Waking from a dream ...

Takes place the morning after this

Paris stared down at the bodies of the woman and two children. He could taste ashes in his mouth, feel the heat of fire on his skin. They had been hacked to death, small limbs lying as if tossed on the pile of flesh as an afterthought. He felt shock course through him, but the man whose eyes he stared out of looked down at the sight with a heavy heart, shock being a feeling he had left behind long ago. Paris could feel a little more hope slip from the man's heart, as he wondered, not for the first time, if they could ever truly beat the darkness back. Paris knew he would never give up. He had felt many things from him in their time together, but knew he would fight until the end if he needed to. He would not, could not abandon his people.

Then Paris was back, waking in Dave's house, his shoulder a little tense from sleeping on the couch. He stretched, and felt the need for coffee, even the instant kind as there wasn't yet a kitchen in the place, never mind a coffee machine. He quietly made himself a cup, hoping he wasn't disturbing Dave sleeping up on the futon, then took his coffee outside, and sat on the stairs leading up to the side door.

He sighed, thinking on his dream. Sometimes, they were dreams, filled with surreal imagery. Sometimes, like last night, merely snapshots from a life that wasn't his. The torn and bloody flesh wasn't enough to count as a nightmare anymore; it was just a fact of life. Fighting orcs, now that was a nightmare, the sound, and the smell … he shuddered at the thought. And what if this was the start of another cycle? If he threw himself into the job at hand today, wore himself out, he could probably sleep through tonight. He couldn't risk a full blown nightmare, not his second night at Dave's place. The thought of having to explain to Dave exactly why he was fighting orcs in his sleep didn't appeal, and he wanted to stay here, felt he needed to stay here, and he had learned a long time ago to trust his feelings. And he saw in Dave someone else with something hidden just below the surface. Someone else with a secret he didn’t want to share with the world.

Paris stared down towards the trees, and drank his coffee. This was a good place, it had a good feel to it, and he was looking forward to helping put it back together, making it into a home for Dave. He finished his coffee and ambled back into the house. Time to get started.

Theodred: In need of distraction ....

Theodred pushed his way into the Golden Hall, heart heavy, needing the comfort good company and good ale would bring. For once, he had left Brego in the care of Widfara, too weary to take care of the stallion himself, and for once, he knew Brego understood why.

The village had burned. They had got there too late, and he could still taste the ash that had filled the air. He had become hardened to the sight of death; warriors died in defence of their people, their lands, it was inevitable, especially in these dark times, but the children …

When the fighting had turned in their favour, and the last attackers were running, he had sent half of his men after them, and taken the rest back to the village to survey the damage, check for survivors. And that’s when he found them. Two children, no more than 5 years old, and a woman, probably their mother, lying in the dirt, hacked to death, their blood staining the ground. His hadn’t been the only pale face at the sight. The very things they were fighting for lay dead at their feet, and he had felt a feeling of futility wash over him. The attacks were growing in frequency and ferocity and his father wouldn’t listen to anyone but Wormtongue. Even his own son was ignored. Theodred had sighed, and had gone to help with the survivors, leaving Brego to rest for a while by a drinking trough that had survived the carnage.

Dragging his thoughts back to the present, Theodred spotted Eomer sitting in his usual place, and pushed his way through the people filling the hall to join him. He was in great need of his cousin’s company tonight.

First Day

Dave: *Paris managed to pull off a few minor miracles today, as well as the front porch. Pulling it off, that is. Now that it's completely down, it can be rebuilt from scratch. I still can't believe my good fortune to have him helping with all this. We've called for pizzas, I bought a small fridge today so we can at least keep some beers cold until the kitchens redone, and now we've both collapsed on the couch* I still can't believe you pulled that porch down like that, Paris! I swore that roof was going to get your head, but you're faster than you look!

( You thought it was gonna get me? There was one moment where I thought it was too! )