A trembling voice rang in Linnea’s ears. She had awakened from what she thought, and imagined, was a bad dream. As she jumped down from the bed, she noticed her father, who was currently still asleep. It was awkward how he made such funny faces when he slept. His red thin lips were curled together, just like a circle. And when he breathed outwards, you could hear the sound of whistling. It had never been his intention to do this, while sleeping; it was just something he did automatically. Linnea advanced over the floor, making her way to the end of his bed.
As always, his toes peeped out and up from the blanket. And every time snorting, he made a wave with them. The little girl laughed, but took heed; her father was after all sleeping. She knew how cranky he would get if he didn’t get his ’beauty-sleep’, as her father called it.
Linnea shook her head as she muttered something about how impossible her father was. Would he ever wake up? She felt her impatience grow as the white figure of hers moved towards the window, where the screaming voices had come from.
She watched how the red sun climbed over the hills, and lit up Rohan with its' golden light. The girl looked downwards, where her eyes wandered towards the stable, a small building with a dark roof. A mixture of colors; red, yellow and orange seized her, as she at once understood that the stable was on fire. “Fire in the stable!” she heard a woman call. Linnea repeated this sentence to herself, meanwhile trying to get her father to wake up. He snorted as he waved with his toes again. “Never mind,” she muttered, now being irritated.
The girl remembered how her father had led their horses into the stable, the previous day. Her horse. She took a hold of herself, thinking that the horses would be okay. As far as she was concerned; people had already gathered around the stable, trying to put out the fire by having buckets filled with water thrown at the flames.
The girl grabbed a pair of hand made leather shoes before she opened the door, and slipped it quietly shut behind her. She tried to make as little noise as possible, hoping her father wouldn’t wake up.
Linnea tripped on in the long hall, wearing only the shoes and her thin white night-gown. She turned her head in every direction, looking for the staircase. Linnea froze as she heard a door slam shut. If her father noticed her, sneaking around at an Inn all by herself, he would never take her on Horse riding to her Uncle, ever again. Her Uncle Garth lived on the western border of Rohan, and Linnea had always enjoyed being his favourite niece. The girl turned, expecting to see the angry expression in her father’s face. What am I to say? she thought as she hesitated.
Nothing could be done; if she was caught, it wouldn't exactly be a pleasant moment, and her father would be cranky all day, even though none had actually disturbed him in his sleep.
[ November 02, 2003: Message edited by: Writer of The Mark ]
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