(( This is a short story I have been working on and off for awhile now. The Village in the dream sequence has been made up. I did this story as a test of my writing capabilities, hope you readers enjoy. ))
A dark silken veil dominating the night with many stars shining within its black void. Not a cloud in sight and the moon, in its silvery white light, shining at its full potential. The wind calm and bringing a gentle music to the dry summer leaves as well as carrying a warm night air to anything it touches. Crickets chirping and a nearby waterfall adding their sounds to the ambient song of the wilderness. The cascading waterfall catching the moonlight making it look like thousands of small diamonds pouring into the pool far below, before being taken down the stream to whatever river carries them to the sea.
An old oak tree stands proudly overlooking the valley below, the stream passing close by before it falls over the lip of the precipice. Underneath the oak tree, nestled between two of the oaks thick roots sits the shadow of a man. Staring out over the vast forest below, which lingers all the way to the pitch black in the distance, could only be the mountains. As the night draws on, the moon would illuminate the white caps of snow that crowns the tips of those mountains in the east.
In the middle of nowhere, the man has little to do but take in the breathtaking vista before him and think on the times past.
Did you make the right decision? a voice said faintly within his mind.
Shifting about to get more comfortable, stretching the left leg out before him while the right bent upwards so he can rest his right elbow on the knee. Head now relaxing against the rough bark behind him.
"We ain't ever gonna know anythin', unless we try..." The man replied in a soft, dry whisper to the voice within.
You lost it all though. To gain what?
A few years ago he had everything, a large house, money enough to never have to work again and not to mention friends. Now all he has is a nearby pack stuffed with some food, a water skin and some tools to help traverse in the wild. The pack itself made up of now worn leather, both straps seen a number of repairs aswell as the main pack itself. Patched up by newer squares which can be told from its rich brown against the old worn olive look of what remains of the original material. On the back various tools are strapped to it, an iron pickaxe, a coil of old rope and a hand axe with the blade marked by various notches from over use.
Sitting forward the man removes the copper made crescent brooch, that holds the thick olive dyed cloak in place. Once the garment is free the man drapes it over himself to use as a blanket, even though a warm night a make shift blanket brings some sense of a home in the wild. Taking the pack he removes the tools to lay on the soft grass nearby, the axe he slips under the cloak incase needed. When the tools are removed he flips the pack over and places it on the ground to use as a pillow. Settling his head down those green eyes remain open and vigilant, only staring at the oak branches above. Unable to sleep his thoughts return.
You lost it all. To gain what? The tormenting inner voice returned.
"Freedom, 'ome is where I place me 'ead. Ain't restricted to one place."
Your a damn fool. You are just existing, you will die alone with none to mourn you.
"I don't bloody care."
Rolling over to his right side as if to dismiss the voice, only to be greeted by the thick oak root, just barely touching the tip of his nose. I am damn fool, I may have gained nothing he thought to himself but I have loved it. A grin curling up on his dry, cracked lips. Heavy eyelids close, sleep takes its gentle hold.
Ernik Blackblood, a tall six foot man, with thick set arms and legs and a large ale belly can be seen standing in the middle of a woodland glade, people crowding around him. Ernik was rarely seen without his two sharp hand axes, sliped into the belt around his waist. This night was no exception The axes were ornate design from some master blacksmith in one of the larger cities. Very out of place to what the rest of the brigands have. Blackblood is the one of leaders of bandits who dwell in the lands around Bree-Land, no one disputes this because of his sheer strength in combat.
All these bandits wear mismatched armour and weapons from the spoils of their raids. Many of leather armour with a few who had managed to get lucky enough to steal chainmail armours from trade caravans. Blackblood always wears his dark plated curiass, thick black cloak complete with a cowl and his lower half was more grey due to its age.
'Everyone shut up!' Yelled Blackblood with a booming voice.
The talk of the bandits died down to listen in, many with faces veiled by the shadow of their hoods.A large fire burning behind the bandit captain, the logs burning feircely within and letting off a thick black smoke into the night air. The trees of the glade seem to crowd around with malice at their fallen family burning.
