Dury tasted dust. Grit, dirt, and dust. Or perhaps it was just his imagination. Will everything else so horribly wrong and terribly horrible, Dury was sure his mind could easily add something so small as a mouthful of grime into the mix. His legs were horribly sore, he had cut his foot on a stone, and he was positive he would not be able to walk after they stopped for a luncheon. Not for days. And they had days yet to go, days of walking, eating only what could travel with them. They would stop for lunch, wouldn't they? He knew they would not be stopping at any inns. Word would reach the Shirrifs at a snap of fingers, if a Shirrif was not actually present at the inn. Dury's head hurt. He had been thinking all morning, his forehead creased with worry. It seemed that the creasing was becoming permanent. He tasted dust. Was it not only an hour ago that he had tasted nice, juicy, and tasty cooked sausages?
Dury had hoped to stall the beginning of this journey even further than second breakfast, but he had been quite unsuccessful. He had barely managed a quarter of an hour more in taking as much time as possible in packing and sorting and re-packing his things. If only he had written himself a list, then he would have been able to busy himself with that. Still, most likely that Falco would've gotten his hands on anything that would have aided Dury. What a pushy...a pushy...hobbit! He had herded Dury like a little lost sheep. A particularly bad behaved little lost sheep. Even though Falco was exceptional at herding and being a very nasty person indeed, it seemed Niluial was the rightful leader. At least, in Dury's mind she was. She was quite intelligent, and seemed enthusiastic about this journey. If her common-sense were so scrambled that she was thrilled to be doing this... But, Josh also seemed to be wholehearted about their 'mission,' and he was a smart lad. Dury would have said the boy would be the perfect leader if Josh were not so shy and awkward. Once he grew out of that, though, he would be the next candidate for Mayor of Michel-Delving.
It took Dury a few moments to get his feet moving faster, but he was able to shuffle his way up beside Josh. The legs beneath him had most definitely seen better days. They had seen better mornings, that was certain. Josh looked little better than...Dury's foot. Well, it was not that the young hobbit seemed sick. No, it was more that he just seemed so...so far away. Dury could tell Josh was thinking just as much as he himself had, yet no lines of worry creased his face. That, at least, was good. The young Brandybuck-Took was just thinking.
Dury cleared his throat loudly. "How do you ail, Josh? I already am sore to the bone from all this walking."
Dury chuckled a bit, a dry, halfhearted laugh, sounding almost fake. Really, it was fake, mostly. Part of it was a laugh of weariness, though. The laugh trailed off as Josh continued to let his mind wander far away. Dury fiddled with his belt. Perhaps it would take a moment for the hobbit to draw his mind back. In the mean time, Dury's mind wandered off again, thinking again of those sausages and that beautiful, wonderful, blissful hour ago.
[ October 03, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]
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