The Blacksmith's Apprentice [M/M] - CLOSED

Closed for grdybiwife.


Lucan Breck had never had his own room to sleep in. The small family home was above the blacksmith's shop, and only mama and papa had a bedroom to themselves. Lucan was the youngest child of four, and the only boy, thus the obvious heir and future apprentice to his father, the village's only smithy. "Ivor Breck, Smith" read the carved wooden sign hanging out front, and the boy, who was the only one in his household who could actually read it, always expected that one day it would be "Ivor Breck & Son", and eventually, "Lucan Breck, Smith". For now he had only to dream of it, and now that his three sisters had all been married off and gone away, he had the cozy space next to the kitchen hearth all to himself in which to dream.

The boy had never taken after his father--anyone could see that. Ivor Breck was a broad, thickly-built bear of a man, with tree trunk arms and great orange-red muttonchop whiskers. Young Lucan had thin arms with ropy muscles and just a shock of reddish hair on top, no chin whiskers to speak of even as he reached the robust age of eighteen years. He hoped fervently to grow a beard as well as the great big muscles his father had, but could grow neither despite his efforts. It was only that distinctive fiery hair that convinced outsiders Lucan was not, in fact, a cuckoo's egg.

He went to bed sore every night from the labours his father pushed him through. Lucan was a daydreamer, a thinker, and was often distracted, his head drifting among the clouds as papa shouted at him to get back to work. He'd been helping out in the shop as long as he could remember: small, unimportant tasks his slightly frail body could handle. He'd been on the sickly side as a child, nearly consumptive, but it didn't stop him from trying to be strong. He did try, even if he was distractible, easily winded, and had many times hurt himself in the shop. He just wasn't suited to smithing, and his failure only made him more determined. He knew he couldn't be an errand boy, a dogsbody, for the rest of his life. Some part of him would like to have been a scholar, a philosopher, maybe a playwright, or a clerk, but he knew it was silly for a working class boy to dream of such things. He could read and write passingly well, at least - he'd had a noble great-aunt, now deceased, who had taught him as a child, and it had given him lofty aspirations (or, from his parents' point of view, delusions of grandeur).

Still, Lucan Breck had every intention of carrying on his father's trade as any worthy son would. He suffered in his attempts to become bigger and stronger, and he was sure his father didn't appreciate his suffering. Papa also had no patience for his daydreaming and dawdling.

He dreamed day and night, and slept deeply. His sisters used to say he could sleep through a barbarian raid. This morning, mama nearly tripped over him as she went about her morning duties around the kitchen.

"Gods preserve us!" Ardith Breck huffed, giving her sleeping son a little kick. "Still abed, lazybones? You plan to make yourself useful today at all?"

Lucan struggled against his covers, blinking sleepily. He groaned in pain. Papa had had him doing plenty of hauling yesterday, and he ached all over. He felt like his back had been pummeled with stones, and his legs were so stiff he could scarcely bend his knees. Mornings were a struggle for Lucan at the best of times, and this morning was hardly among the best. "Hunh...?" he moaned in a hazy voice. He was disoriented and confused to have mama instead of papa nudging him awake. "Where's pa? Why didn't he wake me?"

"I suppose because he's meeting with his new apprentice this morning," said his mother, clucking her tongue in disapproval.

"Apprentice!" Lucan cried out, pushing himself up to an unsteady standing position with another deep groan. He kicked his covers aside. "What about me? How can he be taking on an apprentice?"

"He needed someone he could rely on," Ardith replied, digging into a mound of bread dough with her small but tough hands. Even mama's arm muscles were more impressive than Lucan's. "I know you've been trying, Luc, but he can't wait forever for you to grow up."

Lucan stomped his foot impatiently. "I am grown up!" he protested, his voice still cracking from sleep. "I'm a man now, mama--I'm supposed to be learning the trade! Why won't he let me? It's not fair!"

"Oh, a man indeed!" mama huffed skeptically, placing one floury hand on her hip. "Can't even get out of bed on your own--and such whining! If you're a man, you're going to need to prove yourself a man. Instead you mewl about not getting your way!"

Lucan stuck his chin out petulantly. "It's not fair," he muttered under his breath as he grabbed a hunk of yesterday's bread, a wedge of cheese, and a cold sausage for his breakfast. He ate hastily, and then laced up his boots, all the while fuming over this apprentice business. It was practically blasphemous for papa to take on an apprentice when he had one in the family. Sure he was small, and not very strong. Sure he was clumsy and distractible, and had once singed off most of his eyebrows getting too close to a hot forge, but he was blood, damn it! He was the smithy's only son, and deserved to have been given the right of first refusal!

Lucan's heart dropped lower and lower as he descended the stairs to the oppressive heat of the shop and heard the noise of two men conversing above the crackle of fire. Now he would never get a chance to take on more responsibilities! He would be kept a worthless errand boy, well into manhood. What a humiliation. He put on his least impressed face as he prepared to meet this apprentice of papa's.

Averey Inman was a nervous wreck. It was the first day of his apprenticeship, but that wasn't the source of his anxiety. It was his natural disposition, much to the shock of his family. The son of a knight, however illegitimate, was expected to carry a certain amount a calm that was lost on Averey. Aside from his blonde hair, hawking build, and piercing gray eyes he was nothing of the man his father was. Though the man never denied him, and made it a point to stop and spend time with the boy whenever his duties brought him near, Averey carried his mother's name.

One would think that he carried on her disposition as well but even Cecily Inman had been known for her adventurous spirit and willful independence. Which is how she found herself unwed and pregnant at 19 by a squire of the King's First Knight. Given his noble lineage, their affair was a clandestine one and Cecily never had illusions who being\\\\\\\\\*+hisked away from the sleepy village of her birth. Even despite his promises, she knew the daughter of an innkeeper could never be more than a barmaid so she was not surprised when he came to tell of his impending nuptials. Cecily told him of the child she carried and gave her blessing of his marriage, fully prepared to raise the child on her own. She wasn't the first peasant to be impregnated by a noble, and she wouldn't be the last, but she didn't feel herself shamed as the villagers insisted she should. Cecily felt blessed by the Gods to bare a child that came from love and not out of necessity as most babes, as she herself was born. She believed that her good spirits were the reason for her easy carrying and Averey's nearly painless birth.

