Morgan's Farm

[Morgan]

Small and squat, the stone cottages in the village of Clun, nestle in a small vale next to a wide, deep river.

On the outskirts, just off the main sandy road which cuts through the heart of the village, sits what appears to be an abandoned farm. Its house is missing part of the thatched roof and the barns are in bad disrepair. The fields are overgrown with weeds, which have choked the crops which were trying to grow. The previous tenant was imprisoned by the Sheriff of Nottingham for not paying his taxes. The land went to the Crown and, after Morgan was released from the Saracen prison in which he had been held, King Richard gifted the farm and surrounding land to his half brother.

Now, on his return to England, Morgan rides towards Clun to claim his small estate.

~::~

Morgan looked around the dilapidated farmyard from his horse's back. He gave a sigh. Perhaps he'd known, deep down, that Richard's generosity was too good to be true, but on the other hand maybe his half brother hadn't been aware that the farm was terribly run down.

Swinging his leg over Pilgrim's back, Morgan dismounted the old warhorse. Leaving the horse's reins loose, the knight-turned-landowner crossed the yard and tried the door to the farmhouse. It creaked open. It was dark and damp inside the dwelling, and Morgan wrinkled his nose at the fusty smell. Shuffling forwards carefully, Morgan waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Faint daylight showed through the roof where the thatch was damaged, whilst light was also showing around the side of the shuttered windows and he headed towards them, fumbled with the catches then threw the shutters wide open. Morgan took a deep breath of fresh air then turned back to study the room.

It was a large hall with a big open hearth at one end. A sturdy oak table dominated the centre of the room. To the right, a staircase led to an upstairs landing, where he could count at least two doors, obviously bedrooms. On the other side of the staircase, Morgan spied a doorway and walked over to peer through it. A bread oven dominated the corner and there was another empty store room just off it.

"Well its not a castle, but it will be a home." Morgan said to himself. His first task was to find some village women who would be willing to earn a few pennies to clean the place and make it habitable. Looking up to the rafters, he keenly assessed the state of his roof. He'd need a thatcher to repair that as soon as possible and, if Morgan was lucky, there'd be one in the village.

Morgan turned and walked towards the door where he paused again. This farm would not make him rich but, if he was lucky, it would provide enough to make sure that he and his dependents wouldn't starve when winter came.

[Morgan]

The morning chores completed around the farmyard and the labourers given their jobs for the day, Morgan had washed and changed into his finery. Pilgrim was already harnessed and Morgan lead his old warhorse into the farm yard and tethered the horse to a post. He felt a little ill at ease in his best tunic and couldn't help but fidget a little. However, Morgan also had some coins in his pouch and they were burning a hole, so to speak. Morgan gave a sigh. He had a burning desire to get riproaringly drunk tonight, whatever the cost.

Idling in the farm yard, Morgan looked over his property.
It was hard to think that, just a few short months ago, the place had been overgrown and falling down around his ears. Now the farmhouse had a new roof, as did the barns, there were winter crops in the fields and hopefully enough food in the stores to see him and his dependants through the winter.

Morgan scuffed a stone with the toe of his boot. Time was wasting and he was getting impatient. Walking to the door of his farmhouse, he leaned through the open door. "Are you coming with me or not, Devon?" he hollered. "The day's awasting."

[Devon Creek]

Devon rose from the warm, messy bed sleepily. Still drowsy from a good night's sleep, she padded across the sun-filled room to the pile of things in the corner. Her bags, a few of her other belongings and one of Morgan's tunics were among the mess. She waded through the pile to find something to wear, when her fingers found something cold. Lifting her hands, she discovered the handful of coins she'd kept from Gisborne's stash. Well, there was no use in letting them go to waste, so she tucked a few into her boots and hastily pulled Morgan's tunic over her head.

It felt strange to wear something of his and she couldn't describe why. She put it down to the fact that it wasn't ridden with holes and that it was actually clean. Shaking her head, she slipped on her boots and walked down to the kitchen, intent of finding some food. A left over piece of bread was halfway to her mouth when she heard Morgan call her.

"What?" she asked though the bread as she stepped into the sun. Chewing quickly, she asked again. "You're going somewhere?" She ran a hand through her hair, making it stand on end like brown spikes atop her head and shrugged. "I'm not an expert on these things, but doesn't someone need to, you know..." she waved a hand over the farm and shrugged again. "You'd probably know better than I would." She popped the rest of the bread in her mouth and tugged at her shirt.

