Title: Town Fair

Author: Marina (taelle@yahoo.com)

Pairing: none for now

Rating: G

Disclaimer: This story uses characters and universe

belonging to J.R.R.Tolkien. The characters are not used for

profit. Please view my story as a respectful comment on the

work of a beloved writer.

Series: sequel to First Song, Dinner Guest and New Journey.

Warning/summary/notes: this story contains an OC, and more

than that, it's from the POV of that OC, though a Tolkien

character does figure in the story. If the original content

is unacceptable to you, do not read any further. Thanks to

everyone who reviewed this story — you make me want to write

more.

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(Time and place indefinite)

Alder supposed it was his idea to go to the fair, even

though he never really asked Maglor about this. The only

time he ever travelled from home before now was to the fair

last year. Naturally, he could not avoid mentioning it now

and then. Well, much more often than now and then, to be

honest.

Maglor did not like to have a lot of people around him.

Alder knew that, and so he never thought that his stories

about the fair would ever lead to anything. And then a

couple of men drove by on a wagon full of apples, talking

about the fair and the amount of apples they expected to

sell.

The men waved at them and drove ahead, disappearing behind

the turn of the road. Maglor turned towards Alder, staring

at him intently.

"What is it?" Alder asked, slightly alarmed. "Is something

wrong, Maglor?" He thought of Maglor as his friend now, but

he still had lost neither the wonder of looking at the

dark-haired man nor the constant worry because of Maglor's

strange fragility.

"Let's go to the fair too," Maglor said with a sudden small

smile.

Completely surprised, Alder didn't know what to answer. So

he just followed Maglor onto the road the two men had taken.

Soon, of course, he recovered his wits enough to pose

objections to this plan. No matter what he said, though,

Maglor just smiled and shook his head. In this way they

arrived to the fair.

When they first emerged into the market square where most of

the stalls stood, Alder stopped, staring avidly, fascinated

by the multitude of colours, noises and smells. This fair

seemed bigger than the one he visited before. The whole town

was bigger. Besides, during the weeks of travelling with

Maglor Alder got used to the quietness of empty coast and

pine forests along it. And Maglor had been travelling by

himself for much longer — he must be really disturbed by

this... Maglor! Had he lost Maglor?

But after looking around frantically Alder noticed Maglor

close by, in a quiet spot near the wall of a house. His

friend was looking at him and, if Alder wasn't much

mistaken, smiling slightly.

"Sorry," the boy said after jostling his way back to Maglor.

"I got distracted..."

"Never mind," the man answered, still with the same quiet

smile, "That's what we came here for."

Still, after that Alder made a point never to go far from

Maglor. Together they wandered between the stalls, gazing at

the wooden toys and embroidered shirts local craftsmen were

so proud of, stopping to watch the pig competition and

applauding when the owner of the best and fattest pig got

his prize and put blue winner's band on his pride and joy.

Soon Alder caught himself watching Maglor more than he

watched the goings-on at the fair. The truth was that he had

a secret goal — Alder wanted to find out what Maglor liked.

Music, sure, and he always looked at musical instruments,

but what else? What was his favourite colour? What fruit did

he like? Alder had tried asking Maglor himself in those

first days of their travelling together when it all still

had seemed like a dream. The man had always shrugged, saying

that it did not matter. So Alder started observing him.

The fair gave him plenty of opportunities for that. When

Maglor tried to keep to the side, to stay far from the

crowds, Alder started dragging him to all the stalls, making

him try apples, pears and wild cherries, and even freshly

peeled carrots which one vendor was offering.

Thankfully they had some money now — Alder never missed an

opportunity to do an odd job or two in the villages they

passed through. Maglor still shied away from people whenever

he could, and Alder wasn't sure he'd be able to work with

these hands of his.

What money Alder earned Maglor insisted he kept for himself.

So he did - it was spent mostly on food for the two of them,

anyway. Maglor was horrible about food. Alder stopped

wondering about his thinness long ago, and just thanked all

the gods the man hadn't died from hunger long ago.

And there were also Maglor's money, for a couple of times

Maglor had sung in taverns.

The first week they had been travelling together Maglor

hadn't sung at all, though sometimes, when they had sat

quietly near the bonfire, Alder had been almost sure he had

heard a soft humming.