In truth, Averey wished he had his mother's strength of will instead of his father's brawn. He thought that perhaps his life would have been easier. It was common knowledge in their village that he was a bastard and the insults were never whispered. The other children teased him relentlessly, until those times when his father came to visit. Then he was everyone's best mate. His father knew the truth, though and insisted that his son use his size to his advantage but Averey could never bring himself to harm anyone. Even when he was pelted with rocks and poked with sticks.

Most of the adults in the village believed him slow, but he was probably more literate than most. And he knew his numbers. "I'll not have an idiot and a bastard for a grandson," his Papa would say. "Not much I can do about the latter." From an early age Averey could be found at his grandfathers side doing tallies but neither his mother nor grandfather wanted running the tavern to be his trade. They wanted more for him, even if he didn't believe in himself.

It was his grandfather who had arranged his apprenticeship with the Smithy Breck. He knew Ivor had a son but from what the man said, Lucan hadn't shown much promise in learning the family business. So an agreement was struck between the two men, all the ale he could drink if he took on his grandson. Ralf, Averey's grandfather, knew the agreement favored the smithy but it showed how much he believed in the boy.

Knowledge of the agreement only served to put more pressure on Averey to make his Papa proud. He knew in his mother's eyes he could do no wrong, which served to comfort to ease his anxiety a bit. But of course it did not alleviate it. He barely slept the night before his first day and left his small room in the back of the Inn before his Papa even woke up. His mother was in the kitchen, the first loaves of bread were already in the oven and she was setting the first pot of stew on the fire. Averey rushed to get the pan from her and as usual she shook him off.

"Leave it boy," she said as she mushed his mop of curly blonde hair. "I was doing this before you were born and all while I carried you in my belly. I'll bet I'll be doing it when you're safely way from this place."

"I would never leave you Ma," he said as he sat at the table for his breakfast of sausage, boiled eggs, and yesterday's bread. Being the offspring of the innkeeper meant that Averey was afforded the best food since they could afford it.

"Nonsense boy. You will do something great and it can't be done here. Now go wake Papa and be off with you. You mustn't be late. And leave those nerves of yours, they'll be here when you get back," she said with a smirk and Averey frowned. Cecily put her arms around her son and kissed his cheek. "I love you Averey you know that. And if Papa didn't believe in you he would not have made such promises on your behalf. But you must believe in yourself. You are a man now and manhood is not for the timid."

"Yes Ma," he said and she pushed him from his stool.

"Now off you go."

Lucan breathed hard, almost seeming winded, as he reached the bottom of the staircase and charged toward his father and the man who was with him. Even taller than pa, and nearly as thickly built despite being just on the cusp of manhood, the blonde boy was quite a sight. He was also a familiar sight, Luc realized with dismay as he drew closer, his pale blue eyes wild and piercing with the intensity of furious judgment. Probably everyone in the village knew who Averey Inman was - gossip was always the biggest business of small towns. While they were close in age, Lucan had never had many dealings with the innkeeper's grandson, though he'd several times been among the knots of rowdy, teasing youngsters who had given the bastard boy a hard time over the years. Lucan wasn't so very rambunctious himself, and had never exactly been confident among his peers. Certainly he'd been teased more than a few times himself for expressing a fondness for reading while trying to fit in among a group of illiterate children. Hopping on the proverbial wagon with the others when they teased the Inman boy was an easy way to feel like he belonged among them.

Now that they were men, so to speak, it would be politic to leave childish ridicule behind, but seeing who had taken his rightful place as papa's apprentice filled him with impotent rage that he could only seem to express in the juvenile japes of his youth.

"I know who you are, Averey Inman!" Lucan hollered, pointing an accusing finger at him as he snarled. "What did your whore mother give up to get you a posting like this?"

Ivor Breck wasted no time in cutting off his son's rampage, swatting him soundly upside the head and hefting him easily aside. Getting right down in his furious face, Ivor glared with severe warning. "That's the last I ever want to hear of you speaking so, boy!" he hissed. "How dare you bring disgrace on your family like this? You'll be civil to Averey and mind him around here, is that understood?"

"It's not fair, papa!" Lucan groaned through clenched teeth, trying to pull at the strong hands that held him by the shirt. He was fighting back angry tears now. "Why him? Why did it have to be that big dumb dullard? It was supposed to be me!"

"We've been through this, Luc," Ivor replied evenly. "Gods know I'd sooner be passing on my trade to my own boy, but you've proven time and again you're more interested in idle fancies and loafing about. Now you're making an ass of yourself, taking out your failure on a perfectly fine and capable lad. I can only hope you'll keep an eye on Averey and learn a little something about how a young man should behave! You'll watch your fool mouth, or I will deal with you severely, lad."

Lucan gritted his teeth and seethed at these words. He had never felt so humiliated. This bastard boy was usurping his place, and his own father was inviting it! How could he go on? Did he still have a chance at showing himself worthy, or had he missed the last opportunity to follow in his father's footsteps? If there was indeed a chance remaining, he knew he wasn't going to succeed by continuing to cross his father. "Yes, papa," he croaked out, his expression still twisted with petulance. But gods, how he wanted to give that Inman boy a thrashing!

"Go and fill the buckets now, and be smart about it!" Ivor barked, letting go of him finally and returning to his apprentice.

Lucan's breath came in short, furious huffs, and he hesitated before moving to obey papa. He waited until he had caught Averey's eye over his father's shoulder, scowled, and spat on the ground. With this, he finally whirled around to seize two empty buckets and hurry out back to the well.

Averey knew that Lucan would be angry. And he expected his insults. It wasn't the first time, he or anyone else had called his mother that awful name. He had learned to ignore the venom of the villagers and chalk it up to ignorance as his mother had always told him. "People are always going to fear anything different," she told him more than once when he came home in tears from some affront or another. Eventually the tears stopped, replaced with indifference.

But today was different. He found himself gripping the tool that Ivor had been explaining before his only son came charging at him. Averey thought he had some nerve when Lucan was teased nearly as much as he was by the children. By all accounts he was a lazy, self-important, entitled, little twit but his mother had always taught him anything negative should be left unsaid. In his mind, Averey hurled all sorts of malicious things at the other boy, but that's where they stayed. His mother had enough to deal with from the villagers without them believing her son was a lout. Averey clearly had more respect for his parentage than Lucan, and that was something he could be proud of.

