Chicken Chase [Calon]

[Calon]

It had been his day off from the stable work. Ideally, the man had wanted to sleep in and rest and relax. Though, Calon was sure that that would not be the case. He had, after all, come to Minas Tirith to help his elderly grandparents. Surely there would be some tasks for him to complete for them. Still, perhaps he would be allowed to spend some more hours in bed before he set out to do such errands.

It had been just past dawn when his grandmother had woken him by throwing a basket upon his bed. Naturally, he startled awake. “Get up, Calon. Do not waste the day, dear.” His grandmother’s sweetly round face and smiling eyes made it hard for the young man to be truly disgruntled that he had been roused in such a manner. Still, a hint of displeasure did sparkle behind his lovely ocean irises. It was dawn. The day had hardly been wasted.

Still, in response, Calon merely responded, “Yes Grandmother, one would not wish to do such a dreadful thing.” She sensed his sarcasm and jest and erupted into an even brighter smile.

“Well, someone has to look after you,” she jested in return. She was well aware her little grandson was growing up before her eyes. While he was not her youngest, she hardly saw the rest of them. Perhaps she would send them a letter and tell them to visit sometime soon. She did miss them, so. “The market today, dear. I am in need of some herbs, and your grandfather does need some more firewood. We just you to place the order,” she explained quickly.

His grandfather was a metal worker, a smithy for the Steward. He was constantly working orders for swords, shields, armor. The man used plenty of wood to keep his fires burning. And rather than go out and cut it himself, he saw to a man who was a woodchopper at the market. It made it easy on everyone; employed one, and provided delivery for the other.

“The list of herbs is in the basket.” His grandmother added thoughtfully and turned to go. And so, the day had begun.

He had placed the order and had already gotten the herbs requested safely in his basket. However, he took his time in returning to his home. Some fresh air would do him good, and he liked the bustle of the marketplace.

The bustle seemed to pick up before him as people jumped aside and scurried out of the way of some approaching being. Calon, though, was surprised that it was merely a chicken. He smiled to himself and chuckled. Some hen had escaped from the seller, he assumed, and eyed the thing curiously. It was trying so desperately to get away! He began to walk off, and leave the chicken to its freedom but stopped seeing a young woman stumbling after it with quite an upset look on her face. Exactly how long had she been after the bird?

He reached a strong hand to still her movements before she careened into a man who was paying no attention to his surroundings. “Slow down, there.” He said rather cheerily. By no means was it an order, but a friendly sentence to make his moves seem less bold and condescending. “Did you lose you bird, my lady?” He asked, motioning with his head to the fleeing ball of feathers.

“Perhaps a second pair of hands will help you.”

[Narbeleth]

Through the crowded market, she had made her way for a few minutes now, chasing after the clucking creature. The woman was quite upset that the chicken had gone from her this far, and if it were not the busiest time of day at the market, she was certain she would have caught up with the thing already. She would not let a hen outsmart her!

All of a sudden it seemed that a hand had grasped her shoulder, or perhaps she had simply run into it. A quick glance told her that the man in front of her had purposely blocked her path though. The other man in front of them at unawares moved past them, jostling her in the other shoulder. Surely he was not paying attention either! “Slow down, there.” Well, the young man’s voice was not angry at least; but what was he doing? Keeping her from her prize! And now she had lost sight of her target. She sighed inwardly.

“Did you lose you bird, my lady? Perhaps a second pair of hands will help you.”

Did he think he was being clever; pointing out the obvious to her? “Morelike, my bird has lost me!” the woman exclaimed, a slight grin breaking over her features as her eyes roved back over the crowd. Oh! The bird wished to challenge her then; well she would show it who was in charge, and make it into a pie later. Well, at least if another were to help her, they could perhaps corner the thing or shepherd it into some direction in which it might be captured more easily. “You may help, if you enjoy good chase.” She shrugged the man’s hand off her, turning her attention back to her hidden prey.

“Oh, confounded hen, I will stuff you into a pie tonight!” she called after the bird as she spotted the white blot, as if saying such would bring it any closer to her. “Aha! There she is!” Narbeleth glanced at the man once more, but did not wait for him, and instead she hoisted her skirts in one hand, and took off again, weaving her way lithely through the crowd before her.

[Calon]

For a moment, Calon wondered if his preventing the lady from barreling into another man had upset her. She seemed at least confused he had cared to stop her, or that he had been so intrusive. By all means, he would not wish for her to think such things of him, but he certainly would not have been a chivalrous man if he had allowed them both to topple to the ground. One, or both of them could have been hurt. And then surely the chicken would have made a stealthy escape!

