Tally-ho! [Open]

[Niamh Dunlevy]

Country: Mid-west Wales
Area/Setting:
An open field in the middle of nowhere. Trees surround it (how typical), and the ground is slightly muddy. Patches of forest can be seen here and there. There are no roads in sight, just the vast expanse of the wilderness.

Current Time: 10:15
Weather Conditions: Mild, overcast, some sun peeking through. There is a small chance for rain.

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"THALLY-HOOOOOOOOO!" the Pavee boomed, whooping loudly as Drummer sailed over a log. The horse's hoofbeats were like thunder, his heart matching the rhythm his steps made. His long mane whipped at the Pavee's face, but she didn't care; the adrenaline rush she felt was the only thing that registered. She and her horse were one, the latter's legs moving across the moist ground with grace and ease that would make a well-oiled machine jealous. Only another rider could understand that.

With another whoop, the young woman nudged her steed's side, and the beast turned right. Niamh lifted herself from the saddle slightly, feeling her eyes tear as the wind tore past her. Drummer was breathing hard, his snorts as wild as the wilderness the pair was riding in. The Pavee licked her lips, dried by the air that was rushing past, and her mismatched eyes looked hungrily at the horizon. Not too far from her was a fallen tree - it would be the next obstacle to maneuver over in on her makeshift racetrack. No old...log was a challenge for her and her horse!

"LETH'S GO GETH 'EM, BOY!" Niamh bellowed, steering her stallion towards the tree with leg pressure and cues from the reins. The woman's body tensed, preparing itself for the single, swift motion that would carry her over the jump -

"Annnnnnnd here we gooooooooooo!"

With a loud whinny, Drummer pushed himself off the ground, propelling himself through the air with practiced ease. His legs folded beneath him, only to extend seconds later, his front hooves slamming into the ground. He bolted away from the obstacle with an incredible burst of speed, and Niamh cheered loudly, shaking a fist at the sky.

"Well done, Drummy! WELL BLOODY DONE! WHOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

The freedom she felt was something that no settled man or woman could feel. At least, in the Pavee's opinion. Like a wild horse, she and Drummer went where they pleased, not tied down by family or home or anything else in the world. There was only the open road and untold opportunities, and riches one could only dream of. In a world at war, everything and everybody seemed so...pessimistic; although Niamh could understand why, and respect it as well, she wanted to be positive. Life was too short for one to be miserable every waking moment.

"WHOO-HOOOOOOOOOOO!! Fasther, Drum, fasther!"


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OOC - Feel free to join if you need an RP.

[lief]

Crawling! Oh what fun! The earthy smell of dead leaves and soil wafted into the 11 year old's nostrils as he army crawled across the forest floor. Crawling made Lief feel as if he was hunting Nazis, shooting them, showing them who's boss! Yeah! Thats what Lief wanted to do.

"THALLY-HOOOOOOOOO!"

Lief dropped his imaginary gun (a stick) in surprise as the sound echoed through the forest. Ever since Lief had been brought to the isles to be cared for by some old farmer, there had been lots of excitement. He had ran away from the farm, oh, that had been fun, and he had frolicked in the forest.

More loud sounds echoed through the forest, poking the growing curiosity inside Lief. The boy rose to his feet, brushed the leaves off of his Grey sweater and leather coat, readjusted the cap upon his head, and started off in the direction of the shouts.

***

Lief burst from the edge of the forest, stumbling a bit. His boots were covered in mud and brambles stuck to the wool on his sweater, but Lief was in great spirits. Not even the Graying sky could put Lief in a bad mood.

A woman, about a kilometer away, rode a horse across the big field. She was probably and English speaker, so Lief thought of some English words and strung them together in a boyish shout
"HALLO VOMAN! YOU HAVE HORZE?" His German accent showed heavily through the call, but it sounded somewhat like English.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

OOC - Awwww! More little children! ;D Niamh's going to like this...

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"HALLO VOMAN! YOU HAVE HORZE?!"