"You'll have to excuse Luc," Ivor said quietly as he wrenched the heavy smithy tongs from Averey white knuckled grip. There were tears in his eyes but they didn't hide the quiet fury that burned in them. "You would think having you around would make him want to prove himself more but that's not my Luc. Rather pout than put in a hard days work, too much coddling as a babe if you ask me but don't tell his Ma. She'd give me a wallop for sure," he added with a smirk and a pat on the back. "Your Ma's a good woman Averey and just so you know she had nothing to do with your being here. We were friends but when I married and she turn up with child, that pretty much ended that. I ain't proud of it but you know how it is with the folks around here."

"No worries, Sir. And Papa told me all about the deal he made for me. I know Ma had nothing to do with it," Averey said in almost strained tone. His voice was deep and brassy but was still prone to cracking in times of distress. The smithy let out a little chuckle at the sound and Averey rubbed his throat, swallowed hard. He cleared his throat before he spoke again to insure it was back in it's proper tone. "Thank you again for taking me on. Our ale ain't that great so I appreciate you giving me a chance."

Ivor let out a loud booming laugh and clapped his hand hard on Averey's back. So hard the boy lurched forward, only making the smithy laugh harder. "You're right about your ale but it quenches the thirst well enough I'd say. To be honest I'm getting on in years and this village needs a proper smith if it wants to survive. Let your work speak for itself and the people will forget all about who your parents are. Now once the boy gets back I'll show you how to pull steel. Might as well throw you to the wolves and see how well you fare."

"Whatever you think is best, sir," Averey said and Ivor cringed.

"And cut it out with the sir stuff. I know you a respectable boy, else you wouldn't be here. Call me Ivor, or smithy if that's more comfortable for you. No sense reminding me how old I am."

That made every laugh, if only a small one but it was much appreciated. "Yes, si...i mean Smithy."

"Alright now that that's settled. Where's that boy and the water? Lucan!!"

Lucan muttered under his breath as he stalked out back to the well, carrying an empty bucket in each hand. This drudgery was so humiliating. He might as well have been a daughter instead of a son. At least then all he would have to worry about being good at was keeping a house, and he’d be married off like all his sisters, without a care in the world. Instead he was stuck trying vainly to force his frail body into a strong man’s occupation, and trying to come to terms with failure after failure. He felt a lump burning in his throat and swallowed hard.

He tried to get his mind off of his disappointment and shame, and softly began to sing an old song he’d learned from mama as he hauled up the water:

”I have seen the lark soar high at morn
Heard his song up in the blue
I have heard the blackbird pipe his note
The thrush and the linnet too
But there's none of them can sing so sweet
My singing bird as you.

“If I could lure my singing bird
From his own cozy nest
If I could catch my singing bird
I would warm him on my breast
For there's none of them can sing so sweet
My singing bird as you...”

He paused with his full buckets and looked up at the sky. He managed a tiny smile as he watched a sparrow swoop in a great, cheerful circle and alight upon the roof. He gave a little whistle at the bird, and then remembered his task. He could hear papa yelling for him.

“Coming!” Lucan hollered back, grabbing the buckets and hurrying toward the shop. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the swallow take off again, and when his head turned to observe its path, his boot slid on a damp patch of grass, and his ankle twisted around painfully, pulling a gasp from his throat.

“Damnation!” he growled as one of the buckets overturned thanks to his clumsy effort at keeping himself from falling. Why did he have to be such a bungler today, of all days? Probably his father was even now telling Averey Inman all about how inept he was. He had to be better than this. He had to!

“I’ll be right there, pa!” he hollered toward the shop as he grabbed the empty bucket and hurried back to the well, working the crank feverishly. Already his shoulders were sore and his back felt stiff, not to mention the pain in his twisted ankle. Finally he refilled the bucket and turned back to where he’d left the other. A neighbourhood cat had wandered up to investigate the bucket, and was testing the water with one delicate orange paw. Finally it leaned down to lap at the water.

“Shoo, shoo!” Lucan urged, trying to coax the cat away. The creature instead purred and rubbed its head against the hand trying to shoo it away. Lucan was helpless against the animal’s affections and laughed, scratching it around the ears. “Ohh, who’s a sweet little babe? Did you find a drink? Handsome little beggar. You’re a ginger, just like me.”

Lucan heard papa calling once more, sounding even angrier now.

“Coming!” he screamed. He reluctantly left the cat behind and heaved up both buckets, returning at last to the shop. He set the buckets down at his father’s feet, not without some humility.

“Gods, son!” Ivor sighed impatiently. “Did you fall in the consarned well?”

Lucan furrowed his brow and ignored the question. He looked down at his feet and noticed that one of his boots had gotten sloshed all over with water when he’d slipped and overturned the bucket. He straightened and looked fully at Averey, his piercing eyes silently daring him to make fun. Averey wouldn’t look him in the eye, but only seemed to clench his jaw and brood.

Lucan haunted the shop in relative silence as Averey’s training went on. He took care of a number of tasks such as sweeping up, hauling up more coal from the coal cellar, and fetching tools as his father asked for them. He kept his eye on Averey whenever he could, resenting him and searching for more reasons to despise the boy his father preferred over him.

When Ardith swept down the stairs with lunch and cider for the three men, Lucan could hardly believe only half a day had passed. He was exhausted and sore. Not that such a state was different from any other day. He sat down near Averey, fighting hard not to show how winded he was as he helped himself to boiled eggs, dark bread, and cheese. He watched Averey’s arms. Lucan had always thought of Averey as thick in a fat sort of way, but his bulk was usually concealed beneath a lot of clothing. Here around the forges, they had to dress down a little, and Averey had pulled his sleeves up quite a bit. There was a lot of muscle, not fat, building up his bulky arms. Lucan swallowed back his jealousy. He would never have arms like that.

Averey held back his laughter as Lucan came back with the buckets. Aside from a noticeable, the skinny boy was wet up one side and his usually well kept red hair was wild around his head. Even if he had been terrible upon their first formal meeting, Averey would show him a bit more respect than he himself had been shown.

As the day wore on he started to feel sorry for the boy, tasked with jobs he had probably done since he was a boy. Averey felt insulted for him but he could understand why the Smithy didn't give his only son more complex tasks. He wasn't exactly lazy, but boy was he slow. Things that might have taken Averey mere moments took Lucan half the day. He often hummed aloud to himself, much to Ivor's embarrassment, but Averey enjoyed the tunes. He imagined Lucan had a wonderful singing voice, even if the most he gave Averey were mumbles and grunts.

