After Times of Tender Agony: Ch. 21

A Resolution

Notes:

The first part of this chapter is honestly really cute (okay, I think it's cute) and it's pretty sadness free.

The next part...less so. We're back with Janner in it so...

*****

“We ain’t found nothin’, an’ it’s been almost a week!” Maraly fumed, plopping down on a large, grey rock on the northern edge of Glipwood forest, the section nearest the Ice Prairies and technically not in Strander territory. It was still early afternoon, too early to set up camp and too early in their searching for her to have a fit about not finding Janner. Sure, it was childish of her, but she was getting tired of not finding him.

Shastan bit his lip and looked out at the trees, sparsely red and gold and orange, leaves lazily falling, the majority of them already grounded. “Maybe Joe and Owen or Stranders have had better luck than us?”

Maraly shot him a reproachful look. She trusted the Stranders of the East Bend enough to have them looking for Janner, just like she trusted them to deliver news correctly. “They would’a told us if they had, and if Joe er Owen found ‘im, he would’a told ‘em an' they would’a told us.”

The sheepishness with which Shastan cast his gaze to the leaf-carpeted ground made her feel a little guilty, and, despite a good deal of her mind telling her not to, she apologized. “Sorry,” she muttered. “But we would’a known, is all I’m sayin’.”

She would never tell another soul the way Shastan nodded and smiled at her made her want to smile back. She herself had no intention of dwelling on it either, so she pulled a blond-and-brown partially-carved stick from her pack—about six inches long and an inch in diameter—and a dagger from a small sheath at her side, then continued etching designs into it, swirls and leaves and track marks.

The Stranders wandered onto her mind as she did so. The moment she got involved with the search party, she dragged Shastan and Joe and Owen (much to his horror) to the East Bend and commanded a few Stranders she trusted to look for Janner and keep the news quiet and to themselves, otherwise she'd come and deal with them. And they didn't want her dealing with them. She still didn't trust Queen Bhora Grumble or the Stranders loyal to her, and far more Stranders were loyal to her than she would have liked. If Maraly had her way, she'd get rid of Bhora and completely replace her with Chathan, who had done a far better job diplomatically and hadn't shown any Strander-ish-ness.

Regarding her threats to the minimal circle of Stranders she had instructed, Shastan had been concerned about things like politeness and niceties, but she had ignored him and later—after Joe and Owen had gone on their merry way to check Dugtown and keep their eyes peeled in Torrboro and they had traveled further north—after his repeated concern that she had been “too harsh and demanding” grew incredibly fed up with it. 

“Look,” she had snapped. “The Stranders know me. I was once a part of ‘em; my father was their leader. I’m not their leader, but they still listen ta me. So don’t second-guess me in’t, alright?”

Shastan had taken a noticeable step back after she said it, and Maraly had felt a twinge of guilt. She’d been fairly nice and teased him up to that moment; now he had seen another side of her. 

Dismayed to find herself both remembering and feeling guilty in the moment, Maraly blinked and shook herself. She wasn't supposed to feel guilty about things she'd done that hadn't been all that bad! That produced more horror, though, because on shaking herself she realized she had stopped carving and instead directed her gaze toward him as he walked around, running his hand down trees with care, observing the leaves without plucking them, touching the roots. 

“What’re ya doin’?” The question flew out of her mouth without permission, and Maraly gritted her teeth in frustration. What was wrong with her? “Ya don’t have’ta tell me,” she said hastily in some desperate attempt to erase her question, but Shastan had already turned and gave her that gently-pleased smile he wore quite often when he wasn’t focusing on something important. 

“I’m checking the trees,” he explained simply. “Seeing the condition of their bark, their leaf coloration, and root system state. The roots are the hardest, since not much of them is above the ground, but it’s still fairly manageable.”

“Why?” Maraly meant to ask that question and even found herself jumping off the rock and coming closer to him.

Shastan smiled, his ice-blue eyes twinkling. Maraly couldn’t help but blink in surprise. Eye-twinkling…that was weird. Incredibly weird. “Why what?” he asked.

