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Old 03-29-2006, 09:02 PM   #151
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 was crossing the hall right before the door leading into the Mead Hall when the catastrophe occurred. Instinct caused him to step back and stand with his back against the nearest, steady wall, and this he did, until the falling crash had ended. But even before those few seconds were through, his mind was racing as quickly as his heart about the others outside. He had no idea what exactly had fallen, only that it was big, nor where it had fallen, except that it was awfully near where everyone was sitting together.

He carried in his hands the small chest that Eodwine had sent him to get. Turning, half blinded by the dust that had invariably risen, he hurried down the hall away from the hole that was now rent in the building, with the hope of setting it somewhere where it would be safe. He set it on a chair near the corner of it and hurried back the way he had come, nearly at a run.

He came out into what was now the open. From where he stood, he could see where the wall had fallen and how much damage had been done. He looked around him quickly, squinting through the white, dusty fog that was rising he noticed out in front, the group of would be story tellers, crouching in the drizzly, incessant rain. No one was hurt, but they all looked considerably dazed. He nodded in satisfaction and turned his head about and looked the other way. That, he saw, was where the trouble would be. The door of the kitchen was half covered up with stones and wood. The bottom of the wall was rammed in, though it didn’t fall, and Fordides was caught inside.

With one more glance towards the others, he began to pick his way as quickly as possible through the rubble towards the kitchen door. Through his mind he tried to think of someone who could help him to clear the door and get Fordides out. He hoped that she wasn’t hurt, but from where he was, he could not tell if it was likely or unlikely.

A thought struck him at a happy moment. Two people had not been present when they gathered in the makeshift hall. “Léofric! Gárwine!” he shouted. He hoped his voice was carry into the stables where they both were. “Léof! Gárwine! Come out here, quick, I need your help!” He stopped before the kitchen door, as close to before it as he could get, and tried to look in. “Fordides?” he called. “Fordides, are you alright in there?”

“Oh, aye, I’m all very well and good,” came her voice, but it was sounded strange, and somewhat broken. “But my poor kitchen’s all busted in from the outside.”

Thornden drew back and knit his brows, shaking his head at the mysteries of women. The poor cook was bewailing her wounded kitchen.

Last edited by Folwren; 03-30-2006 at 12:26 PM.
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