CONTENT WARNING:- Reference to rejection after coming out as non-binary, discrimination against gender-fluidity, transphobic and homophobic attitudes
Shadowfox, human, they/them
On the streets of Edoras with Lailyn (@Lailorn)
They blushed at the compliments, fingers tightening around the mask reflexively, but making no move to put it back on. It had always been easier for them to accept applause and compliments while hidden behind the mask of Shadowfox, they had somehow never felt worthy of praise when they were without it, inadequate somehow.
On reflection, some of the events of today had helped with that. So many of the other people who had been in that tent; the other competitors and the judges, had been so accepting. They hadn’t treated Shadowfox like a freak or a monster or broken in any way. Now they were starting to calm down a little and overcome their panic-attack, they could recall the cheers and applause they had received for their first silks performance, and how one of the other competitors Jakiewyn had even shed a tear after their reveal in the second round.
It was only that horrid bandaged ugly man who had made Shadowfox feel so... so... they couldn’t really find words for it. The bandaged individual Aelorco had been so angry and aggressive and... it was that man’s words and actions that had unsettled them so. They had, for the first time in their whole life, finally revealed themselves publicly as the person they truly were, the person they wanted to be, because they hoped and prayed the Mx Meduseld tent was a safe place. And then Aelorco had come in and spat all over that safe space, and all the positive feelings Shadowfox had tried to fill it were washed away. Now the tears and shame and grief had washed away, they suddenly realised they were feeling another negative emotion, one that they encountered so infrequently that it was as uncomfortable as a new meeting; anger. Add to that a growing sense of guilt that Shadowfox had not been able to muster the courage to stay there, and face that nasty man or challenge him in any way; their chest started to clench again as their emotion began to rise once more.
They focussed instead on the calming presence of the person walking beside them. They were so grateful at Lail’s considerate nature. Her words, and the safe space she seemed to create around her like an aura of hope, made them suddenly feel like they wanted to share, and keep sharing. It had been years since Shadowfox had really had a friend to offload to, and as they tried to dismiss Lail’s compliment their precious employer must have been lucky, they instead found themselves spilling out their tale unexpectedly, as though desperately in need of sharing it with someone and learning that it was ok to feel alone. And afraid.
“It was only a minor noble house in the Westfold, and truth told I only performed there for a year or so. The Lord was kind, and sympathetic, and allowed me to dress and train and perform however I liked, and respected me by calling me whatever pronoun I asked for that morning. We had a morning ritual, every day when I came to the breakfast table he would ask ‘Good morning, deor min. Who do I welcome you as today?’ and I could respond however I wished, and that would be how the household staff would be ordered to address me for the day. It was... just wonderful.” they smiled at the recollection, but the joy in the expression was tinged with melancholy that grieved for those simpler days. “He was the first person I ever met who accepted me for who I was. But he was badly ill when I met him, and eventually the sickness overcame him and he died this last winter passed. I tried to make him laugh up until his last days, and he told me on his deathbed that he was grateful for that, and his grown children also blessed me for being there with him even on his bad days when they had been busy with duties and their own families elsewhere; it felt good to have brought another some measure of peace and goodness.” They wiped a fresh tear from their eye, momentarily overcome with the still raw grief. The old man and the young performer might not have known much about each other, or talked on much of note, but for a while the noble Lord had been the closest thing to family Shadowfox had known in a long time, the first person to accept them for who they were, and someone they had grown to respect and, yes, even love.
Their expression became more neutral then, almost guarded. “Unfortunately, his wife was less understanding; she was always annoyed that I hid behind masks and would not reveal what she called my ‘real gender’. She seemed to take a personal affront that I did not conform to her ideals, and a more familiar gender-divided-culture that she was used to. I think she always felt constrained by being a woman, but unlike Eowyn she did not rebel or pursue what she really wanted. And she seemed to be offended that I - in her eyes at least - was trying to get the best of both words by not acknowledging that I was only one gender, which she believed all people had to be. She was... almost spiteful about it. She used to call me whatever was the exact opposite of whatever gender I told the Lord in the morning - only when the Lord wasn’t around of course - or ‘thing’ or ‘freak’, and on more than one occasion ordered the household staff to pin me down and try to strip me to find out ‘what I was’. It’s one reason I trained so rigorously in the acrobatic skills I learned while performing on the road, so I could wriggle my way out from their grasp and keep myself out of their way by walking the parapets. Thankfully the lady was so terrified of heights that she couldn’t even tolerate seeing other people, even me, put themselves at such risk. So anywhere that was vaulted - beams, bannisters, rafters and lofts - became my safe spaces where she couldn’t reach me. Even today I still feel... somewhat rebellious when I perform aerial exercises.” they concluded, with a small mischievous grin before recalling where they were, who they were with, what they were talking about. They tried to stop, to let Lail speak or react or respond, but their words had become a torrent that barely allowed time to catch breath, seemingly fuelled by a desperate need to share, to speak, to connect and to be comforted.
They halted in the street and turned abruptly to Lai, a sense of mild urgency in their voice. “I never wanted... I never intended my entry in Mx Meduseld to be all about me. I wasn’t there to glorify myself. I wanted to show people like me it was safe, that not everyone faces persecution, but I couldn’t do that. I was wrong! That horrid man scared me, and showed everyone that anger and distrust still win. I wasn’t brave enough. I never have been. And I’ve been lucky; I’ve never been threatened. Sure I’ve been rejected and the subject of suspicion and distrust, but no-one ever tried to take my life because of what I am. My parents loved me, in their way, and even if they rejected me and threw me out when I told them what I was, they never tried to physically hurt me. And the travelling troupe that took me in after that cared for me, and fed me, and taught me acrobatics and how to use the rings and silks, so what did it matter that they called me a freak and charged people to come view the half man-half-woman-thing; it kept me fed, kept me safe, kept people from hurting me. And then Lord... I can’t even say his name! I vowed to his wife! I promised I would not tarnish his name by sharing that it was he who had taken me in and accepted me, back when she gave me the choice between that and exile from her homestead or stripping me naked before her courtroom so ‘everyone can see what you really are’” they gasped for breath, their words ok the brink of another panic-attack, but clearly a cathartic release they needed right then in that moment.
“But I have been lucky. I’m one of the lucky ones. I tell myself that every day. Not everyone is so lucky, not everyone could do what I did today and know they could sleep safely in their bed at night, whether it be a pile of blankets in a derelict house or a four-poster bed in a Royal Estate. Not everyone has friends like... like...” ‘You’ they desperately wanted to finish, and yet they could not summon the courage to do so. They didn’t want to impose, they felt unworthy, and even after everything there was still a small injured, terrified, hurting part of them was afraid that this lovely woman was too good to be true, that this was all some elaborate trick or crude joke.
They made a visible effort to pull themselves together, for Lail’s sake. “I’m so sorry your friend is married to that... that... *man*” the word was uttered as if it was the most generous concession they could bring themselves to make, and would much rather have used a number of other, more choice titles. “I’m sorry that she disappointed you. I’m just... just sorry.” they finished, almost futilely, hoping the insufficient words would do something to help ease Lail own heartache.
Life in the Mark
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On an Adventure
with Sigrid
Éo woke cheerfully, at a time when few were stirring and fewer yet were cheerful about it. Despite his late night, he’d slept well and was eager to start the next stage of his career. Mindful of those yet sleeping, he crept out of the loft and had a quick wash in the well behind the stable. Even the frigid well water couldn’t dim his good humor and he was singing under his breath as he returned to saddle up his tall bay and head for the barracks.
The sun was teasing the early risers to their morning chores as he road up the streets of Edoras, he could smell the first smoke of the fires and the tantalizing hint of bread being put to bake on the coals. At the cavalry barracks, sleepy-eyed dryhts were grooming horses or standing in line for breakfast. Éo let his horse into a roomy box stall, removed the bit and fetched him a measure of grain before getting a bowl of porridge. At the end of the line, he requested a travelling bag of rations and was told to come back in an hour.
It took about that long for him to eat and gather his gear. He didn’t have that much. One saddlebag of spare clothing, a pair of low, soft boots to wear around town, his armor and weapons, a bedroll, the small pack of bandages and salve that one of the haelends’ had given him as a jest, and a packet containing his new orders to report to the Deep. He wore most of his armor, as it was the easiest way to pack it and there was no guarantee the road was safe and belted his sword around his waist. Back at the barn, he saddled up the liver chestnut horse and balanced the pack over his shoulders. He strapped his spear on the saddle, checked the horse’s feet for soundness then led both horses out of the barn. He stopped near the tack room to pick up two more saddlebags filled with grain. The cook was waiting for him at that point, and he cheerfully accepted a heavy bag filled with “enough vitals to keep even a growing boy fed” long enough to get to the Deep. Then, as he was mounting up, the cook handed him another smaller bag.
“Fresh sausage and cheese rolls,” the man said gruffly, “to eat on the road.”
Éolath thanked him profusely, cast an eye up at the sun. Time to go. Gaining the saddle, he hitched the lead rope of the chestnut and turned back towards the Inn to find his traveling companion. He whistled as he rode, the smell of the sausage rolls nearly making him drool. By the time he arrived at the Inn’s courtyard, he had his helm and shield comfortably slung and his two horses had managed to agree on the distance they wanted between them.
“Ho, Sigrid!” He called cheerfully. “Are you ready?”
with Sigrid
Éo woke cheerfully, at a time when few were stirring and fewer yet were cheerful about it. Despite his late night, he’d slept well and was eager to start the next stage of his career. Mindful of those yet sleeping, he crept out of the loft and had a quick wash in the well behind the stable. Even the frigid well water couldn’t dim his good humor and he was singing under his breath as he returned to saddle up his tall bay and head for the barracks.
The sun was teasing the early risers to their morning chores as he road up the streets of Edoras, he could smell the first smoke of the fires and the tantalizing hint of bread being put to bake on the coals. At the cavalry barracks, sleepy-eyed dryhts were grooming horses or standing in line for breakfast. Éo let his horse into a roomy box stall, removed the bit and fetched him a measure of grain before getting a bowl of porridge. At the end of the line, he requested a travelling bag of rations and was told to come back in an hour.
It took about that long for him to eat and gather his gear. He didn’t have that much. One saddlebag of spare clothing, a pair of low, soft boots to wear around town, his armor and weapons, a bedroll, the small pack of bandages and salve that one of the haelends’ had given him as a jest, and a packet containing his new orders to report to the Deep. He wore most of his armor, as it was the easiest way to pack it and there was no guarantee the road was safe and belted his sword around his waist. Back at the barn, he saddled up the liver chestnut horse and balanced the pack over his shoulders. He strapped his spear on the saddle, checked the horse’s feet for soundness then led both horses out of the barn. He stopped near the tack room to pick up two more saddlebags filled with grain. The cook was waiting for him at that point, and he cheerfully accepted a heavy bag filled with “enough vitals to keep even a growing boy fed” long enough to get to the Deep. Then, as he was mounting up, the cook handed him another smaller bag.
“Fresh sausage and cheese rolls,” the man said gruffly, “to eat on the road.”
Éolath thanked him profusely, cast an eye up at the sun. Time to go. Gaining the saddle, he hitched the lead rope of the chestnut and turned back towards the Inn to find his traveling companion. He whistled as he rode, the smell of the sausage rolls nearly making him drool. By the time he arrived at the Inn’s courtyard, he had his helm and shield comfortably slung and his two horses had managed to agree on the distance they wanted between them.
“Ho, Sigrid!” He called cheerfully. “Are you ready?”
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With Èo
"Wha! Where? Why!?" Flailing her arms as she sat up in her bed Sigrid sought to fight off the offending onslaught. Blinking blearily she found noone in her room, realising the noise was coming from outside the window. Groaning she fell back down onto the bed and rubbed her face into the pillow. "Are they killing a cat or something?" she mumbled into the pillow, turning to rub at her bloodshot eyes. What time was it? Where was she? With another start she sat up once more, looking around to see what time it was. Was she late? Peering out at the sky outside the small window, she could see the sun was only just rising and let out a sig of relief.
Smacking her dry lips she mumbled something about never drinking that much ever again as she tidied the room after her and attempted to coerce her wild hair back into a semblance of a braid and made her way down to hand in the key. She gave the innkeeper a grateful smile before she headed out to see Dash, smiling as he neighed in greeting. "Hey boy.. did you rest well?" With a soft sigh she nuzzled her face against his, her hands slowly stroking his neck. "Want to come with me down to the stream? I am sure you could do with a wash too and I promise I will find you some breakfast after.." She chuckled as he tossed his head, taking that as a yes.
It wasn't long before she had Dash saddled and it was only a short ride before they were at the stream, where she unsaddled him once more, leading him out into the stream after kicking off her socks and boots. "Oh come on you sissy, it's not that cold!" She tried not to shriek as she stepped into the water, already shivering. "Woah ok, I lied, it is. But get in here already, we need to clean you up a bit as we are going on a visit." Dash snorted a few times before he finally relented and moved further into the running water, snorting and tossing his head. "Oh don't be such a baby.." she said with teeth chattering. Once he was in to his belly, she started splashing the water up onto his back, making him wet before she pulled out the brush and started brushing him down with long slow strokes. As she worked the sun rose further, warming the water a bit more and making it a bit more bearable.
"All done, get out and dry, I think there is some nice grass over there.." She pointed the direction she wanted him to go and once he was out, she awkwardly pulled off her wet dress, leaving her in her plain linen shift. She pulled out the small bar of soap from one of her saddle bags and set to washing her light blue dress, bashing it against the stones to get as much of the dirt out as possible. Finally satisfied she wrung it out and draped it over a large rock to dry as she set to washing herself off, carefully looking around to make sure she was alone before she removed the shift.
For more than half an hour she lay on the huge rock, drying off as she had put a second dry shift on, letting the sun dry her thick blond hair. Having washed and being warmed by the sun was just what she needed to feel human again, slowly stretching as she reluctantly peeled herself off of the rock. Finding her comb, she set to combing out all the tangles, so that she could braid it again, her dress almost dry by the time she was done. "You done eating yet?" She called out to Dash, having given him a bag of oats to eat.
By the time Dash had finished eating and she had eaten a semi soft apple she had saved and he was saddled again, it was nearing the time when they were to meet up with Èo. She was feeling a little flutter in her stomach as she thought of it, wondering why her stomach was doing that. "Better not be an upset stomach.." she mused, a smile growing as she neared the inn's courtyard. She came into view a second after he called out to her, smiling and giving a wave in greeting.
"Morning!"
"Wha! Where? Why!?" Flailing her arms as she sat up in her bed Sigrid sought to fight off the offending onslaught. Blinking blearily she found noone in her room, realising the noise was coming from outside the window. Groaning she fell back down onto the bed and rubbed her face into the pillow. "Are they killing a cat or something?" she mumbled into the pillow, turning to rub at her bloodshot eyes. What time was it? Where was she? With another start she sat up once more, looking around to see what time it was. Was she late? Peering out at the sky outside the small window, she could see the sun was only just rising and let out a sig of relief.
Smacking her dry lips she mumbled something about never drinking that much ever again as she tidied the room after her and attempted to coerce her wild hair back into a semblance of a braid and made her way down to hand in the key. She gave the innkeeper a grateful smile before she headed out to see Dash, smiling as he neighed in greeting. "Hey boy.. did you rest well?" With a soft sigh she nuzzled her face against his, her hands slowly stroking his neck. "Want to come with me down to the stream? I am sure you could do with a wash too and I promise I will find you some breakfast after.." She chuckled as he tossed his head, taking that as a yes.
It wasn't long before she had Dash saddled and it was only a short ride before they were at the stream, where she unsaddled him once more, leading him out into the stream after kicking off her socks and boots. "Oh come on you sissy, it's not that cold!" She tried not to shriek as she stepped into the water, already shivering. "Woah ok, I lied, it is. But get in here already, we need to clean you up a bit as we are going on a visit." Dash snorted a few times before he finally relented and moved further into the running water, snorting and tossing his head. "Oh don't be such a baby.." she said with teeth chattering. Once he was in to his belly, she started splashing the water up onto his back, making him wet before she pulled out the brush and started brushing him down with long slow strokes. As she worked the sun rose further, warming the water a bit more and making it a bit more bearable.
"All done, get out and dry, I think there is some nice grass over there.." She pointed the direction she wanted him to go and once he was out, she awkwardly pulled off her wet dress, leaving her in her plain linen shift. She pulled out the small bar of soap from one of her saddle bags and set to washing her light blue dress, bashing it against the stones to get as much of the dirt out as possible. Finally satisfied she wrung it out and draped it over a large rock to dry as she set to washing herself off, carefully looking around to make sure she was alone before she removed the shift.
For more than half an hour she lay on the huge rock, drying off as she had put a second dry shift on, letting the sun dry her thick blond hair. Having washed and being warmed by the sun was just what she needed to feel human again, slowly stretching as she reluctantly peeled herself off of the rock. Finding her comb, she set to combing out all the tangles, so that she could braid it again, her dress almost dry by the time she was done. "You done eating yet?" She called out to Dash, having given him a bag of oats to eat.
By the time Dash had finished eating and she had eaten a semi soft apple she had saved and he was saddled again, it was nearing the time when they were to meet up with Èo. She was feeling a little flutter in her stomach as she thought of it, wondering why her stomach was doing that. "Better not be an upset stomach.." she mused, a smile growing as she neared the inn's courtyard. She came into view a second after he called out to her, smiling and giving a wave in greeting.
"Morning!"
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w/ Sigrid
Éo felt the grin spread over his face as Sigrid came into view and he slid out of his saddle to meet her, the bag of sausage rolls in his hand. His horses stood easily as he dropped the reins and walked to her. He noticed the fresh braid and scrubbed dress, and glanced in the direction she’d appeared from. There was a creek down there, he remembered, and realized the horse appeared freshly washed as well.
His grin widened as he came up to her, his eyes merry even as his mind went blank. “Great horse bath,” he said, then blushed crimson and winced. Way to sound like an idiot, he castigated himself. Clearing his throat, he stuttered “I m-mean, it’s a great morning and you g-gave your horse a bath. Uhm, you – he looks…great.” He said again, then shoved the bag of sausage and cheese rolls at her.
“I…uhm, the cook gave me…for the road and…” he gave up, grinned sheepishly. “I promise I’m always an idiot in the morning. But I’ve got food for the journey, and all my stuff packed up. If we ride hard, we’ll make Hild’s house by supper, maybe a bit earlier. I’ve got food, but I already said that. Uhm…”
Still red, he went back to the leggy bay and tested the girth once more. Stepping into the saddle, he pointed at the road. “Ready?” At her assent, he turned the bay towards the road and legged him into a quick but smooth walk. “How was your morning?” Finally, a slightly coherent thought. At the rate he was going, she’d run away screaming before they made it to the main road.
Éo felt the grin spread over his face as Sigrid came into view and he slid out of his saddle to meet her, the bag of sausage rolls in his hand. His horses stood easily as he dropped the reins and walked to her. He noticed the fresh braid and scrubbed dress, and glanced in the direction she’d appeared from. There was a creek down there, he remembered, and realized the horse appeared freshly washed as well.
His grin widened as he came up to her, his eyes merry even as his mind went blank. “Great horse bath,” he said, then blushed crimson and winced. Way to sound like an idiot, he castigated himself. Clearing his throat, he stuttered “I m-mean, it’s a great morning and you g-gave your horse a bath. Uhm, you – he looks…great.” He said again, then shoved the bag of sausage and cheese rolls at her.
“I…uhm, the cook gave me…for the road and…” he gave up, grinned sheepishly. “I promise I’m always an idiot in the morning. But I’ve got food for the journey, and all my stuff packed up. If we ride hard, we’ll make Hild’s house by supper, maybe a bit earlier. I’ve got food, but I already said that. Uhm…”
Still red, he went back to the leggy bay and tested the girth once more. Stepping into the saddle, he pointed at the road. “Ready?” At her assent, he turned the bay towards the road and legged him into a quick but smooth walk. “How was your morning?” Finally, a slightly coherent thought. At the rate he was going, she’d run away screaming before they made it to the main road.
Once a Rider, always a Rider
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With Èo
There was that flutter again she thought as she saw Èo smiling back, a hand absentmindedly pushed on her belly, hoping that she was not about to get sick. Did she even have anything with her she could take for it? Oh no.. she thought as Èo jumped down from his horse and headed over, his grin widening, her heart now beating faster. Great time to get sick, Sigrid! However she was not allowed much time to dwell on it as he spoke. What? Her eyes stared at him, brows slightly furrowing as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.
Oh Dash looked great! Smiling once more, proud that he had noticed, she gave Dash's mane a stroke. "Yea, he needed one bad-.." her word cut off as he shoved a bag into her hands, the delicious smell of sausage immediately assaulting her and making her stomach growl LOUDLY.
Oh drat, he heard that she thought, dying a little inside as she heard him babble trying to cover up hearing it, even looking embarrassed. Great, how humiliating can this get she thought to herself, squirming in the saddle and making Dash paw at the dirt. Without even thinking about it, her stomach obviously in control, she drew out one of the rolls from the bag and bit into it, sulkily following after Èo.
At his questions she answered snarkily to herself Yeah, it's been great, woke up with a hangover, caught my death in a cold stream and embarrassed myself in front of a new friend, you? Though to him she only said "Yea it was fine.." as she chewed on the food, mulling over how stupid and mean her body was, though the flutter had settled down. Likely just hungry she thought.
There was that flutter again she thought as she saw Èo smiling back, a hand absentmindedly pushed on her belly, hoping that she was not about to get sick. Did she even have anything with her she could take for it? Oh no.. she thought as Èo jumped down from his horse and headed over, his grin widening, her heart now beating faster. Great time to get sick, Sigrid! However she was not allowed much time to dwell on it as he spoke. What? Her eyes stared at him, brows slightly furrowing as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.
Oh Dash looked great! Smiling once more, proud that he had noticed, she gave Dash's mane a stroke. "Yea, he needed one bad-.." her word cut off as he shoved a bag into her hands, the delicious smell of sausage immediately assaulting her and making her stomach growl LOUDLY.
Oh drat, he heard that she thought, dying a little inside as she heard him babble trying to cover up hearing it, even looking embarrassed. Great, how humiliating can this get she thought to herself, squirming in the saddle and making Dash paw at the dirt. Without even thinking about it, her stomach obviously in control, she drew out one of the rolls from the bag and bit into it, sulkily following after Èo.
At his questions she answered snarkily to herself Yeah, it's been great, woke up with a hangover, caught my death in a cold stream and embarrassed myself in front of a new friend, you? Though to him she only said "Yea it was fine.." as she chewed on the food, mulling over how stupid and mean her body was, though the flutter had settled down. Likely just hungry she thought.
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Entering Edoras: NPC: Malachite Copperstick
The Dwarf, Malachite Copperstick, gazed up at Edoras on its tall hill. It was a striking place the sprawl of the town surrounded by a tall palisade, the lone tor crowned by Meduseld with its golden roof, but too much of it was made of wood. Stone would have been better, more enduring and most importantly less prone to fire.
The Dwarf shifted nervously in the saddle as he led his ponies across the ford of the Snowbourn. Whenever he visited the wooden city of the Rohirrim an irrational fear crept over him, as it did now. The race of fire-wyrms, the cursed spawn of Ancalagon the Black, had perished with the passing of Smaug, he consoled himself, but that wouldn't prevent the city falling prey to a careless baker, exhausted housewife or, as many tales told, a drunken Cavalry member setting fire to an inn.
At last he led the pony-train up the road from the Barrow-field (good stonework it was) toward the gates of the town (more wood!) He was dirty, hungry and thirsty; the road had been long, and he had work to do before he could freshen up and relax.
Mal made the arduous journey to Rohan four times a year, a trading expedition for each season. This year that number would be one more. He came in search of his sister, Amethyst @Elarith, who’d set out from the Lonely Mountain on a whim in late spring.
What she’d been thinking was beyond him, high jinx at a summer festival and her duties at home left unattended. It had meant more work for him, of course, and another gruelling journey.
Still here he was, and he couldn't grumble too much, he supposed. His sister’s flight of fancy meant he had another load of goods for delivery to Golde ge Eorcanstan, and another consignment conveyed meant he was closer to having the funds to branch out from the family business.
