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Undómë · 10-01-2006, 10:59 AM

Brenna

Brenna was sitting on the little hillock, her shawl wrapped about her tightly. Her gaze flicking from one pool of shadow in the darkness to another. She glanced up as the young man approached, swallowing a smile at his nervous demeanor. She set a serious, considering look on her face.

He’d stopped a few feet away from her, held back, she supposed, by the merciless burden of her own years and his own youth. Still, and despite the fact he was a male, they were in the same fix, now, weren’t they?

The young man’s gaze flicked nervously about the ground, inspecting it seemed each pebble as if it were the most important thing in his world at the moment. Brenna smiled, in spite of herself, and bent her head down to the side, catching his eye. ‘I’m Brenna; Granny Brenna, if you wish. You’ll forgive my memory. I seem to remember your face, but can’t for the life of me remember your name.’

As she waited for his thoughts to untangle and him to speak his name, Nia came up, planting stick held defensively in her hands. She laid her hand on Brenna’s shoulder as she reached the old woman and shook her stick fiercely at Hadith. ‘What do you want, you boy you? You better not be bothering Granny!’ Others of the women and girls had waked up now, and come to stand silently behind Brenna and Nia.

‘It’s all right, dears,’ Brenna said, speaking calmly to those gathered. ‘He’s just saying that maybe we and the men should put our strengths together. Against the slavers. At least for now. Right . . .?’ She picked up her own planting stick and poked the young man lightly on the leg. ‘Now perhaps you can begin by telling us your name. And your plan, if you have one.’

Nia lowered her own stick at Granny’s words, but kept a very attentive and slightly skeptical eye on the fellow . . .

10-01-2006, 10:59 AM	#211
Undómë Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Mar 2005 Posts: 400	Brenna Brenna was sitting on the little hillock, her shawl wrapped about her tightly. Her gaze flicking from one pool of shadow in the darkness to another. She glanced up as the young man approached, swallowing a smile at his nervous demeanor. She set a serious, considering look on her face. He’d stopped a few feet away from her, held back, she supposed, by the merciless burden of her own years and his own youth. Still, and despite the fact he was a male, they were in the same fix, now, weren’t they? The young man’s gaze flicked nervously about the ground, inspecting it seemed each pebble as if it were the most important thing in his world at the moment. Brenna smiled, in spite of herself, and bent her head down to the side, catching his eye. ‘I’m Brenna; Granny Brenna, if you wish. You’ll forgive my memory. I seem to remember your face, but can’t for the life of me remember your name.’ As she waited for his thoughts to untangle and him to speak his name, Nia came up, planting stick held defensively in her hands. She laid her hand on Brenna’s shoulder as she reached the old woman and shook her stick fiercely at Hadith. ‘What do you want, you boy you? You better not be bothering Granny!’ Others of the women and girls had waked up now, and come to stand silently behind Brenna and Nia. ‘It’s all right, dears,’ Brenna said, speaking calmly to those gathered. ‘He’s just saying that maybe we and the men should put our strengths together. Against the slavers. At least for now. Right . . .?’ She picked up her own planting stick and poked the young man lightly on the leg. ‘Now perhaps you can begin by telling us your name. And your plan, if you have one.’ Nia lowered her own stick at Granny’s words, but kept a very attentive and slightly skeptical eye on the fellow . . . Last edited by Undómë; 10-03-2006 at 02:21 PM.