The Calm Before the Storm (Chapter Three)
Jan. 28th, 2007 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kalleahI've gone back and made some edits to the first two chapters, most particularly chapter two, so if you've read those two, it might be a good idea to go back.
( Chapter One )
( Chapter Two )
( Chapter One )
( Chapter Two )
In the morning, Rose dressed and walked along the same path she and Jacob had taken the night before, seeing and hearing no companions except the ever-present birds in the trees. When she emerged at the central clearing where the dining hall, church, and other buildings stood, she was still alone. She looked from side to side, searching for some sign of life. With what Jacob had told her as they walked to the cottage, she assumed that he and the other brothers were in prayer. The sun had risen as she walked, and the light filtered through the trees, casting a shadowy, surreal glow across the scene. She studied the path where the Doctor had disappeared to but wasn't sure whether to follow it and see if she could find the library -- and hopefully, him -- or stay for the morning meal and the eventual return of Jacob and the brothers. After a moment of indecision, she decided for once, she would take the good Doctor's advice and not wander off. She took a seat on a bench in front of the dining hall and stretched her legs out in front of her.
After a time, the doors of the church opened and a dozen or more dark-clad monks came out, most heading in her direction. She spotted Jacob in their midst and hopped up, smiling with genuine pleasure at seeing his wrinkled face. He beamed back at her. "Good morning, my dear. I trust you slept well?"
"Like a baby," she bobbed her head at him. She wondered if she had dreamed the bells in the night.
The laugh lines around Jacob's eyes furrowed deeper. "I always thought that was an odd saying. Don't babies wake up at all hours? Wouldn't that be a terrible way to sleep?"
"You sound like the Doctor," she laughed.
"So I do," said Jacob, trying to smooth down his smile for a moment and failing utterly. "Come on then."
They walked companionably together into the dining hall and sat together this time, taking plates of brown rolls, cheese, and fruit passed from other hands at the table. After another brother had given benediction, Rose started to ask Jacob a question but then remembered the Doctor's caution at dinner and put a piece of fruit into her open mouth instead. She chewed and contemplated the taste. It was firm like a pear or an apple, but had the citrus bite of an orange. When she finished, she again passed the plate and her mug back to waiting hands, bowed her head respectfully for the closing prayer, and rose to follow Jacob out into the morning. The Doctor was outside, hair standing on end in several places, as if he had slept on it wrong. Rose knew very well that he had probably spent the whole night reading, one hand tangled in his hair, glasses pushed firmly onto the bridge of his nose.
Before she had completely forced that train of thought out of her mind, the Doctor smiled brightly at Rose. "Hello! Good morning. Get some rest?"
"Yes," she said. "Slept like a baby." She winked at Jacob and the Doctor gave her a puzzled look for a moment before his mind jumped elsewhere.
"Brother Tomas has asked me to assist with some cataloging of new material for the library," he announced. "You all right to be on your own for a while?" He directed his question to Rose, who looked briefly behind her to see if he meant someone else. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Okay," she said. He beamed and bustled off toward the library again.
Rose looked at Jacob. "What do you ... do ... during the day?" she asked, a little hesitantly, not wanting to be rude.
He was more than willing to answer her question. "After our observances in the morning, we will tend our chickens and bees, gather eggs and honey, and do the other chores that need to be done. We have prayers before and after the midday meal, then work and study or attend classes in the afternoon. In the evening, we have prayers before and after the evening meal, as you saw last night. Then, we sleep, and rise early for prayers in the wee hours, and the day begins again."
"Every day?" she asked, a little taken aback.
Jacob's laugh lines furrowed as he gave her a beneficent smile. "Yes, my dear. It is the life of a brother here. We give our lives to God, prayer, study, and hark work. It molds us and makes us who we are."
"How long have you been here?"
"Sixty-four years," he said. "Every day a blessing."
Rose spent that day with Jacob and several of the other brothers. In the morning, she collected eggs, helped to sort them, and fed the chickens. She helped prepare the midday meal and with the washing-up afterward. In the afternoon, she tended the camellias under Jacob's careful tutelage. By the time dusk began to gather and Jacob set off for prayers in the church, she sat down on the bench outside the dining hall with a tired sigh.
The Doctor sat down next to her and nudged her over on the bench. "Have a good day?" he asked cheerily.
