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Saurreg · 02-13-2005, 09:25 AM

Quicksilver crept through the slits of the entrance and underneath the edges of tent where cloth met ground. Some stray iota were met by the large burnished shield and reflected, resembling small precious white jewels that glittered in the night. The man stared and was momentarily memorized by the gift of Tilion. He then frowned, threw his head back onto the folded cloak that doubled as a pillow and cried,

“Sleep! Merciful sleep! Receive me now!”

A few seconds passed and the man opened his eyes reluctantly, his night vision was superb and he could make out the folds of the tent at its ceiling, rippling like waves in a calm sea as the night wind blew. He sighed in resignation; sleep visited not.

He mourned. Disappointed.

The man turned starboard in his small cot making the wooden frame creak and joints squeal. He pulled up the woolen blanket to his broad shoulders and then drew them away again. He turned port and accompanied by the customary protest by his bed, found himself staring into the nothingness of the large airy tent.

A strong breeze rose, it parted the slits of his tent a little wider and blew across the tent, caressing the rough unshaven face of the man. Refreshed, he took a deep breath.

Salty. Smoky. Cheese… no! Ham. Somebody’s been cooking. Hmmm… Hungry.

The man drew a heavy arm from the cot, crooked it and placed the lazy appendage overhead, palm underneath his head. His was still staring into darkness above him but his thoughts were with the militia detailed for night duty. He worried that they would fall asleep during their shift and the security of the camp would be compromised.

Sleeping militia…. Hang them! Camp in danger.

The man wondered if he should get up and visit the perimeters of the camp but decided against it. His hearing was superb and he listened. Nothing. He began to suspect that he was the only person still awake in the camp. He yawned and hot tears welled by the edge of his eyes.

So tired… must sleep...

Sleep final bestowed its grant upon the man an hour later and so Belegorn of the rearguard slept, unaware of the happenings at night.

02-13-2005, 09:25 AM	#69
Saurreg Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Oct 2002 Location: In self imposed exile... Posts: 465	Quicksilver crept through the slits of the entrance and underneath the edges of tent where cloth met ground. Some stray iota were met by the large burnished shield and reflected, resembling small precious white jewels that glittered in the night. The man stared and was momentarily memorized by the gift of Tilion. He then frowned, threw his head back onto the folded cloak that doubled as a pillow and cried, “Sleep! Merciful sleep! Receive me now!” A few seconds passed and the man opened his eyes reluctantly, his night vision was superb and he could make out the folds of the tent at its ceiling, rippling like waves in a calm sea as the night wind blew. He sighed in resignation; sleep visited not. He mourned. Disappointed. The man turned starboard in his small cot making the wooden frame creak and joints squeal. He pulled up the woolen blanket to his broad shoulders and then drew them away again. He turned port and accompanied by the customary protest by his bed, found himself staring into the nothingness of the large airy tent. A strong breeze rose, it parted the slits of his tent a little wider and blew across the tent, caressing the rough unshaven face of the man. Refreshed, he took a deep breath. Salty. Smoky. Cheese… no! Ham. Somebody’s been cooking. Hmmm… Hungry. The man drew a heavy arm from the cot, crooked it and placed the lazy appendage overhead, palm underneath his head. His was still staring into darkness above him but his thoughts were with the militia detailed for night duty. He worried that they would fall asleep during their shift and the security of the camp would be compromised. Sleeping militia…. Hang them! Camp in danger. The man wondered if he should get up and visit the perimeters of the camp but decided against it. His hearing was superb and he listened. Nothing. He began to suspect that he was the only person still awake in the camp. He yawned and hot tears welled by the edge of his eyes. So tired… must sleep... Sleep final bestowed its grant upon the man an hour later and so Belegorn of the rearguard slept, unaware of the happenings at night.