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Old 11-01-2006, 03:01 PM   #246
Hilde Bracegirdle
Relic of Wandering Days
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Join Date: Dec 2002
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Hilde Bracegirdle has just left Hobbiton.

When the meeting had finally come to an end, and everyone knew what was expected of them, Carl stood up rather stiffly, and stretched out his legs as he peered this way and that around the milling figures. He was searching for a sight of that dear girl and her elderly companion, but they had disappeared among the crowd, and he wondered if they had been sensible enough to go with those whose plan was to remain hidden from the slavers. The young and the old both needed to stay hale and hardy for the hard road north, that lay ahead. For even if they did manage to catch a few horses, that grim stranger named Khamir was right, chances were there would be few people found to ride them.

Oh, if only Gondor had seen fit to send them with a wagon, even one like that monstrous contraption he’d seen in the slavers’ camp, when he’d been off spying. It would sure have come in handy if there were to be wounded folk when this was all over. But there was no sense in regretting what they didn’t have. When you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere. You’ve no chance to fix it. And Carl didn’t fancy the slavers would let them borrow their cart either, no matter how nicely they asked.

The hobbit sighed, resigning himself to searching for the woman named Brenna after the he had put in a few hours of hard work. He’d need a bit of a rest then, and hopefully he’d hear it confirmed that she and the girl had tucked themselves away out of sight.

It was not long before Carl’s head was found bobbing just above the rim of a trench, as he worked along side the hard working group that gouged the ground just beyond Vrór’s tunnel. He had volunteered his only blanket, as well as himself, so that the loose dirt and rock could be hefted out, dragged away by a pair of wiry young men who were diligently avoiding the dwarf and his shouts. Off to one side a pair of women quickly sorted through the soil removing the rocks and putting them in piles.

Carl stopped his lively whistling, stooping down to crumble the dirt between his fingers. “The soil’s different here, then it was a day’s ride away,” he observed distractedly.

“Yes, and different still from Nurn,” the worn man next to him said, as he stopped to rest against the side of the trench. “I’ve heard rumor that it is not so bad further north now that The Mountain of Fire is silent.”

“I certainly hope the rumor is right. Still with a bit of care we’ll find something to grow there. Even this poor stuff here isn’t beyond all hope.”

The man gave the hobbit a half smile before returning to work, and Carl was left with the impression that the man must have thought him a bit simple. But with the crops Carl had seen in Gondor, they could actually make the soil better. And he had learned a long time ago that a bit of magic happens if you work with what you have, instead of against it. And so he smiled to himself as he began digging again. It seemed that maybe there were one or two things he might be able to contribute to these people after all.

Last edited by Hilde Bracegirdle; 11-03-2006 at 06:01 AM.
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