Rider of the Mark

The Adventures of Gaberas and Tamtheril

By ZeeDrippyVessel

A Rider of the Mark MisAdventure. Rated G.

Disclaimer: It’s not mine. No money, no sue-y! No chopsticks either. All hail the great JRR Tolkien.

Written for the Haldir Lovers vs some slash group Elfling challenge. We have Elflings, yes we do! We have Elflings, how ‘bout you???

In a perfect world, this chapter goes about two chapters ago... but we're not in a perfect world.

Summary: Language is no barrier to friendship when we are children.

~*~

The Adventures of Gaberas and Tamtheril

~*~

Edoras was a busy, noisy place. Big horses, lots of very tall, strange people.

Big horses didn’t bother Gaberas, she was Rohirrim. She was used to big horses and tall people.

But not strange people or strange people with pointed ears. Gaberas took a bite of the sticky pastry she had snuck from the kitchen. Strange people frightened her, worried her young, three summers mind. She wanted to go home, yearned for her peaceful farm. She missed her pony, the one she wasn’t allowed to ride yet, unless someone was with her. She wondered, for a flickering moment, if Hefig was giving her pony her feed and carrots and making sure she had enough water.

And walking her. And taking care of her hooves.

If Hefig wasn’t taking care of her, Gaberas would give him a good swift kick in th-

“Well, hello, little one.”

Gaberas was jerked out of her musings, to stare up into the eyes of the onliest not tall strange person in Methuseld. She was a pretty lady, didn’t have the funny ears, and she was smiling and bending down. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing. I’m Lothiriel. Do you have a name?”

Gaberas couldn’t understand a word. The woman wasn’t speaking Rohirrim. She scrunched up her face in consternation.

The pretty lady smiled again. “Oh dear, when will I learn. I don’t speak Rohirrim. You don’t understand.” The pretty lady pointed to herself. “Lothiriel. Lothiriel.” She smiled and pointed at Gaberas.

OH!

“Gaberas!” With the generosity of one fresh from toddlerhood (she also wanted the pretty lady Loth-ee-ree-el to like her and had learned that bribery got one many places) she thrust out the half-eaten pastry. “Bite?”

Lothiriel took a startled step back as the child stuck out a gooey, sticky hand, covered with a mishmash of what appeared to once have been an apple tart. “Ah, thank you, but-”

“GABERAS!” Instinctively, the child thrust her hand behind her, knowing this would be a losing battle. She gave her mother her most innocent look.

Sulis was exhausted. Between the long trip to Edoras for her brother Gamling’s wedding, the preparations, worrying for her husband, still injured in Gondor and then the sudden and unplanned arrival of Rohan’s new king accompanied by the Elves of Rivendell, her temper was short. It was not helped when she looked to see her youngest child handing a disgusting glob of goo to a member of nobility.

And a total stranger.

“Go wash your hands, young lady! What were you thinking?” Her mother turned quickly enough to cause a breeze with her skirts. “I am so sorry!” Sulis addressed the stranger in olde formal Westron. “She knows no strangers and will offer anything.” The Rohirrim woman attempted to inspect the lady closer. “Did she get any of that on you?”

Lothiriel raised her hands in supplication. “No. Really, it’s fine. I approached her-”

Gaberas backed up while her mother’s attention was temporarily distracted. Too easily, she was lost in the crowd of dust covered traveling clothes and chain mail. She skirted around her uncle Gamling, was deep in conversation with a tall, blonde man with a funny ponytail on his helmet, absent-mindedly patted her on the head.

Soooo many people…

Twice, she was almost stepped on by soldiers in garish turquoise and once by a serving girl. The serving girl snapped at her and Gaberas made a rude hand gesture when the girl’s back was turned.

She heard giggling.

In a motion reminiscent of her mother, Gaberas spun around, making her oh-so-not-grown-up short skirt twirl.

She looked straight into grey eyes her height.

The grey eyes had beautifully combed long moonlit hair and pointy ears.

And a big smile.

With tiny straight teeth that were still giggling! Gaberas thrust her tiny fist (the one not holding the very sweaty pastry) on her waist.

“What’s funny?”

The giggler pointed to the serving girl and made the same rude gesture. Gaberas’ fist went to her mouth. “OOOH! What you say!”

The two younglings stood for a moment looking at each other. Gaberas eventually remembered her manners. She thrust out one hand.

The one covered with mangled pastry.

“Bite?”

