Title: The Chanter's Tune
Rating: G
Summary: Merimac practices his new instrument.
Year: 1359

Special thanks to Dreamflower.

~*~*~

Saradoc gripped the binding of his book a little tighter and glared at the sentence he had started to read at least fifty times. And as long as his brother was in possession of that cursed thing his parents had given him for Yule, he never would finish it either. He glowered over the book’s edge at that dark piece of wood Merimac was so vigorously blowing into and cringed as yet another mistuned note made the whistle screech in the most dreadful manner.

Merimac, too, glared at his instrument – as if it were to blame for its lousy player! – took another overly deep breath and commenced anew. Saradoc bore his nails into the book to keep himself from aiming it at his brother, as he played up and down the scale to improve his finger movement. Oh, why did it have to be such a high-pitched, screechy instrument? Why not a zither, or even drums? Anything that was low and mellow and not loud and…. Saradoc cringed again and sucked in a breath as a second octave B was lost to too little air.

Merimac grumbled at the whistle, looked at the sheet music uncle Dino had given him only the other day – and Saradoc had half a mind of telling him just what he thought of musical presents for his brother – and started the tune Saradoc was already sick of hearing.

To his surprise it went fairly smooth this time, but Merimac stopped in its midst to glare at one of his fingers. Saradoc raised an eyebrow in confusion and watched in silent agitation as Merimac blew a note and moved said finger up and down the hole with increasing speed.

“See,” Merimac told his finger at length. “You’re not glued to that hole. You can move. You must move.”

‘Yes,’ Saradoc thought darkly. ‘You must move to another room.’

If Merimac had even bothered to look at him he would have stopped practicing immediately. Saradoc’s face was hidden in shadow and only his eyes glowed, reflecting the candlelight that illuminated their room. His breathing was laboured, an indication of the forced calm he so desperately tried to hold onto.

How could Merimac not be annoyed by his own squeaking? And why did he not tire? He had played that same tune for over an hour now, interrupting only to play up and down the scale, move his fingers in what he doubtlessly thought was a nimble way, and to have a sip of water while he cleared all the spit from his whistle. Really, if Saradoc didn’t hear him playing he would think all Merimac did was drool into his mouthpiece.

His brother was flushed to the tip of his ears from concentration and lack of breath – breath his notes would have been grateful for. And so would Saradoc, for that matter. It would at least make the melody bearable, make it music. Currently his brother sounded more like an infant trying to sing before it was even able to speak.

Saradoc kept scowling at the other end of the room and wondered if it was possible to get hoarse from whistling and how long it would take. Meanwhile, Merimac stopped again, took several deep breaths and closed his eyes. “Must. Not. Think.”

“Now, that shouldn’t be too difficult for you!” Saradoc blurted out. “In fact, I think that’s what you can do best. Not thinking.”

“You don’t understand,” Merimac explained oblivious of Saradoc’s angry tone. “I can play it by heart but I keep looking at the sheet music and if I would just let it flow instead of thinking about what I have to do next it would be…”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Saradoc yelled at him and jumped to his feet. “You sound dreadful either way and you don’t even realise it! It’s a pain to listen to you!”

The contentment vanished from Merimac’s face leaving it blank and unreadable. “Nobody made you listen.”

“As if I had a choice, since I am stuck in the same room as you!”

“I guess I had better find a room of my own, then,” Merimac replied after several moments of silence. He packed his nightshirt, a candle, his whistle and the sheet music, heaved his pillow and blanket over his shoulder, and strolled to the door. “I’m sure I will find a room with someone who appreciates my company.”

Saradoc watched in silence as the door closed behind his brother. He let out a heavy sigh and slumped back onto his bed. He pricked his ears to be greeted by his breathing alone. Blissful silence! He stretched himself, rolled onto his belly and picked up the book again.

Halfway through the sentence he was reading for what felt like the hundredth time he found himself glancing at the now empty bed on the opposite wall. He had the room all to himself. He could not even remember the last time he had had a room of his own. He should be happy, and he was; except that the room was so dreadfully quiet. It was almost eerie. No breathing apart from his own, no occasional rustle of bed sheets, no one pestering him with questions, telling him the news of the day, or urging him to play a game in spite of the lateness of the hour.

Saradoc closed his eyes and shook his head. Curse that Merimac! He shoved the book onto his nightstand and hastened out onto the corridor, ready to look for his brother. To his surprise he discovered said brother sitting on the opposite wall and grinning widely at the distressed expression on Saradoc’s face. “What…?”

“I knew you’d come looking for me sooner or later,” Merimac answered calmly and gathered up his belongings. “Only I would have thought it rather later than sooner.”

Saradoc gaped at him.

“Don’t worry. I’d probably have missed you too after a while. A little bit, at least.”

Saradoc could only stare as Merimac walked past him, threw blanket and pillow back onto the bed and plopped onto the mattress. The sheet music he put on the nightstand, before he, almost reluctantly, parted from his whistle and placed it carefully on top of the sheets of paper. His touch was gentle, almost affectionate and Saradoc would have laughed if the stinging pain of guilt had not made his insides cringe.

“Look, Mac,” he began as he closed the door behind him, but his brother cut him short.

“Do you think you could give me an hour or two every evening so that I stop sounding dreadful?”

Saradoc squirmed just at the thought of it but he nodded. “I could if you promise me to improve quickly.”

Merimac grinned from one ear to other, his face bright once more and his eyes shining. “You think I could….”

“No,” it was Saradoc’s turn to stop his brother’s eager talk. “Not tonight.”

Merimac’s shoulders sagged but the disappointment did not last long for his brother immediately produced a stack of cards from one of his nightstand drawers. “Shall we play?”

Saradoc looked longingly at his book, sighed, shrugged, and sat cross-legged onto the floor, an invitation his brother followed happily without notice. Well, it was what he had wanted, or wasn’t it?

~THE END~

For anybody who is interested, here is a soundfile of the Chanter's Tune (yes, it does exist). I'm a relatively new player, so the song itself is probably all but perfect, but I nonetheless recorded it. I'm afraid the quality isn't the best either. My MP3 player is more used to playing music rather than to record - especially music that needs so much air :)

Lily playing 'The Chanter's Tune'