The Dust Is Settling [Ira, Halldor]

[Ira Teallach]

Time and Date:: 20th June
Weather:: Slightly cloudy, occasionally windy, otherwise calm.
Previous Threads?:: None started.

It was early nightfall over Berk. Just a bit chilly enough to inspire people up to the Great Hall for a pint, but not so they were complaining about it. People were sitting around, talking, occasionally arguing about everything from their dragons to the weather. Of course, that was easy to break up when lack demanded refills on their tankards. The Teallach brewery was showing off their summer wares, a few new mead mixes with fruit in some, molasses and honey in others. Ira's dad was over in the corner chatting boisterously about new ideas for flavors (evidently he begged to differ on numerous folks' ideas of 'retirement').

Around the Hall serving from a huge container was the redheaded lass who was speaking to a few of her workers to see to it no one was going empty. Ira's eyes scanned the crowd with satisfaction. Knowing one day she'd demand her dad let her run everything in public by herself- but she was in good enough spirits to let it go today. A smile to herself crossed her face softly as she occasionally chatted with a nearby Viking, steering clear of any dragons that happened to be in the place. The woman wasn't rude, and if the situation forced it she'd get closer and be polite, but. Well. She had a history, didn't she.

Ira passed by a few tables when she noticed a figure keeping mostly to himself. The man seemed to have a bit of a 'don't bother me' demeanor. It wasn't hard to spot and most of the folk that weren't blind picked up on it. The new chief, 'appointed' about a week or so ago, seemed to have a lot weighing on his mind. And why wouldn't he? Certainly being thrust into such an unenviable position wasn't helping matters. Turning, the woman walked back over to her dad's set of casks and cracked one that was a very dark colored mead, meant to heat the back of the throat with the molasses mixture but not be overly sweet. She walked over with a flagon and set it before him, a smile on her face. "My lord, if it's not imposing, might I sit with ye a while?" As if not in the mood to wait for a response, she slid across from him. She didn't ask him anything further, nor did she make any demands or fawning schoolgirl or sycophantic lavishes upon him. The brewmaster's daughter was there to sit and offer him company, lest he turn her down. And even then, he might have to be stern about it.

[Halldor Frodison]

It had been a few days since Berk had appointed him chief. It wasn't something he had wanted, but with the mysterious disappearance of the previous chief, the village had been dwindling into chaos, if that wasn't what like was already like on Berk. Someone had to do something; leaderless, they weren't organised, and no one seemed to be taking up the mantle. With his volunteering and respect he got on the battlefield, Halldor was finally Chief.

But all hell broke loose. He didn't realise there was so much more to Chiefing than it looked! They were in the process of rebuilding after the war, buildings needed rebuilding, particulary the Dragon Healer's, which had been burnt to the ground. Stocks needed replenishing, and Halldor had to assign those who had volunteered as medics in the battle to continue to help Ari by fetching materials and tending to the wounded. They needed more food and wood.

Nearing the height of summer, winter would soon follow and Halldor had realised he needed to prepare the village and it's people for the cold months. Not only that, but to celebrate Snoggletog and Thawfest games, they would need extra provisions.

That was barely the surface of the issues, and all this was going round Halldor's head every day. Unlike ancestors before him, he had no previous training - he had not been selected since birth for the job, nor prepared to be appointed Chief, so this was a whole new experience.

Needless to say, he had a swimming headache since his inauguration. He had very little time to do things he enjoyed. What he would give to spend the day in the skies with his dragon!

Tonight he was lucky enough to steal some time to himself, and hustled himself in the darkest, quietest corner of the great hall, to try not and be bothered.

Suddenly a flagon banged on the table, and Halldor turned to see the brewer's daughter, Ira. Unable to say no, he motioned a hand to let her sit by him. It was awkward being called Lord; he wasn't sure he liked it. It seemed too... authoritive. He was just a Viking like the rest of them, after all! Perhaps it was something to get used to.

Now things were a little awkward. Under the table he twiddled his thumbs, looking at Ira. He was the Chief, damnit, pull yourself together!

"So, uh, how fares your day, Miss Teallach?"

