Another challenge! This time it's Xmas themed, and LF is once again on the prowl for innocent BMT characters to confuse and bewilder. This time, it's Lord Finnegan/Dorrien
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Dorrien hugged his arms around his waist in an attempt to get warm, the freezing snowflakes that obscured his vision shrinking rapidly as they encountered the warm air he had cocooned himself within. His breath went undetected for a while after leaving his lungs before curling away in elegant misty spirals upon hitting the frosty winter air.
Dorrien thought wistfully of his old room, the fire that his servant would make for him that greeted him home after long night shifts in the Healer's quarters. He thought of Rothen, his kind face frowning with worry as he asked him to prolong leaving for a few days to avoid the snow storm, knowing that he would leave anyway, stubborn as he was. Then Dorrien shook his head and urged his horse forwards. It was nearly nightfall, and this was the last leg of his journey. It would take longer to turn back and try to find somewhere to stay, so he might as well keep pushing forwards, he should see the village soon. He gave a snort of irony at the thought. He could barely see the horse's nose through this snow, so he'd be lucky if his eyes were the first thing to pick out his new home! Dorrien settled into the saddle. He still had an hour or two's travel ahead of him.
A noise sounded somewhere in the distance, shifting Dorrien into full consciousness. He blinked a few times, and rubbed his eyes, before peering into the distance, trying to ascertain what caused the sound. The raging snow had calmed slightly, and he was able to make out what seemed to be an animal of some sort. The noise came again, and now that he thought about it, it did sound like some sort of livestock...
Suddenly, another animal cried close behind his horse, causing it to rear up. Dorrien grabbed desperately for the reins that had slipped from his grasp, and was practically thrown into the horse's neck when it righted itself. Then it powered forwards, bolting away from the animal, but Dorrien's hold was slipping. He snatched frantically at the mane flying into his face, missed, and flew straight off the back of the mare. Winded, he gasped for breath, the shock of the snow in his face not helping his predicament.
He rolled onto his back, and opened his eyes. A reber looked back. It snorted in his face. Dorrien coughed violently as the creature's foul breath washed over his face. He pushed it away, and jumped up, hoping – but not expecting – to see his mare. He was right. There was no sign of her except for the deep set of hoof prints being filled in fast by the snow. He set off running. If he didn't find his horse soon, the poor thing would probably die of cold, or hopefully be found and cared for in a village, but he would be stranded until he wandered into civilisation. Neither were prospects he would wish to come to fruition. Then he heard voices. Hoping that they had found his horse, he ran towards them, seeing two figures in the distance. One of them spotted him, and cried out.
"Have you found my horse?" He called back. Then he saw her, being led by one of the men. He sighed with relief.
"Yes, are you alright? It's a bit cold to be running around outside!" One of them asked, as Dorrien came into speaking distance. Dorrien nodded.
"My horse spooked at one of the reber, I'm supposed to be on my way to Sarin, do you know how far away it is from here?" The man laughed.
"You're practically there! Come on, we'll take you..." He paused, and looked down at Dorrien's robes. He elbowed his companion before quickly bowing. Dorrien tried to get him to stop, his face glowing red with embarrassment despite the cold, while the man holding his horse looked at his friend, looked at Dorrien, gasped, and practically fell over in his hasty attempt at a bow.
"Honestly you don't have to bow, I'm here to take over from the existing healer." He smiled ruefully. "Not a great start I know!" The two men laughed.
"I'm sure you'll do great! Do you know Lord Finnegan?" One asked, as they made their way back to the village.
"No, he came up here before I graduated, I never knew him. What's he like?" Dorrien asked, anxious to know about who he would be taking over.
"A bit eccentric, but once you get to know him he's very nice. We all thought he was round the twist at first!" The man holding the horse laughed.
"Most of us still do!" The other one chuckled. "I'm Sagen by the way," He held out his hand, "And this is Fugil." Dorrien smiled and shook his hand.
"I'm Lord Dorrien, nice to meet you both." He caught sight of a house, and heard the sound of laughter.
"They've started without you!" Fugil cried, and shook his head, chuckling. "Only to be expected I suppose!" Sagen rolled his eyes.
"They're probably just setting it up!" He said, exasperatedly. Fugil's eyes widened as he realised. Sagen laughed, but Dorrien just looked around, confused.
"What's going on?" He asked them. Sagen tapped his nose mysteriously.
"You'll see!" He told him. Fugil put his hand over his mouth to conceal his laughter. Dorrien chuckled.
