Maglor in the 1848 French Revolution by Aprilertuile

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End of January 1847

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Maglor worked for Ismérie for several days.  He liked her, and he liked working with her. She had a tired sort of humour that came through hard experience, and he saw enough to be able to tell she took no crap from anyone, drunk violent idiots included.

Good for her.

The first Thursday he worked in the tavern, he did indeed see a group of students come in, all looking more or less like they could afford to buy a drink, except for one who just seemed to sit with his friends, talking about lessons and classes and teachers…

That student, a rather cute young man with dark messy hair, and curious brown eyes was also the last one left in the tavern when the rest had gone.

“Louis, you know the rule. Either you can pay or you leave,” Ismérie said sharply.

“I… Can’t I work? Do something? I’ll… I’ll clean the room in exchange for leftover bread or. Or even whatever you’re going to throw out. Please?!”

Considering that whatever thrown out wasn’t fit for human consumption, Maglor could see the kid was desperate. Well kid… He was an 18 or so year-old human.

Was he still a kid in this day and age?

Maglor shook himself, it was not the time to wonder about that. He went to the kitchen briefly and came back to put in front of the young man a left-over plate he would have prepared for himself in a few more minutes: just simple bread tossed in a plate, with the uneaten rest of food prepared for the patrons. This day it was gruel, with some beans thrown in, and some of the leftover meat from the day before.

It was a poor meal compared to what Maglor had once known, but a feast compared to some other, more recent days.

“Here.”

“That’s your meal, Max. I’m not going to give you anything else.” Ismérie warned him.

Maglor shrugged. He didn’t need much food compared to a human anyway. He was sort of used to it, and the student looked like he was getting desperate.

And sure if Maedhros was there he’d tell him not to adopt strays like this but it didn’t count as adoption if he just fed them and didn’t take them in.

Or at least Maglor was pretty sure it didn’t count.

Besides Maedhros was dead for millennia, he didn’t get a vote here.

Said student, Louis apparently, looked at Maglor in shock:

“Come on, lad, eat while it’s still hot.”

“You… You’re sure?”

“Sure, go on.”

“I can’t pay…”

“Tell you what, tell me of your studies and I’ll consider it payment enough. Agreed?”

“What?”

“Stories against a meal. You get to eat, I get to assuage my curiosity.”

The young man looked at the plate and bit his lips before taking a bite hesitantly… And then fell on the food like a starved dog on a bone.

“Careful not to choke.” Maglor warned quietly, putting a glass of the near vinegar that passed for wine in there in front of the kid and keeping one glass for himself.

Ismérie didn’t limit his access to wine or beer. Not that he abused it: He’d probably kill his taste buds if not his liver if he did abuse it, quite frankly.

Louis was almost done with the food, when he looked back up at Maglor, and slowed down.

“So, uh. God, sorry about…”

“It’s fine. I get it.”

“I… Right. My name is Louis. I’m a student. I’m working to become a doctor, well, health officer, really, but…”

“A beautiful vocation.”

“Yeah… If one succeeds. I’m… less good than I hoped at some school subjects.”

“Oh? What do your parents think of your situation?”

“My parents are dead. I sold everything; not that we had much you know but… And I figured, I could go to school and become a doctor. Turns out I can’t, ‘cause doctor studies are far too expensive, but health officer I can. It’s not the same but good enough, y’know?”

Maglor nodded encouragingly, despite a lack of answer he could give. Honestly he didn’t know the difference.

“Would you explain? What difference is there between doctor and health officer?”

“In simple terms, a doctor went to school for a long time, got a nice diploma and will offer their services mainly to those who can pay them well. Health officers are the people a bit less schooled who assisted a doctor long enough to still know a lot, or who went to school on an accelerated and lighter course and will work well enough for most people, even those who can’t really pay a doctor. Only a health officer can’t operate on people and can’t decide to become a travelling health officer because of legal restrictions, but most people out there don’t really care about it.”

