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Old 02-18-2011, 03:46 PM   #36
Envinyatar
Quill Revenant
 
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Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: Wandering through the Downs.....
Posts: 850
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Willem was a wanderer. That’s just how he thought of himself. Wherever the wind blew him, that’s where he fared. There were no kin as he’d lay claim to; no piece of earth in which he’d sunk roots, deep or shallow. ‘Just Willem,’ he’d say, if you asked his name. ‘Got no people waitin’ back nor forward for me.’ ‘Just Willem,’ he’d say with a twitch of his thin shoulders, as if to shrug off any further inquiries.

And now this particular cold wind had urged him up the Greenway toward Bree-land. With a short side trip along the edge of the Barrow-downs where it nudged up against The Old Forest – to the Withywindle. There were stones hidden in those dark old waters, stones in whose depths lay shimmers of dark blues and deep greens waiting to be teased out with careful polishing.

He was one of those jacks-of-all-trades. He could sharpen knives, shears, pitchforks, shovels; mend pots and pans; repair shoes and boots, mend bridles. All of which services he traded for food and other needed supplies. His heart, though, was in the fine metal-working he liked to do. Silver, mostly, engraved with intricate designs and often set with little, pretty stones. Necklaces, bracelets, clasps for the hair, buckles for belts…..

It had been a good two days he spent along the banks of the old river. He’d replenished his store of rough pebbles and larger stones, talking all the while to the lazy waters to keep the ripples and eddies distracted from his ‘borrowings’. When he’d taken all that he gauged river would tolerate, Willem packed up his little caravan and hitched his horse to it, continuing his way northward.

Darkness was falling fast and the snow which had begun earlier as a light dusting, now fell with more heavily. Willem had lit the little lantern that hung from the van’s eaves nearest his seat at the front. More for a bit of cheer for himself in the bleak evening than for any real light to shed on his way. Catkin picked her way slowly along beneath the trees, snorting and huffing every so often as if to comment on the trip in general.

‘There, now, lady,’ Willem murmured softly to Catkin’s chuffed commentary. ‘We’ll stop soon enough when we get to an open place.’

A break in the clouds let some late evening’s light settle almost to the forest floor. Willem pulled his heavy woolen cloak more closely about him as he peered at the passing trees. ‘Hmmmm….. Looks like one of the Old Men has been moving his flock about a bit…..don’t you think, my dove?’ Catkin twitched her ears at this question, but made no answer.

Willem's little ginger haired dog, Jumble, tucked himself more snugly inside the warm blue cloak and leaned heavily against his human's side. As long as he was warm and comfortable, Jumble had no care concerning where the trees and bushes chose to roost. He could lift his leg in one spot as well as another.

The wheels of the little caravan crunched noisily over the fallen needles, branches, old leaves. ‘I’ll trust you to find our way,’ he called out as he flicked the reins lightly against the horse’s flanks. Catkin, for her part, shook her mane and snorted a final comment as she picked up the pace just barely.

Last edited by Envinyatar; 02-18-2011 at 10:28 PM.
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