She chuckled softly, her brows rising as she realised she had never really given it much thought, never having gone deep enough into the fantasy to actually plan on how to do it. Buying the shop and selling her wares would likely be the easy part, but he was right when it came to growing the herbs. Did that mean she would have to buy some land where she could grow all these herbs. A thoughtful look crossed her face as she pondered how that would play out and how much that would actually cost. Oh well, dreams were dreams and who said that they all came true?
"You are right, I hadn't even given that any thought.." she said with a genuine smile. "I guess that's the problem with dreams, more often than not they are flights of fancy." Giving his hands another squeeze she pulled her hands away, wiping her hand across one eye. "But speaking of dreams.. probably time for us to get to bed, if we are leaving.. tomorrow?" Her brows furrowed as she tried to recall when it was that he wanted to leave. It had been a draining day and she barely stifled the yawn, unsure of whether she should save the coin it would cost to rent the room for the night or save it and at least pay a little towards the supplies. Not like she hadn't slept in a stable before.
The Horse and Rider Inn
- Points: 2 588
Master Torturer
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
- Points: 306
Horse Trainer of The Mark
Posts: 128
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 1:15 am
Frowning, he glanced around and realized that it was full dark. Grinning, he nodded. “I’ll need to get an early start, to gather up my gear from the barracks and get supplies.” He started tidying up the table, thinking. “I’ll probably be ready to go around mid-morning, lunchtime at the latest. I can meet you here, and we can go to my sisters.”
He stood, wiped his hands on his trousers. “I paid for a night in the loft – uhm, do you need, er, want me to walk you to your room?” It seemed like the polite thing to offer, after all, she’d had a rough, emotional night, and had drank quite a bit of mead. She didn’t seem impaired, but he didn’t want her to fall over in the hallway.
He stood, wiped his hands on his trousers. “I paid for a night in the loft – uhm, do you need, er, want me to walk you to your room?” It seemed like the polite thing to offer, after all, she’d had a rough, emotional night, and had drank quite a bit of mead. She didn’t seem impaired, but he didn’t want her to fall over in the hallway.
Once a Rider, always a Rider
- Points: 2 588
Master Torturer
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
As he started tidying the table she immediately helped him, though to be honest there was not much to clear up. She nodded as he gave her the time he would be ready, sure she could pass the time in the morning, thinking it might be a good idea to head to the steam nearby and clean herself thoroughly before she had to meet his family. Her mind was already wandering, thinking about the next day that she did not quite understand that he had paid for her room, thinking he was talking about his own room.
"Oh..no.. that's ok, I will manage.." she gave him a quick smile, turning and grabbing some of the cups to take to the bar as she had decided that she was going to save the coin and sleep in the stable. Once she had set them down she wiped her hands on her skirt, though quickly stopped not wanting to get it more dirty than she could give it a quick scrub in the steam. "Well I will see you down here tomorrow then, sleep tight." She had almost turned and headed off towards the stables when she suddenly turned back and gave him a hug.
"Thank you.. for everything." Giving him another squeeze, she let him go and with a smile she headed towards the stable, only once mistaking the width of the small space to squeeze through, luckily not spilling the man's drink as she bumped into his chair. "Sorry.."
"Oh..no.. that's ok, I will manage.." she gave him a quick smile, turning and grabbing some of the cups to take to the bar as she had decided that she was going to save the coin and sleep in the stable. Once she had set them down she wiped her hands on her skirt, though quickly stopped not wanting to get it more dirty than she could give it a quick scrub in the steam. "Well I will see you down here tomorrow then, sleep tight." She had almost turned and headed off towards the stables when she suddenly turned back and gave him a hug.
"Thank you.. for everything." Giving him another squeeze, she let him go and with a smile she headed towards the stable, only once mistaking the width of the small space to squeeze through, luckily not spilling the man's drink as she bumped into his chair. "Sorry.."
- Points: 306
Horse Trainer of The Mark
Posts: 128
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 1:15 am
He stared after her, baffled for a moment then speechless as she returned to give him a quick hug. He grinned at her, then hesitated as she moved purposefully towards the door. Maybe she wanted to check her horse before she slept. He stopped at the bar to get the key to a room, then trotted to catch up to her. "Sigrid, wait!" He caught her hand, stuffed the key into it and grinned at her.
