I think this is a pretty good story. But it might me a little boring
in some places...can't have fighting all the time. But hopefully you enjoy,
and send me many reviews please and I promise that this story will go
somewhere...soon.
-Chapter One:
Hrimfaxi galloped down the slope, aware that arrows flew through the air around her; arrows of the same orc-make as the ones with their points buried in the wood of her shield. She felt a rock bounce off her leather armor between her shoulders; she winced, despite her armor the rocks the orcs were throwing still caused her to bruise. She looked behind her just in time to see an arrow flying her way; she veered and the arrow missed her. Instead the missile smashed into the lute the centaur bard carried strung across her back; Hrimfaxi gave a horse-like snort as she heard the wood of her beloved instrument crack upon the arrow's impact.
"Well," Hrimfaxi thought to herself. "Better my lute then the foal."
The 'foal' she was referring to was a runty 10-year old boy she carried tucked under her arm. In her other hand she held her shield that protected them both and her short-spear; the spear's head was covered with recent orc blood. The boy too had his clothes splattered with blood from the orcs Hrimfaxi had just rescued him from. The centaur was surprised at the boy's calmness; was he mute or had the orcs drugged him? Instead the boy, still with the orcs' blindfold around his eyes, just calmly gripped his rescuer's arm. The boy was light and the centaur fast and so soon the two were nearing the village border. Taking two extra long strides Hrimfaxi tucked her forelegs under her and jumped the barbed wire barrier in front of the town's wooden stockade. Without missing a pace Hrimfaxi landed and galloped in through the stockades' gates; several men armed with bows guarded the gate to fend off any orc still chasing the bard. Once Hrimfaxi heard the doors of the gate closing, she slowed down. Even though the town guards were too scared to rescue a young boy who had been captured while searching for an escaped cow, Hrimfaxi knew they were trained enough to guard the gates.
The centaur slowed down to a more comfortable canter, still carrying the blindfolded boy under her arm, she wasn't going to stop until she had delivered the child back to his home and she had been properly paid for rescuing him. Shifting the boy's weight so he was no longer sideways, Hrimfaxi heard him give a muted groan. She patted his head lightly with a large tattooed hand; by the time she had worked the blindfold off one- handedly she had stopped in front of the Full Gallon Inn. She trotted into the stable where she knew she would find Mr. Kutter, the owner of the inn. As Hrimfaxi passed the rows of stalls the stabled horses –belonging to people lodging in the inn- poked their heads out and watched the centaur pass, occasionally giving a curious nicker. The bard ignored them and instead called out in a nasal voice.
"Kutter! Where are you?"
Out of a nearby stall a human man, quite dumpy and fat, waddled out carrying a pitchfork used for cleaning manure. "So, you returned with the brat after all. Don't suppose you found the lost cow too?" He was an unclean man and as Hrimfaxi answered she took a couple steps backward.
"No, there was no sign of the cow but I have returned with you son."
"Son?" snorted Mr. Kutter, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "That runt's no son of mine. Just some abandoned boy. I bought his indenture from the mid-wife so he's mine for four more years." Hrimfaxi had just assumed that that the boy she had been hired to rescue was the innkeeper's son. Now that she was able to look more closely at the boy –who she had dumped on a soft pile of hay- she was able to see there was no resemblance between the boy's sandy blond hair and the innkeeper's baldness.
"Lucky for the boy," Hrimfaxi thought, much preferring the boy's pug nose to the man's large, red, one. Now that she was able to study the 10- year-old she saw his knees shaking and several purple bruises she assumed the orcs had given him; his clothes were torn and dirty, again thanks to the orcs. Mr. Kutter turned to the boy; Hrimfaxi waited patiently to be paid.
"Where's the cow boy?" Kutter yelled. "How could you lose a perfectly good animal?" the indentured servant remained silent, just watching Kutter's every move with large watery blue eyes. Hrimfaxi, yanking an arrow out of her shield was too busy to prevent the first blow. But, but gripping Kutter's beefy arm in her own strong grip she was able to prevent the man from hitting his cringing servant a second time. "This is none of your business," Kutter snarled at Hrimfaxi, trying to free his arm from her hold; this close to the man Hrimfaxi was able to smell liquor reeking off of him. "Let go of me! I'll pay you what we agreed on if that's what you want!"
Hrimfaxi gave him a shake. "What I want to know is why you are hitting your own servant!" Hrimfaxi replied.
"It's none of you business! I bought his indenture and this shirker was not worth it! He's too stupid and lazy to be worth the gold I paid for him! I hired you to rescue and you got the job done, I'll pay you and you can be on your way." Hrimfaxi let go of the Kutter's arm out of disgust and the innkeeper –momentarily distracted from the 10-year-old boy- dug some silver coins from his smock. "I thank you for rescuing him," he told the centaur. "I'd hate to lose him after what I paid for his indenture."