The song of Maglor's that he had heard that first morning

had never left Alder's heart, but he would never dare to ask

the man to sing. He had just waited, and listened, and kept

silent.

His patience had borne its fruit. One morning he had

returned through the cool strip of pinewood after a dip in

the sea when he had heard it. Not *that* song, no, not the

one that had had called his soul away from the moment he had

heard it. This one had been softer and merrier, though still

quiet, like a favourite lullaby sung to amuse and soothe a

child after a long day.

Only no lullaby he had ever heard was sung with a voice so

rich and flowing despite the low pitch of the song. It had

sounded not like a human voice, more like the voice of the

sea that had soothed Alder when he had tried to go to sleep

in the boat during his first cruises, scared and excited to

be among the men, doing men's job.

So now he had only been able to stand, fascinated, wishing

that the song would never end. But it had ended. Maglor had

fallen silent and had lifted his head, looking straight at

Alder with his oddly shaped grey eyes. Alder had stared

back, his heart thumping, knowing that he would find no

words even had he wanted to say something.

He had approached the fire silently, trying to go on as

usual, when Maglor had smiled at him. It had been a brief

hesitant smile, but for the rest of the day Alder had felt

as if he could fly better than any seagull.

Since then Maglor had started humming more, and sometimes

had sung snatches of songs, usually sad ones — Alder could

feel that despite being unable to understand that lilting

language.

Then one evening, when the rain had made them seek shelter,

Alder and Maglor had come to an inn. Their money had been

enough for the simplest of fares, and the owner had promised

to let them sleep in the stables. Alder had been happy to

have an opportunity to look close at the horses, but in the

end it had never happened.

They had been sitting and eating quietly in the corner of

the main room when some local men had come in noisily and

happily, dripping water all around to the barmaid's futile

indignation. The men had seemed to be celebrating some

occasion — Alder had never understood exactly which one. One

of them had started singing on the top of his voice, another

one had shut him up, complaining about the quality of his

singing. And then the third one had noticed Maglor.

"A minstrel!" he had cried out with a drunken grin. "By

gods, we have a minstrel here, friends! Sing for us, why

don't you?"

Alder had been instantly alarmed. How they had guessed

Maglor could sing, he had not known, but he had been

determined to keep his friend from any possible harm. He had

been getting up already, intent on driving away the

drunkards who had surrounded their table, when a soft touch

on his arm had made him look at Maglor.

His friend had looked into Alder's eyes and had shaken his

head imperceptibly. "All right," he had said aloud, "I will

sing."

Strangely, even though Maglor's voice was soft, the company

had instantly fallen silent. The men had returned to their

table and had sat down, turning expectantly towards the

singer.

And Maglor had sung for them all evening. These hadn't been

the tunes Alder had heard from him before — no, it had

turned out that Maglor had known a surprising number of love

ballads and merry drinking songs. Only Alder had been

absolutely sure none of these ballads had ever been sung in

a voice as hauntingly beautiful as that.

The crowd at the inn might have been enchanted by Maglor's

singing, but Alder had been even more interested in the

changes in Maglor himself. At some point the singer had

seemed to let go, to relax completely. He had forgotten his

detachment and had started to play with his public, teasing

them, making them repeat some lines, directing a whole song

at just one person. Alder could have sworn he had seen

another, happier person behind Maglor's usual cloak of

sadness. And now that he knew, he had promised himself to

make Maglor happy again.

Of course, Maglor hadn't thought to ask for money. Perhaps

Alder wouldn't, either — he had been still dazed by all

this. But when the evening had finally ended and Maglor had

gone to look at the room upstairs the owner had insisted on

giving them for the night, the drinking men who had started

all this had approached Alder hesitantly and had put several

coins on the table.

"For your friend," one of them had mumbled. "Tell him

thanks."

And then they had been gone, but that had seemed to give the

others an example, and Alder had retired for the night only

after collecting quite a pile of coins.

He had tried giving them to Maglor, but the man had told him

to keep the money with him. Alder supposed it made sense,

since they were travelling together; and next time when

Maglor had sung in a tavern — as unexpectedly as the first

time — he had already known what to do and had gone round

the public himself. Everybody had seemed as dazed as Alder

himself usually was after Maglor's songs, and no one had

begrudged a few coins.