The mud beneath Drummer's hooves churned with a loud shwiff, Niamh hands pulling hard on the reins to make him stop. Her head turned from side to side, odd-eyes searching for the source of the sound. The voice was youthful and heavily accented, sounding almost booming over the landscape, and Niamh had never heard anything like it. Well, maybe she did, considering that her father could be a very loud Irishman when he was angry...

"Aha!" said Niamh when she finally spotted a figure at the edge of a nearby patch of trees. "YES, I HAVE A HORSE! WHY DON'TH I COME OVER AN' YOU CAN SEE HIM?!"

Kicking her steed's sides lightly, Niamh rode quickly over to the boy, slowing down to a trot when she was roughly fifty metres away from him. She smiled brightly when she saw it was a boy; he looked a little muddy, most likely from playing on the ground. Drummer nickered softly at him between breaths, trying to catch his back now that he was done galloping around. With practiced ease, the Pavee dismounted, surprisingly short compared to a horse nearly two metres in height. She was only 5'5", after all.

"Hello t'ere, little chap," the woman said sweetly, gently patting Drummer's shoulder as she took a few steps forward. "Havin' fun in t'e mud, eh? Where'd you come from?"

Drummer reached his head out, the red bay tobiano sniffing the child curiously. Niamh laughed softly, patting her horse on the shoulder again.

"Don'th worry, he's a big ol' softhie. He'll do whathever I say."

[lief]

Lief watched as the woman shouted back to him. He tried to translate the words in his head, but she was already galloping twords Lief, prodding the horse with her feet. Before the boy knew it she was dismounting.

"Hello t'ere, little chap, havin' fun in t'e mud, eh? Where'd you come from?"

The woman was short, with brownish hair and straw sticking out this way and that. She talked with a kind tone, and a strange accent. All people had weird accents in the land of the Allies. The horse was big, and Lief drew back a few steps. Big things scared Lief a bit, especially big, mean Nazi tanks...

"Don'th worry, he's a big ol' softhie. He'll do whathever I say."

Lief stood for a moment, mentally translating the English words in his mind. Finally, after about thirty seconds of pondering, he came up with a shabby reply.

"I...I am vrom Duetchland. Eh, vow do zeze English people say it, Jermanie? Gerbany? My name iz Lief! Vat is zours?

[Niamh Dunlevy]

It was typical for children to sometimes shy away from Drummer. The stallion was naturally mild-mannered, but when he got too close to a mare, especially a group of them, he could be unruly. Niamh would probably have had him gelded by then, but his strength and size made him good breeding stock for plow horses. When Drummer finally became too worn to be ridden around the countryside, Niamh had agreed to send him back to her father's farm, where the bay could be used for breeding.

For half a minute, the boy's expression was thoughtful, as if he was thinking about what Niamh had said. When spoke again, and his lilt was thicker then any Irishman's that Niamh had ever heard.

"I...I am vrom Duetchland. Eh, vow do zeze English people say it, Jermanie? Gerbany? My name iz Lief! Vat is zours?"

German. The boy was German. At first, Niamh looked surprised; someone of German heritage would be the last thing the Pavee would have ever heard of in England in such a time. However, she then remembered stories of refugees being escorted across the channel, including many Jewish. Despite the threat of German torpedoes, there were many desperate people who wanted to escape Hitler's grasp...

"We call it 'Germany', Lief. Jur-mah-nee. And as for m'self, you can call me 'Niamh' - t'at's pronounced 'neev'. The big boy beside me is Drummer, Drum fer shorth."

The horse took a step forward, and stretched his head out farther. He nibbled on a stray strand of hair on Lief's head, then snorted loudly and pulled his head back, shaking it. Niamh frowned, hoping the horse didn't seem too scary to the little one, and walked over to Lief. As she got close, the boy would be able to see her curiously-coloured eyes better - the left was brown, while the right was amber.

"Whathcha doin' outh here in Wales, Lief?" the woman asked softly. If this boy was a refugee, then she didn't want to poke something sore. "You goths someone t'at mighth be worryin' 'bouth ya, righth? You're far from t'e road. You can geth losth outh here."

[lief]

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The kind young woman looked baffled for a moment after the boy spoke his words, and Lief could understand why. Most English people had negative attitudes twords the people of Lief's fatherland, understandable, since they were at war. But there were many people like Lief, fleeing the wrath of the human monster that is Hitler.

