Hesketh backwings to a landing a little away from the trader's camp, kneeling quickly and letting a rather harried looking R'sul dismount. He takes a moment to straighten his riding jackent before hurrying towards the camp - clearly a man on a mission.
Around the cold remains of a firepit, a cluster of five caravans, painted in rich turqoise blues and deep rusty reds, are the center of a small family's activity. A few young children toss a ball back and forth, while a couple of women work on hanging up laundry to dry. With all the other men off either getting food or finding wood, Felandre was left behind to keep an eye on things. Being that things really don't need watching over, the young man is, instead, perched on an old keg by the firepit and is busily whittling away a hunk of wood that was too green to burn.
R'sul glances around and then spots Felandre. his course changes, heading straight for the younger man, "Paper." A moment passes and then he adds, "Please. If you don't mind." His lips keep moving, repeating something over and over as he waits for some sort of reply.
Felandre looks up from his work, the carving seeming to be taking the form of a colt laying down, his knife paused mid-cut to etch out one gawky foreleg. "Oh.. of course." He says and sets down the statuette to rummage in a leather bag at his side, producing a small notebook that's seen better days and passes it over.
"Thank you." R'sul nods quickly, then begins patting at pockets in search of a pen. After three rounds of his clothing he looks back at Felandre again, "I don't suppose you have a pen as well do you? I'll pay for both, of course."
"I should, give me a second." Responds the young trader as he returns to his bag, fishing in the depths of the satchel and shoving aside extra, folded blades, little tools, odd little trinkets and bits of baubles, and finally produces an equally well used pen. "Ah-hah! Here it is. No need to worry, they're not worth anything anymore."
R'sul's reply this time is a quick nod as he grabs the pen and quickly scribbles some notes into the book. A slight pause adn then some more scribbles join the first and a very emphatic line under them signals the end of whatever was so urgent it needed noted down. Quietly he reads over his notes and then nods onve before offering the pen back to Felandre. "Thank you. There's nothing worse than remembering you needed to write something down when you're halfway ready to go home."
"Ah, I know the feeling. I've tried to teach my firelizard, Nebraska, to remember notes for me, or at least remind me to jot something down," Says Felandre with a lopsided grin. "But he just stares at me like I'd gone empty in the head. Not that I blame him, with me expecting a firelizard to remember something for me. So what brings you to the middle of Fort territory? Not much out this way but dusty old roads."
R'sul laughs, relaxing a little now. "Oddly enough, dragons aren't much better." he glances over to where Hesketh is sitting, but the bronze simply turns his back on him in a mock-huff. "Just been up to the weyr." Is offered by way of explanation, "Figured we'd head down to Boll the long way, then remembered I hadn't written down what I came to Fort for." He paues and then laughs once more, "That sounds far too cryptic. R'sul. Historian and general annoyance at Ierne. Currently trying to research a book, which is really far less fun than it sounds."
"He's a fine looking bronze, and I certainly can't fault them for poor memory. I'd trade their wings for my recall anyday." Says the trader with a hearty laugh. "I hear all the stories from my two siblings who've got a green and blue. My name's Felandre, part of the Viatoris caravan you see here. This is as close to a home base as we have. So you're writing a book? What about? My grandfather kept a running log of our trips, but it eventually got so big it took up too much space in the wagons."
"Nice to meet you Felandre." R'sul replies with a nod, tilting his head to the side for a moment as he considers something, "Your grandfather keeps logs? Is that something that's always been done? You see my books really about the founding of the weyrs, but it might be nice to introduce a bit about those not in the weyrs. life before and after, if you get my meaning."
"Feel free to call me Fel, it's a lot less of a mouthful." Remarks the trader, nodding his head in response. "He's gone from us now, but he kept little records of the day's events for decades. I doubt anyone would mind you taking a look, they're mostly collecting dust anyway. The best parts we all know as stories and songs, so we don't usually need to crack those old things open too often."
R'sul's face brightens considerably, and for a moment his reaction is one more fitting a child with candy than a rider being offered a book. "Really? Do you think so? I would love to see some of it, I mean there has to be things in there that… well I suppose it'd be like the weyr records and rather dull at times, but it would certainly be different."
"Of course," Felandre says as he rises up off his log and gestures the rider towards the lead wagon, painted with the golden image of a large skybroom tree at a crossroads. "They're all in a chest in here. Come on it and I'll show you them." The rear panels are pulled back and Fel climbs up into the spacious interior. Every crack of space is used, with riggings and organization that would make a headwoman jealous. Back against one side, under a heavy blanket, a deep and very old wooden chest sits, the buckles long rusted and showing difficulty in being opened as Fel creaks back the lid to show piles of various, old journals all stacked up inside.
R'sul follows into the wagon, but as he looks around he cannot help but looks shocked by she sheer amount of things inside. He opens his mouth to say something, but then his gaze falls on the chest and his eyes light up once more. "Is this them? Oh my." He reaches out and gently runs his hand over the cover of the topmost journal.
