Post by hansel on Aug 13, 2013 19:09:42 GMT -5
Born Bungo Fastburrow
The shire was a merry place for pies and the smell of honey suckles to tickle the nose. The grass was lush amongst the bare feet and there was always work to be done before the nightfall.
Bree was the wife of constable Samin Fastburrow of the shrine and faithful servant of Sheela Peryroyl the watchful mother. They had a daughter Rosianna just few summers back., she a handful to manage alone but Samin was gone more often then not since her birth. Samin knew his place was at the shrine but he was voted as constable and he knew his duties and a man without loyalty and honor was no man. Each season passed and the journeys got longer and longer,Bree more restless then the previous season .
So came no surprise her eyes became transfixed on Milo Hiddenbottle when he returned to town to recant his stories of near death experiences in the local inn, where she cleaned tables to help out. The salary of constable was meager at best , it was all about the honor of it not the reward. Milo had leather bag that dumped on the table as gems and bobbles poured out onto the oaken slab. Milo motioned to Bree for more ale as he caught her staring at the riches scattered about the table for all to view.
“You like what you see, no?” Milo chuckled. Bree blushed and turned abruptly knocking a tray of ales to the floor before scampering to the kitchen for refuse. Milo smiled and made his way to the kitchen where he began to charm her with tales of silly close calls and brave moments that could be lost with even the slightest wrong move. She was swept into romance of this tryist. She never left the inn that night for home.
She awoke with curtains pulled back and the sun on her naked body. She began to flail about as she became aware of her surroundings. She was in the upper chambers and room tossled , trying to remember the night before. Milo had ordered himself flagon after flagon ale for the two of them to share. Her head was pounding and there was no relief from morning sun. The knock at the door was Hilda the dwarven cleaning lady must have been time to repay or vacate the room. Where was Milo, his cotton trousers and shirt were gone and his adventure bag had followed him. He was clearly gone and the nights events flooded her head.
It was almost a summer later when Bungo was born. Once she seen the young child’s eyes she could only recount that night at the inn before she quit the next day. Neither could bring themselves to love the child each tormented by his face when they held him. Bree never confessed to Samin but he was intuitive and viewed child as not his own. His only morsel of love came from his older sister Rosianna who was left to raise Bungo.
The time was passing quickly now and the last three summers the children of the shrine enjoyed taunting and then more so beating up Bungo. Bungo body was hardening , his mind as well but he was soft inside always relenting from his sister ever comforting. His father never cared about the on goings of Bungo or what physical pain he was endearing. Samin himself never laid hand to the boy. This indifference did more damage then any fists of the boys of the shrine could muster. He had realized that he was there for one thing and one thing alone to be the pain bearer for them all, his mother and father, the boys of the shrine and unknowingly one day his own sister.
Was just like any other day in the shrine for Bungo, heading home from recent beating. The house was empty though this day Samin was on leave like always and Bree at the temple of her precious Sheela Peryroyl but it was Rosianna that was the miss. Normally Rosianna would bandage him up and tell him it was alright to sooth his soul and body. Bloody cuts, bruising to his face and a nasty cut to his nose, he washed up and pulled himself together and headed back toward the square. No sign of her. The fancy clothes shop she was always fond of no sign. That only left the inn and that was no place for Rosianna , it was full of adventure types, town drunks and poor hygiene folks.
The inn was dark, damp and smelt just like Bungo had thought poor hygiene…….
The shire was a merry place for pies and the smell of honey suckles to tickle the nose. The grass was lush amongst the bare feet and there was always work to be done before the nightfall.
Bree was the wife of constable Samin Fastburrow of the shrine and faithful servant of Sheela Peryroyl the watchful mother. They had a daughter Rosianna just few summers back., she a handful to manage alone but Samin was gone more often then not since her birth. Samin knew his place was at the shrine but he was voted as constable and he knew his duties and a man without loyalty and honor was no man. Each season passed and the journeys got longer and longer,Bree more restless then the previous season .
So came no surprise her eyes became transfixed on Milo Hiddenbottle when he returned to town to recant his stories of near death experiences in the local inn, where she cleaned tables to help out. The salary of constable was meager at best , it was all about the honor of it not the reward. Milo had leather bag that dumped on the table as gems and bobbles poured out onto the oaken slab. Milo motioned to Bree for more ale as he caught her staring at the riches scattered about the table for all to view.
“You like what you see, no?” Milo chuckled. Bree blushed and turned abruptly knocking a tray of ales to the floor before scampering to the kitchen for refuse. Milo smiled and made his way to the kitchen where he began to charm her with tales of silly close calls and brave moments that could be lost with even the slightest wrong move. She was swept into romance of this tryist. She never left the inn that night for home.
She awoke with curtains pulled back and the sun on her naked body. She began to flail about as she became aware of her surroundings. She was in the upper chambers and room tossled , trying to remember the night before. Milo had ordered himself flagon after flagon ale for the two of them to share. Her head was pounding and there was no relief from morning sun. The knock at the door was Hilda the dwarven cleaning lady must have been time to repay or vacate the room. Where was Milo, his cotton trousers and shirt were gone and his adventure bag had followed him. He was clearly gone and the nights events flooded her head.
It was almost a summer later when Bungo was born. Once she seen the young child’s eyes she could only recount that night at the inn before she quit the next day. Neither could bring themselves to love the child each tormented by his face when they held him. Bree never confessed to Samin but he was intuitive and viewed child as not his own. His only morsel of love came from his older sister Rosianna who was left to raise Bungo.
The time was passing quickly now and the last three summers the children of the shrine enjoyed taunting and then more so beating up Bungo. Bungo body was hardening , his mind as well but he was soft inside always relenting from his sister ever comforting. His father never cared about the on goings of Bungo or what physical pain he was endearing. Samin himself never laid hand to the boy. This indifference did more damage then any fists of the boys of the shrine could muster. He had realized that he was there for one thing and one thing alone to be the pain bearer for them all, his mother and father, the boys of the shrine and unknowingly one day his own sister.
Was just like any other day in the shrine for Bungo, heading home from recent beating. The house was empty though this day Samin was on leave like always and Bree at the temple of her precious Sheela Peryroyl but it was Rosianna that was the miss. Normally Rosianna would bandage him up and tell him it was alright to sooth his soul and body. Bloody cuts, bruising to his face and a nasty cut to his nose, he washed up and pulled himself together and headed back toward the square. No sign of her. The fancy clothes shop she was always fond of no sign. That only left the inn and that was no place for Rosianna , it was full of adventure types, town drunks and poor hygiene folks.
The inn was dark, damp and smelt just like Bungo had thought poor hygiene…….