Bor\'s Folly: Waiting for the Woses

The day and the shadows grow longer. Menelglir, restless, alternates between feedign the fire and trying to whittle a piece of wood that looks, after 20 minutes, like a piece of wood.

A rustle can be heard at the face of the ladies\' tent, and a slim figure slips from the opening. Calenloth, wrapped in her cloak, secures the flap behind her and stands a moment, before walking towards the fire.

Menelglir stands. \"Calenloth. Join me? I can feed the fire,\" he says, gesturing to the already blazing fire.

\"Why, certainly,\" the young woman replies with a smile. A curtsey, as always. She walks closer to the fire, taking a seat upon the bench, but looks to Menelglir\'s project. As an odd look crosses her face, she considers the scrap for a moment, before asking, \"A gift for the Woses?\"

\"Oh. No.\" Menelglir frowns at the stick. \"I was tring to carve a ship. At first. Then I settled on a stick figure. Or a fork.\" He sighs, tossing the stick into the fire. \"Sir Gwendion had me take up knitting. Increase my dexterity, give me something to do. I failed equally miserably at that.\"

\"A fork!\" Calenloth is especially amused by this response, and she tilts her head, thoughtfully. \"Well,\" she reasons, \"you really only need one good prong.\" She giggles. \"But knitting? I would be curious to see what!\"

\"Would you now?\" Menelglir grins. \"Well, I can manage some simple things. If I had yarn and needles, I would show you. But really, I am better at sewing. Far more practice.\" He grimaces at that, though.

Calenloth nods vigorously to this, however. \"Practice, yes,\" she agrees. \"I can sew. I had to, between my own... troubles and for my father\'s things. But knitting... When we hit Rohan, perhaps you should stock up. I could always use a scarf...\" Her eyes glint mischeviously as she looks to the knight with a sly smile.

Conalmir is walking past when he hears this conversation. \"I can mend sail and nets,\" he comments.

\"Now where in Rohan am I going to find that sort of thing? I cannot go knocking on the door of some housewife of the land, begging for her spun wool and a pair of needles!\" Menelglir laughs. He looks up to Conalmir, nodidng. \"Useful skills, that.\"

\"Some housewife?\" Calenloth exclaims, \"I am unsure if I should take offense to that! Ah, Conalmir,\" she greets the Squire. \"Sails, for sure. But nets? How does one repair holes in items made of... holes?\"

With that, her attention is drawn away from Menelglir, but she comments sadly, \"I suppose I shall have to ask Turlach, then.\"

\"I\'ve done it since I was a child.\"

With a glint in his eyes, Conal says, \"By repairing the holes...\" Then he relents. \"Often, fish or rocks will tear the cords that create the holes. One must replace them or retie them.\" He shrugs and his mouth quirks. \"So - you \'repair\' the holes.\"

\"No, it was not meant...\" Menelglir sighs, giving attention to the discussion of nets, but under his breath, asks, \"Turlach? Why? I just meant that yarn is not sold in stores...\"

\"I like that,\" Calenloth comments, smiling. \"Perhaps I shall try my hand at fixing holes but leaving them to be holes. If I ever find myself upon a ship, that is, unlike yourself.\"

\"She does turn back to the Knight however with a smile. \"I only tease you, again, Sir. But,\" and her eyes glitter here, \"I am sure if you were knock on the door and beg, your -housewife- may pity your cause and be so kind...\"

The squire nods. \"It requires more skill than it sounds to keep the net even. Deft fingers - often women and children are the best, as their fingers have not become rough and swollen from the sea.\" He glances at Menelglir. \"Ah - yarn, sir?\"

\"And what is wrong with that? A woman, no, a wife, who keeps house and home? You seem to take offense at that?\" Menelglir says to Calenloth.

\"Yes. Yarn. Sir Gwendion ordered me to take up knitting when I was his Squire.\"

\"Offense!\" Calenloth replies, surprised. \"I do not take offense at that.\" Her eyes widen, and she appears upset, but says, \"Solely that you imply this to be woman\'s work, when your own Knight yet requested you learn?\" She takes a deep breath. \"Perhaps I misunderstand your intent. I only meant to make a joke.\" She begins to rise from the bench. \"Perhaps I should walk.\"

\"I see,\" Conalmir answers Menelglir. \"Why did he do that, sir?\" He looks at Calenloth with surprise. \"But it is a work that women do. Not all of them, certainly, but how is it an offense to say so?\"

\"No,\" Menelglir jumps up. \"Please don\'t go. I..did not realize you were joking--it is my fault. It is mainly women\'s work, as Conalmir says, but men can knit and sew, and cook--as I can. And women can learn bow and dagger. And sometimes even sword.\"

\"Because,\" he glances to the Squire, \"it increases dexterity and hand strength. But in truth, I think he did it to get me to shut up every once in a while.\"

\"Swords?\" Calenloth looks more interested. Not quite appeased, but certainly has reconsidered storming away, because she holds her position.

