Part Twenty
"I'm hungry."
Cool droplets of water flew as a shirtless Ferlan shook his head and dropped down beside Karston.
"When aren't you?" the baker boy muttered, slapping aside the hand reaching toward the large baskets set between the roots of an enormous oak.
"Just one slice of bread," Ferlan pleaded.
"Little man," laughed Curthan, draping a towel about his neck and dropping another upon the smaller boy's head, "those baskets were provided by Mistresses Tarmanil and Sarantha. There is not the slightest possibility you would eat one slice of bread and stop. So mind your manners and wait for the guests of honor to arrive."
A mere three days had passed since the shattering of the Blade of Nuphar, yet to the boys eagerly watching the road from the City it seemed an event of the distant past. The worst that could have happened had not, and though more than one nightmare would pull them from future dreams, during their waking moments their thoughts were ever filled with matters of the present.
First had been the long hours of explanation to fearful parents and guardians. Much of this, to the boys' relief, was dealt with by Master Gemthir and the Haradrim Ahmose. Next, there had been a carefully conducted search of the field where all of the artifacts had been found. Though the boys greatly enjoyed supervising the Haradrim servants as they scoured the field, nothing else of value had been discovered. Of course, one might consider the accumulation of seven barrows of broken weapons, a silver chain, four golden medallions, a jeweled armband and an enspelled dagger riches enough.
At the insistence of the other boys, it had been decided that no compensation would be accepted for the discovery of the dagger or the four badges of the House of Tharan. Ferlan's outrage at this decision had been tempered by the amount of ransom negotiated for the golden armband. Later, he had been disgusted to learn that his portion was to be carefully invested for his future with only a tiny allowance to be released quarterly, though Harlan's share, slightly reduced in percentage after strenuous negotiation with Master Gemthir and Trader Esiwmas, was to be distributed immediately.
From his perch in the boughs of the oak, Shaymur shouted, "They're coming."
Standing and shielding their eyes against the afternoon sun, the boys saw a cloud of dust that grew larger to become a small cart driven by Master Gemthir and pulled by a matched pair of bay ponies.
Swinging down from the tree and landing lightly beside Karston, Shaymur reached for his shirt and tossed Curthan's to him. A sharp whistle echoed across the distance and their eyes fastened upon the golden-haired boy standing and waving wildly from the rear of the cart. Attempting to pull him back into his seat, a task made impossible by the sling imprisoning one arm, was Rolfe. Opposite the two brothers sat Ahmose, his wide smile visible even from a distance. Suddenly, two figures threw themselves from the cart and raced toward the group of boys.
"No, no. Stop, Dog. Don't do that!" shouted Ferlan just before the black and tan animal leapt up and knocked him to the ground, then proceeded to lick him enthusiastically.
Jesse, having better manners, contented himself with turning happy circles and barking loudly whenever one of the boys gave him a pat.
"Whoa," called Master Gemthir drawing to a stop beneath the oak. With a flourish, he tossed the lines to Curthan and jumped lightly down from the cart. For the first time the boys noticed that in spite of his thinning hair and solemn features, the tutor was not an old man.
"No, young master, you will not leap over the side." Ahmose's patient voice was firm as he took Estev's elbow and directed him to the rear of the cart.
"Are you going to lift me down like you did Mistress Tarmanil this morning?" asked the boy with an impish grin.
"Not unless you are able to bake cinnamon cakes of the same quality," responded the Haradrim as he stepped from the cart and turned to offer Rolfe a steadying hand.
"Impossible," declared Estev. He waited until Rolfe was clear, then bounded from the cart to land in the midst of his friends.
While the boys, with the assistance of the two dogs, greeted each other with an enthusiasm that would have staggered a strong man, Ahmose exchanged amused looks with the Gondorian tutor.
When Curthan and Ferlan attempted to lift a protesting Rolfe to their shoulders, Master Gemthir remarked dryly, "Gentlemen, please be more careful with him. I do not wish to spend another hour listening to the healer complain that no one follows his orders."
"He should be used to it by now," stated Estev from the ground where he had landed after Karston sidestepped the attack the younger boy had launched.
