07-18-2018, 04:29 AM
✶✶✶
✶✶✶
Sir Neville of Longbottom tucked his mirror back into his pack and leaned back into the cool, wet grass.
The handsome knight gazed into the black sky above him, letting the starlight wash over his scarred face for a moment. The constellations above Camelot had become more familiar to him than the ones above London.
The laughter and chatter of his company was ever present in the distance. Back at camp they sat around a bright campfire, roasting various things and getting uproariously drunk. The men and women and dwarves roasted meat and drank ale, while the elves and gnomes toasted vegetables and drank wine or cider. Among their number were great heroes.
Gorlo Ironcock loomed large around the fire, the hulking barbarian guffawing through his mutton leg.
Bobbish the gnome samurai sat less large and less boisterous, yet an aura of quiet confidence radiated from him as he sipped his sake.
Denda Lilhana grinned into her cup of raspberry wine, the elven sorceress’s eyes bright and merry.
Sir Neville’s Company boasted over a dozen of the hardest fighting men, women, elves, gnomes, and dwarves the Kingdom had to offer.
He just hoped it would be enough.
Sir Neville of Longbottom pulled himself and strolled into his encampment, to the warm greetings of his Company. A dwarf shoved a tankard of ale into his hand.
“Sir Neville!” Gorlo roared, hoisting his tankard high.
“Sir Neville!” the company roared back.
There was a silence as Sir Neville and his Company guzzled their drinks, followed by a cheer.
“Are we all fed?” Neville yelled, to scattered affirmations from the Company.
“Are we all drunk?” he asked, this time to more enthusiastic cheers.
“Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, to scattered murmurs and silence.
“Daylight?” ventured Denda, a hint of a smirk on her elven face.
Sir Neville waved his hand dismissively.
“By morning the winds will be against us,” he said, staring off across the grassy plains.
Denda looked confused. “By morning the winds will carry us east,” she said carefully. “It is our best chance of catching the ogre.”
Sir Neville did not respond for a moment, his eyes seeing something none of his company could.
“I do not think we will be tracking the ogre anymore,” Neville said flatly.
The amongst the Company grew stronger.
“We’ve been tracking that ogre for days,” said Johnny Swiftfoot, a young scout with a good eye and a dragonbone bow. “Are we just giving up on it?”
“We’ve been running around chasing our tails for days,” Neville corrected. “There is no ogre.”
More murmuring.
“It was a distraction,” Neville said bitterly. “And now I know why.”
The knight turned to face his company, his steely blue gaze boring into them.
“Tonight, we ride west.”
✶✶✶
![[Image: neville.jpg]](https://image.ibb.co/djhHuJ/neville.jpg)
(07-17-2018, 10:50 PM)Harry Potter Wrote: She breathed on the surface of the mirror, and a foggy film appeared. When it cleared, she could see the face of Sir Neville of Longbottom.
“Hello Sir Neville,” Luna said pleasantly.
“Hullo, Luna,” Sir Neville of Longbottom replied through the mirror. His face was rugged but handsome, his physique was astounding. Neville noticed Luna’s fresh wound where her eye used to be. “Been having a rough go of it?”
“I had to kill a Hermione,” she said sadly.
“Er, sorry,” said Neville, scratching the back of his head and trying not to think about the weirdness of the Omniverse.“You know, I was wondering when you were going to call me.”
“There has been a great disturbance in the Force,” Luci replied. Neville nodded gravely.
“Uh huh, yeah, I did notice something like that I think,” Neville said helpfully. “For the past year my sword has been acting rather funny. Do you know what sword I use, Luna?”
“You wield the Sword of Godric Gryffindor,” Luna replied solemnly.
“That’s right,” Neville said. “And for the past year, it’s been glowing like mad, all red and gold. Hacked up some trolls the other day, and I swear I heard it roaring.”
Luna nodded, as if this made very good sense to her.
“Then about five minutes ago, it stops,” the knight continued. “And now here you are.”
“Harry is dead,” Luna said sadly.
“Wouldn’t be the first time, eh?” Neville joked. Luna stared back at him somberly. Sir Neville sighed. “Let’s go get him, then.”
The knights shared a sad kind of smile.
✶✶✶
Sir Neville of Longbottom tucked his mirror back into his pack and leaned back into the cool, wet grass.
The handsome knight gazed into the black sky above him, letting the starlight wash over his scarred face for a moment. The constellations above Camelot had become more familiar to him than the ones above London.
The laughter and chatter of his company was ever present in the distance. Back at camp they sat around a bright campfire, roasting various things and getting uproariously drunk. The men and women and dwarves roasted meat and drank ale, while the elves and gnomes toasted vegetables and drank wine or cider. Among their number were great heroes.
Gorlo Ironcock loomed large around the fire, the hulking barbarian guffawing through his mutton leg.
Bobbish the gnome samurai sat less large and less boisterous, yet an aura of quiet confidence radiated from him as he sipped his sake.
Denda Lilhana grinned into her cup of raspberry wine, the elven sorceress’s eyes bright and merry.
Sir Neville’s Company boasted over a dozen of the hardest fighting men, women, elves, gnomes, and dwarves the Kingdom had to offer.
He just hoped it would be enough.
Sir Neville of Longbottom pulled himself and strolled into his encampment, to the warm greetings of his Company. A dwarf shoved a tankard of ale into his hand.
“Sir Neville!” Gorlo roared, hoisting his tankard high.
“Sir Neville!” the company roared back.
There was a silence as Sir Neville and his Company guzzled their drinks, followed by a cheer.
“Are we all fed?” Neville yelled, to scattered affirmations from the Company.
“Are we all drunk?” he asked, this time to more enthusiastic cheers.
“Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, to scattered murmurs and silence.
“Daylight?” ventured Denda, a hint of a smirk on her elven face.
Sir Neville waved his hand dismissively.
“By morning the winds will be against us,” he said, staring off across the grassy plains.
Denda looked confused. “By morning the winds will carry us east,” she said carefully. “It is our best chance of catching the ogre.”
Sir Neville did not respond for a moment, his eyes seeing something none of his company could.
“I do not think we will be tracking the ogre anymore,” Neville said flatly.
The amongst the Company grew stronger.
“We’ve been tracking that ogre for days,” said Johnny Swiftfoot, a young scout with a good eye and a dragonbone bow. “Are we just giving up on it?”
“We’ve been running around chasing our tails for days,” Neville corrected. “There is no ogre.”
More murmuring.
“It was a distraction,” Neville said bitterly. “And now I know why.”
The knight turned to face his company, his steely blue gaze boring into them.
“Tonight, we ride west.”
✶✶✶