Dark Puck - To give us a break in the angst...

Liàng was not taking a liking to his circumstances.  It was far too hot to work before a fire — which, as a smith, he had to do in order to make it from day to day.  Since leaving his hometown, he’d found that while many who engaged his services were pleasant enough — perhaps they realised that it would be unwise to anger the man who would be repairing their weapons — some tried to use their might to intimidate or even cheat him.  While by no means in the majority, these few stood out the most and drove him near to madness.  It didn’t help that all were suspicious of a wandering smith nobody could ever remember meeting; worse, some of the older soldiers could see his father in him and thus spent far too much time trying to figure out who the young man reminded them of.

The last thing he needed was for them to realise was that he had been born and raised in the Earth Kingdom.

Not for the first time, the brawny man cursed Princess Azula for forcing him to take these steps to protect his home; if only she hadn’t noticed the colour of his eyes after he’d repaired that thrice-damned bracelet…

Movement caught his eye, and the smith froze.  He ducked low, wide-eyed — had the soldiers from the last garrison followed him?  He was far too close to the capital as it was, and still jumpy from the eclipse three days before.  Liàng was convinced that it had been that jumpiness that had gotten him the attention this time.  Finding some cover, he carefully peeked out to the movement he’d seen.

The movement came from an older man, perhaps in his late fifties or early sixties, rather stocky, clothes a little rough around the edges. He, too, was travelling alone.  For a long moment, Liàng debated joining him.  Then he shook his head.  No, it was far better for him to be alone rather than drag anyone into trouble with him, should it arise.  Too, there was something decidedly military about the old man.  Dangerous.  Definitely not the sort Liàng should travel with.

The old man, however, seemed to be largely ignoring him.

Thank the spirits for small favours.  Liàng took note of the other traveller’s direction, and decidedly headed off at an angle.

Two nights later, he arrived in a small village; he reluctantly parted with some small funds for supplies only to turn around and find the old man he’d seen before at a tea stand.  His golden eyes went wide, and he quickly hurried away.

This time, the old man definitely noticed, and his eyes narrowed. If he saw the smith a third time, he'd have to say something to him.

Liàng got caught up in the next town over when a young miss broke her favourite ring; after fixing it, he found himself plagued by other girls with similar problems.  Most likely they wished to upset the mamas and boyfriends he found glaring at him; propriety warred with his need for money and eventually won.  He left two days later.

Quickly.

Two days after that, he ran into the old man again--he'd actually been spotted earlier that afternoon, and, that night, found the old man waiting for him, calmly, with a cup of tea.

The smith halted, wary and confused.

"Please," the old man said, pouring him a cup, as well. "Join me."

“…as you wish,” said Liàng after a moment, taking a seat and accepting the cup.

The other man smiled benignly. "We seem to keep running across one another, I thought we should meet properly. My name is Mushi. What is yours?"

“Wŭ Fĕi,” Liàng replied.  It was the name he’d given all who asked him; by now it rolled easily from his lips.

"Are you travelling anywhere special, Wŭ Fĕi?"

“No, sir.”  If the old man — Mushi — was military, current or former, it was probably better to remain polite.  He hoped to go for unthreatening as well, but with his size, it wasn’t entirely easy.

"Neither am I," he replied, easily.

Now why did that answer make him uneasy?

Because he may have something to hide, just like you, whispered his common sense.

To cover his wary, almost paranoid thought, Liàng said, “I mostly travel where I might find work.”

"What sort of work do you do?"

“I’m a smith,” Liàng replied, smiling slightly.  “I can repair weapons, but I largely prefer delicate work on the whole.  However, money is money.”

The old man nodded. "Indeed it is."

Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve told me nothing of yourself beyond your name, the smith thought calmly, hoping his eyes weren’t betraying his nervousness.  He was getting better at controlling his expressions, but those who understood the workings of a person could still read him like a scroll.  Liàng had no doubt that the old man was one of those people.

"You seem nervous, Wŭ Fĕi," he said now, still calm.