Maraly rolled her eyes. “Why you’re checkin’ ‘em, obviously,” she said gruffly, but she knew the tone wasn’t reflected in her face. She could feel herself trying to smile against the half-scowl and tried throwing up another mental defense. The best one would be going back to ignoring Shastan or starting out searching again, but for some reason she didn’t really want to do either. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest—a physical barrier. Perfect.

A shrug was his response to her question, a shrug and a quiet, “that’s just what I like to do, especially since it's such a big deal in Sylow,” before picking up his pack from where he had set it out and trudging off into the woods.

Maraly’s mouth dropped open, and her arms fell to her sides. “Where’re ya goin’?” she barked as she took the strides back to the rock so she could grab her pack quickly, then charged after him, slipping her arms into the straps as she did so. 

“Why, I’m continuing the search for Janner, of course. What else would I be doing?” he asked innocently. Maraly couldn’t help but suspect he wasn’t entirely innocent. 

“Fine,” she said shortly. “Have it your way.” She quickened her stride and passed him in half an effort to get away from him.

Shastan made a noise that sounded a bit like a laugh, but when Maraly spun around, she only saw him clearing his throat. She glared; he smiled. She eyed him suspiciously; he smiled wider.

When Maraly turned around again and stopped facing him, his apparently contagious smile slipped onto her face.

*****

Janner hated waking up and feeling nauseating pain almost instantly. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t handle it; he could. It had just happened too many times in the past few weeks, and with the way his head still spun, most of what came to his mind was fear and danger. His leg hadn't stopped cramping since Jebsun decided carving into it was the best option. Shockingly, that resulted in horrific pain that wouldn't stop for some reason, and it had been determined that sleeping flower powder was the second best option. Apparently laying awake all night in agony wasn't the best way to put the fragmented pieces of one's health back together.

“Welcome back,” slipped in gently, easily, meant to reassure and alleviate distress. “How does it feel?”

Opening his eyes slowly, Janner couldn’t help but wince. Was he supposed to be honest or tolerant?

Jebsun leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Please be honest with me.”

Sighing, Janner bit his lip before responding. “It's not as bad as before, but worse than intially,” he admitted, wanting to claw at his head or ears as he spoke. He had forgotten about the deafness, about how everything he said came from underwater. He forgot how much he hated it.

Despite the thoughts, he didn’t miss Jebsun’s slight-sad smile. “I’m sorry about that …’s probably because…a few things. Nerve damage, new cuts among them. But...infection’s gone for now…hoping it’ll stay that way.”

“The wounds are still fresh, and I don't want...aggravate them, but once they've healed...bit more, I think getting them used to taking...little weight should help ease...cramping. It won't be perfect, but it should at least help. I've got something for you, in...corner.” He nodded to a corner of the room, and when Janner followed his gaze, he saw a crutch, the design not unlike that of the one Podo had made for Leeli after Slarb destroyed hers. His heart lept into his throat for a thousand reasons he didn't want to identify. “A friend helped me out,” Jebsun explained. “Anyway, I don't want you trying...out now; maybe in...week if the infection doesn't come back and...wounds are healing right.”

Janner nodded. He figured there wasn’t much of a need for words.

Looking around the room a little aimlessly, Jebsun eventually rested his chin in the palm of his hand. “I need to make a trip to one…the farms a little ways’ from town,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “I’m asking a friend to stay with you. She should be here soon. She's married to the friend who helped me with the crutch.” Each word was spoken with a slow punctuality, enunciated so each would come through as clearly as possible. 

He nodded in agreement to the statement, even though the thought truly terrified him.  “Okay,” he said softly, hearing a tremor of fear in his voice. 

“It’s alright,” Jebsun told him reassuringly. “She won’t hurt you. She’s wonderful at caring for people.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Janner drew a careful breath and turned onto his side, facing away from Jebsun for emphasis. He didn’t want to think about the woman or Jebsun being gone or anything. A lick of pain crossed his ribs and back and his right leg screamed when he moved in such a way, but there was something welcome about the pain. 

