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I'm going to go under sedation tomorrow, so here's something to remember me by...
Title: Swept Away! - Two Boys' Adventures on The Great River (“With A Thousand Elephants!”) - A Pseudo Victorian Boys Adventure
Author: Derien
Genres: Science-fiction/Victorian Adventure/Queer Teen Romance.
Summary: In the distant future a group of settlers try to recreate Victorian England on another planet, with mixed results. Two boys from quite different social strata find themselves alone on a raft on an uncharted river.
Notes:(Please go Back to Chapter One for full Notes)
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License.
Previous chapters on LiveJournal:
CH 1 / CH 2 / CH 3 / CH 4 / CH 5 / CH 6 / CH 7 / CH 8 / CH 9 / CH 10 / CH 11
Chapter Twelve - Native Aliens
***
The next morning Tom woke with a hundred things crowding his mind at once; clothing needed repairing, fish should be caught and cooked along with potatoes and some prunes he had found in the cart - it sounded like a wonderful breakfast and his stomach growled at the thought - and then he wanted to see if they could find some way to talk to these strange friends they had found, but upon rising he found that his plans for the day had been turned upside down; more potatoes awaited, and this time they had not been brought stealthily. An emissary of the tribe had been sent and awaited them next to the small pile of potatoes. He looked a bit nervous, the whites of his eyes showing when he saw them, but the creature sat up, chirred a greeting, and lifted his paws (hand-like, but broad, thick, with impressive claws) palm up to them.
Ethan immediately followed suit, falling to his knees and nudging Tom to do likewise, which he did instantly, glad he had not brought the gun out of the cart with him as he might have done. Phipps seemed to be able to imitate the chirring noise almost precisely, but the series of clicks, whistles, grunts, coos and trills which followed were all far too fast for him, and he looked up at Tom with despair replacing the elation he had first shown. "I've no idea where to start!"
Their friend cocked his head to one side, waiting for a response, but it took the creature very little time to understand that Ethan had merely been imitating the first greeting and was completely unable to carry on a conversation, and it showed a willingness to began again from first principles. It rolled a potato toward Phipps with a firm and clear chirp. Ethan repeated that noise and rolled the root back. And so it began; a slow and laborious process of trial and error where the boy memorized a series of sounds the meaning of which he was not entirely sure at the moment. Shortly their friend engaged the aid of another of his tribe who had been waiting in hiding on the bank - waiting, Tom supposed, to see that his comrade was not eaten by these gigantic strangers, for even Phipps was enormous in comparison to their furry friends.
After a little while Tom though he saw signs that their new friends were finding the proceeding at least somewhat amusing. The darker-furred newcomer was more boisterous than his lighter companion, and at one point emitted a particular trill and back-flipped himself into the water, then came up making a peculiar hiccoughing noise which had Ethan looking to Tom wide-eyed for explanation. "I think it's their laugh." Tom scooped a hand full of water and poured it out while attempting to make the same trill, and considered himself lucky when they only laughed a little and made a noise which seemed to indicate that they approved.
Their lessons continued all the day, their friends watching them fish and cook, and making commentary on all of it so that they could learn the words pertaining to those activities. The word for pot required debate, and eventually they did their best to imitate Tom's English word, though their 'p' came out somewhat soft. ("And that," Ethan said later in the evening, after their friends had gone home, "Made me think maybe they don't have pots of their own. They don't have a word for it.")
Toward mid afternoon Phipps complained of a headache, but he seemed to be enjoying himself and unwilling to stop. They found themselves playing games like small children in order to learn - a chasing game illustrated 'hide,' 'run' and 'where,' while digging holes and piling dirt also gave them new vocabulary. Their friends seemed surprised and mystified by Ethan's efforts to form a wall out of the mud he had excavated, and impressed by Tom adding sticks as reinforcement - they laughed and patted him in a comradely way for his efforts. By the end of the day Tom was exhausted, and it was not until the boys had curled up together in the wagon, still chattering excitedly to each other even as they fell asleep, that he realized that they had neglected to make a dinner, and that he was far too tired to care.
