Post by alistairbywater on Jul 24, 2006 17:26:17 GMT -5
We cannot keep the child here...
Take him out...
Leave him.
You shall live, dear child, by the will of my hand...
Waking up with a start, Alistair inhaled deeply; his dark eyes looking around wildly, before he began to calm. More nightmares. It was always the same voices - voices from the past, coming to haunt him. Whose voices? He wasn't sure. He couldn't remember....
Sighing, he closed his eyes and rubbed them wearily... another restless sleep. Why did he even bother? - He might as well save himself the pain and stay up all the time. Opening his eyes once more, they were a bit more focused as he looked about him. Almost dawn. Now was as good a time as any to keep going. It would do better to make more ground by starting earlier. Standing, he glanced down at his travel bedroll and yawned; giving a long stretch, before relaxing once more. His fire had long since fizzled out, and was nothing more than burnt wood, bark and ash. He packed quickly; it was in Alistair's nature to do so. He moved smoothly, and didn't waste any moment of any day if he could. He travelled quickly - save when escorting someone - and made good time across the lands he'd come to know so well. Once his bedroll was rolled and tied, he gathered his things, stuffed them into his bag, and slung it over his shoulder before standing. After a brief check of his weapons - Alistair began continuing his hike. He was enroute to Rivendell.
It was mostly to get some more supplies, perhaps even a job or two -- offering escorts to those who desired to leave the city within a day or two. No doubt, he may get some more hassle for being a loner, and a man-human, and not in any sort of army or troupe. Yet he had gained work there before, escorting and accompanying some elves to human realms. However, being in an army... it had never suited Alistair. At least, none of the groups that had tried to recruit him had interested him.
No. He would wait. His destiny would be revealed sooner or later.
Alistair removed his hood and used his forearm to wipe the sweat off of his brow. Trying to find relief from the cold, damp mist of the early morning was a hopeless endeavor; not even the little bits of sun which shone when not hidden behind the endless clouds, yielded any comfort. As a final affront against his abused senses, he was forced to walk across field and hill, which were also deep, cold and filthy. It had rained previous nights, causing the fields to increase in their softness. He felt so close to Rivendell, yet so far away. To describe Alistair's present circumstances as being unpleasant was speaking mildly. In fact, if the bitter chill hadn't rendered his brain almost completely useless, he might have come up with a long list of words to describe how he felt at the moment; most of them vulgar. But he shook his head and continued onward. Things would be better once he got to the city. He'd made some nice money last month; he'd be able to afford an Inn perhaps, and bribe some safety. He knew the elves weren't always welcoming to humans... not given their recent history. But Alistair was different. He respected the elven folk, and admired them in many ways.
Dawn's light could barely pierce a hole through the massive clouds that traveled overhead, paralleling the ground below. Alistair moved across forest, hill, marsh, now field -- slowing here, even as he strained to reach ever further, hoping that he might empty his water flask over the approaching grove, in which he prayed to find a stream. Perhaps it was the cold that stilled him - made him move slower. It didn't matter... since he'd started before dawn, he was well ahead of schedule. Finally, he was able to push his way out of the thick grasses, and onto solid ground once more. There was a steaming mist in all the hollows of the grove as he approached and entered - it had roamed in its forlornness up the hill; like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none. As the early morning light continued to be shut out by the clouds, Alistair continued along at a lazy pace.
A clammy and intensely cold mist made it's way through the air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another; as the waves of an unwholesome sea might do. Pushing his way through the leaves and brush that grew deep in the wood, Alistair came to a small clearing. A small stream ran through it; the sparkling blue water inviting and clean. Heading over to it, he sank by the edge of the stream bank, and emptied his flask onto the grass beside him. Dipping the small bottle in slowly, the traveller filled it halfway with clear water. Bringing the flask to his partched lips, Alistair drank. Looking ahead, he noticed a further sightline ahead of him --- the river Bruinen visible in the distance. He was close. Closer than expected. This new sight gave him confidence, and made him smile.
Wiping the side of his mouth and lips with the back of his hand, Alistair dipped the flask back into the water and let it fill to the overflow point. Taking it out, he closed it, and set it back into his pack. He would hopefully reach the city before midday.