"We call it 'Germany', Lief. Jur-mah-nee. And as for m'self, you can call me 'Niamh' - t'at's pronounced 'neev'. The big boy beside me is Drummer, Drum fer shorth."

Lief processed the words in his head as the kind woman spoke again.

"Whathcha doin' outh here in Wales, Lief? You goths someone t'at mighth be worryin' 'bouth ya, righth? You're far from t'e road. You can geth losth outh here."

" I uzed to have a muthor, but the Nazis took her away."

Lief spoke with a tinge of sadness.

"I vaz zuppozed to live vith zome old farmer, but I ranz away. Now I am juzt staying in Vales untill I canz ztowaway on a ship to get back to Franze." Lief replied.

The horse stepped forward, chewing on a small piece of the boy's white-blond hair. Lief was compelled to swat the horse away, stepping away. But he didn't. He brushed the horse away gently, outstretching his right hand to the horse's mouth, giggling as it's hairy lips tickled his hand.

[Niamh Dunlevy]

Drummer nickered gently, rubbing his muzzle against Lief's outstretched hand. Niamh, meanwhile, nodded sadly, a small frown on her lips. So he was a refugee, the poor little thing. He probably couldn't tell the Pavee where the old farmer was, either. Even if Britain wasn't much of a battlefield, it was still not a place for a young boy to be alone, especially if he had a German accent.

"Lief...Lief, you shouldn'th be doin' t'at. France is in a rough spoth righth now. Leth's noth be ambithious, now."

Suddenly, the Pavee smirked. She was one to talk, what with travelling around on a horse with nothing more then a sack full of supplies. However, she was beyond the age majority, and knew how to take care of herself and what to avoid. Lief, in all his innocence, could get himself into a rough spot with his youthful naïveté. Niamh had heard of it happening many times before.

Well...maybe I can do somet'ing or ot'er.

"B'sides, why tho you wanth tho go tho France when you can thravel all over England?" the Pavee piped up, hands on her hips. "I be a thraveller myself. I'm whathcha call a 'Pavee'; the enthire world is m'home. I never sthay in one place, so why don'thcha come wit' me, if you're lookin' for adventhure? Heck, we mighth even find t'at old farmer one day."

...All right, so maybe a perfect stranger asking a young child to come with her out of the blue was a little awkward. Still, he was just a boy, and Niamh didn't want him to get in trouble...

[lief]

OOC: My first thread as Lief and already adding new elements to the story

"Lief...Lief, you shouldn'th be doin' t'at. France is in a rough spoth righth now. Leth's noth be ambithious, now."

Niamh's voice was sad, pitying. But her voice was soothing, calming, like gentle ripples on a lake. It reminded Lief of somthing, somthing that he just could not grasp...

"Well...maybe I can do somet'ing or ot'er. B'sides, why tho you wanth tho go tho France when you can thravel all over England?" the Pavee piped up, hands on her hips. "I be a thraveller myself. I'm whathcha call a 'Pavee'; the enthire world is m'home. I never sthay in one place, so why don'thcha come wit' me, if you're lookin' for adventhure? Heck, we mighth even find t'at old farmer one day."

The words rung in Lief's mind, sounding again, and again, and again. It seemed like great fun, riding around the countryside, the whole world as his home. A smile grew across Lief's pale, boyish lips. He wanted to be like Niamh. The whole world as his home. Travel around. Ride a horse. Be safe. Have a friend that wasn't rats living in rubble.

"Ja! I vould zike to come vith you!"

[Niamh Dunlevy]

"Ith'll only be a litthle while, t'ough," Niamh said, her face suddenly serious. "T'at poor farmer mighth be havin' a hard thime, wit' you gone and all. I'd have tho thry and find 'im, buth unthil t'en, I'd wathch ya."

There were other things Niamh had to worry about, though. Pavees and Roma - better known to some as "Gypsies" - weren't the most well-liked of folk. If Niamh didn't make a serious effort to find this farmer that Lief had run from, she could be labelled as a baby-stealer. Lief's German heritage could also be a problem; with him accompanying a woman who's people were considered thieves and liars, some might even think the Pavee was working for the Nazis. Her idea was spontaneous, and at best, a short-term solution.

