The tale of Master Gigolet
The small monotonous voice was reeling off the reading lines. Ducked on the grimoire, the fair-haired boy grimaced with effort while deciphering the exploits of Eärendil, leeward the boreal islands. His neighbor, a girl taut as a bow, anticipated with her lips in the next wonderful twist, by reading over his shoulder.
-« Next ! » said the master's harmonious voice after the son of Tuor had snatched his fellow mariners from the hydra's clutches.
- "Not you, Eliahel, you already read sooner! Regain thour plots, mine kids!"
With a pout, the girl walked between the benches, dragging the little boy with her.
Under the high and mighty oak beams, a few flies buzzed in flour dust, streaking some light rays falling from skylights on the gloss lectern. In Master Gigolet's class, everybody read the same book. But what marvelous books! The latter, a leather-bound tome, with heavy illuminated pages, once belonged to the Royal Library of Thalion. The oldest handwritten note dated back to the early days of Thorondur, the first king of Cardolan.
Master Gigolet ran his scrutiny among his pupils. It was the turn of Mardoc and Lulabille. The small dunish boy was staring at the wall and the girl was ducking her head, in the futile hope that the educational ambitions of their magister would slip past them.
The master sighed. Sunny spring meadows captivated the minds of his students, young and old. He ended the class with a benevolent gesture. The children rushed into the attic, raising a cloud of flour, rushed down the stairs and scattered in the courtyard, celebrating their deliverance with a long, liberating and unanimous outcry.
Master Gigolet closed piously the lay of Eärendil and Elwing. He had saved and restored several dozen valuable books of the old castle library. He still fought on the most damaged and older ones, drawing on the wise's memories and his pitch or wax pots, to correct the ravages of time and parasites. The relics were kept in the driest area of the castle, the cereal reserve. The class also was held there, bringing together around the master, the cat who forsook hunting rodents to warm near the stove, artisans' sons sent there to learn to read and count, and young farmers escaping their chores.
.oOo.
Master Gigolet laid the venerable volume in the cabinet and prepared to get down to his copyist tasks. Suddenly he gasped: young Eliahel had remained sat in her place, a dull worry wrinkle barring her forehead, and was looking at him with a stubborn air.
-« What is it about, Eliahel?
- I want to know the end! They are so slow reading… »
Master Gigolet smiled indulgently - "they" were even slower when writing or counting... But the little pupil's impatience intrigued him:
- "Thou aspire getting acquainted with the outcome of the lay of Eärendil and Elwing! Hast thou no fear of sad an end? "
The master spoke formally to all students in his inimitable quaint style, down to the muddy and uneducated sharecropper offspring.
- "I want to know anyway! Eärendil cannot die, I don't want that!
- Running ahead of his destiny won't soften it! If the outcome was revealed, the next lesson would not be listened to! And what a shame when every book has been thoroughly read! »
A pained expression sneaked into the young sharp look. But the little girl knew the heartstrings of her old Master:
- "Will you not invent a new story for me, Master Gigolet?"
The master scratched his occiput. Certainly, the thirst for knowledge and tales of this girl would have to be quenched! And why not convince her parents to make an assistant out of her... He leaned toward the girl with a learned and clumsy air, but his eyes twinkled with joy:
- "I may not aucthorise thour voyage in the lay before thour cronies. But we may entertain ourselves with tonight's feasting! Thou would hear abundance of tales, bachelette believe me, and possibly flowered lays. Run forestall thour kin! »
- Yahoooo! ", Squeaked the girl bounding down the stairs.
.oOo.
For that night, the innkeeper master Finran had crafted, with the help of his good girlfriend the baker, loads of pancakes for the feast of the equinox. The Inn of the drunken goose hosted many families who came to share their latest jams and the first honeys for a vigil of tales.
Excited, small Eliahel had mobilised her mom, dressed in her finery, her dad, who hid his shyness behind an impressive mustache, her grandma who loved pancakes because she hardly had any teeth left, and her younger brother even if he was only interested in stories when fighting occured.