“You may help, if you enjoy good chase.” She did not seem too upset, though, or if she had been at all, she had overcome such grief quickly. Enjoy a good chase? Why, he always did! Hunting was such a thrill. He smiled down at her, and then over to the flighty chicken.

The noises were drowning out it’s hysterical clucking, and the feet of other citizens had momentarily blocked it from view. It seemed though, that both Calon and this new woman had caught sight of it at the same time. Immediately she cursed it, and yelled that she would put it in a pie, and the man began to laugh quietly.

What an individual! It was not often one met a woman who was willing to buy a live chicken to use in a meal; for the same reason, he presumed, that very few women went hunting. He, though, happened to enjoy both very much. She took off running after the bird before Calon could truly offer her some advice on how they could catch it without causing such an uproar in the markets; but the man just laughed all the harder and tucked his basket securely under his arm and started off himself.

He was not running, but he was taking quiet and long strides; an art he had perfected as a child when deer hunting with his brother and father. It was not useful at all to startle the animal, after all. Though, with the way the dark-haired woman was rushing after it, he assumed it was already in a fine frenzy.

He weaved through the people and finally ducked a bit out of the way, attempting to avoid the massive crowds and head off the flightless fowl. He could see the woman better than the man could see the chicken, and used her as his gauge for distance needed. Soon he had passed her, and sure enough could hear the obnoxious squawking of the prey. Easily he stepped over and in front of the chicken, but a good eight feet away. It was not his intention yet to catch the bird merely steer it and manipulate the situation. The bird startled and in a new flurry of feathers, immediately altered course down a side-street of the markets.

Perfect. Calon smiled as he raised his eyebrows at the woman and motioned with his head down the same road. It would be far less crowded, and they would surely stand a better chance at catching the hen.

[Narbeleth]

The man had laughed at her now! Well… perhaps he was laughing with her, and not at her, for she felt her own laughter rise up, and as she took off, she was smiling. He seemed kind, nonetheless; perhaps he had not stopped her simply to evade her from catching the chicken. She did not even know why she had thought such. As if he were on the chicken’s side, to help it escape! The laughter burst from her lips at her own thought, as the flighty creature stayed ahead of her.

It seemed that as Narbeleth chased after the chicken, she had even lost the man that had caught her and displayed interest in helping her. She had to do enough to pay attention to the fat white creature, and still avoid rushing into anyone. Women’s skirts swished about her feet, and she had to whisk around more than one man carrying a bundle that she could have easily knocked over if she had not been paying attention. She was graceful though, and avoided all situations that could have caused for such trouble.

Well, she mused. A proper man, or woman, for that, cannot be seen running through the streets as I am now. Despite her chastising herself in her mind, it did nothing to still her quick feet as she continued in hot pursuit. Momentarily though, she saw the man again, and it seemed he had overtaken her, and somehow come out ahead, though she had not seen him run past. He must have gone off and around the crowds. Narbeleth shook her head at that. Why had she not thought better of herself and done the same? She must look a fool, chasing through thick crowds as such, and after a hen nonetheless!

She came upon them, and it seemed that for a moment he had stalled the chicken in its place, as it was standing not far in front of the tall man. Narbeleth walked more slowly as she approached, though slow for her was simply a word, and in just moments she had come up behind them. The man startled the chicken, and it changed its course of direction, running down the alley of a side street. Oh, what a good idea! At least he knew what he was doing, to steer the bird off so that they might have better chance to catch it.

Narbeleth caught the man’s look and raised eyebrow, and as they started down the street after it, she let him lead. It seemed he was well experienced in cornering his game. Perhaps, she thought, he had his own chickens back home, and knew how to distinguish their actions and lead them on for their capture. She could not help but laugh aloud at the thought of the tall man chasing after chickens daily, and she covered her mouth quickly, following behind at his slower pace. It seemed he thought that running after it was not the correct measure.

It seemed he was right, because even as they came out onto another street, the flustered chicken had calmed slightly. Narbeleth waited though, and did not dart after it. She wished to see what this man would do.

[Calon]

It seemed that Calon’s steady refusal to dart after the frenzied hen had caused the strange new woman to think of her own pace. He smiled a bit to himself. She seemed to learn quite quick!

Curiously, he wondered why she had begun to laugh. Did she enjoy such a chase? For a moment the man was slightly amused at the idea. To go chasing after chickens for fun seemed quite the strange pastime. Though, perhaps he was not in such a place to judge.

