Herd in Winter (January 3010) - [Aelwyn]
Mar 19, 2018 9:25:45 GMT -5
Post by Alodia on Mar 19, 2018 9:25:45 GMT -5
”He sounds like a bleeding tosser. Your father should put his boot up his arse.”
Alodia looked to Einion with a small frown. “My father does what he can. He’s paralyzed. Bound to a chair,” the young woman explained, though her voice wavered a moment. It had been a few years since the accident, and Alodia always figured she would adjust to the thought of her vibrant father being duller and stiller, but she never had. “That’s why he doesn’t come himself. He used to do the trips with me.”
A hint of sadness lingered in her tone, and for a moment she dropped her eyes. In her mind, those were better days. Kuni was not quite so much the headache, and she had never needed to rely on strangers to keep her safe from stomach-gutting outlaws in the night before.
Still, she was doing what she could to help repay them for their help, and Alodia felt better knowing that there were kind spirits out there to look out for the lonely travellers. Especially those who might be meek enough to have trouble. Alodia had never fought off someone with a knife in her life! She had never spent time to learn such things. Goats filled all her days—and she would not even know where to look.
”The milk and cheese is enough. We have a brace of rabbits. Let’s build up your fire and roast them. The warmth and the meat will go a ways to make the night less dark.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t ask you to—” Alodia began. They were already doing so much for her, it seemed both wrong and rude to ask them to feed her as well. But Aelwyn seemed so insistent, pure in his intention to help, perhaps it was rude to deny him. “Thank you, Aelwyn,” she said quietly.
It seemed he was not overly interesting in her permission, and as Nana bleated terrible protests, the two men set about working. Einion took to the rabbits, a task that Alodia could not stomach to watch herself. Instead she peered at Aelwyn as he bent and began to start the fire once more, something that he was able to do much faster than she had been able to when she had first laid down.
”Tend the flames. This wind will like to see them gone. I’ll see if I can find any more wood about.”
“I can do that,” Alodia assured him, stepping up to follow his direction. The wind was howling that night, perhaps more so than when she had gone to sleep to begin with. There was something warming her, though, beyond the climbing orange flames. Content. She could sleep well knowing that Aelwyn and Einion were going to be sure the attempted murderer troubled her not again.
Thoughtfully, she asked in a voice loud enough to carry into the darkness, “I am lucky to have you both here. Do you travel so late often? I hope I’m not keeping you from warm homes, or worrying your families.”
They were of age to be married, she thought. Perhaps with children. Those types of men were often the ones to take pity on lone travelers, for they saw in them their own family members. Still, she would not be able to stomach knowing that someone was worrying after them, should such be the case. However grateful she was for their help.
Aelwyn
Alodia looked to Einion with a small frown. “My father does what he can. He’s paralyzed. Bound to a chair,” the young woman explained, though her voice wavered a moment. It had been a few years since the accident, and Alodia always figured she would adjust to the thought of her vibrant father being duller and stiller, but she never had. “That’s why he doesn’t come himself. He used to do the trips with me.”
A hint of sadness lingered in her tone, and for a moment she dropped her eyes. In her mind, those were better days. Kuni was not quite so much the headache, and she had never needed to rely on strangers to keep her safe from stomach-gutting outlaws in the night before.
Still, she was doing what she could to help repay them for their help, and Alodia felt better knowing that there were kind spirits out there to look out for the lonely travellers. Especially those who might be meek enough to have trouble. Alodia had never fought off someone with a knife in her life! She had never spent time to learn such things. Goats filled all her days—and she would not even know where to look.
”The milk and cheese is enough. We have a brace of rabbits. Let’s build up your fire and roast them. The warmth and the meat will go a ways to make the night less dark.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t ask you to—” Alodia began. They were already doing so much for her, it seemed both wrong and rude to ask them to feed her as well. But Aelwyn seemed so insistent, pure in his intention to help, perhaps it was rude to deny him. “Thank you, Aelwyn,” she said quietly.
It seemed he was not overly interesting in her permission, and as Nana bleated terrible protests, the two men set about working. Einion took to the rabbits, a task that Alodia could not stomach to watch herself. Instead she peered at Aelwyn as he bent and began to start the fire once more, something that he was able to do much faster than she had been able to when she had first laid down.
”Tend the flames. This wind will like to see them gone. I’ll see if I can find any more wood about.”
“I can do that,” Alodia assured him, stepping up to follow his direction. The wind was howling that night, perhaps more so than when she had gone to sleep to begin with. There was something warming her, though, beyond the climbing orange flames. Content. She could sleep well knowing that Aelwyn and Einion were going to be sure the attempted murderer troubled her not again.
Thoughtfully, she asked in a voice loud enough to carry into the darkness, “I am lucky to have you both here. Do you travel so late often? I hope I’m not keeping you from warm homes, or worrying your families.”
They were of age to be married, she thought. Perhaps with children. Those types of men were often the ones to take pity on lone travelers, for they saw in them their own family members. Still, she would not be able to stomach knowing that someone was worrying after them, should such be the case. However grateful she was for their help.
Aelwyn