Sailing for Adventure

Frodo Silvertongue · 05-14-2012, 01:12 PM

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RAMBLE RAMBLE x 100. Please tell me if I've done something wrong....
>.> Frodo talks a lot. I can't help it.

Frodo had been wandering again. Never one to stay in one place for long, he had always found himself galloping father and father from home. Or, what was supposed to be his home. A tiny little hut in a village was where he slept, mostly, but why was it that he'd rather curl up in the stables with Strider, or camp under the stars, in the wilderness? These thoughts stuck his mind repeatedly, and he wondered why on earth he was not pleased with what he currently had. He had a lover, for once. Permanant, apparently. That was what he had been assured. But was it love? He didn't think so. He wanted to comfort Gemma, and that was why they had ended up together. But she'd never really be his, would she? And now, now, she was with child. And she wasn't sure whether they were his, or someone elses. But no matter what, she told Frodo that although he would be a father to the litter when they were born, people would be told that the pups were Matteo's. Even though the potential fathers were Matteo's brother, and Frodo, and not Matteo at all. Raising someone elses child...he could deal with it, he thought. But when the time came around to it, would he be able to keep to his word?

Darkness and flame, night and day. Frodo rode on through the night until dawn had crept up on him, though he was not tired. He never usually came this far North, despite loving it here. The south wasn't for him. He liked the cold, and wet. He missed the sea.... the sea. There it was, up ahead. He could see it clearly. Not a black expanse, with a rocky outcrop for a beach, like there was further south. The real thing. Turqoise waters and golden sands. Frodo could almost smell it now, the salt and the iron. That was what he lusted for. That was home. He'd been a sailor once... well, a pirate. Once, against his will, and then once he'd grown older, of his own choice. But he'd returned to AniWaya. Why? His home was there. Wasn't it?

The original reason for coming here was not just for wandering, but also to seek out those who had helped him in the past. He rode on a white stallion, and with him were saddlebags bursting with meat. He was a fine hunter, one of the best, and the stench of prey that came off him was only proof. But as he ventured further out, he realised that the scent of what had once been a territory was gone. Nothing was left, just a ghost of what had once been. From what he could see, the pack had been disbanded.

What a shame. But, he had not came here for nothing. He'd came for adventure, and there was time yet before he'd have to go to help Gemma through the birth of the pups. All the time though, he was searching for something else. Somewhere else. A new pack would maybe be suitable. Oh, he loved AniWaya, but he did not understand their ways. He wanted to, but his mind was set to one purpose and it was hard for him to change. He wouldn't change his beliefs, that was for sure, and that made it hard for him to fit in AniWaya.

Sensing a gathering up ahead, the wolf squeezed with his thighs and hurried on. The scent of many clung to the air, but they were intruders. What was left of the pack had now gone. These were the scavengers, the ones that came afterwards, seeking to make settlement in a territory that once was. He knew how it was, he knew how this happened. Draped in a dark blue shirt, soft cloak, green neckerchief and a neckclace with a ring on it, he was perhaps not that out of place as he approached a group of wolves that were also relitavely clothed. From what he could tell, this was the makings of a pack. The authority was clear in the crowd, but as he dismounted swiftly, he adressed nobody in particular, but everyone as a whole. I be Frodo SIlvertongue. Pleasedtameetya. Nuffink but rubbish-a-floating this here territory, so I'm aspectin' the pack 'as left. Y'all smell foreign, dungarees an' all, am I right in thinkin' you don't be passin' through? Settlin', are we? he grinned, trying to keep most of the unruly words out of his voice. His words jumped all over the place, but he tried to keep them under control for the most part. The little man was just that, little, as he walked over, Strider in tow, but he was strong. His muscles were lean and hands calloused, and he wasn't all that skinny anymore. He wasn't a boy, but a man. A ship. he murmered, looking past them and to the sea. It was all he could do to not go to the wreckage straight away. Ah, she's a beaut'. Plan on sailin' her, or yer just leavin' her be? he paused, taking a sneaky look back at the bulging saddle bags of Strider. Oh! he exclaimed. If anyone a-be hungry, I says to them, I says, we gots lots to go round, aint we Strider? he grinned, scratching the horse 'twixt the ears before casually opening the folds of the bag. His posture was over al friendly, and open, and yet his tail and head held low. He didn't want to cause a stir with the leaders of the pack. Wolves could get pretty territorial, pretty quickly, no matter how much they dressed like men.

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