[piosenniel]

‘Who is that?’ he muttered to himself drawing the bedclothes over his head until only his dark eyes showed out in the pale light of the half moon that crept through his window. Someone was beating on the downstairs door, and the racket had wakened him from a pleasant dream – he was just about to win a fat purse and a kiss from a lovely woman as his horse sped over the finish line to victory. Archim was hoping Graitwa would get up and see to it, but he didn’t hear his brother’s footsteps pad past his doorway.

Hauling himself up from his tangled covers, he threw on a shirt and hastily pulled on his breeches. ‘I’m coming,’ he growled as he stumbled down the steps, barefooted, and threw open the door. His left hand was on the hilt of the knife at his belt, just in case there was trouble.

A guard! And from the Hall, by the looks of him. His stomach lurched at the site of the man holding out a piece of paper to him. Now what trouble could there be? The man, having thrust the paper at Archim, turned quickly on his heel and ran back to his horse, riding away in a great hurry, as if glad to be away from him.

Archim read the note quickly, his heart pounding rapidly. ‘I knew it!’ he muttered to himself, balling the paper up and throwing it on the floor. ‘This will be nothing but trouble for us! We should have hidden the old man’s body where it would never have been found.’ Thinking better of his actions he picked up the wadded paper and smoothed it out.

He ran back up to his sleeping quarters, taking the stairs two at a time. ‘Graitwa! Get up!’ He threw the paper at his older brother, saying ‘Get dressed! I’ll meet you there.’ Archim went quickly to his room and jammed his feet into his boots. In his belt he secured his two other daggers – one more beside the one on his left side and the other, hidden at this back. Grabbing his cloak, he rushed down the stairs and to the stable, and was soon on his Way to the Inn.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He could see the questioning look in Fréa’s eyes as he entered alone, but he brushed it aside with a curt, ‘He’ll be here shortly,’ and hunched down in a chair opposite him.

His left hand ran through his greasy hair, stopping to twist a lock of it by his left ear in a nervous manner. And his eyes darted furtively about the nearly empty room. ‘Now what do we do, Fréa?’ he whispered. ‘Just how much trouble are we in?’

_____________________________________________

Orofaniel's post

Graitwa heard some noises downstairs. He didn't bother to get up however. When he heard the his brother stumbling down the steps he fell asleep again.

Suddenly Graitwa woke by a screaming voice in the air. "Graitwa! Get up!" it said. It sounded a lot like his brother Archim, and when a moment later when he saw his face he realised that it was his voice. "Get dressed! I'll meet you there." Archim said as he want quickly as he trew a paper at him and went to his room. Graitwa was rather confused but read the paper in a hurry.

Archim and Graitwa

Come quickly. Heldór has escaped with the help of that blackguard Brytta and a small handful of accomplices. Meet me in the back room of the White Horse in one hour's time. Bring your horses and all your gear. We must give immediate pursuit.

Your loving brother,

Fréa

"What has he done now?" Graitwa thought while dressing. In a rush he took with him his dagger and a sword, just in case. He hurried down for his horse and rode for the Inn.

As he arrived, it was dark and cold. He enterd the back room and found his brothers there. He went with stern steps over to them, and asked in a harsh voice: "What have you done brother?" "How did he escape?" Frea didn't take long and explained carefully with all detailes. "So Brytta helped him out...... " Graitwa repeted thoughtfully when his little brother had finished. An anxious look was upon him, something that his brothers had never seen before. "What is there to do now?"

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]