The pair rise early the next morning and take a quick meal before setting out. Immalaine is quiet, reluctant to meet Rastellion's gaze and preoccupied with her memories. The innkeeper's wife glances out at them once or twice, and Rastellion catches her staring at the young farm girl, but the woman doesn't come out to greet them. and he chooses not to tell her about it. After breakfast, they head outside to saddle their horses and, accompanied by the two guards - both looking a bit bleery from the previous night's drinking - set out for the site of Immalaine's old home. Rastellion turns to her as they ride and gives her what he hopes is an encouraging smile. "Ready for this?"
Immalaine looks over at Rastellion with a small smile, a bit apprehensive. "I've come this far, I guess I'm ready as a person can be." she replied back.
He briefly reaches out to touch her shoulder. "You'll be fine," he assures her, then rides beside her in silence as they make their way down the road - though he glances at her every so often, trying to gauge her reactions.
As they near the old farmstead, she fidgets with the reins, looking around at the scenery going past until they get to the edge of a plot of land that's been long neglected. The grasses grow tall, mixed with stray stalks of dried wheat and the ground around several trees is littered with leaves and the remnants of unpicked apples. Her steed slows as she pauses to look over the land, her eyes focused towards the back of the property where the burned remnants of a barn can been seen. She takes in a sharp breath, as the memories of that night come flooding back to her.
Pulling the reigns, Rastellion comes up aside her as Immalaine slows and turns to follow her gaze. "We're here," he says - not a question - and nudges his horse beside hers to give her hand a brief squeeze. "Come on, we can tie the horses up at those trees. Will you show me around? Tell me what it used to be like?"
Rastellion's voice jolts her back to the present and she turns to him nodding. "Th' horses should be fine o'er there, aye." she says and points hers in the direction of the grove of trees, as he follows her and dismounts where she does, tying both horses up. The two animals sniff the air briefly, then turn to happily munching on the long grass. Rastellion instructs one of the guards to stay with the animals, the other to follow Immalaine and himself as they begin to walk forward, toward the weathered ruins of the homestead.
The first thing they pass look like they used to be animal pens. Looking around, Imma pursed her lips. "Used t' be quite a few chickens 'ere" she said, almost talking to herself. "Part o' me chores to get up and tend t' them. We had, oh, I reckon 'bout 2, 3 dozen o' them. An' we had a rooster who were as cocky as they come. He'd strut 'round like he owned th' whole world."
His remains quiet, staying behind her, letting her look around the old farmyard and grope through the memories it brings. He can imagine all to well what she must feel - he's walked, more than once, through his own family's abandoned farm, when passing it while traveling between Bree and his uncle's cottage.
Immalaine pauses, as if looking around the pens for the chickens, before moving on. "The wheat fields," she says, pointing them out to Rastellion. The lands were overgrown with weeds and untended wheat, brown and dry from lack of tending. "I used t' run an' hide in them, pretending no one knew where I were. O' course, they did," she added with a small grin. "I couldn't help but giggle."
Rastellion smiles. "I can well imagine it," he says, softly, not wanting to interrupt her reverie.
As they approached what seemed to be the frame of an old farmhouse, Immalaine stops and stared at it for a long while, as Rastellion moves to stand closer to her, keeping silent as she stares at the ruins of her family home. He gestures the guard with them to stand a little further away. Fighting back tears, Imma steps fowards to where the porch to the house used to be. She looks over into the burned ruins as she recognizes the outlines of where different rooms used to be. Off in the back corner was clearly a kitchen, shattered clay dishes and an old rusted pan lay scattered about. In the corner was the outline of an old fireplace, where Imma remembered smelling fresh bread baking, stews bubbling in a large pot. Her gaze wandered from there to where the table used to be, where everyone would sit around, talking and eating, the room ringing with laughter and more serious talk of crop prices and what to plant the next spring. As she looked, she continued to wander the perimeter of the house's shell, occasionlly pausing to run her fingers along a piece of wall, or a bit of wood. Finally, Rastellion touches her shoulder softly. "Where was your room?" he asks in a low voice.
Turning, she looked towards the back corner of the house and silently headed there. "It were here she said, looking down at the burned shell where her bed and dresser used to be. "I had this dresser, used t' be me ma's when she were little. It were scratched some, an' one o' the knobs were missing, but I didna want me pa to fix it. T' me, it were like havin' her there."
''We had an old, chipped mug my mam used to use," Rastellion replies in understanding. "Had blue flowers on it. Pa wanted to throw it out, after she died, but I grabbed it and hid it away. I took it with me when we left the farm; I've got it with me in Bree, wrapped up in my things.''
Immalaine turns, smiling gratefully as she reaches out to take Rastellion's hand and squeeze it. Turning back to her old room, she scrambles over the side of the foundation, where the wall was gone and stepped inside, looking around. "Th' dresser were there," she pointed to where an inner wall would have been, "An me bed were under th' window here" she said pointing to her right. "An' there used t' be a little table here, right next t' th' bed. I kept a little wooden box on it. It were a present from me pa, fer my birthday." She crouched down, idly running her hand through the debris, before standing again and kicking the dust with her toes.
"A lot of good memories," he says, softly, and Immalaine nods. "It were a good life, afore ..." she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she kicked the dust again. The kicked dislodging a small, partially burnt piece of wood, not like that of the walls or windows. Looking down to see what she had kicked, Immalaine paused, before crouching to pick it up. "Th' box," she sighed, picking up the piece of wood and cleaning it off. On it, could be seem a small latch, and she recognized it as the top of her little box. "This were part o' it." She turned to where she'd picked up the lid, sifting through the dust and debris with her fingers, as if looking for more pieces.
