A Time To Remember Chapter 1: Like a Thief in the Night
The turmoil in the seven kingdoms continues to build, as Roose Bolton settles into his new position as Warden of the North. Some have already forgotten past allegiances, believing House Stark lives on only in history, while others continue to serve faithfully. As Darius Forrester of Aerin Hall prepares to receive a special guest, his only two sons brave the Northern Wilds at night.
[fieldbox=Marris Forrester: Watcher of Stars, #0a6115, solid, 0, FONT]
"I'm just saying, it's a load of shit, sending us both up here like this," Marris spoke, pulling up on the reigns of his horse as the beast began to dance uneasy in place. The dishumor of her master was obviously being shared by the mare who bore him, or perhaps it was his boredom that arranged his temper. But it took only a tap of his foot against her hind quarters, a soft tick from behind his teeth, and the mare grew still and patient once more, while Marris scratched his short beard and continued to flick away shavings of wood from a larger hunk held in his hands. Marris rarely enjoyed beign stationary, and even when life called for patience, his hands could always be found busied with knife and block. Whittling made the passage of time bearable when there was no work to be done.
"Did father even tell you what we are up here to receive?" Marris spoke again, knowing that he's already asked the same questions twice, and knowing that a third voicing of it would not chance the answer, but its been nearly an hour now, and Marris liked being in the dark much less than he liked being still. Patience was a weakness of his, ignorance an even bigger one.
"Be calm little brother," Darith spoke, turning his ember eyes upon from up the road. His lips were cracked with the same smug grin Darith always had when he felt he had a leg up on his brother. Though he was younger, Darith was trained less for battle and work, and more for diplomacy and the care of the estate. While Marris was groomed to be a man of action, destined one day to captain the guard at Aerin Hall, Darith was groomed to be heir. Which made Marris often faster, stronger, and Darith more tactful and wise. A fact that the damned smile would never let him forget. "I have told you all that I know. We are to meet a guest, escort them back to Aerin Hall in secret. Father would say no more."
"A guest?" Marris said, his frustration rising as he tried to puzzle this out. "We're in the middle of the damn Iron Wood, with not even a spare horse to us." So they were a traveler, and nobody from the realm, for to be this deep in the Iron Wood, they would have their own steeds. The only people this far North belonged to the Wood, wild hunters of bears and elk, or the damned Watchers of the Wall who stray from East watch for sport or fun. Add to it that the sun was nearly faded, and by the time they returned to Aerin Hall, it would be in the dead of night., with horse reign in hand, and sore feet. "They better bring dinner," Marris spoke as he let the conversation drop, turning his attention to his whittling, peeling away another thin sliver of wood from the Iron Wood block in his hands.
It was then that he felt it, like a soft caress against the back of his neck. Quickly, he tucked away knife and wood, aware of the approaching fingers even before the sound of crunching leaves under hoof became audible. His right hand touched upon the hilt of the sword mounted to the side of his chestnut colored mare, just as Darith's eyes perked up, a hand raising to silently advise Marris to stillness and quiet., but it was too late. Two mounted figures came into the small clearing from the deep shadows of the Iron Wood trees circling them, both heavily cloaked, with deep shadows covering their features. The looks of them spoke of a long duration of travel, from the dirt that hung to their clothes to the weariness that showed in their shoulders. One was thin, a woman dressed in pants and tunic, perhaps to avoid detection. The other was a man, at least by the breadth of his shoulders and the flatness of his chest., but he carried himself behind the woman, and almost as though in a hunch within himself. If indeed this be a man, he is either invalid or simple. Whomever, in the first moments of their meeting, before identity or word spoken, Marris identified the woman as the leader, with a broken shell in tow.
"Well met and welcome!" Darith spoke, drawing Marris's eyes as surely and fully as the arrivals. The elder Forrester was in possession of a rather deep, chest heavy voice that sounded as though born of the earth itself. It was once said that Darith spoke with the voice of the mountains, ancient and deep. "On behalf of my father, Lord Darius Forester, I welcome you to the Iron Woods, and the lands of Aerin Hall."
