The Long Path through the Highlands

Gareth awoke to screams in the night once more.

He rubbed his eyes and rolled over to look at his son, Diarmad.

One of these nights we will both get a decent night's sleep... Gareth though, but he was sure it wouldn't be for quite.some time. The memories were too fresh, the horror too great.... The only thing that was keeping Gareth from experiencing nightmares as well was sheer exhaustion. Diarmad may have been the one screaming, but he tended to sleep through the nightmares.

Gareth wished he could do the same.

He gently woke his son, trying to shake him from his dream.

"Hey, boy! Wuzza matter, eh?" Gareth prodded.

Diarmad was not fully aware he was waking up as he replied, "...coulda saved 'em, coulda saved em all..."

This was new! "Diarmad! C'mon! Wake up! Whats the dream about this time?"

Since they had come home from hunting three weeks ago and found their house and village destroyed, each night had greeted Diarmad with visions of destruction, of ash, burned out buildings and death. The visions would frighten him, but there was usually nothing gained from the dreams. Tonight, it seemed, Diarmad was starting to blame himself.

"Its ok, son, you couldn't have done anything!" Gareth insisted after Diarmad started to sober up. "What was it about this time?"

"I was there, seeing it happen, father!" Diarmad insisted. "Somehow as I watched it happen, I knew there was something I could do, but I did not know how... It was strange..."

"Well, I hope you wont have any more bad dreams tonight," said Gareth, "Sunrise comes soon, and we will probibly have another long day of walking. Go back to sleep, and don't worry, there's nothing you could do, and nothing is gonna get you. Im here."

Reluctantly but gratefully, the father and son pair finally settled back to sleep.

As Crucent woke up the following day she yawned and stretched abit, her body aching all over. Getting up she nudged Zoro with a leg, waking him. "Rise and shine sleepyhead, time to get up."
Searching the remnants of last nights fire she mananged to make breakfast from of the cold but roasted leg of a small deer they'd caught the day before as Zoro packed what little things they had so they could leave immidiately. "And to think, if I was sensible, I could have stayed home and slept comfortably in my bed, I'm so glad I came along on this trip."

Handing him some of the meat she smiled up at him, hearing the irony in his voice "Oh quit complaining, noone made you come here, I'd have managed alone" Tossing a bone to one of the two black wolves lying by the exit to the cave, she watched him grab it easily as it sailed through the air and then started munching on it. "Oh come on, do you honestly think I'd let you go off alone after finally locating you on this godforsaken spit of land? If I hadn't brought the wolfs, who knows when I'd have found you?" Making a face at him as they got up and headed out she replied "Well, I'm glad you came anyway. It was getting lonely travelling and exploring this world on my own, and these dwarfs aren't very helpful" As they looked out over the landscape, they each mounted their own wolf and headed off towards what looked like a burnt-out village in the distance.

Gareth and Diarmad Numitor started breaking down camp at first light. After the disaster a few weeks ago, they had decided to make their way to the Capitol, to look for information and to report the attack. If it had been caused by some group outside of Raonaid, other villages may be destroyed as well.

They had picked through the rubble of their former lives at that time, finding little that would aid them on their journey. The fields had been burned as well as the stores, but they were able to find a little unspoiled grain, and they had the meat they had gathered while hunting.

The meat had run out a week ago, and the occasional small creature helped fill their bellies. This morning, however, they had little to eat besides unground grain. An unsavory meal at best.

Gareth poked around in his pouch and selected one of the special seeds he kept with him. These seeds were what remained of last year's garden, and though they could only be used sparingly, could provide a vastly more palitable repast than mere grain.

He found a suitable spot nearby, with plenty of dew soaked, rich soil, and planted it, whispering to it. He pressed the soil down around the seed and coaxed it to Grow.

Diarmad came over to watch his father work. He had heard the song many times before, as Gareth would sing it out over the fields in the morning and night, adding nuances to nudge the crops either in size or rate of growth. Even with these small tricks farming a saleable crop was a long process requiring much patience, but as Gareth's song was now focused on a single, lone plant... the effect was amazing.

A vine soon erupted from the ground, growing several feet a minute out around the pair. Leaves unfurled, blossoms bloomed, and the melon vine was well on its way to bearing fruit. Diarmad walked away and finished packing while he waited for breakfast, and was ready to go when Gareth carried two round mellons over, large enough to keep them full for the morning, at least.

They finished the fruit, stowing a few seeds and another mellon apiece in their packs, and continued their jorney north.

A farmer's life is not a rich one in terms of currency. Most farmers may make enough to provide a steady flow of meals on the table, but a farmer is never considered wealthy. His riches are his family, and it is enough.

This farmer had lost half of that wealth, and it was becoming painfully clear that even the small savings his family had horded over the years was vastly better than nothing. He wished that the meager wealth of the family of Numitor could have been found, but it seemed that the muraders had taken it with them. Gareth and his son had nothing left to buy anything with. No food, no clothes, no weapons.... Things were to become critical soon. Travel can be cheap, but when you have nothing, pennies a day may as well be a king's riches...

Diarmad's shoes were in need of repair. Game was scarce for some reason, and there was only so much Gareth could do with his seed pouch.

A lone figure headed toward them from the north, along the road. Gareth did not feel like there would be much of a hazard, but he readied his broadsword even so. What little they had would be protected as much as he was able.

The figure revealed itself to be a wandering warrior, a mercenary that was outmassed slightly by Gareth's bulk. He signaled that he wished to trade.

Gareth explained that they had little to trade, a small amout of grain and little else.

The warrior was keen, though, and noted the melons bulging from their pack. The warrior had little to trade as well, but Gareth mentioned that the vine the melons came from was not far behind them, that there were plenty they had left behind.