[The X Phial]

Bregand surveyed the lands of Rohan with a smile. He had seen them before, long ago as a very young child, but he did not remember his arduous journey north with the other resettlers now. To him, the plains of Rohan, so different from the brown hills of Dunland, seemed to shine like gold. The first bite of Autumn was in the air, so that even though the company was farther south than they had yet been, the breeze was cool and pleasant.

For Bregand the weeks since his injury had passed in a kind of blur. A blur studded with crystal clear moments. There had been the days of sharing his horse with Carmalita before reaching Tharbad. Those days, still suffering a bit from dizziness and pain, had nonetheless been some of the best of his life. They had talked for most of the time, but enjoyed a few moments of companionable silence as well. He had spoken for hours about his life in the frontier town and told her stories about the lands they were riding through, sometimes making things up when he could recall no real tales. He always apologised afterwards, saying that such and such a story was his own. To his surprise, the woman seemed to prefer his stories to the real ones and they had made it a game in which she would have to guess whether a tale were historical or a Bregand original.

Carmalita, in her turn, had filled his head with images of life in Bree and with her daughter, Crystal. Through her many stories he had realised that no husband or father for Crsytal waited back in Bree. Though this news filled him with sadness for Crystal, it also improved his mood considerably. He hadn't yet gotten up the courage to ask Carmalita about her past, and she seemed to content to let the present be the present. He was afraid that questioning her about her life would ruin their friendship, and he found the thought of that unbearable.

After Tharbad, when they had been on separate mounts and free to ride with whomever they wished, they found that they still preferred to ride together. Sometimes Tareth or Enien would join them. Tareth seemed lonely and Carmalita would cheer him up with memories of their lives together in Bree. Bregand marveled at her ability to make anyone feel better, whether physically or about themselves in general. He was proud when Tareth smiled back at her, but also felt a twinge of some other, less admirable, emotion.

Enien, on the other hand, checked on everyone in the party from time to time. She seemed to feel herself the shepherd of this wayward band. She and Bregand often spoke, especially as he could speak her tongue and she felt far more comfortable conversing in it. She had laughed a bit and gently corrected his pronounciation a few times, much to his embarassment, but he was grateful for the chance to learn, even so far from his usual surroundings Once or twice he had caught Carmalita giving Enien a sour look, and the elf usually found an excuse to check on someone else at about that time. Bregand resolved to teach Carmalita elvish, if she wanted to learn. That way she could participate as well, and, he thought to himself, know that all they really talked about was the journey and the countryside. No sharing. Despite his facination with elvish learning, Bregand had found the elves difficult to get to know on all but a superficial level.

The comapny was two days over the Fords of Isen, and several days out from the Snowbourn when they reached a small village not on any map. There was no inn, but the people of the village welcomed visitors with a communal meal and offered to let them sleep in the town hall. Rangar, far more moody and introspective of late, had nearly refused the hospitality before Turthol and Wren had fallen over themselves to interrupt him and accept on behalf of the group.

Carmalita had been busy since their arrival. It seemed that their normal healer was, himself, ill. The villagers had been thrilled to learn that she was a nurse, and she had shaken off her own weariness to do what she could for him while the village prepared thier feast. Bregand had taken the opportunity to update his maps. None of the villagers seemed to know or care what the village was called, but after some discussion with Calimir, he had decided to call it Haudhbar, which means "home by the mound" in the elvish tongue, for the rolling hills surrounding the village reminded Calimir of grave mounds, and Bregand could get little from him in explanation.

Despite this rather gloomy name, the village was lively, overrun with children and horses. Bregand decided to purchase a new horse, for his steed was very tired, and seemed almost sickly beside the fine horses of Rohan. He refused to sell her to the village, though, for he thought she could still serve as a pack horse. He also bought a fine silk ribbon, red, to give to Carmalita. She had complained several times that her hair was too wild for riding, and he thought she would appreciate the gift.

They met again at supper, a grand affair by the measure of the village, and a welcome change of rations for the party. Bregand presented the ribbon and got a delighted smile from his dear friend. She immediately tied it in her hair. He listened to her tell the villagers that their healer would recover and then told her of his other new purhase. To his surprise she seemed very upset.

"How dare you discard that wonderful horse?" she demanded.

"I..I..she will still be there...just, you know, carrying the bags."

He was shocked to see a small tear in her eye.

"Not while I'm alive. I will ride her if you won't, Bregand. The horse I rode from Tharbad can carry your precious maps."

With that she turned away and engaged the villagers in smalltalk, pulling the ribbon from her hair. Bregand was overcome with shock and worry. What had he done that was so wrong? He ate in silence and excused himself quickly, catching an odd glance from one or two of the company.

That night Carmalita and Bregand avoided one another for the first time since his injury. He was called on to tell a tale that night and wound up reciting one he and Carmalita had made up together. He hoped it would improve her spirits. Instead, she quietly got up and left the company.

Bregand spent a sleepless night tossing and turning. He did not want to lose his friendship with Carmalita, for she was dear to him, more dear than he had realised. On the other hand, it would be foolish to give up his fine new horse. Finally, just before dawn, he got up and crept quietly to where the horses were stabled. He found Carmalita there, talking quietly to his old steed.

"I think I understand," he said quietly, startling her.

"Do you now?" she inquired. "Are you sure so noble and learned a scholar has room in his life for a slightly used animal?"

"That's what makes her special."

Carmalita closed her eyes and looked away.

"I will keep the horse and ride her, and I will name her Lesson, for she and you have taught me an important one," he faltered for a moment. "I think the new horse deserves a better rider anyway. I give him to you, to do with as you will."

With that he left the stables and went to gather his belongings. The others were stirring. When they rode out later that morning, Bregand on Lesson and Carmalita on the Rohan horse, newly christened Scholar, it was in silence. Bregand was comforted that all had been forgiven, if not forgotten, for every time the nurse turned her head the bright red ribbon smiled at him.

[ May 26, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[ May 29, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]