On the morrow their lessons began again, though at the beginning of the day they had not only their friends from the day before but also a cohort of others who all seemed to want to show them things at the same time. Everyone wanted to be part of teaching the strangers until it became a confusing cacophony and Phipps began to laugh, holding his hands up and begging them to stop. They found this so amusing that several of them fell over laughing, and some mimed his hand-gesture, but they took the hint and several of them wandered off, while those who remained were more orderly.
After several days of this their teachers again consisted of their initial light brown teacher, Chrrit (who's name referred to the tiny blue flowers which grew on the river bank); the darker one, Trruptuptup (the sound of rain - Tom called him Drizzle); and a smaller individual with almost tabby markings who's name, Kklrl, indicated the type of fish which the boys knew as a spotted sock-fish. Tom and Ethan were unsure how to translate their own names, not being sure if their names had meanings, but Chrrit could do a fair approximation - 'Tong' and 'Eekun' - while Spotted Fish suggested 'TmMm' (pronounced with a growl), which seemed to mean 'Thunder in the Distance,' and 'Iitnu' which possibly meant 'Sharp Stone' but which they also used as their word for the boys knives. Both boys were fascinated and delighted with the idea of names having meanings, and happy with the characteristics which Spotted Fish attributed to them, though Ethan jokingly wondered if TmMm might also mean the rumbling of a hungry belly, as Tom always had an appetite.
As they were taught the language of the Whistlers (as Tom and Ethan came to refer to them between themselves) and the tricks of foraging in the woods and the river for edibles, it was perhaps inevitable that the boys lost track of the days. They learned that fart-root was the Whistler's phrase for potato, because their stomachs could not fully digest matter from green Earth plants any more than a human stomach could fully digest the native blue-green plants indigenous to this planet, though Tom and Ethan were learning which ones they could manage without great discomfort, after cooking them well. The weather warmed, they rested and grew healthier, Ethan's temperament grew far more tolerable, Tom learned to swim well, gained more freckles, and did his best to take in his old wagon-mate's clothes so that they didn't hang on Ethan like a scarecrow. However, the boys knew that eventually it would have to come to an end, and one day they found themselves led by their friends into what appeared to be the stronghold of their friends tribe, an area under the trees stretching back from the river bank and pierced all about with burrows.
"We're really barely a hundred feet from the raft," Ethan murmured. "They have led us everywhere but here. We're being brought here on purpose, today."
They were greeted by Spotted Fish, who sat up and patted Ethan on the knee. Adults and cubs crowded around, making quiet, excited whoops, and some added friendly pats on knees and calves. Some, however, Tom noticed, stayed back and growled or simply glared. One of the cubs ventured to climb Tom and made it quite agilely to his shoulder, upon which three more started up, though trying to knock each other off, playfully, until he waved his hands in the by now understood 'stop!' signal, and gave the sharp whistle that meant 'danger,' as he didn't want any of them falling and hurting themselves. The one who clung to his hair and ear merely smiled beatifically, an expression accomplished mostly with the eyes - or perhaps his smile was smug, Tom thought - and leaned harder against his head, purring.
"You think you've won the best seat in the house, don't you?" Tom muttered. "King of the castle?"
"He's bold," said Ethan, moving nearer carefully, so as not to step on anyone, and reaching up to smooth the cub's fur, "And he likes you. So soft!" he exclaimed, scratching behind the cub's ear, his hand brushing Tom's ear as well. "And why shouldn't he feel proud of himself? You're like a tree to him! He's very brave climbing a great monster like you!"
Now they both felt tugs on their trouser cuffs, and Chrrit directed their attention with a swing of his head to where several grey elders sat on a slightly flattened rise.
"Should we bow or something?" Tom asked.
The people moved away from them to allow them space to advance, and Phipps stepped forward, slowly, then knelt and bowed from the waist, palms on the ground and head lowered, inclining his shoulders down as well. Tom had to admit it looked good - the pose had the effect of bringing Ethan down in to a similar posture and hight to that of their hosts and bowing from there. Attempting to follow suit without disrupting the cub on his shoulder was somewhat challenging, but the cub managed to back-peddle as his mount changed orientation beneath him, and then to hop off when he was near enough to the ground, with a squeak of triumph, as though he felt he'd done something clever.
