Post by ElliBleu on May 17, 2011 21:50:40 GMT -6
[IT’S SO LONG, NET, I’M SORRY. I made some rampant assumptions, so feel free to tell me to change aaaanything if you have other ideas or if I messed something up. Also, I'm open to suggestions for the thread title. I went with this one because of the song and because while looking at this epic list of Western movies, Desperado had Antonio Banderas in it. Though I was sorely tempted by 'Once Upon A Horse'. X3]
The valley was empty, which was not so very unusual. The rocky soil this side of the river canyon didn’t harbor much in the way of vegetation beyond scraggly bushes and tough golden grass, and the makeshift road through the narrow strip of land leading to the Fortress saw enough traffic that it was usually devoid of animals save the occasional speckled ground-running bird. Had Lahsoka been hauling a cart of goods back from the Castle Town or Kakariko Village she would have expected a greeting party, mostly children eager for goodies and a few supervising mothers or aunts. Her return trip from delivering a yearling bull- of the signature Lon Lon dairy breed rather than the Gerudo’s stringier, brown, desert-bred cows- to Lon Lon Ranch wasn’t particularly exciting. The occasional cattle trade kept bloodlines fresh and calves, not to mention trade relations, healthy.
The closed gate across the canyon bridge made her pull Roshan to a halt, brow creasing with a frown. The entirety of the Fortress always knew when their traders or travelers would be returning, and while there may not always be a guard present on the Fortress side of the bridge, if it was left unattended the gate should have been left open. In peaceful times they didn’t worry over the bridge-gate too much; any invading forces would be long in crossing the narrow bridge. She eased Roshan to a slow walk as they descended the shallow ramp to the bridge, calling out a greeting and looking for anyone across the way. There was no answer, and no evidence of any Gerudo about but out of sight.
Leaning to one side in her saddle, Lahsoka steadied herself with a hand on the horse’s broad shoulders, fishing about in the soft leather bag at her hip. A moment later she brought a small fired-clay whistle to her mouth, shaped to look like a little round bird. Two little holes on the top of each wing gave it a grand total of three notes, a tool for relaying simple messages- something like come, wait, or caution- rather than an instrument. Even Roshan knew what some of the note combinations meant. Bringing the tail to her mouth she blew into the horizontal slit, sending a single trilling note echoing off the rocks and making her horse swivel his ears about. It would carry further than a shout, but after several minutes she’d still received no kind of answer. She muttered a few curses quietly to herself, complaining to a sympathetic Roshan about all the ungratefuls in the Fortress, sending her gallivanting across the kingdom and then forgetting to leave the door open upon her return.
Roshan had crossed the rope bridge a hundred times, giving no hesitation when it swayed a bit under his hefty weight as Lahsoka nudged him forward. The trusting brute let the Gerudo urge him forward until his nose tickled against the latticework of the gate, giving it a disinterested sniff as she shifted to sit side-saddle across his broad back. A moment later Lahsoka was tucking her soft boots into a saddlebag and pulling her feet up beneath her on the saddle, keeping a hand on the saddlehorn until she had her balance. Still crouching, she edged up high onto Roshan’s shoulders, one hand in his mane and reaching the other out to the gate. Drumming her fingers on a horizontal crosspiece, Lahsoka used the other hand to tickle the horse’s mane and get his attention. “Roshan, aaaaah. Bit.” The same phrase she used when she needed to bit and bridle him. He snorted, pinning his ears back before complying with his Gerudo, stretching his head up and biting into the wood. What a silly woman.
“Good, stay. Stay.” And before Roshan could decide that, despite his fondness of the girl, he really didn’t want to stand on a swaying bridge across a canyon hundreds of feet above a rampaging river with his snout through an old gate, Lahsoka was up and over. A foot on the muscled curve of his neck, and a light, quick vault off his broad forehead was enough to get her hands on top of the gate, using momentum and a strong pull to vault herself over the top. The landing wasn’t a very graceful tumble, and she was pretty sure she’d felt Roshan trying to nip her feet as she went up, but she was across. It was a matter of moments before she had the gate open, climbing back into the saddle. Most travelers didn’t have a warhorse to use as a makeshift ladder, so she left it closed but unbarred. A little shoving and it would open. Roshan confirmed her suspicions by starting off at a brisk trot towards the Fortress when she barely had a foot in the stirrup, making her falter and cling shamelessly to the saddle horn while he expressed his irritation.
--
A couple hours later and Lahsoka could hardly justify making a fuss over a locked gate. In the short time she’d been gone more than half the horses had gone missing, and all but the handful of true dairy cows they kept corralled away from their desert-bred herds. There’d been nothing to indicate what happened. No alarmed cries from the animals, no blood, no broken fences, and no tracks. An overnight sandstorm, nothing out of the ordinary for the desert-dwellers, and they’d simply been gone the next morning. The Gerudo herds were nowhere near the size of the famous ones of LonLon Ranch, but it still seemed nigh impossible for a few dozen cows to be spirited out of the Fortress with not a soul noticing. The bridge across the canyon was only wide enough to admit two or three cows walking side by side, and the timid beasts would need to be led across by a halter. A large, organized group could have managed it, but a group with those numbers wouldn’t have gone unnoticed even in a storm. They apparently had a single prisoner, a man unfortunate enough to be passing through the canyon at the time.
