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| 6 Fourth Age: and i ride on | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: 26 Sep 2008, 04:30 PM (590 Views) | |
| Deleted User | 26 Sep 2008, 04:30 PM Post #1 |
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Kicking the horse in the sides harshly to encourage the animal to ride on across the empty plains, recognising the large city that could not but help to fill his vision, Esril - son of Anath - jerked backwards slightly as the horse jolted forward. The tired man sighed with a little relief, he would be safer here within Edoras than further away from any border. His sleep had been troubled lately, and his body had become frustradedly aware of the smallest step or breath of wildlife around him, and therefore had been jumping awake throughout the dark nights of the recent week. Raising a hand to brush it through his grubby and unwashed hair, his cut and bandaged fingers tangling within the dark knots and twists. The various cuts and grazes that braced his hands and arms were from the slip up mistakes he had made during the dinner he had prepared for himself last night, if one could call it dinner, but he survived and his stomach hadn't protested, so he called it a good night and woken early to cover more ground. More ground to where, he did not know, but he had grown tired of staying within one part of the wildnerness for too long, and so had taken to covering more ground in quicker time. "Yah!" Pushing the horse onwards for another half a mile before pulling harshly on the reigns to cause the horse to stop and allow him to slip off, rubbing down his head and murmuring thanks for getting him this far in the course of an hour. Smiling lightly before looking up to the large fench and the even larger hill that the city of Edoras resided on, Esril collapsed happily down next to his horse and reached up to grab his satchel from the horses side before the animal knelt down next to him. He was uncertain whether to enter the city walls of Edoras or to just linger outside for this day but for the moment, until the heat left his body and he was not as tired, he would wait less than a mile from the wall and then venture closer as and when he wished too. Leaning back on his arms, ignoring the slight stinging that came from his fingertips, the rogue ranger enjoyed the relaxing moment, unburdened by the thoughts of the dark. |
| Deleted User | 27 Sep 2008, 10:22 PM Post #2 |
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With a final wave of parting to a small cluster of Rohirrim, Arran snapped the reigns that urged the two pack horses forward. He braced his feet against the runners and leaned into the rough wooden bench as the animals clopped down the steep incline Edoras had been built upon. In the back of the cart, iron bolts, hinges, and braces jingled as the wheels drove over ruts and rocks. Down by the fence, a small force of smiths, both dwarves and men, were gathering little by little. The dwarves of Aglarond had done much in payment for their new home in the Glittering Caves. Repairing the fence surrounding Edoras had been among the agreements. Once the dwarves saw the wooden pickets, however, they were unwilling to simply refit the nails. Dwarves did not stand for anything less than perfection. The entire fence would be reinforced. After delivering the supplies to the smiths, Arran removed his papers and instruments from the cart. He jogged well away from the fence to a place where he could take measurements and observe the work in the relative quiet he preferred. “Hail there!” Arran cried, spotting a horse and Rider nearby. “If you’re one of the smiths come for the work today, they’re gathering now.” In truth, Arran could see this man was no smith. He carried only what a single horse could bear, which would not include the tools of the trade. Rohan was his home now, and however reluctant he had been to move to this land, he felt a duty to protect it and its people. “I am Arran, son of Barren. I have been charged with overseeing the reinforcement of the fence. To whom do I speak?” |
| Deleted User | 27 Sep 2008, 11:20 PM Post #3 |
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The relaxing moment was not to last, of coarse, the feeling of hunger returned and Esril reached into the satchel to pull out the scraps he had saved from the measly meal he had the night before, stuffing them into his mouth without a second thought, his gaze flickering back along the horizon, and the world he new so much of, but at the same time, so little. He knew the roads to take to avoid detection, the fruit to eat, the animals he could kill, what waters were good for drinking, what were not, but the people, the cities, he knew nothing about. Lamalas jerked, and immediately Esril felt himself tense, looking in the direction that the horse was staring so intently at. Another man, and like his horse, Esril quickly found himself standing, grasping the reigns of the skittish animal to calm it, taking his time to murmur soft words and stroke through the mane of it. “Shhh, Lamalas. Be still, you are safe with me, my stead,” Turning to the other, Esril rose a hand whilst keeping one in the reigns of his horse. “Hail!” he called, before frowning a little. He did not enjoy socializing, even less of giving his name to others. Still, he would rather not be considered a threat whilst he was resting on the borders of a Kingdom. He shook his head. “I am no smith, as I a sure you have realized” His bandaged and blooded hand lowered and Esril hesitated slightly before letting out a long sigh. “Pleasure to meet you, Arran, son of Barren. I am Esril, son of Anath, friend to Rohan, and I mean no harm. I simply wish to allow my horse and myself to rest before we carry on our journey” |
| Deleted User | 28 Sep 2008, 07:47 PM Post #4 |
