11th June: Returning with gifts

Cotton chuckled. "Reckon you'd learn quick enough if you had to, though," he said. "Dunno how he got to be so good, but I ain't complainin' about it." He stirred the contents of his pan, thinking. "No harm in askin', is there? Anyway, who says he don't want?"

This time Freddie's approach looked even more ominous: His small figure practically vanished under the saddle he carried on his one shoulder, brittle and sattle-cloth were draped over the other, and in one hand he still held his kettle, holding it rigidly away from his body, presumably so that no dirt would get into it.

When he came closer, it became soon obvious that his performance as batman must have went well; his grin was bigger than ever, his eyes danced, and probably only the fact that he needed his chin to keep the saddle-cloth from sliding prevented another exhilarated outburst.

On reaching the fire again, he handed the still surprisingly heavy kettle over to Pye, then deposited the saddle and brittle on a trunk.

Practically dancing, he exclaimed: "It goed good! 'Excuse me!' is good! And he likes it! He say he likes what I cook!"

But when his gaze fell on the kettle, a thought struck and he suddenly looked rather cast down. He hunkered down beside Pye and poked at the leftovers with the cooking-spoon. Glancing miserably up, he asked: "Only... He did not eat all ... What when he is ... only ... When he only says ...?"

Pye looked confused, glad the lad came back, but confused at what caused him mystery. He quickly took the kettle from the German, for fear that it, the saddle and their carrier might all suddenly tip over and tumble to the ground.

He let it slowly to the ground, his brow arched as he studied the other lad. "Oi.. Slow down. What do you mean?" He took Cotton's advice and tried speaking each word slow and well. "You said he liked it." This was going to take a while if he had to make it sound so!

"So..why are you now not happy?" He wondered about Cotton's suggestion that he might learn quick if he needed it. Well he wanted to need it, so that he would learn quick. It was odd how suddenly words meant so much more, spoken in a foreign tongue and how he had the drive and want to learn them.

Managing to calm down a bit, Freddie tried to explain: "I come and he say..s 'This smells delishes!'" Freddie gave a fair rendering of Captain Torrington's drawl, only stumbling on the last word.

"I think it means 'good'. I do stew on his Teller ... Platte ... plate. He says 'Thank you!'. Then he eats and says 'This is very good!'. But when I ... want to give him more, he says 'No, thank you!' and send..s me out. He says 'Eat some yourself!' Is it only good genug for me and not for him?"

"It doesn't mean good." Pye said with a serious, concerned face. "Doesn't mean good at all. Delicious." He shook his head , looking grave. "What your officer tried to tell you is....."

He paused to see if Friedrich was buying it. "......that the food is.." He hesitated again. "How can I say this." He paused yet again and then. "...It's far more n' good smelling!"

He grinned. "An' he probably jus' can't eat more. Them officers sometimes don't want seconds n' thirds n'.....sorry captain Vickery." He looked very timid and apologetic. "But it don't mean it ain't good.. jus' mean he's had enough and he's considerate fer you."

Freddie now looked truly crestfallen. He had thought that he had understood the captain, but probably he had been completely wrong. Pye was so concerned; had Freddie perhaps offended Captain Torrington? Was his career as batman over before it even had started?

Missing the brief grin, Freddie only caught Pye's timid glance at Captain Vickery. Now even his new friend had to suffer for his stupidity.

Picking at the food left in the kettle, unsure what to do either with it or himself, Freddie mumbled miserably: "I'm sorry!"

"...Oh.. daft thing." Pye had thought the lad would understand, but clearly he did not know enough English to do so. "Your officer enjoyed .. liked.. very, very very much liked the smell and I think the taste of your food too. Else he would not say it was good. Delicious means more than good. .." He tried to indicate this with his hands.

"Good." Was a small distance between his hands. "Delicious." He made his hands come apart as far as he could have them. "For food only though. Couse you do not say it was a delicious fight, or... it was a delicious lass...not 'zactly you don't. Understood?" He smiled brightly to show the lad not to worry. Here he had wanted to tease him, but caused him misery instead!

A glimmer of hope stole back in Freddie's eyes. "You mean ... he really liked it?" Then he suddenly he realized what Pye had done; his sad mien was replaced by a fit of laughter. "Oh, you are ... You really think he just was ... satt?" He relaxed, strocking his belly, looking remarkably like a cat who had managed to eat her share of cream.

"..Satisfied?" He grinned. " He was full. Like... like this." He held his mug up, which was full of his tea he had not drank yet. "Not empty.. like...." He pointed at his plate which was quite empty of food. "See, full... couldn't take , eat more. " He chuckled at Friedrich.

"I'm sorry. I... teased you before. a little. Yes, He liked it." He was trying his best to speak as understandable as he could, even if that meant that he spoke slower than before.

"Good!" Grinning, Freddie relaxed completely again. He felt slightly embarrassed, but also fabulous. It had been so long that somebody had poked fun at him that it had taken some time to understand it, but now Freddie thought that he liked it very much.

A bit self-conscious, he pointed at the kettle: "Do you want? We need the ... kettle ... empty ... for the ..." He pointed at the onions.
Recalling that Cotton and Captain Vickery were also present, he looked at them. "That is ... Captain ... Herr Cotton ... it is not much ... but ... do you want ... Sir!", he ended in a rush before his tongue tied itself in knots for good.

Pye would have loved to take any food from what was left in the kettle, but knew the pecking order well, so he looked eager but silent. He glanced at the captain, who would be first, and then at Cotton, whose turn it would be next. If both of them had decided to eat that as well, it would mean nothing left for either of the boys. Of course Pye's stomach would not agree with that, even if there was more food to be cooked by either party. But he had to respect his possition.

