More Whaler Girl fun, this time with Saul, who certainly isn't comfortable with the amount of affection the women of Varlsbein show him.
Kellad had become one of his firmest friends, despite the 9 years difference in their age. His mother had seen to it he never wanted for a hot meal or his clothes darning for months after the accident, always pressing him awkwardly into a hug whenever their paths crossed around Varlsbein. His elevated standing among the women's circles had increased the time of his brisk morning walks to the dockside exponentially as he was pressed into conversations or given small tokens of appreciation. Even the occasional offer of the hand of an older daughter. </i>
When he had eventually convinced Kellad's mother that her time was better spent tending to the needs of those less fortunate than himself, or perhaps she had grown tired of his muttered rebukes, she had offered him one last token of appreciation. A hand carved pipe, of rich, plainsland mahogany, inlaid with exquisitely carved wave iconography and a single whale curved around its bowl. Eideann had long since claimed the wooden box it had been presented in for her own trinkets, but Saul kept the pipe and the acrid tobacco they farmed this side of the mountains with him at all times. Everyone who knew him knew it was tantamount to treason to touch the thing, he had even broken the nose of one Spear who had drunkenly pushed his luck one night after a hefty catch.