Barliman

The elder woman sat rocking in her chair by the hearth, not a single dark hair out of place, not even the few greying ones. Her knitting needles worked rhythmically in time with her rocking. Click, click. Click, click.

"So did you stop by the jail and acquaint yourself with the Watchers as your father bid you before he left? You know that if there's any trouble, you go straight to them." Miss Charlotte raised a thin eyebrow, regarding the younger woman across from her.

The firelight of the ovens were dwindling as no one was stoking them at this time of night. It had been an hour or two since Muirenn had finished her baking and left for home. With her chin propped in her right hand, Ellany looked dreamily at the quill poised in her left hand. A grin played upon her lips as she thought about how much had changed in the past few days.

((forgive me, pardon the rough edges - this is a work in progress))

A girl lays upon a field of bearded wheat – the long golden stalks swaying gently in a breeze laden with scents of smoked meats and cedar wood. Addiel cracked open an eye as her name was carried upon the wind along with the aromas of the bustling village below. Sitting upright, she stretches her arms up towards the sky releasing a groan of protest. Still in a daze, she looks up at her outstretched arms, peering through her splayed fingertips at the wisps of clouds above. 

Please see http://laurelinarchives.org/node/4171 before you read

Barliman always impressed me with his sharp memory and after more than three years he remembered me as the swiftest messenger he had ever seen. I was a young fool before who hasn’t got any idea of a real world and I believe he saw the difference too. After giving me the room I always liked to stay in the attic, he came to see me…