Title: To Walk The World For A Spell
Author: mercsgoodgirl

Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss.
Rating: G
Setting: References to pre-series events, “Serenity” pilot episode.
Word Count: 1,995

Summary: Darriel Book reminisces.

Cross-posted to ourpreacherman and ff_fanfic. Comments are sincerely appreciated.






To Walk The World For A Spell


It has long been my custom to record my thoughts in this journal, yet never have I taken time to recount how it was that I found myself as Shepherd to such an unlikely flock as my fellows. The road that led me here began long ago, and under very different circumstances…

***

In the first months following the war, when I was heartsick and sore of body and soul, the stillness and peace I found among the Brethren renewed and healed me. In the wake of those terrible times, many men sought succor or strove to make atonement. Things apart from faith can draw a man to the contemplative life, and so it was with me.

Upon my knees in the late-night silence of the chapel, or planting potatoes in the abbey garden, I strove to make each act a mindful one. Every psalm or vigil or pot of soup, I offered up in expiation for all I had been part of.

The framework of discipline and order was not unlike what I had known before, and the formal schedule of waking and working and contemplation was comforting and familiar.

I was at first a guest, a pilgrim. The Brethren welcomed me unquestioningly, as they do all men that come seeking peace. As such, I was free to come and go, and while I might have continued wearing my worldly clothes, I chose instead to don the simple gray and white woolen robe worn by the Novice Brothers, those men who have pledged to walk in the way of God.

Along with other pilgrims, I was housed initially in the guest dormitory. We were encouraged to participate in the daily cycle of prayer and song, taking our meals in silence with the Brothers in the refectory.

The vigilance that had been important in my previous life proved persistent, and at night, troubling dreams haunted me. Often, I would start awake, heart pounding and drenched with sweat, unable to return to sleep. On such occasions, I reflected on the past and prayed for forgiveness and peace.

Each pilgrim was assigned a spiritual guide from among the Brethren, and mine was Brother Aaron, a round, gentle man of indeterminate age whose face was bronzed by the sun. Brother Aaron became privy to my struggle, and soon invited me to work in the abbey garden with him. In companionable silence, we tilled the rich, dark soil, harvested grapes from the abbey’s vineyard and tended the autumn vegetables. Warm sunshine, good fellowship and the sweet fatigue of righteous labor combined with God’s Grace, and I felt the burden I bore diminishing with every passing day.

I looked into the faces of the Brothers and witnessed the serenity and strength that radiated from within them, until, one day, I awakened with the realization that theirs was a life I wished to share. On the first day of the new year, I made the vows of a Novice Brother and was formally enfolded into the community.

I found much joy in the hard labor of gardening, and in each seed and fruit, I came to see an expression of God. It seemed natural for me to also serve in the abbey’s big kitchen, peeling, dicing and preparing the healthy, simple fare we all shared. My service was a balm, and with it, came peace.

In such a timeless place, beyond the turmoil of the world, song and prayer and work and reflection marked my days. Awakened by the tolling of the abbey bell that called us to matins, I would rise from my narrow cot and quickly dress in the pre-dawn darkness, joining the tide of Brothers making their silent way to the candle-lit chapel.

As God’s sweet peace gradually permeated my broken spirit, I was finally able to grieve for my Eleanor, for friends lost in the war and for those whose deaths I had brought about.

Season followed season, and some two years after first entering the abbey gates, I determined to take the vows that would mark my transition from the novitiate to a full Brother of the Order. At last I have found my place, I thought, and so it seemed for several years.

But the Lord had other plans for me.

* * *

All through the spring of 2517, I found myself increasingly restless, feeling constrained rather than comforted by the structure and routine that marked our days at the abbey. Neither prayer nor meditation would grant me the peace I had so come to cherish, and at last, I was forced to acknowledge that I needed guidance.

I was on my way to the Abbot’s chamber when I encountered him in the hallway. One look at the distress in my face and he gently took my arm and steered me back and out to the cloistered gardens of the abbey. The day was fair and warm in the moist, expectant manner of late spring on Persephone, and about us, all was bursting with life. There, in an alcove sheltered by ancient boxwoods, we sat together as I poured out my heart.

“It seems to me,” he observed, “that this restlessness you have been struggling with may actually be a natural response to a prompting by the Divine. You have been with us for some six years and a Shepherd for near on to seven months now, Brother Darriel. You came to us troubled and found comfort and forgiveness and peace. Through the Grace of God, your spirit has been renewed.

“There are those in our Order who, having taken their vows, will spend the remainder of their lives within these walls.” He smiled gently and looked out across the garden. “It is by no accident that you felt called to become a Shepherd, my son, and it is the fulfillment of that vocation that rises within you now.”

“How do you mean, Father Abbot?” I asked, perplexed.

