Ch. 11
The group had followed Srakkha for about 2 hours before they reached what looked to be a well-used road. Their theory was further proved at the sight of a large cart pulled by two oxen and carrying what looked like a farmer. A new thought came to mind when the man caught sight of Srakkha, immediately halting his progress and leaping of the cart- Srakkha was well-known around this road, in a good way.
What further amused Halt was the fact that the man paid no heed to the small group with Srakkha, but instead chose to greet his- what it looked like- friend. Evidently Srakkha brought lots of strangers to the road… or pets.
Halts thoughts were interrupted when the two of them began speaking fluently in a rapid, soft language. Unsurprisingly, Srakkha appeared extremely comfortable speaking that way; he even appeared slightly deflated when he eventually needed to speak in Araluen again. "Derrk say-uhs tha-yet he'll bay hap-ee to 'elp yous; 'e say-uhs tha-yet thar ey-uhs ay new festy-val goin' on, an' all-er invited."
Halt nodded his head before replying, "He is most kind. We are grateful for his kindness."
A gap-toothed grin was Srakkha's response before turning back to the farmer- uh, Derrk- and translating Halt's response.
It was funny, the way Srakkha spoke in Araluen. He obviously learned it from somewhere- where was a good question - but not in a Teacher/Student way. Maybe just by passing- no, he must have known the person in order for him to learn so many words; but to not pick up how to properly pronounce the words… It was confusing.
A startled sound once more jerked Halt from his thoughts. Srakkha turned to explain what had just transpired. From his broken, strangely accented, Araluen Halt gathered that Srakkha had been invited to leave his forest and join the group on their journey- and after all: he'd not left the place ever. Srakkha had happily agreed.
Now, a mish-moshed group was on their way to a city hosting a strange festival: a farmer, a crazy man, a knight, two Rangers, two oxen, and three horses. They certainly were a mess of a group.
Derrk had requested for Srakkha to teach him Araluen, and Halt could only shake his head in amusement, this was going to be a disaster.
"Jey-est over de hill an' you'll see de bestest sight e'er seen. Es eh purty cit-ee." Derrk stated.
It was interesting to see how fast Derrk learned Araluen, his was also better due to some help of Gilan and Horace's- none of them wanted to try and decipher another 'Srakkha'. Added to that, Srakkha managed to learn from it as well, yet he seemed to prefer his accent… which was definitely strange in Halt's opinion. Well, so was the fact that the two were such fast learners. Obviously if Srakkha learned that quickly, then maybe he didn't need to talk with the Araluen at all, only hear.
"Well that's certainly interesting." Gilan stated, staring out over the expanse of the city laid out before them.
It looked like the architect couldn't make up his mind on what the city was going to look like. There were some sprawling buildings, only one story high with massive gardens and lawns; some where quaint little cottages with maybe a one-horse stable not too far off; there were shanties and what could only be described as pig-sties, except for humans. Continuing the mess were buildings that looked like they were reaching for the heavens, towers that went higher than Castle Araluen's own.
As they began to make their descent into the valley, the two Rangers began to realize that the massive oak trees and lumpy hills were not just landscape, but also dwellings: some trees contained houses in their branches, holes between their roots, and windows in their trunks; the hills had doors in them and skylights on their tops.
This… city was a complete mess, there didn't seem to be any organization at all. It was truly a sight, a masterpiece of a mess if ever there was one.
"Purty, ain't it?" Derrk asked, grinning at their slack-jawed expressions- well Horace and Gilan's, he better notbe able to see Halt's.
"Yes. It truly is a sight to behold." Gilan replied, when the other two made no move.
"Wall, me an' Derrk'er gonna go to da market, do'ya wanna come? Er ya gonna go sum'er else?"
"We'll come- we have no special place in mind anyway."
"Gud gud. Comen den."
In the marketplace were many couples, both young and old. Among them were loners and groups. But none of them are important, well, maybe one couple.
Panthera and Henia were walking together as they made fun of one another's traditional home clothing.
"Okay, I give. Mine is more ridiculous." Henia sighed out, "But at least I don't have a- a-" she began looking around, searching for something to pin on Panthera, who merely laughed at her antics. "Um…" Spotting something she turned to him, grinning wickedly. "At least I don't have a fan-club."
"A fan-what?"
"Fan-club; you know all screaming your name, fainting after you, the usual blah."
"Yeah yeah, I know that. But why would I have a fan-club? We haven't even told the tale yet!"
"Search me." She responded, shrugging. "Maybe the others couldn't bear to not say something. They must have spilled it."
"Okay… so where are they?"
"Where are the others? They're off doing who knows what. I don't know."
"No no. Not the others, my 'fan-club', where are they?"
"Oh. Yeah, they're right over there." She nodded her head to his left- pointing was rude; Frenesia had raved at the entire group for a solid two hours until they stopped pointing. Good times…
Panthera ducked behind her before peeking over a shoulder- a "That's not suspicious at all." went ignored. There were two men clad in Ranger-green, bearing two large unstrung longbows (probably fake), and holding the reins to two small ponies. They were talking to what looked to be a bum and a farmer- who was holding the reins to a large male horse.
He could slightly detect a crash from inside the alehouse they were standing besides, along with some vague shouting. The older of the two men sighed as he shook his head.
