Right, I know I said I'd never change this but I am. I'm going to go through it a chapter at a time and fix it so its not such a monstrosity.
To understand this story better, it would be helpful if you two a moment to read this: you and happy reading! – Sus
The stable girl brushed with long, rhythmic strokes. Soothed and calm, she was amongst horses, all thought of the cruelties and unkindnesses of her world put aside. There came a tread at the door. She glanced up.
"Good morning, Lord Grima." said the stable girl as Grima entered the stables.
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned, looking at her suspiciously.
"Is it?" he replied. He seemed to wonder that she should speak to him.
"A fine morning for riding, if that is my Lord's intention." answered the stable girl. She looked away, but looked back as the silence stretched out. "Does my Lord Grima wish anything done?" she asked politely, as was her way. He narrowed his eyes.
"For what do you name me not 'Wormtongue' like everyone else in this city?" he asked accusingly. The girl looked down. She knew it had been a mistake. She should never have greeted him in the first place. But she felt such guilt and such sorrow for the man insulted by many, ignored by all.
"It is an ugly name for a nobleman to carry..." she said quietly. Her cheeks burned red and she raised a cool hand to quiet them.
Grima blinked and turned to begin to saddle his horse, but the stable girl did not like to stand by while such an inexperienced rider struggled with his own horse.
"Let me Lord..." she said and he looked up, startled to see her willing to help him. He stepped back and she began to prepare the horse. When she was finished he climbed into the saddle and rode off with no thanks and osecond glance. She turned back to her task, but the easy peace of before was not quick to return.
To understand this story better, it would be helpful if you two a moment to read this: you and happy reading! – Sus
The stable girl brushed with long, rhythmic strokes. Soothed and calm, she was amongst horses, all thought of the cruelties and unkindnesses of her world put aside. There came a tread at the door. She glanced up.
"Good morning, Lord Grima." said the stable girl as Grima entered the stables.
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned, looking at her suspiciously.
"Is it?" he replied. He seemed to wonder that she should speak to him.
"A fine morning for riding, if that is my Lord's intention." answered the stable girl. She looked away, but looked back as the silence stretched out. "Does my Lord Grima wish anything done?" she asked politely, as was her way. He narrowed his eyes.
"For what do you name me not 'Wormtongue' like everyone else in this city?" he asked accusingly. The girl looked down. She knew it had been a mistake. She should never have greeted him in the first place. But she felt such guilt and such sorrow for the man insulted by many, ignored by all.
"It is an ugly name for a nobleman to carry..." she said quietly. Her cheeks burned red and she raised a cool hand to quiet them.
Grima blinked and turned to begin to saddle his horse, but the stable girl did not like to stand by while such an inexperienced rider struggled with his own horse.
"Let me Lord..." she said and he looked up, startled to see her willing to help him. He stepped back and she began to prepare the horse. When she was finished he climbed into the saddle and rode off with no thanks and osecond glance. She turned back to her task, but the easy peace of before was not quick to return.