Cold hands, warm heart (Aramir)
Jan 29, 2012 20:38:03 GMT -5
Post by Kheft on Jan 29, 2012 20:38:03 GMT -5
<><><>
On this harbor shore
We hear the ocean call
In our minds at war
We have so far to go
<><><>
On this harbor shore
We hear the ocean call
In our minds at war
We have so far to go
<><><>
A wintry storm rolled in overnight. The sky, opening its mouth, roared fury down on the little fishing village. It was a Sunday, though, and all the weather's bad humor achieved was to make the fishermen and their families grateful for the four walls that sheltered them from the elements. Snow and ice spun in the gusting air, pelting the glass windows and causing them to rattle in the frames.
The day passed quietly for the DelMar residence with her mother absorbed by mending work for the town-folk - as it was her want to take in tasks that supplemented their income - while her father spent all day in the barn out back. As one of the village's carpenters, his work knew no weekends, and the current project was repairing a damaged hull for one of the neighbor's fishing dinghies. He had promised the job to be completed before the new week. Sam spent the time completing homework for Monday's schoolday. So, their weekend closed with relatively little disruption.
Monday dawned with sparkling blue skies and the promise of rejuvenated spirits, as though all the dark thoughts and anxieties the reaping had brought were scrubbed clean. Bells clanged cheerily announcing the departure of the fishing fleet for the day as Sam scampered barefoot through the house gathering her books, coat, boots, and lunch. A long woolen scarf wound about the neck muffled her breath into small, steamy puffs as she slammed through the front door and took off running along the snowy path leading down towards the village schoolhouse. The two buildings loomed in dark lumps beneath the white frosting that coated the slate roofs and dripped in shimmering icicles from their eaves.
Children stamped and skidded with boisterous energy from their various directions to converge on the front yard, separating out with the younger ones entering the eastern building and the older high-schoolers occupying the western. Classes commenced with the warning toll of the second bells, their tones a deeper bass than the earlier charming clang of the ships.
Sums, English… the subjects blurred together and dragged interminably. Never an avid scholar, Sam found today especially intolerable as her mind was nowhere near the problems set out by the teacher, and rather focused on her after-school errand. Her fingers found and softly rubbed the knitted sweater that was folded up and tucked inside the lid of her desk. It was still a puzzle how freely Gage had offered it, leaving himself shivering in only shirtsleeves. Time to continue thinking about the matter was cut short, however, as she was called on to read aloud from their history book.
When the final bell rang, dismissing the students for the day, she lingered, letting the other kids push and shove their way out the doors and scatter for home, a few lingering in clusters to gossip or exchange pleasantries. Sam gathered her belongings, and instead of turning for home, she made the short trek across to the high schoolers' building. A small copse of wind-bent trees sheltered a portion of the yard beside the gate, and Sam perched herself on the fenceposts beneath them to wait; her vivid hair making a splash of color against the stark white snow.
It was a familiar routine for Sam, waiting here in just this spot for the older kids to be released from classes. Their's running an hour past her own. She had always waited for Brooke, so the two could walk home together. The DelMar's lived further off the docks than most in the village, and it was a good thirty minute hike to the outskirts of town before you reached their house.
Brooke always said that a little exercise never hurt anyone…and the view was worth it.
The sound of the bell brought her from the reverie and the doors burst open like a cork from a bottle. The kids spilling out into the yard. A couple of boys set to gathering snowballs which they pitched at a cluster of girls who squealed and turned tail, running for the doorway and nearly bowling over its occupant.
Sam sat up straighter on the fence as she recognized Gage, and raised a hand to offer a shy wave.