To distract himself a little he murmured. "You should not be so worried. Jus' speal slow first. A'right. Slow so people understand. NObody's goin' ter eat ya."

Vikery chuckled. "No, thank you. This is more than enough. It is delicious though... köstlich."

Poor Rottländer didn't seem to know what to do with himself, he seemed so self-conscious around Vickery.

Cotton shrugged. "There's more than enough for all three of us, Pye, don't be so..." he shook his head, smiling ruefully, unable to think of the word.

Slowly, to give the Captain or Cotton time to protest if he had understood something incorrectly, Freddie took Pye's bowl, ladled a morsel of meat and vegetables into it, then did the same for Cotton.

Offering the bowls to their respective owners, he announced:

"Here! Stew nach Rottländer Art. Guten Appetit!"

Pye was grinning ear to ear. He accepted the plate gratefully and smiled, nodded, then grinned again. "Thank you! " There it was, meat and vegetables. FOOD. And it was on his plate so it was his. He scooted back a bit and ate, almost looking as though he would have bitten anyone who dared take his plate from him before it was completely empty and all of its contents in his belly.

And.. indeed he did eat quite fast.

Freddie goggled at the sight of Pye wolfing down his stew. Never before had someone eaten his food with such an appetite. His new friend really must be hungry!

Thinking that he better should make haste with the next course of their impromptu dinner, Freddie scraped what morsels were left into his own bowl, than set it down. Placing the kettle once more in the fire, he put in the onions. They sizzled in the hot fat and the aromatic smell that soon drifted from the fire site was mouth-watering.

Throwing in an few spices, he stirred, the asked Pye:

"Can you pour your wine in? A bit?"

"Sure, you're jus' tell me how much." Pye murmured and had been by all means finished with his plate. He looked happy, but happier still that there would be more food to be had. Reaching out with his bottle he tipped it forward and into the kettle. "Jus' tell me when it's enough, will ye?"

The sweet smell of cooking wine joined the onions' spicy one and wafted around the two young riflemen standing side by side, peering into the kettle. When the onions were covered, Freddie made a cut-throat gesture.

"Genug. The rest is for drink."

Putting the lid on the pot, Freddie dropped down cross-legged and pulled the sattle closer. With the tip of one boot, he carefully pushed his own bowl closer to Pye.

"When you are ... still hungry."

The bottle was tipped back and then held in a possition from which no wine would be lost. Boy did it smell good. Such a sweet, nice smell that Pye wished one could eat the smell as well as the food that it came from. He licked his lips.

When Friedrich spoke again, after nudging his plate towards the rifleman, the lad blinked in confusion. He was not sure if he understood correctly. When he was what? Perhaps Friedrich had wanted to say if? Did he really mean to give him what was on his plate?

"If.. do you mean, if I am still hungry?" He was and the food was so good. "But.. will you be alright?" He was very willing to eat any leftovers so even if Friedrich would eat something and not the rest, Pye would not think it wrong to finish. " Are you sure to give me that?" He asked, because he was not certain what the boy wanted to say and whether the food was just moved a bit out of the way or meant for him to eat.

Freddieknit his brow: "'Wenn' is 'when' and 'wenn' is 'if'? Why have you two words? When is it 'if'?"

Nudging the bowl even closer to Pye, he added: "You eat this. I clean saddle. In the other ... case you eat wahrscheinlich the bowl."

He watched Pye intendly for an reaction. Had he understood the joke?

"There's when.... in a way.. of what time. When will you come. .. At what time will you come, sort of. And then there is.. if.. which means... if you would like something. It's different. Like that."

"I..." Saddle? Oh, he just noticed that. So, either he eats it and Friedrich cleans the saddle, or he... no, he did not understand, but he liked the first option more anyway. "So, I can eat it? Won't eat the plate...just what's in it. Promise."

"Yes, you can eat it. The food. Not the plate." Freddie grinned. His little joke had at least been understandable. By now he had in the course of one evening talked and learned more English then in the whole month before.

Brushing the saddle with a vengeance to remove even the tiniest speck of dirt, he let the other rifleman eat in companionable silence.

Pye glanced briefly at Cotton and then shuffled to the plate. This he ate slower, not because he was any less hungry but because he wanted to show that he was quite grateful and did want to enjoy the food given. It was hard to keep himself from wolfing it down, and more so to not appear as if he was defending it from being taken, but he gave it a valiant attempt.

"Thank you." He spoke while he ate, glancing at the saddle. "Germans.. are fine folk." He added, sheepish because he knew he had told Cotton before quite a different story. But Friedrich had easily turned him around to warm up to this strange speaking nation. "How do you say.. horse ?"

Looking quite bashful, Freddie replied rather sheepishly: "English are .. auch fine. You", he indicated the camp, "are all fine."

Taking up his brush again, he quickly changed the subject.

"A horse ... that's ein Pferd. Eine Stute when ... if it is a girl."

He looked at Pye to see whether he had done it right.

"Auch...is auch also?" Pye inquired curiously and smiled. He then repeated the name for horse and then for mare because he thought that Stute must have been that just as Friedrich said. "Mare.. mare is a female horse." He said and grinned. "So.. Stute is a mare?"

He had managed to clean the plate so well, while eating from it, that it almost did not need a wash or wipe. He looked happiest then, relaxed because he was not feeling like his tummy wanted to growl in frustration of not getting food.

"If .. if you want to know a word for something, you tell, a'right?"

"Mare ... yes, a fe-male horse." Freddie repeated thoughtfully. Then he asked confused: "What is then a night-mare? A black horse?"

He had had a few bad nights after he had killed his first Frenchman, and someone had used the word, but he hadn't been able to puzzle out his exact meaning yet, and he hadn't dared to ask before.