April 29th, 1890 — The Wee Kelpie

Firecrest was glad that another day was over. He was sweeping up after the last drunk had gone stumbling wherever they went when it was time for the to leave the Wee Kelpie. He didn't bother looking up as one of his siblings came through the door. "Want a pint?" He asked as he finally looked over at Shrike as he moved to put the broom away after vanishing the dust pile with his wand.

Shrike Umbernauld

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   Bragi Holm

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After a long day charting a barely-inhabited island off the East coast, Shrike swept into The Wee Kelpie just as they were about to close up. "Aye", he exhaled in reply to his younger brother Firecrest, still blustered from the ride as he took a seat the bar. "Come join me, why don' ye? Tell me aboot yer day."

  

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As Shrike accepted the offer of a pint, Firecrest poured one out. "I'll join you but I don't know that there is much to talk about," he said as he passed the pint on over before pouring one out for himself. "Absolutely nothing of interest happened today since the fun drunks don't come around all that much anymore."

  

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Firecrest was not the first in the family to wilt at the concept of hanging up his dirk for a more normal life, but certainly the major changes of this year had affected him the most — for his twin had been the catalyst.

"Aye, well, we havtae make oor ain fun these days", Shrike observed sagely, before accepting the pint and taking a long swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fer example — any bonny lassies come in th' day? I clocked that wee dressmaker making eyes at ye jus' last week."

  

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"Any lassies that came in looked like they had wrestled a boar before doing so. Smelled it, too," he said with a dismissive shrug. "Which dressmaker, that could be any of 'em." He might have drawn their eye but none had drawn his.

  

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"Any lassie that kin wrestle a boar at least has a gud story up 'er sleeve", Shrike corrected his brother's carelessness with a crooked grin. The dressmaker was forgotten as he chased this line of thinking, heralded by another swig of ale. "Hell, maybe you could dae wi' a bonny wee boar-wrestler. Sounds like ye need yer life shaken up a bit."

  

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Firecrest snorted. "I don't want a boar-wrestler or any sort of lass. What I need is people to get off my back about it, y'know." Not that he was particularly harassed by his family about women but these days, he was short-fused quite easily.

  

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Tempted though he was to respond with the briefest of smirks, Shrike knew that'd piss his baby brother off even more — so he kept the peace, and raised his hands. "Alright, alright, I hear ye", he replied, and downed the rest of his ale.

  

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Feeling slightly abashed and guilty when Shrike did back off, Firecrest sighed. "Besides I need to know who I am without Goldie before I can think to spend any time with a lass. Even if it be just for the fun of her company and not much else," Firecrest said as he poured himself and his brother another large pint of ale.

  

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Shrike could be persistent when needed, but he could also be patient; and that, he'd found, was what Firecrest needed. Still, though... the weeks and months since Goldhawk's death (whose mention resulted in the usual unpleasant twang of chest pain) had dragged on, with no real signs that Firecrest was improving. On the contrary, Shrike sometimes felt he could be moving backwards.

He accepted the second ale gratefully, and nodded in agreement; Firecrest needed to establish a new identity. "Dae ye have plans fer a first step?" he asked innocuously.

  

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Firecrest took a healthy swig of his drink as he thought on Shrikes question. "None at all. Not even an idea. Got any?" He had been a matched pair for so long that some wild part of his brain thought maybe he should take Shrikes earlier opinion and get shacked up or something. But the more logical side of his brain knew that would not be fair to the lass.

  

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Although loving of his family, Shrike was a braw and hardy sort who did not wear his emotions on his sleeve; and indeed did not abide much by emotions anyway. But it would be correct to say that of all the people on this fucked up planet, Firecrest was the one about he felt strongest about.

Not because they were the closest siblings (for they weren't), but because as hard as it had been for Shrike to lose Goldcrest, he knew it was a thousand times worse for the remaining twin. Shrike could both relate and not relate; he had simply to strive for understanding.

"Well..." he began slowly, pausing over his ale for a moment. He made a note not to mention lassies again. "What dae ye like doin' the maist?"

  

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"Sword fightin', I suppose. Maybe I could become a tutor for those dandy children. Teach them to handle the blade like brutes." Though he supposed it was unlikely that their parents would hire him without references as he was.

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Shrike looked at his brother thoughtfully; his instinct was to not think much of the concept of Firecrest as a teacher, but then... Shrike sometimes still thought of him as just a wee lad, which wasn't fair.

So he nodded. "Rich lads are taught fencing, I hear. Why no' put up an advert in rich neighbourhoods aroond Edinburgh; or even Hogsmeade? Yer nae stuck 'ere", he added.

  

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"True enough," Firecrest said when Shrike pointed out he wasn't stuck in the pub. "And even them upper class folk have some that not respectable person would work for. A niche market, I'd say." He had heard of a wealthy man in Wellingtonshire that was even less reputable than most of the Umbernaulds - if he had kids, Firecrest was sure he'd hire someone without references. Plus, he could just get one of his siblings to fake being a reference for him if need be.

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"True", Shrike replied, and raised his tankard briefly to Firecrest to celebrate what could genuinely be some inkling of a new calling... a promising path opening for the lad at long last.

"As lang as ye dinnae mind weans*", he added wryly. "They're nae all as fun as Lin an' Jackie."

*kids

  

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