\"It is not always -what- is said,\" she says softly to Conalmir. But she brightens a bit, thinking aloud. \"I bet it would help with your nets?\"

A quirk of his mouth. \"I see.\" Conalmir glances at the lady. \"Possibly,\" he says noncommittally. \"One does not use - ah - instruments for tying nets, only one\'s fingers.\"

\"Swords.\" Menelglir winces a little. \"I thought your interest lies in the bow. For hunting....\" he prompts. \"And no, Conalmir does not need to take up knitting. It suited me, or so Sir Gwendion thought. But he does not need such a task.\"

\"I shall be happy to learn whatever one would teach me,\" the young woman says softly. She returns to her seat upon the bench, quieter now. But at Conalmir\'s reference to \'instruments\' she cannot help but smile. \"Tis not just the needles that do the work, Squire,\" she comments. \"But I suppose Sir Menelglir has his own tasts for you, besides.\"

\"I shall, of course, do anything Sir Menelglir requests of me but he is not my knight.\" There is a certain tension to his voice, overlaid with careful patience.

\"True, Conalmir is a White Squire and not assigned to a knight,\" Menelglir says, sitting back down, relieved. He looks to the Squire, considering. \"How long have you been a White Squire now?\"

Calenloth nods to Conalmir\'s comment, remembering a certain music lesson.

\"Officially or in actual practice, sir?\" Conalmir actually grins for a brief moment. \"6 years, about, since I was made a Squire.\" He pauses, looking up in thought, then looks back at Menelglir, expression suddenly ironic. \"A bit more than 6 months otherwise.\"

\"So, 6 years ago, sworn as a White Squire and served, a few months? And now 6 more months? So you have been White Squire a full year? Or less?\" Menelglir says.

\"Not quite a year, sir. Ten months.\" Conalmir glances up at some motion beyond the knight - but it is only a bird - then back down.

\"How long does one typically serve as a White Squire,\" Calenloth asks, listening to the conversation.

\"It depends on the man,\" Menelglir says, nodding to Conalmir\'s answer, but looking to Calenloth. \"For me, a year. Sometimes more, sometimes less.\"

The squire nods, looking at Calenloth. \"And mine was split so - four months, 6 years ago is little more than memory.\"

\"I see,\" Calenloth says, thinking to herself. \"But you were rather young to become knighted, were you not? But,\" and she looks to Conalmir, \"I suppose it is not necessarily your age but the duties you perform?\"

\"The length of time is not the key.\" Menelglir shakes his head.d \"What counts is being deemed ready to advance to Blue, and more than combat skills are required. The Order has many fine Men-at-Arms who are skilled in combat, but not suited to be Knights. And the progression, Lady,\" he looks to Calenloth, \"is Page, White Squire, Blue Squire, Knight.\"

Conal nods in agreement. \"I learned much, in my time at home, that will be of use to me. But there is much I need yet to learn, to be a knight. Else I might have stayed on... \" His voice goes quiet, as if he talks to himself. \"They could have used my help, still.\" Then his voice strengthens again. \"But I wish to become a knight, as was my father, and my father\'s father, and his father before him, and so back into time.\"

\"But a sailing Knight!\" the young woman recalls, proudly, looking to Conalmir. \"And you, Sir,\" to Menelglir. \"Is it your wish to do the same?\"

\"Yes..well..\" Menelglir looks into the forest, then blinks at Calenloth. \"Be the same? I have sailed with Sir Gwendion and need now to finance my own ship. But that will come in time. For now I do the Prince\'s bidding.\"

Conalmir nods again. \"Yes. There are some knights who prefer to remain ashore - ahorse - but I wish to sail with the Swan Fleet.\"

\"As is your duty,\" Calenloth nods to the Knight. She looks to Conalmir, smiling.

\"Conalmir,\" Menelglir says, \"I think that we need new latrine pits dug.\" He stands up and stretches, then looks to the Squire. \"See to it.\"

\"Yes, sir,\" Conalmir answers. He bows slightly to Calenloth. \"Lady.\" And turns away.

Calenloth snickers at the order. A duty of the men she does not wish to share, certainly.

Menelglir watches the Squire go, frowning just slightly. He glances to Calenloth, then fingers the green ribbon at his belt. \"Bitterness and anger eat his heart, and he will never advance if he does not change that. But I just make him angrier.\"

Another quick sigh. \"The ribbon grows tattered.\"

Conalmir is gone, a shovel over one shoulder, to make certain he will have plenty of boot-polishing to do that evening.