Tom mostly sat quietly and listened during the ensuing conversation, as Phipps had far more grasp of the language than he did, as well as a greater flair for words, while Tom watched not only the elders but the crowd around him for their response. Over the past days they had learned that The People (for this was the only translation for the long, low whistle and click) referred to humans as 'people eaters,' indicating they had certainly had some experience with humans in the past. When Chrrit had explained this name to them he had seemed apologetic and Tom had understood that the three who had adopted them were both bold and open minded, and that the others who had from time to time visited were curious and willing to be amused rather than fearful and angry, though he had suspected that sometimes they said things among themselves which might be unkind. The few mean-spirited practical jokes which had been played on them had been by Whistlers who had come only for short times and then disappeared into the forest again, and thankfully the boys - Phipps, particularly - had their wits enough about them to try to respond with good humour. Those who were inclined against humans were certainly present now, and they muttered in amongst the crowd; Tom made out the phrase 'dirty cub eaters' more than once. Some were taking their turns speaking to the elders and quizzing Ethan, who, it seemed, was now having to explain the boys' situation to their hosts.
"We are cubs," he pronounced carefully, "You can see that we have no fur on our faces, and have no need to scrape it off. This means cub for our people."
Someone behind them muttered that they had no right to call themselves People.
"Humans," Phipps said in English, then shifted back to the Whistler's language. "People-eaters if you wish, but Tom and I would never eat you. We want to find some way to keep you safe from others who don't understand that you have words."
"If they kill us we can kill them."
"How did you think we got those fart-roots?" someone else added.
Tom felt a sudden chill creep up his back. The People had killed someone! And yet they had attacked the tentacled monster quite handily enough, he knew well that they were not defenceless, although they ate only plants. He had managed to forget their formidable claws and burly shoulders under their soft fur because of the kind good-humour of the Whistlers who had made them friends. Now he had to face that at some point in the past they had done away with someone who had started a garden, who had been attempting to have a home in these forbidding woods.
He was, however, somewhat heartened to note that the elders of the tribe were steadier and less hotheaded than some, and that they nodded gravely and thanked everyone for voicing their opinions, and then asked Chrrit, Drizzle and Spotted Fish what opinions they had formed of the boys. Their friends agreed that their impression was that the boys exhibited cub-like playfulness and ability to learn. Tom was a bit mortified at that - their friends had been so playful in order to test them? Still, he tried to put that thought aside, as it was in their favour, and he could not believe, with their sense of fun, that their friends looked down on them for their playfulness.
One of the elders quoted a maxim about minds of children and muddy banks both holding impressions, and then asked about their temperament. Spotted Fish responded that they had been goaded and had responded gently, and she glared around at some of the mob surrounding them as she said this. Spotted Fish had a prickly temper, and Tom had seen her bowl over one would-be trickster, chastising him as if he were her own child. (Indeed she had spoken sharply to Ethan as well, about his tendency to be lazy, as she saw it, and it had done him good in Tom's opinion. He had flushed crimson and mumbled that he didn't intend to be so, but he did not know how to sew or cook and was not sure what he could do to help, but that evening he had insisted on doing the washing up after dinner.)
Spotted Fish, Chrrit and Drizzle were commended on having taken on this experiment, and asked if they had thoughts about how the Whistlers should proceed with their relations with other humans. Tom blinked in surprise, as 'humans' was actually the word the old one with the shaggy fur had used. His pronunciation was not good, but he had attempted their own word for themselves rather than falling back on the standard derogatory term. However, he found himself worried, and touched Ethan's arm. "He doesn't want to start some kind of..."
"Talks? Diplomacy? Good lord I hope not."
"They might not get eaten any more if people knew they were intelligent!"
Ethan did not look convinced.
Drizzle was watching them closely, and now turned to Chrrit and the elders and informed them, quietly, that he had the impression that the boys did not think that talking with humans was a good idea. He had not bothered to learn to speak much English but had seemed to quickly pick up the drift of their conversations.
Phipps hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I don't know if it will be possible to convince other humans. Even if they realized you had words they would still think of you as if you did not. Or treat you all as cubs."
The Whistlers stared at him, uncomprehending.
