Agrarian Peasant Quest
- Thread starter Artificial Girl
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
- Location
- Boston
[X] Sounds fair to you!
- Location
- Volksstaat Hessen, Deutsches Reich
[X] Sounds fair to you!
1-5: The work is never done
- Location
- Somewhere in the stacks
- Pronouns
- She/Her
It takes a moment of thought, and then you give a nod.
"That sounds fair to me, Ranulf. It's agreed." You stick your hand out to shake his hand and he grins and does the same, his calloused hand grasping yours.
"I'll come get them in a week, then?"
"Five days. Fulkes will have one then and I'll let him know to expect you."
"Thanks!" You smile cheerily. "Take care now, Ranulf."
"And you. Lady guide and keep you." With that you start the trudge back to your home. It's not terribly long, about ten minutes and the conversation with Ranulf didn't take as long as you'd expected. As you approach the squat thatch-roofed house, Hugue is still mending the fence, swearing under his breath as he forces a branch through the wicker framework. The yard smells of soil and chickenshit beneath woodsmoke and you can see people moving across the fields to start work, smoke drifting up from thatched homes as morning hearths are stoked back into life.
"Still messin' about with the fence?" You ask him and ruffle his short cropped his hair. You'd cut it the day before after a winter of letting grow shaggy. Hugue grumbled and reached up to shove your hand away.
"I don't want the chickens straying, Katell. We need them to make more chickens this spring." You eye the rooster, strutting around the two hens with proud little clucking sounds.
"True. Well, they're fed and the fence is mended well enough to keep 'em in, so lets get out to the field. I want to check on the winter wheat and then work on clearing the field for peas. Lots to do!" There's always lots to do, but you like to remind Hugue.
"I know, I know," he grumbles and gets to his feet, then heads into the house. You follow so you can fetch your tools--simple woodboard shovels and rakes. You both have your own knives, of course, and a pair of sturdy and well-used billhooks to help clear brush and other growth.
"I'll have a midday meal ready for you when you're ready. And make sure you check the winter wheat," your mother says with a smile as she sits, slowly working her way through weaving a bolt of cloth that will no doubt become a new piece of clothing for someone. You wish you had time to do that sort of thing, but with the farm needing all your attention you just can't spare the hours to sit and weave and spin all day.
"I will, maman," you reply with a warm smile. "Don't you worry." She is old and a bit frail but still able to do some work, which you're glad for. You have the feeling that if she weren't able to work, it might hasten her passing from this world--you've seen it. Fulkes' mother had a fall and couldn't do any work any longer and she just... faded away inside a couple of months. It wasn't good not to be able to do things for yourself, you thought. You stepped out of the house with Hugues in tow and turned to start down the lane to where you could cut across the fields towards your patch of land. As you did so, you heard a warning shout and the pair of you hurriedly jumped aside as a pair of horsemen trotted (practically galloping, the idiots!) down the lane in a cloud of dust. They didn't even spare you a glance and Marthe, one of your neighbors, stood in her fenced in patch shaking her head as she tossed feed to the chickens.
"Not even a word, those two. Not bothering to look where they're going. Great idiots..." She clucked her tongue disapprovingly.
"Alright there Katell, Hugue?" Marthe asks and you give a nod. At the same moment, Killian comes down the road, driving his family's goats and sheep out towards the common grazing land. He gives a 'Good morning!' to Marthe and a beaming smile to you. You smile back and hope that you're not blushing much.
"Good morning, Katell, Hugue. Those bastards didn't so much as slow down, did they? Nearly scattered the animals so I'd have spent half the morning gathering them all up again." The young man says, looking after the quickly retreating horsemen. He's tall and a year or two younger than you with dark eyes and dusty brown hair that looks good for running your hand through. Not that you think about it that much.
"Just fine, Marthe. People like that never pay people like us any mind," you say, rolling your eyes. "Probably in a hurry to Lord Walter's or something. Idiots. And they ARE bastards, pigfucking bastards Killian."
"Probably some news, I'd wager," Hugue said. "Maybe something important is happening?"
"As important as spring planting? Don't be stupid, Hugue," you say and shove his hat down over his eyes. He's still shorter than you for now, so you're going to take every chance you can to rub it in, considering he might well have a growth spurt sometime soon. Killian chuckled.