Take him out...
Leave him.
You shall live, dear child, by the will of my hand...
Waking up with a start, Alistair inhaled deeply; his dark eyes looking around wildly, before he began to calm. More nightmares. It was always the same voices - voices from the past, coming to haunt him. Whose voices? He wasn't sure. He couldn't remember....
Sighing, he closed his eyes and rubbed them wearily... another restless sleep. Why did he even bother? - He might as well save himself the pain and stay up all the time. Opening his eyes once more, they were a bit more focused as he looked about him. Almost dawn. Now was as good a time as any to keep going. It would do better to make more ground by starting earlier. Standing, he glanced down at his travel bedroll and yawned; giving a long stretch, before relaxing once more. His fire had long since fizzled out, and was nothing more than burnt wood, bark and ash. He packed quickly; it was in Alistair's nature to do so. He moved smoothly, and didn't waste any moment of any day if he could. He travelled quickly - save when escorting someone - and made good time across the lands he'd come to know so well. Once his bedroll was rolled and tied, he gathered his things, stuffed them into his bag, and slung it over his shoulder before standing. After a brief check of his weapons - Alistair began continuing his hike. He was enroute to Rivendell.
It was mostly to get some more supplies, perhaps even a job or two -- offering escorts to those who desired to leave the city within a day or two. No doubt, he may get some more hassle for being a loner, and a man-human, and not in any sort of army or troupe. Yet he had gained work there before, escorting and accompanying some elves to human realms. However, being in an army... it had never suited Alistair. At least, none of the groups that had tried to recruit him had interested him.
No. He would wait. His destiny would be revealed sooner or later.
Alistair removed his hood and used his forearm to wipe the sweat off of his brow. Trying to find relief from the cold, damp mist of the early morning was a hopeless endeavor; not even the little bits of sun which shone when not hidden behind the endless clouds, yielded any comfort. As a final affront against his abused senses, he was forced to walk across field and hill, which were also deep, cold and filthy. It had rained previous nights, causing the fields to increase in their softness. He felt so close to Rivendell, yet so far away. To describe Alistair's present circumstances as being unpleasant was speaking mildly. In fact, if the bitter chill hadn't rendered his brain almost completely useless, he might have come up with a long list of words to describe how he felt at the moment; most of them vulgar. But he shook his head and continued onward. Things would be better once he got to the city. He'd made some nice money last month; he'd be able to afford an Inn perhaps, and bribe some safety. He knew the elves weren't always welcoming to humans... not given their recent history. But Alistair was different. He respected the elven folk, and admired them in many ways.
Dawn's light could barely pierce a hole through the massive clouds that traveled overhead, paralleling the ground below. Alistair moved across forest, hill, marsh, now field -- slowing here, even as he strained to reach ever further, hoping that he might empty his water flask over the approaching grove, in which he prayed to find a stream. Perhaps it was the cold that stilled him - made him move slower. It didn't matter... since he'd started before dawn, he was well ahead of schedule. Finally, he was able to push his way out of the thick grasses, and onto solid ground once more. There was a steaming mist in all the hollows of the grove as he approached and entered - it had roamed in its forlornness up the hill; like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none. As the early morning light continued to be shut out by the clouds, Alistair continued along at a lazy pace.
A clammy and intensely cold mist made it's way through the air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another; as the waves of an unwholesome sea might do. Pushing his way through the leaves and brush that grew deep in the wood, Alistair came to a small clearing. A small stream ran through it; the sparkling blue water inviting and clean. Heading over to it, he sank by the edge of the stream bank, and emptied his flask onto the grass beside him. Dipping the small bottle in slowly, the traveller filled it halfway with clear water. Bringing the flask to his partched lips, Alistair drank. Looking ahead, he noticed a further sightline ahead of him --- the river Bruinen visible in the distance. He was close. Closer than expected. This new sight gave him confidence, and made him smile.
Wiping the side of his mouth and lips with the back of his hand, Alistair dipped the flask back into the water and let it fill to the overflow point. Taking it out, he closed it, and set it back into his pack. He would hopefully reach the city before midday.
~