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Old 05-25-2008, 04:03 PM   #115
shaggydog
Animated Skeleton
 
Join Date: Feb 2008
Posts: 50
shaggydog has just left Hobbiton.
Having wound a tortuous trail through the heart of the marsh, Oeric gained the far side and considered his options. The shortest route to the tumble-down byre and his meager possessions would expose him to far too great a risk of being spotted again. Instead, he chose a more circuitous route which would bring him up the far side of the ridge behind the remains of Sorn’s hall. There was one thing which he agonizing over in particular and it would be necessary to remain close to the ruins. He couldn’t bear the thought of the strangers digging about and finding . . . them. Oeric cursed his own ambivalence about taking any sort of action to remove the evidence of the crime. But any time he had tried to persuade himself that it would be for the best, his heart had quailed at confronting the mute accusation of white bone and grey ash. Now, his opportunity to take care of things in his own way was surely gone. Still, he had determined that he would keep watch as closely as he could and if the time came . . . well, he would decide what to do then.

Exercising extreme caution, Oeric managed to gain the ridge as planned, undetected. He could hear the sounds of the newly erected camp and knew it was highly likely the settlers would be investigating their surroundings. There was a declivity he knew of, however, which would allow him , at need, to virtually disappear. A stone’s throw away ran a convenient access to a small rise upon which he could lay on his stomach and spy to his heart’s content. Creeping along the last twenty paces as silently as he could, Oeric was dismayed but not completely surprised to find someone else already had the same idea, and same spot, in mind.

“Still here, I see.” The one who had not offered his name on their prior encounter spoke softly, yet his voice was grim, stony.

Oeric had been far too distracted by his own misery to care overly much about who the stranger was and why he was there, at Sorn’s family homestead. It had been a cold, wet night amongst several days of rain, and the stranger had sought the shelter of the byre as Oeric had. As the figure had appeared, a pale oval of face floating above a dark form, for one wild moment of fancy, Oeric had imagined it was Swain come back. But the stranger had quickly stepped in to the circle of light cast by Oeric’s small fire and dispelled the phantasm. Holding his hands out to the warmth, the stranger had nodded and asked only, “Mind? I haven’t found a dry spot all day.” Oeric in turn had nodded his acceptance of an unlooked for companion, his own thoughts turning back to their own moebic trail. The stranger too had held his own counsel and the two had not passed more than twenty words between them by the time Oeric had wrapped his byrchan around his shoulders and lay down to close his eyes and feign sleep. Whether this one had somehow been sent by providence to dispatch him in the night and thus end the conflict of his heart had seemed to matter very little. But the dawn had brought a cessation to the rain and the stranger was gone when Oeric awoke.

“You too.” Oeric replied. He glanced up in the direction of the ridge. “And now we have visitors as well.”

“Looks as if they are here for more than a visit.” The man replied. He looked directly at Oeric as he asked, “You’re not in a rush to go introduce yourself and bid them welcome?”

Oeric returned the look and replied evenly enough, “No, I’m not. And I take it you’re not either.”

The two eyed each other, each taking the measure of the other in light of their shared desire to remain unknown to the newcomers. Oeric’s interest in why this man had showed up several weeks ago, who he was, and what his business there could possibly be was now piqued. However, it was clear the fellow wasn’t going to be forthcoming of his own volition, and questions posed would only result in questions being asked of himself.
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