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fellowshippers2006-09-06 03:39 pm
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-09-06 03:39 pm
Brethren, Chapter Nine
Title: Brethren 9/15
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Pairing: DM/VM
Rating: PG this part
Disclaimer: Clearly not true.
A/N: Oh my God, it’s back! Yes, I have finally gone back to posting Brethren, which went on hiatus in the spring but is now written and beta-ed at fifteen chapters, and will be posted every Wednesday till it's done. You can get to previous chapters using the link below to my fic index, and I encourage you to do so if you're interested. The brief summary for those who didn't read before is that it's a historical fiction set in 17th century Pennsylvania; Dominic is a Moravian immigrant from Germany, Viggo is a sort of healer in Bethlehem, Sean Bean is one of the community's ministers, and Elijah is acheeky monkey young man in the community who lived briefly with a native tribe after being orphaned and has a history of homosexual relations. Hope you enjoy!
Previous Chapters
As the sun sunk low behind the trees, Dominic allowed himself to observe his mentor more candidly, having fallen behind on the narrow dirt path. They had been riding to the northwest of the settlement for about an hour, occasionally stopping to gather a particular plant, but often in companionable silence with only the occasion suggestion from Viggo with regards to Dominic’s posture or riding technique.
The older man, Dominic noticed, rode Schwarzefee bareback like Elijah, unlike that first day in the presence of the rest of the community when Viggo had used a saddle and stirrups. Most remarkable to Dominic was that not only did Viggo ride without a saddle, but he didn’t use reigns, either. Strong, calloused hands rested firmly on the animal’s neck, and aside from the occasional gentle tug of the mane, Viggo seemed to communicate with his horse entirely through soft spoken words which he would lean down to deliver close to the horse’s ear. For a fleeting moment, Dominic envied the life of a horse, fed and cared for by a kind master, spoken to gently and trusted enough to roam almost free in the forest.
Viggo’s hair had grown longer in the month or so since Dominic had known him, and it was currently tied back with a plain black ribbon, the low sun catching glimmers of red in the light brown shade. His linen shirt hung comfortably on his form, and Dominic could just make out the lines of a straight, muscled back and broad shoulders underneath. Moving further down, he could just make out the way Viggo’s powerful thigh muscles, encased in tight black breeches, gripped the horse’s flanks. His posture was correct as any English rider’s, yet the man moved with a grace that made him look wholly relaxed, and not at all stiff or rigid.
Shaking his head slightly, Dominic pulled himself away mentally from this track. He had never taken such a conscious appraisal of another man’s physical form, and he was embarrassed to realize how much he appreciated Viggo in an aesthetic sense. The man’s quiet grace and hidden strength drew Dominic to him, and the secrets that he had at first feared of Viggo’s past and occasional wanderings from the community now tempted him with their mystery. What exactly did Viggo do, out here in the woods? What was his relationship with the natives? Elijah had spoken of things learned in his own time with the Indians that at first seemed illicit and unseemly, but now Dominic itched to know more.
Coming into a small green hill which protruded from the wooded landscape, Dominic was torn from his thoughts when Viggo let his steed fall back into step with Dominic’s, gesturing at the top that it was time for them to dismount. From here they could see vast expanses of forest, and smoke rising in curls to the east that Dominic recognized as the signs of supper back in the settlement. Further west and north, there was more smoke, and Dominic squinted for any sign of its origin.
“Native settlements,” Viggo explained with a soft smile, helping Dominic untie his own leather bag from Dominic’s saddle and tugging the blanket from his own horse’s back. “There are several large ones that way. Come, let’s let the horses free for a bit while we enjoy our supper,” he coaxed, and Dominic found himself sitting cross-legged on the large flannel blanket opposite Viggo, a spread of cured meats, bread, and cheese laid out in front of them, along with a clay jug of wine. Viggo’s eyes sparkled as he took a sip straight from the jug, and then passed it along to Dominic. “Go on, then. I know you’re not used to it here, but I keep a bit around as a special treat."
Dominic smiled nervously and took a small sip of the liquid, which was quite good, and then took a bite off of the hunk of bread Viggo offered him. “Those settlements over there,” Dominic began, gesturing with his eyes to the curls of smoke. “That’s where you do your missions?”
