Immalaine and Rastellion ride west all morning, seeing signs everywhere of the devastation visited on the farms and people of the North Downs. The occasional solitary orc can be seen loping in the distance to the south, and they pass more than one abandoned house and farmyard on their way. Their conversation is distracted, both occasionally breaking off half-formed sentences with smiles or embarrassed laughs... both still preoccupied by each other's closeness and their shared words of the previous night.
She watches the landscape go by, the wind blowing wisps of loose hair around her face. She shakes her head at the abandoned farms, looking back at him. "Weren't always like this, I 'magine, but t'is a shame t' see it so now."
Sighing, Rastellion looks around as they ride. "The old farmer said used t' be as green as th' fields 'round Bree, or so they claim. Weren't like that that I could 'member, but it's worse now than when I was growin' up, that's for sure!" He spots an orc rider silhouetted against a far hill and watches it until it rides away south, apparently oblivious of or uninterested in the two humans riding through the abandoned fields.
Her gaze looking off into the distance, she sighs heavily as she tries to imagine the scene he had painted for her with his words. 'Would be nice', she thought, 'T' see it that way.' As they rode along, she shift her weight, the bouncing of the horse starting to make her legs sore. However, she knew that he needed to return to Bree so remained silent.
"Wish my pa would come down t' Breeland, see how it is down there. More t' grow, better land, better markets. Th' way they say once was here." He shakes his head. "But he won't travel wit' that missin' leg o' his. An', even if he did, 'es stuck on th' fact that m' family's been farmin' this land for generations." His discouraged breath tosses a lock of Immalaine's hair. "Like that'd make potatoes grow bigger or soemthin'."
Immalaine snorts at that, grinning as she replies back, "I 'magine that wishful thinkin' ain't what grows taters, but dirt an' hard work and lots o' manure." She sighs again, her voice growing more serious, "But I understand what ye mean. Ain't so easy someone t' change, once they're set in their ways."
"Yeah, that's true 'nuff." He shrugs. "Truth be told, I never even thought 'bout doin' somethin' else 'til I came t' Breetown, an' saw all that rich land, and all th' folks there... and then started t' try my hand at tradin' at auction while I was waitin' on th' Mayor. I just thought, mebbe, if pa could see what I've seen..." He trails off, looking at the ruined farms. "Cause he sure can't see what's right in front o' his nose."
Nodding, Immalaine looks around as she leans back into Rastellion a bit. "Ain't good here, that's fer sure, an' e'en if others hae it better still, what yer offerin' him is a far sight better than mebbe gettin' by." She looks over at yet another farmhouse, seemingly abandoned and shakes her head. "If'n th' sky fell on him he might listen, mebbe, but dun give up; ye jus' got t' keep tryin'."
"Could be. Uncle Ceolfred says I should jus' stay in Bree an' tell my pa just t' come there. But I can't do that. Not wit'out land or a proper job. Tradin's all well an' good, but ya can't count on it day t' day." He makes a motion with the bridle, steering the horse away from a rut in the road as they continue on.
Immalaine listens as Rastellion talks about tradin', still in awe of his ability to sift through the details. "I s'ppose you're right, though I reckon when ye can count on it, 'tis good." She looks over at the next farmhouse, for a moment wondering if she sees people, before dismissing it as imagination.
Rastellion frowns to himself, looking in the same direction. He mutters an oath under his breath, wraps one arm around Immalaine's waist, and taps his heels into Whitey's flanks, sending the mare trotting down the dirt path that serves as a road through the Downs. He reigns in at a charred farmhouse, thin trails of smoke still rising from its blackened roof. "Adelaide!" he calls, looking to the farm wife by the soot-covered steps. "What's happened?!"
Adelaide looks in their direction as she hears the horse and Rastellion's call. Snorting, she waves her hand around with a worried frown creasing her face. "What's it look like t' ye? Orcs dun hit us, what's 'appened, we barely managed t' make it away wit' our hides afore they torched th' house." She turns, grimly surveying the damage for a moment, before turning back to look up Immalaine curiously. "That there th' girl ye were goin' on 'bout when ye came through earlier? Lucky she ain't sittin' in some orcs stewpot right now, ye are." Stepping forward the woman looks up at Immalaine, shading her eyes as she studies the young redhead a moment.
Smiling, he nods. "Aye, that she is. Immalaine. Would ya believe she found her way all th' way to m' uncle's place? And on foot?"
The look Adelaide gives Immalaine is a mixture of disbelief and grudging respect. "Adelaide, miss," she said, nodding to her, "Pleased t' meet ye, though been nicer under better conditions. As is ..." Adelaide shrugs, turning back to survey the house with a frown, her shoulders slumping under the weight of the situation.
From around the house come two men, one older, one a few years younger than Rastellion. "It'll be a helluva job, Ted" the older one is saying, "but th' main beams didn't burn through. Planks an' shingles an' we can get th' ol' place good 'nuff before winter. Then fix it up proper next spring." Ted's shaking his head, but he says, "Iffn ya say so, pa. But we gotta get th' crops in soon, too, or there'll be no coin for shingles." The two stop as they realize they have company.
"Rastellion!" says the older man, stepping forward and offering his hand. "Burt," Rastellion replies, shaking it - and, over his shoulder, "Hey Ted!" The young man replies, his tone dejected, "Hey Rast."
