'Here's to Friends, Love, and a Place to Rest My Bum '
"Why yes, I do remember that day... the day you almost had my head," exclaimed Ry, the house majordomo, as he hacked his hand across his neck.
Penderrin leaned back in his aged and battered wooden chair which groaned its disapproval. A faint smile played across his face and his eyes lost focus, drowned in revelry.
"And all for that... that pile o' sticks you call a chair," Ry continued with a scoff.
"But that day we gained much more than the return of this fine chair, my dear Ry," responded Pen.
***
'Twas a fine autumn day in Britain, warm with a nice breeze to offset, creating the ambient temperature called bliss. The birds were singing merrily, the citizens were chatting merrily, even the pounding of the neighboring blacksmiths' hammer seemed somehow merry. In fact most would say this day could not have been merrier. Most maybe... but that would not have been said by Ry Winderhout.
Ry was sweating profusely and anxious as the merry summoned slowly funneled into the music conservatory. He knew he should be pleased with this turnout, however small, for all the better chances of succeeding. Yet the grievous weight on his shoulders superseded any comfort he may have found. As the clock hand slid its way to the appointed time Ry began to build his courage to address this bantam gathering.
"I have asked you all here today for a rather unusual quest but one of the utmost importance to my personal well being. I am in the employ of lord Penderrin and recently it was my charge to move his holdings to his new domicile in Britain."
Ry paused and lowered his eyes for a moment to collect himself before continuing, for shame had just punched him in the gut.
"There was a... uh... lost item along the way and I need help finding it. Master Penderrins favorite chair..."
So began the plight of Ry.
***
"I've never told you this Ry," said Pen as he snapped back from the recounting of moments past, "but I want to thank you."
"Eh... what? Why?"
"Those who had helped in the search and rescue have become friends of mine. That moment, several years ago, began the forging of such staunch bonds."
"I guess you owe me!" Ry declared.
"And also this was when I had first set eyes upon the beautiful lady Synclaire, though little did I know then that she would come to enthrall my heart," said Pen with a sigh.
"Ah, yes! ....So speaking of lady Synclaire, when are you going to pop the question?"
"Very soon"
Afterword:
This is a brief recounting of an event I held several years ago that had brought me into the fold of friendships, guilds, and the alliance that I haunt to this day. And what the heck, I will end this with a question.
"Lovely lady Synclaire, will you be my wife?"
*The End*
*And the Lovely Lady Synclaire has read this essay now and said YES!
*
"Why yes, I do remember that day... the day you almost had my head," exclaimed Ry, the house majordomo, as he hacked his hand across his neck.
Penderrin leaned back in his aged and battered wooden chair which groaned its disapproval. A faint smile played across his face and his eyes lost focus, drowned in revelry.
"And all for that... that pile o' sticks you call a chair," Ry continued with a scoff.
"But that day we gained much more than the return of this fine chair, my dear Ry," responded Pen.
***
'Twas a fine autumn day in Britain, warm with a nice breeze to offset, creating the ambient temperature called bliss. The birds were singing merrily, the citizens were chatting merrily, even the pounding of the neighboring blacksmiths' hammer seemed somehow merry. In fact most would say this day could not have been merrier. Most maybe... but that would not have been said by Ry Winderhout.
Ry was sweating profusely and anxious as the merry summoned slowly funneled into the music conservatory. He knew he should be pleased with this turnout, however small, for all the better chances of succeeding. Yet the grievous weight on his shoulders superseded any comfort he may have found. As the clock hand slid its way to the appointed time Ry began to build his courage to address this bantam gathering.
"I have asked you all here today for a rather unusual quest but one of the utmost importance to my personal well being. I am in the employ of lord Penderrin and recently it was my charge to move his holdings to his new domicile in Britain."
Ry paused and lowered his eyes for a moment to collect himself before continuing, for shame had just punched him in the gut.
"There was a... uh... lost item along the way and I need help finding it. Master Penderrins favorite chair..."
So began the plight of Ry.
***
"I've never told you this Ry," said Pen as he snapped back from the recounting of moments past, "but I want to thank you."
"Eh... what? Why?"
"Those who had helped in the search and rescue have become friends of mine. That moment, several years ago, began the forging of such staunch bonds."
"I guess you owe me!" Ry declared.
"And also this was when I had first set eyes upon the beautiful lady Synclaire, though little did I know then that she would come to enthrall my heart," said Pen with a sigh.
"Ah, yes! ....So speaking of lady Synclaire, when are you going to pop the question?"
"Very soon"
Afterword:
This is a brief recounting of an event I held several years ago that had brought me into the fold of friendships, guilds, and the alliance that I haunt to this day. And what the heck, I will end this with a question.
"Lovely lady Synclaire, will you be my wife?"
*The End*
*And the Lovely Lady Synclaire has read this essay now and said YES!
*
