Running with the Enemy

Writers: Devin, Estelle
Date Posted: 2nd January 2025
Series: Guarding Gil

Characters: Tr'vel, Gilbek
Description: Tr'vel supervises Gil's exercise time
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 10, day 28 of Turn 11
Notes: Follows "Breakfast with the Enemy"

Tr'vel

"Sure you don't want to swim?" Tr'vel gestured toward the Weyrlake where
several residents were washing dragons, playing, or getting in a few
laps. Many of them wore little clothing. Some wore nothing at all.

Gil had half hoped that Tr'vel had been joking about the nude swimmers,
but he soon saw that he very clearly had not. He hastily averted his
gaze. "No thank you."

Tr'vel cackled. "Better get used to it, or you'll be staring at your
feet all day."

The holder gritted his teeth. "You said I should jog around the Weyrbowl?"

"Yeah. Get to it, holder."

There was a visible track around the outer edge of the bowl, worn by the
feet of other runners over the Turns. A few others were using it, all
clothed, to Gil's relief. He stretched, then started to jog at a slow,
easy pace. He hadn't run any distance since White Hollow, though he'd
exercised as best he could during his imprisonment, and he tried not to
feel frustrated when a pair of runners, a young man and a woman,
overtook him. **I'll get stronger, and then I'll get out of here.**

Tr'vel watched from a distance with his arms crossed. He noted how the
man moved, slow and a little stiff. Having seen Gil's back that wasn't a
surprise. A few minutes passed, then a few more, and Tr'vel sighed. This
was sharding boring, and if he had to be out here anyway, he might as
well exercise, too. He stripped off his shirt and dropped it on the
rocks near the Weyrlake, then jogged over, easily catching up with Gil.

Gil moved instinctively to one side, resigning himself to being
overtaken again, but instead the other runner slowed to match his pace.
He glanced over, recognized Tr'vel, and lengthened his stride, his
bruised pride finally rebelling at the thought of being passed by the
dragonrider.

He tilted his head to the place ahead of them where the road curved
around the half-circle of the cliffs, leading out of the Weyr. "Worried
I'll make a break for it?"

"Bored," Tr'vel answered honestly. "Since I can watch you and work out
at the same time, might as well be efficient."

"Try and keep up, then." Gil wasn't fool enough to think he could
outpace a dragonrider in his condition, and he suspected Tr'vel knew it
too, but he planned to give it his best.

Now that he was warmer the stiffness in his muscles had eased, and he
was able to push for speed as they approached the lake. He stole another
glance at Tr'vel, wondering whether the bluerider had taken his shirt
off to annoy him or to show off for the bathers - or just because it was
hot. The sun was getting higher and the shadow of the cliff was
shrinking, and he could feel his own shirt growing itchy and damp at the
back. If it wasn't for the scars he might have been tempted. For a
moment, he envied Tr'vel's smooth, unmarred brown skin...

He looked closer, seeing a faint white line that he'd not noticed before
- and then another. "Is that Threadscore? If you don't mind me asking,"
he added hastily, unsure if it was considered rude to mention it.

"Yep," Tr'vel said with perfect ease. He looked over and picked out one,
pointing to a thin but long and jagged scar on his upper arm. "That
one's from the first Turn of the Pass. The healers got better at
stitching after that, and I got better at dodging."

Gil looked again. Though it was faded now, it must have been serious
enough at the time. He'd not had anything as bad before, only the minor
nicks and cuts common to guards and hunters, and it reminded him once
again what the dragonriders faced. "It must have been hard, when it
returned. Thread."

Tr'vel's brows drew down, his gaze distant as they jogged side by side.
"It was nothing more than history. A story, and then . . . a lot of good
people died, those first few months." It had been a nightmare.

They fell silent for a while, occupied with their memories as they ran.
Gil remembered being a young guard, trying to keep in control of the
chaos at the Hold. People herded into the stone buildings for safety,
some terrified of being eaten alive, others indignant, refusing to
believe it was happening and claiming that it was a dragonrider plot.
Not knowing if his wife had made it safely inside.

"I was at Emerald Falls then." He paused, focusing on his footfalls on
the dusty ground as they passed around the lake. "I was very grateful
that you were there."

Tr'vel was quiet a moment more, but finally he asked, "So what changed?
Why'd you turn against us?" His tone wasn't quite mild, but it wasn't
aggressive either.

Gil thought about the question for a long time, so long that they'd
almost passed the lake by the time he spoke again. It was complicated
and somehow, he wanted to answer Tr'vel as honestly as he could.

"The Lord Holder - my Lord - he was never on good terms with the Weyr. I
wanted to be loyal, and I thought it wasn't my place to question his
judgement. I got used to _not_ thinking about it." That all seemed a
very long time ago. Perhaps it was remembering that first Fall that made
him realize just how far back this all went. "After I lost my job and
went to work at White Hollow, it seemed to me that you were all the
same. Lords, Holders, Weyrleaders, dragonriders. Who paid tithes to
whom, or who called himself Lord Holder, it was all meaningless. I'd
ended up on one side by chance, and it was my job to follow orders." He
stared down at the track. "Until I couldn't."

"You saved bluerider R'ayl's mother and sister," Tr'vel said quietly.
The Weyrleader had told him that, too.

"Alyena saved herself, really." He still wished he'd done more to
protect them. "I just warned her they were coming. Almost too late."

"And then the other conspirators found out what you did."

"Yes." Unconsciously, Gil pushed harder, increasing his speed as if he
could escape from the memories he preferred not to recall. "Then I ran
away. Some cotholders gave me shelter. They didn't know who I was, but
they were good people, and they respected the Weyr."

