Truth in a Dark Place RPG

[Eruwen]

Rave stood stirring the stew while the blacksmith and the nurse helped add ingrediants. Suddenly Bregand came up from behind.

"It's a good night for starting a journey." he said. "This day used to be a feast day in Arnor before the days of darkness, a time for celebrating friendships."

Rave laughed under her breath, but admired his will to make friends within the group...whether he was yet trusting Wren or not. He walked away shortly after talking with the blacksmith. Rave looked up to see the nurse still adding things into the stew.

"Carmalita," She said quietly to the nurse. "You had a daughter, right?"

Carmalita nodded hesitantly as if confused at the question. "How did you know I had a daughter?"

Rave sighed. "I know much about everyone in our company..." she answered. "not only you. I do not speak much, but I do notice things. I've been trying to understand the motives of these people behind their words and actions. Their true identity if you will. For instance, Ranger over there. He is one of the hardest to understand. What do you know about him?"

As she continued mixing the stew, she waited for a reply.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl sat away from the rest of the company. He had a small fire going also. They were barely outside of Bree and they were already setting camp for the night. Wren was setting up some kind of tent.
Is she really bringing that with her? he thought. They didn't need it, but if it was hers than she could carry it if she wanted. And, there might be some use for it in the future.

When he and Wren had finally arrived at the company, he had gone directly to Rangar while Wren distributed the food rations and medical supplies they had bought.

The two men had discussed which route they should take. Turthôl wanted to head directly south: Take the Greenway south through the South Downs and cross the Greyflood at Tharbad. In Tharbad, they could replenish what they needed, and then follow the North-South Road into the Gap of Rohan and to Edoras. Then, they would continue following the road along the northern edge of the mountains straight to Minas Tirith. From there, they could cross the Anduin River at Osgiliath and take the Harad road into South Ithilien and finally into Harad. The journey wasn't without its dangers, for those who were seeking adventure. There were many bands of orcs still roaming the mountains of northern Gondor. They were rogue groups without a leader. They would have to cross wearily. The Harad road followed the mountains that bordered Mordor, and what foul creatures that had vacated those mountains recently, Turthôl didn't want to imagine.

Rangar had mentioned that others in the group wanted to head towards Rivendell, as a safety measure. That would be nice, he thought, but it would take entirely too long. Imladris was out of their way. Whatever way was decided, Turthôl decided that he would follow Rangar no matter where.
He was also pleased that another Elf had joined their company. Maybe this one had brains in him. Hopefully, he wasn't arrogant like that Enien was. Oh well, Enien had her reasons for being arrogant, just as Turthôl had his for being distrustful of the others.

He didn't know where Rangar was now, at the moment. He probably went to meet their newest member.

Turthôl stared into the fire as he fingered his fife. This fife had brought great comfort to him when he had been alone in the forest. He felt like playing it, but the talk of the others distracted him. He looked at it. It was a fife of fine craftsmenship. It had engravings on it, those of the Dúnedain. It was a deep mahogony color, mixed in with a twinge of green, like the trees. Suddenly, he thought of the woods of Lothlorien. He had been there once, 10 years ago. It was probably abandoned now.

As everyone settled in for the nights rest, Turthôl continued staring into the fire, with fleeting memories of the past going through his mind.

[Everdawn]

Énien had sat herself under a tree, a short way from the others. She began to sing a song softly in elvish. She ended the song and stared up at the sky. Strange it was, the way the moonlight shon upon her fair face. She took out some lembas from her pack and took a bite.

Leaving Calimir for a minute, Énien placed the remaining part back in her pack. She stood up and patted her horse. "You are a noble creature, arent you?" she smiled at the huge black animal. "I will have to name you, it seems we will be spending a lot of time together, but what?" She thought for a while.

Énien saw Turthol looking at the tent Wren was erecting. She walked up beside him and stood. "There will come a time where the land will be too unstable to put one of those up." she said looking at Wren. Énien then turned her gaze to Turthol. "Why do I get the feeling you have gazed apon Imladris before?" she asked.

