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Old 11-30-2006, 02:37 PM   #37
Flame of the Ainulindalë
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Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: Wearing rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves in a field behaving as the wind behaves
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Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.
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Fastarr had gotten his nickname the ”Horse-Man” pretty soon after they had settled in to the town. Most of the townsfolk seemed to at least have heard of this big man who strode through the streets with four horses practically every day. Exercising the horses on the surrounding, sparsely forrested hills, was a daily duty but it also gave him a welcome chance to escape the town he had learned to hate during the months of their stay. The streets were narrow and stinking. The houses were small and their walls were blackened by the smoke of the coal they used to warm them. And no one seemed to care. And there were almost no open spaces in the village. It felt there was no space whatsoever, not even to breath.

And the inhabitants then? There weren’t too many locals whose company Fastarr had enjoyed. A few, to be sure, but at most a handful. The mood these people were able to generate was just depressing. The lack of laughter was the most obvious thing that Fastarr had noticed when they settled in. Oh no, they laugh, yes they do. With malicious pleasure, cunning, sneer... Wonder if all people around here are born from rape as there seems to be no love and care around... Fastarr frowned but then he had to smile. That had been a bit too much, even coming from himself. He shook his head and patted his horse to the neck: “Now, a bright friend you have my lad, one sunshine he seems to be today”.

Fastarr passed the gate to the yard of the house Khandr had been given and headed for the stables to return the exercised horses of his master and his wifes. Maybe I’m a bit harsh towards the locals... Or have they just infected me with the ways they think about other people? Gah, we should get out of here. Or I must at least get something else to do than hanging around in those smoky and unwelcoming inns... And what information is there anymore that could be of any use? We know these people already. From pure frustration Fastarr kicked a pebble that laid on the stony pathway. It rolled over the lawn and hit the wall of the stables. He opened the doors to the stables and took the horses in.

He was closing the doors as he heard his name called from the direction of the house. It was Khandr’s servant Hugo who was coming towards him, half running. “Master Fastarr, there you are! I’ve been looking for you. A letter from lord Khandr!” Fastarr nodded and took the letter. He read it immediately, smiling thinly at times, shaking his head slightly at others.

“Tell our lord that I will be attending.” he said. Hugo nodded and was about to turn away when Fastarr added: “After you have brushed the horses you could pay a visit to my tent and give me a good brushing too.” He winked an eye to Hugo and smiled. Hugo gave it a laugh and answered: “Are you in need of new shoes as well, I could bring some nails with me?” They both laughed. “You’re a good man, Hugo. It’s good to have you around in the thick of all these grimfaced brutes”, Fastarr said now more solemnly.

Fastarr walked back to his tent, still feeling dirty allover but definitively in a better mood.
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