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Author Topic: so take this feeling, let it go  (Read 1854 times)

Morwen Steelsheen

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so take this feeling, let it go
« on: June 13, 2015, 12:30:00 PM »

T.A. 2935. ~past

It occurred to Morwen a little too late in the day that it was, indeed, getting late in the day. The girl berated herself for that oversight, despite the fact that she was a sympathetic thirteen summers of age so recently gone, and allowed such oversights when it came to things such as having fun.

Only, Morwen hadn't really had fun in such a long time. Not since Mummy had passed away, really. Not that she begrudged her father that, or her brothers, or anyone really. They didn't hold her to obligation; it was one of the better things about her father; he could have put the responbilities upon her in the absence of her mother, could have made her do this, do that, go to Minas Tirith even, but he hadn't.  It was simply what it was, and Morwen had chosen as much as it had been her own sense of personal duty to take upon herself what her solemn little countenance deemed necessary -- from tending to brothers to helping tend to the family's home and her father's forge and business. She almost enjoyed it in some ways, really; she liked the experience of taking charge, she liked caring, and she didn't mind much at all being allowed to put to use what she'd learned so easily at an indulgent whim in the past the family accounts and so forth.

The result was though, most sadly, that solemn little countenance on an otherwise youthful little face.

And it was exactly that expression that darkened her gaze now as she hurried along down the path that allowed one to avoid the main thoroughfare of the village, bereaving it of the softness of feature that came with a relaxed mind and a carefree spirit. Though that had been fun while it lasted, more than needed, and hard to shake even now as she worried over worrying her father, and the boys going hungry even though that was likely impossible...and most of all, the fact that she could feel Tolly--Tolerance limping a little under her. That was a frustrating thing -- one could never tell if the old draft horse was genuinely tender-footed, or was simply putting on a show, and it was a game laced with the potential for much guilt if he was the former as opposed to the latter, more so after his bout with founder-foot those couple of years back.

But he was reliable enough otherwise, and that was what counted. And so too would her own young colt be so one day -- the daft bugger -- if she had it her way...but for the time being, taking him out on her own was yet another strict no. Sigh. It was such a pain, though. About as much of a pain as Tolly was being, and when the horse hollowed his back under her, the dark, coltish girl sighed again, before slipping off his back. This was accomplished with some difficulty, with the basket under her arm, but it was managed in the end, and Morwen blew her cheeks out in a soft gesture of annoyance even as she curled her bare toes into the dust, and pressed her forehead into the broad neck.

"If you were a human, Tolly, we would be putting you into an infirm. home. And you'd sit in a rocking chair all day with a crusty old blanket, and they'd force you to take cod liver oil constantly."

A silly conversation to have, let alone with a horse. But then, she rarely got to be silly, and horses were better conversation than people gave them credit for. Mostly, because they didn't sass back, or grow uptight. As it was, the silly conversation and the tucking of the basket back under her shoulder, the lingering summer day drifting away distracted Morwen just enough that at first, she was wholly unaware of any other living, breathing company that wasn't wafting grass or chirping birds. But then something shifted, a soft rasping noise, and the girl jumped terribly, backing with a rather pronounced bop of her head against Tolerance's beefy shoulder.

He didn't look up, though. The man. Sitting on the log. Not really. Just off the path and yet not entirely off, and Morwen wondered why that was significant. It somehow was, though, as much as the rounding shoulders and the lack of attention. And ultimately, curiousity won out just enough over wariness, large, dark eyes fixed on the bent head even as she edged cautiously closer -- a very healthy sense of wariness when she saw steel at his side giving her pause, even as a twinge of concern plagued her senses, and made her shift from foot to foot, and then edge closer again.

"...are you hungry, sir?"

Hungry. Hungry. She'd meant to say hurt, or hello, maybe a proper greeting or a query, but her growling stomach was saying something else, and no doubt not helped in the slightest by what was in her basket -- berries, black and elder, a veritable blanket for the flowers she'd picked and risked her brother's teasing for resting above them.

And Tolly, damn and bless him, merely blew air soft and pointed through his nostrils, far too en pointe in doing so.

'be humble, stand proud, and don't be afraid of your fears.'


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so take this feeling, let it go
« Reply #1 on: July 30, 2015, 11:47:00 PM »
(OOC:  Young Morwen is adorable, though I’m sure she wouldn’t be all that pleased to hear me say so!)