A slightly disgusted eyebrow went up and the elfling scrunched her nose. She pointed to a table on the other side of the room. It was piled with fresh pastries, cakes, and other interesting gooey things. The elfling nodded towards the table. “Eas!”

Gaberas shrugged good-naturedly. Both Elfling and Shield Toddler ambled over to the long table.

The goodies were piled high, as high as a mountain in the eyes of ones so small. Gaberas realized that they couldn’t reach the table from far off, and they couldn’t see over the table up close, not to mention her hand was full of something she forgot what it had been.

“Yrch!” Gaberas looked up from her hand to see the Elfling had reached up to grab whatever was above her head. Apparently, she didn’t like what she had blindly snatched. With a snarl, the pointy- eared rascal put it back up on the table and began to pat for something else.

She didn’t like that one either. Back it went.

The third one looked tasty, but after taking a bite, the blonde made several disgusting faces and the pastry, minus a bite went back up on the table.

Gaberas made a rather sorrowful face and slowly placed her melted, ruined pastry on the table. She then decided the little Rivendell Elfling needed some help. Four or five bitten into and discarded pastries later, the twosome found honey cakes to their liking and wandered from the busy, noisy Great Hall…

And into a long, quiet hallway. Both contemplated the length while licking the last of the honey cake crumbs from their fingers.

They found a linen closet with bright, snowy sheets, perfect to play ghosties and grand ladies with.

They also made a nice pile to roll in, in addition to wiping pastry glob from their hands.

Hearing voices, they hid in the closet and waited for the chambermaids to go by. When they peered out, they saw the door of the room the maids were working in had been left open. Racing across the hall, they sped in.

The room was large, great Rohirrim wall hangings on the wall and a large window, with the shutters thrown open, letting in sunlight and the smell of hay and sunshine.

It was Gaberas’ Uncle Gamling’s room. He had the biggest bed that Gaberas had ever seen with the largest mattress ever! It made noises when you crawled across it and with equally mischievous smiles, the twosome raced to the bed. Finding the step stool, they climbed up and commenced to jumping.

At some point, they realized that clothing was stacked on chairs and climbing off the bed in order to explore, Gaberas clothed herself in a long, blue gown, her friend wearing a tunic much too big for herself.

Childish giggles floated down the hall.

They climbed back on the bed, decked out in their new finery and commenced to jumping again, over-clad arms flapping like mutated butterflies.

More giggling.

Too soon, they were caught.

“Och! Look what a mess the two of you have made!” The chambermaid was in her middle years, but despite her words, she smiled. “Look at this!” she plucked the dress from over Gaberas’ head, “in your aunt’s wedding gown! She would die a thousands deaths! And you!” she slung the blue silk over one arm and reached for the Elfling, “In Gamling’s wedding tunic!” The tunic went flying over a snickering set of pointed ears. “The Marshall will feed you to his horse!” Both items of clothing went back into the chair, before the woman helped them from the bed. “Obviously, you need a job!”

“Job!” Gaberas repeated.

“Yob!” her friend parroted.

Very quickly, the twosome found themselves shooed from the room, and heading in the general direction of outside, via the kitchen…

…Where warm sugar dumplings were cooling on a low rack.

As the two scooted from the kitchens into the yard with their hands full of pilfered goodies, the cook bellowed at the stable boy for snitching sugar dumplings from the cooling rack.

Gaberas wanted to sit somewhere while she finished her sugar dumplings, so she sought out the nearest quiet spot, a beautiful, fragrant spot where plants and flowers were coming up, blooms already abundant in the early spring sun. She sat down in the dust, and set her sweet treats in her lap.

The Elfling stared, head half tilted.

Realizing that she wasn’t being quite well-mannered, Gaberas dusted off the rock next to her. “Here!” she perked. “Sit here.”

The Elfling sat down gently and put her sugar dumplings in her lap as well, sugar leaving granular dust on her leggings. The twosome sat in relative silence, munching away and watching the comings and goings from the quiet side of Methuseld. They watched the butterflies flit, as well as bees graze from blossom to blossom. As she took her last bite, Gaberas remembered she didn’t know the Elfling’s name. She tapped her on the arm and then pointed to herself.

“Gaberas!” She pointed to the Elfling.

The Elfling seemed to ponder for a moment, mouth still full of doughy treats. Gaberas repeated her request. Finally, with a smile, sugar smeared on softer features…

“Tamtheril!”

