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Old 04-11-2006, 08:28 AM   #207
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 pulled an extra vest over his white shirt and then picked up an empty pouch. He would make a short visit to the kitchen and pick up some left over bread and maybe some cheese before starting out. The evening before Eodwine had spoken to him, telling him that he would need to go and act as his coin gatherer among the people of the First Emnet.

“I’m low on coin, Thornden,” the Eorling lord admitted. “Things would have been just fine had that wall not collapsed, but as it is. . .we need more.”

“Well, of course. That’s absolutely understandable. I’ll leave early tomorrow morning, and on my way back, I’ll visit my sister. She doesn’t live far from the city gates and will be directly in my path.”

So Thornden rose early that morning, a few minutes before the sun peeped her own head above the mountains. He took a carved staff from the corner behind his bed and went out into the hall.

Kara was in the kitchen preparing breakfast and she gladly filled his pouch quite generously for him, putting in not only the bread and cheese that he thought would be all he needed, but also added some of the smoked ham they had. And for breakfast, she handed him a newly baked roll, still hot from the oven, wrapped in a clean napkin. He thanked her and went out.

The even before, he had told Léof that he would need a mount for the next day’s work and Eodwine had given him instructions to take his horse, Flíthaf. When Thornden exited the building, he was pleased to see Léof leading old charger out of the stable. He approached the ostler and as the reins exchanged hands, Thornden spoke.

“Good morning, Léof!” He smiled broadly and didn’t notice Léof’s slight response and his tight lip as he looked over the finely groomed Flíthaf. “How’s the foot this morning?” he asked, turning his attention back the ostler.

“Just fine,” was the short reply. Thornden grinned again.

“Well, I hope so, Léof. Thank you for preparing Flíthaf, he looks excellent and seems to be quite excited to be getting out. Goodbye! Have fun at the horse fair, today - I imagine you’ll be out there, whether it’s good for your foot or not.” Léof scarcely answered as he stepped away and walked back towards the stables. Thornden mounted swiftly and turned Flíthaf towards the road and then in the direction of the city gate.

There were few people up yet. He bid those he met good morning as he walked his horse through the streets. But he had hardly gone three hundred yards from the Mead Hall and turned only a couple corners when his eyes were arrested by a prostrate figure stretched out on the ground on the edge of the street. Thornden stopped Flíthaf quickly and for a moment sat just looking at it, shocked and appalled, for the sight was ugly. The next moment, he swung down quickly from the horse, and led him carefully forward. He knelt beside the figure, draping the long reins over his shoulder where he could feel and grab them if the horse drew back or moved away.

It was a young man, no - practically a boy, Thornden realized in a moment. It was hard to make out his features, for blood covered his face. A deep gash in his forehead above his right eyebrow caused by a hard blow from a blunt instrument had bled freely until it had dried in the wind and rain of last night, covering the gaunt face with a gruesome, red mask. Thornden slowly tore his eyes from his face and looked over the rest of the form - the body seemed broken and wounded in many places and he could not tell from sight alone what all was wrong with him.

He was quite at a loss as to what to do. His mind raced and his hands trembled as they hovered uselessly above the boy, unwilling to touch him for fear of making matters worse. With a great intake of breath for pity and horror, Thornden drew his hands back abruptly to himself. His eyes traced his face and then his body again. The right arm lay at odd angles with his body, his chest rose in jerks as he breathed in and blood had stiffened his shirt. Thornden half wished the boy was conscious, but then thanked the stars that he wasn't and couldn't feel the pain.

Hesitant as he was, Thornden realized he had no choice but to touch him. He moved closer, crouching low to the ground. Before he picked him up, however, he adjusted the reins so that when he stood up, they would rest in the crook of his elbow, not taught, but tight enough that Flíthaf would follow as though he were being led. Then, moving as gently as he possibly could, he lifted the boy's head and shoulders and then slipped his arm under it, then, with the same careful movements, put his other arm beneath the knees. He bent his head and shoulders and heaved upward as he stood.

The burden was lighter than he expected, much too little weight for a boy that height, he realized, as he turned and walked back towards the Mead Hall. The head fell back and the arm farther from him fell limp and he made no movement, nor gave sign of life, save for each struggling breath.

Thornden hurried his footsteps onward and he reached the Hall in just a couple minutes. In the yard, he hesitated, wondering what to do with his hands full, and the horse fairly attached to him. The only one he knew who might possibly be awake was Léof, but he was in the stables. Thornden walked quickly to the door and there called for the ostler.

Léof came out almost at once, stopping abruptly in surprise when he saw the bloody figure Thornden bore in his arms. But Thornden didn’t give him much time to gape.

“Take the horse, Léof. Tie him up inside there, I’ll probably be coming out in a bit to take him again. Thanks,” he added, as Léof did as he was bidden quickly. Then, without another word he hurried inside, pushing open the door impatiently and bearing the lad in. He looked about quickly, hoping to see someone who could tell him what to do, or at least help. To his relief, Eodwine entered at just that moment, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. His hand stopped as he caught sight of Thornden and then they both walked towards each other at once.

“I found him, not too far from here. . .I don’t know what all’s wrong with him, and I’ve no doubt he’s more than half dead all ready,” Thornden said, before Eodwine could ask a single question. “I’m sorry I had to come back so soon - I was only my way out - but I couldn’t just leave him.”

Last edited by Folwren; 04-26-2006 at 10:52 AM.
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