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Éorlan, your walk suggests you have a sombre story to tell. Will it please you to tell it to us?
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The young man looked up and smiled shyly. He fingered his mug, seeming reluctant to say anything.
"Your pardon, lady," he finally said, "I seem to have forgotten my manners. Yes, if it pleases you, I'll tell my story."
He sighed. "My family lived on a homestead on the far outskirts of Rohan. That is, my mother and father, and my sister and I." He paused for a moment, struggling with himself it seemed. Then he continued. "My father was never a very popular man--never held the common opinion on anything, and always said everything he thought loudly. Don't get me wrong, most in Rohan found him harmless, even amusing, for my father spoke loudly but acted seldom. But there were a few who disliked, even hated him for speaking too much about things they didn't want said. My father's tales were not limited to politics and things of the world, but often included people and their doings. For years my mother tried to stop him from 'shooting off his mouth', as she said, but he refused, said that he had the right to say anything he wished. And that he did, I'll tell you. He did that.
"As I already said, we lived far away from the towns and seldom got visitors, so my family was very tight-knit. My sister and I didn't fight like I've heard tell that siblings often do. She was my only friend. Is my only friend," he corrected himself hastily. "Is. We went into town occasionally, but it was always a big holiday and we never met any of the town children, and no one ever bothered to come up to our house to see us.
"It wasn't that long ago, I don't suppose...no, less than two weeks, though I can hardly believe it. It was the dead of night, and a chill was in the air. I had just come back to my room from giving my sister an extra blanket when I heard a noise in the front. I suspected that it was some large animal, so I took my father's bow from the wall and went to see what it was. I looked out of the window, and saw three men.
"I called my father, and he came out and took the bow from me. My mother and sister followed him into the front room. He told them to stay back as he opened the door, but little aid it would give them in the end.
"As I don't doubt you've guessed, these three men were some of those who my father had angered in the village. He'd said things about them that they didn't appreciate, and so they'd come to do something about it. I guess that they were more than a little drunk, for even men such as themselves wouldn't have done what they did, though they were ruffians and criminals." Here Éorlan paused, and rubbed his eye tiredly. "They killed both of my parents and took me and my sister. I would still be with them but for my spill out of their wagon--that's what gave me this limp." He stopped. "That's my story, lady. It's not a very good story, not with a happy ending or a moral like the stories we all asked to hear as children, but it is what it is, and whether anyone--least of all me--likes it or not I can't change it."
[ January 15, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]