Seekers of Truth RPG

[piosenniel]

Crystal Heart’s post

A young woman walked into the Inn; her hood concealed her face. It was the only form of protection because her weapon had been taken from her. She looked around the Inn in interest. It was much different then the other Inns she had been in, but it seemed quaint enough for her liking. She walked swiftly through the maze of chairs and tables to the front desk. She touched her pouch. There was enough coins for a nice meal, a couple of drinks, and a room for the night.

She sat down on a stool. She pulled the hood from her head slowly and shook her hair out from under it. Auburn hair pulled away and lay in soft curls as it always did. Her unusual mixture of brown and green eyes looked around the room. She didn't open her mouth to say a word. This place was so different then she had first realized.

She wasn't afraid or shy of this place. She just liked to be quiet for a while and take it all in. She learned more by just listening to the people around her. She also learned more about the place she was in by how the people acted, talked, and what they ate and drank. Someone had once told her that it was a type of gift of hers, but she had never believed it. It was only just a skill she had acquired over her years of travel.

She had left her home so many years ago that she couldn't remember where that home had been. She had lost several years of her memory. She wasn't sure how it had happened, but it had and she hadn't regained it back. She had a feeling that she didn't want to remember those memories ever again anyway so she wasn't worried about the fact.

She did remember her name, or at least what she thought her name was. She had been under so many aliases that she had started to forget what her own name was, but she remembered it right now. Her name was something wonderful, at least in her opinion. Crystal Lerena Sandrine Heart. A name that she had thought was regal and noble, even though she didn't come from noble or regal blood.

She decided to order a drink at first. She wasn't sure what they sold here.

"Excuse me, but what is a good drink to have around here?" Crystal asked the bartender. The bartender nodded and handed her an ale. Crystal looked up and thanked the Innkeeper. She took a small sip and gave a smile. It was rather good.

Her memory wandered, but there was still places where she still couldn't remember a thing. In her travelings around middle earth she had been in rather rough fight with a drunken man that had mistaken her as his wife. His fists had been wild and hard against the skull of her head. There was only portions of that she actually remembered. She did remember waking up in a place with a woman over her telling her what had happened to her. She couldn't remember many other things after that. Her memory was slowly coming back, but it was so painfully slow that she had stopped trying to actually remember. She wasn't even entirely sure that Crystal was her real name.

She thought back hard against the bearer, but nothing would budge in her mind. There was just a black portion that just sat there, unweilding against her mental pushes. She itched her neck and felt something she hadn't noticed before. She pulled the rough thing away from her and saw a necklace. It was long with a pendant on the end. She read it: SANDRINA SANDRINE Lightheart. Ah, that was her name. It had to be. She couldn't have found it any where else. She smiled. SANDRINA looked up and watched in interest as people sang. She had could not remember anything about songs. There was a barrier against the memories of her childhood. Like most of her memories they seemed to be locked behind doors that she did not carry keys for. She couldn't even remember exactly why she had come in the Inn. There had been a purpose she supposed. She knew she wanted a drink, but there had been something else. She couldn't remember.

The only thing she could remember was that terrible fall. She had been riding with people that she knew were familiar and that she had known at one time, but she couldn't put her finger on who they were. They had been in Gondor then or so she thought. She had toppled off and had hit her head against something hard. When she had awoken she remembered being in the dark with no money, no weapon, and no means of transport home. She remembered that she couldn't remember who she was or where she was from. She hadn't remembered where home was. She still wasn't sure.

She figured that had been at least a year ago. She couldn't recall time anymore. Everything seemed to blurr. Every once in a while she would remember a tidbit of something, but it only made her confused because she didn't know what it meant to her. All of her memories that she had still maintained were pieced together in a makeshift puzzle that really didn't fit together. There was such blackness all through her memory that she had no idea what things were real and what she had made up on her own.

She smiled softly to herself as she recalled what one of the people she had met in similar type Inn had decided to call her. Crystal, like her voice was his reasoning. She had carried it around without a last name, telling everyone that she was Crystal. She remembered someone saying that she had a kind heart and had decided to make that her last name. Other then that she had had no memory of her real name.

Until today. She had been sitting here thinking when she had found the necklace around her neck and remember that her name was Eowyn Lightheart. She had recalled that the heart part of her name had sounded familiar. She couldn't remember when she had had a normal bath last. She usually got very wet in her travels and her and her clothes had ended up clean. Now that she thought about it, she wondered if her accident had really been a year ago after all. Maybe it had only been about three weeks in actuality. Or had it been longer? A month maybe? She had no idea.

She frowned in frustration. There just didn't seem to be any hope for her to remember anything about herself and what she use to be. This was her now, whatever it was she had become. At least she had a real name to fall back on. Maybe if people called her that then she would start remembering more.

As their songs drifted to her ears she wished that they would unlock something in her, something that would make sense to her. She had was sick and tired of guessing about her past and making up theories about what she supposed she knew.

She sipped her ale and wondered if she would be a loner without a home, without a memory, without a purpose for the rest of her miserable life. She hadn't been happy wandering around like an invalid, wondering what and who she truly was. There wasn't a thing that she could do on her own to unlock her vital memories. She put her head in her hand and sighed deeply.

She sat upon that stool when something hit her. A whirlwind of memories that just came to her. There had been something in the air, a smell that she remembered. Memories of her childhood came back. Her mother's name, Eowyn, her father's smile. Her father, Henry. He had had no sons, just her. She was their heir.

And then she realized why the people had left her for dead after she had fallen. She remembered who they where. They were her father's brother's children, her cousins. They had been angry at the fact that everything of the Lightheart's would go to her when her father died. That she would be the heir of their grand family. She would be the one that made decisions and would own the property that they had been blessed with.

She suddenly remembered her home, every small detail of every room. She had lived right here in Rohan.

She looked around the Inn, looking for familiar faces even if she could not recall the names that went along with them. She hoped she could find someone that knew her.

[piosenniel]

Arien's post

“Thank you,” and with that he dropped three coins on the table. The bar keeper scooped them up and turned to the next customer. He lifted the mug and made his way to the table nearest the wall, it was empty; he couldn’t take talking to someone. He needed to collect his thoughts and see where he was in all this.

“Right,” Braedon muttered to himself, setting down his drink and sitting. He leant back for a minute, nursing his hand. He traced a finger over the bandage; he could see blood trying to seep through from the fresh cut. He would have to change the bandage soon. After this he would return to his room, and then set out to see his father.

He was not in Rohan for long this time, only a couple of day and he wanted to see how his father was coping. He knew he had gotten stubborn in his old age, and kept telling Braedon that there were better things to be done with a Rangers time, but Braedon knew he appreciated it. He also needed to visit a friend, rare he knew, but he hadn’t seen her for over 8 months.

Last time they were both here was when he was investigating the disappearance of a landowner’s daughter. It was said that she had been killed, but no trace of her was found. The search had been abandoned 5 months ago when her parents too disappeared, leaving their land and heading deeper into Rohan.

He drew his attention away from his and fumbled with his necklace, vaguely remembering his mother for a second. He shook his head, and reached out for the mug. A soft breeze dance over him as the door to the inn opened, he sipped from his mug and set it down once again. He looked up to the new entrant, but they were cloaked and he could not see their face.

He continued to watch as he saw that the new arrival was a woman, or was she a girl? He could not tell from here, her back was facing towards him. But she did have auburn hair, curly. A distinct memory sparked in his mind. But Braedon did not pick up on it.

"Excuse me, but what is a good drink to have around here?" she asked. Her soft voice was kind, the bar keeper answered and handed her a drink.

Braedon returned to his drink. When he had finished he headed back to his room. Gingerly he peeled the bandage away from his cut. Stupidity was the cause of his injury, he had gambled with a cheat and in a fight he was left with the wound, but his money too. This just proved why he was such a loner; most weren’t to be trusted. He bathed the cut in a basin filled with a mixture he had put together the previous day. It stung, but not too much.

