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A Hin's Tale
Posted: 21 Jan 2006 09:56 PM |
The Narrator Begins A Telling
Once, not so long ago, there lived a youthful Hin who ran errands all throughout Port Royale - sometimes delivering orders from the butcher out to estates, sometimes running nets to the docks, collecting tips to pay for his room at the inn, for which Margaret, the keeper of the inn, offered him a generous price. He was a likeable, wide-eyed Hin, as many Hin are – friendly, and most serious when it came to the pursuit of wonder.
This Hin, smaller even than most of his kind, loved when his errands would take him near the docks. He would sit and stare at the ships as dreams of the lands they may have sailed from and the seas they may voyage to flitted through his mind. He would breath in the strange smells of exotic spices and not even mind so much the ranker smells of fish, brine and sometimes worse, being one to generally see the bright side of things and pay little heed to anything else.
One day, after running some hooks and hemp-rope from the smith out to the pier, this Hin overheard a group of men talking in voices hushed, yet surly. His curiosity got the better of him, as it most often did, so the Hin wandered nearer.
Nobody notices the errand boy, the Hin thought to himself, deciding to finally turn that to his advantage. So he made himself busy by looking over strange fruits at a merchant not far from the men, and he listened in.
Now, this little Hin had ears better than most, so despite the men whispering, he managed to learn a few things. These men were pirates, and they planned to raid a ship. They wanted to capture a noble and his family, and ransom them for gold!
Oh… and the Hin learned that sometimes people do notice the errand boy – but he didn’t learn this until one of the men growled and pointed his way.
And that, my friends, is where our story begins. Indeed, it is what set our little Hin on a course that led him to all ends of the land and began his wondrous journey.
...to be continued |
"Beer is living proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy." - Benjamin Franklin
"I hate quotation." - Ralph Waldo Emerson :P |
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Re: A Hin's Tale
Posted: 23 Jan 2006 02:52 PM |
The Stranger and the Coin
The Hin had not realized he had dropped the star fruit until he heard it strike the cobbles at his feet, his attention fixed instead on the unkempt, glaring figure pointing at him. He took a few stumbling steps back as the other men, equally covered in a layer of sweaty grime, stopped their whispering and looked toward him.
Then the Hin ran.
He ran for his life, and he ran to find help for the poor noble and his family, his bare feet slapping the stones as fast as he could turn them over. He turned sharply, and dashed down a row of untended merchant stalls, but he did not run far.
A hand reached from the shadows beneath a vendor’s stand and jerked him by the collar, pulling him tumbling down. Nearing panic, the Hin tried to call for help, but a second hand had covered his mouth, and no sound escaped. He bit his captor’s finger, kicked and struggled as the man pulled him nearer, but no matter how he tried, the Hin could not break himself free. Soon, he found himself in the darkness.
“Quiet!” the Hin heard the stranger whisper harshly as he felt hot breath on his ear. “Or we’ll both be fed to the gulls.”
The Hin froze then, realizing for the first time that his captor may actually have come to his aid. His eyes darted in their sockets, quickly taking in his surroundings.
Darkness. Deep darkness under the stand. Late afternoon sun in the market. Some merchants and travellers. Not many. Walking. Standing. Equal mix. Some in pairs, threes. Some alone. The Hin squinted and focused on the feet in the alley. None facing us. Probably none looking this way. He made an effort to slow his breathing. Quiet.
The Hin realized the man had been right. Quiet. He pulled his feet toward him and made himself as small as he could, huddling in the dark, and swallowed deeply as he tried to find the courage to look up at the one who had whispered so harshly.
He finally did so, but could make out nothing, except a murkier darkness among shadows not quite as deep – perhaps a hooded figure. With all his courage he whispered back. “Quiet…” he said as he nodded.
The man emitted a barely audible grunt, that communicated more clearly than words a cynical, “Yeah, we will see.” Then the two waited, and time passed ever so slowly.
