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Dec. 16th, 2004 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanI need a title -- so far I'm just calling it "Bergil's story". Can anyone think of a better?
part one (There are links at the end of each section.)
(and any of you who actually know more about Tolkien’s languages, feel free to help!)
“Pheriannath, Bergil,” Tilnor said with far too much patience. “It’s a collective noun so the plural form is Pheriannath. And it’s a poor jest for the middle of a long night. Not even you would be wool-witted enough to bring one of the King’s Companions over the wall like a squirrel after nuts.”
Bergil felt his face go hot, and he stared at the ground to hide his confusion. He hadn’t thought about it that way at all! Sam… no, he must be Master Sam, mustn’t he… seemed like a grown-up, but not anything like a high lord. And he said he wasn’t a prince, but still -- one of the King’s Companions! Oh, no.
But Sam stepped forward into the lantern light, and made a short bow. “Begging your pardon, but I asked the lad to bring me by the quickest way,” he admonished Tilnor gently. “And so he did, and no harm to any by it, nor shame. But it would be awkward to go back that way with these baskets the Herbmaster packed for me.”
Now it was Tilnor’s turn to flush, and pull himself up in order to make an awkward bow. “Tis I who must beg pardon, Sir Perian. I did not understand the urgency of your errand.”
Sam took Bergil‘s arm, and gave it a comfortable pat. “No reason you would,” he said. “Come on, lad. Mr. Frodo’s waiting.”
“Good night, Uncle!” Bergil flung back over his shoulder as he and Sam started down the stairs, not sure if he was leading or Sam. It was a broad, long stair, with a wide banister down the center of marble which could be used to ease up stretchers, or to slide down in better times. It wasn’t till they were almost all the way down that Bergil felt safe in saying, “Thank you,” to Sam. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”
“Tis nothing to be sorry about,” Sam said. “Climbing these stairs would have been as much trouble as that wall. I’m glad they’re going down now. Or does that mean we’ll have to go up more stairs to get back?”
Bergil felt the hard knot of shame begin to loosen in his chest. “Only if we want to. The road slopes up, though, and sometimes it’s easier to take a few stairs on one side or the other and keep out of the way of carts or horses,” he explained, swinging the hand with the lantern in it to indicate their direction.
“I see.” Sam let go of Bergil’s arm when they reached the bottom of the staircase, and switched the basket he carried from hand to hand. “Do you want me to take the lantern for a part of the way?”
“I’m all right,” Bergil said. “I’m used to having to carry a basket and a lantern. During the dark days it was the only way to see where you were going when you were running errands.” Though sometimes it had been better not to look to hard into the shadows. He shivered, remembering.
“Lad…” Sam said, and then paused a moment as if he were changing what he meant to say. “I was wondering if you could tell me something.”
“If I know the answer,” Bergil said, wanting to be honest.
“Can you speak Elvish? Like Captain Faramir‘s men did when we were in Ithilien?”
It was the last question Bergil expected. “Only a little -- and more the way the tradesmen talk. But I’m learning to speak it properly, and read it too… or I was.” He scowled, because lessons were one of the things that he wasn’t sure would continue, if his father couldn’t be a Guard.
“Have you got a book, about learning it, then?” Sam paused again, to switch the basket, but his eyes were on the stars above them as they trudged up the road. “One I could borrow, like? You probably know more of the words than I do, for all that we were in Rivendell, and Lorien too. But there’s some of them stay with you, even if you don’t know what they mean, and it makes me want to know more.”
“Couldn’t you ask Prince Legolas?”
“I could. But it’s been so long since he learned the words I don’t think he’d remember what it was like,” Sam grinned suddenly. “And I’d like to surprise him, and Mr. Frodo too, if I can. I’ve wanted to know more Elven words since I was a lad, but there weren’t enough hours in the day. Now Strider -- Aragorn, the king -- he says we’re to stay and rest a while, and it seems to me I’ll need something to keep me busy.”
part ten
part one (There are links at the end of each section.)