Near us, a mother robin was busily tending her noisy brood, and with a chirp, she rose from her nest and flew over the cloister walls.

The Abbot’s gesture followed her. “The time has come, Brother Darriel, for you to walk the World. You have been called to go among the people and be a light unto them. After all, what is a Shepherd without a flock?” He tilted his head and the sun shown on the snowy locks that framed his gentle face.

“Perhaps the day will come when your work in the World is done, and you are called home to complete your life within these walls. I have faith that you will know, through the guidance of God Most Holy, where you are needed most, and that your presence will be a balm and blessing to those whose paths you cross.”

And with that, the Abbot stood and gave me the Kiss of Peace. “Gather your belongings, my son, and make ready to embark upon your journey. Speak with Brother Elias and he will assist you in obtaining the supplies you will need to take with you. May God bless and keep you as you go about His work.”

* * *

Thus, I came to find myself in the midst of the swirl of humanity that was Eavesdown docks, dressed in the unfamiliar black pants and gray and white collared shirt that marked me as a Shepherd. All that I had in the world was tucked into a single suitcase or neatly rolled and stowed on a small, two-wheeled tow-cart. On top was a sack of fresh produce from the abbey gardens and a box of magnificent strawberries, a parting gift from Brother Aaron.

After the prayerful silence of the abbey, the riotous chaos of the docks was both exhilarating and overwhelming. In truth, I did not know where I was going, or, at that point, even why I had been called. I trudged along, threading my way through the crowd, my eyes wide with curiosity and my heart open to His will.

The docks were full of ships of all sorts: freighters, short-range scows and transports. Some were clean and new, clearly bound for the Core, while others, headed for the Rim, seemed battered relics of the pre-war days. Barkers, hungry for the coin of potential passengers, paced their ramps. I suppose my loaded cart marked me as a traveler, for they often called out to me, each assuring me that his vessel was the cleanest, the finest, the most comfortable.

In the midst of that jaded, teaming throng, a face stood out. A young woman dressed in a turquoise jacket and olive coveralls, her hair playfully arranged, lounged in a deck chair on the ramp of a well-traveled Firefly. She shaded herself from the hot mid-day sun with a vividly colored parasol whose spiral pattern called my eyes to take note of her rosy, almost innocent face.

“You’re coming with us!” she confidently announced and I could immediately sense the innate goodness of her soul. Still, I wondered what had prompted her conclusion.

Astutely, she observed, “You like ships.” She stood and came towards me. “You’re not paying attention to the destinations so it must be the ships you care about and mine's best!”

I looked up at the battered old Firefly behind her, puzzled by her utter assurance, and commented that I wasn’t very impressed.

The girl just smiled prettily and twirled her parasol, determined to set me straight. “She'll fool ya'.” She tilted her head and asked, ”You sailed in a Firefly?”

“Long ago,” I told her, “although not an 03. The old ones tended to shake without the extenders.”

I thought back to those days long before. Even with that instability, the Firefly-class ships were sturdy and smart, a versatile, work-horse vessel.

“Why don't you care where you're going?” she wondered, clearly puzzled.

How was I to answer that question, when I was so uncertain of the reason myself? I thought of the Abbot’s admonition to be mindful in all things and to value the journey rather than the destination and tried to explain to her, “How you get there is the worthier part.”

Her face was open and welcoming as she asked whether I was a missionary. I’d not thought of myself initially in those terms, but realized they applied. “I'm a Shepherd,” I explained, “from Southdown Abbey.” I could see this meant little to her and yet her child-like curiosity was engaging. “They call me Book.”

She struggled not to giggle, finding my name almost too apropos for a preacher, like many others. I’d often wondered, myself, if the mere fact of having such a name had contributed to my new calling.

Thinking of the restlessness that had led me to leave the abbey, I went on, “I’ve lived apart from the world for some time and thought I’d like to walk it a while, minister where I’m needed.”

The girl beamed at me in welcome. “I’m Kaylee," she offered freely, "and my ship’s ‘Serenity’. She's the best ride to Boros for anyone able to pay.” She looked at me hesitantly, considering my vocation and clearly limited resources, then tentatively asked, “Can you pay?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her guilelessness, a quality all too rare in the world. “I’ve got a little cash.” I assured her, hoping she’d be amenable to barter. Opening my negotiations with the best I had to offer, I brought forth Brother Aaron’s lovely berries.

From the astonished and, if truth be said, almost lustful expression on her face, I knew the cost of my passage was no longer in question.

I had no idea what Boros held for me, or whether it was safe to journey into space in such a battered old ship, but Kaylee’s smile allayed my uncertainties and brightened my heart. I once left the world seeking serenity, and now would make my way in Serenity of another sort.


The End