So it was Haleth had travelled once more to Lossarnach in the company of Run, to make a call with her family’s tenants.  While he enjoyed the company of the noblewoman, a significant part of the rider was loath to leave his prince behind in the fortified capital of Gondor.  Even if Thengel was adored by the nobility, even if he was surrounded by the friends he had made, even if he was happy there, the guardian still fretted, itching to be at his charge’s side as though nothing unfortunate could happen while he was present.  Thengel would one day be king and he carried the future of Rohan on his young shoulders – but now was not the time to dwell on such immense, inevitable matters.  

Besides the company of Run, which he delighted in, it was a pleasure to ride through the rolling hills and plains, to give Grimbold his head and allow him to fly.  This was a lush land, peppered with blooming flowers, their sweet smell carrying on the wind.  While Run left him to conduct her business, Haleth had cantered his steed through the blossoming vale and, for a while at least, it was easy to pretend that he was home.

Returning to the village, lingering on its periphery for his companion to return, Haleth had dismounted, adjusted the position of his sword and dropped onto a fallen tree that would serve as a seat as he waited.  Without the thrill of the ride, sombre thoughts snaked their way back into his mind, settling there heavily.  Sighing softly, the Rohirrim took his head in his hands and remained that way until a young voice roused him.  Glancing up, his blue-grey gaze took in the solemn-faced girl, her eyes wide and dark in her youthful features. A short distance away, Grimbold lifted his head, thick ribbons of grass streaming from his mouth.

Hungry, had she asked?  Haleth smiled tiredly – fifty years were looming and he felt the weight of his age along with the weight of his worries.  “Mostly weary, child, though I am counting the hours until supper.”  His thickly accented voice hung in the still air, smile broadening a little as his attention shifting to the old draft horse that stood in the girl’s wake.  “But if your friend is hungry, I have an apple to offer him.”

Morwen Steelsheen

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so take this feeling, let it go
« Reply #2 on: August 06, 2015, 11:27:00 PM »

The silence hung as heavy in the air as the accent of the lonely stranger in foreign clothing, though when Morwen's common sense later reasserted itself, she would feel quite foolish at being startled by the foreign accent when there was already foreign clothing to give away the obvious.

It wasn't the first time she'd heard a different voice. She'd met Ivorek (and she sighed internally with a kind of wistfulness at the thought of that man) and had taken to him easily enough (for her, by far). She wasn't like some could be to foreigners either. Didn't have that nonsensical aspect to her, and still child enough to not quite understand adult prejudice. Mistrust, she certainly had figured out, but not the rest. Not yet. So perhaps it was simply the child still in her, more than anything else.

It didn't last, anyway, that heaviness. Curiousity burned akin to wildfire in those wide, dark and wary eyes that Haleth had so taken note of, and her head, nay her whole body, seemed to cock to the side in regard at him. It took a moment (long enough to take a half step forward, then a half step back) to comprehend that he had in fact spoken back, and Morwen's cheeks turned ruddy under her olive skin, though she shook her head and snorted.

"He's always hungry," she proclaimed long-sufferingly, though there was a glint of affectionate derision for a much loved family member in her gaze as she glanced at the far too innocent Tolly. Then her eyes travelled back to Haleth, and after a moment of consideration, she indicated the large stone with the hand not encumbered by her basket.

"May I?" she enquired politely. A beat, then added more sheepishly, "Because I am hungry. I'm hungry a lot lately. It's quite a bother."

'be humble, stand proud, and don't be afraid of your fears.'


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Re: so take this feeling, let it go
« Reply #3 on: December 22, 2016, 12:29:15 AM »
For a moment, it seemed the girl was spooked by the very sound of his voice.  It occurred to Haleth, belatedly, that he was quite possibly the very first Rohirrim she had ever encountered.  The pause stretched to breaking point, reaching a pitch that would have coloured the Rider unsurprised if she had simply turned on her heel and left without another word.  Yet there was curiosity in her young features, one burning with an intensity that went beyond simple youthfulness.

The response that followed was endearing, though it surely was not intended to be.  She had spirit, that much was apparent, and she possessed a deep well of fondness for her steed.  Not even her seemingly exasperated words could disguise that fact.  This revelation caused Haleth to smile faintly.  It was much easier for him to think kindly of those who held their steeds in affection.  To some Gondorians, horses were nothing more than possessions, a notion that was all but unthinkable to the Rohirrim.