Eventually several men jogged past, and the Hin followed the progress of their legs as he remained hidden under the stand. One row of stalls over, the group came to a halt, and the Hin heard one yell curses before they split and made off in separate ways.
Having had time to regain a small part his courage, the Hin peaked out from under the vendor stand, trying to see if he could spot any of the men, but the hand around his collar abruptly yanked him back into the shadows.
The Hin rubbed his neck where his collar had chafed him from all of the pulling. Where were the guards, the Hin wondered?
Probably off loafing, he decided, but he did not blame them. He liked to loaf from time to time, too. Like the time tha---
Another harsh whisper interrupted his musings, “What did you hear?” the stranger in the dark said, apparently sensing that the immediate danger had passed. “The men, what did they speak of?”
The Hin looked into the shadows, trying to determine if he could trust the man. He bit his lower lip as he thought it through. Can't ask him to free me if I tell, the Hin decided. He will, or I bet he'd tell me a fat fib an' I'd have ta try an' kick 'im! he figured. But maybe... maybe if I tell 'im about the pirates, maybe he'll help.
So the Hin did. He told the man in the shadows everything – he told him of the men he saw, of the ship, and of the noble’s family.
“Can you do anything for 'em?” the Hin asked in an anxious whisper. “Can you make the noble man safe?”
The man’s grip on the Hin eased, and then he patted him lightly on the shoulder. “Yes, little one,” he said. “Though you likely have done so already.” The man fished through his belt pouch for a few moments, then explained in a more relaxed whisper than before. “I doubt they will pursue their plans now that they have been found out,” he said. “But if they do, we will be waiting.”
The man remained silent a moment, then pressed a coin into the young Hin’s hand. “It’s not safe for you here. Is there someplace you can stay? Do you have family to take you in?”
The Hin studied the strange coin for a moment. He had seen nothing like it – simple copper with a harlequin’s mask pressed on one side and two daggers crossing a quill raised on the reverse. He looked up to the stranger. “My family has been gone a while,” he said, his tufted ears drooping with sadness as he thought of the journey here, to Port Royale, those years before. Then he looked back to the man and seemed to cheer somewhat, “But Margaret, at the inn, she’s been good to me. I stay there.”
The man looked from the Hin out toward the market, then toward the sea. He breathed deeply, then nodded. “It’s not safe for you to remain,” he said. “The Seamist leaves with the sun’s rising. Those crates, there…” he continued as he pointed. “They are to be loaded into its hold. Hide within until you are out to sea.”
The man looked down once more to the Hin, and seemed sorry for the trouble the little one had gotten himself into. “I know the captain. He is a good man,” he said. “Once out to sea, let yourself be found, and tell him that you helped an old friend of his. Tell him you helped an old troubadour he once knew.”
The man studied the Hin for a moment to make certain he had understood. He then continued. “He will know your meaning and will make sure you are well cared for,” he said. “He will take you safely to the next port, and then on from there, you should make for Brandibuck, or perhaps to Buckshire.” The man squeezed the Hin’s shoulder. “I will let Margaret know you are safe, and make sure no ill comes to her.”
The two stared at each other through the darkness. The man remaining no more than a vague shadow to the Hin’s eyes. Even so, the Hin somehow knew that he could trust him. He nodded.
“Good,” the man said as he patted the Hin’s back. “Now go, and keep hold of that coin.”
The Hin did not hesitate. He was about to begin an adventure all his own… and onboard a ship! He took two scampering steps toward the crates, then stopped abruptly and turned. He peered back toward the darkness under the empty vendor’s stand and spoke in a hushed whisper, “I’m Brymbilyn,” he said. “Brymbilyn Kwynn!” – but he was fairly certain that there was no one left in the darkness to hear.
The Hin squinted a few more moments into the shadows, then turned and, squeezing the coin in his sweaty palm, he ran off for the crates once again.
to be continued... |
"Beer is living proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy." - Benjamin Franklin
"I hate quotation." - Ralph Waldo Emerson :P |
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