#fuzzles and champ: honnleath

[mapplestrudel]

Scenes from a Childhood in Honnleath - Ch. 2: A New Friend

Ugh! I reached a point where any more stewing wouldn't actually help. So there, a new chapter ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Chapter 1 can be found here. A little fluffy scene from when they’re grown up (at Skyhold) can be found here as text and here as audio

Tagging the Rona Cheering Squad @princess-underthemountain, @element-104, @john-cousland, @gwen-cousland because new chapter ^_^

She is there the next day, sitting in the same spot, not too close to the tree trunk but well within the reach of the old, wide crown, her freckled nose stuck into a book.

He thinks of shooing her away, but as she keeps to herself and doesn’t willingly bother him, he returns to his usual oak business, and tries to find faster climbing paths, builds little boats from what he finds lying around, and carves little templars with the small carving knife, his dad had gifted him last birthday, all the while pretending she isn't there.

Still, he observes her. While dangling on a low branch, he notices when she closes her book and throws it into the grass with a deep sigh of relief. She reaches into her bundle to get out another one, immediately starting to read it. Curious, he lets himself fall into the soft grass and saunters over to her. As he slumps down beside her, she doesn't dignify him with so much as a glance. He picks a blade of grass and starts chewing on it.

“How did you like it?” he asks casually after a while, arms on his knees, looking ahead.

“What?” She looks up with furrowed brows, puts down the book into her lap, and stares at him.

“The book you’ve finished.” There’s a small smirk dancing on his lips as he nods at the discarded item in the grass.

“Oh… I…uhm.. ” Her eyes wander over to it, as she takes a moment to think. “I’m glad it’s over I guess. It was boring, but my mother insisted I should read it. I like this one better.” She pats the book on her lap.

“What's it about then?”

She scrutinizes his face, stopping longer at his eyes and their patient honeybrown gaze, and he notices small muscles twitching as she thinks, until a happy smile sneaks into her face, and she starts shuffling through the pages with eager fingers.

“So you see, there is this girl - here -” she lifts the book so he can see an illustration of a redhaired, freckled girl with two braids sticking out horizontally on both sides of her head - “and, and, and her dad’s a pirate king, and she’s, like, superstrong! She can lift a horse with one hand!”

“That’s strong alright.”

“Yeah, I know, right? … Hm, can you lift a horse?”

“Me? No.” He looks to the ground with a pinch of regret, but then up to her again with proud eyes. “But I lifted this huge pumpkin last year. It was really big, like this!” And he throws out his arms, almost hitting her in his enthusiasm. “Whoops, sorry.”

Unfazed, she nods acknowledgingly. “Ha, not bad. But I bet you wouldn’t stand a chance against her!”

“Well good then, she’s just in the book.” He shrugs with a smile.

“Yeah, maybe…” She looks pensively at the book in her hands, before her enthusiasm bubbles out once more: “Though it would be fun to have her around and go on adventures together!”

He hums agreeingly, but has nothing more to say, and so he doesn’t, and a silence filled only by Nature’s songs wraps itself around them like a warm comforting blanket.

“Did you carve it?” A sudden thought breaks through and she looks at him curiously. “What?” “The pumpkin I mean.” Now it’s her time for a little smirk, and she immediately finds herself face to face with a scar on his hand. “Sure did! I tried a mabari face. Even cut my hand, see?” “Nice.” She nods approvingly. “Yeah! Ma made pumpkin soup and her famous pumpkin pie after.” “Oh I love pie!” “Pie’s awesome! And my Ma’s pumpkin pie is the best.” He’s outright bragging now, but she doesn’t seem to mind, and both sink again into their thoughts, this time of pies, while the wind picks up a little and ruffles through their hair - hers tightly braided to her shoulder blades, with some rogue locks flittering about, his short locks dancing in the breeze.

“So... what’s your name then?” he wonders anew, and breaks her from mouth-watering thoughts.

“What?” “What do people call you?” “Oh. Well…,” she shrugs and huffs a little a self deprecating laugh, “mostly “Stopdoingthat”, I guess?” “That’s a stupid name.” “Yeah well, tell them!” “Who’s them?” “My mother and sister, mainly.” “Oh.” “Do you have siblings?” “Yes! Three actually, 2 sisters and a brother.” “Wow. That sounds… exhausting.” “Yes, well...it sometimes is. Then I’m glad when I can sneak away for a bit.” “So this is your sneakaway place?” He nods. “One of them anyway...”

“It’s awesome.”

“Yup.”

She pauses and looks down, almost whispering her next question. “Can it… can it be my sneakaway place, too?”

She looks up with big grey eyes and he’s stumped for a moment because he finds the brewing storm in the back reflected in them.

“I… um…” Scratching the back of his head, he hinks on her question. He likes to pretend it is his tree alone, but he’s very well aware that it’s not.

“I’ll try not to bother you. You won't even know I’m here!” There’s a pleading tremble in her voice that makes him draw a swift conclusion.

