fandomhigh | Library, Wednesday [3/9]

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Library, Wednesday [3/9]

The books seemed, for the most part, to be behaving themselves today, which was fine with Gabrielle; it meant she had to spend less time wrangling them, and could focus instead on the several books on aikido she'd picked out. After Pacifism class yesterday, she'd felt a bit . . . inspired to learn more about it, since it seemed like the sort of skill that would be useful for her.

(There was a bit of a twinge as she got into her reading and realized that she recognized a few of those techniques as things Xena had taught her, admittedly.)

Every now and then her mind drifted off to the problem of what to do about the weekend -- she hardly expected Xena to show up, not after everything, and her parents weren't likely to leave Poteidaia or let Lila go, either. As for Ephiny, she couldn't take the time to get away with the tribe badly decimated, though she had invited Gabrielle to come visit instead.

It sounded like a good idea, and she was leaning toward taking her regent up on it. But for now, more reading about this aikido stuff.

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Because you know what to do.

Because . . . you feel like it?

"Good day, my lady," Faramir greeted as he not so accidentally wandered into the library that day. He had been rather terrible at seeking out anyone's company lately, but there was still some concern for his friend. Enough to draw him out of brooding (as his brother would call it).

"Hello, Faramir," Gabrielle replied with a restrained but easy enough smile. "Where have you been hiding yourself lately?"

As if she could talk, scarce as she'd been trying to make herself.

Faramir looked amused, but he inclined his head, not denying it. Not entirely. "I believe it is called exploring. The preserve is still interesting enough even after all these months. And what of you? How have you fared?"

"I'm getting by," Gabrielle answered honestly. "I'm . . . trying, like you said. It hasn't gotten much easier yet but I'm trying to believe it will."

She shook her head, as if it would shake off the gloomy subject. "I like it out in the preserve. Those flocks of little blue deer . . ."

The ones that tended to cluster around her. Who knew?

"They are very curious," Faramir agreed, inexplicable having experience the same strange clustering. "I would expect them to be more wary of humans, but then they do not hunt here as far as I have seen."

"Not the way we would at home, no." Gabrielle nodded, and the thought of the deer coaxed another faint smile out of her. "They're so friendly, aren't they? I think they like it when I tell stories."

Considering she'd learned to tell stories in the same style Homer did . . .

"I see no reason why they should not," Faramir said with a smile. "Baru enjoys it as well." Or so he pretended. "You know that not only the deer will listen to you?"

"I know." Gabrielle reached out to pat him on the arm. "Though I haven't been in much of a storytelling mood lately. But I promise, when I am, you'll get to hear one or two."

Or ten. Run, Faramir.

"I shall keep you to that," Faramir promised, reaching up to touch her forearm. "And in the meantime, I am willing to tell you stories if you have the ear to listen to them."

"Stories from your world?" A world that was incredibly far away from hers ~~despite its uncanny geographical similarities~~, and one that fascinated her; it was an appealing prospect, and would get her mind off the problems simmering at home. "Do you even have to ask? You know I'd love to hear them."

"I believe I offered and did not ask," he teased with a grin, but he was nodding. "There are plenty to tell and while I do not have a way with words such as the Elves do, I would enjoy sharing the stories I know."

Gabrielle actually laughed at that, and reached up to pat his hand. "In that case, it's an offer I'm happy to accept. I'd rather hear a story told with love than one with the most eloquent words in any world and no feeling behind them."

"And what of a story of love?" he asked her, tilting his head slightly. "Or would you rather hear of the battles of old?"

"I've lived through enough battles," Gabrielle mused. "I think I'd like a love story more."

She would, the gigantic sap.

"There are some battles in it," Faramir warned. Neither was the ending entirely happy, but he still thought it a romantic story and he had named his future child after the man. "It is of a man, Beren, who falls in love with the Elfen princess Lúthien."

"I'm all ears already," Gabrielle assured him. "I don't mind the battles that much . . . oh, this is beginning to sound like a tragic romance already."

And the younger version of Rilla's mother was probably clasping her hands in raptured bliss at the thought.

"Then I suggest we both sit down," Faramir decided, moving towards a chair. "For it is a long story. It would be shorter in song, but I do not know how well your Sindarin is."

"Oh, it's fantastic . . . if nonexistent is good," Gabrielle offered halfheartedly, trailing to sit across from him. "The longer the better, when it comes to stories, if you ask me."

Someone hadn't learned moderation yet.

Faramir chuckled and settled more comfortable in his chair.

"Then you shall be pleased with it," he assured her before he set off in his tail. Telling of how Beren had fallen in love from the first instant he had laid eyes upon Lúthien and of the impossible task Thingol laid upon him to prove himself worthy of his daughter's hand. Of Finrod who died to help Beren and how Lúthien saved him. How their quest failed, but Thingol gave his daughter anyway, but how evil followed and Beren died and Lúthien followed him in death, only to beg Mandos for mortality and how they were given one more chance to live together as mortals.

Gabrielle listened intently throughout the story, her lips occasionally moving in silence as if she were trying to memorize some of the turns of phrase.

"We have a few stories like that from my home, too," she said once she got a chance. "Like Orpheus and Eurydice, only that story has a sadder ending. Orpheus doesn't like to talk about it."

He had been . . . not the friendliest of people she'd ever spoken to, but she supposed she'd be cranky too, if she were a disembodied head.

Because he's the guy in charge, after all.

Henry had drifted back into the music shelves today, and was finding a very minor bit of meditative bliss in arranging everything chronologically by artist.

This week is ridiiiiiiiic, y'all, and it needs to be over. So fair warning, I'm super freaking scattered in the brain.

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Library, Wednesday [3/9]

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Talk to Gabrielle

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Talk to the Librarian

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OOC [Library 3/9]