_If_ he was telling the truth . . . Tr'vel had gotten a good look at the
criss-crossing mass of scars across Gil's back and shoulders. The price
he'd paid for daring to save a woman and child. "I'm sorry, for what
they did to you," he said quietly.

Gil turned to look at the dragonrider, surprised, but only for a moment.
"I should have left that cursed hold, long before it got that far." His
head bowed. "I deserved it."

"No, you didn't," Tr'vel said without thinking. "No one deserves that."
He grunted thoughtfully. "Maybe the ones that planned it. Poisoning
dragons barely out of the shell . . ." He didn't know what someone like
that _deserved_ but he wasn't above having violent thoughts toward them.

"I suppose they'll face the Lord Holder's justice." He hadn't considered
what might become of the men he'd named - the Holder of White Hollow, or
his brother-in-law who had ordered the burning of Alyena's cothold. His
mind shied away from thinking of them, or the day of his punishment.
They'd moved into full sunlight now, and he brushed a hand across his
brow. The heat was like a weight on his shoulders, but he refused to
show it. They'd hardly been running any time.

Tr'vel could sense the man didn't want to talk about his past anymore.
"Let me know when you want a break." He focused on the pleasure of
moving his body, muscles flexing, breath coming evenly.

"I'm fine," Gil replied, a little defensively. The track stretched out
endlessly ahead of them, and sweat stung his back, but he ran on,
determined to continue until Tr'vel at least showed some sign of being
out of breath. Bad enough the dragonrider had clearly slowed to match
his pace. His frustration grew, with his own weakness and slow recovery
from illness. **I should have exercised more at the cothold.**

Tr'vel noticed the prisoner was slowing down and looked like he was
struggling. "You doing okay?"

"Yes." Gil managed to get the word out, though his breath was coming
harshly now, his throat was dry and his legs were leaden. He'd pushed
through worse than this before. If only it wasn't so hot. The Weyrbowl
seemed like a furnace, with no shade to be found. Even passing the lake
again gave no respite. The splashing and the voices of the bathers
seemed far away. He felt himself growing dizzy, and shook his head,
forcing himself to concentrate.

Tr'vel stopped and gripped Gil's arm, forcing him to stop, too. Maybe he
shouldn't have joined the man, because Gil had foolishly tried to turn
it into some kind of competition. "All right, let's get you inside." He
wrapped an arm around Gil's shoulders and steered him toward the nearest
entrance.

"I'm _fine_." He tried ineffectually to pull away, but felt a wave of
weakness and nausea sweep over him. Why had he pushed so hard? If he'd
had any sense, he'd have concealed what strength he had. "It's just the
heat."

"Which is why you need to get out of the sun, sit down, and have some
water." Tr'vel's concern was mounting. The man didn't look good at all.

"It's not that bad. I just need a moment." Gil stopped, willing himself
to recover, but found himself leaning on Tr'vel's shoulder to stay
upright. "Then I can finish the run."

Tr'vel had seen that look from more than a few people, which meant Gil
was on the verge of passing out. Without caring who Gil was or what he
might have done, Tr'vel bent and scooped the man into his arms. "Just
focus on breathing." He pivoted and turned toward the infirmary.

Gil was so astonished that he was incapable of speech, let alone
struggling, until they'd made it halfway to the infirmary entrance.
"W...what are you doing?!" His head was spinning and between overheating
and exhaustion, the best he could manage was to push his palms against
the dragonrider's chest. "Put me down!"

"Not until I get you to a chair." Tr'vel took the complaining as a good
sign. He entered the infirmary and headed straight for the waiting area.
Handling Gil easily, he set the man down in one of the chairs. "Did I
hurt your back?" When an apprentice hurried over to check on them,
Tr'vel sent her to get a glass of water.

Gil shook his head and leaned forward, breathing deeply. When the
apprentice returned, he'd recovered enough to sit up and sip some of the
water. He sighed and managed a rueful smile. "Only my pride."

"Better your pride than your head." Tr'vel patted his shoulder. "A lot
of newcomers aren't used to the heat. And you're still recovering."

"I didn't mean to cause you trouble, though." Gil looked up. "I'm sorry."

Before he could answer, a journeyman healer came up to them, scowling
and carrying a thin sheaf of hides which looked like the record of Gil's
last visit. He crouched down to check him over. "Weren't you told to
take _light_ exercise?"

"Yes. It's my fault, I didn't take account of the heat and pushed myself
too hard." Gil said quickly.

"You're lucky the Weyrhealer isn't on duty," the healer said darkly,
straightening. "There's no harm done, but you need to stay out of the
sun for at least half a candlemark and drink plenty of water." He
glanced at Tr'vel. "Can you stay with him?"

The bluerider snorted a laugh. "That's my job."

"Good. You can take him to bathe after the half candlemark is up - that
might help to cool him down." The healer updated his notes, then turned
to leave. "Next time, have him do something less strenuous. Walking or
swimming."

"Oh look," Tr'vel said with a little hint of a smile. "The healer
prescribed swimming."

Gil gave him a dubious look. "You don't have to do everything the
healers say, you know."

"I heard that," the journeyman called over his shoulder. "Swimming is
good for you."

The holder looked resigned. "All right. But I want a bathing costume."

Tr'vel rolled his eyes, but he supposed the man's pride had been damaged
enough today. "Fine. We'll check with one of the Headwoman's assistants
and see what we have in your size."

Last updated on the January 6th 2025

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