I do not ride enough. It is patently obvious because Eohir is absolutely wild and loving his run. Were he not such a fine horse, he'd be acting up. As it is, I'm sure there's a smile on his long, horsey face as we canter around. I let him out-and-out run for a while but we'll be out longer this way. I'll have to see if the not quite ripe apples in the trees suit him.
There's another rider, and I'm surprised to see that his clothing is almost as old-fashioned as mine.
"Good day for a ride." He does have a bit of a look on his face and I don't know him. Or the horse.
While Faramir does not actually own the horse that come to the village with him, it is a quarter-Meara gelding. If D'Artagnan knows horses, he'll see quality. Faramir's clothing and tack is from home. Styling is about 200 years or so before Musketeer times.
"It's possible. I haven't noticed any new horses lately, but they might not have one. Else I just haven't noticed." Anything is possible. "Once we have our horses stabled, we can check at the desk of the hotel. There is a list of everyone who stays there and you can see if you recognise anyone."
The stable is ahead and Eohir is a bit prone to prance, the show-off.
"I did not know anyone when I arrived, but my own brother came in a few days." From about five years in my future, but that's too confusing to say.
"He is not. I have been here longer than most." It'd difficult to describe Boromir's time here and that he could not have gone back home. Instead, he went to a world called Cardassia where he has much to do.
"I was not the one who met him when he first arrived. That was Sophie, who had met me a few days before. Thus she had some idea of how to deal with Boromir." In that, a lady was better than a man. Not that he would have acted badly regardless, but he'd be calmer for a lady. "Sophie was from Paris, the first person I ever met from that city. And Boromir ended up working in the stables."
I'm grinning widely though d'Artagnan could not know why I find that so amusing.
"Yes." The look normal enough from the outside, not too modern. Of course there are electric lights inside but a stable is still a stable. I dismount so we can enter.
"I'm not sure who is in to help now, but you don't really need anyone. There are enough empty stalls and places for your tack." Grooming brushes to share. Food and water.
The stables were nice. And he hadn't yet been at the Garrison long enough to get used to having grooms take Gaston. With a nod and a "my thanks," d'Artagnan found a stall for his horse and tended to him, telling Gaston as much as himself that he was sure they wouldn't be here long.
He wasn't too sure of that, though.
Hand on the grip of his sword, d'Artagnan stepped out from the stall and looked around for Faramir, the man who was his guide to this strange place.
I give Eohir a last pat and a promise that I'll be back soon. I need to ride more--he needs more attention.
"To the hotel, then."
That is not far either, as nothing in the village is very far. I don't really know that it's crowded out, but seeing the way people are dressed makes me wonder what it's like to see them that way for the first time. I don't remember it so well.
"That very tall building ahead is the hotel." So far, we haven't seen anyone with blue hair or blue skin or naked gold dragons either. Simpler without those things.
Everyone was dressed so differently. So scantily, really. d'Artagnan found himself staring, then looking away, staring then looking away. No corsets? Suffice to say he was intrigued.
He looked to where Faramir was pointing, anyway. It was, perhaps, the King's castle aside, the tallest building he'd seen. "And everyone here sleeps there?"
"All of us brought to the village from other places, yes. The building is not full." Not close to it. "There will be a room waiting for you. Mine had some of my own things in it when I arrived."
I think most people's do.
"My room looked strange at first, strange to me. It was like a room at a hotel like this would be. Later on it changed and looks more like a room at the citadel in Minas Tirith would be. That is where I live at home, when not on duty."
"The rooms ... change?" In case Faramir was curious, d'Artagnan looked at him as if he had quite lost his mind. (Admittedly, he was glad he had a room. To be homeless in such a strange place didn't bear thinking on.)
"Mine did and I know other rooms have. It did not change while I was in it." That would have been very disturbing. "I returned one day and it was different. Yours might be like an ordinary hotel room when you get there or it might have already changed to look like something you would want. I do not know how often that happens."
Had it looked like a room in the citadel when I arrived it still would have been incongruous with the hallways. And mine is not on the scale of the citadel--it was not built by and for Men who were seven feet tall.
