((OOC Note: I have split this tale into three parts simply because I thought it would be easier for the reader to digest, it is the same tale though.))
Men…now that was where the real issue lay! Sefa was getting utterly sick of them and with good reason! In fact, she was starting to comprehend the fact that if you act a certain way then you get certain attention from the guys. This fatal knowledge, which was a long time in coming considering, was making the poor woman somewhat embarrassed and upset. Still, despite all this she failed to change her ways, remaining determined to become again the carefree, cheeky girl she once was. At any rate she was happier than she was. However much she had loved her Bucke she was in many ways relieved that he had moved away. She did miss him and was somewhat upset by his rather sudden departure but equally she was relieved to be with someone who offered her a little more freedom and who could perhaps be said to understand her better. Indeed, with Threland she was even able to live at her tree for much of the time which pleased her greatly and so far Threland had not asked for her hand in marriage which made her feel very relieved – rejecting another proposal would probably break her completely.
Sefa halted on the path, distracted by a dragonfly which idly buzzed its way along the river beside her. The memory of her first encounter with a dragonfly drifted back into her mind and she smiled for the thought of it. Just eight years old at the time and playing in a stream with Joran, Granny M dozing on the river bank. Little Sefa had spotted a little dragon fly and had decided that the only course of action was to try and catch it. This had only one possible outcome and she had fallen straight into the stream, drenching herself from tip to toe and waking her dear Granny M and causing both herself and Joran to be sent home for a good bath and a change of clothes so that they “Didn’t catch their deaths of cold”.
The woman allowed a small, sad smile to creep across her features. Joran! Dear, dear Joran. What had she done to him? She could hardly look at her dearest friend any more without feeling a pang of guilt travel through her body. So much of her life would be different if she had perhaps treated Joran differently and said yes to his marriage proposal. Her imagination slowly got to work as it had done many times before, considering what her life would be now if she had said yes. They would have never have come to Bree, they would doubtless have a little house in Dale. She saw a healthier looking, rosy cheeked, curvy version of herself, sat on an armchair, an infant playing at her feet, embroidery resting on the pregnant bump of her stomach. A bright smirk darted over her lips; she knew that that could never be the life for her…
Her footsteps resumed and she took stock of her surroundings, suddenly realising that she was in the middle of nowhere, not that this phased her, she loved being lost as it made her feel more at one with the wilderness. The sun was setting in the horizon and her gaze started ponderously taking stock of her surroundings to see if she could either find some food or some sort of place to rest. A noise takes her attention and she halts. It was the sound of footsteps coming nearer, and a fair number of them as well. Instinctively she halted, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword while gripping her staff tightly – she was not worried of course, yet it did pay to be careful as she had learnt the hard way.
After a few moments she found herself surrounded by about a dozen rough looking men, encircling her on every side so that she knew that there was no escape. She drew her sword, resting the point in the ground as she peered between them, eyes narrowed faintly as she glanced between the men, heart thudding in her chest.
“’ello there! How are we all today?” Silence and smirks greeted her bravado. Two men came forwards, one grabbing either arm. Another two wrenched the staff and sword out of her grip and tossed them carelessly to the side. Sefa pitifully struggled, arms and legs flailing and kicking out at any flesh she sees, yet to no avail. More men descend down on her, pinning her down to the ground. Agony suddenly ruptures through her side as she suddenly finds a morning star connected there. The blow causes pure pain to riot through her whole body, yet she is lucky for nothing major is damaged – a small blessing in such a situation. A cry escaped her lips and she stopped struggling, suddenly in too much pain to continue, accepting her grim fate. They carry her off, leaving nothing of their presence other than the staff and sword. The last rays of the setting sun reflect off the shiny metal of the blade, turning it into a dazzling, golden blade of fire for a few minutes before the moment passes and darkness descends…