When lunch time came, he expected to be sent away to have his meal at the inn but when Ivor waved him over to join he and Lucan at the shop table just outside in the small courtyard behind the workshop. He remained quiet as Ivor told of the rest of the days tasks, trying desperately not to catch Lucan's eye. He could feel the heat of his glare and it made him terribly uncomfortable. It wasn't Averey's fault Ivor had accepted his apprenticeship, but he understood that it was easier for Lucan to rage against him than his own father.

"I appreciate your taking me on Ivor but perhaps I should take my leave of you," Averey said into his plate. He took a long draw off his mead and wiped his mouth with his forearm. "I don't want to cause you and your family any stress by being here. And don't worry I'll tell Papa to honor your deal."

"Oh stop your griping boy," Ivor said as he reached across and messed his hair. He glanced across at his son and kicked him under the table. "And it'd serve you to mind your eyes Luc. Averey here might be too much a gentleman to give you a good cuffing by you're not too old for me to put you over my knee. As for you Averey, you'll stay and honor your Papa's pledge to me. You got promise boy. Aside from being built like a smithy, you pick up quick enough. Sharper than I'd thought you'd be. You read?"

"Some, sir," Averey answered and smirked at Ivor's narrowed eyes. "Ma says my hand needs some work."

"Numbers, too then I take it."

"Yes, Papa had be doing tallies as soon as I could talk, though I think he needed help remembering more than wanting to teach me his trade."

"Well that's more learning than the average village smithy. What's say you finish out the day and the next. Make your decision at week's end whether or not you'll stay on. No sense disappointing your Papa with a rash decision."

Averey thought that might be best. The last thing he wanted to do was make his Papa think he was ungrateful. All he ever wanted was to make his family proud and he figured this was the best way for him to do it.

"Ok week's end I will make my choice," Averey said as he offered his hand. Ivor took it and shook, then shift his eyes to Lucan as he let go Averey's hand.

"And mind your manners until he does. I'll not have you making an ass of yourself to push him out. Do you hear me boy?"

Lucan could almost have slid under the table moaning with embarrassment when his father spoke of taking him over his knee. To think - at eighteen years old, a man, being still given spankings! How could papa say such things, and right in front of Averey? It was mortifying!! Lucan's face went deep red with shame and anger, and he hunched so low over his plate, his nose was almost buried in his bread.

Just as bad was learning that Averey actually had some proper schooling and could read as well as tally. So much for him being a dullard! At least Luc had had something to make fun of the boy for other than his parentage when he'd genuinely thought Averey was an imbecile. And now, knowing that Averey was literate - Lucan's one legitimate brag - Luc had nothing to feel special about anymore. Smart and strong, big, muscular, a quick learner... of course papa would trade him in for Averey Inman any day.

Lucan was so vexed he didn't even hear his father's instructions except for the final query:

"Do you hear me, boy?"

"Yes, pa," Lucan replied through gritted teeth, heedless of what he was supposed to have heard. He had a good idea of what it probably was. Only the usual. Shape up, pay attention, be a man, quit dallying, behave, and the like. Oh, and probably now there would be a regular be-nice-to-Averey to add to the list

Damnation! He could try hard not to be quite so cruel, certainly, but there was no way he was going to lick Averey Inman's boots!

Lucan kept an angry scowl on his face. It was important to him to be furious, for the moment he wasn't angry, he knew he'd be crying, and if there was one thing that embarrassed Ivor Breck even more than his son's singing, his lofty literary aspirations, his idle fantasies, and his myriad failures around the shop, it was the prospect of his son crying. Crying was what women and babies did, not men. Lucan was not a woman, and he was not a baby. He swallowed it back with effort, and curled his fists so tightly that his fingernails left angry red crescents upon his palms. He couldn't even finish his lunch.

After they had finished their meal, Ivor announced he had to be off for an hour or so. A neighbour down the road had several horses that wanted re-shoeing, and it was far simpler for Ivor to bring shoes and nails to the horses than for the owner to bring all of his horses to the smithy. The boys were instructed to keep an eye on the shop while he was gone. Averey could practice his hammering, and Lucan was to keep his fool mouth shut and tidy up, and to work the bellows if Averey needed it.

Left alone at the forge, the boys went about their business in tense silence for a short while. Averey had been learning to hammer a keen, smooth, symmetrical edge for a chisel, and the steady clang-clang-clang of metal on metal sounded like home to Lucan. If he didn't look at Averey, he could at least pretend it was papa working, and not that usurper.

It was still a struggle not to cry. Lucan finally snuck a few looks at Averey while he worked. He knew just how to hold the hammer, just how to strike, and he never missed, while Lucan had always lacked hand-eye coordination. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

He thought he was going to lose control of himself, so he searched for some excuse to get out of here for a short while. Averey would need fresh, cold water with which to temper his new tools, so Lucan decided it was time to refresh the buckets.

"I'm going to the well," Lucan muttered in a low, hazy voice as he seized the buckets and retreated out back.

Once he was outside, Lucan gulped in several deep, refreshing breaths. He stumbled a little as he walked, his vision becoming blurred with unwanted tears. As soon as he reached the well he let the buckets fall and dashed around the opposite side of the well so no one could see him from the house. He sank down into the grass and leaned up against the side of the well, pulling his knees against his thin chest and finally succumbing to a bout of weeping.

Averey barely heard Lucan as he left. It wasn't that he was ignoring him, just that he was intent on what he was doing. Ivor had given him a task, though simple to the experienced smithy, the making of a chisel was as foreign to him as weaving a basket. He wanted to do well. As he hammered, he allowed his mind to wander. The monotony of the clang allowed him to ponder on his life's choices, or lack there of.

He was a man now, and that would require some alterations from his general state of being. He would have to find a way to earn his keep around the inn. Papa often joked that he was eating up his profits, but Averey couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth in his jest. He was the largest of the family, and his mother barely ate more than a child. He wondered if she gave up her portions to his ever growing appetite. His father had suggested on his last visit the it was time for Averey to find a trade to help out around the house.

"A man's got to earn a wage boy," he told him as they sat under one of the trees in the courtyard behind the inn. Averey lay on his back, watching the leaves fall as his father sharpened his sword. "You're too old for squiring and I doubt your mother'd approve you giving your life over to the King. Not what I want it either to be honest, even if your my only boy," he added with a not so gentle fist to his shoulder. It was true, though he had married and had three legitimate children, none would go on to carry his name. Averey didn't either but he still claimed him none the less, much to his wife's dismay. She did not approve of his continued relationship with the boy, and by default, his mother. She knew there was still a deep love between them, but despite what she might believe, Cecily would not allow Averey's father share her bed on his visits. She was no one's second fiddle. "You're mother has given you a good life here, better than I could have, and it's about time you start paying it back."

