Campfire Conversation

JP between Gonyaul and Wim:

Wim watched Gonyaul butchering. He took it all in quietly. It was nice because his mind was full of noise plans and schemes, hopes and anger.

When the butchering was nearing being done, Wim worked on the fire. Dry grass, twigs, then branches, and finally some bigger logs. Wim used his hand axe to chop some of the logs and gathering the shavings to make kindling.

He pulled the flint and steel from his pack and struck it getting a spark into the grass then gently blew on it to get the flames to catch the twigs and branches. He made a bit more smoke as it built the heat till it became a real fire.

Wim picked a steak to cook and pulled a pan from his pack. He pulled a strip to dry to make some jerky. Tying a strap and hanging it over the side of the fire to dry it. Wim was better at fire making than archery. Wim also pulled some bread out of his pack to share.

“Have you ever felt the trees calling you?” Wim asked Gonyaul as he sat down and rolled a stone closer to the fire to rest the pan on.

Gonyaul cleaned his hands by rubbing them vigorously in the dirt so that it mixed with the deer blood. Then he would brush off the dirt, the friction stripping the mess from his skin and repeat the process until he was satisfied that the blood had been removed; all that remained were dirt covered hands and forearms, which he wiped off on his work clothes. He admired the fire that Wim had made as he rejoined the nobleman. His taste buds were salivating at the smell of the meat cooking over the open flame.

Wim’s question was similar to Islana’s, how peculiar. Was this a normal talking point to these people? Taking a seat, with the fire between them, Gonyaul replied, “Nature does not speak in human tongue, it speak in nature tongue. If heard tongue of man calling, then not trees.” He hoped that his explanation made sense because he used it earlier and he wasn’t sure it did then. Conversing in common tongue was going to be easy if he could just keep using the same words to talk to different people he jested in his thoughts.

Gonyaul looked preoccupied, like a day dreamer who was mesmerized by how the embers in the fire burned; however, He of course was quite aware of his surroundings. He arched a brow in curiosity towards Wim and asked, “What is your story?”

Wim laughed.

“Not out loud but in one’s head,” Wim said as he flipped the meat in the pan.

“My story? It is simple. I was raised across the sea. My family did what noble families do, they send their children off to schools to learn. I had many teachers and learned a little bit of a lot of things. My family sees me as a black sheep and my father wanted me gone and I was sent here to make something of myself,“ he said.

The tone in his voice indicated his displeasure with his father.

“Sir Zane and the Duke are over my house,” he said pulling the steak off and passing it over on a plate to Gonyaul as he starts to cook another steak.

Gonyaul also laughed, “Trees in one’s head?” His mind exploded with an imaginative depiction of a tree, growing out of someone’s head, conversing as people do. He actively listened; however, some of the expressions Wim used were foreign to him and made things sound strange. For example, did his family have trouble telling the difference between a black sheep and their own son? How was that possible.

Gonyaul thanked Wim with a bob of his head as he took the steak filled plate. “Thank you”. His stomach was cheering for what was about to come down the hatch soon.

“What will you make of yourself?” He inquired.

Wim laughed and started speaking, “Right now, a business man of sorts. I am hoping to find the right thing to trade between here and home. I am hoping to learn about the Peoples’ use of magic. But my people do not treat magic users or those accused of magic well.”

“Learning about magic would put me at risk too,” he said.
“The Brewmaster has been good to me…” he said.
He leaned back and looked at Gonyaul.
“Sometimes I just want to run away and find a simple life,” he said.
It was a romantic dream, though he would starve to death and he knew it.

Little did Wim know that he was in the presence of a people of magic that he had never experienced before. Gonyaul was not going to divulge that about himself though, so he merely smiled in affirmation to Wim’s list of aspirations. The nobleman was a jack of all trades it seemed, but perhaps a master of none yet. Gonyaul was confident he would make the necessary sacrifices in the time to come so that his full of potential status would take shape from the manifestation of accomplishments. He just felt from the way Wim’s tone hitched in his throat that he really wanted to prove himself.

The steak on his plate had cooled sufficiently by now, so Gonyaul enjoyed his first savory bite. Deer meat was lean and gamy; however, it was so nice to have something different. He recorded in his taste buds every detail. After swallowing he smiled and added to the conversation, “no thing as a simple life, just life.”

He paused a second and asked, “what stop you from doing what you feel you want?”

Wim smiled at that question.
“The same things that stop everyone I guess. Money, lack of knowledge, people in power with different visions, opportunity …” he answered as he poked at the fire with a stick.
Wim held back the underlying thoughts of everyone wanting a piece of him and what he could have and the thought that he might actually be a failure as his father suggests.
That discomfort drove Wim to redirect the conversation.

“So what is your story?” Wim asked with some genuine interest.