The Arrival

The sun had set over yonder, behind darkened clefts and ruin, birds quietened and the breeze fell still, the sound of the stream trickeling over the old way road glimmered under the light of star and moon. A figure walked silently adjacent to the pathway, shrouded in cloak and cowl. A dark whisp of a thing, seemingly bearing little meat upon her bones. She looked about herself swiftly and often, toward tree and bush, blade of grass to stone wall. There was no one else upon that road, the night had brought silence. Though, with each step, the figure could deter a looming hum. What it maybe remained uncertain, though it grew louder whilst still shrouded amongst the dark. Before long a wall showed itself and a shrub; so large it was it nearly did well at concealing what it held. This was alas, where the humming came from. A burg upon a hill, lights twinkling in the gloom. The figure watched her footing as she made her way around the hedgerow and wall, tracing it for an opening. She came eventually to a large wooden door, with a single lantern flickering to its side. The wood, solid and thick, bearing no distinguishable markings was barred shut. The girl paused, looking over the knotted surface, brushing her lengthy and bony fingers across the grain 'till she reached the crack of the doors opening. She turned her hand and rapped her knuckles against it, leaning her head toward it as she awaited some stirring or noise from within. Silence was returned. The trickling of the stream in the distance and the gentle wavering of leaves remained in the fore-ground. She rapped again. Louder this time. A quiet mutter and murmer made its way closer as someone on the otherside unshackled the heavy gate. It creaked open and a weathered old mans map of a face peered round and rubbed his eyes. "Yes? What is it? What's brought ye hither?" The figure stood motionless as she looked upon the keeper of the gate brushing a hand over her cowl. "I-..." She fell into silence, an un-natural pause that hung thickly in the air. "I look for rest. Yes?" The old man knitted his eyebrows into a frown as he looked over the lasses attire. Patched leatherwork, shabby in appearance in hues from many a variety of skinned animal. Crudely sewn and overly large upon her small frame. Her face was cast in shadow, hidden in the gloom of her cowl and the darkness of night. Save for her voice, her gender was lost in the dark, though she appeared small and childlike. The keeper moved his gaunt hand which propped his weary head toward his be-draggled beard, stroking it thoughtfully. "Rest ye say? Well the Prancing Pony's over yonder... M'Lady... sure ye can find a room." The figure nodded once, though her face, if seen, showed perplexity and puzzlement. She remained stood outside the gate, unmoving. Looking past the old mans face she took note of the rows of buildings and cobbled walkways. Smoke emmiting from chimney and the light escaping from dusted panes of glass. She felt altogether lost and turned her pleading gaze back tward the old man. Unable he was, to read her glance and so they both stood in awkward silence, analysing eachother; tongue-tied and uncomfortable. The gate keeper finally gestured toward the steep incline in as welcoming a manner as he could muster, his arm and head dithering. The lass drew her cloak around her, nodding briefly in thanks as she wandered somewhat aimlessly around the pathways, looking this way and that. Her head shifted too and fro and a creeping sense of nervousness took over her limbs, seizing her hand and placing it toward mouth, she began contentadly biting her nails as she searched for this 'Prancing Pony'. The watchman peered after the lithe figure making its slow way up the hill and shook his head several or more times, pushing the gate closed. "Queer folk, at such an unearthly hour! ... Springing out o'holes... the guard'll have my neck." He muttered his whole way back to a makeshift chair where swiftly his head began to lull. The ramblings softened, taken over by gentle snoring and a world of dream.