[Earendil Halfelven]

"Why do I get the feeling you have gazed apon Imladris before?" Enien asked him.

He was still gazing into the fire as he replied. "I grew up there as a child. Since there are few of my kin left in the world, the Elven folk raised me in the Dúnedain ways. If your from there, we might have known each other once. It has been about 8 years since I last saw Imladris. I do not care to see it again."

That was all he felt like saying. He didn't want to devulge himself to a stranger, even if it was an Elf.


[ May 02, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Durelin]

Tareth's mood had lightened tremendously. He had felt foolish after saying there were "too many women", especially too a woman, but Aerin kind atitude, if a bit offended, helped his spirits and embarrassment. Tareth had found a new hope in his heart, a hope that he wouldn't feel as withdrawn from the rest, withdrawn from the world, as it seemed.

Friendships to be forged. He like that. He knew enough about forging to feel comfortable thinking of it in that way. Bregand seemed to too, but, Tareth wasn't sure. He was still surprised by how much Bregand knew. He had said he was a scholar, but...he was young. He had a much better memory than Tareth would ever have, that was for sure.

He decided he might as well settle down for the night, and he unrolled his blanket roll and tossed it on the ground on the edge of the company's camp. He lay down, staring at the sky. He had always loved the night. The stars were so beautiful and wolves prowled. He heard the long note of a wolf's howl from far off and smiled. Everyone was convinced that wolves were minions of Sauron, dark creatures, used by him to kill. But, Tareth had always argued, if only in his mind, that horses were also used by Sauron during his times of power. Everyone used horses, why not wolves? But, they were not the type of animal to be used, they were so free.

That fact had disrupted Tareth's defense at one point, but he had worked that out after hearing about wargs. Wargs were supposedly smarter; they could have lead wolves to kill men or elves. Wolves hunted, all the wargs had to do was show them the humans, tell them they were good to hunt. He was sure of it. Wolves couldn't be bad, they weren't created by the Dark Lord! But, everyone had always seen the night as haven to evil doings. But- Tareth cut off his thoughts. He had thought through this too many times, it was best to leave it alone.

For a while Tareth lay on the ground trying to sleep, but sleep never came. His mind was filled with thoughts, questions, and worry of tomorrow's events. At one point his mind strayed to the chance of him dying. He murmured out loud, "Death comes for us all," and switched his line of thought back to the wolves. He pictured a pack of wolves, running in the night. The wisp of cloud passed across the moon, making the light misty, falling to the ground in an eerie off-white. He thought of home, of his father's forge. He could feel the hammer in his hand as he went through the steps of forging a blade in his mind, passing the time. A wolf howled in the distance and he smiled.

[ May 04, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

[Everdawn]

"Yes, I think we did, but you were small..." She replied.

Énien had left Turthol and returned to where CAlimir was sitting. He turned to her and sopke softly. "There is no orc behind every tree waiting to attack you Énien." he said. "You can afford to let down your guard." Énien looked away. He was right though.

"I know you are right, Calimir, but when i found-" she stopped. "My brother, Énden... I... there was blood everywhere Climir, everywhere you looked there was blood." A single tear rolled down her cheek, still she stood, head bowed almost as if she was ashamed.

"Men do not understand us as we do understand ourselves, you must forgive them for that." Énien picked up her head.
"Yes, i have been rather harsh Calimir, though only out of good will I assure you." She galced at the sleeping company. "I am glad to have another from Rivendell so near. Tell me stories of home, what of Glorenwen and Wilwarin?... nay tell me not, tell me tomorrow when we are on the road. You must sleep, it has been a long day for all. I will keep watch."

Énien clambered up to a high branch of a tree, armed with her bow. She sat and watched the night away. The ever menacing star still way overhead filling the hillside with a strange silver light. The night air cool and calm with only the occasional howls of wolves to disturb the party's rest.