“Not exactly,” Viggo admitted. “We’ve already brought most of the children from that area into the settlement, and when the young ones are ready, the parents will send them to us of their own volition. The next converting missions will take place much farther off, beyond the Susquehanna there,” Viggo explained, pointing behind him to a winding narrow line of blue just barely visible at the edge of their line of sight.
“How long will it take to get there?” Dominic asked, trying to imagine a ride with Viggo that would last several days or more, not just an evening.
“Quite a few days, Dominic,” Viggo admitted with a smile. “The next mission… well I think you’re ready to hear about it, because I plan to take you with me. Only you,” he added, critically studying Dominic’s face in the fading light for a reaction.
Dominic stared for a moment. “Only me? But what about… I thought… aren’t missions generally fairly large? And aren’t the participants usually members of the married choir?”
“Yes, Dominic,” Viggo agreed with a smile. “They are. But the part that they don’t mention to you, the part that isn’t necessarily…sanctioned, by the community, can be the most important part.”
“I don’t follow,” answered honestly, frowning slightly as he cut a bit of meat with Viggo’s long-handled knife.
“The converting missions are as you described, yes. I, and a couple of other older men of the community who have at least some knowledge of Indian customs and language, travel to the settlements with a group of married men and women. We live with the natives for several weeks, describing our customs and religion to them, and gradually find members of the community who are willing to dedicate their children to our faith. More parents become convinced by their peers, and some adults join as well. However, you can’t just march into an Indian village and assume that everyone will be open to the idea,” Viggo pointed out with a smile.
Dominic thought about it for a moment, and nodded. “I suppose you’re right, yeah.”
“That’s where we come in, Dominic. I visit the Indian villages we wish to have relations with in advance, usually a few months before the primary mission. I tend to bring only one other person with me, often Elijah. I learned the Munsee language in New York, and the Munsee Indians are very similar to a group of the Delaware tribe called the Lenape by Europeans, but their language is not identical. By this point, I speak the Leanape dialect well enough to communicate, but Elijah’s experience living among the Lenape people for several years has given him language skills superior to mine. However, due to Elijah’s recent indiscretions, it would be impossible to gain clearance to bring him with me. And that’s where you come in.”
Dominic smiled nervously, still feeling a bit guilty for his part in Elijah’s punishment, but Viggo chose not to bring it up. “The trip I’d like to bring you on, Dominic, is less of a converting mission and more a cultural exchange. We’d be riding out beyond the Susquehanna and many miles further, to the banks of the Alleghany River. We’ll then seek audience with one of the local chiefs, where we will be his guests for a period of time. I don’t think it’s necessary to convey to you the importance of mutuality here—you mustn’t assume that our culture is superior when dealing with native people, for we are their guests. In these initial talks, it is of utmost importance to be kind, respectful, and gracious to our hosts. Obviously you don’t speak the language, and though I’ll teach you a few words and phrases, that shouldn’t be a problem. But I imagine we will be asked to share healing techniques and participate in certain ceremonies. This may make you feel uncomfortable, but I urge you to participate in whatever you’re asked and not be quick to judge. If you’re not interested in the task, I won’t fault you, Dominic, but I need your honesty.”
Dominic shifted slightly under Viggo’s intense gaze, lit now by the rising moon, and took a long swallow of wine before answering. “I’ll do it, Viggo. I won’t disappoint you, I promise. I don’t want to do anything to embarrass you or jeopardize the mission.”
Viggo smiled and reached out, giving Dominic’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “I’m sure you won’t.” They ate in companionable silence for a moment, until Viggo set down his knife and sat back, leaning on his hands in the dry grass. “I think I will enjoy the chance for some solitude with you, Dominic,” he admitted.
Dominic blushed and smiled, basking in Viggo’s praise. “I think I… I think I would like that, as well. Tell me, Viggo. You’ve disappeared twice since I’ve joined the settlement, for a few days at a time. These weren’t missions, were they?”
Viggo smiled and shook his head. “No, Dominic, they weren’t.”
“Why, then? Did you go to see the Indians?”
“I did. I have friends among their settlements near our own, and I go often to seek advice from the healers there or simply to commune with my native brothers.”
“You… you feel a kinship with them, then?” Dominic asked, furrowing his brow. He was trying to understand, but he had still never met a native outside Bethlehem, and he found it hard to imagine befriending Indians in the wild, without the benefit of assimilated dress and religious education, not to mention the German language.
