Denholm

I dreaded going to the garrison, but it had to be done. As I’m walking down the road, I keep thinking and remembering old battles; not of blood and bone, but of will and mind. My brother-in-law had never been easy to deal with, even as he was young and eager to prove himself, and it did not become easier once he eventually joined Ehris’ company. Our arguments in the past were never forgotten and oh, how I resented his rash decisions and humorless searches for danger at times.

Now Hild had not intended to be at all nosy about Thane Averel’s coming and going. She had thought in the past few weeks that surely he would return to Bancross soon, as he did every year at around this time. The village had prepared well for the leaner months, but she was finding herself eyeing some of her supplies in the Roaring Dragon a touch wistfully.

With a hand raised to shield her eyes from the unexpectedly bright sun of the early winter’s morning, Hertha watched as her cousin, Thilwend, approached the doors to the Armoury and, with a court nod and a ‘Fair day to you,’ passed on her way to her office. But another, much smaller figure wasn’t far behind the sergeant. Her lightness of step and cheerful expression caused the Smith to smile a little.

( Note and links to inspiration: The following story was written for amusement at Halloween. It is IC, in the form of a dream and is also a spoof, having obvious links to movies, tv series and books of a particular genre. These will be listed at the end, as there are quite a few.)

Finally closing the armoury doors behind her, Hertha took a deep breath, and straightened her shoulders. There was one more thing she wanted to do before she headed for her rented accommodation, and a well deserved sleep. Her day had been full at the forge. Then three travellers had arrived to stay a few days at the Roaring Dragon, and two with horses that needed her attention.

Hertha looked up from her studied examination of a box of nails, a gate hinge and a small eating knife. The double doors to the armory and forge swung open in a manner suggesting someone was not totally at ease that day.

“Did you get out of the wrong side of the bed this morning, cousin, or is it something I said?” 

She was weary. The sun was not even high in the sky, and she was weary. Sweeping a strand of thick flaming auburn hair from her eyes, the smith worked on the bellows, building the fire in her forge a little hotter. Why was it that she had such trouble from that foolish and vain guard. He didn’t want a woman working on his armour? Fine! Let him find someone else to do the repairs.

Ysle and the lads have gone to sleep, leaving the usual mess to clean up. Ah, well, it's my job after all, and men have other things in their mind, more important things. It feels heartwarming, even, to tidy up after them - like they were my family. A family I care for, a family I belong to, and that I help in every way I can.

It almost feels like I'm still in my home, with dad, and brother. And even sister, yes. Even her.

I wish I had a sister like Ysle. Strong, yet not silly; with a family of her own, and not the stupid ideas of a rebellious little child.