When master Finran welcomed them, the girl declared that Messer Gigolet had promised to tell a story that he had kept by himself. The landlord took the opportunity and mischievously said:
- "Hear ye, hear ye! Here Messer Gigolet will tell you the gesture of his youthful exploits! »
The ovation that always rises with great eagerness and spontaneity, to designate the first volunteer for each evening, had just befallen to the butler school-master, who now was to reveal his past.
.oOo.
« To tell the whole truth, the young Gringolet - here yours truly servant - heavily descended from his mountain – in every sense of the term! As a cadet of a modest family borne near Morthond in Gondor, I had left me father, a horse lad, and me mother, a laundress, for apprenticeship as a lawyer cleric. I learned calligraphy under the quick stick of this learned and severe provost of laws, by escribing change letters, reporting encrypted columns, copying all day long, signs nobody had given himself trouble to teach me, and solely fought their way up to my memory.
Dame! Please do not imagine such a status was to be complained about! I was garnished, sated, dressed out anew! Reading and abacus as a bonus! At night I warded the shop of me master. I had profits - without his acquiescence since my meager wages would have suffered - nimbly reading his library: books large and small, serious or poetic, in vernacular language or high tongue of old, classic or licentious.
- Oh yes, Mother Harloat, licencious books too!, added soberly Master Gigolet, while casting a ribald look at the premium gossip of the village. Without a guide, the blind falls at every step!
Hereunto disparate and solitary readings resulted in various chances, the most lasting being mine oratory custom, that every joker in this room forgivingly describes as unique. »
Distributing some ales to the attentive tables, Master Finran allowed himself a slight clarification:
- « These disparate and solitary readings had various unfortunate consequences, the most enduring being my language tics, that the greatest meekness of my best friends cannot help but call unique. I have to correct this last point: the verve of our friend raises our morale to mirth and joy, because it is delightfully unique! »
The sober face of Gigolet, that his pint had barely embellished with a shy pink, lit up with a modest and grateful smile. He continued:
- "A customer of the shop took a liking to me - pen squire of the Lord of Morthond of his state. So Gringolet - for this was then me naming, inherited from me progenitor, his lord called him by the same nickname as his steed! - made his first humanities under his rule.1
Me Master and benefactor had trouble to convene –legal clercs are tough people and litigating over any case - but eventually I joined Dol Amroth's clerics copyists school for my thirteenth spring, on my esquire benefactor's funds.
There I crossed galore of common youths, some full of their ancestries, the others hungry for power. Under such healthy competition charter, me modesty - already very much turned down - and incomplete education earned me the involuntary - but sometimes deserved – role of those Baronets' scapegoat. Such high families cadets esteemed themselves winners by right. Gentry and merchant bourgeoisie contenders rivaled in pettiness for winning honors.
A baronet in particular - Howty, eldest of a family of judges and diplomats in the service of the crown, the Dowties - bitterly challenged the palm with me. Our ambitions to become loremasters in the Royal Library of Minas Tirith, though shared, could not admit two winners of the same age. This exacerbated rivalry promised therefore to occupy much of ours lives.
Indeed Howty won the first race for much mortification of thour servant, who narrowly missed the award – which was to accompany, as a clerk, a real diplomatic mission. From time to time, Gondor used to send a legate embassy to Tharbad. The northern Dunedain kingdoms had crestfallen a long time ago, but the city still held prestigious trade and influence. Steward Belecthor therefore displayed Gondor's power, when money could and wars obliged.
When Howty declined this first prestigious charge, the students thought this petty nobleman meant to shorten his way to the summit. Thou can imagine your servant Gringolet took the opportunity and went to his place in the legate's court"
.oOo.
Once is not custom, the butler of the Drunken Goose was seated before a pint, with satisfied looks on a captive but willing audience.