And then, it hit her.

"And, Lief," the woman added, "I happen tho be a friend of some very good people, ones t'at are sthopping t'e Nazis from getthing worse. T'ere mighth justh be a chance - t'ere justh mighth be - t'at t'ey could find your mum. Wouldn'th t'at be greath?"

Surely Nathan and Stephen could help. She barely knew them, but Niamh was sure that they were good people. Besides, if something happened to Niamh, then the two soldiers could probably find a place for Lief. If all else failed, then Niamh's parents - Fionn and Sheila Dunlevy - could possibly take Lief in as an adoptive son. That would mean that Niamh would be a big sister, too...

"So, you sthill wanna come, Lief? Your choice, I ain'th gonna force ya."

[lief]

As the woman spoke firmly Lief nodded like any good boy would do. He thought that even if it was a short time, it would be fun. His mind started to stray to visions of playing.

Untill he heard mother. Mother. Mother.

Is it possible to see his beloved mother again? Are these people really that good? Would they take there time to help a little lost German refugee?

Then he wondered what kind of people they are. If they stop the Nazis, they must be soldiers. Soldiers! Guns? Planes? Lief was struck with exitment at the thought of seeing such people. They were his heroes. Fighting the Nazis. Bad Nazis.

But right now, he would be with Niamh. That would also be great fun! She seemed like a very nice person. And he liked the big horse. Lief hastily replied:

"Ja! Ja! I ztill vant to come!!!"

[Niamh Dunlevy]

The boy's enthusiasm touched Niamh. His smile was wide, and as bright as the sun. A part of her mind, however, was dreading what would happen if someone started pointing fingers and calling her a "Gypsy". Would Lief be scared of her then? Or worse, would he, too, have been raised learning of how "dangerous" the "accursed Gypsies" were?

And...and what if his mother was never found? Niamh hoped she hadn't made it sound like Nathan or Stephen could find the boy's mother...

"Well t'en, Lief, looks like you'll be a-comin' wit' me. I know a niiiiiiice place where we can seth up camp. I hope ya don'th mind sleepin' in a thenth; t'ere isn'th a house 'round here for kilomethres," said the woman, patting the boy gently on his white-blond head. "And I hope you don'th mind, buth you and I will be ridin' ol' Drum over here. You mighth geth a wee bith sthiff on t'e ride, 'cause it really sthrethches your legs 'cause his back's so wide. Ot'erwise, you don'th have to worry; I can ride wit' my eyes closed if I wanthed tho."

Niamh could not help but smile proudly at the last sentence. Riding and handling horses was in her blood; the Pavees had worked with them for generations. Her father had tamed some of the biggest, most brutish and unruly equines one had ever seen, and Niamh had full control over a horse that could break bones with a single kick. A simple ride with a second, smaller passenger would be no trouble at all.

As she waited for his answer, Drummer swivelled his ears, then leaned forward and sniffed Lief again. He was curious about the smaller human that his mistress had taken such a shine to, and wondered if the boy had any treats. The stallion nuzzled Lief's pocket gently, nickering, and Niamh tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oi, lay off, Drummy! T'eres plenthy of grass 'round here, you silly horse!"

[lief]

Lief listened as the kind Pavee briefed him about camp and the ride there. Stiff? Lief could deal with that. Sleeping in a tent? No problem! Lief had spent many a night sleeping on hard rubble. This would be great fun, riding on a horse and all.

The big horse nuzzled the tattered pocket on the boy's coat, Lief giggled. Lief liked the horse, his fear of it's size was long gone. He couldn't wait to climb on.

Lief thought about Britan and Wales. They were smaller than Europe, and more rainy. There was much more people here too. Lief liked it. But he felt homesick of his fatherland, but then again, the Nazis were. So he couldn't go back. But it was still sad. At least Britan is better then running from Nazis. And he got to play alot. So Lief started to look at the bright side.

