Disclaimer: Everything that you do not recognize in mine. All mine!
Chapter 2
The tall gates of Bree towered gloomily in the heave fog.
The huge stallion snorted, nostrils flared, as they slowed to a stop at the huge doors.
The town seemed to be at peace, the majority of its residence lost in sleep.
A glimpse of fear slipped out of the rider's eyes, but was soon whisked away by a flood of confusion.
He was sure the group had followed this path, yet no sign of their menacing presence could be heard or seen hovering over the quiescent town.
His horse started as the peephole of the dark gates swung open and the weary face of the gatekeeper appeared.
"Are you to come inside?" The old man's eyes squinted as he tried to adjust his eyes from the lighted gatehouse to the shadowy external.
The dark rider's gaze danced from the road ahead to the tall gates and their aged keeper.
He was sure that what he had set out to do did not lye in the old town but there was something else, a presence, that made his blood run fast and his heart throb. Evil.
"I will" Dismounting, he swung the reins quickly over his steed's head and walked him towards the doors.
"What is your business in Bree?" The sudden question took the rider by surprise and he paused in thought before answering. "My business is my own, but nothing more than a strong drink and company"
He lied through his teeth.
Though a drink would do him a lot of good his business is kill and that alone. The man studied the caped stranger before smiling and opening the heavy doors enough for his two guests to glide in.
The town seemed abandoned and dead silent but for the muffled laughs pending from a nearby inn.
Through the gloom and fog a small sign caught the riders attention. Its decorative writing blurred as the wind blew it back and forth on its hinges. The Prancing Pony.
Tying the dark stallion to a post at the side of the now lively inn, the rider pushed open the doors and stepped into the confusion within.
His experienced gaze explored the room. A bunch of drunk travelers sang loudly at the counter and coupled figures were spread through the bar sitting around the dirty tables. One identity caught and held his gaze; a man dressed much the same as he, sitting in a corner, his hood covering his features in shadow.
Suddenly the pounding in his heart grew violent and he winced in pain, something in this inn did not belong.
He quietly found himself a seat and made himself as comfortable as possible, though every sudden noise sent his body tense. He pulled the hood of his dark cloak down revealing his strong features to the surrounding drunkards. A long scar tore across his forehead, still carrying the look of fury and pain it had originally granted. He had received it not in the heat of battle, as many would have presumed but rather as a punishment for inaccuracy during a training exercise. He was only a young boy then and he could not remember what he had done to receive the punishment though he could recall the pain and fear he had felt.
His face became hard and anger flashed before him, he did not like himself to bear in mind the stupid flaws he hid within himself.
"Are you going to order something?" Lost in his concentration, the sudden figure of the bartender startled him.
Jumping up to a standing position one hand instinctively flew tightly around the sword at his belt and the other gripped to the mans collar.
"All I did was ask a question," grumbled the heavyset man attempting to hide his fear with a strong voice. The edge rose from the riders face and he let go of the man, his hands residing back to his sides, dumbfounded.
After some silence the room was sparked once again with the laughter of beer and merriment.
But he could feel a sharp gaze reside over his figure, those of an eagle looking for prey.
His grey eyes flashed as he scanned the room searching for the owner. He saw him; it was the same dark man that he noticed when he first arrived, though now the flash of his stern eyes shone through the shadows of his hood.
The rider knew that look well; he had it memorized and hidden in the back of his mind, barred and chained, it was one of suspicion and anger.
He also knew what it meant, a challenge.
He stood and walked through the doors of the inn, into the gloomy outside.
Turning back towards the inn he watched as the door swung open again as the challenger exited.
Putting his hand to his sword he readied himself but to his surprise his challenger did not do the same, rather he seemed quite relaxed and a glimpse of submission flickered over his appearance. "Hold your sword, boy"
O o! anywho that's it for now
Please review.
Chapter 2
The tall gates of Bree towered gloomily in the heave fog.
The huge stallion snorted, nostrils flared, as they slowed to a stop at the huge doors.
The town seemed to be at peace, the majority of its residence lost in sleep.
A glimpse of fear slipped out of the rider's eyes, but was soon whisked away by a flood of confusion.
He was sure the group had followed this path, yet no sign of their menacing presence could be heard or seen hovering over the quiescent town.
His horse started as the peephole of the dark gates swung open and the weary face of the gatekeeper appeared.
"Are you to come inside?" The old man's eyes squinted as he tried to adjust his eyes from the lighted gatehouse to the shadowy external.
The dark rider's gaze danced from the road ahead to the tall gates and their aged keeper.
He was sure that what he had set out to do did not lye in the old town but there was something else, a presence, that made his blood run fast and his heart throb. Evil.
"I will" Dismounting, he swung the reins quickly over his steed's head and walked him towards the doors.
"What is your business in Bree?" The sudden question took the rider by surprise and he paused in thought before answering. "My business is my own, but nothing more than a strong drink and company"
He lied through his teeth.
Though a drink would do him a lot of good his business is kill and that alone. The man studied the caped stranger before smiling and opening the heavy doors enough for his two guests to glide in.
The town seemed abandoned and dead silent but for the muffled laughs pending from a nearby inn.
Through the gloom and fog a small sign caught the riders attention. Its decorative writing blurred as the wind blew it back and forth on its hinges. The Prancing Pony.
Tying the dark stallion to a post at the side of the now lively inn, the rider pushed open the doors and stepped into the confusion within.
His experienced gaze explored the room. A bunch of drunk travelers sang loudly at the counter and coupled figures were spread through the bar sitting around the dirty tables. One identity caught and held his gaze; a man dressed much the same as he, sitting in a corner, his hood covering his features in shadow.
Suddenly the pounding in his heart grew violent and he winced in pain, something in this inn did not belong.
He quietly found himself a seat and made himself as comfortable as possible, though every sudden noise sent his body tense. He pulled the hood of his dark cloak down revealing his strong features to the surrounding drunkards. A long scar tore across his forehead, still carrying the look of fury and pain it had originally granted. He had received it not in the heat of battle, as many would have presumed but rather as a punishment for inaccuracy during a training exercise. He was only a young boy then and he could not remember what he had done to receive the punishment though he could recall the pain and fear he had felt.
His face became hard and anger flashed before him, he did not like himself to bear in mind the stupid flaws he hid within himself.
"Are you going to order something?" Lost in his concentration, the sudden figure of the bartender startled him.
Jumping up to a standing position one hand instinctively flew tightly around the sword at his belt and the other gripped to the mans collar.
"All I did was ask a question," grumbled the heavyset man attempting to hide his fear with a strong voice. The edge rose from the riders face and he let go of the man, his hands residing back to his sides, dumbfounded.
After some silence the room was sparked once again with the laughter of beer and merriment.
But he could feel a sharp gaze reside over his figure, those of an eagle looking for prey.
His grey eyes flashed as he scanned the room searching for the owner. He saw him; it was the same dark man that he noticed when he first arrived, though now the flash of his stern eyes shone through the shadows of his hood.
The rider knew that look well; he had it memorized and hidden in the back of his mind, barred and chained, it was one of suspicion and anger.
He also knew what it meant, a challenge.
He stood and walked through the doors of the inn, into the gloomy outside.
Turning back towards the inn he watched as the door swung open again as the challenger exited.
Putting his hand to his sword he readied himself but to his surprise his challenger did not do the same, rather he seemed quite relaxed and a glimpse of submission flickered over his appearance. "Hold your sword, boy"
O o! anywho that's it for now
Please review.
