He didn't know this place. Never heard of a city this far up in the mountains; curious, that. Then again camp laborers didn't necessarily need to know everything about the world. Not even studious ones like him.
If you saw him at a glance, you might think him some sort of sickly Trolloc - covered in furs and skins; big, but not big like a Trolloc; furs matted in spots, with twigs and leaves old and new caught up in the mix. He moved with his shoulders hunched, shuffling in between the tress slowly.
He was hungry, hungrier than he though he had ever been. It had been a long time since he had eaten real food from a table - a year, two maybe? - and he'd been fine with what things he could catch and cook in the wild. But for a few days now, he'd smelled something he hadn't in a long time - warm bread. Fresh cooked, from any of a number of goodwives in the outskirts of this city he had stumbled on.
He didn't want to be seen - what if someone ran to find the nearest Child of the Light? But he wanted bread. It had been a long time, and bread made a meal whole. Maybe if he just snuck one loaf, while no one was looking. He wouldn't bother anyone else, and it would just be this once. Then he'd move off north, and hopefully not into another city he didn't know about.
He crept up in the mid-morning light. He could hear some bustle in the house he was nearing, but it was further in and away from the open window where a fresh loaf steamed. He'd be gone before they even knew he was there. Edging up, he made a quick peek and nearly spooked himsef; there was a portly woman not far from the window, but fortunately her back was turned to him. Sneaking slowly, he reached out and started to snatch the loaf. But this goodwife must have been mindful of cheeky bread thieves, because she turned to check it with a glance just as he had reached up and snatched it. A harrumph and stomping made him panic, and the loaf was hotter than he could handle. He turned to lope away, juggling the hot bread, when an ear-piercing screech rang out.
"TROLLOC!" the woman bellowed, and crashing could be heard, then followed by the loud clangs of something on metal. Taldorin shuffled back to the tree line as fast as he could - which, unfortunately, wasn't fast. His leg had been twisted and hurting since days ago. Behind him, the woman came out of her house into the street, calling the alarm and banging her pan as loud as she could.
If you saw him at a glance, you might think him some sort of sickly Trolloc - covered in furs and skins; big, but not big like a Trolloc; furs matted in spots, with twigs and leaves old and new caught up in the mix. He moved with his shoulders hunched, shuffling in between the tress slowly.
He was hungry, hungrier than he though he had ever been. It had been a long time since he had eaten real food from a table - a year, two maybe? - and he'd been fine with what things he could catch and cook in the wild. But for a few days now, he'd smelled something he hadn't in a long time - warm bread. Fresh cooked, from any of a number of goodwives in the outskirts of this city he had stumbled on.
He didn't want to be seen - what if someone ran to find the nearest Child of the Light? But he wanted bread. It had been a long time, and bread made a meal whole. Maybe if he just snuck one loaf, while no one was looking. He wouldn't bother anyone else, and it would just be this once. Then he'd move off north, and hopefully not into another city he didn't know about.
He crept up in the mid-morning light. He could hear some bustle in the house he was nearing, but it was further in and away from the open window where a fresh loaf steamed. He'd be gone before they even knew he was there. Edging up, he made a quick peek and nearly spooked himsef; there was a portly woman not far from the window, but fortunately her back was turned to him. Sneaking slowly, he reached out and started to snatch the loaf. But this goodwife must have been mindful of cheeky bread thieves, because she turned to check it with a glance just as he had reached up and snatched it. A harrumph and stomping made him panic, and the loaf was hotter than he could handle. He turned to lope away, juggling the hot bread, when an ear-piercing screech rang out.
"TROLLOC!" the woman bellowed, and crashing could be heard, then followed by the loud clangs of something on metal. Taldorin shuffled back to the tree line as fast as he could - which, unfortunately, wasn't fast. His leg had been twisted and hurting since days ago. Behind him, the woman came out of her house into the street, calling the alarm and banging her pan as loud as she could.
