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The Ruling Ring · 06-28-2003, 08:55 AM

"I'm a glass maker, but not a window-washer," Barthaew mumbled, pressing harder on the pane inches from him. He was knelt on the wide sill, high up on the wall of his mother's house. He knew he shouldn't have told her he'd come help her clean her house today.

Surely, it was the right thing to do. But still, from this very (smudged) window, he could see the party unfolding. He wanted to go! But he couldn't leave his mother now, he knew. Stealing a furtive glance down at the old woman, who was picking dust out of the folds of her old comforter, he deposited a bit of spit into the rag in his hand, rubbing at the glass again with it. She didn't like it when he did that, but now, the rag was actually making progress, or so it seemed.

At long last, Barthaew got down from the sill, depositing the filthy rag into his pocket.

"I'm finished," he said quietly. "What else would you like me to do?"

His mother looked up at him with eyes narrowed with age. Her face broke into a smile.

"I'd like you to be happy, my son," she said. "Such a fair face as that hidden under a grimace, it's no wonder you aren't married yet. Go on, go to the Inn. I know that's where you want to be."

Barthaew's jaw dropped.

"But--but--," he sputtered.

"Go on, you're finished," his mother continued. "And don't think that I do not appreciate what you do for me."

****************************

Barthaew was in such a hurry, he almost forgot the bag of mugs he'd made on his wheel yesterday, and promised to bring to the Innkeeper. Even if they couldn't be used now, he might as well take them.

He stepped into the hall and froze in the doorway. There were many people here. He could hear singing and laughter...and he was suddenly very grateful to his mother.

[ June 28, 2003: Message edited by: The Ruling Ring ]

06-28-2003, 08:55 AM	#50
The Ruling Ring Haunting Spirit Join Date: Sep 2002 Location: Deep Thought Posts: 83	"I'm a glass maker, but not a window-washer," Barthaew mumbled, pressing harder on the pane inches from him. He was knelt on the wide sill, high up on the wall of his mother's house. He knew he shouldn't have told her he'd come help her clean her house today. Surely, it was the right thing to do. But still, from this very (smudged) window, he could see the party unfolding. He wanted to go! But he couldn't leave his mother now, he knew. Stealing a furtive glance down at the old woman, who was picking dust out of the folds of her old comforter, he deposited a bit of spit into the rag in his hand, rubbing at the glass again with it. She didn't like it when he did that, but now, the rag was actually making progress, or so it seemed. At long last, Barthaew got down from the sill, depositing the filthy rag into his pocket. "I'm finished," he said quietly. "What else would you like me to do?" His mother looked up at him with eyes narrowed with age. Her face broke into a smile. "I'd like you to be happy, my son," she said. "Such a fair face as that hidden under a grimace, it's no wonder you aren't married yet. Go on, go to the Inn. I know that's where you want to be." Barthaew's jaw dropped. "But--but--," he sputtered. "Go on, you're finished," his mother continued. "And don't think that I do not appreciate what you do for me." **************************** Barthaew was in such a hurry, he almost forgot the bag of mugs he'd made on his wheel yesterday, and promised to bring to the Innkeeper. Even if they couldn't be used now, he might as well take them. He stepped into the hall and froze in the doorway. There were many people here. He could hear singing and laughter...and he was suddenly very grateful to his mother. [ June 28, 2003: Message edited by: The Ruling Ring ] __________________ "Where now are the Dúnedain, Elessar, Elessar?"