- "I remember our glorious delegation! A dozen distinguished dignitaries -diplomats, linguists, civil engineers, officers... Thirty horses richly caparisoned conveying a foot soldiers company. One would have expected such an expedition in the time of powerful imperial numenor...
As many merchants joined the expedition.
Our passage through the worthy kingdom of Rohan was a long succession of receptions and feasts. The plenipotentiary was honored as a king, and his court lodged in good hostelry. While His Excellency was drinking in the company of King Brytta Léofa in his golden castel, I had privilege of transducing a commodity exchange treaty with the mouth officer of Meduseld...
Then I radiated with an immense pride! Can thou imagine? My first official sealed act!
Finally our company forded the Isen. The legate summoned me to witness as a clerk, his interview with the Lord of the lands lying over-river, at the southern foot of the Misty Mountains.
A powerful wizard2 dwelt there then, on behalf of Gondor it seemed, though he showed some jealous independence in his policies. The legate, who until then had behaved like a powerful lord in the fullness of his thought, stood before him as a petty figurehead. Then I understood why I had been selected, the last of the delegation subordinates, to attend the interview.
Many remonstrances were addressed to us. The magician Curunir was leading subtle dealings with the Dunish clans to restore peace among them. Gondor's interference was deemed unwelcome. The master of Isengard addressed to us with the tone of an accomplished general, for young and promising valiant lieutenants, but whose judgment ought still to be refined to mingle in such delicate matters. My Master had huge difficulty recalling Gondor's sovereignty, and had to concede that his passage was not to thwart Isengard's high dealings.
On the way back, the proud legate, angry at himself for being charmed so easily, let his despiteful wrath fall on my own head. Far from the skylights of the magician's tower, he resolved to act as he pleased for his lord the steward, and made me promise to report only what he dictated to me then. I began to understand why Howty had shunned this mission's duties.
Since Curunir had tricked me - for derision I presume- with the name of Gigolet instead of me patroname, the legate pretended this alteration was a great honor, which remained me name. Maybe it was also a way to remind me of me duty of reserve?"
.oOo.
"The expedition continued along the way, which pavement dwindled as Enedhwaith approached. We repeatedly had to suffer much from the exacerbated rivalries of the Dunish clans, the pacifying charter hatched by Curunir languished to settle. Our band, which rode so magnificent in Minas Tirith, was coveted for mounts and commodities. For two weeks, actual command was granted to the escort's captain, so hostile and defying seemed the crossed villages. Gondor's power was but far remembrance in most remote areas... With great difficulty, our squad repelled an ost who openly attacked all merchants convoys.
Woe to me! I was estranged from my buddies by sudden storm. Hiding me hide to escape the estropiors, I continued for a few days on the way to Tharbad, hoping to catch up the delegation.
Short of pittance, I was forced to beg for bread alms. What a mistake! The family I cried asylum at, deaming me helpless, grabbed me person, tied me and sold me to the highest bidder as hostage! "
.oOo.
"The Ardelaigh clan lived on petty thefts, far in the hills to the north of Dunland. They possessed tin and iron mines, they exploited with the help of various dwarven families. They constantly launched raids to get slaves for their mines. This loathsome clan acquired me as a vulgar nerd, led by his chief Sarlaigh, spineless and coward as a hare.
During weeks that seemed years, I worked as a convict, digging and propping the guts. Stifling heat and absence of light tamed the most resistant in less than a year. Air and pittance lacked. From time to time, the clan fired the proppings, and the ceilings collapsed. For a few hours, dust spilled, then the most ardent abuse resumed.
Mienne corpulence ligneuse laissoit espoir ténu de survivance sous icelles conditions. Mienne apparence vieillit de plusieurs années. Survivance m'échut pourtant, par le vouel de miens geôliers, de bailler ordonnances aux prisonniers de toutes patries. J'appris bien vite leur langue, proximissime des dialectes baillés des montagnards de mienne vallée de Morthond. Attaché à icel employ, j'eus occasion de grailler tantinet mieux que mes infortunés compères. Je lobois comme inoffensif et pusillanime, et me movois libertairement en l'enceinte de la mine.
