Shaky Legs & Uncle Pritchard

[CoreSun]

Nervous was an understatement. As Boy took the first step onto the porch stairs he could feel his legs shaking beneath him. Tremors ran course through his veins, unrelenting and determined to drop him before he reached the door. He paused, some cold feeling of fear sweeping over him. He didn't know why or from where, but it was present and clear. Some stark fear of the question he harbored and yet longed so deeply to have answered.
The brass door handle shook in his hand, rattling like a snake in his grasp until he released it, the door opening smoothly before him.

The smell of ale and burning firewood swept into his nose on the wings of a wave of warmth accompanied by the comfortable glow of a candlelight greeting. Taking one last glance up at the stars in the pitch black night sky, he cautiously stepped forth into the common room of the Broken Dagger. Wavering legs took him through the threshold and across the floor towards the bar, upon which he set his hands, steadying himself and taking a seat carefully, eyes set warily on Pritchard. The question was burning and he needed it to be answered.

"Uncle..Uncle Pritchard." His voice was cracked and unsteady. Rubbing his head with both hands he slouched and cast his eyes to the bar top as Pritchard turned to look at him. "Uncle Pritchard...I-I, I want to go to Myrken Town..I want to go there and..and see it. See parts of Myrkenwood." He'd never felt so unsteady before, and he was anxious to hear an answer...a silent prayer cast to the stars he admired so much.

[Pritchard]

Pritchard eyed the lad for a moment. The boy was so young and already he was tempted. The rotund keeper had lost a great many stablehand to the legends and adventures that lilted upon the lips of minstrels and scarred the mail of heroes. He was used to the young men leaving to seek out their own journeys and discover the answers to the unspoken questions that echoed within their minds when they lied quietly in the rushes at night.

This lad was no different from the rest in many ways. Sure he called Pritchard "uncle," even though they shared no blood or kin to speak of, but the term was a title bestowed by a boy...and in some respects not one to be taken lightly. Pritchard was merely an employer, sure, but his 'hands were his keep and he saw to that task seriously.

Pritchard pursed his lips for a moment before speaking, "Jus' 'cause ye can muck a stall don' mean tha' yer rea'y ta ta'e care o' yersel', Boy. If'n ye wan' ta go ta town, go wit one o' de older lads in de day. Yer too young ta be wan'erin' aroun' on yer own. Now, geh ba' ta de stables, Boy, in case some'un nee's their `orse tended ta." Pritch waved the back of his fingers at the lad, as if shooing a fly.

The portly keeper turned his back to the boy, facing the bottles behind the bar. He looked at the collection of liquids without really seeing them.

The younger generation of Myrken Wood were forced to grow up too fast.

Far too fast.

[CoreSun]

"Oh I will Uncle Pritchard" I will!" He grinned widely as Pritchard shoo-ed him away. "I just want to go look around the town..I won't get in any trouble, not with one of the older kids around!" It seemed funny, him being probably sixteen, seventeen years of age and being told to take one of the older kids. But it was no joke, Myrkenwood was a dangerous place, more dangerous than he imagined, and safety often came only in numbers.

As he trotted back to the stable and approached Horse's stall, he wrapped his arms around it's neck and laughed. It was a magnificent creature, a silken brown coat marked by a black line from its nose to it's tail and white strikes along the sides of it's face accentuated the horse's big, brown, gentle eyes. "Guess what Horse! Uncle Pritchard says that we can go to Myrken Town with one of the older kids during the day!" The horse nudged him and left out a heavy breathe of air, as if in compliance with his excitement. Running a hand over it's nose he smiled. "...if we're not too busy tomorrow morning, maybe we can get William to take us. He's got to go for the new shoeing equipment tomorrow anyhow...and I think we're going to take a few things with us, maybe we can trade and get something real nice."

After rubbing the horse behind the ear he walked over to his crate in the corner of the stables by the pitchfork and took off the lid. "But what to take." He paused. "What do you think we can take?" More talking to himself than to Horse, but regardless, it answered with a noise that sounded much like a grunt of distaste as he lifted a leather belt from the crate. "I guess so... How about this?" He asked, and the rummaging process continued for a short while, until it had been decided what of his found treasures would be taken to trade. Among the items were the leather belt, that looked a little bit worn but still in good condition, a pewter candle-stick with a chip on one end and a small bundle of sageleaf shutes, probably about two dozen, he'd collected down by the pond. It was often used in tea here at the Dagger, when Pritchard would have him go collect just a few leaves for a mug, upon a guest's request.

He looked, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes, back to horse and carefully set all the items into a saddle-bag. "G'night horse, tomorrow, if William will take us...we're going to Myrken Town." Tonight he would sleep with adventures in his dreams.