Sir Larg

THE MEETING Spel enters the village. The noise from the merchants selling their wares is almost deafening. Across the square she notices a man. She moves towards him. Her tall figure casting a long shadow in front of her. Her long blonde hair lays over her shoulders, eyes of green, clear and bright. She works up her courage and speaks to him..
"Pardon me M'Lord. You appear to be searching for someone. Might I be of service to you?"
The stranger stands in front of the tavern holding a flagon of ale in his gloved hand.
He is taller than most in this village. His black hair is streaked with steel gray, his face hard as flint. There is a darkness about him and sparks fly from his ice blue eyes when he is angered.
He sees the woman enter from the other side of the square but pays her little heed. Then he notices that she appears to be approaching him. He turns to meet her and his dusty cloak shifts revealing glints of jet black and emerald green between the folds. She speaks and her voice melts the cold and shatters the stoniness of his visage.
He smiles. "T'would seem, fair lady, that you are who I seek. What is your name, and do you possess...um...a "gift" that sets you apart from these villagers?"
"You come looking for me, M'lord?" Spel is even more cautious, for she recognizes not this man.
Noticing his regal apperance...she wonders if he be one of the kings men.
"My name is Spel...and it is possable I possess many things, for I am not borne to this area. I also do not make habit of discussing my persons to a perfect stranger."
Spel looks up at him shading her eyes from the sun..being braver than usual.
Even as she is intrigued by him, she knows not his business yet.
She fingers her amulet that lies at her breast. Something she does when nervous.
"If I may ask thy name M'Lord, and why you know to look for me at all?"
It is hot out for it is mid August. She can see a storm brewing in the distant hills behind this mysterious man. She must go soon or be caught in the storm.....but her curiosity gets the better of her. She must know more of him.
He bows slightly and smiles.
"I am pleased to meet you Spel. I am Sir Larg and truly I did not know it was you that I sought. I have traveled many miles through many lands on a quest. I was told I would meet someone in this village." His manner is easy, open and friendly.
"I see the concern on your face, Lady. Be assured that I mean you no harm and will cause you no woe."
Larg extends his left arm toward the tavern, hand open, palm up. The motion throws his cloak open revealing a black breastplate with an emerald green rose emblazoned on the chest. Black chainmail extends from under the armor, down his arm and into the cuff of a black gauntlet. A sword hangs at his waist. The hilt is onyx topped with an emerald green stone on the pommel and the hand guard is intricately worked steel very much resembling the twining ivy that grows in the woods around the village.
"Perhaps you would allow me to get you some refreshment and a meal at yonder tavern and we could discuss the matter further. I see a storm is close upon us."
Spel's curiosity becomes more fierce. The mention of a quest, makes her more attentive to this stranger. For she does love adventure.
"And whom would it be, M'Lord, that would tell you to seek someone in this village?"
It is moving on to noon and she does feel a slight hunger. But is not sure if it be for food or knowledge.
"I accept your invitation to a meal so we may discuss this further."
She enters the tavern, walking in front of him.
Larg follows her into the tavern and hangs his cloak on a peg next to the door.
Spying an empty table in the far corner, away from prying ears, Spel leads the way.
Larg takes a tankard of ale and a haunch of meat from the spit then sits opposite her at the table.
A bar maid comes over, eyeing the knight, and Spel gives the wetch a look that could turn her to stone, if she wished.
The music has died down some in the tavern. A lone minstral sits to one side playing eerie ballads. The noise in the tavern nearly drowns the chords. There are all walks of locals and outsiders alike in the large room.
Spel orders the house special, and cider...then the woman leaves.
Outside, the winds howl suddenly, and large hail falls, pounding on the roof, sounding as if the stones might break through the thatch. She can hear the people in the square running for protection.
"Odd weather we have today." Spel can see, out a window, the ground quickly turning white.
Turning her attention back to the knight...she smiles.
"Now, M'Lord. Tell me of thy quest. What are you looking for and what brings you here?"

