Eldrad and Maribelle: C Support.
You know, sometimes I hate the fact that my parents drummed some basic Scottish culture into my head. Seriously, I'm proud of my heritage and everything, but aren't we a little too obsessed with this guy? He was just a poet, no reason to go making a national holiday after him.
I'll admit though, out of things to mutter to yourself while fixing the supply wagon – why Anna can't do it herself, I have no clue – this is probably one of the least likely to get me weird looks.
"Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led-"
"What are you singing?" A snooty voice asked. Startled, I bolted up and – ow, my head, bad idea.
"Ware'd ye lern tae be tha' quiet?!" I yelled, nursing my forehead. Oh, there's going to be a bump there tomorrow.
"What does that even mean?" The voice asked, confused. Grumbling, I shoved myself out from under the cart and – oh, gods, I don't want to deal with this right now.
"Evening, Maribelle." I sighed. "What kind of noblewoman sneaks up on people like that?"
"The kind that knows how to speak properly, clearly," Maribelle huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at me. Woman, I know what you're trying to do, and…it is working. Dammit. I just wanted five minutes – or, like, an hour – of peace and quiet doing something vaguely helpful, is that so much to ask? Why does everybody want to see me get angry all of a sudden?
"I can't exactly help my upbringing, you know." I grumbled, shoving myself back under the cart. Where did I leave that hammer?
"So you can speak properly! Astounding!" Maribelle said smugly. Woman, what is the purpose of you being here? "And to think I was going to offer you diction lessons out of the goodness of my heart! Why, they may not be necessary after all!"
"Aye, ma'am, if ah wan tae." I shot back. She wants a snark fight? I'll give her a snark fight.
"…I'm going to assume that was an insult." Maribelle said after a few seconds. Seriously? Okay, no, that was not that hard to decipher. I refuse to believe that might have presented you difficulty. Actually, you know what? There's a song I used to listen to that fits this situation just perfectly.
"Well, I'm going to have tae learn to hesitate…" I sang, tapping the hammer in rhythm. "Tae make sure mah words on yer saxon ear's don't grate."
"What on earth is a saxon?!" Maribelle protested. Good, it's working.
"But I wouldnae know a sangle word tae say, if ah flattend all the vowels an threw the rrr away!" I finished with a flourish that, sadly, the world will never see due to the giant cart in the way. There were a few seconds of utter silence before Maribelle snorted.
"How uncouth."
Let's see, do I hear footsteps…yes I do! Excellent! Score one for the accent driving people insane, HA-HA! Still got to finish this cart, though, and sunlight's burning. Grumbling, I picked up a nail and started humming to myself.
Lowly, this time, no reason to repeat that conversation with somebody else because the overheard me singing some old folk song. I'm pretty sure this qualifies as a folk song at this point, it's practically our unofficial national anthem.
"But ah would walk five hundred miles, and ah would walk five hundred more…"
Greetings. I am renegade creative genius Gone2Ground. I have temporarily hijacked this 'support log'. Resistance is futile.
Lamby's notes: He volunteered to write it. Practically begged me. Couldn't say no to that. Besides, he did a good job.