"Good night," he said firmly, held up a hand playfully to stop anything she might say. "I'll see you tomorrow." He flashed a cheeky grin once more then dashed off, making sure he was in the loft and buried in a pile of hay before she could try to follow or argue.
"Good night," he said firmly, held up a hand playfully to stop anything she might say. "I'll see you tomorrow." He flashed a cheeky grin once more then dashed off, making sure he was in the loft and buried in a pile of hay before she could try to follow or argue.
Once a Rider, always a Rider
- Points: 2 588
Master Torturer
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
It was her turn to stare after him, open mouthed as she lifted her hand to call after him. But he was too quick, already half way across the room and making his way towards his own room. Baffled she looked at the key in her hand, it only then dawning on her that he had meant that he had paid for a room for her. Shaking her head she lifted the key and shook it his direction. "Aaargh!" Why did he have to be so infuriatingly..nice..
She would have to settle for telling him off in the morning, or when they met up, whichever came first as she suddenly did feel really tired and a little bit tipsy from all the mead, more than she had had in..ever. Huffing she looked at the number attached to the key and then headed the same way he had gone, albeit at a far more reasonable pace. She was lucky that it was the first door, as she did not have a candle with her and she could see the corridor was dark. Letting herself into her room, she locked the door after her and then plopped down onto the bed, clothes on and all and was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.
She would have to settle for telling him off in the morning, or when they met up, whichever came first as she suddenly did feel really tired and a little bit tipsy from all the mead, more than she had had in..ever. Huffing she looked at the number attached to the key and then headed the same way he had gone, albeit at a far more reasonable pace. She was lucky that it was the first door, as she did not have a candle with her and she could see the corridor was dark. Letting herself into her room, she locked the door after her and then plopped down onto the bed, clothes on and all and was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.
- Points: 1 271
Thain of The Mark
Posts: 660
Joined: Wed May 20, 2020 9:40 pm
Grimthain, human, he/him
His pensive daydreaming was permeated by the soft song of Wamba, which echoed so well the wistful melancholy that he had borne these long years since those fifteen children were laid to rest by soldier under his command. The song seemed almost a direct school of his own soul; the half-life he had been living all these years, bereft of hope and weighed down by guilt. It recalled him to other haunting memories of old. Enriched by the catharsis of forgiveness from the young woman Sigrid, he almost felt the presence of another old friend and comrade; lost in his first command, his best friend and closest ally Éodred. He recalled that day, when they had both become soldiers and men in the siege of Helm’s Deep, and lifting his glass in a toast, his deep resonant voice sang softly into the tavern.
“From games of glory, heroes bold
To dreams of honour played in jest
Now summoned to their nation’s call
Serve us proud
Do your best
Oh Westmark boys, take up your spear
Proud and stoic, stand your ground
No games of childhood find you here
Boys no more
Boys no more
Though helm may rest poor on your brow
Though sword weigh heavy in your hand
Take up your shield to serve your Lord
Join us now
Take your stand
Oh Westmark boys, take up your spear
Proud and stoic, stand your ground
No games of childhood find you here
Boys no more
Boys no more
Beyond the walls the horde draws nigh
Form up now soldiers, young and old
This innocence of fearful youth
Banner high
Brave and bold
Oh Westmark boys, take up your spear
Proud and stoic, stand your ground
No games of childhood find you here
Boys no more
Boys no more
Against dark shadows did you stand
Beneath their onslaught did you fall
‘Ere light of Narya with the dawn
For this land
You gave your all
Oh Westmark boys, take now your rest
Where simbelmynë grace the ground
Remembered here our Bema blessed
Boys no more
Boys no more”
His pensive daydreaming was permeated by the soft song of Wamba, which echoed so well the wistful melancholy that he had borne these long years since those fifteen children were laid to rest by soldier under his command. The song seemed almost a direct school of his own soul; the half-life he had been living all these years, bereft of hope and weighed down by guilt. It recalled him to other haunting memories of old. Enriched by the catharsis of forgiveness from the young woman Sigrid, he almost felt the presence of another old friend and comrade; lost in his first command, his best friend and closest ally Éodred. He recalled that day, when they had both become soldiers and men in the siege of Helm’s Deep, and lifting his glass in a toast, his deep resonant voice sang softly into the tavern.
