Disclaimer--I don't know any members of *NSync, nor if any of them are gay, nor do I care, as long as they keep singing their tails off. I am makig no claims about the actual people represented by the names in the story. THIS IS FICTION. *'s mean italics. Feedback please. If you want to see the story in all its properly formatted glory, check out my site: http://portallis.tripod.com
Chapter 3
The next morning, Lance sat up and blinked owlishly in the bright morning sun. The conversation of the night before had eventually turned to the stars, which Lance held an unwavering fascination for. They had tried to pick out the different constellations they knew of (Lance privately thought that whoever had actually seen such elaborate patterns in a few randomly placed stars must have had too much ale), then made up their own. Then that had eventually dissolved into a rare, comfortable silence that lasted until just before dawn.
"Lancey?" His mother's voice drifted lazily on the still morning air.
"Lance dear?" He really didn't feel like crawling out of bed.
"JAMES LANCE BASS, DO YOU HEAR ME CALLING YOU?"
"I'm coming, Mom, I'm coming." Lance's mother was usually a very patient woman, but morning was not one of her favorite times. He yawned and thought, not for the first time, that it was a good thing that he did not have to get up early for school. He quickly changed clothes, and went down the hall to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. Trotting down the stairs at the end of the hall, he was greeted with the tantalizing aroma of bacon and eggs.
"Good morning, dear," his mother said as she greeted him with a kiss.
"Morning, Mommy," he replied as he seated himself at the kitchen table. As soon as she set his plate in front of him, he dove in. Night walks always left him starving the next day. He was well into his second plate of eggs when Justin's head appeared over the lower half of the back door.
"Morning, Lance. Morning, Mrs. Bass." The time of day seemed to have no effect on Justin's endless supply of energy.
"Good morning Justin. Have you eaten breakfast already?"
"Weeellll, yeah, but..." Justin hedged, not wanting to preclude himself from getting more food.
Mrs. Bass chuckled indulgently and pointed at the seat across from Lance. "Well, wash your hands and go sit there." After doing as he was told, Justin sat down and proceeded to make his plate of bacon and eggs disappear at an alarming rate.
Having finished, Lance watched Justin eat with one eyebrow crooked. "So, what do you want to do today?"
Justin shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe go to the creek and try to catch frogs or somethin'?" he managed between mouthfuls.
" 'Kay." Lance stood, picking up his plate and reaching for Justin's. The younger boy quickly scraped the remnants of his second breakfast into his mouth and handed it over. Lance took their plates over to the sink and handed them to his mother, who began rinsing them off.
"Oh, Lancey--your father won't be able to come home for lunch, so I want you to take some to him." Lance looked over his shoulder to see if Justin had caught the use of the childish nickname. Judging from the huge grin on his face, making him look like a small sun, he had. Lance scowled. Oblivious to her son's hatred of the use of his nickname in front of Justin, she pointed at the large cloth sack on the counter. "It's right there. Now both of you wipe your mouths and wash your hands and you can go."
Justin obediently joined Lance at the sink and smirked as they rubbed their soapy hands under the water. "Yeah, Lancey, we have to be nice and clean when we--" Justin's mirth was suddenly cut off when Lance's elbow connected with his stomach.
"James Lance, we do not hit. Apologize." Lance's mother said this absent-mindedly, almost perfunctorily, as she was used to this kind of behavior.
"Sorry," Lance muttered, glaring at Justin, who looked truly chagrined that his teasing had resulted in his best friend getting into trouble so early in the day. Lance's face cleared when he saw that his friend looked truly sorry, and he grabbed the lunch sack off of the counter. "C'mon, let's go. 'Bye mom," he called, as she had moved off to other chores.
"Bye, Mrs. Bass," Justin echoed.
"Goodbye, boys. Stay on the side of the road," she called back.
The walk into town was mainly uneventful, except for a near meeting with the aforementioned future Mrs. James Lance Bass, currently known as Janna Taylor. Both boys held their breath as they passed her yard, but luckily she was absorbed in giggling with one of her friends--Probably something stupid, Justin thought--to notice them.
The ringing sound of metal on metal greeted them as they entered the smithery. Lance's father ignored the rivulets of sweat pouring down his face, grimly intent on the horseshoes he was pounding out. Ever since the last apprentice "hadn't worked out", as his father liked to put it (kicked out of the smithery amidst lots of yelling was more like it, if you listened to the town gossips), Jim Bass had to shoulder his already heavy workload alone. Having been raised as a blacksmith's son, Lance knew enough to stay near the entrance, well away from the flying sparks. Finally, the elder Bass turned to them and smiled.
"Hello boys, is that my lunch?" He wiped his face on an already damp towel as he came towards them.
"Yes, Dad," Lance said, handing the sack over. "It's probably soufflé from last night."
"Ah yes, your mother's soufflé. Light as a rock," the older man sighed, putting his hand over his stomach with a mock grimace, making both boys giggle. They walked outside, so Lance's father could take advantage of the cool breeze that was wafting through the village. "So, boys, what's on for today?" he asked as he settled into a chair just outside the door, grateful for an excuse to rest.
"Um, well, we were thinking of going to the creek to look for stuff," Justin said shyly. Though he had known this man for practically all of his life, he was a bit intimidated by the burly, bearded man, who seemed as though he could bend an iron rod with his bare hands.
