Truth in a Dark Place RPG

[Carlas]

He had been so close. Rangar had been standing before him, just barely holding himself up, and the others had come. He had only had time to duck out of the way of an arrow, before he had left in a hurry, not wishing to fight the others.

Now he walked quickly through the forest, heading towards his nearest camp. It was pitch black about him, but he knew his way through the the woods better than most. He swore silently to himself for letting Rangar live, he had just needed a few more moments...

His thoughts were suddenly cut of by a small sound somewhere behind him. He looked about him for somewhere to hide, but if someone was following his tracks they would not have trouble finding his hiding spot. He looked up, and to his luck, a great tree branch hung quite low to the ground. He smiled, and jumped up, pulling himself up onto the branch with his massive arms. He slowly made his way towards the trunk, climbing from branch to branch, then made his way to the opposite side of the tree. He sat for a moment listening, then jumped down avoiding any bushes, and silently slunk back into the darkness of the night.

Would one of Rangar's group follow him? Baroden had thought that they'd be too busy with Rangar, but it seemed not. He'd have to be more careful.

[Earendil Halfelven]

He followed the footprints until they entered the forest. Then...they stopped. Turthôl glanced around him. Where could the hunter get to. The prints disappeared, right next to a nice big tree. Turthôl looked upwards into the boughs. Some of the branches looked bent and broken, as if someone had climbed up into it.

He circled the tree with all of his focus on the ground, and to his surprise, he found another set of prints. By the look of the deepness of the impression, the hunter had jumped down at this spot and had continued on into the woods. Satisfied that he had relocated the trail, Turthôl continued onwards.
_____________________________________________

The fog had lifted, and dawn was fast approaching. Turthôl still followed the prints. This man was moving fast. He was heading south, towards Tharbad. Turthôl thought of turning back, but he changed his mind. If he could find this man in Tharbad, he could end all their troubles, thus making the journey safer. No, he had to keep moving.

He glanced around him some more. By the look of it, he was out of the South Downs. Finally, he thought. At least part of my troubles have lessened. The trail was getting colder, even though Turthôl was on it. He wearily kept moving.

[Everdawn]

"Do you see it?" Énien asked Carmalita who she saw staring up at the sky. "What?" Carmalita asked. "The star, slightly to the right, and very bright." The elf pointed to the brightest star in the sky, shining and slightly blue in colour. "I was born under that star, and for over a thousand years it had never come again, save for when I left Rivendell." Énien was now cleaning her blade.

"Bregand" she said softly. "Where are we going now, which road, I imagine that we are well enough on our way to Rohan now, can you take a look at your maps for me? That is if you are able." She could see the boy was still in pain.

Desparatly she tried to lighten the mood. "Wren," she began. "Tell me, what do you know of Minas Tirith these days, it had been well over fifty years since I have been there, the silver tree, it must still grow, a whisper of Elven wonder among men.Tell me of your family, are you married where you come from?" she said now with a yaun. But she was not that tired.

[Arien]

Carmalita smiled at Énien. She did not reply at first to what she had said. She just thought. First, 1000 years! Wow, elves really were special. She gazed a second at Énien and then continued to stare into the starry sky. She knew some of the groupings of the stars. There was Menelmacar, the heavens swordsman. He could be seen almost any where in the sky. She loved the stories her father used to tell her about him, before she disappointed him. Now she told them stories to crystal...

She searched the sky again, but she had forgotten the rest, too much had gotten in her way. She rolled over, and looked into the heat of the fire. The sparks danced around it and a tear fell down her cheek. It was the pain of her stomach, that’s what she told herself. But it wasn’t. She knew she shouldn’t have left crystal, but that child was such a burden. When she wanted to travel there was always a child behind her. Wanting food, toys, drink she hated it. But she the child was her responsibility, even if it was not her fault.

He had made her do it. He had made her……. She turned over so her faced looked upon the ground. Her stomach hurt immensely but she did not want to worry anyone with her tears. They had too much to think of. Slowly she fell asleep.

[The Evenstar]

It was an intense time for a lot of the comapany.
Aerin, sat, isolated for once, at the stump of a great tree. She was singing one of her village songs softly under her breath.

This was the greatest adventure of her life, but she was beginning to miss her father and the rest of her family in Rohan. She thought of Tareth and her new, but unsure friendship with him, of Wren, Enien, Turthol, Rangar the rest of her friends. Then, slowly, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep and undisturbed sleep.

[ May 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Arvedui III]

The crackling fire was the only sound pervading into the darkness of the small camp. Rangar allowed Carmalita to redress his wounds without any struggle, save the occasional wince from the stinging alcohol. He had to hand it to the nurse. While still feeling the lingering effects of her own wounds, she had unflinchingly tended his, making Rangar's shame and guilt swell to incredible new heights. It's my fault, and they suffer. Bregand, Wren, and Carmalita. All of them. And I don't even know why. This should only have happened to me. Maybe I shouldn't be, but they understood the risks when, no. No. Not even I understand, how could I? Why is this happening? Why now? Too many questions, and not enough answers. Rangar could feel his eyes water slightly, yet whether that was from the pain of his wounds or the pain of his mind he could not tell. He gave up trying to think. He didn't want to worry the others. He couldn't cry. He never had. Or had he? Way too many questions were coming up at this moment. Rangar, like the rest of the company, turned down and fell into an uneasy sleep; He supposed he dreamed, but he could not remember what of, or maybe he didn't want to.

As dawn crept over the tree lines, Rangar ignored Camalita's orders and got painfully to his feet, fully expecting to see Turthol sitting by the dying embers of the fire muttering something about getting up early, or Enien leaning against a tree humming some elvish tune. But no sights greeted him. Everything was still. "Hullo, you're up without permission." Said a voice behind him. He jumped and spun around, only to see Wren sitting on an old log. Rangar looked down. Great, more reasons I should, "Feeling better?" Wren's voice cut into his thoughts. He nodded dumbly, trying to look away. Stupid. She's fine; It wasn't your fault. "You sure?" He nodded again. This wasn't a good time for talking, save with maybe one person. "Is Turthol back yet?" He asked softly, still looking at the ground. " It is polite to look at someone when you speak, Rangar." She said in a mock scold, trying to be mischievous while at the same to avoiding his question. He chuckled despite himself, making his ribs hurt. "Sorry." He said, trying to sound light-hearted, but it only achieved the effect of gnarling his already hoarse voice. "Turthol hasn't come back, yet." Said Wren quietly, abandoning her cheerful tone.

Rangar frowned again. More decisions to make. Turthol can take, but that man. He shivered. I have to trust him, but that man. Without bidding he reached for his side, ignoring the look Wren was giving him. No, he can handle it. After all, he's much better then I. "What did Turthol say to do if he wasn't back by dawn." Rangar asked keenly. "He said, um, to keep going and he'd catch up with us." Wren answered. "Ok then. Let's get going." Wren eyed Rangar incredulously for a moment, the shock the look off. "Camalita is going to throw a fit, you know." "Not this early in the morning." Rangar replied wryly. He hadn't planed it, but it seemed the most logical way to get moving. And, though he wouldn't admit it, the quickest way to get away from this place.

[Everdawn]

Énien rubbed her eyes. She was more tired than she thought. Groggily she got to her feet. The elf could see that Rangar and Wren were up. The sun was coming higher in the sky. It was a perfect day. Her long hair moved slightly in the breeze.The elf glanced around, doing a head check. No Turthôl...She frowned.

Melliant was rolling in the dirt near by. Énien gathered up his saddle and bridle and walked over to the huge black horse. "Up!" she commanded to him, and he obeyed, as a child answering to its mother. "We have a long way to go today Melliant, and then I promise when we cross the boarder you can have some rest." The horse stood now ready to ride.

"Rangar, Wren, as soon as Turthôl returnes we will be on our way. Today we ride hard, Thoes without horses will double up with those who do have horses, I will let you choose who you ride with, but we should be well into Roahn by nightfall, that is if Master Turthôl decides to return soon. That will at least get us away from these wild men." Énien felt it was her place to restore some order, at least for the morning after their ordeal two nights ago.

[The X Phial]

Bregand had taken out his maps by the fire at Enien's request the night before and shown her their position.

"If we make good time we can reach Rohan in eight days or so, assuming we run into no more serious attacks," he had said, and he knew his voice didn't sound hopeful. "I'm sorry I am not better company," he added before trying to smile and wincing instead.

He had patted Carmalita's hand then and staggered to his feet, with a little help from the elf. Making it to his blankets with a concerned look toward Rangar, the boy fell asleep and did not wake until the sounds of stirring from the camp invaded his dreamless slumber.

In the faint morning glow he could see that Rangar was already on his feet despite his wounds. Wren was also awake, perhaps haunted by the memories of her capture. Unsurprisingly the elves were also both alert, though Enien looked a bit worse for wear.

Bregand sat up gingerly, surprised at how much better he felt after a good long sleep. The medicine he had gotten from Carmalita had also been helpful, banishing the worst of the dizziness and allowing him to think a little more clearly. He ran his hand carefully over the large welt on the back of his head. It was very tender, and oozing a bit of blood. Carmalita has assured him that this was a good sign. Still, he felt rather filthy.

Bregand stood up slowly and took a tentative step. His head ached, but he was no where near as weak. This was wonderful news as it meant they could move on without him being a burden. Well, maybe they could move on if Rangar and Carmalita rode. Bregand could feel the weight of the long journey ahead of them. He still had a message to give to the King's Army. He recited it slowly to himself. Good, nothing had been forgotten. A head injury for a messenger and scholar could be worse than anything else.

Bregand made his way to the stream, happy for a moment or two of privacy. He washed himself and his shirt in the icy stream and had to bite his lip to keep from shouting out. Cold water on top of a headache. He drank a bit as well, suddenly very thirsty. Carmalita had told him that this, too, was normal after an injury. He thought about the young nurse and how caring she had been with him. She had aslo shocked him with her news that she was a mother. She was so young and vibrant. In his mind mothers were staid and quiet. He supposed one as caring as she was, though, would make a good parent. He resolved to ask her more about her daughter if a time presented itself. He was curious as to why she would leave a child behind with its father and at the same time very grateful that she had come along. A child meant a husband, in Bregand's mind, and that thought dismayed him when he thought of Carmalita for reasons he couldn't quite articulate.

Bregand made his way back to camp and saw that the others were starting to really awaken. He made his way to Rangar's side.

"Rangar, I know you are wounded, but can you ride? Rohan is still a long way off and I feel that it is unsafe to stay near the Downs."

Rangar opened his mouth to speak, and then Bregand finally noticed that Turthol was gone.

"Where is Turthol?" he interrupted.

[ May 22, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[ May 22, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[Arien]

"He's gone to hunt..." said Carmalita from behind Bregand. He turned round to face her.

"To hunt what?"

"That man who attacked Rangar, if you ask me I'd say he was a bit...." she mouthed the last word crazy to Bregand.

