We have arrived

[Horatio]

*as I cross the courtyard on me way to the stables, running an errand for the Lady Beren, I become aware of a crowd . Me curiosity takes over and thus I stumble upon a group of halfdressed Rangers, Sir Joseph and a strange boy, standing very close to Ranger Little.

I hear the last words of Ranger Little ..so the boy is called Henry ... but then me eye falls on the form lying on the cart . " Captain!" I storm forward , me face paling as i see in what sorry state Captain Tyrun be..

"M'Lord.." ...I turn to Sir Joseph ... " I shall warn the nursery at once..."

[Siren Song]

-barely having made it out of sight....the clacking of the wagon wheels suprises her...the sound they make over the scattered rocks along the path...tell her it is laiden with something, not too heavy...but not light either. She begins to count herself lucky not to have been seen. There are not many spots one can remain unseen in these lands. She turns and pokes her head out...looking around quickly ...her eyes search for any movement about her. None. Crawling from her spot...she stays low and reamins on her hands and knees as she nears the edge of the forest...standing only once she has found a suitable barrier between her and the excitement on the path. Peeking around...she sees the wagon...and the men. Barely able to make out that a body has been layed out in the back of the wagon. Is the man dead? She stares at the man...blinking and saying a small prayer of relief when she sees the mans fingers move. The blood is thick on them....dried to the point of blackness. Making the outline of his hand look disfigured. Her eyes cast down as she swallows hard..shaking her head to herself in sorrow for these fine folk. Looking back up as one of the men moves off towards the castle. Taking a few steps back behind the tree. Waiting ......-

[Sir Joseph]

Passing thru the large oaken archway, Little, the largest of the Rangers finally answers my querie. Furlin mah brows as I inspect the lad with a scutinizing look. The clothing evidently French.. nae matters what Little speaks…

The pause in es answer as he looked about te the other Rangers was puzzling. Yet hearing of the lads valor in saving Tyrun. Momentarily looking beyond my suspicions. Directing mah words te the young lad… Enry? Enry be ye name?
Casts a glance towards a seemingly very concerned Ranger Little, as I await the lad Henri’s reply…..

Startled by Horatio’s concern as he races o’er te the cart … Ortex bounds backward two paces…Gripping the reins tighter and squeezing with mah thighs.. Whoa boy!… Horatio , Please! as fast as ye can…RUN!!! .Knowins Hiratio's well traveled eyes hath nae afore seen so many critical wounds allowing someone te still posess life…

Looking back te the lad…. Then Ranger Little, spotting a soft pleading look…….. then back again te the lad Henri’…. Speaking fer the lad as I suspect what be goins on….. Aye, Henri’ it be…. Then looking deeply inte the eyes of Little… then speaking… see te it the lad, ahem… scuse me… Henri’, that rescued Tyrun from the sea is well fed Little, and treated as a regal guest within our walls…. Smiles and winks te Ranger Little

[The Rangers]

*Things seemed to move on quickly once they had entered the courtyard.....horses were untethered and taken to the stables... many gathered around and helped with the stretcher. It was a bustle of activity now as Guards changed duties and Rangers slipped off from the cart and stretched their legs. All had one concern in common...that of the Captain Tyrun and what the likey outcome would be.

They spoke amongst themselves....quietly discussing the chain of events that had finally brought them here...a shake of a head...a nod...a chewed lip.....all did nod bode well.

Little hoped his rather large elaborated tale might have swayed the good Knight.....he was not one to lie normally...but in these circumstances he did not want the lad Henry to spend any time in the dungeons...he felt that would be wrong. He had risked his life for one who should be an enemy...but life does not always work out that way...not in Little's experiences anyway.

He was quick to nod.....the ruse had worked...or ....perhaps it hadn't...but for now...he would take care of Henry..they all would, until such times of peace and then.....who knows.*

"I will Sire......consider it done...yers 'as nae need ta worry of Enery 'ere"

*He turned to Henri and grinned...hoping the lad understood. Pointing his fingers to his open mouth....then pretending to chew..he nodded again*

"We eat Enery.....food aye....and git yeself looked at?"

*Somebody then offered his shirt back as the stretcher was dismantled.....Tyrun was on his way to the Infirmary and the healers...he lifted the blood soaked shirt and frowned...shaking his head. He hoped against hope they were in time.*

(( Might I suggest a new thread created by those that will tend Mister Tyrun *S* I am sure lots will happen as the days unfold before us.))