Mal presented his papers to the guard at the gate, tugging impatiently at his beard as the fellow made a show of examining them. The Dwarf was not partial to gaming or gambling, but he wagered the chance of the fellow being able to read the document were one in a thousand. The Men of Rohan were noted for their bravery, horses, songs and good ale, but reading and writing was almost unheard of in the Mark.
“Copperstick, is it?” the guard said, eyes flitting from the permits to the Dwarf’s face.
“Aye, Malachite Copperstick, purveyor of fine jewe…”
“Westu Malachite, hal!” the sentry interrupted. “Good to see you again, little master, and sooner than I’d expected… Don’t gawp so, ‘tis Wælflus - has all the close work done serious damage to your sight?”
“Nay,” Mal grinned. “I was distracted. It’s a pleasure to see you, Wæl, a great pleasure indeed.”
“Well, on you go, your paperwork is all in order, no taxes or levies for an old friend of the Mark. There’s plenty of room in the inns up on Hostellers Row now the summer festival is over, I’m sure you’ll find one to your liking.”
“Hopefully,” the Dwarf said. “Something made of stone, though that’s unlikely.”
“You speak, truth, freond.” Wælfus chuckled. “Off you go now, but don’t forget to present yourself to the King, you may be exempt from excise, but it is common courtesy to let the Lord know your business in the Mark. Will I see you later for a drink, mayhap? At the Horse and Rider?”
“That sounds fine,” Mal said, “If the ale there is still as fine as I remember it. I’ll meet you there around the eighth bell.”
The Dwarf, Malachite Copperstick, gazed up at Edoras on its tall hill. It was a striking place the sprawl of the town surrounded by a tall palisade, the lone tor crowned by Meduseld with its golden roof, but too much of it was made of wood. Stone would have been better, more enduring and most importantly less prone to fire.
The Dwarf shifted nervously in the saddle as he led his ponies across the ford of the Snowbourn. Whenever he visited the wooden city of the Rohirrim an irrational fear crept over him, as it did now. The race of fire-wyrms, the cursed spawn of Ancalagon the Black, had perished with the passing of Smaug, he consoled himself, but that wouldn't prevent the city falling prey to a careless baker, exhausted housewife or, as many tales told, a drunken Cavalry member setting fire to an inn.
At last he led the pony-train up the road from the Barrow-field (good stonework it was) toward the gates of the town (more wood!) He was dirty, hungry and thirsty; the road had been long, and he had work to do before he could freshen up and relax.
Mal made the arduous journey to Rohan four times a year, a trading expedition for each season. This year that number would be one more. He came in search of his sister, Amethyst @Elarith, who’d set out from the Lonely Mountain on a whim in late spring.
What she’d been thinking was beyond him, high jinx at a summer festival and her duties at home left unattended. It had meant more work for him, of course, and another gruelling journey.
Still here he was, and he couldn't grumble too much, he supposed. His sister’s flight of fancy meant he had another load of goods for delivery to Golde ge Eorcanstan, and another consignment conveyed meant he was closer to having the funds to branch out from the family business.
Mal presented his papers to the guard at the gate, tugging impatiently at his beard as the fellow made a show of examining them. The Dwarf was not partial to gaming or gambling, but he wagered the chance of the fellow being able to read the document were one in a thousand. The Men of Rohan were noted for their bravery, horses, songs and good ale, but reading and writing was almost unheard of in the Mark.
“Copperstick, is it?” the guard said, eyes flitting from the permits to the Dwarf’s face.
“Aye, Malachite Copperstick, purveyor of fine jewe…”
“Westu Malachite, hal!” the sentry interrupted. “Good to see you again, little master, and sooner than I’d expected… Don’t gawp so, ‘tis Wælflus - has all the close work done serious damage to your sight?”
“Nay,” Mal grinned. “I was distracted. It’s a pleasure to see you, Wæl, a great pleasure indeed.”
“Well, on you go, your paperwork is all in order, no taxes or levies for an old friend of the Mark. There’s plenty of room in the inns up on Hostellers Row now the summer festival is over, I’m sure you’ll find one to your liking.”
“Hopefully,” the Dwarf said. “Something made of stone, though that’s unlikely.”
“You speak, truth, freond.” Wælfus chuckled. “Off you go now, but don’t forget to present yourself to the King, you may be exempt from excise, but it is common courtesy to let the Lord know your business in the Mark. Will I see you later for a drink, mayhap? At the Horse and Rider?”
“That sounds fine,” Mal said, “If the ale there is still as fine as I remember it. I’ll meet you there around the eighth bell.”
- Points: 2 761
Ent Ancient
Posts: 1875
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Streets of Edoras
Lailyn with Shadowfox (@Allafyrefleorhtlig )
Lailyn listened to Shadowfox’s story and imagined herself in their place. She could picture this kind Lord greeting them in the morning, creating a sense of belonging, and she felt a small sense of the grief Shadowfox must have felt when he died. Though she could empathise with their feelings, she realised she could never truly understand what it must be like for them to be rejected and belittled for nothing more than being true to themselves. But she could, and would, try to understand as best she could. So she continued to listen and was undaunted by Shadowfox’s sudden unburdening of their thoughts and experiences.
Tears blossomed in Lail’s eyes as she considered the deep pain the Lord’s wife must have caused Shadowfox. It angered her that anyone would be so intentionally hurtful and malicious toward someone with such a gentle and creative soul as Shadowfox. Someone like them ought to be cultivated so they could shine their brightest and share their creative works with others.
When they described being threatened to be exposed in front of court, a few tears found their way down her cheeks. She could not even imagine how awful that must have been.
“I’m so glad that you had someone in your life who let you be you, but I am sorry he is no longer here. I wish everyone else could see the same way he did.”
Lail paused to take a deep breath and looked into Shadowfox’s eyes. “But I do think you were brave no matter what you think of yourself.” She hoped they would understand she didn’t meant to contradict them or tell them how to feel, only to tell them her honest thoughts.
When Shadowfox apologised for her friend marrying Aelorco, Lail shook her head and her shoulders slumped. “The truth is...I think I’m most disappointed in myself.
“I...made a mistake.” She swallowed down her fear. She hadn’t told anyone yet what caused her to flee Dale like a dog with its tail between its legs. “I have been travelling for a number of years now. I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. It would be easy to blame him, but I’m just as much at fault. I should have been more careful…but I followed my heart as I so often do…"
She hoped they would forgive her lack of details, but she was too ashamed still to bring herself to say that she'd been involved with a man who she didn't know was married to someone else. Besides the fact that to Lail it seemed fairly pathetic in comparison to Shadowfox's struggles. Being briefly deceived and taken advantage of was nothing compared to the discrimination Shadowfox experienced. But all the same, she felt compelled to share something from her heart with them after everything they told her.
“I thought coming home would solve all my problems.” Her lips curled into a wry smile. “But I don’t think its that simple. But you,” she hesitated, “you helped me realise that I must accept myself. Mistakes and all.
“My struggles are nothing compared to everything you’ve been through,” Lail told them. “And I may not face the same trials, but I want you to know that you helped me. I have to face my choices and I have to find a way to forgive myself.” Though it was easier to say than do, she still held her head a little higher then, a little more confident and sure.
She placed her hand on Shadowfox’s arm and smiled. “I wish I could make everyone accept you for who you are. I hope that one day it will happen and no one else will have to go through what you went through. At least know this, though. You will have a friend in me. If there is ever anything you need, I will be here.”
Lailyn with Shadowfox (@Allafyrefleorhtlig )
Lailyn listened to Shadowfox’s story and imagined herself in their place. She could picture this kind Lord greeting them in the morning, creating a sense of belonging, and she felt a small sense of the grief Shadowfox must have felt when he died. Though she could empathise with their feelings, she realised she could never truly understand what it must be like for them to be rejected and belittled for nothing more than being true to themselves. But she could, and would, try to understand as best she could. So she continued to listen and was undaunted by Shadowfox’s sudden unburdening of their thoughts and experiences.
Tears blossomed in Lail’s eyes as she considered the deep pain the Lord’s wife must have caused Shadowfox. It angered her that anyone would be so intentionally hurtful and malicious toward someone with such a gentle and creative soul as Shadowfox. Someone like them ought to be cultivated so they could shine their brightest and share their creative works with others.
When they described being threatened to be exposed in front of court, a few tears found their way down her cheeks. She could not even imagine how awful that must have been.
“I’m so glad that you had someone in your life who let you be you, but I am sorry he is no longer here. I wish everyone else could see the same way he did.”
Lail paused to take a deep breath and looked into Shadowfox’s eyes. “But I do think you were brave no matter what you think of yourself.” She hoped they would understand she didn’t meant to contradict them or tell them how to feel, only to tell them her honest thoughts.
When Shadowfox apologised for her friend marrying Aelorco, Lail shook her head and her shoulders slumped. “The truth is...I think I’m most disappointed in myself.
“I...made a mistake.” She swallowed down her fear. She hadn’t told anyone yet what caused her to flee Dale like a dog with its tail between its legs. “I have been travelling for a number of years now. I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. It would be easy to blame him, but I’m just as much at fault. I should have been more careful…but I followed my heart as I so often do…"
She hoped they would forgive her lack of details, but she was too ashamed still to bring herself to say that she'd been involved with a man who she didn't know was married to someone else. Besides the fact that to Lail it seemed fairly pathetic in comparison to Shadowfox's struggles. Being briefly deceived and taken advantage of was nothing compared to the discrimination Shadowfox experienced. But all the same, she felt compelled to share something from her heart with them after everything they told her.
“I thought coming home would solve all my problems.” Her lips curled into a wry smile. “But I don’t think its that simple. But you,” she hesitated, “you helped me realise that I must accept myself. Mistakes and all.
“My struggles are nothing compared to everything you’ve been through,” Lail told them. “And I may not face the same trials, but I want you to know that you helped me. I have to face my choices and I have to find a way to forgive myself.” Though it was easier to say than do, she still held her head a little higher then, a little more confident and sure.
She placed her hand on Shadowfox’s arm and smiled. “I wish I could make everyone accept you for who you are. I hope that one day it will happen and no one else will have to go through what you went through. At least know this, though. You will have a friend in me. If there is ever anything you need, I will be here.”
- Points: 306
Horse Trainer of The Mark
Posts: 128
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 1:15 am
w/ Sigrid
“Just fine?” Éo queried as he slowed the bay, waiting until Sigrid was beside him. He grinned slightly at her enthusiasm for the sausage rolls, holding his hand out for one. A snack never hurt, and it had been a while since his porridge. Now that they were both mounted, he was a touch calmer. Being around horses tended to have that effect on him, as a nervy or edgy rider made the horse nervy and skittish. But it didn’t stop the blush that creeped up his face when she glanced over and caught his eye.
“I mean, fine is good. Did you get enough sleep?” He shifted in the saddle, hooking his leg over the pommel and turning to face her better. “I slept like a rock, I’ve always enjoyed sleeping in the barn. It always feels safe and warm, much better than…well, a lot of places that I’ve stayed. Oh, and that’s Dancer,” He pointed at the liver chestnut following sedately. “I got him on this weird training exercise with the cavalry, but he’s proving to be a good horse. He’s got opinions about the bay though,” he patted the other horse’s neck. “I should probably call him something other than ‘the bay’ but I don’t know what.”
“My cousin gave him to me,” he continued after a thoughtful silence. “She raises horses now, and trains some of the village people about herbs and stuff, and sometimes about fighting. She told me that she used to be a haelend and lived at the deep. I don’t remember that though. Her husband is from Gondor, so he’s a bit strange but I like him. Mostly.” He fell silent, watching her. It occurred to him that it might distress her to hear of his family, since hers had been lost. He still ached with the pain of his parents’ deaths, but he still had his sisters and distant kin. “I…I’m sorry if my rambling upsets you, Sigrid. I sometimes just chatter away and don’t always realize my words could cause pain.”
“Just fine?” Éo queried as he slowed the bay, waiting until Sigrid was beside him. He grinned slightly at her enthusiasm for the sausage rolls, holding his hand out for one. A snack never hurt, and it had been a while since his porridge. Now that they were both mounted, he was a touch calmer. Being around horses tended to have that effect on him, as a nervy or edgy rider made the horse nervy and skittish. But it didn’t stop the blush that creeped up his face when she glanced over and caught his eye.
“I mean, fine is good. Did you get enough sleep?” He shifted in the saddle, hooking his leg over the pommel and turning to face her better. “I slept like a rock, I’ve always enjoyed sleeping in the barn. It always feels safe and warm, much better than…well, a lot of places that I’ve stayed. Oh, and that’s Dancer,” He pointed at the liver chestnut following sedately. “I got him on this weird training exercise with the cavalry, but he’s proving to be a good horse. He’s got opinions about the bay though,” he patted the other horse’s neck. “I should probably call him something other than ‘the bay’ but I don’t know what.”
“My cousin gave him to me,” he continued after a thoughtful silence. “She raises horses now, and trains some of the village people about herbs and stuff, and sometimes about fighting. She told me that she used to be a haelend and lived at the deep. I don’t remember that though. Her husband is from Gondor, so he’s a bit strange but I like him. Mostly.” He fell silent, watching her. It occurred to him that it might distress her to hear of his family, since hers had been lost. He still ached with the pain of his parents’ deaths, but he still had his sisters and distant kin. “I…I’m sorry if my rambling upsets you, Sigrid. I sometimes just chatter away and don’t always realize my words could cause pain.”
- Points: 2 588
Master Torturer
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Sigrid with Éolath
Whether it was the sausage roll or getting some food in her stomach or the fact that he so genuinely did not seem to have heard or cared about her growling stomach, either way her mood started to lighten once more. She was also not one to stay in a bad mood for long, except when being pensive as that could often last days. But his bright lighthearted chatter quickly brought a smile to her lips without her even knowing it and she was now actually enjoying her roll, savouring every single bite. She had already passed him the bag as he extended his hand for it, though had yet to eat any himself as he chattered away carefree.
Chewing on a bite, her head slightly tilted to one side, she watched him as he spoke. The large smile on his face, the eyes vivid and sparkling as he introduced her to the horses, arms animated and showing just how much he enjoyed talking to her. Just as she was swallowing the bite, she felt that flutter in her stomach again and screwed up her face as she pressed a hand to where it was the worst. Please don't get sick she thought, though she was not feeling nauseous.
It must have been her expression that had him apologising and she looked up at him with confusion. "What? No, of course not. I truly enjoy listening and talking to you. Don't be silly, you haven't said anything hurtful." She gave him a genuine smile and tried to change the topic to something else to cheer him up, realising talking about her own lack of family likely wasn't going to do the trick. "What about 'Banter'?" Realising he might not know what she was talking about, she added "For the horses name.." her eyes sparkling with mirth.
Whether it was the sausage roll or getting some food in her stomach or the fact that he so genuinely did not seem to have heard or cared about her growling stomach, either way her mood started to lighten once more. She was also not one to stay in a bad mood for long, except when being pensive as that could often last days. But his bright lighthearted chatter quickly brought a smile to her lips without her even knowing it and she was now actually enjoying her roll, savouring every single bite. She had already passed him the bag as he extended his hand for it, though had yet to eat any himself as he chattered away carefree.
Chewing on a bite, her head slightly tilted to one side, she watched him as he spoke. The large smile on his face, the eyes vivid and sparkling as he introduced her to the horses, arms animated and showing just how much he enjoyed talking to her. Just as she was swallowing the bite, she felt that flutter in her stomach again and screwed up her face as she pressed a hand to where it was the worst. Please don't get sick she thought, though she was not feeling nauseous.
It must have been her expression that had him apologising and she looked up at him with confusion. "What? No, of course not. I truly enjoy listening and talking to you. Don't be silly, you haven't said anything hurtful." She gave him a genuine smile and tried to change the topic to something else to cheer him up, realising talking about her own lack of family likely wasn't going to do the trick. "What about 'Banter'?" Realising he might not know what she was talking about, she added "For the horses name.." her eyes sparkling with mirth.
- Points: 1 170
Esquire of The Mark
Posts: 664
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 1:46 am
NPC post Taedwyn
The badgers were finally getting ready. It had been a mistake to train them without the pottery first. THey had all the elements ready separately but not together. Now however, things were coming together and at such a fine time. He had no problems taking advantage of others things in the wind. Crowds, unrest, whispers, betrayal. They were laying the ground work still meticulous and slow. It was hard to resist temptation. He hoped Aegwarth would be handling matters as he should. Boy should be ready by now. They'd trained him up. War brought orphans, and mothers who grieved and sometimes had too much work upon them. It had been fertile soil to begin rebuilding. It would have been better if they had been ready to take advantage. Things had settled into a stability and that was a harder field to work in. So stability would go first, with the lingering stench of fear and uncertainty in the air. The rest would come later.
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: 306
Horse Trainer of The Mark
Posts: 128
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 1:15 am
w/ Sigrid
He grinned again, relieved by her words and dug into the bag for a roll before offering it back to her. He hadn’t missed the hand pressed to her belly, and had concluded the night before that she didn’t eat often enough. Since she didn’t have that sweaty, grey look that heralded a stomach illness Éo assumed Sigrid was still hungry but too shy – or possibly proud – to admit it. He smiled to himself; it would be fun, and probably entertaining, to ensure she ate as often as he though necessary for the next few days.
“Banter,” he repeated, pleased at the sparkle in her eyes. “What do you think, little brother?” The bay tossed his head, gave a pleased snort then turned to lip gently at Sigrid’s dress. “I’ll take that as approval,” he said to his companion with a chuckle. “I think this horse is smarter than most humans. He always seems to know what I say, and he’s a fine judge of character.”
Éo tried to turn the horse back to the business of following the road but Banter sidestepped until Éo’s leg was pressed against Sigrid. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, but he wasn’t sure that was entirely true. However, he didn’t want the bay to upset her horse and finally got a minimal distance between them. “Maybe I spoke too soon about his intelligence,” he muttered. Banter snorted and he laughed, settling himself more comfortably in the saddle. He sat sideways, facing Sigrid. It was a trick he’d not have dared a few weeks ago, but his training with the cavalry had returned to him the confidence of a youngster born to the saddle.
“I had a pony growing up. It was a piebald, flea-bitten gray. Meanest creature I think I’d ever met, but I loved that stupid thing. It would buck and bite and kick without warning, then all the sudden, she’d lay her head across my shoulders and all I could do was love her a bit more.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “We sold her to a family down the river when I grew too large. Troublesome wench. I didn’t have a horse when I ran away to Gondor, and the one I bought there is a fine riding horse by Gondorian standards, but not a cavalry mount. It took me years to save up enough to buy a horse, I didn’t want to come back without one. I suppose if I hadn’t been so stubborn, I might have been back in time to see my parents again. I didn’t want to come back until I proved I wasn’t what father said I’d end up though, so…”
He trailed off, then shook his head. “Much too somber of thoughts for a day like today. Are you feeling alright? You keep rubbing your belly. I think there are some apples in the provisions the cook gave me, or there might be something in the small pack one of the haelends gave me.” He pointed at it. “It was a joke, since I’m a bit … clumsy. They said they’d assign a trainee just to me, since they’d learn all they needed to about basic wounds in two moons. I’m not quite that bad, really. The arm was an accident, and the burn wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know the pan was hot. And everyone gets scrapes and stuff in training…”
He grinned again, relieved by her words and dug into the bag for a roll before offering it back to her. He hadn’t missed the hand pressed to her belly, and had concluded the night before that she didn’t eat often enough. Since she didn’t have that sweaty, grey look that heralded a stomach illness Éo assumed Sigrid was still hungry but too shy – or possibly proud – to admit it. He smiled to himself; it would be fun, and probably entertaining, to ensure she ate as often as he though necessary for the next few days.
“Banter,” he repeated, pleased at the sparkle in her eyes. “What do you think, little brother?” The bay tossed his head, gave a pleased snort then turned to lip gently at Sigrid’s dress. “I’ll take that as approval,” he said to his companion with a chuckle. “I think this horse is smarter than most humans. He always seems to know what I say, and he’s a fine judge of character.”
Éo tried to turn the horse back to the business of following the road but Banter sidestepped until Éo’s leg was pressed against Sigrid. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, but he wasn’t sure that was entirely true. However, he didn’t want the bay to upset her horse and finally got a minimal distance between them. “Maybe I spoke too soon about his intelligence,” he muttered. Banter snorted and he laughed, settling himself more comfortably in the saddle. He sat sideways, facing Sigrid. It was a trick he’d not have dared a few weeks ago, but his training with the cavalry had returned to him the confidence of a youngster born to the saddle.
“I had a pony growing up. It was a piebald, flea-bitten gray. Meanest creature I think I’d ever met, but I loved that stupid thing. It would buck and bite and kick without warning, then all the sudden, she’d lay her head across my shoulders and all I could do was love her a bit more.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “We sold her to a family down the river when I grew too large. Troublesome wench. I didn’t have a horse when I ran away to Gondor, and the one I bought there is a fine riding horse by Gondorian standards, but not a cavalry mount. It took me years to save up enough to buy a horse, I didn’t want to come back without one. I suppose if I hadn’t been so stubborn, I might have been back in time to see my parents again. I didn’t want to come back until I proved I wasn’t what father said I’d end up though, so…”
He trailed off, then shook his head. “Much too somber of thoughts for a day like today. Are you feeling alright? You keep rubbing your belly. I think there are some apples in the provisions the cook gave me, or there might be something in the small pack one of the haelends gave me.” He pointed at it. “It was a joke, since I’m a bit … clumsy. They said they’d assign a trainee just to me, since they’d learn all they needed to about basic wounds in two moons. I’m not quite that bad, really. The arm was an accident, and the burn wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know the pan was hot. And everyone gets scrapes and stuff in training…”
Once a Rider, always a Rider
- Points: 2 588
Master Torturer
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
With Éolath
Thankfully the horse didnt drool, it just nipped on her dress, only worrying about it as it was the last dress she had that wasn't covered in tons of patches. She still couldn't resist a smile, it was cute. She chuckled along with him as he sought the horse's approval of the name, quite pleased that Éo liked it enough to use it, another annoying flutter making her stomach jump. She quickly popped the rest of the roll in her mouth just in case it was hunger, not wanting her stomach to growl like it had before, especially not with riding as close as he was, though waved off the offered bag.
"Ooo!" Startled by being squished, she let out a chuckle, having to cover her mouth so that she did not send her food flying, trying not to laugh so that she did not choke on it either. Swallowing the food quickly, she gave Éo a grin, though one eyebrow quirked with interest at the way he was sitting in his saddle, part of her hoping he would not fall over backwards, the other part not knowing if she would laugh or not if he did.
As he spoke of his old pony, she smiled and leaned forward to stroke Dash's neck. He was real good at giving hugs too, though he would never willingly hurt her. She was so busy thinking of how special Dash actually was to her that at first she didn't quite catch what Éo had said. As it dawned on her, he had already added another sad piece of information. Had he really run away? Were his parents dead? Suddenly she felt massively insensitive and guilty for burdening him with her troubled past and not once thinking he might have gone through something equally bad. It was not like her to be this selfish and silently she chastised herself, annoyed that it had not even occured to her to ask.
"Hm? Feeling al.. oh.. uh.." She looked down and saw that she still had one hand on her belly and removed it, the flutter gone for the moment. As he continued on, a small smile crept back to her lips. She just could not help it. She gave him a look as if to say SUUURE as she shook her head and chuckled softly. "Well at least you have your own personal haelend with you now.." she added with a smirk, her brows creasing briefly as she felt that flutter again. Maybe she should try that apple..
Thankfully the horse didnt drool, it just nipped on her dress, only worrying about it as it was the last dress she had that wasn't covered in tons of patches. She still couldn't resist a smile, it was cute. She chuckled along with him as he sought the horse's approval of the name, quite pleased that Éo liked it enough to use it, another annoying flutter making her stomach jump. She quickly popped the rest of the roll in her mouth just in case it was hunger, not wanting her stomach to growl like it had before, especially not with riding as close as he was, though waved off the offered bag.
"Ooo!" Startled by being squished, she let out a chuckle, having to cover her mouth so that she did not send her food flying, trying not to laugh so that she did not choke on it either. Swallowing the food quickly, she gave Éo a grin, though one eyebrow quirked with interest at the way he was sitting in his saddle, part of her hoping he would not fall over backwards, the other part not knowing if she would laugh or not if he did.
