Thirsty Herald Chapter XIX, Firstflame

[Gilith]

Gilith looked up as he was addressed by the woman who called herself Ambella, and smiled as she spoke of his bow. He normally didn't like to draw attention to it, as he wasn't sure how it had been acquired having bought it purely on impulse. But, he saw little problem with showing it at the moment. There was little he assumed she could do to either take it away or trouble him in some other way. In fact by the sound of her offer she was about to be fairly helpful, the least he could do was let her inspect his bow. Gilith smiled at her and got up, unslinging his bow and stringing it for her before offering it to her.

"That would be, very good indeed Miss Ambella, if you'd like to help me in such a way. To be honest with you I was just thinking about how much easier this would be with a cart to carry the meat for me. When would you like to leave? I'm alright with any hour of the night or day so don't worry about that. An it certainly doesn't have to be tonight ig you'd rather we went tomorrow. "

Gilith smiled at her again as he finished before bringing his cup once more to his lips and taking another draft of his drink. He felt the warmth of drinking flow through him and felt it loosen his muscles as it did so. He always enjoyed feeling this warm, summer or winter when one slept outside it grew cold. He was starting to think that he could get used to being here for a while.

[Tobin Blackwood]

Specks of gray dotted the mop of curly hair clinging to his scalp. Tobin glanced up to the high sun, his eyes, pools of blue, framed in a squint. The hard seat beneath him trembled with each turn of the wooden wheels as his steadfast hobbithorse Stybba pulled the wagon, plodding along on the dirt road. The hobbit had his white sleeves bunched up around his elbows, and his knee-length breeches showed off his bare feet, topped with curls of their own. His toes were tapping against the wagon as he hummed a merry tune, his mouth spread wide with an oversized grin. Strata had treated him well. His money purse had a weight to it now that felt all too good in his hand. He listened to the clink of coins as the purse bounced in his shirt pocket, and his grin took on a new light, that of a starving, salivating wolf.

Tobin spotted a tavern up ahead and pursed his lips in thought. Glancing down to Stybba, he said, “How about it, boy? Feel like having lunch?” A swish of the hobbithorse's tail was the only answer. The hobbit chuckled as he guided the wagon toward the tavern's front door.

With his neck craned back, Tobin stood before the doorway and stared up at it, the height of it daunting even to one with decades of experience dealing with the Big Folk. He took a deep breath to erase how small he felt and strode forward into the tavern's common room, his smile again stretching from one rosy cheek to the other. His feet hardly made any sound on the wood floor as he walked softly as only a hobbit can. But he had to clamber up onto a stool at the bar, and he settled onto it with his legs swinging above the floor.

He looked to the barmaid, the crow's feet at his eyes wrinkled up by his subtle smile. “Your pardon, Miss. Might I hear the lunch menu when you have a moment?” Glancing over his shoulder for a moment, he added, “Oh, and I'll need someone to stable poor Stybba out there. This desert heat is not to his liking.”

[Amabella Catston]

Amabella took a sip of her water and replied to the waitress, "I have a hunger for a taste of the local flavor today. I would like the aberan loaf, please."

The merchantess put down her water glass on a suitable surface, such as her napkin or a coaster, and smiled warmly as she watched the gentleman string and present the bow he was carrying. Eyes lighting up under nor’sidian lashes, she examined the workmanship of its limbs and riser with fascination. Coming family of shepherds rather than hunters, the only bows she previously had a chance to view up close were meant for hunting only intermittently.

"My, this is a handsome bow. The elements comprising its construction look of a finer quality than the bows I am accustomed to inspecting. I would not be in the least surprised if it could hit a target quite further than the common variety I have seen. Yes sir, most of the bows I come across are for close range hunting. Those weapons were mere simple short bows used for hunting the occasional tarep rabbit, shooting an arrow at little over a half a dash at best."

Amabella carefully returned the bow to the gentleman before continuing. "The covering of my Kolbruck wain offers some protection against the elements. But I tend to avoid travel at sunreign in warm weather, as the iron plates on the wheels can get very hot, and I like to keep my horses in the shade then. Other than that, any other hour is fine to depart. I must admit I do not know this local area well, and I have been tasked to explore around a bit for just that reason. I arrived here to Truban by sea. The only land map I have is a simple road map, meant only to guide traders traveling between cities. But I can drive wherever you would like to go to hunt, so far as the roads will allow.”

The half-elf nodded politely at the small man who came to the bar, then took another sip of her glass of cool water.

[Tristessa Stonebridge]

"I have a hunger for a taste of the local flavor today. I would like the aberan loaf, please."