"Yes, actually," she said, and felt some surprise. "How was the library?"
He rubbed his shoulder playfully against hers. "Brilliant. You look like you went and played in the dirt."
"I did," she said, laughing. "I fed chickens."
"Chickens! Dame Rose of the Powell Estate, feeding chickens?"
"You're being rude again," she poked at him.
He sighed. "I do try, you know."
"Mmm. Easy to say when you've been reading books all day."
"Libraries can be terribly dusty," he protested. "And damp. Not very good for the books, either." As if to make his point for him, Rose began plucking bits of debris off his jacket. "Are you grooming me?"
"Someone has to," she said. In retaliation, he stuck a thumb in his mouth and swiped at her cheek. She squealed and leaped up, taking several steps back. He stayed seated on the bench, smiling rakishly up at her as she mock shivered and wiped at her face. "You didn't just do that," she gasped.
"Someone has to," he mocked.
They stopped when the bells tolled gently and the monks began to file out of the church, with Rose at least somewhat chagrined by their antics so near a place of worship. The Doctor rose and came to her side, walking with her into the dining hall with the others. The meal progressed with the efficiency and order Rose had observed previously, and she found that she was hungry enough to wish she had the nerve to ask for seconds. She didn't. When she looked wistfully at the Doctor's remaining roll, he gave her an affronted look and put far too much of it for comfort or dignity into his mouth. Rose rolled her eyes at him expressively as he chewed vigorously and made short work of the rest of the roll.
After the meal concluded, the Doctor and Rose talked briefly with Jacob outside before he headed off to the final prayers of the day. Despite the fact that it was early evening, Rose found herself yawning and thinking hopefully of the little bed with its down blanket. The Doctor talked at her (not to her, she thought, but at her) about one of the manuscripts that he had cataloged. " ... written in Caroline miniscule, which is fascinating considering the time period. Quite progressive. I would have expected to see more of an insular script."
Rose gave him a pleading look and he stopped talking. "I'm going to bed," she said, unable to restrain another yawn. "I'm sure it is fascinating but I can't think about scripts and manuscripts right now."
The Doctor shook his head with some resignation. "You sleep too much. Miss out on all the fun that way."
"You ought to sleep more," she countered without enthusiasm. "Good night." She turned and left him standing in front of the dining hall. When she entered the little cottage, she found the fire burning low, as it had been the night before. She turned back the bed, looked longingly at it, and considered her current state of cleanliness. A brief bath washed away the dirt and debris of the day (she tried hard not to think about chickens) and left her feeling squeaky clean and virtuous. She was asleep as soon as she had settled comfortably under the blanket.
In the night, she awoke again to the sound of low tolling bells from the distance, but without the sense of confusion from the night before. The bells had been her constant companion over the course of her day, tolling to tell the brothers when to work, pray, or eat. What woke her fully was the sound of someone in the room with her. She felt a moment's genuine fear as she sat up, pulling the blanket protectively against her. The figure was seated in the chair opposite her bed, facing the fire. With a start, she recognized the profile and let out a long sigh. "You scared me."
"I didn't mean to," the Doctor said, sounding a little hurt. "You sleep for such a long time, you humans."
She scooted back into the bed and patted the mattress beside her. "Come here." He rose and slid into bed with her, toeing off his trainers and tossing his jacket and tie onto the chair before laying down on his side to face her. She folded the blanket around them both. "Are you so terribly bored that you had to wake me up?"
"I didn't wake you up. The bells did," he pointed out. "I was very quiet."
Rose conceded the point. "Yeah, okay. Wouldn't a bunch of monks object to you being in my room, anyway?"
"Probably. I, however, do not plan to tell them, and I assume you won't either." She nodded and burrowed closer against him, wiggling her toes against the side of his foot. He huffed slightly (she was sure he was ticklish) and rolled onto his back, rearranging her so he could slide one arm under her pillow and pull her close against his side. "Stop squirming," he growled playfully.
Rose stilled and drew in a cautious breath, inhaling his scent. Beneath the surface smell of dust and old parchment, presumably from his hours in the library, he smelled like wool and more faintly, a hint of sweat. His fingers stroked her shoulder and she felt a warm, suffuse joy spread within her. These moments of unguarded intimacy between them were precious to her in ways she could not put into words. Despite her desire to savor the moment, sleep nudged at her mind insistently. "Sorry. Stupid ape needs sleep," she yawned, and felt the vibrations begin deep within his chest before the laugh burst out of him.