[Sir Joseph]

Dismounting Ortex then hand the reins te the stable boy… casting a long glance once again to Litle and the lad Henri’. The remaining Rangers looks of doubt as they mull about the courtyard. My features creased with werry fer Tyruns well being as he is carried te the infirmary. Many of the Captains wounds still leeching precious blood, knowins the healers shall aves their work cut out fer them.

Hoping Lady Edfeil and Laurestina would be healthy enough te care fer our friend, afeared it may be too much iffen Rayven hath te tend te Tyrun alone. Shaking mah ead as I envision in the near future……….. Tyruns booming voice permeating the halls griping abouts avins te remain in the infirmary… Pffft! And ere I twas thinkins Sinold’s stay within the infirmary twas trying…Knowins full well, I shall keep meself far away from being saddled with the responsibility of keeping the good captain bed ridden..

Again werry coats mah features as I attempt to shake off the horrific thought of.. IF… If Tyrun lives……..

[Henri the ship boy]

The big, imposing man on the horse inquired about his name. What should Henri tell? While he still wrecked his brain, knowing that to answer this one in his native tongue would be a bad mistake, the knight relented and moved on. Henri looked towards the one called Leettell, trying a smile. That man seemed to have told the big one on the horse something that had satisfied the knight in his inquiry about Henri.

The hussle and bussle within the courtyard was making Henri nervous, although he soon noticed that most of the attention was on the wounded Viking. Why did they like the Vikings so much here? If a Frank, or an English, had been wounded like that and found by a barbarian, he would have been instantly killed. The lad sighed, no matter what people thought of these people from the north, this one was very much cared for here by all.

For a moment Henri wondered what would happen to him now. When his father had sold him to Captain De Sennis at the age of 9, there had never been any talk about the Forell becoming engaged into battles and a war. The ship was a trader, and Henri was taught to help out any way he could. But what should he do now? What if the Forell had sunk, and his captain died? Sooner r later he people here would discover he was frank, and then they would kill him, Henri feared.

He looked over to the knight, shuddering under his piecing gaze, and then pressed himself close towards Leettell again. He seemed to be a good man, pointing towards the castle now, his hand moving to his mouth, indicating that maybe now was the time to find something to eat.

[Rayven]

(( I posted this here, not sure who will be caring for Tyrun but wanted to let the readers know, help was on the way))

I glanced through the window at the fading sky. Below me Windstorm laid spread out on all sides. I passed the back of my hand over my forehead. I felt gray and worn and sick with fatigue.

I forced my mind back to the men in the infirmary. From time to time I had snatched an hour of sleep, maybe two, but the dreams I suffered made me fear to sleep again.


Just then a group of riders galloped into the courtyard at a furious speed. The leader vaulted impetuously from his horse, tossing the reins to a startled groom and began shouting orders to send for a healer.

I sent one of the chambermaids to go and get Lady Laurestina from the infirmary and to tell her to hurry, even from my vaulted position at the window, I could see the man was barely clinging to life.

[Rayven]

((Would the person who is posting as "The Rangers" please get in contact with me?

Sir Joseph, I would like to speak to you as well..*S

You can reach me by pm or by my e-mail listed on my profile. Thanks so much))

[LadyLaurestina]

((real time recovering from surgery here, but will make sure I don't take any medications in the morning...and will post... sorry all ... asap ....at the sun rises...HUGS to all))

[Dream Loxley]

((Laurestina....do take all the time you need....rest and make sure you are fully recovered. I do wish you well there. ))

[Joseph]

Realizing the dark of nite be best te carry out the request of Lady Dream on behalf of Tyrun.. …
Striding te the stables, un noticed by anyone. Ortex is already bridled, saddled and carefully covered in light armor … mah squire rubbing burnt charcoals and corks the past hour all over our armor..
The once brilliant shine of the elven armor hidden well beneath the sooty black of the coals.. as the squire assists me in dressing, tightening the straps here and there… tightening mah chest plate, then makin a fist and banging on it… Handing me mah blade, Clasping the buckle then slide mah ham hocked sized paw onte the pommel, straightening it fer comfort.. “ye be ready SirJ” “Almost squire I aves a mission this evenins. Should nae be cause fer concern”

Mounting M’ebony steed whilst still within the confines of the stable.... “mah bow and quiver, Squire, tis alls more I requires”… Adjusting both to lie comfortably o’er mah broad back. Knowins soon as this war be o’er, I be somehow procuring an elven bow like m’Liege…
Folding a large emblem of Windstorm colors within mah saddle bags.. tuggin on the reins… Ortexs follows and spins in a semicircle. Lookins te the Squire, Smiling.... “NOW, I be Ready”… Fannin open mah large hand rustlin thru the mop of hair as I slowly exit the stables..