Jebsun got up and left when a knock sounded on the door, and Janner pulled the covers over his head in an effort to shield himself from the woman when the ring of the bell pierced his mind.

They exchanged a string of words he couldn’t make out, but their conversation became a little clearer after a minute. Likely, they had gotten closer to the room. “Thank you…much.” Jebsun’s pleasant voice made it to his ear less well than usual. “I don’t know…name. ‘Son’…working fine…now.”

Two sets of footsteps came closer, and the door opened. Janner stiffened at the sound, then relaxed when he heard Jebsun’s next words. 

“Don’t press him...open up,” he said gently. “It’s alright if he stays under there the entire time. You’re safe, I promise,” he said, now directing his words at Janner. “I’ll be back,” he ended, speaking both to Janner and the woman. 

It was gone in a few moments, the sound of Jebsun gathering his things coming through clearly, a gentle “goodbye, sleep well, son,” sounding before the door of the practice opening, the bell ringing, and the door closing came, the latter quieter than the former, but still somewhat distinguishable. 

The woman shifted in the seat she had sat down in—that was Jebsun’s place—and it sent fear shooting through Janner’s heart. He held his breath consciously, waiting for her to speak, terrified of what she would sound like, sure she would be the Overseer or Tirge in some horrific disguise. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the voice he did hear. 

“Well, dear,” Addie Shooster said pleasantly. “I brought a book with me; one I hope you’ll like. I’ve been meaning to read it but haven’t had the chance. It’s called The House of the Kindly Flabbits. Do you know it?”

Janner’s mind raced and froze simultaneously. He knew the novel, yes, he knew it well. He knew the words she began reading even as he tuned them out, his thoughts racing elsewhere. He had just finished it before the tumult in Glipwood changed his family’s entire life. 

He knew Addie too, Addie and her husband, Joe, some of the sweetest people in Glipwood. Artham and Sara had said they’d come back to Glipwood after the Fangs had been defeated—was he in Glipwood, then? Jebsun had left Glipwood, though, why had he come back?

What would happen if Addie found out who he was? Would he go back to his family, back to Anniera? Back to a place without Sara, where he would have to tell his family that he had indirectly killed her and failed in taking vengeance on the monster who actually had? Even worse, what if the Overseer was still out there, still looking for him, waiting, watching from the shadows, ready to kill his whole family when he returned to them?

No, he couldn’t let that happen, he just couldn’t. 

“Dear,” Addie stopped in her reading. “You’re trembling. Are you crying?”

Janner’s breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed, unaware he had been crying, hating himself for crying in front of someone.

Then he felt something touch him—a hand, Addie’s hand, on his shoulder, and he bit back a scream that came out instead as a strangled sob. Janner’s body curled in on itself without him giving it permission, stretching every healing or unhealed wound, shooting ripples of pain across every part of his body.

“I’m so sorry,” Addie whispered, sounding genuinely grieved. “Dear, I’m so sorry. I- I didn’t know.”

Janner clenched his teeth, not out of anger at her but anger at himself, and whispered, “t’s okay,” desperately hoping she wouldn’t recognize his voice.

Addie was silent for a moment before gently saying, “Do you want me…keep reading?”

Tears rolling down his cheeks, Janner finally hummed in response, hearing the grief and apology in her voice and hating to leave her feeling as though she had hurt him.

Still, the thought of Addie haunted him, terrified him of things he couldn’t identify, constantly lived in his mind, in every breath, in every thought, tore him from sleep. No matter how kind she was, no matter what her intentions could be were they to form, he couldn’t risk it.

A flickering image of shattered Sara flitted into his mind, and silent tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn’t let someone else die because of him.

He had to leave. Somehow, he had to leave. He had to keep them safe.

*****

Notes:

The title of the chapter is referring to Janner's resolution to leave....and....yeah.

Please let me know if there's anything noncanonical or wonky^^