He bandaged it quickly and headed back to the main bar and took his seat. He looked round for the girl, she had something about her... there she was! She was sitting at the same stool. But she seemed confused; she turned her head towards him. That girl. She looked remarkably like the one who had gone missing. Braedon sat up straight. But it couldn’t be could it? Surely not after this long! Braedon walked for the exit. He was probably mistaken, but he couldn’t help it, as much as he disliked talking to stranger, he was curious.

“Excuse me...” the girl turned startled. “May I ask your name, forgive me but you look like a girl I was searching for a time ago. I would dismiss it, but the resemblance in the description and your self is uncanny.”

The girl paused for a moment, still startled. "Crystal."

Braedon dissmissed it, and nodded to the girl. He walked to the exit and took another look at her. He stood for a moment and shook his head, a mistake it couldn't be her, she was dead was she not?

[piosenniel]

starkat’s post

Anora had been in Rohan visiting clients for her family’s trading business. She was due to begin her return journey home tomorrow. Deciding to make a stop overnight to rest her horse was an easy decision to make. She had just come downstairs and had taken a seat when a cloaked figure entered the inn.

Anora watched as the cloaked figure took a seat on a stool and pulled back her hood. The sight of the young woman’s auburn hair brought back some of Anora’s childhood memories. Anora could remember playing with a young girl with similar colour hair. I wonder what happened to Sandrina. Her body was never found.

Shaking off her reverie, Anora ordered food and took a seat. The young woman thought about her trip to Rohan. After taking care of business, she had spent time visiting family friends. She had sent word to her father that she was preparing to return home, when her horse had become lame. Worried that it might get worse if she continued, Anora had made the decision to stop.

She had been relieved to learn that her horse just needed rest. Anora’s attention was brought back to the present as she watched the auburn-haired woman at the counter. She saw a frown cross the young woman’s face. I hope she is alright. I cannot help shake the feeling that I have seen her before.

When Anora saw the young woman put her head on her hand and then sit upright, it struck a cord in her memory. That’s it! She looks like an older version of Sandrina! I wonder who she is. Anora watched as the young woman turned to look around the room.

[piosenniel]

Pippin Pondlily's post

Haven Storms had one foot on the ground and the other perched on the rod connecting the front two legs of the stool. She half sat on the chair and half leaned on the bar counter, tracing the lip of her mug with her index finger. Her grey eyes were fixed sullenly on the shelves of mugs and tumblers behind the counter as she lamented all the minor troubles of her life that were brought into sharp relief and exaggerated by the excessive amounts of alcohol she had consumed.

The inn was an old one inhabited mostly by people who came out of tendency because here had been the eye of revelry in days past. The walls were dark and mildew filled the cracks and seeped through the grain of the rank wood. The ceiling was so full of smoke that Haven, frankly, could not be sure that one was even there. But what put the wry smile on her face and lured her to sit at the bar and buy a drink here was the fact that the people made like this was a modern, lively inn. They sang, laughed and told stories: some true, some ridiculously false. To put a damper on the patrons' happy spirits would be condemnable, which was precisely why she did.

"How long have you been here?" asked a familiarly dramatic voice. Haven cringed and moved so she sat the whole way on the chair. She cupped the mug in her hands.

"Please, leave me alone, Bryian," she said, her voice cold as stone not out of contempt for him but of what he had come to say. He took the empty seat next to her but did not order a drink.

"Why didn't you come back to the stables?" he asked, sounding sincerely anxious.

Haven sighed, began to answer and stopped. She took a drink. She set the mug on the counter and turned to face him, searching for an appropriate answer. "It wasn't my damn fault that horse died," she said bluntly, "the idiot stable boy should have arranged to get his shoe replaced months ago. It just so happened that I was riding it over that ditch when the nail came loose, the shoe came off, the bloody horse tripped and fell into the gully and broke its neck. What was I supposed to have done about it?!" She was shouting but no one seemed to notice it blending in with the songs and talk.

He inhaled deeply. "Haven, you push far too hard and you're merciless." He held up a hand to prevent her intervention. "I understand your ideas, I know your beliefs, the … code," he accentuated the word 'code', "you live by. It follows a steady line of logic and has its advantages but there's a line, Haven, there's a limit to what we as humans and they as horses can do. If you overstep that line, someone is going to get hurt, like today. Is that something you're just willing to risk?"

She didn't answer. Her face was taught and she clenched her teeth, a passion of fury rising up like a wave inside her, threatening to swell and crash, to swarm over him with an anger he shouldn't have to see.

Bryian put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Haven, Rillis Wheed needs you, please, take care of yourself." He paused when she remained silent. "There is only one thing more tragic than the loss of a horse and that is the loss of a man, or, woman, in your case. What would they do without you?"

"To hell with Rillis Wheed and his bloody horses."

"You don't mean that, Haven."

"I do."

"Come on," Bryian said, standing. "I'll take you back to your house." Haven sat rigid.

"No thanks," she said. Her tranquility was noticeably forced. "I'm going to stay here a little longer." He looked at her openly concerned. "I'll be alright," she assured him. He smiled and leant forward, kissing her on the forehead. She stiffened.

After he left, Haven ordered her fifth mug of Dorwinion wine and moved to a table near the fire. She knew it wasn't her fault. She felt no guilt about the horse's death. That belonged entirely to the stable boy in charge of that row of stalls. She had been taking it around the course in sharp turns and sudden jumps forcing the horse to respond to the lightest touch and obey the smallest command. They were jumping the gully when the shoe came off. She was thrown to the side and her body was jolted against the hard dirt and stone. Haven had had just enough time to roll out of the way as the horse kicked its legs frantically, whinnied in excruciating pain and foamed thick at the mouth. She remembered she had come to her knees and watched in horror and disbelief.

Haven hung her head over the mug. She had been so close. That horse was brilliant, born with the gifts of the Mearas though it was not of their blood. He would have made the king proud and Haven was ready to present him in just under two weeks. It would have been the very turning point of her career. She had tasted the glory of having trained one of the king's horses only for it to be snatched away from her in a manner harsher than she thought she deserved. It certainly wasn't what that horse deserved. She didn't want to know what would happen to the stable boy. In her opinion, there was nothing severe enough for him.

Now what was she going to do? How could she continue to train horses and be hopeful when this had happened? It was too much to think about. She wanted to get away from it all if just for a little while…

As she was thinking, Haven hadn't exactly realized what she had been staring at but now she focused and saw that she was studying another patron in the inn. It was a young woman, a rather beautiful woman with thick, curly auburn hair sitting in a green cloak at the bar. Her expression changed as often as a river. First she was comfortable, secure and in control. Then she began to look confused and her expression grew distant, as though she was lost. Out of nowhere she'd smile or frown. Then suddenly she jolted as if hit by a sudden wind or a shudder of the earth. Her face began to shuffle emotions until suddenly they stopped and her eyes were wide and alert and her whole body was tense and aware. She began to look around the inn, apparently searching for someone.

Haven was completely mystified. What sort of loony was this?

[piosenniel]

Hama of the Riddermark's post

Hama sat alone at his table sipping his ale. He was in a pensive mood, and sat there almost motionless, sometimes the mug rested at his lips for more then a few minutes before he set it ack down, having only taken the smalled gulp from it. He saw the woman walk in, but she was well past him when she took off her hood. The hair looked familiar to Hama, but he shook his head. Sandrina was dead. And Dorian's daughter had run away. No, just a passing resemblance, and anyway, what was hair to go on? He had waited in Gondor for months, before receiving word that Sandrina had been killed. The blow had struck him deeply, because he was a good friend with all the Lighthearts. he had taken to moping around the taverns in Edoras of late, except when any opportunity to attack Dunlendings arose. He sighed and returned the tankard to his mouth, this time taking a larger gulp, some spilled onto his beard, and as he moved to wipe it off the woman turned around and caught his eyesight for the briefest of seconds before she turned around again. Hama was astounded. If it wasn't Sandrina, then someone had been blessed with a daughter that looked so much like her....

