View Single Post
Old 06-19-2006, 08:30 PM   #53
Messenger of Hope
Folwren's Avatar
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.
Darkness was beginning to fall. In a few minutes, they would be able to shut the gates and return home to a warm supper and bed. Deren yawned a huge yawn that nearly split his jaw. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Another few minutes went by and he stood up to go to Lystholn to express his thoughts on going home. Lystholn turned towards him as he approached, but before Deren could say a word, the sound of carriage wheels came out from the darkness. The clopping feet of a tired horse sounded out in the night, and then the shape of a cart and horse came into view.

Lystholn and Deren glanced at each other and then Lystholn gave a great sigh and began to stand up.

“Don’t worry about it,” Deren said, placing his hand on Lystholn’s shoulder. “I’ll deal with this one, then we’ll be able to shut the gates for the night.”

He turned and walked forward, his hand up, and his face set. Inside his head, he ran through the questions that they had asked all the people entering the gates. The driver pulled back on the reins, uttering a low ‘woah!’ to his horse. It came to a stop and stood chewing on its bit.

“Hello there, friend!” he called out as Deren walked closer. “We weren’t expecting guards. I don’t suppose some urgent matter of safety has come up now, do I?”

Deren filed that quickly away in his mind as he finally stopped near them. He laid his hand on the horse’s high back. “You might, if you like, but if you would choose not to, then don’t,” he answered him.

“Don’t rightly know what you mean, sir!” the chap said, sounding amiable enough.

“Something did come up in yesterday’s proceedings. You can understand, I’m sure. . .lots of people, some of them not altogether honest. We’ve been sent to make sure no further villains entered the gates. What’s your name, sir?”

“I’m Bertwald, and this is my wife Hilda. We’re from the Middle Emnet on our way to the West to visit Hilda’s mother. She’s sick and they don’t think she’ll live long. From what we’ve been told, she may not be alive even when we get there!”

“What are you doing in Edoras?” Deren asked, disinterested in the woes of Hilda’s family. “Where are you going?”

“You wouldn’t expect us to ride all night, could you? We have to rest sometime. I was planning on going to our lord’s Hall to sleep tonight and break our fast in the morning before we leave again.”

“You’ll be leaving in the morning?”

“I imagine so!”

Deren looked at him sharply. In the dark, he had no doubt that Bertwald could see little of his face or expression, and he dearly wished he could. It might have made the man tremble a bit. More than that, if Bertwald could see his face, he could see Bertwald’s face, but as it was, he found it extremely difficult to tell if the look on the man’s face was the simple honesty that most farmers’ faces bore.

“I hope so,” he said, stepping away from the horse and cart. “We’ll be watching for you. Good night.”
Folwren is offline