anywhere. Although sometimes I like to think that I belong to the underbelly of Queen’s Quay in another life. Lord High Magistrate of the docks perhaps, or Champion Fisher of King’s Canal.”
Kel decided that she didn’t want to know. Neither could she find it in herself to hate the kid, although she could see why he and Tobe would chafe.
“And Lerant?” She asked instead.
Lerant looked at Kel, mouth open about to speak, and fainted into a healing coma.
“He got in the way of the punching,” shrugged Tobe.
“And then your horse stomped on him,” added Dylan apologetically.
*
When Lerant came to, there was a large Keladry-shaped blur reading some documents by his bed in the healer’s infirmary.
“Hey, there you are” said Kel, coming into focus.
“Is it bad?” Lerant asked, eyes wide.
“You’ll live.” Kel smiled.
“Oh, that’s good,” said Lerant before lapsing into silence. He was dimly aware of the changing watch being called outside.
“Taken out by two fourteen year olds,” Kel teased gently.
“Don’t forget your horse, whom just may happen to be the Dark God incarnate,” snarked Lerant, attempting to sit up, wincing, and lying down again.
“Two fourteen year olds,” repeated Kel. “It’s a pity about your nose, though.”
Lerant’s hands flew to his face, “What’s wrong? Am I hideous?”
Kel grinned and Lerant looked away in offence. “You’re horrible Kel, worse than my Lord Raoul ever was, joking at the expense of a wounded man.”
“Oh come on,” said Kel. “It’s not as though you’ve never broken a bone before.”
“Never on my face!” Lerant said indignantly. “Not all of us have a thousand and one uses beyond being beautiful, Lady Knight and Protector of the Small.”
“That’s stupid,” Kel said flatly, uncomfortable with the nickname, as Lerant knew she would be.
“Is it?” asked Lerant archly.
“Yes. Besides,” said Kel, avoiding the question. “You’re as pretty as a daisy.”
“A daisy?” Lerant scoffed.
“A peony?” offered Kel, while Lerant raised his eyebrows. “What, I think daisies are pretty,” added Kel defensively.
“They’re common,” retorted Lerant. “Like little girls. I would never call you a daisy.”
“What would you call me, then?” Asked Kel, suddenly curious.
“A crocus,” said Lerant after a moment’s thought. “Modest and pretty, too, in an understated sort of way. But tough, growing where others don’t, or can’t.”
Kel stared.
“You’re an odd one,” she said eventually, her cheeks a bit pink.
“Ah well,” Lerant said airily. “I never claimed I wasn’t.”
“Thanks,” said Kel getting up to leave. “For Tobe, I mean. I’d like to think that I can watch out for him everywhere, but I can’t. So it means a lot to me that -”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Lerant. “Really.”
“Okay,” said Kel doubtfully. She joked awkwardly, “And if you ever lose your looks, I could hire you to follow Tobe about, keep him out of trouble.”
“I’m afraid you’re getting the impression that I did this for you,” sniffed Lerant, shifting his weight and not entirely unreminiscent of Peachblossom. “Since when am I on your side?”
“Right,” said Kel uncertainly before turning to leave Lerant’s designated, curtained area. "I'll see you later."
Lerant watched Kel make her way back out of the infirmary, as she stopped along the way - calling jokes to, and chatting with her men – and just a bit on edge.
Lerant closed his eyes. “See you.”
*
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 03:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 03:47 am (UTC)The awesomeness was largely unexpected, and made up for the suckage of other shows. Like Veronica Mars. THEY KILLED LAMB, IMOGEN, THEY KILLED HIM. OFF CAMERA.