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Old 07-09-2006, 01:28 AM   #50
Undómë
Shade of Carn Dûm
 
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Brenna


If you see the Moon at the end of the day
A bright Full Moon is on its way
If you see the Moon in the early dawn
Look quick, look quick...t’will soon be gone.

The night was warm, no fires were needed. Not for the warmth, that is. Though, the light would have been more than welcome here in this unknown land. Brenna folded her tattered shawl into a little cushion and lowered herself onto it. The small thickness of it cushioned her thin hips against the hardness of the rock she sat on. She took off her right sandal and rubbed at the ball of her foot. A stray rock had lodged there in the last mile or so of their trek that day; a tenacious and unwelcome hitchhiker despite her attempts to shake it from her sandal as they walked along.

‘Going to have a blister, old woman,’ she admonished herself. She moistened the hem of her skirt with a little spit and cleaned the area as best she could. Tomorrow before they started off again, she would wrap a strip of cloth about her foot to cushion it against the assault of the new day.

She put her hands behind her and leaned back on her arms, looking toward the waxing moon. She fingered the small hand scythe she’d laid on the ground by her side. The swollen crescent of metal echoed the shape of the bright moon. May you mow down those who would hinder our way she whispered into the night air.

Her bones, her muscles were tired, aching from the long day of walking. The older she got, though, the less easy it was just to lie down and rest her body, to sleep. Her mind was wide awake, and would be she knew until the wee hours of the night. It was then that sleep would find her for the few short hours she needed.

She lay down on her back after while and traced the stars in the dark bowl of sky above her. Somewhere, she knew, her brothers were sleeping beneath the very same moon and stars…or perhaps, as she liked best to think, they were awake, thinking about her as well.

------------

The sharp, insistent sound of the dogs drew her attention. She leveraged herself up from her resting place and saw the invaders as they entered the sleeping camp from the north. Panic and confusion blossomed about them as the sleeping men roused up to fight in their meager fashion while others of the group simply ran from the invaders as fast as their feet would carry them.

Brenna grabbed up her scythe, thinking to wake those on this side of the camp, to get them out of harm’s way before the invaders made their way to them. Before she could utter a word, a number of men on horses entered quietly in from her side of the camp; ten fell riders. A young boy was taken, clubbed senseless so that he lay limp across the horse in front of his abductor as if he were a sack of flour. And a thin girl, very young was hoisted up in like manner, though she was weaker and needed no persuasive beating to make her be still.

Oblivious to the pain in her foot, Brenna rose up and ran at the riders before they turned and headed out of camp. If only she could pull one or the other or better yet, both, of those children away from the abductors. The riders were too strong for her; their horses too quick as they turned away from her.

She took a quick, hard swipe at one of them, slicing along the back of his exposed leg as his horse leapt forward, toward the north. Another of those with the man hit out at her with his club, knocking her hard on the shoulder. Brenna fell, a cry of anger and frustration flung after the riders.

Last edited by Undómë; 07-09-2006 at 01:59 AM.
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