The Bonds We Form
..too much time has slipped away since last we spoke..
LORD BALIAN WINDSOR
LORD EAMONN OF EOHMARK
[/color] Eamonn commented. Hazel eyes peered down the path ahead briefly before returning to the Marshal of Turas Lan.
"I was on my way to the tavern for stout whiskey; join me...unless you have a pressing engagement." He offered; Finbar shifted on his hooves slightly.[/ul]
LORD BALIAN WINDSOR[/b] He followed Eamonn's look down the length of the street while the sound of heavy hooves battered the stone and snow below. At mention of a whiskey and stout Balian did grin boyishly before he would nod. A warming drink did sound fine to him. It would be good to catch up with his old friend a while.
"Aye, I should like this."[/ul]
LORD EAMONN OF EOHMARK[/color] Eamonn replied simply, bluntly. Though the Marshal appeared stoic, serious, and rather blunt, he was not cold-hearted or uncaring. Eamonn caught the smirk on Balian's face amidst the shadows the hood cast; the corner of his mouth twitched in a faint smirk.
"Very good." And with that, heels tapped against the flanks of his horse. Finbar set himself to motion and trotted down the streets towards the nearest tavern: the Bannockburn Tavern. Upon reaching the establishment, Eamonn dismounted and led the stallion to the small side stable of the tavern.
"The winter season brings more cause to drinking; I hope the Lord Windsor can hold his drink." Eamonn teased lightly. Once Balian was ready, he walked with him toward the door of the tavern and stepped inside; instantly the heat and warmth of the interior washed over him. Nods to those that glanced his way were given before hazel eyes spotted a vacant table. Pulling out a chair, Eamonn lowered his lofty form into the seat and reclined. Long legs, bent at the knee, were position beside the table rather than under it; the last thing he needed was to bang a knee on the underbelly of the table.
"Much time has come between us, my friend. How have you been?" He asked, glancing to the tender that came their way.
"Two mugs of whiskey." For both he and Balian.[/ul]
LORD BALIAN WINDSOR[/b] He chuckled with the thought only to let the cloak drop from his shoulders and onto the back of the chair before he settled into it with an audible sigh.
"I have had better days away. .. I had been summoned with the threat of starving the people of Artica if I did not take audience in Jerusalem." His eyes took notice of the two exits of the tavern, where each man sat, postures and demeanors were gaged with an unsuspecting passing eye over each patron before his eyes fell back to his friend.
"There is always someone looking for the advantage, eh? ..No such difference in the new King of the Holy Land and his hatred for Mulsims." Something Balian did not have in common with him.
"And you my friend, how have you been?"[/ul]
LORD EAMONN OF EOHMARK[/color] And even in his musings, there was some truth to Eamonn's words. Masculinity was further defined by alcohol stability; it literally made a man out of you. Not only did it have references physically, but socially as well. The fur cloak was untied and draped over the back of his chair for the time being. Eamonn listened to Balian's tales in lands far from Skye; lands that Eamonn simply heard of by the mouth of his sister and Aman-ud-Din. When the tender came back with their drinks, Eamonn thanked the woman and asked for a plate of venison.
"The King of the Holy Land is little concern for me; I am a simple Marshal and defender of Skye now. I have no interest in foreign affairs; little benefit comes from them. I am glad you are back in Skye; no one shall threaten you here or look to you with scorn." Eamonn meant that; should the King of the Holy Lands come to the shores of Skye with his hatred, Eamonn would meet the man with sword and shield. Pulling the gloves from his long hands, Eamonn sat them aside and reached for his mug; he downed a large swallow of it.
"I am in fairer times. Once more, I am glad to be upon these shores; the sea is certainly not my calling and I have no mind to do such again." Eamonn hated ships; he was still scarred by the first and worst experience. That would never change, no matter how many more times he stepped foot on a boat.[/ul]
LORD BALIAN WINDSOR[/b] He licked his lips once more before his gloves were tucked inside the thick leather belt hugging his hip for safe keeping.
"On the contrary of that custom.. I have come to rather enjoy losing my sense of self in the thick of tall mug." When the drinks were brought to the table Balian did nod his thanks before his hand came to the side of the mug carefully dragging it across the table before it was brought to his lips for that first taste of measure. He smiled faint and did nod just once toward Eamonn when he made mention of Balian's safety in Skye.
"Thank you my friend.. It was not so much my own well being that concerned me as it was .. ..Innocent people left to suffer because of my refusal. But all this is said and done now.. Nothing more to worry of it." He took another big swallow of the mug while listening to Eamonn further.
"I'm not one for the waters either.. . I hate it every time I have to go to sea.. I dread it. No horsemen should ever have to ensure being trapped on a floating coffin in the dead deep for weeks.. This is not for men of our sort. .. I'd rather Ride through the fires of hell.. spearing demons that be on a ship with men of no hygene for weeks and no landscape in my scope."[/ul]
LORD EAMONN OF EOHMARK[/color] Eamonn inquired. While the man was far from being ignorant, Eamonn was not a worldly man; to most customs outside of his own and that of Skye, Eamonn had no understanding or knowing. Of course, that did not mean he held prejudices; Eamonn was not without an open mind. Though, a light smirk crossed his features in response to Balian; tall mugs were the perfect place to escape the troubles of the world.
"I quite enjoy the custom of stout whiskey. In fact, it is customary." And with Viking blood in his veins, it was no lie. Unfortunately, innocent people were caught in crossfire; Eamonn could certainly relate to Balian humanitarian efforts and wishes. When the plate of hot, freshly carved venison came, Eamonn leaned over and pulled out his boot knife. Who needed a fork? Eamonn never used a fork! Without hesitation, Eamonn dug into the game and severed large pieces. To hear that he was not alone in the disfavour of the sea proved to be a small level of comfort to him. Even his wife held no fear of the sea; she enjoyed the traveling as much as his half-sister. Eamonn did not feel quite so alone, now, and for that he was glad.
"My business is to defend the lands and the people of Skye, not the waters. Let those who feel brave enough to bring war to Skye set foot upon land; I shall be there to greet them." Once they stepped a foot on Skye soil, Eamonn would kill any who sought to ruin the stability and peace of the nation.
"I am continuously surrounded by lovers of the sea; at long last there is one who finds as much disfavour in it as me." Stabbing a chunk of meat, Eamonn paused in conversation to push it past lips and devour it quickly.[/ul]
LORD BALIAN WINDSOR[/b] He adjusted his legs to stretch them outward into the unused path beside the table.
"Skye is my home.. There is no place I'd rather serve." Watching Eamonn pull the knife from his boot to eat did make him chuckle. There was another habbit the two of them shared in common. Balians tools for eating included a knife in his own boot and those five digits on either hand.
"Indeed, this is a land full of pirates and seamen.. None the less my friend.. .This is an oath we share and one I look forward to each and every time." He lift that mug back up for another taste only to continue on just where he left off.
"So much as I dread the next fight.. .. Its the quiet times that make me miss the next fight. .. We are but tools my friend.. ..Tools that need be put to good use keeping the every enemy of Skye in fear of the day they come to call these shores."[/ul][/blockquote][/size]
