A/N well I don't own anything but Jake (so don't steal him)
WARNING; Francophobes beware, this episode contains mucho frencho! but now in italics (-o)
Well here's the fourth instalment of Jake; the boy in middle earth. We rejoin him just as he starts to get to know his cellmate…
He was just about to shut out the world around him and drift into sleep when the voice of the man opposite jerked him awake.
"Bien, ou est votre monde, si tu ne connaissez pas Rohan?" (well, where is your world, if you don't know Rohan) His fellow seemed willing to talk even to a madman, and Jake suspected from the man's volubility that he had been immured here for quite a long time.
Not knowing the vocabulary he needed in French, or moreover the words he would use in English, he instead tried to explain where England was. "Mon pay est Angleterre. Il est une isle dans le mer du nord." (My country is England. It is an island in the north sea.) He didn't think his grammar had been quite right there, but hoped he would still be understood.
"Angleterre? Non, je ne connais pas, mais je ne connais pas tous les isles dans Arda, donc peut etre vous n'etez pas fou." (England? no i don't know it, but then i don't know all the islands of Arda so perhaps you are not mad.)
Jake couldn't help himself from giving a small snort of amusement at that, and to his surprise, one of many that day, Éomer laughed as well.
"Je suis desole, Jake, j'ai ete tres impoli. Est qu'il y a une guerre dans votre pay?" (I am sorry. I was rude. Is there a war in your country?)
Jake quickly tried to remember what guerre meant. A station? No; that was gare, or something. War! That was it; la guerre mondiale was the world war.
"Non, nous avons…uh…nous n'avons pas une guerre, mais le gouvernement veut faire une guerre dans l'est." (no we don't...uh...we don't have a war, but the government wants to go to war in the east.)
"le gouvernement?" (the government?)
"Les ministres, les gens qui...uh...dirigent le pays." (the ministers, the people who...uh...run the country) that was about as far as his vocabulary was going to take him. Anyway, he could hardly explain the ins and outs of Tony Blair's regime in English under normal circumstances, and these were nothing like normal. Luckily Éomer hadn't noticed the pause, but seemed to be deep in thought, from what Jake could tell of the sounds coming from him, as off a man scratching a weeks worth of stubble.
"Est ce que vous n'avez pas un re?" (do you not have a King?) Jake was quite surprised at the intensity of Éomer's voice. He seemed extremely shocked about the democratic system, and also slightly affronted. Obviously they had a powerful royal family here, though it was strange for the man to make not having a royal family sound insulting, after he had presumably ended up in prison for offending them.
Suddenly Jake was struck by what he had just thought; what was Éomer in prison for? Was he sitting only feet away from a murderer, or a rapist? He drew in his knees slightly, feeling exposed as he sat there in the dark, not knowing what he faced. Éomer chose that moment to repeat his neglected question, and Jake started, hurrying to give an answer, in case his companion did not like to be kept waiting. After all, there was no one to hear him, and he was not wearing chains, so why would Éomer be?
"Il y a une renne, mais elle n'a pas beaucoup de pouvoir." (there is a queen but she doesn't have much power.) He hoped that was right. They had never quite got around to politics and diplomacy with Madame Mooney. He was pretty sure his 'elvish' was absolutely scattered by mistakes, but then, he also suspected Éomer to be rather less than fluent in it, so perhaps it evened them out rather. Anything to put off death at the hands of a potential axe murderer, and looking at the weapons the soldiers had had, an axe probably wasn't entirely out of the question.
A deep sigh answered him from across the room, then what sounded like musings in Éomer's harsh language.
"Peut-etre votre pays est plus comme mon que nous pensions." (perhaps your country is more like mine than i thought.)
Jake didn't quite know what to say to that; did the man mean this royal family had very little power either, like the queen, or what? He remained silent, not wishing to provoke his companion while he did not know whether he supported the monarchy or not. Whatever the case he probably wouldn't appreciate that all Jake saw of the royal family was the queen's speech at Christmas, and he normally dozed off even in that short show of monarchical splendour.
Luckily, the guy seemed to catch on to his reticence and switched the conversation to a less controversial front.
"Quels chevaux avez vous dans votre pays?" (what horses do you have in your country?) That was certainly an unexpected question; his hair? What did that have to do with anything?