"It's okay," he murmured into her hair. "Get some rest."
"You okay if I -" she yawned again "- sleep like this?"
"Yes."
Rose relaxed against him and, wordlessly happy, drifted back into sleep. The Doctor, lying on his back with his arms around her, stared into the dim firelight and did not close his eyes.
After a time, the doors of the church opened and a dozen or more dark-clad monks came out, most heading in her direction. She spotted Jacob in their midst and hopped up, smiling with genuine pleasure at seeing his wrinkled face. He beamed back at her. "Good morning, my dear. I trust you slept well?"
"Like a baby," she bobbed her head at him. She wondered if she had dreamed the bells in the night.
The laugh lines around Jacob's eyes furrowed deeper. "I always thought that was an odd saying. Don't babies wake up at all hours? Wouldn't that be a terrible way to sleep?"
"You sound like the Doctor," she laughed.
"So I do," said Jacob, trying to smooth down his smile for a moment and failing utterly. "Come on then."
They walked companionably together into the dining hall and sat together this time, taking plates of brown rolls, cheese, and fruit passed from other hands at the table. After another brother had given benediction, Rose started to ask Jacob a question but then remembered the Doctor's caution at dinner and put a piece of fruit into her open mouth instead. She chewed and contemplated the taste. It was firm like a pear or an apple, but had the citrus bite of an orange. When she finished, she again passed the plate and her mug back to waiting hands, bowed her head respectfully for the closing prayer, and rose to follow Jacob out into the morning. The Doctor was outside, hair standing on end in several places, as if he had slept on it wrong. Rose knew very well that he had probably spent the whole night reading, one hand tangled in his hair, glasses pushed firmly onto the bridge of his nose.
Before she had completely forced that train of thought out of her mind, the Doctor smiled brightly at Rose. "Hello! Good morning. Get some rest?"
"Yes," she said. "Slept like a baby." She winked at Jacob and the Doctor gave her a puzzled look for a moment before his mind jumped elsewhere.
"Brother Tomas has asked me to assist with some cataloging of new material for the library," he announced. "You all right to be on your own for a while?" He directed his question to Rose, who looked briefly behind her to see if he meant someone else. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Okay," she said. He beamed and bustled off toward the library again.
Rose looked at Jacob. "What do you ... do ... during the day?" she asked, a little hesitantly, not wanting to be rude.
He was more than willing to answer her question. "After our observances in the morning, we will tend our chickens and bees, gather eggs and honey, and do the other chores that need to be done. We have prayers before and after the midday meal, then work and study or attend classes in the afternoon. In the evening, we have prayers before and after the evening meal, as you saw last night. Then, we sleep, and rise early for prayers in the wee hours, and the day begins again."
"Every day?" she asked, a little taken aback.
Jacob's laugh lines furrowed as he gave her a beneficent smile. "Yes, my dear. It is the life of a brother here. We give our lives to God, prayer, study, and hark work. It molds us and makes us who we are."
"How long have you been here?"
"Sixty-four years," he said. "Every day a blessing."
Rose spent that day with Jacob and several of the other brothers. In the morning, she collected eggs, helped to sort them, and fed the chickens. She helped prepare the midday meal and with the washing-up afterward. In the afternoon, she tended the camellias under Jacob's careful tutelage. By the time dusk began to gather and Jacob set off for prayers in the church, she sat down on the bench outside the dining hall with a tired sigh.
The Doctor sat down next to her and nudged her over on the bench. "Have a good day?" he asked cheerily.
"Yes, actually," she said, and felt some surprise. "How was the library?"
He rubbed his shoulder playfully against hers. "Brilliant. You look like you went and played in the dirt."
"I did," she said, laughing. "I fed chickens."
"Chickens! Dame Rose of the Powell Estate, feeding chickens?"
"You're being rude again," she poked at him.
He sighed. "I do try, you know."
"Mmm. Easy to say when you've been reading books all day."
"Libraries can be terribly dusty," he protested. "And damp. Not very good for the books, either." As if to make his point for him, Rose began plucking bits of debris off his jacket. "Are you grooming me?"
