The Minstrel

Thorian Jacktrade

A sudden flood of memories bubbled up from the recesses of Killian's mind so quickly he thought he might become sick right then and there. Pulling the man back by his shoulders and holding him at arm's reach, the musician stared hard into the grinning face that was so childlike, so carefree, so irritatingly cheerful, and that so immensely reminded him of the brother he had not seen in nearly twenty years.

"Thorian...what in Jun's name are you doing this far from the Gildstream Isle?"

Killian stood aside Thorian awkwardly after re-dusting the flour off of his own clothes as his nephew reshouldered the burdensome foodstuffs.

"It's been some time since you'd left Cantelcross, Uncle - I surely hope I'd've found work by now." Thorian seemed much more at ease and laughed a hearty sort of laugh that brimmed with warmth, just the sort one would expect from a typical Mid-Islander. Killian found himself walking side by side with him back in the direction he had come. Reflecting on the last he had seen his nephew, Killian recalled many a time when he and his brother Brandwick were still but children when Aldred and his doting wife Alise would bring bright-eyed Thorian to their family home in swaddling clothes. Last time they had met had been shortly after Aldred's passing; Thorian had come by on his own - having reached his thirteenth year - to announce he would be searching for work to support his mother, who, taking the loss of her husband poorly, rarely made an appearance to the rest of the family after the fact.

"What of you though, Uncle Killy?" Thorian cocked his head in a questioning way.

Killian's brow twitched in agitation.

"It's Killian."

"What was that, Uncle Ki-"

"Thorian, you're near a grown man. Call me Killian, or Uncle Killian, or really anything other than that."

"Oh...alright Uncle..." Thorian laughed that humorous, good-natured laugh of his while Killian felt as if he was shrinking into his boots.

"What did you mean, what of me?" Killian changed the subject abruptly.

"Oh, well it's just that...you'd left the village so suddenly, it was really a shock to us all. Uncle Brandy said he had no idea you'd intended to leave - have you been here in Flotsam all this time?" Turning away, Killian clicked his teeth in irritation. Thorian sensed he may have misspoke. "O-of course I know you'd left a letter, it's just that we had missed you is all...especially Grandpa Gresham, I heard that he-"

"What do you suppose your Uncle has been up to all this time, Thorian?" Thorian remained timidly silent, but Killian turned on him with a fierceness in his eyes that walked the line of madness. "I've been performing, dear nephew! I had to leave Cantelcross to perfect my skill is all, surely you couldn't fault me for refusing to stay and collect dust in that hovel all my life. I'll soon be far from this slum as well."

Thorian nodded in an understanding that only showed his confusion, but after meeting the gaze of his uncle and seeing a challenging test in it, he thought it best not to press the matter. "So where is it you're off to from here?" He asked instead. "First days of Fonalira will soon be upon us as well as the storms that it brings."

Killian shook his head, recalling the unpleasant morning he had had so far. "My aim was to head northwest, but unfortunately my dealings with the ship's captain fell through." He quickly lied. "But enough of that - what is it you've gotten yourself into? My brother finally return home long enough for you to stow away on one of his traders?"

"No no, Uncle Branwick hasn't made me an offer, but I set off all the same not two years after you'd done - got tired of working at the fishery in Cantelcross. I tried my hand aboard a number of ships and ports, but I've had a hard go of making something stick..." Thorian trailed off and flushed crimson. He readjusted the burdensome load of provisions with which he was lumbering as he felt the scrutiny of his Uncle.

Killian sighed as he made sense of what he had heard. In six years, Thorian had hardly changed from the boy he had been. He had sprouted in height - that much was obvious to Killian, as his nephew was now half a head taller than himself - and though he was still more on the side of being lanky, he had put on a sort of lean muscle one only gets from months of hard physical labor. Despite these changes, Killian could only see in his nephew the boy that he had been. Where his brothers and sisters would chase wandering cocks or stray dogs, Thorian would be content to stay inside indulging in the stories of others. While his siblings would seek pleasure in climbing the tallest trees in the village or jumping off of the farthest docks, Thorian would cower behind the ruffles of his mother's skirt as she patted his head.

Thorian was the runt of his litter, and worse yet, he was a runt that had been endlessly coddled and protected from the outside world. This fact had not been unknown to the rest of the family, and became ever clearer as the boy grew to be clumsy at the best of times, and completely incompetent at the worst. Because of his nature, Thorian had been cast aside in every opportunity presented to grow his skills, and because he had been cast aside, he had found difficulty in retaining any meaningful employment he had managed to find. It even earned him the derisive surname of "Jacktrade" - a mocking moniker that served as a constant reminder of the countless jobs he had failed to keep. Despite all of this, Killian had never seen him in any state except as cheerful as a songbird. Aside from that trait that set him apart, Killian had trouble not being reminded of himself every time he interacted with his nephew, and he loathed him for it.

"So, what is it you've found yourself doing this time around?" Killian questioned casually, managing to mask his distaste.

"Oh! I'm a deckhand for a longship that sails between the Dracticos and Dvargkall. I like it well enough, though, I've only been on for a number of months...". Thorian finished sheepishly.

Killian was baffled. "You're working for a Dwarf, then?"

Thorian nodded enthusiastically. "A little unusual I know, but I ran into him while in Caportos. He was short on hands and I was, er, in-between jobs at the moment, so-"

"He hired you on for cheap?" Killian suggested, to which Thorian only smiled awkwardly. In Killian's experience, Dwarves were known to be stubborn, cheap, and conscientious. Now it made sense to hire Thorian if one were cheap - to that end Killian understood - though he could not work out why anyone belonging to such a diligent and detail-oriented race would hire an inexperienced Mid-Islander still wet behind the ears.

Suddenly, Thorian stopped in his tracks as a thought struck him. "Come to think of it Uncle, you said you were aiming for the northwest, didn't you?"

Killian turned to face him, perplexed at the sudden question. "Until this morning that had been my every intention." He replied .

Thorian beamed. "You might be in luck! We're setting out for Braemar Harbor in Dvargkall to the northwest, I'm sure Durgan will be willing to take you aboard for a reasonable price."

Killian scoffed. "Many thanks for the consideration, but I'm certain I'll find more comfortable arrangements in a matter of days."

Thorian rolled his eyes. "Shipping has already slowed down in these waters, Uncle. I'd be happy to put in a good word for you unless you're looking to winter down here in Flotsam"

Thorian turned and hurriedly strode down the dock that Killian had not realized he'd returned to before a reply could be formed. Weighing his options, Killian bit his lip and followed down the walkway in silence.