7th day, dawn. Surgeons

he couldn't very well talk and play, and the new flute was growing on him somewhat, so he just arched one eyebrow and merged the end of one with the begining of another tune more suited to the head nodding, foot tapping lad, possibly.

A march- suitably named, he thought with a grin- sang out. A bit difficult to do the runs on this thing, when they were meant for a more endearing, but less travelling sackbut, but there you had it. He reckoned it was certainly recognisable, and that was what counted.

(ooc- look what i dredged up out of the music box- an old march (though possibly not written before this, sorry if that's the case) called the Gay hussar. it was that or invercargill, which Rob wouldn't know.)

(ooc - there's actually a melody named that way? XD . I only know of a Wild horseman or something like that.. but it's a piano piece, and.. has nothing to do with the present tune!)

He didn't disturb the man with talk, for it would firstly not have been polite and secondly it would disturb the enjoyment of music, neither of which he wished to do. Closing his eyes he could almost imagine that they weren't in a stuffy wagon on a dusty and in places even still wet and muddy road, with lines of men up ahead and behind, some that might have a poor scent on them, with possibility of fleas and other discomforts all over, but that he was someplace else alltogether.

He was glad to notice that that officer who was brought in still slept as if he had been hammered over the head, and had for now not made too great a sound, even the snoring being less prominent and disturbing.

(ooc- I know that piano peice! played it years ago... when I could still play. *blinks* och aye! there's plenty of strange marches out there!)

Rob slowed down a bit at the trio, feeling for the notes more than actually thinking of them, something he'd always aimed for in an instrument. the absolute...trust...that was between his fingers, mind, breath and the flute allowed him to play games he'd not be able to otherwise.

if it hadn't been for years of playing, he'd have twisted sharper, in smiling, as an amusing pun about being in harmony flitted accross the side of his mind.

The trio gave way back to the faster paced begining, and he played it, teasingly, like a gallop, grinning inside the whole time.

(ooc play it sometimes when I need some mind relax.. along with a ..different version of the Waltz (one of them at least) XD.. that one i can do with my eyes closed, or looking around. And hey, you can still play, especially any pieces you've practiced a lot. Just need to play them again! *grin* That's what I found at least)

He thought he recognised the tune, and was smiling at the surgeon's performance. The man did a comendable job playing the melody and when he opened his eyes to observe Sinclair, he noticed the manner in which he played. He was a skilled musician by the looks of it. Perhaps he should have asked him to play a tune before, sooner.

(oh, I play, but I shouldn't- did me arm in a couple years ago. so I switched to organ, which has a different touch and doesn't cause it such a problem. But I play every now and then, just not nearly as well I used to. *mourns*)

The gallop, as they tend to do, got faster and faster, until he reached about the limit of his speed, abruptly stopping. "oftentimes I'd have ter play it faster, waiting fer t'last pair ter fall over in their haste." he smiled at the lad opposite him, "But clearly that won't be the way today, so I must beg yer pardon at stopping so abruptly." He knew that given a few days of playing and he'd be up half as fast again, and possibly more at a stretch, but whether that would happen...idly he picked out a tune, observing the trail they'd left on their way.

(O.o What did you do? And apologies for such a late reply. Seems the sleep took me before I was able to say it! Well will be just dropping by tto say good bye any how!) )


"I've done a crime for sure and certain to not have asked you to play sooner." The Hussar chuckled and nodded, stlil speaking more softly as if believing it wouldn't have been right to speak too loud after such a piece.

He nodded again and with a grin he motioned towards the flute :"An interesting choice, you had there, sir." He added, satisfied.

(long story- various ligaments and tendons and muscles are trying their damdest to fall to peices on me. Very exciting, but not so great for fine motor skills.)

Rob smiled in appreciation, "Thankee lad, yer most kind." He leaned back, stretching his shoulders and arms slowly. "I hardly think they're that strange, given I'm surrounded by horses." He thought over the peices. They had all been to do with horses, in one way or another, nothing he'd done specifically at the time, but such was the way of his thoughts when he got caught up in the music that it didn't surprise him much. Stranger things had happened to him than playing four horse peices in quick succession on a new instrument.
"Aye, she'll do fer a toy for a bairn or two, nae doubt... but I reckon I'll weather her up some, first, if ye can stand hearing it pipe about."

(Ah. Aye not that pleasant :/ or better for the playing!)

"As long as you shall be playing such pieces as this, it shall be a splendid companion." He smiled at the surgeon and glanced to the flap. "So sir, where do you think we are going?" He asked for he was as much in the dark about it as the French that were set in their camp. Perhaps more, since they might've had scouts up ahead to observe the long line of movement. Who knew.

He wondered to ask whether to show him an easier piece that he might copy to play just for the entertainment of it too, but first wished to hear if the surgeon had more idea on their destination, the amount of possible French encounters and perhaps even on the length of the pleaseant warm weather.

"I know less than ye do, lad, which ye seem ter think is naught. All I ken is there's a road under us, and water nearby...and game not too far away." He scanned the small patch of sky they could see critically, "and a nice stretch of weather, I'd say."