Calenloth\'s eyebrow raises at the Knight\'s... hint, and a wide smile crosses the woman\'s face. \"I have selected a new one, but it is something very dear to me. Is it too much?\" She reaches into her cloak, a small pin in her hand, silver, with green and blue stones. \'It was my mother\'s, given to me when I was young.\'

\"Calenloth!\" Menelglir does not bother to whisper, but he does glance over his shoulder, and then move off out of earshot of the others, trying to bring Calenloth with him.

Calenloth glances to Conalmir briefly, but follows the Knight. Perhaps too much, she thinks, and her smile fades.

Lominzil trots off in the direction of the camp border, a shovel slung across his shoulders. He glances curiously at his Nimothan cousin, but carries the silent, steadfast look of someone tasked with unpleasant and necessary errands.

Conal is already digging, shovel biting into snow and dirt. He glances up as Lominzil nears.

You sense: Menelglir blinks. \"This is lovely. But it was your mother\'s. Are you certain?\"

\"It was my mother\'s yes. But now mine. Mine to hold, and mine to give. And if you would carry it for me,\" Calenloth smiles, albeit nervously. \'I would be honored. But no pressure.\'

\"Business,\" murmurs Lominzil, gesturing theatrically to the frozen ground caked with snow, \"as usual, brother.\" That said, he sets his arm and back to the honorable venture.

\"Yes,\" Conalmir says with a grunt of effort as he all but stands on the shovel to get it to sink deeper. \"Business - and participants - as - usual.\" His words come out with explosive bursts of air.

\"I would be honored, as well,\" Menelglir says, smiling to Calenloth. \"At least it will not fade in the rain. But where shall I wear it?\"

\"You can wear it as a pin, if you so choose,\" Calenloth says, growing at last more comfortable and her expression again bright. \"But if it is less obstrusive for you, and helps to appear less obvious to your company, you can keep it to your pocket. Myself, I wore it on a ribbon around my neck.\" She looks up to the Knight, her eyes twinkling.

Menelglir laughs quietly. \"THen find me a new ribbon, and I shall wear it around my neck and neath my armor. And thank you.\" The knight does glance to the new latrine digging, then back to the girl.

Another ribbon is tugged from her twisted locks. Green, of course. And presented with a curtsey. \"Please continue to protect me, Sir, and I shall continue to drive you mad,\" Calenloth says, solemnly.

The green ribbon is passed from girl to knight, and there\'s another laugh, though Menelglir has his back to the two Squires, and his tone is low. Still, he can be seen fumbling with something, then tying the ribbon around his neck.

Menelglir whispers, \"\"Whether I wear this or not, I protect you. And yes, drive me mad. That is fine.\"\"

A laugh, \"Good.\" Calenloth grins. \"Because I doubt that is liable to change.\" She now glances at the dirty snow piling from the nearby shovels.

Another laugh, and also another movement--whatever Menelglir has done with the green ribbon about his neck, it\'s now hidden under his tunic. \"Very well, then.\" He wrinkles up hisnose. \"Those two are making a mess,\" he sighs. \"But I will deal with that if need be, when they are done. Excuse me for now,\" he says, moving off again to another part oof the camp.

Calenloth nods, \"Of course,\" she says. \"Perhaps I shall go... oversee,\" she adds, with a giggle. \"Farewell, Sir.\"

Calenloth turns, walking to cross the camp to the newly appearing ditch. \"The ground is frozen,\" she laments to the two Squires.

The mess-makers carry on, vigorously.

\"Yes,\" Conal manages, looking up. He pauses a moment, thankfully already hot from his work. Ruefully, \"I noticed...\"

Lominzil wipes a drop of sweat from his forehead, a second drop falling frozen on the ground, and grunts in affirmation.

\"Oh,\" Calenloth says softly. \"Can I... help?\"

\"No, lady!\" Conal looks almost horrified. More temperately, he repeats, \"No, though it is a kindness of you to offer. I don\'t even want to think what Sir Menelglir would say did he think I quit the labor he gave to me, and allowed a lady to do it in my stead.\"

\"Well,\" Calenloth agrees. \"I would help you if I could. But would not care to make trouble for you.\" Not that sort of trouble, for sure. \"Perhaps I can bring either of you something? Water? Or I could start dinner, if you felt so inclined.\"

Conal pushes his hair out of his face. \"Water,\" he agrees, and flashes a swift grin at Lominzil. \"Tis thirsty work.\"

\"I am happy to,\" the young woman smiles. She retreats back towards the still blazing fire, where she can be seen rummaging around the items. Returning with two mugs, she walks slowly across the snow, careful not to tilt their contents. \"Here,\" she says, offering one to each of the Squires. \"A bit warm, sadly. The bucket was quite close to the fire!\"

Several more inches of trench have been dug before she returns. \"Thank you, Lady,\" Conal says, pausing again and taking the mug. Despite its warmth, he downs the water in one long, breathless swallow. When he lowers the mug, he says again. \"Thank you.\" And perhaps too polite to begin working again while she stands there and with nothing of small talk to say - he goes silent, waiting.