Puffing out a breath, d'Artagnan shook his head. This all was so strange. He would find out soon enough if the room he was given was actually nicer than what he might have had in Paris.
To the "hotel" it was. By the time a third person had walked by, quite nearly naked, he leaned in to Faramir to ask in a whisper, "does everyone here wear so few clothes?"
"Most wear quite little in the summer. I don't usually wear my clothing from home, but my trousers are always long and my shirts are closed to wrist and neck. That is more than most, as you can see." Some women's dresses and skirts are past their knees and a few men will wear long sleeves and suits.
"There are several who wear less. They do not require the clothing for protection and prefer to go without. It is disconcerting but can be gotten used to." Especially when one of those is my lady.
"They wear almost nothing to swim in. Men and women swim together. It's... distracting."
"I've become accustomed to it. The first time I saw Glaurnaneth..." That I do remember. "She doesn't usually wear clothes at all. It's a good reminder to keep the eyes on a woman's face when speaking with her."
As opposed to anywhere else they might wander.
The hotel lobby isn't crowded, but it might seem very large and grand--and bright and clean as well.
There's another rider, and I'm surprised to see that his clothing is almost as old-fashioned as mine.
"Good day for a ride." He does have a bit of a look on his face and I don't know him. Or the horse.
While Faramir does not actually own the horse that come to the village with him, it is a quarter-Meara gelding. If D'Artagnan knows horses, he'll see quality. Faramir's clothing and tack is from home. Styling is about 200 years or so before Musketeer times.
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The stable is ahead and Eohir is a bit prone to prance, the show-off.
"I did not know anyone when I arrived, but my own brother came in a few days." From about five years in my future, but that's too confusing to say.
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"I was not the one who met him when he first arrived. That was Sophie, who had met me a few days before. Thus she had some idea of how to deal with Boromir." In that, a lady was better than a man. Not that he would have acted badly regardless, but he'd be calmer for a lady. "Sophie was from Paris, the first person I ever met from that city. And Boromir ended up working in the stables."
I'm grinning widely though d'Artagnan could not know why I find that so amusing.
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"These are the stables?" he asked, seeing a likely building looming ahead.
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"I'm not sure who is in to help now, but you don't really need anyone. There are enough empty stalls and places for your tack." Grooming brushes to share. Food and water.
It shouldn't take us long.
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He wasn't too sure of that, though.
Hand on the grip of his sword, d'Artagnan stepped out from the stall and looked around for Faramir, the man who was his guide to this strange place.
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"To the hotel, then."
That is not far either, as nothing in the village is very far. I don't really know that it's crowded out, but seeing the way people are dressed makes me wonder what it's like to see them that way for the first time. I don't remember it so well.
"That very tall building ahead is the hotel." So far, we haven't seen anyone with blue hair or blue skin or naked gold dragons either. Simpler without those things.
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He looked to where Faramir was pointing, anyway. It was, perhaps, the King's castle aside, the tallest building he'd seen. "And everyone here sleeps there?"
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I think most people's do.
"My room looked strange at first, strange to me. It was like a room at a hotel like this would be. Later on it changed and looks more like a room at the citadel in Minas Tirith would be. That is where I live at home, when not on duty."
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Had it looked like a room in the citadel when I arrived it still would have been incongruous with the hallways. And mine is not on the scale of the citadel--it was not built by and for Men who were seven feet tall.
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To the "hotel" it was. By the time a third person had walked by, quite nearly naked, he leaned in to Faramir to ask in a whisper, "does everyone here wear so few clothes?"
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"Most wear quite little in the summer. I don't usually wear my clothing from home, but my trousers are always long and my shirts are closed to wrist and neck. That is more than most, as you can see." Some women's dresses and skirts are past their knees and a few men will wear long sleeves and suits.
"There are several who wear less. They do not require the clothing for protection and prefer to go without. It is disconcerting but can be gotten used to." Especially when one of those is my lady.
"They wear almost nothing to swim in. Men and women swim together. It's... distracting."
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Such a trial; his smile was crooked.
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As opposed to anywhere else they might wander.
The hotel lobby isn't crowded, but it might seem very large and grand--and bright and clean as well.
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