Borgand - Settlers
Borgand was leaving the site of the town hall construction and headed for the guard tent to check on his soldiers when he saw Illith approaching from the direction of the tent. He took a glance at her flushed face and worried expression and felt his own heart jump into his throat.
"What is it, Illith? Is Bregand hurt?" he asked anxiously.
"No, Bregand's fine. He's sleeping. It's Calumdril. He says he needs to see you back at the tent right away. He was going to come find you himself, but I made him stop and rest. He's been running, says there's a ranger behind him with something you need to see."
"I will come right away," he answered, and joined his wife in the walk back to their makeshift home. Not for the first time, he cursed the fact that he could not run. Something bad enough to upset Calumdril had to be important. Pushing himself harder than he should, he briefly lost his balance, and would have fallen but for Illith's steadying hand on his shoulder. He pushed the support away, frustrated. By the time they reached the tent, Illith had fallen behind, deliberately putting space between them. Borgand sighed internally, and made a mental note to apologize later.
Calumdril was pacing in front of the tent when they arrived, glancing behind him. He approached Borgand immediately upon seeing him.
"I think it best we discuss this outside the camp, Borgand. How far can you walk? I want to try to head off the ranger before he enters the settlement."
"Don't worry about me, just lead, and I will follow," he panted, grabbing up his walking stick.
They walked for about 5 minutes before clearing the camp and entering the leafy cover of the forest. Calumdril explained about Thorgil and the hillman as they walked. Borgand was thankful that there was little undergrowth so close to the edge of the woods, for that lessened the chances of an embarassing spill, and he was able to pay close attention to the tale.
The news was bad. If all hillmen were such creatures, the settlement was in trouble. If he was a special case, the death might bring down serious anger and retribution from the tribe. The death of Thorgil was also very troubling. In an already unstable situation, changing the leadership of the rangers was an increased threat, not to mention the loss of a skilled hunter and fighter in times when every hand counted.
Soon, they met the ranger, Awyrgan, who was still carrying his grim burden. No one spoke as the body was lowered to the floor of the forest. Finally, Borgand stepped forward.
"This is truly a great loss, my friend. I did not know him well, but I mourn his passing. We will stand as an honour guard for him while you fetch your new leader."
The larger man nodded, mumbled something that sounded elvish, and slipped away. Borgand marvelled that a man of such size could move so lightly, but knew the skill was needed in such a hostile environment. Maybe these rangers could train his men. A thought for a less mournful moment. Borgand hoped that the new leader would be willing to work with him and his people. He had a feeling they would need to rely on each other in the coming days.
__________________
But then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.
|