"This is all of them." Fel says with a nod of his head. "Each one weights a ton. It's not just pages, but scraps of whatever he could get his hands on. He actually wrote on a leaf once, but it's long fallen apart. A lot of the early journals are still skins, we think he picked them up from his father or grandfather before, but any early writings are really faded."
R'sul looks rather like he could swoon with delight at the mention of old and faded. "Faded is not a problem, you hsould see some of the records I've been looking through over at Fort. Some of teh very old wing records you can barely make out a scratch let alone a word. Some I would swear thay had a whole different way of writing to the one we use now. Fascinating really." His hand once more caresses the cover of the journal, savoring the moment and not entirely willing to open it just yet, "Have you read through many of these yourself?"
"A few." Fel answers as he looks down at the old covers. "Usually, I heard most of the good stories from grandfather himself, like when he was my age he supposibly saved a drowning herdbeast caught in a flood. I'm not sure if everything is true or some things are… made a bit grander, but, they should all be fairly accurate. Grandfather was a Harper at heart, but he stuck to the facts - most of the time."
R'sul chuckles, nodding, "I think most grandparents are like that, they want their grandkids to think they personally stopped teh Thread from falling, killed several hundred pirates and then went on to found the Harper Hall. Well, m,aybe not quite that bad, but you know what I mean I hope."
Felandre nods his head in pure understanding, "That they do. The elders of the caravans are always tale-weaving. The night fires would never be the same without their stories, they get grander everytime we hear them. If you want some good stories, you'll have to hang around the caravans at night. Gathers are the best times, we all get together and share stories. You'll hear things you never thought possible, I'd wager."
"I have quite a good imagination." R'sul replies with a grin, finally lifting one of the journals form the chest and opening it very slowly, "Are you sure nobody will mind me looking through these? Actually do you think anyone woul dmind me taking one or two of them away to study? You have my word that they'll come back intact and unharmed."
Felandre shakes his head, "Not at all. The honor of a dragonrider, a bronzerider especially, is a well respected one and I speak for my family when I say we'd be honored to have our history spoken of. We're frequently on the road, so you might not catch up to us too quickly, but there's always time to meet at the next Gather or at a stop off point."
R'sul's kid in a candy store look is back with a vengeance after that comment. "Do you know when you're heading off again? or where you'll be going next?" As he speaks he unloads a few of the journals onto his lap, glacing quickly through the contents, most likely looking for the most faded ones, and then turning his attention back to Felandre.
Felandre gives his shoulders a brief shrug, "Maybe by morning, or the one after. We'll pack up and go if we here there's a Gather or event to catch up to, but mostly we just head towards where we've not been lately. Word has it, we may be heading up towards the High Reaches area, but I imagine not for a little while yet."
"High Reaches. Right." R'sul nods, but it's clear he's only half listening as he sorts through the journals, "I think this one, and those two there if that's okay? There's another three or four I'd love a closer look at but I can't take everything with me just now and it would give me a good excuse to come back for one of your storytellings."
"You're welcome to whatever ones strike your fancy." Felandre says with a gesture of his hand to the chest. "If we wouldn't catch up with one another anytime soon, just check for word of a Gather. We never miss them if we have to crawl into them half dead. It's where we make most all of our money, me especially, and we can't afford to miss out."
R'sul nods, tidying up quickly and then clutching the precious chosen journals to his chest. "If you do need to get word to me then I'm usually at Ierne. Or Fort." A pause, "Sometimes Xanadu, but I think I'm almost done there." He pauses again, "You know, have someone bespeak Hesketh, or send a firelizard that would be easier I think."
"True, true." Felandre remarks with a nod of his hide. "I've taught Nebraska how to take messages, and he gets them delivered - most of the time. He's a good pet, but not always bright. If it's anything important, my wagon leader has a bronze flit who's always dead-on with messages, so I can ask him."
"Perfect." R'sul nods, "My brown's not too good with message, but usually he gets there within a week." He grins, clearly joking. Well, partially joking. "I'll head off and have a delve into these if you don't mind? How much do I owe you for the notepad?"
Felandre waves off the offer of money with a hand. "No worries, I'm not that concerned about some beat up paper. We have extras lying around, I'll just grab myself a new one. Just take care of those journals and see them back to us, I hope you'll find some things in there of use to your book."
R'sul nods, "You have my word on the journals, don't worry about that. You've been a great help, Fel, never expected anything like this when I landed." He backs quickly out of the caravan, taking care to not knock anything over, "If I can return the favour at any time, just let me know."
"I'll keep it in mind, R'sul." Fel says with a smile as he exits the wagon, running a hand back through his untended hair. "Clear skies up there to you both, and take care getting to wherever you're going. Hopefully you've remembered everything you needed to."
R'sul waves a finger, his hands are rather full, and then heads back to stow the journals safely in a bag on Hesketh's straps before replying. "If not then you can bet I'll be back." He mounts up quickly and with a massive downbeat Hesketh lifts into the air. "Clear Skies Fel!"