The little Rohirrim smiled back and wiped her face on her sleeve and remember the ‘job’ the chambermaid had sent them. Looking over, she spied likely flowers and reached to pick them.

~*~

Caarima was deep in conversation with several other elleth, testing their rarely-used Westron with Lothiriel and Eowyn. It seemed there was to be a wedding the next day between a highly favored Horse Lord and his beloved, well-thought-of lady. She realized she had been enmeshed in conversation for quite some time.

“My apologies,” she interrupted. “I seem to be missing my child. Has anyone seen Tamtheril?”

The small group looked around, talking now to a murmur. “Perhaps,” Arwen mused, “Tam is with Nimmarron.”

Caarima scowled, marring perfect features. Tam could find trouble when no one else could. “Perhaps…”

~*~

Cook was NOT pleased.

She caught the twosome picking every blooming herb she had and she chased both from the garden with her broom, using words neither had ever heard of. They both ran through the back of the garden, dropping their pretty flowers and scampered through a hole in the garden wall…

…straight into the chicken coop.

~*~

Finally, the ellon returned from their tour of the city and stables, Caarima looking anxiously through the group. Her husband noticed right away she was wringing her skirt nervously. Threading his way through the crowd, he made his way to her. “Is something wrong?”

“Is Tam with you?”

“No. I thought he was-”

Immediately, she began to hunt. “Oh, Illuvatar, he’s missing…”

~*~

Apparently, Tamtheril had never seen a chicken. The Elfling set up such a screaming fit, the birds flew in all directions, several flying in his face and causing the screaming to escalate. Despite Gaberas’ pleas to cease, the elfling began to run in circles, batting, swatting at the angered poultry. The little Rohirrim was knocked over once and before she could do anything, Tamtheril ran to the fencing, looking for another way out. The cage gate swing open and Tamtheril ran towards the barn, with the majority of the chickens following.

Gaberas stood up in wonderment and dusted herself off before following. “Béma, we in trouble now!”

~*~

Caarima was frantic. Methuseld was a large place, packed with many people, more so than normal, with too many places for a small, mischievous little ellon to hide and cause trouble.

And Tam could cause trouble! Too many times, Caarima and Nimmarron had been called to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel’s talan, in order to retrieve their little miscreant. He had been caught jumping on beds, picking flowers from gardens that did not belong to them, stealing sweetcakes and worse…

… defecating in the stream.

~*~

Gaberas finally caught up to Tamtheril behind the barn. The Elfling was jumping up and down, hands high up between already long legs.

“What you jumping about? We gonna be in trouble, you letting the chickens out!”

Tamtheril continued to bounce, holding on tighter.

“Not nice!” Gaberas retorted with her mother’s imperious tone. “Not lady-like!”

A growl emitted from Tamtheril’s throat, bouncing now painful to watch. With another growl, the Elfling made a mad dash into the barn.

“Elves!” Gaberas muttered. “No wunner they live in trees!” She followed the Elfling into the barn, momentarily distracted by the barrel of apples. Growth spurt momentarily overruled the need to detain stupid elfling and she grabbed an apple and headed down the corridor, unconsciously reveling in the odor of the horses. Again, she wondered about her pony and if she was being taken care of properly.

She peered into one stall. A dapple mare with a strange black mark on her rump returned her stare. No Tamtheril.

Across the hallway. Firefoot looked back at her, nonplussed, uninterested and bored. No Tamtheril.

Across again.

~*~

“A little Elfling, about this high?” The chambermaid stood in the hallway, arms full of recently dirtied linens. “Sure did. Caught him and Sulis’ youngest jumping on the Marshal’s bed!” She smiled a big, toothy grin, speaking to Eowyn, but directing herself to the Elven couple. “A right pair, they are. Full of spunk! Check the kitchen or the cook’s garden.” She leaned over with a saucy grin. “I gave them a job. They should have raided the sweets and made a beeline to the garden. You’ll probably find them sitting on a rock, eating pastries!”

~*~

There, in a stall with a rather large, cranky, chestnut stallion, was Tamtheril, standing up, watering the corner of the stall.

“YOU NO GIRL!” Gaberas gasped! “You a boy elf!”

Tamtheril didn’t budge, just sighed in relief. He turned around and attempted to head towards the stall door, tucking himself in. He was stopped by a large, hairy muzzle in his face.

