abraxaslogs | No One Wept Except The Willow [closed]

They told him that song would be welcome, but he has no gift for song. He would not wager that his singing would cheer anyone, though he does not think it would offend much, either.

Fortunately, Mat does sing, well enough to sing for coin, and the people here could use an extra hand. Jon's foot is not quite healed, so he cannot yet help in the tunnels, but he can get around well enough that he can hand out trinkets and smile at children and hide his anger at their injuries.

At least they're healing.

He looks at Mat and says, "Maybe we hold back the flutes until after you've sung, unless you want a whole band of butterflies."

Edited 2023-09-24 23:07 (UTC)

Mat, too, would much prefer to bring smiles to those who need it than labor in a tunnel. He's practically a gleeman, and that's just what those folks need. Maybe he ought to make himself a proper coat...not that anyone here would know what it meant. Not at first. Anyhow, Jon makes a fantastic counterpoint to his comedic flare. Funny always works best when there's a counterpoint fellow.

Mat has not yet learned the term 'straight man'.

"As dramatic as that could be, probably best to hold off indeed. Could end up a touch chaotic." He has his bag slung over his shoulder as well as an instrument case - his lap harp, the smallest of his instruments.

"But I've got the whole bag of tricks with me. Juggling clubs, some story props, cards...poor mites deserve a proper show."

The sort that taverns usually pay him for.

"Aye, they do. And the sweets, those won't go amiss."

He refers to the little balls of sugar that turn tongues a color and predict a fate. A jape for children, he thinks, but they are among children, so it's fitting.

He has a little sack of them.

"Wish Alicent was still here. She was better at things like this than me."

But, with a shrug, he steps away to begin passing out the treats. The flutes can, indeed, wait for later.

"You'll do alright, Jon. Just think of'em all as your own wee siblings. You're handing out treats, they won't be hard to please."

The man who gives out the treats is always beloved. It's what Mat chooses to focus on in Jon's comment. They're supposed to be bringers of joy, no time for sad conversations right now.

Instead Mat grins wide and sets himself down on a stool, somewhat center, and begins unpacking his own bag. The brightly colored clubs first, pulled out with a flourish. The lap harp. Even without a gleeman's cloak, it's clear he's here to entertain them. He meets a few curious looks and winks, all smiles and bright eyes.

He tends to be at his best around children.

The children take to the treats and the show well enough, and Jon tries to think of every child as Arya or Bran -- which touches him with a brief passing melancholy. His siblings are dead, but these children are not. And he ought to learn to visit the sick and wounded: it's a part of his duties at home, but not a part he's performed much, excepting after his battle against Bolton. His leg had been injured then, too, and he had not yet been a king, only a grateful general and half a fool.

The fact is that it's more a queen's duty to visit children who are healing, and one day, if he can ever find his way home, and if they all survive, he will have to find a queen.

That thought compounds the melancholy, but only briefly. My sad face doesn't help these children, he thinks. If any of them notice, it will rather take away from the effect Mat is working hard to create. So he tries not to think of any of the other things, and tries to remember to be happy that they've all been lucky enough to survive.

The smile doesn't reach his eyes, but it is a smile, and when Mat finishes a song, he claps as hard as anyone, and calls out, "Another!"

"Another?" Mat laughs, pretending to hem and haw as if it's some great burden. He exaggerates it, though, obviously putting on a show for humor's sake.

"Well...I think maybe I could manage another..." He just needs to think of another that's appropriate for wee ears. A large number of Mat's catalogue is bawdy songs and love ballads, which are always popular at taverns. Not so much in children's wards.

"But how about something a little different? I'm a many trick pony, as it happens!" He sets the harp aside and reaches for his clubs instead. He can tell Jon's trying to get into the spirit here. He can also tell it's not exactly something that comes easily to him. Time to give him something to focus on.

"Jon, come here, grab the little hand drum out my bag. You can drum a beat for me."

He looks at Mat, looks at the bag, looks at the children with a half-smile and a sheepish shrug. He is a little more into the spirit of the thing now.

"I thought we were here to entertain them," he says, in a way that is part of the entertainment, which gets a laugh out of some of the boys and girls.

But he gets the drum out and looks to Mat for further guidance. He's picked up on a few of the same songs, but what you sing in a tavern is not what you sing for sick children. And at the Wall, not much of what was said or sung was soft enough for ears this tender. He can't imagine singing "The Dornishman's Wife" to this lot.

"The one about the little dog?"

Edited 2023-10-14 22:36 (UTC)

Jon is taking to it well. Mat thought he might.

"Perfect." Simple, very basic beat, and it encourages the wee ones to sing along. And it's easy to juggle to. That's a trick he's found with juggling, it's much easier if one is singing and keeping to a beat. The toss and catch just becomes part of that rhythm. No wonder so many gleeman sing while they juggle.

"Alright you lot, sing along the chorus with us, we'll go through once so you can hear it, and then you join in. And we speed up just a bit each time."

Until he intentionally goes faster than he can juggle, because it always makes the little ones laugh when he drops everything in a creatively controlled scramble. When it comes to children, it's not always about being good. It's about entertaining them, amusing them. Playing the buffoon sometimes.

He's very good at playing the buffoon.

Jon knows that Mat can juggle perfectly well -- that this is part of his act. It puts him in mind of Pyp a little, the way he would act the fool now and then to make his friends laugh. Pyp and Mat would have liked each other. Might be they'll have a chance to see one day.

So he shrugs and says to the children, "I can't juggle at all. Neither can my wolf, back at home. Give Mat a hand."

At the mention of the wolf, a few of the children look confused, but it's forgotten when they begin to applaud delightedly.

He leans over to Mat and mutters, "Time for the flutes?"

Mat's all grins as he gathers his clubs. The little ones are having a good time, and that's all he cares about. He's been a hurt child, and a child with not much to look forward to in a day. Little things can go a long way, and a bit of joy can carry well into the night. He thinks they've given them that. A bit of joy they can hold onto in the dark and quiet.

And now is the time. He turns to Jon with a resigned nod.

"Time for the flutes."

The cacaphony that arises once Jon has passed out the flutes and Mat has finished packing his things is truly impressive, and perhaps not the best thing for a place of rest... but at least the children are merry, now.

Thirty steps away from the place, they can still be heard.

[/end quest.]

No One Wept Except The Willow [closed]

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