"Well, you know how lords and them are. They have queer ways of thinking about the world," Hugue protests. Marthe nods in agreement, as does Killian.
"He's right, they don't think too much of us and our concerns. They have big things to worry about. Taxes and such." The four of you spend a few minutes griping about taxes (though they have been mercifully low the last few years, it never makes you happy to have to give up part of your crop) and then you finally make your excuses to head off to the fields.
Your first stop is the little stretch that's been harboring your winter wheat. It's starting to poke itself through the soil, little green sprouts appearing. You hope there won't be a late frost--it might be hard on the wheat, even though it's hardy. The two of you make sure your scarecrows are in place and spend an hour or two cutting back some encroaching brush which you toss onto the rough hedgerows which mark the borders of your fields and the small sunken lanes of packed earth that meander outwards from the main road. That done, you head to the field you plan to plan for field peas. Though nothing much grows in the winter, it's been laying fallow since last year and there's a growth of low shrubs, bushes, and weeds that needs clearing. It's quite a lot of work to do, and you suspect it'll take you a few days to get it all done if you don't rush it.
You spend the rest of the morning cutting and clearing the brush and manage to clear a couple of acres by the time the soon has risen to the middle of the sky and the pair of you are damp with sweat and ravenous. Normally, you might get food brought out to you in the field but with your mother's ailment, you take the time to tromp back to your home. There's bread and cheese waiting for you, along with a pottage of broad beans, onions, some pickled cabbage as well as some radishes and radish greens from the garden. Hearty food and filling. Most importantly, it's hot. Hugue and you both devour everything put in front of you. Then it's a kiss on the cheek for mother and you head back out to continue your work. By the end of the day, just as the sun is starting to set, your back is sore from stooping to hack and cut at the larger growth from your billhook and you have piles of the stuff to be added to the rough hedgerows.
It'll wait for tomorrow, though. As the shadows grow longer you head back towards home--being out at night seems a bad choice. You pause only to corral your she-goat and drag her back to the house for the night. At home, you sit and have a small evening meal of bread and cheese and then to sleep. The next day is much the same--work, midday meal, sleep. It's the easy pattern of living, though sometimes work includes collecting wood from the commons or helping a neighbor with some task for which they need more hands.
Then comes the seventhday, and with it the appropriate religious rituals. That means church and an afternoon off from your normal work (a day of rest, or so it's supposed). The village priest, Julien, always gives good sermons and this week he has a good one about the value the Lady places on good works, not just on good intentions, and the importance of being good neighbors. The ritual of the prayers and so forth are comforting and welcome, especially when the time comes to entreat the Lady for mercy and kindness for the departed. Your father is buried in the churchyard and it makes you feel better to think that the Lady is watching over him.
Then, of course, after the sermon comes the time you look forward to all week, a chance to step away from the sore backs and focus on other things, whether that's a bit of leisure or working on other things that need doing. You could have a bowl of beer with your neighbors and catch up on the gossip--maybe someone knows something about the horsemen who came rattling through town. A few of the young folks your age are talking about starting up a ballgame. It's simple, really. You mark a goal at each end of the lane and then both teams do their best to deliver the ball (an inflated pig's bladder) across their goal line. It can get rough, with tackling, kicking, and throwing but it's a good bit of fun and will let you socialize with your peers. Alternatively, you could do some of the things around the house you haven't found time for yet--like check the thatch or make sure the fence has been mended properly. Really, it's up to you.
"That sounds fair to me, Ranulf. It's agreed." You stick your hand out to shake his hand and he grins and does the same, his calloused hand grasping yours.
"I'll come get them in a week, then?"
"Five days. Fulkes will have one then and I'll let him know to expect you."
"Thanks!" You smile cheerily. "Take care now, Ranulf."
"And you. Lady guide and keep you." With that you start the trudge back to your home. It's not terribly long, about ten minutes and the conversation with Ranulf didn't take as long as you'd expected. As you approach the squat thatch-roofed house, Hugue is still mending the fence, swearing under his breath as he forces a branch through the wicker framework. The yard smells of soil and chickenshit beneath woodsmoke and you can see people moving across the fields to start work, smoke drifting up from thatched homes as morning hearths are stoked back into life.
"Still messin' about with the fence?" You ask him and ruffle his short cropped his hair. You'd cut it the day before after a winter of letting grow shaggy. Hugue grumbled and reached up to shove your hand away.