"But Da, how do you know?"

"Because, boy, all I know is fighting. From the time I could stand I held a sword and shield. Like my Da and his Da before him. I didn't get much choice in the matter. My life was chosen for me before I was born. But you son, you got choices. You could be anything you wanted. A scholar, a musician, a innkeeper. Hell you could be a drunkard if you so chose though I doubt your Ma would appreciate such a decision."

"Could I be King," Averey asked with a smirk and his father narrowed his eyes at him.

"I'll pretend you didn't say that," was his father's response and he mushed his hair that though fuller was just like his. "But think on it, seriously, Averey. You're a man now. In years not just appearance. It's about time you start acting like one."

Averey figured staying on with the smithy would be a good first step. Though he didn't choose it, he wouldn't run and hide, his usual to response to adversity. No, he would stay and he would learn all he could from Ivor, regardless of what his lout of a son thought of him. At the thought of him, Averey looked around the shop for him but Lucan was nowhere to be found. He'd said he was going to the well, two of the buckets were gone and the one that was left didn't hold nearly enough water to temper his chisel. He would have to start again. Averey couldn't help but think that this was an effort in sabotage on Lucan's part and he wouldn't have it.

He stormed out to the well preparing to give the boy a piece of his mind. All the while he stomped the grass, he worked out what he might say. His thoughts centered on Lucan defying his father but halfway there he could hear crying. Sobbing really, but he couldn't see who was producing the gut wrenching sound. He slowed his pace but continued on and as he rounded the well was surprised to find Lucan. His knees draw up and his face buried in his hands, Averey couldn't help but feel sorry for him. It occured to him then that his meanness had little to do with Averey and everything to do with being passed over by Ivor for a stranger. Averey had grown up with the knowledge that he would not be following in his father's boots prints. He knew that when the time came he would have to make his own way in this world. Lucan on the other hand had been slapped in the face with it, and probably just this morning. For that alone Averey felt for him.

Slowly he sat down across from him, not wanting to get to close. No matter his gentle demeanor, his size was intimidating and the last thing Averey wanted to do was make Lucan feel worse no matter how much of an ass he had been. As he looked at him, Averey wanted nothing more than to wrap the smaller boy up in his arms and wipe his tears, but he knew better than that. Instead he asked a simple question. "Are you hurt Lucan?"

At the sound of Averey's voice, Lucan froze. His shoulders stopped shaking, but his posture tightened, his arms wrapping around his head. He held his breath as long as he could, and then it burst out again in another sob, his chest hitching a few times before he pulled in another long breath. It was just one more humiliation to add to the pile, knowing that now Averey Inman had seen him crying.

Are you hurt Lucan?

The question rang through his head, echoing like an abbey bell. It struck Lucan that Averey actually wasn't teasing him... that he actually wanted to know if he was okay. Lucan had been ready to call him a whoreson and dismiss him bitterly, and it made him feel all the more miserable. Was Averey actually... nice?

This couldn't possibly be worse. Averey Inman was outshining him in every way possible, and Lucan couldn't even hate him for it. His anger turned inward instead.

He loosened his arms a little and peeked out at Averey with bloodshot eyes, shaking his head gently. "Please," he said hoarsely, sniffling, "could you just leave me alone? And please don't tell my father."

"I won't tell your father," Averey said as he shifted a little closer, his long think legs folded in front of him. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked Lucan square in the eye. "But, I'm sorry but I can't leave you. Not like this. Ma would have my hide if she knew I'd left someone in tears and did nothing. Don't worry I won't tell her either. Being at the inn you learn to keep secrets," Averey finished with a little smirk.

His mother had always told he had a handsome smile, just like his father. His eyes sparkled a little, giving them a mischievous glint. He'd heard the same from some of the village girls, those who would be seen with him at least. But he had very little interest in them anyway and usually avoided them, with the exception of the miller's daughter, Isabella. Like his mother, she cared very little what the villagers thought and Averey counted her as his closest friend. His only friend really, but perhaps today he could change that.

"You don't have to tell me why. Don't have to talk to me at all. But I can't leave you Lucan 'til I know you're alright."

Lucan's brow knotted in confusion. Why? Why did Averey even bother to care? Perhaps he only pretended to. Some kind of knightly code or something. Probably Averey thought he was pretty special for helping someone in distress. Lucan turned his face away and clenched his jaw, blinking rapidly and trying to summon a little bravery, a little manly dignity. He didn't want anyone paying attention to him when he was in such a shameful state. He ignored Averey, wiped his hands across his wet face, and pushed himself unsteadily up, turning to get back to his task.

He tried to crank the bucket up quickly and efficiently, to demonstrate that he could at least do some basic things right, but fate seemed to have it in for the accident-prone boy. His damp hands slipped and he lost his grip on the crank. As the full bucket careened back down to the bottom of the well, the crank flipped back sharply toward him, and struck him squarely in the nose.

Lucan cursed and stumbled back; losing his footing, he sprawled out on his behind, and brought both hands up to his face. They came away bloodied, and he watched the red colour in horror. Lucan had never exactly been brave when it came to blood.

Even worse was when he noticed Averey rushing to his side. He felt like the clumsiest, most useless person who ever lived, and he couldn't bear having Averey Inman, of all people, witnessing him at his height of ineptitude.

Lucan pressed both hands over his face again and moaned through them, "This is the absolute worst day of my life!"

Averey watched in amazement as Lucan tried pump the well. He might have offered his help if not for the fervent look in the smaller boy's eyes. It was clear he was trying to cement that Averey's concern was unnecessary, and worse, unwanted. In truth he expected nothing less from the boy and started to leave him to it but when calamity struck, again he couldn't abandon Lucan.

He went to him immediately, dropping to one knee beside where Lucan lay sprawled in the dirt. Without a world, Averey ripped off the sleeve of his shirt and put it to Lucan's bloodied nose. If they were in a better, more friendly space he might have laughed, but Averey knew better and wouldn't make the boy feel worse than he already did about himself. He pushed Lucan's thin, almost feminine hands away from his face and noticed immediately how delicate they were. These were not the hands of a workman, but Averey tried his best not to look too long. He didn't want to make Lucan uncomfortable as well as injured.

