[Flashback] Among the Tents (Hirem)

[Ifran]

22nd Summer, 490 A.V. Taharqa had dragged the young lord Ifran out of the city and up the river until they had come upon a temporary settlement of Benshiran tents huddled together near the river with their flocks. As they approached, the young North Winder felt his race's typical disdain for the unwashed masses, but over the years of his training, he had been taught to look deeper always. There were ever new depths to plumb: of the spirit, of the mind, of politics. And so he tried to open his mind, hoping that he would be able to sleep despite what he imagined would be a terrible smell. His master had left him to set up their tent a little apart from the Benshira, following some sort of etiquette of which Ifran was unaware. There was no rebellion in him. Taharqa was his master and he had long ago subsumed his ego where the elder artist was concerned. Nobody cared about his noble lineage until he proved himself a worthy artist, and nobody would even consider him until he had completed his training. The tent outwitted him for the moment, and since there was little shade here, he took that as an opportunity to walk down to the river to fill up their waterskins. At least that way Ifran could sip cool water while burning in the unforgiving sun. Out here he wore a simple linen tunic over braies, unbleached and unimpressive. He was only an apprentice, after all, but despite the unimportance of his rank within the art world, he might still be kidnapped and ransomed. Thus a disguise was also necessary. With his six hands, he was hardly burdened by their water vessels, several arms flung wide to help maintain his balance as he stepped down the rocky path to the water.

[Hirem]

The padding of tiny feet became more apparent to Ifran as a child, with big baby fat and soft pure skin emerged at the top of the rocky path, glaring down at Ifran with questioning eyes that were obscured by his too large head covering, the cloth flapping into his face and making him swat at it in irritation. This was Hirem, a young Benshiran boy that had his home in the Tent community. And for little Hirem, this newcomer was as alien to him as the monsters he imagined up at bedtime.

Not to say that Hirem was very little and dimunitive. He was the type of boy that grandparents would lean down to pinch his cheek, remarking on how big he was getting. While Hirem hated this special attention, he was quite large for his age, taller than any other child and stronger than the other rascals that ran playfully about the Tent. With this strength came a more grounded view, and the boy was more duty-minded than any of his other playmates.

Still, he was prone to naivety, and this time was one of them. He had recently turned six years old, and had his spirits soaring high in the sky when he saw the Eypharian boy walking down the path to the river. At first, he could only stare with bewilderment at the thing, imagining all sorts of wonderful places where this person could have sprung out from. In the back of his mind, he remembered his father declaring to him earlier that day that visitors had arrived, visitors the likes of which he had never seen before.

And Hirem was as awestruck as his father had predicted him to be. However, his amazement was quickly drowned out by an overwhelming desire to know exactly what this person was, where he came from and what he did. This curiousity drove the boy to rush down the slope, nearly tripping or falling over at some intervals due to the tricky terrain. Eventually, however, he was on the same level as the Eypharian.

In a bold, loud voice, Hirem declared to the Eypharian, "It must be really hard to walk around with those other arms." He nodded with a knowing look, confidence sparkling in his brown eyes. "They have to weigh you down, make you tip over and fall to the ground. Right?"

[Ifran]

A large part of Ifran's training was simply awareness, both of himself, body and mind, and his surroundings. As such, his descent was slow and steady, measured as any dance. The one coming down after him, if his ears didn't deceive him, was more enthusiastic about getting down to the water than worried about breaking bones. He turned with practiced grace, an eleven year old apprentice whose only marketable skills were of little use out in the desert, unless someone handed him a khopesh. Or two, though managing two weapons at once was still a difficult endeavor for the young lordling. His eyes were blue as the desert sky when evening approached. They took in the sight of the young tent-dweller, and he considered him quietly for a moment. His master said there were things to learn from these people, though his people had a penchant for calling them dogs. He chose not to allow his lip to curl into a sneer. His face was his theatrical mask. His body was an instrument of art. He could transcend the prejudices of his people when it suited him to do so. "I only know how to walk with six arms, master shepherd," he said, his voice still a boy's soprano, though its timbre was rich and layered with training. "I wouldn't know how to walk with only two." Though, of course, he had practiced. Most apprentices learned to play female roles before their voices changed, as the demands of art could be quite strange. "Perhaps you could teach me?"

[Hirem]

"You've only ever walked with six arms? That's really strange." Hirem shook his head, but with a big smile on his face. He was talking with a boy that had six arms. It was surreal to the Benshiran boy, whose entire life had been spent with his people, sand, and goats. He supposed that it made sense that the Eypharian knew only how to walk with six arms though. Unless the other arms were loped off, it didn't really make a lot of sense to walk with two arms.

This boy was still strange though, and some part of Hirem's mind found the encounter odd, though he chose not to pay heed to it. The Eypharian's voice was pitched in a strange way to Hirem, who had never heard anyone speak with a voice that was trained to sing. His mother sang to him at night, but it lacked an artist's resonance, instead sounding more human and much more friendly. The boy's eyes were like masks, friendly on the outside but on the inside there shone a cold indifference. Hirem might have paid more attention to this, but he ignored it in his boyish way.

"You want me to teach you that? I'm not sure if I can, I'm not really the best teacher." That meant that Hirem had never taught anyone anything. What advice, what things could he teach his friends who all learned the same things he did? He could not teach them how to be good shepherds considering that was the extent of his and their knowledge. Benshirans learned little compared to Eypharians, but were more grounded than the lofty Eypharian nobles.