As he spoke of his old pony, she smiled and leaned forward to stroke Dash's neck. He was real good at giving hugs too, though he would never willingly hurt her. She was so busy thinking of how special Dash actually was to her that at first she didn't quite catch what Éo had said. As it dawned on her, he had already added another sad piece of information. Had he really run away? Were his parents dead? Suddenly she felt massively insensitive and guilty for burdening him with her troubled past and not once thinking he might have gone through something equally bad. It was not like her to be this selfish and silently she chastised herself, annoyed that it had not even occured to her to ask.
"Hm? Feeling al.. oh.. uh.." She looked down and saw that she still had one hand on her belly and removed it, the flutter gone for the moment. As he continued on, a small smile crept back to her lips. She just could not help it. She gave him a look as if to say SUUURE as she shook her head and chuckled softly. "Well at least you have your own personal haelend with you now.." she added with a smirk, her brows creasing briefly as she felt that flutter again. Maybe she should try that apple..
- Points: 6 125
Balrog
Posts: 3682
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Who's Your Daddy?
(private with Moriel)
Ruddy golds, fiery reds, and shimmering pinks filled the sky as dawn came. Walpurga watched sleepily from her rented room. She had been up long before dawn, accustomed to waking when the sky was still curtained with the blackness of night to feed the pigs. Even though the sunrise was no different here than it was in Benton, there was something exciting, something electric in the air. She felt alighted with energy. The morning smelled of cold mountain air blowing down from the White Mountains, an empty, anticipatory smell. Faintly, the scents of baked bread reached her nose, making her stomach growl in anticipation. The smell of horse, too, was prevalent. She had nearly been overwhelmed when she arrived in Edoras by the sheer immensity of the smell. There must be hundreds and hundreds of horses stabled here, she reasoned. More horses than there were people in her home town. She was used to the smell of pigs, and the smell of her pony, but the sheer weight of the smell that came to her made her eyes water. As time had gone one, she had grown a little more used to it. It was only on occasions like sunrise, when she was opening all her senses up at once, that she could still smell the wild, heady, overpowering smell of horseflesh. Her stomach growled again, impatient and impertinent. The inn’s kitchen would be open now, perhaps she could steal a bit of bread and a bite of pork before she set out for the day.
It was a strange feeling, not having a hundred chores to do before the sun was fully in the sky. An odd lackadaisicalness washed over her. She dressed, eyes drifting back to the sun as it rose in the sky, casting wild orange shadows across her bed. The rest of Edoras was beginning to wake now. She could hear a gentle sibilance outside, the din of early morning voices. A few of them were louder than other, a town crier perhaps? Nothing was clear enough to actually understand though. The Rohir finished dressing, having taken far longer than she meant to take, and wrapped her favorite blue scarf around her neck as she exited the door to her room and made her way down the stairs. Surreptitiously, she peeked her head around the corner of the old inn and watched the cook work. He was not an overly large man, but his bulk was squeezed into a comically tight apron. He was whistling to himself and not paying attention to the door. He pulled a tray of bread loaves out of the oven (that looked more like a blacksmith’s furnace to Walpurga) and set them on the counter to dry. Peeking around in both directions and only seeing the old grizzly looking skogkatt glancing at her with an uninterested eye, Walpurga stole one of the loaves, a juicy looking peach, and a bowl of what smelled like pork stew. She dropped the peach in the pack she had wrapped across her shoulder and tore off a piece of the bread. It was still steaming from the oven. It tasted so good, she had to stop herself from sighing with delight. She dipped the bread in the bowl of stew, letting it sit and soak up the savory flavors. Her stomach gurgled happily as she ate. She tore off another, smaller piece, dipped it the stew, and fished out a tiny piece of pork and tossed it to the cat.
“For keeping my secret,” she whispered and winked. The skogkatt grabbed at the morsel and devoured it greedily, smacking it’s lips.
She giggled and smiled, her cheeks dimpling, and tip toed her way out of the inn and out into the street. It was bright, the sun had turned a vibrant yellow. The world had woken too. She could hear dozens of voices now, all distinct. Livestock too, she heard chickens crowing and cawing. She heard songbirds whistling jaunty tunes. She heard dogs bark and yip and howl. She smiled, the world felt alive and full of potential. The sheer amount of people was still a little overwhelming though. In Benton, she had never seen more than fifty people gathered in one place. Here in Edoras, fifty people and more meandered through the streets at any given time. She had never imagined a world with so many people before. She had so much to learn, she knew. She wandered aimlessly, letting the surge of the streets push and pull her through the streets. She finished her breakfast of pork stew and bread and again felt full of warmth and energy. The winds picked up and blew her thick black hair into her face. She yelped as a gust blasted down the street and full into her face, throwing her hair back.
“Suppose I forgot to tie my hair down,” she said to no one in particular. She produced a small leather cord from her back, her fingers brushing against the peach, and tied her midnight hair back into a high, tight ponytail. If she had had time, or at least the attention span, she would have braided it but for now she left it to bouncy spryly with her step.
The sound of a yelping dog caught her ear then. It was not the happy, rambunctious, over energetic sound of a dog playing with children, nor the angry snarling, territory marking sound of a cur starting a fight. Unable to hold back her curiosity, Walpurga peaked down the alleyway the sound had come from, catching just the glimpse of fur before it dashed around the corner. She furrowed her brow and followed. A few steps into the alley she realized how foolish she was being, chasing after a sound like a curious, overstimulated child. She stopped. Why was she chasing after some dog because it yelped?
“Foolish girl,” she murmured under her breath.
That’s when she caught the first glimpse of the man with the black hair. It was only for an instant, a flash, a heartbeat. She could the bright sheen of light bouncing off him as she passed back through the alleyway. Black hair was rare in Rohan. In all her life, Walpurga had only ever see two other people besides herself that had it, and they were travelers from south away. Curiosity soon got the better of her and she flew down the alleyway, afraid she’d miss this man, whoever he was, and miss a chance to see another person with the same crow black hair as herself.
She caught another glimpse, just barely, as the man turned the corner on the massive bay destier. She was fully invested now. Instead of returning to her aimless wanderings through the streets she followed the man, rushing quickly to the corner where he turned then stopping full and furtively glancing around the corner.
“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly to herself. She’d picked up the habit after twenty years of having no one but herself, the pigs, her pony, and her mother to talk to. It sounded strange now, in the midst of all these people but she could not stop herself. She flushed momentarily, realizing how she must look. She was a tall, slim but fit young woman, rushing off down the street after a man then spying on him from the corner. What would her mother have to say about this? That was odd. Why had she thought of her mother just then? Of all the people she now knew, why had her mother’s disapproval suddenly come to her mind? She shook it off. The man was talking to someone. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she moved out into the street (narrowly missing getting bowled over by a dog in the process) and casually tried to make her way closer, to hear him.
The accent was strange. It was definitely not that of a Rohir. She had trouble placing it. She had heard so few in her time. It sounded affected, like he’d gotten an education from outside where he normally lived. It wasn’t a thick, mush mouthed accent either. He came from a city. The city? The great white city down south. What was it called? Minas Tirith? She gasped, all the breath and movement leaving her body in a single instant.
He had turned around, just glancing back, and she’d caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were blue. Not the same kind deep water blue as her’s but near enough. There was only one person she’d ever heard of that had the same hair and eyes as her: her father. She never knew the man, he’d never deigned to show his face in Benton the twenty years she’d been alive. He was a ghost to her, a mystery, a problem yet to be solved. Either he didn’t care that he had a daughter, or he didn’t know she existed. Given all that her mother had told her about the man (which was next to nothing), she guessed the former. All she knew was that he had been from the south, Gondor or Umbar or some such far off place, and that he had black hair and blue eyes. This couldn’t be him though. That would be far, far too strange. There was no way it could be him. That was ridiculous. Of all the places and times in all the world, that the two of them should end up on the same street in Edoras was too much. It couldn’t be him.
Still though, her mind drifted back to the book her mother kept in a chest at the end of her bed. Her mother had never learned to read, but kept the book in a sacred spot nonetheless. Walpurga had found it one day when she was six, playing hide and seek. When her mother told he to put it back and never touch it again, her curiosity had been peeked. There was no way she was going to be able to hold back now. She used that book to learn to read, stealing it out in the morning and hiding it in the waistline of her skirts so that after she finished her chores she could rush off into the forest and try to make sense of all the strange markings. “The Lives of the Gondorian Kings” it was called. It was a dense book, full of words that took her weeks to understand, but she had managed it. It wasn’t until after she’d read that she asked her mother where it came from. That had been a mistake. Her mother had never been so angry at her before. She said all sorts of things then, she said the book had been from her father, a last laugh he could have to taunt her and tease her. She said Walpurga was just like him, that she was willfully disobedient, disrespectful, cavalier, and smug. All of those words had hurt. That had been the end of a their mother daughter relationship. Walpurga lived there for six more years, toiling away with her pigs until finally the day had come that she had saved enough spare coin and cloth and food that she could come here.
And this was the first black haired man she saw.
It was far too much for coincidence, but still. She had to know who this man was.
She followed him, staying further back now that she knew she wouldn’t lose him, he was a massive man on a massive horse, he would be very difficult to lose in a crowd of blondes. He made way to an inn on the opposite side of town from hers. Everything and everyone here was unrecognizable. She slowed and meandered across the street once she saw him enter. He seemed to be good friends with the innkeeper and his wife. She scowled. Overly friendly people like that made the hackles on the back of her neck rise. She had yet to speak a word to this man and she was already sure he was going to lie through his teeth to her.
She wanted to turn back, to go back to her room in her inn and scream her suddenly roiling anger into a pillow. She wished her pigs were here so she could talk to them. Svanhildr, her pony, was not much of a talker, but even she’d do right now. She felt like she was going to burst with indecision. No. No, she needed to stay. To find out. To know. Even with the very, very likely event this man was not her father, she needed to know. She had to follow through.
She marched up to the open door of the inn, and stopped. Marching? Really? What are you doing? Be a little subtle at least! She admonished herself.
Walpruga took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her black hair and walked into the inn. Keeping her head down, she shuffled to one of the tables near the door, making sure she had a good escape route in case things went sideways, but still had a good vantage point on the man.
[b)(NPF edit: Beautifully detailed narrative post!!)
Last edited by The Good Hunter on Sun Jan 17, 2021 4:23 am, edited 1 time in total.
"We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood. Our eyes have yet to open... Fear the Old Blood..."
- Points: 2 530
Black Númenórean
Posts: 1875
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 3:21 am
(Private with Frost)
Kamion tripped lightly up the steps and back into the inn, where he was hailed by Erlinc again, this time from behind the bar. Squeezing onto a stool between two other patrons with a friendly nod, he grinned at the stablemaster. “Hard at work, eh?” Erlinc laughed and shook his head ruefully, passing over a foaming tankard. “Aye, my wife the taskmaster. I hold down the fort here while she invades the kitchens. I tell her we keep competent cooks, but does she listen?” Kamion accepted the tankard, and raised it to his friend in salute. “We both know you wouldn’t have her any other way!” he took a long draft of the cool, slightly bitter liquid. It was rich and heavy, coating the inside of the mouth in a way that lingered after he had swallowed, tendrils of toasty flavor invading his nasal passaged. Kamion closed his eyes and exhaled deeply in appreciation. “Between your horses and your stout beer, Erlinc, you may make a Rohir of me yet.” At this, Erlinc laughed uproariously, slapping the surface of the bar before him. “Never! You might be better with horses than any other man of Gondor I know, but that’s what you are Kamion- bones made of Mindolluin white!” Kamion smiled, but before he could reply, the door from the kitchens banged open and Bergljót emerged bearing a heavily laden tray. Erlinc nodded at her and lifted his eyebrows. “That’ll be you. Best go without a fight.”
With a grin the Dúnadan gathered up his tankard and followed Bergljót to the corner table at which she was unloading a rather alarming amount of food. “Bergljót, this is far too much-“ he began to protest, but she whirled, tucking the now empty tray under her arm, and snapped her ever-present dishcloth before his face. “Whisht!” she cried, a command none who knew her would dare disobey, “And sit yourself!” Kamion raised his hands placatingly, eyes dancing with mirth. “I know when I’m beaten!” Quickly he unbuckled and removed the baldric from about his torso, reaching over to stand his sword near the far corner of the table, before sliding himself onto the high-backed bench next to it, and settling his tankard on the table. Bergljót was busy outlining what she had caused to be made for him. “-and the pheasant pie you were so fond of last time, I know you can’t get a proper one down south. Oh, and these were an experiment by the baker,” she pointed at a group of tartlets on a platter, glistening with some kind of candied fruit, “so I’ll be wanting to know what you think of them!” Kamion caught up her gesturing hand and raised it to his lips.
As he kissed her work-worn knuckles, his odd cobalt eyes looked up at the aging innkeeper. “Anything that makes it out of your kitchens is bound to be perfection!” Thoroughly flustered, Bergljót snatched back her hand and waved the cloth at him. “You young rascal! Best not let Erlinc see you doing that!” She bustled away, blushing, and Kamion laughed to himself. Though his words and appreciation had been perfectly genuine, his ruse had also served to distract her from the heavy weight of the two large coins he had slipped into her apron pocket. By the end of the night she would have no idea where they had come from, and he would be able to rest easily, knowing he had both paid his share and not refused his friends’ hospitality. It was a game he and his father before him had always played with this family, and none of them played fair. The scent of the various foodstuffs before had now driven Kamion’s hunger into ravenousness, and he started in eagerly, breaking the perfect crust on the pie to release a tendril of steam and the beautiful scent of meat and gravy. He transferred a bite to his mouth and nearly called Bergljót back to proclaim its divinity, but instead merely looked around the room as he chewed. A varied group, as always. As his eyes traveled, they were caught by a person at a table near the door, a young woman with black hair (Walpurga) who seemed to have looked over at him at the same time. Kamion swallowed and gave her a friendly smile and lift of the finger on his knife, before returning to his pie.
Evil is a lifestyle | she/her
- Points: 1 271
Thain of The Mark
Posts: 660
Joined: Wed May 20, 2020 9:40 pm
Shadowfox, human, they/them
On the streets of Edoras with Lailyn (@Lailorn), on the last day of the Summer Festival before the After-Party
They looked for a moment apologetic at the sight of tears tracking down Lail's face; that seemed to be the trend of people's reactions to them today, although at this point they were starting to wish that perhaps they had made people laugh and smile a little more. But despite that, these tears were the most comforting of all; they were tears of empathy and compassion, and those were two emotions Shadowfox had been missing in their life since the old Lord had died.
They blushed a little at her compliments, and found the nerve not to argue back and just accept them, which was an effort in itself for someone as self-deprecating as them. "Thank-you. That means a lot coming from... a friend." They used the word hesitantly, as though not used to having the permission to refer to someone in that manner, and then reached out a hand to take Lail's companionably and squeeze it comfortingly. "Everyone bears heavy burdens, and the suffering of one is not made any less because of the suffering of another. I don't think your trust being misplaced is your fault; seeing the best in others is a gift, not a curse. I decided long ago that I would not let my experiences make me bitter, or angry, or distrustful, because I have known too many such people in my life consumed by such things, and they drain the happiness and joy out of a room. In my experience, if you go through life too afraid to connect with someone else, you miss some of the most beautiful and wonderful experiences of all. I never would have had the nerve to leave the circus, or approach the Lord's household, if I were not willing to risk putting my trust in another. And thanks to my experience doing so, I have now learned that there is more to life than hiding in a tent, travelling from place to place and never having anywhere to call home."I
They shook their head, struggling to find the words to express something that had always been intrinsic to their nature but seemed so foolish and silly when spoken aloud. Sure, naively trusting people has gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past, and it is sure to do so again. But without trust, how could we find friendship and companionship? We learn something every time that trust is misplaced, and even when we are hurt, we still grow through the experience. I decided to use my experiences of being burnt by trusting the wrong people to try and become a paragon of self-expression and courage, so that others would know that not everyone is so distrustful and cruel. And, as terrifying as it may seem to me or as horrible as that man was, I am not going to stop doing that; I'm not going to let my frightful exit of the competition be the last time people see me and I think I will show myself tonight at the After-Party after all." They looked for a moment surprised at themselves for making such a confident declaration, but then their face became and expression of calm resolve.
They turned back to their companion, diverting the conversation away from the scary prospect of being at a major social gathering before their nerve gave out. "You have clearly decided to use your experience to grow into a more kind and compassionate person, and that makes you one of the most lovely people I have ever met!" They blushed again and looked away, nervous for a moment that she might interpret their intentions as romantic, which they were not intended to be, before turning back a moment later to continue. "I don't think life is designed to help us solve our problems, and I don't think other people can do that for us either. We have to figure it out for ourselves. But that doesn't mean we are alone; even when we are lonely, no-one is alone."
It recalled to Shadowfox a song they had learned long ago for a show they had been a support cast for, and instinctively they sang quietly into the calm street.
They squeezed her hand again and turned back to regard her with a warm, companionable smile as the two continued down the street for a while in companionable quiet, hand in hand and feeling safe in each other's presence. Anyone looking on might suspect that this was the beginning of a long and close friendship, and at least for Shadowfox, that was the wish they quietly whispered to themselves as the sun slowly set of Edoras.
['Noone is Alone' from Stephen Sondheim's musical 'Into the Woods', official recording can be found here, excerpt above is from 01:30 onwards]
Allacan, human, she/her
In a quiet part of Edoras, dusk on the day of the Riddermarket attack and Marshal promotions, with @Eldrith
It had taken longer than expected for Eldrith to appear. So long, in fact, that after the first hour or so of waiting Allacan had decided that perhaps she should have come prepared for a long watch and took her leave briefly to sneak into the nearby cavalry kitchens and acquire herself some provisions. While away from the memorial, she also dropped in to the now-surprisingly-tidy stores to borrow a rope and some straps of leather (clearly someone had been hard at work recently). Thankfully her little foray was easily achieved without being spotted, as by that time the Marshals had called the cavalry together for some official announcements. From the sound of the enthusiastic kitchen staff vocally preparing a celebratory feast as she sneaked by, it seemed Allacan's earlier suspicion that the Shivased would make no delay about announcing Rowena's replacement(s) was correct; she suspected the First Marshal would not have appreciated her letter excusing her attendance sent preemptively, but there was so much else to smooth over with the Marshal team from the last day or so that she suspected her failure to attend a cavalry summons would be the least of her problems when they caught up with her.
On returning to the memorial, she could see no sign that Eldrith had visited yet, but after her recent experience of being caught off-guard by Zôrzimril she was taking no chances. She did a full scout of the gardens warily, twice for good measure, before she had satisfied herself that either there was no-one waiting to assassinate her, or that any such individual was beyond her skill to perceive. Then, in parody of her youthful experiences playing hide-and-seek in the halls at Halherig, she adopted a somewhat unorthadox approach to her own hiding place that might prove more effective given that it relied on one simple factor; people rarely remembered to look *up*.
She spent the time while she waited re-considering everything that had taken place recently, especially the events of the morning and the attack on Pele. She had not yet returned to the Riddermarket to collect the knife, skirt and cloak she had left carefully stashed in a crate in the back-alley; she would wait until nightfall - when the market-place would be quiet - before she returned for those. She hoped the citizens had not taken urgent steps to clear away the alleys in the meantime; given that she had lost the trail of the culprit she wanted a chance to inspect the weapon personally in case there were any distinguishing marks that might identify where it had been obtained from, or anything that might clue her onto the identity and location of the attacker, and the same with the clothing. Perhaps if she had spent a little more time inspecting them on finding them, she might have saved herself the effort of trailing a red herring out of the market-place, and all the effort involved in her ruse trying to cover the fact she was following him could have been instead been invested in tracking down the actual culprit.
She had followed the young lad a number of streets over at his slow, ambling pace before he had stopped to lurk outside a household, and she had passed by to dump her barrel in a garden further down and observe him discretely from there. Convinced that his suspicious behaviour was evidence of his guilt, she had just been plotting how to neutralise him without killing him when a young woman had clumsily crept out of a side-door to the house he had been waiting nearby and threw herself upon him with the carefree liberty of the youthful. Even then she had been suspicious that perhaps this was a trick to throw off any potential tail, and had shadowed them to a nearby stables where they had engaged in some more amorous and explicitly adult activities. She had finally given up on the chase then; there weren't many people were able and willing to pull off that kind of fumblingly awkward encounter just to throw off a potential tail.
She fumed inwardly once again that she had been so hot on the heels of the attacker and yet had not been able to identify them in the growing crowd at the Riddermarket. Whoever this person was, they were cunning, and she had a suspicion they were not working alone. They were organised and opportunistic; taking advantage of Pele's minor transgression in the Campian tent so soon after the event was a clever ploy, but their intents were unclear and that made them more dangerous. She had earlier assumed that the attack on Pele was not *intended* to be lethal, to ensure that the Gondorian woman lived to provide ample description of her attacker and thus effectively place Eldrith as the prime suspect. But now after considering it further throughout the day she was not so sure; rumours were easy enough to spread in a busy city like Edoras without risking being discovered as the origin, so why risk the woman getting to clear a look at her attacker and foiling the cover by allowing her to survive the attack. Had Pele's quick reactions saved her from a lethal blow? Had the attacker made an error or slipped up? Or was there something else going on here? Some other reason to keep the woman alive? It was frustrating Allacan that she could not fathom it, and many times throughout the day she was tempted to leap down from her hiding place and return to the chase. But... something stopped her. It might have been curiosity, comradeship, cunning or concern; but whatever it was she had decided that *she* wanted to be the one to reveal to Eldrith what had happened that morning; she only hoped that no-one else had debriefed the ex-pubmistress before she arrived here.
So it was that when Eldrith arrived, she was well established in a vaulted position at the top of the largest, highest tree that overlooked the Memorial. The straps of leather and rope she had re-purposed into a make-shift harness that had helped to stave off cramp and the worst of the discomfort from being sequestered there so long, although by this point Allacan was all the same relieved that the arrival of the other woman meant she now had an excuse to stretch her legs. She did not however budge or move in any way to give away her position until she had watched the woman for a while, curious to see if Eldrith's keen eyes would spot her. Then at last she spoke, jumping straight to the point in the hopes she would catch Eldrith's unguarded reaction. "Pele was attacked early this morning, while walking alone through the Riddermarket. She was stabbed in the back by a bread-knife, and she described her attacker as slight, short and wearing a skirt. There were no other witnesses." She stopped there. No questions, no accusations; she did not even press for a response, just watched intently to see how exactly Eldrith reacted.
On the streets of Edoras with Lailyn (@Lailorn), on the last day of the Summer Festival before the After-Party
They looked for a moment apologetic at the sight of tears tracking down Lail's face; that seemed to be the trend of people's reactions to them today, although at this point they were starting to wish that perhaps they had made people laugh and smile a little more. But despite that, these tears were the most comforting of all; they were tears of empathy and compassion, and those were two emotions Shadowfox had been missing in their life since the old Lord had died.
They blushed a little at her compliments, and found the nerve not to argue back and just accept them, which was an effort in itself for someone as self-deprecating as them. "Thank-you. That means a lot coming from... a friend." They used the word hesitantly, as though not used to having the permission to refer to someone in that manner, and then reached out a hand to take Lail's companionably and squeeze it comfortingly. "Everyone bears heavy burdens, and the suffering of one is not made any less because of the suffering of another. I don't think your trust being misplaced is your fault; seeing the best in others is a gift, not a curse. I decided long ago that I would not let my experiences make me bitter, or angry, or distrustful, because I have known too many such people in my life consumed by such things, and they drain the happiness and joy out of a room. In my experience, if you go through life too afraid to connect with someone else, you miss some of the most beautiful and wonderful experiences of all. I never would have had the nerve to leave the circus, or approach the Lord's household, if I were not willing to risk putting my trust in another. And thanks to my experience doing so, I have now learned that there is more to life than hiding in a tent, travelling from place to place and never having anywhere to call home."I
They shook their head, struggling to find the words to express something that had always been intrinsic to their nature but seemed so foolish and silly when spoken aloud. Sure, naively trusting people has gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past, and it is sure to do so again. But without trust, how could we find friendship and companionship? We learn something every time that trust is misplaced, and even when we are hurt, we still grow through the experience. I decided to use my experiences of being burnt by trusting the wrong people to try and become a paragon of self-expression and courage, so that others would know that not everyone is so distrustful and cruel. And, as terrifying as it may seem to me or as horrible as that man was, I am not going to stop doing that; I'm not going to let my frightful exit of the competition be the last time people see me and I think I will show myself tonight at the After-Party after all." They looked for a moment surprised at themselves for making such a confident declaration, but then their face became and expression of calm resolve.