"They would treat you like cubs, not trust you to make your own decisions. And probably make you do work they didn't want to do."
"This does not make sense," said an elder female.
"I'm sorry. Most humans don't make sense. It might be safer to assume that most of them are crazy."
The elders made signs of acceptance, meaning that it didn't matter if they understood it at the moment. "We will think on it," said the shaggy one. "Meanwhile, you are still young and far from your tribe. Blue Flower, Spotted Fish and Drizzle have spent a great deal of time and effort taming you and it would make them sad if we killed you." (Tom hoped he saw a sparkle of humour in the eye of the shaggy one as he said that.) "It would not be right to keep you from your clan and have you live here, but we would like you to be our guests for a little longer while we discuss."
"Not that I have any huge desire to get to my school," Ethan said when they had returned to the raft, "But I am getting a little tired of our diet!" Their hosts had brought them kale, likely from the same gone-to-seed garden ("of a dead man," Tom could not help thinking, now) where they had found the potatoes, correctly surmising that not eating green vegetables might make the boys sickly, and indeed although the diet was boring it was basically healthy. Between that and their daily swims Ethan had changed from his previous sickly grey to a fine, warm walnut tone quite envied by the freckled Tom.
Tom had become much more comfortable with Ethan over the past two weeks, and had noticed that the other boy seemed not at all interested in getting back to civilization, and had several times said similar things about his school. Not sure how he should begin he still felt Ethan wanted him to ask, so he tried to make a venture upon it. "Why? I mean, I know school is dull, but your family has paid for you to get an education. You're lucky that they can. I would want to take advantage of that."
Ethan looked genuinely remorseful. "It's a damned shame your family can't afford it. You're a sterling fellow and I'm sure you'd do well in the world if you had schooling. But this school isn't really about teaching anything, if the rumours are true. I can't know how true it is, of course, but I've heard that a lot of boys die there. One of my friends told me that's where your parents send you if they don't want you. If you're too much trouble. In the way."
"That's..." Tom groped for words. "It would be evil if it were true, and can't believe... Why would someone... It certainly can't be true of your parents, I can't imagine anyone thinking you were too much trouble or in the way." Ethan had been somewhat whinging in the beginning, but he seemed willing enough to try, and as his arm had healed he had become much more manly. "You're very smart, and good company."
Ethan gave him a small, sad smile and shook his head. He seemed quite flattered, but it looked as though he remained of the opinion that others might not agree with Tom. "My father and I... perhaps we just have opposing views on things. He doesn't like me, and I'm sure he would be just as glad if I did not return so that he can leave everything to my brother." They both used the same wagon wheel as their backrest, as had become their habit, and he sat with his knees hugged to his chest.
"Well what stops him from doing that, anyhow?"
"I think I might be able to contest it in court or something. I don't know." Ethan shrugged.
"Would you?"
"I don't think I would want to, now. I should prefer to earn my own money, I think, if I can find a way to do so, rather than take anything of his."
Tom decided to let it rest for the moment. It would, after all, not be an issue for some time, if ever.
"What do you think of the Whistler's belief that they would be able to kill humans who killed them?" he asked.
"Disastrous," said Ethan, sadly. "Their tribe would be wiped out, and probably any other tribe which was found later on as well. I'm not sure they'd be able to understand how ruthless humans are."
"We can't let that happen."
Ethan only nodded, hugged his knees tighter, and gazed out at the moonlight on the river. In his face Tom could see his complete conviction that things could never work out well for their friends now that humans were here, and that there was nothing which could be done. Tom felt at that moment large, clumsy, oafish, helpless and unhelpful, as though Ethan's own future and that of the Whistlers were bearing down on his small and frail-appearing friend with the implacableness of a juggernaut. With nothing else he could do, he said, "You're cold. Let's get to bed, eh?" and, putting an arm over the smaller boy's shoulder he gave a companionable squeeze.
Ethan had begun, mechanically, to say, "Yes, please," but then tensed and slowly turned his face up toward Tom. He still looked haunted, but also confused. After a long, puzzled, searching look, however, he leaned his head against Tom's shoulder and pushed in a little closer under Tom's arm. "You really are the most sterling of fellows, a prince," he murmured. "I suppose we should sleep, I am knackered."
