A Blackhawk walks into a bar...

[zerocharliexray]

Zinda's good cheer is never fully diminished, but there are a few clouds graying up her sunny sky today. Still, she's whistling as she strolls into the bar, kitted out in full uniform: every pleat on her skirt ironed to a precise knife-sharp edge, her gloves spotless white, her hat and boots polished until they shine. The poppy on her breast is as red as fresh blood. If she looks like she was lifted straight from a Memorial Day parade, it's because...

Well, she was.

She parks her shapely behind on a barstool and lays a white-gloved hand gently on the glossy wooden bartop.

"Champers, if you please, missy," she says, and smiles when the glass and bottle materialize. "You're aces, hon."

A few photos get laid out carefully next to the glass: black-and-white shots of a bunch of flyboys, mostly. She sets them all out and fills her glass, then lifts it.

"You're on the wing, fellas," she tells them. "At ease."




[Tiny tag: Zinda Blake]

Comments

[zerocharliexray]

"Then have one with me," she invites. Another old-fashioned coupe glass materializes on the bartop and she pours a measure of champagne into it, pushes it over to him.

"I'm not against drinkin' alone on principle, mind, but days like today it's better to have company."

[starrydome]

"Thank you," he says, accepting the glass.

And then he asks,"Days like today?"
He could guess at the significance, but he would rather ask.

[zerocharliexray]

"Where I'm from, today's a day of memory," she explains, and indicates the photos.

"Remembering military folks who died, mostly. Soldiers, sailors, pilots... all them who wore the uniform and have passed on."

[starrydome]

He nods, understanding in his eyes.

"We have many such days in my world. Solemn occasions set aside that the sacrifices of others may not be forgotten. Among my people, there is not a specific date set aside for this, but we do pause and remember on the eves of great battles."

He looks at the photos and then back at her.

"And these are some of those you remember?"

[zerocharliexray]

"My old squadron, the Blackhawks."

Seven strapping young men and one petite blonde, all wearing variations on the same uniform she's sporting right now. "Salt of the earth, those boys. They'd knock a man down if he needed it, then reach a hand out to help him right back up again."

[starrydome]

"Will you tell me if them?" he asks.
To him, remembrance makes no sense without stories and names.

And songs, but he has realized that the latter is often less necessary, if you ask Men.

[zerocharliexray]

"Sure. I could talk about these boys all night."

She pulls the group picture so it's settled between them and points out each face as she names it. "Andre, Olaf, Hans, Chuck, Wu Cheng, Stanislaus, and that's Bart. Blackhawk, they called him. He led the team."

There's something inexpressibly fond in her eyes as she looks at them all, and the finger she traces over Blackhawk's handsome face is gentle. "He'd come home one day in the early part of the war to find his home bombed out, his little brother and his sister lying dead in the wreckage. He recruited the other fellas – all fine pilots. They'd been trying to volunteer, but it was so tied up in red tape that they just opted to get their own equipment and make their own squadron.

"And that's how the Blackhawks were born."

[starrydome]

He listens to her words attentively as he looks at each Man in turn, nodding.

"You wanted to make a difference."
He understands that sentiment.

"And you flew aeroplanes? Ones made for battle?"

Shell probably be able to guess that his personal experience with aeroplanes are limited. To say the least.

[zerocharliexray]

"Yep. And yes."

Her small smile is bright and achingly fond. "We had a song 'n everything."

There's a beat as she tries to remember how it starts, then:

"We are the Blackhawks, we're on the wing,
Over land and over sea we will fight to make men free
and every nation liberty we'll bring.
Follow the Blackhawks, shatter your chains,
seven fearless men are we, give us death or liberty.
We are the Blackhawks, remember our name."

[starrydome]

He looks delighted.
This is something he can relate to.

"Very good," he says. "Songs are their own form of magic, when used right. They truly can lift the spirit and strengthen ones resolve."

[zerocharliexray]

Zinda beams at him. "Sure, I think so, too. Though I never did get 'em to changes the lyrics – seven fearless men and one fearless woman, thanks very much."

[starrydome]

"That would have been fitting," he agrees.

"My mother in law was a fearsome commander and I'm certain no one would have dared to leave her out of a song to praise the heroes of that time."

[zerocharliexray]

"I just bet," she laughs.

Even on a day like this one, a laugh is never far from her lips. "Got any good ones that have her in it?"

[starrydome]

"Songs?" he asks.
"There are many, but most are laments, I'm afraid. Nothing as - uplifting as the one you just sang."

He sounds almost apologetic.

[zerocharliexray]

"Well, rememberin' the fallen's a pretty solemn occasion," she tells him. "If you'd like to take advantage of it bein' my Memorial Day to remember a few of yours, I'd be honored to hear it."

[starrydome]

He noted his head, lightly. "In that case," he says, "I shall song a little bit of a very long and very sad lament, telling of the Last Alliance."

And so he does. He sings it in the tongue it was written in and not in the translation that Bilbo Baggins made, but the verses telling of Gil-Galad are roughly the same.

Into darkness feel his star, in Mordor where the shadows are.

His singing voice is beautiful. Clear and trained. And full of sorrow.

[zerocharliexray]

Zinda's not much for shedding tears, but she's got a soft heart under all that bluster and even without understanding the words the grief in the song touches it. Her cornflower-blue eyes are shining when he's finished, and she produces a neat white cotton hanky to blow her nose.

"Gosh," she says, a little thickly. "That sure was pretty."

[starrydome]

She has a kind heart. He could tell even without the tears.

"It tells of the second to last great war of my world. And how Ereinion Gil-Galad, the last High King of my people fought and died."

He smiles, softly.

"He was my king and he was kind, but he was also a friend. And I often miss him."

Simple words perhaps, but full of weight and meaning.

[zerocharliexray]

"I know just how that feels," she tells him. "Bart – Blackhawk – he was our commander, but a friend, too."

Maybe a little more than that with her, from time to time. "What was your friend the king like?"

[wayward_sun]

"He was wise, and he was good at inspiring people to follow him. He was surprisingly direct, but he was still gifted at diplomacy."

He smiles a little.

"He was courageous, and a clever strategist. I learnt much from him."

[zerocharliexray]

"Sounds like the kind of fella people can rally around," she says, encouragingly.

[starrydome]

"He was. And they did. More than once."

He nods.

"I still miss him, even though it has been many, many years since he died."

[zerocharliexray]

"Sure," Zinda says, kindly. She understands that all too well.

"Bart's been gone now for longer'n I've been alive – if we're counting linear years, anyhow – but I still miss him and the others like crazy. I guess I probably always will. But that's not always such a bad thing, is it? Sometimes missing 'em is kinda nice; it gives me a chance to remember them and sometimes it feels like there's just in the next room, out of sight but not really out of reach."

[starrydome]

"We live very long lives," Elrond tells her. "And I have lived through many wars. By now, the room next door is getting rather crowded."

But he says it with a smile. He understands what she means.

[zerocharliexray]

She smiles back at him. "Well, just think of the party you'll have once you're all back together again, then," she says, cheerfully.

Not that she's got any clue what kind of life, if any, might be waiting out there in the great beyond, but when the time comes she hopes she'll see a few familiar, well-loved faces. "In the meantime, I guess the stories'n songs'll have to do."