LOVE! Rohirrim Style

05 - Ghost Riders in the Snow

LOVE! Rohirrim Style

Chapter 05

Ghost Riders in the Snow

“My Lord,” the clerk entered Imrahil’s study, his arms piled unusually high with scrolls and missives. “Considering how fast they are coming in, I thought you would perhaps like to get a jump start on the bills for this period.”

Imrahil was relaxed back in his chair, but upon seeing the pile in the clerk’s arms, he jumped up, getting to him just in time to catch a falling missive. Out of curiosity, he unscrolled the one he caught and was taken aback at the figure at the bottom which was revealed first. He continued to unroll before sighing.

“I did tell her to go shopping…”

*** 

Haleth never knew exhaustion could be so thorough. All he could see before him was white. Snow, snow, and more snow. He was frightened he would miss an inn or a barn by inches and there was a storm coming behind him that he feared would leave him stranded for days in a shelter.

He did not wish to consider what would happen if it came upon him out in the open.

Just as the wind was beginning to pick up, he saw the walls of a small village in the distance. He wrapped his cloak tighter about him and nudged Níðheard into a slow trot, his mind simply on getting somewhere warm. 

The gate watcher let him in quickly enough, with whispered directions to the only stable and inn. Something about him made Haleth shiver and not from the cold, and for a moment, he wished he had continued on and found an outlying farm.

He stabled his horse in the lean-to the village appeared to call a stable. There was no groomsman or servant working in it so Haleth rubbed him down and found some stale oats for his mount. He considered leaving him saddled and bunking down with his horse, but decided against it. The stable was ramshackle and the walls and roof were missing boards, allowing little warmth and meager shelter. He was cold and hungry and surely, his messenger mark would protect him. Still, he made sure his saddlebags and saddle were close by in the stall, just in case.

He pushed the door open to the inn and was assaulted by the smoke and smell of unwashed bodies. 

“Shut the damn door, fekking idiot!” The voice had too many drinks and too much smoked tabac in it and Haleth slammed the door, almost getting his cloak caught in it. He pulled it to the side just in time, more terrified he would damage the precious loan than of the crudity being shouted at him. He turned to face the suddenly silent crowd.

The light was dim, too dim, and what little could be seen was obscured by a mist of dust and tabac-smoke. Haleth squashed the urge to lift his cloak, so it wouldn’t drag on the filthy floor. Yet again, he felt a strong desire to return to his horse and bed down near him.

“Why, look what we have here!” A woman not wearing enough clothes came from around the bar. She was falling out of her top and wearing enough paint on her face to whitewash a long fence. Her lips were painted blood red and she had a feral smile. “I have not seen one this fresh or young in a while!” 

“You have not seen one this young since you were a babe in swaddling yerself!” a voice from the back howled, everyone in the room seeming to join in the crude laughter.

Haleth’s eyes were wide and after forever, he found his voice. “I am on the Kings business. I need food and a place to rest.”

“Boy.” The bartender behind the bar was using an unkempt rag to dry glasses. He himself looked as if he had not bathed in four seasons. “Do you have coin for the food and rest?”