“Yes, I do. There are several men and women within the neighbouring tribes with whom I am very close, Dominic. We are brothers in Christ, whether they specifically accept our religious tradition or not.”
“Will you… well maybe it is inappropriate for me to be so curious, but I would like very much…” Dominic stuttered, twisting his hands together in front of his body, but Viggo just waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts. “Viggo, Elijah described some ceremonies to me,” he finally explained. “I mean, not recently… he hasn’t gone against his punishment; I haven’t seen him,” he added in a rush. “But before… he told me a bit about their spirit world, and I… well I’ve enjoyed learning some herbal remedies with you. I think I might also like to learn some of the spiritual rituals that go along with the medicine. That is, so I might be able to heal on my own one day,” Dominic finished finally, his eyes lowered shyly.
Viggo grinned and nodded, evidently pleased with the younger man’s enthusiasm. “I’d like that, Dominic. I’d like very much to show you what I know… all I ask is an open mind. And ask questions whenever you need to. You can’t learn if you don’t ask. You’ll find, I think, that many native practices are not so divorced from Christian faith as you might think,” he pointed out, and Dominic nodded.
For a long while, they sat in silence, their food abandoned, bellies full and hearts content, until Viggo’s eyes suddenly turned towards the moon and a smile came over his face, as if recalling a far-off memory. Quietly at first, but increasing in volume and fervour as he went along, eyes drooping shut, he began to sing.
Dominic sat back on his hands, staring at Viggo, marvelling at the beautiful but incomprehensible words pouring from the man’s ruddy lips, when he realized that the song must be something Viggo had learned from the natives. The syllables sounded like nothing Dominic had ever heard in Europe, and the cadence was powerful and loping, drawing out the vowels and rising and falling in waves of volume as Viggo called out to some spirit Dominic could not name. He wanted to rationalize that the song was simply another form of a hymn, a call to the Lord our Saviour for redemption and peace, but Dominic knew in his heart that that wasn’t it.
Viggo’s song, beautiful and emotional, was an appeal to some natural force stronger and more present here in the wind, the grass rustling against his fingers, and the dew collecting in the air, than Jesus Christ could ever be. The thought, he knew, should bother him immensely, but it did not. Maybe Viggo was right. Perhaps it was only a matter of perspective.
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Pairing: DM/VM
Rating: PG this part
Disclaimer: Clearly not true.
A/N: Oh my God, it’s back! Yes, I have finally gone back to posting Brethren, which went on hiatus in the spring but is now written and beta-ed at fifteen chapters, and will be posted every Wednesday till it's done. You can get to previous chapters using the link below to my fic index, and I encourage you to do so if you're interested. The brief summary for those who didn't read before is that it's a historical fiction set in 17th century Pennsylvania; Dominic is a Moravian immigrant from Germany, Viggo is a sort of healer in Bethlehem, Sean Bean is one of the community's ministers, and Elijah is a
Previous Chapters
As the sun sunk low behind the trees, Dominic allowed himself to observe his mentor more candidly, having fallen behind on the narrow dirt path. They had been riding to the northwest of the settlement for about an hour, occasionally stopping to gather a particular plant, but often in companionable silence with only the occasion suggestion from Viggo with regards to Dominic’s posture or riding technique.
The older man, Dominic noticed, rode Schwarzefee bareback like Elijah, unlike that first day in the presence of the rest of the community when Viggo had used a saddle and stirrups. Most remarkable to Dominic was that not only did Viggo ride without a saddle, but he didn’t use reigns, either. Strong, calloused hands rested firmly on the animal’s neck, and aside from the occasional gentle tug of the mane, Viggo seemed to communicate with his horse entirely through soft spoken words which he would lean down to deliver close to the horse’s ear. For a fleeting moment, Dominic envied the life of a horse, fed and cared for by a kind master, spoken to gently and trusted enough to roam almost free in the forest.
Viggo’s hair had grown longer in the month or so since Dominic had known him, and it was currently tied back with a plain black ribbon, the low sun catching glimmers of red in the light brown shade. His linen shirt hung comfortably on his form, and Dominic could just make out the lines of a straight, muscled back and broad shoulders underneath. Moving further down, he could just make out the way Viggo’s powerful thigh muscles, encased in tight black breeches, gripped the horse’s flanks. His posture was correct as any English rider’s, yet the man moved with a grace that made him look wholly relaxed, and not at all stiff or rigid.
