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6 Fourth Age: The Cost of Living; Díorë
Topic Started: 19 Dec 2008, 02:25 AM (244 Views)
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The White City of Gondor gleamed like a beacon through the dark curtains of rain that held sway over the land as far as his eye could see. Wídfara had only seen the city once before six years ago when Minas Tirith was under siege from Sauron's armies. It looked even more magnificent than he remembered, and he gave his horse a light kick, urging his mount to bring him there faster. Already soaked to the bone after his long and weary ride, Wídfara felt the call of a warm, dry bed like a siren's wail. He needed to rest his mind and body for a very long time. And not since his time in the Forsaken Inn of the Lone Lands had he had even the semblence of a bed, but he knew that Minas Tirith would not be questionable in that regard.

Aside from his inevitable weariness from the long road, he did not wish to linger in the fields by the City. In his mind's eye he could still sense the terrible battle that had been fought here. He could see the dead bodies; smell the burning and the blood, and he could hear the screaming. He was certain that their ghosts still haunted him, the inexplicable survivor. How had he lived and they had not? There was no apparent reason besides pure, dumb luck.

He felt guilty for his continued life and he now needed to be rid of their spirits.

He rode through the gates and paid the toll without looking back at the outside world, then dismounted and passed his irritable horse on to be housed in the stables. His wavy, blond hair lay plastered over his head and his red cloak clung to his form, but he found that he no longer cared, he only wanted to find a room and go to sleep. But first there was the matter of food. One simply could not expect a restful sleep if his stomach kept him up by growling all through the night like a hungry wolf. Making his way slowly to the market, he tried to enjoy the surroundings though he found that Minas Tirith was not as bustling and full of life as he had expected. In fact, as he studied the faces of the people's faces he could see shadows of fear and grief and worry etched upon them. Something was very wrong.

But he was too tired to go and offer his services to the King, he would be of no use to him half-drowned and half-conscious. He would buy a loaf of bread and then retreat to his room. In the morning, he vowed, when he had had a good night's sleep he would go see the King.
 
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