Discworld and Member Articles
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Written by TheJackal
Sunday, 28 August 2005 |
Mediator Number 431 sat silently on a bench. The bench in question looked out onto waters of Friar’s Bay, which separated Druids’ Realm from Farder Realm.
It was a cold night because there were no clouds in the sky to keep the heat in. Ron was rather annoyed because he could just about see the ferry’s lantern lights in the distance and he needed to take the ferry to cross the bay. The lights weren’t getting any fainter, so that probably meant the ferry was currently docking on the other side of the bay. Ron estimated it would be half an hour before the ferry started back on the twenty minute return journey.
Sitting alone on that bench made Ron increasingly cold and nervous. He didn’t like this waiting one bit. Who knew what could happen? A search party was bound to be looking for him by now. He hoped he’d thrown them off his scent somewhat by entering the Mortal Realms via Druids’ Realm. Ron was banking on the fact that they would think he was simply hiding out there. After all, how could they know where he was really going, and whom he was going to see?
Ron wished that he’d remembered to bring some food with him. He had left in a hurry and totally forgot about bringing adequate supplies with him. By now it was over twenty-four hours since Ron had eaten anything and he was starving. He hadn’t dared to stop for food since leaving Parlay City, where the Order of Mediators resided, but now had been forced to. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be anywhere nearby that sold food.
‘Just my luck,’ thought Ron bitterly.
Ron tried to forget about his hunger and concentrate on the road that lay ahead. He knew Gee had gone to live as a Mortal in a village called Sleepy Falls shortly after they had messed up the Job. Ron wasn’t exactly sure where the village was, but he knew it was located somewhere in eastern Farder Realm. He could always ask a local once he got further into Farder.
All of Ron’s thoughts were set on finding Gee. There was nowhere else Ron could go. He had to tell Gee what had happened, and sincerely hoped that Gee would know what to do. Both of them were in it together, and the Order wouldn’t exclude Gee from punishment simply because he was now a Mortal.
Nemoy sat on his bed, thinking. There were many things to consider: Who was this mysterious man? Why attempt to kill him? Was the man still after him? What should he do now?
Nemoy’s train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. Upon opening it he was greeted on the other side by a girl Nemoy guessed to be no more than thirteen years old. She held in her hands a large basin of water. He’d nearly forgotten about that. She laid it down on a small table in the corner of the room and took her leave. For a few seconds, the table rocked from side to side with the basin’s weight, before ceasing its movement.
Nemoy took off his shirt and walked towards the basin. He splashed handfuls of refreshing water onto his face. After that, he fervently scrubbed his face and neck in an effort to thoroughly clean them. After a few minutes he was satisfied with his efforts. Nemoy stood there, water dripping off his face, with some falling onto the ground but most falling back into the basin. His attention was caught by his own reflection, which was distorted by the ripples in the water and from the gentle way it swayed from side to side. The face he saw displeased him, just like it always had.
Nemoy saw the face of a weary looking, thirty year old man. How could he be this old? Nemoy remembered his teenage years. How youthful he had looked back then, never thinking he would grow old. But now…now the years were catching up with him.
The facial feature that Nemoy despised most was his elongated nose, which was something of a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation on his father’s side. But that was not the only way Nemoy resembled his bastard of a father. He also had the same dark blue eyes and rugged chin.
For half of his life, Nemoy had run away from his past, refusing to become like his father in any way. But how could he? His father would always be with him, even though Nemoy had heard news of his death some years ago…
The only parts of his body that Nemoy had totally his own control over were his hair and fitness level. Nemoy could only ever remember his father as having short, grey hair; whereas Nemoy had long, black, shoulder-length hair, of which was now beginning to recede in places.
It had also struck Nemoy that his father had been unusually fat. Labourers were generally at the height of fitness for many years, due to the amount of work that they did in the fields, and also because they quite simply couldn’t afford enough food to grow fat on. But Nemoy was the son of a landlord who didn’t have to work if he didn’t feel like it. If Nemoy’s memory was correct, which it usually was, then during his teenage years, Nemoy had only observed his father out helping in the fields on maybe half a dozen occasions.
By now Nemoy was getting rather distressed by those painful memories and turned his thoughts to other things…
And it was upon gazing into that basin, which was now filled with murky water, that Nemoy suddenly had an epiphany. He realised that this would be his last adventure, for his days of wandering were coming to an end. It was time, at last, to settle down. If he got through this, Nemoy would go and find somewhere to call home. But for the moment that seemed like a far away and unreachable dream.
‘Not today,’ Nemoy told himself, ‘but one day…’
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