Read Online Trek to Kraggen-Cor by 1932- Dennis L. McKiernan - Free Book Online
Authors: 1932- Dennis L. McKiernan
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soft amber-jewelled eyes atwin-kle, "you big oaf, you nearly scared me to death, jumping out of the doorway at me like that. Did you hurt yourself now, runnin' into the wall and all?"
"Oh no, Miss Holly, I'm all right, and I didn't mean to scare you. But I'm late getting up, and . . . say, where's Mister Perry? Is he awake? And the visitors, are they up and about?" asked Cotton, continuing to fumble with his shirttail.
"Why they were up and gone long ago, early this morning," replied Holly.
"Gone? Oh no!" wailed Cotton. "Mister Perry can't go away without me. He needs me! Much as I don't want to go, I've got to—for Mister Perry's sake."
"Wait, Cotton"—a puzzled frown settled upon Holly's gentle features— "only the strangers left this morning. Mister Perry is still here—here at The Root. He's in the study. But what's all this about his going away somewhere and you with him? Going where for what?"
"Why he's going off to Drimmen-deeve to fight Rucks and such," answered Cotton. "And me, well I'm going with him." And a look of wonder fell upon Cotton as he realized what he had said. "That's right, Miss Holly, I'm going with him." Cotton turned and rushed away and did not see the frightened look that sprang up behind Holly's eyes.
Well I reckon he's put both of our feet into it now, right enough, and we 're in a pretty pickle if you ask me, thought Cotton as he hurried toward the study. / wonder where the visitors went off to this morning. And are Mister Perry and me really going away from the Bosky?
Cotton slid to a stop in the doorway of the den, and his mouth dropped open in amazement: Peregrin Fairhill stood before him, armored in the silveron mail and grasping the long Elven-knife, Bane, in his right fist. "Cotton, look!" cried Perry, holding his arms straight out from his sides and pirouetting. "The starsilver fits me as if I were born to it. And Bane, well Bane is just the proper-sized sword for a Warrow hand." The buccan swished the blade through the air with an elaborate flourish.
"Oh, Cotton," continued Perry, his sapphirine gaze upon the upraised sword, "it seems I've dreamed of this all my scholarly years. It will be an adventure of a lifetime: swords and armor, phalanxes of marching warriors, pavilions and pennons, glittering helms, shields, hauberks, pikes. Oh, how glorious it will be!"
Cotton looked doubtful. "But Sir, it seems to me that War is just bloody slaughter. And this War won't be no different, except the fighting and killing will be done in a great, dark hole in the ground. Many a friend will perish. Shiny swords and pretty flags there'll be aplenty, but agony and Death will be there too."
"Of course, of course, Cotton"—Perry frowned—"everyone knows that
killing the enemy is part of War. And you can't have a battle without taking a few wounds." Then Perry's jewel-like eyes seemed to focus upon a distant vision of splendor. "Glorious," he breathed.
"Pardon me, Mister Perry," Cotton interrupted Perry's woolgathering, "but just where have our visitors got off to? Holly says that they've gone away. How can we go off to Drimmen-deeve without them?"
"Oh, they'll be back. Lord Kian has just gone down to the marketplace to get supplies for our trip to the Landover Road Ford, and Anval and Borin are off to Budgens to get the waggon and team." Then Perry looked sharply at his friend. "What did you say, Cotton? Did you say that we were going to Drimmen-deeve? Do you mean to come too?" And when Cotton nodded dumbly, Perry shouted for joy and began capering about the room, slashing the air with Bane. "Take that and that and that, you Spawn!" He stabbed at imaginary foes. "Beware, maggot-folk, the Warrows are coming!" Then, slamming Bane home in the worn scabbard at his belt, Perry took Cotton by the arm. "We've got to get ourselves outfitted properly for this venture," he declared, and began rushing about the room selecting arms and armor for himself and Cotton.
His choices, though somewhat
"Oh no, Miss Holly, I'm all right, and I didn't mean to scare you. But I'm late getting up, and . . . say, where's Mister Perry? Is he awake? And the visitors, are they up and about?" asked Cotton, continuing to fumble with his shirttail.
"Why they were up and gone long ago, early this morning," replied Holly.
"Gone? Oh no!" wailed Cotton. "Mister Perry can't go away without me. He needs me! Much as I don't want to go, I've got to—for Mister Perry's sake."
"Wait, Cotton"—a puzzled frown settled upon Holly's gentle features— "only the strangers left this morning. Mister Perry is still here—here at The Root. He's in the study. But what's all this about his going away somewhere and you with him? Going where for what?"
"Why he's going off to Drimmen-deeve to fight Rucks and such," answered Cotton. "And me, well I'm going with him." And a look of wonder fell upon Cotton as he realized what he had said. "That's right, Miss Holly, I'm going with him." Cotton turned and rushed away and did not see the frightened look that sprang up behind Holly's eyes.
Well I reckon he's put both of our feet into it now, right enough, and we 're in a pretty pickle if you ask me, thought Cotton as he hurried toward the study. / wonder where the visitors went off to this morning. And are Mister Perry and me really going away from the Bosky?
Cotton slid to a stop in the doorway of the den, and his mouth dropped open in amazement: Peregrin Fairhill stood before him, armored in the silveron mail and grasping the long Elven-knife, Bane, in his right fist. "Cotton, look!" cried Perry, holding his arms straight out from his sides and pirouetting. "The starsilver fits me as if I were born to it. And Bane, well Bane is just the proper-sized sword for a Warrow hand." The buccan swished the blade through the air with an elaborate flourish.
"Oh, Cotton," continued Perry, his sapphirine gaze upon the upraised sword, "it seems I've dreamed of this all my scholarly years. It will be an adventure of a lifetime: swords and armor, phalanxes of marching warriors, pavilions and pennons, glittering helms, shields, hauberks, pikes. Oh, how glorious it will be!"
Cotton looked doubtful. "But Sir, it seems to me that War is just bloody slaughter. And this War won't be no different, except the fighting and killing will be done in a great, dark hole in the ground. Many a friend will perish. Shiny swords and pretty flags there'll be aplenty, but agony and Death will be there too."
"Of course, of course, Cotton"—Perry frowned—"everyone knows that
killing the enemy is part of War. And you can't have a battle without taking a few wounds." Then Perry's jewel-like eyes seemed to focus upon a distant vision of splendor. "Glorious," he breathed.
"Pardon me, Mister Perry," Cotton interrupted Perry's woolgathering, "but just where have our visitors got off to? Holly says that they've gone away. How can we go off to Drimmen-deeve without them?"
"Oh, they'll be back. Lord Kian has just gone down to the marketplace to get supplies for our trip to the Landover Road Ford, and Anval and Borin are off to Budgens to get the waggon and team." Then Perry looked sharply at his friend. "What did you say, Cotton? Did you say that we were going to Drimmen-deeve? Do you mean to come too?" And when Cotton nodded dumbly, Perry shouted for joy and began capering about the room, slashing the air with Bane. "Take that and that and that, you Spawn!" He stabbed at imaginary foes. "Beware, maggot-folk, the Warrows are coming!" Then, slamming Bane home in the worn scabbard at his belt, Perry took Cotton by the arm. "We've got to get ourselves outfitted properly for this venture," he declared, and began rushing about the room selecting arms and armor for himself and Cotton.
His choices, though somewhat
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