They turned back to their companion, diverting the conversation away from the scary prospect of being at a major social gathering before their nerve gave out. "You have clearly decided to use your experience to grow into a more kind and compassionate person, and that makes you one of the most lovely people I have ever met!" They blushed again and looked away, nervous for a moment that she might interpret their intentions as romantic, which they were not intended to be, before turning back a moment later to continue. "I don't think life is designed to help us solve our problems, and I don't think other people can do that for us either. We have to figure it out for ourselves. But that doesn't mean we are alone; even when we are lonely, no-one is alone."
It recalled to Shadowfox a song they had learned long ago for a show they had been a support cast for, and instinctively they sang quietly into the calm street.
"People make mistakes
Fathers, mothers,
People make mistakes.
Holding to their own
Thinking they're alone
Honour their mistakes
(Fight for their mistakes)
Everybody makes
One another's terrible mistakes
Witches can be right, giants can be good
You decide what's right, you decide what's good.
Just remember
(Just remember)
Someone is on your side (Our side)
Our side
Someone else is not
While we're seeing our side (Our side)
Our side
Maybe we forgot, they are not alone
No one is alone
Someone is on your side
No one is alone."
Fathers, mothers,
People make mistakes.
Holding to their own
Thinking they're alone
Honour their mistakes
(Fight for their mistakes)
Everybody makes
One another's terrible mistakes
Witches can be right, giants can be good
You decide what's right, you decide what's good.
Just remember
(Just remember)
Someone is on your side (Our side)
Our side
Someone else is not
While we're seeing our side (Our side)
Our side
Maybe we forgot, they are not alone
No one is alone
Someone is on your side
No one is alone."
They squeezed her hand again and turned back to regard her with a warm, companionable smile as the two continued down the street for a while in companionable quiet, hand in hand and feeling safe in each other's presence. Anyone looking on might suspect that this was the beginning of a long and close friendship, and at least for Shadowfox, that was the wish they quietly whispered to themselves as the sun slowly set of Edoras.
['Noone is Alone' from Stephen Sondheim's musical 'Into the Woods', official recording can be found here, excerpt above is from 01:30 onwards]
In a quiet part of Edoras, dusk on the day of the Riddermarket attack and Marshal promotions, with @Eldrith
It had taken longer than expected for Eldrith to appear. So long, in fact, that after the first hour or so of waiting Allacan had decided that perhaps she should have come prepared for a long watch and took her leave briefly to sneak into the nearby cavalry kitchens and acquire herself some provisions. While away from the memorial, she also dropped in to the now-surprisingly-tidy stores to borrow a rope and some straps of leather (clearly someone had been hard at work recently). Thankfully her little foray was easily achieved without being spotted, as by that time the Marshals had called the cavalry together for some official announcements. From the sound of the enthusiastic kitchen staff vocally preparing a celebratory feast as she sneaked by, it seemed Allacan's earlier suspicion that the Shivased would make no delay about announcing Rowena's replacement(s) was correct; she suspected the First Marshal would not have appreciated her letter excusing her attendance sent preemptively, but there was so much else to smooth over with the Marshal team from the last day or so that she suspected her failure to attend a cavalry summons would be the least of her problems when they caught up with her.
On returning to the memorial, she could see no sign that Eldrith had visited yet, but after her recent experience of being caught off-guard by Zôrzimril she was taking no chances. She did a full scout of the gardens warily, twice for good measure, before she had satisfied herself that either there was no-one waiting to assassinate her, or that any such individual was beyond her skill to perceive. Then, in parody of her youthful experiences playing hide-and-seek in the halls at Halherig, she adopted a somewhat unorthadox approach to her own hiding place that might prove more effective given that it relied on one simple factor; people rarely remembered to look *up*.
She spent the time while she waited re-considering everything that had taken place recently, especially the events of the morning and the attack on Pele. She had not yet returned to the Riddermarket to collect the knife, skirt and cloak she had left carefully stashed in a crate in the back-alley; she would wait until nightfall - when the market-place would be quiet - before she returned for those. She hoped the citizens had not taken urgent steps to clear away the alleys in the meantime; given that she had lost the trail of the culprit she wanted a chance to inspect the weapon personally in case there were any distinguishing marks that might identify where it had been obtained from, or anything that might clue her onto the identity and location of the attacker, and the same with the clothing. Perhaps if she had spent a little more time inspecting them on finding them, she might have saved herself the effort of trailing a red herring out of the market-place, and all the effort involved in her ruse trying to cover the fact she was following him could have been instead been invested in tracking down the actual culprit.
She had followed the young lad a number of streets over at his slow, ambling pace before he had stopped to lurk outside a household, and she had passed by to dump her barrel in a garden further down and observe him discretely from there. Convinced that his suspicious behaviour was evidence of his guilt, she had just been plotting how to neutralise him without killing him when a young woman had clumsily crept out of a side-door to the house he had been waiting nearby and threw herself upon him with the carefree liberty of the youthful. Even then she had been suspicious that perhaps this was a trick to throw off any potential tail, and had shadowed them to a nearby stables where they had engaged in some more amorous and explicitly adult activities. She had finally given up on the chase then; there weren't many people were able and willing to pull off that kind of fumblingly awkward encounter just to throw off a potential tail.
She fumed inwardly once again that she had been so hot on the heels of the attacker and yet had not been able to identify them in the growing crowd at the Riddermarket. Whoever this person was, they were cunning, and she had a suspicion they were not working alone. They were organised and opportunistic; taking advantage of Pele's minor transgression in the Campian tent so soon after the event was a clever ploy, but their intents were unclear and that made them more dangerous. She had earlier assumed that the attack on Pele was not *intended* to be lethal, to ensure that the Gondorian woman lived to provide ample description of her attacker and thus effectively place Eldrith as the prime suspect. But now after considering it further throughout the day she was not so sure; rumours were easy enough to spread in a busy city like Edoras without risking being discovered as the origin, so why risk the woman getting to clear a look at her attacker and foiling the cover by allowing her to survive the attack. Had Pele's quick reactions saved her from a lethal blow? Had the attacker made an error or slipped up? Or was there something else going on here? Some other reason to keep the woman alive? It was frustrating Allacan that she could not fathom it, and many times throughout the day she was tempted to leap down from her hiding place and return to the chase. But... something stopped her. It might have been curiosity, comradeship, cunning or concern; but whatever it was she had decided that *she* wanted to be the one to reveal to Eldrith what had happened that morning; she only hoped that no-one else had debriefed the ex-pubmistress before she arrived here.
So it was that when Eldrith arrived, she was well established in a vaulted position at the top of the largest, highest tree that overlooked the Memorial. The straps of leather and rope she had re-purposed into a make-shift harness that had helped to stave off cramp and the worst of the discomfort from being sequestered there so long, although by this point Allacan was all the same relieved that the arrival of the other woman meant she now had an excuse to stretch her legs. She did not however budge or move in any way to give away her position until she had watched the woman for a while, curious to see if Eldrith's keen eyes would spot her. Then at last she spoke, jumping straight to the point in the hopes she would catch Eldrith's unguarded reaction. "Pele was attacked early this morning, while walking alone through the Riddermarket. She was stabbed in the back by a bread-knife, and she described her attacker as slight, short and wearing a skirt. There were no other witnesses." She stopped there. No questions, no accusations; she did not even press for a response, just watched intently to see how exactly Eldrith reacted.
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In A quiet part of Edoras, near the memorial of fallen Cavalry.
*The reaction at the very least seemed utterly unguarded. As your voice sounded like a ghost from the grave amidst the foliage, the once pub mistress reeled back, eyes wide. And yet to a trained mind two things would be noticeable. Even if she was surprised by the sudden voice as if you appeared like a ghostly figure in the dusk, the few steps taken back were no idle ones. Within less than a heartbeat, the balance was set. Her feet, one foot planted back from the other and hip-wide, held a steady balance. Her right hand had gone to her side and at the verge of drawing steel from the sheath, and she was right to the side of another memorial stone, about half her height but near twice her size in length, enough to provide shelter if arrows were to follow the voice.
The reaction required no thinking, no hesitation. Whatever her mood had been when she came here, within a blink she was ready to meet out.. steel and blood. And within the second blink.. that moment was gone. All tension seemed gone from that body and she stood, seemingly idle within the garden as one who'd simply been seeking solitude, and came upon an interesting conversation.*
Pele? Who is.. *You could see the moment when it dawned, when she put the name together. She'd heard it right before, in the Campian: the woman who had tossed the loaf at her. The loaf she had offered to.. * Oh...
Only that. Only that simple word, perhaps not much more than a syllable. But you could see the realization dawn as she put two and two together. There came no more sound. No defense, no denial, no question. She simply looked up. Tension did not return to the body, no one would see that hand go back to the knife. Only instincts could taste how close she was. How easy it would be to draw. But she looked, like she always did. More as if she was ready to scold you for climbing and offer you a meal.*
*The reaction at the very least seemed utterly unguarded. As your voice sounded like a ghost from the grave amidst the foliage, the once pub mistress reeled back, eyes wide. And yet to a trained mind two things would be noticeable. Even if she was surprised by the sudden voice as if you appeared like a ghostly figure in the dusk, the few steps taken back were no idle ones. Within less than a heartbeat, the balance was set. Her feet, one foot planted back from the other and hip-wide, held a steady balance. Her right hand had gone to her side and at the verge of drawing steel from the sheath, and she was right to the side of another memorial stone, about half her height but near twice her size in length, enough to provide shelter if arrows were to follow the voice.
The reaction required no thinking, no hesitation. Whatever her mood had been when she came here, within a blink she was ready to meet out.. steel and blood. And within the second blink.. that moment was gone. All tension seemed gone from that body and she stood, seemingly idle within the garden as one who'd simply been seeking solitude, and came upon an interesting conversation.*
Pele? Who is.. *You could see the moment when it dawned, when she put the name together. She'd heard it right before, in the Campian: the woman who had tossed the loaf at her. The loaf she had offered to.. * Oh...
Only that. Only that simple word, perhaps not much more than a syllable. But you could see the realization dawn as she put two and two together. There came no more sound. No defense, no denial, no question. She simply looked up. Tension did not return to the body, no one would see that hand go back to the knife. Only instincts could taste how close she was. How easy it would be to draw. But she looked, like she always did. More as if she was ready to scold you for climbing and offer you a meal.*
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.
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w/ Sigrid
The grin he gave at her look of disbelief faded into a thoughtful scowl at her words. His own personal haelend. The look on her face said she was teasing him still, but the words touched him in a way he did not know how to decipher. He hoped she didn’t feel obligated to take care of him. Chewing his lip, he fidgeted in the saddle until Banter sidestepped and nearly toppled him off backwards. Grabbing at a saddle-string, he shot a look at the horse’s ears. The horse, calm as you please, twitched his ear lazily and moved closer to Dash again, so that Éo’s legs bumped against Sigrid again.
“Idiot horse,” Éo murmured, his brows still knit in thought. He didn’t mind riding this close, but it was generally considered impolite. And not all horses got along well enough to tolerate it; just look at Banter and Dancer. A full length lead rope was between the horses, and even with that, Dancer still cast dirty looks at the bay regularly. Part of him actually wished they were afoot for then he could reach for her hand as he had the night before. That urge had the line between his eyebrows deepening. He had been an affectionate youth, raised in a family that accepted and encouraged causal affection and touch. But since his return from Gondor he’d found himself to be more reserved. Shyness, he thought, as well as needing to find his place among the men of his country – a place he had not grown into as most youths did, but instead a shocking jolt as he tried to accustom himself to the differences five years made.
Perhaps it was just the friendship he’d found with Sigrid that reawakened that need for the affection he once had. But, he thought absently, he hadn’t reached out to his cousin that way. And she was a friend as well, even if he still wondered about her sanity. Realizing he was still staring silently at his companion he flushed and looked down.
“I forgot what I was saying,” he finally said. “I got distracted thinking. It doesn’t happen often,” he smiled again. “I haven’t had a friend in a long time – except maybe my cousin but she’s … honestly a bit terrifying. I don’t exactly know the rules here in Rohan…” he trailed off, his eyes going wide. “I just realized – it’s just … you’re riding alone with me.”
He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle and Banter picked up on his sudden tension. He hadn’t thought beyond the fact that she shouldn’t make this journey alone, that she should have someone to share in her grief. It never occurred to him that a woman and a man alone on the road might stir gossip – and that particular gossip might hurt her.
“I mean – I’m not going to do anything; I’m your friend and I’ll keep you safe and just be here for you. But I don’t want people saying things and thinking things about you or making you lose your work at the infirmary.” And thinking thoughts like how pretty she was when she teased him was probably improper for an escort, even if it was true.
The grin he gave at her look of disbelief faded into a thoughtful scowl at her words. His own personal haelend. The look on her face said she was teasing him still, but the words touched him in a way he did not know how to decipher. He hoped she didn’t feel obligated to take care of him. Chewing his lip, he fidgeted in the saddle until Banter sidestepped and nearly toppled him off backwards. Grabbing at a saddle-string, he shot a look at the horse’s ears. The horse, calm as you please, twitched his ear lazily and moved closer to Dash again, so that Éo’s legs bumped against Sigrid again.
“Idiot horse,” Éo murmured, his brows still knit in thought. He didn’t mind riding this close, but it was generally considered impolite. And not all horses got along well enough to tolerate it; just look at Banter and Dancer. A full length lead rope was between the horses, and even with that, Dancer still cast dirty looks at the bay regularly. Part of him actually wished they were afoot for then he could reach for her hand as he had the night before. That urge had the line between his eyebrows deepening. He had been an affectionate youth, raised in a family that accepted and encouraged causal affection and touch. But since his return from Gondor he’d found himself to be more reserved. Shyness, he thought, as well as needing to find his place among the men of his country – a place he had not grown into as most youths did, but instead a shocking jolt as he tried to accustom himself to the differences five years made.
Perhaps it was just the friendship he’d found with Sigrid that reawakened that need for the affection he once had. But, he thought absently, he hadn’t reached out to his cousin that way. And she was a friend as well, even if he still wondered about her sanity. Realizing he was still staring silently at his companion he flushed and looked down.
“I forgot what I was saying,” he finally said. “I got distracted thinking. It doesn’t happen often,” he smiled again. “I haven’t had a friend in a long time – except maybe my cousin but she’s … honestly a bit terrifying. I don’t exactly know the rules here in Rohan…” he trailed off, his eyes going wide. “I just realized – it’s just … you’re riding alone with me.”
He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle and Banter picked up on his sudden tension. He hadn’t thought beyond the fact that she shouldn’t make this journey alone, that she should have someone to share in her grief. It never occurred to him that a woman and a man alone on the road might stir gossip – and that particular gossip might hurt her.
“I mean – I’m not going to do anything; I’m your friend and I’ll keep you safe and just be here for you. But I don’t want people saying things and thinking things about you or making you lose your work at the infirmary.” And thinking thoughts like how pretty she was when she teased him was probably improper for an escort, even if it was true.
Once a Rider, always a Rider
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With Éolath
She saw his face drop and her own followed suit, chewing on her lower lip as she wondered if he was thinking about his family. Curiosity burned in the pit of her stomach, dying to ask him what had happened and what had made him run away. If that was what he had actually meant. She gave him the time he needed to work through his thoughts, knowing all to well about becoming suddenly pensive. Not even the horse bumping them together drew a smile from him this time, wincing as he cursed the horse. She wanted to offer some kind of help, anything. A comforting word or had they not been on horses a hug, but she came up with nothing as she did not know what had made him upset in the first place, her hand almost reaching out to touch his leg.
Letting him work through his thoughts in silence and take the time he needed, she looked away from him as she did not want him to feel pressure at having her stare at him, not wanting him to feel like he had to hurry up. Though out of the corner of her eye she saw him look at her and then quickly turn away. At a loss as to what to do and what to say, she instead chewed on her lip even more fervently, trying to think about something else other than the sudden pit in her stomach and the ache in her heart.
She felt relief when he finally spoke again, looking back at him and returning his smile, though it quickly turned into a puzzled gaze. He just realised they were riding alone? Well of course they were riding alone..
She tried to cut in, but he kept rambling on, her head now shaking and fully of confused questions. Why would he do anything to her? What people? And why were they going to make her lose her job??
"Éo!!" She said his name a little louder than she intended, twisting in her own saddle to look at him. "Valar save us, what are you on about?? Did you hear something? Am I going to lose my job?" She felt her stomach roil painfully as in her mind she still needed it to fund all the trips she made and then it dawned on her that this was not the case anymore, she would never have to save up to go look again. But then again she really liked the job and did not want to lose it just yet. She looked at him desperately, waiting for him to tell her what he had heard, her hand moving out to clasp at his knee. "Well? What is going on?"
She saw his face drop and her own followed suit, chewing on her lower lip as she wondered if he was thinking about his family. Curiosity burned in the pit of her stomach, dying to ask him what had happened and what had made him run away. If that was what he had actually meant. She gave him the time he needed to work through his thoughts, knowing all to well about becoming suddenly pensive. Not even the horse bumping them together drew a smile from him this time, wincing as he cursed the horse. She wanted to offer some kind of help, anything. A comforting word or had they not been on horses a hug, but she came up with nothing as she did not know what had made him upset in the first place, her hand almost reaching out to touch his leg.
Letting him work through his thoughts in silence and take the time he needed, she looked away from him as she did not want him to feel pressure at having her stare at him, not wanting him to feel like he had to hurry up. Though out of the corner of her eye she saw him look at her and then quickly turn away. At a loss as to what to do and what to say, she instead chewed on her lip even more fervently, trying to think about something else other than the sudden pit in her stomach and the ache in her heart.
She felt relief when he finally spoke again, looking back at him and returning his smile, though it quickly turned into a puzzled gaze. He just realised they were riding alone? Well of course they were riding alone..
She tried to cut in, but he kept rambling on, her head now shaking and fully of confused questions. Why would he do anything to her? What people? And why were they going to make her lose her job??
"Éo!!" She said his name a little louder than she intended, twisting in her own saddle to look at him. "Valar save us, what are you on about?? Did you hear something? Am I going to lose my job?" She felt her stomach roil painfully as in her mind she still needed it to fund all the trips she made and then it dawned on her that this was not the case anymore, she would never have to save up to go look again. But then again she really liked the job and did not want to lose it just yet. She looked at him desperately, waiting for him to tell her what he had heard, her hand moving out to clasp at his knee. "Well? What is going on?"
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w/ Sigrid
The tone of her voice had him stopping his ramble of words and looking at her in surprise. He’d kick himself later, he thought. Prattling on with his own thoughts and never giving her a chance to reply. When she reached out to touch him, he took a deep breath and wrapped his hand around hers. Should he really be doing that? Was it proper, after all?
“I – no, Sigrid. I haven’t heard anything. About your work in the infirmary, I mean. I just…” he blew out a breath. “It just occurred to me that …well…” his face slowly began to heat and he looked down at her hand still in his. A pretty young woman didn’t normally go wandering off with an unattached and unrelated young man…did she? He stole a glance up at her face. And why was he noticing now how pretty she was? He knew she was pretty, he’d noticed it the first day they met when he’d been under her care in the infirmary. But he was really noticing it now and it was distracting. And she was his friend, was he supposed to notice that?
“It’s just that…uhm…well, you're pretty.” Great start, he’d roll his eyes at himself if he could. “I mean, well, you are. And I don’t want, uhm, people to think that … because we’re not kin…they might say bad things about you. You know? Because you’re alone with me and no one else is here.” Could he get any more brilliant? “I guess that’s what alone mean. But you’re alone with a man who isn’t family and … does that even matter in the Mark? In Gondor they’d make sure you had a chaperone and … it’s just I don’t want anyone thinking anything bad about you. I like you and I said I’d protect you. So I … I guess I have to think about what people would say so I don’t have to punch their teeth in.”
The tone of her voice had him stopping his ramble of words and looking at her in surprise. He’d kick himself later, he thought. Prattling on with his own thoughts and never giving her a chance to reply. When she reached out to touch him, he took a deep breath and wrapped his hand around hers. Should he really be doing that? Was it proper, after all?
“I – no, Sigrid. I haven’t heard anything. About your work in the infirmary, I mean. I just…” he blew out a breath. “It just occurred to me that …well…” his face slowly began to heat and he looked down at her hand still in his. A pretty young woman didn’t normally go wandering off with an unattached and unrelated young man…did she? He stole a glance up at her face. And why was he noticing now how pretty she was? He knew she was pretty, he’d noticed it the first day they met when he’d been under her care in the infirmary. But he was really noticing it now and it was distracting. And she was his friend, was he supposed to notice that?
“It’s just that…uhm…well, you're pretty.” Great start, he’d roll his eyes at himself if he could. “I mean, well, you are. And I don’t want, uhm, people to think that … because we’re not kin…they might say bad things about you. You know? Because you’re alone with me and no one else is here.” Could he get any more brilliant? “I guess that’s what alone mean. But you’re alone with a man who isn’t family and … does that even matter in the Mark? In Gondor they’d make sure you had a chaperone and … it’s just I don’t want anyone thinking anything bad about you. I like you and I said I’d protect you. So I … I guess I have to think about what people would say so I don’t have to punch their teeth in.”
Once a Rider, always a Rider
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With Éolath
She was leaning forward, staring at him intently and waiting for him to tell her what was going on as she slowly shook her head. But nothing in this crazy world could have prepared her for what he finally got off his chest. Her very first instinct was to laugh, though she managed to stop herself at the very last second getting the distinct feeling that laughter was not going to go down well. Her jaw dropped though, eyes wide as she continued to shake her head, though this time from not believing what she was hearing. Did he just say what she thought he said?
"Oh..umm.." Her eyes immediately betrayed her, the laughter that she was not voicing was sparkling merrily in her eyes. She fought for the longest moment, the strain showing on her face so she quickly lowered it and looked down at their hands. Where they were holding each others hands.
It started as a bubble which she successfully coughed away, however it was far too powerful, nor did it care about propriety or decency. Or apparently about Éo's feelings. Nooo she did not want his feelings to get hurt! She drew in a deep ragged breath, however at that moment Banter chose to bump them together again and it was all that was needed to release the dam. Pulling her hand from his, she covered her face as she let the chuckles out, trying to stifle them as much as she could, but it was a battle she was destined to lose.
"I am sorry, Oh Eru I am so sorry. I.. oh dear.." More chuckles strangled the words and she merely shook her head as she tried to wipe away the tears. "Oh..my.." Leaning forward awkwardly, given that she was not sat sideways like he was, she grabbed his hand back, desperate for him not to be angry with her for laughing. "A chaperone??" Again she cracked, the chuckles spilling out once more. "Éo! We are adults! I mean I know Thalionwen treated us like kids when she gave us the toffee, but we are old enough to do what we want with who we want!" Suddenly the laughter died on her lips, her face shocked as she realised what she had just said, it now her turn to go bright red.
"I uhh mean.. I didn't mean that, I mean if we wanted to we could cause we are adults, not saying we were or have to, but if we did that would be nobody's business but ours, but again not saying.. Oh crap, I don't know what I am saying!" Mortified she looked at him, her cheeks dark red with embarassment. Gosh why was her heart in her mouth?
She was leaning forward, staring at him intently and waiting for him to tell her what was going on as she slowly shook her head. But nothing in this crazy world could have prepared her for what he finally got off his chest. Her very first instinct was to laugh, though she managed to stop herself at the very last second getting the distinct feeling that laughter was not going to go down well. Her jaw dropped though, eyes wide as she continued to shake her head, though this time from not believing what she was hearing. Did he just say what she thought he said?
"Oh..umm.." Her eyes immediately betrayed her, the laughter that she was not voicing was sparkling merrily in her eyes. She fought for the longest moment, the strain showing on her face so she quickly lowered it and looked down at their hands. Where they were holding each others hands.