But he took his mind off the subject and turned to the woman. Lief started to ask Niamh "Ja! I canz deal vith zat! Mizz Niamh, How vill I get on ze horse?

[Niamh Dunlevy]

Niamh smiled at Lief's giggle. He would probably grow to be a horse person, what with how quickly he had taken to Drummer after just a few minutes. As the Pavee's father always said, "You know a nathural-born horse lover when they start giggling when t'e t'ing t'ey're scared of sthart's bein' friendly."

When Lief asked how he was going to get on the horse, Niamh thought about picking him up for a moment, but then decided she'd try and make him giggle again. Crossing her arms with a mischievious smirk, she said, "Why, we geth Drum tho come down t'ere, t'at's what!"

The woman pivoted on her heel, and turned to her beloved red bay.

"Drum, min'urt kadog."

The horse's ears perked up, and he looked ready for action. Niamh's smirk grew.

"Drum, guš šiirt."

Like a camel, the horse's legs folded as he began to lie down, and he shook his massive head. With ease, he settled himself down into the soggy grass, head held high as he completed the trick without a hitch. He was ready for Lief to climb on, now low enough for the boy to get on Drummer's back without a problem.

"See? Thold you he does whath I say," Niamh said. "All righthy, Lief, clamber on. Geth up near his shoulders so y'don'th do t'e spliths, and t'en, I'll make 'im sthand up. Sthay calm, and justh hold ontho his neck while he geths up; ith'll feel a lil' weird. Goth it?"


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Translations:

...Now stone.

...Sit down.

[lief]

Lief giggled once again as the big horse plopped down, folding it's huge legs underneath it's body. Niamh told him to hop on, and Lief obeyed.

Swinging his legs over Drum's upper back, his boots clopping down on the grass on the opposite side. He settled in and gripped the horse's big neck. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and hoped for the best.

Lief felt himself rising. Holding his breath, he held on tight. Don't fall off! DON"T FALL OFF!!! The tiny voice in the back of his head shouted at him.

Then it stopped.

Lief slowly opened up his eyes, seeing he was several feet higher up then he was before. Exitment welled up in his heart, swelling allover his body. His voice high with exitment, he shouted "Mizz Niamh! Mizz Niamh! I didz itz! I didz itz!"

[Niamh Dunlevy]

OOC - If we go beyond two pages, there's a better chance of us getting close to twenty CP. Hope you don't mind a couple of posts describing a ride across Wales, Lief.

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"Up!"

That simple command was all Drummer needed, and he stood again, his skin rippling with the movement. He lifted himself into the air with an aura of calm and dignity, an oxymoron compared to little Lief, who was holding on as tightly as he could. As soon as Drummer stopped moving, the boy opened his blue eyes, and his expression shone with happiness. Niamh had never seen a child look so proud.

"Mizz Niamh! Mizz Niamh! I didz itz! I didz itz!"

"T'at you did, laddie!" boomed Niamh with a hint of a laugh, slapping her right thigh. "Justh you waith unthil we geth moving, Lief!"

Striding over to her steed, Niamh gently grabbed the stallion's back, then pulled herself up and swung her leg over. Moving up a little towards Drummer's shoulders, she eased herself slightly onto Lief's smaller form, to help him keep his balance and stay on. The Pavee's fingers easily found the reins and she grasped them, taking a deep breath to focus. Getting ready for a ride was always an adrenaline rush for Niamh.

"Now Lief," the young woman began, "Drum's going tho move quick-fasth, and he's going to move a loth. Just keep your grip on 'im wit' your legs, and I'll do all t'e stheerin'. Okay?"

Once Lief was ready, Niamh would click her tongue twice. Drummer's head perked up, and he pawed the ground a little, taking a step back. It was almost as if he was loading himself into a slingshot.

"YA! Leth's go, DRUMMY-BOOOOOY!"

With a loud whinny, the horse took off as Niamh kicked him in the sides. His gait powerful, his strides wide, his hoofbeats were like thunder as he tore over the countryside. The long, thick, black mane that crested his neck whipped at the faces of his passenger, and Niamh let out a bark of laughter, thrilled by the feeling of wind in her hair again.

"WHOOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"