Dreogan, Gamling’s war stallion, was not a happy horse. He didn’t like strange people in his stall. He wouldn’t let strange people ride him; in fact he barely tolerated his Man riding him and he didn’t necessarily do everything his Man wanted him to do. And now, here was a strange, small person, with weird ears and a weirder smell, doing something odorous in the corner of his stall. He snorted loudly, blowing the strange little person’s hair and stepped towards him.

Tamtheril took a step back and opened his mouth to scream.

“NO YELL!” Gaberas stepped into the stall. “Just Dreogan! Here!” She smacked the stallion on the shoulder. Angrily, the war horse turned to face the little girl. Before he could nudge her on the shoulder, she shoved her apple into his face. “Here, hare-y cree-ten!” Gaberas had spent some time with her soon to be Aunt Aefre and picked up some new vocabulary.

The apple disappeared and a now mollified war horse took his ill gotten gains to the other side of the stall, ignoring the two children.

~*~

“I caught two scallywags in my garden, picking the blooms from my herbs!” Cook was furious and uncaring that she was lambasting two beloved Elves and their son in the rough, guttural Rohirrim language neither understood. Eowyn was at a total loss, unwilling to completely translate the things the woman was saying. Really, someone should have a talk with her about her lack of decorum. “They high-tailed it through a hole in the fence and turned the chickens loose! I’ve two kitchen boys cleaning up their mess when I need them here! I’ll bet they had something to do with the half eaten pastries on the table!”

Eowyn turned to Tam’s parents. “They’ve gone through the gardens and the chicken coop. Our next stop will be the barns.”

~*~

Gaberas and Tamtheril had settled on a comfortable pile of new hay, with two fresh apples. They peered into the rafters, watching the late afternoon sunbeams dance from beam to beam.

“Cae.” Tamtheril gave a big yawn. Riding for seven hours, after riding for days, and now with a full tummy, the inevitable was catching up fast.

“’K.” Gaberas repeated. “I’m tired. Are you?” The last thing she was aware of, was Dreogan’s wet nuzzle, gently lifting the apple from her hand.

~*~

Eowyn slid quietly into the barn, obviously comfortable in the dusky light. Nickers and whinnies greeted the White Lady of Rohan as she stole into the corridor. She absently scratched Firefoot on the nose – she was convinced the stallion preferred her to her brother, regardless of what he thought. She pointed down one side and watching the Elven couple check stalls on the left, she went down the right.

An out breath of relief was heard moments later from Caarima, but when Nimmarron opened the gate to Dreogan’s stall, he found himself confronted by a very spiteful, very protective mother… stallion, who stuck his apple sauced coated nose rather rudely in Nimmarron’s face and proceeded to back the Elf out of his stall. Nimmarron found himself being gently pulled from the stall.

“Go get Gamling.” Eowyn whispered softly. “Gamling. Ask for Gamling. In the hall.” Nimmarron took off, backtracking the way they came.

Tamtheril and Gaberas were sound asleep on Dreogan’s hay pile, Tam curled on his side, a small fist under his cheek, while Gaberas was sprawled rather inelegantly on her back. The last of the sunbeams were winking slowly out on their small forms.

“Will he hurt my ion?” Caarima whispered.

“No.” Eowyn’s voice was equally lowered. “But he’ll hurt anyone who disturbs them.” She took in the Elleth’s startled look. “Your son is being protected by one of the bravest horses in Rohan.”

It seemed forever, but finally Gamling and several others came into the barn, very loudly and rather jovially. The red headed bridegroom stood in front of his stallion, shaking his leonine head. “Since when did you start babysitting? Move over!” He walked in between the stallion and the children. He motioned Nimmarron into the stall and with a gentleness not many would have believed, scooped up his niece. Waiting for the Elf to retrieve his son, he scratched the horse on the nose. “I see what you’ve been up to! No apples for you during the trip!” He one-handed the gate shut and listened for Eowyn to drop the bar.

Both Gamling and Nimmarron gently shouldered their small burdens back up to Methuseld and Gaberas briefly glimpsed Tamtheril as his father took him down a different hallway.

Somewhere, she was switched to smaller, more feminine hands and clucked over by a familiar and comforting voice. Day clothes came off, disappointed sounds coming from her mother’s lips, messing up good special day clothes, and a nightdress draped over her head. As Gaberas’ head hit her pillow, she vaguely wondered what mischief she and Tamtheril would get into during the wedding tomorrow.

*Fini*


Cae – resting place
Yrch – literally, it means ‘orcs’ but I’ve used it in the past for ‘Ick’ or ‘Yuck’… gross, disgusting… etc.
Ion – Son
Eas – eat