"Who? Turthol or that man?"

"Both!" she laughed, "Rangar, how are you feeling?" she passed Bregand and pressed Rangars wound, hard.

He wincinced in pain, "What did you do that for?"

"Oh so it still hurts?" she said putting her hands on her hips, "seeing as your up prancing about I thought it might be ok." she laughed and walked back to her pack mumbling something about how men were too proud for their own good.

She sat down for a moment when Bregand came to here. "You will ride my horse then?"

"Er...yes, I will. But you will have to ride too!"

+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Soon they were ready to go, the camp was packed up and Rangar lead the party down the path.

[Arvedui III]

Carlas's Post
Baroden walked into the camp, barking at the guards who were starting to daze off, as Aranthan ran to his side. He was curious to know what had happened to him and Rangar, but Baroden would not say anything.Baroden walked quickly into his tent, followed by the curious Aranthan, who watched as Baroden sat down on the ground and looked up at him, frowning.
"We're going to have to leave quickly, Rangar got away. His companions came just as I was about to finish this for good, I do not want to hurt the others, but if they get in the way..." He trailed off suddenly.

Aranthan looked at him and sighed. "Look, you have gone through much, you do not have to do this anymore, just forget about it."

Baroden stood up quickly and looked at Aranthan sternly. "I cannot forget! I will never forgive him, you know that, and he shall pay! But now we must get moving, I have reason to believe that I was followed! Get the men together, we must be out before the sun has fully risen! I think I know where the others with Rangar are headed, we must get there quickly!" He looked at Aranthan once again before he nodded and left to tell the men.
*****************
A small dust cloud rose as the company made their way out of the downs and unto the Greenway. Rangar felt very heavy and unless at the moment. Those who did not have horse were paired up with those that did, much to Rangar displeasure; For although he liked horses very much, every bump in the road made his ribs sting, and after three hours of unabating turbulence, Rangar was quite ready to test his legs again. Adding to his discomfort was the fact they had seen no sign of Turthol; What he might be doing Rangar could not guess, but always in the back of his mind there was a fear. A fear of something happening to his friend on his account. He also felt a little guilty about not being very sociable at the moment, he and Tareth had rode silently while the others had been talking, Wren and Rave, in particular, seemed to be having a very engrossing conversation.

For, when Rangar called a stop, partly because it was dark and mostly because his side hurt, they kept right on riding and talking, and Bregand had to catch their reins in rather awkward manner, as he had just slid off his own horse that he had been sharing with Carmalita. They made camp, and settled down for the night. Rangar slept with full intentions of running after Turthol in the morning. I just can't let him He thought obstinately as the stars began to appear in the sky. But, as in most things, by morning his plan was thwarted, and by Enien, no less. The elf was keeping a very close watch on Rangar, and while it was comforting to know at least someone was looking out for him, she absolutely refused to see the logic in letting him backtrack for Turthol.

"Look, I'll only be gone for today, and the Greenway's safe enough." He protested as the elf blocked his path to where the horses were. "One would think, little mortal, that you would have the sense not to head back into the downs, especially considering what happened." She responded tersely. For a moment Rangar felt very small, then his anger flared. However, he found the wits to growl a retort. "Listen, I'm going back, and if you don't like it, elf. Then you can," "What are you two doing?" It was Calmir. "I'm going back for Turthol, we'll both catch up with you all in a bit." Rangar barked, still eying Enien with annoyance. Calmir gave him a look similar to the one Wren had given him the day before, but made no reply, nor did Rangar care. "No." Said Enien calmly, steeping forward. "He's not, he's riding with you today, Calmir." "Fine." Said the other elf in an offhand tone before Rangar could get in another word. As the group headed onto the road again, Rangar made a mental note to never argue with an elf again.
**********
Three days of hard riding passed before Rangar began to hear the sound of water. At first it unnerved him, then Tareth said. "Tharbad, great." A sense of relief seemed to pass over the company, and Rangar couldn't help but smile as the waters of the Greyflood came into view.

[ May 23, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Three days of hard riding with the sullen Rangar in the saddle behind him were enough to make Calimir wonder why he'd gotten into this journey in the first place. The lands were wild and lonely and tempers in the group were flaring. All were worried about Turthol, Calimir thought. Yet they could do nothing about it.

Enien rode close beside him, the two of them telling stories of places they had known. It was talk that would be boring to any but an elf, but Rangar seemed to soak it up as well. Calimir kept talking simply to occupy the man. When he could talk no more Enien seemed to take the clue. Her voice raised in an old song, the Tale of Finrod Felagund and his first meeting with the fathers of men. Enien sang it in the Common Tongue and Rangar listened intently as she sang. Calimir listened absently, the elf was very tired. He'd stayed alert nights making sure that Rangar didn't try to sneak off and find Turthol, and his sharp eyes had more than once seen the man looking back over his shoulder toward the downs.

Enien noticed his looks, and spoke to him about it that evening as they made camp near Tharbad. "I am worried for him." she said lightly. "He takes the safety of his friends too seriously."

Calimir, recalling Enien's recent behavior, nearly snorted in laughter she proclaimed this. But composing his face he answered. "I do not know what to think of him. He calls himself Rangar, yet he does not look like one of the Dunedain."

Enien looked up at him. "I have thought the same. He listens to our tales like he has never heard them before. One of the Dunedain would know the old stories, at least in part." Calimir shook his head. Enien was very perceptive. He hadn't noticed this at all. The two elves fell silent in the sleeping camp, yet neither slept. Enien's face turned outward, watching the land around, and Calimir's in to watch the sleeping face of their leader.

[ May 23, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl wearily entered Tharbad. He had been tracking the enemy for almost six days. It had been almost a week since he had left Rangar and the rest. He felt guilty for leaving but he knew that he had to do this. He had found nothing except footprints. The enemy obviously suspected he was being tracked, and despite the Dúnedain's skills, he was unable to catch up.

He had lost the trail when he entered the town. He knew it was vain now to try. He headed for the nearest inn, to catch up on some sleep and to see if the company was here.

As he entered the small inn, he noticed that it was busy for such a small place. It was packed with people who were geared for long travel. Pipeweed smoke hung heavily in the air, and the Ranger coughed. He wasn't a smoking man.

He approached the bar to have a word with the innkeeper. He glanced around to see if there was anyone that he recognized there, but no; the company had not arrived.

"Can I help you sir?" the innkeeper asked.

"Are you the master of this inn?" Turthôl asked.

"Aye, yes I am. Lombardo's the name. What can I get ya?" the man asked cheerily.

"Some answer's first. Has a company of elves and men passed through? There would be some women also." he asked.

"There have been many companies traveling through on account that they are heading on to Lond Daer down south along the Greyflood. They be a comin' from places like Fornost, Archet, and Bree, and other towns from the Shire. But elves, you say? Nay, I haven't seen any of those folk here." Lombardo replied.

"Why are all these people going to Lond Daer? I bet it's for the solstice festival," Turthôl asked.

"Aye, you must be familiar with these parts. I'm as busy as a hive, but one of my workers have abandoned me. That no account rascal! Well, sir, what can I get ya?"

"Well, you have any rooms left?" Turthôl asked.

"No sir. I'm sorry but we're fully booked for the moment. You look tired. Are you on the way to the festival?" Lombardo asked.

"No, I'm traveling..."he stopped. Should he say why he was traveling? And with Rangar? "...alone. I'm heading south towards Rohan. But I plan on staying a few days to rest up." Turthôl prepared to leave to find a place to stay. "Sorry to bother you sir. I'll be on my way. Do you happen to know of any other places I may find a room?"

"Well, hold on just minute. You look like a noble fellow. I don't know why, but I feel like I can trust ya. I have a proposition. Are you in need of some wages?" Lombardo said.

Turthôl thought a moment. Some cash wouldn't hurt.

"Sure. What can I do for you?" Turthôl asked.

"Well, since I'm shorthanded, would you mind filling in as a worker? I'll pay ya full wages and let you sleep in the kitchen. It's nice and warm there. That way, you have a place to stay and some money, and I'll have a worker. You can stay as long as ya like."

"You have yourself a deal," Turthôl said.
_____________________________________________

He had been in Tharbad for three days. He had enjoyed waiting tables and serving food. He had a place to stay and some money.

"Hello, waiter! More ale!" some man yelled.

Turthôl took the mugs and refilled them. As he approached the table, he heard, "...he was a dark fellow. Came from the Downs about 4 days ago. Said something about tracking some murderer."

Turthôl's ears picked up. Came from the Downs? 4 days ago? He saw the table next to those men was now empty of guests and he began wiping it, slowly so as to hear the conversation.

"...never take up with a fellow like that. Its bad luck!"

"What was this man like, anyhow?"

"I dunno. Brown hair, little on the short side but not too short. Looked as if he had been traveling a long way. I asked him, "And who is this murderer?" He says to me, "A man named Rangar" . I says to him, "Oh, and who has this man been murderin'?" But then he says all mean-like,"This man murdered my brother. Have you seen a company of men, women, and elves pass through?" I says, "no but there's been a lot of folk come through here." He was kind of drunk but he wouldn't say no more, and I wouldn't ask 'em. He seemed dangerous..."

That was enough. His journey wasn't fruitless after all. Now all he had to do was wait for the others.

[maikafanawen]

Tharbad was a few hours journey that the company would make in the morning. Wren slid down off of Rave’s horse and stood very still and very painfully. Rave gave her a funny look.

“Are you all right Wren?” she asked, trying not to laugh at the noblewoman’s crooked stance. Wren grimaced as she straightened her back and stretched out her arms.

“Oh!” she said as if she had just realized something she had long forgotten, “that’s why I don’t like riding horses. They turn your bum into raw meat.” Rave chuckled, removing her horse’s tack and beginning to brush her down. Wren gave her a small salute and thanked her for her company and allowing her to ride behind her. Then she made her way over to where Carmalita had started a small fire and was boiling a kettle of water for some tea. Dinner had been dried meat and fruits for the past week and it looked as though things weren’t going to change any time soon. “Something smells good!” said Wren hopefully.

“Then you must have just recently developed a favorable attraction to the scent of boiling water because that’s all that’s in the pot dear.” The Gondorian scowled and sat tenderly on the ground, wincing as her sore bottom hit the ground. “How was the ride?” the healer asked innocently. Wren smiled.

“Brilliant. I think I’ll invest in a few horses myself when I get home. Although, I prefer saddles made of soft leather as opposed to the stone version I was seated in today.” Carmalita laughed and stoked the fire, adding the herbs to the water. Wren heaved a dramatic sigh and absently picked at the grass blades. “How’s Rangar and Bregand doing?” she asked as if asking about Carmalita’s own family.

“Fine, fine,” was the reply. “Rangar’s feeling a bit of pain around his stomach—it’s his ribs ye know, and Bregand’s head is still functioning properly.” As if on cue, Bregand came up behind them, holding a map open before him. He plopped on the ground beside Carmalita, studying the parchment.