While he never once hunted chickens; deer and boar were often the source of his own entertainment. Hunting, he assumed, pleased everyone in some way. Some women hunted jewels, fine dresses and suitors. Some men, like himself, took after wild game. Some women, apparently, hunted stray chickens. It was all a mater of tastes, truly.

He had turned off down the side branch of market booths, his ocean eyes quickly assessing his surroundings. At the basket weaver’s shop there were two people bartering, at the vegetable stand, there was a sole customer, and he seemed to be taking his time picking his items. It seemed that all of the booths her were spotted with people; but the crowd was hardly roaring. It should suit their purposes fine.

He stepped lightly, and cautiously, now watching the bird itself. If he waited for it to calm, it would, perhaps, stand still long enough to catch or even approach. Judging by the anxious sounds, though, the chicken was a long way away from being so calm. He glanced to the woman over his shoulder and flashed her a quite charming smile, and then once more turned to look at the fowl. “Perchance if we guide it to the baskets, it will catch itself,” he mused aloud for the woman behind to hear. If not catch itself, give them time enough to toss one of them over it until they could get a handle on the thing.

It seemed like their best option at this point. Perhaps, the bird simply needed enticement. His eyes flashed to the vegetable stand, and there right on the very end was a row of ears of corn. If it came to such, he would purchase one for the use of the kernels.

Until then, he would try and keep the money in his pocket.

[Narbeleth]

Narbeleth followed after until they made it past the booths and the basket weaver’s shop was just ahead. The chicken seemed to stop, and was still clucking it’s way about. She was now trailing rather closely to the man, and as he checked to see where she was, and flashed a smile at her, she beamed back at him. This was quite the amusing game of strategy.

“Perchance if we guide it to the baskets, it will catch itself.”

“Half-witted hen,” Narbeleth cooed in a soft voice. “Oh, you will be the tastiest dish, after all this exercise you are getting now,” she joked, humoring both herself, and perhaps the man who was strategizing the capture of it. She was in quite a light hearted mood, for having her morning at the market turn out so interesting. Most women would have either been upset or angry, or given up. But Narbeleth was having far too much fun now.

The woman moved to the side back behind the hen to herd it in the right direction, while letting the man take to the side he was already on. They should be able to corner it quite easily now. Yes. She imagined a flustered hen would be good at catching itself. And it seemed that it was, for it began to move right in the direction of which they wished it to.

“Oh, hen-herder, I think you might find yourself a new job upon the market streets for your talent. Do you always chase down lady’s chickens?” the woman asked, now speaking to Calon as she kept her eyes on the white feathered thing in front of her. He seemed a good humored man after all, for he had been smiling and laughing the entire time.

[Calon]

It seemed to Calon that the young woman was taking much enjoyment in his suggestion; and it brought the endearing smile on his face to widen slightly. “Oh, you will be the tastiest dish, after all this exercise you are getting now,” she had cooed to the bird. The man bit back a merry laugh, and gave her a slightly quizzically amused face. What an individual.

He turned his eyes back to the bird, who was beginning to make its way to the baskets completely unawares of what the two two-legged creatures has deduced as a plan. Calon stepped softly forward, but only a few feet, so the chicken would not startle greatly. But it put the chicken on enough edge to take another hop toward the waiting baskets.

Yes, it seemed all beings had the same instincts. Fight or flight. Luckily for Calon, and for the pretty young woman in his company, chickens primarily relied on the flight aspect.

“Oh, hen-herder, I think you might find yourself a new job upon the market streets for your talent. Do you always chase down lady’s chickens?”

At the the man did laugh. “It is not often that such talents are needed,” he flashed her another smile. “I highly doubt it would prove to be as lovely as my current position.” He paused a moment to chuckle a bit more. “And I must say, you are the first Lady I have helped in such a way. It is quite an honor for you, what with my hen-herding skills.” He jested lightly.

He had taken his attention away from the hen long enough that it had moved a bit away, and was no longer in the position Calon had wished it in. For a quick moment he reassessed the situation. He stepped lightlt to the side, guiding the chicken back to where it had been. “Now, my Lady. Which basket would you wish your feathered friend into?” He asked lightly.

[Narbeleth]

“It is quite an honor for you, what with my hen-herding skills.” Narbeleth smiled, though now she did not remove her eyes from the hen. The man enjoyed wit it seemed, which made the experience all the more pleasurable. What was better than to joke about a runaway chicken? She was certainly glad that it was she on this mission, and not her elder sister, for Miriel would have been fuming by now, and likely given up entirely. Grandfather would be out on a lovely birthday meal. “I shall feel well esteemed then, among all of Gondor, that I have received your celebrated services this day.”