Title: Swept Away! - Two Boys' Adventures on The Great River (“With A Thousand Elephants!”) - A Pseudo Victorian Boys Adventure
Author: Derien
Genres: Science-fiction/Victorian Adventure/Queer Teen Romance.
Summary: In the distant future a group of settlers try to recreate Victorian England on another planet, with mixed results. Two boys from quite different social strata find themselves alone on a raft on an uncharted river.
Notes:(Please go Back to Chapter One for full Notes)
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License.
Previous chapters on LiveJournal:
CH 1 / CH 2 / CH 3 / CH 4 / CH 5 / CH 6 / CH 7 / CH 8 / CH 9 / CH 10 / CH 11
Chapter Twelve - Native Aliens
***
The next morning Tom woke with a hundred things crowding his mind at once; clothing needed repairing, fish should be caught and cooked along with potatoes and some prunes he had found in the cart - it sounded like a wonderful breakfast and his stomach growled at the thought - and then he wanted to see if they could find some way to talk to these strange friends they had found, but upon rising he found that his plans for the day had been turned upside down; more potatoes awaited, and this time they had not been brought stealthily. An emissary of the tribe had been sent and awaited them next to the small pile of potatoes. He looked a bit nervous, the whites of his eyes showing when he saw them, but the creature sat up, chirred a greeting, and lifted his paws (hand-like, but broad, thick, with impressive claws) palm up to them.
Ethan immediately followed suit, falling to his knees and nudging Tom to do likewise, which he did instantly, glad he had not brought the gun out of the cart with him as he might have done. Phipps seemed to be able to imitate the chirring noise almost precisely, but the series of clicks, whistles, grunts, coos and trills which followed were all far too fast for him, and he looked up at Tom with despair replacing the elation he had first shown. "I've no idea where to start!"
Their friend cocked his head to one side, waiting for a response, but it took the creature very little time to understand that Ethan had merely been imitating the first greeting and was completely unable to carry on a conversation, and it showed a willingness to began again from first principles. It rolled a potato toward Phipps with a firm and clear chirp. Ethan repeated that noise and rolled the root back. And so it began; a slow and laborious process of trial and error where the boy memorized a series of sounds the meaning of which he was not entirely sure at the moment. Shortly their friend engaged the aid of another of his tribe who had been waiting in hiding on the bank - waiting, Tom supposed, to see that his comrade was not eaten by these gigantic strangers, for even Phipps was enormous in comparison to their furry friends.
After a little while Tom though he saw signs that their new friends were finding the proceeding at least somewhat amusing. The darker-furred newcomer was more boisterous than his lighter companion, and at one point emitted a particular trill and back-flipped himself into the water, then came up making a peculiar hiccoughing noise which had Ethan looking to Tom wide-eyed for explanation. "I think it's their laugh." Tom scooped a hand full of water and poured it out while attempting to make the same trill, and considered himself lucky when they only laughed a little and made a noise which seemed to indicate that they approved.
Their lessons continued all the day, their friends watching them fish and cook, and making commentary on all of it so that they could learn the words pertaining to those activities. The word for pot required debate, and eventually they did their best to imitate Tom's English word, though their 'p' came out somewhat soft. ("And that," Ethan said later in the evening, after their friends had gone home, "Made me think maybe they don't have pots of their own. They don't have a word for it.")
Toward mid afternoon Phipps complained of a headache, but he seemed to be enjoying himself and unwilling to stop. They found themselves playing games like small children in order to learn - a chasing game illustrated 'hide,' 'run' and 'where,' while digging holes and piling dirt also gave them new vocabulary. Their friends seemed surprised and mystified by Ethan's efforts to form a wall out of the mud he had excavated, and impressed by Tom adding sticks as reinforcement - they laughed and patted him in a comradely way for his efforts. By the end of the day Tom was exhausted, and it was not until the boys had curled up together in the wagon, still chattering excitedly to each other even as they fell asleep, that he realized that they had neglected to make a dinner, and that he was far too tired to care.
