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Rodney sat off to the side, concentrating on making even stitches in the shirt he was repairing and trying desperately to ignore the all the giggling teenage girls in the overly warm room. It wasn't easy. It was like having to put up with his sister again, times twelve. He winced as a pair of the girls shrieked with laughter. And why did their voices have to be so high pitched?
The door to the sewing room opened and as Rodney looked up distractedly, a small woman in Whites who looked vaguely familiar to him came in. One of the dark haired girls closest to the door jumped up and said with a considerable amount of poise, "Can we help you, Queen's own?"
Rodney stared at the woman. That was the Queen's Own Herald? He felt vaguely disappointed. Somehow, he'd always imagined that she'd be...bigger... or something.
The woman touched the girl's arm and smiled at her. "I merely come to sweep one of you away from your fascinating work, Fran," she said warmly with a touch of teasing.
Fran put a hand up to her mouth to smother her giggles as the Queen's Own released her and turned to smile at Rodney. "Hello, Rodney. I am Teyla. Would you come with me, please?"
Rodney's stomach did a violent flip flop and he gulped. The Queen's Own Herald calling him out for a conference couldn't be good. He parked his needle in the fabric of the shirt and set it aside before standing up and nervously smoothing his uniform with his hands. She smiled at him again and he did a jerky nod and then followed after her as she turned and walked out the door. Once they reached the hallway and Rodney had shut the door behind him, Teyla made a gesture down the hallway and said, "Let us go into the gardens. I find it too lovely a day to be spent cooped up inside."
Rodney nodded nervous agreement even though he wasn't thrilled with the idea of going out-of-doors. Even though it was cool for a late summer day today it was still bright enough that the sun would blister his fair skin in minutes. Still, he followed her wordlessly into the gardens and sat down on the sun-warmed bench next to her and folded his arms tightly together, waiting for the reaming out he was probably about to receive.
"First, I wish to tender my apologies for not speaking with you sooner, Rodney," Teyla said gently, as she touched his arm. "I make it a practice to welcome all our new trainees, but my duties have kept me extremely busy of late. Are you settling in well?"
Rodney shrugged uncomfortably and refused to meet her eyes, thrown by the question. "Uh, erm, yeah?" He cleared his throat and tried again because not even he would have believed that. "Uh, yes I am, Queen's Own."
She squeezed his arm with her hand gently. "Please, call me Teyla. And do not lie. If you are having problems, I wish to hear of it."
Rodney felt the wall he'd been desperately trying to build around all his anger and resentment abruptly come crumbling down. "I hate it here," he said tightly. "I hate being put back into school like I was some snot nosed brat, I hate my classes on politics and etiquette, and I hate weapons training! I hate feeling useless, I hate feeling dumb, I hate the fact that I'm going be a lousy piece of shit of a Herald, and I hate, hate, hate that Cadman did this to me!" He blinked as he realized that he was now standing and quivering like plucked string, breathing heavily through his nose, his hands fisted at his sides.
Teyla stood up and laid a hand on his arm again. "Oh, Rodney," she said gently and ran her hand soothingly up and down his arm.
He dropped his head to stare at his boots. "Sorry," he bit out, feeling stupid for telling Teyla all that. There wasn't a damn thing that she could do about any of it. It was all on him. "I had my opportunity to back out when Queen Elizabeth spoke with me when I first arrived, I know. I'll, I'll get used to it. It's just, it's just...I've never had to learn how to do anything that I'm not any good at before. It's, it's hard." Rodney flattened his lips together after his voice broke on the last word.
Teyla rubbed his arm again. "You did not mention Equitation class. It does not make you feel inadequate then?"
Rodney barked out a bitter laugh. "No, actually it does. I ride really, really badly."
Teyla tilted her head and looked at him. "But?"
Rodney shrugged and went back to studying the tops of his boots. "John...the instructor, Herald John...he's, well, he's not fazed by it. So it's not so bad."
"And your MindGifts class?" she asked, still gently running her hand over his arm.
Rodney looked up and gave her an uncertain smile. "I'm at the top of the class. Which is where I'm used to being, but... it's other people's thoughts. It's kind of creepy and weird. Especially considering that we're not supposed to listen to people who can't shield their minds on their own and now that I'm aware of the fact that I can actually hear others in my head, it seems like every idiot in the city is intent on shoving their petty little thoughts about their problems with constipation and if somebody likes them and what they're going to have for dinner up my nose every time I practice." He sighed. "If I had to turn up with a gift, I would have preferred it if it had been the Bardic one."