"In your case he has given up trying." Rolfe gave Ferlan a one-handed shove and reached down to pull his brother to his feet.
Estev grinned, for that was indeed what the healer who examined him this morning had proclaimed. His father had laughed loudly at the man and asked if he honestly expected anything different from a Rider of the Riddermark. When the healer responded with a long suffering sigh and a heartfelt "No", Esiwmas had given the man a resounding clap on the back and sent him on his way.
"I hope so. It is so boring to answer the same questions over and over and over again. Even Master Gemthir doesn't do that."
"As consequence for that impudence, young man, we will resume our lessons this very moment." The tutor clapped his hands and waved the boys into a ragged line. Striding along before them, he gazed pointedly at Ferlan's half clad body, dappled now with leaves and mud. "Gentlemen, it has come to my attention that your education is sadly lacking. A situation I mean to begin correcting this very moment."
Ferlan groaned, only to be silenced by a jab in the ribs from Curthan and the stern eye of Master Gemthir.
"Master Ahmose, if you would." Gemthir waved toward the front of the cart.
The Haradrim, with a decidedly sober expression, bowed low and stepped over to pull a long bundle wrapped in oiled skins from beneath the seat. All eyes were fixed upon the Southron as he knelt before the tutor and unrolled the skins. The boys stood with open-mouthed disbelief as the contents were revealed.
Ignoring his pupils' astonishment, Gemthir paced back and forth before them waving his hands. "This afternoon we will test my hypothesis that river trout prefer crayfish to dragonflies or grasshoppers. I expect each and every one of you to give it your complete attention."
"Yes, sir," the boys exclaimed with pleasure.
The matter of how to test Master Gemthir's hypothesis in the most scientific method was then hotly debated until Karston declared that the tutor had forgotten to include worms in his list of bait. With the inclusion of this well-known piscine delicacy, it was decided that each type of bait would be tested by a pair of anglers. Having settled the parameters of their experiment, it was only minutes before the eight anglers took up positions along the shadowed shores of the Anduin.
Partnered with Master Gemthir, Estev listened eagerly to the tutor's instructions concerning the secrets of using crayfish as bait. After setting his line, the boy lay back upon the grassy bank and closed his eyes.
The buzz of insects and the murmur of the river as it slipped by on its journey to the far off sea combined to create a gentle harmony that wrapped them in peace.
After a time, Estev grinned and announced, "I hear it."
"What is that, lad?"
"The river. It's singing." The boy rolled over on his stomach and tipped his head back to meet the tutor's eyes.
The tutor smiled at the seriousness of the boy's tone, then nodded his agreement. "Long ago, when I was a lad, my grandsire use to say, 'Listen to the sound of the river and you will get a trout.'"
"Did you listen?"
The tutor shook his head. "Not often enough, my boy, but from now on I mean to try."
Estev, his young face more serious than a bright spring afternoon required, nodded, then his voice dropped to a whisper. "That is all that might be asked, even of the mighty."
Regarding the boy with surprise, the tutor replied, "I suppose it is."
Setting his silver cup precisely upon the table before him, Karif Phazgân of the House of Tharan watched the play of shadows on the distant mountains. Beyond those heights was the shattered land where once had dwelt his great enemy, the spirit of evil that had laid waste to his House and land for generations. Now, after so many years of battle, it seemed there was hope of final victory.
Without taking his eyes from the Mountains of Shadow, he said, "The young one has recovered."
"So it does appear, my master. His father has arranged for the boy and his brother to travel to their home in Rohan within the week."
Ahmose knelt upon a red cushion to the left of the phazgân's low stool. His eyes too were turned eastward, though drawn to the silvery length of the Anduin.
"Has the Trader forgiven our use of his son?"
Head lowered in recognition of his failure in this respect, Ahmose replied, "No, my master." He had offered the Rohirrim his life, but the man had refused it, saying that there had been enough death. "He tolerates my presence at his sons' request, but anger burns still within his heart."
"As it should. Never fear, my friend, we will find a way to repay our debt to the boy and his family."