He was interested to see how quickly a new tune could be grasped, by someone who hadn't, by all accounts, had any teaching in the matter. Clearly he had a sense of rhythm, though, the feet tapping being a clear indication. Gently he stroked the mouthpeice, pleased he hadn't offered to teach him a less traditional flute, this one having a simple whistle like mouthpiece which was easy to get sound out of.
He looked out into the middle distance, thinking. "Ye want ter have a try at this, lad? I'll teach ye a tune or two, if ye want."

"Yes, sir." A piece that he could play and not have the local cats yeowl and hope to see if there's a feline lass to meet, or that men would have him hang from a tree, was something that he was quite interested to learn. A tune was always something that lifted one's heart and was a language that the whole world knew how to speak even if each nation and even each village and town had it's own dialect and it's own kind of instruments.

"With your patience allowing." He added and grinned. "And your ear not bleedin'." He said at last, and shifted in his seat. Perhaps they would need to sedate their good officer, just to keep him peacefully asleep.

Rob laughed, "Aye, I've taught many a bairn ter play, dinna fear fer me ears yet. Tis a quiet instrument, anyway." His mind touched breifly on the agony of teaching the pipes and drum, but skittered away as he passed the flute over.

"Lets see what sorta noise ye make outta that, lad. Just fiddle around a wee bit." he stood and swapped the second flute for one he'd made a while ago, more similar to the one he'd passed Willoughby, but less carved. He tossed up whether the newer flute could deal with a bit more working.

While he was up he checked on the officer, snoring away like he'd never awaken. Lets hope there was no change until lunch, when he'd have ter wake him up, at least to check on him, and force some soup down his throat. "Just wiggle yer fingers, lad, see what comes out. See if ye can work somethign out without me, ay?" this could be interesting.

"Yes, sir." He aknowledged again before he placed the flute to his lips. He'd paused a moment and blew in some air with not a single finger covering a hole and then he began to work slowly, a hole per hole, till all had a finger that matched it. He'd taken a breath each time, and the sound was more crude and heavy the first time around.

The second he had gone less slow and allowed his fingers to dance across holes, while he'd taken a sole breath and let it out more slow and gentle just to see how fair better or worse that would work. Jumping a hole here and there he tried to see, what made and what unmade a certain sound then he looked up at Sinclair and had looked embarrassed. "..Sir,.. like this, yes?" What did he resemble?

Rob smiled encouragingly. "Aye, lad, a bit like. See, each hole puts in a note, or part of a note." He raised his own flute and placed his fingers on it deliberately, covering each hole. "See, this note is different ter the one I make with different combinations." Rapidly he ran up and down a scale. "and a tune is taking all them notes and knowing where ter put them."

Slowly he ascended the scale again, accenting the fingering. "Lets see if ye can run through just that, lad." no better way to learn fingering, and the instrument, than some breif, fast, scales. But not too many, or the beauty of the music would get drowned in paper work.

First he observed as the fingers moved in rapid manner then glancing at his own flute and set of fingers he made to follow the surgeon's example. A slow paced one at first and the second time it may have sounded as if he'd near released and moved all fingers from the flute at once. He had found himself chuckling which prevented him from blowing any air into the flute.

This he found was a reason one could not attempt to play it and not keep atleast a fair straight face.

The highest note had sounded off, and made the youth squint his eyes and try again more softly. He looked apologetic to the surgeon for the 'squeal' that he'd managed to bring from the finely carved instrument. "..'s not lookin' as hard." But playing a tune rather than scales was probably going to change his opinion on that.

"And ye've worked out all alone ye mun control t'air as well. Ye're a clever one, ay." Rob was assuring the lad there was no harm done in mistakes when practising, especially in the very first practise.

Of course, the trick of laughing while playing would be a long time in coming, and control maybe longer, but they'd get the basics done soon. "Enough of that though. Ye'll be wanting a tune. How bout something easy ter do first, ay?" He considered, not knowing esactly how well known all the tunes he'd been brought up on would be. There were few enough tunes in the camp, so it seemed, certainly no band, but surely the men sang something. He looked up questioningly, "What d'ye know well, lad? I could teach ye that first. Be easier than something ye don't know well."

(the send button disappeared for me o.o in pm, and here too, so jus' sayin' got it and have most fun with t' music! N'all!)

"Well, you have heard the usual ones, yes?" He knew the tunes the army played , the one that was frequently repeated at many a time by the redcoats. Wasn't something one could forget as easily, and then there were songs and tunes that came and went, and though he had heard them, he could not place a finger or ear to say he would remember them at all.

He hummed a starting melody of one, and looked to the doctor to have him pick of the tune for that.

(ooc- thanks. it does that to me too, sometimes. I think we're about to play ye banks and braes...but I could be wrong.)

"Aye, I know that one." Rob couldn't remember the name they used, specifically, but it didn't matter. Words were only the begining of the music, and all that. Again he placed all but his littlest finger down, and blew a low note. "Thats what ye start on, and then ter this one," he lifted all but his thumb and first two fingers, "now, ye tell me what the next note would be, tis one ye played not a moment before." Simple enough to start off with, indeed, and it would be easy enough to pick up, with such a repitition. he was glad he'd asked.