Teyla's hand paused in its motion and she raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Why?"
"I used to play the harp when I was young. My instructor said I was very technically proficient," Rodney replied absently, thinking back on the days when he'd thought that music would be the way out of his parents' house. "I could play a song after hearing it only once, and I remembered every song I heard. So I tried out for Bardic. I wasn't good enough. No composition talent. No Bardic Gift." He shrugged, so used to the old hurt that it barely registered anymore. "I quit playing and concentrated on my other studies after that."
"Ah," Teyla replied as she resumed stroking his arm. It felt really nice and Rodney felt some of the stress that had been building up inside since that fateful day Cadman had Chosen him leak away as she continued to touch him. "I did not know that you had applied to Bardic in your youth. I am sorry it did not work out as you had wished."
They stood there in the sun, Rodney's breathing eventually slowing down to match the rhythm of Teyla's strokes. He was uncertain why he had told her of his failure to get into the Bardic College. It wasn't a thing that he liked or needed to tell people, and quite frankly he'd just as soon forget it had ever occurred most days. But with Teyla, it was different. She seemed...trustworthy.
"Let us sit again," she said after a while and he allowed her to tow him by the elbow back to the bench.
Teyla looked at him very solemnly. "I cannot get you out of your classes or weapons training," she said, "But I do believe that I can help make things better for you in other ways."
Rodney gave her a guarded look. "You can? How?"
"I have spoken with the Dean and he has agreed to release you from housekeeping duties so that you may resume teaching at the Collegium," Teyla replied. "A man of your knowledge and experience is wasted on housekeeping when we need you teaching your classes. I know that Master Radek will be happy to hand them back over to you."
"Really?" Rodney squeaked, blinking in surprise. "I get my job, well, part of my job back? Are you serious?"
Teyla's lips lifted in a small smile. "Yes, I am serious." Then her face grew somber again and she lifted a warning finger, "And," she added sternly, "you will also be receiving additional tutoring in etiquette and manners which I expect you to pay strict and close attention to. Your teachers in both Etiquette and Kingdom Politics both believe that this will help improve your performance in their classes."
Rodney winced a bit at the fact that he needed remedial instruction in two of his classes, even while he acknowledged to himself that he'd gratefully accept the help. Then a horrible thought struck him. "Am I going to get extra tutoring in Weapons Training too?" he asked anxiously. "Because I've already got bruises on top of bruises from that class and, and if I wind up getting a concussion I won't be able to teach and that would be a bad thing, a very bad thing, because I have to keep on top of the students, you don't know what they're like, give them an inch and..."
Teyla laid a finger to his lips, silencing him. "No, Rodney, you will not be getting any additional weapons training for the moment. Ronon is of the opinion that you are working as hard as you can now. To try to do more would risk injury."
"Of course I'm working as hard as I can," Rodney babbled as soon as her finger dropped away from his mouth. "Have you seen that guy? He'd probably kill me with his pinky finger if I slacked off!"
Teyla chuckled, and then smiled. "While I have no doubt that he would make his displeasure at you not putting forth your best effort quite plain, Ronon would not kill you, Rodney. He works all the Heralds hard, so that we may be as prepared to defend ourselves as possible. It is his job, and one that he takes seriously. He will not harm you in any way other than the usual injuries incurred in training."
Rodney was not exactly reassured by that, because damn it, his bruises hurt, but at least he wasn't getting extra beatings so he supposed that he should count his blessings. "I really get to teach classes again?" he asked apprehensively. He still wasn't sure that he hadn't just hallucinated that bit of good news.
"Yes, Rodney. Starting tomorrow," Teyla promised, patting his hand one last time as the school's bell rang. "Now if you will excuse me, I have a meeting with the Queen to get to and you have a class you should not be late for."
He remembered a bit belatedly after he stood up to offer her a hand to assist her in rising which he thought she totally didn't need but the etiquette instructor had insisted was the polite thing to do. He then left for class with a bounce in his step, even though it was Politics this time instead of Equitation. He was getting part of his life back and not even having to go listen to Herald Paul drone on about the vagaries and mysteries of how countries lied to and threatened one another could smother the small bubble of joy in his heart.