The servant touched his fingers to his forehead in acceptance of his master's wisdom, then waited motionless for Karif to speak again.
"The hilts of two other daggers were discovered yesterday near Cair Andros."
Ahmose dropped his head in momentary thanksgiving that their evil would no longer trouble the world. Then the dread that had been his companion for the long years of his service to the House of Tharan came once more to the surface, and he asked, "Know we now how many yet exist?"
With a slow shake of his head, Karif said, "Three of the Twenty Houses have refused to comply with the Kâthuphazgân's request. Whether they do so from fear or some other purpose has not yet been determined."
The twilight deepened and the first stars began to appear while the two men sat silent. Stars had always been a sign of hope, for surely no world which possessed such beauty could be completely evil. Tonight, however, they held little comfort.
With a deep sigh, the phazgân rose and signaled that the other man might rise as well. Walking to the stone wall running around the rooftop, he said quietly, "Have we become the very thing we have fought so long against?"
"The thought has troubled my mind as well, my master." Ahmose hesitated, then went on, "I do not know that I could again use another as we used the young Rohirrim."
"It is to be hoped that you will not be put to the test."
Bowing low, Ahmose responded softly, "As the wise have said, a man's wisdom may be judged by his hopes."
In silent agreement, the two men turned their study to the shadowed fields beyond the walls of the White City.
The End
Author's note: The setting was borrowed from Tolkien, the inspiration for the events are based on the situations he set up and upon the African dagger pictured at bladegallery.com under Featured Knives.
Characters are a product of my imagination and that of other Burping Troll Adventurers (thanks to the Bearman for Rolfe and Dog) save for Jesse, who lives with his hobbit, Erin, and likes to herd sheep and convince two legs to throw his blue rubber ball for hours and hours.
Special thanks to Celebsul and ErinRua, who went above and beyond the call of duty to support me during the creation of this tale. And to all the Burping Troll Adventurers for reading this story and catching the really stupid mistakes. The homebase for the Adventurers is burpingtroll.com where you can find a wide selection of stories both long and short.
Reviews are always appreciated.
Sevilodorf
PS The only payment a fanfic writer receives is reviews. Much thanks go to KaliedescopeCat, dragonfly, dragonfly32, Pyro She-devil and geegi for their reviews.
When reading stories with unusual character names, I find a character list handy.
Characters:1. Estev: b. January 3012, Deeping Stream, Rohan, second son of Esiwmas and Irosa. Fair haired. Short and sturdy. Alternates trips to Minas Tirith with his brother Esdav.
2. Rolfe: b. March 3011, dark haired, dark eyed, adopted by Esiwmas after parents killed in a raid on The Burping Troll. (See "The Mysterious Stranger" on file at burpingtroll.com )
3. Esiwmas: b. 2982 Rohan. Divides time between Rohan and Minas Tirith. Has established trade and shipping routes between Rohan and Minas Tirith, south to Linhir, over the mountains to Lake Nurnen and in Henneth Annun. Tall, blond giant of a man.
4. Master Gemthir: middle aged, Gondor, tutor. thin, bony, son of Ralthir.
5. Ferlan: 11, thin, dark shaggy hair, perpetual dirt streak across his forehead, older brother, Harlan, is a farmer,
6. Curthan: 11, son of Curthimir, tall and heavy for age, dark haired, son of one of the gate guards, brother dead.
7. Shaymur: 12, freckle faced, dark, leader of bunch, lives with mother's parents, spends time as guide to city to earn money.
8. Karston: 12, son of a baker, works loading the ovens for his father, mother dead, plays the recorder.
9. Dog: large, black and tan.
10. Jesse: medium sized herd dog, black and white.
11. Sarantha: elderly Rohirrim, cousin to Esiwmas in some fashion, keeps house for him
12. Tarmanil: Gondorian woman, housekeeper to Master Gemthir
13. Ahmose: Southron, Ulbar of the House of Tharan
14. Karif Phazgân: Southron, head of the House of Tharan,.
15. Borthond: young Gondorian, Master Gemthir's kitchen boy.