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b2mem2012-03-19 06:54 pm
huinare.livejournal.com) wrote in b2mem2012-03-19 06:54 pm
N38 | Istari in Bree
B2MeM Challenge: “Papery” (Textures).
Format: Ficlet
Genre: General
Rating: Gish
Warnings: Evolution and booze practically mentioned in the same sentence?
Characters: Gandalf, Radagast, Saruman, Alatar, Pallando
Summary: Gandalf learns something interesting about Rhovanion in the marketplace. Saruman remains unimpressed with Gandalf’s hat. Alatar and Pallando bethink them of farther lands.
Author's Note: This is rather a pivotal, though not dramatic, moment in my newly-arrived-in-Middle-Earth-wizards story arc.
Most of the chapters, including this one, can work as short stories in their own right; but the whole bloody thing can be found at Many Paths to Tread, filed under the title "Istari, circa 1040.." Sometimes sections go there that I don't end up posting here.
___________________
Olórin peered at a map of Rhovanion printed on smooth, sturdy tan paper. “What think you, Radagast?”
Aiwendil crowded next to him beside a mapmaker’s stall while people bustled noisily past. The market square was always at its busiest shortly before and after, and especially the day of, Bree’s midsummer festival. “I daresay it’s more detailed than the one they’re selling across the way. I like it.”
Olórin continued to scan the map, considering its merits. “Say,” he queried the vendor, pointing at some particularly small print, “would you perchance know what this means–holbytlan?”
“As I understand it, they’re a small and rustic people, maybe half a man’s height, not often seen except by those they trade with.”
“Hm!” Aiwendil said.
Olórin’s face lit with interest. “Fascinating. Did you hear that, Saruman–?”
Curumo’s back could be seen weaving away from them through the crowd.
Olórin shoved the map and some coin into Aiwendil’s hand. “Get this, if you please. Saruman!”
Curumo glanced round with a look of vague annoyance as his colleague caught up with him. “I hope this is important, Gandalf, for you to be tearing after me wearing that hat in the marketplace.”
“I always wear this hat!”
“Indeed. I lament it daily.”
“Well, if you were not so anxious to avoid being seen in the company of my hat, you may have learned something intriguing from that map vendor.”
“Oh?” Curumo spared a tone of interest.
“There are evidently a little people of some kind dwelling in Rhovanion, half a man’s height.”
“I see. That is anomalous. What do they do?”
Olórin frowned a bit when the other failed to share his enthusiasm. “Well, I don’t know what they do, but it should be interesting to find out. Do you not see the significance of this? We thought the only kindred were Elves, Men, and Dwarves. How have these other people gone unknown to Valinor?” He was speaking Quenya in an attempt to shield any hint of their great errand from passers-by. A few glanced at him curiously as they passed.
“Perhaps they evolved relatively recently,” Curumo suggested in the same tongue.
“Do you truly believe a creature can just evolve intelligence and self-awareness, those things which are gifts from the One?”
“Do you really wish to debate this now, Mithrandir? I thought you were intent upon enjoying this drunken festival.”
“Speaking of which, you’re still going to the tavern tonight, right? Now there is a good place for a debate.”
“Maybe.”
Olórin snorted. “Have it your way. I’m going to go find Radagast.” He turned and jostled back the way he’d come.
Curumo, looking vaguely beleaguered, wandered purposefully among the stalls and tables and carts until he found Pallando and Alatar. The two were admiring a large display of colorful paper lanterns which hung all along two stalls and from the boughs of an overhanging tree. Finding the lamps rather more diverting than Olórin’s news of half-sized people, Curumo reached forth and carefully touched one with an intricate red-and-black pattern. “I’ve never seen such lights before. Where do they come from?”
“Someplace in Rhûn, evidently.” Alatar stood in the many blended hues of light that shone forth from the lamps. He also lapsed into Quenya, “We’ve been thinking that it was never specified where our errand in Endórë lies. Might it not be well to see what passes in eastern lands? Eriador holds all the stories Valinor has deigned to listen to; but this continent, as we know, is vast.”
“Likewise are the choices before us.” Pallando peered into dull, shifting glow of the red-and-black lantern. “If we're indeed able to winter in Imladris, that shall provide time for reflection.”
Format: Ficlet
Genre: General
Rating: Gish
Warnings: Evolution and booze practically mentioned in the same sentence?
Characters: Gandalf, Radagast, Saruman, Alatar, Pallando
Summary: Gandalf learns something interesting about Rhovanion in the marketplace. Saruman remains unimpressed with Gandalf’s hat. Alatar and Pallando bethink them of farther lands.
Author's Note: This is rather a pivotal, though not dramatic, moment in my newly-arrived-in-Middle-Earth-wizards story arc.
Most of the chapters, including this one, can work as short stories in their own right; but the whole bloody thing can be found at Many Paths to Tread, filed under the title "Istari, circa 1040.." Sometimes sections go there that I don't end up posting here.
___________________
Olórin peered at a map of Rhovanion printed on smooth, sturdy tan paper. “What think you, Radagast?”