Oh, shit.  “Several took exception to me at my last stop,” he said carefully.  “They disliked the clientele I was attracting.”

"I'm sorry to hear that."

“It’s a risk of the business, I suppose.  Though the songs of my profession rarely mention jealous boyfriends.”

The old man laughed at this. "No, they do not."

Carefully, Liàng sipped his tea and barely kept from making a face.  Ginseng.  He hated ginseng.  The old man arched an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

Yep.  He can read me like a scroll.

“My apologies, Mushi,” Liàng said.  “I’m not overly fond of ginseng tea.”

He sighed and shook his head.

“I realise this is a flaw.  My mother made certain to tell me so.  Often.”

"A wise woman, your mother."

Liàng nodded, an unbidden smile coming to his lips.

The old man smiled as well, and, at least for the moment, asked no further questions.

Despite his dislike, Liàng finished the tea out of deference to his host.  He was still off-balance and uncertain.  Mushi did nothing to reassure him, but nor did he do anything to further intimidate or worry him, for which the young man was grateful.  After some time, Liàng made as if to rise.

The old man did nothing to stop him.

He tried to hide his relief as he bowed.  “Thank you for the tea, sir.”

"You're welcome, Wŭ Fĕi.  It was lovely to meet you."

“And you.”  The young smith hefted his bag and headed away, hoping desperately that he would never again cross paths with Mushi.

 

Imagine his surprise when, three days later, he came across a wanted poster with Mushi’s face on it.  The name given on the poster, however, was Iroh.

Golden eyes went wide as he realised the import of his meeting with the old man three days past.

And that was when the explosions started. A familiar voice shouted for him to get down, as "Mushi," now being pursued by several soldiers, rounded a corner.

Startled, the young man ducked and began looking for escape routes.  He had no qualms about leaving the older man — Iroh’s reputation preceded him, and Liàng wanted no part in whatever was going on.

Or so he tried to convince himself.

“…damn it!”

Rising from his crouch, Liàng stuck out one arm and neatly clotheslined a soldier in hot pursuit, throwing him down and then tripping up his comrade.  I must be crazy.

The old man did not look to see what Liàng was doing, focusing instead on neutralizing his pursuers as bloodlessly as possible.

With the brawny smith in the mix and causing decisive damage, the soldiers were forced to split their attentions between the two men.  Attempts to use firebending were no good, for Iroh was also a bender and Liàng much faster than his mass indicated  — though at one point he dodged so fast it almost appeared as though he’d knocked the fire to one side.

A few minutes later, the soldiers had all been incapacitated and driven off. "We need to leave quickly, they'll have gone for reinforcements."

“Right,” Liàng panted, sparing a glance behind him.  No dead bodies.  Profound relief took hold of him as he followed the former general away.

The old man led him out of the town and deep into the surrounding wilderness before stopping. "Are you hurt at all?" he asked.

“Nothing to slow us down,” Liàng reported after a cursory check.  Singed hair, a burn on his wrist, nothing that couldn’t come from a day’s work at the forge.

Iroh gave him a piercing look. "Let me see." Apparently, whoever he was used to travelling with would use an excuse like that to cover something more serious if he felt he had to.

Sighing, the smith gave in.  He had no desire to match wills with the old general.

The old man quickly checked him out, then nodded. "All right.  You should've stayed down. There was no need for you to get involved."

“I know,” Liàng said softly.  “But I have an unfortunate affliction called a conscience.”

Iroh laughed a little at that. "Is that so."

“It gets me in trouble from time to time.”  Such as when I agreed to fix a young lady’s bracelet.

"...I'm sure there's a story there. You don't have to tell it if you don't want to."

Liàng coughed.  “Let’s just say it has a lot to do with why I’m in the Fire Nation instead of—”   Too late he caught himself.  Oops.

Iroh waved a hand dismissively and didn't press. "In any case, I believe you're stuck with me, at least for the time being."

“As you say, sir.”  He didn’t even try to hide his relief at the lack of questioning.

That being taken care of, the old man suggested they start moving again.  Liàng nodded and picked up the pace.  This was going to be an interesting time.