Again, Hama pushed the thoughts from his head. Sandrina was dead, and there was nothing going to change that. He gulped the last of his ale and called for another one. reclining in his chair as the barkeep bustled over to refill his tankard. He didn't let his eyes wander from Sandrina, something told him that she would vanish if he did. His ale came, and this time he drained it in a single movement, letting the amber liquid flow down his throat. He got up and replaced his shield, spear and bow on his back, attaching the quivver to the leather strap on his shield. Slowly he walked over to the woman at the bar and she looked around again. This time Hama caught a good look at her face. She clearly didn't recognise him as he leaned on the bar next to her. He took a good long look at her face, but when she turned around he tried to make it look like he was armiring the pendant around her neck...the pendant! Hama now did focus his attention on the pendant. It was...it was Sandrina's pendant!

Hama's heart skipped a beat quietly as he tried to form the sentence he wanted to say. Words raced through his mind at an amazing pace, and he discared them at an equally speedy rate. Sandrina turned away to look around the room again. Hama chose this moment to lean forward and whisper in her ear, "Nine months is an awfully long time to go missing, Sandrina Lightheart"...

[piosenniel]

Himaran's post



It was dark. Rain poured down around him, water splashed against his chest. He scanned the flooded area once more, looking for a trace, the slightest sign that she had been there. And then he saw her, twenty yards away, struggling against the current. He dove in, trying to reach her... but then the wave came, and the woman was gone.

Raen awoke with a start. He lay still for a moment, his heavy breathing the only sound in the room. There was no flooded forest, no woman, just a comfortable room inside a Rohanian tavern. The recurring nightmare had haunted him for several days, ever since he the stopped searching the wilderness a week before. The general search effort had ended months ago, but the ranger was hardly satisfied by the results. It was as though he was being punished for giving up, and Raen would have speculated further upon that theory; if common sense but had a smaller presence within his mind. Sitting up, he pushed with thick sheets aside and dressed slowly. After sleeping in the forest for so long, even the smallest figment of civilized life was a luxory. The man yawned, trying to feel comfortable; for in truth he was a stranger to these civilized surroundings. Snatching up a long, slender knife from the table (out of pure habit), Raen locked the room and headed downstairs.

Taking a seat at the bar, the ranger ordered a light breakfast and a hot drink. Even after several days at the establishment, it all seemed surreal. Nothing came naturely; Raen stared at the utensils before him for several moments before attacking the sliced ham with a vengence. He felt silly to have forgotten such simple behaviors, but knew it would all come back eventually. After all, it had been a while. The man watched as commoners and soldiers came and went, chatting and dining and arguing. Their lives were so simple; waking, working, and eventually passing from the world. Can I become a part of this calm, routine life? It was a question Raen had been asking himself ever since returning from his unsuccessful hunt.

Then a single man caught his attention. It was a ranger, (Raen was certain of that), but he seemed vaguely familier. There had been several of Raen's bloodline on the hunt for Sandrina; perhaps this was one of them. But that had been over five months back, surely they had not stayed in Rohan. Most went back to Eriador or Gondor, working for King Aragorn. He did look familier, though, and Raen started towards him; determined to find at least one of the answers that constantedly bothered him. The man immediately stopped, however, when the ranger began speaking with young woman who clearly resembled the one he had so desperately sought to find...

[Morsul the Dark]

Sam looked up as a light rain began to fall. It was as if the rain washed away the clouds in his mind. He would stay in hopes of forgiveness. It did not matter how much money the inheritance was worth he would see her every time he spent it. It wasn't worth it, whether by the slow decay of time or through guilt he would go insane.

Sam walked towards the stable guiding his horse. as he entered a mouse scurried past his feet, he pursued it for a moment then let it go. "No, I will not fall prey to primal instincts. I am a man and I have sinned, I must face what comes." He said aloud. He began to take off his sword then thought better of it. "What if they don't forgive me?" He quietly whispered. "I will be forced to fight." With that he tied his horse then went off towards the estate.

[Firefoot]

Harold watched Arthur gallop off through a window. Samuel had slipped off with him, and his other men had beat a hasty retreat as soon as the meeting was over. If he had been in control of his emotions only a little while ago, Arthur’s outburst had put him over the top again. He looked around for something to vent his anger on, and seeing nothing, unsheathed his belt knife. He hurled it as hard as he could at the wooden door across the room, and smiled grimly when it went so that only a few inches of the blade were left open. If he could admit it to himself, he was actually quite pleased that Arthur had been strong enough to stand up to him; it made him feel that he hadn’t completely failed in rasing his boys. He left the knife buried in the door for now, and headed outside to the stables.

It was only a short walk, and once there he wasted no time in finding what he needed. He was relieved to find that the bay horse he had ridden so hard from town was recovering. It would be sound to ride tomorrow. That was his best horse. As he walked down the aisle he calculated how many horses they would need and whether to take a wagon or not. He wanted speed, but certainly they would be able to bring more things if they took the wagon. Harold decided that if he and his sons each brought an extra mount those horses could also be used for pack animals, and a cart would not be needed. He retrieved some saddlebags for packing, and returned to the house as it began to drizzle.

Harold collected all the money and things of value that he had in the house. There was quite a bit; the Lightheart estate was a very successful one. The valuables would be buried nearby for when he returned; they were too heavy to be brought. The clothes he had stacked up on the table before were all that he would need for garments, and he placed those in the saddlebags along with the money. All of the important records and agreements followed those. He figured it would not be wise to leave all of those for Sandrina to find when she got here, though what she would do with them he could not fathom. There was still a little bit more room, and he mused on what else might be needed. My knife, Harold remembered. He returned to the kitchen, and it took some effort to pull the weapon out of the door despite his strength. He belted on his sword as well, figuring it would not be wise to go without it until Sandrina and likely Henry were dead. He thought, and hoped, that he would not meet Henry again anytime soon, because the new house his brother had settled in was a couple days’ hard ride from here.

Harold looked around. He didn’t want to leave, but it really was his only choice. He didn’t think there was much more to do, other than hire some mercenaries. He supposed four or five would work; that would leave ten men here. Ten would do. Everything was coming together nicely, and yet he could not shake the feeling of foreboding that had been building in him ever since he had heard that Sandrina was alive.

[Morsul the Dark]

Sam came upon the house and looked at it. It seemed to lean towards him, it seemed to know his secret. Sam was glad to hear is father rummaging around inside. Sam gave himself all the confidence as he could and walked in. There was the large figure that was his father. "Father," Sam started weakly, then louder more boldly, "Father, I have something to tell you, I am going to stay here I am not running away with you and Arthur I must face what I have done. Hang me they may, but Id rather get my illbegotten fate than live as guilt takes my mind." Sam looked for a reaction from his father his father seemed worried as well.

Sam remembered as a little child Harold had been rather rough but caring one of the best lessons was when he and father had gone camping alone Arthur stayed home to look after the servants, a wolf had come upon them and Harold killed it using his dagger. 'Look my boy,' he had said showing sam the wolf's face. 'You see that? It's fear, never show someone you're afraid itg makes you weak.'

How did this man, who had killed countless foes in battle, fought a wolf and cared for a family show fear? Sam took it as weakness something he did not see in his father. "I'm staying," he repeated. He then waited for his father to speak.

[Crystal Heart]

Hama took a deep breath. He could see that Sandrina was absolutely enraged by what had happened. He didn't blame her. He would be too if it had happened to him.