It started as a bubble which she successfully coughed away, however it was far too powerful, nor did it care about propriety or decency. Or apparently about Éo's feelings. Nooo she did not want his feelings to get hurt! She drew in a deep ragged breath, however at that moment Banter chose to bump them together again and it was all that was needed to release the dam. Pulling her hand from his, she covered her face as she let the chuckles out, trying to stifle them as much as she could, but it was a battle she was destined to lose.
"I am sorry, Oh Eru I am so sorry. I.. oh dear.." More chuckles strangled the words and she merely shook her head as she tried to wipe away the tears. "Oh..my.." Leaning forward awkwardly, given that she was not sat sideways like he was, she grabbed his hand back, desperate for him not to be angry with her for laughing. "A chaperone??" Again she cracked, the chuckles spilling out once more. "Éo! We are adults! I mean I know Thalionwen treated us like kids when she gave us the toffee, but we are old enough to do what we want with who we want!" Suddenly the laughter died on her lips, her face shocked as she realised what she had just said, it now her turn to go bright red.
"I uhh mean.. I didn't mean that, I mean if we wanted to we could cause we are adults, not saying we were or have to, but if we did that would be nobody's business but ours, but again not saying.. Oh crap, I don't know what I am saying!" Mortified she looked at him, her cheeks dark red with embarassment. Gosh why was her heart in her mouth?
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w/ Sigrid
Oh Béma, he thought, he’d made her cry! More than a little panicked at the sounds she was making and the way she was covering her face, he tried to think of something soothing to say. The words stuck in his throat, choking him. It wasn’t until she reached for his hand again that he realized those sounds were laughter. Unsure but game, he smiled slowly. It couldn’t be that bad if she was laughing. And it didn’t seem like she was laughing at him, exactly.
He grinned as she repeated his words, sounding incredulous. He didn’t think it was possible to be any redder, but he was giving it a good effort. Perhaps his views were a bit outdated, or perhaps they were more strict in Gondor about those sort of –
He froze, blinked at her as her words penetrated his thoughts. “Do what we want…with who we want?” He mouthed the words, silently. Her hasty words and blushing had him going pale, a stark contrast to her vivid blush. Did that mean she wanted … or didn’t want… he couldn’t follow her words, so instead he just gripped her hands tightly until she fell silent. Think, he ordered himself, studying her.
“We are both adults,” he repeated slowly, cleared his throat. Then he grinned hugely, suddenly amused at himself. “I don’t feel very much like an adult right now, Sigrid,” laughter colored his voice and he squeezed her hands. “So, basically what you’re saying is that no one will gossip or cause you distress because you’re with me.” He tilted his head, giving her his playful, lopsided grin. He wasn’t going to say his next thought, but his traitorous tongue could not be still. “Do you want to?”
Oh Béma, he thought, he’d made her cry! More than a little panicked at the sounds she was making and the way she was covering her face, he tried to think of something soothing to say. The words stuck in his throat, choking him. It wasn’t until she reached for his hand again that he realized those sounds were laughter. Unsure but game, he smiled slowly. It couldn’t be that bad if she was laughing. And it didn’t seem like she was laughing at him, exactly.
He grinned as she repeated his words, sounding incredulous. He didn’t think it was possible to be any redder, but he was giving it a good effort. Perhaps his views were a bit outdated, or perhaps they were more strict in Gondor about those sort of –
He froze, blinked at her as her words penetrated his thoughts. “Do what we want…with who we want?” He mouthed the words, silently. Her hasty words and blushing had him going pale, a stark contrast to her vivid blush. Did that mean she wanted … or didn’t want… he couldn’t follow her words, so instead he just gripped her hands tightly until she fell silent. Think, he ordered himself, studying her.
“We are both adults,” he repeated slowly, cleared his throat. Then he grinned hugely, suddenly amused at himself. “I don’t feel very much like an adult right now, Sigrid,” laughter colored his voice and he squeezed her hands. “So, basically what you’re saying is that no one will gossip or cause you distress because you’re with me.” He tilted his head, giving her his playful, lopsided grin. He wasn’t going to say his next thought, but his traitorous tongue could not be still. “Do you want to?”
Once a Rider, always a Rider
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Lailyn with Shadowfox (@Allafyrefleorhtlig ), pre-After Party
When Shadowfox took her hand, she squeezed it back in return. That simple touch made her feel encouraged. Though she wore her emotions like an open book, she did not often share fears with others, especially someone she had only met that day. But there was something about Shadowfox that made her feel comfortable and free.
All of Shadowfox’s words touched her to the core. She would not let one bad experience cast a shadow on her. For the second time that day, Shadowfox was responsible for inspiring and heartening her. “You’re right.” She nodded and smiled. “I shouldn’t let it cloud my judgment. Of others or myself.”
She was happy to hear they had decided to attend the After Party. She hoped to see them there and said so. But when they told her she was a lovely person, Lail bit her lip and tried not to argue. If only they knew the whole story, she thought. So instead she said nothing at all.
Heartened by Shadowfox’s words, Lailyn made up her mind right then and there. She did not want to stay on her aunt’s farm, no matter how close it was to Edoras and she would have to tell her so even though she wanted to make her aunt happy. She felt too far away and lonely there much as she tried to tell herself otherwise.
“Well...I think I will stay in Edoras after the festival. If you ever want to find me, follow the sound of the bees.” Her lips curled into a smile.
Although her day had not quite turned out as expected, she was glad she had met such a wonderful new friend. She hoped they would be sticking around after the festival ended, too. With their hand clasped firmly in hers, she walked beside them and listened to their song. The words made her feel a little bit stronger and a little less daunted by her worries, fears and failures. Knowing there was someone like them in the world helped restore her faith that kindness and compassion could be a strength instead of a weakness.
When Shadowfox took her hand, she squeezed it back in return. That simple touch made her feel encouraged. Though she wore her emotions like an open book, she did not often share fears with others, especially someone she had only met that day. But there was something about Shadowfox that made her feel comfortable and free.
All of Shadowfox’s words touched her to the core. She would not let one bad experience cast a shadow on her. For the second time that day, Shadowfox was responsible for inspiring and heartening her. “You’re right.” She nodded and smiled. “I shouldn’t let it cloud my judgment. Of others or myself.”
She was happy to hear they had decided to attend the After Party. She hoped to see them there and said so. But when they told her she was a lovely person, Lail bit her lip and tried not to argue. If only they knew the whole story, she thought. So instead she said nothing at all.
Heartened by Shadowfox’s words, Lailyn made up her mind right then and there. She did not want to stay on her aunt’s farm, no matter how close it was to Edoras and she would have to tell her so even though she wanted to make her aunt happy. She felt too far away and lonely there much as she tried to tell herself otherwise.
“Well...I think I will stay in Edoras after the festival. If you ever want to find me, follow the sound of the bees.” Her lips curled into a smile.
Although her day had not quite turned out as expected, she was glad she had met such a wonderful new friend. She hoped they would be sticking around after the festival ended, too. With their hand clasped firmly in hers, she walked beside them and listened to their song. The words made her feel a little bit stronger and a little less daunted by her worries, fears and failures. Knowing there was someone like them in the world helped restore her faith that kindness and compassion could be a strength instead of a weakness.
she/her
a little bird in a tree
a little bird in a tree
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With Éolath
Eyes wide, she almost blurted out Of course not! But for some reason they died on her tongue. Mouth open as if about to speak, she looked at him, her heart hammering wildly. She took in his bright cheeky smile, the glint in his eyes that made it difficult to guess whether he meant it or if he was teasing. The horrific fluttering in her stomach went crazy and for a brief moment she thought she was getting really ill, until her brain finally clicked. While she had never been courted before, she had of course heard of others speak of the giddy feeling girls got when they fancied a boy, how their hearts would hammer and how their stomachs would... flutter.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly finding it hard to believe she had been that oblivious, but also that she had feelings for him?? SHE had feelings for him? How? When? She ran back through the memories of last night, trying to recall when it was that her stomach had played up. His smile. She looked at him, seeing the cheeky smile still playing on his lips and sure enough her stomach jumped. No. She couldn't be. Surely she was just infatuated as he was the first one to care, to truly listen and was eager to help her. Surely she was just reacting to that? Her eyes dropped to their hands, looking at how he held her hand and feeling another twinge, this time it spread to her heart.
Had this happened before Grimthain had shared his tragic news, she would have immediately dismissed it, not wanting to subject anyone else to the life she had led. But now? Now that her life was not dictated by travelling around looking for the children? That was even assuming he felt anything for her! Oh goodness, he was a soldier, a Cavalry man, he could likely get anyone he wanted, so why wold he want to spend time with tragic little Sigrid? But he had insisted on going with her.. Though that could just be because he was a man of honour and did not want to leave a woman to ride around Rohan and all by herself.
Suddenly she realised she had actually not responded to his cheeky question, her face going bright red once more, feeling the heat reach her ears. How was she ever going to be able to look him in the eye ever again? Especially given that it was likely just her being infatuated with the attention he was giving her. The only thing that came to mind was replying in the same way and with a cheeky grin of her own she looked up at him and said "Sure. Now?" Her eyes glinting with mischief, though her her heart hurt at the thought of that never happening.
Eyes wide, she almost blurted out Of course not! But for some reason they died on her tongue. Mouth open as if about to speak, she looked at him, her heart hammering wildly. She took in his bright cheeky smile, the glint in his eyes that made it difficult to guess whether he meant it or if he was teasing. The horrific fluttering in her stomach went crazy and for a brief moment she thought she was getting really ill, until her brain finally clicked. While she had never been courted before, she had of course heard of others speak of the giddy feeling girls got when they fancied a boy, how their hearts would hammer and how their stomachs would... flutter.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly finding it hard to believe she had been that oblivious, but also that she had feelings for him?? SHE had feelings for him? How? When? She ran back through the memories of last night, trying to recall when it was that her stomach had played up. His smile. She looked at him, seeing the cheeky smile still playing on his lips and sure enough her stomach jumped. No. She couldn't be. Surely she was just infatuated as he was the first one to care, to truly listen and was eager to help her. Surely she was just reacting to that? Her eyes dropped to their hands, looking at how he held her hand and feeling another twinge, this time it spread to her heart.
Had this happened before Grimthain had shared his tragic news, she would have immediately dismissed it, not wanting to subject anyone else to the life she had led. But now? Now that her life was not dictated by travelling around looking for the children? That was even assuming he felt anything for her! Oh goodness, he was a soldier, a Cavalry man, he could likely get anyone he wanted, so why wold he want to spend time with tragic little Sigrid? But he had insisted on going with her.. Though that could just be because he was a man of honour and did not want to leave a woman to ride around Rohan and all by herself.
Suddenly she realised she had actually not responded to his cheeky question, her face going bright red once more, feeling the heat reach her ears. How was she ever going to be able to look him in the eye ever again? Especially given that it was likely just her being infatuated with the attention he was giving her. The only thing that came to mind was replying in the same way and with a cheeky grin of her own she looked up at him and said "Sure. Now?" Her eyes glinting with mischief, though her her heart hurt at the thought of that never happening.
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Horse Trainer of The Mark
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Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 1:15 am
w/ Sigrid
“Now?” He felt his voice crack and squeak even as he started in surprise. The grip on her hand kept him from overbalancing and falling off backwards, but he over corrected instinctively and found himself sliding to his feet. Banter turned his head, giving him a clearly disgusted horse sigh before stopping. Éo caught at Dash’s rein to draw him to a stop as well. Resting his hand on Sigrid’s calf, he stared up at her.
The mischief in her eyes made him uneasy. Was she teasing him? He was nothing special, just a barely competent rider with no fame or rank. And yet…the blush on her face told him this was not just a cheeky reply. But it made him question himself. He liked her, admired her for her dedication to helping others, for doing what she believed was right even if she had to do it alone. She’d been kind to him, gentle even. And the way he felt was nothing like how he felt for his sisters, or even his cousin who’d become a friend. He wanted to make her happy, Éo realized, and to tend her.
He smiled slowly and flexed his fingers ever so gently on her leg. “Not this moment,” he said softly. “I’ve never, uhm, well…I don’t know…” He felt his face go red again. He’d like to kiss her, he realized, but he had no idea how. Or if it was even appropriate. “I, uhm…not here, not like this. You deserve better. But Sigrid?” he hesitated, feeling shy and a bit awkward now. “May I, uhm, court you?”
“Now?” He felt his voice crack and squeak even as he started in surprise. The grip on her hand kept him from overbalancing and falling off backwards, but he over corrected instinctively and found himself sliding to his feet. Banter turned his head, giving him a clearly disgusted horse sigh before stopping. Éo caught at Dash’s rein to draw him to a stop as well. Resting his hand on Sigrid’s calf, he stared up at her.
The mischief in her eyes made him uneasy. Was she teasing him? He was nothing special, just a barely competent rider with no fame or rank. And yet…the blush on her face told him this was not just a cheeky reply. But it made him question himself. He liked her, admired her for her dedication to helping others, for doing what she believed was right even if she had to do it alone. She’d been kind to him, gentle even. And the way he felt was nothing like how he felt for his sisters, or even his cousin who’d become a friend. He wanted to make her happy, Éo realized, and to tend her.
He smiled slowly and flexed his fingers ever so gently on her leg. “Not this moment,” he said softly. “I’ve never, uhm, well…I don’t know…” He felt his face go red again. He’d like to kiss her, he realized, but he had no idea how. Or if it was even appropriate. “I, uhm…not here, not like this. You deserve better. But Sigrid?” he hesitated, feeling shy and a bit awkward now. “May I, uhm, court you?”
Once a Rider, always a Rider
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With Éolath
"Ooh!" Startled at his sudden movement, she reached out to grab him before he fell, the chuckle that had errupted at his cute little squeak at her answer already forgotten for the moment. She breathed a sigh of relief when he steadied himself not even realising his hand was on her thigh before his fingers moved. He was so close she felt she could hardly breathe, let alone think clearly. All she could do was look down into his blue eyes. As his words finally penetrated she blushed a bright red once more, her jaw dropping as she failed to reply again. Was he teasing her now? She watched as his face flushed as well, her brows furrowing slightly at the meaning of that.
She felt like she was swallowing her heart, unaware that it had lept up into her mouth, her breaths coming in rapid succession. She looked at him almost in shock as he asked to court her. No one had ever asked that of her, not that she had stayed long enough to even be considered for courting, but still. Her eyes darted back and forth between his, trying to see if there was any glimt of having her on, of any sense of teasing. But there wasn't. She found it even harder to swallow as she realised that he meant it, her heart hammering so hard it hurt.
Without even thinking about it she raised her hands to his cheeks and before she could give herself a chance to think it about it and change her mind and leaned down even closer. With her heart in her mouth still she closed her eyes and kissed him, losing herself to the sensation of his soft lips, it was as if the world stood still for a heartbeat. Pulling back, she looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise at the presumption, but she did not regret it.
"Yes.. you may." She replied finally, with a huge smile.
"Ooh!" Startled at his sudden movement, she reached out to grab him before he fell, the chuckle that had errupted at his cute little squeak at her answer already forgotten for the moment. She breathed a sigh of relief when he steadied himself not even realising his hand was on her thigh before his fingers moved. He was so close she felt she could hardly breathe, let alone think clearly. All she could do was look down into his blue eyes. As his words finally penetrated she blushed a bright red once more, her jaw dropping as she failed to reply again. Was he teasing her now? She watched as his face flushed as well, her brows furrowing slightly at the meaning of that.
She felt like she was swallowing her heart, unaware that it had lept up into her mouth, her breaths coming in rapid succession. She looked at him almost in shock as he asked to court her. No one had ever asked that of her, not that she had stayed long enough to even be considered for courting, but still. Her eyes darted back and forth between his, trying to see if there was any glimt of having her on, of any sense of teasing. But there wasn't. She found it even harder to swallow as she realised that he meant it, her heart hammering so hard it hurt.
Without even thinking about it she raised her hands to his cheeks and before she could give herself a chance to think it about it and change her mind and leaned down even closer. With her heart in her mouth still she closed her eyes and kissed him, losing herself to the sensation of his soft lips, it was as if the world stood still for a heartbeat. Pulling back, she looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise at the presumption, but she did not regret it.
"Yes.. you may." She replied finally, with a huge smile.
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Horse Trainer of The Mark
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w/ Sigrid
He stood dead still as her hands came to his cheeks, unable to look away. He began to tremble slightly as she leaned closer, her eyes so intense until they fluttered closed and her lips pressed gently to his. Without thinking, he raised his hand to mirror hers, gently cupping her cheek. Her lips were so very soft, so unexpected. He didn’t stop her as she pulled away after a moment though he wanted to. He wanted to lift her off her horse and hold her close. Instead, he smiled at her, eyes shining.
“I’ll do my best to make you happy,” he said after a moment, as her words and smile made his heart thud in his chest. Éo lifted her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm. His own still trembled. “I, uh, suppose I should get back on Banter, we’re not getting far with me standing here.” But he didn’t move, just stood there grinning like an idiot up at her.
He stood dead still as her hands came to his cheeks, unable to look away. He began to tremble slightly as she leaned closer, her eyes so intense until they fluttered closed and her lips pressed gently to his. Without thinking, he raised his hand to mirror hers, gently cupping her cheek. Her lips were so very soft, so unexpected. He didn’t stop her as she pulled away after a moment though he wanted to. He wanted to lift her off her horse and hold her close. Instead, he smiled at her, eyes shining.
“I’ll do my best to make you happy,” he said after a moment, as her words and smile made his heart thud in his chest. Éo lifted her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm. His own still trembled. “I, uh, suppose I should get back on Banter, we’re not getting far with me standing here.” But he didn’t move, just stood there grinning like an idiot up at her.
Once a Rider, always a Rider
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With Éolath
How could a heart beat so hard and not burst? Or so rapidly without being ill? She was sure Éo could feel her pulse thunking in her hand, it racing even more at his words. Her head shook again, not that she did not believe that he would not honour his words, but because she did. What had she done to be this lucky? How could that smile of his be meant for her, of all people? Smiling back at him, she reached down to touch his cheek once more, wanting to just jump down into his arms and kiss him again and let the world fade away.
Swallowing hard as he brought her back to reality she nodded, barely able to speak. "Uh.. yes.. we should." Pulling her hand back from his cheek, she readjusted herself in the seat, giving a small cough. Before she was able to speak again, she drew in a deep breath, knowing that they would get more time, her heart skipping a beat at the thought.
Eyes filled with sudden mirth she extended her hand and teasingly said "Need a hand to climb back up?" before giving Dash a kick to send him off at a galop, leaving him with the sound of her chuckle.
How could a heart beat so hard and not burst? Or so rapidly without being ill? She was sure Éo could feel her pulse thunking in her hand, it racing even more at his words. Her head shook again, not that she did not believe that he would not honour his words, but because she did. What had she done to be this lucky? How could that smile of his be meant for her, of all people? Smiling back at him, she reached down to touch his cheek once more, wanting to just jump down into his arms and kiss him again and let the world fade away.
Swallowing hard as he brought her back to reality she nodded, barely able to speak. "Uh.. yes.. we should." Pulling her hand back from his cheek, she readjusted herself in the seat, giving a small cough. Before she was able to speak again, she drew in a deep breath, knowing that they would get more time, her heart skipping a beat at the thought.
Eyes filled with sudden mirth she extended her hand and teasingly said "Need a hand to climb back up?" before giving Dash a kick to send him off at a galop, leaving him with the sound of her chuckle.
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w/ Sigrid
He stood dumbstruck for a moment; arm raised where he had automatically lifted his hand to hers. Then he laughed as the dust rose around him. Turning with a cheerful whoop , he jumped into his saddle and urged Banter into a canter to catch up. Dancer surged up beside them and Éo laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy, and it really was a joy to watch Sigrid ride ahead. He urged his horses on faster until they caught up then flashed a brilliant grin at Sigrid.
He didn’t say much as the horses ran, other than the occasional laugh or enthusiastic whoop. Banter slowed of his own accord after a bit, his neck damp with sweat. Éo patted his shoulder, checked the pair for lather or blowing and was pleased to see neither. “My pair don’t see the point of wearing themselves out in the sun,” he commented. Unslinging a waterskin, he took a drink then offered it to Sigrid. The watered wine was still cool and refreshing.
“It isn’t too much further to the lane that eventually leads to my parents’ farm,” he said after a bit, looking around. “It’s easier to cut across the field to Hild’s from there, it takes longer by road since we’d have to backtrack a bit. I’m not sure where she’s running the herd right now, though. Does Dash do alright with free-range horses? These two are used to them, but I know some horses get anxious. We can keep going up the road if it’s easier.”
He stood dumbstruck for a moment; arm raised where he had automatically lifted his hand to hers. Then he laughed as the dust rose around him. Turning with a cheerful whoop , he jumped into his saddle and urged Banter into a canter to catch up. Dancer surged up beside them and Éo laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy, and it really was a joy to watch Sigrid ride ahead. He urged his horses on faster until they caught up then flashed a brilliant grin at Sigrid.
He didn’t say much as the horses ran, other than the occasional laugh or enthusiastic whoop. Banter slowed of his own accord after a bit, his neck damp with sweat. Éo patted his shoulder, checked the pair for lather or blowing and was pleased to see neither. “My pair don’t see the point of wearing themselves out in the sun,” he commented. Unslinging a waterskin, he took a drink then offered it to Sigrid. The watered wine was still cool and refreshing.
“It isn’t too much further to the lane that eventually leads to my parents’ farm,” he said after a bit, looking around. “It’s easier to cut across the field to Hild’s from there, it takes longer by road since we’d have to backtrack a bit. I’m not sure where she’s running the herd right now, though. Does Dash do alright with free-range horses? These two are used to them, but I know some horses get anxious. We can keep going up the road if it’s easier.”
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With Éolath
Her braid worked itself free as Dash cantered forward, her long hair whipping out behind her as Dash raced along the road kicking up a whirlwind of dust behind them. She turned back and saw him jumping to onto his horse to chase after her. Her laughter rang out as she turned back to look ahead as she was not as adept at riding backwards. Only a few moments passed before he was beside her, his huge grin enough to make her heart surge like it had never done before. She smiled back at him, kicking Dash on to make it a race, laughing as he followed suit.
As the horses finally slowed she was completely out of breath too, merely nodding in agreement as she and Dash rarely went at this speed either. But it had felt so GOOD. She had never felt so free in all her life, like she was riding away from all the bad memories and riding towards better ones. Her eyes remained on him, finding it hard to tear them away any time he was close and took the waterskin he offered. Taking a big gulp, she sighed happily as she handed it back.
"Oh, going cross field is more than fine, Dash will be ok. I am sure he will be fine with other horses, he is not the jumpy type thankfully." Smiling she gave a nod to encourage him to lead the way, for a brief second regretting she hadn't opted for the longer route. It would have given her more time alone with him. As they rode on, she pushed her hair back and attempted to put it back into a semblance of a braid again, smiling happily as she realised she could have the rest of her life with him.
Her braid worked itself free as Dash cantered forward, her long hair whipping out behind her as Dash raced along the road kicking up a whirlwind of dust behind them. She turned back and saw him jumping to onto his horse to chase after her. Her laughter rang out as she turned back to look ahead as she was not as adept at riding backwards. Only a few moments passed before he was beside her, his huge grin enough to make her heart surge like it had never done before. She smiled back at him, kicking Dash on to make it a race, laughing as he followed suit.
As the horses finally slowed she was completely out of breath too, merely nodding in agreement as she and Dash rarely went at this speed either. But it had felt so GOOD. She had never felt so free in all her life, like she was riding away from all the bad memories and riding towards better ones. Her eyes remained on him, finding it hard to tear them away any time he was close and took the waterskin he offered. Taking a big gulp, she sighed happily as she handed it back.
"Oh, going cross field is more than fine, Dash will be ok. I am sure he will be fine with other horses, he is not the jumpy type thankfully." Smiling she gave a nod to encourage him to lead the way, for a brief second regretting she hadn't opted for the longer route. It would have given her more time alone with him. As they rode on, she pushed her hair back and attempted to put it back into a semblance of a braid again, smiling happily as she realised she could have the rest of her life with him.