“So Bregand,” asked Wren, leaning back on her hands, “what and where is Tharbad precisely?” The young scholar looked up with a look that clearly said ‘you-don’t-know-what-Tharbad-is?’ “I’ve learned bits and pieces in my history lessons,” she countered. “But why don’t you refresh my memory.” Bregand sat back leniently.

“Fine. I’ll sum it up for ye. Well, Tharbad was an important waystation for overland travel between the North and Gondor during the time when Cardolan was known as part of the southern third of the divided Arnorian kingdom. It and Lond Daer were the chief cities that sat along the Greyflood. However, during the battle of Angmar, both cities were reduced to ancient ruins, the Great Bridge having collapsed to form a ford of stony rubble in the Gwathló River. When King Elessar restored the North-Kingdom—very recently—Tharbad once again became an important stop on the road between Arnor and Gondor. With the help of the dwarves, the Great Bridge was also rebuilt. It should take us a little less than two hours to get there in the morning.” He then resumed studying his map and Wren sat for a second, taking in the information. Tharbad, and Lond Daer? Cardolan? Gwathló? The names were very vague in her mind, and bits and pieces of memory didn’t do them any justice. A bit frustrated that she new more about the different kinds of wines and their seasons or masquerades than geography, she excused herself from her two companions, leaving them in conversation.

She sat at the top of a small hill from above which she could see a ribbon of the Greyflood rushing in the distance. Had she been an elf she might have heard the water, but only the sound of night birds and crickets met her ears as she strained to listen. The noblewoman sighed. Nothing had gone the way she had expected. Rangar & Co. was supposed to journey easily across Eriador, through Dunland and into Rohan. From there it was a clear shot to Gondor—home. So far they had been ambushed twice and Wren had gotten captured and rescued all in only a few weeks. The poor noblewoman was exhausted, though she would be last to admit it. The past few nights she had spent yearning for home and dreaming of the comforts she was so used to.

On the other hand, she was enjoying herself. Wren had made a motley collection of new friends and was obviously getting stronger. Her taste buds had been stretched to accept the rough menu she was given, and she was learning things. The noblewoman swore that every time she had a small conversation with of her companions she learned ten new things. Rave told of life as a shield maiden, as did Aerin. They both had informed Wren a great deal of their adventures, and things that made their wanderings easier. Carmalita—whether she knew it or not—had taught Wren to make herbal teas, bandage a rough wound, and start a fire (all of these the Gondorian had learned through observation). Bregand was probably most informal. If Wren had a silver penny for every new thing he had told her, she’d have enough to supply wine at her mother’s parties for ten years.

A star shot across the night sky, soon followed by another. Wren gazed up at the dark blue ceiling in awe. It was then she realized that she hadn’t sat under the naked sky for ten years. So absorbed in her parties and social life, she had abandoned her youthful love of the earth about her. Dismissing the thoughts from her head, she untied her blue jerkin and folded it up into a square, putting it under her head as she lied down. A soft breeze ruffled her white blouse and blew wisps of stray blond curls into her face. It is a beautiful night, she marveled.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Two days later, Turthôl still waited tables while awaiting his companions. He now had enough money to buy a lot of supplies, plus a little extra. He decided that he couldn't wait any longer. He must go out and find the company. After the inn closed for the night, Turthôl went to the stables, saddled his newly bought horse, and headed out into the night in the direction of the Downs.
_____________________________________________

He had been riding for three hours west of Tharbad. He did not see the company, but he felt that they should be near. He was only a few days ahead of them.

Suddenly, in the darkness ahead, Turthôl glimpsed a few specks of light. They were the specks of camp fires. He hoped it was them. He rode forward cautiously. As he grew closer, he glimpsed the shadows of those that sat around the fires, but he was too far to distinguish anybody.

"Halt, rider. Do not ride any closer," came a voice out of the gloom. He recognized the voice as that of a female elf.

"Enien, still keeping watch? Your a vigilant sentry," Turthôl called out.

A shaped stepped over.

"Turthôl? Is it you?" Enien said.

"Yes, its me. You guys have been taking too long so I decided to come out and find you." he said with a laugh.

"Bless the Valar, your safe! Everyone has been worried," she said. "Especially Rangar..."

Turthôl dismounted. "How is he? Is he alright?" he asked.

"Yes. He's still wounded but he's doing fine." she replied.

"Take me to him. Quick! I have ill news. My journey wasn't all in vain," he said.

"Ok, follow me," Enien said.

He followed her into the camp. He was glad that they were alright. On the way, he passed by Wren, who was laying on the ground and staring into the sky. She saw them approach and as she recognized him, Turthôl said, "Hello Wren. Nice to see your well."

Then he faded back into the dark as he went to see Rangar.

He was glad to see his friend good and well.
Turthôl shook him awake.

"Sorry to wake you, old friend, but I have some news." Turthôl said.

[Everdawn]

It was dark. Too dark for Énien's liking. She had left Melliant to his own on the hillside. For a moment she watched the huge black horse trot over the grass. He had made the journey with her on his back easily, perhaps the best out of all the horses.

There were flashes of stars across the sky. She had almost jumped out of her skin. The elf muttered something in her own tongue.

Unalbe to sleep, Énien stood up. "Calimir, this is strange this journey, something is different." she said.
"Whats wrong?" Calirmir asked. "I dont know exactly, and i hate not knowing." her fair face now troubled.

She glanced at her old friend, who now was staring at the sky. "Does it trouble you that you are not near them." Énien knew that Calimir was thinking of his family. He always did. "Greatly" he smiled at her. "And, you, have only your parents who have crossed the sea. Poor Énien, you will find them soon." Énien closed her eyes.

"It is not that which troubles me so, as much as i would like to think. You are brother enough for me in this world Calimir. I think i have changed Calimir, its a maternal instinct, these mortals are so fragilein a way, my friend. My values have changed. I see their side now. But i try to do the best thing." she picked up her bow and arrow. "Always, the right thing Énien" Calimir said.

"Bregand, Are you well still?, Carmalita, keep a watch on him. Aerin, Rave, Wren i trust you travelled well." she passed the fire.
"Rangar" she said walking towards where he was sitting, " I know you hat me right now and,I-, I just want to say, im sorry about before. I know Turthôl is a dear friend of yours, but i couldnt let you go after him, wounded, and him so able to defend himself. I have a feeling he is near. And, anyway, im sorry." She truned her back and began to walk away into the darkness before he could speak.

It had been some time that she had been guarding when a figure on a horse began to approach. I am ready for you this time wild man. Just try and catch Énien Unawares, my bow-string dares you. She smirked. "Halt, rider. Do not ride any closer," she said. And it stopped, only replying "Enien, still keeping watch? Your a vigilant sentry," This was Turthôl.

Énien laughed. Then she was relieved "Bless the Valar, your safe! Everyone has been worried," she said. "Especially Rangar..." The elf took Turthôl into the camp where he woke Rangar to speak to him. Énien walked over to where Calimir was sleeping. "Calimir! walke up, Turthôl has returned."

[ May 24, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Arvedui III]

[maikafanawen]

Tharbad may not have been Minas Tirith, but it suited Wren just as fine. The inn the ranger had led them to be a fine inn settled near the river with stables in the back for the occupants’ horses and wagons. The floors were neatly swept and the tables and chairs were clean and polished. One window was slightly cracked towards the rear but that was the extent of damage in the common room. Candles were lit around the room giving off a comforting display of light patterns.

Upon arrival she had immediately requested a chalice of Dorwinion wine. She laid a silver penny on the counter, and the innkeeper pocketed it with a smile. The noblewoman took her chalice over to the table where the company had seated themselves and joined the conversation—which was recently turned towards humorous comments concerning Turthôl’s new part-time job.

“Yes, well, you shouldn’t poke fun,” said Wren defensively. “Thanks to him we’re all staying in a fine inn, eating fine meals, and enjoying cozy fires.” Then she turned to Turthôl, fighting back a smile and said calmly, “Now I believe I’ll have the deer stew and some potatoes, and why don’t you refill my glass while you’re up.”

“Yes, I’ll just have a salad with some rabbit on the side, what would you fancy Bregand?” asked Carmalita playing along. Bregand laughed and began to respond when Turthôl cut in.

“That does sound good. I’ll just call the waiter when you’re all ready.” The group shared a laugh and decided on their suppers. Turthôl beckoned towards a cute waitress who came quickly over to their table, giving a special wink at the ranger. “Hello Gina,” he said acknowledging the tipsy waitress. Good to see you again. I believe we’re ready.” Nods were passed along the table and the company called out their orders. Gina scratched them down on her little pad and swished her skirts as she walked back towards the kitchens. Turthôl muttered something about a charming young lady as he turned back to the conversations.

When the waitress returned, she was carefully balancing two trays of steaming food in her hands. She passed around the different plates and refilled the mugs and chalices.

“Will that be all?” she asked, directing the question to Turthôl. The ranger nodded appreciatively.

“Yes, thank you so much. Remarkable how fast you were, Gina. I never could get that down,” he pressed a silver piece into her hand and she curtsied before taking the empty trays back to the kitchen, blushing furiously. What a ditz, thought Wren as she watched her go. The Gondorian immediately cursed her jealousy and tucked into her dinner.

Rangar & Co. talked for a while after their suppers before retiring to their rooms. They were all thankful for the comfortable night before them. Wren had downed three chalices of the famed wine and was three silver pennies poorer. The noblewoman had always been known to be able to hold her liquor well and she made it to easily to her room up the stairs that looked out over the street. A crackling fire had been lit in the stone fireplace and the covers on her bed had been turned down. Two bedside candles had been set on the end-table and a candelabra sat on the desk in the corner. The window on the far side of the room had been opened and its shiny ebony panes caught the light from the waxing moon; the curtains blew in the breeze.

Wren walked across the room, taking the blue scarf out of her hair. She pulled the chair away from the desk and sat it before the window, sitting down. For a second she just sat there staring down to the cobble stone road below. Shop owners doused candles, and switched open signs to read closed before locking their doors. A few children were being called inside and animals were being shut in fences. The sky was cloudy, hiding from view the previous night’s beautiful constellations, and it wasn’t long before a light rain began to fall, quenching the earth’s thirst. Wren smiled to herself and moved away from the window, changing into a loose-fitting tunic to sleep in.

The rain began to fall harder and she eventually had to close her window, though she left the curtains parted. The noblewoman blew out her candles and lied down in the soft feather bed, falling asleep instantly.

* * *

Wren woke the next morning blinking into the ray of light that poured in from her open window. She remembered closing it and sat up quickly looking around. The noblewoman saw that her clothes had also been folded and the fireplace swept out. Deciding that an inn-maid must have done it she stepped lightly out of bed stretching. She walked over to the window and down into the street. People were just coming out of houses and blankets were being shaken. Good, she thought. It’s still early morning. She dressed quickly in her blue jerkin and red scarves. On her way out of the room she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and gasped. Her clothes were wrinkled and dirty. The noblewoman narrowed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. The unattended to curls popped back up in place. She grunted in frustration.

