Michael Pearce - Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

“We'll need some hides,” she told Ynghilda, “and we'll add a class on boot-making to the list of things to do.”

“We're pretty much right on top of slaughtering time, so we'll have pigskin and ox-hide aplenty soon enough,” the older woman said. “Might be we can reuse the leather from the boots that don't work, too. We'll manage.”

Ynghilda looked them over and shook her head, “I think we'll need to hold off on tailoring things for the moment. These folk will be putting on weight; no sense in doing the work twice.”

“We can at least work on the length,” Deandra disagreed, “That won't change. Except for Squirrel, of course.”

Deandra looked out over the gathered Braell as they stowed their new possessions away and frowned. Something about the scene bothered her, and it took her a moment to figure out what it was.

Dressed in almost comically oversized, uniform clothing they looked all alike and a bit ridiculous. Add in their brands, the nearly identical limping and the eye lost track of the fact that they were individuals. It makes them seem childlike, she thought; the danger is in the other dwarves seeing them that way. It might be that this generation of Braell would never fully integrate into dwarven society, given their small stature, scars etc. But that did not mean their children couldn't unless they were already viewed as being 'less' than other dwarves. An underclass.

“Problem?” Ynghilda asked.

“Potentially…” Deandra said and explained her thoughts to the older woman.

“So maybe some tailoring sooner rather than later, and some different clothes as soon as we can manage,” Ynghilda said, “And we may need to rethink the idea of distributing them among existing households too; it would be too easy from them to assume the role of 'servant,' especially while they are adjusting.”

By the time everything was sorted it was lunch-time. The former slaves simply couldn't believe that they were required to stop at midday and eat more food. When they realized she was serious they were ecstatic. She was pleased by their fastidiousness as she watched them eat until she realized that it was not out of a desire to be neat. It was to make certain that no scrap, no crumb or drop of broth was wasted.

Ynghilda joined Deandra as she watched the former slaves eat.

“The army boys also dropped off a load of arms and such scavenged from the Baasgarta,” she told the younger woman, “Which included a couple of cases of thwittles and sheaths. I reckon we might hold off on passing those out for a bit.”

Thwittles were small, simple single-edged knives used for everyday chores and as an eating utensil. Everyone carried them from the time they were five or six years old, but among the Braell only the cook in each crew had one.

“I've a plan for that,” Deandra said, and explained it to the older woman.

“You've a talent for this work,” Ynghilda said, “That's going to come in right handy. We need to take note of what we're doing here, what works, what doesn't and what sort of problems we have. Remember, were going to be faced with this problem a thousand times over after the war.”

Deandra was startled by the thought.

“Not us personally!” she protested.

“No, but the folks that do could benefit from our experience,” Ynghilda said, “I'm given to understand that a party has already set out from Ironhame. You can bet they'll want to talk to us and review what we've done.”

After lunch they broke the Braell up into groups with different tasks. The cook and one other person from each crew were sent to the kitchens, where they first helped to wash up from lunch. They also set to washing the knives that the army had brought. Deandra didn't even want to think about what the Baasgarta had used them for. After the washing was done Aunt Gerdy set them all to simple tasks, slicing and peeling ingredients, learning to make bread and the like. Aunt Gerdy of course insisted that they sample things as they went along 'so that they would know how it was supposed to taste.' Naturally each of the 'assistants' was given a thwittle of their very own to help with the work. Deandra smiled to herself and thought, kitchen-duty is going to be very popular for a few days…

In the great hall the remaining Braell were divided into groups. Some of the household showed one group of them how to fit and resew their clothes. Several of the militia were brought in and helped another group with the boots. As yet the supply of hides was limited so they mostly focused on modifying the boots they had. A last group helped with the laundry. They did not yet have any of their own but the household and militia had brought plenty back with them.

Throughout the day Deandra was teaching them the language as they went, identifying each new thing that they encountered and making them repeat the words until they got it right. Squirrel was kept busy running from group to group and translating as best he could when needed. Most of the tasks were simple enough that they required little more than showing the Braell what to do and how to do it.

The Braell started out on these tasks dutifully, but as it dawned on them that they were doing these things for themselves and each other their enthusiasm grew. As alterations were completed on clothes and boots the groups rotated. The laundry was completed early, so that group joined the others as well.

Many of the former slaves already knew things like a simple whip-stitch from mending their clothes in the mining-pit. From what Deandra could gather they had also stitched hides (provided by the Baasgarta) around their feet to protect them in the winter-time.

One of the women, a girl really, approached Deandra shyly and pointed to the embroidered trim on the cuffs of Deandra's dress. She held it up for the girl to examine and she did so eagerly, fingering the stitching and examining how the trim was stitched on. Then the girl pointed to the trim and to herself and mimed stitching.

Deandra indicated the stitching and said, “Embroidery.”

The girl repeated this a few times and Deandra mimed stitching on the trim herself and said, “Embroider.”

In a very few minutes the girl understood the difference between the two words and Deandra pointed to the girl and asked, “You want to embroider?”

After a little more pantomime the girl understood and nodded her head enthusiastically. Deandra spotted Squirrel and waved him over.

“Please tell her that if she will sit with me by the hearth this evening I will teach her to embroider.”

This led the girl, appropriately named Sunlight, to learn the words 'thank you.'

The Braell were in a celebratory mood at dinner, animatedly discussing their day and what they had seen and done. After dinner they lingered at the tables while Ynghilda, Deandra and other folk of the steading gathered around the hearth. Ynghilda beckoned Squirrel over.

“Each crew has a leader, do they not?” she asked him.

“Yes Ma'am, they all have a boss,” he said.

“For now we think the 'bosses' should stay in charge of their crew,” Deandra said, “Do you think this will be a problem?”

Squirrel thought about that for a minute before replying, “Maybe, maybe not. Some good bosses, some bad. Make bad bosses be good, is good. Some…”

He was interrupted by a commotion at the back of the room, raised voices and a scuffle followed by a scream. Ynghilda scooped up her rifle as she and Deandra rushed to the source of the disturbance. She pushed through the crowd and bellowed, “MAKE A HOLE!”

The Braell may or may not have understood the words but they took the meaning well enough and parted to let them pass. A muscular older dwarf was holding a girl by the wrist with one hand and a thwittle menacingly in the other to hold off a group that Deandra thought were the girl's crew.