Peering left , then slowly right.. Kickin em hard in the sides as I slap es neck.. Ride! He bolts with a start and soon makes it the cover of the dark pines.. slowing down along nae an oft traveled path… Always one te share mah thoughts with mah steed…
“Well Ortex, we aves a mission, We must travel te the harbor and locate…... *reaches in es pocket and takes out a parchment.. unrolls it.. the soft light of a ¼ moon barely afordin em enuff lite te read what he scribed*…”Harl Grimface”, be the mans name… I must inform him and es men, Captain Tyrun lives…….placing the parchment back in es chest plate…

Now, knowing the route... They ride like the wind. The trusty steed, detects urgency, resolve... He quickens the pace. The dark powerful creatures strong legs stretching out, covering ground faster than normal. Sensing the Knights urgency for haste, the proud stallion sprints even faster. Several times, Joseph pulls back on the reins. Whoa, boy! Slow Down, we have a long ride!
Ortex disregards those commands, stretching out his long legs even more, racing, galloping faster and faster.........
Soon the harbor lies off in the distance….
Spotting the sails and riggings. Knowins we must proceed with more caution, slowing te an apprehensive cantor.. soon the smell of salt permeates mah nostrils… small wonder Tyrun loves the sea so much, eh Ortex? his head rocks up and down as he snorts..

Slowly, cautiously, proceeding closer.. eyeing the different masts and riggings… hopins te spot those of Zephyr.
There! There she be.. I recognize that enormous banner Lady Edfeil made fer Tyrun.. the one that donnae fade from the salt of the sea. Oh , how mah frind Tyrun twas certain te bring such te mah attention.. as we come closer te the vessel..A shout be heard..
"Who goes there? Donnae moves or we fills ye with arrows".. Stoppins in mah tracks.. slowly reaching within mah bags fer the Windstorm colors and quickly displaying them a s a breeze picks up jest at the right time te unfurl It… ( Im telling ya, theres nuthin like divine providence.. grins))

The guards spotting the friendly colors.. shout….” Proceed slowly , then come aboard”.. Holding out the banner as the wind fills it wide… nodding as we slowly cantor between two rows of guards. I must remind meself te tell Tyrun ow well his commanders stationed their guards. Lookins up and spotting several hidden within the rigging with bows trained on mah chest. Dismounting, tucking away the colors in the saddlebag.. then walkins up the plank.

Soon I am greeted by a winsome lass… as she approaches closer, her dark blue eyes hold the sparkle of nights stars..
She extends her hand.. I be Hildi Longshanks, welcome aboard the Zephyr, Knight… whats ye name”? “
Joseph, Sir Joseph, from Windstorm”....she looks me up and down then speaks… “Aye, I aves eard of ye”… she grins seductively.
Smiling slyly.. “as I aves heard of ye”.. flashes a dashingly handsome smile..
Extending mah large hand, gently graspin hers as she slides her small hand upward and squeezes firmly, which I do as well in reply.. “What brings ye ere”? * she looks inte mah eyes with a flirty look* “Joseph”?

Momentarily taken aback, astonished at such attention. Umm, I aves come te speak with Harl Grimface”
“Aye Harl nae be aboard good Knight".. her concerned voice.."Our Captain, ave ye eard any news"?? “Tis why I am here Hildi, may I calls ye Hildi? “Of course m’lord”… leans inte ye ear and speaks softly..…. Tyrun lives and breathes as we speak”.. her eyes alight, so happy is she she throws her delicate bronzed arms about mah neck and squeezes.. smiling as she releases her grasp… Hildi, he be nae out of the woods… grumbles.. what the fluffy convections did te Tyrun , tis a miracle he be alive… her eyes sparkle, yet I detect werry… Our healers aves em somewhat stabilized, but it still be nip and tuck… his wish when he awoke this morn, was te get a message te ye, es crew…. Te let ye knows he be alive"… *she breathes a sigh of relief* "fer the tyme being he shall remain confined in the infirmary. Iffen ye or any of ye crew wishes te come visit he, I extends mah personal welcome and that of m’liege, *bows mah ead.. King Agustin"..