“Well,” she said out loud. “This is certainly unacceptable.”

“Something wrong with your room miss?” asked an inn-maid as she peeked into Wren’s room. The noblewoman’s expression didn’t change as she turned to face the inn-maid. It was Gina.

“No,” she said flatly. “But just because I’m not at home under the scrutiny of my parent’s friends and their children doesn’t mean I can’t look nice just the same!” She grabbed her bag of filthy clothes, and leaving the rest of her things on the desk and on the bed she ran down the stairs and out into the street.

The road by now was full of merchants had set up their kiosks and were selling a variety of things from jewelry to pots, and from rugs to weapons. Wren walked down the left side of the road, scanning the buildings for a formidable looking clothe shop. Her eyes settled on a swinging sign with the words Ribbons and Frills: Filauriel’s Clothe Shop. She entered the store and was immediately greeted by a plump woman wearing so many yards of lace she looked as though she’d gotten in a fight with her loom. The woman took one look at Wren’s ensemble and grimaced conspicuously.

“Oh my,” she declared, taking her bag and rummaging through it. “Well no matter, we can fix all that in no time. Did you have something in mind?”

“As a matter of fact—yes. I’m traveling at the moment and need something appropriate for the occasion. A few shirts, some pants, and a jerkin or two,” said Wren as she absently looked around the store. “I’d like some color and decoration too, not just drab things.” The woman nodded excitedly and led her to the right side of the store. She picked out five different jerkins, holding them up to Wren.

“Here you are. Just your size too.” The noblewoman took them to the back of the store and stepped behind a changing wall. The first jerkin was purple with orangish rick-rack around the sleeves and down the front. She discarded it and pulled out the second one. This one was a deep maroon that had gold trimmings and tiny clasps. It fit nicely and was thick enough to offer protection. She draped it over the rail and chose a third. After she had gone through that pile and the others Filauriel handed her, she had chosen three new jerkins—one maroon, one rust colored, and one gray.

“Now for shirts—oh yes and pants.” An hour past and the morning was edging on towards eight o-clock. Wren sat all the things for her purchase on the counter and Filaruiel looked through them quickly, adding up the prices in her head. “Let’s see that’s twenty copper pieces each for the two shirts, thirty each for the pants and fifty a piece for the jerkins, that’s two and a half silver pennies. Right then, we have five copper pennies each for the scarves, that’s fifty copper pennies plus these boots too?” Wren nodded as the woman held up a new pair of knee-high black leather boots with extra-tough soles—her others had thinned tremendously. “Ok then dear that will be precisely one silver piece. Thank you.” Wren put the silver piece along with an extra ten coppers for the woman’s help and left the store.

“Oh your other clothes!” called Filaruiel after her, holding up her bag. Wren thought a bit then waved it away.

“Do what you will with them, however I will keep the bag.” After emptying its contents, she folded her new clothes into it and swung it over her back.

By the time she got back to the inn, the company was down in the common room, sharing breakfasts. Wren hid her face and ran up the length of stairs to her room to change into one of her new and clean outfits. She decided on a rusty colored jerkin with wavy bronze trim. It tied up the front with matching delicate bronze thread. The Gondorian tied a pumpkin orange scarf around her waist and donned a new pair of light brown pants. Then she gathered her hair into a low ponytail and tied a second pumpkin colored scarf to keep it in place. A knock on the door startled her and Carmalita’s voice came from the other side.

“Are you up Wren?” she called.

“Yes, just coming down. Be there in a moment.”

“Would you like me to order your breakfast for you?”

“Sure!” called Wren as she straightened in front of the mirror, looking splendid in her new ensemble.

“What would you like?” The noblewoman stuffed her things into her bags, and sat back down to pull on her boots.

“Surprise me.”

“All right.” Carmalita’s footsteps disappeared down the stairs and Wren placed her two bags by the door, and buckled her belt around her waist. She looked once more around her room for anything she might have left. Her bed was partially made and the chair was out of its usual place. Wren tossed a pillow on the floor to spite the inn-maid and nudged the end table so it was crooked. Satisfied at her own childish mischief she left the room, leaving the door open behind her, and walked down the stairs.

“There she is,” said Tareth looking up at her as she came to join her companions at the table.

“Sleep well?” asked Rangar.

“I did thank you, and the rest?” They all nodded and most were just finishing their hearty breakfasts. Carmalita came back with hers and she ate it quickly, thanking the healer.

“Turthôl has gotten horses and tack for those of us without them so we can all ride now. We should head out soon, within the half hour.” Meals were finished and paid for and the company left the inn. Wren caught a glimpse of Gina saying something to Turthôl before Rave brought the noblewoman’s new horse around. It was a regal looking horse with white and orange splotches and an auburn colored mane.

“Looks like you’ve picked the right outfit to go with your mount,” commented Rave. The noblewoman smiled and tied her packs to the saddle and pulled herself up. Rangar & Co. rode out of Tharbad and “headed at a quick canter towards Rohan”, a cool breeze playing around them.

[ May 24, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Everdawn]

During their time in the Inn. Énien had taken an opportunity to rest. For the first time, not without making Turthôl promise that he would watch out for them. There was also something in this atmosphere that put the elf at rest. She had noticed that Turthôl had taken a particular liking to a waitress, and Wren... well, if looks could kill...

Wren had said something to Gina before coming up the stairs where Énien had been sitting. She smirked. "What?" Wren asked. "Nothing, but id say you werent getting along very much with that waitress, or to say rather, jelousy is playing a part. You like Turthôl dont you?" Wren looked annoyed. Énien laughed. "Dont worry, friend. Your secret is safe with me." the elf got up and walked down the stairs, jumping the last three. At the bottom Tareth, Bregand, calimir and Rangar were talking at a table.

"Mae govannen!" she said to them all smiling. "I have had the most rest that i have had in a long time. I almost feel myself again Calimir" She said for a second turning to her elf friend. "Today, i am going to do something i havent done in a long time. I am going into the village- unarmed-" she paused. Really? Rave added passing and sitting down. "Well, perhaps i will only take my daggar." Énien said in thought.

"Well, i will be back soon, and if im not, do not rest until you find me!" Énien headded towards the door, singing as she went. A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!...

Later she returned, a new blue cloak was in her hands. The elf packed her things, and returning to Melliant, who was not impressed that he did not have the free range of the town. Wren had acquired herself a new horse, as did all the others who were without. "A fine specimen of a horse, Rave, did you pick it out?" They mounted and were off on the trail...

[Durelin]

The pause at the inn had been brief, but still, Tareth was thankful for it. Riding in the saddle all day long could grow quite old. Thinking about it now, if Tareth had ever known what so-called 'adventuring' was like, he would have locked himself up in his room and never came out, for chance that he might be swept off on some unknown road. He felt that way now, and he also felt stupid because of it. But, he wasn't about to give up. Besides, he had no idea how to get back home from here.

Now they were supposively moving on to Rohan. He had been excited to see the land of the horse lords, and he still was, in a way. But he wasn't to thrilled about the fine horses anymore. He wasn't about to ride any of them during his stay. Traveling was made even worse because he was so much of a stick-in-the-mud. He should talk to someone, even about the bloody weather. Tareth decided Bregand and Carmalita were the best people to. Perhaps because he was riding just in front of them.

Nudging his gelding to trot up to their side, Tareth scarecly stifled a groan as the handle of his axe ground into his side. He put took it out of his belt loop and hooked it onto his saddle bags before turning to Bregand and Carmalita. The young man was watching him patiently. Was his expression questioning? "I can't stand riding back there by myself for yet another day. Do you mind if I ride with you and Carmalita." For some reason he found it easier to address Bregand than Carmalita. Blasted women! Always putting me off balance, that's why!

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir's sleep had been troubled, despite the soft bed and the warm inn, Enien's words of the night before making him think hard about his home and family. You are brother enough for me, she had told him. Poor Enien, he must be gentler with her, he always forgot how hard the loss of her brother was to her.

When he finally slept his dreams were strange and unwelcome. Dreams of Wilwarin, his daughter, remaining here, Wilwarin riding alone over hard lands to meet a love he didn't understand. A face he couldn't quite recognize. A grey ship, crossing a wide ocean-- Wilwarin waving from the shore. Glorenwen cried softly beside him. He awoke slowly to the sound of Enien pounding on his door and chattering away in rapid Sindarin.

Sighing, Calimir rose from the bed and dressed quickly, following Enien down to the table where everyone else was ordering breakfast. She was cheerful and full of plans for a mornin in the town. Calimir smiled. It was good to see her feeling so much better. He ate lightly, and was more than ready to be gone when Rangar called them together in the front of the inn.

Swinging up onto his horse, Calimir fell in at the back of the company, riding beside Enien as he usually did. They made good time in the direction of Rohan, and a stiff breeze blew across their faces as they rode. Enien and Calimir talked little, but the elf was content. This was what he'd left Rivendell for, the wide sky and the rolling hills and the silent companionship of the group. He breathed deeply, enjoying the ride, and regretting that it couldn't last.

[Arvedui III]

The wind blew lightly, carrying away dust stirred up by a company riding south. Rangar felt very much at ease in the staddle of his new black mount. As the weeks passed and grasslands began to appear, the mood of the company lightened and Rangar sensed himself smiling most of the time. This was the way he had hoped to start the journey, light at heart with a hopeful goal. But, maybe it was just the power of the horse-lands. For, in his mind, nothing was better then riding in Rohan. The rest of the company also seemed to be at ease if not exactly thrilled with horses; And though Rangar still opted to be less than verbose, he no longer felt guilty about not talking to anyone. They know me well enough now. Maybe it was best this way, we've all gotten to know each other, or at least one way.

After two weeks of riding, the company saw a break in the mountains and set up camp just outside of the Gap of Rohan. As night fell, and Rangar was just about to take his first spoonful of soup, he felt Turthol taped him on the back. "Come here for a second." He whispered, and Rangar was taken aback by the note of urgency in his voice. He got up, and followed his friend to where the horses were grazing. Turthol began stroking his mount, and Rangar blinked. "Um, what's this all" "Rangar." Turthol interrupted, and again, the harshness of his voice surprised him. "Yes." "I found out why that man is looking for you." A tremor rose through Rangar, and his muscles twitched slightly. "Well?" Turthol gulped. "Apparently, you murdered his kin." "WHAT?!" The hardy conversation of the company a few feet away stopped abruptly, and only the chirping of a cricket was to be heard. Rangar again felt like a bumbling idiot, but after what seemed like an age of awkward silence, Bregand started talking about whatever he was talking about again.