So now they definitely could afford a room at an inn for a

rainy night — or some presents to buy at the fair. And if

Maglor agreed to sing here... Alder's practical mind knew it

would bring an excellent profit, even though he was sure he

would never dare to offer it to his friend.

Lost in thought, Alder navigated between stalls

automatically, and when he next lifted his eyes, Maglor was

nowhere to be seen. Instantly the boy became worried and

started looking around for his friend, but the crowd seemed

too dense. He moved to the side and climbed onto an

overturned box. Once or twice he managed to glimpse a tall

dark-haired man between the stalls, but each time it turned

out to be some stranger.

Finally he was sure he noticed Maglor further ahead, near

the horse exhibition. Alder jumped down and went there,

frowning thoughtfully. Did Maglor like horses? He seemed to

be friendly towards all the animals, but Alder himself did

not know much about horses. There were several in their

villages, usually owned by richer folk and used to transport

fish to the markets. Now if Maglor liked horses, that would

be a difficult present to give. Their money would not be

enough for a horse...

Alder's father always warned him to think about where he was

going and not about other stuff; but lately Alder had too

many important things to ponder about. So now, worried about

a present for Maglor, he slammed straight into someone going

in the other direction and only then stopped and looked up,

embarrassed.

He flinched inwardly as soon as he saw just who he had

slammed into. A guy taller than him, eyeing Alder with a

nasty smirk on his face. And his two friends flanking him

had identical smirks. There had been guys like this in the

village when Alder was younger. They were later driven out —

but only after almost killing a man in a drunken brawl. And

before that they made a significant portion of Alder and

other kids' life a living hell.

He was older now, and stronger, but there were at least

three of them, and they probably had other friends waiting

nearby. Still, he had first to try and get out of this

peacefully.

"Um... Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to bump into you."

The guy he'd bumped into laughed, and Alder did not like the

sound of this laughter. No luck for him today.

"He says he's sorry," the guy said, turning to his friend on

the left. "Did you ever hear anything like this?"

The friend laughed obligingly.

"Sorry!" the leader repeated — and he was the leader of this

little gang, there was no doubt about that. "This ignorant

bumpkin pushes me around and then thinks it's enough just to

say sorry?"

His friends agreed with him enthusiastically, stepping

closer to surround Alder. Calm, Alder told himself. Keep

calm and think. He stifled an urge to glance nervously

around.

"Yes," he said with certainty he did not feel. "I think it's

enough. So let me go, please."

"Let me go-o, ple-ease," the leader repeated in a

high-pitched mocking tone. "And what if we don't, bumpkin?"

"I think you'd better do it," Alder answered, stepping ahead

with the intention of passing between two of the bullies.

He wasn't allowed to do this. They apparently exhausted the

ability to talk, so the leader stood in his way and pushed

Alder towards his friends.

This first time Alder more or less kept his balance, but

then he was pushed back, falling into the leader. After a

couple of minutes he felt slightly dazed, losing his sense

of direction. He was afraid that the bullies would start a

real fight, but instead they seemed to get another idea.

"This bumpkin isn't fit for civilized society, is he?" the

leader asked, and his flunkies immediately agreed.

"So, we'd better put him where he belongs," the guy went on.

Alder couldn't get what he had in mind, and neither, it

seemed, could the flunkies.

Still, they were appparently good at following instructions

of their leader. Before he had time to react, Alder was

dragged somewhere, held by his arms and legs. And then he

was flying into the air.

It was a short flight, and he landed painfully on the ground

covered by tall grass. Alder sat up, wincing, imagining the

bruises he was going to have, and looked around, surprised

to see such a grassy place in the middle of the town.

His surprise was short-lived. A sudden thudding sound made

him raise his head, and Alder saw several horses running

towards him. Oh, he thought dully. That's what he meant by

saying "where he belongs".

Alder saw this pen earlier, wandering around the fair. Most

horses were tied near the stalls so that prospective buyers

could inspect them. But these horses were special. They were

of some breed — Alder could not remember its name — which

was still raised in one or two places further away from the

beach. The horses of that breed was famous by its fine look

and speed. And they were untamed, meant to be trained only

by the final owner. That was why the pen was locked. From

outside.

Alder almost let out a strangled laugh, but stopped himself.

If these were wild horses, who knew what could set them off.

They definitely could run faster than Alder himself.