"I come from the land of Chreagáin, many leagues to the north. King Drennen rules there. The king's mage, Padraig, has foreseen a great event for our land but he cannot see whether it will be evil or good. The only thing he has been able to tell us is that one who has the ability to know things will be found in this village."
He takes a sip of ale and studies her over the top of the mug.
"I am the kings champion so the search fell to me. The only thing I was told was that I would be approached in this village by an outsider. I have been here for three days and you are the only one to approach me. Now, I ask you again, Lady Spel. What abilities do you possess and would you be willing to undertake a great adventure?"
Larg takes a bite of the meat and waits for her answer.
Spel listens to his tale, without interuption. She watches his every movement, his mannorism, studying his face for truth. She senses he is a hard but honest man...occasionally softening when he looks at her. Her distrust begins to dissapate.
"Your mage knows more than I, M'Lord. I know not what powers I possess that would be greater than his."
"I know not what my total abilities might be....yet. I came to this area unaware of any powers at all. Only that something was calling me here." Spel pauses for a moment while the barmaid approaches with her food and drink.
"It has only been recently I have begun to discover my linage. I can tell you this. I know not of my mother. Only stories and visions I see in my mind. She left when I was just an infant. I have only begun to discover I can see things. I always had been able too, but thought it to be imagination. The sight I do not call on, but it calls on me."
"I have studied magic, but by no means am I socceress strength. Now I do know that it is not in the norm for me to be here on this day. I awoke this morning with a....... "she shrugs her shoulders "....urge to come. It appears to be it was to meet with thee." She takes a drink from her glass.
"So I know nothing of thy adventure, that I am aware of. However, I would be more than willing to assist you on your quest. If that be thy desire. As I am somewhat familiar with these lands, I could guide thee. And what magic I do know, might be of help. As for the sight, if it comes, I will see what it wants me to. That is all I can offer."
Spel studies his face again, looking for indications of dissappointment. He intrigues her and hopes she might be the one he searches for.
The hail stones have stopped. The clouds clear and the sun begins to peer through the windows.
Larg puts is mug down and leans forward, resting his forarms and elbows on the table. He looks deeply into her eyes for a few moments.
"Lady, I am sorry if I have misspoken. I have no need for a guide. My quest does not begin here, it ends here. I am to find this person our mage spoke of and return to Chreagáin with them."
He leans back in his chair, crosses his legs and drapes his arm over the back.
"So your mother abandoned you and you do possess some abilities?"
He takes a big swig of ale while he ponders. Suddenly, it appears he makes a decision.
"Time grows short for me here and since you are the only one with anything resembling what I am looking for, I will assume you are the one. We will spend the night here and leave in the morning. The way is long and sometimes hard and I must make arrangements. I will get rooms here at the tavern and make sure that you are settled before I leave. I will also make sure that the innkeeper knows that you are under my protection. Do you ride or should I look for a carriage of some sort?"
He stands and waits for Spel's answer.
"Return with thee, M'Lord? But........" Spel pauses, looking up at him.
"I am not prepared to take a journey. If I might suggest, M'Lord. I have a cottage some 5 miles from here. You have other arrangements to make here. I can return there to prepare for this journey to your land. We can meet there this evening. You can dine there with me and I have space for thee to stay the nigh there. We can leave in the morn then."
The afternoon is growing long and she must be leaving soon.
"If this be acceptable, the cottage is 5 miles to the west of the village on the main road. There you will see a large oak. Turn to the south and in a small glen you shall see my cottage. And yes, M'Lord I do ride. I have my own stead so there be no need to make arrangements for one."
Spels mind wonders what his mage might want with her in Chreagáin.
The waitress approaches to bring more drink.
"No. I have had enough." Spel tells her.
Spel can see he is pondering her proposal.
Larg sits back down in his chair with his chin in his hand and studies her.
"T'would seem that you are either very foolish or very trusting to invite a perfect stranger to spend the night with you in a remote cottage." He mumbles through his fingers that Spel can not make out.
