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Old 04-30-2011, 04:52 PM   #244
Pitchwife
Wight of the Old Forest
 
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Join Date: Dec 2008
Location: Unattended on the railway station, in the litter at the dancehall
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Pitchwife is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Pitchwife is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Pitchwife is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Pitchwife is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Pitchwife is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.
One by one, Amdír and Coldan heaved the set pieces out of the barn, carried them into the courtyard and stowed them on the wagon, packing them tightly in order to both make the best use of the space they had and secure them against damage during the transport. It wasn't that different from loading barrels of wine, and Coldan found he relished the work. He had never minded bodily labour in fresh air; working in the vineyards back at home had always been fun, much more so anyway than the endless dull lessons in book-keeping his father had tried to hammer into his head.

Nevertheless, when all was done and he wiped the sweat from his brow (for it was a fine, warm day and the bells of the City, faint in the distance, had already rung noon), he felt that he hadn't used some of those muscles for quite a while, and his stomach grumbled impatiently, reminding him of the lunch Amdír had promised him.

He wasn't disappointed. They took their meal with Hallas' men in the servants' quarters, but the food was good enough to satisfy a lord, and plenty - baked chicken and potatoes with fresh twigs of rosemary, apple pie, and sweet grapes and a rich, blue-veined cheese for dessert -, and furthermore seasoned with a lively conversation. Obviously rumours of the Players' forthcoming performance had spread far and wide around the City; their hosts were delighted to have two members of the troupe at their table and showered them with questions about the play, which Coldan tried to answer fully enough to avoid seeming impolite while leaving his listeners curious enough to entice one or the other into the City to pay for seeing it themselves. (It was a big help that he hardly knew anymore how the play would turn out in the end himself.)

When the servants went back to their work at last, Coldan and Amdír remained sitting for a short while, washing their lunch down with a light ale which made Coldan quite forget that he detested beer as a matter of principle. Now, while they enjoyed a little privacy, was the time for Coldan to remind his companion of his promise to tell him of his war memories.

"Well", Amdír began, a bit reluctantly as if it embarrassed him to talk about his own life, "I'm not sure I can tell you much that will be any help with the play, at least as far as concerns the deeds of the high and mighty. You must understand that war is quite a different thing for the common soldier than is told in heroic lays or shown on stage. Imagine yourself stuck in a seething mass of blades and bodies, hard enough pressed to distinguish friend from foe, your only concern to survive and deal more damage than you take, and most of all to avoid being struck down and trampled to death - such was the Battle of the Pelennor for me. The last thing I remember before that Easterling's axe hit me was somebody shouting The Corsairs of Umbar are coming! - and that would have been the last thing I ever heard, had not a comrade dragged me to safety at great danger to himself. Only later did I learn that it had been the King himself on those ships - or the Lord Aragorn, as he was then known - with reinforcements from Pelargir, and that both King Théoden of Rohan and the Witch-King had been slain even before that."

He took a deep draught from his tankard. "And so it happened that I didn't go with the army to the last battle before the Morannon where the Dark Lord was overcome, but spent those days when the fate of all Middle-earth was on a knife's edge bedridden in the Houses of Healing, only a few rooms away from Prince Faramir and the Lady Éowyn, and the perian Meriadoc."

That last name almost made Coldan choke on his ale. "V-vait a moment", he cried out, sputtering, "did - did you say Meriadoc? Ze halfling? You knew him?"

"That would be saying too much", Amdír conceded, "but we did meet briefly while both of us were in the care of the Healers, and even talked a word or two between two wounded veterans. A brave young man he seemed to me, his courage far greater than his height."

Coldan stared at him with his mouth hanging open. It took him a while to regain his voice. "Zen - zen you knew all along zat he was male, and a halfling? Zat zere never vas such a person as Mary ze Elf-maid of Rivendell?" He hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. "Nienna's mercy, Amdír, vy didn't you ever say a vord?"

"Why would I?" Amdír replied. "For one thing, it never occurred to me that this Mary character was supposed to be him. You see, he was introduced to me as Master Meriadoc, a halfling warrior of King Théoden's household - never a word of Elves or Rivendell. How should I have guessed that the two were meant to be the same person? In good sooth, I never made the connection until we met Master Samwise.

But even if I had thought of it, I'm not sure I would have felt called to speak out. I'm a carpenter, Coldan, not a playwright. I wouldn't ask you or Mistress Brinn for advice on how to make a good cupboard, nor would I presume to teach you what works in a play and what does not. Mary the Elf has been in the play as long as I have been working with your company - as you should remember, having been with them almost as long as myself and spent more time traveling with them - , and I did not feel that it behoved me to criticize anybody for putting her there."

Coldan shook his head, laughing silently to himself. "If zat isn't ze best joke ever! Ve had ze truth vizin arm's reach all ze time, but just never bothered to ask for it." He had a feeling he should be mad at Amdír - to think that all those hateful kissing scenes he had been forced to witness could have been avoided with a few words from the man! - , but he couldn't; he had come to like the carpenter too much during their conversation on their way here. "You're not at fault, Amdír - ze blame is on us for never asking you vat you did in ze Var. But now I zink about it, all zis makes me realize zat I hev indeed done Aldarion wrong in one respect - zis play vas a mess before he ever touched it."

He took another draught, still shaking his head, when a sudden shadow passed over his mind. "Vich reminds me, I suppose Brinn vill still vant a vord viz me ven ve get back, and I doubt her mood vill get much better from being kept vaiting. Ve should get going."

Last edited by Pitchwife; 05-09-2011 at 01:26 PM.
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