Stargate Atlantis: Emerald Isle

Chapter 10 - Mending

John sat down on the wooden bench, his head spinning and his arm throbbing. He'd made it outside; it was an achievement, he tried to tell himself, even though it didn't feel like much. He was determined to see more of the fort today, but thought he'd just sit and catch his breath for a bit first. He lifted his face to the sun and closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh morning air, grateful to be out of the dim smokiness of the hut. Vorra had set out clothes for him that morning, similar to Rodney's and had insisted, despite his protests, in helping him into them. He was glad in the end that she had; he felt like he'd run a marathon, not just got dressed. He hoped he would soon begin to recover more quickly from the effects of the blood loss and fever.

He leant back against the wall of the hut and surveyed his surroundings; small round huts, walls made of wattle and daub and roofs thatched, some standing alone, some in clusters sharing walls with their neighbours. He could see inside one or two; they were like the hut he'd lain in for the past couple of days. Or was it three days? It was all a bit of a blur. Each hut seemed to have a central hearth, but there didn't seem to be any chimneys, or even holes in the roof. The hut did smell of smoke inside, but it wasn't choking. The smoke must seep out through the thatch. Anyway, it was obviously a handy design feature; John had noticed that meat and fish were hung from cross-beams in the rafters to preserve in the smoke. Maybe Rodney would get his bacon after all.

Breesha sat down next to him and set a basket of clothes on the ground; his and Rodney's clothes, he realised, cleaned of bloodstains and other assorted marks. Breesha picked up his t-shirt, stroking the fabric reverently. John smiled; fine-knit cotton jersey must seem like a miracle when you're used to weaving all your own clothes with wool and linen, he thought.

Breesha indicated the long slash cutting through the seam of the shoulder and continuing down the sleeve. She unfolded a roll of cloth which contained her sewing kit and pointed to a selection of bone needles and skeins of thread. There was nothing fine or dark enough to match the t-shirt and the bone needles were functional but not nearly as slim as modern steel needles. Breesha's words sounded apologetic; she didn't want to ruin his fine clothes with poorly-matching repairs. She began taking out her finest needle and darkest thread. He put his hand on her arm. "Rodney!" he called, and waited for an answering, sharply irritable "What?" John looked at Breesha with a raised eyebrow and she rolled her eyes in response. Rodney was bored and was letting everyone know it, despite the language barrier. "Bring out the sewing kit from my vest," John called.

Rodney emerged, the small pouch in hand, grumbling, "What am I? Your personal servant?"

"Yes, if you can't think of anything better to do!" replied John, taking the kit. "Why don't you find something useful to do? There must be something you can help with."

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, my skills are somewhat redundant in this technological desert," Rodney said. He looked at his watch and said with deep sarcasm, "Only, what... maybe two thousand years until the invention of the personal computer? That's if this lot ever get that far."

"Rodney," John interrupted the tirade. "Don't upset our friends, will you?" Breesha was shifting uncomfortably and looking worried. "She probably thinks you don't appreciate their hospitality."

"Oh." Rodney looked guilty. "Sorry, Breesha," he said. Then continued in a small voice, "I still don't have anything to do, though."

John looked around. He could see Rodney's point, but wished he had the strength to do anything. Even chopping wood or herding animals would be better then tottering around feeling like he was going to fall over every time he walked more than a few steps. He had an idea. "Why don't you have a look at their gates? See if you can design some kind of counterweight system to make them easier to move?"