The Bard : A Tale From Middle Earth

Chapter 3

The clatter rings as I place another dish alongside a cleaned plate. The cook tanks me as he moves to another task tossing a small pouch of coins my way.

I run down into the city and the third house from the entrance of the city stands ajar with a child looking towards the plains and another crying somewhere inside.

I knock and pick the child up carefully as I enter. The woman appears with a desperate look in her eye. I move to the table where the woman is sewing a large pile of clothing. We work silently towards finishing.

After a few hours of sewing she hands me a large sack and I place all the clothes inside. I give her several coin but she hands a few back to me. I half what she returned passing it back and she smils gratefully.

I sling the sack over my shoulder using the strap around my forehead to both lift and keep it balanced, with the help of my hands behind me.

I walked up the back entrance, out of the way of any men in front, and knocked on the door to the guardhouse.

One of the few men left behind looks apologetic as he takes it from me. He passes me a small hand full of coin before turning back inside with the repaired clothes in tow. I place them in my coin bag and run to help the women prepare the grave for when the worst happens. We know it will happen, but when is harder to determine.

So much death in such a short time. The village began to dawn black garments in respect to the young prince.

My own clothes were black as well, but not for this pince. My family was all I had. I never wanted, nor needed any possessions, but the bonds that have been separated can never truly heal. I know I will one day find it less painful, as all scars are covered in new skin.

Several days I passed like this, awaiting my chance. The days passed quietly which only broke when news of the princes death came.

Tomorrow, if I am able assist the funeral, I should have enough to purchase a horse and make my way back to our campsite.

My new black covor for my cream under dress made my skin pale. I almost look sickly. My light brown hair seems almost as dark as mud in comparison. I was brought a plate every now and again by Éowyn but with her cousin in the condition he is, I could not bare to distract her.

It's not that I chose not to eat, I would have, if only I could think of something other than my minds own play at the destruction of our camp. The nausea came in waves after every smell of cooking meat, every plucking of bird feathers. The smell of blood will never leave my mind. My mind happily became filled with memorizing the path I used to come here and how to go back.

I was so distracted within my own thoughts that I did not notice two of the strange guards from the throne room walking directly at me as I glide around the outside of the palace on my way to help the seamstress.

The men rush passed me, pushing me aside. I fall, softly losing a few papers from my arms. I calmly pick them up when I feel someone's eyes upon me. It isn't the scowl I normally feel from the strange guards, it felt different.

Down the steps walking up were several men. Or three men and- Is that a dwarf? My eyes rise to the blue eyes staring back into my own blue orbs. A tall pale blonde looks directly at me with concern clear on his face.

I shake my head no hoping he understands not to mess with these men. They are dark souls, men who came to work for the palace after the time of peace here had passed. They always felt more like hired thugs than the King's men.

I stood and begin walking again. Sadly to get to the steps I would either have to wait for them to finish and move or push my way through, so I press my back close to the outer wall.

The newcomers began pulling many weapons from their persons handing them over to some of the older guards who lived here with their families.

The poor old man almost had his staff taken for some reason. He called him Gandalf, and I remember reading somewhere that name, and it was a history tome. I can't even imagine his real age.

They finally pass the golden columns and enter the throne room without me noticing the stares from now two more members of this group. The guards shut the door and was quickly locked.

The men moved out of my way before I began to move and I thanked them returning to my previous course. When I reach the house however I hear a loud commotion back by the palace.

Men and women that were on the street ran towards the palace. Running into the stables was a man in black as in front of the crowd on the stone steps stands a man dressed like the king.

"Behold Théoden, king!" Someone called over us.

The crowd drops to their knees and I lower my head in both respect and confusion. The last I heard about the king was he could not move from his chair without help, but this man looks more like the one in my memory.

I move to enter the house but the door has been locked. I sigh inwardly turning to head back inside the palace.

Surely the preparers need assistance.

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Hey guys, thanks for waiting for this update. Life, is tough. For everyone. I hope that this story can at least take you from that for a while.

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