[Arvedui III]

Rangar looked down at the camp, at the dim fire crackling pleasantly and at the humble bedrolls placed beside a ridiculous tent. Funny. No one seemed to notice he'd gone off by himself. Perhaps because they're all talking to each other He thought, and supposed that was best.The company should get to know one another. Still, all this bonding didn't lighten his mood. He plodded onward through the dark, eventually taking him to the step incline that rose above where they were camped. Rangar didn't need his eyes to get to where he was going, this place was a part of him now, and an unwelcome part of him at that. He sat down on a half rotten log and stretched his legs out. Sure is big, this place. he thought, then shook his head slowly.

Yes. Sure is big, this place, this world. Why couldn't it have just stayed small? Why couldn't I have just stayed away? It's not my place to be here. Both Irony and fate must be amused with me or something, it's not fair. "Nothing in life is ever fair, my friend." Rangar spun around and saw Turthol standing behind him. "Is it that obvious?" Rangar asked blunty. "Only if someone's wasted time traveling with you. Come on down, maybe if we're lucky, that Gondorian, Wren's tent will catch fire before the night's out." "You'd like that." Said Rangar smiling bitterly. "It doesn't do to dwell on the hill." Said Turthol, now suddenly serious and concerned. "It's just a hill. It changes nothing. You have to wait until we get this Seer for that." "Your right." Said Rangar, getting up. "But rest assured, I will be very angsty and sulky if something horrible doesn't happen to Wren's tent before this journey is out." And winking to his friend, Rangar walked back down the hill.

[ May 03, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[The Evenstar]

After Aerin had set up camp for the night, she packed a pack of lembas, sheathed her sword, Nauruin, and went for a quiet stroll in the woods. As she passed Turthôl and his little fire, he called out to her:
“Aerin! Do not wander astray in those woods. They may be perilous!”

But Aerin paid no heed to his warning.
“I do not fear the woods. Now let me go and be by myself for a while,” she said.

Turthôl shook his head and kindled the fire.
The sun had dropped beneath the mountains and the sky was getting dark. An owl hooted somewhere above the branches. This forest was old. Older than the forests Aerin had explored near her village.

She enjoyed the independence of walking alone at night. She softy hummed a song, but her humming ceased when she sighted a light burning faintly through the trees. She squinted and peered into the darkness. She heard raised voices, harsh and aggressive.
She ventured closer, unperturbed.

The voices grew louder.

Finally, Aerin could make out shadows against the tree-trunks.

The beings gathered round the fire were not that of her company. They were different. Foreign. But she could understand the language they were speaking – Common Tongue.
“They’ve got to be near here somewhere,” said one. “I can feel it.”

“Nay, maybe they took a different path. Perhaps over the Hithaeglir range or the Ettenmoors?” said another.

Then one, who seemed to the leader, spoke.
“We shall leave now and find them! I know their path,” he said in a menacing tone. “Hurry, extinguish the fire and do not linger! For elven and human flesh you shall devour tonight!”

All his followers scurried about, obeying his orders. To Aerin, there seemed to be about five or six of these mysterious beings. She felt rather worried now.
Could they be tracking our company? she thought.

She fled and hid behind a large tree-trunk as the band of hostile beings approached.
Could they be vicious Orcs; the kind that killed my mother? Aerin thought.

But as she peered round the trunk, she saw that the band, which were carrying torches, were not Orcs, but looked like Humans.
They were the Wild Men that she had heard of in Rohan. Evil men. Aerin was not sure if they were servants of Sauron or another evil force, or if they didn’t serve anybody but their leader and prowled the Earth in search of flesh. Cannibals were dangerous, and Aerin knew that and so she ran from her hiding place, quick and agile and careful not to be seen. She dodged the trees and was soon far ahead of the band of hostile Wild Men.

She reached camp and found Turthôl, playing his fife.

“Turthôl!”

Turthôl lowered his fife.

“Aerin, what is it?” he asked in alarm.

“Wild Men!” said Aerin. “They’re hunting us and they’re coming this way! I overheard them plotting in the forest!”

