After a short night of alcohol-aided sleep, Adri dragged herself far enough out of her nest of bedding to get her writing implements, and to stoke up the fire in her room for light. Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and settling the desk-board across her lap, she took up her quill once more.
Of course, I wouldn't be here writing stuff if I hadn't woke up again after Fingwen put me to sleep. From the angle of the light coming in through the window, it looked like the middle of the morning to me. I turned my head and saw Norien sitting there, doing something with a basket. It didn't look like sewing, but I couldn't rightly tell what she was doing. I was hurting, too. I reckon they didn't pour stuff down me while I was sleeping. Leastways, once I moved, Norien was right quick to give me some of that dosed-up tea. I took it all down, because my throat was sore and burning, my cheeks were throbbing, and the kinda hurts that were coming from my innards... even iffen they hadn't convinced me the day afore that I was still alive, that pain made it real clear. And I wasn't sure I wanted to be alive right then.
Anyways, the herbs started working real quick, and I realised I didn't have signs for names. I pointed to the empty chair, and asked 'Where?'. It took her a minute, but she figured it out, and told me that Fingwen was feeling ashamed about losing control of the situation like that. I just started crying – silently! – and shaking my head, leaking out lots of tears. I tried to sign that I was grateful she stopped me from my gibbering, but I don't know iffen Norien really understood. She tried to comfort me, and told me she was sure Fingwen would be back to see me sometime. She tried to distract me by getting some fruit into me. I reckon I managed to get about half a peach down before I was too full.
More food got brought in by another elf I hadn't seen before. She was kinda heftier-looking, and I learnt later she was Galuoneth, and she works blades and such most of the day. She had other things with her, supplies and such, I reckon, and those got situated afore she went back to the forges. I had to near fight Norien to keep her from trying to feed me more. I finally got her to understand that I was outright full, and not just being difficult.
Another lass came in about then, still sorta noon-ish. She was kinda out of breath, and apologising for being late. I don't know iffen she were supposed to be involved in bringing the food and supplies, or what. I just knew I didn't see how having so many of the elves doing things for me was right, and I didn't figure being 'late' meant anything. I didn't get much chance to mope on that, though. They introduced her to me as Mirwen, and told me she was a scholar what studies in Lord Elrond's library. That took me aback. What would a scholar be having to do with scut like me? But then she told me, 'Fingwen tells me you've never been taught to read.' She looked at me in a questioning way, so I nodded. 'Then we shall have to remedy that. There are too many things that can't really be signed without knowing letters and spelling.'
That made sense, kinda. I figured that was why I didn't have signs for their names, anyways, and it made sense of what Fingwen had said the day before. I was warming to Mirwen, because she also looked kinda like Wren had, and her robes weren't so fancy as Fingwen's. Made me feel more like she wasn't so far above me in station, for all that she was a scholar. I reckon that feeling was good, since she surprised me then, and got my mouth flapping uselessly. She told me, 'I don't have many works in your tongue that are suitable for learning letters. I hope you don't mind learning a little Elvish.'
Dumb street-scut that I was, I didn't ken how it was possible I could learn an elf-tongue. I started spluttering – in sign I mean. I've been trying to write things like signing is the same as talking, but that isn't true. My signs went kinda like, 'Me how?', 'Me bed not!', 'Me floor!', 'Me outside!'. Not real clear, but I only knew so many signs still. Mirwen looked a mite confused, but Norien said, 'Fingwen told me she thought you lived in the streets.' I nodded to that, and Mirwen about came apart.
She kinda scared me, hopping up out of her chair, and pacing about in that room, just about stomping. Iffen she could have snorted fire, I bet she would. She muttered and growled some things I couldn't understand at all. It sounded almost musical, for all she was clearly ranting. Months later, I finally learnt she was cursing in Quenya. After a bit she started talking so I could understand her again, and she said, 'How... how savage! I have read of such things, but I had no idea such evil still happened!' She suddenly dropped down next to me and fixed me with her eyes. 'You must tell me....' She broke off, actually looking at me and remembering what shape I was in, and she looked kinda sheepish then. 'When you are able, I mean, you must tell me how such a thing came about. I must write in our annals of such shameful behaviour among Men! Perhaps even enlist the bards to spread the tale, to bring scorn upon those who would treat children in such a way!'
I didn't reckon it was going to be easy to spread scorn, and I sure haven't been hearing any songs like that. But I know that by now, there's a writing in Lord Elrond's library about homeless children in Esgaroth, and how unhappy Mirwen is about it.
She couldn't get my story out of me right then, of course. I mean, she came to teach me so as I could tell them stuff, not because I already could. She got right to it then, though, and was just about relentless in teaching me the elf writings, the Tengwar, and what sounds they meant, and how that varied with what language they was writing. That confused me some at first, but that was why she was on about teaching me some Sindarin, because that way I could learn the signs for spelling their names sooner. She also told me it was a lot easier to learn to spell in Sindarin than my own tongue. Of course, she didn't call it Sindarin – that's me, now, because I know there's different flavours of Elvish language, and that's the one she was teaching me.
Dinner and bath, and other breaks that I already skipped for things like the bedpan, came and went, and finally she had to give up to let me sleep. She was waiting there in the morning, and kept at it with me until I could start to show what I was trying to ask, and to make better answers to their questions. It was hard going at first, but it passed the time, and once I could talk with them better, it was worth it.
Sighing, the young woman cleaned up her implements and set them aside to go wash and dress, preparing for her day.