"It's still in place but you'll definitely be black and blue before too long," he said as he dipped the cloth in one of the buckets that Lucan filled before his meltdown. He wet the makeshift rag and wiped away the blood, gave Lucan's nose a gentle squeeze just to be sure there were no loose parts. So close, Averey couldn't help but notice those icy blue eyes and slight pout in Lucan's full lips. They looked so soft. It was this thought that got Averey quickly to his feet. "If you come by the inn later my Ma could take a look at it and give you a poultice so the bruise doesn't last. I'll finish filling the buckets for you. Just hold that rag tight so the blood stops," Averey said, already busy cranking the bucket up. It only took him half as long to fill both buckets, when he was done he looked to Lucan and gave a small smile. "Do you need help getting back?"

Lucan barely moved or breathed as Averey gently tended to his bloody nose. He kept his eyes fixed on the centre of Averey's chest so he wouldn't have to look him in the eye. The boy's kindness burned like a heap of hot coals being poured over his head. All over again he felt the temptation to cry, but he kept it back this time. There seemed to be an aura of calm all around Averey, and Lucan found his breathing and his heart slowing down gradually. The chaos in his head also numbed slightly, and soon he felt centered, no longer in danger of losing control of his emotions.

He sat silently on the ground, holding Averey's torn shirtsleeve to his nose as instructed, as Averey filled the buckets. He realized that now they could both have a trump card to play if they wanted to--Averey could so easily tattle about his meltdown and his slacking in his duties, while Lucan could claim his bruised face had been a result of an assault from Averey... although it would be one boy's word against the other's, and papa hadn't exactly thought much of Lucan lately. The more salient point seemed to be that Lucan didn't really want to have ammo to use against Averey anymore. If life were a battle, Averey had trounced him fair and square. Lucan seemed to have been born for failure, and keeping up a fight at this point would be sad, pathetic, and foolish... and the one he was fighting against should never have been an opponent at all.

Could they possibly be friends? Lucan felt embarrassed by the very idea. While they had a commonality in that they had both grown up misfits, being teased by the other children, Lucan was now keenly aware that Averey had only ever been teased over something that he had nothing to do with, and no control over--the circumstances of his birth. Lucan, on the other hand, was faced with his own personal failings on a daily basis. If he just tried harder, focused more, worked at being more like papa....

Lucan shook his head gently at Averey's offer of help and used the side of the well to pull himself up into a standing position. He let Averey carry the buckets and continued to hold the rag to his nose as they walked back to the shop.

"You oughn't to have spoilt your shirt," he said in a quiet, nasal voice.

"Ahh, don't think of it," Averey said with a shrug as he hefted the two buckets down the shop stairs. "If I am to stay on with your Da I'll need short sleeves anyway. It's awful hot with long sleeves and those long leather gloves." With that, he set the buckets down on the floor and torn away the other sleeve, revealing both his thick arms. It wasn't long ago that his muscles were coated in a thick layer of fat, but almost over night it disappeared leaving his corded biceps visible just beneath his skin. In the time between is 16th and 17th year Averey had surpassed his father in height and now another year later it seemed he would have a physique to match before too long. "There, now Ma won't complain too much since I evened them out," Averey said with a smirk as he pulled on the gloves and apron.

Before long he was back hammering at the steel that would become his first chisel. He hand to refire it, but that didn't take too long. Restarting the tool had it's benefits. This time he found a rhythm and didn't over think his strokes. It took him only half as long to reach the point he had before and he smiled as he dipped the red hot ore into the cold water. "What do you think Lucan? Will your Da be pleased," he asked the smithy's son. He might not have been blacksmith material but Averey was sure he knew enough to judge his craftmanship. "Be honest."

Lucan watched him work, wide-eyed and somewhat amazed as he had been when he'd watched his father work as a small boy. He was gradually beginning to feel that same sense of awe, that warm admiration of a strong man's muscular physique and honest labour. Yet, there was another feeling in the mix, one that made him feel both uneasy and excited.

He bit down on his plump bottom lip when Averey showed him his finished work, holding the still-hot metal tool with a pair of tongs. He leaned close and examined the edge with a critical eye, ready to be as honest as Averey had requested. While this morning he would have wanted to take any opportunity to criticize the usurper's work, he was feeling rather differently now.

"It... it's a good edge," he finally said, speaking only just loud enough to be heard. "Your taper doesn't look... quite fully symmetrical though." His eyes flicked up to meet Averey's, and there was a little hesitation in his expression. He licked his lips quickly. "Still... for your first day, it's... impressive. About a hundred times better than I could ever do." His eyes dropped, and his chin trembled ever so slightly before he drew himself up and puffed out his thin chest, doing what he could to preserve his dignity.

"I'll just, um... clean up the forge for you a little," he added, grabbing a small shovel to work the burning coals toward the centre of the forge and add fresh coal to the edges of the central, glowing pile.

He had expected Lucan to be overly critical, so Averey was shocked when he heard the compliment at the end. He knew his work wasn't perfect, he just wanted to be sure he wasn't wasting the smithy's time with his presence. The last thing he wanted to be was a burden to the Breck family so Lucan claiming his work passable meant he showed promise.

Averey watched Lucan's face as he commented, noted how hard that compliment may have been for him to give, making him appreciate it all the more. He took up the other shovel and followed the Breck boy's lead, shoveling in coal. Averey figured a blacksmith should be familiar with all the duties required to run the smithy, however menial they may have been. "Thank you Lucan, I appreciate that. Truly," he said with a warm smile. "Maybe you could help me learn? Just because you're not as strong as me doesn't mean you don't have the know how. I bet you could talk me through any task here."

Lucan felt a strange flip-flopping sensation in his stomach when Averey smiled at him. He felt quite weirdly out of sorts, and wondered idly if he'd eaten a bad egg at lunch.

The fierce red glow from the forge seemed to emphasize the golden hues of Averey's hair. Luc thought those golden curls made him look somewhat cherubic.

"Y-you want me to h-help you?" he stammered. He put down his shovel and felt dizzy for a moment. Averey was looking at him and he felt decidedly odd about that. He took a sudden step back, and his foot nearly went into the water bucket. Instead he merely upset it, and himself, falling back clumsily and almost braining himself on an anvil as he went. The water from the bucket spread quickly across the stone floor, and wet his breeches all the way up. At this point, Lucan simply looked resigned to his fate rather than embarrassed.

"Maybe I should just... stay out of your way," he sighed, sitting in the middle of the large puddle.