Rangar didn't notice, nor did he care. Numbness overtook him. Murdered, but, why? An all too familiar stab of shame hit him. Turthol must think that I, "It's probably not true, but I just thought, well, you should know if someone's, well, yeah." Rangar couldn't see Turthol's face as he walked away, but by the sound of his voice he knew that his friend had been shaken by this, and maybe, near believed it. All the recent gladness left, replaced by the shame and guilt and fear Rangar almost always carried with him. Murder, it's probably true. The blood, that man, the dream. All true, why wouldn't it be? Maybe it would be better if I didn't know, but then, they all trust, oh, nevermind. Deal with it later.

The next day Rangar was as silent as before, but smiled no longer. No one seemed to notice, and Rangar was glad of that. Turthol would understand, and the rest didn't need to know why he was frowning. At about mid-day a small town came into sight over the horizon, and many voiced the hope of an inn as excellent as the one at Tharbad had been. Though Rangar's current morbid sense of society bade otherwise, he smiled and joking asked aloud who wanted to be the waiter this time, and then lead the group into Rohan.

[Everdawn]

Rohan was amazing. There was no doubt about it. Énien had enjoyed the comapny of the mortals. "It will be a shame, when i cross over the sea." the elf spoke to Rave and Bregand (who had been totally wrapped up with Carmalita for most of the time.) "I was quiet looking foward to watching your family's grow." She laughed. "Not to worry, im sure i will find better things to do in the recess of time." Her eyes now bright.

Rave had ridden up beside her. "I told you that Rohan is magnificent!" Énien couldnt help but notice how proud the shieldmaiden was of her lands. "Well elf, im sure it may not comapre to Rivendell, but i wager you to find more a more talented race of horsemasters!" Rave slowed to a walk. "Ah! Imladris is beautiful, but horsemasters the elves are none, though our faithful steeds will aid us in any way. Elven horses are different in manner. And their shoes are made of Mithril!" said Énien pointing ot the shoes on Calimir's horse, as her horse which she acquired in Bree had no elven smith to fit them. "Something which i guess Tareth should know a fair bit!" The elf smiled again.

Énien galnced at the party who followed behind. Turthôl and Rangar were riding together as usual. But there was something different about their manner, usually happy, Rangar now did not smile, nor did he listen as intently as he did before to her songs. Though Turthôl galnced occasionally at Wren. "Are you two allright?!" she called to them, not really expecting an answer as she asked every member the same question countless time per day. Yes, something was different about Rangar, at least. To shift her mind from troubles she spotted a deep gully they were coming close too. "Ride slowly! I will check the path" she called and set Melliant off at a gallop to the edge, bow at her hand. Énien, now was paranoyed about unseen enemies from her experience at the ambush which now had been weeks behind them. The cut she had recieved now left only a thin scar hardly seen, that now she was almost proud to bear. Nothing. The gully was empty, although on the wind it seemed to Énien, that the wind whispered into her ear, a warning of a forecoming danger. The elf rode back to the party. "It is safe." and they continued on into a town and towards an Inn.

[ May 27, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Earendil Halfelven]

Rohan was a beautiful country, but Turthôl didn't notice that. He was too busy thinking of things as he rode beside Rangar. There was a lot running through his mind-Rohan, murder, the enemy, Wren's hostility towards Gina (he chuckled at that)...He thought that it was funny of the way women acted towards eachother. He liked Gina, she was a nice girl, and good looking too. Wren, well...she was Wren, kind of confusing at times, but a good comrade to have. He had told Gina that after the trip, he would return to Tharbad, to see how things worked out. But...unexpected things could happen while your passing through a few countries.

Murder. Whether Rangar was a murderer or not, Turthôl didn't care. He could not judge him, because Turthôl was exactly innocent himself. He had killed two men outside of battle-Sartir to avenge his fallen comrades, and the Wild Man because there was nothing else to do with him. But the others had their own opinions.

He did not, however, know the circumstances about Rangar's murder. He didn't even know if it was true, but there had to be some truth, or else the man, Baroden, wouldn't be tracking Rangar. But the other's were now in danger. They were traveling with outlaws. If they were captured, they could suffer the same fate as Rangar and Turthôl.

"Rangar," Turthôl whispered. "As we get closer to Rohan and Gondor, maybe it wouldn't be too smart to travel in groups. At one time, I was a wanted man, and I might still be if someone recognizes me. You might be also. If you are murderer, and we are captured, the others could suffer with us. We put them in danger. Its up to you whether we tell them or not."

Turthôl looked up ahead. He saw Enien with and Calimir talking to the others. He didn't know if their elven ears heard them or not, but he hoped they wouldn't tell the others until Rangar made a decision.

[ May 26, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[The X Phial]

Bregand surveyed the lands of Rohan with a smile. He had seen them before, long ago as a very young child, but he did not remember his arduous journey north with the other resettlers now. To him, the plains of Rohan, so different from the brown hills of Dunland, seemed to shine like gold. The first bite of Autumn was in the air, so that even though the company was farther south than they had yet been, the breeze was cool and pleasant.

For Bregand the weeks since his injury had passed in a kind of blur. A blur studded with crystal clear moments. There had been the days of sharing his horse with Carmalita before reaching Tharbad. Those days, still suffering a bit from dizziness and pain, had nonetheless been some of the best of his life. They had talked for most of the time, but enjoyed a few moments of companionable silence as well. He had spoken for hours about his life in the frontier town and told her stories about the lands they were riding through, sometimes making things up when he could recall no real tales. He always apologised afterwards, saying that such and such a story was his own. To his surprise, the woman seemed to prefer his stories to the real ones and they had made it a game in which she would have to guess whether a tale were historical or a Bregand original.

Carmalita, in her turn, had filled his head with images of life in Bree and with her daughter, Crystal. Through her many stories he had realised that no husband or father for Crsytal waited back in Bree. Though this news filled him with sadness for Crystal, it also improved his mood considerably. He hadn't yet gotten up the courage to ask Carmalita about her past, and she seemed to content to let the present be the present. He was afraid that questioning her about her life would ruin their friendship, and he found the thought of that unbearable.

After Tharbad, when they had been on separate mounts and free to ride with whomever they wished, they found that they still preferred to ride together. Sometimes Tareth or Enien would join them. Tareth seemed lonely and Carmalita would cheer him up with memories of their lives together in Bree. Bregand marveled at her ability to make anyone feel better, whether physically or about themselves in general. He was proud when Tareth smiled back at her, but also felt a twinge of some other, less admirable, emotion.

Enien, on the other hand, checked on everyone in the party from time to time. She seemed to feel herself the shepherd of this wayward band. She and Bregand often spoke, especially as he could speak her tongue and she felt far more comfortable conversing in it. She had laughed a bit and gently corrected his pronounciation a few times, much to his embarassment, but he was grateful for the chance to learn, even so far from his usual surroundings Once or twice he had caught Carmalita giving Enien a sour look, and the elf usually found an excuse to check on someone else at about that time. Bregand resolved to teach Carmalita elvish, if she wanted to learn. That way she could participate as well, and, he thought to himself, know that all they really talked about was the journey and the countryside. No sharing. Despite his facination with elvish learning, Bregand had found the elves difficult to get to know on all but a superficial level.

The comapny was two days over the Fords of Isen, and several days out from the Snowbourn when they reached a small village not on any map. There was no inn, but the people of the village welcomed visitors with a communal meal and offered to let them sleep in the town hall. Rangar, far more moody and introspective of late, had nearly refused the hospitality before Turthol and Wren had fallen over themselves to interrupt him and accept on behalf of the group.

Carmalita had been busy since their arrival. It seemed that their normal healer was, himself, ill. The villagers had been thrilled to learn that she was a nurse, and she had shaken off her own weariness to do what she could for him while the village prepared thier feast. Bregand had taken the opportunity to update his maps. None of the villagers seemed to know or care what the village was called, but after some discussion with Calimir, he had decided to call it Haudhbar, which means "home by the mound" in the elvish tongue, for the rolling hills surrounding the village reminded Calimir of grave mounds, and Bregand could get little from him in explanation.

Despite this rather gloomy name, the village was lively, overrun with children and horses. Bregand decided to purchase a new horse, for his steed was very tired, and seemed almost sickly beside the fine horses of Rohan. He refused to sell her to the village, though, for he thought she could still serve as a pack horse. He also bought a fine silk ribbon, red, to give to Carmalita. She had complained several times that her hair was too wild for riding, and he thought she would appreciate the gift.

They met again at supper, a grand affair by the measure of the village, and a welcome change of rations for the party. Bregand presented the ribbon and got a delighted smile from his dear friend. She immediately tied it in her hair. He listened to her tell the villagers that their healer would recover and then told her of his other new purhase. To his surprise she seemed very upset.

"How dare you discard that wonderful horse?" she demanded.

"I..I..she will still be there...just, you know, carrying the bags."

He was shocked to see a small tear in her eye.

"Not while I'm alive. I will ride her if you won't, Bregand. The horse I rode from Tharbad can carry your precious maps."

With that she turned away and engaged the villagers in smalltalk, pulling the ribbon from her hair. Bregand was overcome with shock and worry. What had he done that was so wrong? He ate in silence and excused himself quickly, catching an odd glance from one or two of the company.

That night Carmalita and Bregand avoided one another for the first time since his injury. He was called on to tell a tale that night and wound up reciting one he and Carmalita had made up together. He hoped it would improve her spirits. Instead, she quietly got up and left the company.

Bregand spent a sleepless night tossing and turning. He did not want to lose his friendship with Carmalita, for she was dear to him, more dear than he had realised. On the other hand, it would be foolish to give up his fine new horse. Finally, just before dawn, he got up and crept quietly to where the horses were stabled. He found Carmalita there, talking quietly to his old steed.

"I think I understand," he said quietly, startling her.

"Do you now?" she inquired. "Are you sure so noble and learned a scholar has room in his life for a slightly used animal?"

"That's what makes her special."

Carmalita closed her eyes and looked away.

"I will keep the horse and ride her, and I will name her Lesson, for she and you have taught me an important one," he faltered for a moment. "I think the new horse deserves a better rider anyway. I give him to you, to do with as you will."

With that he left the stables and went to gather his belongings. The others were stirring. When they rode out later that morning, Bregand on Lesson and Carmalita on the Rohan horse, newly christened Scholar, it was in silence. Bregand was comforted that all had been forgiven, if not forgotten, for every time the nurse turned her head the bright red ribbon smiled at him.

[ May 26, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[ May 29, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[Everdawn]

Claimr had been speaking to the others and Énien too was about to add when over the wind she heard something disturbing. Turthôl and Rangar talking. The words which came from Turthôl's mouth stung her ears. Murderer, but why?Wren had told her about Sartir and how Turthôl was wanted, but Rangar? No couldnt be true she thought, her face now showing outward signs of confusion. "What is it?" Rave asked, her horses saddle cloth in her hands. "Nothing, I- nothing." Énien decided it was the right thing to keep it to herself, until at least she had confronted Rangar or learned the truth for herself.


