Post by Durion on Apr 1, 2009 18:32:04 GMT -5
The men of the Calvary had all taken their horses out into the field for a days practice in handling the blasted creatures. Ever the inspirational type, the head of drills kept calling out things that ought to swell up a great deal of pride for the grand White City that they had come from, and should defend.
All it did was twist Durion’s heart all the more. His mount had put up a fight the entire time, though he could never find a horse that was to his liking. All were too much of one thing, or too much of another for the handsome man to find it made a difference at all. The worst part was, was that the horse-master swore up and down that they had been Gondor’s best.
And it was true, they would all behave for the other soldiers. It was as if they sensed something inside of him. It brought a smirk to his face. The dumb beasts of the city knew more of Durion’s treachery than any a man in Gondor. More than any woman, too, perhaps, if his younger sister was discounted.
It was hot, and summer. This far south, it was almost unbearable to be outside. Still, the Calvary was out. In the sun. Working hard. And for something that to Durion made no difference!
“Alright, men. Take your breaks.”
Finally. Durion thought bitterly, throwing himself off of his horse in a graceful, fluid motion. Nothing about this was pleasant. He hated the army. He hated Gondor. He simply had to keep his father pleased long enough so that he could come into his own---a true power under Sauron himself.
The others around him fought for honor, to protect their wives, children, mothers. He fought because with his father, Lord Daeron, having been a valiant server of the Steward until he had retired, it was expected of him as well. The only thing that had come from it, that Durion could see, was that it gave him a great pretense to avoid suspicion.
For who would think a soldier in Gondor’s army wanted nothing more than to destroy the White City?
All it did was twist Durion’s heart all the more. His mount had put up a fight the entire time, though he could never find a horse that was to his liking. All were too much of one thing, or too much of another for the handsome man to find it made a difference at all. The worst part was, was that the horse-master swore up and down that they had been Gondor’s best.
And it was true, they would all behave for the other soldiers. It was as if they sensed something inside of him. It brought a smirk to his face. The dumb beasts of the city knew more of Durion’s treachery than any a man in Gondor. More than any woman, too, perhaps, if his younger sister was discounted.
It was hot, and summer. This far south, it was almost unbearable to be outside. Still, the Calvary was out. In the sun. Working hard. And for something that to Durion made no difference!
“Alright, men. Take your breaks.”
Finally. Durion thought bitterly, throwing himself off of his horse in a graceful, fluid motion. Nothing about this was pleasant. He hated the army. He hated Gondor. He simply had to keep his father pleased long enough so that he could come into his own---a true power under Sauron himself.
The others around him fought for honor, to protect their wives, children, mothers. He fought because with his father, Lord Daeron, having been a valiant server of the Steward until he had retired, it was expected of him as well. The only thing that had come from it, that Durion could see, was that it gave him a great pretense to avoid suspicion.
For who would think a soldier in Gondor’s army wanted nothing more than to destroy the White City?
