A Moment
By: MusketeerAdventure
Summary: A collection of brief moments between our musketeers (especially d'Artagnan and Athos), that would otherwise go unnoticed; swallowed up in the hectic parts of a day to perhaps end up in the recesses of memory – tucked away. Chapter Four: d'Artagnan receives his commission.
Chapter Four: The Pauldron
The walk back to the garrison, away from the field of competition was surreal for d'Artagnan. The knowing that his dream had been successfully fulfilled – confused him on so many levels; and left him wanting to ask anyone who would answer "Is it true?"
He touched the stiff new leather at his shoulder and in lieu of pinching himself – squeezed the pauldron tight and beneath it, could feel the pressure of his grip.
The congratulatory comments, pats on the back and looks of good will – swept over his head and were hard to comprehend. He shook his head in disbelief and thought – soon he would wake up from this perfect dream and Constance would call out to him for breakfast – admonishing him for sleeping late; and missing muster.
For many a dream he had like this – only to be awakened from sleep and find himself disappointed.
But when he looked up, the gray sky greeted him and the clouds let loose a sprinkle of cool rain that had him gasping in surprise. He blinked at its wetness and knew now– he was awake already.
He then studied his hands closely and thought – though not asleep – somehow, he was no longer himself. Everything seemed different; looked different – sharper; more in focus.
The drizzle of rain that fell around him – descended in slow motion and he held out his hands to catch the tiny specks of droplets; and wondered at their sting as they splashed and dispersed lightly in his palms.
If this was not a dream – then what was it? Why did he feel so strange – so unbelievably, wonderfully strange?
He lifted his face to the heavens and let the faint mist of it wet his hair – his cheeks and soak his clothes.
Adrienne, Etienne, and Cyprian laughed at his open display of wonder. They touched his new pauldron for luck at his shoulder and raced past him to find shelter from the unexpected shower within the garrison walls.
When he did not follow, they turned to yell back at him in fondness, "Find shelter musketeer – before you catch cold!" and disappeared to find their rooms – or some other place to find warmth and wait out the rain in a dry place.
A musketeer - that's who he was now. He gazed down at his shoulder and stared with wonderment.
Now soaked through, he shivered slightly – as droplets of rain traveled down his neck, under his shirt and tickled his spine. He continued on his way – eager to make it "home".
But once inside the garrison gates, he wasn't so sure what to do. Athos had peeled away from his side some time ago with the Captain in tow to make sure he tended to his injury. Porthos and Aramis – after heartfelt hugs and congratulations had stayed behind at the competition site to help dismantle tents, barriers; and to say good bye to Lady Alice, the "one who got away".
Now he stood somewhat alone – inside the gates of his new home, and didn't know where to go.
He heard the bray of horses ahead and made his way to the stables – as good a place as any to get out of the rain; and think on his achievement.
As he crossed the threshold into dryness; he shook the rain from his hair; sat heavily on a bale of hay and gazed out of the wide open space of the stables. The drizzle which had caught him by surprise quickly segued into fat raindrops – mixed with the dry dirt; and suddenly transformed into muddy puddles.
How quickly things changed, he thought; and touched his adorned shoulder lightly. Rain now pelted steadily on the roof; horses shifted about in their stalls; and Jacque materialized at his side waiting for instructions.
d'Artagnan blinked and smiled at the boy – who just yesterday had turned up his nose – when asked to rub down his mount; complaining he had enough work to do without recruits also requesting his services.
Jacque now waited patiently; his eyebrows reaching up into his hairline; and to his unasked question, d'Artagnan replied, "No, I don't need anything Jacque. You don't mind if I sit here for a while, do you?"
Jacque frowned slightly and took obvious note of the fleur-de-lis at d'Artagnan's shoulder, "No sir – as you please", and took off into the rain to complete some chore or other missive.
d'Artagnan snorted as he watched Jacque go. Sir, it is now – he chuckled to himself; and looked down at his shoulder to get a better look at his pauldron. He extended his arm to shift the weight and slowly removed his now prized possession to study it more closely.