On the morrow their lessons began again, though at the beginning of the day they had not only their friends from the day before but also a cohort of others who all seemed to want to show them things at the same time. Everyone wanted to be part of teaching the strangers until it became a confusing cacophony and Phipps began to laugh, holding his hands up and begging them to stop. They found this so amusing that several of them fell over laughing, and some mimed his hand-gesture, but they took the hint and several of them wandered off, while those who remained were more orderly.
After several days of this their teachers again consisted of their initial light brown teacher, Chrrit (who's name referred to the tiny blue flowers which grew on the river bank); the darker one, Trruptuptup (the sound of rain - Tom called him Drizzle); and a smaller individual with almost tabby markings who's name, Kklrl, indicated the type of fish which the boys knew as a spotted sock-fish. Tom and Ethan were unsure how to translate their own names, not being sure if their names had meanings, but Chrrit could do a fair approximation - 'Tong' and 'Eekun' - while Spotted Fish suggested 'TmMm' (pronounced with a growl), which seemed to mean 'Thunder in the Distance,' and 'Iitnu' which possibly meant 'Sharp Stone' but which they also used as their word for the boys knives. Both boys were fascinated and delighted with the idea of names having meanings, and happy with the characteristics which Spotted Fish attributed to them, though Ethan jokingly wondered if TmMm might also mean the rumbling of a hungry belly, as Tom always had an appetite.
As they were taught the language of the Whistlers (as Tom and Ethan came to refer to them between themselves) and the tricks of foraging in the woods and the river for edibles, it was perhaps inevitable that the boys lost track of the days. They learned that fart-root was the Whistler's phrase for potato, because their stomachs could not fully digest matter from green Earth plants any more than a human stomach could fully digest the native blue-green plants indigenous to this planet, though Tom and Ethan were learning which ones they could manage without great discomfort, after cooking them well. The weather warmed, they rested and grew healthier, Ethan's temperament grew far more tolerable, Tom learned to swim well, gained more freckles, and did his best to take in his old wagon-mate's clothes so that they didn't hang on Ethan like a scarecrow. However, the boys knew that eventually it would have to come to an end, and one day they found themselves led by their friends into what appeared to be the stronghold of their friends tribe, an area under the trees stretching back from the river bank and pierced all about with burrows.
"We're really barely a hundred feet from the raft," Ethan murmured. "They have led us everywhere but here. We're being brought here on purpose, today."
They were greeted by Spotted Fish, who sat up and patted Ethan on the knee. Adults and cubs crowded around, making quiet, excited whoops, and some added friendly pats on knees and calves. Some, however, Tom noticed, stayed back and growled or simply glared. One of the cubs ventured to climb Tom and made it quite agilely to his shoulder, upon which three more started up, though trying to knock each other off, playfully, until he waved his hands in the by now understood 'stop!' signal, and gave the sharp whistle that meant 'danger,' as he didn't want any of them falling and hurting themselves. The one who clung to his hair and ear merely smiled beatifically, an expression accomplished mostly with the eyes - or perhaps his smile was smug, Tom thought - and leaned harder against his head, purring.
"You think you've won the best seat in the house, don't you?" Tom muttered. "King of the castle?"
"He's bold," said Ethan, moving nearer carefully, so as not to step on anyone, and reaching up to smooth the cub's fur, "And he likes you. So soft!" he exclaimed, scratching behind the cub's ear, his hand brushing Tom's ear as well. "And why shouldn't he feel proud of himself? You're like a tree to him! He's very brave climbing a great monster like you!"
Now they both felt tugs on their trouser cuffs, and Chrrit directed their attention with a swing of his head to where several grey elders sat on a slightly flattened rise.
"Should we bow or something?" Tom asked.
The people moved away from them to allow them space to advance, and Phipps stepped forward, slowly, then knelt and bowed from the waist, palms on the ground and head lowered, inclining his shoulders down as well. Tom had to admit it looked good - the pose had the effect of bringing Ethan down in to a similar posture and hight to that of their hosts and bowing from there. Attempting to follow suit without disrupting the cub on his shoulder was somewhat challenging, but the cub managed to back-peddle as his mount changed orientation beneath him, and then to hop off when he was near enough to the ground, with a squeak of triumph, as though he felt he'd done something clever.