"Your father and mother gave him the Lightheart estate. He and his sons are living there. I pledge to you that justice will prevail. Do you wish to go there? To set things right?" Hama asked her, hoping that she did. At this point he would kill anyone else that harmed the young woman. She had the kindest heart that he had ever known. He had met her a couple of times and each time she had been fascinated by what he did and who he was. She never treated him any differently then she would any one else. Sure, she was his junior by five years but he had come to have a deep connection to the young woman. He wouldn't define it as love. No, it was a brother sister type love he believed. She looked up to him. She had looked to him for help and protection. Now he would provide it. Even if it meant his life.

"Yes, I want justice. I want to go there, but do we not need more people to accompany us?" Sandrina asked, looking at the small band of a couple of men and women. "We are very few at this point."

[Himaran]

Raen could see the pain on Sandrina's face, along with the fierce anger, and it was more than he could bear. She had been beaten in the wildnerness and supposed dead, but her Sandrina was. It was time for her attackers to pay. "Few, yes. But I will go with you as well; they left you for dead, and I have no intention of letting them finish the job." Not after a year and half combing every forest within five miles of the last area she was seen, at any rate. There would, of course, be complications. Sandrina's enemies would not simply abandon the estate... without a fight, at least.

"We must go to the family home, you are right, Hama. But they will not surrender it with no resistance. We have to be prepared. If we simply walk in the front door you, Sandrina, as well as the rest of us will not survive. These are killers, and they must be treated as such."

"I agree," said Braedon. "If we are to take back your home, information must be gathered... along with weapons for those of you that have none." The rangers waited, hoping that Sandrina would not shun their services.

[Firefoot]

“I’m staying.” Samuel was clearly waiting for him to speak, which was precisely why Harold said nothing. Most people were uncomfortable with silence, Harold had found, and if a person was uncomfortable he could more easily win them over to his side. Samuel began to fidget a little bit. Just as I suspected, thought Harold. He isn’t as confident as he would like me to believe. That gave Harold a good idea of where to start; if Samuel wasn’t completely confident, then he might be brought around to the other side. Harold let the quiet stretch on for a while longer, and when he spoke his voice could have been called mild, except for the unsaid message that lay beneath his words.

“So your conscience is niggling at you, eh? You want to do ‘the right thing’? Now tell me something. How would staying here help anything? You look for mercy. If there is none, what then? Do you plan to fight? Fighting means killing people. How would that clear your conscience? Let’s say they don’t kill you. Do you think they’re going to give you your job here at the estate back? I don’t think that’s what you really want. Working underneath someone, and having them in charge of your pay, which would in fact be considerably less than what you have been getting. Let the mercenaries finish off the job, and we can come back to wealth and comfort. It’s a mighty gamble you take, one that risks your very life. Come with, and I promise you that you will make it out alive. Think about it. Do you really want to stay?” finished Harold. He thought nothing of the promise he had made. He could guarantee no such thing, but the trick was making Samuel believe that he could. Harold felt that he had done a pretty good job on all accounts. Inwardly he smiled at the look of confusion on Samuel’s face, undoubtedly from his calm tone of voice.

“I’m staying,” said Samuel, though he sounded uncertain. It wasn’t the result Harold had hoped for, but it was close enough. Samuel was no longer solid in his standing, and Harold decided that it was now time to threaten. He took a step closer to Samuel and drew himself up to his full height. He had had plenty of practice making himself look intimidating.

“Listen, boy,” he said, mild no longer. The words were cutting, sharper than any knife. “You are coming, even if I have to knock you over the head and tie you to a horse. I would advise you to come of your own free will. I have known Henry a great deal longer than you have, and let me tell you something: you will receive no mercy. Do you hear me? Now get packing. Do you hear me? Go!”

[Morsul the Dark]

Harold seemed to tower over Sam as he finished his speech. Sam feared his father but he feared death more. Sam slumped down in a chair a tear running down his cheek, "I'll go," He said trying not to let his fear show or be heard. He began to walk back to his house.

As he walked, Harold's words filled his head, 'there would be no mercy.' He was right and Sam knew it. Sam went into his living room and packed his pipeweed, some provisions, and two changes of clothes. He went out to the stable and put his pack on its back and mounted the steed.

Sam looked back at the Estate, "I will never be able to return here," Sam said sadly. He decided to ride off the his brother's house. He wiped the remaining tears from his face. Then he saw his father riding ot from the estate, "May you burn in Morgoth's Halls," Sam whispered in a deathly cold voice.

[Pippin Pondlily]

Haven, who had been listening intently to the discourse between the five people crowding the bar, let out a low, long whistle. She was very familiar with Henry Lightheart and his brother Harold. She had trained Henry's family's horses for the past five years, and Harold's now for the past seven or so months. She had been very fond of Henry and his wife, never having actually met Sandrina, and was very sore to hear what had happened to their daughter. And when the Lighthearts packed up and moved, leaving their estate to Harold and his two bitter sons, Haven was gravely disappointed. Dealing with Harold Lightheart was like sticking ones teeth into a cold, bitter lemon. Even so, she was quite appalled to learn that Arthur and Samuel may have had something to do with the young woman's condition.

Haven finished off her wine in one gulp and approached the bar. She slid her mug across the counter and acknowledged the bartender, who had one ear turned towards the little reunion's conversation. Something caught in Haven's mind. If she could hear their conversation others certainly could as well, others who knew the Harold Lightheart. She decided to intervene and lightly touched the arm of one of the rangers closest to her. The group fell suddenly silent and looked at her.

"Sorry to intrude," she said, looking about the room, "but this may not be the best place to carry on your little…meeting. May I propose a smaller room to be of a more private, therefore, safer nature?" The rangers by instinct stiffened and lowered their hands to their sheaths, casting a glance towards the patrons who suddenly were quite suspicious, and almost sinister in appearance. The other young woman placed a hand on Sandrina's elbow and led her off of her stool. Haven smiled formally and motioned to a door on the back wall. "A private dining room," she explained. The original five walked ahead of her and she laid a silver penny on the counter and pointed towards the room. The bartender nodded and pocketed the coin.

Raen remained standing near the door after Haven entered. She caught his meaning and took a seat at the table, allowing him to lock and secure the room.

"No, offense…" the woman who was not Sandrina began but Haven interrupted.

"Of course. I'm Haven Storms," she looked quickly at all the faces, wondering if any of them would recognize her. "I work for Rillis Wheed, the horse trainer." To her surprise and relief they all seemed to have some sort of recognition of her name, or at least of her employer's. "I've traded with your father, Sandrina, and your uncle recently--but two weeks ago. I overheard your conversation and it occurred to me that perhaps I was not the only nosy eavesdropper in the room. I don't mean to be rude I only thought it might be safer for you all talk elsewhere. I understand that in the surprise of finding Miss Lightheart alive the thought of immediate security may have eluded some of you who otherwise would be right on top of such matters…" They were relatively silent, hanging on her words, and most likely suspicious of her exact intentions. She lifted her brows, looking openly at the others around her, "Have I acted inappropriately?"

[The Perky Ent]

Arthur's estate wasn't crowded with many buildings. In fact, besides Arthur's house, there were no major buildings at all. Just a wide plain of fields, and hills. Being such a beautiful location, many people would enter without permission, but Arthur took care of it. Apart from the land, there was a large pond, plentiful with fish. Realizing the opportunity, Arthur would charge people to fish in the pond. Presently, there was nobody there, with the exception of of Gimbrol, the man Arthur hired to keep track of the money people paid to fish in the pond. "Grimbrol, I'm calling you in! What's today's profit? Where's my money?" Arthur asked, dismounting from his horse.