“I see. Thank you.”

“Thing is… I barely have enough money for the classes. I found. I mean… One of the classmates? If I write his essays for him, he lets me live with him. He’s living nearby and studying to be a doctor. I mean, he’s not that bad for a rich di… I mean… For a rich guy.”

Maglor snorted a laugh at that.

“I think you meant for an entitled ass unaware that he’s lucky for being able to afford more than basic living, and blaming others for not being as lucky as he is?”

“I… Yeah.”

“We’re all in the same boat here, kid. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not exactly rolling in riches either.”

Louis chuckled at that. Maglor’s manners put him at ease.

Which was the height of irony to Maglor, as he was a former prince of the Noldor, though the key word here was former, not to mention dispossessed and in exile.

Really he could probably be worse than that “entitled privileged person”. Though at least he never bribed someone less fortunate to do his work for himself.

Not the least because his father would have killed him if he had tried.

Also having someone else study the harp didn’t help YOU to learn to master your harp, funnily enough, and Maglor was about sure it was the same for healer studies.

Oh well, old history. Water under the bridge and all that. Well the history was so old by now that the bridge had been rebuilt twice over probably.

Staying away from people really was bad for his reminiscing habits. Maglor shook himself and turned his attention back to the young man who was talking to him.

“I don’t even know how it’s supposed to work. I do the work for him, but he’ll learn somehow? I don’t get his logic, but then I’m not about to point it out for him that his ideas are terrible for his own sake. There are several exams that require oral explanations in front of a jury. If he can’t do the work by then, he won’t be able to pass no matter what I do.”

Maglor nodded. And cramming all the lessons possible at the last moment, when it was worth years of studies, was pretty much impossible, no matter the race.

“But uh, yeah, that’s what I do. I go to class, do my work and add the work of that guy so that I have somewhere to sleep and… uh, I do small tasks here and there for money or food but… This week was… rough. Thank you for, you know… The meal. I… I shouldn’t have… I mean… You don’t… Well, I don’t mean to insult but you don’t…”

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I may not look like it, but I’ve been here for several days now and I got two meals twice a day during that time. Missing this evening won’t hurt me, hm?”

“Oh that’s. That’s nice. I’m… Perhaps a bit jealous there.”

“Should have let school be a dream and taken over the family business then! Ismérie called from the counter, where she was counting the day’s expenses and wages.”

“Which would have perhaps worked if it wasn’t what killed my parents in the first place.”

Louis turned toward Maglor then:

“A rich asshole wanted the place to build a bakery, you see. Apparently my parents’ business was at the perfect place for it, and bread always sells well. And you know how it is. Either you’re rich enough to be protected or you’re too poor to be noticed even if you’re being killed in front of the guards. Well my parents tried to resist and keep their business, you know, but someone came and killed them.”

Louis' voice broke with barely suppressed emotions on these words.

“The. The guards claimed it was a simple case of robbery gone wrong but nothing at all was missing. So I got whatever of value we had, accepted the payment and left.”

“Understandable. Why not come to an agreement with the man in question? He’d get the place if he paid for your full schooling?”

“Because he killed my parents and I didn’t want to owe that murderer anything. How could I ever face anyone if I enjoyed advantages offered by the one who killed my own parents?”

“That’s… Debatable.”

That was one of the differences between this kid and himself. Maglor was disabused of the notion of honour, and had been for too long now to turn back. He’d have used the rich one who wanted whatever he had, as much as was possible without getting killed for it.

Honour was well and good, but honour didn’t often help one to survive. Honor didn’t feed you, or your kids. Honor didn’t save you from hardship. Money could however, if you had it. That or powerful friends.

Maglor had neither and never would have either again probably, but people not in his situation could very well have that.

Honouring the dead was well enough. But the dead were gone, and unable to help the living. He’d know.

Soon enough Louis left, and Ismérie closed the place, letting Maglor feed the fire again and take his place in the kitchen. Morning would be back soon enough.