It was all so serene- a moment from the past. Panthera could almost imagine that that was Halt, and that Horace was inside the alehouse after having just run into a wine barrel and crashing to the floor. Gilan was the man- right there- who was laughing; the ponies weren't ponies, but Ranger horses, and that fine horse belonged to Horace.
Unfortunately, Panthera knew just how insane the idea was; and it was not real. It was just a coincidence. No matter how alike the small group seemed to his former friends, they were not here. Besides, why should Panthera care so much about them? They had placed him on a raft while he was injured and set him afloat. They'd tried to kill him- after everything he'd done for them.
The moment passed when Henia laughed at him- "Hiding? Excuse me, but I'll not be your shield."
He grinned in response, "Shield? What from? They're obviously not a fan-club. They must be a figment of your imagination. I'll believe it when pigs fly."
"Flying pigs, huh. That's a tough one. But I'll definitely see what I can do!" She grabbed his arm and began to pull him away from the 'fan-club'.
Apart from all that, Panthera knew Halt- and Halt would not be so open in the fact that he was a stranger. He wasn't like that, he never would be. So Panthera let it go. Just a figment of his imagination, really; it was nothing more.
Halt sighed and shook his head in despair.
Horace may be a knight, he might have killed Morgorath, and aided in the Battle for Skandia, but to Halt? He would always be an insufferable apprentice. Really, only an apprentice should be allowed to run into a wine barrel and become slightly intoxicated.
A girlish laugh distracted his attention and drew it to a young couple- probably early twenties- to his far right; honestly, anything was better than the soaked Horace and giggling Gilan- a giggling Ranger? Honestly.
Anyway, the girl was wearing a maroon-ish color which was- quite frankly-ugly, especially on her. And the boy- er, man? He was clad in a deep, forest green; which actually looked almost like the Ranger color… come to think of it, was that an unstrung-?
But his thoughts were once more shattered as the girl began to speak. Storing this odd piece of information away in his mind, Halt caught the end of the girl's sentence: "-ney me shina!" Before she grabbed the man's arm and pulled him further into the crowd, and out of his sight.
Smiling slightly, Halt shook his head again. Young couples, they had a life-time before them; time to make mistakes, fix them, and maybe fall in love with others…
Come to think of it, had Will remained alive, he would have been their age; Alyss would likely have become his girl, although Will may not have realized it until further on in life- his apprentice could be pretty dense at times.
Catching himself, Halt paused. He was thinking of Will in the present form again- that wasn't necessarily good for his health; yet… Will may have died physically, but that did not mean his spirit was gone as well.
"Well damn." Halt murmured to himself. "Why didn't I realize before?" It was obvious now: Will was still with them. He was the reason Gilan and Horace were so dumb- *cough* he was probably whispering stupid things in their ears *cough*- and probably why Horace had fallen into the barrel. "Darned right, you pushed him."
Now Halt wasn't one to be superstitous. And he damned well wasn't going crazy. How-so-ever, if his former apprentice's spirit was following him around somehow, Halt was sure going to give him a run for is money- or ghostly currency… whatever. Starting with…
Gilan was trying to cool down the angry bartender, whilst stopping a loopy Horace from poking fun at the man. Halt wasn't helping at all either! He was just standing over there, watching random people. Like, seriously?
Then there were Srakkha and Derkk, who were just laughing off to the side. Oh, and don't even mention Blaze and Abelard's expressions- you might think him crazy, but man were they being rude!
Why did the world hate him so much?
Wait. No wait. Stop right there! What was up with Halt? Uh oh… that was his "I'm going to make so much fun of you guys whilst doing something extremely stupid and dangerous. And you're all going to wonder what the heck just happened." Expression on his face- which was honestly one of those "one of a kind" things that one makes up on the spot… Huh.
And now Halt was coming towards them, mouth opening…
Whoa. Did he seriously just-? No way.
Gilan and the slightly drunk Horace stared in shock as Halt walked over and pulled a Will. He challenged the bartender to a drink-off (through hand gestures, yes, but still!).
"Halt is insane." Horace announced as Halt and the man shook hands. Slack-jawed, Gilan could only nod in agreement.
"Well… we may as well have fun with it while his insanity lasts." Gilan began.
"Sounds like a plan." Horace agreed. The two glanced at each other, smirks appearing. Then with a high-five they were following Halt and the man inside. Well, Gilan had to put the horses in the stable first – which made him miss the first round ("Aw man!) but all-in-all, the night was going to be a good one.
Oh, and those thoughts about the man suspiciously dressed like a Ranger? Yeah, they basically got overwhelmed and drowned in the ale and such. Basically, Halt didn't remember them come morning. The only thing he really worried about was the aggravating head-ache he had. But that's for next chapter.
Now Halt, have you ever been drink before? You should know what happens afterwards- oh wait, I suppose being a Ranger prevents you from allowing yourself to lose sense? That would make sense...
In no way do I own the characters. The only thing I own is the idea. Heck, the idea of a giant black panther as a companion comes from the series: Drizzt Do'Urden. If you've read it, Guenhwyver.
Anywho, please leave me a comment. :P
Chapter: 2,031 words.
