Archive of Our Own ^beta

Piemur whistles a tune, quite loudly, as he approaches the little tent. There is a time and a place for stealth, and this is not it. He most definitely does not want to surprise the people in that tent.

He’s pretty sure the drawing for who has to go and tell the Masterharper and his lovers that the storm is over and it’s safe to come back to the Gather was rigged, given how hard everyone else giggled when he drew the short straw. Just because he’s Menolly’s friend! And really, shouldn’t that be a reason not to send him? He doesn’t want to see his friend in...well, whatever shenanigans she and Sebell and the Masterharper get up to, which for the record he is not asking about and never has, because shards no.

He rings the bell outside the tent flap, and Menolly’s familiar voice calls, “Enter!”

Piemur braces himself and ducks in.

Menolly and Sebell and the Masterharper are looking rather disheveled - Menolly’s hair is half out of its braid, Sebell’s shirt is missing, and the Masterharper looks extremely well-kissed - but instead of clearly having just sprung apart out of a tryst, they are all crowded together around a slate that Menolly is scrawling on with a bit of chalk; Sebell is hunched over a battered old gitar and plucking out a melody, pausing every so often to shake his head and start over.

“Piemur! Just the man!” the Masterharper says, looking up and grinning. “Come, come, you can advise us - I think this would call for one drum, Menolly thinks two would be better.”

“Ah - sure, Masterharper,” Piemur says, settling down beside Menolly and peering at the notations on the slate. It is one of Menolly’s tunings, obviously - she has a very recognizable style - about storms at sea, apparently, with drums to provide the rolls of thunder. “Not two drums,” Piemur decides at last, “but maybe a cymbal? For the lightning?”

“Perfect!” the Masterharper says, slapping his knee in glee. Piemur tries not to notice that the Masterharper’s tunic is halfway unlaced. “Absolutely perfect!”

“Yes, that works beautifully, thank you, Piemur,” Menolly says, looking up to grin at him. “Thanks!”

“My pleasure,” Piemur says. “Ah - so the rain’s over.”

“Oh!” Menolly says, blinking in surprise; Sebell and the Masterharper also look rather startled at this revelation. “Oops, we didn’t notice.”

“Alas,” the Masterharper says, “we shall have to resume this collaboration later - the Lord Holder did express a desire to speak with me, and I oughtn’t put that off any longer than the weather requires.” He rises, setting his tunic to rights with a few swift motions and combing a hand through his hair until it falls into place, once again the dignified Masterharper in every particular - until he bends and kisses, first Menolly, and then Sebell, firmly on the lips. “Come along as you can, my darlings.”

“I think we’ve almost got this draft finished; we’ll follow you as soon as possible,” Sebell says. “Here, what do you think of this variation?” He plucks out a swift melody as the Masterharper leaves, and Menolly beams.

“Yes, that’s perfect! I don’t suppose you brought your drum, Piemur?”

Piemur shakes his head, laughing. “No, I didn’t, because I didn’t think I was going to interrupt a musical tryst, you ridiculous woman.”

Menolly’s cheeks go pink. “Oh. Um. Yes.”

“We got distracted,” Sebell says, a little sheepishly.

“Only you three would get distracted from that by composing,” Piemur snorts.

“Yes, but aren’t you glad we did?” Menolly returns. “Sebell, can you fix my hair while I get this written out properly?”

“Sure,” Sebell says, setting the gitar aside and moving to sit behind her, smiling softly as he starts to re-braid her hair. Piemur shakes his head and rises.

“See you out at the Gather,” he says. “And next time, I’ll remember to bring a drum!”

Sebell winks at him. “Next time, maybe I won’t let us get distracted,” he says, and Piemur makes his escape before Sebell can say anything that would cause him to actually need to cover his ears and start singing nonsense to drown it out.

He leaves whistling Menolly’s new tune, same as everyone will be, soon enough.