Shaking his head slightly, Dominic pulled himself away mentally from this track. He had never taken such a conscious appraisal of another man’s physical form, and he was embarrassed to realize how much he appreciated Viggo in an aesthetic sense. The man’s quiet grace and hidden strength drew Dominic to him, and the secrets that he had at first feared of Viggo’s past and occasional wanderings from the community now tempted him with their mystery. What exactly did Viggo do, out here in the woods? What was his relationship with the natives? Elijah had spoken of things learned in his own time with the Indians that at first seemed illicit and unseemly, but now Dominic itched to know more.
Coming into a small green hill which protruded from the wooded landscape, Dominic was torn from his thoughts when Viggo let his steed fall back into step with Dominic’s, gesturing at the top that it was time for them to dismount. From here they could see vast expanses of forest, and smoke rising in curls to the east that Dominic recognized as the signs of supper back in the settlement. Further west and north, there was more smoke, and Dominic squinted for any sign of its origin.
“Native settlements,” Viggo explained with a soft smile, helping Dominic untie his own leather bag from Dominic’s saddle and tugging the blanket from his own horse’s back. “There are several large ones that way. Come, let’s let the horses free for a bit while we enjoy our supper,” he coaxed, and Dominic found himself sitting cross-legged on the large flannel blanket opposite Viggo, a spread of cured meats, bread, and cheese laid out in front of them, along with a clay jug of wine. Viggo’s eyes sparkled as he took a sip straight from the jug, and then passed it along to Dominic. “Go on, then. I know you’re not used to it here, but I keep a bit around as a special treat."
Dominic smiled nervously and took a small sip of the liquid, which was quite good, and then took a bite off of the hunk of bread Viggo offered him. “Those settlements over there,” Dominic began, gesturing with his eyes to the curls of smoke. “That’s where you do your missions?”
“Not exactly,” Viggo admitted. “We’ve already brought most of the children from that area into the settlement, and when the young ones are ready, the parents will send them to us of their own volition. The next converting missions will take place much farther off, beyond the Susquehanna there,” Viggo explained, pointing behind him to a winding narrow line of blue just barely visible at the edge of their line of sight.
“How long will it take to get there?” Dominic asked, trying to imagine a ride with Viggo that would last several days or more, not just an evening.
“Quite a few days, Dominic,” Viggo admitted with a smile. “The next mission… well I think you’re ready to hear about it, because I plan to take you with me. Only you,” he added, critically studying Dominic’s face in the fading light for a reaction.
Dominic stared for a moment. “Only me? But what about… I thought… aren’t missions generally fairly large? And aren’t the participants usually members of the married choir?”
“Yes, Dominic,” Viggo agreed with a smile. “They are. But the part that they don’t mention to you, the part that isn’t necessarily…sanctioned, by the community, can be the most important part.”
“I don’t follow,” answered honestly, frowning slightly as he cut a bit of meat with Viggo’s long-handled knife.
“The converting missions are as you described, yes. I, and a couple of other older men of the community who have at least some knowledge of Indian customs and language, travel to the settlements with a group of married men and women. We live with the natives for several weeks, describing our customs and religion to them, and gradually find members of the community who are willing to dedicate their children to our faith. More parents become convinced by their peers, and some adults join as well. However, you can’t just march into an Indian village and assume that everyone will be open to the idea,” Viggo pointed out with a smile.
Dominic thought about it for a moment, and nodded. “I suppose you’re right, yeah.”
“That’s where we come in, Dominic. I visit the Indian villages we wish to have relations with in advance, usually a few months before the primary mission. I tend to bring only one other person with me, often Elijah. I learned the Munsee language in New York, and the Munsee Indians are very similar to a group of the Delaware tribe called the Lenape by Europeans, but their language is not identical. By this point, I speak the Leanape dialect well enough to communicate, but Elijah’s experience living among the Lenape people for several years has given him language skills superior to mine. However, due to Elijah’s recent indiscretions, it would be impossible to gain clearance to bring him with me. And that’s where you come in.”