He started to get up very slowly and carefully, without

making sudden movements. A couple of horses seemed to watch

him, and the others were running around. He had to get close

to the fence and then over it. Somewhere far away Alder

heard his attackers laughing — enjoying their success,

apparently. He wished irritably that they would stop, for he

was afraid loud sounds could also frighten the horses.

Then they did stop. Finally Alder got on his feet and

started moving cautiously towards the fence. He almost

started congratulating himself on the success of his plan

when something flew over the fence. A stone, judging by the

weight of it. It fell short of the horses, but still

succeeded in its goal of agitating them. Alder had no doubts

that the stone was thrown deliberately.

There was some noise from over the fence, but he did not pay

attention, trying not to run as the frightened horses turned

in his direction.

And then suddenly someone ran past him and towards the

horses, and Alder froze, astonished. Maglor! What was he

doing here?

He wanted to stop Maglor, not wishing to see the man in the

same danger as himself, but this thought fled quickly when

he had seen the assurance in Maglor's movements. In seconds

the dark-haired man was standing between him and the horses

and, as far as Alder could hear, speaking to them in the

melodic language of his songs.

Right before Alder's eyes the horses' run started to slow.

Reaching Maglor, they stopped and stood surrounding him,

listening. That was too much for Alder's curiosity. Limping

slightly, he went to join his friend.

Maglor's head was bent slightly, his hair falling forward

onto his chest in a single dark wave. He fell silent, and

Alder could almost swear that he was listening to the

horses' reply to his speech. He looks better now than when I

had met him, Alder thought suddenly. And indeed, Maglor had

filled out somewhat, looking much healthier and stronger. A

slight smile was playing on his face, one that Alder saw

once or twice directed at himself.

It's stupid to be jealous about horses, Alder told himself

and stifled an impulse to drag his friend away. Instead he

stood watching silently; and soon his patience was rewarded.

"We should go," Maglor said, looking him over intently.

"These horses are better left alone... Are you all right,

Alder?"

Alder assured him that he was indeed all right, but in the

end he still had to leave the pen leaning on Maglor's arm

and feeling slightly foolish about that. The bullies weren't

to be seen anywhere, but they were immediately surrounded by

the crowd.

Someone dragged them to the inn and bought drinks.

Apparently, these bullies were well known here and many

people wished to be rid of them. Only Alder could not find

out what exactly had happened to them. Apparently they tried

to stop Maglor from getting into the pen, and Maglor had

said something to them. Any attempts to get Maglor to

divulge more were met with a polite smile.

One man offered Maglor work with his horses for a handsome

pay, but the man refused politely. Someone else recognized

him as a minstrel, and Maglor agreed to sing at least one

song, but Alder could feel that his friend was uneasy and

tiring fast.

So after one song he declared that he was tired. It was more

or less the truth, as the shock had passed and his bruises

were making themselves felt. Not everybody was content by

that, but as Maglor had immediately declared that they were

leaving, nobody dared to object. And the money offered was,

as Alder had predicted, quite a lot for just one song.

Instead of heading out of town, however, Maglor led him

upstairs. Somehow he had managed to get a room even though

the inn was obviously full with people arriving for the

fair. However, the thought of a soft bed cheered Alder so

much that he did not voice any surprise or protest.

Later, as they laid down to sleep, Alder caught himself

staring at Maglor again, full of new feelings. Somehow he

only had seen a singer in Maglor, and also someone in need

of his care. But today had opened his eyes to more. He never

saw Maglor run before — it seemed as if the man was flying

and his feet did not touch the earth. Also it was strange to

see a measure of fear in the eyes of their drinking

companions when they looked at his gentle friend.

And he did find out what Maglor liked, though he doubted he

would be buying a horse as a present to his friend any time

soon. Still, perhaps some time in the far future... He

smiled dreamily, imagining Maglor riding, and saw him

smiling in answer.

"Thanks," Alder said softly, and Maglor just nodded in

answer.

"Will you teach me?" the boy asked suddenly.

"Teach you what?" the man asked in genuine surprise.

"That language..." Alder said and a sudden yawn escaped him.

"It's so beautiful..."

The boy's eyes closed almost by their own will, and he did

not notice Maglor's look, pain and tenderness mixing in the

man's grey eyes. However, he still had heard his answer.

"I think I will, Alder," Maglor said, and Alder fell asleep

with a smile sill playing on his lips.

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The end for now.

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