Hard Headed

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 2nd November 2013

Characters: Vell, Elor
Description: Vell takes her troubles to her brother
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 3, day 9 of Turn 7

He wanted to marry her off to _Prucius_. A cold combination of anger and panic dug a
hollow in her middle, making Vell ill as she paced through the halls of her
Hold. The worn grooves of generations of feet had smoothed down the middle path
she currently stomped down and faded tapestries on the walls muffled the click
of her heels and stopped them from echoing. Her father wanted to marry her off
when she was already married.

**Yarron, where are you?** Vell staggered to a halt in the middle of the hall as the
first of the threatened tears spilled down her cheek. She hugged her middle and
tried to stifle the rest. He loved her. For over a Turn they'd courted, and
they'd been married for six blissful months. When he'd kissed her goodbye, he'd
hugged her tight and promised to be home as soon as he could. He'd _promised_.

Six months ago.

It wasn't _fair_. Vell wiped her tears with the heel of her hand and sniffed loudly.
There had to be some reason that the Harper Hall denied knowing Yarron, a good,
logical reason. He was a Harper, he had the knots, and more importantly he
could play a flute and gitar with skill and grace. He knew Pernese law, he
helped with their record-keeping, he could write the most wonderful poetry. A
man who wrote poetry wasn't the sort of man to use her and leave her was he?
"He loves me," she whispered fiercely, forcing herself to believe it.

He'd be back tomorrow. He'd fly in on a great bronze dragon and kiss her soundly in
front of everyone. Maybe he had amnesia? It happened all the time in novels.
Maybe he was being held hostage and, like her, being forced to marry someone
else.

She sniffed again, then straightened and used the heels of her hands to rub the
tears from her eyes. Crying in a hallway no matter how hurt she felt, that was
not the way to behave. Besides, it had been six months. Her father was
right-the time for tears was over and she needed to stop acting like a silly,
heartbroken girl and make her own fate. Something had to be done.

What that something was still eluded her.

She turned back toward the solar where she'd left her sisters and cousins spinning
and weaving in the sunshine, but couldn't stomach their giggles and debates
over the perfect color of thread for wrist cuffs. Threads, colors, fashion,
it all seemed so irrelevant. Instead she turned the other way and hurried down
the hall toward her uncle's domain-the Steward's offices. Her brother Elor
would be there.

Down two flights of steps and one hall over, this one also stone-floored but the wood
paneled walls here were lacking the tapestries. A glow was hung every few feet
to try to dispel the gloom, although they were already below-ground and
windows that luxury were impossible.

She knocked on a closed wooden door, similar to all the others save for the pattern
of scratches on its face. "Elor?"

After a moment her brother's muffled voice bade her enter, and Vell slipped inside. The
office Elor had was gloomier than her father's, but brighter than the hall. The
walls were lined with bookshelves holding identically bound ledgers dutifully
recording rainfall, harvests, and wool and mutton shipments back for more Turns
than she'd been alive. Her brother sat behind one of the two large wooden desks
covered in hides and ink stains, and he grinned as she entered. The other desk-her
uncle's-was empty. "What're you doing here, wool-for-brains?"

"Looking for intelligent company. Seen any?" Vell made a show of peering into the
corners as she flopped into the chair across from her brother.

"Nope. There's nobody here by that description." Elor put down his quill and stretched
his hands behind his head, exposing a pale flash of wrist as his shirtsleeves
rode up. He was the only one of her siblings taller than she was, but they
could have otherwise been twins. "I'll take any excuse to not do this, though."

"What are you doing?" Vell asked.

Elor tipped his head to one side and an unpleasant *crack* rang through the room as
he relieved pressure in his neck. "Compiling tithe records for the last ten
Turns to calculate the percentage increase by Turn of salted mutton. It's really riveting."

Vell wrinkled her nose. "Why would you want to do that?" she asked. "We have to tithe
no matter what they ask for."

"But if we understand the trends, we can anticipate their needs and better prepare
ourselves for their requests. Buy more salt, for instance." Elor steepled his
fingers on the desk and peered over his fingertips at her. "But these are manly
things, for men to consider. Shouldn't you be embroidering something?"

"I'd rather shoot something," she muttered, crossing her arms. "Father just summoned
me. Guardsman Prucius offered for my hand."

Elor went still, his eyes hardening. "Prucius?"

She shrugged and pretended she didn't care. "Father's given me a sevenday to
decide, although I think that he wants me to decide to accept Prucius' suit."