[Ira Teallach]

Ira saw his expression and smiled at him. It was a knowing smile, the kind of smile that while not to the level as him, showed she knew at least a bit about what he was going through. Managing a brewery wasn't exactly an easy task for one lass, no matter how meddlesome her experienced dad or effective her work force. The older woman was starting to show just a bit of age in her otherwise fair complexion. Definitely some bags under the eyes and wrinkles around the lips. But it could be forgiven in the face of a decent brew. She sighed gently as she rubbed at her eyes, sitting back as she regarded him thoughtfully.

"I am doing well, my lord! Brewery has had a good turnaround so far. I'm experimentin' with a few new flavors in time for Snoggletog. Mead and ales don't exactly age quickly." She chuckled softly, sliding the flagon over to him. Her voice grew a bit softer and seemed to lose the formality all together.

"Listen. I am not here to bother you on one of the few chances you get a rest from what I know has to be a maelstrom in your mind. If you honestly would like me to leave you be, you have but say the word and I will be gone." She smiled once more at him, the firelight seeming to ignite her crimson hair, lighting it like a duller corona. "I am simply here to offer you some companionship that is making no demands on you but for you to enjoy some of her brew, and try to take a moment's rest that isn't secluded in the four walls of your home."

She sat back and took a small flask out of a pouch on her belt. Uncapping it, she raised it to him and knocked it back, exhaling and shaking her head a bit as the more potent liquor burned going down. "Phew!"

"I promise, it's not like ye're the only one could use some relaxin'!" She grinned at him.

[Halldor Frodison]

Halldor's insides twanged again at the use of the word 'lord'. He stll wasn't used to it. He considered dropping it. He wanted to be respected, but he didn't want people licking his boots either. Was this how people treated Asther?

He smiled as Ira told him of the good fortune the brewery had been having. She pushed the flagon towards him. "Thank you." He said, bringing up the drink to smell, it smelled good. He took a gulp.

"Oh, that tastes fantastic." And he meant it. "I think this will be perfect for Snoggletog. I'm sure you'll have swathes of Vikings coming to taste your brews," Halldor complimented. But oh great. Now he was reminded that he had to get preparations for Snoggletog underway.

Ira must have seen the thought shadow his face, because her attitude changed and she began to consol him. She reassured him, and he gave a grim smile.

"No, no. You can stay." He said, not wanting to be rude. Besides, a little company wasn't bad. And she seemed to understand that he was being put under a lot of pressure recently. "Let's just not talk about work for now, though."

However, now that he had company, he could feel he was drawing eyes to his little hide-away corner of the hall, and hoped desperately that villagers wouldn't come to bother him. A Chief needs rest too!

[Ira Teallach]

Ira nodded and beamed as he complimented the brew. "Oh thank you very much! I appreciate the compliments." She was the type to experiment and not just stick to the same swill over and over again. Keeping the good ones and discarding the bad ones was what expanding as a brewery was all about. As he mentioned Snoggletog she sighed gently. "Oh, I never mind festivities and I'm sure you are right, but, they are so much extra work. And festivals seem to just follow after each other." No wonder the Teallach brewery did so well. They needed to be in constant overstock just to keep up with the times of the year their demand would hit the ceiling.

As he spoke about not talking about work, she smiled and nodded. "Of course! Well, everyone loves talking about themselves, so why don't you tell me about you? Not Halldor the Chief... Halldor the man?" She offered him a warm smile but could tell he was getting a little nervous about people coming to bother him.

Motioning to her dad, she seemed to say something with his eyes. Nodding, he moved back over to the brew carts and began undoing product from a darker shade of cask, unloading a bubbling dark mead into flagons. His voice boomed out. "'Ey, e'vry'on! Com' try our new Deathale! Guaranteed tae knock ye'n yer arse or ye kin 'ave two!" That seemed to bring a fair number of folk in the Hall over to the opposite side of the room. She smiled at Halldor, returning her attention back to him.

[Halldor Frodison]

Halldor couldn't help but chuckle slightly. "Halldor the man?" He paused as Ira glanced at her father, who quickly distracted other villagers in the hall. He watched before coming back to Ira.

