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Old 10-08-2003, 04:07 PM   #178
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
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Join Date: Oct 2002
Location: Completely lost track, sorry!
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combination of ElentariGreenleaf and dragoneyes

The sound of two horses' hooves came floating up the road on the breeze. Soon enough two riders came into sight. They both had light blonde hair, as was common to all Rohirrim and both were tanned due to days spent working in the sun. One was slightly taller than the other, and he was riding a large piebald cob. Its mane was long and thick and the forelock fell over its eyes, it was a wonder it could see where it was going some of the time. The other, shorter man rode a strong dun stallion named Braelin, whose mane, tail and fetlock were neatly trimmed compared to the cob's. They were moving at a brisk trot and neither face looked too happy. As they closed the distance between the inn and themselves, they slowed their pace. The piebald stallion tossed up head its in defiance and earnt itself a hard kick from its master, who certainly didn't look like he needed a disobedient horse.

The two men came to a halt in front of the inn stables and dismounted swiftly. Both walked their horses briskly, and with little patience to a spare stall. There didn't seem to be anyone around so they untacked their horses and shut them into their stalls with some fresh hay. The piebald immediately reached over the door with his head and began chewing and working away at the bolting, hoping to undo it and escape, which earnt it a smack on the nose.

"Don't even think about it Byrn!" said its master, Aldor. "And if you think I don't know your tricks then you're sorely mistaken!" he continued, sliding the bottom bolt with his foot. Aldor waited a while for his companion who was whispering some calming words into his horse's ear. Both horses were excited from the long night's ride.

"I'll never understand how you can calm him down doing that," said Aldor. "But come, let us go to the inn."

Aldor absentmindedly swung a thick leather glove, which anyone could recognise as a falconer's. Findur joined up with him and they walked around to the front of the inn together and through the door. Aldor was too flustered to enjoy the day as he should have done, as young as it was. He walked up to the bar and sat at a stool.

"Blasted bird!" he muttered, "And I don't care what time it is! I'm having an ale!" but his will faltered as he thought of his wife berating him if she saw him drinking this early. He sighed, he'd lost his kite, been chasing it half the night and was still not allowed a drink. Findur sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find them soon enough friend." Findur sat, one hand supporting his head, the other occupied by a small blade. "I hope Peregrine is alright. He's a good hunter, as is your Bromwyn. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen a kite quite like her. It puzzles me that they did not return." His words trailed off, as he had said them to himself.

"You would think," said Aldor loudly, "that at least one of the flaming birds would have the sense to come back. All we can do now is wait and see if anyone sees them." then he added as an afterthought, "She's lucky, Bromwyn. Nearly forgot to remove her jess and what a terrible pickle she'd be in then! This is only her second season." He sighed, getting agitated as his hair got in his eyes.

"Stop worrying, they'll be fine. But we should let the barkeep know that we are searching for our dear hunters." Findur rose and walked over to the counter. "Excuse me miss," he said to Aylwen. "Do you know where I might find the barkeep?"

Aldor walked up behind his friend an added, "We have lost our hunting birds and would like to know any news of them as soon as it arrives."

"Bethberry is the Inn keeper," started Aylwen.

"Where might we find her?" interrupted Aldor.

"She is away at the moment," Aylwen continued. "I am taking her place while she is gone. I am sorry to hear of your birds' disappearances, and promise I will tell you first thing I hear of them."

"Thank you kind lady," said Findur graciously

The two Rohirrim returned to their table and continued to talk. Nothing of much interest was passed between the two, but the idle chat, and later a loaf of bread and a little drink, was enough to keep their minds away from their long night of searching for Bromwyn and Peregrine.

[ October 08, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]
"We might succeed in roasting Pippin alive inside." - Frodo.
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