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Old 12-23-2015, 10:31 PM   #236
Folwren
Messenger of Hope
 
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Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
Posts: 5,228
Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Thornden seized upon a shovel and found himself working side by side with Scyld. They flung the muck and filth into a heap on the far side of the would-be trench. He noticed, just as Scyld and all the other diggers noticed, how progress seemed impossible and new water and mud filled the trench with each shovelful taken out.

“If the mud continues to flow like this, we may need to brace the sides with boards,” Thornden said aloud, but more to himself than to Scyld. The trouble would be finding boards. “Stone would work, too,” he added after a moment’s consideration. They had stones in plenty. But further reflection caused him to realize that stones would sink and would not be as useful. Hopefully they would not need to use either. Some progress was being made, and more and more people were joining them with makeshift tools to scoop away the sludge.

He spotted Ruari and Eoghan some way down the line. He only recognized them from their short stature. Most of the people were indistinguishable in the gray, streaming curtain of rain. Every head was bent, every back stooped. He turned his eyes and attention back to the end of his shovel.

The twins thought they were helping with the task at hand. They had not asked for permission to come out, they had simply followed the general crowd. They immediately grasped understanding of the situation and had gone to find something with which to dig. They returned and squeezed in between members of the line and squatted down and began to dip and fling the muck. No one paid them much mind, as they did no harm, and if they were in the way, they were asked to move down the trench.

The trench was slowly taking form. It never was empty, but the thick muck that was being removed was replaced by water, presumably flowing down from the dung pits. The quiet drudgery, endured in silence by most of the people, was broken by a quarrel between the twins.

Ruari’s shoveling implement – a piece of thick bark fallen from one of the logs brought by the supply wagon – broke off and fell into the trench. She fished for it with her hand a moment, but the water was too murky for her to see, and too deep for her to reach to the bottom. She turned to Eoghan.

“Give me your stick,” she said. “I losed mine.”

“No,” Eoghan answered, shortly. “Go find another.”

Ruari stood up and moved away. She came back a couple minutes later, unsuccessful in her search. “I can’t find anything. Let me have a turn.”

Eoghan pretended he had not heard and continued shoveling. Ruari moved nearer and tried to reach for the stick. Eoghan held it out of reach and pushed her off with a raised elbow. She began to holler for it. Eoghan, still staving her off with his arm, turned his head, scooped out a blobful of muck and catapulted it at his sister.

Ruari howled with indignation, and immediately used both her hands to shove Eoghan's back. He toppled straight into the trench.
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