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piosenniel · 12-08-2002, 01:38 PM

Midday . . . Bullroarer sat up, his head still pounding, and took stock of what had happened. The dogs were dead; he was sure of that. He hunched forward, thinking to stretch the tight muscles in his back causing a sharp pain to course through his left shoulder.

‘Nice job!’ he murmured to himself as his right hand found the splint Branda had improvised to keep his shoulder stabilized. His fingers probed the area of his collar bone, and he winced when he pushed on the bump where the bone had fractured. The swelling didn’t indicate a complete break and he thanked his lucky stars for that. He would mend soon and easily provided there was no more insult to the bone.

His head continued to pound, and he got himself up, thinking to find some willow-bark tea to quiet it. He stood gingerly and walked toward where the group stood, huddled about a small fire for warmth. Their faces were pale, and drawn, and on many cheeks were the frozen tracks of tears. ‘Think, Bullroarer!’ he said to himself. ‘What has happened?’ He looked at the gathered companions, noting that the two scouts were still gone. But, one other of the Hobbits who should have been there was missing. ‘Emerald!’ A brief remembrance of her lying in the wagon, being tended by Branda, came to him. A flash of understanding came to him. He gasped at it.

Branda turned, seeing him up now, a look of concern on his face. ‘Are you hurting, Bullroarer?’ he asked, coming up to him, a look of concern on his face.

The Took’s face was somber, and he shook his head ‘no’. Drawing Branda aside, he asked what had been done with Emerald’s body. He nodded as Branda told him of her passing and of her dying thoughts. Taking Branda’s arm, he walked with him back to the small fire, and called for the companions’ attention.

‘I have just learned that our friend, Emerald Burrows, has died.’ This simple statement drew the looks of all those gathered. ‘I will miss her further companionship on this journey and her no nonsense spirit.’ He paused for a moment, looking hard at the small flames of the fire as they blazed bravely against the cold. He looked about those gathered, holding each gaze with his.

‘We will take a few moments to remember her in our thoughts and say good-bye, and then we will press on as she wished us to do.’ A look of great sadness passed across his features, as he stood there, head bowed.

Some few moments passed, then he bent to the ground, picking up a handful of snow and earth and flung it on the fire saying softly, ‘Farewell.’ When all the others had done the same, the fire put out, he gathered the ones who were too weak to walk and put them in the wagon.

Slowly they trudged the few miles down the road to Whitfurrows . . .

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

12-08-2002, 01:38 PM	#92
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Midday . . . Bullroarer sat up, his head still pounding, and took stock of what had happened. The dogs were dead; he was sure of that. He hunched forward, thinking to stretch the tight muscles in his back causing a sharp pain to course through his left shoulder. ‘Nice job!’ he murmured to himself as his right hand found the splint Branda had improvised to keep his shoulder stabilized. His fingers probed the area of his collar bone, and he winced when he pushed on the bump where the bone had fractured. The swelling didn’t indicate a complete break and he thanked his lucky stars for that. He would mend soon and easily provided there was no more insult to the bone. His head continued to pound, and he got himself up, thinking to find some willow-bark tea to quiet it. He stood gingerly and walked toward where the group stood, huddled about a small fire for warmth. Their faces were pale, and drawn, and on many cheeks were the frozen tracks of tears. ‘Think, Bullroarer!’ he said to himself. ‘What has happened?’ He looked at the gathered companions, noting that the two scouts were still gone. But, one other of the Hobbits who should have been there was missing. ‘Emerald!’ A brief remembrance of her lying in the wagon, being tended by Branda, came to him. A flash of understanding came to him. He gasped at it. Branda turned, seeing him up now, a look of concern on his face. ‘Are you hurting, Bullroarer?’ he asked, coming up to him, a look of concern on his face. The Took’s face was somber, and he shook his head ‘no’. Drawing Branda aside, he asked what had been done with Emerald’s body. He nodded as Branda told him of her passing and of her dying thoughts. Taking Branda’s arm, he walked with him back to the small fire, and called for the companions’ attention. ‘I have just learned that our friend, Emerald Burrows, has died.’ This simple statement drew the looks of all those gathered. ‘I will miss her further companionship on this journey and her no nonsense spirit.’ He paused for a moment, looking hard at the small flames of the fire as they blazed bravely against the cold. He looked about those gathered, holding each gaze with his. ‘We will take a few moments to remember her in our thoughts and say good-bye, and then we will press on as she wished us to do.’ A look of great sadness passed across his features, as he stood there, head bowed. Some few moments passed, then he bent to the ground, picking up a handful of snow and earth and flung it on the fire saying softly, ‘Farewell.’ When all the others had done the same, the fire put out, he gathered the ones who were too weak to walk and put them in the wagon. Slowly they trudged the few miles down the road to Whitfurrows . . . [ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.