"Oh, Arthur!" the startled Grimbrol said. "I didn't expect you to visit here today! What brings you here? Something wrong?" "Where's the money?" Arthur said, closing in on Grimbrol. "Uh...what money? There is no money! There's been no one here all day! No one!" Grimbrol said, his checks blushing. Arthur walked around the edge of the pond, looking for clues. Arthur didn't trust Grimbrol for one second, but went along with it anyway. "You're right, there's been no one here all day. I'll just go home." Arthur said, walking back to his horse. "Yes, go home and get some sleep! I daresay you need it. You're been working hard lately. Take a break. Go home." Grimbrol said, giving a subtle exhale. "Oh, by the way, Grimbrol! I talked to Peter Hollums today. You know him don't you? He runs the pub? Well, he was thanking me today for my generocity for letting him use my pond. He says he cought seven fish, and paid you well for it!"

In an instant, Arthur pulled out his sword, and landed it on Grimbrol's throat. "Trecherous little worm! All this time, you've been slowly robbing me! I should cut your throat! You don't deserve life! But I'll give you one chance! Where's my money?" The veins were popping in Arthur's nect as he held his sword firm. "Here! Here! Take it! Just don't kill me!" Grimbrol said, throwing a leather bag filled with gold. Arthur was still for a moment, but then put his sword back. Pausing, he then grtabbed his club, and hit Grimbrol's horse very strongly. Running after it, Grimbrol sprinted into the horizon. Grabbing the money, Arthur got back on his horse, and road back to his house.

[Morsul the Dark]

Sam rode off towards his brother's house. He did not want to show his brother he was sad so he began to hum to himself to cheer up. As he rode he saw a horse galloping in his direction it had a man hanging onto its tale. Sam jumped off his horse and stood and as the horse neared it slowed to a trot. Sam took the reigns and stopped the wild beast. He looked at the man bloody and hurt by the dragging. "You there who are you?"

"Grimbrol, good sir," The man said through short gasps. "I work for Arthur, or I did at any rate. I keep his pond you see and he payed me so little that I stole from him and he felt need to punish me for feeding my family."

"Grimbol?" Sam muttered, "Ah yes! Grimbol your the father of Gorgona and Grinbo?"

"Yes, why you must be Samuel Lightheart, my children are very fond of you!" Grimbol stated smiling for the first time.

"And I of them," Sam stated then he looked Grimbol up and down. Why was Arthur so cruel sometimes? this poor man had a family and he had just wanted to feed then and Arthur had robbed him of dignity pride, and food. "Here," Sam said as he handed Grimbol a small bag of gold. "I am sorry I can not give more, tell your children that I will be gone for a bit and not to come looking for me."

Grimbol nodded and walked off then turned back, "They will ask where have you gone?"

"I do not know,"Sam said sadly with that he mounted and continued to Arthur's house.

[Crystal Heart]

Sandrina was grateful that someone believed that it would be a good idea to not allow her presence known to the people that were trying to protect her.

"I thank you all for your help. I do need it. Without my memories I am lost. I can feel some of these memories are already slippiing from my grasp. We will need to go to the estate, I am sure they would not have fled from what they have taken from me and my family. We will need weapons, or at least I do. I was stripped of
everything when I was beaten," Sandrina said, her eyes looking far away.

She never had believed that her own family would be so cruel towards her. Well, maybe she had at one time, but she couldn't remember if she had ever thought that way. She had lived, what the last nine months, believing she was someone else.

She only hoped that these people would help her and that she wasn't walking into a trap of deceit.

[starkat]

Anora had been surprised by the move into the private dining room. She was a little suspicious of the woman who had hustled them in there. When Haven introduced herself, Anora’s suspicions eased somewhat.

When Haven asked if she had behaved inappropriately, Anora took the opportunity to make introductions. “Thank you for your concern. You were right we should not have been standing out in the open like that. I am Anora.” She introduced each member of the company and then turned to the rangers.

“I need to find another horse for our journey. My own came up lame yesterday. That was why I stayed at the inn. He would probably be alright, but I would rather not risk him any further.”

One of the rangers nodded and went to see about it. Anora turned to Sandrina, “While I was here in Rohan, one of my stops was to a sword smith because my blade needed to be seen to. I purchased a second weapon. Would you like to use it?”

[Pippin Pondlily]

"If your party should be short on horses," Haven said, before the ranger left the room entirely, "I should have no trouble in acquiring some for your uses." The group turned to look at her. "It may even be a good idea to get fresh horses if you all have been traveling for some time from the looks of things."

Haven was beginning to feel a sort of obligation to these people to help as much as she could. Call it her citizen duty or what you please, she had a feeling that she was jumping feet first into something that could have a great impact on her life.

[Himaran]

Raen stopped at the door and returned to the group after Haven offered to procure horses. He was new in Rohan himself, and steeds (particularly the act of renting or purchasing them) had never been his calling anyway. But, feeling a strong urging to contribute, the ranger reluctantly pulled one of the long, slender knives out of his belt and extended it (handle first) towards Sandrina. "Perhaps, Miss, you would like use one of these? Deadly from afar, and in close, of course." The woman thanked him and slid it into her belt gingerly. He turned away and walked towards the open window, suddenly accosted by the need for fresh air. It was stuffy in the small room, and the cool breeze was quite comfortable.

Glancing down at the cobbled road, Raen noticed a lone rider trot his horse past the establishment and then gallop out of sight. Travelers were rare in these parts of Rohan, and the man had not appeared to be a soldier. The ranger knew that he was overly paranoid, but this was no coincidence. The messenger had to be headed for the estate, there was no doubt in his mind. How to explain it to the others, however, was another matter. Perhaps, this time, his worries should be kept private. At the expense of Sandrina? No, this was too serious a matter to worry about sounding foolish. Still, he decided to approach Braedon first with his suspicions.

[Crystal Heart]

Sandrina gave a nod of thanks and watched as the man hurried out of the room, his face flushed. She wondered why he was acting the way he was.

"Fresh horse might be a good idea. I have been travelling on foot myself, thus I have no horse. If it is alright with the rest of you. Excuse me for a moment," Sandrina said, following the man named Raen out.

She burst out into the cold night air and walked over to Raen just in time to see a dark sillouetted figure running away. She looked at Raen's face. She had never seen a man look so pale.

"Who was that? Why do you look so pale? Please, kind sir tell me," Sandrina begged, shivering in the cold. Her insides felt like ice and for the first time since she had wandered she felt truly scared for her life and for the others that accompanied her.

"He is going to tell them isn't he?" Sandrina asked, her voice shaking.

Memories of her beating flooded her mind. She cried out and fell to the ground, shaking and crying as the memories increased in intensity. A single word escaped her lips.

"Help."

[Crystal Heart]

Sandrina smiled up at Hama. She knew deep down in her heart that he was speaking the truth. That everything about him was true and that he would never betray her. She knew that he would never do anything to harm her and with that knowledge in her mind she felt much better about the situation.

Sandrina searched her memory in vain for a thread of him there. She wanted to remember him. There was something so pure and honest about him. Something that she deeply liked about him. Something that she was sure she had been around before.

"Whatever you can provide us, dear Hama. I trust you with my life. Do tell, have you ever been in my life before this night?" Sandrina asked softly, placing a hand upon his forearm that still held her face in his strong hands.

[starkat]

Anora stood next to her friend as Sandrina spoke to Hama. Lost in her own thoughts about the messenger, Anora gave a quick shake of her head when she realized that time was slipping away.

She turned to the group. "I am sorry for interrupting, but we should probably gather our things."

Raen and Braedon both nodded. Raen spoke up. "Haven, if you will see to the horses the rest of us will gather our things." Haven walked off conferring with each other about various places to get the horses that the group would need.

Hama and Anora exchanged worried glances. They stepped aside for a moment to talk. “I do not think she should be left alone right now. Maybe she should come with one of us while we gather our things.”

Anora bowed to Hama’s wisdom in this matter. “That sounds like a good idea. I will ask her and leave the choice up to her.”

Anora looked over at her friend. Sandrina was leaning against a chair. "Sandrina, where is your room? Do you want one of us to go with you?"