(and any of you who actually know more about Tolkien’s languages, feel free to help!)
“Pheriannath, Bergil,” Tilnor said with far too much patience. “It’s a collective noun so the plural form is Pheriannath. And it’s a poor jest for the middle of a long night. Not even you would be wool-witted enough to bring one of the King’s Companions over the wall like a squirrel after nuts.”
Bergil felt his face go hot, and he stared at the ground to hide his confusion. He hadn’t thought about it that way at all! Sam… no, he must be Master Sam, mustn’t he… seemed like a grown-up, but not anything like a high lord. And he said he wasn’t a prince, but still -- one of the King’s Companions! Oh, no.
But Sam stepped forward into the lantern light, and made a short bow. “Begging your pardon, but I asked the lad to bring me by the quickest way,” he admonished Tilnor gently. “And so he did, and no harm to any by it, nor shame. But it would be awkward to go back that way with these baskets the Herbmaster packed for me.”
Now it was Tilnor’s turn to flush, and pull himself up in order to make an awkward bow. “Tis I who must beg pardon, Sir Perian. I did not understand the urgency of your errand.”
Sam took Bergil‘s arm, and gave it a comfortable pat. “No reason you would,” he said. “Come on, lad. Mr. Frodo’s waiting.”
“Good night, Uncle!” Bergil flung back over his shoulder as he and Sam started down the stairs, not sure if he was leading or Sam. It was a broad, long stair, with a wide banister down the center of marble which could be used to ease up stretchers, or to slide down in better times. It wasn’t till they were almost all the way down that Bergil felt safe in saying, “Thank you,” to Sam. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”
“Tis nothing to be sorry about,” Sam said. “Climbing these stairs would have been as much trouble as that wall. I’m glad they’re going down now. Or does that mean we’ll have to go up more stairs to get back?”
Bergil felt the hard knot of shame begin to loosen in his chest. “Only if we want to. The road slopes up, though, and sometimes it’s easier to take a few stairs on one side or the other and keep out of the way of carts or horses,” he explained, swinging the hand with the lantern in it to indicate their direction.
“I see.” Sam let go of Bergil’s arm when they reached the bottom of the staircase, and switched the basket he carried from hand to hand. “Do you want me to take the lantern for a part of the way?”
“I’m all right,” Bergil said. “I’m used to having to carry a basket and a lantern. During the dark days it was the only way to see where you were going when you were running errands.” Though sometimes it had been better not to look to hard into the shadows. He shivered, remembering.
“Lad…” Sam said, and then paused a moment as if he were changing what he meant to say. “I was wondering if you could tell me something.”
“If I know the answer,” Bergil said, wanting to be honest.
“Can you speak Elvish? Like Captain Faramir‘s men did when we were in Ithilien?”
It was the last question Bergil expected. “Only a little -- and more the way the tradesmen talk. But I’m learning to speak it properly, and read it too… or I was.” He scowled, because lessons were one of the things that he wasn’t sure would continue, if his father couldn’t be a Guard.
“Have you got a book, about learning it, then?” Sam paused again, to switch the basket, but his eyes were on the stars above them as they trudged up the road. “One I could borrow, like? You probably know more of the words than I do, for all that we were in Rivendell, and Lorien too. But there’s some of them stay with you, even if you don’t know what they mean, and it makes me want to know more.”
“Couldn’t you ask Prince Legolas?”
“I could. But it’s been so long since he learned the words I don’t think he’d remember what it was like,” Sam grinned suddenly. “And I’d like to surprise him, and Mr. Frodo too, if I can. I’ve wanted to know more Elven words since I was a lad, but there weren’t enough hours in the day. Now Strider -- Aragorn, the king -- he says we’re to stay and rest a while, and it seems to me I’ll need something to keep me busy.”
part ten
