The White Horse Inn, Act III

[astarielle]

Currently at The White Horse Inn

It is late evening and a crowd has gathered. There is music and fellowship but melancoly as well as, fueled by sad memories of loss.

The old warrier Osric will seek a chair in the Great Hall, where the bards Eodwine and Korik compare notes on songs and tinker with their instruments. Maercwen helps her mother in the Kitchen while her younger siblings dance to the music with children's obliviousness to the memories of adults. A new comer, Lianda, joins the song while the nightwatchman Osric makes his rounds. Aylwen the Innkeeper is hidden away for the moment, doing an audit of the Inn's books for the day. They will soon be joined by the former Innkeeper, Bethberry

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astarielle's post:

For a long time Lianda remained silent, musing over the words of Eodwine's song. She felt transported into a forest of green were shafts of shimmering light filtered throught the treetops, casting mosiacs on the floor of heather. Birds sung in the trees above, their voices rising and falling in time with the lilting of the harp. The breeze drifted into the grove, the leaves protesting all the way. The leaves turned a golden brown, shimmering in the light before gracefully falling to the ground; creating a carpet of gold. It wasn't long until the sweet voices faded to be replaced by the falling of snow, the bear branches offering little protection. Yet the heather, hardened by the years, clung stronly to the ground until the last of the snow had fallen and Lianda felt the warm sun on her back once more.

The fire was warm on her back as she awoke from her vision. People were talking and the dim light cast shadows on the ground. "That is my song, my surprise. I hope you liked it," said Eodwine, a tilted smile on his face. It was few seconds later that Lianda realised that someone was talking to her.

"Liking it is more of an understatement than ever," Lianda smiled, the warmth of happiness surrounding her, "for that I owe you a drink."