22 But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet:
23 And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry:
24 For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.
Luke 15: 22-24
She had been fixing herself something to eat and bantering with Falon and Aponi as she did, when she caught a movement from the corner of her eye, and recognized it as Rook. She had asked if he wanted blackwine and when he did not answer her she turned to him to ask again, and what she saw brought her heart up to pound in her throat, and the bowl she was holding to slip from her grasp.
Just the shock of what she was seeing was enough to bring her to a pause, but when she became cognizant of who it was that had a hand on Rook's shoulder and moved so slowly, might be, it took her breath away for a moment. Fonce. The dirty, emaciated figure that moved to drop down on a brace of furs, was Fonce. He did not so much sit down, and he simply dropped. It was like watching a long column of bones simply collapse in upon itself.
Still rooted to her spot, it was Rook that spurred both she and Falon into action, calling for food, water and cloths. Falon raced off to his wagons to find clothing, and she quickly made a bowl of stew and grabbed a bota of water and moved towards where they sat. Kneeling down she held the bowl out to him and spoke softly, trying to keep the emotions out of her voice, simply offering him food. She had to blink back tears as she watched the thin arm reach for the bowl, and she kept her hand under it until the dirty, trembling fingers had it within their grasp. She was not sure he was even strong enough to eat the stew, and this pained her.
Yes, they hovered, which was not good. It took her a few moments to remember how he was about his personal space and she lifted and backed away, unable to draw her gaze from the filthy figure sitting there. He was not only dirty, but bloody, and there were cuts and abrasions on every surface of his body that she could see. His lips were dry and cracked, and his voice rough, as if it had not been used in quite sometime. Where had he been? What had he been through? How had he survived? All of these were questions that were swirling through her mind, but would remain unasked until he took it upon himself to answer them, if he ever did.
A light of recognition came to his eyes as he looked to the stew then up to her and said her name. Maybe he was remembering a morning long ago when he had returned and she was there with stew. Stew and an ear. She counted this man as one of her closest friends, and it hurt to see him like this. It hurt to see him looking so lost, so confused. She was accustomed to seeing such a sharpness in those dark eyes, a knowledge, and awareness, that just was not there at the moment.
She had finally had to walk away under the guise of fetching him some honey from the supply wagon. She gathered not only the honey, but dug down into that reserve of strength to find what she needed to be able to help him if he asked for it. Her heart actually sped a bit when she saw the look on his face as he took the jar of honey. Oh yes, he was in there, but she had a feeling that the struggle for Fonce to return to being Fonce was only starting.
It was Rook that suggested that maybe sleep was what was needed, and Fonce seemed to agree. The next question that came from him, sent a bolt of pain through her heart. Where was T'zuri? She and Falon glanced to each other, both of them lacking the courage to breech that subject with him at the moment. She could have said something to appease him, like.........she does not know you are back yet, we will find her for you. But she could not lie to him. He might forgive much, but the Fonce she knew would not forgive a lie. So, coward that she was at the moment, she simply allowed the question to pass with no answer, and Rook came to the rescue saying that he would walk Fonce to his wagons, because he had something to speak to him about.
There was no speaking. Rook helped him to his wagon and he crawled inside and collapsed into the furs. And as she has seen the elder oralu do many times, he took up a post on the platform of that wagon, and skies help the person that thought they would disturb the man before he was rested and ready.
She had returned to her wagons and lay in the furs for a long time, just staring up watching the shadows cast by the fire from her brazier on the overhead covering, thinking. Finally she had gotten up, dressed and slipped out and went to sit on the platform beside Rook.
For a long time no words passed between them. With them, often words were not needed, but he finally spoke to her in a very, low, hushed tone.
"He has been through an ordeal, and right now is more dead than alive. What he needs now is rest, food and more rest. He needs time to adjust to being back among people, time to wrap his mind around what has happened. I am not real sure that he realizes he has been gone so long, and we have to let him be able to bring all of that back into focus in his own way, in his own time. And when he is ready to talk of anything, what you must do is not treat him as an invalid. You have to bring yourself to treat him as you always did. You treat him too gently, he will resent it. Remember, he is a man, a warrior, and was at one time the leader of our people. Do not treat him as anything less than that."
She sat there, knees pulled up,arms wrapped around her legs as she listened and realized the truth to his words. It would be hard, because right now she wanted to baby him as she would one of her sons, but Rook was right, he did not need that. Care and attention? Yes, he needed such, but not in a smothering way. Sitting there, she could hear the rumbling snores from within the wagon of a man that was exhausted, physically, mentally, and even emotionally.
She leaned to give Rook a kiss on the cheek then slid off the platform and made her way back to her own wagon and her furs. Tomorrow was another day, and showed signs of being an interesting one.
All any of them could do is rejoice that he was home safely, and give him the time to wrap his mind around what had happened. What was there, and what was no longer there. The time for questions would come, and she would answer them as truthfully as she knew how.
