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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"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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Library, Monday (11/22)

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