One More Heist (March 3010) - [Alli]
Mar 9, 2018 9:03:28 GMT -5
Post by Eradan on Mar 9, 2018 9:03:28 GMT -5
Upon the shore of the Long Lake, deep under brush, there hid a small raft made of felled and found timber crafted with stolen axe, rope, and sealant. The Kelda’s Pride was a thing of beauty to the young boy who had painstakingly set about making her, and a fair walk from the mouth of the lake town. After a builder had usurped the wood that had been gathered for her, Eradan had needed to ensure his second attempt had gone better. Starting over, the process began again, and this time Eradan took her to a spot where none would find her, and hid her under many limbs and behind rocks.
But finally, she was ready.
“I did it, Ma,” the boy murmured to none but the air with a boyish gleam in his eye and a proud lift of his chin and shoulders. Uncle Farman did not want him, and Eradan knew if he stayed in Esgaroth, the town upon the lake in the shadow of Dale proper, he was going to be caught and brought to him eventually. And this, the Kelda’s Pride, brought freedom for both of them. If Uncle Farman did not want him, then Eradan did not want him, either.
He had seen a drawing of the White City, it’s layers like one of the baker’s cakes nestled in the mountains. Eradan had been told that the Steward was a good leader of men; he would let the young boy train. Eradan could become one of the knights he had been told about, the ones that had great helms with wings! He could be a soldier, one who served his country with pride instead of just a forgotten orphan boy.
And the journey began today. Eradan just needed to nick a few more supplies first.
His stomach rumbled, and the boy flicked his eyes toward the wood-raised buildings that sat and floated upon the water, and then to the sun lofting overhead. It was almost noon, which meant the walkways would already be bustling with people about the market stalls. If he was going to eat today, if he was going to get to set off for the White City before nightfall, now was the time to do one last sweep of the shops. While they were busy, while he could pass unnoticed.
Not that it took much effort to be invisible.
Eradan had found it remarkably easy since the passing of his father to get around Esgaroth with little to no trouble. Perhaps at first the people of the town were unsure of what to say to him, though their long silence could only be kept by avoiding eye contact when he passed in the lanes. And long avoidance soon became habit. And that habit had become blindness. Blindness meant Eradan could very well do as he pleased. Food, supplies…anything he needed for the past few months had been bought with nothing but his own deft hands.
He had never once taken something for luxury. He had eyed a few of the toys of the market more than once; dwarf-made and sent from the Lonely Mountain itself. But he could survive without it, and so he had resisted the urge to pocket the little thing. His mother would have been cross for him taking something like that.
He looked back up to the bright sun, the round, glowing orb of warmth that reminded him of his mother. “I promise, Ma, just the food today.” When he was richer, when he was a knight in the Steward’s army, he would send some wages back to the people of Esgaroth to make up for what he’d taken. But, to afford that, he needed to get to Minas Tirith first.
Covering his raft once more, the boy took off for the town. Fish would be easy to swipe, though harder to keep for the journey. He had acquired a fishing pole for the trip, already packed in the empty potato sack he was using for his supplies. That would help get him all the way to Gondor. Apples, cheese, berries, nuts...The list of food got longer the more he walked, and the louder his tummy rumbled.
Finally, Eradan had arrived to the market. It was indeed busy, the smell of fish permeating above all other things, and the sound of fishmongers and shopkeeps bellowing their calls into the morning air to attract attention, the hum and roll of the patrons mixing in beneath.
There.
He could see the vegetable stand, the carrots and potatoes the only pieces visible from his vantage, but it was where Eradan set his eyes. His little heart began to speed away, swift feet bringing him forward. If he was caught this time, if he messed up, Gondor was going to be gone forever.
One more heist before the start of his new life. Surely, Eradan thought to himself. Surely he could do it.
Alli
But finally, she was ready.
“I did it, Ma,” the boy murmured to none but the air with a boyish gleam in his eye and a proud lift of his chin and shoulders. Uncle Farman did not want him, and Eradan knew if he stayed in Esgaroth, the town upon the lake in the shadow of Dale proper, he was going to be caught and brought to him eventually. And this, the Kelda’s Pride, brought freedom for both of them. If Uncle Farman did not want him, then Eradan did not want him, either.
He had seen a drawing of the White City, it’s layers like one of the baker’s cakes nestled in the mountains. Eradan had been told that the Steward was a good leader of men; he would let the young boy train. Eradan could become one of the knights he had been told about, the ones that had great helms with wings! He could be a soldier, one who served his country with pride instead of just a forgotten orphan boy.
And the journey began today. Eradan just needed to nick a few more supplies first.
His stomach rumbled, and the boy flicked his eyes toward the wood-raised buildings that sat and floated upon the water, and then to the sun lofting overhead. It was almost noon, which meant the walkways would already be bustling with people about the market stalls. If he was going to eat today, if he was going to get to set off for the White City before nightfall, now was the time to do one last sweep of the shops. While they were busy, while he could pass unnoticed.
Not that it took much effort to be invisible.
Eradan had found it remarkably easy since the passing of his father to get around Esgaroth with little to no trouble. Perhaps at first the people of the town were unsure of what to say to him, though their long silence could only be kept by avoiding eye contact when he passed in the lanes. And long avoidance soon became habit. And that habit had become blindness. Blindness meant Eradan could very well do as he pleased. Food, supplies…anything he needed for the past few months had been bought with nothing but his own deft hands.
He had never once taken something for luxury. He had eyed a few of the toys of the market more than once; dwarf-made and sent from the Lonely Mountain itself. But he could survive without it, and so he had resisted the urge to pocket the little thing. His mother would have been cross for him taking something like that.
He looked back up to the bright sun, the round, glowing orb of warmth that reminded him of his mother. “I promise, Ma, just the food today.” When he was richer, when he was a knight in the Steward’s army, he would send some wages back to the people of Esgaroth to make up for what he’d taken. But, to afford that, he needed to get to Minas Tirith first.
Covering his raft once more, the boy took off for the town. Fish would be easy to swipe, though harder to keep for the journey. He had acquired a fishing pole for the trip, already packed in the empty potato sack he was using for his supplies. That would help get him all the way to Gondor. Apples, cheese, berries, nuts...The list of food got longer the more he walked, and the louder his tummy rumbled.
Finally, Eradan had arrived to the market. It was indeed busy, the smell of fish permeating above all other things, and the sound of fishmongers and shopkeeps bellowing their calls into the morning air to attract attention, the hum and roll of the patrons mixing in beneath.
There.
He could see the vegetable stand, the carrots and potatoes the only pieces visible from his vantage, but it was where Eradan set his eyes. His little heart began to speed away, swift feet bringing him forward. If he was caught this time, if he messed up, Gondor was going to be gone forever.
One more heist before the start of his new life. Surely, Eradan thought to himself. Surely he could do it.
Alli