[Crystal Heart]

Sandrina looked up at Anora and blinked. She had no idea that she would have to choose protection and she did not recall getting any room. She thought and realized that she hadn't.

"I don't have a room and probably one of the men should stay with me. Two women could be taken over easily by force. Hama, will you stay with me or are you bringing horses and the like? I have no idea what is going on any more," Sandrina sighed.

She shook her thoughts away, trying to clear her mind.

"Anora you should probably stay as well and try to help me remember," Sandrina suggested, patting the young woman on the arm.

"You're the closet thing to family that I have at this point." She glanced over at Hama, who looked at her softly. As far back as she could remember, which wasn't very far, she had never seen a man look at her the way he did. Like she was precious. She blinked a couple of times, flattered by the look or what she thought was behind it. She shook it away.

"Tell me everything."

[starkat]

Anora nodded at Sandrina. "Give me a moment and I will go gather my things. I did not unpack when I arrived and it will only take a moment."

The young woman made sure that Hama would stay with Sandrina while she was gone and then headed for her room. Entering, Anora quickly changed into riding clothes. She strapped her sword around her waist and gethered her things. She walked downstairs and made arrangements with the inn keeper to ship a portion of her things home along with a letter.

I hate to lie to my parents, but if I tell the truth and someone intercepts this message... I just hoe Sandrina doesn't get alarmed that I am sending this. Her thoughts trailed off as she wrote a letter to her parents saying that she had been delayed due to her horse becoming lame.

Returning to Sandrina's side, she noticed that her friend was looking at her strange. "It is alright Sandrina. I only sent a letter to my parents explaining why I would not be returning. Would you like to read it?"

"Can we do that?" Sandrina asked.

"Certainly." The two friends walked over to the inn keeper and Sandrina read the note that Anora had written.

She turned to Anora, "Thank you. Now tell me everything please."

Anora sat down and began telling Sandrina how they met. She moved on from there to their letter writing.

[Himaran]

Raen wasted no time leaving the group and returning to the inn, making straight for his quarters. The paranoia he had felt earlier was rising like a river during a storm, and the ranger took every percaution. Knife in hand, he hurried up the stairs, only to stop and peer around the corner slowly. Nothing. A door slammed further down the hall, and he jumped nervously. Calm down, you should be used to such circumstances. But knowing that enemies were about when you cannot discern them from regular townsfolk can be rather terrifying, and although Raen was not yet ready to give into such emotions he was still quite stressed.

A cool wind blew through the open window at the far end of the hallway. Raen left the stairwell and headed towards his room, watching for movement at the far end. Instead of turning, he passed by his door and casually glanced through the open shutters. Hama's arrow was barely visible, burried in the center of the road. The runner, having mounted after his near demise, was long gone, probably halfway to Sandrina's estate. But nothing could be done; her attackers could be waiting, or perhaps had fled. Something would be there, however - although not necessarily members of the woman's family.

Stepping back, he unlocked his room and entered. Packing would have to be a quick affair, and the ranger's small bag was soon filled and tied shut. Raen's remaining knife (and a full quiver) returned to its home in his belt, and a longsword was strapped to his back. Snatching his bow from a hook on the crusted brick wall, he shut the door and turned the key for a final time before making for the stairwell. Not at all burdened by his pack and weapons, the ranger strode towards the main desk and slapped the key down on the polished wood. Coins were handed over, and a nod of thanks (along with several advertisements) was returned. Raen stuffed the parchments in his pack for kindling and left the establishment. He made at once for a smith on the other side of the town, plucking Hama's shaft from the ground as he past by.

"Heading out to look for that Sandrina girl again, eh," intoned the familier gruff man at the shop. Chuckling at his own rye joke, he took Raen's extended blades and proceeded to sharpen them over a hand-cranked wheel.

"No, just escorting a group back to their home. Dangerous country, these days." To this the smith merely nodded, and soon the ranger was headed back to the inn; furbished with refined tools of war.

[Crystal Heart]

Sandrina nodded as Anora told her everything that she knew. She listened intently, trying to make memories come with each thing that she said, but to no avail.

At the end of Anora's stories she stood up from the chair she had sat down in and smiled.

"I thank you for doing that Anora. I think we need to find everyone once again. Get going. We have stayed in one spot for too long and with that messanger no doubtedly on his way to my evil cousins and uncle they will probably be here within a couple of hours after hearing of my arrival from the presumed dead. Hama, do you have any idea where every one went?"

She turned to look at Hama who looked deep in thought. She wondered if he would even speak to her, if he was too deep in thought that he had not heard her. She knew that she had done that many times before since her fall. It was hard not to when you were trying to regain an entire life time back. A life time that she was sure was filled with happiness and love. A life time filled with friends and family which was all lost to her. Some memories had come back, but not enough to make her feel complete once more. She had the nagging feeling that she was only half a person because the biggest part of her was gone.

She knew that Hama would stick to his vow of allowing her justice, but she still wasn't sure how she would take out that justice. She wanted their punishments to be just for what they did to her, but she was unsure if she would be able to weild the sword that killed them. She swallowed hard and returned her attention back to Hama, wondering if he was even here at all or if he was waiting for her to do something.

[Firefoot]

By the time Harold finally left the inn it was past sundown. He mounted his mare and headed off at a slow trot, not wanting the horse to injure a leg in the deepening darkness. The darkness fit his mood. Negotiating with the mercenaries had not gone nearly so well as he had hoped. They had demanded more money than he had hoped, though not expected. He had been forced to pay them some money in advance, with the promise of more once the job was done. He had made it quite clear that he expected them at the estates early the next morning. He had not told them exactly who they were to kill, either; he had simply told him that a small armed group was coming to plunder his estates and kill him. He had given no reasons. Harold suspected that this was part of the reason the pay had been so high. Mercenaries usually liked to know what they were getting into.

When he finally arrived home he handed the horse off to a stable hand and hurried up to the house. He would be grateful when the day was done. He was surprised and slightly irritated to find his sons waiting for him at the house. Arthur appeared ready to leave and Samuel, if still hesitant about going, looked resigned to the fact.

“Do you need something?” he asked gruffly.

“No, not exactly,” said Arthur, seemingly taken aback. “We were just wondering how everything went, and what’s going on.”

“We have our mercenaries,” growled Harold. “And a bloody high price they want for the job. They had better do it right, or Sandrina’s head won’t be the only one I want. They are to be here first thing in the morning, and we will be leaving soon after that.” Silently, he added the words if all goes well. He had been unable to shake the earlier feeling that something was amiss, though he could see no basis for it. Harold continued, “Each of us will be bringing an extra mount in order to make better time. Be at the stables packed and ready to go by mid-morning. I don’t take kindly to waiting.” Arthur nodded, unperturbed. Samuel responded more slowly, but his answer too was in the affirmative.

“We will see you then,” said Arthur. With that both of them left the house. Harold climbed upstairs to his own bed and fell into a restless sleep.

~*~*~*~

The next morning dawned clear, despite the previous night’s ominous clouds. Harold arose with a groan and threw on some clothes suitable for travelling. Some dry bread was all he felt like eating for breakfast, and he bundled the rest of the food that would not spoil quickly into a bag to take along. He walked outside, expecting to see the mercenaries either waiting for him or riding up the road soon. Impatience rose within him as the minutes stretched on and they did not come. He had seen neither Sam nor Arthur yet, which also concerned and frustrated him. Does nobody but me understand how important this is...?

Harold was about to go round up his sons when he saw that a lone man was staggering up the road. He seemed to be exhausted. At that moment he picked up his head to look around. Harold could hear the relief in his voice when he called out, or tried to at any rate.

“Harold... thank Eru... I’ve gotten here... before... Sandrina...” With difficulty, the man was making his way up the slope towards Harold, and then Harold recognized him. It was Cerdic, the manager of the trading the estate did. He had been away to find out how much money people in other parts of Rohan were getting for their goods.

