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Old 03-01-2004, 01:24 PM   #3
mark12_30
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1420! Seventh Star part 2

littlemanpoet

A young man walked through the doors of the inn, his eyes wide, his expression rapt. His hair was red and settled on his head like a mop. He walked up to the bar, looking around, taking in his surroundings as if he would memorize every inch of it.

Once he got to the bar, his face screwed up with a comical frown, and he fished in his pockets. His brow rose in surprise, and he pulled out a handful of coins, staring at them, studying the face of the King on the front, and the tree and seven stars on the back.

"May I help you, lad?"

The young man's eyes shot up. "Yes! I'll take one of the stoutest you have."

mark12_30

Here it was midmorning already, and she was already looking forward to a good night's sleep. Next time, Mellonin promised herself, I won't stargaze quite so long. She drew the back of her hand across her eyes, took a deep breath and stretched tall, and reminded herself to smile.

She hesitated, watching the young redheaded man at the bar, and waited while Morien poured the ale and the redheaded man tasted it, and gave a nod of approval. Then she stepped closer. His intense gaze unnerved her a little, but she composed herself.

"Good morning, sir, and welcome to The Seventh Star." He nodded over his ale; she continued. "When you are rested, I would like to hear what brings you to The Seventh Star. Perhaps you are newly come to the City?"


littlemanpoet

The young man was most pleased with the stout ale. The lady's question was forthright, but asked in a way that for courtesy could not be equaled, as far as he could tell.

"Yes, I am new to the city. First thing this morning I found myself at the front gate, not knowing where I was, or who, but knowing this is not where I am from. Yet I was amazed and glad, because this place is a wonder!"

He smiled over his ale, his delight written on his face.

"This is The Seventh Star, you say? And these coins have seven stars on the back, and a tree. Who is the King on the front? And what city is this?"

mark12_30

Her consternation that the redheaded man did not know the name of the city he stood in was exceeded by a well-composted stench. She snatched a corner of her sleeve and put it over her nose, and then glared at Rog as he hurried past. THen she studied the redhaired man again. He seemed gentle despite his wild eyes; but his questions unsettled her. "I wish the Lady Estelyn were here. She would know what to ask, and what to do," Mellonin thought. "But no doubt she would tell me to do my best..."

Once she could breathe without gagging, she pointed to the coin and said, "The King is Elessar, well beloved and just. The seven stars and the one white tree are part of Gondor's insignia. And the name of the city is Minas Anor, the tower of the Sun. But all this you would have learned from the guards at the gate; did you not pass through the gate? Forgive me, but with hair like yours I cannot imagine you would have passed unnoticed. You say you do not know who you are nor where?" Se frowned, and glanced at the Innkeeper. He was busy pouring a drink.

Studying the redhaired man, she thought hard. "Were you injured? Do you feel well? Do you have a headache, or were you drinking a little too much perhaps? Or by chance are you feverish?"

And then with a sudden hope she interrupted him even as he began to answer. "Do you know what happened to Mellondu? Have you seen him? Do you know where he has gone?"

littlemanpoet

He listened to the young lady's answers, and her questions. Elessar. Gondor. Minas Anor. The names resonated deeply within him. He wished he could remember why. The young lady's questions were disconcerting, and apt. Had he in fact started at the gate? Or had it been a different gate he had come through? Or had he passed through one gate, thinking it to be another? He wished he could remember. Then she startled him with an entirely unrelated question: "Do you know what happened to Mellondu? Have you seen him? Do you know where he has gone?"

"I'm sorry, lady, I do not know who this man Mellondu is, so I cannot say whether I have seen him or not. Is he a friend?"

"Melonnin!" called a man's voice, and the young lady left him to obey the man's orders. So she was in employ at this Inn. Melonnin; a gentle name. He took another draft of his ale. It seemed to be morning here, but it felt to him like late afternoon. He wondered what that meant.

Morien was the man's name, and he clearly had authority in this Inn, considering that the barkeep settled another stout ale just like the previous in response to Morien's gesture. Morien asked him if he was new, and he answered the man honestly, of course. Morien frowned and sat down next to him as the young man sipped the foam of the top of his stout.

"I do not mean to be difficult, sir," the redheaded young man said. "I wish I could remember much at all!"

"Do you remember your name?" Morien asked.

"Not even that, sir, though it occurs to me that the name I once had was given me for my hair, so if you were to call me 'Red', in whatever tongue, it would serve as well as any other, I suppose. But tell me, if you please, who is this Elessar, and what is his story? Melonnin holds him in high esteem!"

mark12_30

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.


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

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.


littlemanpoet

Red listened to all the people who had arrived in the last few minutes, and was quite confounded with the sheer multiplicity of them. Some of the names resonated deeply, as had the name of the king, Elessar. Red wondered why some names did so and others did not.

This place was more dangerous than where he had come from. No, he corrected himself as a strand or two of thoughts slipped and shifted into place, the danger was more straightforward than where he came from. Red decided that it would be wise to become proficient in some weapon or other. He turned and faced Melonnin, who seemed none too sure that all was now well in the common room.

"Pray, tell me, Melonnin," he said in a voice he hoped only she could hear, "do all peop- er - folk carry weapons here? Do you? Would I be wise to?" She opened her mouth to answer when a couple called her over. She gave him an apologetic expression and hurried off. Well, this is frustrating! he said to himself. Next chance he got, he would tell her that he had been given employment by the innkeeper, Morien. He hoped she would not be angered by that. Melonnin seemed a friendly sort, someone who could help him find north and south in this land, as it were.

mark12_30

Mellonin answered several summons, the last of which was from Morien. "Red, the new lad will be staying out in the loft. Make sure he has enough blankets, " Morien ordered.

She went upstairs, got several blankets, and slipped out the kitchen door and deposited them on the third rung of the loft-ladder, stroked the noses of several inquisitive horses, and then she returned to the common room and approached the redheaded man.

"Red, is it? Because of your hair?"

Red nodded.

She smiled. "Red-haired-man. Well, Raefindan, I left you some blankets on the loft ladder. And as to your question about weaponry-- yesterday I wouldn't have seen a need. But after today: yes, I think you should have a knife at least. If my brother was here I'd ask him to make you one. Well, Raefindan, or Red if you prefer, welcome to the Lonely Star and good luck. I'm a grizzled veteran of two whole days. I hope you enjoy working for Morien." She smiled. She was tempted to add a wink, but thought it would seem too forward. She began humming the Lay Of Nimrodel, and went to check with Morien for something more to do.

An elven maid there was of old,
A shining star by day...

Last edited by mark12_30; 03-20-2004 at 07:46 PM.
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