Turthôl didn’t stop to think. He ran to where the rest of the company was sitting by the fire.

“Pack up camp! Cannibalistic Wild Men are headed this way!” he shouted.

“But I just set up me tent,” Wren complained.

“We must get moving!” said Aerin to Wren. “Here, I’ll help you dismantle it!”

As Aerin and Wren dismantled the tent, Rangar and Turthôl rounded up the horses. The rest extinguished the fire and packed up the food and medical supplies. Aerin loaded baskets and packs onto the horses and the company mounted. Aerin leapt upon her chestnut steed, Halya, as the voices of the cannibals grew louder than ever.

[ May 07, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Everdawn]

Énien took her horse and mounted it. Quickly she looked around to see the others who did not have horses. She dismounted. "I suppose we are only as strong as our weakest." she said to herself.

Énien stopped thinking. "why do we not stand and fight? We are plently able." she said waiting for the other perople to catch up.

[The Evenstar]

Aerin stopped when she heard what Enien had jsut said. It was true that the Wild Men were strong, but they were hostile and unorganised. Then she shouted:
"Come on everyone! Let's stand our ground and she pulled Nauruin from its sheath. It glittered in the moonlight. Randar, Tareth and the other men pulled out their weapons. Together, the comapany got ready to fight.

[Earendil Halfelven]

He watched as Aerin went into the woods alone. She did not heed his warning, but then again they were still in the Eastfarthing of the Shire. He began to play his fife. The eerie tunes floated out into the darkness.
_____________________________________________

“Turthôl!” came a cry from the dark.
Turthôl lowered his fife.
“Aerin, what is it?” he asked in alarm.
“Wild Men!” said Aerin. “They’re hunting us and they’re coming this way! I overheard them plotting in the forest!”
Turthôl didn’t stop to think. He ran to where the rest of the company was sitting by the fire.
“Pack up camp! Cannibalistic Wild Men are headed this way!” he shouted.
“But I just set up me tent,” Wren complained.

I knew that tent would be trouble, thought Turthôl. Everyone was packing up their stuff, and those with horses were mounting them. He had no horse, so he figured he'd bring up the rear on foot and kill any Wild Men that came up.

"How many did you see?" he called to Aerin.
"About six, I think," Aerin answered.

"What are Wild Men doing so far north?" wondered Rangar out loud.

"Beats me, but they shall not return home!" answered Turthôl.

He could see that the Elf, Enien, was preparing to make a stand. So were the others. Turthôl took out his bow and quiver of arrows that were slung around his back. He notched an arrow to the string, and peered out into the gloom. He could hear them coming. They were big, by the sound of it.

"Fresh meat! We shall feast tonight!" came a harsh voice up ahead. Turthôl took aim at the voice and fired. A scream pierced the night air. He had found his target.
He quickly brought another arrow up, and notched it. He took aim.

[ May 03, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Everdawn]

Énien also fitted an arrow to her bow. "They will have no such thing!" Énien said re-assuringly to the others and fired an arrow long range. Turthol's arrow had felled their leader. She nodded at him.

Énien shot again this time hitting another wild man who had come out at the side of the track. They were close now, Another climbed out from the other side of the track at Énien. With one hand holding her bow, Énien pulled out her curved-blade daggar and stabbed The man through the stomach, again and again until there was blood covering her hands.

She turned to Rangar. "What do you make of this? Rangar?" Kicking the corpse aside.

[The Evenstar]

Aerin was wielding her sword with great swiftness and skill, much to the amazement of some of the men.
"Aerin, look out!" called Wren.
Aerin felled a Wild man just as he was about to strike her with a cruel axe.
The evil Elven maiden appeared again.
She cackled.
A wild man siezed Aerin from behind and she fought back.
"Let go, heathen! Let go!" she screamed. An arrow whizzed past. Aerin ducked and the Wild man's grip loosened. She saw that he was dead. The evil Elf wielded a cruel curved sword, rusted and brown and charged towards Rangar.
"Rangar!" screamed Aerin. Rangar turned and in an instant saw the danger. They fought, with the aid of Turthol and Tareth and slit the elven woman's arm. She cried out in pain but still continued to fight.