At first Averey thought he might have fainted. The way Lucan stumbled backwards, he thought maybe the bump on the nose was worse than it seemed. But the way he landed with that almost pitiful look in his face made Averey want to hug him. He didn't of course, instead simply offered his hand to the now fully sodden Lucan Breck. "Now what would Smithy Breck say about you hiding out? How about this, since my Papa and your Da made arrangements on our behalf, how about we strike a deal of our own? You help me learn smithing and I help you with your...uhhh...lack of body awareness. I mean no harm but I've seen fawn fresh out the womb with better coordination," he said jokingly as he pulled him to his feet. Before he could stop himself, Averey was bent over dusting dirt from Lucan's leg. It was meant as a friendly gesture but as he stood he realized that he'd not let Lucan's hand go. He drop it instantly and took a step away, his eyes dropped to the ground.

"I just think it would look good if your father saw us working together instead of against each other," Averey added after a long awkward pause. He still hadn't looked at Lucan, he couldn't, afraid that he might have let on to his deepest secret. Only his mother and Isabella knew, and they had both guessed on their own. And still Averey had yet to say it out loud.

Without looking up, Averey turned to busy himself replacing the tools he'd used. It didn't take him nearly as long as he would have liked so he was left to study the edge of his chisel. He ran his finger along the tap, noticing immediately what Lucan meant about it being off. One side was visibly higher than the other and that wouldn't do. He wondered if he could fix it, but at the moment he didn't trust his shaky hands.

Lucan let Averey hold his hand, and didn't breathe much as the other boy dusted him off. He felt ashamed at the surge of pleasure the contact gave him. He thought back to all the times he'd fallen down as a child, all the times he'd bruised himself or scraped his knees, and how papa had sighed with impatience or made some annoyed remark about how clumsy he was. Maybe once in a while, if he'd been truly hurt, pa had helped him up, but it was with a brusque tug on his arm, and normally when pa touched him it was with a cuff upside the head. Papa didn't beat him, or really hurt him, and Lucan knew he had things a lot better than some other boys. He also knew papa loved him, and cared about him, in his own way. But he never hugged him, or patted him on the back, or even shook his hand. Averey's gentle manner was beginning to reach something deep inside his heart.

He didn't respond to Averey's proposal right away. He was having a hard time gathering his thoughts, which was, for the distractible and daydream-prone Lucan, situation normal, but this time it was for other reasons.

Finally he picked up the bucket he'd just spilled. "I'm gonna go refill this," he said in tone that was hoarse and still nasal from his earlier cry and subsequent blow to the face from the well crank. When Averey looked at him with mild concern, he actually managed a smile. "I promise I'll yell for you if I meet with any disasters along the way."

After a few moments they shared a brief chuckle, and Lucan hurried off... though not too quickly. He kept careful watch over where he put his feet, and this time, when he was turning the crank, he was sure not to put his face within range of its wrath.

By the time he returned with a full bucket, mercifully without any incidents or fanciful distractions, he had made up his mind. He set the water bucket next to the anvil Averey had been working at, and inclined his head to face the other boy.

"Um... I think you're right," he admitted, licking his lips and shifting his weight from foot to foot. "My father will appreciate if we're... getting along. And, um... yes. I think it would be good if we could... help each other." He bit down on his bottom lip, and shyly offered Averey one of his hands.

Averey took the offered hand and smiled down at the boy. It felt like this was the start of something good between them. Perhaps even a friendship, but he wouldn't put all his eggs in that basket. "Thank you Lucan," Averey said quietly as he let the hand go, reluctantly of course. There was a surge of energy up his arm as they touched that terminated somewhere close to his nether regions. The look on Lucan's face didn't help, the way his teeth tugged at his bottom lip, there was only one way to describe it Averey thought. Cute, and that got his cheeks warming, so much so that he had to turn away.

"So first order of business how about you give me a hand making this chisel perfect before your Da gets back," he said as he fired the rod again. He turned it slowly as Ivor showed him earlier, making sure that he heated the metal evenly. When Averey was satisfied with the hue, he put it to the anvil and began hammering at it with the same diligence as before. Hammer, hammer, turn, hammer, hammer, turn. Over and over again.

Lucan watched closely as Averey worked the rod, carefully squaring it as he went, working at the taper and perfecting the edge. Now and then he pointed out a spot that wasn't perfectly even, or offered him a different hammer that would give more precision.

When he wasn't paying attention to the chisel, he was watching Averey's arms, and the way his muscles bunched when he struck with the hammer.

When Averey gave him a final look at the chisel, Lucan nodded appreciatively. "I think it's as perfect an edge as I've ever seen," he said softly, looking up and into Averey's eyes with an uncertain expression. As much as he was coming to genuinely like the boy, it was still hard for him to manage his own jealousy.

He was beginning to work up the courage to apologize to Averey for his earlier cruelty, but Ivor returned to the shop then, and Lucan quickly pressed his jaw shut, turning his bruised face away so his father couldn't see. But Ivor's attention was all on Averey anyway, wanting to check out the work he'd done. Lucan crept away to the coal cellar without a word to bring up another load.

"Well would you look at this," Ivor said as he eyed the tool Averey worked so hard. "For your first time, I have to say I'm impressed."

"To be honest," Averey said, as he glanced around the shop behind the smithy, wondering where Lucan had gone. Hiding from his father, he was sure, but that wouldn't stop him from telling the man what really happened. "That was my third attempt and after Lucan gave me a few pointers."

Ivor scoffed at that and waved his hand dismissively at Averey. "Kissing my arse will get you nowhere, especially if it ain't believable. Don't worry boy. I wanted to keep you on before, don't make me change my mind," he said with a hard slap to his back.

Averey could have let it lie there but he didn't think that would be true to his word to Lucan. He wanted there to be little doubt to Lucan on his intentions of friendship, so he rightly let his father believe him so incapable. "No Ivor, it's truth I tell you. He may not have wielded the hammer but he helped direct it's strike. My first attempt was passable but without Lucan's watchful eye I would not have been so successful. Honest sir."

Ivor looked shocked to say the least. It was clear that he had never thought his son learned anything from him. In truth he thought Lucan's presence in the shop was a chore for the boy and his interest in carrying on the family tradition was some convoluted fantasy. It seemed to him the boy never paid much mind to him but if Averey were telling the truth, which Ivor believed he was, he had been sadly mistaken. Perhaps his son did have promise but blessed with the unfortunate build of his mother's family, he knew that Lucan didn't have the muscle to be a successful smith. But he wasn't as useless as Ivor had believed, and that misjudgement saddened him.