"Well, uh..." Hirem seemed to reach an idea, and folded his arms tightly against his chest. "Do this to four of your arms. Don't try to move them, or you're not gonna walk with two arms. Then, you just gotta learn to balance with only two. Don't worry, it's really easy! " Before waiting for the Eypharian to try this teaching out, Hirem asked, "Can I learn how to walk with six arms then?"

[Ifran]

Ifran transferred the drinking vessels to his two top hands, then wrapped his other four arms around his body. With that, he began walking with comically fake imbalance along the river bank, the vessels swinging back and forth. Clowning was a rare forte among Eypharian performers, and certainly not his, but it generally went over well with younglings, so he did his best. "I think I'm getting it!" he said excitedly, and then made a deliberate faux pas with his feet, tripping over them and falling into the river. "Oh my gods, crocodiles! Save me!" He splashed around, careful to toss the drinking vessels safely to shore on the soft sand. Getting back to Ahnatep would be no fun at all without water.

[Hirem]

Ah, a challenge! Hirem almost burst with excitement, rushing down to the river's edge. "Hang on!" He yelled, leaning forward with his tiny hands stretched out in the air as far as he can. His hand brushed past some of the other boy's fingers, and he quickly gripped the hand of the Eypharian, pulling as hard as he can. His other arm had tightened it's grip on another limb of Ifran, and Hirem tried to heave the Eypharian up onto the riverbank.

Hirem was a strong little boy, able to hold up adult goats and large stones, but a human boy with multiple arms was a different story. After several long moments of Hirem straining himself with the body, finally Ifran was pulled up onto the stable ground, the Benshiran boy panting with the exhaustion. He left Ifran to push himself up, standing at the river's edge and observing the water carefully.

"I don't see any crocodiles. Are you sure you were attacked by them?" Hirem had never seen any crocodiles before in his life, but having Ifran attacked by them wasn't too far-fetched. They had disappeared awfully fast, but he supposed that since they were in the water, they were able to move faster than any person on the ground.

"Maybe you should stick to walking with six arms. You're really bad at walking with two. No offense." Hirem sighed, realizing the fact that he couldn't walk with six arms, as Ifran had been unable to switch. Ah well, Hirem thought. He resigned himself to his current amount of arms and turned to Ifran, his disappointment clear on his face.

[Ifran]

"My hero," he proclaimed, lying on his back, six arms and two legs spread akimbo. "You must have scared them off." After a few moments, he sat up, figuring the desert heat would dry out his clothes soon enough. The quick dip in the river had been refreshing, anyway. When he located the water vessels he had thrown to shore, he got up to collect them. "I suppose you're right. I was made to walk with this many limbs and you with that many. My master, Taharqa, and I are pitching our tent near yours for a time. I must admit, I am not very good with tents. Would you help me with it?"

[Hirem]

Despite his disappointment at only walking with two arms, the Eypharian dubbing him a hero made Hirem feel much better. Add the fact that he must have scared the crocodiles off, and he almost forgot completely about walking with six arms. He liked to think of himself as very strong and very brave, so hearing these words come out of Ifran's mouth made him very happy.

Hirem felt so happy, in fact, that he decided he would do more acts of goodness. He walked over to one of the water vessels, and heaved it up into the air with no difficulty. "It's okay, I have this one." He grunted, trying to get a better grip on the vessel. It wasn't that the thing was heavy, but it was too large for Hirem's tastes. He wasn't going t give up though. Now that he had started the task, he was singularly determined on it, and nothing would stop him from carrying the vessel to the river and back.

Dunking it into the water, Hirem did his best to hold onto the vessel, resisting the water's pull with all his might. Several times it felt like it was going to slip through his grip and be pulled down the river's wake, but he managed to hold onto it long enough for the vessel to be filled. Once down, he immediately set it down on the riverbank, wiping his forehead from his exertions.

"You don't know how to set up your tent? Why not?" All his short life, he had to set up his tent every time they moved, which was very frequent for the Benshiran Tent. He couldn't imagine a life in the desert without setting up tents, or shepherding flocks, or getting water from the river. To him, a life with the Benshirans was the only existence in the desert.

[Ifran]

"Thank you," he said courteously in Common. It was strange to speak in that tongue when so much of his training went into learning the various modes and intricacies of Arumenic, but he certainly didn't speak Shiber. He watched the boy carefully, and just as carefully imitated his movements to gather the water from the river. One never knew when he would be called to imitate some Benshiran in such a manner; this was the core of his training, to transcend himself and become other people. However, he didn't set down the water once he had it, but rested it on his hip, holding it steady with two arms. "I was born in Ahnatep, down where the river meets the sea. Though half the city is in ruins, there are permanent homes enough for most people. Tents are only required beyond the bounds of the city. Of course, we cannot pack up our homes and move as easily as you can. It is a different way to live."

[Hirem]

Hirem made a loud grunt, picking up the water vessel now that his strength had returned to him. He wasn't going to let something like exhaustion stand in the way of his duty, oh no. His body had physical limits, but those had to be overcome to achieve his goals in life. Hirem didn't yet understand most of this, but in time, he would grow to revere these beliefs.

As for Ifran's talk of Ahnatep, Hirem didn't understand that either. He had never been to a large settlement of people, so the idea of a city, with walls and houses, was alien to him. To the young boy, there was only the Tent, a group of people bound together to survive against the elements and to prosper in those elements. Thinking of Ifran's home made his mind wander with imagination and the possibilities.

"A different way to live... is it a good way? If it's not, I can't imagine people wanting it." Hirem watched Ifran carefully to see if his life in the city had done him any good. He was certainly no weakling, but true strength had yet to be revealed. Hirem was very intrigued by this outsider to his home, and wanted to know all he could about him, his race, and his Ahnatep.