Triss gave a small smile and head nod as she made a mental note. Before she could go to the kitchen, however, a Hobbit walked through the doors of the Herald. He clambered up on a stool and gave Triss a smile.

“Your pardon, Miss. Might I hear the lunch menu when you have a moment? Oh, and I'll need someone to stable poor Stybba out there. This desert heat is not to his liking.”

Triss's mind started racing. She glanced around with just her eyes, wondering where the rest of her help ran off to. She smiled at the little Hobbit. "Of course, sir. I'll...I'll find someone to stable your horse. As for our lunch, we have a few soups: pango cactus, traveler's stew, and garthook stew. We also have Thergerim caroot mash, aberan, and a vegan roll."

[Gilith]

Gilith smiled again and responded to the kind woman who offered him her services and her cart.

"I shall plan accordingly then, if it be alright with you then I think we'll make our way out tomorrow at a reasonable hour, I can explore the land for a while if you would like to just take your cart out and head in the general direction of where I'll be needing you. I should only have to do that once, and don't worry Miss I'll make sure you get fair recompense for this."

At the mention of his bow he smiled, he was proud of it to say the least. Though he couldn't tell why. He had stumbled across it by mere luck during one of his trading voyages, however either way he was one of a rare few humans to own such a bow as this. He responded to hr comments on his bow quite happily as he took it back from her when she offered it.

"Aye, the bow has served me very well through the years, and I doubt I could have got along so fine without an object of such craftsmanship. Tis why I must always make sure to maintain it. You say that you've seen other bow's however, even if they aren't alike to this. And judging by your appearance I'd say it safe to assume your an elf, or at least of elvish blood. Do you have any skill with the bow and the arrow?"

Gilith felt that while this woman was a bit wordy for his understanding there was really nothing in the way of making a new friend this day. One who had already proven very generous and eager to help him, and had already shown a keen interest in something he treasured himself. He felt very inclined to make sure she wasn't to be put off by him, and to know that she was very welcome to join him.

[Laell]

Somewhere across the disquiet void of nervousness, a pleasant thought skitters, bouncing freely about. It sure is nice to sleep in a bed, the idea mentions, and with a peaceable relaxing and only the slightest of stirring, she finds herself agreeing.

A mouthful of red hair catches under her tongue as she gasps and tears herself upright, throwing off the sheets that had kept her comforted as she slept, and Laell tumbles out of bed, long locks pointing every direction, eyes struggling to open, the lines of the coarse pillow still apparent on her cheek. A bed. A bed; she'd slept in a bed, and if nothing else planned on being bothersome today, this should prove itself bothersome enough. She doesn't have money for a bed!

Somehow she must have paid for it. Last night, or was it this morning? The difference feels irrelevant somehow. No money, exhausted. What about that woodsman, the ranger who was going to travel with her? They could have lain on the cart ten miles up the road to sleep, this place, lovely yet expensive as it was, far and away behind them. But no, here Laell is, scrambling for her clothing, determined to do something she hasn't yet decided to make up for the night's, or day's, rest.

Many things are expected; today, Laell's mind brought up none of them. The door opens too quickly, and when she tries to step through it, it is already coming back to meet her. This time, she manages to turn her head, wincing as it strikes her chest and cheek, and hurries toward the stairs-...

That start almost a full two paces before she is prepared. The foot, too high, falling too quickly, leaves her tumbling blindly down the stairs, struggling to catch herself until she is deposited in an ungraceful heap at the flight's foot. For this moment, no urge is greater than that to draw her knees to her chest and cry. Yesterday, or was it this morning? and now; solid moments of nothing but poor decisions and a ridiculous amount of clumsiness. Her throat catches an epithet directed for her brother, and with effort, Laell draws herself to her feet, and head hanging, goes to the less visible entrance to the kitchen, pushing through the opening and standing still, not daring to look up to see if she's been noticed. No, the proprietor will likely be far too busy. Even if she walks away now, without paying for the room she's obviously used, what difference would it make? Lost income on their part, but one faceless breadmaker couldn't ruin them, could it? But more importantly, Laell Harleis was not Traell Harleis. She would never steal. Not ever. Not even a morning's worth of sleep.

Advanced search

[Members]

Members Total Members: 2849 Latest: abigailjordan Stats Total Posts: 214569 Total Topics: 8052 Online Today: 36 Online Ever: 216 (November 30, 2006, 09:08:03 AM) Users Online Users: 0 Guests: 19 Total: 19

[Artimidor]

	Powered by SMF 1.1.21 | SMF © 2005, Simple Machines TinyPortal v0.9.8 © Bloc
Theme based on Cerberus with Risen adjustments by Bloc and Krelia Modified By Artimidor for The Santharian Dream