23 And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry:
24 For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.
Luke 15: 22-24
She had been fixing herself something to eat and bantering with Falon and Aponi as she did, when she caught a movement from the corner of her eye, and recognized it as Rook. She had asked if he wanted blackwine and when he did not answer her she turned to him to ask again, and what she saw brought her heart up to pound in her throat, and the bowl she was holding to slip from her grasp.
Just the shock of what she was seeing was enough to bring her to a pause, but when she became cognizant of who it was that had a hand on Rook's shoulder and moved so slowly, might be, it took her breath away for a moment. Fonce. The dirty, emaciated figure that moved to drop down on a brace of furs, was Fonce. He did not so much sit down, and he simply dropped. It was like watching a long column of bones simply collapse in upon itself.
Still rooted to her spot, it was Rook that spurred both she and Falon into action, calling for food, water and cloths. Falon raced off to his wagons to find clothing, and she quickly made a bowl of stew and grabbed a bota of water and moved towards where they sat. Kneeling down she held the bowl out to him and spoke softly, trying to keep the emotions out of her voice, simply offering him food. She had to blink back tears as she watched the thin arm reach for the bowl, and she kept her hand under it until the dirty, trembling fingers had it within their grasp. She was not sure he was even strong enough to eat the stew, and this pained her.
Yes, they hovered, which was not good. It took her a few moments to remember how he was about his personal space and she lifted and backed away, unable to draw her gaze from the filthy figure sitting there. He was not only dirty, but bloody, and there were cuts and abrasions on every surface of his body that she could see. His lips were dry and cracked, and his voice rough, as if it had not been used in quite sometime. Where had he been? What had he been through? How had he survived? All of these were questions that were swirling through her mind, but would remain unasked until he took it upon himself to answer them, if he ever did.
A light of recognition came to his eyes as he looked to the stew then up to her and said her name. Maybe he was remembering a morning long ago when he had returned and she was there with stew. Stew and an ear. She counted this man as one of her closest friends, and it hurt to see him like this. It hurt to see him looking so lost, so confused. She was accustomed to seeing such a sharpness in those dark eyes, a knowledge, and awareness, that just was not there at the moment.
She had finally had to walk away under the guise of fetching him some honey from the supply wagon. She gathered not only the honey, but dug down into that reserve of strength to find what she needed to be able to help him if he asked for it. Her heart actually sped a bit when she saw the look on his face as he took the jar of honey. Oh yes, he was in there, but she had a feeling that the struggle for Fonce to return to being Fonce was only starting.
It was Rook that suggested that maybe sleep was what was needed, and Fonce seemed to agree. The next question that came from him, sent a bolt of pain through her heart. Where was T'zuri? She and Falon glanced to each other, both of them lacking the courage to breech that subject with him at the moment. She could have said something to appease him, like.........she does not know you are back yet, we will find her for you. But she could not lie to him. He might forgive much, but the Fonce she knew would not forgive a lie. So, coward that she was at the moment, she simply allowed the question to pass with no answer, and Rook came to the rescue saying that he would walk Fonce to his wagons, because he had something to speak to him about.
There was no speaking. Rook helped him to his wagon and he crawled inside and collapsed into the furs. And as she has seen the elder oralu do many times, he took up a post on the platform of that wagon, and skies help the person that thought they would disturb the man before he was rested and ready.
She had returned to her wagons and lay in the furs for a long time, just staring up watching the shadows cast by the fire from her brazier on the overhead covering, thinking. Finally she had gotten up, dressed and slipped out and went to sit on the platform beside Rook.
For a long time no words passed between them. With them, often words were not needed, but he finally spoke to her in a very, low, hushed tone.
"He has been through an ordeal, and right now is more dead than alive. What he needs now is rest, food and more rest. He needs time to adjust to being back among people, time to wrap his mind around what has happened. I am not real sure that he realizes he has been gone so long, and we have to let him be able to bring all of that back into focus in his own way, in his own time. And when he is ready to talk of anything, what you must do is not treat him as an invalid. You have to bring yourself to treat him as you always did. You treat him too gently, he will resent it. Remember, he is a man, a warrior, and was at one time the leader of our people. Do not treat him as anything less than that."
She sat there, knees pulled up,arms wrapped around her legs as she listened and realized the truth to his words. It would be hard, because right now she wanted to baby him as she would one of her sons, but Rook was right, he did not need that. Care and attention? Yes, he needed such, but not in a smothering way. Sitting there, she could hear the rumbling snores from within the wagon of a man that was exhausted, physically, mentally, and even emotionally.
She leaned to give Rook a kiss on the cheek then slid off the platform and made her way back to her own wagon and her furs. Tomorrow was another day, and showed signs of being an interesting one.
All any of them could do is rejoice that he was home safely, and give him the time to wrap his mind around what had happened. What was there, and what was no longer there. The time for questions would come, and she would answer them as truthfully as she knew how.
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