My entry to the LC15.
After what seemed like months of rowing, the fugitives finally made it to their destination... a small isle 15 miles east from the shores of Rothburg.
As the rowboat crammed with tired, hungry refugees reached the cliff wall, a familiar voice called to them from above.
"Who be down there?"
"Yalmar It's me, Sir Angus and company!"
"Ah! Greetings, me old friend! Tell me, what be this month's password?"
"Hark! There's sand in my shoes."
A dry chuckle followed the words, and then the old man leaned over the cliff to cast down the rope to haul in the boat, and raised his eyebrows at the amount of guests he was to host.
"I say! you could have told me we was havin' a party!" But he soon realized the cause for their numbers and his merry face grew sober.
"I'm sorry for our substantial numbers. One of our boats sank, and we had to pile in this one. If you can't keep us here, we'll row back."
"Right back to enemy lands? Not on your life! Up, all of ye... it's been a long time since I had this much company!" He replied with a warm smile.
LCC. Garheim: Arriving by Brother Steven, on Flickr
