Berra — Salid 01
????, Fire Season
After the Humakt and Chalana Arroy heroquest, when Berra is somewhat recovered. After [[[s01:session-26|session 26]]]
Berra finds Sid after a meeting on the subject of fair shares, and hands him his twist of cloth with money in. “Salid. This is a share for the journey we were on.” She pauses only a moment to see if there are questions.
He blinks, but takes it. Says, “How much should my ransom be now?”
“Oooh. What are you?” Berra considers. “Because… well, you have status. You’re a free trollkin. I don’t really… no, I don’t know at ALL how that works with Trollkin. So what is your status?”
He considers this. “Value Trollkin. Free Warrior, I suppose.”
“Sssssh……” Berra whistles through her teeth, thinking. “A warrior’s ransom is five hundred Lunars, but you need to find someone to pay. Who would pay yours? You can lodge that with someone – Irillo probably – and it will cover most of it.”
He gives a little nod. “The temple of Argan Argar would hold it for me, maybe?”
“Definitely. And you could ask them and check if it’s suitable. But I think it is. If you’re a little short, they only have to ask your friends to make up the shortfall, then. But you know when you put a price on yourself, you’ll have people trying to take it?”
“Better than my head.”
“Fair enough. But if you lose your ransom, beware of the head. If you need me to speak at the Temple and say you stand to battle, I’ll do that. Can you attest yourself?” Berra’s looking ready to go, with just that one little pause to check.
“It’s Argan Argar. They’re good at judging Trolls.”
“Well, welcome to war. Fire Season is going to want you.”
He makes a little face. “We see. Trollkin not suited for the rage of war. Not when other ways possible.”
Berra pauses, no longer set to leave. “The rage of war is a bad way to follow, for most. Rajar’s anger is holy, but mine is just… well, mine’s wrong. But there’s still war coming, and you should think out how you can help. I’m going to be volunteering, but maybe your path will be to keep Irillo safe. Journeys and roads.” She shrugs, suddenly a little lost. “I don’t know.”
He gives a little nod, and goes back to what he was doing, sharpening his pikehead. “It is said that War is a means of Politics by other ways. That an aim should be had, before you draw a mace, and all blows should be towards that aim.” Then, after that gnomic statement, the whetstone restarts
“Usually, from you, it isn’t said in that accent.” Berra looks at Salid very carefully. “Are…. all trollkin like you?”
He gives a little smile, “More than admit. But that was a saying of the God. Always know WHY you draw a mace. Has occured to me sometimes, when I was a slave, that I fought because Master would beat me, but not know why HE fought. Was he the slave?”
Berra considers, and thinks. “Depends. Did he know why? I mean, sometimes I fight without knowing why, but that’s because other people do that thinking for me. I only need to know one thing.” Carefully, reverently, she draws Wind Tooth, and from a pouch at her side draws forth a stripped twig.
“Troll fights because fight is there sometimes. When big easy to think that way. Slave of habit.”
Berra puts the bit of wood neatly on the floor, and carefully taps it with Wind Tooth to make a groove that holds it to her sword. “That’s why I’m a warrior. Because being biggest isn’t the same as having the right to hurt others. Just the ability. But here’s what I know, and it’s… it’s almost what you know. Separation.” She taps the wood into the floor, and two parts fly off. “What’s important? That’s the only question to ask.”
“My people. We are a curse. Seen that way. But am I not also Uz? Irillo and you all kind. See Salid as more than Curse. Maybe others will too.”
Berra reaches forward to scrabble up a couple of bits. “Is that why you’re going to uncover your spear? Um, I should probably mention that I didn’t… uh… I did think of you as just a trollkin. I don’t now, but I … well, I did.”
“Am trollkin. But maybe trollkin not just trollkin”
“That’s what I meant. You’re one of them, but they’re more than I thought. But I put it badly.” Berra holds up the two bits of wood, and examines the cut. “You didn’t answer my question, but you don’t have to. But if you need a warrior, and I’m free, I’d work with you, as long as I don’t have to work with Dormal.”
He nods. “Thank you. I do not now, need a warrior. I do not yet know my path. But it scares me. “
“It… sounds like a lot of dead trolls, frankly. Or a lot of Hero Questing. But you said that you’re not alone, with your god. So I’d go with the Hero Questing.” Berra shrugs, but offers over one of the bits of wood. It’s carved with small flowers, abstractly. “Here you go. The important bit.” The other, she holds in closed fingers, out of the way. “Always, what’s important?”
He takes the wood, and runs fingers slightly over it, then sniffs, and licks it, “Family.”
It’s a very tactile piece, for a troll, with a tiny chip of flint caught at the bottom of one of the flowers. “Well, start with that. But ask yourself often, or you’ll find your spear is aiming in the wrong direction.”
He gives a little nod, and gets on with his chores.