"I should have expected something like this..." He muttered good-naturedly. They all laughed, and entered an old fashioned stable. Fugil put the horse in an empty stall.
"Come on, we'll show you what's going on!" Sagen chuckled, and motioned for Dorrien to follow him back out.
"I'll just get her settled then I'll follow you there!" Fugil smiled, "See you later!" Dorrien nodded his head, and hurried to catch up with Sagen. They approached the building the two farmers had been commenting on earlier. Laughter and scraping noises came from within. Sagen stopped, and put his hand on Dorrien's chest, telling him to do the same.
"I'll just tell them you're here, wait a moment!" He smiled, and slipped inside through the heavy door of what appeared to be some sort of hall, without letting the door swing wide enough inwards for him to make out what was going on. A minute passed, and Sagen reappeared. "Come on in!" He motioned for Dorrien to go first. Tentatively, he heaved open the door to its fullest extent. He wandered in to an apparently empty room, apart from a long table down the centre of the huge room, and a child with a hand over her eyes. He looked up, and took in the height of the building. A few birds sat on one of the beams, watching him.
BANG! Something popped in his ear, followed by numerous others. He ducked, and then opened his eyes when he realised that the popping had subsided, and had been replaced by the sound of laughter. He opened his eyes, to see what must have been the entire village standing around covered in the contents of party poppers. He stood upright, and smiled at his own stupidity, plucking a wad of colourful paper ribbons from his hair. An odd man in green robes with green hair fashioned into spikes cart wheeled into view.
"Welcome Lord Dorrien! I am Lord Finnegan, the previous healer of this village." He held out a hand. Dorrien leaned down, and awkwardly shook his hand, the bright spikes on Lord Finnegan's head brushing the floor.
"Err... thank you!" He smiled, looking around the room, and feeling rather self-conscious when he realised that everyone was staring at him.
"We thought a welcome party would be a nice way to start your life here, seeing as you'll probably be staying a while!" Sagen laughed heartily. "Let's get you some wine; you must be cold in those robes!"
"They are brutal at this time of year..." Lord Finnegan muttered, rolling off to continue covering the tables in party hats. Dorrien walked over to where Sagen was talking to two other men, but stopped in his tracks when he saw other people heaving boxes into the room, and placing cushions around them. He went up to the men.
"Why... why are they getting out boxes?" He asked, a frown creasing his forehead. They all laughed, but Dorrien thought he could detect a hint of nervousness.
"Where else are we going to eat?" One of the men gave an unconvincing smile. "You surely don't mean the tables?" Dorrien eyed the men with suspicion. "Don't you all have that custom down at the guild? Don't you all believe that you should treat tables with respect?" He said that last sentence with a sense of desperate hope in his voice.
"It's not really something I have heard of before I'm afraid, is this a village custom?" He asked, worried about the man's sanity.
"No no, Lord Finnegan is a firm believer in the well being and fair treatment of tables, he brought it to us..." He looked around, and clocked the healer. "Please, can we use our tables when he goes? It's so difficult to find things to put stuff on that aren't tables..." He whispered, staring fervently into Dorrien's eyes.
"Of course you can! I'd never heard of anything like that before!" He smiled, and all the men breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"Thank you! Thank you so much!" The man grabbed his hand in gratitude, before running off to tell his family the news. The other man did the same. Sagen nodded his head.
"I knew you were going to be good for this village!" He smiled, and too headed off. Then a bell rang at the end of the hall.
"Dinner!" Someone called, and everyone flocked to the boxes, where a few people were handing out food. Dorrien went over to the door that appeared to lead to the kitchen, and started to help with handing out plates and cutlery.
Dorrien looked up as a band started playing a jaunty tune on a raised platform in the corner. A jolly, busty woman called Carel got up, and offered him her hand.
"Dance with me!" She cried, and dragged him onto what appeared to be a makeshift dance floor. Dorrien laughed, and started to dance with her, merging with the steadily growing crowd that twirled and laughed and moved with the beat of the music. He swapped partners, and was slowly passed around all the women in the village, as well as a few of the children. One woman was eyeing him in a very disturbing manner, and he soon moved on.
He noticed a circle forming, where Lord Finnegan had started waltzing around with a fairly long table. Dorrien looked back to the little girl he had been dancing, who must have been around eleven years old. She smiled at him.
"Lord Finnegan's mad, everyone says so!" She giggled sweetly. Dorrien leaned down, and whispered confidentially to her.
"I think you're right!" He laughed, and swung her around in a circle, with her squealing and giggling madly.