There had been strange looks cast upon the elves as they rode into Haudhbar, as Bregand had called it. His elvish getting all the better every time he spoke to her. The people in the village cowered away from the path of the elves and their horses, almost in hostility, but were very happy to help the others. "Why do they shy from us?" Énien asked Calimir. "They have seen no elf before, to them we are very mysterious and people fear-"
"What they do not know" Énien finished the sentence.

She had caught Bregand alone after he had a disagreement with Carmailta. Énien slid into the other side of a table in the hall. "Your right, your horse is weak."

"Im not selling her anymore" Bregand said queitly, eyes downcast. "oh... i see." Énien said with a smirk. "What!" Bregand said a little confused and embarassed. Énien lauhed. "Its nice to see a young man in love, something which you spend years trying to find, and yet here you have found it am i right?" Bregand did not answer. "You take me for less than i am, I am more perceptive than you may know." she winked and went from the hall into the night air outside.

Yes, all your life to find... And yet i am 1987, and only has my heart been touched once. Elvethion, over the sea and i will come to you one day.She smiled. This town had left Énien feeling weary again, never had she been so ill-recieved, and not by fault of her own. Even in this town none would come near to Calimir or herself, but stare, yes they stared at their fair faces.

Énien soon excused herself "I am going to sleep, i dont care to be oggled at a second longer." and she left, not before checking on Melliant.

The next day, was a clear day, and unusually warm, so much as Énien had no need for her cloak. This time riding at the back of the comapny where she could get a good look at any coming enemies, she had entrusted Calimir's eyes to see.

[ May 28, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[maikafanawen]

Wren had been in a giddy mood when they entered Rohan. It had been a nice ride and Wren had become suddenly attached to Culfin—the name for her new red-golden haired horse. She had every now and then steered her away from the path to gallop along the side and back again, just to feel the rush. The noblewoman did it so often that soon Aerin had cried out to her to get with the group again and stop running the poor horse. Wren had laughed and tossed back her hair, catching Turthôl’s eye and giving him a playful wink before falling in line behind Carmalita next to Rave.

Haudhbar was a very cute town with small rustic houses and dirty-faced children. Wren smiled and nodded a fair ‘Hello’ to everyone she past, leaving a foolish smile on many of the people’s faces. Culfin was indeed a grand horse in Wren’s eye, though next to the fine horses of Rohan, he seemed but a pony. No matter, thought Wren, her smile ever wider. I don’t see any fire-manes on any of these horses! A light breeze toyed with Culfin’s mane and tail, making them flicker like amber flames in the air.

There was no inn where they stopped, and the Hall was crowded with the villagers who came to speak with and hear news from the travelers. Wren vastly enjoyed the attention. “People’s taste in friends seem to improve the nearer one is to Gondor,” she whispered to Rave, who rolled her eyes jovially at Wren’s good-natured quip.

“It’s very hard to believe you’re nearing your thirty fifth birthday,” the maiden answered back. “You act half your age.” Wren waved the jest away and turned to entertain a new group of young men—oh yes, and there were some ladies.

As the night wore on, the people began to grow sleepy and the Hall began to get larger it seemed as the villagers left. The few that remained were those closest to the traveler’s age and were carrying on level conversations. Finally even they tired, and the company was invited to homes and into warm beds. Wren, and Rave bunked with a young couple and their three daughters. In the morning they woke and made the family breakfast as a thank you and left around mid-day with the rest of the company.

[Everdawn]

Rave had kept mostly to herself for a long time. "for the best" she thought as she was not in favour of upsetting either of the elves. The shieldmaiden had ridden with the Gondor Noblewoman until she had gotten a horse of her own. It had been interesting talk with Wren, and Gondor seemed magnificent, and after all it would be nice to see Wren's mansion as she had not seen anything as wondrous compared with her own moderate but humble upbringing.

She was very inquisitive with the elves, not so much as Bregand though. She always watched Calimir and Énien when they sang, told stories or even conversed in elvish. Their language was amazing. Rave thought them beautiful and somehow beyond the measure of men., but none the less agreeable.

Turthôl and Rangar on the other hand were rough well travelled men, who knew how to protect themselves, after all they were rangers. Though she enjoyed their company immensely they entertained Rave somewhat. But them again, every time they were nice, there seemed a darker, colder side in the both of them.

Tareth had told her stories of being a blacksmith in Bree and of what he said, Rave supposed that he was a good one. Aerin was a girl from a small village as well, though like Rave she kept to herself. Bregand and Carmalita were becoming good friends also. Carmalita had spoken with Rave a lot over late nights around the fire and Rave had learned of her daughter Crystal. Rave couldn’t help thinking what a brave woman she must be.

Now Rave rode beside Énien, to an untrained eye, both would have looked like two girls out riding, Rave with her Blonde hair and youthful appearance atop of a fine horse and Énien, bright eyes behind brown tresses on a black horse which looked more like that of a ringwraith than the harmless creature he was. “Énien, it’s very strange you know, you never told me what you were doing in Bree.” Rave saw the elf frown. “All because of a star my friend. Passing through I was on my way home to Imladris, when I stopped in Bree and heard Rangar was going to Harad. There is a seer there, I need answers for a question.” Énien answered staring straight ahead.

“I suspect that Bregand has a thing for Carmalita.” Rave began changing the subject in a whisper. “He loves her.” Énien said with a small laugh. “how do you know?” asked an opened eyed Rave. “Is the same look an elf once gave me. His name was Elvethion, he was from Lothlorien, this was a long time ago mind you, when my brother was still alive and my parents were this side of the ocean. I was 671 years old, and Elvethion was quite a bit older than I was, as old as I am now. My father thought I was too young, and he was right. Eventually Elvethion passed to the heavens. You remember don’t you Calimir? Back in the good old days!” Énien laughed.

“Only 671?” Rave asked with some degree of sarcasm that Énien failed to notice, but as every time, Énien never noticed sarcasm. “Yes” she answered “A long time ago. A long time before you were born even, well none of you were born, nor your parents or their parents parents.” Énien nodded. “Its amazing you know, Énien, that you are so old but you look no older than me, in fact id go as far as saying, you look younger.” Rave said giving her horse his head and taking her hands of the reigns. “And it depresses me somewhat that I will be an old woman one day and you will still look the same as you do now!” Rave laughed. “Yes, but that also means that I must see you die and your grave cover with moss as your children grow and die as well. “ Rave became quiet at this. “Do not be so sad to think Ravenne. I will not actually be here to see you die, I don’t think. Perhaps I will stay here as long as I can to see all of you to your graves and then pass, or I will go to the heavens as soon as I return to Imladris, I have not made up my mind.” The elf still riding, but sensing the silence began to sing in elvish verse.

[Carlas]

Baroden watched as Rangar and the rest of his company left the small village. He had been staying there for a little, talking to some 'business partners' as he liked to call them. Now he had one more to go talk to, and then he would have some fun.

**************************

Baroden reached a small house near the outskirts of the village, close to where Rangar had left. It was an old house, but it had been well taken care of. He stepped up to it quietly, and knocked with an old brass knocker. The door opened just a crack, and then a small woman stepped out into the morning light. Her hair was dark and kept up in a neat bun, underneath, her face was tanned from tending to her garden, she was quite beautiful. She smiled as she looked up at him with her deep and strong green eyes.

"Well, what a surprise!" She said with a surprisingly low voice. "I haven't seen you in these parts for some time, but it is so much fun when you do. Have you finally found him? Come inside, I must hear about everything thats been going on!"

"We don't have much time, I have a job for you!" The girl looked up at him with a smile that did not suite such a pretty face. She turned and showed Baroden into the house, closing the door behind him.

****************************

At noon the village was filled with busy men and woman, all trying to walk through the crowded streets. It was bright outside, and the sun was hot.

As many people were leaving to have lunch, a cry broke through the air. People looked about to find where the cry had come from, and they saw a small woman running down the streets, her clothing torn and dirty.

"My nephew! Someone please, they have taken him, they have killed him!"

The inhabitants watched as a man walked up to the lady. She looked up at him and started to cry. He knelt beside her, helping hold her up and asked her what had happened. The crowd listened as she told them about a group of men and elves that had attacked her and her nephew, trying to steal their money. The group that stood about her, listened intently and grew outraged, as she told them of how the group had killed her nephew. As she finished she started to cry, sobbing in great gasps. One man from the crowd walked out from the crowd and stood infront of the lady.

"We can not let this happen in our town! We cannot let people get away with such a deed, though our city may be small we are not weak!" The group gave a loud cheer, and the man had to quiet them down before being able to speak again." But who has done this? Has anyone seen a group of men and elves?"

Another man stood up beside him, and told the crowd of Rangar's company that had just left that morning. The crowd started yelling and howling, outraged that such a thing could happen. The first man stood up ontop of a box and waved his hands to get there attention.

"We cannot let them get away with this crime! They left just this morning, they cannot be far, let us find them!"

***********************

As the crowd was leaving, some men offered the young woman aid, but she told them that she could manage and that finding those savages was more important. Just as they were out of sight, she stopped limping and ran into an alley way, where a dark figure stoof waiting.

"Beautifully done!" Baroden said brimming "You are quite the actress, you shall be paid splendidly for this"

"I should hope" She said though she was still smiling. "No matter how fun it is to fool these fools, if they ever found out, I'd have to pack up and find another home."

"You don't have to worry about that, if it doesn't work, the fools will think it must have been another group! You get group like those often enough. Now, I must be off, I need to see what these fools can do." And he walked off back into the darkness of the alley.

[Arvedui III]

The town had been a welcome relief for Rangar. And, as Wren pointed out, so had the fact they'd obtained food made for things other than soup. At noon the sun left the cover of the clouds and warmed the road, causing a large dust pall to hover behind them, then be swept away by the light wind blowing from the east. The day just kept getting better. Rangar was riding by Turthol, but consciously making sure he was within hearing distance of Calmir and Enien, who were finishing the story of Turin for Bregand because he wanted to learn 'the discrepancies between the elvish and manish versions,' or something like that. Rangar's contentment was only interrupted when Turthol prodded him on the shoulder and said, "You hear something?" "No, just Enien and Bregand, why?" Answered Rangar, looking confusedly at his friend.

"Nothing." Said Turthol in an nonchalant manner, though he frowned and looked behind him at the large dust cloud the company stirred up. "Must be my rusty Sindarin." But Rangar had noticed that Enien and Bregand had stopped talking in elvish, and she and Calmir were now looking in the same direction as Turthol, with Bregand wearing a look similar to his own. "Think it's," Rangar began, reluctant to drop his mood several notches by asking. "Nah," Interrupted Turthol, casting another glance behind him. "But I'll double back and make sure. He doesn't know what I look like anyway." He finished, trying to sound casual. "Alright." Turthol turned his horse and began riding back into the dust. "Where's Turthol going?" Aerin asked as soon as both horse and rider had disappeared. "He heard a noise. He's going to check it out." Rangar answered offhandedly, still looking behind him.