'This has been months in planning. The time has come! No longer are we going to survive off the scraps of supply caravans and wains to get by. People have outlawed us because we choose a life of freedom, like nature intends. . . The strong and mighty set their destiny!' Some of the bandits yelled in agreement, others shouting their captains name. Ernik raised a hand for silence which almost instantly followed. 'Now we will strike fear into those who outlawed us and we will take from them what they took from us. Their homes! We shall reach out and burn their homes, take their possessions and make them survive without walls to protect them.' More cheers filled the glade, this time their captain grinned and let the clamour die down on its own.
'You all know what to do' Blackblood looked around at his men waiting eagerly 'Get to it!' All the bandits left the glade to their respective jobs. The plan to be carried out was to attack a village, located to the south of Bree Town. The village had no real strategic role or great wealth. Yet it was something for the bandits to do in order to stop the chaos that consumes like a fire, when boredom hits many dangerous people that are cramped together.
'Red, a quick word' Ernik stopped a young man who was about to leave with the others. Red who is commenly known as Redfox, no more than two and twenty. Agile and quiet as a cat. Red prefers the use of light armour to help him move easily, this night was no exception. A short sword sheathed at the left hip in an old worn scabbard and on the right hip a dagger. As the name would suggest the young mans hair is like a dull copper, unable to be seen due to the shaved head, although the red goatee which frames his mouth is always there.
'What d'ya want, Blackblood?' Red turned to face his superior, nodding politely.
'This is your idea, Red. If it fails I'll have you wishing you were dead' Blackblood stared down at the younger man, frowning to asert his dominance.
'Look, if it buggers up don't go blamin' me. Some o' the other sods 'round 'ere ain't got a clue 'ow to use a sword. Now if ya don't mind, I got stuff to do.'
Without any further words Red left to get to work. The task assigned to him is to infiltrate the moat surrounding the village and make sure that the old drawbridge was down. Since the huge majority of the Blackbloods lack the ability to swim, Red has to lower the drawbridge to get his brothers in. The bandits all made their way through the woods to the unsuspecting village that was only two leagues away, walking through the woods to avoid being seen.
The roads sometimes had patrols from the militia, who are much better organised, equipped and diciplined than bandits could hope to be. So the woods was the safest and wiser course. Stupid sods, wanting to go down the main roads like charging Trolls. I hate these guys.. but they are the closest to family I will ever know.. Red looked around, he could not see any sign of his brothers in arms. Which was to be expected since it was left to him to drop the bridge before the bandits got to the village.
He found himself at the edge of the woods, the distant east sky lighting up faintly as the sun threatened to climb. We don't have much time he thought. Quickly looking around at the surrounding area he could see the night fires burning around the village. The moon illuminated the fields, that started at the woods edge and finished at the moats edge which encompasses the main village. Windmills can be seen around the countryside, a few homesteads nearby. By bothers will deal with those houses. I need to go. With that Red raced down the sloping fields to the moat, making sure to keep to the mid fields and away from the wooden shacks and barns. By the time his feet brought him to the moat Red felt his heart racing, from the moment about to come and the sprint just gone.
Taking a quick look around, making sure he was still unnoticed, the young man slips into the cold water. A foul smell greeting him. Great, they dump their night buckets in here. Despite the disgust of it, Red could not help but grin. What better way to deter your enemies than with your own waste? Silently swimming over the fifty foot wide moat, he can feel a thickness in the water, thankful for his gloves and praying that none of the sewage got into them. The closer the village loomed, the more time seemed to stand still, gut tightening.
Eventually the water was behind but now he was freezing in the cold, winters night air and dripping wet. The village only has a five foot high, shoddy, stone wall. This proved no challenge to Red, who grabbed the top and pulled himself up, feet aiding the small climb. Once at the top he dropped down. Keeping low and swiftly moving to a nearby wattle and daub house. All houses here were made the same, muddy textured walls with thick straw for roofing.