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Thain of The Mark
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CONTENT WARNING:- Depressive episode and emotional breakdown
A broken, grieving man in an as-yet-unnamed house, Edoras
He marched through the streets barely resisting the temptation to break into a sprint, breathing quickly with subdued emotions, avoiding the gaze of everyone he passed; hoping desperately no-one would spot his tear-streaked face. Thankfully the street of his destination was mostly empty of all but a couple who were headed away in the other direction, their backs to him. He did not wish the neighbourhood’s introduction to him to be witnessing him in this state.
He stepped through the garden gate, walked down the path and up to the front porch. The single wooden step was still adorned with the colourful flower-pots of summer pansies, left behind by its prior residents as a welcome gift, a small greetings card tucked between the petals. He couldn’t yet bring himself to read its contents and left it where it lay, instead fumbling in his pocket for the keys, still be-ribboned with the purple tie kindly wrapped about it by the salesman. Finally extricating them from his pocket and coaxing his fingers to still their shaking long enough to engage them in the lock, he opened the door and, stepping across the threshold, closed it onto its latch behind him.
Before the door had even clicked shut the emotions he had barely restrained on his short walk here were spilling out afresh. He clenched his hands around the keys as his knees gave way beneath him. Putting his back to door, almost defensively blocking the world out, he slid down to the floor, pulling his knees up close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them as his sobs erupted with renewed fervour. Tears poured, his nose running with the overwhelming emotion as finally - in this safe place where he could be alone and unjudged by any standards but his own - he allowed himself the liberty to fall apart.
Today should have been a day of joy and happiness, of celebration and camaraderie. He had planned to smile and honour his sword-brother-son, the boy who was the closest thing to a child he would likely ever have, and not speak a word of his own grief and melancholy that the young man’s progress toward independence today also marked the closing of a chapter for his life, and he did not yet know what the next page would be filled with, beyond an empty, lonely blankness. He had tried, but after a lifetime of suppressed emotion and unresolved trauma, the unexpected letter from his long-dead friend had cut straight to the heart of his greatest fears and regrets, and all the false walls of stability and courage he had spent a lifetime hiding behind had come tumbling down.
The emotions that raged through him had little clarity or form, but were a storm of regrets and remorse. He wept for his lost family; the people he had never known, and all those foster parents who had never learned to love or opted to keep the strange ‘omen child’. He cried for the man he had once hoped to call father, fallen to the enemy that assaulted Helm’s Deep, and for the young boy he once thought of as a brother leaving behind all the fantasies and imaginings of youth at his passing. He cried for his stubborn pride and duty, for the man who watched in horror as his best friend and the closest thing he had ever had to family was thrown from his horse mid-charge, but who had commanded the corthor to continue on all the same, leaving the hero of Sceornbeorg to die alone on the battlefield. He wept for the man who had failed to rescue a village-worth of children, who discovered their bodies strewn across the fields, killed by the slavers for no other reason than convenience and spiteful vengeance against the loyal Rohir who persisted in pursuing them. He wept for the same man who lost all semblance of motivation and hope then, shaved his head in grief and anguish and in doing so drove away his beloved fiancée with his melancholy and depression. For the wasted years hidden behind rank and routine, surviving, enduring, living by the barest humble means with little hope for the future beyond what goodness and light he could offer to others, never acknowledging the dark, empty shadow within.
He wept for Éodred’s lost future; for the destroyed potential of those precious fifteen young lives; for Sigrid’s lost youth; for Leigh’s lost joy, for all the memories of his father Éomund had never had. He wept for the futility of every attempt he had made to make the world a kinder, fairer, gentler place. He wept for each person he had loved but driven away.
His chest clenched with emotion, his head pounded and his tears faltered as though he had run dry, and a calm emptiness set in. He found himself staring into the open living space of the homely, rustic abode; there were a few pieces of furniture unfamiliar to him, donated by its former residents but placed aside as though expecting him to bring his own furnishings. In the centre of the open, hopeful space was his cavalry trunk and a small box of meagre belongings stacked together, dwarfed by the area cleared in anticipation of them. His eyes were drawn to the pouch that rested on top. Tears flowed afresh, belying his earlier assumption that he was empty of grief, but this time they rolled silently down his face as he brought himself to his feet and crossed the distance to the boxes, lifting the leather pouch into his hands to consider its contents.
He had collected each of these stones from the houses and lands of his foster families, not so he would remember their wariness and farewells, but so he would immortalise their generosity and love. Each one was associated with a moment; a word, a hug, a kind word, a gift or a lesson. They all represented the same thing; Love. Acceptance and belonging, however brief; they were how he wished to remember those families. Not by the farewells, but the hellos. One by one, he lifted them from the pouch and placed them along the mantelpiece, quietly naming each family to himself in the manner of a ritual he had completed many times over.
“...Éothain and Éodred.” He finished, another tear falling as he placed the last one on the mantelpiece. He had miscalculated the spacing, there was an odd space at the end of the mantelpiece that would be fitting for one more stone than he had in his possession. And in the same moment as he realised this, he knew also what belonged there. He had omitted one family from his ritual; the most important family of all of them. He lifted a hand to the wooden beam to stroke fingers over the space, acknowledging the empty spot sadly, but a gentle resolve forming that he would find a stone to place here, one day.
“Leigh. Éomund.” He whispered, sighing deeply. They were family who had welcomed him, within their means, just as all the others had. And therein lay the real grief, which welled up afresh and doubled him over once more to cuddle himself on his knees. Temporary. Foster. Found, and so easily lost again.
He wept then for his fears; not the remnants of the past, but for the uncertainty of the future. He had for so long served the cavalry but recent experience had made him realise it would soon enough be a place for his ward’s generation, and not his, and he could not call it home forever. He had bought this house hoping perhaps that he could build a home with someone; maybe he could have offered shelter to Éomund, or Sigrid if she would let him, or indeed anyone. But he realised that these offers had not been the selfless acts of someone who wanted to help another, solely in their best interest, but were instead motivated by his own loneliness and fear of being alone. A lifetime under the roofs of others and most of his adult life spent in barracks, he was afraid that living alone would be too much for him to bear.
As the tears paused once again, and he rocked back to sit with his shoulders resting against the fireplace, his eyes caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, and saw a face; tear-streaked and red with emotion, a smear of snot caught in a moustache, recently trimmed hair pulled up and tousled from fingers gripping overtight with emotion.
Mirrors were expensive in Rohan, and he had not considered his face within one for many years, making do with any reflective surface he could find for his personal grooming. The man who regarded him was a stranger, and he considered himself with honest regard; without any preconceptions or prejudgments, but actually seeking to read the soul of the man. He stared at the figure before him, his skills in insight developed over many years as Watchmaster that had made him a steady and sure judge of character finally turned upon the man he had disregarded for far too long.
A new set of memories shifted tenuously to the surface; memories of the man he now regarded, some recent, some from years past. A hand that shifted to grip his best friend’s tightly, silently expressing the vow both had made to each other as the man they both regarded as a father was laid in the ground. Leigh’s laughter at his foolish storytelling about the dreaded wildcat of Wilderwood, and the way her face lit up with joy as the little kitten was placed mewing in her lap. Sigrid’s grieving gratitude that she had finally learned the fate of her young villagers. The tearful thankfulness and relief from the old, mute widow he had found fallen in the fire and carried to safety.
And Éomund’s words; “You were there when I needed you. I could *always* count on you. You’ve never failed me and you’ve never failed my father. I love you Fædera.”
Maybe this man, despite all his failings and falterings, had done enough. Maybe, after all was said and done, he was good enough. Maybe the past was finally catching up with him, and for the first time he was finally seeing an image of himself - broken and imperfect, but still utterly worthy of love.
There was only one man’s judgment he had ever accepted for himself, but the great mistake in that regard was that he had always judged himself at impossibly higher standards to everyone else, and thus found himself falling short. But as he regarded the stranger before him, momentarily disassociated and objective, seeing him not through the eyes of familiarity or through anyone’s else’s perception, he suddenly realised that the greatest injustice he had ever committed was to deem this man unworthy.
He took a deep breath, wiped the tears and snot away, and regarded the man before him with this knowledge in mind. He could finally see the man - feel himself - breaking the spell of guilt and remorse that he had wrapped around himself for too many years.
He stood then, lifting the mirror and placed it on a nail above the mantelpiece, centre-piece and overlooking the whole living room, the heart of the house. It felt important to place the culmination of his revelation as the focal point for his new home. He watched his reflection as he reached up to unpin the cavalry insignia from his uniform, recognising it now for the shield and safeguard he had placed between himself and the world, so that none could get too close, evading pain by rejecting pleasure. The only person who had ever denied him love, truly, was himself.
He slowly removed his armour, laid aside his sword, and in only shirt and trousers regarded the visage of the changed man before him. He had worn his years of grievances like a visible barrier, but even in cutting away the lengths of hair and beard he had already started the process of revealing the real man beneath. To start feeling the real, raw emotions that had been lurking deep within him. And now he had let them free, acknowledged and accepted them, ceased hiding and battling them but simply allowed them to be present and part of him, he felt lighter, easier somehow. And there were new emotions there, strangers themselves in their unfamiliarity; calmness, contentedness, hope; not for another, but for himself. More so; as he regarded this man’s face, the slight shift of his posture and expression that suggested a new resolve, he realised something so powerfully transformative that it seemed to shift his entire life in its tracks to head in a new direction. This man had a future. And it did not rely on the charity or regard of anyone else. Nor did it hide in routine and service to others. It rested entirely in his hands; it was for him alone to mould and build. And, perhaps even more astounding a revelation, he realised next that this man had the compassion, patience and courage to build his life into something good for himself *and* others, if only he would give himself the time and space to do so.
He considered for a moment what exactly he should do with this new outlook, and as his gaze dropped from the mirror to the mantelpiece it came to rest on the empty space at its rightmost corner. Éomund. Leigh. He pursed his lips and took a long, deep breath of determination; he would start where he left off, with the two people who meant the most to him (though Leigh was likely ignorant to his regard for her), the only family that remained to him. He glanced back at where his sword and cavalry insignia lay, and decided to leave them be. Instead, he lifted the keys, his pouch of coin and... after a long moment staring at it, pocketed the stone that represented Éodred’s family from when he was a younger man; he may finally have found the courage to accept himself and set out alone on this new chapter of his life, but it still felt right to carry this small reminder of his past with him as he moved on.
Calmer, cathartically re-affirmed and determined to do better, his face now dry as the redness of his tears was gradually easing from around his eyes, he turned to leave. He quietly returned to the front door; opened it and stepped outside into the sunshine, feeling it’s warm welcome on his skin, breathing deep of the summer scents. One of his new neighbours had come out into their garden during his absence and was peering curiously over toward him; he lifted an arm to wave and - surprising even himself - a genuine warm smile broke across his face. They responded with equal heart, nodding with a smile before turning back to their weeding.
Bolstered by this small but pivotal victory, he locked the door behind him, reached down to pick a single pansy from the flowerpots and tuck it into his shirt, then strode down the path and set off in search for Éomund.
(OOC Inspired by the song ‘Three’ by ‘Sleeping at Last’ https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1mpQVljAWTY)
A broken, grieving man in an as-yet-unnamed house, Edoras
He marched through the streets barely resisting the temptation to break into a sprint, breathing quickly with subdued emotions, avoiding the gaze of everyone he passed; hoping desperately no-one would spot his tear-streaked face. Thankfully the street of his destination was mostly empty of all but a couple who were headed away in the other direction, their backs to him. He did not wish the neighbourhood’s introduction to him to be witnessing him in this state.
He stepped through the garden gate, walked down the path and up to the front porch. The single wooden step was still adorned with the colourful flower-pots of summer pansies, left behind by its prior residents as a welcome gift, a small greetings card tucked between the petals. He couldn’t yet bring himself to read its contents and left it where it lay, instead fumbling in his pocket for the keys, still be-ribboned with the purple tie kindly wrapped about it by the salesman. Finally extricating them from his pocket and coaxing his fingers to still their shaking long enough to engage them in the lock, he opened the door and, stepping across the threshold, closed it onto its latch behind him.
Before the door had even clicked shut the emotions he had barely restrained on his short walk here were spilling out afresh. He clenched his hands around the keys as his knees gave way beneath him. Putting his back to door, almost defensively blocking the world out, he slid down to the floor, pulling his knees up close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them as his sobs erupted with renewed fervour. Tears poured, his nose running with the overwhelming emotion as finally - in this safe place where he could be alone and unjudged by any standards but his own - he allowed himself the liberty to fall apart.
Today should have been a day of joy and happiness, of celebration and camaraderie. He had planned to smile and honour his sword-brother-son, the boy who was the closest thing to a child he would likely ever have, and not speak a word of his own grief and melancholy that the young man’s progress toward independence today also marked the closing of a chapter for his life, and he did not yet know what the next page would be filled with, beyond an empty, lonely blankness. He had tried, but after a lifetime of suppressed emotion and unresolved trauma, the unexpected letter from his long-dead friend had cut straight to the heart of his greatest fears and regrets, and all the false walls of stability and courage he had spent a lifetime hiding behind had come tumbling down.
The emotions that raged through him had little clarity or form, but were a storm of regrets and remorse. He wept for his lost family; the people he had never known, and all those foster parents who had never learned to love or opted to keep the strange ‘omen child’. He cried for the man he had once hoped to call father, fallen to the enemy that assaulted Helm’s Deep, and for the young boy he once thought of as a brother leaving behind all the fantasies and imaginings of youth at his passing. He cried for his stubborn pride and duty, for the man who watched in horror as his best friend and the closest thing he had ever had to family was thrown from his horse mid-charge, but who had commanded the corthor to continue on all the same, leaving the hero of Sceornbeorg to die alone on the battlefield. He wept for the man who had failed to rescue a village-worth of children, who discovered their bodies strewn across the fields, killed by the slavers for no other reason than convenience and spiteful vengeance against the loyal Rohir who persisted in pursuing them. He wept for the same man who lost all semblance of motivation and hope then, shaved his head in grief and anguish and in doing so drove away his beloved fiancée with his melancholy and depression. For the wasted years hidden behind rank and routine, surviving, enduring, living by the barest humble means with little hope for the future beyond what goodness and light he could offer to others, never acknowledging the dark, empty shadow within.
He wept for Éodred’s lost future; for the destroyed potential of those precious fifteen young lives; for Sigrid’s lost youth; for Leigh’s lost joy, for all the memories of his father Éomund had never had. He wept for the futility of every attempt he had made to make the world a kinder, fairer, gentler place. He wept for each person he had loved but driven away.
His chest clenched with emotion, his head pounded and his tears faltered as though he had run dry, and a calm emptiness set in. He found himself staring into the open living space of the homely, rustic abode; there were a few pieces of furniture unfamiliar to him, donated by its former residents but placed aside as though expecting him to bring his own furnishings. In the centre of the open, hopeful space was his cavalry trunk and a small box of meagre belongings stacked together, dwarfed by the area cleared in anticipation of them. His eyes were drawn to the pouch that rested on top. Tears flowed afresh, belying his earlier assumption that he was empty of grief, but this time they rolled silently down his face as he brought himself to his feet and crossed the distance to the boxes, lifting the leather pouch into his hands to consider its contents.
He had collected each of these stones from the houses and lands of his foster families, not so he would remember their wariness and farewells, but so he would immortalise their generosity and love. Each one was associated with a moment; a word, a hug, a kind word, a gift or a lesson. They all represented the same thing; Love. Acceptance and belonging, however brief; they were how he wished to remember those families. Not by the farewells, but the hellos. One by one, he lifted them from the pouch and placed them along the mantelpiece, quietly naming each family to himself in the manner of a ritual he had completed many times over.
“...Éothain and Éodred.” He finished, another tear falling as he placed the last one on the mantelpiece. He had miscalculated the spacing, there was an odd space at the end of the mantelpiece that would be fitting for one more stone than he had in his possession. And in the same moment as he realised this, he knew also what belonged there. He had omitted one family from his ritual; the most important family of all of them. He lifted a hand to the wooden beam to stroke fingers over the space, acknowledging the empty spot sadly, but a gentle resolve forming that he would find a stone to place here, one day.
“Leigh. Éomund.” He whispered, sighing deeply. They were family who had welcomed him, within their means, just as all the others had. And therein lay the real grief, which welled up afresh and doubled him over once more to cuddle himself on his knees. Temporary. Foster. Found, and so easily lost again.
He wept then for his fears; not the remnants of the past, but for the uncertainty of the future. He had for so long served the cavalry but recent experience had made him realise it would soon enough be a place for his ward’s generation, and not his, and he could not call it home forever. He had bought this house hoping perhaps that he could build a home with someone; maybe he could have offered shelter to Éomund, or Sigrid if she would let him, or indeed anyone. But he realised that these offers had not been the selfless acts of someone who wanted to help another, solely in their best interest, but were instead motivated by his own loneliness and fear of being alone. A lifetime under the roofs of others and most of his adult life spent in barracks, he was afraid that living alone would be too much for him to bear.
As the tears paused once again, and he rocked back to sit with his shoulders resting against the fireplace, his eyes caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, and saw a face; tear-streaked and red with emotion, a smear of snot caught in a moustache, recently trimmed hair pulled up and tousled from fingers gripping overtight with emotion.
Mirrors were expensive in Rohan, and he had not considered his face within one for many years, making do with any reflective surface he could find for his personal grooming. The man who regarded him was a stranger, and he considered himself with honest regard; without any preconceptions or prejudgments, but actually seeking to read the soul of the man. He stared at the figure before him, his skills in insight developed over many years as Watchmaster that had made him a steady and sure judge of character finally turned upon the man he had disregarded for far too long.
A new set of memories shifted tenuously to the surface; memories of the man he now regarded, some recent, some from years past. A hand that shifted to grip his best friend’s tightly, silently expressing the vow both had made to each other as the man they both regarded as a father was laid in the ground. Leigh’s laughter at his foolish storytelling about the dreaded wildcat of Wilderwood, and the way her face lit up with joy as the little kitten was placed mewing in her lap. Sigrid’s grieving gratitude that she had finally learned the fate of her young villagers. The tearful thankfulness and relief from the old, mute widow he had found fallen in the fire and carried to safety.
And Éomund’s words; “You were there when I needed you. I could *always* count on you. You’ve never failed me and you’ve never failed my father. I love you Fædera.”
Maybe this man, despite all his failings and falterings, had done enough. Maybe, after all was said and done, he was good enough. Maybe the past was finally catching up with him, and for the first time he was finally seeing an image of himself - broken and imperfect, but still utterly worthy of love.
There was only one man’s judgment he had ever accepted for himself, but the great mistake in that regard was that he had always judged himself at impossibly higher standards to everyone else, and thus found himself falling short. But as he regarded the stranger before him, momentarily disassociated and objective, seeing him not through the eyes of familiarity or through anyone’s else’s perception, he suddenly realised that the greatest injustice he had ever committed was to deem this man unworthy.
He took a deep breath, wiped the tears and snot away, and regarded the man before him with this knowledge in mind. He could finally see the man - feel himself - breaking the spell of guilt and remorse that he had wrapped around himself for too many years.
He stood then, lifting the mirror and placed it on a nail above the mantelpiece, centre-piece and overlooking the whole living room, the heart of the house. It felt important to place the culmination of his revelation as the focal point for his new home. He watched his reflection as he reached up to unpin the cavalry insignia from his uniform, recognising it now for the shield and safeguard he had placed between himself and the world, so that none could get too close, evading pain by rejecting pleasure. The only person who had ever denied him love, truly, was himself.
He slowly removed his armour, laid aside his sword, and in only shirt and trousers regarded the visage of the changed man before him. He had worn his years of grievances like a visible barrier, but even in cutting away the lengths of hair and beard he had already started the process of revealing the real man beneath. To start feeling the real, raw emotions that had been lurking deep within him. And now he had let them free, acknowledged and accepted them, ceased hiding and battling them but simply allowed them to be present and part of him, he felt lighter, easier somehow. And there were new emotions there, strangers themselves in their unfamiliarity; calmness, contentedness, hope; not for another, but for himself. More so; as he regarded this man’s face, the slight shift of his posture and expression that suggested a new resolve, he realised something so powerfully transformative that it seemed to shift his entire life in its tracks to head in a new direction. This man had a future. And it did not rely on the charity or regard of anyone else. Nor did it hide in routine and service to others. It rested entirely in his hands; it was for him alone to mould and build. And, perhaps even more astounding a revelation, he realised next that this man had the compassion, patience and courage to build his life into something good for himself *and* others, if only he would give himself the time and space to do so.
He considered for a moment what exactly he should do with this new outlook, and as his gaze dropped from the mirror to the mantelpiece it came to rest on the empty space at its rightmost corner. Éomund. Leigh. He pursed his lips and took a long, deep breath of determination; he would start where he left off, with the two people who meant the most to him (though Leigh was likely ignorant to his regard for her), the only family that remained to him. He glanced back at where his sword and cavalry insignia lay, and decided to leave them be. Instead, he lifted the keys, his pouch of coin and... after a long moment staring at it, pocketed the stone that represented Éodred’s family from when he was a younger man; he may finally have found the courage to accept himself and set out alone on this new chapter of his life, but it still felt right to carry this small reminder of his past with him as he moved on.
Calmer, cathartically re-affirmed and determined to do better, his face now dry as the redness of his tears was gradually easing from around his eyes, he turned to leave. He quietly returned to the front door; opened it and stepped outside into the sunshine, feeling it’s warm welcome on his skin, breathing deep of the summer scents. One of his new neighbours had come out into their garden during his absence and was peering curiously over toward him; he lifted an arm to wave and - surprising even himself - a genuine warm smile broke across his face. They responded with equal heart, nodding with a smile before turning back to their weeding.
Bolstered by this small but pivotal victory, he locked the door behind him, reached down to pick a single pansy from the flowerpots and tuck it into his shirt, then strode down the path and set off in search for Éomund.
(OOC Inspired by the song ‘Three’ by ‘Sleeping at Last’ https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1mpQVljAWTY)
- Points: 1 271
Thain of The Mark
Posts: 660
Joined: Wed May 20, 2020 9:40 pm
OOC (I trust no-one will criticise me for the double-posting given the length of my earlier post and my keenness not to keep @Eldrith waiting any longer).
Allacan, human, she/her
In a quiet part of Edoras, dusk on the day of the Riddermarket attack and Marshal promotions, with Eldrith
The other woman's reaction told her exactly what she had wanted to know. One, that the woman was thinking defensively. Two, where she had stowed her primary weapon. And three, that news of the attack on Pele had come as a surprise to her. She smiled to herself, satisfied that her earlier theorising had apparently paid off. So someone *was* trying to set up this woman as a suspect of murder, but why?! She ignored the matronly look the ex-pubmistress tried to give her for her foolish antics in climbing the tree; she knew it now for a mask that hid the woman's real thoughts.
"I didn't do it." She said in a coldly neutral voice that was neither apologetic or defensive, referring to the attack on the Gondorian. "I just arrived on the scene early enough to remove the bread-knife before the Marshals arrived and hopefully throw off a little of the suspicion that such a weapon of choice might have directed at you." She was shifting her position in the tree, untying some of the rope that had been looped around the trunk to drop it down over the bough she had used as a perch for much of the day. She lowered herself carefully to the ground; conscious that she was vulnerable to attack while she did so, but hoping that Eldrith's curiousity about the news she bore would restrain her long enough to allow Allacan to reach the ground. As her feet hit the solid earth again, she winced and stumbled sideways until she was leant against the trunk, stretching out her right foot. "Argh, cramp!" she exclaimed with a grimace as she attempted to wiggle her toes in her boots to ease off the worst of the burn.
