G50 | Incident at the Last Bridge

[huinare.livejournal.com]

B2MeM Challenge: “Horse” (Beasts), “If it could weep, it would arise and go.” – E. B. Browning, ‘Grief’ (Snippets of Verse).
Format: Ficlet
Genre: General
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mild depiction of animal abuse.
Characters: Radagast, Alatar, OC
Summary:  Aiwendil is not amused by animal abusers!

The Last Bridge over the Mitheithel spanned the water in tall grey arches.  At the bottom of a steep, leafy climb, the boat lay on the gravelly bank.  On the northern wall of bridge above, Aiwendil and Alatar sat in dappled shade under boughs, guarding the boat and awaiting the return of the others, who had gone to seek a settlement along the Great East Road.  Their plan was to try and sell the boat so that each of them might have a bit of coin.

A man with a crudely-constructed, barrow-shaped cart pulled by a ragged horse came trundling down the road from the east.  He seemed not to notice the two Istari dressed in browns and greenish-blues and sitting at the far end of the bridge.  While he was crossing it, the one wheel of the cart lodged for a moment in a crack, causing it to waver and then topple.  The old chestnut horse pranced awkwardly, trying to retain its balance, then crashed on top of the cart with a displeased whinny.

“Confounded nag,” the man lamented.  He walked with the aide of a stick, but this aide he abandoned in order to raise the stick in the air and bring it down upon the mare’s shoulders with unexpected gusto.

Aiwendil’s countenance registered only pure hurt for an instant, as though he’d been the one struck, and then he rose to his feet with a look of towering ire. 

Alatar felt his own anger stir, but he winced, as much at Aiwendil’s reaction as at the mistreatment of the animal.  “Aiwendil, be–”  It was quite futile, as the other was already striding into the middle of the bridge where the drama was unfolding.

“A man who walks with a cane,” snarled Aiwendil, “cannot must any sympathy for an old, lame horse?”

The man looked up, and Alatar thought his surprised expression was nearly comical, suspended between laughter and concern.  Aiwendil occupied the guise of a rather small and amicable-looking old fellow, yet there was something fell about him now.

“Well, I don’t see what business it is of yours,” the man declaimed, “what I do with my property.  This is the second time this creature has fallen on my cart, and all my wares are in there that I’m to sell at the midsummer festival in Bree, and the few gifts I could afford for my cousins there who are providing me two weeks’ room and board and asking nothing in turn–”

“That’s all very touching, but abusing this poor creature isn’t going to set your cart right.  I should like to see you pull that contraption and do any better.  What kind of nonsense is this, fellow, a cart with one wheel?”

“I can only afford one wheel!” the humble merchant seethed, raising his cane as though to fend off Aiwendil, who in turn raised his beechwood staff.

Alatar glanced between them in worry and irritation, though he himself was sorely tempted to level his own staff at the horse-beater.  Horses were favored by Lord Oromë, after all, even, Alatar supposed, dull and degraded horses.  Yet the Istari were supposed to befriend the free folk of Middle Earth, or at least not alienate them.  He grumbled at Aiwendil, “This filth is not worth our troubling with.”

The man turned his displeasure upon Alatar.  “Filth?  Easy for someone to say who wears fine cloth like that, who has no idea what it’s like to have to toil for each morsel.”

Alatar glowered and took a step closer.   “Your poverty is not filthy.  Your violence is.”

The merchant in his turn fell back a step, now rather afraid.  Alatar appeared as an aging man, but a tall one and still hale; and there was in his green eyes an inexplicable light.  “Listen, it’s hard to be patient all the time.  This horse is a simpleton, it’s forever tripping on its own feet, and I don’t want my wares damaged.  Simple as that.”

“And how will harming her change anything?” put in Aiwendil, who was now crouching by the old horse and petting its neck and ears gently.  “It only weakens her, and it weakens you.”

“What was that?”

“You do not in any way appear strong when you indulge your anger, you idiot,” Aiwendil explained contemptuously.

The man, though unnerved by those confronting him, drew himself up indignantly.  “Look here, I didn’t set out to be lectured like a child.  It’s only a horse.  It’s a simple creature, it doesn’t feel as a man does.  If it could weep, it would arise and go, and it only sulks here in harness day after day.  It’s suited to the life it has.”

Aiwendil shot him such a terrible look that he shrank back again.  The Istar murmured something to the horse in a language the merchant had never heard before, and the animal leapt up abruptly, breaking its constraints with an entirely unprecedented energy.  Alatar marveled as, for an instant, he saw before him one of the horses of Oromë himself, graceful and proud.  Then the old mare cantered off down the road.

The merchant ran after it a few paces, then tripped and fell on the bridge.  Alatar picked up the cane he’d dropped and handed it to him with a glower.

The man snatched the stick and wobbled to his feet, sputtering in wrath and terror.  “You thieves–!  You moralizing, sorcering thieves!”

“If we were thieves, your wares would be gone now.  You think it is an easy matter to pull this cart of yours.  I wish you joy of it,” Aiwendil said stiffly.  Under his bright hazel gaze, the merchant righted the cart, set his cane atop the bundles and boxes therein, placed himself between the shafts, and hobbled slowly off down the road.

The two Istari stood in the middle of the bridge and watched silently for a long time, until the man was a westward-trending speck.

“Let’s…not tell the others about this,” recommended Alatar.

Comments

[lindahoyland.livejournal.com]

I liked this. Good to see the nasty merchant be taught a lesson.

[huinare.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[engarian.livejournal.com]

I loved this tale retold within your uni. The last line really made me smile.

- Erulisse (one L)

[huinare.livejournal.com]

Yay, I was hoping the last line would have that effect. Thanks for reading!

[keiliss.livejournal.com]

Because I'm a simple soul, I'm wondering what happened to the horse after that. I'm going to assume it was all right and found a good home in its old age, right?

“Let’s…not tell the others about this,” recommended Alatar. totally cracked me up.

Liked how it started with them sitting together keeping watch on the boat --- . I'm starting to get to know their personalities and anticipate their reactions to things, love it when that starts to happen when I'm reading.

[huinare.livejournal.com]

Because I'm a simple soul, I'm wondering what happened to the horse after that. I'm going to assume it was all right and found a good home in its old age, right?

I had vague plans of addressing that, but not enough energy...mention of it might come into another installment if I've the motivation to go back and edit it in at some point.


I'm starting to get to know their personalities and anticipate their reactions to things, love it when that starts to happen when I'm reading.

Oh excellent! I'm tickled that the characters are vivid enough to do that.