He placed it in is lap; looked down on it and caressed the fleur-de-lis with pride. He had done it; come into his own – overcome his volcanic temper and by King Louis' decree, joined the brotherhood of the musketeers.
He lifted it up and touched the ridges of the symbol there – remembering the look on Athos' face as he placed this essential piece of his uniform on his shoulder. That expression warmed him now and he smiled at the memory.
Testing its weight now – he had not realized how heavy the pauldron would be. d'Artagnan shifted the leather in his hands and knew he would have to compensate for the added weight when using the sword – shooting his firearm and fighting hand to hand.
Everything he had been taught; learned, to become a musketeer – would now have to be tweaked to adjust to this new addition.
He pushed his wet hair from his face and looked out into the yard, as Athos then stepped in from the rain. d'Artagnan watched silently as he pulled off his hat; shook the water from it – searched him out and moved to sit beside him on the bale of hay.
They sat this way for several moments – quiet, wet – but content to sit without conversation; the pelting rain and shifting hooves enough discord to fill the silent space.
"I feel different", d'Artagnan stated in a hushed tone; his head bowed and hand resting atop the pauldron on his lap.
Athos nodded in understanding. "Yes", he agreed, remembering his own day of commission and how he had expressed almost the exact same words to Aramis and Porthos.
"It's heavier than I thought it would be." d'Artagnan sighed and held it up as if for inspection.
Athos bowed his own head; concurred; and felt the heaviness of his own pauldron – and the added responsibility and fear for d'Artagnan, now forever entrenched in a soldier's life.
"I'll need to adjust for its weight", he continued; his brow furrowed as he hefted it from one hand to another.
Athos touched his own fleur-de-lis solemnly. Yes, the weight was considerable – and sometimes it was hard to lift it from his body – but the oath that kept it there gave him purpose; brotherhood and family.
"Will you help me?" d'Artagnan asked, unsure of Athos' reaction to his request. After all – he was no longer a recruit; and the time for tutoring was perhaps over.
Athos considered d'Artagnan's profile – his wet hair causing rivulets of water to drip along the sides of his face. He removed his scarf from around his neck and handed it over to him.
d'Artagnan took it from his grasp without hesitation – swiped the dampness from his hair; and face – then from his pauldron – almost giving it a glowing shine; the leather now more dry than he.
d'Artagnan smiled self-consciously at him and returned the now drenched scarf with a shrug. Athos genuinely laughed – his eyes crinkled with mirth as he wrung out the excess water with good humor, and without complaint.
He looked around the stable now and remembered that day, many months ago, when he had decided in this very place to make it his mission to help d'Artagnan become a musketeer. And even now, that the goal had been reached, the objective was still the same. He would not let this boy go it alone. He would help him now become the best of them all.
Athos then stood; touched the side of d'Artagnan's face, and pushed the damp hair from his forehead. "Yes", he replied and watched his friend's face transform from one of wariness to an open smile of gratitude.
d'Artagnan rose from the bale of hay to then stand beside his best friend. Together they walked to the wide open space and observed as the rain tapered to a stop; and the sun sneak out once more from behind white puffs of clouds – the impromptu shower now at an end.
Across the yard, they could see Aramis and Porthos as the two approached and called out to them in greeting.
"There is our new musketeer!" bellowed Porthos, who stopped in his tracks and placed his hands on hips and set his legs wide apart. His voice boomed and echoed toward them, full of life and verve - the affection in his speech warming d'Artagnan's heart.
"Are we ready to celebrate then?" Aramis chimed in loudly – as he grimaced; stepped carefully over puddles and waved for them to come over in his direction as to not sully his boots with mud any further.
Athos turned to d'Artagnan – who asked him suddenly out of the blue, "It is true then?", and held out his pauldron with awe to gaze upon it.
Athos cupped his neck and squeezed lightly; took the pauldron from his grasp; placed it once more about his shoulder and answered, "Yes."
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you will leave a review and let me know what you think of this moment. I remember the episode when d'Artagnan received his pauldron from Athos and I thought – hey where's the hug? So – here is the moment I wanted to see. Hope you enjoyed.