Then he smiles a warm and friendly smile, his ice blue eyes sparkle. Suddenly he slams his hand down flat on the rough hewn table with a resounding smack.
"DONE!" He shouts, and startles her, also causing the other patrons to look.
"And done, Lady. If you be willing to trust me so, I shall dine with you this eve' and stay with you and we will leave in the morning. Allow me to escort you from this seemy place and see you safely on your way home."
He stands and offers her his hand.
"I've much to do and I am loath to spend anymore time here."
Placing her hand on his, Spel accompanies him to the door of the tavern.
Looking at him, "You are saddly mistaken M'Lord, to think that I be a helpless maiden. I am quit capable of defending myself. I be no fool. As I have stated, I can "see" sometimes things that a normal person might not. I see you can be trusted."
Arriving at the door, Spel steps out into the square. The sun is bright, and warm still. Her hair casts a hew of blonde and red from the rays.
"I will take my leave now," removing her hand from his.
Spel walks out of the village, just past the walls that guard it.
Looking around, for spying eyes, and seeing none, she makes a motion with her hand, and in a moment disappears........only to reappear in a green flourishing glen in the woods.
Spel enters the front door, and finds her faithfull guardian sleeping soundly by the hearth.
He perks his ear up at her entrance, stretches lazily, and approaches her.
Moving to her, he nudges his muzzle into her hand, pushing with great strength, to be petted.
"Sampson, silly hound," she laughs. You are about to push me over!" She lovingly rubs his ears.
"We have company coming, I need thee to remain outside when he arrives."
Sampson makes a grumbling sound, the hairs come up on his back.
He stands half her height, fur of brown, tipped black on the ends.
"Worry not. He can be trusted," she says to soothe him. "But do not wonder far," she adds, making him more at ease. She watches him bound into the woods and set up his station in a small clump of bushes.
Spel quickly busies herself. Collecting spells, potions and clothing for her journey. She knows not how long the ride might take. She places everything in a carpet bag.
"Now for the meal," she says to herself. "Something quick for he will arrive soon."
Looking around the kitchen, opening the cabinets....she decides on cheeses, aged perfectly. Bread, freshly baked this morn. Smoked ham, she waves her hand, and it is sliced perfectly. And fruits.... melons & strawberries, from her garden.
She then goes to the cellar to bring up some wine.
It is just past dusk when Larg rides out of the woods and into the glen. He has been following the smoke from her fire for the last few miles. He stops at the edge of the glen.
"She truly lives a far pace from the rest of humanity, Arst," he says to his horse. "Just as the mage said."
Spel hears the muffled hoof steps out side and knows he has arrived.
Larg rides on to her front door, reins up, dismounts and lets the horse go. The horse wanders off into the glen and starts nibbling at the grass.
He stands a few feet from the door to the cottage and shouts. "HELLO, LADY SPEL. BE THEE HERE?"
He waits for her to answer. He is loath to enter the cottage until invited. Suddenly the short hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he senses something in the woods watching him. He does not turn to look for it, it is enough that he knows it is there.
Startled at the outbursts of his hailing her, Spel drops a bottle of wine. It crashes to the floor.
"Damn," she hisses. She quickly grabs another bottle, and hurries up the stairs.
Through a modest kitchen, she moves past a heavy wooden door, checking at a glance to be sure it is closed and locked.
In to the main room, decorated pleasingly and comfortable, she arrives at the door. She checks her attire..brushing some dust from her white peasant blouse, she picked up from the cellar. She straightens her flowing skirt, and glances in the mirror by the door. Her hair is blonde and loosly curled. She smooths it with her hand.
Spel pulls on the brass knob, attached to the heavy wooden door.
"M'Lord Larg...Welcome," she sees the caution look on his face.
"Please, M'Lord, come in." Spel stands to one side showing him in.
In the edge of the woods, Spel spies 2 yellow eyes, watching. She smiles to herself. "Do come in M'Lord. The sun will be gone soon."

The Cottage Click here