Tom mostly sat quietly and listened during the ensuing conversation, as Phipps had far more grasp of the language than he did, as well as a greater flair for words, while Tom watched not only the elders but the crowd around him for their response. Over the past days they had learned that The People (for this was the only translation for the long, low whistle and click) referred to humans as 'people eaters,' indicating they had certainly had some experience with humans in the past. When Chrrit had explained this name to them he had seemed apologetic and Tom had understood that the three who had adopted them were both bold and open minded, and that the others who had from time to time visited were curious and willing to be amused rather than fearful and angry, though he had suspected that sometimes they said things among themselves which might be unkind. The few mean-spirited practical jokes which had been played on them had been by Whistlers who had come only for short times and then disappeared into the forest again, and thankfully the boys - Phipps, particularly - had their wits enough about them to try to respond with good humour. Those who were inclined against humans were certainly present now, and they muttered in amongst the crowd; Tom made out the phrase 'dirty cub eaters' more than once. Some were taking their turns speaking to the elders and quizzing Ethan, who, it seemed, was now having to explain the boys' situation to their hosts.
"We are cubs," he pronounced carefully, "You can see that we have no fur on our faces, and have no need to scrape it off. This means cub for our people."
Someone behind them muttered that they had no right to call themselves People.
"Humans," Phipps said in English, then shifted back to the Whistler's language. "People-eaters if you wish, but Tom and I would never eat you. We want to find some way to keep you safe from others who don't understand that you have words."
"If they kill us we can kill them."
"How did you think we got those fart-roots?" someone else added.
Tom felt a sudden chill creep up his back. The People had killed someone! And yet they had attacked the tentacled monster quite handily enough, he knew well that they were not defenceless, although they ate only plants. He had managed to forget their formidable claws and burly shoulders under their soft fur because of the kind good-humour of the Whistlers who had made them friends. Now he had to face that at some point in the past they had done away with someone who had started a garden, who had been attempting to have a home in these forbidding woods.
He was, however, somewhat heartened to note that the elders of the tribe were steadier and less hotheaded than some, and that they nodded gravely and thanked everyone for voicing their opinions, and then asked Chrrit, Drizzle and Spotted Fish what opinions they had formed of the boys. Their friends agreed that their impression was that the boys exhibited cub-like playfulness and ability to learn. Tom was a bit mortified at that - their friends had been so playful in order to test them? Still, he tried to put that thought aside, as it was in their favour, and he could not believe, with their sense of fun, that their friends looked down on them for their playfulness.
One of the elders quoted a maxim about minds of children and muddy banks both holding impressions, and then asked about their temperament. Spotted Fish responded that they had been goaded and had responded gently, and she glared around at some of the mob surrounding them as she said this. Spotted Fish had a prickly temper, and Tom had seen her bowl over one would-be trickster, chastising him as if he were her own child. (Indeed she had spoken sharply to Ethan as well, about his tendency to be lazy, as she saw it, and it had done him good in Tom's opinion. He had flushed crimson and mumbled that he didn't intend to be so, but he did not know how to sew or cook and was not sure what he could do to help, but that evening he had insisted on doing the washing up after dinner.)
Spotted Fish, Chrrit and Drizzle were commended on having taken on this experiment, and asked if they had thoughts about how the Whistlers should proceed with their relations with other humans. Tom blinked in surprise, as 'humans' was actually the word the old one with the shaggy fur had used. His pronunciation was not good, but he had attempted their own word for themselves rather than falling back on the standard derogatory term. However, he found himself worried, and touched Ethan's arm. "He doesn't want to start some kind of..."
"Talks? Diplomacy? Good lord I hope not."
"They might not get eaten any more if people knew they were intelligent!"
Ethan did not look convinced.
Drizzle was watching them closely, and now turned to Chrrit and the elders and informed them, quietly, that he had the impression that the boys did not think that talking with humans was a good idea. He had not bothered to learn to speak much English but had seemed to quickly pick up the drift of their conversations.
Phipps hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I don't know if it will be possible to convince other humans. Even if they realized you had words they would still think of you as if you did not. Or treat you all as cubs."
The Whistlers stared at him, uncomprehending.
"They would treat you like cubs, not trust you to make your own decisions. And probably make you do work they didn't want to do."