Red made his way around the village to the large wooden tower, which supported the drawbridge. The only militaristic structure in the nearby area. A platform at the top for archers to use if need by, luckily there was none. Only two people stood under the torch lights in the wooden gateway, one was sat in a chair leaning on a hunting spear and the other pacing about wrapping his cloak firmly around for warmth. Only two, poorly armed farmers and I bet they have no idea how to use them. Should be able to use fear as my ally here.
Drawing both sword and dagger, Red made his way quickly to the gate. The walking guard turned quickly to the sound of quick footsteps, only it was too late. Redfox kicked the man full force in the right kneecap causing a grotesque crunch. As the man was about to scream the dagger point punctured through the voice box. All the guard could muster was a choking gargle as the blood gushed fourth. The life quickly leaving the body as it fell to the floor in jerking spasms. Red never saw the body fall, he had to get the other guard who was staring wide eyed.
'Please no, sir. Spare me' The sitting guard pleaded in vein. Reds sword plunged into the petrified guards chest. It was a quick death, straight into the heart. A dog barked I don't have much time. Going to the drawbridge he could see it was only held up by thick ropes, had this been a castle it would have been thick iron chains. Sheathing the sword he used the dagger to cut the ropes, ones at each side of the strong wooden structure. It took some time but success finally came. The wooden bridge creaked as it fell, then made a thunderous bang as it hit the other side of the moat. Dogs began to bark loudly and a few screams went up My bit done, the village is awake. Not for long though. He ran over the bridge and saw his brothers in arms charging, some with their torches aflame. Red walked into the fields and met up with Blackblood.
'Well, well, well, Red. You did it me boy. Not going to stick around for the fun?' Ernik grinned happily, unsheathing his signature hand axes. Ebony handles and silver blades, with golden patterns engraved along the flat sides to join the grip.
'Nah, that were enough fun fer me, mate.'
'Suit yourself, boy.' Ernik was gone with that, charging into the slaughter.
Redfox moved back to the woods edge, looking down as fires burned in the village, the faint sounds of screams was being carried by the wind.
The screams died away and he awoke. Back to being alone with the thick oak root pressing against his face.
The nights song had ended and the morning one was welcoming. Waking up to the sounds of birds chirping away to one another, at times whistling. The occasional bleat of deer in the distance too. The noise of the nearby waterfall seems more quieter now, but was always part of the on going songs. Red could tell sun had risen at least three hours ago, wiping the sleep away the man quickly gathers up the tools to stow away once more. Picking up the axe last. Glad I never had to use this. Opening up the flap on top he reaches in to remove a black water skin, pressing his dry mouth to the opening while gently squeesing the bag. The water was warm but refreshing on such a hot morning.
Standing up to stretch and compose himself, he soon walks to the nearby stream to fill the skin back up. Some animal better not have pissed in this water. Once refilled he begins to wash his face in the cool water, which helps bring back some vigor that sleep had stolen from him. After washing he relieved his bladder into the stream.
Once refreshed it was time to eat, wrapped up in a satchel are fruits and berries gathered from his forest roaming. The fruits were sweet and juicy as he would expect them to be in the summer. Now having broke his fast, the man stands up to fasten the cloak up once more, then slipping his arms through the straps of the pack, the weight being taken on by his strong shoulders. Brushing down away a few stowaway leaves, that cling to his leather breeches and knee high boots. His thick linen tunic worn of colour, stained by sweat and weather is mostly hidden under a thick leather vest. That would provide some protection against dangerous foes. The armour still holds alot of its original colour aswell as the matching braces fastened tightly to the forearms.
Moving to the edge of the precipice the lone man scans the land, the dense woodland stretching out into the distance where it becomes a blur due to the heat of the sun. The snow capped mountains a faint spec beyond. Then turning north to the more closer mountains that could be reached in a two day hike. Definitely not going that way, to the Ettenmoors A shiver ran up his spine at the thought of it. Then looking south he could see more woodland, a few small lakes glistening like sapphires spotted around the summer greens of the trees. Beyond he can just make out grass lands, green patched with browns. About a days march and I could be out of this woodland. Onto the main road. Turning once more back to the lonely and never ending woodland. He sighed. The Misty Mountains. Turning to look back West he made up his mind. Time to go back home for awhile.