She wanted to find out more about him - natural, he supposed, to know what the new chief was like, he figured. For a Berkian, of course the first thing he spoke about was his dragon. "I trained a Monstrous Nightmare - his name is Carrier. He's blue and copper-coloured - you might have seen him. Though brash as Monstrous Nightmares are, he is a loyal partner, and accompanied me through a few battles. I know he would do me no wrong."

Halldor certainly did feel more comfortable talking over things he already knew, whereas calling the shots was very new to him. "We'd sometimes enter dragon racing together too, though we didn't win that often. We were defenders of Berk, not sports players."

Halldor took another glug of the test-drink. It was rather sweet but he could feel that prickling sensation as the liquid traveled to his stomach. He enjoyed a strong drink from time to time - it would feel as if he himself could breath fire like the dragons of Berk!

[Ira Teallach]

She rested a hand on her chin, looking at him. At the mention of the Monstrous Nightmare, she got a little pale. Images of her past flashed before her but she quickly shook herself out of it and nodded, a soft smile on her face. "I can imagine. I have seen him in passing, I'm certain. Ye seem like ye have quite a bond with the beast, and no mistake."

As he went into his races, she saw the way his eyes lit up and smiled at him. "Well there's nothing wrong with stopping your defense of Berk to relax with some races, I'm sure. Especially if ye got to take a strong rest... and by rest I mean drink, afterwards!"

She chuckled before she looked to the side and frowned. "Aw... what the hell... Excuse me, Halldor!" Several large men seemed to be slightly into their flagons and were pushing each other near the kegs. "NOT near the kegs, ya dragon's arses!" Growling, she went over and grabbed one of them, who turned around and punched her drunkenly in the jaw. She staggered back for a moment, her eyes flashing as she licked a spot of blood from her lip. Rearing back, she punched the drunk Viking in the jaw right back before grabbing him by the furs and hauling his ass towards the entrance to the Great Hall. The other one seemed quite put out at the target of his dispute being bounced out by a slip of a woman no less, and began staggering in her direction.

[Halldor Frodison]

"We certainly do." He replied at Ira's comment about his dragon. He couldn't help but smile again as she flattered him. He wished he could race again, but as Chief he would have to oversee the races instead of participate in them.

All of a sudden Ira was distracted, and his gaze followed her as she left to settle a dispute. Some men were already drunk prior the offering of the new beverage, and they had started to get rowdy.

As the first man struck Halldor jumped to his feet. As he quickly made his way over Ira had quickly fought back, like any natural viking would do. He could see his cohort advancing sluggishly behind her, but he grabbed him by the cuff.

"What is the meaning of this?!" He called out loudly, glaring at the drunken men. He had no problem with drunks, but the Great Hall was a place of community. By all means, fighting was a strong aspect of their culture but the hall was not the place. Most of the bystanders fell quiet at his arrival. "Get out this hall - Now!" He shoved the man in his clutches towards the door.

The arrival of the Chief seemed to make them sober up a bit, and though some complied, some did not. The man that had punched Ira sluggishly returned, and Halldor blocked his entrance back into the hall.

"Sshhe sttarted it." He managed to say drunkenly.

Halldor frowned. "She certainly did not, Mister Gutbrains. Ira wanted to avoid you and your friends from breaking her merchandise. You threw the first punch." He tried to retort, but Halldor quickly cut him off. "I am not having your behaviour in these halls! By Odin help me, I will make all of you scrape barnacles off ship hulls for a week!"

The thought of the extremely dull work, even in their drunken states, made them stop. Alf Gutbrains and his friends left, grumbling. A monstrous nightmare landed nearby. Halldor recognised the beast as his own. They exchanged glances before Halldor called out in dragonese. "Make sure they get to their homes. No funny business from you, either, Carrier." Though Carrier was an excellent partner for enforcing his power, he was a bit too much on the... snappy side.

He looked at the other VIkings who were drinking. There was a silence. "Anyone else have a problem?" No reply. Good. "Watch what you do. This equipment isn't designed to be knocked over. Got it?"

With the problem averted, he turned to Ira. "Are you alright?" He asked out of concern. "I have no qualms about brawls, but that was uncalled for."