Well, it's a start

Frodo Silvertongue · 03-17-2012, 07:20 PM

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a wild frodo appears...

Life had been confusing for poor Frodo lately. He’d tasted alcohol for the first time and faced it’s bitter wrath, and the consequences of drinking. He felt cold and almost alone, despite what intimacy he’d endured. His feelings were mixed for the moment, and he had no idea what or how to feel. So he just stuck with numbness, and tried to get on with things as usual. The steady rhythm that kept him going. Hunting for the pack. Exercising the horses. Sleeping. Eating. Living. He was almost sick of the repeated pattern. But it kept him sane.

He didn’t go near the town hall on a regular day. It just wasn’t on his list of to do things. He never had time to do anything else, as the days sped by so quickly. But something drew him there today, and invisible thread of some sort. He found himself tumbling towards the structure and then following the ever-burning light that was the great fire. He turned his back on the rest of the world and calmly approached, until he saw the white figure in the midst of it all. Frodo assumed she was a fire tender, but he hadn’t expected her to be here today. She didn’t look like she was tending the fire though, she almost looked like she was weeping.

Gemma, isn’t it? he called softly. He tried to keep as much roughness and idiocy out of his voice as possible, he didn’t want to creep her out. Like he had before. She’d ran when he’d tried to talk to her, make light conversation. And now surely, things would be even worse. Frodo kept his distance but crouched over the fire, so then they could talk but not startle each other. Mr Silvertongue hung his head low, watching the embers glow. If I uh…scared yer, you know, a while ago. Ah’m sorry, snowlady.

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