So, I've been neglecting writing lately, and with NaNoWriMo just around the corner, I want to start again so that I'm in top form for the event :P. So, here goes with whatver my brain decides to spew out right now:
Marcus
Perhaps it was foolish of him; stealing a horse, running away, and then deciding that he liked it so much he would never go back. Then again, it seemed to him that he needed this change; it was like a breath of fresh air blown straight from a wet, clean rainforest. Even the dusty, unkempt horse he rode looked like a gleaming steed, complete with shining silver armour to his romanticised vision.
Still, he grinned with satisfaction as it trotted along the old dirt path, its pace fast enough to keep him on his toes. The trees on either side were bent and twisted, with many of them seemingly ready to snap and come crashing down on top of him. But there wasn't enough wind, he knew, so he banished the thought right to the back of his mind. What mattered was building a new life for himself; one of adventure.
Anyone else would have told him of the foolishness of his quest; especially had they known the particulars, but he would tell no-one. Not anymore.
It had been enough, the fight he'd had with his brother, otherwise known as the only person he trusted with his life. But that was over; a relic of the past. In a way it felt like freedom, being able to leave everything behind, with no strings to worry about. He could just wander around as much as he liked, until his food and money ran out, of course. There was that tiny little problem that he'd been ignoring as much as possible.
Still, he knew that he wasn't yet far away enough. He had been travelling for close to a week now, but he had to go further. As far as his supplies would allow he would go, if it took him another few weeks then so be it. He didn't care.
And so he continued, muscle aches and sores notwithstanding. He could very easily ride for all of the day and some of the evening. It was harder than it looked, but he developed endurance quickly and decisively. There was no more going back, he spent days telling himself that, moulding his face into a determined grimace. By the time he reached a small village far enough away from that which he had left behind, he was no longer a boy. He was a hardened traveller; strong and hardy.
The day he rode in on a tired old steed, a man named Alban watched. He was a blacksmith, muscled and strong, and he knew a good student when he saw one. Not that he'd had many, but he was in need of a helper. Despite his appearance, he wasn't getting any younger.
So, sporting a friendly smile, he walked up to the man on the horse and nodded. The rider seemed surprised at such a friendly and interested party, but he dismounted and countered with a forced smile of his own. He had spend far too much time with a grimace on for it to just disappear. Most people immediately guessed he had been travelling for a long time, even though it had been a short amount of time indeed.
"Afternoon, stranger," said the muscled man who'd come to greet him. The man had a likeable manner, and just a little, the runaway found himself able to smile.
"Afternoon," he parroted. "And who might you be?" he asked. Even though he was finding it easy to trust the man, he still wanted to find any ulterior motives.
"Alban. I'm the blacksmith here, and I thought you looked like a strong lad."
"Did you? Well, I guess you're right. Riding day and night will do that to a man."
Alban raised an eyebrow. "The horse held up all the way?"
"We weren't going fast, and he's stronger than he looks." In fact, he had been stolen from a particularly rich and disagreeable family. They hadn't looked after him well, so it had been an easy choice of target.
"Well, would you like to be a blacksmith then? I know a man on an adventure when I see one, but I also know all good things must come to an end."
"Alright. I very much like the sound of that." It was here. His fresh start.
"Good." Alban had definitely known the answer as soon as he'd asked the question. The man was a wily bugger. "But first, may I know my new pupil's name?"
For the first time, the young man's face broke into a grin. "Marcus."