"Mes cheveux sont bruns, et j'ai des yeux bleus," (my hair is brown and i have blue eyes.) he was about to continue, to give the memorised description of himself that he'd memorised for his oral exam in year eight, but was stopped by sounds that were suspiciously like restrained chuckles. Forgetting his fear of Éomer he asked indignantly what he was laughing at.
"Rien, rien." (nothing, nothing) Well by the sound of his bellows, which were now echoing loudly around the cell walls, it evidently wasn't nothing!
"Excuse moi monsieur mais je voudrais savoir quoi est le raison pour vous rire?" (excuse me sir but i would like to know what you are laughing at?) that wasn't a perfect sentence either, but he didn't know the french (or 'elvish') for any of the four letter words which would have been so much more expedient that the improperly executed cold enquiry.
Getting a hold of himself, the man made apologetic sounds into what Jake suspected was his beard, finally gasping out, "les chevaux! Pas les cheveux! Les chevaux dissent 'neigh' et mangent l'herbe!" (the horses! not the hair! Horses go 'neigh' and eat grass!!!)
Jake felt himself redden and was glad, for the first time, of the darkness that hid his flush. He had mistaken 'horses' for 'hair'.
Nevertheless, every cloud has a silver lining, Jake thought hopefully, using one of his grandmother's favourite sayings. He could hear hurrying footsteps in the corridor outside, and a voice giving another orders. The weaselly voice of the gaoler was recognisable, though it had lost its former bravado and jeering mockery. It sounded like he was getting a right ear full. Maybe Éomer's laughter had summoned someone to fetch them food. His stomach growled in anticipation.
His companion had also heard the footsteps, and there was no trace of a laugh in his voice when he spoke, this time a violent exclamation in his own tongue, desperately hopeful. There was the sound of a bolt being drawn back, and the door was flung open, forcing Jake to shield his eyes from the weak glare of the lantern and so many hours of sitting in the pitch black. The other man also turned away, but his cry was not a yelp of pain, but a torrent of questions, interspersed with , Jake guessed, frequent curses.
The man with the lantern bowed, causing the light to be blocked slightly by his body, and straggly hair. He was dressed, as far as Jake could see, in the fashion of the other guards, complete with helm. Éomer stopped his tirade as the man straightened up, instead struggling to stand, losing the battle against the rather substantial chains that bound him to the wall. Quickly the guard hurried over, pursued by the man with the lantern's orders. As he was freed, Éomer's questions were answered and some answers seemed to surprise him greatly. He became very excited at the mentions of some names, or what Jake guessed were names, but at one he turned and spat at the man beside him who was trembling as he undid the bonds, and cursed him.
Finally he was free and he stood up, seeming to fill the room with his presence. He must have been at least six foot six and towered over Jake, who was made to feel short at five foot nine. After making one last, sharp question, he gestured to Jake, who stood and followed them out, down the dark passage. He was hit with the cold of the air outside as soon as he left the dank outside, but it was better than sitting on a cold stone floor with dirty water slowly seeping into grey trousers. He stepped away from the door, letting the wind rip through him, but turned quickly when he heard it slam shut. The gaoler had been left inside, and their rescuer was staring contemplatively at the key in his hand. He laughed, glad to be free, and as his eyes met the key thief's, he had the sensation that the stern looking man had most certainly not locked the man inside by accident, despite the innocent look he turned on Éomer, who grinned, clapping him on the shoulder.
They were just about to set off back around the side of the rocky plateau to the front of the hall when Éomer stopped short, staring at Jake. He cringed, feeling extremely alien in his thin and now hugely dirty school uniform. Unfortunately, this just seemed to provoke another burst of laughter from Éomer, who whacked him on the back with a fist the size of a bear's paw.
"D'ou est ce que vous vienez Jake?" (where do you come from Jake?)
a/n please review, with sugary cyber sprinkles on top! (Don't tell the dentist)
P.S the last phrase is me trying to say 'Where do you come from Jake?', (rhetorically) but if anyone knows how I can get the 'from' bit in, then please tell me…other mistakes can rest as they are, because he probably knows about as much French as me, because he's in the English school system too, but I would like to get that one ironed out. Thank you!!!
PP.S I'll probably get him to stop talking French next time because it hurts my head, and I don't know if you guys like it or not, so maybe Gandalf can do some mystic type stuff next time. Tell me if you like the lingua franca though.