"Adelaide was just telling us ... shite, Burt, I'm sorry..."
Looking on at the two men, Immalaine's head nods in agreement with Rastellion. "Sorry t' hear ye had troubles wit' th' orcs. Seems like a mess o' work if yer gone be ready fer winter ...."
Adelaide pipes up, clearly upset. "Fixin' up, nothin'. What we need t' be doin' is packin' what little we have left, and gettin' ourselves out of 'ere. Down to Esteldin, o'er t' Trestlebridge. Somethin'! Not stayin' 'ere, tryin' t' patch th' house up an' waitin' fer th' orcs t' come back an' finish what they dun started!" She huffs out a breath, staring at the men intently as she taps her foot.
Burt shakes his head. "Wha', and leave m' farm and th' sweat of years to them raiders and orcs and whatno? Not while there's breath in m' body!"
Ted looks uncomfortably between his parents, then gives Rastellion a helpless look. Burt follows his son's glance. "Look at Rastellion here," he says to his wife. "His pa done lost 'is leg, an' they're still makin' a go of it, right boy? You'd not cut an' run, not after all you've been through."
Rastellion bites his lip. "We gotta get th' money for th' old place first," he temporizes. "Find one we can manage jus' th' two of us.. well, jus' me, really, I s'ppose."
Burt takes this as confirmation and turns back to his wife. "Aye, y' see?"
Adelaide storms over to Burt, slapping his shoulder with her open hand. "Ye think jus' cause ol' Cuth is tryin' t' stay 'round 'ere means t'is a good idea? Look 'round ye Burt!" she says, waving her arms widely, "Most our neighbors 'lready gone, either fled these parts or slaughtered in their fields an' beds! I dun care if yer whole damn family back t' the rise o' Esteldin farmed these 'ere lands. I ain't stickin' 'round t' get roasted, an' I sure ain't lettin' me boy be some raiders target practice. Now stick that in yer pipe an' smoke it!"
As Immalaine stares down, her mouth slightly agape at the woman's rant, she can't help but crack a small smile and chuckle quietly so as not to insult the menfolk standing nearby, quickly frowning again when she sees their son look over at Rastellion.
Rastellion looks between the two, uncomfortable. Then he steps between 'em. "Here," he says, reaching into the moneybelt that he's taken to wearing about Bree - preferable to the temptation of a dangling purse. "'Ere," he says. "You folks 'elped us out when my pa was injured. Seems as it's you who needs a bit o' help now." He looks at both of them, though his words seem directed more to Adelaide, even as he takes Burt's hand and presses some coins into it. There's a brief flash of gold in the midday light before Rastellion closes the other man's fingers about the gift. "Whether for singles or a cart t' help you move," he says. "Only fair your kindness t' us comin' back around." He steps back, out of easy reach should Burt try to return the money.
Adelaide looks down at her husband's closed hand, before turning back to Rastellion, her eyes misty as she nods. "Yer a good man Rastellion, an' as much as I'd say no t' ye, we ..." she turns to look back at the house once more, "we jus' can't 'fford t'. But I do 'preciate ye."
Immalaine turns to look at Rastellion, her eyes wide at his kind gesture, a gentle smile on her face as she takes his hand, squeezing it briefly. "I thin' mebbe no matter what ye choose t' do," she said to both Adelaide and her husband, "Ye should stick t'gether t' do it. Ain't no sense tearin' yer family 'part o'er it. They're more 'mportant than lands or crops at any rate."
Rastellion nods at Adelaide. "I can spare th' coin. I've done well fer m'self, stuck in Bree," he assures her. "Better than I'd 'spected." He sees the woman's gaze flick to Imma at his last words, and he can't help but grin a bit.
Then he looks past the couple to their son. "An', Ted, ya know how they always talks 'bout how fancy city girls be? Ain't none of it true. Most got prettier dresses, sure... but they ain't no better nor worse than our village an' farm girls. Remember that, next time one o' them's askin' after you at th' square dance, like last year." He grins at the younger man.
Ted shakes his head with an answering smile. "Aye, and you're just sayin' that t' keep them all to yerself!" But his eyes move to Immalaine and then back to Rastellion, and grow thoughtful.
Rastellion glances toward the sky, the low clouds scudding across seeming even whiter in contrast to the tendrils of smoke that still rise from the charred farmhouse. "I S'ppose we'd best be movin' on, if we're t' make it t' Trestlebridge b'fore nightfall," he continues, turning back to Burt and Adelaide. "Let m' uncle know how you fare, and where... He'll be able t' get word t' us, one way or t'other."
Waving to the family, Immalaine wishes them well, before turning to Rastellion. "We really should be headin' on I reckon." she said, though she looked thoughtfully back at the small family.
The group makes their farewells, still a bit awkward because of Rastellion's gift, and then Rastellion swings up into the saddle, helps Immalaine mount in front of him, and the two continue on their way, waving to the trio still clustered about the charred remnants of their homestead.
She turns back, watching the house disappear from view with a frown of worry on her face. "I 'ope they'll be 'lright," she says quietly.
Rastellion replies "Their choice. Can't be makin' other folks choices for 'em. They're good folks, though, an' nearly all alone out there now. Can't help but hope they move somewhere safe."
(Credits and love go to Rastellion, who provided the voice of the male characters in this story. *Blows kisses to Rastellion and grins widely*)
