Clash of Rhyfles: Western Arnyaran Lamplighter

Lamplighter (multi-part) and Lantern models.

Painted by Varundin28

The Beacon at Crossroad Station

The Nodd Ffae didn't call them lanterns. They called them Goleuni, a word that meant something closer to "keeper of the flame" but also had older meanings about promises and persistence and not abandoning your post. Something almost mystical to the Quar of old. Over time those that tended to Goleuni were also called Goleuni.

But Bosun Mairwyn wasn't supposed to be a Goleuni. She was supposed to be leading her fire team.

The Foskyldae advance had stalled three miles short of the old crossroad station. Close enough to see it but not close enough to take it. The Creevish held the station itself, but the Foskyldae needed that junction to supply the land trains headed east. So someone had to keep eyes on it and mark it for when the advance resumed.

The observation post was nothing fancy. A reinforced dugout on a low rise, with a periscope and a signal lantern mounted on a pole. The lantern was supposed to burn every night as a navigation point for the Arnyaran trains and patrols.

Mairwyn had drawn the duty after Bosun Gethin took a Gwyldyfin round during a probe. Three ables, one bosun and rotating shifts to watch the station and keep the lantern burning. It was simple but also boring work.

Then the supply line was cut by a partisan raid, or maybe just the land trains were bogged down in bad weather. Nobody was quite sure. What mattered was that fresh lantern oil stopped coming. When Mairwyn did the math she found they had four nights of oil left, maybe five if they burned it dim.

"We could go dark," said Able Carys. "Save what's left for emergencies."

"The navigation beacon goes dark, patrols think the position's been overrun," Mairwyn replied. "Then they don't know where friendly lines are. That's how you get shot by your own side."

"So we burn what we have and hope supply catches up?"

"We burn what we have and make it last."

Mairwyn started rationing. She dimmed the lamp as low as it would go while still being visible. Trimmed the wick precisely every two hours instead of four. Kept the glass spotless so every bit of light got through. They even stopped heating rations to save fuel for the lantern.

On the third night, Able Rhion came back from a patrol with half a canteen of lamp oil he'd "found" somewhere. Wouldn't say where and Mairwyn didn't ask.

On the fifth night, with the oil nearly gone, Carys suggested rendering fat from their rations. "Hogrub tallow burns, doesn't it?"

It did. It smelled terrible, smoked worse, but it burned.

The lantern stayed lit.

On the seventh night, an Arnyaran patrol came through. Two freshly repaired telu-harn and a column of rhyflers who'd gotten turned around in the dark. They navigated by Mairwyn's lamp and found their way back to the main line.

"Thought you'd been overrun," their train lord had said. "The lantern was burning so dim."

"Conserving oil," Mairwyn had replied. "Supply's late."

"Supply's three days out. We're the advance scouts for the train."

Three more days. Mairwyn looked at her remaining oil. It was maybe one night's worth if she burned it barely brighter than a candle.

She made it last two.

When the land train finally arrived, the bosun in charge of their lead iron house climbed up to the observation post with a fresh barrel of proper oil. He found Mairwyn sitting next to a lamp burning with a flame so low you could barely see it, surrounded by empty oil cans, rendered tallow tins, and precisely trimmed wick scraps.

"How long you been running on fumes?"

"Lantern's still lit, isn't it?"

The bosun looked at the lantern, at Mairwyn and at the careful accounting marks on the wall tracking every drop of oil burned.

"The Goleuni is getting a commendation for this."

"This Goleuni is a getting a full oil ration and eight hours sleep," Mairwyn corrected. "You can save the commendations for when Aber’s born."

She refilled the lamp properly, trimmed the wick one more time, and watched it burn bright and steady.

Then she went to sleep, knowing that tomorrow night she'd climb back up and tend it again.

Because that's what a Goleuni did.

You kept the flame burning. No matter what.