She watched the chicken hop forward, and saw that now it was in the most delightful place for its own capture. “I should say, that large one right there, with the splint weaving. It will make a lovely chicken catcher.” the woman pointed to the basket directly to the side of the chicken nearer the tall man. If he could make the right movement, he should be able to flip it right over the chicken’s feathery body, and hold her there until they placed her back in the carrying basket she had brought from her home.

“And then, Miss Hen, you shall be right in this basket at my arm, and I shall not let you escape this time,” she continued to woo the plump hen, wagging her finger at it, with an entertained look upon her face. The chicken let out a ‘brrrk’ as if in response to her comment. Perhaps she spent far too much time with her little siblings, to have such an attitude toward the creature and speak to it so. Well, if the man should cast judgment on her, so be it. She was having fun.

She stood in her place now, for it seemed the man had stopped in his and had positioned the chicken where he deemed it best. It would not escape on this side, for certainly if the bird were to move, it would not run past the one who had placed it in the basket in the first place, and risk its capture. If anywhere, it would go beneath the cart just to the other side, but it seemed as if the man had it set just perfect now.

[Calon]

The woman jested in return, and he smiled, but did not let his ocean eyes stray from the bird. It was fidgeting, sporadically flapping its wings and squawking loudly. His celebrated services? Inwardly, Calon was quite pleased. He, like any other man of Gondor, was a proud one. Being thought of so highly, even in jest, was enough to stroke well one’s ego.

It was quite a manly thing to do, perhaps not the act of cornering and catching a chicken, but in helping a lovely young maiden claim her prize. Chivalry, after all, was the mark of a true man. And Calon was by all means one of those.

“I should say, that large one right there, with the splint weaving. It will make a lovely chicken catcher.” Calon flicked his gaze to it momentarily before nodding. “Yes, it does appear to be quite fine for the job.” He stepped forward, moving slowly so as not to frighten the creature away once more. How utterly embarrassing it would be for a man such as he to be outwitted by a mindless fowl!

As he did such, the woman once more spoke to the bird. Oh, what a strange thing to do! Still, it amused the man highly. Never before had he met someone so intriguing. Leastways a woman that was so. He wondered fleetingly if she was from Minas Tirth. He had never before seen her, so he doubted highly he lived on the fourth tier with him and his grandparents. What a shame, truly. If he had encountered someone as lively each time he came to market, the chore would certainly be less of one.

Swiftly, and fluidly, he flipped the basket over, and it landed atop the hen. He set his boot atop of it proudly and flashed the woman a grin of accomplishment. “Well, then, my lady. It seems I have something that belongs to you,” he half sung. Oh, what a lively beginning to his day. Surely the rest of his errands would be quick, now that he had exerted himself this morning!

[Narbeleth]

Narbeleth watched as the man slowly made his move upon the bird, his hand reaching out for the basket, and the bird looking nervous and clucking. Then in a flash, he flipped the basket over, and the chicken was again a captive bird, much to it’s dismay.

The man placed his foot upon the basket to try and still any further escapes, though it seemed that once the bird was in the dark for a moment, it desisted it’s thrashing and became quite still. “Well, then, my lady. It seems I have something that belongs to you.” His voice was larkish, and he did seem to be grinning quite proudly to have captured the hen as he did.

Well, good. She thought, contemplating his comment with a smile. It seems that not only have I re-gathered my chicken, but I have spent the morning boosting a man’s self-pride.

The young woman grinned, thinking on how she might further the situation to his delight with her words. “And I thank you, my fine huntsman." She had finally decided that to call him a 'huntsman' would be much lovelier than a 'hen-herder', at least to his own ears, and to her own amusement. "My Grandfather’s birthday supper, and my little sister’s feather pillow shall be owed to your technique,” the woman laughed lightly, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she approached the man and basketed chicken.

“Now, if you should help me to get it into this basket,” she motioned to the one upon her arm, removing it and opening it’s wicker frame so that the chicken might be placed inside. There were now some stray feathers in the basket, and she dumped them on the ground, watching the white fluff fall to the cobbles before her.

“How shall I pay you then, for your hen-herding services?” she jested, now standing in front of the man, and looking up at him with her ruffled hair and cheekish grin, knowing the he would not ask anything of her. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the situation as was. Narbeleth hoped that she had not too disturbed his morning activities… whatever they may have been.

[Calon]

“And I thank you, my fine huntsman.”