"I don't want the chickens straying, Katell. We need them to make more chickens this spring." You eye the rooster, strutting around the two hens with proud little clucking sounds.
"True. Well, they're fed and the fence is mended well enough to keep 'em in, so lets get out to the field. I want to check on the winter wheat and then work on clearing the field for peas. Lots to do!" There's always lots to do, but you like to remind Hugue.
"I know, I know," he grumbles and gets to his feet, then heads into the house. You follow so you can fetch your tools--simple woodboard shovels and rakes. You both have your own knives, of course, and a pair of sturdy and well-used billhooks to help clear brush and other growth.
"I'll have a midday meal ready for you when you're ready. And make sure you check the winter wheat," your mother says with a smile as she sits, slowly working her way through weaving a bolt of cloth that will no doubt become a new piece of clothing for someone. You wish you had time to do that sort of thing, but with the farm needing all your attention you just can't spare the hours to sit and weave and spin all day.
"I will, maman," you reply with a warm smile. "Don't you worry." She is old and a bit frail but still able to do some work, which you're glad for. You have the feeling that if she weren't able to work, it might hasten her passing from this world--you've seen it. Fulkes' mother had a fall and couldn't do any work any longer and she just... faded away inside a couple of months. It wasn't good not to be able to do things for yourself, you thought. You stepped out of the house with Hugues in tow and turned to start down the lane to where you could cut across the fields towards your patch of land. As you did so, you heard a warning shout and the pair of you hurriedly jumped aside as a pair of horsemen trotted (practically galloping, the idiots!) down the lane in a cloud of dust. They didn't even spare you a glance and Marthe, one of your neighbors, stood in her fenced in patch shaking her head as she tossed feed to the chickens.
"Not even a word, those two. Not bothering to look where they're going. Great idiots..." She clucked her tongue disapprovingly.
"Alright there Katell, Hugue?" Marthe asks and you give a nod. At the same moment, Killian comes down the road, driving his family's goats and sheep out towards the common grazing land. He gives a 'Good morning!' to Marthe and a beaming smile to you. You smile back and hope that you're not blushing much.
"Good morning, Katell, Hugue. Those bastards didn't so much as slow down, did they? Nearly scattered the animals so I'd have spent half the morning gathering them all up again." The young man says, looking after the quickly retreating horsemen. He's tall and a year or two younger than you with dark eyes and dusty brown hair that looks good for running your hand through. Not that you think about it that much.
"Just fine, Marthe. People like that never pay people like us any mind," you say, rolling your eyes. "Probably in a hurry to Lord Walter's or something. Idiots. And they ARE bastards, pigfucking bastards Killian."
"Probably some news, I'd wager," Hugue said. "Maybe something important is happening?"
"As important as spring planting? Don't be stupid, Hugue," you say and shove his hat down over his eyes. He's still shorter than you for now, so you're going to take every chance you can to rub it in, considering he might well have a growth spurt sometime soon. Killian chuckled.
"Well, you know how lords and them are. They have queer ways of thinking about the world," Hugue protests. Marthe nods in agreement, as does Killian.
"He's right, they don't think too much of us and our concerns. They have big things to worry about. Taxes and such." The four of you spend a few minutes griping about taxes (though they have been mercifully low the last few years, it never makes you happy to have to give up part of your crop) and then you finally make your excuses to head off to the fields.
Your first stop is the little stretch that's been harboring your winter wheat. It's starting to poke itself through the soil, little green sprouts appearing. You hope there won't be a late frost--it might be hard on the wheat, even though it's hardy. The two of you make sure your scarecrows are in place and spend an hour or two cutting back some encroaching brush which you toss onto the rough hedgerows which mark the borders of your fields and the small sunken lanes of packed earth that meander outwards from the main road. That done, you head to the field you plan to plan for field peas. Though nothing much grows in the winter, it's been laying fallow since last year and there's a growth of low shrubs, bushes, and weeds that needs clearing. It's quite a lot of work to do, and you suspect it'll take you a few days to get it all done if you don't rush it.
