Tianwen·Magweth Pengolodh

The smell of the store—ink, vellum, glue, paint—almost sent him right then and there into another wave of hazy memories.Several other pages of manuscripts were pinned to the wall, and others lined up on the wide counter.Pengolod inspected the work area behind the counter.There are a few desks there, and it looks like some projects are in the middle of it.The only living person in the shop was a boy of thirteen or fourteen, with cropped hair short and pimples on his face.The boy had stopped cleaning now, gaping at Pengolod.

"Are you an elf?" asked the child in a distorted voice.

Pengolod didn't know if the child could speak Sindarin, and suddenly he was not sure about his Adunak accent, so he nodded silently.

The child stared at Pengolod again from head to toe, from the long hair to the flowing silk gown that almost swept the floor.The boy's round red face began to sweat, and he stammered, "My lord... er... ma'am... er... you are very... er... what should I call you? Sir? Ma'am?"

For a moment, Pengolod froze in place in astonishment.Then, for the first time since leaving Central Continent, he smiled and said narrowly, "Guess."

The boy opened his mouth, his face turned as deep as a beetroot: "Uh...uh..." Then he hurried to the back door of the store, poked his head out, and shouted hoarsely: "Master! Master—! One, one, one noble elf has come to the shop! Come back quickly!" He glanced at Pengolod again in embarrassment, and while pulling the back door, he shrank behind it.Pengolod caught a glimpse of a large courtyard with a well in the middle.

"Come on, boy, you know I can't go so fast--ah! My lord!" laughed the innkeeper warmly. "I reckon I'm amusing you, boy?" he asked.Because Pengolod was leaning against the counter at this moment, already bent over laughing.

Wiping away the tears from his laughter, Pengolod looked at the person coming.The shopkeeper, dressed in blue and yellow, could not have been more than a mortal thirty.His tawny beard was trimmed neatly to match his short tawny curls, and he smiled with teeth as good as any elf's.He stroked his mustache nervously with his free hand.Although he appeared to be in his prime, he had a cane tucked under his right armpit and entered the store with a crippling limp.

Pengolod replied, "Yes, he did. In fact, I haven't been happier in ages. Your apprentice is really witty."

"Really?" The man raised his eyebrows, "This is the first time I've heard of it."

Behind the door, the boy grunted in terror.Pengolod couldn't help feeling sympathetic: "Really. He regards me as a nobleman of my family, but I am not. I am not of noble origin, but a scholar who writes books, just like you."

Pengolod was scrutinized for the second time from head to toe. "In my opinion, it is understandable for that kid to make such a mistake. You must be an elite figure in your field, and I am afraid that you are a member of Ram Beiying Gemo!"

"How do you know Rambeingom?" Pengolod asked.He secretly noticed that the man not only pronounced the word accurately, but said it with breathless reverence.

The innkeeper replied in Sindarin: "Every one of the high mortal scholars of your language—that is, Erendiri—has heard of your guild of scholars, which includes your king... I hope I Can't you speak Sindarin too badly?" He stopped when he saw Pengolod raise his eyebrows.

"Not at all. Since we came to Romenna, your accent is the most authentic among mortals I have met." Pengolod said in the same language, not without mocking, "The king should hire you to meet the elf ship .If you're not a professional scholar—but I think you are, like me, born to be—how did you learn to speak Sindarin?"

"My father, Eyadwine, was—" This is the first time, the shopkeeper paused,"—a small trader on a boat. We have a word for it in Adunak. His father came from Middle-earth learned Sindarin. We Númenoreans are not all kin of Elroth, but my father's father was a fisherman from Lindon. My father had some business with the Elves west of the Isle. I am a... just I couldn't go into business because of this leg disability (we also have a special word for this in Adunak), but I remember that my father sold rushes and lamp oil to the elves at night, and I remember the reflection on the water starlight, and the soft rhythm of their voices.” At this point, he had moved to the counter, “When I was a child, I learned this language naturally by listening to the people around me. And as long as I My father is doing business with elves, and I will never sleep; no matter how late, I will find a way to see it. So I was named 'Alfwine'."

This mortal name meant "Friend of the Elves"; like many names, it was spoken in a language older than everyday speech, and Pengolod, accustomed to understand the meaning, remembered it. "My name is Pengolod." He stretched his hand across the counter.

Alfwine switched back to Adunak and said, "I would have gladly shook your hand, but I'm covered in ink—ah." He stopped when he caught sight of Pengolod's extended hand. Mouth—those slender and graceful fingers were also stained with ink.

"It's been 1000 years and it still won't wash off," Pengolods said.

"That's no problem for me!" Alfwine laughed and shook his hand enthusiastically.Then he changed the language: "I'm really slack, I used one language first, and then changed to another...Elvish language is obviously much better."

"On the contrary, I like Adunak very much," Pengolod said, switching back to Adunak himself.Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the child sneak back into the store. "Here my ship has spent the day, and I will sail to Eldamar tonight. I have been wandering about just to hear more of the language."

Alfwine leaned over the counter: "You must think it's terribly harsh—so many consonants, and all the dirty words they say in the bazaar."

"It's harsh, but it's not pejorative, like spirits. Also, the use of consonants bears a striking resemblance to Quenya, and even Valarin, the language the Valar speak themselves."

"Velarian? Can you speak more?" Alfwine asked eagerly.

The two chatted amicably about esoteric linguistic knowledge for an entire hour.The boy in the shop was confused; he had a grand name--Aerlinian, and was Alfwine's apprentice.Pengolod learned that Alfwine was like himself, not of high birth, but endowed with a keen mind and determination to make good use of it, and open-minded, willing to see the wonders of Arda .He suddenly felt a twinge in his heart, but that pain was different from memory.In this world, Pengolod has lived for more than an era, and has survived many changes.One of the things he's learned from experience is that friendship is precious.He's here, talking to a potential friend -- if only he'll spend the night, drink some wine, and have a nice conversation.However, their friendship was doomed before it started.

The sky changed from noon to afternoon, and he stood in this small shop, feeling that all the pain of saying goodbye to Zhongzhou was concentrated by the fact that he was about to lose this friend he almost made.Alfwine then showed him around the store and allowed him to go behind the counter, but he forced himself to maintain a relaxed attitude.It was no use, he thought, to take out all his immortal pain on someone who could do nothing about it.The ship will set sail, and he will try to find comfort in memory.It is said that one of his great strengths is that he never forgets anything.Pengolod wondered if that meant he felt memories more vividly than other elves, too.Then he turned his attention back to his master.

"Most of the business is stuff for sailing, which is pretty dull, but at least it's books, maps, or manuscripts. I mention the Elvish thing on the sign, and I do a little bit of that kind of work every week. , mainly to give names, or to write love poems to courting lads. This week I was asked the most about the anchor rope," said Alfwiner.

"Anchor rope?" Pengolod immediately remembered, it was hanging above Alfwine's signboard, "What does it mean?"

Alfwine shrugged: "It means that I have a room that I can rent out to sailors, or people who need to find a place to stay temporarily. In the past, everyone came and went for the war in Middle-earth, and the rental brought I have a stable income, but that is dwindling. I have a deserted shop and I have to look after apprentices, so I don't want to rent to anyone with bad morals. In the autumn, when the big ships come home, the boarders The traffic is better. This week, I've turned down four rascals."

Pengolod was silent for a moment.He looked at the small shop, the stunned child, and this friendly man. Five minutes ago, he had been tortured by his own immortality; but now, he perceived its advantages.If he chooses to make a layover, he has time and has nothing to lose.So he said briskly: "I've been thinking about writing an article on the subject of Adunak;