[Morgan]

Morgan nodded as Devon stated the obvious. "Well, yes, Nottingham as a matter of fact. Do you want to come along for the ride? You'd have to take the pillion pad behind me though, but Pilgrim is strong enough to carry the two of us." He replied, his eyes raking over her. Morgan noted that she was wearing the old shirt he'd given her last night. It was funny, in a strange sort of way, to see her in his clothes. "The chores were all done while you were still asleep," Morgan snorted back a laugh, "The planting is all done so there's nothing that won't keep until tomorrow. When you were away," He continued, "I hired a couple of good men from the village. They'll check the place and feed the animals later. So, are you coming or not? Only daylight's wasting and I want to be on my way."

He stood there, feet planted slightly apart, with his arms folded, waiting for Devon to make up her mind.

[Devon Creek]

"Nottingham, eh?" She flattened her hair and nodded. "First day on the job and I already have a day off. You definitely won't hear me complaining." She glanced at the horse warily.

"Eh, you sure I couldn't just walk behind you two? I'd rather not make an arse of myself like I did at G-" Devon snapped her mouth shut and grinned at Morgan. "You probably don't want to hear the end of that story." She told him with a light laugh. "And don't you go mocking me about sleeping. I need my beauty rest." She walked to stand beside Morgan and Pilgrim and shook her head.

"I'd really prefer to walk." Memories of her epic failure with Allan came to mind and the idea of embarrassing herself in front of Morgan again had no appeal.

[Morgan]

Morgan cocked his head to one side and grinned at Devon. "If its a story you think I shouldn't hear, then I'll certainly keep badgering you until you do!" He laughed. "Look, theres nothing to worry about. Riding Pilgrim is like sitting in a rocking chair. If you're really worried, then you can grab hold of my belt. I won't mind, honestly." He smiled again, a little more shyly. Morgan wondered if he should say something about Devon not needing beauty sleep, but decided against it. That would be flirting too much and he still wasn't sure what footing their relationship was on.

Turning, Morgan gathered up Pilgrim's reins and placed his foot in the stirrup. Boosting himself upwards and cocking his leg over the saddle, he settled himself on his horse's back. With a touch of the reins, Morgan moved Pilgrim closer to Devon. Leaning down, he held out his hand to her. "If you walked, you wouldn't be there until the afternoon. Trust me, this is much quicker."

[Devon Creek]

"Quicker, sure, but safer, not so much. Not with the likes of me..." Devon 'hm'ed and hawed for a moment, but gave in and rolled her eyes.

"All right," she said grabbing Morgan's hand. She hoisted herself up, managing to get up on the first try. So far, it was a much better performance than the one she'd given Allan. She wobbled, her balance shot when Pilgrim shifted under the added weight. She grabbed Morgan's forearm to steady herself, muttering under her breath. When the steed stopped moving, she let go of Morgan slowly.

"Thanks," she breathed while scratching the back of her neck, mildly embarrassed. Her blush deepened when she couldn't find anything to hold onto.

"If you're really worried, then you can grab hold of my belt." Devon looked away, intent on just balancing without any help when Pilgrim took an impatient step forward. Devon groaned and latched onto Morgan's belt. She felt like an idiot! He'd said she could hold onto his belt, so why did she feel so odd? Had it been anyone else, she would have made a joke of it, but she didn't know how to really act around him, and it felt as if they were both venturing very carefully around each other. Like to animals that were wary of each other, trying to detect any threat.

"You know, it's not the riding that worries me." She explained, trying to ignore the annoying fluttering nervousness she felt. She hadn't felt it when she'd been riding with Allan, but she decided that was because she had been running on adrenaline. At least, that was the only answer she'd admit. "It's the thought that the horse will decide it doesn't like me anymore and send me flying. Happened a few times and it seems, to me at least, that all horses have a similar opinion of me." She laughed a little, surprising herself.

[Morgan]

Morgan chuckled as he touched his heels to Pilgrim's flanks and the gelding moved forwards. "You have nothing to worry about, Pilgrim is an old gentleman now." He leaned forwards and patted the horse's neck. "The things we've been through, eh old fella?" Morgan added to the horse as they headed out onto the village road.

At the turning, Morgan guided his mount with the reins and they headed towards the forest road for Nottingham. "He knows his manners." he looked over his shoulder at Devon. "And if he did buck you off, I'm sure Pilgrim would find a nice soft grassy bit of ground to do it." Morgan gave a low laugh. Pilgrim whickered and pulled at the bit so Morgan kicked him on and together, they started trotting down the road.

(ooc: Devon, perhaps the next post should be in the forest?)