A Gift of Words by grey_gazania

A Gift of Words

Read A Gift of Words

"Up you go, Maryë," Poldasámo said, lifting his young daughter into the back of the wagon and setting her among the vegetables. "Be careful; we don't want the cabbages bruising, and we especially don't want <i>you</i> bruising."

 

Maryacúnë tucked her legs under her skirt as a precaution against the dawn's chill and settled on the dew-dampened wood between a gunny sack of potatoes and the wrapped bread and cheese Elencalë had packed for their lunch, hoping that the seat of her dress would dry as Laurelin waxed. "I'll be careful, Atto," she answered. "May I take orders for Mistress Almarë today, please?"

 

"If she'd like you to." Poldo rested his hand fondly atop her head for a moment before climbing up beside his wife on the wagon's bench.

 

"What book are you saving for, sweet pea?" Elenë turned and smiled at her daughter. "You've read that book of fables through at least six times now; have you memorized it?"

 

The fables had been good - some funny, some serious, and many interesting - but Maryë had been disappointed to find that she knew most of the words already.  "I did like the stories," she said as Poldo clicked his tongue at the horse and the wagon began rolling towards Tirion. "But I think I'd like to try a history book next."

 

"You should ask Haru and Haruni about history. You know they made the Great Journey; they tell you lots of stories."

 

"Not history like that," Maryë said with a thoughtful frown. "Not what happened on the Journey - how the Journey happened, how King Finwë organized it. That kind of history."

 

"Do they write books about that?" Elenë asked.

 

Maryë nodded solemnly and settled carefully against the burlap. "I've seen one at Master Tatyacambo's shop."

 

"Well, with luck it will be there still when you've saved enough to buy it," Poldo said cheerfully, winking at his wife when he was certain Maryë wouldn't see. "Now, it's a long trip - let's sing something!" The family sang songs and told stories, and Maryë listened and watched the scenery until Tirion came into view; from that point on the traffic on the roads steadily increased, and the air quickly filled with the creak of wagons and chatter of other men and women.

 

"It's crowded today," Elenë observed as Poldo guided the wagon slowly through the streets to their usual spot in the market square. "We should do good trade."  Maryë looked around curiously. There was always so much to see in the marketplace that enduring the noise and bustle seemed a worthwhile exchange - the booths of craftsmen and merchants and the great crowd of elves, some in clothes as plain as her own, some in rich brocades with fine embroideries, and many somewhere in between.

 

"I'm glad we thought to bring the new potatoes," Poldo said. "And I think Mistress Almarë might need your help after all, Maryë." He climbed down from the wagon to tend to their horse, and Elenë lifted her daughter to the ground and handed her one of the bundles of bread and cheese. 

 

"Run along, sweet pea; I'll come fetch you when we're ready to go, all right?"

 

"All right, Amil." Maryë hugged Elenë around the waist and pressed her face into her skirt, breathing in the smell of soap and carrots that always clung to her mother. She pulled away after a moment and trotted off through the crowd toward Almarë the baker's booth.

 

"Maryë!" Almarë greeted her with a broad grin. "I was hoping you'd come today - look at this mob!" She held her arms out wide to indicate the noisy throng filling the market before reaching to help Maryë clamber up onto the stool beside her. "How is your family?" she asked, passing the tiny girl a pen and her order book.

 

"We're well. How is yours, Mistress Almarë?"

 

"Speak up - no one can hear you when you mumble, Maryë," Almarë chided.

 

"We're well," Maryë repeated, flushing and raising her voice uncomfortably as she turned to the proper sheet of parchment. "How are you, Mistress Almarë?"

 

"We're wonderful! My daughter's visiting next week with her boys; I can hardly believe how big they've grown!  And Veryo's poor thumb is all better---" She stopped abruptly as harried-looking woman approached her stall. "And what can I get for you today, miss?" she asked, smiling.

 

The next few hours were busy, with Almarë selling bread, rolls, and other baked goods, and Maryë recording sales and taking down confectionery orders in her neat, careful writing. It was past noon and Almarë and Maryë were just finishing their lunches when Elenë arrived. "It's all sold, sweet pea," she said, stroking her daughter's hair. "And we've got salt and flour and sugar. Say goodbye?"

 

"Goodbye," Maryë said quietly, climbing down to the stone-covered street. "I hope your visit is nice."

 

"I'm sure it will be." Almarë counted out a small handful of coins and gave them to Elenë before saying, "You and your family keep well until I see you next. It's your begetting day next week, isn't it?" Maryë nodded shyly and reached for her mother's hand. "I have something for you," Almarë continued, bending down to retrieve a bundle from under the booth. She straightened and held a thick book out to the tiny girl. "It's a dictionary; now you'll be able to look up words you don't know, instead of having to ask what they mean."

 

"Thank you, Mistress Almarë," Maryë said, taking the book with wide-eyed, slightly stunned reverence and opening it to a center page. "It even has the tengwar <i>and</i> the sarati!" she exclaimed happily.

 

"That's very kind of you," Elenë said, looking rather nonplussed. "Run and show your father, Maryë? I just want a last quick word with Almarë." Once her daughter was out of earshot she turned back to the baker, but Almarë spoke first. "Please don't protest, Elencalë - she's a very sweet child, and such a help."

 

"If you're sure..." Elenë said uncertainly. "But it's a bit lavish for a fourteen-year-old, isn't it?"

 

Almarë chuckled. "Perhaps. But I've seen the way she reads; I don't mind encouraging her."

 

"She is a little bookworm, whenever she can be," Elenë admitted with a laugh. "I doubt we'll get a word out of her on the way home. Thank you, Almarë."

 

"You're welcome, dear," Almarë said. "And take care until I see you next."

 

"And you. I should go make sure my little bookworm actually found Poldo." Elenë gave a small wave before threading her way back to the wagon, where Maryë was already settled on some of the empty sacks, oblivious to the world with her nose buried in the dictionary.

 

"It'll be a quiet trip home," Poldo said good-humoredly, reaching a hand down to help Elenë up to the bench. "Think we'll hear a peep out of her before supper?"

 

"I doubt it."

 

"Clinquant!" Maryë piped up from the wagon bed. "<i>Glittering with gold or silver, and hence with metallic imitations of these; tinseled.</i>"  She looked up at her parents with a happy grin. "I like that word!  It's almost onomatopoeic. Some people in the city are so clinquant that when they move, they clink!"

 

"Very good, Maryë," Poldo said, grinning at Elenë as she stifled a laugh into the crook of her arm.  "Or maybe," he murmured to her, "she'll make more peeps than a nest of hungry wrens."  

 

"I heard that, Atto," Maryë said with a small huff.

 

"I know you did.  Now let's head home so you can show your grandparents."

---

Chapter End Notes

"<i>Glittering with gold or silver, and hence with metallic imitations of these; tinseled</i>" is from the OED.