Hrimfaxi, looking down her longish face, stamped her hoof and with a flick of her black tail sent the silver coins flying from the palm of Mr. Kutter's hand into the dust of the stable floor. A red flush, brought on by anger and too much ale, rose to his face.
"Look," he spit into the bard's face. "I've thanked ye politely for rescuing the lad; if you don't want to accept the payment we agreed upon you can just leave!"
"As far as I'm concerned," Hrimfaxi retorted. "I still consider the boy in my charge and won't tolerate you treating him such."
"I don't believe this was in our agreement! The boy's indenture contract says nothing about how I should punish him the 14 years that he belongs to me."
"But I'm pretty sure the contract says he deserves good feeding and suitable clothing." Hrimfaxi was disgusted to realize the child's bruises and torn clothing were not due solely to the orcs; that Mr. Kutter was mostly responsible. Mr. Kutter's fat chin and lips began to twitch with anger.
"I don't believe I shall pay you after those kind of insults," he said as bending down to retrieve his silver coins from the ground. He did not seem to notice that the boy had scurried behind the bard, hidden behind the centaur's sturdy legs and abundant tail.
"That doesn't matter because I'm demanded that you give me the boy's indenture as payment."
"What?" shrieked the fat man,.
"You heard me," Hrimfaxi repeated slowly and sarcastically. "Instead of the coins we bargained for you give me the lad."
"But I paid much more money for his contract then a bunch of silver coins!" he whined. Hrimfaxi paused, but dug out five gold coins and handed them to the man, she saw a greedy look come into his eyes. "Now go get his contract so we can sign or I'll bring you in front of a magistrate for maltreating a servant!" The man waddled off leaving them along.
Hrimfaxi snorted at herself; was she becoming soft? She heard a sniffle and looked behind her. There was the boy she had just bargained for, his arms wrapped around her back leg tightly. His nose was runny and needed to be wiped; she gently picked up her leg and shook him off before he could sneeze over the leather bands that protected her legs. Mr. Kutter now came back with a sheet, quill, and writing board; he had already signed his name rather sloppily. Hrimfaxi read over the new contract before she signed; it looked fine, just stating that she had the boy's service until he was 14 –which was in four ore years- yet she was required to bring him to a healer regularly, to feed, clothe, and shelter him. After the contract had been signed, Mr. Utter picked up his pitchfork and waving it at them said. "Get out of here now!" Hrimfaxi looked down at the man and suddenly let out a high-pitched neigh, imitating the one stallions gave as a warning to their mares. Immediately all the stabled horses started kicking their hooves against their stall walls, throwing their heads, and rearing up.
In the end it was Mr. Kutter who fled the stable first.
-Chapter One:
Hrimfaxi galloped down the slope, aware that arrows flew through the air around her; arrows of the same orc-make as the ones with their points buried in the wood of her shield. She felt a rock bounce off her leather armor between her shoulders; she winced, despite her armor the rocks the orcs were throwing still caused her to bruise. She looked behind her just in time to see an arrow flying her way; she veered and the arrow missed her. Instead the missile smashed into the lute the centaur bard carried strung across her back; Hrimfaxi gave a horse-like snort as she heard the wood of her beloved instrument crack upon the arrow's impact.
"Well," Hrimfaxi thought to herself. "Better my lute then the foal."
The 'foal' she was referring to was a runty 10-year old boy she carried tucked under her arm. In her other hand she held her shield that protected them both and her short-spear; the spear's head was covered with recent orc blood. The boy too had his clothes splattered with blood from the orcs Hrimfaxi had just rescued him from. The centaur was surprised at the boy's calmness; was he mute or had the orcs drugged him? Instead the boy, still with the orcs' blindfold around his eyes, just calmly gripped his rescuer's arm. The boy was light and the centaur fast and so soon the two were nearing the village border. Taking two extra long strides Hrimfaxi tucked her forelegs under her and jumped the barbed wire barrier in front of the town's wooden stockade. Without missing a pace Hrimfaxi landed and galloped in through the stockades' gates; several men armed with bows guarded the gate to fend off any orc still chasing the bard. Once Hrimfaxi heard the doors of the gate closing, she slowed down. Even though the town guards were too scared to rescue a young boy who had been captured while searching for an escaped cow, Hrimfaxi knew they were trained enough to guard the gates.
The centaur slowed down to a more comfortable canter, still carrying the blindfolded boy under her arm, she wasn't going to stop until she had delivered the child back to his home and she had been properly paid for rescuing him. Shifting the boy's weight so he was no longer sideways, Hrimfaxi heard him give a muted groan. She patted his head lightly with a large tattooed hand; by the time she had worked the blindfold off one- handedly she had stopped in front of the Full Gallon Inn. She trotted into the stable where she knew she would find Mr. Kutter, the owner of the inn. As Hrimfaxi passed the rows of stalls the stabled horses –belonging to people lodging in the inn- poked their heads out and watched the centaur pass, occasionally giving a curious nicker. The bard ignored them and instead called out in a nasal voice.