"Going after some frogs, eh? I heard there's lots of turtles this year, too. Just watch out for the mosquitoes. Big as buzzards this time of year.
Might carry you off to their evil queen." He wiggled his eyebrows wickedly.
"Okay dad, we'll watch out," Lance laughed. He glanced at Justin, who was already fidgeting, clearly ready to be off. "Well, I think we'll be going now. See you at home."
"Okay, son. Tomorrow, though, I want you to come down and watch me. You're never too young to start learning the trade, you know."
"Okay," Lance said agreeably, though inwardly he sighed. He didn't really want to be a blacksmith--he wanted...well, first he wanted to figure out what he wanted. ------------------------------------------------------------------------
After a full day of terrorizing frogs, turtles, and other small animals (with a brief lunch break, of course), the boys retired to their special place to wait for sundown, and dinner.
The special place was indeed that, their own secret hideaway where the outside world wouldn't even know where to find them, much less bother them. They had found it (or rather it had found them when Justin had nearly broken his neck after tripping over an exposed tree root) the year before while playing "Very Brave Explorers". Two large trees felled in a storm years before had somehow fallen in an "X" position against a large rock. Smaller trees, bushes, and creeping vines formed leafy screens impenetrable to everything except light and small boys. After clearing away the forest debris, the boys had a perfect hideaway with a cool dirt floor. It was big enough for both to stand up comfortably, if they wished, and was about twenty Lance-steps across in any direction. After crawling in, Lance lay on the floor and watched Justin spar with an imaginary foe. After seeing his young friend execute a particularly spectacular sequence that would surely have been impossible in a full suit of armor, or even in just chain mail, Lance spoke.
"Just?"
"Hi-yah! Take that, foul demon!"
"Justin?"
"And that! Back to the depths of Hades with you!!"
"JUSTIN RANDALL TIMBERLAKE!!"
"And that--huh?" Justin whirled around, breaking out of his reverie.
"When are you gonna try out?" Each year, tryouts were held for spots in the king's army. Contestants had to overcome a series of challenges, and the top three finalists from each town were taken to the castle for training. Each year's event was generally treated as a holiday, with school closing, businesses shutting down, and general merrymaking the whole day. The entire town would turn out to the local arena to watch the events, or "games", as they were known. Concession stands always did about three times their usual business, and the ale flowed from early morning late into the night. Bets were placed on the entrants, and cheaters were dealt with very seriously. The mayor would always make a grand opening speech, and the younger children would form a parade, marching from the town square to the arena itself.
"Well, my dad said that the guys are usually seventeen or eighteen when they try out, so I figure I'll go when I'm fifteen or sixteen."
"Why do you wanna do it so young? The other people will be bigger and stronger!!"
"Well, so I won't only be the best knight, I'll be the youngest to ever make it!" Justin rolled his eyes at Lance's seeming thickheadedness.
"Yeah, and so if you mess up there'll always be next year." Lance smirked.
"Thanks," Justin said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Lance could be extremely cynical for his age, and it drove Justin crazy sometimes.
"Don't be mad, J--I didn't say you would mess up."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." Justin muttered.
Oh, no. Not the pout again. "Aww, come on, Justin. Let's see--would you feel better if I did...this?" Lance asked, reaching out and ruffling Justin's thick curls.
"Aahh!! No!! Stop!! You know I hate that!!!" Adults were always messing with Justin's hair--it drew their hands like a magnet, it seemed, and there was nothing that the boy hated more in the world.
"Are you sure Justin? I think you like it. You're not pouting anymore," Lance pointed out, working his hands through the younger boy's hair mercilessly.
Desperate to defend himself, Justin reached out and started tickling his tormentor in the ribs. Lance shrieked, suddenly on the defensive, and crossed his arms in front of himself. However, that was a futile action, as Justin simply moved around and began to tickle his back. Lance was one of those rare unfortunates that was ticklish everywhere. Soon both boys were giggling and rolling around on the floor, in an all-out tickle war. Finally, exhaustion caught up with them, and they lay back, panting. As their breathing slowed, Justin turned to look at Lance.
"Lance?"
"Hm."
"Are you gonna miss me when I go?"
Lance snorted. "Are you kidding? I'll finally have some peace and quiet for once." Justin punched him in the arm. "That's not funny. Be serious."
"Okay, okay. Of course I'll miss you. You're my best friend."
"Are you gonna get married when I'm gone?"
"WHAA-AAT?" Where had this come from?
"Are you gonna get married after I leave?"
"Well, I guess...after a while. It's what you do when you grow up."
"But everything'll change! Whenever I wanna see you, she'll be there."
"You mean when you two wanna see me. You'll get married, too."
"No way. I told you already. I don't wanna get married."
"Too bad. You grow up, meet someone, fall in love, and get married. Just like our parents," Lance said matter-of-factly.
Suddenly Justin sat up and grabbed his best friend's hand. "Promise me you won't get married." His tone was suddenly desperate, his gaze on Lance's face almost frantic.
"What? Justin? What's wrong with you?" Lance, suddenly uncomfortable, tried to extract himself from Justin's grip.
Having some idea of how he must look to Lance, Justin dropped his hand and looked away. "Nothing. The sun's setting. It's time for dinner."
And with that, he was gone.
Copyright 2000-01 cat's eye