Chirp! Chirp!
As the usual avian animals sang their songs through the haze of lazy morning air, Dagramir's eyelids slowly blinked open. An absent-minded wipe with the back of his right hand soon sees the sleep driven from the corner of his eyes. But, beyond a slight readjustment of his body-mass upon his tattered bedroll, he did not move further. Sure enough, that quiet morning, he resigned himself to stare at the sky. And what a beautiful sky it was. The town just a few steps yonder may have been a ragged mess, but the views from a nearby hill seemed to deem the town's well-being obsolete. A few picturesque clouds, of fluffy consistency, meandered their way across the sky, going about their business. The serenity of the sight broken by the occasional flash of a passing bird.
Chirp! Chirp!
A great tit lands on one of the branches above him. Hopping across the meager line of wood in a motion almost joyous, before a familiar call is heard. Another adding to the already layering calls of morning. Dagramir, usually one to find himself throwing stones at such a bird for daring to awake him from a much needed slumber, found a strange sense of peace watching the animal sing its song. He took time to study the creature, taking in the odd colours of its feathers, the way it moved its body, how its beak was agape to the time of its call. Surreal, he thought, that these are traits I would usually observe in those of my own kind. For an observant fellow, was Dagramir, and his skills of deduction were notable. But, such skills were reserved for those of the race of man, as was his expert craft. Observing this bird, however, gave him pause for thought. A grander view of the world. Are we naught but animals who dare to defy the will of nature?
The Gondorian arose, abdomen crunching to allow him to sit upright. A gentle sigh whispering its way through his parted lips. It was time to move. Bird-calls, and the existential, aside, he still had a job to do. A contract to fulfill. And potentially a whole new world to explore. His future lay within an arm's reach, and it was time for him to take it. As he packed up his equipment, dusting out the dimmed embers of a fire that had once served its purpose well, he gave no further thought to the things he had been leaving. Save a parting glance upwards to second-guess his way through the town of Trestlebridge, he found no remorse in leaving the struggling port. Similar, in fact, were his opinions on departing his red-haired enigma of yore. She had multiple men in tow, at that point, he was certain she would find her way. After all, she always seemed to do so. Through thick, or thin; through court, or infidelity, she always ended up fine on the other side. What more could a broken humerus do to her? Some people could've considered her situation of being nursed by dashingly foreign men to have been even desirable, a dream certainly not dry by any means. Nay, his place was no longer by her side, and such was starting to ring through his head. Beaten into him with each collision of his boots to the dirt and cobble that paved the way northwards.
'But, perhaps if I'd have stayed... Could it all have been different?'
It did not take him long to find a suitable horse for the subsequent journey. Indeed, he missed his own 'Abby'. A stellar mare of exquisite proportion, at least, in his mind. A pelt as black as the midnight sky, and a stride to make the most equestrian-loving of men green with envy. In any case, the sentiments attached to her name were enough to warrant some measure of excessive value. Which, of course, was why he elected to have her remain in Bree for his journey. He didn't quite enjoy his experiences of riding going forwards. Blaming anything on his discomfort, from an unfamiliar saddle, to a horse of unfamiliar experience. Thoughts that at one point he had experienced very similar difficulties with riding of a more taboo sort made him laugh. Musical tones ringing through the hills, unfamiliar accent rough against the local setting. Time alone usually spent considering his past, and future, beating himself for the mistakes he had been damned to make over time, and coming upon sudden changes in minds, were... All rather absent. The journey he took from town, to his next camp, was therapeutic in its manner that he was not thinking at all. Sapphire eyes keenly took in everything he could see, especially the foreboding ruins that towered over the landscape in front of him, but there was no thoughts to accompany those. A mere intake of information, accompanied by the rehearsed sounds of breath coursing through his body. Before he even realized he had traveled so far, he was already pack in hand, ready to garner some energy for the road ahead. Regrets be damned, he had a mission to accomplish.
Perhaps the latter might have been quickly receding to his rear, being contained within the confines of Bree, and its surrounding lands, but shadows of a different kind appeared to loom ahead. Taking a step out towards the edge of the nearby cliff-face, Dagramir finally got his first view of the road he would have to take. A path that took him straight through the infamous Fields of Fornost. A skeptic, in all regards, the raven-haired man had no fears over the horrors he had heard from the old man, or read about in local texts. However, there was an unmistakable vibe he felt. Hairs brittling upon his covered forearms, a whisper of wind running up his spine, rustling of dead leaves nearby that tantalizingly sounded as if they were whispering his name. He might've even held fear, if not for...
Chirp! Chirp!
The great tit of yore flapped its wings persistently forwards, and landed on one of the few living trees below him. His eyes snapped to the sight, and suddenly those chills were not so cold anymore. Nerves consolidating into a nice, manageable bundle, he pressed onwards. The subsequent journey was not absent of paranormal experiences. There certainly were spirits of the damned taking note of his presence. Barghouls stalking every movement of his horse, and his feet. But the familiar sounds of his newfound avian companion willed him forwards, narrowed his mind, and his vision, to see one thing: progress. And progress, indeed, was made. Quickly. He may not have believed in ghosts, ghouls, and ghasts, but today wasn't the day to question his devotion to his skepticism. Parth Aduial surrounded him soon enough, and the ruins of Evendim occupied his sights. One, in particular, shining out to him like a diamond in the rough. Ost Forod. Taking pause by a strangely familiar crossroad, he took time to look up the daunting hill to the north. Though, before the synapses in his mind could even fire to allow him the process of thinking, there was a familiar rustling. Dagramir smiled, and instinctively looked towards the source of the commotion: a near branch, expecting to see his friend. But, rather, he found a pleasure of a different kind.
Caw! Caw!
A raven perched upon the bough. Eyes beady, inquisitive, searching the landscape for something or other. The 'Viper's smile grew wide. A laugh. A pause. And then another. Mirth quite literally lifting the air.
"Come all this way for me, huh?", Dagramir audibly chose to ask the creature. Of course, it garnered no response, other than a hesitant ruffle of feathers. How fitting that he could be so easily reminded of what he had left behind on this escapade. His own Raven, for one. Though such a reminder proved melancholy, at that point. Sad for its presence, and later, wistful in its absence. How was she doing? How was she coping? Had she cast him away as an insignificant stone, and found her solace elsewhere as he had once done? Was she explaining to Ava through sobbed breaths how he had abandoned them both? He didn't quite want to think of the negatives, and likely outcomes, of his recent decisions. Finding more solace in remembering the times once shared. The graceful exposure of her skin onto his, the way her full lips perfectly interlocked with his from days of practice, the scent of sage and lavender that would fill his nostrils any time she would walk by, the joy that would fill her laughter any time he flirted in a manner some could consider ridiculous. Was it worth leaving her behind for some time spent alone? If his actions had led to the end, was it not better to remember their lives when they were at their most golden pitch?
'But, perhaps if I'd have stayed... Could it all have been different?'
Chirp! Chirp!
Nay, these were not thoughts for now. Later, perhaps. With a belly full of whiskey, and a tatty pillow to rest his head upon, but not now. Not with a job still to do. Love was always going to be a tricky thing. For what use would a raven have for a viper, other than sustenance, given the opportunity? In fact, what use would a viper have for a raven, if not similar? Aye, the mood could well have been toxic, given their namesakes, but they worked. A tale weaving itself, proving to be more beautiful with each thread of the needle.
He had to make it back sooner, rather than later. He had to:
He had a woman to love.