“Alright then. Welcome to your new sneakaway place! Want me to show you around?”

“Yes!”

“Come on then!” He jumps up and starts running. “Last one at the tree is a loser nug!”

They race to the tree, he wins only at an arm’s length because she first stored her books away in her bundle. She sticks out her tongue at him when she reaches the trunk. Shrugging nonchalantly, he leans against it and folds his hands to give her a boost up.

They settle down in the crutch she had occupied the other day. Looking into the countryside with dangling feed, he explains what can be seen, and she listens, sucking in all the information like a sponge. There’s the market, there’s the smithy, the chantry, his house can be seen, too, and oh, that house over there? It’s where old Mrs. Winters lives and her apple pie is just as famous as Ma’s pumpkin pie...

Her head is reeling with information when he’s finished, but she doesn’t feel like a complete stranger anymore. Lightning flashes and thunder pounds through the air, and they look at the spectacle unfolding.

“I’m really sorry I yelled at you…” he muses into a fading thunder. “ I just… I had a fight with my brother and it was completely my fault… and.. well…”

“... you needed to stew on it in peace?“

“... exactly…”

“I see… I’m sorry I disturbed your stewing.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know. And now this is your sneakaway place, too, so… Never mind…”

He shrugs and smiles at her, and she smiles back and once more they settle into the bliss of a comfortable silence, each hanging in their own thoughts, while enjoying the other’s company. The first rain drops start to fall then and scent the air with summer freshness.

“You still haven’t told me your real name, you know?”

“Oh… yes… uhm…” She extends her hand, smiling brightly. “I’m Rona.”

He returns the shake and the smile. “I’m Cullen. Nice to meet you, Rona.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Cullen.”

By then the clouds open their gates. They climb down carefully, wait out the strongest of the shower’s wrath, and run home in the aftermath’s drizzle. Both are wet to the bone when they arrive, but both are vibrating with a fuzzy feeling of new beginnings they cannot fully grasp.

[mapplestrudel]

Scenes from a Childhood in Honnleath - Ch. 1: The Intruder

[A/N: Okay, so this is as good a first chapter as I can manage. It is not betaed, but I decided to not worry and not make a “serious fic” of Rona’s story - I don’t even have a fancy name yet… O_o So whatever follows, might be just scenes, drabbles, dialogue, bla, though I hope to keep some semblance of chronology. That being said, I’m still proud of this headchild of mine ^_^ ]

~~~~~ * ~~~~~

(Honnleath, 9:21 Dragon)

“Hey! That’s my tree!”

The sandy haired, maybe 10 years old boy cannot believe his eyes which are now narrowed to honey coloured slits. He’s had a fight with his brother, and mother send them both away to calm down. He just wants to be alone and sulk, but somebody had the audacity to climb up the old oak tree - his tree! - and made themselves comfortable in his favourite crutch!

“/Your/ tree?” a small voice pipes unbelievingly from above.

“Yes! /My/ tree! Now get down and leave me alone!”

“But it’s surely large enough for two people?” the voice tries again.

And of course it is! This oak is older than he can imagine, a solitary tree with a wide reaching crown. He just doesn’t want to be around people at the moment.

“No it’s not!” he shouts stubbornly. “Take off!”

“But…”

“No buts. Get lost already!”

He sees the intruder putting something into a bundle before finally climbing down the gnarled branches in fluid movements. Whoever it is, seems to have climbed their share of trees, and he cannot help but secretly acknowledge the shown skill.

Impatiently he waits at the foot of the trunk, kicking at rocks and last year’s acorns, and hitting the grass with a twig while his mind is still at working through the fight. “It was his fault!” he mumbles under his breath and wipes his nose with his sleeve.

He is so absorbed in his thoughts, that he startles a bit as with a thump somebody lands beside him. It’s a girl, his age approximately, and dressed in a summer attire similar to his, grey flap trousers, a half clean cotton shirt, bare feet. Her auburn​ hair is held in a shoulder long, sloppy braid some curls have escaped from.

She throws him an angry look from greyish eyes and huffs indignantly. Without another word she stalks off, a green bundle hanging over her shoulders.

With a sigh of relief, the boy starts climbing his tree, focussing on the rugged feeling of the moss and lichen covered bark, and the familiar pattern of the branches he has climbed so often. A slight breeze whispers through the leaves with the sunlight, ruffling through his hair. And when he reaches his favourite crutch, looking far into the countryside with fields and roofs and clouds, his anger has almost dissipated.

It flares up a bit again, however, when he sees the strange girl sitting not too far from the tree, reading a book. Why is she still here? She should have left, as he had told her!

But then a pang of embarrassment hits him and he blushes as he thinks of his behaviour. He should apologize, he knows. Maker, he can almost hear his mother telling him to apologize! Still, he’s not yet ready to admit it. Maybe later. Maybe he’ll also ask what she is reading.

Later then.

But she’s gone when he finally climbs down and heads back home as the sunset paints the blue sky in bright hues of red and orange.