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Old 12-11-2003, 07:36 AM   #222
mark12_30
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Sting

Visitors settled in, rooms squared away, introductions complete, Mellonin returned to the common room, and surveyed it. Then she turned, and retreated to the bookkeeping room, and stood at the doorway.

There was only one pen and the supply of parchment was small. She did not relish the thought of explaining to Morien why his pen or parchment was missing.

Perhaps she had not gathered everything she needed from her former master's house, after all. This time, she could not return late. She turned, and headed for the common room.
Morien was walking past, muttering about letters and wine. She halted him, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Please, sir, I need to make one more trip to my old master's house to ask for some other things, so I must do it while they are awake. Sir, the Inn is busier at night then at mid-day, is it not? I will be needed this evening. May I go now?"

He waved her on. "Don't be too long." And he continued on his way. She watched him go. And then she snatched up her cloak and hurried back to the forges and her old home.

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

The mouse woke up hungry, and followed the shadows to the kitchen. Outside, there was a lovely new mulchpile forming. After eating his fill, he returned through a chink in the walls to the common room, and snuggled into his old hiding by the fireplace.

***********


With another awkward bundle in a brown cloak, Mellonin came in through the kitchen door, and sprinted up to the third floor, to her little room by the chimney.

She laughed with relief, and laid the bundle on the bed. Her previous mistress had been willing for her to have her brother's things, but the previous master had not. The mistress had won.

She spread her brother's cloak on the bed, and removed each item, studying it. Two pairs of brown breeches; two shirts, one green and one white. No boots; he only had one pair. No belt, no knife, no tunic; Mellondu only owned one of each, and had been wearing them the night he disappeared.

She paused. Why had he not been wearing his cloak? Had it been a warm evening? Yes, it had. And now it was growing colder, and he did not have one. She frowned.

One pair of breeches was rolled up in a very heavy bundle. The old master had been especially loath to part with Mellondu's hammer and tongs, but they had been a parting gift from father. She hefted them, as she had so often before. She had tried her hand at the forge, twice, when both the master and the mistress had been away. She had not lasted long, but she had managed to start one knife. Mellondu had finished it while she watched. She leaned the hammer and tongs in the darkest corner of the room and returned to the bed.

The white shirt she had folded; the green shirt she had rolled. She unrolled it now to reveal a pen and a bottle of ink. The other shirt was folded around five sheets of parchment. Three were blank. The other two had tables, drawn with an inexperienced and uneven hand. One table was for cirth, the other for tengwar; metalsmiths had to learn them for forging weapons, and Mellondu had just begun to study them. She ran her fingertip over each table in turn.

I can do this, she thought; Mellondu is wiser than I am, but I'm not stupid. I can learn these. The Lady Estelyn expects me to, I've always wanted to, and this is my time.

She turned and surveyed the awkward little room. It was gloomy unless she left the door ajar, but she could do that long enough to study. She would review these tables every day. Perhaps someone at the Inn could help her, too.

She laid Mellondu's clothes across the bed, and thought about a belt, a knife, a tunic and boots. The tunic was the most easily solved. She had four dresses, and the skirts of all of them were forest green; her lips tightened, and she reached for her needle and pocketknife, but then remembered that she was expected downstairs. She faced the three dresses hanging up on the wall, chose her least favorite of the three, and tossed it on the bed beside the breeches. She would have a tunic before long.

She guessed she could find, or make, a belt without much difficulty. She had her own pocketknife until she could get or make a man's knife for herself. The boots were the worst problem, but she could not solve that today.

Humming, she went back downstairs. In between chores and greetings, she looked about for runes or tengwar wherever she saw them, and tried to interpret them as best she could.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:34 AM December 12, 2003: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]
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