"You could do so much better, Vell."

Tears started to prick at her eyes again. "I already have."

"Vell?" Elor sighed and ran his hand through his red-brown hair, leaving it in an
artful disarray of half-curls. Before he'd married, half the female holders in
their territory were in love with him because of that hair. "Father's not
serious. You know that, right?"

"Yes he is."

Elor shook his head. "Prucius probably did make an offer, but there is no way Father
would accept the match. He just wants you to." He made a helpless gesture with
his hands. "You know. This whole thing with Yarron is-the evidence is there.
You just don't want to believe it."

"_What_ evidence? There is no evidence. That's the problem." Vell bit off the rest of
what she wanted to say. Mutton-headed as he was, Elor was still her brother and
he didn't deserve the sharp edge of her tongue. "All anyone knows is that
Yarron came here with knots, he could play and sing and do everything else a
Harper could do but that the Hall denies he's one of theirs. They sent one
letter. _One_. And my life, my entire life, is a lie because of words on a
hide. If it walks like a Harper, talks like a Harper?" She shook her head. "I
believe what I hear, what I see, what I touch. What I _live_. Not ink stains."

"Why would the Harper Hall lie?" Elor asked.

Vell bit her lip. That was the problem. It was the Harper Hall. They _always_ spoke the
truth. "I don't know," she said softly. "But I'm not a-he didn't abandon me
out of choice. I know that."

"I liked him too." Elor smiled, a little sadly. "But don't be surprised when I break his
face if he comes back here."

"_When_ he comes back," Vell corrected tartly.

"I'm still going to break his face."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Get in line. I know Father has dibs on his fingers."

"You're going to get half a man back, you know."

"Better than no man at all." Vell was silent for a moment. "I miss him so much, Elor."

"I know." The pity in his voice almost made her cry again. "But it doesn't look good. You
have to admit it doesn't look like he's ever coming back."

"I just.." She knuckled the tears from her eyes and sat up a little straighter. No more
crying like a little girl. "I hate not knowing."

"But what can we do?" Elor ran his hand through his hair again. "He's gone, the Harper
Hall has sent their response, and now that Father's banished Harpers from the
Hold they're not going to be eager to please us with news. The only thing we
can do now is move on."

"And what if it were your wife that went missing?" Vell asked. "You know you'd turn Pern
inside out looking for her. And yet I'm expected to just move on and pretend my
marriage never happened?"

"I know, it's not fair." Elor grimaced. "I get that. But I can't do anything about it."

**Won't.** Elor could ride to the Harper Hall and speak to them on her behalf, if he
wanted to. He could ride across Pern if he wanted to. But he didn't,
wouldn't, not with his own little family to mind, and not without Father's
approval. Her father wouldn't stir himself anymore than he had already, and her
other brother was only fifteen, barely into manhood and in no way equipped to
make the long trek, let alone deal with everyone he met along the way. They had
their own lives to manage, and so her's got left by the wayside. Ruined,
abandoned and heartbroken, and without the decency of widowhood to cower behind.

Something in her expression must have alerted Elor to the dark turn her thoughts had
taken. "Don't look so sad, sister-mine. Things will turn out in the end. I know
they will."

Vell smiled but didn't bother to make it look genuine. "Thanks."

"Let's go hunting after dinner."

She looked up, distracted despite herself. "Really?"

Elor shrugged, an easy smile answering her faked one. "Why not? It's been forever
since we went out, just the two of us. I hear a rumor that there are canines
going after the flocks in the Low Fields. Maybe we can track them down and
bring their tails back as a present for Mother."

"Like you'd ever shoot a canine." Vell rolled her eyes.

"Like you _could_ shoot a canine," her brother shot back. "Last time you had one in your
sights it was all, 'Oh, Elor! What if it's someone's pet?' and then it ran off
to kill another ovine before you loosed a single arrow."

"Shut up! That was once!"

"My bloodthirsty little sister," Elor said mockingly. "Perhaps a little heartbreak
will have encouraged you to shoot."

"After dinner. You and I." Vell stood and looked haughtily down her nose at her
brother. "Let's see who is the hardest of Father's children."

"You! Always you!" Elor's laugh chased her down the hall and back toward the
sunlight. Vell let herself smile a little. Her father might be hard, but Elor
was right-she was his blood, and she could match him at his game.

Last updated on the November 22nd 2013

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Hard Headed