( ooc - could be that! I'm not quite versed in the names of them! And it seems that the buttons returned today, Yay!)

The flute rested at his lips and once he saw and heared the surgeon play the two notes he followed suit. It was easier to play when the speed wasn't that great and each note with near a pause inbetween them.

First note he played, a second he did then he tried to hum himsef the third and feel his fingers along the flute to find something of a similiar tone. He looked at Sinclair and tried again. " This one sir?" He asked and he repeated the first two along with the third he'd chosen.

Rob lsitened intently, hearing the melody again in his head. "Aye lad, though if ye move yer lips a little ye can change the sound slightly, which will make it sound more true. Try it." It was a technique he'd taken advantage of when playing with fingers which couldn't move as nimbly as he'd wanted, and one he'd used to greater effect to annoy various other players, who never seemed to be in tune with him.

He demonstrated, holding an E and moving it at least half a tone in each direction, before settling again on a the true tuning of the note. "Now lad, t'note which follows yer tune is one ye havna played afore. Try adn find it, though." He had always found it easier to remember things we'd he'd found them himself, and given there were at least two fingerings for Fsharp, it wouldn't be too hard to find one which sounded almost right.

"You can change a tone that way? " For the Hussar who had practiced none of the flute before, the way he had heard others play always made him think it was only the matter of covering and uncovering of the holes that made the sound. Not before did he consider that it could be something to do with the change of one's lips on the mouth of the flute.

"Like this then? " And his first attempt seemed to fail miserably, for he felt that the tone hadn't changed at all no matter what he was doing to the flute, short of changing and covering up some more holes.

Deciding that he would not be a poor student that was incapable of the simplest of things, he did and tried various of ways, till at last, there was a tone that came somewhat higher and somewhat lower. Focusing on the tone that the surgeon had played he then adjusted his hold of his hand and the position of his instrument to his lips accordingly till he was pleased with the sound he had made.

He repeated the first two tunes and then had the next follow and then another, which was more a search down and up the flute's length. The Hussar jerked his head here and there, asa if to show that he was not satisfied and had not found the hole yet, but was going to most certain. he again repeated the tune first on the flute then with a soft hum and then added the last note with a pleased nod." It is the one, sir?"

Rob leaned back during the searching process, amused somewhat. It was always a pleasure to watch people who played with their eyebrows. Many was the time he'd laughed at the trumpeters, who seemed to only be able to play high thus. The lad was lucky he could carry a tune with his voice, clearly somethign he'd taken some pride in at some stage, for it wasn't nearly as hesitant as it could be.

While he waited he glanced at the man, all out on the bunk. Hopefully he wouldn't rouse, lack of sleep, a sore head and too much to drink combining in a nice atmosphere to teach unbothered.

Again he reutrned his gaze, satisfied with the impatience he saw there. "Ye could play it thus, aye. Or ye could do this." He showed his own favoured, less sharp than the version the lad had been doing, with the fourth finger down as well. "It makes little difference, and ye have struck upon t'happier one, more right fer one in a peice like this, to be sure."

He thought for a moment. "Here, I'll show ye the next few notes, if ye like."

"It would be easier yes sir. " He smiled and leaned ever so slightly closer, as if that small amount of distance that he'd covered with the motion , would make all the difference in seeing the magic be done. He placed the flute he earlier held to his mouth lower and from it and waited in near anticipation willing and much wanting to learn. A near silent tune or a pleasant melody to bring time to be short was never amis.

"In part I'm not sure I do understand what you mean. A happier.. and less happy a note. But I'm sure it comes in time." He grinned and only once glanced in the direction of Winwood. He felt almost as if they were watching over a child, a mere baby that needed it's constant attention.

"It will. I'll tell you about it over lunch, or somesuch, when ye've decided whether ye will continue ter learn."

He picked up his flute and placed the fingers on it again, in readiness. "Now, there follows these notes, see?" he fingered them first, then played the whole phrase through, slowly. This process must speed up as more notes were learned, and of course when he actually taught the lad names and tuning then he wouldn't have to explain using finger positions, either. But they could get the terminology down pat when they couldn't play. That was what he'd always done, with so many other things going on having time to practise was never psent in practising words.

One two three that he knew, and then he followed by what he'd seen, most grateful to the surgeon that he did it slow. It was hard to follow the similar looking lift and placement of fingers, for one that had not ever played before, but the manner of teaching had the lad enjoy it and even do some progress with it.

The first three were easy to make, since he had repeated them and so the fourth as it came just after. Then he'd done the next, and was more pleased to know that he hadn't quite made the mistakes he feared he would. Softer tuning now and less of an effort and full blown breath was placed into playing the flute, perhaps doing both the effort, the player and the teacher some good.

"Sir, once I have finished with being here in the wagon, will you still have time that I come for a lesson or so? " He smiled.

Waldegrave was on his second tour along the column when he noticed the horse tethered to the back of the surgeon's wagon. A very recognizable horse, and one he knew to belong to the 62nd regiment. A slight smile touched his lips as he rode up, leaned over to push up the canvas with his crop, and to ask: "What is this horse doing here? It should be with the regiment."