Wind from the West (January 3010) [OPEN]
Sept 30, 2017 18:37:31 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Sept 30, 2017 18:37:31 GMT -5
A tempest of rain and sleet had stolen through the Mark as a group of bedraggled Riders made their way back toward the gates of Edoras. It fell in droves, though barely affected the men who were hot with the excess work of hard riding- they had ridden directly from the mouths of the Entwash after tracking a small group of orc by night over the sluggish fen. They rode in haste, for one rider had been struck down from his horse and after being wounded fell into the marshy quagmire, near drowning. He seemed to recover greatly as he was drawn out after the skirmish, and the men continued west toward Alburg-- in which after they would turn north toward Edoras. Yet, just before they reached the town, Leofil, the man who had fallen before, became severely ill. Perhaps an infection was setting into his wounds, or perhaps it was the water he had swallowed, but he could not continue on.
As thus, Ceolmund and two other riders went together to return to Edoras with the man, without the rest of the Eorlingas. He rode double, carrying Leofil before him on his horse as they came upon the Barrowfield toward the north gate of the city.
Riding up beside him as the horses slowed in the rutted road, canter to trot, a fellow Rider, Audun, spoke; “He is slumped so, does he still draw breath?”
“He is unconcious, but still breathing,” Ceolmund replied, shifting the body to lean against the horse's neck.
The other rider, Gerlaf, shouted through the downpour, “He'll think better next time to steer out of the fen. He could have drowned his horse along with himself in his foolishness.”
“We have all been foolish in youth,” Ceolmund answered. “We earn the fortitude of the Eorlingas as we age.” It was true. Leofil was but eighteen summers of age, and Ceolmund had been in a similar position at that age. It was with great reason that the man worked the young boys so hard on the training grounds. Those who wished to ride with the Eored needed to be both physically capable and quick witted.
The city gates were left open during the day as the people could see danger far off from the watchtower, so there was no need to call down the gatekeep, and the men rode in on the muddy streets toward the small Hall on the terrace where the healers would be awaiting them.
The man himself had taken a gash to the leg near his knee, and while the bleeding had finally stopped, the wound was deep. It would take at least some days, Ceolmund knew, before he would climb atop a horse again. But at the least, the orcs were halted before they did any further harm. One outlying farmstead had been enkindled and it as likely they would have continued on their rampage to the next. He felt anguish for the family who had lost everthing. This was the danger of living outside the walled city on the Riddermark. The farmers and shepherds seemed in greater and greater peril as the years wore on. Ceolmund was grateful that his own family lived within the gated city, for it had been long since there was any attempt on the people safe in Edoras.
The horses were halted near the hall and Audun and Gerlaf dismounted quickly to help take down the boy down from Ceolmund's horse and carry him inside where the fire was blazing and the beds were laid out. The wind blew heavily from the west and the cold rain and sleet began to transform to a flurried snow.
Ceolmund dismounted and immediately regretted the action as he felt the sharp pain reverberate through his body. The leg wound, he had forgotten for some moments. The lady healers crowded around the door and ushered them men carring Leofil inside, and several of the village boys ran toward Ceolmund and offered to see the horses to the stables. The man braced himself momentarily against his horses side and agreed, then slowly limped himself toward the doorway to the hall.
As thus, Ceolmund and two other riders went together to return to Edoras with the man, without the rest of the Eorlingas. He rode double, carrying Leofil before him on his horse as they came upon the Barrowfield toward the north gate of the city.
Riding up beside him as the horses slowed in the rutted road, canter to trot, a fellow Rider, Audun, spoke; “He is slumped so, does he still draw breath?”
“He is unconcious, but still breathing,” Ceolmund replied, shifting the body to lean against the horse's neck.
The other rider, Gerlaf, shouted through the downpour, “He'll think better next time to steer out of the fen. He could have drowned his horse along with himself in his foolishness.”
“We have all been foolish in youth,” Ceolmund answered. “We earn the fortitude of the Eorlingas as we age.” It was true. Leofil was but eighteen summers of age, and Ceolmund had been in a similar position at that age. It was with great reason that the man worked the young boys so hard on the training grounds. Those who wished to ride with the Eored needed to be both physically capable and quick witted.
The city gates were left open during the day as the people could see danger far off from the watchtower, so there was no need to call down the gatekeep, and the men rode in on the muddy streets toward the small Hall on the terrace where the healers would be awaiting them.
The man himself had taken a gash to the leg near his knee, and while the bleeding had finally stopped, the wound was deep. It would take at least some days, Ceolmund knew, before he would climb atop a horse again. But at the least, the orcs were halted before they did any further harm. One outlying farmstead had been enkindled and it as likely they would have continued on their rampage to the next. He felt anguish for the family who had lost everthing. This was the danger of living outside the walled city on the Riddermark. The farmers and shepherds seemed in greater and greater peril as the years wore on. Ceolmund was grateful that his own family lived within the gated city, for it had been long since there was any attempt on the people safe in Edoras.
The horses were halted near the hall and Audun and Gerlaf dismounted quickly to help take down the boy down from Ceolmund's horse and carry him inside where the fire was blazing and the beds were laid out. The wind blew heavily from the west and the cold rain and sleet began to transform to a flurried snow.
Ceolmund dismounted and immediately regretted the action as he felt the sharp pain reverberate through his body. The leg wound, he had forgotten for some moments. The lady healers crowded around the door and ushered them men carring Leofil inside, and several of the village boys ran toward Ceolmund and offered to see the horses to the stables. The man braced himself momentarily against his horses side and agreed, then slowly limped himself toward the doorway to the hall.