Colors and promises

Frodo Silvertongue · 04-01-2012, 03:21 PM

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Word Count :: 512 That's fine ^^ Personally it's be much better for me if we backdated it anyway. Anything from the 25th to the 29th would be prefered.

There was a storm brewing on the horizon. The ground was wet, wetter than the norm for spring, and already the clouds were inking their way towards a chilling grey. And then the skies turned black, the stars refusing to show themselves as the winds opened up to shower everyone and everything with rain. The air was depressing, and cold, and empty, but it was Frodo’s favourite type of weather. He loved storms. The young man tilted back his head to watch the water spill down from above; opened up his waterskins and held them up and outwards. Storms were a good sign; it meant the cleansing of the earth and an infinite supply of water. When his waterskins were full, Frodo tidied them back into his saddle bags and continued to pace lazily through the wet earth. His fur was flecked with mud, coat stuck to his body damply and cloak dripping wet, yet he was still content.

He’d already rested a couple of hours ago, and was willing to go on riding through the night. The lightning and thunder overhead only made things more interesting; sounds to listen to made him feel at ease, for it was the silence that he feared. The downside of such unruly weather had Strider spooking every so often, the horse more fidgety than usual, but Frodo was strong enough to control his steed, so this became little a problem. And in some moments, the wolf would pat the equine and whisper calming words, and the chance of Strider spooking became close to none.

Frodo was blind to the world but could easily navigate, his trusty sense of smell and hearing never ceasing to please him. However, there was a sudden light up ahead. The man tilted his head, wondering who could be setting up camp in the horrible weather, and he squeezed the stallion with his thighs. The light was fire, a pinpoint, clear as day, in the pitch of night. Whoever had set it must have been either in a group or unwary, or perhaps foolish, because fires attracted many a traveller in a storm such as this; and not all of them friendly. Luckily for Wretch, Frodo was a kind fellow. And when he finally dismounted his horse to see her under a tree, by the fire, he decided to greet her; and warn her. Evenin‘. he spoke in musical tones. He noted she was all by herself, and frowned. Looking down through the branches, the man crouched so he was at eye level. It’s dangerous fer someone, all chalk and cheese, to light a fire at night, ‘specially on their Todd Sloane… you’ll attract ‘em all, like moths to a flame. Murderers, rapists, they all hang roun’ at night, searchin’. the luperci waggled a finger. Frodo sat down with his back to her, his eyes directing Strider to stay where he was. Here, I’ll keep watch…you can go get some kip, you follow? he offered, only too friendly, though he doubted she’d trust him.

Image courtesy of Scott Hudson **; Table by the Mentors!

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