To Rescue a Servant

[Elentari]

Nurumaiel's first post -


Strands of silver were beginning to mingle with the gold, and Cempa felt the age that was stealing fast upon him as he bent his back to inspect the ground. He had not expected to see any sprouts, and so he was not surprised now to see that there were none. It was not the first time this had happened, but it still pained him. He would not yet allow himself to realize that year after year his crops had been a failure, and would continue to be a failure year after year. Raising crops was the price he had to pay for being afraid of horses, and he failed at that as he had at everything else. He had even failed in getting the love of a young woman.

His eyes wandered to his pretty young wife. Nay, she was not young any longer, but even when she was withered as he was becoming he would still think of her as the bright, beautiful, laughing little thing that he had married. And he knew she did not love him. She married him and she lived with him; she cared for his children and his house, but she did not love him. She had married him because her parents had arranged it. He had been painfully happy and she had been painfully unhappy. If only he had known before they had been wed. He would have let her go for her own sake, though it would have broken his own heart.

"Well, Papa?"

Cempa turned to his eldest son and shook his head. "Nothing, son," he said. "Nothing." He laid a strong hand on his son's head and gazed sorrowfully into his eyes before turning away to muse. His family would not go hungry for once again their neighbors would help them through the difficult times that lay ahead, but they would realize the humilation of having to live on others' goods and they would see more and more that he, whether considered father or husband, was a failure. He loved his family more than anything else in the world; he loved his two sons and his youngest, his daughter, and he loved his wife passionately. His wife did not love him but she respected him, and his children loved him as their father. He would die before he would let anything happen to them.

He clenched his fist and scowled darkly at the ground that had refused to yield the rewards of his hard labors, and then spun on the heel of his heavy boot. His wife met his eyes with a look he could not fathom. She shared his disappointment but did not comfort him as a wife would for she did not love him. She would merely speak words of regret. Yet still, he would die before he would let anything happen to his family.

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The game is now open. Please check the discussion thread for plots and character information

[ElberethVarda]

Mirianna watched as Cempa inspected the garden. She held no hope that there would be a harvest this year. It seemed that ever since Morgen's eighth birthday, the crops had been poor, and the rains late or sparse. The other farmers close by had begun to mutter about it. It was a blessing from the gods that they hadn't noticed sooner. Miri sighed, running a hand over her face. I feel so old she thought. Then she remembered, with a shock, that tommorrow was her thirtieth birthday. "No," she said to herself. "So soon?" She looked down her hands, and noticed the fine lines that covered them. She drew in a deep breath.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Can one lone man pull this off?

Seragon Jaade's thoughts as he sat all alone in the dark corners of an inn in Rohan led to that one thought, the wonderings of whether he could do what his plans led him to be doing. One person, one simple plan... was it that simple. He shifted, and stood up. Underneath his chair he had a pack resting-- he picked it up, and left the common room. After all, he couldn't risk drawing attention to himself, not with what he planned.

It's only one lone child, Seragon, the bandit reminded himself furiously as he walked up the stairs to where his rented room was. One young child. His dark cloak dragged against the floor, sweeping the small amount of dust after him; it gathered into a pile outside a wooden room when he entered, took the cloak off, and shook it out. If nothing else, this inn was cleaner than many he had stayed in while on the run. He searched around for the candle he had left in there previously to heading down for dinner-- nothing. Decent food, and clean rooms, but he still couldn't keep track of his belongings. And there wasn't exactly much to keep track of either. When he had left Gondor, he had left nearly everything.

In the darkness that filled the room, he sat down heavily, only knowing that he had hit the strawfilled mattress by the sound-- the blackness was thick in the room. Where's that window? Outside, he knew, there was still daylight. Enough that he should've been able to see clearly.

Not that it mattered... anything he planned would be at night anyway. His hours were strange, but he preferred it that way-- a wanted person made a point of remaining from the light of Middle-earth, or more, of Rohan, where he was now... Rohan, where he would attempt to pull off a kidnapping. One girl, he reminded himself. And you were the one who refused to have help.

But sitting on that bed in the inn-- he hadn't caught the name-- Seragon wondered how he was going to pull this off.