"Well I had my reservations about leaving the two of you," he said directing Averey over to the sharpening wheel. "I'd assumed I would return to find you gone and my sharp tongue offspring in a pool of his own blood. For once I'm glad I was wrong. Come let me show you the next steps."

Lucan had been just nearing the top of the coal cellar steps when he managed to overhear the tail end of Averey's statement.

"...without Lucan's watchful eye I would not have been so successful. Honest sir."

Lucan sat right down on the stair above him, a little overwhelmed. Warmth was spreading through his insides and down through his extremities. Averey really had no reason to give him such credit.

He held his breath and listened to his father's response. It didn't satisfy him much, but in a few moments there were tears rolling down his cheeks again. He cried silently for a little while, truly unsure if his tears were a result of his father's bleak expectations, or Averey's bewildering kindness.

After he'd recovered himself, Lucan kept himself busy while his father and Averey worked at the sharpening wheel. Later that afternoon, his father had a moment to take him aside, and finally got a close enough look at him to notice his slightly battered face.

"What's all that about, boy?" he demanded. "Tell me you didn't go starting a fight!"

Lucan shook his head quickly. The look in his father's eyes was easy to read - he assumed the most likely scenario was that Lucan had shot his mouth off again, and goaded Averey into hitting him... and Ivor would certainly think the hit was entirely deserved. "No, papa, I swear! It was just an accident - even Avery could tell you. I did a very stupid clumsy thing, that's all. Just the usual. I hurt myself with my own clumsiness, and I feel very foolish."

"All right, all right, I believe you!" Ivor replied, only narrowly resisting rolling his eyes. He looked down at his son with a long sigh and a certain amount of pity. The kid sure tried, but gods, what could he do with that puny, fragile, clumsy little body? "Hey - I know you helped Averey out today, and that's just what I want to hear. You keep up more like that, hey, Luc?"

Lucan nodded quickly, not missing the expression on Ivor's face. He wasn't sure pity was better than exasperation, but he took it. He also accepted the closest thing to praise he had ever received from his father. "Yes, pa! I will!"

Lucan kept himself busy and mostly out of trouble the rest of the afternoon, hovering nearby where Averey worked so that he could make himself useful at any opportunity. At the end of the work day, when things were wrapping up and Averey prepared to leave, he hovered especially close, remembering Averey's invitation to see his mother for a poultice, but it wasn't his only motivation for wanting to go with him.

"Um, can I go back with you?" he asked Averey. "I mean, I can go see your mum... like you suggested." He turned to his father. "Is it okay, pa, if I walk home with Averey?"

Ivor shrugged, a little perplexed, but relieved the boys seemed to be getting along. "I'm sure it's fine with me, so long as he don't mind, and you behave yourself."

Lucan restrained his happy smile, turning to Averey again. "You mind? Should we walk together?"

He was glad Lucan reminded him, Averey had almost forgotten offering his mother's help. It would also give them time to get to know each other outside of the shop. Averey had a sneaky suspicion that Averey might be less nervous without his father looming around. His was a nice man, Ivor, but he was hard and unforgiving to Lucan from what Averey could tell.

"Sure," He said matching the other boy's excitement. "Ma will like me spending with a more reputable company than the village drunks." He gave Lucan a friendly pat on the back that he realized may have been a bit more than the boy could handle when he stumbled forward a bit. "Maybe Papa will let us have a little ale at the bar like the rest of the workmen," he added with a smile at Lucan as they step out onto the road that ran through the center of the village.

Only the craftsmen actually lived here, homes built up and around their various shops. It was easier work longer hours if your home was around back or upstairs. The Inn was at its center and had been as long as Averey's Papa could remember. His own grandfather had built it with his own hands when he was just a boy and his family had been in it ever since. And Averey loved it.

The less pious of their little community were the only people that frequented the tavern, and the occasional passing merchant or weary traveler. None of whom cared much of his parentage and treated the boy like a mascot of sorts. Everyone was always ready to mess his hair or offer a kind word, even the occasional sip of ale. Cecily would always shoo her son away but Averey would always find his way back. He never wanted to leave. For his Papa and his Ma, he would learn a trade but he would never leave them.

Averey led Lucan in through the back of the end and immediately called for his mother. "Ma...Ma..."

"Quit your hollerin' boy I hear ya," Cecily said as she came in from the barroom. She was shocked to see her son with someone other than the Millner girl but she tried not to let it show. "Well if it isn't the Brecker boy, to what do we owe the pleasure," she said in greeting with warm smile.

"He had an accident earlier. I told him you might be able to give him a rub to keep the swelling down." Averey gave Lucan a nudge, urging him to go to his mother but his feet seemed planted to the floor. Cecily was used to such reluctance in her presence and at this point in her life it bothered her little.

"Come, let's have a look at you then," she said as she grabbed the boys face and held it up so she could see the bruising. "Well ain't broke but I'd hate to see such a handsome face marred by bruising. I bet you boys worked hard today. Why don't you go have an ale with Papa and I'll bring you something to eat while I go out to the garden." Averey went charging towards the door and Cecily yelled after him. "And just one boy, I'll not have a drunkard for a son."

This place was quite a new and intimidating thing for Lucan. The noise of the boisterous crowds within scared him a little, but Averey was so at home here, and the closer they got to the inn, the more Averey seemed cheerful and at ease, and the more timid Lucan felt.

He found Averey's mother to be wonderfully sweet, even if he was shy at first, and he even managed a little smile. His father had always said good things about Cecily, and Ivor clearly hadn't been wrong. Lucan almost apologized to her for anything bad he had ever said or even thought, but his throat seemed to be closed.

Lucan felt a bit of panic when Averey dashed off in the direction of the barroom. He looked between Averey and his mother, both going in different directions, and he felt a little abandoned. He was loath to admit how this place, and the people in it, scared him, but he wanted Averey to stay close to him, and be that nice kind comforting boy he'd been when Lucan was hurt earlier.

Finally Lucan hurried after him, but paused in the doorway, overwhelmed at the people. He shrank back, eyes very large, keenly aware of his small size, his less than favourable reputation around the village, and today, the embarrassing bruising around his nose. He felt like a lamb among wolves, and he trembled a little as his wide, moist eyes searched for Averey, his safe place.