05-10-2015, 04:18 PM
As the sun started to sink beneath the horizon, the pair edged closer to a little village. Mickey felt a great pang of relief; for the first time since he had arrived at the Fountain of Infinity, he could see true civilization within his grasp. “Awright,” Conan sighed, “This is as far as I can take ye, I really should be gettin’ back to Craig.”
Mickey nodded. As if being in a new, unfamiliar verse had not already placed him enough on edge, their bloody encounter with the orcs had robbed the mouse of all ease. With his nerves heightened, he welcomed Conan’s departure much more than he expected he would. Besides, he always worked better alone. He had a reason for not inviting Donald and Goofy on his travels, after all… heck, he had not even told Minnie where he was going. Of course, that did not mean the mouse hated companionship; far from it, in fact. He recognized its value—he would not have survived his early days without the help of his buds—but, especially in recent years, he had also learned the value of thoughtfulness when it came to choosing allies. Not everyone in this world could be trusted. He hated that, but the truth was the truth no matter how unfortunate it was.
As night began to fall, the former King finally reached the walls of the little village. The gate towered before his miniature form, but he knocked as mightily as he could.
“Who goes there?” a voice boomed from behind the gate, and a small peep-hole swung open about two feet above his head. Mickey frowned. “What the hell? Goddamn kids,” the man’s voice growled.
“No, um—” the mouse piped up, waving his arms to try and get the man’s attention, “I’m down here!”
“Eh?” the voice grunted. Mickey heard some more unintelligible grumbles as the man looked once more through the peep-hole and finally found Mickey, standing several feet below eye level, waiting to be taken care of. “What the goddamn hell,” the voice droned, “uh—what business do you have in the great, majestic town of Bree?” Mickey’s face wrinkled a little bit at this—shabby this town was not, but he did not know if ‘great’ or ‘majestic’ were adjectives he would use to describe it either.
“Um, I’m… um,” he stalled for a second, thinking once more about the violent nature of this new realm, and his reawakening insecurities about trust. He saw no reason to give these people the benefit of the doubt if someone as nice as Conan could murder someone in cold blood, so perhaps it would be best if he did not reveal all that much about himself.
“Um?” the guard repeated impatiently. Mickey scrambled for something to say.
“I’m a… I’m a tourist,” the mouse nodded, deciding on the most innocent way possible to represent himself, “I’m seein’ the sights, makin’ the rounds, y’know, the usual stuff.”
“You’re in the wrong goddamn place,” the guard warned, “But it’s none of my business. I’ll open the gate, just a moment.”
Seconds later, the gate swung open, and Mickey stumbled back to avoid being hit. On the other side lay no man at all: the guard happened to be a very deep-voiced, very masculine woman, with a very big, very intimidating sword strapped to her belt. Something told Mickey the town of Bree was very careful about its visitors. The woman gave Mickey the once-over, and seemed to decide that he would not be a problem. She waved one of her large hands, gesturing for him to enter, and he obliged.
“Welcome to Bree,” she recited monotonously as she closed the gate behind them. “Up there on the left is the Prancing Pony Inn, where you might be able to get a room.”
“Might?” Mickey turned back, confused.
“They’re busy,” she shrugged, “And they don’t usually like strangers that are… like you.” She bit her lip with the slightest bit of regret as she said it, and Mickey could tell that she meant it was because he was not human. He nodded, understanding—if he could not bring himself to trust these people, how could he expect them to trust him? But at the moment, he had no choice but to place his faith in them—and so off to the Prancing Pony Inn it was.
“Oh, and little man,” the guard called after him. He turned around to see her smirking. “No tourist I’ve ever known carries around a stick that big, so stay the goddamn hell out of trouble, alright?” He placed his hand nervously on the keyblade, and nodded.
I’ll try, lady. I’ll try.
Mickey nodded. As if being in a new, unfamiliar verse had not already placed him enough on edge, their bloody encounter with the orcs had robbed the mouse of all ease. With his nerves heightened, he welcomed Conan’s departure much more than he expected he would. Besides, he always worked better alone. He had a reason for not inviting Donald and Goofy on his travels, after all… heck, he had not even told Minnie where he was going. Of course, that did not mean the mouse hated companionship; far from it, in fact. He recognized its value—he would not have survived his early days without the help of his buds—but, especially in recent years, he had also learned the value of thoughtfulness when it came to choosing allies. Not everyone in this world could be trusted. He hated that, but the truth was the truth no matter how unfortunate it was.
As night began to fall, the former King finally reached the walls of the little village. The gate towered before his miniature form, but he knocked as mightily as he could.
“Who goes there?” a voice boomed from behind the gate, and a small peep-hole swung open about two feet above his head. Mickey frowned. “What the hell? Goddamn kids,” the man’s voice growled.
“No, um—” the mouse piped up, waving his arms to try and get the man’s attention, “I’m down here!”
“Eh?” the voice grunted. Mickey heard some more unintelligible grumbles as the man looked once more through the peep-hole and finally found Mickey, standing several feet below eye level, waiting to be taken care of. “What the goddamn hell,” the voice droned, “uh—what business do you have in the great, majestic town of Bree?” Mickey’s face wrinkled a little bit at this—shabby this town was not, but he did not know if ‘great’ or ‘majestic’ were adjectives he would use to describe it either.
“Um, I’m… um,” he stalled for a second, thinking once more about the violent nature of this new realm, and his reawakening insecurities about trust. He saw no reason to give these people the benefit of the doubt if someone as nice as Conan could murder someone in cold blood, so perhaps it would be best if he did not reveal all that much about himself.
“Um?” the guard repeated impatiently. Mickey scrambled for something to say.
“I’m a… I’m a tourist,” the mouse nodded, deciding on the most innocent way possible to represent himself, “I’m seein’ the sights, makin’ the rounds, y’know, the usual stuff.”
“You’re in the wrong goddamn place,” the guard warned, “But it’s none of my business. I’ll open the gate, just a moment.”
Seconds later, the gate swung open, and Mickey stumbled back to avoid being hit. On the other side lay no man at all: the guard happened to be a very deep-voiced, very masculine woman, with a very big, very intimidating sword strapped to her belt. Something told Mickey the town of Bree was very careful about its visitors. The woman gave Mickey the once-over, and seemed to decide that he would not be a problem. She waved one of her large hands, gesturing for him to enter, and he obliged.
“Welcome to Bree,” she recited monotonously as she closed the gate behind them. “Up there on the left is the Prancing Pony Inn, where you might be able to get a room.”
“Might?” Mickey turned back, confused.
“They’re busy,” she shrugged, “And they don’t usually like strangers that are… like you.” She bit her lip with the slightest bit of regret as she said it, and Mickey could tell that she meant it was because he was not human. He nodded, understanding—if he could not bring himself to trust these people, how could he expect them to trust him? But at the moment, he had no choice but to place his faith in them—and so off to the Prancing Pony Inn it was.
“Oh, and little man,” the guard called after him. He turned around to see her smirking. “No tourist I’ve ever known carries around a stick that big, so stay the goddamn hell out of trouble, alright?” He placed his hand nervously on the keyblade, and nodded.
I’ll try, lady. I’ll try.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)