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piosenniel · 10-22-2003, 11:24 AM

It had been a long night of riding; made worse by the presence of the two Shiriff’s who protested continuously. More than a few times, Assiram had to halt his mount and ride back. One or the other of the Hobbits had pushed the man they rode with to his limit and were in danger of getting tossed to the ground like so much useless baggage.

‘I don’t see why we have to bring them,’ growled Ahriman, dangling Brass over the ground. ‘There’re three of us. We can take care of any group of scurvy Shire rats.’

Assiram pulled Brass onto the saddle in front of him and glared at Ahriman. ‘The rats have sharp teeth, you fool. Let their own kind take care of what they can, leaving us to finish up if necessary.’

The sun was just peeking over the small rise to the east. Assiram shaded his eyes and scanned the distance. Through the light fog wavering up from the damp ground a number of small dark figures could be seen silhouetted against the light morning sky. Seven squat figures about half a mile away – their back all humped up from the stuffed packs they carried. In their midst, looking like some grotesquely plump and lumpy caricature on short skinny legs, was a pony, loaded to the breaking point with bundles. One of the figures clinging on to another’s arm pointed toward them.

‘Who’s that?’ hissed Assiram to Brass. Helios came trotting up alongside him to see what the delay was, and Assiram nodded toward the figures on the hill. Olo, narrowing his eyes as he strained to pick out the features of the group, murmured to himself as he counted them. ‘Seven . . . that’s right . . .’

‘Seven, who? Is that who we’ve been looking for?’ Ahriman rode up to the other two men, drawing his sword.

‘Falco, Tim, Niluial, Dury, Josh, and that traitor Hob,’ the Hobbits said, taking up where the other left off. ‘Thos’re the names we heard. That female – that’s the one that turned Hob from his duty. Can’t say as we caught her name.’ Brass looked appraisingly at the packs on the figures in the distance and on the pony. ‘And there’s your pipeweed! Looks to me they were successful in their hunt for it.’

The men and Shiriffs drew their weapons, galloping through the bracken on the plain and then upward toward the line of Hobbits on the hill’s crest. They halted their horses only a few yards from the resistors.

‘Oy! Throw down your weapons, you vermin!’ came the menacing command of Assiram . . .

[ October 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

10-22-2003, 11:24 AM	#89
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	It had been a long night of riding; made worse by the presence of the two Shiriff’s who protested continuously. More than a few times, Assiram had to halt his mount and ride back. One or the other of the Hobbits had pushed the man they rode with to his limit and were in danger of getting tossed to the ground like so much useless baggage. ‘I don’t see why we have to bring them,’ growled Ahriman, dangling Brass over the ground. ‘There’re three of us. We can take care of any group of scurvy Shire rats.’ Assiram pulled Brass onto the saddle in front of him and glared at Ahriman. ‘The rats have sharp teeth, you fool. Let their own kind take care of what they can, leaving us to finish up if necessary.’ The sun was just peeking over the small rise to the east. Assiram shaded his eyes and scanned the distance. Through the light fog wavering up from the damp ground a number of small dark figures could be seen silhouetted against the light morning sky. Seven squat figures about half a mile away – their back all humped up from the stuffed packs they carried. In their midst, looking like some grotesquely plump and lumpy caricature on short skinny legs, was a pony, loaded to the breaking point with bundles. One of the figures clinging on to another’s arm pointed toward them. ‘Who’s that?’ hissed Assiram to Brass. Helios came trotting up alongside him to see what the delay was, and Assiram nodded toward the figures on the hill. Olo, narrowing his eyes as he strained to pick out the features of the group, murmured to himself as he counted them. ‘Seven . . . that’s right . . .’ ‘Seven, who? Is that who we’ve been looking for?’ Ahriman rode up to the other two men, drawing his sword. ‘Falco, Tim, Niluial, Dury, Josh, and that traitor Hob,’ the Hobbits said, taking up where the other left off. ‘Thos’re the names we heard. That female – that’s the one that turned Hob from his duty. Can’t say as we caught her name.’ Brass looked appraisingly at the packs on the figures in the distance and on the pony. ‘And there’s your pipeweed! Looks to me they were successful in their hunt for it.’ The men and Shiriffs drew their weapons, galloping through the bracken on the plain and then upward toward the line of Hobbits on the hill’s crest. They halted their horses only a few yards from the resistors. ‘Oy! Throw down your weapons, you vermin!’ came the menacing command of Assiram . . . [ October 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.