You spend the rest of the morning cutting and clearing the brush and manage to clear a couple of acres by the time the soon has risen to the middle of the sky and the pair of you are damp with sweat and ravenous. Normally, you might get food brought out to you in the field but with your mother's ailment, you take the time to tromp back to your home. There's bread and cheese waiting for you, along with a pottage of broad beans, onions, some pickled cabbage as well as some radishes and radish greens from the garden. Hearty food and filling. Most importantly, it's hot. Hugue and you both devour everything put in front of you. Then it's a kiss on the cheek for mother and you head back out to continue your work. By the end of the day, just as the sun is starting to set, your back is sore from stooping to hack and cut at the larger growth from your billhook and you have piles of the stuff to be added to the rough hedgerows.
It'll wait for tomorrow, though. As the shadows grow longer you head back towards home--being out at night seems a bad choice. You pause only to corral your she-goat and drag her back to the house for the night. At home, you sit and have a small evening meal of bread and cheese and then to sleep. The next day is much the same--work, midday meal, sleep. It's the easy pattern of living, though sometimes work includes collecting wood from the commons or helping a neighbor with some task for which they need more hands.
Then comes the seventhday, and with it the appropriate religious rituals. That means church and an afternoon off from your normal work (a day of rest, or so it's supposed). The village priest, Julien, always gives good sermons and this week he has a good one about the value the Lady places on good works, not just on good intentions, and the importance of being good neighbors. The ritual of the prayers and so forth are comforting and welcome, especially when the time comes to entreat the Lady for mercy and kindness for the departed. Your father is buried in the churchyard and it makes you feel better to think that the Lady is watching over him.
Then, of course, after the sermon comes the time you look forward to all week, a chance to step away from the sore backs and focus on other things, whether that's a bit of leisure or working on other things that need doing. You could have a bowl of beer with your neighbors and catch up on the gossip--maybe someone knows something about the horsemen who came rattling through town. A few of the young folks your age are talking about starting up a ballgame. It's simple, really. You mark a goal at each end of the lane and then both teams do their best to deliver the ball (an inflated pig's bladder) across their goal line. It can get rough, with tackling, kicking, and throwing but it's a good bit of fun and will let you socialize with your peers. Alternatively, you could do some of the things around the house you haven't found time for yet--like check the thatch or make sure the fence has been mended properly. Really, it's up to you.
[ ] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
[ ] Ball (is life): Get involved in the ball game. It's not at all strange for young men and women to play together and you'd be able to have some physical exertion that's not related to work.
[ ] No rest (though you're not wicked): You have other things that need doing. Better to just work on making sure you can focus on the real work when the week starts anew--there's plowing to do on the morrow.
[ ] Other: If you think of something else you'd like to do on this day of rest, put it here! (Subject to QM approval)
[ ] Ball (is life): Get involved in the ball game. It's not at all strange for young men and women to play together and you'd be able to have some physical exertion that's not related to work.
[ ] No rest (though you're not wicked): You have other things that need doing. Better to just work on making sure you can focus on the real work when the week starts anew--there's plowing to do on the morrow.
[ ] Other: If you think of something else you'd like to do on this day of rest, put it here! (Subject to QM approval)
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- Location
- St. Petersburg
[x] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
- Location
- Upon the back of the Great A'Tuin
[X] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
[X] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
- Location
- Volksstaat Hessen, Deutsches Reich
Hmmm... not that proto-footie isn't a good idea, but I think it'd be nice if we get some information on what's going on around.
[X] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
[X] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
Alyuna
/ᐠ-﹏-ᐟ\
- Location
- Emerald of the Equator
[X] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
[X] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
- Location
- Who Knows
[X] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
I can't believe I missed the previous updates somehow rip. No votes that went crazy, but anyway I'm back.
I can't believe I missed the previous updates somehow rip. No votes that went crazy, but anyway I'm back.
- Location
- Pennsylvania
[X] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
- Pronouns
- They/It
[X] Ball (is life): Get involved in the ball game. It's not at all strange for young men and women to play together and you'd be able to have some physical exertion that's not related to work.
- Location
- Philippines
[X] Ball (is life): Get involved in the ball game. It's not at all strange for young men and women to play together and you'd be able to have some physical exertion that's not related to work.
- Location
- Pilipinas
[X] Beer (and gossip): Spend some time with your neighbors having a brew this afternoon. It's a nice spring day and sitting around in front of the common house with a nice draft of small beer and chatting sounds like a good way to blow off steam after this first hard work week of spring.
- might get injured in the ball game
- might get injured in the ball game