Aiwendil crowded next to him beside a mapmaker’s stall while people bustled noisily past. The market square was always at its busiest shortly before and after, and especially the day of, Bree’s midsummer festival. “I daresay it’s more detailed than the one they’re selling across the way. I like it.”
Olórin continued to scan the map, considering its merits. “Say,” he queried the vendor, pointing at some particularly small print, “would you perchance know what this means–holbytlan?”
“As I understand it, they’re a small and rustic people, maybe half a man’s height, not often seen except by those they trade with.”
“Hm!” Aiwendil said.
Olórin’s face lit with interest. “Fascinating. Did you hear that, Saruman–?”
Curumo’s back could be seen weaving away from them through the crowd.
Olórin shoved the map and some coin into Aiwendil’s hand. “Get this, if you please. Saruman!”
Curumo glanced round with a look of vague annoyance as his colleague caught up with him. “I hope this is important, Gandalf, for you to be tearing after me wearing that hat in the marketplace.”
“I always wear this hat!”
“Indeed. I lament it daily.”
“Well, if you were not so anxious to avoid being seen in the company of my hat, you may have learned something intriguing from that map vendor.”
“Oh?” Curumo spared a tone of interest.
“There are evidently a little people of some kind dwelling in Rhovanion, half a man’s height.”
“I see. That is anomalous. What do they do?”
Olórin frowned a bit when the other failed to share his enthusiasm. “Well, I don’t know what they do, but it should be interesting to find out. Do you not see the significance of this? We thought the only kindred were Elves, Men, and Dwarves. How have these other people gone unknown to Valinor?” He was speaking Quenya in an attempt to shield any hint of their great errand from passers-by. A few glanced at him curiously as they passed.
“Perhaps they evolved relatively recently,” Curumo suggested in the same tongue.
“Do you truly believe a creature can just evolve intelligence and self-awareness, those things which are gifts from the One?”
“Do you really wish to debate this now, Mithrandir? I thought you were intent upon enjoying this drunken festival.”
“Speaking of which, you’re still going to the tavern tonight, right? Now there is a good place for a debate.”
“Maybe.”
Olórin snorted. “Have it your way. I’m going to go find Radagast.” He turned and jostled back the way he’d come.
Curumo, looking vaguely beleaguered, wandered purposefully among the stalls and tables and carts until he found Pallando and Alatar. The two were admiring a large display of colorful paper lanterns which hung all along two stalls and from the boughs of an overhanging tree. Finding the lamps rather more diverting than Olórin’s news of half-sized people, Curumo reached forth and carefully touched one with an intricate red-and-black pattern. “I’ve never seen such lights before. Where do they come from?”
“Someplace in Rhûn, evidently.” Alatar stood in the many blended hues of light that shone forth from the lamps. He also lapsed into Quenya, “We’ve been thinking that it was never specified where our errand in Endórë lies. Might it not be well to see what passes in eastern lands? Eriador holds all the stories Valinor has deigned to listen to; but this continent, as we know, is vast.”
“Likewise are the choices before us.” Pallando peered into dull, shifting glow of the red-and-black lantern. “If we're indeed able to winter in Imladris, that shall provide time for reflection.”
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- Erulisse (one L)
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They're heading for Imladris? Ooh.
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Who needs talking trees? I mean, really, how dull. =D
They're heading for Imladris? Ooh.
Soonish! *will possibly have to write Elves. In the third age. If the latter weren't foreign territory enough for this writer, the former is in full*
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Gandalf's hat is a continual source of amusement to me, especially where Saruman is involved.
And Olorin's enthusiasm about something others find entirely uninteresting is painfully recognizable. :P
Yeah, happens to me to. =D Actually it happens to all of the wizards here too, they all have their pet topics they're obsessed with that make everyone else go "Uh...and?"
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I really want to read more of this series now. I like your stylish Curumo. Seems oddly in character with his iridescent fashion forward rainbow robe deluxe and all. I figure Gandalf would be the type to wear socks in his sandals 'because it is practical'. Grey ones, of course. You don't see the dirt on those.
Hah, we must be related to wizards. My gazillion pet obsessions do usually make people go "uh..and?"...either that or they start to back away slowly, depending on the obsession. xD
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Seems oddly in character with his iridescent fashion forward rainbow robe deluxe and all.
Rainbow robe deluxe. *snicker* Thanks, I needed that.
I have to admit, as much as I prefer the books to the films, I suspect I lifted Curumo's fashion sense off Saruman in the movies (and Chris Lee's performance was the whole reason I originally became intrigued with the character, but that's years ago..)
I figure Gandalf would be the type to wear socks in his sandals 'because it is practical'. Grey ones, of course. You don't see the dirt on those.
Dude, Gandalf actually uses this rationale somewhere early on in this series. (The grey and the dirt, not the socks.) I mean, he has other reasons of course, but it's too funny that you'd say that.
Hah, we must be related to wizards.
I can only hope! I've wanted to be a wizard when I grow up for, like, years. Esoteric knowledge is so much more interesting than mundane reality. XD
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