Rastellion comes to stand beside her, looking around the burned and tumbled walls, trying to imagine the building and lands as they must have been four years ago.
Back out on the main road, unseen by the young couple, a man rides a dark steed down the road. He slows as he comes in sight of the ruined farm, seeing the two horses tied up some ways into the property, and the guard with them. He hesitates, then rides on further, frowning to himself. When he's crossed the next rise, just down the road, he turns aside and leads his horse to a small tree amid the scrub. He ties the animal up, leaving it to graze, then walks on foot back up the short slope, bringing the old farm again into view. He leans against an oak tree, his features hidden by its shadows and his broad-brimmed hat, and squints downhill, watching the young couple moving about the ruins.
Ready to give up her search, her eye catches a glint of something metallic in the ashes. Reaching out with her fingers, she brushes the dust and ash away to uncover what appears to be a small bracelet, the metal blackened by fire and weather. She lifts it up with her finger as it makes a small dull tinking sound, several little charms attached along the length of the chain. Dropping the lid on the ground, she reaches over and rubs on one of the charms, a smile of surprise and delight crossing her face. Rastellion catches a glint of light off the metal from the corner of his eye and turns to see. ''What'd you find?'' he asks, stepping closer.
She looks up, then holds the small bracelet up for him to see. "This," she said, "Were what was in that box me pa gave me. It were me fourteenth birthday an' he had this special made fer me. He had some fellow make each of the little pieces, things that I loved." She goes through the bracelet's charms as she talks. Rastellion steps beside her, putting an arm about her waist, and watches as she examines the charms.
Immalaine looks at the pieces, darkened and caked with dust, though she recognizes them well enough. "This one, th' cat ... were fer me cat Gretel that had died earlier that year. The egg were fer th' egg hunts we used t' have t' celebrate spring." She flips over to a small floppy hat. "He used t' tease me 'bout th' hat I wore 'round th' farm. But I loved it, so he had it made too." Her fingers passed o'er a charm of a small frying pan and looking over at Rast, she grinned. The next charm was a small key and Immalaine smiled. "Pa said it were th' key t' his heart, as I were his only child I should have it." The final charm was a small delicate looking flower, though with the dust and dirt it was hard to tell what kind. "A violet, as they were me favorite."
Rastellion reaches one finger out to lightly tap the tarnished charms. "See... it's still your home, what's left of it. The place of your childhood, your memories." He gestures around. "Keep it or sell it, should be your choice." He takes her by the shoulders, looking her in the face. "Don't let some fat politician take what's yours." He watches as she looks down at the small bracelet, idly playing with the charms as she considers his words.
Finally he steps away, giving her space to consider, looking about the ruins of the once-proud farmhouse. Little seems to have survived - doubtless, most anything the fire spared was looted in the subsequent years. He glances around, checking that the two guards are alert and the horses still grazing placidly, then turns to look back at Immalaine.
Her head raises as she takes her eyes off of the bracelet and looks over the remains of the farmhouse. In her mind she sees the way it used to be, with the simple wooden furniture, the cosy rug she used to lay on in front of the hearth as her father told stories, the smell of pipeweed as he smoked his pipe in the evenings. He eyes grow misty as each scene plays in her head, and Rastellion steps back to join her, putting his arms about her again. "It's still your home," he says softly, into her hair. "Still a part of you. Don't let it go."
Immalaine leans back against Rastellion, still fingering the bracelet in her hand as she looks over the farmhouse. "So much lost," she said quietly. "So many ghosts ... so many memories ..." She turns to look at the neglected fields and the old barn where she used to tend the horses. "It should have been ... well, no use thinkin' what it should have been. An' I don't know what it can be again." She closes her eyes for a moment, listening to the wind blowing through the trees. "But yer right, I reckon. It should be up t' me t' decide."
"And if you decide to let someone else have it - well, that should be your choice... So," he says, tone firmer now, "we got t' see about getting those testimonies the mayor's office wants. Who in these parts do you think is like to remember you an' your family?"
She pauses to think about this for a moment. "Well ... she says, pointing up the road. "There was a family what lived up th' road from here. Used t' do a lot of business wit' me pa, trading seeds and crops. An' I used t' play wit' their children."
"Sounds lke a place to start. Get you one witness that you are... well, you." He takes her hand and starts to lead her back toward the horses, gesturing the nearby guardsman to follow. "Let's go see if they'll remember you..."
As they approach, the guard by the horses turns back from squinting down the road. "Something?" Rastellion asks. The guard shakes his head. "Just, though I saw someone standin' up there, on the brow of that hill. Watchin' you, like. Couldn't be sure, though, an' now I don't see noone." He shrugs. "Prob'ly just shadows and my imagination. We off?" Rastellion nods, gathering up his horse's reins and tipping his head down the road. "Off to the next farm over," he explains.
Immalaine turns, shading her eyes with her hand as she looks up the road. In the distances she could see the faint hint of a barn. "That way," she pointed out, turning back to Rastellion. He smiles at her. "Mount up, then ... and let's go see if you're remembered!"
(Credits and love go to Rastellion, who provided the voice of the male characters in this story. *Blows kisses to Rastellion and grins widely*)