\"Unfazed, I see,\" Calenloth smiles. \"I have never seen one so eager to accomplish this sort of task so quickly.\"

The squire looks at her slightly uncertain. Is she being sarcastic? Finally, he answers as if she was not. \"I fear it will take some time, no matter how swiftly we dig. But I would prefer to be done and gone, than to spend all day and night here in the snow.\"

\"Would Sir Menelglir insist upon you working through the night?\" Calenloth asks, surprised. \"Even though we know the...\" These next few words hushed, \"Woses are watching?\"

But a quick glance around the camp and her usual tambour returns. \"Dishes,\" she admits. \"I loathe dishes. I cannot finish them fast enough.\"

“Do they frighten you, Lady?” Conalmir asks.

\"Dishes?\" Calenloth laughs. \"I frighten them. They shatter.\"

\"The woses,\" Conalmir answers patiently. A flicker of humor fleets across his face. \"You could use wooden ones?\" he suggests.

\"I know,\" Calenloth admits. Uneasy. An amused look returns. \"I would try wooden ones.\" And the young woman laughs. \"A terrible housewife I would make.\"

\"But,\" and her serious look returns. \"I do not know. I was more frightened when I heard the drums beat yet saw nothing. Now, I am unsure. Strange, for certain. And you?\"

\"Afraid?\" Conal considers this, then shakes his head. \"Not precisely. At least, not for myself. I fear being unable to do my duty.\" He glances at her then looks away. \"I fear for others to suffer because I cannot protect them.\" The sentence drops into the silent air, and then Conal shakes his head and shoves the metal blade into the ground again, setting his foot to it and wrenching out another shovelful of earth and snow.

\"Others?\" Calenloth asks the Squire, as she watches the frozen earth fall to the ground in snow coated chunks. \"You mean, the Lady Cwen and myself, do you not?\" She watches the shovel rise and fall. But waits.

\"Conalmir has a great and expansive heart,\" Lominzil smiles, his breath clouding in the air. \"He means you and the Lady Cwen, and all the gathered, and all of Gondor if he could manage it. It is practically included into our oath\"

The squire looks up as if he had forgotten she was there until she spoke. And for a moment, he stares at her as if he has never seen her before. There is a hard cast to his mouth. \"Yes, Lady,\" he says simply. \"And for brothers-in-arms who trust me to be where I should be...\" He stops and looks at Lominzil as the other suddenly starts talking, and... can it be... he blushes?

\"I would say you are where you -should- be, Conalmir,\" she says, softly. \"Perhaps,\" she considers, \"not necessarily digging latrines...\" Calenloth would be a Princess of Gondor had she received compensation for the amount of times she had heard similar words about her safety, but yet still manages to smile politely.

\"Just so,\" Lominzil continues, very slightly amused. \"With the rest of us, be it with the arms or the shovel. For now, the shovel.\"

Latrines. Conal looks at his shovel. \"Oh, well. They need to be dug, and someone has to do it. No... And Lady, it is not only you, though you and Lady Cwen more because you have less skill with weapons or war. But - of what use is my armor or my sword to protect against poison darts? And men who can slip through the woods so that I don\'t even know they are there until it is too late?\" He looks embarrassed at the intensity of his words.

\"I wonder if Nauruscel has any knowledge of an antidote,\" the girl wonders aloud. But stops, a strange look crossing her face. She shakes her head, caught in her own thoughts a moment...

\"But you still feel they wish to harm us,\" she asks, snapped from her reverie, \"though they have offered to help?\"

\"No,\" Conal answers. \"But one never knows what may happen.\" His face takes on a faint bitter shadow. \"If they had been ill-disposed towards us... if they change their minds and become so... Against swords, I can defend. Corsair attacks, wild animals... but hidden poison?\"

\"No. We do not know.\" These words Calenloth can agree with, and her expression becomes wary. \"Perhaps soon we can offer them our gift, and then be on our way to Rohan. Before,\" as she gestures to the woods, \"we risk overstaying our welcome.\"

\"Yes.\" Conalmir seems to feel he has said too much already, for he attacks the frozen ground with renewed vigor, his hair sliding back into his face.

Calenloth is silent as well, surprisingly enough. \"I should allow you to finish your task,\" she says slowly. \"Hopefully with enough time to polish your boots before the watch?\" A joke, but not a malicious one, as her tone is merry. Her eyes are more pensive though, and she offers a quick \"Good evenight,\" to the two, before turning to hop back to the ladies\' tent.