“From games of glory, heroes bold
To dreams of honour played in jest
Now summoned to their nation’s call
Serve us proud
Do your best
Oh Westmark boys, take up your spear
Proud and stoic, stand your ground
No games of childhood find you here
Boys no more
Boys no more
Though helm may rest poor on your brow
Though sword weigh heavy in your hand
Take up your shield to serve your Lord
Join us now
Take your stand
Oh Westmark boys, take up your spear
Proud and stoic, stand your ground
No games of childhood find you here
Boys no more
Boys no more
Beyond the walls the horde draws nigh
Form up now soldiers, young and old
This innocence of fearful youth
Banner high
Brave and bold
Oh Westmark boys, take up your spear
Proud and stoic, stand your ground
No games of childhood find you here
Boys no more
Boys no more
Against dark shadows did you stand
Beneath their onslaught did you fall
‘Ere light of Narya with the dawn
For this land
You gave your all
Oh Westmark boys, take now your rest
Where simbelmynë grace the ground
Remembered here our Bema blessed
Boys no more
Boys no more”
- Points: 308
Doorwarden of The Mark
Posts: 134
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 2:45 am
She had tilted her head towards him even further, to fully listen, swept in with slightly perplexed look on her face. The wisps of familiarity were as morning mists in the early autumn, not entirely unpleasant but often leaving one a bit disoriented. Between seasons. Between myth and legend. Between laughter and tears.
She worked the muscles of her mouth to form a reply, but before she could do so, another song edged across the heaviness of memories that seemed to paint the walls of the Inn with ancient griefs. So much loss. How could our hearts find the courage to go on, she had wondered far too often.
But she knew. As the singer sang of simbelmynë, she remembered. There was friendship, and family, and the history of loyalty and sacrifice and forgiveness. There was the mystery and bonding of love, in a thousand shapes and shades.
Like the sunset, at times, frosted with muted elegance
a layered mix of softly feathered pinks and blues
the color of royalty
and bruises as they heal.
But she did not sing. She returned her gaze to Wamba, still trying to puzzle his song, when deep inside her another soft “click” as the tumblers in the lock that imprisoned her memories let loose.
That was what she had loved about him, the fact that he, though “Fool”, was so very hard to understand. That he was beyond her.
And why she had said “yes” so long ago.
“It *is* quite sad, dear Fool. Though it needn’t always be. The earth heals even after the worst of scars that men can engrave upon her soils, and hide beneath her sod.”
She reached a hand to lay across his forearm. “Unless you would rather plant a fresh new garden?”
She worked the muscles of her mouth to form a reply, but before she could do so, another song edged across the heaviness of memories that seemed to paint the walls of the Inn with ancient griefs. So much loss. How could our hearts find the courage to go on, she had wondered far too often.
But she knew. As the singer sang of simbelmynë, she remembered. There was friendship, and family, and the history of loyalty and sacrifice and forgiveness. There was the mystery and bonding of love, in a thousand shapes and shades.
Like the sunset, at times, frosted with muted elegance
a layered mix of softly feathered pinks and blues
the color of royalty
and bruises as they heal.
But she did not sing. She returned her gaze to Wamba, still trying to puzzle his song, when deep inside her another soft “click” as the tumblers in the lock that imprisoned her memories let loose.
That was what she had loved about him, the fact that he, though “Fool”, was so very hard to understand. That he was beyond her.
And why she had said “yes” so long ago.
“It *is* quite sad, dear Fool. Though it needn’t always be. The earth heals even after the worst of scars that men can engrave upon her soils, and hide beneath her sod.”
She reached a hand to lay across his forearm. “Unless you would rather plant a fresh new garden?”
- Points: 469
Doorwarden of The Mark
Posts: 344
Joined: Tue Jun 09, 2020 5:49 pm
Wamba the Fool took Lady Bereth's hand on his arm as an invitation to sit at the table, so he did, unconsciously putting his other hand on top of hers [the way he always did].
It would have had to have been unconscious, that hand on hers, for there was still a strong wall in the Fool's pate regarding him and the Lady Bereth; or, more precisely, him, his place, her place, and the Lady Bereth. There were chinks and worn spots in that wall, as thoughts and presumptions that could only be termed "memories" persisted in making themselves known to his conscious self, but that wall stood yet. Alas for the Fool! its foundation was deep and firm - Alas for the Lady! it had taken many a year to be torn down the first time. But a wall made of rubble is weaker than when 'twas first built.
"Gardens are a dangerous thing, Lady," the Fool intoned gravely, "For the tilling of the sod may unearth any number of unsightly things, even ones forgotten. But then how does one gain the land's produce?"
