[Imladris]

Faran

Faran chewed his meat vigorously, silencing the growls that occasionally erupted from his stomach. The food was delicious and, taking a goblet of ale in his hand, he did a silent toast to the cook of the White Horse. Looking around, he caught sight of Sigrid and flashed a smile to her. She told him to ask about carpentry and such and he nodded. “But foods comes first,” he muttered.

Looking at Sigrid, he remembered the man with her -- Olav he thought his name was. He glowered at Olav and his friend as he ate. Olav had offered to teach her carpentry when he had volunteered to do it first. It irked him really -- it was almost like thievery if you came right down to it. He shrugged. It wasn’t as if the girl was his sister. If he had a sister (which he didn’t) and if he had offered to teach her something and another man had volunteered to teach the same thing, then he would have a right to be annoyed. Anyway, the man himself was somewhat untrustworthy, Faran decided. Just something about him and his friend didn‘t feel right, like the way the two of them were arguing just now and how they had both come after Sigrid. It was as if they were vying with each other to see who would receive her as the final prize.

A purring bag of gold rubbed softly against his leg and Faran absently gave Goldwine a piece of meat. Seeing Sigrid rise and go to a notice of jobs, Faran hastily gobbled down a warm biscuit and followed her, wiping his mouth upon his sleeve. Goldwine hastened after him, at last climbing to his accustomed perch upon Faran’s shoulders.

“I'm even willing to learn a bit of carpentry, if it's called for," Sigrid was saying brightly to a woman.

“And I’d be more than willing to teach her,” Faran said with a warm smile as he glanced casually over the list of jobs. Architects and artists (to design plans) A dreamy smile softened his face as he hastily designed the perfect stable in his head: roomy stalls for the horses, a good plentiful manger treated so it wouldn’t splinter easily, a metal water pail. The gates to the stalls would be studded with iron so that angry stallions would not splinter with their hooves of fury. There would be a huge loft that could hold plenty of hay that would be pushed down to the waiting mangers. He sighed. It would be much too expensive and too much man labour probably to build such a beauty. Turning back to the woman, he said, “I was trained as a carpenter. I can also wield an axe fairly well…” he shrugged as he waited for her to answer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Goldwine, Prince of the Golden Fur

I grinned as I watched the men dual below. I wondered what their brannigan was that had caused such a show of fists. I shrugged. Peonic humans and their peeves. Curling my tail about my paws, I contemplated again the dignity that accompanied a feline contest, whether it be over a morsel of the finest sinuous brawn or over the passionate adulation of a member of the female persuasion.

A stream of the two legged folk flowed into the Inn proper (or so I assumed the building was) and I followed in their wake: a golden prince padding with noble mien amongst the lay people of the greensward. Turning, I eyed the smoldering rubble of what had once been the stable. There it lay in its smoking ruin: the cremated ashes fluttered listlessly around me, the wood, crumbling, the grain still faintly lit with the iridescent glow of the asphyxiated fire. I sighed: all things must meet their doom, even they who do not live nor breathe the free air of our Middle-earth.

I realized that I was left quite alone, but quickly amended that by bounding lightly into the building. It was a swarming muddle there, and I gazed anxiously for Faran. I spotted him, a dark glower upon his face. Hastening to him to comfort, I rubbed myself against his steely leg, purring softly. He, naturally, interrupted this as a plea for food -- which I suppose it was also, in a round about subconscious way.

I sniffed it eagerly, and bit it with slow relish. The herb flavored serum that filled my mouth and gushed over my tongue and flowed around my fangs. My golden pools of ochroid eyes narrowed to mere slits. This, indeed, would be a morsel worth fighting over. Fortunately, there were no other claimants to my prize. I sniffed hungrily for more, but Faran decided to put me on ignore. He was a good learner, but he learned a wee bit too much sometimes from me, I thought with chagrin.

There he was rising from his plank of wood and crossing to the room. Leaping to my accustomed spot upon his bony shoulders, I latched my claws gently onto his woven shirt. Glancing down, I saw that a white spot was appearing: a sign of worn upon my linen voided cushion. A sigh escaped me: such was the life of a prince willingly degrading himself out of love and duty to a ragged boy who had the altitudinous honor to have rescued me from an early -- but that is another story.

I saw that he neared the lass whom he had spoken with prior to my affair with the canine. Dropping to the floor, I entwined myself around both their legs: first Faran‘s, then the girl‘s. It pleased me that he liked her, for I fancied her as well: she had very comfortable shoulders.

“I can also wield an axe fairly well…” he was saying as his voice trailed off. But I saw him flex his iron muscles. He was too modest to say that he was strong -- a lay person’s characteristic. I shrugged. Faran, nearly perfect as he was, had his faults.

[ 10:27 PM December 01, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]