“Come up to the house, Cerdic, and tell me what you know, for it is clear you know something. You can have water and a place to sit as well,” said Harold. Cerdic nodded gratefully and followed him up to the house, still gasping for breath.

Once Cerdic had gotten his breath back up at the house, he began to speak. “I take it by the packed up state of the house you have received word of Sandrina?” Harold nodded, saying, “We had intended to leave this morning, as soon as the hired mercenaries arrived, but I have waited so long that we may well leave before they get here.” Cerdic continued, “I was in the same town as they were last night. Sandrina is gathering people to herself to come here and take the estate she claims as rightfully hers. She had intended to leave early this morning, and I fear they will be here soon. You see, I rode off as soon as I heard an adequate amount of their plans. I rode with speed through the night, but sometime around midnight my horse went lame and I was forced to leave him behind. I pressed on as hard as I could on foot, but I believe that it was slow enough that Sandrina will have made up a great deal of ground on me. If you want to leave before they get here, you must go soon.”

“Thank you, Cerdic,” said Harold. “Your news is appreciated, though it tells me little more than how little time I have. I had bargained on a couple days, at least. You may go now; you will want to get some rest, I imagine. If they should ask you, you know absolutely nothing about what is happening here. Say we left this morning without a word.” Cerdic nodded, and left. Harold sighed, rubbing his temples. Cerdic was one of the few people he felt he could trust. They had grown up together, as his parents had worked for Harold’s. He had no time to waste, now. He hurried outside to each of his sons’ houses.

“Hurry up, you lazy slowpoke! We are leaving in ten minutes! Get your brother too!” he yelled at Arthur’s door. “I’ll have your horses ready.”

With that Harold departed to the stables, retrieving each of the six horses he had selected last night. Three of them he saddled up to be ridden, saddlebags over their hindquarters. The other three wore only halters. They would switch off so that there were always fresh horses to ride. Within a few minutes Arthur and Samuel appeared, each dressed like himself for travelling on horseback. Harold almost expected Samuel to give one last argument, but he didn’t, much to Harold’s relief. He could not afford the time. They mounted up.

“We ride!” said Harold, and they were off, heeling their horses into a ground-eating canter.

[Crystal Heart]

Sandrina nodded in response. The time to leave was now. They had stayed too long in this Inn. Her cousin's men would undoubtedly be searching for them and this would probably be the first place that they looked.

"Let's go, before more danger arises," Sandrina stated.

The company walked outside in the brisk morning air, still dark from the lingers of night. Sandrina thanked one of the men that handed her the reigns of a horse. She jumped on and took a deep breath. This was the start of her rightful justice against them. Them that had created such hell for her in the last nine months.

Hama led the way, heading towards the Lightheart Estate. They travelled in silence through Rohan until they reached the golden fields and a large home and stables.

"Welcome home, Sandrina Lightheart," Hama whispered back at her. She gasped at the sight. It was just like the others, except it felt so.... so familiar. Memories flashed in her mind. Memories of her parents and all the happiness that was this house.

"Thank you, but I will not accept that I am fully home until my cousins and their father are brought to justice."

[Arien]

Braedon swung his sword against his attackers, the sharp vibrations flowed through his arms. This was no use, his chosen opponent apparently wielded a sword well. Well enough at least for Braedon to start to feel that this fight was getting a little monotonous. Suddenly the man swung again, this time quicker than before. He slashed across Braedon’s arm. He dropped his sword to the ground and fell on his knees. His attacker laughed.

“Tired Ranger? I thought I would at least have a match in you! Ha, weak!” He mocked as he raised his sword above his head, ready to drive it down on to Braedon’s body. He was big, a good few inches bigger that Braedon, almost dwarfing him and from down on the ground he had to admit this man held the advantage on size and power. But he was slow. So, he would have to be quick, he had already slid his knife out of his boot whilst the man before him was preoccupied with ridiculing him. He look up, the man smiling once more. Braedon smiled back.

This probably threw the man off, Braedon didn’t know, he didn’t linger to find out. He threw his knife in the direction of the man midriff, hoping. It was a blind an careless shot, he knew that, but it had to work. Luckily, the knife managed to puncture the area where there was no armour. Braedon grabbed his sword and slid though the mans legs, quickly getting up. He took no time in plunging his sword through his opponents back, he watched him fall to the floor as he drew his sword out. Coming around the side he kicked him over and retrieved his knife.

He moved his hand to his bleeding arm, excellent, now he had two injuries.

"Raen, Braedon! Hama needs help. Where is Haven?"

His head shot round to where Anora’s voice had called from. There! He ran over, sheathing his knife as he went.

“What happened?” Braedon asked, checking Hama’s wound. Thick, red blood slowly flowed out of the wound.

“Stabbed, protecting me, “ Sandrina said shortly. A tear flowed down her cheek, but it was quickly rubbed away.

Braedon took his off his small pack and laid it on the floor. He opened it and frowned.

“We need to seal…”

“Braedon!” shouted Sandrina, pointing behind him. Braedon felt a heavy hand knock him to the side, his eyes were blurred a little but he managed to see the mercenary making his way towards Sandrin, Anora and the fallen Hama. He searched for his sword, but that had been knocked away from him, he grabbed his knife and slowly stood up, watching the man in front of him gradually getting closer to them. He ran forwards slicing his knife across the mans neck . The man fell instantly to the floor, and lay motionless. Braedon moved him aside and bent down to tend to Hama again.

“We need to seal this wound, but what I have will not do it. I will have to burn it. Sandrina, you need to keep talking to him.” She nodded and sat down next to him quietly whispering to her fallen friend.

Braedon felt the wound, nothing serious was injured. He was ok, provided he didn’t lose any more blood and the wound was not infected. Which meant he would have to seal it as soon as possible. “Anora I need a fire.” She nodded and set to work. Braedon pulled out a bottle from his bag, and pulled off the cork. He spread the liquid around the wound and in it.

“Hama, if you can hear me this will numb the pain, and the burn a little. But I cannot guarantee you will feel nothing.”

“It is lit,” said Anora. Braedon nodded and the cursed. He had nothing but his knife to use, he handed it to Anora and instructed her what to do.

She was soon back, the knife held at arms length. She handed it to Braedon, he could feel the heat coming from it. He would have to move quickly. He traced it along the wound, the smell of burnt flesh filled the air around the four. Hama was now awake. His face was pale and his eyes full of pain.

“Ok, it is done.” Braedon tossed his knife to the ground and examined the wound. It was seal, and the bleeding had stooped. But it still looked terrible, and it would hurt immensely for the first few days. Losing a good fighter now was not the best thing to happen. Braedon applied a herb lotion on the wound. “He should be ok now.”

[The Perky Ent]

As Arthur moved throughout the world, he started looking at it without cause. He started to seperate what he thought, from what was logical. It soon became clear to him that this had no cause. His brother just might have been right all along. He was going to die. The question was, weather he'd go along with it. Once he took aside the prejudice of it all, he knew what he'd have to do. He didn't know if it would result in the death of his father, brother, or himself. But one thing was certain. Someone would die. Although he followed his fathers commands, he could sense it wouldn't last long.

[Himaran]

Raen stopped and listened, attempting to ignore Sandrina's harsh words to Hama. "I hear something," state Anora. Of course you do! There could be twenty or more mercenaries waiting for us at this very moment! He decided to stick with the original plan, sounds or not. This was no time to be indecisive, or the company might fall toghether in minutes. For Sandrina's sake, he would not allow that to happen.

"We are entering just as planned. Braedon, Hama and I will scale the wall again, and the rest of you enter through the gate. Wait for the signal." He was frustrated at how naive most of them were to such simple tactics. If we ever face a greater force... Banishing such thoughts from his mind, Raen hurried along the wall, followed by his two companions. Braedon helped him onto the walll - nothing had changed, no sign of movement. Hama refused help pulled himself over, jumping down onto the ground below. Oh well, at least he can fend for himself.

