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[tu_vas_triompher]

Even the excuse of coming out of a very strange week of not being himself isn't enough to keep Feuilly from work--but he finds that in that week, barely remembered, he finished up his translation of the Pasteur volume, and made a great deal of progress reading it over! Or at least he thinks that's what he's done. The notebook with the translation is full of marks in green pencil, in his handwriting, making corrections that he certainly agrees with.

So for the morning he carries on correcting his work, now with a dog lying on his feet in a way that will be welcome in winter weather; and when his two hours are up he makes his way to the stables with an odd feeling of having gotten ahead of himself somehow.

Comments

[harryhotspur]

Harry's there, of course, sparring with an invisible enemy with one of the practice swords. It's not a particularly useful exercise, but in the dreamy haze of the last week he half-remembers remembers practicing with Feuilly, but not being very good at it. Well, good enough, really quite good by most people's standards, but not by his own. And he wanted to make sure-- just be perfectly sure-- that he hadn't somehow really forgotten everything he knew.

(He hasn't.)

When he sees Feuilly approaching, he abandons the effort, swinging the sword up to rest against his shoulder and giving Feuilly a wave.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Are you winning?"

He'd thought of bringing Hector, but it's a warm afternoon and the old fellow might not appreciate having to sit in the stableyard; instead Feuilly'd left him to sniff his way around the bedroom. As far as he can tell Hector does have some vision--a fair amount in one eye, at least. But he'll try to make a point of keeping his room tidier, more predictable.

...not that Hector is his dog or anything, just, you know. If the dog happens to spend any time there.

Which is a long way of saying that it's just Feuilly, and he grins at Harry's sparring.

[harryhotspur]

"I always win," Harry replies with a laugh (and no, even he doesn't actually believe that). "Hast made good use of the day?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Yes! Well--whatever else was happening this last week, I kept to my work. I'm well ahead of where I thought I'd be. --So. Riding, eh?"

He makes a bit of a face, more amusement than anything else.

[harryhotspur]

Harry laughs at his expression and gives him a gentle nudge. "Why, I will not force thee..."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"You couldn't." Feuilly laughs. "--Ehh, no, I want to. It's just--I know sooner or later I'll make such a fool of myself that you'll lose all patience--"

[harryhotspur]

"I can be most patient," he says. Even he doesn't sound completely convinced by this. "But thou wilt take to it, I am sure of it. Come: we must first greet Duncan."

He makes for the stables and for Duncan's stall. He has a bit of light bribery in the form of a carrot ready to hand. He breaks it in half and offers a piece to Feuilly.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Sure, Harry's patience, that infinite thing. Feuilly follows him to the stall, smiling a little. "I did ride from my village to the town--twice--by mule--without falling off. When I was a boy. But I should probably confess that I couldn't get back up on her again once I'd gotten down to deliver my message. Had to walk back again leading her. Oh! I brought my own, and an apple, but we'll keep those till Duncan has more to forgive?"

At least he has some faith in Duncan's patience.

[harryhotspur]

"Why, then! Thou shalt be perfect," Harry laughs. "Ay, we may save it-- though truly, thou needst not fear his good opinion. 'tis thou dost stand to fall, not he."

"If thou dost fall," he adds after a moment's consideration. "Thou wilt wish to catch thyself, to throw thy hands out to hold thee from the ground. But thou canst not do, 'tis the way to break thy wrist, landing on it so." He jabs the heel of his hand, arm outstretched, against the stall to demonstrate.

[tu_vas_triompher]

He looks over from Duncan's consumption of the carrot. Yes. "Bahorel told me something the same. If I ever had to escape the police over rooftops, I guess. Or get down from a high wall." It's the sort of wisdom Bahorel likes to impart.

[harryhotspur]

"Didst climb a deal of walls and rooftops in Paris?" he asks. "But I think there will be little need-- we shall go slowly."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"I didn't. But who knows about Bahorel?" Feuilly shakes his head. Even supposing that half of what Bahorel says about anything is pure invention, you're left with quite a few adventures.

"--All right. So."

So.

Horse.

[harryhotspur]

Horse! Harry gives Duncan's nose a pat.

"Wilt please thee watch whiles I do saddle him, and then when next we come, thou canst lend a hand?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"All right, that sounds good." Ordinarily he'd push to try it himself--the best way to learn--but he'll be taking in enough new things today that the saddling can wait. "I have seen it done before," he adds hastily.

[harryhotspur]

"I doubt it not!" Harry calls back, already en route to the tack room.

In fact, Harry isn't particularly good at this part of things: he knows how, obviously, and is perfectly capable, but he's used to having grooms to take care of the saddling and such. So he moves through slowly, deliberately, narrating each step to Feuilly as he goes.

When Duncan is saddled and ready, Harry leads him out into the paddock.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly appreciates the slow walk through, yes. And not only because it means putting off the moment of truth when Harry discovers--what, anyway? It's not as though he has any reason to expect failure and embarrassment.

As he reminds himself several times as they go out to the paddock.

[harryhotspur]

Harry stands expectantly for a moment or two before it strikes him that Feuilly doesn't know how to get on.

"O-- yes-- I will help thee. Put one hand here--" He places one hand at the base of Duncan's neck. "And t'other here--" Farther down his back. "And I will make a step for thee, here, while thou dost pull thyself up, and swing'st t'other leg over."

Easy! Right?

[tu_vas_triompher]

Yes, right, getting on.

The first attempt ends with him kicking Duncan's rump, and apologizing to him and to Harry. The second attempt gets him stranded for what feels like an hour clinging to the side of the horse before he slides down again.

The third time he kicks Harry.

[harryhotspur]

Harry, knocked backwards, takes a moment or two to sit on the ground and make sure his nose really definitely isn't bleeding.

"Thou couldst lie across on thy stomach, and then sit up," he says dubiously from behind his hands.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Oh, God--I'm so sorry--" Feuilly slithers down Duncan's side--he'd made it maybe three-quarters of the way up!--and hurries over to check the nose situation himself. "I'm so sorry--are you--I almost had it that time but--"

[harryhotspur]

"Nay, go back!" Harry cries, waving him away. "Thou hadst nearly made it!"

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly retreats, and decides that it's about time to break out another piece of carrot. "You're a saint," he murmurs to Duncan. "I am so very sorry. --Are you all right, Harry? I'm--I'm so sorry--"

[harryhotspur]

"Thou needst not apologize-- I will forbid thee say the word if thou speak'st it again." He gets to his feet. "Come. We will to the fence, and see if thou canst not make it up from a greater height."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"I'm--" He doesn't say it. "--Yes, let's try the fence?" Feuilly doesn't have to worry about kicking the fence in the face.

"Maybe I should try to find one of those donkeys. The ones that are only about so high."

[harryhotspur]

"Nay, sir!" Harry declares. "I will see thee on this horse, or I will die in the attempt."

He leads Duncan alongside the fence. Then, since he can this time, rather than just describing it, he demonstrates how Feuilly can use the fence to boost himself up.

"And I will hold him still," Harry assures him as he dismounts.