[Arien]

Carmalita unsheathed her daggers from beneath her coat, maybe it would be time to show the rest of the company she could inflict great pain and not just heal it. Some of the company had bows, and so slew the wildmen as soon as they emerged from the bushes. But some had gotten past the barrage of arrows and were getting closer to the company.

Carmalita looked around and saw the nearest wildman sneaking up behind Turthôl, he had not seen him for he was busy firing arrows. Quickly sprinting to his aid, she kicked the wildman in the chest. He was fulng backwards and winded. But he charged towards Carmalita, she to ran forward and plunged her daggers into his heart. He fell slowly to the ground. As she had done this Turthôl turned round. He had seen what she had done, nodded his head and continued fighting.

Carmalita slew one wildman as there was only six, and even though her dagger skills were a bit rusty, the techniques that her father, then her mother taught her came flooding back into her mind with ease. Did the rest of the company still think she was just a nurse now?

[ May 04, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

[The Evenstar]

"Arien, nice fighting!" Aerin shouted as she elbowed a wild man in his face.
Arien looked pleased. She smiled as she wiped the dirt from her brow.
"Thanks," she said as another wild man leapt from the bushes. Quick as lightning, Arien felled him with a single punch.

[ May 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Arvedui III]

This wasn't good. Rangar felt clumsy and stupid next to all these seasoned fighters. Where had all these wild men come from? He parried a blow meant for his neck and struck out with his fist. Stupid! He thought to himself, You have a sword! He dodged another wild man and watched him stagger forwards. That made him feel better, swiinging his blade into the zealous brute.

Despite the fact they company was holding well, the wild men kept on coming. Rangar was tired, he wanted to sleep, but insted he spent his night tumbleing and dodging blows from rusty swords, then thrusting his own. What annoyed him the most, though, was the fact he kept trying to punch and kick his foes insteed of stabbing them. As yet another wild man lunged at him, he stept right and found himself clinging to a saddle. Without thought or hesitation he climbed up, mostly to avoid another strick from the cannible. Things are much easier from five feet up he thought as he quickly paried a blow.

Maybe this wasn't as bad as I thought. But, then again, how much worse can you get when you've got a pack of wild men after you

[ May 04, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir had taken out his bow when he heard Aerin's warning. Standing back from the group he fired a few arrows at the oncoming Wild Men before they were too close to his group to aim at anymore. He drew a dagger, the only other weapon he had, and crept close to the fire. Calimir bit his lip, feeling intensely useless. Why had he not brought a sword?

One of the cannibals crept up beside him. He saw it coming and swiftly kicked out at it before it could strike at him. The man fell back with a loud grunt. Turthol dispatched him with a swift swing of his sword. Calimir looked up at the ranger, "Thank you", he said.

Turthol grinned at him. "Anytime," he panted. Calimir looked around the camp, but most of the wildmen seemed to have scattered or been killed. Rangar was sitting on the back of a horse gripping his sword in both hands and looking around suspiciously. Carmalita stood panting by the fire. Everyone seemed unhurt. Calimir heaved a sigh of relief and began collecting his arrows. He hated fighting.

[maikafanawen]

***KEEPING IN MIND WREN DOES NOT HAVE A PINK, YELLOW, AND BLUE CIRCUS TENT***

Wren didn’t bother to set up her tent, and instead lay back on the ground, trying to rest a bit. She would have tried to make conversation with some one, but since Maikafanawen was gone for three blinkin’ days and Wren spent her entire time setting up a circus tent she missed out on that opportunity ( [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] ). No, instead she thought about what could be worse. The entire company thought she was a fool out for a joy ride. The noblewoman shrugged, At least they won’t expect much of me. I can mind my own and just have a free guide the entire time. That way, heh, I’m the major benefactor! She chuckled slightly, then sighed. It was a very still night and most had occupied themselves by reflecting on depressing times in their lives when they’re parents were killed by orcs. A good few of them had anyways. Wren hadn’t ever seen one, but had seen pictures, and knew them to be nasty looking creatures. She sometime hoped to meet one. They mustn’t be all bad. A little love and understanding, who knows. They may be brilliant! She greatly doubted the possibility, but it was something to consider.

