Stinky chore and punishment

Writers: Ang, Chelle
Date Posted: 23rd May 2012

Characters: D'ret, Mervyn
Description: The last of his punishments, he hopes, and Daret meets a new friend
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 8, day 1 of Turn 6

Mervyn was trying his best to gather up the stinky furs that needed to
be beat. It was an easy chore, though smelly, and the weybrat didn't
mind it. It let him take out his frustrations and sometimes he and the
other boys made a game of it. It was so very cold outside so he
couldn't go out and play.

When would the stinky punishments end? Shells and shards he was not
liking the Headwoman at the moment. Daret sincerely hoped this was
the end of his punishment for hitting. Not at all his usual self, he
grumbled as he caught up with the weyrbrat that would be helping him.
"Here, let me help," he said as he gathered the ends that were
dragging on the ground. "What's your name?"

"Mervyn," he replied easily. He had seen many candidates over his
growing turns so they were no big deal to him. He hadn't decided just
yet if he wanted to be one. Dragging the thing to the rack, he put it
up on it with some shoving and pulling, then handed Daret the racket
they used to beat it with.

Helping with the placement then accepting the paddle, he had a vivid
image of using it on a certain bluerider instead of on the furs but it
quickly passed as he grit his teeth to banish it. "Well, Mervyn, I
take it you've done this before, right? Let's get to it," he said and
slammed the paddle against the fur and quickly stepped back as a cloud
of dust and dirt shot out. "Ugh … at least it's better than shoveling
dragonet dung."

"Yeah...you can tie a bandana around your face. It tends to help." The
weyrbrat picked up his own racket and went to another rack, then
started to beat the thing as hard as he could, knowing he'd be filthy
when the job was done.

It wasn't the filth that was the problem for Daret. He'd been dirty
plenty of times but he'd thought he'd worked off his punishment with
the last chore. Was there something else he was being punished for?
Pulling out a bandana one of the friendly drudges handed him, he tied
it around his mouth and nose before he smacked the rug again … and
again … and again. His annoyance soon evaporated with the hard work
and he glanced over at Mervyn. "You seem to be a pro at this. Do you
do this chore often? How old are you, anyway?"

"Yeah I get it ever so much. I have nine turns now," he offered
proudly. To him, there were worse things. "Headwoman says the beating
builds up your strength so hauling firestone sacks and riding
harnesses is easier."

Eyeing the lad thoughtfully through the dust created from the beating,
Daret could see that Mervyn could very well grow up to be a very
handsome man. Especially if he continued with these chores and
developed the muscles he'd never have. "So it does. The Headwoman is
a smart woman. You're obviously getting well prepared to be a rider.
Bet your parents are happy," he said before whacking a new spot and
coughing as the cloud enveloped him.

"My fostermother says I'll be a good one. Da was eaten by the thread."
He shrugged since it was a part of life and a lot of people had lost
parents when the Pass had started. It had been a right mess there for
awhile.

Daret couldn't help but pause as he looked at the lad. It always
amazed him that weyrbrats had this attitude. He still keenly felt the
loss of his mother but perhaps it was because he'd been with her so
much before she died. To ask about Mervyn's real mother would be
incredibly rude so he refrained. Beating the furs again, he thought
about what would be different had he grown up in the Weyr and he
grinned behind the cloth. He would have been in other furs much
sooner ... "What do you like to do around here, Mervyn?"

"Well, there's snake catching, running around the tunnels, playing
games like waterball, running around, and picking up good rocks.
Sometimes we all go up to the Rim and look at the stars." He shrugged.
Most of the time between harper lessons and chores, Mervyn was
sleeping and eating or talking to the other weyrbrats.

Sounded like typical kids stuff but Daret was happy for the lad.
"Sounds like you're a right good friend to have around," he said as
his arms started getting tired. Couldn't show it though ... what
would it look like if he stopped before a brat did?

"Yeah, there might be more to do in a Hold, but with the weather like
it is now, we can't go outside so..limits the options." He liked
playing in the snow, but when there were blizzards, he could get lost
out there. Mervyn had also caught a few crazy colds that he didn't
want to repeat again.

This kid was a lot smarter than he remembered 9-turns-olds to be.
Daret was impressed and scared at the same time. What was he going to
be like when he grew up? "That's true. I guess I tend to forget
since I don't go outside very often. Too sharding cold ..."

"Living here, you get used to it. My fostermother says I can't go far
out though since I could buried or something and they'd never find me
till the thaw. We shovel tunnels in the snow to get across the Bowl
but...sometimes they don't work so well." He frowned, not wanting to
dwell on that. Instead, he beat the living daylights out of the fur.

Wiping his forearm across his forehead, Daret stepped back and
considered Mervyn's words. The Fostermother seemed a bit too cruel in
his opinion but perhaps it was needed in the Weyr. Scaring brats out
of their minds to make them behave? "Did someone get trapped?" he
asked carefully, not wanting to upset the lad.

"I dunno. Never asked." He shrugged. Mervyn didn't really want to know
further. He just stuck to what they said and got by.

Daret blinked at the lack of curiosity but then shrugged. Some brats
just followed orders and kept out of trouble. Perhaps that's what his
biggest problem was. He was simply too curious and stubborn about
letting his temper get the best of him. Turning and smacking the furs
with no results made him aware that they were as clean as they were
going to get. "Well then ... I think we're done. Shall we bring them
back to where they belong?"

"We take them to the laundry and the women take 'em to the weyrs that
need 'em," the boy replied as he began to throw one over his shoulder.

Nodding, he grabbed the furs he'd been beating and followed Mervyn to
the laundry. Whew ... at least that punishment was over!

Last updated on the June 1st 2012

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Stinky chore and punishment