fandomhigh | Library, Monday (11/22)

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Library, Monday (11/22)

Gabrielle had, on her way in to work this morning, entertained notions of wandering off into the stacks and trying to dig up whatever information she could find on Dahak. It was a purely masochistic idea, and an epically bad one, but she was still in just enough of a morose mood to go along with it.

That, luckily, was an idea that got shelved (pun intended) as soon as she arrived, went to make the coffee, and stopped to put her own overly-sugared, steaming mug of caffeine on the desk before embarking on her self-flagellating research mission; a copy of the Mabinogion just happened to be on the desk in prominent view, and despite her recent bad associations with Britannia it caught her attention.

. . . which was how Gabrielle would end up spending large chunks of the rest of her day trying to figure out how to play gwyddbwyll instead. For whatever good that would do -- she was terrible at strategy games.

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Bards and board games and books, oh my.

"That looks interesting," Faramir remarked gently as he came upon Gabrielle that morning.

It seemed perhaps to be a rather better opening line than Remember how I kissed you a week past, I would like to apologise for my behaviour. It gave him a moment to see if he had indeed made matters worse by letting the matter lie for so long.

"It is," Gabrielle said a bit distantly before looking up.

When she did, her cheeks flushed a bit, but she gave him a game (if still a bit shaky), friendly smile. "Hi, Faramir."

"Hullo, Gabrielle," he found it not hard at all to return the smile. It meant that she, at least, not vexed at him and perhaps that meant that it would be easier to pull this situation aright than he could have hoped for.

"Are you well?"

The accurate answer was 'not really,' but she'd decided to carry on in the hope that she would be, so . . .

"I am," she answered, carefully setting aside the well-worn volume she'd been reading. "You're -- ah, still in one piece."

It was his turn to fluster, enough that he did not notice the half truth of her answer.

"Yes, Maladicta was not happy with me but she managed to resist the urge to strangle me," he rubbed his forehead and gave her a sheepish look.

"In truth, that is why I am here. I wish to apologise for my behaviour at the time, and that it has taken me this long to seek you out to deliver my apology. I have wronged you and for that I am truly sorry."

"Considering some of the women I know, I was worried," Gabrielle admitted. It was a real concern, okay?

But never mind. She shook her head and stood, putting both hands flat on the desk.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Faramir," she promised, all earnestness. "No one was really acting quite like themself that week. If you had done something wrong, I don't think you'd be here apologizing for it now."

Considering it was Maladicta, perhaps Gabrielle hadn't been entirely off the mark with her concern.

He shook his head. "I should have known better as I was aware of the situation. You came looking for quiet and perhaps an ear to listen, and I let the situation get away from me. Yet I cannot deny that it does not gladden me to hear that you have carried no grudge in these past days."

Considering Gabrielle's track record with boys, her concern had been completely on target.

"But you let me listen anyway," she pointed out. "I could hardly hold a grudge against you for that; you've been nothing but kind to me. As far as things getting out of hand goes, it could have been a lot worse."

You know. Like . . . never mind.

"I am grateful Maladicta found is when she did," Faramir agreed. A bit sooner would have been preferable, but one could not look a gifted vampire in the um... That made no sense at all.

"I would hope that we would have come to our senses before matters would have escalated, at least." Perhaps it was best not to linger on these things. "Still, if there is anything I could do to make up for it."

Gabrielle shook her head again. "You already have," she insisted. "There's nothing you need to apologize to me for, Faramir. You didn't blame this on me, or pretend it didn't happen. You're a good man. If you're really serious about wanting to make up for it, just . . ."

The smile was more genuine now. "Just keep being that."

Cheesy? Yes. Heartfelt? Absolutely.

Strange how those words kept being repeated to him lately. Faramir smiled in return and he inclined his head in a solemn bow.

"Then I shall endeavour to be just that," he agreed, a little amused but perhaps a little pleased as well. Pleased that he had managed to not destroy anything in a moment's weakness. "And let me thank you for keeping my books from being trampled. Baru is a fine horse and he is well trained, but he has little respect for the written word."