She didn’t grow sleepy at all, but she couldn’t really do anything except just lay there because before the fight, everyone thought she was busying herself by setting up a ridiculous tent. She sighed and waited for Aerien to return and deliver the news of the Wild Men, which reminded Wren that her sword was next to the bag of supplies she and Turthol had bought. Actually, she corrected herself, she had bought. The noblewoman had just reached the pile of supplies when Aerien came running out of the forest, full of movement and expressions like an actor in a play.

All battle posts up until this one

Wren watched the fight from her calm stance by a tree. Most of the company had formed a wall, blockading the Wild Men from getting past them, for who knows why. She yawned, wondering how many more would come. The elf had said that there were six, but obviously, she had guess wrong and was on the contrary about two dozen off. Wren smiled to herself as a wild man caught sight of her. She dipped her head forward as though she was tired and slowly falling asleep. The wild man laughed and charged out her. Quick as a flash, Wren’s sword was out and she severed the man cleanly in two pieces, steam rising from his entrails.

“Ah gross!” she said, taking a handkerchief from her pocket and holding it up to her nose. She grimaced at the sight of blood flecked on her boots. She stepped back from the body and prepared to watch the rest of the fight when Rangar turned around and saw her standing there, grossing out over the corpse.

“Come on Wren!” he said angrily, “don’t just stand there! Help us!” Me? mouthed Wren, pointing to herself. At Rangar’s exasperated face, she nodded and held up a hand, adjusting her belt and pushing away curls from her face. Rangar snarled with frustration and resumed his fight. Rolling her eyes, Wren moved to the end of the line of the company and fought, though not too hard. Hey, she thought, watching the strenuous struggle for life between the group and the cannibals?, there are two elves, a feminist, a few rangers, some fool scholar, some nice people from Bree, they don’t need so much help from a good-for-nothing-noblewoman. Raising her blade to meet the second wild man, she parried his first slash and ran him through quickly. Against Wren’s sword there was no threat. It was a good thing too, otherwise, she would be dead. Judging between the annoyance and distrust of her own companions, and the psychotic anger of the wild men, Wren would have had no chance with out her sword and cleverness, she decided. After all, she was no fool. The sooner they got to Gondor the better. If they didn’t want her here, she didn’t want to be here.

She discretely took out four more wild men, stepping further away from each body. The stench was terrible. Her handkerchief in her left hand was held up to her face, trying to block out the nasty stench. Her right arm was easily fending off foes. Finally, the wild men were gone and the elves and rangers were taking attendance. Wren wiped her sword off quickly and sheathed it. Then she sat down against a tree, trying vainly to wipe blood off of her clothes and boots.

[Arvedui III]

The last of the wild men fled; They saw it was useless. Turthol began calling out to the members of the company, making sure everyone was ok. They were. Rangar dismounted the horse he'd been using for leverage against the wild men only to find Aerin looking angrily at him. "You ok?" He asked, bewildered. "What were you on my horse?" "Fighting" he replied nonchalantly. "If any should have been on her, it should have been me." "Sorry" he mumbled, realizing his stupidity once again, and walked off.

Rangar went and knelt by one of the corpses while the others were cleaning up. "Dunelings" he mumbled, "Turthol, come here." He called. " Well, that was something, huh? What is it?" His friend answered, now coming over. "Duneling mercenaries." "How do you know?" "Look, a bag of silver, their cloths, maybe there's order papers on one of them." "So we search all them?" said Turthol incredulously. "Rangar, so what if they're mercenaries?" "Why would they be this far west?" "I don't know. Come on," and suddenly Turthol stopped. "They wouldn't be after us, Would they?" He said slowly. "I dunno." Rangar whispered back. "We can't stay here." They both said at once, and got up.