After twenty minutes of tossing backward gazes and periodically slowing down and then speeding up, the hammer of horse hoofs reached Rangar's ears. He smiled, but was immediately shocked when Turthol reappeared. For the brief moment when his face was visible it was deathly white, and his eyes were wide. "What the," "No questions, just ride." Turthol shouted instantly as he outpaced the company and kept up his gallop. Rangar, and it seemed like the rest of the group followed suit, spurred his horse to catch up. As he came alongside Turthol he shouted, " What going on?" Turthol gulped, and was about to say something when another sound reached Rangar's bewildered ears: The thunder of many feet, and shrill shouts from a distance. "Rangar," Rave said slowly. He looked behind him and his jaw dropped.

It looked like the entire village in which they'd just stayed was running behind them, brandishing spears and pitchforks. What in the name of "Get 'em" Roared, to his horror, a very massive man on horseback; The only one he hoped. Without bidding, Rangar yelled, "Run!" and dug his heels into the side of his horse. For what seemed like an eternity, although it probably was more the like of ten minutes, they rode feaverishly, trying to outpace the mob hot on their feet. But then, the company came to a pitfall in the road; And as Rangar's horse swerved to avoid it, the creature nearly collided with Tareth's steed and reared wildly. Before he could find his balance, Rangar hit the ground with a great THUD.

[Earendil Halfelven]

He couldn't believe his eyes. He wasn't dying of thirst or anything so it wasn't a hallucination-it was almost the whole village riding after them. For what, he didn't know, but when he heard the cry, "There's one! Kill him!" when they saw him, he knew that he had to get out.

The company rode hard, trying to out-ride the psycho mob that was after them. As long as their horses kept their footing, they'd be ok. But then what he didn't want to happen, happened.

Up ahead, Rangar's horse almost collided with Tareth's, and Rangar went to the ground. Tareth almost ended up unseated, but he was able to stay up. Rangar's horse kept going, riderless.

Turthôl ground his horse to a halt.

"Quick, jump on!" he shouted to his friend.
As Rangar got up and prepared to mount behind him, Turthôl unslung his bow from around his back and turned. He strung an arrow and aimed.

"Rangar! Jump on in front of me and take the reins while I take care of these villagers," Turthôl shouted to Rangar. Rangar did so.

"No, Turthôl, don't kill these people!" Calimir said. He and Enien had stopped also. Turthôl looked ahead and saw that the company was slowind down.

"Don't worry, Calimir. They're just going to lose a few horses. Help me shoot the horses. We won't kill them," he replied. "Come, let's ride."

As they began riding towards the company, Turthôl, Calimir, and Enien took aim at the horses behind them. They unloosed their arrows, and the pursuers began to fall as the horses died.

They caught up to the rest of the company, but by this time, the villagers had gained plenty of ground and their cries could be heard behind them.

"Kill them! Kill the murderers!"

"Murderers? What are they talking about?" Wren cried.

Turthôl didn't reply but he had a feeling that it was that man Baroden who had started whatever this was.

"What are we going to do? Our horses can't keep going for ever like this," Rave yelled over the sound of galloping hooves.

"I don't know, just keep going," Rangar said.

At least half of the mob had fallen from Enien, Calimir, and Turthôl's arrows, but there were still plenty of mobers behind them.

[Everdawn]

"What is this? Énien yelled over at Turthôl. "dont give me that look! I know you know something!" she lowered her bow. "Murderer, i am none, yet these mortals call us by that term!" Énien spat.

"I dont understand" Rave said handing Melliant's reigns back to the elf. Melliant was prancing. "Niro lim!" she called to him and galloped to the back of the company. "Rangar im going to get to the bottom of this!" and off she rode towards the outer few attackers. "Die wretched creature!" a man yelled throwing his daggar towards her, missing.

Énien knocked the man from his horse. "Dont kill me! have mercy!" he cowered below Mellaints hooves. The elf dragged the man up on her horse, with a knife pressed to his back, rode away to a huge gallop. Énien stopped only when she reached her comapny, behind them she put the man down. Tareth had his sword ready. "Have mercy" he said again.

"You called me a creature, tell me do wretched creatures have mercy?"

"What are you doing Énien!" Rave said standing beside the rampant elf, who helf up her hand to silence the shieldmaiden. "Why have you attacked us? Why do you call murder? Do you know what you attack? This company could take out all these men in one go."

"Énien. You will not kill him he is of my land" Rave was now weary. "Im not going to kill him!" said Énien turning. "Oh thankyou!" the man began. "Shutup, perhaps my other friend will do the honours for me. Now, who sent you!"

"They is saying, you is dangerous, you elves, you is going to put a spell on me if i get too close, beware the elvens they says. But no, lady, they is saying you is killed a boy!"

Rave spoke up now, "We have done no such thing!"

"Tell them to step back! TELL THEM TO RETREAT!" Énien yelled pushing the man foward. "They will not listen to me, they will think i am spelled!"

Énien was now very angry. "I will 'spell' you if you dont tell them to retreat!"

"Énien" this was said hardly, by Calimir who had stopped firing arrows for a minute. "No threat of violence will make him say anything. Now, there is another way we can get infomation from him." The she-elf nodded. Kneeling infront of the man who was on the ground she said.

"Please, tell me, why do you think that is is us who killed this child? and please tell them to pull back so none of them have to die, many of these people have killed before." Énien raised an eyebrow.

[Durelin]

Turthol was a fool! But, it was too late now. Shoot the horses? What better way to infuriate these men more? Even if they prooved they were not murderers, they'd still be hung. To the Rohirrim, even if they did not kill a man, they had killed some of the most precious beasts in this land. Horses. Why? Was the man losing his mind? He had always acted strangely, and roughly, and Tareth had heard the story of the 'murders'. But Tareth agreed with Turthol there, those weren't murders. Tareth shook his head. They could have just fled, they had had a head start, and they were all fair riders.

Then Enien rode up to the charging men, bringing down one. She almost seemed to ignore the others, and Tareth was ready to charge out there himself to keep her from getting killed. But, she swiftly pulled the man onto her horse and rode back. "Have mercy," the man kept saying. Sweat beaded on his forhead, and he shivered in fear. Enien was threatening to kill him, and it surprised Tareth. Surely, of all people... "Im not going to kill him!" she said to Rave, relieving Tareth along with her. She had, after all, been the one to call Turthol a murderer! It was Rave's turn, and she was taking the calm aproach. "Please, tell me, why do you think that is is us who killed this child? and please tell them to pull back so none of them have to die, many of these people have killed before." Tareth decided to put in his own words. "Were you told?" he began, "Did you come charging after us because someone told you that we killed someone? How could we get away with that?" His voice was harsh, and he was almost yelling. He had to calm down, this was no way to get answers. Softening his voice, he continued, "We did not kill anyone, though we are very sorry for the death of the horses..." He shot a glance at Turthol, sighing.

[Earendil Halfelven]

"We did not kill anyone, though we are very sorry for the death of the horses..." He shot a glance at Turthôl, sighing.

Turthôl could tell what the boy thought of him at the moment. But he didn't really care. If they had not killed the horses, than Enien, Calimir, Turthôl, Rangar,
and Tareth would have been captured.

He watched as Enien interrogated the man she had captured. The man was a bumbling idiot. He felt the weight of the gold at his side of what was left over from Tharbad. He took out the bag and threw at the man.

"Here, this will replace the horses we killed," he said. He turned his horse back and started galloping back.

"Where are you going?" Tareth called.

"Well, now that I have no money to replace my arrows, I'm going to have to get them, don't I?" he replied. He galloped off to retrieve his arrows. And if any villager tries to kill me, they will lose more than their horse. After all, its self defense, he thought.

[ May 30, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir winced with every arrow he shot into the onrushing group of horses. The first to fall from his arrows was a proud bay, the man on its back tumbling to the ground. A young grey horse, still nearly black, fell next. Calimir's hand shook as he nocked the next arrow. He steadied himself. Shooting horses was terrible, but missing and killing a villager was worse. He let the arrow fly, a dark horse stopping in confusion and throwing its rider in fright.

Tareth was watching what they were doing with horror. The elf bit his lip. He hated it too, but if they couldn't slow this mob down they'd all be killed before they had a chance to protest their innocence.

The cries of "Murderer!" enraged Enien, and she rushed forward, taking the first man she could reach onto her horse and riding back toward the company. When Calimir reached her side she was screaming at him, threatening him.

"Enien!" Calimir reminded her sharply. She looked up at him darkly, but dropped to her knees beside the man, and spoke more softly. Enien told him in a few short words the story of the company. That all had killed before, that some were seasoned warriors. If the entire village attacked, eventually Rangar's company would fall to the numbers, but many many villagers would die. The elf woman spoke in even tones, and the man's eyes registered recognition and then fear.

Calimir dropped to his knees as well. "She speaks the truth." he said simply. "Now go back to your people, and tell them what we have said." Turthol rode into the middle of them and tossed the man a bag of gold.

"To pay for the horses we killed." he grunted. The man stood, brushing the dirt from his clothes and slowly began to walk back toward the group of villagers who'd slowed considerably since the attack on their horses. Enien watched him go with a look of intense frustration in her eyes.

"I will not be called a murderer, Calimir." she said, turning to look at him with shining eyes. "I will not."

"Their words cannot make it true, Enien." he replied gently. "And you know what is true." She nodded slowly, and remounted Melliant. Calmir remounted as well and he, Rave, Turhol and Enien rode back to join the rest of the group.

[maikafanawen]

Wren saw the foursome ride back, resolved expressions on their face.

“I think we handled it,” announced Calimir.

“Hah! By killing their horses and striking fear into that poor man’s soul? You call that handling it??” Wren demanded.

“What would you have done?” asked Turthol angrily. The noblewoman shrugged.

“Well, obviously they suspected the wrong group! Some of them might have recognized one of us! We should have sent a representative, a person with good social skills to clear it up. That way—” Turthol raised a hand silencing her.

“Just, nevermind. What’s done is done. We cannot change it.” Wren sat heavily back in her saddle, annoyed at Turthol’s negative demeanor.

“Yes, your sage-ness,” she muttered so that only he could hear her. Then she reared Culfin back to join Rave and Aerin at the rear of the group. “That ranger is really wearing a hole in the bottom of my boot,” she said.

“Oh sure,” said Aerin jovially. “Is that because he fancied Gina over you or because of how he handled the mob?” Wren acted as though the shield-maiden had deeply insulted her and sighed dramatically.

They made camp shortly after nightfall beside a small river. Tareth and Aerin taught Wren as best they could how to fish and between the three of them they caught five fair-sized river-trout. The noblewoman brought Rave the fish and declared that she could even clean one! It was quite a show watching the gondorian try her hand at skinning the fish and removing the bone, placing the good meat into the pot. After about two minutes of fish guts, Wren decided that it wasn’t her area of talent and turned the task over to Rave.

The noblewoman made her way down the stream and rinsed off her hands.

“Those fish better taste better than they smell,” she muttered to herself.

