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Old 10-27-2005, 11:18 AM   #324
Bęthberry
Cryptic Aura
 
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Join Date: May 2002
Posts: 6,158
Bęthberry is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.Bęthberry is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.Bęthberry is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.Bęthberry is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.
Sôông the Easterling ignored the actions of others in the Star and attended closely instead to Fordim's words.

"I understand not your words about teller and tale and listener, for I am not beholding to the law of the One," he replied carefully, not wishing to engender any more hostility, "yet your words are such as will satisfy she who sent me." He bowed formally to the hobbit and looked around to see how he could withdraw from the Inn. No one invited him to stay, nor to share a tankard of ale. At first, none gave way to allow him to leave, but the actions of the cloaked elf and wet, bedraggled hobbit allowed him to manage his egress without incident beyond that of stares. Breathing a sigh of relief and holding his head aside, he repeated Fordim's words to himself until he had them memorised for recital to the lady who sent him.

"“I think that it might be nice to have something with a hooded figure upon it, with the device of a single Ring above, while below him, alleviating the darkness that the figure casts, nine glittering stars, one for each of the gamers who made the tale worth the telling.”

Regaining his horse from the stable master was easy, as the man barely lifted his eyes to the strange figure before him and merely pocketed the coin Sôông handed him. Yet leaving the White City was no easy task, for many in the streets glared at him and more than one soldier guarding the many gates at each circle stopped him, forced him to dismount, and demanded a tariff if not a search of his person for weapons or stolen goods. One even landed a cuff to the back of his head once he was turned on his horse. Still, it was better than a sword or arrow through his back and so Sôông was grateful for that.

There were ragged tents and a rough sort of open market along the walls outside the city, attended by people coarsely clothed, maimed, hobbled, and obviously poor. Some of the traders looked like war veterans who, much like himself, would carry the scars of battle to their grave however their minds might change. Among these people he was the better received, however, with none remarking upon his origin. Here he sought his provisions for his return to Edoras. He filled his bag with foodstuffs, and, as the sun reached midday, began his long trek towards the Western Road. He had been loathe to make the journey, but he needed work and Bethberry was true. He knew she would keep her word.

Last edited by Bęthberry; 01-09-2006 at 10:15 PM.
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