Chapter 4: Some Situations Call for You to Improvise
So as it turns it out, the Stone's weren't happy about my leaving. At first they had refused to let me go. Said that I was apart of their family now and it would break their hearts to lose me. Believe me when I say I would have happily agreed to stay, but he was coming; he was on his way right now. I couldn't risk their safety. No, I didn't even have a choice.
I informed them of my situation; how I was in danger. I knew they wouldn't put me before their children; I didn't blame them. The girls were their pride and joy, their angels. If their wellbeing was at stake they wouldn't hesitate in making me leave; which they didn't. I was to pack my belongings tonight and leave at dawn. Manuel agreed to let me accompany him to Bree.
I sat on the edge of my bed, for the last time, and contemplated my actions. My thoughts were interrupted by a lone shadow entering my doorway. My breath froze and my body tensed at the sight, and although I continued passing air, my muscled stayed stressed as Vernon entered my room. He shut the door behind him and an alarm went off in my head. I was prepared to grab my knife at a moments notice. Vernon stood still, staring at me with his foggy eyes. It was then that I noticed how young he was. I am one decade and five years old and he mustn't be but around a decade my senior.
He took one step at a time, slowly edging towards the bed. He rose his hands in what I thought was defense, a wise move on his part. But it turned out he was raising them in peace.
"I'm not here to harm you," he spoke quietly and slowly, making no sudden movements, as if he were talking to a wild animal.
"Then what is it that you are here for?" I questioned his presence.
"To talk." Once beside the bed, he looked at me before asking, "May I?" I nodded my head in acceptance and rotated my body to better face him.
"So what is it were talking about then?" He pondered the question for a moment, holding his chin.
"This problem of yours."
"I don't have a problem."
"Oh I beg to differ. I overheard you and the Stones arguing about your departure. And now I'm interested as to hear that you're not the good little girl I thought you to be." Yes because a teenage girl, traveling on her own, with not a penny to her name, just screams innocence. "Do tell who it is your running from." Part of me wanted to tell the truth, to let someone in on my burden. But of course, my overly cautious mind steered me away from it. My heart and my brain battled out a decision on what I was to tell Vernon, and eventually the first broke through.
"My father," I answered solemnly.
"Why?" I wondered what had caused him to ask these questions; this was by far the most he had ever spoken to me. He had never before taken interest in my affairs.
"Why does it matter?" We stared into each others eyes for a long moment.
"It doesn't."
"Then there's no answer." I ended the conversation and expected him to leave, but instead he moved closer and put his hand on my shoulder. In any usual circumstance Vernon would be on the floor with his arm twisted behind his back. But this wasn't usual, for his touch calmed me in a way I had never before experienced.
"Just remember, it's not always best to go with the initiative, some situations call for you to improvise." How was this supposed to help me? Throw out the strategy and go head first into a life or death situation; not the greatest proposal.
Still, it's the thought that counts.
Vernon picked himself up and finally left, leaving me once again to dwell in my thoughts.
The air outside was frosty; the grass covered with dew. The horses' fur was damp and gave off an unpleasant odor. Manuel and I stood beside the wagon, checking our supplies. Bag? Check. Money? Check. Food? Check. Genevieve had packed me 2 loaves of bread and some dried fruit. Knife? Check. Other knife? Check. I went through the list of items that I should have, and found that everything was there.
Manuel finished piling his boxes of produce, most which I had grown, and sat behind the reins. I placed myself in the rear, sitting among the crates. The wood was rough and splintery, and quite frankly uncomfortable. But I could deal; just a mere annoyance. I'd been through worse than a rough seat.
I needed to keep watch, look for any approaching figure, but I couldn't see from my place. I told Manuel to alert me if he saw any strangers. The ride took a few hours, without incident. We had only passed one person, and we took great caution. It was only a woman.
So I was officially without a home, once again. Manuel had left and I was on my own. And now I was going to enjoy the last few hours of time I had before I was on the run.
I had never before seen the market or Bree for that matter. It was nice, small; enclosed by many hills. There were a lot of market stores, but not just for vegetables. There were some that sold meat and some poultry. There was even one that sold fish and squid. Some where selling jewels and some were selling furniture.
I have to say my favorite one was run by some foreigners, selling seashells. They were probably sailors or perhaps they just lived on the shore. There were thousands of sparkling shells; dangling from the ceiling of their stand and in glass boxes aligning the walls. One shell in particular caught my eye. It was black and white along the edges. It was sophisticated yet simple. It was beautiful.