That left the desert. The logical solution, since the herds were adapted for desert living. If you had available lush pasturage, why steal some skinny, tough, wasteland cattle that would probably get colic feeding on greenery daily? They didn’t produce much in the way of milk- the Gerudo tended them more for a renewable supply of meat and good leather. The Gerudo would recover from the loss of a cattle herd. To Lahsoka, the missing horses were the major cause for worry. Growing up alongside colts may have biased her a bit on the matter, but these Gerudo had been breeding horses for as long as the Fortress had stood.
For generations they’d bred these desert horses carefully and lovingly, producing fine, healthy beasts. Her own Roshan was a product of generations, distilled from war and draft horses. Besides those of Roshan’s breed were smaller, wiry horses obviously bred more for riding than hauling. The subtle changes were the most impressive, to Lahsoka. The horses had been bred into something more akin to a companion animal than a herd beast- they bonded with their keepers, and could be trusted to carry out a command even without their rider. Bones and hooves were more dense, lung capacity had increased, their hardy digestive system left them able to subsist on unlikely sources from thistle to near-dead grass.
If they couldn’t recover the animals, they’d be back decades of work and would find prolonged travel through the desert even more difficult. There wouldn’t be enough to haul goods and supplies to and from markets, and the Fortress’ coffers weren’t so full as they could afford to purchase two dozen decent horses.
A quick meal and change of clothes had Lahsoka seen into the command of one of their supervising matrons, a distant relative by the name Nefkoba, and Roshan safely stabled with no less than a dozen Gerudo in or around the airy building. She gave Lahsoka a tired, one-armed embrace before leading her up to the vast, flat roof-deck of the Fortess. Here they conferred briefly with a clearly over-taxed guard captain, who was glad to have a fresh body at her disposal, and sent Lahsoka- glaive in hand- to relieve the sentry guarding their unfortunate lone prisoner.
Not fifteen minutes after the guard disappeared into the Fortress, Lahsoka found herself eyeing the thick wooden trapdoor down into the rarely used cell. And, being cursed with the disease of the curious, it was only a few more moments before she was tugging the heavy thing open. She peered down into the dimly lit interior, raising a hand to shield her eyes against the glare. So briefly had she known the man that she had to blink a few times in disbelief until she believed she was seeing correctly. She didn’t know his face, but the mask and cloaks worked just as well. The door banged loudly against the rock floor as it fell open, Lahsoka’s hand curled over the edge of the opening as she leaned inside. “Unti? Is that you?”
The valley was empty, which was not so very unusual. The rocky soil this side of the river canyon didn’t harbor much in the way of vegetation beyond scraggly bushes and tough golden grass, and the makeshift road through the narrow strip of land leading to the Fortress saw enough traffic that it was usually devoid of animals save the occasional speckled ground-running bird. Had Lahsoka been hauling a cart of goods back from the Castle Town or Kakariko Village she would have expected a greeting party, mostly children eager for goodies and a few supervising mothers or aunts. Her return trip from delivering a yearling bull- of the signature Lon Lon dairy breed rather than the Gerudo’s stringier, brown, desert-bred cows- to Lon Lon Ranch wasn’t particularly exciting. The occasional cattle trade kept bloodlines fresh and calves, not to mention trade relations, healthy.
The closed gate across the canyon bridge made her pull Roshan to a halt, brow creasing with a frown. The entirety of the Fortress always knew when their traders or travelers would be returning, and while there may not always be a guard present on the Fortress side of the bridge, if it was left unattended the gate should have been left open. In peaceful times they didn’t worry over the bridge-gate too much; any invading forces would be long in crossing the narrow bridge. She eased Roshan to a slow walk as they descended the shallow ramp to the bridge, calling out a greeting and looking for anyone across the way. There was no answer, and no evidence of any Gerudo about but out of sight.
Leaning to one side in her saddle, Lahsoka steadied herself with a hand on the horse’s broad shoulders, fishing about in the soft leather bag at her hip. A moment later she brought a small fired-clay whistle to her mouth, shaped to look like a little round bird. Two little holes on the top of each wing gave it a grand total of three notes, a tool for relaying simple messages- something like come, wait, or caution- rather than an instrument. Even Roshan knew what some of the note combinations meant. Bringing the tail to her mouth she blew into the horizontal slit, sending a single trilling note echoing off the rocks and making her horse swivel his ears about. It would carry further than a shout, but after several minutes she’d still received no kind of answer. She muttered a few curses quietly to herself, complaining to a sympathetic Roshan about all the ungratefuls in the Fortress, sending her gallivanting across the kingdom and then forgetting to leave the door open upon her return.