Dominic smiled nervously, still feeling a bit guilty for his part in Elijah’s punishment, but Viggo chose not to bring it up. “The trip I’d like to bring you on, Dominic, is less of a converting mission and more a cultural exchange. We’d be riding out beyond the Susquehanna and many miles further, to the banks of the Alleghany River. We’ll then seek audience with one of the local chiefs, where we will be his guests for a period of time. I don’t think it’s necessary to convey to you the importance of mutuality here—you mustn’t assume that our culture is superior when dealing with native people, for we are their guests. In these initial talks, it is of utmost importance to be kind, respectful, and gracious to our hosts. Obviously you don’t speak the language, and though I’ll teach you a few words and phrases, that shouldn’t be a problem. But I imagine we will be asked to share healing techniques and participate in certain ceremonies. This may make you feel uncomfortable, but I urge you to participate in whatever you’re asked and not be quick to judge. If you’re not interested in the task, I won’t fault you, Dominic, but I need your honesty.”
Dominic shifted slightly under Viggo’s intense gaze, lit now by the rising moon, and took a long swallow of wine before answering. “I’ll do it, Viggo. I won’t disappoint you, I promise. I don’t want to do anything to embarrass you or jeopardize the mission.”
Viggo smiled and reached out, giving Dominic’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “I’m sure you won’t.” They ate in companionable silence for a moment, until Viggo set down his knife and sat back, leaning on his hands in the dry grass. “I think I will enjoy the chance for some solitude with you, Dominic,” he admitted.
Dominic blushed and smiled, basking in Viggo’s praise. “I think I… I think I would like that, as well. Tell me, Viggo. You’ve disappeared twice since I’ve joined the settlement, for a few days at a time. These weren’t missions, were they?”
Viggo smiled and shook his head. “No, Dominic, they weren’t.”
“Why, then? Did you go to see the Indians?”
“I did. I have friends among their settlements near our own, and I go often to seek advice from the healers there or simply to commune with my native brothers.”
“You… you feel a kinship with them, then?” Dominic asked, furrowing his brow. He was trying to understand, but he had still never met a native outside Bethlehem, and he found it hard to imagine befriending Indians in the wild, without the benefit of assimilated dress and religious education, not to mention the German language.
“Yes, I do. There are several men and women within the neighbouring tribes with whom I am very close, Dominic. We are brothers in Christ, whether they specifically accept our religious tradition or not.”
“Will you… well maybe it is inappropriate for me to be so curious, but I would like very much…” Dominic stuttered, twisting his hands together in front of his body, but Viggo just waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts. “Viggo, Elijah described some ceremonies to me,” he finally explained. “I mean, not recently… he hasn’t gone against his punishment; I haven’t seen him,” he added in a rush. “But before… he told me a bit about their spirit world, and I… well I’ve enjoyed learning some herbal remedies with you. I think I might also like to learn some of the spiritual rituals that go along with the medicine. That is, so I might be able to heal on my own one day,” Dominic finished finally, his eyes lowered shyly.
Viggo grinned and nodded, evidently pleased with the younger man’s enthusiasm. “I’d like that, Dominic. I’d like very much to show you what I know… all I ask is an open mind. And ask questions whenever you need to. You can’t learn if you don’t ask. You’ll find, I think, that many native practices are not so divorced from Christian faith as you might think,” he pointed out, and Dominic nodded.
For a long while, they sat in silence, their food abandoned, bellies full and hearts content, until Viggo’s eyes suddenly turned towards the moon and a smile came over his face, as if recalling a far-off memory. Quietly at first, but increasing in volume and fervour as he went along, eyes drooping shut, he began to sing.
Dominic sat back on his hands, staring at Viggo, marvelling at the beautiful but incomprehensible words pouring from the man’s ruddy lips, when he realized that the song must be something Viggo had learned from the natives. The syllables sounded like nothing Dominic had ever heard in Europe, and the cadence was powerful and loping, drawing out the vowels and rising and falling in waves of volume as Viggo called out to some spirit Dominic could not name. He wanted to rationalize that the song was simply another form of a hymn, a call to the Lord our Saviour for redemption and peace, but Dominic knew in his heart that that wasn’t it.
Viggo’s song, beautiful and emotional, was an appeal to some natural force stronger and more present here in the wind, the grass rustling against his fingers, and the dew collecting in the air, than Jesus Christ could ever be. The thought, he knew, should bother him immensely, but it did not. Maybe Viggo was right. Perhaps it was only a matter of perspective.