Once inside the courtyard, they spread out. Hama looked around the stables, and was soon preoccupied. Braen checked a storage shed, finding nothing. Raen slowly moved towards the house itself, watching for any signs of life behind the chrystal window panes. Is that... Then an arrow hurtled by, a victim of poor marksmanship. The ranger dove over to his right, lifted his fingers to his mouth and gave a piercing whistle; the signal for the others to attack. He saw a man (who dropped a bow and drew his sword) start running towards him, thought surely there will be others. The battle for Sandrina's home had begun.

[Crystal Heart]

Sandrina's blood pulsed through her at the prospect of battle. She unshethed her sword and looked back at the group.

"Let's go!" She called, running forward through the gate. They followed her, weapons at the ready. They entered the scene and found Hama and Raen fighting with all their might against, a quick count from Sandrina, eight. She took a deep breath and ran forward, bringing the raging enemy away from the two men.

"IT'S ME YOU WANT! COME AND GET ME!" Sandrina screamed, yelling for all to hear. She pushed forward, slashing and dodging. The biggest, most burly man that she had ever seen stood before her, his eyes blazing with fury. Sandrina smirked.

"You, I'm going to kill you for the reward!" He spat, taking a swing to her left. Sandrina countered, their blades smashing together with a great clang.

"That's what you think," Sandrina said, plunging forward. Her sword fell through his defenses and through his ribs. Sandrina swallowed hard, but pushed deeper. The man's eyes widened and he fell to the ground backwards. Sandrina put a foot upon his chest and pulled her sword free. She wiped around to look at the others.

"Anyone else want to try?" Sandrina taunted. Two men at once, from both sides, ran straight for her as if wanting to impale her. She dodged forward and backwards. She ran like a rabbit from a fox. Her eyes were filled with something that hadn't been there in a very long time, confidence. She weilded the sword as if she had been doing it her entire life. Her body remembered every movement that her father had taught her years prior. Memories of the lessons flooded her mind.

"You fight like your father!" One man yelled out in disgust. She laughed hauntily.

"Of course. He was the one that taught me!" She slashed at the man's shins, dodging towards the safety of the group that were fighting the others.

As she ran she slipped upon the grass. She hurried to get up, but the man caught her arm and twisted her in front of him. He held his sword high in the air, above of her head.

"Now you'll die like you should have you no good brat," he said, his eyes laughing happily. He bent back her wrist and her sword fell to the ground. Fear washed over her, replacing the adrenile rush that had had a hold of her. Then, words from the past snapped into her mind like lightening. She smiled and kicked her heel into his most sensitive area. She watched as he fell to the ground. She hurried and grabbed her sword. She swung with her eyes closed and heard the plop of the man's head to the ground. She shook away her thoughts and turned away, running to the others.

[Firefoot]

As he rode along without much to think about, Arthur’s earlier question came to Harold’s mind: Where are we going? The truth was, he was not comfortable with the answer he had given, that they would decide what to do when they got there. By then it might be too late to do what needed to be done. The foreboding feeling from earlier had returned, and though Harold was not one to go on nothing but intuition, these were special circumstances. Somehow he just knew everything was not going as planned, that Sandrina would not be killed by those he had left at the estates. It was not very comforting, but it gave him time to make plans. What he needed was an advantage.

He needed to get to Sandrina, make her feel fear. But what kind of threat would have the desired affect on her? Harold backed up to Sandrina at the estates. What would her next move be? Harold didn’t think she would just settle down at the estate and leave everything be; she would need more help than just the rag-tag following she had. She would need... Henry. Of course! How could he have forgotten? Something would need to be done about that - Sandrina could not be allowed to access her parents. It would create all kinds of problems. Harold knew that he would be at least two steps ahead of Sandrina here. Not only had he decided what she would try to do before she even knew, but he also knew the whereabouts of Henry and Eowyn, something that Sandrina probably didn’t.

Now how to accomplish this. The only way to be sure that Sandrina and her parents did not have contact would be to have either one or both under constant surveillance, and do it quickly. He knew that Henry and Eowyn’s new cottage was a couple days’ hard ride from where they were. Something should be done sooner. Sandrina could have done any number of things in a few days. She needed to be stopped, perhaps by some kind of threat. A threat of pain, yes, that would work. No woman could withstand much pain, weak creatures that they were. Or perhaps pain to her parents. The corners of Harold’s mouth turned upward in a small evil smile. If Sandrina continued to try to reach her parents, she would be made to watch their deaths, and then die herself. She would die anyway, but for her to watch Henry and Eowyn die... Harold couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

So once Sandrina was threatened, he would need to go after Henry and Eowyn. A threat was no good unless it could be backed. They could be... kid-napped. Harold was feeling quite pleased at his own cunning. A great deal better than anything his incompetent sons could come up with, and certainly Sandrina would not be able to figure out the complexities of the plan. In fact, the only way Harold could see that his plot might go wrong would be by Sandrina’s foolishness. Sometimes he wished women were just a little bit smarter; it would make plans like this more foolhardy. It would have to do, though.

Harold pulled his horse up and motioned for Arthur and Samuel to do the same. Harold quickly outlined his change of plans to them. Arthur seemed satisfied; Samuel, on the other hand, looked sick. Harold scowled. Samuel had better buck up soon; it was another way the plan might go wrong, if Samuel were to duck out and go to Sandrina. Harold knew too well that exceeding mercy was one of womenkind’s worst faults.

Harold took this opportunity to switch mounts, as he had been riding the same one since the morning. Arthur did the same. When he was remounted, Harold said to them, “We need to return to the Lightheart Estate with all possible speed. The sooner this gets done, the better.” The fresh mount was only too ready to go, and Harold let it go as fast as he dared. It was several leagues back to the estate, and they would not reach it until the next morning. Harold soon fell back into the monotony of the rolling plains of the Riddermark and the sound of hoofbeats in his ears. He was heated from the inside from the fire of desire for revenge, stoked up by his new foolproof scheme.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama saw Sandrina kill the man, but he was too well conditioned to flinch as he saw the headless body slump to the floor. He heard footsteps behind him a fraction too late as a sword swung into his armour, knocking him off balance. Regaining his footing he turned to see a familiar face. "John" he said, stepping forward and thrusting, which was parried. "Hama, I knew you'd be here, always the Lightheart's loyal dog." this time the mercenary slashed, and Hama parried and darted forward, ramming his sword into the mercenary's chest up to the hilt, it burst through his back in a shower of blood. "Better a loyal dog than a dead one." he spat into the man's face, letting him slide off his sword to the ground.

Hama heard a cry...Sandrina! He looked round and saw a man holding her round the waist in an attempt to keep her still for another man to kill her. Hama cried out as he ran towards them. The man holding Sandrina looked round and saw Hama, Hama saw his eyebrows raise in fear as he hurled his sword. It sliced the shoulder of Sandrina's shirt as it spun, pushing through the man's neck. He fell, desperately clutching the sword as he tried to pull it out. Sandrina screamed as blood spurted onto her clothes and ran towards the second man just as Hama fired, the arrow ripped the other shoulder of her shirt before thudding into the mercenary's chest. As he sank to the ground, Hama ran up to Sandrina. "Sandrina...you're good, but not strong. Do not take on men twice your size, or you will end up dead."

[starkat]

The battle had begun. Anora had crossed swords with one of the mercenaries and Was trying to disarm him. The man was taller and heftier than she had fought before, so she was having trouble. Suddenly she tripped and just as the man was about to kill her an arrow knocked him backwards.

Anora caught a glimpse of Hama and nodded her thanks. She ran over beside him and Sandrina and the three of them stood together.

[piosenniel]

~*~ To Elvenhome ~*~