( knowins full well iffen any of the frankish parlay party be abouts the castle and more norse shows up they shall go thru the roof.. heh heh)
I must be off Hildi.. the roads and paths nae be without trouble.. her eyes seemingly disappointed… Sir Joseph, iffen ye desires ye be welcome te stay the night on board”… her brows lift slightly as if suggesting something..((LOL, for DREAM……knowin it will be quite a while afore I get asked to write anything again.. LOL))
Tis a fine offer Hildi, one perhaps I shall take at another tyme.. But this even I must be back te the castle….. bowing graciously as I take her hand.. this time she offers but her slender fingertips as I shake lightly.. tis a pleasure meeting ye Hildi, I opes we shall meets again..

Striding back down the plank, lookins about.. mounting Ortex.. kickin em lighly in the sides as we return toward our way ome…

[Dream Loxley]

(( Hmmm..... I seem to remember you offering Sir Joe....and a splendid job you have done too ))

[Ragnar Oafson]

NEWS FOR ELSANA FIRELOCK.

The fury of the sudden storm that had whipped through Windstorm Harbour was now fading; the decks of the ships lying at anchor had begun to steam in the warmth of the returning sun.
“Valkyrie’s” longboat cast off from under the dragonship’s lee and made for where the “Zephyr” lay, still tangled in the Frankish merchant ship’s bowsprit. From his seat in the pulling boat’s bow, Ragnar Olafson could see the activity aboard the enmeshed vessels as work continued to free the two ships from their embrace.
Ragnar grinned to himself; his first mission had been successful. The wounded had been safely transported to the Windstorm Infirmary and Thorgrimm had praised him for a job well done. His future was now looking rosy, although he had worried when, all those years ago, Thorgrimm had chosen him to be his personal messenger.
The fourth son of one of the Jarl’s elderly retainers, his future in Ravensgard had seemed bleak so, when Thorgrimm had begun gathering a force to join the Varangian Guards in Byzantium, he had presented himself to the Jarl’s grandson. In his oddments of ill-fitting armour and weaponry, the seasoned warriors had joked at him but Thorgrimm had not. Ragnar could still recall how the quiet grey eyes had swept over him and Thorgrimm had silenced the older men’s laughter. “I like this one’s spirit, he will do.” Was all he had said and with that Ragnar had been accepted into the Vikings’ brotherhood.
As Thorgrimm’s messenger he had been kitted out with clothing and armour befitting his post, in battle he stood at Thorgrimm’s side and in the quiet times, he learnt his skill at arms from some of the best teachers in the Emperor’s vast armies. Those had been long hard years spent far away from his home and there had been many a time when he thought he had breathed his last but he had learnt and he had survived.
The longboat thudded against “Zephyr’s” hull, jerking Ragnar back to the present, he grasped the rope ladder and clambered up to the deck. The guard at the entry port directed him to where Captain Firelock stood directing the efforts of the crewmen. She was standing braced against the roll of the deck, hands akimbo, red hair flying, as she shouted orders to the crewmen as they worked around the ship.
Ragnar waited as she hurled a rather vituperative tirade at a group of men working high in the rigging. He had never heard such descriptive words from a woman before.
Firelock turned to him. “An’ what d’ye wants young Viking?”
Ragnar winced as her fractured Norse rasped in his ears.
“Thorgrimm Halfdane sent me, I bring news of Captain Tyrun.”
“’Tis known he was found and taken t’Windstorm, what of ‘im now?”
The Captain asked sharply, her eyes seemed to bore into Ragnar.
“His wounds were grave but the healers have been busy and the omens are good.” Ragnar stammered. “He is now resting in the Infirmary there along with the Varangians who were badly wounded aboard “Aesgard.”
Firelock threw her head back and laughed loudly, she slapped Ragnar soundly on his shoulder almost knocking him to the deck.
“Then ‘tis good news ye bring, take me thanks t’ yer Captain Thorgrimm fer me an’ t’ them healers up at t’castle.”
With that Firelock returned to directing the repairs and, summarily dismissed, Ragnar made his way back to the longboat where it idled at the foot of the boarding ladder.
As the bowman pushed them away from “Zephyr’s” side, Ragnar looked back, he shook his head, Captain Firelock was not someone he would wish to tangle with should she ever become angry.