"This does not make sense," said an elder female.
"I'm sorry. Most humans don't make sense. It might be safer to assume that most of them are crazy."
The elders made signs of acceptance, meaning that it didn't matter if they understood it at the moment. "We will think on it," said the shaggy one. "Meanwhile, you are still young and far from your tribe. Blue Flower, Spotted Fish and Drizzle have spent a great deal of time and effort taming you and it would make them sad if we killed you." (Tom hoped he saw a sparkle of humour in the eye of the shaggy one as he said that.) "It would not be right to keep you from your clan and have you live here, but we would like you to be our guests for a little longer while we discuss."
"Not that I have any huge desire to get to my school," Ethan said when they had returned to the raft, "But I am getting a little tired of our diet!" Their hosts had brought them kale, likely from the same gone-to-seed garden ("of a dead man," Tom could not help thinking, now) where they had found the potatoes, correctly surmising that not eating green vegetables might make the boys sickly, and indeed although the diet was boring it was basically healthy. Between that and their daily swims Ethan had changed from his previous sickly grey to a fine, warm walnut tone quite envied by the freckled Tom.
Tom had become much more comfortable with Ethan over the past two weeks, and had noticed that the other boy seemed not at all interested in getting back to civilization, and had several times said similar things about his school. Not sure how he should begin he still felt Ethan wanted him to ask, so he tried to make a venture upon it. "Why? I mean, I know school is dull, but your family has paid for you to get an education. You're lucky that they can. I would want to take advantage of that."
Ethan looked genuinely remorseful. "It's a damned shame your family can't afford it. You're a sterling fellow and I'm sure you'd do well in the world if you had schooling. But this school isn't really about teaching anything, if the rumours are true. I can't know how true it is, of course, but I've heard that a lot of boys die there. One of my friends told me that's where your parents send you if they don't want you. If you're too much trouble. In the way."
"That's..." Tom groped for words. "It would be evil if it were true, and can't believe... Why would someone... It certainly can't be true of your parents, I can't imagine anyone thinking you were too much trouble or in the way." Ethan had been somewhat whinging in the beginning, but he seemed willing enough to try, and as his arm had healed he had become much more manly. "You're very smart, and good company."
Ethan gave him a small, sad smile and shook his head. He seemed quite flattered, but it looked as though he remained of the opinion that others might not agree with Tom. "My father and I... perhaps we just have opposing views on things. He doesn't like me, and I'm sure he would be just as glad if I did not return so that he can leave everything to my brother." They both used the same wagon wheel as their backrest, as had become their habit, and he sat with his knees hugged to his chest.
"Well what stops him from doing that, anyhow?"
"I think I might be able to contest it in court or something. I don't know." Ethan shrugged.
"Would you?"
"I don't think I would want to, now. I should prefer to earn my own money, I think, if I can find a way to do so, rather than take anything of his."
Tom decided to let it rest for the moment. It would, after all, not be an issue for some time, if ever.
"What do you think of the Whistler's belief that they would be able to kill humans who killed them?" he asked.
"Disastrous," said Ethan, sadly. "Their tribe would be wiped out, and probably any other tribe which was found later on as well. I'm not sure they'd be able to understand how ruthless humans are."
"We can't let that happen."
Ethan only nodded, hugged his knees tighter, and gazed out at the moonlight on the river. In his face Tom could see his complete conviction that things could never work out well for their friends now that humans were here, and that there was nothing which could be done. Tom felt at that moment large, clumsy, oafish, helpless and unhelpful, as though Ethan's own future and that of the Whistlers were bearing down on his small and frail-appearing friend with the implacableness of a juggernaut. With nothing else he could do, he said, "You're cold. Let's get to bed, eh?" and, putting an arm over the smaller boy's shoulder he gave a companionable squeeze.
Ethan had begun, mechanically, to say, "Yes, please," but then tensed and slowly turned his face up toward Tom. He still looked haunted, but also confused. After a long, puzzled, searching look, however, he leaned his head against Tom's shoulder and pushed in a little closer under Tom's arm. "You really are the most sterling of fellows, a prince," he murmured. "I suppose we should sleep, I am knackered."
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