"I don't expect you to believe me, or trust me, I know I wouldn't if our positions were reversed" she said, still carefully neutral as she tried to flex her spasming calf muscle, bending over to massage the muscle in a trusting manner that made her once again vulnerable to attack. "And I'm not here to ask questions or make allegations. I only thought you might appreciate knowing that someone was trying to set you up for murder. You can do whatever you wish with this information; I have no recommendations or advices to give. And if you wish, you can come with me while I retrieve the tools the attacker used in the attack; maybe your eyes can discern something about them that I cannot. Or maybe you would prefer to stay well clear." She glanced up at the woman with a keen look even while she continued massaging her thigh, not specifying whether Eldrith might with to steer clear of the crime or clear of the woman who reported it to her. She wondered how long it would be before Eldrith started asking whether Pele had survived the attack; the lack of query might imply that Eldrith knew more than she was letting on, or that she did not trust Allacan to speak the truth in any event. "And no, before you think it, this doesn't mean I think you owe me one or are indebted to me in any way. I have my own motivations for telling you about the attack on Pele, that much I will admit, but they are focussed primarily on pursuing the attacker and bringing them to justice, and not in any attempt to manipulate you for allegiance or information about who might have wished to set you up for murder." It was pointedly not a question, she was making absolutely certain that she asked no questions, only volunteered information without any allusion to judgment or presumption.
She winced and returned her focus to the leg. "Of course, the other reason I am here is because you requested to talk. So, here I am." She said, in a manner that ceded the conversation to Eldrith, but again did not ask exactly what the woman wanted to talk about that, though she suspected of course it was about her confession in the Campian grounds. She waited then, trying to coax away the cramp in her leg, expectant that Eldrith would exhibit much less restraint in asking questions of her, although much of that was probably justified in the circumstances. Hiding your skills with combat and then engaging in dirty fighting to eliminate opponents through injury in a public tournament was one thing, confessing to being an undercover assassin of Mordor was quite another.
In a quiet part of Edoras, dusk on the day of the Riddermarket attack and Marshal promotions, with Eldrith
The other woman's reaction told her exactly what she had wanted to know. One, that the woman was thinking defensively. Two, where she had stowed her primary weapon. And three, that news of the attack on Pele had come as a surprise to her. She smiled to herself, satisfied that her earlier theorising had apparently paid off. So someone *was* trying to set up this woman as a suspect of murder, but why?! She ignored the matronly look the ex-pubmistress tried to give her for her foolish antics in climbing the tree; she knew it now for a mask that hid the woman's real thoughts.
"I didn't do it." She said in a coldly neutral voice that was neither apologetic or defensive, referring to the attack on the Gondorian. "I just arrived on the scene early enough to remove the bread-knife before the Marshals arrived and hopefully throw off a little of the suspicion that such a weapon of choice might have directed at you." She was shifting her position in the tree, untying some of the rope that had been looped around the trunk to drop it down over the bough she had used as a perch for much of the day. She lowered herself carefully to the ground; conscious that she was vulnerable to attack while she did so, but hoping that Eldrith's curiousity about the news she bore would restrain her long enough to allow Allacan to reach the ground. As her feet hit the solid earth again, she winced and stumbled sideways until she was leant against the trunk, stretching out her right foot. "Argh, cramp!" she exclaimed with a grimace as she attempted to wiggle her toes in her boots to ease off the worst of the burn.
"I don't expect you to believe me, or trust me, I know I wouldn't if our positions were reversed" she said, still carefully neutral as she tried to flex her spasming calf muscle, bending over to massage the muscle in a trusting manner that made her once again vulnerable to attack. "And I'm not here to ask questions or make allegations. I only thought you might appreciate knowing that someone was trying to set you up for murder. You can do whatever you wish with this information; I have no recommendations or advices to give. And if you wish, you can come with me while I retrieve the tools the attacker used in the attack; maybe your eyes can discern something about them that I cannot. Or maybe you would prefer to stay well clear." She glanced up at the woman with a keen look even while she continued massaging her thigh, not specifying whether Eldrith might with to steer clear of the crime or clear of the woman who reported it to her. She wondered how long it would be before Eldrith started asking whether Pele had survived the attack; the lack of query might imply that Eldrith knew more than she was letting on, or that she did not trust Allacan to speak the truth in any event. "And no, before you think it, this doesn't mean I think you owe me one or are indebted to me in any way. I have my own motivations for telling you about the attack on Pele, that much I will admit, but they are focussed primarily on pursuing the attacker and bringing them to justice, and not in any attempt to manipulate you for allegiance or information about who might have wished to set you up for murder." It was pointedly not a question, she was making absolutely certain that she asked no questions, only volunteered information without any allusion to judgment or presumption.
She winced and returned her focus to the leg. "Of course, the other reason I am here is because you requested to talk. So, here I am." She said, in a manner that ceded the conversation to Eldrith, but again did not ask exactly what the woman wanted to talk about that, though she suspected of course it was about her confession in the Campian grounds. She waited then, trying to coax away the cramp in her leg, expectant that Eldrith would exhibit much less restraint in asking questions of her, although much of that was probably justified in the circumstances. Hiding your skills with combat and then engaging in dirty fighting to eliminate opponents through injury in a public tournament was one thing, confessing to being an undercover assassin of Mordor was quite another.
- Points: 2 761
Ent Ancient
Posts: 1875
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Lail's house, New Town
with Æric and Edda, arriving from Riddermarket
“Well, this is it,” she said as they stopped in front of a small house not far from the bubbling stream that divided New Town in half. A pair of apple trees stood on either side of the path leading to the front door providing welcome shade from the summer heat. It looked much like the other houses in Edoras; a wooden structure with a slanted roof of thatch.
“Mind the steps,” she warned with a gesture at a missing second stair leading to the front door and a third that was visibly bowing. She had doubts about how long that one would last so she skipped over it to the top and opened the door.
A single room took up most of the space where a few boxes and chests were strewn about, some partially unpacked and others waiting to be opened. The only furniture was a small kitchen table and two chairs, one of which held a stack of crates filled with jars of honey.
At the far side of the kitchen near double doors that backed into the garden, the floorboards had rotted through leaving little but a large gaping hole. The lack of somewhere to stand was making it somewhat challenging to use that half the kitchen. Two doors led off to other rooms on the right and a hole bigger than her head looked into her bedroom. Lail had a feeling there was an interesting story behind that. Beside the fireplace, the floor was scorched black where the previous residents (or possible squatters) had let idle flames wander before putting them out.
“I suppose you can see some of the problems already…” She trailed off and studied his reaction looking for some indication of how bad it really was. And how much it was going to cost. “Now you can tell me if there really is no job too big or too small. I hope you won’t regret me being your first customer,” she joked in a self-deprecating tone and grinned at him.
with Æric and Edda, arriving from Riddermarket
“Well, this is it,” she said as they stopped in front of a small house not far from the bubbling stream that divided New Town in half. A pair of apple trees stood on either side of the path leading to the front door providing welcome shade from the summer heat. It looked much like the other houses in Edoras; a wooden structure with a slanted roof of thatch.
“Mind the steps,” she warned with a gesture at a missing second stair leading to the front door and a third that was visibly bowing. She had doubts about how long that one would last so she skipped over it to the top and opened the door.
A single room took up most of the space where a few boxes and chests were strewn about, some partially unpacked and others waiting to be opened. The only furniture was a small kitchen table and two chairs, one of which held a stack of crates filled with jars of honey.
At the far side of the kitchen near double doors that backed into the garden, the floorboards had rotted through leaving little but a large gaping hole. The lack of somewhere to stand was making it somewhat challenging to use that half the kitchen. Two doors led off to other rooms on the right and a hole bigger than her head looked into her bedroom. Lail had a feeling there was an interesting story behind that. Beside the fireplace, the floor was scorched black where the previous residents (or possible squatters) had let idle flames wander before putting them out.
“I suppose you can see some of the problems already…” She trailed off and studied his reaction looking for some indication of how bad it really was. And how much it was going to cost. “Now you can tell me if there really is no job too big or too small. I hope you won’t regret me being your first customer,” she joked in a self-deprecating tone and grinned at him.
- Points: 2 588
Master Torturer
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Æric and Edda with Lailyn
As soon as it became evident which house they were headed towards, Æric already started assessing the house and it's foundation as well as the structure. It looked to be in quite a pretty spot, by the stream and with trees in front. His eyes immediately went to the ground around the trees to make sure that the roots were not causing any issues, but as far as he could see there were no signs of that. It was quite lovely, much like a place that he was aiming to get for him and Edda once he could afford it. He could already see Edda eyeing the stream, likely wanting to go dip her feet in it.
Holding on to Edda's hand firmly, he was about to let Lailyn lead them into the house when he realised just how bad the front steps were and instead picked her up into his arms. Those would need replacing, but that was simple enough. The issues became apparent as soon as he stepped into the house, his keen eyes scanning the floorboards as he stepped close and tested the remaining ones gingerly.
"Papa! Look! There is a hole in the wall! Why is there a hole in the wall?" Æric looked to where she pointed and frowned, heading over to have a look. "Hmm.. my guess is that it was a billy goat that did not want to go to bed.." he said with a smirk, giving her a tickle and making her giggle.
As he reached the area that had been scorched, he tested the floorboards to see how many of them were damaged, giving a small nod when he realised it wasn't as many as it looked to be, most were still quite sound. Turning back to head over to Lailyn, he gave her a small smile.
"Not much more than a day and half's worth of work I should think. Biggest job will be the kitchen as I will have to pull out those rotting floorboards and replace them with new ones. The area by the fireplace is not as bad as it looks, I think about four or five need replacing, the rest can be salvaged, sanded down and reused. Could stain them if you want it all the same colour again, if so that will take another half day to allow for the painting and letting it dry. As for the wall, it looks like you will need four new boards as I will have to pull the broken ones out. Most of the work will be in making the boards themselves, but I can do that back at my shop and bring them here. As for the price, well that will depending on which type of wood you want."
This was probably the most Æric had spoken in ages, also giving Lailyn the different prices depending on what wood she wanted, including his labour. He of course made sure to list each one seperately as well as a total so she could choose if she just wanted some of it done and save the rest for when she could afford it.
OOC: Did I read it right?? There was a hole in the wall, right?? If not, let me know and I will edit my post!
As soon as it became evident which house they were headed towards, Æric already started assessing the house and it's foundation as well as the structure. It looked to be in quite a pretty spot, by the stream and with trees in front. His eyes immediately went to the ground around the trees to make sure that the roots were not causing any issues, but as far as he could see there were no signs of that. It was quite lovely, much like a place that he was aiming to get for him and Edda once he could afford it. He could already see Edda eyeing the stream, likely wanting to go dip her feet in it.
Holding on to Edda's hand firmly, he was about to let Lailyn lead them into the house when he realised just how bad the front steps were and instead picked her up into his arms. Those would need replacing, but that was simple enough. The issues became apparent as soon as he stepped into the house, his keen eyes scanning the floorboards as he stepped close and tested the remaining ones gingerly.
"Papa! Look! There is a hole in the wall! Why is there a hole in the wall?" Æric looked to where she pointed and frowned, heading over to have a look. "Hmm.. my guess is that it was a billy goat that did not want to go to bed.." he said with a smirk, giving her a tickle and making her giggle.
As he reached the area that had been scorched, he tested the floorboards to see how many of them were damaged, giving a small nod when he realised it wasn't as many as it looked to be, most were still quite sound. Turning back to head over to Lailyn, he gave her a small smile.
"Not much more than a day and half's worth of work I should think. Biggest job will be the kitchen as I will have to pull out those rotting floorboards and replace them with new ones. The area by the fireplace is not as bad as it looks, I think about four or five need replacing, the rest can be salvaged, sanded down and reused. Could stain them if you want it all the same colour again, if so that will take another half day to allow for the painting and letting it dry. As for the wall, it looks like you will need four new boards as I will have to pull the broken ones out. Most of the work will be in making the boards themselves, but I can do that back at my shop and bring them here. As for the price, well that will depending on which type of wood you want."
This was probably the most Æric had spoken in ages, also giving Lailyn the different prices depending on what wood she wanted, including his labour. He of course made sure to list each one seperately as well as a total so she could choose if she just wanted some of it done and save the rest for when she could afford it.
OOC: Did I read it right?? There was a hole in the wall, right?? If not, let me know and I will edit my post!
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Ent Ancient
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Lailyn at her house with Æric and Edda
Lail smiled when Æric explained the hole to Edda and she briefly imagined trying to get such an energetic child to sleep. While he gave everything a thorough look, Lail set down her bag and smoothed out Edda’s drawing on what little space remained on the table.
She nodded and listened carefully while he explained what needed doing, pleasantly surprised it would take less time than she expected. Releasing a slow breath, she considered the options and looked around the house. After buying the property, the Cavalry stipend she had saved was gone and all that remained was the little money her family had left her. If she was wise with her investments and worked hard, she hoped to do well enough for herself.
"I'd like to fix it all...but for now, the stairs and kitchen are most important if you could start there. I'll let you know as soon as I get my feet off the ground so you can finish the rest. As far as the type of wood...I’m not really sure, but you know what you’re doing so I’ll trust you to pick whatever is best.” She smiled and glanced at the rotted floor. “Maybe something that won’t rot so easily…?”
"When would you like to start?" she asked, not intending to rush him for she was in no hurry herself but she supposed he might be as keen to get to work as she was to start hers.
(OOC: yes, definite hole in the wall. you got it perfectly :) )
Lail smiled when Æric explained the hole to Edda and she briefly imagined trying to get such an energetic child to sleep. While he gave everything a thorough look, Lail set down her bag and smoothed out Edda’s drawing on what little space remained on the table.
She nodded and listened carefully while he explained what needed doing, pleasantly surprised it would take less time than she expected. Releasing a slow breath, she considered the options and looked around the house. After buying the property, the Cavalry stipend she had saved was gone and all that remained was the little money her family had left her. If she was wise with her investments and worked hard, she hoped to do well enough for herself.
"I'd like to fix it all...but for now, the stairs and kitchen are most important if you could start there. I'll let you know as soon as I get my feet off the ground so you can finish the rest. As far as the type of wood...I’m not really sure, but you know what you’re doing so I’ll trust you to pick whatever is best.” She smiled and glanced at the rotted floor. “Maybe something that won’t rot so easily…?”
"When would you like to start?" she asked, not intending to rush him for she was in no hurry herself but she supposed he might be as keen to get to work as she was to start hers.
(OOC: yes, definite hole in the wall. you got it perfectly :) )
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Æric and Edda with Lailyn
Relieved that he had not scared her off with the prices, though he had deliberately kept them as low as he could, he gave her an affirming nod when she picked what she would like to have done first. It would take him about a full days worth of work just making the boards.
"I had a delivery of uncut wood waiting for me when I arrived and that should be good sturdy wood for places such as kitchens and stairs. I can have the few boards made for the stairs tomorrow. I can pop by and quickly replace those and then head back and make the rest. I would think I could do the kitchen the day after tomorrow and worst case the day after that."
Still holding Edda in his arms, who was fortunately being quiet as they spoke about what needed doing, he took stock of the kitchen, counting out how many boards he was going to need. "If you make sure the kitchen is cleared for the day after tomorrow, make sure you have what you need access to as you won't be able to use that area most of the day."
He looked at her apologetically, knowing that it was an important area of the house, but there was not much he could do when he had to break up all the rotten boards. "I hope you don't mind me cominging over early tomorrow? Both Edda and I seem to be early risers and I would like to get the stairs done so I can get to work on cutting the wood for the boards."
Relieved that he had not scared her off with the prices, though he had deliberately kept them as low as he could, he gave her an affirming nod when she picked what she would like to have done first. It would take him about a full days worth of work just making the boards.
"I had a delivery of uncut wood waiting for me when I arrived and that should be good sturdy wood for places such as kitchens and stairs. I can have the few boards made for the stairs tomorrow. I can pop by and quickly replace those and then head back and make the rest. I would think I could do the kitchen the day after tomorrow and worst case the day after that."
Still holding Edda in his arms, who was fortunately being quiet as they spoke about what needed doing, he took stock of the kitchen, counting out how many boards he was going to need. "If you make sure the kitchen is cleared for the day after tomorrow, make sure you have what you need access to as you won't be able to use that area most of the day."
He looked at her apologetically, knowing that it was an important area of the house, but there was not much he could do when he had to break up all the rotten boards. "I hope you don't mind me cominging over early tomorrow? Both Edda and I seem to be early risers and I would like to get the stairs done so I can get to work on cutting the wood for the boards."
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Ent Ancient
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Lailyn with Æric and Edda
“Oh, don’t worry about the kitchen.” She waved her hand at him dismissively. “It’s just me, so no one else will be bothered by it and I’ve barely unpacked much anyway. It’ll be easy enough to clear out.” Not to mention she hardly owned much at all in the first place. It was going to be a slow task getting the house up to scratch, but she was eager to make it her own.
“Please come whenever it suits you. I have a few deliveries to make around town, but I’ll be up early, too. I have a lot of work to be getting on with myself.” Unpacking, gardening, harvesting honey, dropping it off to her customers and setting up the barn to make mead. It was nice of him to consider her in his plans and she appreciated it but she really didn’t mind at all.
He was really very courteous now that she thought about it. Offering to walk her home and considering the inconvenience his work might cause. She assumed he would do that for all of his customers, but she still added not making eyes at the carpenter she hired to fix her house to her growing list of things to do.
With that thought, she busied herself with piling more jars of honey into a crate. “Would you like a spare key in case I’m not here so you can get started? If something comes up, I don’t want to waste your time.” Never having owned a house and definitely never having had one repaired, she had no idea if this was a usual request or not but it seemed entirely sensible to her. With the way things were going in the city, who knew what was going to happen next.
“Oh, don’t worry about the kitchen.” She waved her hand at him dismissively. “It’s just me, so no one else will be bothered by it and I’ve barely unpacked much anyway. It’ll be easy enough to clear out.” Not to mention she hardly owned much at all in the first place. It was going to be a slow task getting the house up to scratch, but she was eager to make it her own.
“Please come whenever it suits you. I have a few deliveries to make around town, but I’ll be up early, too. I have a lot of work to be getting on with myself.” Unpacking, gardening, harvesting honey, dropping it off to her customers and setting up the barn to make mead. It was nice of him to consider her in his plans and she appreciated it but she really didn’t mind at all.
He was really very courteous now that she thought about it. Offering to walk her home and considering the inconvenience his work might cause. She assumed he would do that for all of his customers, but she still added not making eyes at the carpenter she hired to fix her house to her growing list of things to do.
With that thought, she busied herself with piling more jars of honey into a crate. “Would you like a spare key in case I’m not here so you can get started? If something comes up, I don’t want to waste your time.” Never having owned a house and definitely never having had one repaired, she had no idea if this was a usual request or not but it seemed entirely sensible to her. With the way things were going in the city, who knew what was going to happen next.
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Æric and Edda with Lailyn
He nodded as she explained that she was fine with clearing out of the kitchen for a while. While he shouldn't be too long with fixing it, a day or two at the most, one never knew for sure how bad the job actually was until the boards came out. But that was a worry for another day, he had boards to cut and a lot of them.
He was pleased to hear she was an early riser as well, starting to make his way back towards the front door still carrying Edda in his arms. For a moment he got a faraway look in his eyes when he unwittingly compared Lailyn to Edda's mother, the two about as opposite as could possibly be. His brows furrowed when he realised what he was doing, shaking the thoughts from his head, surmising that it was likely because he had always admired those that worked hard for what they wanted.
"Uh.. spare key? Well it is a good idea, but I won't need to enter the house tomorrow. I won't start on the kitchen before I have the boards cut, no need to make a bigger mess for you before they are done. But once I start on that, it might be a good idea.." He tried not to look and sound as uncomfortable as he felt, feeling like it would be an invasion of privacy to enter her home without her being there. However if she really was as busy as she said she would be, then it still might be best if he got over that as otherwise it might delay getting started.
Shuffling slightly, he made it to the door, turning back towards her. "I will pop around first thing tomorrow and fix the stairs, that will leave me with the rest of the day to cut the boards for the kitchen." He had no idea why he was feeling awkward, even Edda was picking up on it. Squirming in his grasp she said with a serious face "I need to say goodbye, Papa!"
Not given a choice he set her down carefully, watching as Edda ran back to Lailyn and hugged her legs, smiling up at the woman and almost dropping her new straw hat. "Goodbye, Miss Lailyn!" Giggling she tore herself free and ran back to her father who scooped her up with a smile and an apologetic look before nodding towards Lailyn. "See you soon then."
As soon as he had carefully navigated his way back down the broken steps, Edda placed a hand on his cheek to turn his face towards her, giving him her most poutiest and sincere look, her bright blue eyes sparkling. "Papa can we pleeeeease go look at the stream?? Pleeease? If we don't cool down we might die!"
He failed miserably at witholding the laughter, chuckling at her serious face before planting a kiss on her nose. "I guess we can cool down for a few minutes, but only a few, you hear me? I have work to do now." He gave her a serious look, but even she could see the mirth playing in his equally blue eyes and she squealed with joy as he took her down to the stream.
He allowed her to take off her shoes and wade out into the water, watching her like a hawk as he grabbed a twig and a huge leaf that lay on the ground and built a likeness of a boat for her, much to her pleasure which she expressed with several squeals as she followed the boat as it made it's way slowly down the stream.
He nodded as she explained that she was fine with clearing out of the kitchen for a while. While he shouldn't be too long with fixing it, a day or two at the most, one never knew for sure how bad the job actually was until the boards came out. But that was a worry for another day, he had boards to cut and a lot of them.
He was pleased to hear she was an early riser as well, starting to make his way back towards the front door still carrying Edda in his arms. For a moment he got a faraway look in his eyes when he unwittingly compared Lailyn to Edda's mother, the two about as opposite as could possibly be. His brows furrowed when he realised what he was doing, shaking the thoughts from his head, surmising that it was likely because he had always admired those that worked hard for what they wanted.
"Uh.. spare key? Well it is a good idea, but I won't need to enter the house tomorrow. I won't start on the kitchen before I have the boards cut, no need to make a bigger mess for you before they are done. But once I start on that, it might be a good idea.." He tried not to look and sound as uncomfortable as he felt, feeling like it would be an invasion of privacy to enter her home without her being there. However if she really was as busy as she said she would be, then it still might be best if he got over that as otherwise it might delay getting started.
Shuffling slightly, he made it to the door, turning back towards her. "I will pop around first thing tomorrow and fix the stairs, that will leave me with the rest of the day to cut the boards for the kitchen." He had no idea why he was feeling awkward, even Edda was picking up on it. Squirming in his grasp she said with a serious face "I need to say goodbye, Papa!"
Not given a choice he set her down carefully, watching as Edda ran back to Lailyn and hugged her legs, smiling up at the woman and almost dropping her new straw hat. "Goodbye, Miss Lailyn!" Giggling she tore herself free and ran back to her father who scooped her up with a smile and an apologetic look before nodding towards Lailyn. "See you soon then."
As soon as he had carefully navigated his way back down the broken steps, Edda placed a hand on his cheek to turn his face towards her, giving him her most poutiest and sincere look, her bright blue eyes sparkling. "Papa can we pleeeeease go look at the stream?? Pleeease? If we don't cool down we might die!"
He failed miserably at witholding the laughter, chuckling at her serious face before planting a kiss on her nose. "I guess we can cool down for a few minutes, but only a few, you hear me? I have work to do now." He gave her a serious look, but even she could see the mirth playing in his equally blue eyes and she squealed with joy as he took her down to the stream.
He allowed her to take off her shoes and wade out into the water, watching her like a hawk as he grabbed a twig and a huge leaf that lay on the ground and built a likeness of a boat for her, much to her pleasure which she expressed with several squeals as she followed the boat as it made it's way slowly down the stream.
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Balrog
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Who’s Your Daddy?
(Private with Moriel)
He was a Gondorian! Walpurga stiffened as her suspicions were given credence, her lip unconsciously curling into sneer and she let out a hot breath through her nose. She watched (a little too closely) as the innkeepers doted on the man like he was their son. Her cheeks reddened in sudden and inexplicable anger at this. Her mother had told her that her father was able to make around him love him. Was he pulling the same charismatic trick here? It was confounding. She narrowed her gaze at him. She pictured herself charging over to his table, knocking the spoon out of his hand and wiping the smug expression he had off his face. She could picture herself standing over him in that moment and…
“What can I get for ye?” The voice was suddenly very near and loud. Walpurga shook herself out of the angry daydream that had begun to play behind her eyes as the woman stood before her with a wary look on her face. Walpurga suddenly realized that she had not been doing a very good job of remaining inconspicuous in her observations. She reddened and gulped loudly, trying desperately not to look the innkeeper in the eyes. “I think… I’ll have the, the ah, if you have another meat pie that would be nice,” she sounded far too mousy and kicked herself mentally, “and maybe a mug of summer cider if you have any…” she trailed off, staring intently now at the wide open door. She fought down the urge to bolt.
