Harwick

So, I got this new book from the market last week and I finally thought of a good use for it. Which was to write down all my travels from Harwick to here, Bree-town which I only arrived in two weeks ago. I suppose I should introduce myself then get on with it. My name is Alfneath, Alfie for short, I’m from Harwick which is in the Eastmnet. That’s all you need to know for an introduction anyways so I’ll get started and I suppose this would be a good start.

Months passed as the situation around Harwick stabilized again. The threat of the enemy is ever present but the people are slowly getting used to that situation. The defense of the town is strong, and is able to fend off a large Easterling attack.

Haedley hurried off through the streets of Harwick, not even noticing that he had forgotten his armour in his witlessness. His mind was a mess and he had not even time to think of it. His mind was now bent onto the worry of what may become of him, and on top of it all he was hungry. His blonde braid was bobbing upon his back and some folk turned to greet him, but he did not notice at all. Then soon he arrived at the path to the Mead Hall and skid into a stop, now calming down and gasping for breaths as he approached. 

It was sunset when two Riders arrived at the gates of Harwick, a man and a woman hailing of Snowbourn. They were tall in stature and mighty, but their faces were weary. When they were halted at the gate they swiftly claimed that they came to speak with Reeve Aldor Harding, sharing news. 

She beheld him, her cheeks blazed red with blush, and needless to say that his did too. Both in shock; neither had words, neither knew what to say. However, some one had to break the silence or the awkwardness of the moment, Haedley wished to nestle  deeper beneath his blanket like a turtle that could hide in its shell when faced with danger. It was an awkward exchange of stares, and both of them felt it.

«What is your favourite flower?»

Of all the things Melowen was ever asked about...

Weapon, countless times.
Armour, fighting style, saddle, beverage, food.

She felt a woman all of a sudden, after so many years of being a warrior. And only a warrior. She never thought of such a thing like a favourite flower, but, surprised by herself, Melowen realized she already knew the answer. It was already there, in her mind.

«The poppy»

She smiled, faintly.

Then suddenly a familiar voice called out from above,
"You!"

The Blooming

Chapter II