Portalstones.com presents…

Mamma,
If we don't take the medication.
We won't sleep for days
We won't sleep for days…

A Your Friendly Neighborhood Production…

And Mamma,
If we pray to the lord,
Does he sing on the stage?
Oh does he sing on the stage?

Melisa Tomar and Ren o’Ladin in…

I want to get stuck
I want to get stuck
And be all day in your memories.

---

“What are you, a gleeman now, sir?”

Ren o’Ladin looked up from his book, the title Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace etched in gold worked letters on the spine of the red book, with a small smile playing on his bearded lips. It was a strange sight on his usually bare face, but the peppered beard made him look more distinguished than older. Running his hand through his graying brown hair, he rose from his small cot that filled most of the space in his “room”. That term was laughable at best; it was a prison, no more, no less. Wide enough to fit a small cot made for women, a stool with a washbasin, and a bucket with little else, much less a full-grown man and his was one of the bigger cells. The only thing that could be done was to lie and wait. A book was a blessing to stave off the boredom during the days and a song… well those were saved for good days which were far and in between these days.

There was no reason to go in why him and his companions where in these holding cells, it would only dampen the good mood he was in. instead he found a good song that he used to sing in his younger days, on his lips. The meaning was lost in its age, but it had a way of touching the spirit in a way that other melodies did not. Of course Kilan, being the youngster that he was wouldn’t recognize it as a farmer’s song. He would humor the boy, however.

“Gleeman? No lad, bit too old t’go be changin’ boots now. Not when they’re comfort like.” Ren said as he stretched his back, almost hitting his head on the back wall. “An’ what, with these here accommodations they set up for us? I reckon a gleeman would be jealous of what we got here.”

“I can’t tell if your joking or not, sir.” The youngster said in earnest. In a cell right across from Ren, with a setup that mirrored his own as well the rest of the cells in the dungeon. It was common knowledge that the Tower vehemently denied there were dungeons in the White Tower or was it that they never confirmed or denied it either way? It didn’t matter in the end however, Ren, Kilan, Melanie and at least a hundred more Children of the Light were being held as prisoners of war at the moment. So that meant they had to make the best of the situation as they could. As they all did in some fashion. “Though I never think I have.”

“Its called dry humor for a reason, lad.”

There was a scoff, but not in disrespect. Prisoners they were, but holding their military bearing was still expected of them. “What’s got your spirits up, sir? They’re serving us some new gruel?”

“Would give my horse for that, but no lad. Get t’see a friend t’day.”

“Ah, well tell her I said, 'hello' then.”

“Aye. Be sure t’send her that Kilan, lad.” Ren said with a smile and then more to the other Blades of Light, “Any o’you fine lads and lasses can conjure up somethin’ to say? Or should I send her your merry wishes?”

That was met with a unified “sir” from the rest of his squadron, something that usually happened when Ren went on his weekly errand. Using a strand of ribbon to hold his place in his book, Ren placed it under his pillow as his Warder escort came to see him to his meeting. With an amused smile, he checked for wrinkles in his tabard before putting it on, but leaving his cloak. It wouldn’t be prudent to have his entire uniform on even if it was sans armor and sword.

“Two hours Whitecloak. No more. No less.” A pale-faced warder said. He looked to be around Captain Melanie al’Dier’s age. Young with just enough hair on his upper lip to have it waxed. His blue eyes fixed to Ren’s with a hatred that would have moved the Dark One.

Ren met his stare levelly. He served in the Aiel War as well as the unfavorably named Whitecloak War as both a grunt and commander; a little boy’s hard stare would not deter him away. His companion saw this and shook his head. Filip Taldon, was older than the boy, with a beard as full as Ren’s and eyes of slate and was one of Ren’s regulars. Filip knew that while many of the Children P.O.W.’s would give trouble, Ren and the Blades would not. If there were a possibility that the Tower could see any Child in a… less heated way, then they would see the Blades that way. Several events had led to the two opposing factions working together for the greater good. And every time the Blades had shown to be trustworthy. It was partially the only reason that Ren could have these visitations.

“Aye, you’ll get no worry outta me.” Ren said with a small chortle. “But if that was ever a face only a Trolloc could love! A joke lad, any darker and y’face would look like mine!”

Both jokes got a sterner stare from the younger man, but Filip allowed a grin that showed through his eyes. Ah, jokes were wasted on the young. The walk was done in silence, with the normal glares and sniffs that came with walking through the Tower halls wearing all white and not being a pretty little girl. After a few moments, they came to a door that looked so familiar to the older Child of the Light. Knocking twice and waiting, he nodded to Filip respectfully before entering.

“Good morn’ Melisa Aes Sedai.” Ren said with a deep flourish as the door closed behind him. “You’re on the up and up hopefully? The boys and I mustered up these flowers, but misfortune smiled and squashed it un'er my tabard. Thought that counts, I reckon.”