The woman nodded mumbled something under her breath that Walpurga couldn’t quite make out, and disappeared around the corner. Walpurga’s appetite was dead but she had to come up with some reason for staring at the man so intently. Then, mortifyingly, the man actually looked over at her! And acknowledged her! Her mouth went utterly dry, she fumbled about with her pack, attempting to look busy with something until he looked away.
“What are you doing here?” She whispered to herself. “Foolish, foolish girl!” Her voice, despite being nigh completely silent, was raspy dry.
The proprietress carried out a tray of food and drink, with decidedly less fanfare than she did for the Gondorian. There was a look in the woman’s eyes that Walpurga thought she could almost interpret. Was it suspicion? Pity? Concern? Worry? Anger? Perhaps it was a mixture of all of them. She looked after this man with the protectiveness of a mother. Did she view Walpurga as a sudden interloper? A stranger bent on doing harm? A silly girl following a crush? If she was being honest with herself, Walpurga knew she was being a bit of all three.
Doubt crept into her mind, a slow, steady whisper in the shadows. What was she doing? Was she really going to confront this man, this perfect stranger over something she was not even half convinced was true? If she were an outside observer she would have laughed at the utter absurdity of it. There was no way this man was her father. The galloping stars be damned! But… what if? How would she know for certain that this man wasn’t her father, or connected to her father unless she confronted him, talked to him, made him tell her the truth? Could she really walk away from this? She had spent twenty years not knowing who her father was and she turned out just fine, albeit with far more animal friends than sapient friends, a broken relationship with her mother, and the dreadful loneliness that followed her like a shadow. What would she gain from knowing this man was, or wasn’t, her father? Would the haunting memories of the fight with her mother suddenly feel worth it? Would she feel complete?
“Do you want him to tell you why he never acknowledged you existed?” she chided herself. She could feel herself on the verge of tears. She took a drink of the cider. It was good, the apples were strong and sweet with a bite much stronger than she had expected. The cider burned as it pushed down her throat. It felt good though, the buzzy feeling in her head kept the dark thoughts at bay. She picked at the meat pie. It smelled amazing and Walpurga felt guilty for ordering something she had no intention of eating. The idea of such wasted effort galled her.
“I deserve to know,” she told herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep calming breath. “I deserve to know who he is at least. I deserve to know who my father is despite what my mother thinks of him. It’s my right to find him.”
Fine. Fine. She was going to do it. She was going to talk to him. She was going to confront him and, and… and what? She was halfway to standing when she realized she had no idea what she was going to say to the man. What do you say to a man that might be your father? Hey you might be my dad, what the hell is up with that? Hey dad, wanna go ride horses together? You’re an asshole and I never want to see you again? Her stomach churned unhappily. She sat back down. Then stood up again. She swallowed hard, exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and ran her fingers through her hair. She was going to do this. Standing there, she realized her only two options were now to run or to confront.
“Excuse me,” she said walking on legs that felt like pudding. “I think, were you…” dammit all what no! “did you pass through the town of Benton twenty years ago? I think you might… you could be…” well this was going well “Do you know a woman named Ethelgifu?”
Last edited by The Good Hunter on Sun Jan 17, 2021 4:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
"We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood. Our eyes have yet to open... Fear the Old Blood..."
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Lailyn with Æric and Edda
Catching sight of his frown, she wondered if she’d said something wrong. Giving him a key certainly seemed a better idea than leaving her door unlocked altogether under the current circumstances. Based on his response, she got the vague sense he was too polite to outright disagree. She didn’t really see anything wrong with it and it wasn’t like she had anything to hide. At least nothing tangible.
“Well...let’s decide tomorrow then,” she told him, hoping to put him at ease over it.
Seeing as Edda had endless enthusiasm, it shouldn’t have taken her by surprise when she felt small arms wrap around her legs but it did. Before the girl slipped away, she secured the hat atop her head. “Bye for now, Edda! It was nice meeting you.”
She bit her lip and returned his nod. “Thank you for walking with me. See you then.” With a wave, she watched them leave and released a long, slow breath. What a day it had been already. Expecting to find some peace and quiet at home, so far the city had been anything but. At least she had a house with four walls and a roof and damage that could be repaired.
The crates of honey were waiting to be taken to the Infirmary as she arranged with Thali. But it was all the way across the city and the assailant was quite possibly still on the loose. She wondered how Pele was faring and reminded herself to check in with her sometime. Having had quite enough of the heat and the city for one day, she decided the delivery could wait until tomorrow.
As she recalled the morning’s events, she remembered Taethowen and Gwai had been promoted to Marshal. Before she turned to more unpacking, she pulled out a parchment and ink and set about writing them a congratulatory note as well as a request.
Catching sight of his frown, she wondered if she’d said something wrong. Giving him a key certainly seemed a better idea than leaving her door unlocked altogether under the current circumstances. Based on his response, she got the vague sense he was too polite to outright disagree. She didn’t really see anything wrong with it and it wasn’t like she had anything to hide. At least nothing tangible.
“Well...let’s decide tomorrow then,” she told him, hoping to put him at ease over it.
Seeing as Edda had endless enthusiasm, it shouldn’t have taken her by surprise when she felt small arms wrap around her legs but it did. Before the girl slipped away, she secured the hat atop her head. “Bye for now, Edda! It was nice meeting you.”
She bit her lip and returned his nod. “Thank you for walking with me. See you then.” With a wave, she watched them leave and released a long, slow breath. What a day it had been already. Expecting to find some peace and quiet at home, so far the city had been anything but. At least she had a house with four walls and a roof and damage that could be repaired.
The crates of honey were waiting to be taken to the Infirmary as she arranged with Thali. But it was all the way across the city and the assailant was quite possibly still on the loose. She wondered how Pele was faring and reminded herself to check in with her sometime. Having had quite enough of the heat and the city for one day, she decided the delivery could wait until tomorrow.
As she recalled the morning’s events, she remembered Taethowen and Gwai had been promoted to Marshal. Before she turned to more unpacking, she pulled out a parchment and ink and set about writing them a congratulatory note as well as a request.
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New Soul
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House of Wycliffe
Edoras, Riddermark
Corlisswyn stared at the house she now owned in sadness. Her dear uncle Wycliffe welcomed her into his home back almost a decade ago when she first came to Edoras from Buckden. She had been called back home as her father fell ill and always expected to return shortly to Edoras. That was five years ago, and she has since lost her father; her horse, Roan; her husband of only three years, Gleddon; and now her uncle. With little to leave behind in Buckden, she gathered the small sack of treasures and belongings, purchased a young mare she named Epona, and return to her uncle's house and take up residence.
Her husband, Gleddon had been a welcome addition to the poor company her father, Eorfoldhild, provided. Once her father had passed, Corlisswyn and Gleddon had plans to move to Edoras at Wycliffe's invitation, but a sweating sickness took the town by storm, and in no time at all, Corlisswyn was now a widow. It would be another year before she could pull herself together to once again take up Wycliffe's offer to come back to Edoras, and just as she had sold her home and most of her belongings, word came of Wycliffe's passing.
Corlisswyn did not want to return to Edoras under these circumstances, but as fate would have it, she was now without attachment, with a home and some wealth in the city. She only hoped there were still those who remembered her as a young vibrant woman, and she prayed to Bema for the courage to start over again.
Edoras, Riddermark
Corlisswyn stared at the house she now owned in sadness. Her dear uncle Wycliffe welcomed her into his home back almost a decade ago when she first came to Edoras from Buckden. She had been called back home as her father fell ill and always expected to return shortly to Edoras. That was five years ago, and she has since lost her father; her horse, Roan; her husband of only three years, Gleddon; and now her uncle. With little to leave behind in Buckden, she gathered the small sack of treasures and belongings, purchased a young mare she named Epona, and return to her uncle's house and take up residence.
Her husband, Gleddon had been a welcome addition to the poor company her father, Eorfoldhild, provided. Once her father had passed, Corlisswyn and Gleddon had plans to move to Edoras at Wycliffe's invitation, but a sweating sickness took the town by storm, and in no time at all, Corlisswyn was now a widow. It would be another year before she could pull herself together to once again take up Wycliffe's offer to come back to Edoras, and just as she had sold her home and most of her belongings, word came of Wycliffe's passing.
Corlisswyn did not want to return to Edoras under these circumstances, but as fate would have it, she was now without attachment, with a home and some wealth in the city. She only hoped there were still those who remembered her as a young vibrant woman, and she prayed to Bema for the courage to start over again.
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Æric and Edda eventually at Lailyn's house
Æric had risen before the first crow from the rooster marked the beginning of a new day. Dunking his head in the cold water, he quickly washed his face and his beard, drying off vigorously with a towel before putting on his shirt. It was still damp in places from having been washed the night before, but he figured it would dry quick enough once the sun rose. Heading back into the back room he called the kitchen, he stoked the fire before setting the oatcakes in the tiny oven to cook as he headed in to wake Edda. They were fortunate enough to have two rooms out back of the store, one being the area he used as a kitchen and the other the room where they both slept. He knew the situation was not ideal, the rooms too cramped to house them both comfortably, but they made it work for now. He would build them a house as soon as he could afford it, once more making that promise as he knelt down on the floor to kiss his daughter awake.
It wasn't much longer before the two of them had set off in the direction of Lailyn's house, Edda holding her father's hand as they made it through the market that was only just coming to life as stall owners set up their shops for the day. Skipping happily Edda was waving and greeting everyone they passed, Æric giving a self-concious nod as they all responded with a smile and a wave of their own, uncomfortable with all the attention. Edda on the other hand thrived on the attention, happily continuing to greet everyone.
As soon as they arrived at the house, Edda was reminded to stay right next to him, still worrying about the bees. He had made an agreement with her that if she did as told, that they would go down to the stream again for a little bit when he was done fixing the steps. But he was truly blessed with a good daughter as she always minded him. She had her cheeky moments, but if he asked something of her, she never said no or failed to comply, something he was now extremely grateful for as he would have to rely on her doing as told so she didn't wander off and get stung or go to the stream on her own. He did not knock on the door just yet, getting straight to the job. He had brought the tools needed as well as the boards and he lay them on the ground before grabbing the crowbar and set to prying the damaged boards off as Edda sat on the grass close by playing with her homemade doll.
Æric had risen before the first crow from the rooster marked the beginning of a new day. Dunking his head in the cold water, he quickly washed his face and his beard, drying off vigorously with a towel before putting on his shirt. It was still damp in places from having been washed the night before, but he figured it would dry quick enough once the sun rose. Heading back into the back room he called the kitchen, he stoked the fire before setting the oatcakes in the tiny oven to cook as he headed in to wake Edda. They were fortunate enough to have two rooms out back of the store, one being the area he used as a kitchen and the other the room where they both slept. He knew the situation was not ideal, the rooms too cramped to house them both comfortably, but they made it work for now. He would build them a house as soon as he could afford it, once more making that promise as he knelt down on the floor to kiss his daughter awake.
It wasn't much longer before the two of them had set off in the direction of Lailyn's house, Edda holding her father's hand as they made it through the market that was only just coming to life as stall owners set up their shops for the day. Skipping happily Edda was waving and greeting everyone they passed, Æric giving a self-concious nod as they all responded with a smile and a wave of their own, uncomfortable with all the attention. Edda on the other hand thrived on the attention, happily continuing to greet everyone.
As soon as they arrived at the house, Edda was reminded to stay right next to him, still worrying about the bees. He had made an agreement with her that if she did as told, that they would go down to the stream again for a little bit when he was done fixing the steps. But he was truly blessed with a good daughter as she always minded him. She had her cheeky moments, but if he asked something of her, she never said no or failed to comply, something he was now extremely grateful for as he would have to rely on her doing as told so she didn't wander off and get stung or go to the stream on her own. He did not knock on the door just yet, getting straight to the job. He had brought the tools needed as well as the boards and he lay them on the ground before grabbing the crowbar and set to prying the damaged boards off as Edda sat on the grass close by playing with her homemade doll.
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Ent Ancient
Posts: 1875
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Lailyn at home, then with Æric and Edda
Lailyn woke with the pale light of dawn, refreshed and ready to start on her real work. After braiding her hair and dressing in a pair of old trousers and a linen tunic suitable for working in the garden, she sat down for breakfast and tea. Where the table had been stacked with crates of honey yesterday, a pot of daisies sat in an attempt to brighten the place up. True to her word, Edda’s picture hung on the wall in the kitchen. It was officially the first decoration she put up although a tapestry depicting the White Mountains now hung on the wall over the fireplace.
It had arrived yesterday afternoon with the last of her belongings. When she unpacked it, she thought it might be too hard to look at. It was the only thing her mother had taken from their home in the Westfold that didn’t have some purpose. But surprisingly, she found it comforting as though some part of her family was there with her in the memory of it.
She might have made progress but there was still much to do. After she drained the last of her tea, she skirted around the crumbling kitchen floor and stepped outside. A colorful array of potted flowers sat to one side waiting to be planted. Beside them a row of tools was arranged in a neat line.
Undaunted by the tangled mess of weeds that grew wild over the yard, Lailyn took up a spade and got to work digging up the roots. With only the sounds of birdsong and the bees gentle hum in the distance, she soon fell into the rhythm of work. She may not have spent much time making the decision to stay in Edoras but once she did the seeds of her ideas were quickly sown. It felt good to finally be making it reality.
She was so focused on her work that she lost track of time and had no idea Æric had arrived and begun to work on the stairs. Until she went back inside for a brief rest and a cup of water and heard noise outside the front door. She unlocked the door and inched it open slowly, hoping not to startle him.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile. “I don’t want to bother you, but if you need anything, I’ll be in the garden...feel free to come on through.”
Lailyn woke with the pale light of dawn, refreshed and ready to start on her real work. After braiding her hair and dressing in a pair of old trousers and a linen tunic suitable for working in the garden, she sat down for breakfast and tea. Where the table had been stacked with crates of honey yesterday, a pot of daisies sat in an attempt to brighten the place up. True to her word, Edda’s picture hung on the wall in the kitchen. It was officially the first decoration she put up although a tapestry depicting the White Mountains now hung on the wall over the fireplace.
It had arrived yesterday afternoon with the last of her belongings. When she unpacked it, she thought it might be too hard to look at. It was the only thing her mother had taken from their home in the Westfold that didn’t have some purpose. But surprisingly, she found it comforting as though some part of her family was there with her in the memory of it.
She might have made progress but there was still much to do. After she drained the last of her tea, she skirted around the crumbling kitchen floor and stepped outside. A colorful array of potted flowers sat to one side waiting to be planted. Beside them a row of tools was arranged in a neat line.
Undaunted by the tangled mess of weeds that grew wild over the yard, Lailyn took up a spade and got to work digging up the roots. With only the sounds of birdsong and the bees gentle hum in the distance, she soon fell into the rhythm of work. She may not have spent much time making the decision to stay in Edoras but once she did the seeds of her ideas were quickly sown. It felt good to finally be making it reality.
She was so focused on her work that she lost track of time and had no idea Æric had arrived and begun to work on the stairs. Until she went back inside for a brief rest and a cup of water and heard noise outside the front door. She unlocked the door and inched it open slowly, hoping not to startle him.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile. “I don’t want to bother you, but if you need anything, I’ll be in the garden...feel free to come on through.”
- Points: 2 588
Master Torturer
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Æric and Edda at Lailyn's house
With Edda occupied for the moment, Æric set to work, prying the broken and loose boards away. One he saved as it was just loose and needing a good sanding down, though the others were impossible to save, however they could be used for firewood. He worked quickly as well as quietly, occasionally smiling when he heard Edda burst into song or saying something especially cute to her doll. Though focused on his work, he often found himself glancing over at Edda, his eyes sometimes getting a faraway look that was full of both joy and immense sadness. And anger. The hurt was still tearing at his heart and he had to forcefully swallow hard to push Edda's mother from his thoughts, though never quite managed to rid the look of betrayal from his features.
Mouth full of nails lined up and ready to be used, Æric looked up as he heard the front door open quietly. He gave Lailyn a smile that was made awkward with all the nails in his mouth which he quickly spat into his gloved hand. "Good morning. Thank you, but we are almost done here." He nodded down to the stair he was fixing to show that it was the last step he was working on and that a few nails would finish it off.
"Oh while you are here, I should be over to pull the floorboards out tomorrow morning, early. Will you be home just after dawn?" He recalled the offer for a key, allowing for her to offer it up again if she would not be in, though he found that he hoped she was. That realisation set a confused frown on his face, though it was quickly dispelled as Edda came running up to the stairs, waving to Lailyn. "Morning Miss Lailyn! Papa says I can go into the stream again today before we go home!" The little girl was practically jumping with exitement, her fiery red curls bouncing freely around her.
With Edda occupied for the moment, Æric set to work, prying the broken and loose boards away. One he saved as it was just loose and needing a good sanding down, though the others were impossible to save, however they could be used for firewood. He worked quickly as well as quietly, occasionally smiling when he heard Edda burst into song or saying something especially cute to her doll. Though focused on his work, he often found himself glancing over at Edda, his eyes sometimes getting a faraway look that was full of both joy and immense sadness. And anger. The hurt was still tearing at his heart and he had to forcefully swallow hard to push Edda's mother from his thoughts, though never quite managed to rid the look of betrayal from his features.
Mouth full of nails lined up and ready to be used, Æric looked up as he heard the front door open quietly. He gave Lailyn a smile that was made awkward with all the nails in his mouth which he quickly spat into his gloved hand. "Good morning. Thank you, but we are almost done here." He nodded down to the stair he was fixing to show that it was the last step he was working on and that a few nails would finish it off.
"Oh while you are here, I should be over to pull the floorboards out tomorrow morning, early. Will you be home just after dawn?" He recalled the offer for a key, allowing for her to offer it up again if she would not be in, though he found that he hoped she was. That realisation set a confused frown on his face, though it was quickly dispelled as Edda came running up to the stairs, waving to Lailyn. "Morning Miss Lailyn! Papa says I can go into the stream again today before we go home!" The little girl was practically jumping with exitement, her fiery red curls bouncing freely around her.
- Points: 2 761
Ent Ancient
Posts: 1875
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Lailyn at home, with Æric and Edda
“Oh look at that!” she exclaimed, pleased with the nearly-complete new stairs. “That’s much better.” And if she’d had the last of her things delivered today instead of yesterday, she thought the cart driver might have appreciated it. He’d had a few choice words for her when he saw the state of things but she took it all in stride and was somewhat amused at his expense. It hadn’t been that hard to bring everything in.
“Just after dawn?” she asked. He really was an early riser. Or maybe he was keen to get the job done, get paid and move on to the next customer. In fact, reflecting upon it, Lail thought she must be right. He’d been very efficient so far and it would probably be a relief for him to finish working for her chatty, overly friendly self. That was probably for the best even though she felt a stirring of...something she tried hard to ignore when she thought about seeing him again the next day.
“Yes, I’ll be home. I’m not sure where else I would be that time of day…” she trailed off, a smile playing on her lips.
Of course there were plenty of other places she could imagine being at that time of day and most of them were not entirely respectable. Not that she meant to imply such a thing with her words. Coming home from a late night at the pub wasn’t so bad but sneaking back to her lodgings to maintain appearances that she was in fact sleeping there and not somewhere else was something she was glad to leave behind.
“But I’ll make my deliveries this afternoon," she continued with a nod of her head, "just to be sure of it."
Her attention shifted to his daughter and she greeted her back with a wave. “Morning, Edda! How are you? The stream, that sounds nice...was that your idea? Is the water very cold?”
“Oh look at that!” she exclaimed, pleased with the nearly-complete new stairs. “That’s much better.” And if she’d had the last of her things delivered today instead of yesterday, she thought the cart driver might have appreciated it. He’d had a few choice words for her when he saw the state of things but she took it all in stride and was somewhat amused at his expense. It hadn’t been that hard to bring everything in.
“Just after dawn?” she asked. He really was an early riser. Or maybe he was keen to get the job done, get paid and move on to the next customer. In fact, reflecting upon it, Lail thought she must be right. He’d been very efficient so far and it would probably be a relief for him to finish working for her chatty, overly friendly self. That was probably for the best even though she felt a stirring of...something she tried hard to ignore when she thought about seeing him again the next day.
“Yes, I’ll be home. I’m not sure where else I would be that time of day…” she trailed off, a smile playing on her lips.
Of course there were plenty of other places she could imagine being at that time of day and most of them were not entirely respectable. Not that she meant to imply such a thing with her words. Coming home from a late night at the pub wasn’t so bad but sneaking back to her lodgings to maintain appearances that she was in fact sleeping there and not somewhere else was something she was glad to leave behind.
“But I’ll make my deliveries this afternoon," she continued with a nod of her head, "just to be sure of it."
Her attention shifted to his daughter and she greeted her back with a wave. “Morning, Edda! How are you? The stream, that sounds nice...was that your idea? Is the water very cold?”
- Points: 2 588
Master Torturer
Posts: 3018
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 11:22 am
Æric and Edda at Lailyn's house
True to form Edda immediately started shaking her head vigorously as if admitting that the stream was actually cold that her father would not let her go in it. "No! It was not cold yesterday and I went in it then, didn't I, Papa?" She looked towards her father, anxious that he was going to change his mind and not let her go in afterall. He immediately saw her fear of losing out on the play time and had already decided that she could go, he could not change that now.
"You did indeed. I am sure you are old enough to tell if it is too cold and if it is to come out, right?" Smiling he gave a wink to Lailyn as Edda nodded her head enthusiastically, not even realising he had done it before it was too late. For a moment he paused, wondering how it was that he felt so at ease around this woman, often feeling stilted or uneasy when around other people. But here he was winking playfully as if they had known each other for ages.
As Edda started jumping with excitement, he snapped out of it and grabbed the nails he had placed on the step. With a few practiced moves he had all three hammered into the step, finishing this project. Again his brows furrow, knowing that he was now done for the day and he had to go, oddly enough not really wanting to and not fully understanding why.
"There we go, one finished staircase, that should last you a decent amount of years." Smiling he slipped his hammer into his toolbelt, wincing slightly as Edda let out an excited squeal.
"Edda.." he murmured with amused exasperation, shaking his head apologetically at Lailyn. "Sorry about that.." He paused for a long awkward moment, wondering if he should extend an invite to come along to the stream or if that was inappropriate, though before he could decide either way Edda had run up the newly made stairs and had grabbed Lailyn's hand. "Do you want to come? It's not cold, I promise!"
True to form Edda immediately started shaking her head vigorously as if admitting that the stream was actually cold that her father would not let her go in it. "No! It was not cold yesterday and I went in it then, didn't I, Papa?" She looked towards her father, anxious that he was going to change his mind and not let her go in afterall. He immediately saw her fear of losing out on the play time and had already decided that she could go, he could not change that now.
"You did indeed. I am sure you are old enough to tell if it is too cold and if it is to come out, right?" Smiling he gave a wink to Lailyn as Edda nodded her head enthusiastically, not even realising he had done it before it was too late. For a moment he paused, wondering how it was that he felt so at ease around this woman, often feeling stilted or uneasy when around other people. But here he was winking playfully as if they had known each other for ages.
As Edda started jumping with excitement, he snapped out of it and grabbed the nails he had placed on the step. With a few practiced moves he had all three hammered into the step, finishing this project. Again his brows furrow, knowing that he was now done for the day and he had to go, oddly enough not really wanting to and not fully understanding why.
"There we go, one finished staircase, that should last you a decent amount of years." Smiling he slipped his hammer into his toolbelt, wincing slightly as Edda let out an excited squeal.
"Edda.." he murmured with amused exasperation, shaking his head apologetically at Lailyn. "Sorry about that.." He paused for a long awkward moment, wondering if he should extend an invite to come along to the stream or if that was inappropriate, though before he could decide either way Edda had run up the newly made stairs and had grabbed Lailyn's hand. "Do you want to come? It's not cold, I promise!"
- Points: 2 582
Thain of The Mark
Posts: 1399
Joined: Tue May 19, 2020 10:44 pm