"I'm sure they will" said someone behind her...

[ May 30, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Earendil Halfelven]

“Those fish better taste better than they smell,” Wren muttered to herself.

"I'm sure they will" said Turthôl as he walked by. Then, sarcastically he added, "Especially after we add the spices and herbs to the meat. And then, when we get to the next town, I can buy...oh wait I don't have any money because I gave it all to the villagers to replace their horses that we so savagely shot down in our own defense. I should have just let them draw and quarter me and then hang up my remains in the village square, before I got a chance to say that I WAS INNOCENT!" He was yelling by this point.

He stomped off before Wren could reply. Her face was as red as the sun at dusk. She was about to blow-up, and that gave Turthôl some satisfaction. He couldn't believe that these people were getting so upset at him about a bunch of dead horses. Would they rather take the horses place, and be murdered by the mob instead?

He walked over to where Rangar was at, and he said, "I told you this was a bad idea to have a group come along to Harad." He sat down and entertained thoughts of leaving the company in the middle of Rohan. If Rangar wasn't with them, then he would have left long ago.

[ May 30, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Arvedui III]

"I told you this was a bad idea to have a group come along to Harad."

Rangar shook his head, grinning slightly. He quite liked having a group along with him. Learning tales from the elves and ongoing rivalry between Turthol and Wren kept him very much entertained. No way he could get that going alone. Plus, and more obviously, there was safty in numbers, and he needed it badly. Turthol was staring daggers at the fire, a deep frown on his face. This made Rangar frown as well. "Not all of them are as willing to kill as you are, and staying horse in Rohan, well." He cut himself off to try and be as patronizing as he possibly could. But, it didn't work. Turthol just continued to stare at the fire and frown.

"Erg, look. This is my journey, if you want to-" "No. But I swear this will be the death of me." His voice was hard and grim. "Then die, by all means. But don't take it out on Wren." Rangar mumbled. Turthol looked sharply at him, as though he'd just said some disgusting swear word."I'm not disagreeing with you, I just don't want to have to police you. They all think you're some kind of madman already." Said Rangar, trying to sound cheerful, and giggling slightly at the thought of what Turthol would do if, or maybe when, he went crazy. "Let them." Said Turthol getting up and walking towards where Wren and Tareth were cooking the fish, a mischievous grin back in it's proper place.

[maikafanawen]

Wren was still angry towards Turthôl when she made her way back up to camp and helped Rave and Tareth finish with the dinner. After she sat down with her own portion of the fish, she ate a little and decided she wasn’t hungry. The rest of the company sat around the fire and the rangers and Tareth lit pipes. (Bregand was offered, but the scholar looked suspiciously at the leaf before declining it politely and resuming his conversation with Carmalita).

Rangar called upon Wren to play her lute and sing another song. Wren agreed and drew forth her instrument, strumming the chords lightly before beginning a song she had made up to entertain the children of her father’s friends. The company settled back and listened with droopy eyelids as she played the lullaby.

The castle stood above the clouds
And o’er looked the valley
That violet mist so oft did shroud
Where the animals ran free

Oh that peace would stay
And never fade away
That love would never dim its light
And night pass into day

Not long after peace was dealt
Throughout this solemn land
Did Fate leave its gruesome welt
In serenity’s outstretched hand

Though heartsease long reined over all
And the king and queen were content
Did Pain and Sorrow come to call
Leaving anguish where it went

Oh that peace would stay
And never fade away
That love would never dim its light
And night pass into day

The children all had hid their faces
From Grief’s searching eyes
Thought Sorrow conquered many places
It failed in its final try

For love and honor was so strong
In the children’s purest minds
That pain could never last that long
And was soon left far behind

Oh that peace would stay
And never fade away
That love would never dim its light
And night pass into day

A lesson to be learned is there
From the innocence of a child
T’wherever love reins o’er despair
Is a young heart, free and wild

Wren played a bit more on her lute after the song was over, blending the power of the music with the nightly sounds about her. The cricket’s serenade invited the stars to give their own gift and comets splayed the darkest corners of the east to the west. Enien continued to look apprehensively to the sky, watching as the stars were hid behind the clouds that shrouded the full moon from view. Fingers tired, the noblewoman finally set aside her lute and watched as her companions set up their tents.

Wren pitched hers quickly and laid her blanket inside. Then she walked down to the stream and stood with her hands on her belt. She peered into the rushing water and watched as the fish swam by, followed by bigger fish. Frogs could be heard on the opposite bank, and the silhouette of a deer was barely visible a ways upstream.

Gathering the peaceful setting in her mind, she tucked it away for a time she’d need it and meandered up to camp. The fire was down to its last dying ember and everyone was sleeping, except for Bregand who had first watch. He nodded to her over something he was working on in his lap and adjusted his back against the tree he was leaning on. Wren crawled into her tent and yawned before resting her head on the pack.

Your potential is measured by your determination, not your abilities, Wren, whispered her mum.

If you want to fence, by all means, fence. But a woman’s place is in the home not the strip, shouted her father.

I’m sorry, but she’s too young. And we don’t usually except female fighters, the master informed her father airily. They’re weak

I saw you, Garnet told her snidely, just last night, behind the rose trellis talking with Ryndion! ‘Oh they were doing more than talking…’

Here now! I’m a part of the company too so you mind how you treat me. I’m not beneath you.

I don’t want your opinion. What do you know about journeys?
Well then teach me what you know.
Ha! You just watch and be quiet. You should learn enough.

Wren rolled over on her side and stifled a sob. Memories of things that were past her and that she had covered up with lighthearted quips and sarcastic remarks. Who was she kidding? What was to become of her? This cursed journey! It was destroying who she was! She had been fine! A well-to-do noblewoman who had everything going her way. A blessed life. Now she was torn apart by new thoughts, new realizations, and new truths.

The night passed by slowly with heart-wrenching dreams and stifled cries. She was grateful for morning...

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl sat staring into the fire as he listened to the others talk, and then Wren began playing her lute and singing. At that point he turned his attention into the dark. He sat there sharpening his sword, over and over and over, until he started recieving some supsicious glances from the others. The constant shing, shing, shing of the wetstone against the blade rang into the night even as the others started setting up there tents for the night. Tents...he couldn't believe it. They dared set up tents after all the fighting they've been through? Now is the perfect time for an attack, he thought.

Instead, Turthôl slept as he always did-with a ground cloth spread under him and a blanket on top. But he didn't feel like sleep. Instead, he sat there staring into the fire, thinking. Bregand kept watch.

As the fire died down to cold embers, he stared up into the stars, thinking of the elves and Valinor, and how he couldn't pass into the Undying Lands. That possibility was denied to even the Dúnedain, the ancestors of the Númenoreans. He then thought of the sea. He had never seen it himself but a vision of it filled his mind. Without thinking, he started singing a song that he had learned long ago, in Imladris. He began softly-

Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen,
yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!
Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier
mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva
Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar
nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni
ómaryo airetári-lírinen.

Sí man i yulma nin enquantuva?

An sí Tuntallë Varda Oiolossëo
ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë,
ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë;
ar sindanóriello caita mornië
i falmalinnar imbë met, ar hísië
untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë.
Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!

Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.
Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!

He finished and sighed. Behind him he heard footsteps.

"I didn't know you could speak elvish," Bregand said.

"There's a lot you don't know, Bregand," Turthôl replied somberly.

"What was it about?" Bregand asked.

"It is about Valinor and Varda, whom the elves call Elbereth," Turthôl said. He looked again up towards the sky. It was clear.

"oh," Bregand nodded. The boy stood there for a moment with nothing to say. Turthôl looked at him.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" he asked.

"Well..." Bregand wasn't so sure on how to answer. "The others..."

"Never mind. I just wanted to see what you thought, not what Wren and Enien and Tareth thought. Bregand, the best evidence to base judgment on is your own experience. Remember that." Turthôl said.

Bregand nodded again. He leaned on his sword wearily, and stared into the dying coals.

"I may seem cold-blooded and brutal. Thats because of my experiences. Its gotten me this far and its gotten the company this far."

"Yes, I see what you mean, Turthôl." Bregand turned to go patrol the area.

"Oh, Bregand." Turthôl called out.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Go to sleep. I'll take watch."

As Bregand headed towards his bed, Turthôl sat there, thinking some more. He wasn't going to bother to wake anyone else up for the next watch. He'd do the whole night. Well, whatever the others thought about him, he hoped it didn't get anybody killed. He took out his sword and began to sharpen it some more. The sching, sching, sching sound was the only thing that could be heard. It lasted until morning.

[ May 31, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Everdawn]

Énien found it har to sleep that night. However she was tired. The elf had climbed to the lower broughs of a tree, a place off the ground. She had trusted Bregand enough with the first watch in case the villagers came back. Murderer. I am no murderer, I am an elf, and that is all it seems i will ever be, an elf and an elf messenger. she thought of her home. The Valley, Imaldris, as she drifted off into sleep.

In her dreams it seemed that Énien could hear the fain words of an elvish song she used to sing when she was young. Her mother would sit and watch as her fingers slipped from the strings of her harp when she was still learning.
"Not so hard, Énien, stroke them as hey were delicate." Seveniel would say.

The elf smiled in her sleep, then opened her eyes slowly. It was no dream. The voice of Turthôl was singing. It was the first time he had uttered elvish words since he had been with the comapny. Énien sat in the tree watching him sing and hummed to the tune. When Turthôl finnished she drifted off into sleep again, but not before glancing once more at the night sky.

Dawn. Énien woke, seeing the sun peeking over the far ridges of some mountain. The others were still asleep, though Turthôl was still on watch.

"Did you stay up all night?" she asked standing behind him. "Yes." he spoke back.
"That was a beautiful song you sang last night, it is a shame you can never go there." she spoke. Turthôl said nothing. "I dont think you are crazy Turthôl. I think you are smarter than that, but you make mistakes. We all do, even the elves." and with that she went to wake the party.

"Wake! Dawn has spoken!Today we must ride!" She knew some of the others were not quite ready for riding so early. There were several groans throught the camp. "Would you rather we get caught by another group of elf-weary, murderous accusating townspeople?" she said with a slight laugh. The others finally began to get out of their tents, and Énien went to the stream, with boots off she walked through the cool water.

"What are you doing?" Rave said sitting on a near by rock. "Im walking through water, what does it look like im doing? care to join?" the elf was now looking at her reflection in the water. "I dont look so fair this morning do i!" she laughed, her hair was tangled and her skin fairly dirty. "No one would guess you were an elf" Rave replied. Énien took out her hair and re-did it. "come Ravenne, now for some breakfast!"

"No thanks" Rave said now standing. "I feel a little to betrayed by my people this morning to eat." Rave frowned. "That was an unfortunate misunderstanding." said the elf putting her hands on her hips. "Rave, i want you to know, that I would never kill like that, I was bluffing. I only kill in self-defence and retribution." They walked back to the fire.

[ May 31, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]