Loyalty


After about three more hours of traveling, they stopped to rest and eat
their midday meal. Beorn was about to pull some travel jerky from his
pack, when he noticed that Lord Fey had already built a fire and placed
a small metal platform above it. Working with silent grace, he pulled a
mat from nowhere, and lay it before the fire, then laid out on it, in
turn, a small pheasant, a smaller quail, a pigeon, a variety of spices.
Beorn turned back and recinched his saddlebags. Apparently his jerky
would not be needed. 

With blurred motions, Fey had the birds plucked, gutted, and deboned,
before Beorn turned back around. To Beorn it seemed like magic... in
nearly the blink of an eye, the birds were suddenly bare of feathers. He
watched now, as Fey diced the spices with incredible deftness, and
rubbed them into the birds, a slightly different mixture in each. 

In mere moments, each bird was stuffed with the next, and the last
stuffed with a crumbling mix of bread cubes and spices. He placed a pan
on the stove, and filled it with water, already boiling, that seemed to
pour directly from his wrist. He set the birds in the water, then put
the spices away. 

Fey then pulled out a number of vegetables and cleaned and sliced
them. This time, Beorn was watching, as he saw a mound of vegetables
become, with a sudden blur of hands, a number of perfectly sliced
and separated piles of food, that in moments were in another bowl, being
tossed lightly with leaves of lettuce and cabbage, and coated with a
golden oil full of spices. 

Less than ten minutes after he began, Fey cleared the fire away, and
the three sat around the mat, eating perfectly cooked and seasoned bird
flesh, that somehow managed to taste well-roasted, in spite of having
been boiled before their eyes for less than ten minutes, and a succulent
salad, crispy and fresh, and richly flavored. 

To say that Beorn was astounded, amazed, and astonished, is to do grave
injustice to his true feelings. Here, on a dusty road far from home, in
the middle of nowhere, he had just eaten his fill of the best meal he
had ever had in his life, cooked for him by the Lord to whom he had
sworn fealty. His Lord had served the food, even to him, showing not the
slightest concern that Beorn was supposed to be his servant, and not
the other way around. 

Shocking as it was that a noble Lord knew how to cook, and that he would
choose to do so, even with a woman present, but he cooked better than
anyone Beorn had ever known. Was there anything his Lord could not do?
Beorn resigned himself to his fate. If he had to die at the hands of a
dragon in the service of his Lord, at least he would die happy and
well-fed. His Lord had even managed to pull a feed-sack of good oats
from somewhere to feed his horse while they ate.

---

That night, Beorn again watched as Fey made a savory repast. He was no
less astounded at this, then he had been at the previous meal. He had
just about convinced himself that in some way it was his Lord's way of
cementing his hold on his new servant. He had thought he understood it,
and though it seemed distasteful, he could not really object. It had in
fact worked at first, had made him look on the Lord Fey with new eyes,
to really desire to serve him, instead of merely feeling thankful that
he would not have to be Nameless. 

He really had felt, in spite of his Lord's demonstration of power, that
his own selfless actions had earned the acceptance of his service.
Almost, almost his Lord's actions at the midday meal had made him feel
that it might be a true honor, that he might have been granted more than
he deserved. But his past experiences had shielded him somewhat, and
made him look at what he was feeling, and consider the effect it would
have on him. When he realized the depth of devotion he had almost
reached, he had realized that that must have been its purpose... to
induce in him that devotion to his Lord. He didn't realize that much of
this was Arkus's hand, as they were walking, and the Lady's attention
was distracted. When they stopped, Arkus had withdrawn, leaving the
seeds he had planted to bear fruit.

Now, as Beorn watched his Lord again, this time with an eye for his face
instead of his hands, he realized two things. First, that his Lord truly
did enjoy making a well-cooked and delicious meal, but that he hated
doing it for some reason Beorn could not discern. Second, that the 
reason his Lord did this, in spite of the way it made him feel, was his
absolute devotion to the Lady, and had nothing whatsoever to do with
Beorn. Beorn had considerable experience judging the motivations of
those around him, and he could also see, finally, that the reason that
Lord Fey disliked it, was precisely and solely because he enjoyed it. He
enjoyed it, and for some reason felt he should not, and it was his
disappointment in his own feelings of enjoyment that marred his features
as he worked. 

When he served the meal, Beorn was surprised to note that the complete
and total unconcern about serving his own servant was not feigned. His
Lord truly did not look on him, or his Lady, as servants, but as equals.
For some reason, this frightened Beorn. It shook his world-view to the
very core.

He was less surprised when Fey began to play his flute for the Lady.
Beorn was a little bit startled when Fey pulled his sword from its
sheath suddenly, but settled down when it became a golden flute. Nobles
were often taught one of the arts as children. He was impressed with his
Lord's skill with the instrument, and at the ease with which his Lord
could evoke emotions with his music, but this again was within the
realms of his expectations, if not the realm of his experience. 

When he watched his Lord begin his kata, he grew interested. This was
nothing like the tiny motions by which he had exhausted and defeated the
attacks of Lord Ereth. This was real fighting skill, and he grew
steadily more impressed as Fey increased his speed. He had not yet
grown fast enough to break the sound barrier, but he moved with such
speed that he became a blur at times. Beorn wondered if this was an Art
his Lord would be willing to share. Beorn would love to learn it.