Roshan had crossed the rope bridge a hundred times, giving no hesitation when it swayed a bit under his hefty weight as Lahsoka nudged him forward. The trusting brute let the Gerudo urge him forward until his nose tickled against the latticework of the gate, giving it a disinterested sniff as she shifted to sit side-saddle across his broad back. A moment later Lahsoka was tucking her soft boots into a saddlebag and pulling her feet up beneath her on the saddle, keeping a hand on the saddlehorn until she had her balance. Still crouching, she edged up high onto Roshan’s shoulders, one hand in his mane and reaching the other out to the gate. Drumming her fingers on a horizontal crosspiece, Lahsoka used the other hand to tickle the horse’s mane and get his attention. “Roshan, aaaaah. Bit.” The same phrase she used when she needed to bit and bridle him. He snorted, pinning his ears back before complying with his Gerudo, stretching his head up and biting into the wood. What a silly woman.
“Good, stay. Stay.” And before Roshan could decide that, despite his fondness of the girl, he really didn’t want to stand on a swaying bridge across a canyon hundreds of feet above a rampaging river with his snout through an old gate, Lahsoka was up and over. A foot on the muscled curve of his neck, and a light, quick vault off his broad forehead was enough to get her hands on top of the gate, using momentum and a strong pull to vault herself over the top. The landing wasn’t a very graceful tumble, and she was pretty sure she’d felt Roshan trying to nip her feet as she went up, but she was across. It was a matter of moments before she had the gate open, climbing back into the saddle. Most travelers didn’t have a warhorse to use as a makeshift ladder, so she left it closed but unbarred. A little shoving and it would open. Roshan confirmed her suspicions by starting off at a brisk trot towards the Fortress when she barely had a foot in the stirrup, making her falter and cling shamelessly to the saddle horn while he expressed his irritation.
--
A couple hours later and Lahsoka could hardly justify making a fuss over a locked gate. In the short time she’d been gone more than half the horses had gone missing, and all but the handful of true dairy cows they kept corralled away from their desert-bred herds. There’d been nothing to indicate what happened. No alarmed cries from the animals, no blood, no broken fences, and no tracks. An overnight sandstorm, nothing out of the ordinary for the desert-dwellers, and they’d simply been gone the next morning. The Gerudo herds were nowhere near the size of the famous ones of LonLon Ranch, but it still seemed nigh impossible for a few dozen cows to be spirited out of the Fortress with not a soul noticing. The bridge across the canyon was only wide enough to admit two or three cows walking side by side, and the timid beasts would need to be led across by a halter. A large, organized group could have managed it, but a group with those numbers wouldn’t have gone unnoticed even in a storm. They apparently had a single prisoner, a man unfortunate enough to be passing through the canyon at the time.
That left the desert. The logical solution, since the herds were adapted for desert living. If you had available lush pasturage, why steal some skinny, tough, wasteland cattle that would probably get colic feeding on greenery daily? They didn’t produce much in the way of milk- the Gerudo tended them more for a renewable supply of meat and good leather. The Gerudo would recover from the loss of a cattle herd. To Lahsoka, the missing horses were the major cause for worry. Growing up alongside colts may have biased her a bit on the matter, but these Gerudo had been breeding horses for as long as the Fortress had stood.
For generations they’d bred these desert horses carefully and lovingly, producing fine, healthy beasts. Her own Roshan was a product of generations, distilled from war and draft horses. Besides those of Roshan’s breed were smaller, wiry horses obviously bred more for riding than hauling. The subtle changes were the most impressive, to Lahsoka. The horses had been bred into something more akin to a companion animal than a herd beast- they bonded with their keepers, and could be trusted to carry out a command even without their rider. Bones and hooves were more dense, lung capacity had increased, their hardy digestive system left them able to subsist on unlikely sources from thistle to near-dead grass.
If they couldn’t recover the animals, they’d be back decades of work and would find prolonged travel through the desert even more difficult. There wouldn’t be enough to haul goods and supplies to and from markets, and the Fortress’ coffers weren’t so full as they could afford to purchase two dozen decent horses.
A quick meal and change of clothes had Lahsoka seen into the command of one of their supervising matrons, a distant relative by the name Nefkoba, and Roshan safely stabled with no less than a dozen Gerudo in or around the airy building. She gave Lahsoka a tired, one-armed embrace before leading her up to the vast, flat roof-deck of the Fortess. Here they conferred briefly with a clearly over-taxed guard captain, who was glad to have a fresh body at her disposal, and sent Lahsoka- glaive in hand- to relieve the sentry guarding their unfortunate lone prisoner.
Not fifteen minutes after the guard disappeared into the Fortress, Lahsoka found herself eyeing the thick wooden trapdoor down into the rarely used cell. And, being cursed with the disease of the curious, it was only a few more moments before she was tugging the heavy thing open. She peered down into the dimly lit interior, raising a hand to shield her eyes against the glare. So briefly had she known the man that she had to blink a few times in disbelief until she believed she was seeing correctly. She didn’t know his face, but the mask and cloaks worked just as well. The door banged loudly against the rock floor as it fell open, Lahsoka’s hand curled over the edge of the opening as she leaned inside. “Unti? Is that you?”