"Don't mention it; I would have done it either way. Horses are smart, but I don't think they'll ever acquire a taste for literature," Gabrielle agreed wryly. "Argo's never trampled any of my scrolls, or, gods forbid, eaten them. But she doesn't seem to enjoy it too much when I read my stories out loud to her, either."

"I think perhaps Baru might enjoy that at least, or he merely enjoys the sound of my voice to fall asleep with," he chuckled and titled his head, studying her for an instant.

"Am I correct in my understanding that you write?"

Edited 2010-11-22 22:06 (UTC)

"Not as much, lately, but yes." Gabrielle held her hands up, displaying the ink stains on her fingers. "Do you . . . read to your horse often?"

Even with the hesitation in the question, she didn't seem likely to laugh if the answer turned out to be yes.

He would not have minded if she did. "Now more often than I used to," he admitted. "This world's script is unfamiliar to me and I find it easier to read out loud. It is easier to bother Baru with it than force it on my roommate."

"Have you asked your roommate if she -- or he -- minds?" Gabrielle asked. "If so, I don't mind you reading it out loud to me."

She was all about encouraging literacy. You try being one of the two people in your village who knows how.

"I have not asked, but it seems only polite and perhaps less embarrassing," he admitted, chuckling. "That is a dangerous offer to make, my lady. You run the risk that I will take you up on it."

"Are you afraid to?" Gabrielle returned with a flash of her old spirit. "Maybe I offered because I thought you would, ever think of that? As much as I've made . . . people listen to me read out loud, it's only fair to return the favor every now and then."

"Very well," Faramir nodded, "but if I am making you listen, then you must pick the story."

"Oh, really?" Gabrielle actually grinned, if just for a moment. "All right, then."

She picked the copy of the Mabinogion (http://www.timelessmyths.com/celtic/mabinogion.html#Manawyddan") up from the desk and held it out to him, open to one of the stories in particular. "Let's see how you do with that one."

Oh, Gabrielle, that's just cruel. Welsh names.

Edited 2010-11-22 22:40 (UTC)

He raised an eyebrow at her, mostly looking amused but he turned his attention to the book, closing it for an instant to attempt to decipher the title.

"Mabingion? Is it a name or a place?" he asked. "I have not seen the word before."

"It's a name," Gabrielle replied. ". . . I think. I'm not sure what it means, actually."

Helpful, Gabrielle. Very helpful.

"All right," Faramir said slowly, frowning as now there was an unfamiliar word and no meaning. Somehow this felt wrong.

He found himself a seat as he opened up the book once more to the chapter she had presented him with. He scanned the page for a moment before he started reading. The language felt more familiar to him than most contemporary books. There were some too long pauses, but managed to get through the first paragraph when he stumbled to a stop and blinked.

"Culwhich? This word has entirely too many consonants in it," he objected.

"Yeah . . ." Gabrielle wandered over so she could peer -- just for a second, she hated it when people did that to her -- over at the book. "I'm not sure about that one myself. Do you think we should pick something else instead?"

Faramir raised an eyebrow at her, obviously amused now. "And let the book win this battle? No, Men of Gondor do not give up so easily."

"Oh, don't they?" This was . . . it was easy and comfortable, just bantering with a friend (she'd already decided he counted, and hopefully he wouldn't mind) without anything heavy lurking beneath the surface; she was starting to feel much more like her old self.

Gabrielle dropped into a chair across from him and propped her elbows up on the table. "What is it about men of Gondor that makes them so stubborn?" she teased.

. . . so she was curious about his world. Sue her.

No, he would not mind. While perhaps his own world was slowly growing more cautious about who to trust, Faramir did not feel there was as much need for it here at Fandom.

"Because we are the descendants of Númenor," he said, his tone light and boasting but there was true pride behind the teasing façade. "We stand between our enemy and the Western lands. When he will strike at all that is good, we will be the first to feel the blow of his hammer. It will be our stubbornness that will have us endure, but whichever the outcome, we will not yield."