I pulled open my bag searching for my coin purse. I had just enough to buy it but that would leave me without any money for my supplies. I had to survive and I could live without the shell. It surprised me that I wanted it so badly. I wasn't one for material procession. But here I was about to spend what would feed me for a week. What was it about this shell that drove me crazy? Perhaps I could wager with the men. I took one coin out and placed it on the table.
"I'll give you one copper piece for that shell." They eyed the coin, greedily, but refused to take it.
"This beauty is worth at least a hundred times that." The old bearded man stood with his arms crossed, looking sure of himself.
"Tis just a shell," I argued. "I could easily find one myself. What makes this one so exceptional?" The man turned and opened the small box containing the magnificent thing and carefully pulled it out. He placed it on the counter and set his face level to mine.
"Ma' lady, do you have any idea where these shells come from?" No. I assumed they had been found near the Sea of Rhun. Without waiting for my reply he asked "Ever traveled to the Blue Mountains?" Once again no. I had for some time wondered along side them, whilst escaping from Dunland, but had gone no farther the first hills. "That is from where these shells reside."
"So your saying you found 'Sea' shells, in a mountain," putting emphasis on the 'sea'.
"That is what I'm saying." The man should take pride in himself, for he did what many could not, bewilder me. How would you find something that dwells in the water, when there isn't any water for it to dwell in? Yes, rivers run through but do they carry shells? I thought creatures like these only survive in sea-water; not fresh water.
"Could you further explain?" I asked with curiosity.
"I suppose you've never heard any tales of the Blue Mountains. Any stories referring to it." In all my years of traveling and wandering, along side many others who had experienced far more than I, had I ever heard any story about the Blue Mountains. And I obviously knew very little about the place, except for the fact of it's inhabitance by Elves.
He took my silence for a no and continued with his story. "There once was a war, of the Valar and Morgoth, in which many lives were lost. During this time, the great mountain range broke, and the sea flooded in. Many drowned in the rush of water and legend goes that the wandering souls found peace in the water and formed into these shells. Some hold magical powers that can bring you amazing abilities and some can bring forth destruction and misery."
Seems like I already picked up the latter.
An amazing object, if the story be true. I knew I had felt something powerful within the shell from the start. That must have been what had drawn me in and still is. Paying wasn't an option, stealing on the other hand. Very much an option.
Before he could even register what happened, I grabbed the shell, delicately as so not to break it, and dashed out of sight. I didn't turn back to see his reaction. I wouldn't risk it. If what he said about the shell was true, than I wouldn't want to stick around. I ran down the cobblestone road, filled with horses and buggies and people. I ran until the road turned to dirt, and small houses appeared in place of the market stands. Eventually, I found an Inn, which I quickly turned to. Looks like I'm already following Vernon's wise words.
The rooms' entrance was on the outside, which I took to an advantage. I walked towards the first door, checking my surroundings as I did so, and pulled a single pin from my hair. I pressed myself against the plank of wood, and listened for any sign of movement. I could faintly hear breathing, so I turned to the next room. I did this for several minutes, before finding a seamlessly unoccupied room. The sun had set a while back, so no one would be renting at this time of night.
I carefully placed the pin into the lock, and twisted it around a few times, until the faintest 'click' sounded my success. I silently pushed the door open, and paused listening again. My ears detected nothing, and guided by my senses, let the door swing into a wider position.
No person was present, as I had thought. The room was small and dingy, with a bed in the corner and a dresser on the wall. I lit a candle to get a better view. Above the dresser was a stained mirror, and opposite it, a sink. Next to the bed was a window with curtains, which I shut immediately. I set my bag down roughly on the floor, and kicked off my shoes. I gently lay the shell on the dresser top and turned for my bag. I pulled out one of my smaller knives, identical to the one I kept in my boot, which I pulled out also; placing one beneath the pillow and the other on the nightstand.
Pouring some hot water into the sink, I stripped myself of the belt that kept my too-big tunic tight against my stomach. I pulled it off also. I hastily loosened the ties in the back of my garment letting it fall forward. I slid my tights over my legs, trying not to contribute to the already large amount of holes in them. I removed the last piece of clothing covering my body and grabbed my rag from my sack.
I succeeded in cleansing myself of most of the dirt on my body and in my hair. And now I was letting my clothes soak. I lied down on the bed, dressed in only my cloth shirt, and quickly fell victim to sleep.
AN: Took me a while to finish up some parts in this story, but it was well worth it. If you enjoyed you should review! I need motivation!