"Kutter! Where are you?"
Out of a nearby stall a human man, quite dumpy and fat, waddled out carrying a pitchfork used for cleaning manure. "So, you returned with the brat after all. Don't suppose you found the lost cow too?" He was an unclean man and as Hrimfaxi answered she took a couple steps backward.
"No, there was no sign of the cow but I have returned with you son."
"Son?" snorted Mr. Kutter, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "That runt's no son of mine. Just some abandoned boy. I bought his indenture from the mid-wife so he's mine for four more years." Hrimfaxi had just assumed that that the boy she had been hired to rescue was the innkeeper's son. Now that she was able to look more closely at the boy –who she had dumped on a soft pile of hay- she was able to see there was no resemblance between the boy's sandy blond hair and the innkeeper's baldness.
"Lucky for the boy," Hrimfaxi thought, much preferring the boy's pug nose to the man's large, red, one. Now that she was able to study the 10- year-old she saw his knees shaking and several purple bruises she assumed the orcs had given him; his clothes were torn and dirty, again thanks to the orcs. Mr. Kutter turned to the boy; Hrimfaxi waited patiently to be paid.
"Where's the cow boy?" Kutter yelled. "How could you lose a perfectly good animal?" the indentured servant remained silent, just watching Kutter's every move with large watery blue eyes. Hrimfaxi, yanking an arrow out of her shield was too busy to prevent the first blow. But, but gripping Kutter's beefy arm in her own strong grip she was able to prevent the man from hitting his cringing servant a second time. "This is none of your business," Kutter snarled at Hrimfaxi, trying to free his arm from her hold; this close to the man Hrimfaxi was able to smell liquor reeking off of him. "Let go of me! I'll pay you what we agreed on if that's what you want!"
Hrimfaxi gave him a shake. "What I want to know is why you are hitting your own servant!" Hrimfaxi replied.
"It's none of you business! I bought his indenture and this shirker was not worth it! He's too stupid and lazy to be worth the gold I paid for him! I hired you to rescue and you got the job done, I'll pay you and you can be on your way." Hrimfaxi let go of the Kutter's arm out of disgust and the innkeeper –momentarily distracted from the 10-year-old boy- dug some silver coins from his smock. "I thank you for rescuing him," he told the centaur. "I'd hate to lose him after what I paid for his indenture."
Hrimfaxi, looking down her longish face, stamped her hoof and with a flick of her black tail sent the silver coins flying from the palm of Mr. Kutter's hand into the dust of the stable floor. A red flush, brought on by anger and too much ale, rose to his face.
"Look," he spit into the bard's face. "I've thanked ye politely for rescuing the lad; if you don't want to accept the payment we agreed upon you can just leave!"
"As far as I'm concerned," Hrimfaxi retorted. "I still consider the boy in my charge and won't tolerate you treating him such."
"I don't believe this was in our agreement! The boy's indenture contract says nothing about how I should punish him the 14 years that he belongs to me."
"But I'm pretty sure the contract says he deserves good feeding and suitable clothing." Hrimfaxi was disgusted to realize the child's bruises and torn clothing were not due solely to the orcs; that Mr. Kutter was mostly responsible. Mr. Kutter's fat chin and lips began to twitch with anger.
"I don't believe I shall pay you after those kind of insults," he said as bending down to retrieve his silver coins from the ground. He did not seem to notice that the boy had scurried behind the bard, hidden behind the centaur's sturdy legs and abundant tail.
"That doesn't matter because I'm demanded that you give me the boy's indenture as payment."
"What?" shrieked the fat man,.
"You heard me," Hrimfaxi repeated slowly and sarcastically. "Instead of the coins we bargained for you give me the lad."
"But I paid much more money for his contract then a bunch of silver coins!" he whined. Hrimfaxi paused, but dug out five gold coins and handed them to the man, she saw a greedy look come into his eyes. "Now go get his contract so we can sign or I'll bring you in front of a magistrate for maltreating a servant!" The man waddled off leaving them along.
Hrimfaxi snorted at herself; was she becoming soft? She heard a sniffle and looked behind her. There was the boy she had just bargained for, his arms wrapped around her back leg tightly. His nose was runny and needed to be wiped; she gently picked up her leg and shook him off before he could sneeze over the leather bands that protected her legs. Mr. Kutter now came back with a sheet, quill, and writing board; he had already signed his name rather sloppily. Hrimfaxi read over the new contract before she signed; it looked fine, just stating that she had the boy's service until he was 14 –which was in four ore years- yet she was required to bring him to a healer regularly, to feed, clothe, and shelter him. After the contract had been signed, Mr. Utter picked up his pitchfork and waving it at them said. "Get out of here now!" Hrimfaxi looked down at the man and suddenly let out a high-pitched neigh, imitating the one stallions gave as a warning to their mares. Immediately all the stabled horses started kicking their hooves against their stall walls, throwing their heads, and rearing up.
In the end it was Mr. Kutter who fled the stable first.