A long overdue delivery of gifts.

Things have began to settle down somewhat, and I cannot even express the pride that I have in the way the people have come together to rebuild. It does not totally absolve me of my responsibility in what happened, but I draw a small amount of peace knowing that we will survive. Each day, I see new signs of life among the people. I see them working hard and working together. That is what we are about.


There is still much to do, but I have found that my faith in them grows stronger each day. It is my faith in myself that wanes some of the time. I wonder if other Ubar's have gone through this, second guessing themselves, their actions, their decisions when it came to their people? Perhaps soon, I will talk to Fonce, ask him. But for now, all I can do is take each day as it comes. My problem is, I find myself wavering when it comes to decisions and that has to stop.


Today, I finally took a mental and physical deep breath and went to do something I should have done long ago. I am not sure if anyone really realizes how much I miss my contact with Oren, and those of her wagons. I have found myself avoiding them because of the situation with Mezoo. I do not want to cause any undue stress to her, them or myself, to be honest, but I have some things to deliver, and damn it, I simply want to see Oren, even if she cracks me on the shins. It will be a welcome pain.


I carried the wooden box with the precious gift in it that I had for Oren, not trusting it to anyone else, and was followed by two of my men carrying the more bulky gifts that were for Astar. As I approached, I had to stop and just watch. There is life here, a simple, honorable life of people surviving. There is strength in these women, that give me insight into Mezoo. I still hope she finds what she seeks and the happiness that it will bring her.


I think that Oren saw me, but at the moment decided to see exactly what I would do. I nodded to her then went to find Astar. I can see where Mezoo gets her beauty, for Astar is a beautiful woman and exudes a certain kind of peace and grace, that just makes you want to smile. With the men following me, I walked up to her, and for some reason, felt like a smoothed cheeked boy. I simply blurted out, that I had brought these to her, and turned to motion to the two new looms that my men sat down. Damn it all Ayguili! I babbled about having gotten them in Turia when we were there for the Love Wars, and of being assure they were well made and would serve her for many years.


She placed her hand on my arm, smiled and I began to calm down. She asked me why? Now, at this point, you just don't tell a woman that they had been intended for her as gifts because you had intentions of mating her daughter, that was not going to happen now, do you? I got a firmer grip on the box that I carried and explained to her that my mother was a weaver, and that I knew how important a good loom was to her, and that I wanted for Astar to have these and looked forward to seeing the blankets and cloth she made from them.


She knew, but was gracious enough to not say anything. Skies love that woman. She inspected the looms then turned to me a little surprised, I think, that I had chosen well. Thanks were offered, then a small chide about friends needing to come around more often. I promised her that I would come around more often, or as often as my duties would allow me. She motioned for the men as to where to put the things, and that she had found out that Alma was also an artisan who dealt in making pots, and that maybe someone should think about seeing if I could find a potters wheel. She was subtle about it, and I had to laugh, and promise that if there was one to be had, the woman would have it soon. What is it about these women, that make you want to do exactly what they say?


Astar walked off laughing softly, but not before giving a cant of her head to where Oren was sitting on the platform of her wagon. It was a subtle hint, but one that I took. Walking towards the wagon I gave the woman a respectful nod and asked how she was. Wrong thing to do. I believe she said something along the lines of friends came around more often, to see how a poor, frail, old woman was faring. I need to explain here, that there is nothing frail about Oren. If anything, she is one of the strongest people that I know, and not only physically, but mentally. But, I took that scolding in stride, then made a bold move, did not even ask, but sat down on the platform beside her.


Her head turned, brow arching and I could almost feel the impending blow to my shins from that ever present staff, so I shoved the box to her before she could deliver it, and told her these were for her. I could almost see the thoughts going through her head, on whether to lay these staff aside long enough to take the box, or to keep it in hand and ignore the gift. Thankfully, she propped the staff against the step and took the box. For a moment, I had a reprieve.


Placing the box on her thighs, she lifted the lid, and I will swear I saw a softening of her features. Inside, nestled in a nest of straw were four cups. These were not just any cups, but delicate cups made from something known as china, each one painted with an intricate scene of birds and flowers. Not the kind of heavy, clay mugs that our people usually used, but something more beautiful, more acetic. When she went to lay the lid aside, I reached out to steady the box on her lap.


I want you to have these as a gift, because although I do not come around as much, I still have a great deal of respect and affection for you, Oren.


One gnarled hand reached to lift one of the delicate things from its' nest, so very carefully, so very gently. She turned it in her hand, one finger tracing along a painted flower, that was a myriad of shades of blue and purple. I am not sure, but I think I saw a mist of tears in those old eyes.


She asked how I knew, and I mumbled something about being Ubar, and knowing many things. She actually laughed, and told me that we would have tea. Tea is not one of my preferred beverages, but there was no way that I was going to refuse. My shins were still safe at the moment and I had no intentions of tilting that balance in the wrong direction.


She stood from the platform, carefully carrying the Itth the cups in it and motioned to me to follow her to the fire. When I stood she told me to bring her staff. Bring her staff? Now this was hard for me. Touching that thing almost had a feeling of irreverence to me. It was like the Sky asking me to lift and carry the hem of her skirt. Just not something a mere mortal man was allowed to do. Was it a trick? Some sort of test? As I hesitated, that woman never even turned her head. She has those magic eyes in the back of it, and told me to stop dawdling. Dawdling? I am Ubar of the Tuchuk, I don't dawdle.


Much.