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Undómë · 03-31-2006, 12:49 AM

Meghan

‘. . . you mean from outside the border, didn't you?’

Meghan turned a little in her saddle and gave Athwen an appraising glance. Was she one of those people who considered those who had settled on the east side of the river as highly suspect? Perhaps not . . . since she had followed up with, ‘Not that it matters too much.’ It was the “too much”, though, that had sent her wondering what the woman’s real feelings about those from the “wrong” side of the river were.

She did not want to nitpick the point, however. Athwen seemed a little fragile and a loud argument might send her flying. Then what would they have to do find where Osmod and Fion were? Instead Meghan grinned at her, a conspiratorial look in her eye. ‘Yes . . . outside the border proper. My village is called Bregoware. About two days north of here and a day’s journey east of King’s Ford.’ She drew up closer to Athwen and leaned toward her, pitching her voice lower as if to keep the lone bird flying overhead or the mice in the dry grasses below from sharing in the confidence. ‘We’re the good King’s secret, you now . . . we villages across the Great River. He’s set us there to take the first blows should enemies come.’

Meghan’s expression turned to one of sadness as she recalled the burned village she’d so recently seen. She sat up in her saddle, face gone pale. ‘Though, all light jesting aside, it seems we did not prove the bellwether for these new assaults.’

She cast her eyes down an overwhelming feeling of sorrow taking hold. ‘There was a village just to the north . . . it was horribly destroyed. Some grace spared Bregoware this time, and some ill-spirited luck of the enemy put those people in the path of dark death. It could have been us raised in that funeral pyre, our good lives destroyed and us scattered on the winds.’ She wiped the back of her sleeve across her eyes where tears threatened.

‘Ah . . . enough. Tears will do no good. Let’s ride a little faster if you don’t mind. Once our two companions are with us we’ll be on our way.’ Meghan hesitated for a moment. Ah well, in for a coin, in for the whole purse . . .

‘We’re on our way to Edoras. To see the King and tell him what is happening here on his far borders. And to ask for his help. My village has packed itself up and is even now moving across the river and westward to the safety of the Riders. Our lord has asked us to deliver his request for help to the King, himself. So that some Riders might be spared to see us safely westward.’

-------------------

Rædwald

As they neared the small encampment from which Athwen had come, Rædwald drew his mount up near her. ‘Perhaps you can ride at the head of this little column so that your friends know we have not come to attack them. And we will keep our weapons sheathed, yes?’ he asked looking to Eostre and Sythric. ‘So as not to look so threatening.’

At a slow pace the five riders rode into the camp . . .

03-31-2006, 12:49 AM	#253
Undómë Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Mar 2005 Posts: 400	Meghan ‘. . . you mean from outside the border, didn't you?’ Meghan turned a little in her saddle and gave Athwen an appraising glance. Was she one of those people who considered those who had settled on the east side of the river as highly suspect? Perhaps not . . . since she had followed up with, ‘Not that it matters too much.’ It was the “too much”, though, that had sent her wondering what the woman’s real feelings about those from the “wrong” side of the river were. She did not want to nitpick the point, however. Athwen seemed a little fragile and a loud argument might send her flying. Then what would they have to do find where Osmod and Fion were? Instead Meghan grinned at her, a conspiratorial look in her eye. ‘Yes . . . outside the border proper. My village is called Bregoware. About two days north of here and a day’s journey east of King’s Ford.’ She drew up closer to Athwen and leaned toward her, pitching her voice lower as if to keep the lone bird flying overhead or the mice in the dry grasses below from sharing in the confidence. ‘We’re the good King’s secret, you now . . . we villages across the Great River. He’s set us there to take the first blows should enemies come.’ Meghan’s expression turned to one of sadness as she recalled the burned village she’d so recently seen. She sat up in her saddle, face gone pale. ‘Though, all light jesting aside, it seems we did not prove the bellwether for these new assaults.’ She cast her eyes down an overwhelming feeling of sorrow taking hold. ‘There was a village just to the north . . . it was horribly destroyed. Some grace spared Bregoware this time, and some ill-spirited luck of the enemy put those people in the path of dark death. It could have been us raised in that funeral pyre, our good lives destroyed and us scattered on the winds.’ She wiped the back of her sleeve across her eyes where tears threatened. ‘Ah . . . enough. Tears will do no good. Let’s ride a little faster if you don’t mind. Once our two companions are with us we’ll be on our way.’ Meghan hesitated for a moment. Ah well, in for a coin, in for the whole purse . . . ‘We’re on our way to Edoras. To see the King and tell him what is happening here on his far borders. And to ask for his help. My village has packed itself up and is even now moving across the river and westward to the safety of the Riders. Our lord has asked us to deliver his request for help to the King, himself. So that some Riders might be spared to see us safely westward.’ ------------------- Rædwald As they neared the small encampment from which Athwen had come, Rædwald drew his mount up near her. ‘Perhaps you can ride at the head of this little column so that your friends know we have not come to attack them. And we will keep our weapons sheathed, yes?’ he asked looking to Eostre and Sythric. ‘So as not to look so threatening.’ At a slow pace the five riders rode into the camp . . . Last edited by Undómë; 04-01-2006 at 02:27 AM.