"I must confess," he continued, "Though my nature lends itself to flight, and my motley to wandering, of late I've felt drawn here. More for permanence than riding on in a week; more for gardening than busking."
"Is that not strange?" he asked sincerely.
"Dear Fool," she called me, he realized then, with a thrill that ran up his backbone, Yet she said it so easily, as if she'd said it a thousand times before...
It would have had to have been unconscious, that hand on hers, for there was still a strong wall in the Fool's pate regarding him and the Lady Bereth; or, more precisely, him, his place, her place, and the Lady Bereth. There were chinks and worn spots in that wall, as thoughts and presumptions that could only be termed "memories" persisted in making themselves known to his conscious self, but that wall stood yet. Alas for the Fool! its foundation was deep and firm - Alas for the Lady! it had taken many a year to be torn down the first time. But a wall made of rubble is weaker than when 'twas first built.
"Gardens are a dangerous thing, Lady," the Fool intoned gravely, "For the tilling of the sod may unearth any number of unsightly things, even ones forgotten. But then how does one gain the land's produce?"
"I must confess," he continued, "Though my nature lends itself to flight, and my motley to wandering, of late I've felt drawn here. More for permanence than riding on in a week; more for gardening than busking."
"Is that not strange?" he asked sincerely.
"Dear Fool," she called me, he realized then, with a thrill that ran up his backbone, Yet she said it so easily, as if she'd said it a thousand times before...
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Esquire of The Mark
Posts: 664
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 1:46 am
*It had taken time to find courage. And time to finally open that door. It was the best chance to see her friends, except to go to their homes and she was not quite ready to do that. Yet once the door was opened and she had slipped inside, she stayed near the wall as if trying to navigate an unfamiliar landscape. It was good to see people gathered. It was good to hear stories whispered and conversations made. She could feel that it was.. quieter than most days, in a solemn and tender way. She recognized those evenings from long ago, when many in were veterans and lost comrades or won battles were remembered.
@Bereth @Wamba_the_Fool @Winddancer @Éolath @Allafyrefleorhtlig
((OOC: Head's up. There might be.. a thing happening..tomorrow that will close this thread down. There will be two options to continue opened at the same time. One pub will die so another may be reborn from the ashes.))
@Bereth @Wamba_the_Fool @Winddancer @Éolath @Allafyrefleorhtlig
((OOC: Head's up. There might be.. a thing happening..tomorrow that will close this thread down. There will be two options to continue opened at the same time. One pub will die so another may be reborn from the ashes.))
Kill-Stealing Skirt Wench
When others ride out to win renown, let me chosen to tend the house.
When others ride out to win renown, let me chosen to tend the house.
- Points: 1 170
Esquire of The Mark
Posts: 664
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 1:46 am
The bells had been ringing for several minutes calling most patrons out of their seats, to see where they could lend a hand. Only a few lingered, trying to make some hasty arrangements for future meetings or plans postponed before they would join in the firefighting efforts.
No one would be able to say how in Bema's name the fire started here, with most patrons gone, and the new tavern keeper careful to start dousing candles. Smoke was the first thing to be noticed, rising from the cellar. And the cellar was here ale and liquor was kept stocked. Within bare minutes after the smoke was noticed flames started to lick through the floorboards, the ladder to descend into the location of the fire already eaten away. There was nothing to do but evacuate immediately and see what could be done from the outside. Unfortunately, with the way the old wood burned and the liquor added as an accelerator, containment was the first order of business.
To help fight the fire, go here:
To socialize in a new 'pub' go here.
No one would be able to say how in Bema's name the fire started here, with most patrons gone, and the new tavern keeper careful to start dousing candles. Smoke was the first thing to be noticed, rising from the cellar. And the cellar was here ale and liquor was kept stocked. Within bare minutes after the smoke was noticed flames started to lick through the floorboards, the ladder to descend into the location of the fire already eaten away. There was nothing to do but evacuate immediately and see what could be done from the outside. Unfortunately, with the way the old wood burned and the liquor added as an accelerator, containment was the first order of business.
To help fight the fire, go here:
To socialize in a new 'pub' go here.
PUB CLOSED DUE TO FIRE
Kill-Stealing Skirt Wench
When others ride out to win renown, let me chosen to tend the house.
When others ride out to win renown, let me chosen to tend the house.