"When he strikes?" she queried. It was a good-sounding, kind of exciting speech; a little at odds with her more pacifist tendencies, but so were a lot of things in Gabrielle's life. "This enemy of yours . . . you're not just talking about some petty warlord, are you?"

There was no choice in the matter, and Faramir would have thought any pacifist would agree that Sauron needed to be destroyed.

"I am not," Faramir closed the book once more, keeping a finger between the pages. "He is an ancient evil, responsible for the loss of Númenor. He has been defeated before, but never vanquished and now he gathers strength once more."

Gabrielle would agree! Eventually. After a lot of arguing and causing other people headaches with the insistence that there had to be another way. (If she had a dinar for every time she'd said "There has to be another way," she could afford new boots, a horse of her own, and a lifetime's supply of scrolls.)

She couldn't help shivering a bit. "Sorry," she quickly apologized. "That . . . reminded me of something unpleasant."

Dahak wasn't an ancient evil, granted, and Sauron would probably laugh at him, but evil wasn't one of Gabrielle's favorite concepts now. Or ever. But mostly now.

"So you're guardians, in a way," she surmised. "Like a hereditary duty. Do you love your land that much, that you accept it?"

His eyes were filled with concern, but it seemed to him that she had no desire to speak of it now and her question was one he could not resist.

"I love it with all my heart," he spoke softly. "More so, I love its people and its history. Perhaps I would have chosen a different path for myself if times were different, but they are not and so I shall fight for her and all she stands for."

Gabrielle had watched him closely as he spoke, and a tiny, understanding smile crept across her face. "I can tell," she told him. "Is it a long history? It almost sounds like something I'd love to read, if I can."

"You could, the part that is known to me at least for there are many more stories than I am familiar with," he explained eagerly. "You would only need to learn the Elvish tongue and script!"

He shook his head, feeling that he had spoken perhaps too much already. "What of your world? Does it have similar troubles?"

"Oh, is that all I'd need to do?" Gabrielle chuckled briefly; she'd always been a sucker for other people's infectious enthusiasm. As evidence: "Do you think it'd be hard for me to learn?"

But he'd asked another question, and she wasn't going to leave it unanswered. "No, nothing quite like that; mostly the petty warlords I'd mentioned . . . the occasional despot. There's always someone looking to overpower someone else and take what they have, but there isn't any one enemy everyone can point to, so it gets a bit messy."

"No, I do understand that," he said. "Even without Sauron there has been strife between our countries and there are those who gather under his banner. Whether it is out of fear or because they are loyal to his cause, I do not know."

He sighed. "I believe the thought of learning languages is a much more pleasant topic than Men's desire to wage war. To answer your question, it would be a bit of a challenge, but I think you are capable of meeting it."

Gabrielle never could quite make sense out of why some people decided to ally with sketchy causes, so she was content to leave it at that.

"If I walk into a wall because I'm too busy trying to work out the letters to notice where I'm going," she warned playfully, "I'm blaming you."

Faramir laughed and nodded his head in agreement. "I will gladly take the blame then. My brother was so kind to send me some books, most deal with the history of Gondor. They could be of help."

"Oh, so I can read about it instead of getting you to tell me?" Gabrielle did a decent job of feigning shock, actually, having had to express actual shock often enough. "I see what you did there. Very clever."

"It shall be the required reading to back up what I have told you," he countered. "There will be a short test after."

Honestly, if she wanted to hear of Gondor chances were he would gladly talk her ears off.

"I never did well on written tests," Gabrielle completely made up. "All right, fine. I accept the challenge."

. . . again, it was only fair. If she could literally talk ears off, she'd have a pile herself.

"Very well, then," he grinned, obviously pleased with their agreement, and he held up the book. "Now shall I read to you then?"

Gabrielle made a sweeping gesture toward the book and settled more comfortably in her chair. "You have my undivided attention," she promised. "Read away."

She'd try not to debate the pronunciation of the names much. Odds were good she'd be butchering them just as badly anyhow.

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