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piosenniel · 02-12-2004, 01:27 AM

Madoc watched Cedric as he fussed over his mother. The man’s face was sad and he could see him sigh. Madoc remembered the look on his own mother’s face as he packed his belongings for the trip. Tomorrow he would be leaving for Bree, and he could already see the tears that would stain her cheeks as he hugged her goodbye. Madoc sipped at his tea and sat down at a small table near the fireplace, his feet propped on the raised hearth.

Lost in the wavering figures that marched through the orange embers as he watched the burning logs, Madoc nearly missed Cedric’s approach. A chair was offered the man, and he sat down by Madoc, taking a cup of tea for himself and filling Madoc’s from the pot on the table.

A few pleasant words passed between them; then Cedric leaned forward, asking a question about orcs and wargs. A shiver of fear ran up the Hobbit’s back. ‘I’ve never seen a warg,’ he told Cedric, in a low voice. Being a bit suspicious, he hated to even say the word aloud lest naming them might make them real and present. ‘A few wolves’ tracks and one pair of wolves from a distance,’ he continued. ‘But they were as wary of me as I was of them.’ His voice went even lower as he spoke of orcs. ‘None of those other blighted creatures . . . ever. Nor would I want to.’ He hunched over his tea for a moment, clasping it tightly in his hands. ‘My Da fought in the Battle of Greenfields with Bullroarer Took. Hobbits had the day there, but the orcs fought fiercely.’ He stared into the heart of the flames, seeing the Northfarthing battle as his Uncle told it. ‘Vicious creatures,’ he told Cedric. ‘Killed my Da.’ He raised one eyebrow at the man. ‘Is there talk we might run into such creatures?’

Madoc shook his head, freeing himself of the images. ‘Sorry! Grim thoughts bode ill for our journey’s start, or so my Mother would say.’ He smiled at Cedric and taking the tea pot, topped of both their mugs. ‘I have been to Bree. Have you? An interesting town, though a bit too closed in for my taste, what with its high, dense hedge and dike and gates. Lot of Big Folk there, too. Nice Inn. Stayed there once.’ He sat back in his chair thinking about the Pony’s fine, amber ale. Lovely, he thought, but not as nice as the Shire’s.

He raised his mug to his lips and took a gulp of the sweet, hot tea. ‘What about you, Cedric? Here I’ve gone and talked your ear off. Tell me a little about yourself.’

02-12-2004, 01:27 AM	#35
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Madoc watched Cedric as he fussed over his mother. The man’s face was sad and he could see him sigh. Madoc remembered the look on his own mother’s face as he packed his belongings for the trip. Tomorrow he would be leaving for Bree, and he could already see the tears that would stain her cheeks as he hugged her goodbye. Madoc sipped at his tea and sat down at a small table near the fireplace, his feet propped on the raised hearth. Lost in the wavering figures that marched through the orange embers as he watched the burning logs, Madoc nearly missed Cedric’s approach. A chair was offered the man, and he sat down by Madoc, taking a cup of tea for himself and filling Madoc’s from the pot on the table. A few pleasant words passed between them; then Cedric leaned forward, asking a question about orcs and wargs. A shiver of fear ran up the Hobbit’s back. ‘I’ve never seen a warg,’ he told Cedric, in a low voice. Being a bit suspicious, he hated to even say the word aloud lest naming them might make them real and present. ‘A few wolves’ tracks and one pair of wolves from a distance,’ he continued. ‘But they were as wary of me as I was of them.’ His voice went even lower as he spoke of orcs. ‘None of those other blighted creatures . . . ever. Nor would I want to.’ He hunched over his tea for a moment, clasping it tightly in his hands. ‘My Da fought in the Battle of Greenfields with Bullroarer Took. Hobbits had the day there, but the orcs fought fiercely.’ He stared into the heart of the flames, seeing the Northfarthing battle as his Uncle told it. ‘Vicious creatures,’ he told Cedric. ‘Killed my Da.’ He raised one eyebrow at the man. ‘Is there talk we might run into such creatures?’ Madoc shook his head, freeing himself of the images. ‘Sorry! Grim thoughts bode ill for our journey’s start, or so my Mother would say.’ He smiled at Cedric and taking the tea pot, topped of both their mugs. ‘I have been to Bree. Have you? An interesting town, though a bit too closed in for my taste, what with its high, dense hedge and dike and gates. Lot of Big Folk there, too. Nice Inn. Stayed there once.’ He sat back in his chair thinking about the Pony’s fine, amber ale. Lovely, he thought, but not as nice as the Shire’s. He raised his mug to his lips and took a gulp of the sweet, hot tea. ‘What about you, Cedric? Here I’ve gone and talked your ear off. Tell me a little about yourself.’