Chapitres d'Estel -> Etude du Lond Daer -> [Récit] [English] Chute et conséquences

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Message Posté le: 20/10/2010 à 09:32    Sujet du message : [Récit] [English] Chute et conséquences

A fall, and consequences

"Putain de bordel de merde"

Nolethryth swore as much as she could while trying to stand back up. She had been told that swearing maintained the pain away, and she wondered how painful it would be without...
She grimaced and held a cry when she leant on her right leg. Her knee was aching like hell, and she wondered if she could step back on saddle.

Half limping, she looked around to find her horse, and had a sigh of relief when she saw that Hurt was well on its legs, with no apparent injury and only a few patches of mud over its body. She called gently her mount:

"Come on, Hurtsy, come on..."

The horse turned its head towards her, apparently displeased to be interrupted just as it found an appealing tuft of grass, but slowly walked in her direction.
When the horse was close enough, Nolethryth took the bridle and flattered the spine of her mount.

"Caaaalm, now. Don't worry. This has only been a small incident. We'll go on slower, and I'm sure there will be a beautiful haystack for you when we'll be at Welfthur's..."

She wondered if the said this words to comfort the horse or herself. Maybe both. Thank God, she was heading to the house of Welfthur, an old friend of her, who knew well about plants and healing. He'd be the best person to see.
The young woman took a deep breath in, and put her left foot on the stirrup. She couldn't refrain from uttering a cry when she had to lift her right leg over the saddle, and to pull a little bit harshly over the bridle, causing Hurt to express its discontempt.

"Okay, now, let's go... and hope the ride won't be too long. It's about to be a hell of a pain..."

Hors-personnage :
Ce texte a originellement été écrit pour le forum de ma conf' sur Landroval: The Veil


Il faut arrêter avec l’intelligence collective : la connerie aussi, ça se mutualise.

Alors serein, benoît, chafouin, plus
cauteleux que son hermine et plus faux que Loyola, il entraîne
paisiblement le royaume à la ruine, en souriant comme un imbécile.
Desproges, définition de François

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