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Arran stared up at the man. The humans all looked the same to him, and he could not easily tell their nations apart. This one looked a little like the men of Dale, however. The dwarf relaxed into a more friendly posture. “Aye, I had figured that. It’s been my experience, Esril, son of Anath, that spies and enemies expect suspicion, so respond to it believably. A neutral question may shed light on their identity.” Arran eyed the horse warily. He didn’t like the beasts except as pack animals. He made sure to keep his distance. “If I might ask, why is a friend of Rohan resting outside its capital? Why not enjoy one of the many mead halls in this city?” His beard twitched as the corners of his lips rose and fell. The dwarves had been enjoying the fine mead of Rohan every night. Some of the humans’ peculiar habits, like ending the work day when the sun went down, had their advantages. |
| Deleted User | 28 Sep 2008, 08:18 PM Post #5 |
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Again, Lamalas took a few steps back, and Esril tightened his hand on the reigns and gave the horse a hard look. He was calm, he was relaxed, it was strange that the horse would not follow suit, but it had been a while since he had come into any sort of social contact with anyone – men or otherwise. “Of coarse” he agreed with a nod, it still didn’t mean he had to like it though, but he would suffer through the questions he would probably be asked and hopefully leave Rohan with welcome, rather than being chased off their lands for suspicion on being something different, someone that could pose a thread. The second question, however, caught him off guard and it showed, the slight surprise covering his face for that brief moment before he smiled. “I do not…do well within walls and crowds. My home is where I stand now, these lands, this wilderness. I find it hard to be comfortable anywhere else.” Loosening his grasp on the reigns of his horse, before truly letting go – trusting the fact that is Lamalas was to run off, which Esril prayed he wouldn’t, then it would be in the opposite direction of their recent friend, rather that towards him. |
| Deleted User | 29 Sep 2008, 04:56 PM Post #6 |
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The dwarf nodded solemnly at the wanderer’s words. Arran had never been one to explore far from home or seek anything other than what he already had. Spending so much time in foreign lands, however, had put him out of his comfort. “I can understand that, even if my desire is the opposite of yours. Open air and wide plains,” he said, gesturing around at the landscape, “is not my pleasure. Solid rock ceilings and the cool moisture of mines is my delight.” Arran was now as certain as he could be that Esril meant no harm to Rohan or its people. He chanced to look back at the work progressing along the fence. They did not need him just yet. “If I might ask, where is the end of your journey? So many of the men of Westernese go to Gondor these days. I don’t know why. Rhovanion is the better land.” There was no place better than his true home, Erebor, where old alliances and extravagant wealth kept the dwarves happy. Gondor was a land of forests and barren mountains. There was nothing of interest there. |
| Deleted User | 29 Sep 2008, 08:43 PM Post #7 |
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Well, at least that part of why he would not set foot within the walls of any city unless he had little other choice was understood. And Esril could not help but smile at the comparison between the two comfortable places. Mines had never been somewhere Esril enjoyed, the closed space and the darkness haunted him more than the shadows of the wild did. He avoided them, also, at all costs. “As one would expect a dwarf’s delight to be. Your work, whether it be in the mines or within the cities of men is always to be admired.” Maybe he would travel within Rohan further once the dwarves had finished their work. It was a long shot, but maybe he had found the end of his sorrow by that time and would truly be able to smile again. He wasn’t too confident in that thought, but it was what kept him going. “My journey’s end is when it wishes to be, not before.” He answered with a soft, cryptic grin before casting his glance to the sky with a blink and closed is eyes as the wind picked up, blowing across the lands and brushing the grass in waves. “But until I reach the end, I am happy as one can be running through the wild and learning all you must learn to survive in harsh situations” He rose one poorly bandaged hand – healing had never been his strength – and offered the other a weak grin. |
| Deleted User | 30 Sep 2008, 02:11 PM Post #8 |
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Arran glowed with pride as the work of the dwarves was complimented. He did very little of it himself, but without his skills, the other dwarves could not do their work at all. Their society was often at odds with itself. Each dwarf amassed his or her own wealth, yet it was impossible to get without cooperation. “You have seen no great dwarf work until you visit the Glittering Caves at Aglarond. Many long years the men of Rohan lingered before the supreme treasure of the Western world and saw it only as a shelter for women and children. Should your wandering ever bring you to Helm’s Deep …” Being made of sterner stuff then men, Arran had not thought the bandaged hand was anything to worry over. That is, until he saw how poorly wrapped it was. Perhaps Esril had done it himself or trusted to a poor Healer. “Freedom sometimes comes at a heavy price,” he said, motioning to the hand. “I’m no Healer myself, but we have some capable dwarves who could see to that before it becomes infected. Free as you may be now, you’ll not be so if you cannot use your hand.” |
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