Calon grinned pompously upon hearing the woman’s voice call him such a name. It amused him, perhaps, that she did not know how true her statement was. Calon was quite a fine huntsman; in fact, Calon was the finest huntsman in his family. Even his older brother had been surpassed by this young man in skills with a bow and aim. She continued to bolster his ego more, by letting him know of the future events he had protected.

“Well, then it is certainly no problem. Your grandfather does deserve such a delectable bird for his birthday. And a pillow is simply necessary!” His lilt was still quite light, and full of good humor, as it seemed the lady was herself. She extended her own basket and immediately, the man dropped the one that was tucked under his own arm and laid it upon the ground by his foot to give him two hands.

It was quick, and the dear chicken never did knew what grabbed him, or why he had not been able to run into the market street once more. Calon had a firm, but not cruel, grip on the creature and in mock spite stuffed it into the basket at the woman’s arm, shutting the top of it firmly.

The dark haired woman inquired about payment, and of course, Calon knew she was continuing to jest with him. He simply laughed in return and crossed his arms in a rather bemused fashion. “Well, my lady, it does appear that you are quite lucky yet again. For today is the day of Free Chicken Catching. So says the Steward, leastways, and so I obey. But do try to keep your little escape artist where he belongs—it is only free for the first catch, you see.” His blue eyes sparkled in both merriment and sunlight before he finally swooped up his own basket.

He paused a moment, and then looked to the basket once more, and returned his eyes to hers, bowing slightly. “Well, my lady, I do hope your grandfather appreciates the trouble you have gone through for this bird,” he spoke. He did need to be returning to his own home, after all, and this woman had a long day of cooking ahead of her.

[Narbeleth]

Narbeleth assisted in holding the basket while the man stuffed the squawking chicken into it. The way the man glared at the chicken was quite ridiculous, and he shut the lid. The bird attempted to flutter about in its small enclosure, but it was to no avail. Captive she was! And soon to be in a pie as well!

At her comment of payment, the man seemed to come right out with another jest. “Free chicken catching day! Oh the Valar have blessed me so!” the woman exclaimed jubilantly as she heard. She beamed, and clasped her hands together, with the basket still on her arm, looking up at the sky as if to thank the heavenly beings that so led their days in the manner of their choosing. Indeed, they had blessed her morning with a nice bit of humor. It would amuse her so to think of it as she spent the day in the kitchen preparing a right feast for Grandfather’s birthday.

“Did you hear that, plump hen, you best not escape again, because the Steward offers only the first catch, and this man really does need to go about his day. I am sure he has his own business to attend to.” The woman was looking down at the basket on her arm, smirking.

Then she turned back to the man. “Thank you, my Lord,” she said one last time, in all seriousness with a slight nod and curtsey. “That your day is ever as blessed as my morning had been.” She smiled at him for a moment, and then raised her eyebrows, nodding up to the sky once more as if to remind him of the Valar leading their days, and handing out their blessings. Finally, she reached to make sure the cord on the basket was quiet tied, and that the chicken would have no further escape, and then she looked away, turning to head down the street back toward the sixth tier.

As Narbeleth left, she felt in even a cheerier mood than she had been in that morning. Oh the Valar, they always left her in good spirits! Almost immediately as she had turned, she began to hum to herself and then sing aloud as she walked, light footed and almost skipping her way back down the cobbles.

[Calon]

Calon fought more laughter as the woman spoke directly to the chicken once more, and played along with his humor. He tilted his head slightly, as he watched her and ended up letting a chuckle escape him. What a strange young woman! Still, she hardly seemed dull; as most women in the city certainly did.

She asked the Valar to deliver him an equally blessed afternoon, and began to move off. But first, Calon watched amusedly as she double-checked the tie on the basket. Oh, it was quite the good idea. That bird had been all in a fluster as he had stuffed her inside. As the grey-eyed lady began to meld into the bustle of the palace he heard her humming, and it seemed her step was light enough for her to be skipping.

He stared after her a moment, pleasantly amused. My, what a morning! He swooped and tucked his own basket under his arm, and began to rejoin the crowd himself, and return back to his grandparents to deliver the spices and the receipt for his grandfather’s wood order.

Suddenly it dawned on him that he had not caught the lady’s name, and it almost bothered him. Not because he was in dire need to know, but because he had been quite ungentlemanly in not offering his own and inquiring as to hers. He let all of his unease release, though, with a smile, and an upward glance to the sky.

If he was to meet the woman again, the Valar would provide such an occurrence. It was not in his control, nor did he wish it to be. Things simply were, with Calon. Either way, it had turned his errand into quite the story to tell upon his return home. Even if the woman was never seen again, he would be contented. And so, to the rest of his day!