Me thin corpulence let tenuous hope of survival under hereunto conditions. Me looks got several years older. Yet survival befell to me, by me jailers' will, who wished their orders should be understood by prisoners from all homelands. 3 I soon learned their language, which sounded like me Morthond Valley mountaineers' tongue. Attached to this employment, I had occasion to eat tad better than my unfortunate companions. I was deemed harmless and coward, and could freely move inside the mine.
Chance would have it, one of the gallery collapse coincided with a major feasting. One of their plunderers band brought a booty of Gondor wines, on which our guards had their share, thus hanging around somehow.
After stealing pittance and liberating prisoners at hand, I escaped.
.oOo.
The Ardelaigh Provost, in wrath, grabbed me collar the next day. I was unfortunate enough to be taken by a pond, far to the north of Dunland near the Sirannon river. Dunlendings are superstitious people. Hereunto beliefs obliged to sacrifice myself to the goddess of renewal, for the sake of expiation.
I was forced to fasting, then to chewing medicinal plants that removed any restraint. Slowly, I fell into an uncontrollable trance. I invoked the goddess in her dunish language, begging her to receive me in order to renew her vitality. I rushed in dark waters to devote my life to her.
Horn goat! On the other side of the lake, a large shape with a golden hair appeared, brandishing a long and pale spade. In me own delirium, I thought I saw an elf of old, a survivor from the glorious hours of Ost-in-Edhil. I invoked the warrior of the Noldor from the former ages, and now he replied loudly, imploring Elbereth, light carrier to the people in need.
The bawdy dunlendings believed this was a powerful ghost of yesterage, and fled madly at his wrath.
Thus master Finran - the Noldo warrior - could take me out of deadly waters with great cunning and, once my hallucinations calmed down, take me to a civilized place.
.oOo.
"In Tharbad, I discovered that the delegation had turned back toward Isengard, having lost half of its civilians, dead or abducted. The people around Gwathló river were deeply discomfited.
However the tribes4 of the low lands, contrite by the endless abuses of their hills' cousins, took their distance with weapons in hand. The rout of our expedition without even paying for the abducted, sounded like a death knell for the debris of Cardolan. Looters without faith nor law would take control of the roads. The plain then rebelled in a glorious burst of pride!
Finally, with no other support than his savior's, your servant endeavored to make himself useful as a translator, scribe and notary. "
Then Messer Finran interrupted :
- "Our friend Gigolet is too modest. He personally contributed, through his testimony and skills, to seal an alliance between the Saralainn confederation and the former cantons from Thalion to Tharbad. It was an achievement that reminded everyone that the legacy of Cardolan kings had not completely disappeared. The hills' wild men were defeated, but that's another story ... "
.oOo.
Ultimately, master Gigolet had been persuaded to live in Thalion. The community needed a public writer, a scholar who could disentangle commercial commitments, or write agreements compliant with the subtleties of customary rights of the various ethnic groups.
He did much more. He founded a small school. He discovered the remains of the former royal library of the citadel and saved what could be mended. The community adopted him as its alive memory, a link with a glorious past which sense he revealed to them, so that this glory nourish their hope.
Indeed Master Gigolet had become the pen bailiff of a castle, although this was not the castle of his youthful dreams.
At times he wondered what had become of his old rival Howty. But this has long ceased to torment him.
.oOo.
NOTES
1 I sympathized with a regular customer of the store, the private secretary of Lord Morthond. Gringolet - as it was then my name, handed down from my father, his lord called him like his horse! – attended college under his leadership.
2 Sarouman received the keys of Orthanc around TA 2759.
3 I managed to survive, thanks to my jailers, who needed someone to translate their orders to all their prisoners.
4 The Saralainn tribes occupy the lower Gwathlo bassin, from the Dol Tinare hills to the river estuary.