Zircon
Sedang Berasmara
- Joined
- May 6, 2002
- Posts
- 1,051
George Lampsere
“Ready…?”
George smiled his acknowledgement. For once in a long while, he showed his white teeth, his heart racing for the ride with Miss Lara. Willow did not need the crop to nudge her into a steady gait. Neither will the Countess.
The sun was well past its zenith, when they passed through the combs of sparse rows of oaks and ashes that lined both sides of the gravel path. The day was cool, a very nice day to be out riding. George was envious of Miss Annabelle, being able to ride freely without a care in the world. This was one of the rare occasions when he saw that another Lady having the selfsame feeling as Miss Lara was having now.
Through the boughs that parts the fields of the estates, George and Lara rode. Passing nary a farmer in sight, but the fields of barley and rye dancing in the wind to a slow magical music. There were farmhouses scattered about, but only the silvery wisps of smoke from chimneys announced their far apart locations. Through the long path through the wood of Cornish elms, Willow confidently cantered.
Throughout the ride, George had a large smile crossing his face. It had been a long time that he had felt that a ride would be so engrossing and wonderful. He looked back constantly at Miss Lara, who was revelling in the ride that the dear Countess was giving her. The Countess’ surefootedness was very reassuring, for both George and Lara. George had personally trained her, and it would have been his head if the Countess did not perform. But the dear filly was his favourite and strived to please him.
Soon, they were passed over a stone bridge over a small stream. The stone bridge had been here for as long as George remembered. He used to run to this bridge and fish from its sides when he was younger, almost as soon as he could walk. The silvery scales of the fishes swimming in the clear waters had always beheld his full attention.
He wished he could stop and relive his childhood again. But this time this was not where he wanted to lead himself and Miss Lara. Underneath the bridge on either bank was a path. From afar that was not noticeably, unless only to the locals who grew up here. The small path was overgrown with weeds, and meandered almost aimlessly, led to a small pond, which fed the stream. The pond was hidden from by a small copse of woods. Around the pond, grew willows, their long tendrils hanging over the water. The water lilies abound, as did the multitude of wildflowers all along the embankment.
This was a special place, for both Miss Annabelle and George. It was here that they, when they were very much younger, had spent long lazy afternoons accosting the various fishes that called this pond home. When tired of it, they would lounge lazily, falling asleep watching the willows sway and dance like in a ball, stately and beautifully.
This was the first place that George would look. If she were not there, then he would have to ride out further into the moors. That would be a much more difficult and of course, less interesting ride.
George tied Willow to a low hanging branch and beckoned Miss Lara to do the same.
“Come Miss Lara. Please watch your step, for some places are slippery.” George held out his hand to assist Miss Lara.
“Ready…?”
George smiled his acknowledgement. For once in a long while, he showed his white teeth, his heart racing for the ride with Miss Lara. Willow did not need the crop to nudge her into a steady gait. Neither will the Countess.
The sun was well past its zenith, when they passed through the combs of sparse rows of oaks and ashes that lined both sides of the gravel path. The day was cool, a very nice day to be out riding. George was envious of Miss Annabelle, being able to ride freely without a care in the world. This was one of the rare occasions when he saw that another Lady having the selfsame feeling as Miss Lara was having now.
Through the boughs that parts the fields of the estates, George and Lara rode. Passing nary a farmer in sight, but the fields of barley and rye dancing in the wind to a slow magical music. There were farmhouses scattered about, but only the silvery wisps of smoke from chimneys announced their far apart locations. Through the long path through the wood of Cornish elms, Willow confidently cantered.
Throughout the ride, George had a large smile crossing his face. It had been a long time that he had felt that a ride would be so engrossing and wonderful. He looked back constantly at Miss Lara, who was revelling in the ride that the dear Countess was giving her. The Countess’ surefootedness was very reassuring, for both George and Lara. George had personally trained her, and it would have been his head if the Countess did not perform. But the dear filly was his favourite and strived to please him.
Soon, they were passed over a stone bridge over a small stream. The stone bridge had been here for as long as George remembered. He used to run to this bridge and fish from its sides when he was younger, almost as soon as he could walk. The silvery scales of the fishes swimming in the clear waters had always beheld his full attention.
He wished he could stop and relive his childhood again. But this time this was not where he wanted to lead himself and Miss Lara. Underneath the bridge on either bank was a path. From afar that was not noticeably, unless only to the locals who grew up here. The small path was overgrown with weeds, and meandered almost aimlessly, led to a small pond, which fed the stream. The pond was hidden from by a small copse of woods. Around the pond, grew willows, their long tendrils hanging over the water. The water lilies abound, as did the multitude of wildflowers all along the embankment.
This was a special place, for both Miss Annabelle and George. It was here that they, when they were very much younger, had spent long lazy afternoons accosting the various fishes that called this pond home. When tired of it, they would lounge lazily, falling asleep watching the willows sway and dance like in a ball, stately and beautifully.
This was the first place that George would look. If she were not there, then he would have to ride out further into the moors. That would be a much more difficult and of course, less interesting ride.
George tied Willow to a low hanging branch and beckoned Miss Lara to do the same.
“Come Miss Lara. Please watch your step, for some places are slippery.” George held out his hand to assist Miss Lara.