"Someone has to," she said. In retaliation, he stuck a thumb in his mouth and swiped at her cheek. She squealed and leaped up, taking several steps back. He stayed seated on the bench, smiling rakishly up at her as she mock shivered and wiped at her face. "You didn't just do that," she gasped.
"Someone has to," he mocked.
They stopped when the bells tolled gently and the monks began to file out of the church, with Rose at least somewhat chagrined by their antics so near a place of worship. The Doctor rose and came to her side, walking with her into the dining hall with the others. The meal progressed with the efficiency and order Rose had observed previously, and she found that she was hungry enough to wish she had the nerve to ask for seconds. She didn't. When she looked wistfully at the Doctor's remaining roll, he gave her an affronted look and put far too much of it for comfort or dignity into his mouth. Rose rolled her eyes at him expressively as he chewed vigorously and made short work of the rest of the roll.
After the meal concluded, the Doctor and Rose talked briefly with Jacob outside before he headed off to the final prayers of the day. Despite the fact that it was early evening, Rose found herself yawning and thinking hopefully of the little bed with its down blanket. The Doctor talked at her (not to her, she thought, but at her) about one of the manuscripts that he had cataloged. " ... written in Caroline miniscule, which is fascinating considering the time period. Quite progressive. I would have expected to see more of an insular script."
Rose gave him a pleading look and he stopped talking. "I'm going to bed," she said, unable to restrain another yawn. "I'm sure it is fascinating but I can't think about scripts and manuscripts right now."
The Doctor shook his head with some resignation. "You sleep too much. Miss out on all the fun that way."
"You ought to sleep more," she countered without enthusiasm. "Good night." She turned and left him standing in front of the dining hall. When she entered the little cottage, she found the fire burning low, as it had been the night before. She turned back the bed, looked longingly at it, and considered her current state of cleanliness. A brief bath washed away the dirt and debris of the day (she tried hard not to think about chickens) and left her feeling squeaky clean and virtuous. She was asleep as soon as she had settled comfortably under the blanket.
In the night, she awoke again to the sound of low tolling bells from the distance, but without the sense of confusion from the night before. The bells had been her constant companion over the course of her day, tolling to tell the brothers when to work, pray, or eat. What woke her fully was the sound of someone in the room with her. She felt a moment's genuine fear as she sat up, pulling the blanket protectively against her. The figure was seated in the chair opposite her bed, facing the fire. With a start, she recognized the profile and let out a long sigh. "You scared me."
"I didn't mean to," the Doctor said, sounding a little hurt. "You sleep for such a long time, you humans."
She scooted back into the bed and patted the mattress beside her. "Come here." He rose and slid into bed with her, toeing off his trainers and tossing his jacket and tie onto the chair before laying down on his side to face her. She folded the blanket around them both. "Are you so terribly bored that you had to wake me up?"
"I didn't wake you up. The bells did," he pointed out. "I was very quiet."
Rose conceded the point. "Yeah, okay. Wouldn't a bunch of monks object to you being in my room, anyway?"
"Probably. I, however, do not plan to tell them, and I assume you won't either." She nodded and burrowed closer against him, wiggling her toes against the side of his foot. He huffed slightly (she was sure he was ticklish) and rolled onto his back, rearranging her so he could slide one arm under her pillow and pull her close against his side. "Stop squirming," he growled playfully.
Rose stilled and drew in a cautious breath, inhaling his scent. Beneath the surface smell of dust and old parchment, presumably from his hours in the library, he smelled like wool and more faintly, a hint of sweat. His fingers stroked her shoulder and she felt a warm, suffuse joy spread within her. These moments of unguarded intimacy between them were precious to her in ways she could not put into words. Despite her desire to savor the moment, sleep nudged at her mind insistently. "Sorry. Stupid ape needs sleep," she yawned, and felt the vibrations begin deep within his chest before the laugh burst out of him.
"It's okay," he murmured into her hair. "Get some rest."
"You okay if I -" she yawned again "- sleep like this?"
"Yes."
Rose relaxed against him and, wordlessly happy, drifted back into sleep. The Doctor, lying on his back with his arms around her, stared into the dim firelight and did not close his eyes.