When the girl gestured to the large stone with her empty, delicate hand, Haleth followed her direction with his blue eyes.  “Of course, you are welcome to sit, my lady.”  He patted the cool surface of the rock, the sheepish edge that crept into her tone not going unnoticed.  “Ah, but you are young.  There is growing enough left in you and you need to eat to grow.  That must be why you are often hungry.  It will pass.”  Haleth’s explanation was delivered earnestly, matter-of-factly.  He nodded towards his flaming chestnut, presently munching eagerly on the lush grass.  “Grimbold over there, he eats his weight in oats, and yet he now fills his face as though he were starving.” 

With the ghost of a laugh, Haleth rose and strode over to his equine friend, gifting him with a pat on his powerful neck and deftly plucking from his saddlebag a red apple.  The stallion lifted his large head, long strands of grass falling freely from his velvety maw, watching his master with dark eyes alight with interest.  He stopped short of following the Rider as he returned to his seat and held out the apple to his young companion.  “I think he’s just… grǣdig.  Greedy.  Your friend is much more deserving of this treat.  Or perhaps you would prefer to eat it?”
« Last Edit: December 22, 2016, 12:31:38 AM by Haleth »

Morwen Steelsheen

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Re: so take this feeling, let it go
« Reply #4 on: February 27, 2017, 04:18:04 AM »
He spoke of her youth and what was before her, and yet he spoke of it matter of factly rather than condescendingly. And that, though he knew not, did much to endear him to the precocious little creature than any offer of food, let alone mark of respect, ever could. Not that the latter mattered overtly to her; she was not a fanciful girl, and so it crossed Morwen's mind only fleetingly and then passed on with a silent snort of derision the wondering that he knew to address her as 'milady'. It was already clear that he was a man who knew his manners and knew them thoroughly, and so it was likely that he called any female who carried herself with a modicum of grace such an epithet.

Even gawky pre-teens in grass-stained dresses, it seemed.

She must have been doing something right, though, and it took all of Morwen's self-control not to grin a little triumphantly to herself as she imagined rubbing that in Old Nanra's face, or that of her brother. She'd settle for her brother. Morwen resisted sufferingly the urge to rush off and do so, though, instead arranging her rangy legs as artfully as possible underneath her skirt, though her dark eyes followed with that same close intensity the movements of the man she now understood was Rohirrim-- had not been told, but she tried to feel confident in the knowledge of it, especially knowing that Grimbold was, in fact, a Rohan-bred name.

He was older than she'd first thought, but then younger than she'd thought upon her second passover. In fact, it was hard to tell proper just how old or young he was; the lines were there on the weathered skin, imprinted as finely as the hand-writing within the pages of a book, and yet not so long there as to have faded with the ageing paper. There had been, for a moment when he had smiled at her tart observation of her family's draft horse, a deepening of the lines even as the depth of quietness that was almost but not all jaded sorrow lifted in his gaze -- the shift and movement of the wordless writing on skin telling more of their cause by feelings past and present rather than simply the passing of time.

Morwen, despite her cautious nature, was drawn to that.

But then he was sitting down again, and she was not given any more time to ruminate. Not that she minded, for even as her thoughts tended to the solemn and the soulful did her body react eagerly to the offer of food that was, while not quite a full meal, still more substantial than simply berries. A piece of the apple was bitten off in a large chunk and tossed in Tolly's general direction, with Morwen herself taking another huge bite for herself. Any attempt to talk was put on hold for the moment as she attempted to chew her way around the fruit, though her nose crinkled sheepishly and in something close to apology for her manners as she attempted to catch the juice threatening to dribble down her chin.

"I understand their need to graze all day now. It's all I've wanted to do recently." What an odd conversation this was turning to. And yet, Morwen found herself not overly minding. At worst, it would get awkward, and at best from there, she'd likely never see him again. His accent was foreign, after all (if niggling some at the back of her mind), and so it was likely he was just passing through, right?

Another smaller bite of the apple was taken, and it took as long as chewing and almost swallowing the food for the rest of his comment in the moment prior to register. When it did, Morwen sputtered suddenly, a mixture of laughter and outrage adding colour to pale cheeks and mellow voice.

"Greedy? Are you telling me that's what that word means? Sefa's been calling us-- Lossarnarch's children that for years and that's what it means? I thought it was an endearment."
« Last Edit: February 27, 2017, 04:19:12 AM by Morwen Steelsheen »

'be humble, stand proud, and don't be afraid of your fears.'


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