[Durelin]

"Pack up camp! Cannibalistic Wild Men are headed this way!" Tareth heard Turthol's voice cry out from where from where he lay. He scrambled up, rolling up his blanket roll, the only thing he had taken out, and gathered up his things. Then, to his dismay, he heard the order that they should stay and fight. He wasn't about to argue, but...why? Honor and glory. Tareth snorted. So foolish!

Tareth sighed and took up his bow, standing near the rest of the company. He drew an arrow, aiming into the darkness. He saw a flicker of light on steel among the trees, and, hoping the man was right handed, shot to the left. He was awarded with a startled grunt, but nothing more. A man emerged from that point in the trees. Ducking under a slash from the man's short bladed sword, Tareth sliced upward with his axe. He had gotten a deep cut in the swarthy man's leg, but still he came.

Another chop from the cannibal skimmed Tareth's arm, drawing blood. With a growl, Tareth swung his axe to meet the man in the face. He didn't return the attack. The corpse fell to the ground at Tareth's feet. The young blacksmith stared at it in surprise, in anguish. He had killed a man. A cannibal, perhaps, but a man. He looked at his bloody axe and back to the body. His stomach churned. Tareth sank to his knees, staring at the body. He cursed himself for being a coward, for being weak. But he couldn't help it, couldn't help the sadness he felt. It felt like a part of him was gone, and he thought it probably was. The peaceful part of him. The simple blacksmith from Bree. This was what you wanted. Wrong. Thought he wanted.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl wiped the blood off of his sword. As he gathered up his arrows out of the carcasses, he searched the bodies for any evidence of why they were this far north. But he found nothing. He thought of what he and Rangar had discussed just a moment before, but he couldn't come to any logical reason why these men were here. They would have to be careful, even so deep in the Shire. He and Rangar had decided that they had to leave-right now.

During the fight, he had observed the others and their skills. They had done pretty well. But some couldn't settle the fact that they had killed, like Wren and Tareth. Tareth still knelt by the body of the Wild Man he had killed. He looked sick to his stomach. Wren rubbed in vain at the blood stains on her clothes. He felt he had to say something, not out of contempt, but out of sympathy for what they had just experienced.

"Companions, we must leave now. Pack up your things, for it is not safe here, as you can see. For those of you who have killed for your first time, just be aware that if you had not killed the man at your feet, he would be eating from your body right now. Killing innocent people is wrong, but when you are being attacked by either wild men, goblins, or orcs, you must use your sword in defense of those innocents who cannot defend themselves. I can attest to that fact because, as a Dúnedain, it is the life that I live. Many times have I slain, but always in the defense of others, never in cold blood. You are going to have to learn that lesson, it seems. As we journey to Harad, it's obvious that the journey there will be one of peril and danger, for it is obvious that someone does not wish us to make this trip."

He looked at the others. They were looking at him, and he nodded back in respect, especially to Tareth and Wren. They would have to harden a part of themselves towards death and killing. But, they looked as if they were willing to do that. If they were willing to protect their friends and companions, then he knew he could trust them.

He could trust them.

[Everdawn]

Énien looked at her blood covered hands. "bad memories" she said to herself and quickly closed her eyes. She opened them after a while and looked at the company. Énien began to pull the arrows out of several corpses on the ground. "Arrows, we cannot afford to waste them." she said to no one. She then spoke to the rest. "The corpses? Burn them? or leave them to the dogs?" she questioned.

Énien then saw Tareth sitting on the ground, his axe bloodstained and laying nearby. "His first kill." she thought to herself. "I remember mine all too well, never the same." The elf thought again. She saw Tareth's injured arm.

Énien walked over to him. She kneeled beside him and took his arm. "Your hurt. Are you injured anywhere else?" This was genuine empathy. She turned to find Carmalita. "Carmalita! Tareth is wounded!"

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Arien]

As soon as she heard her name Carmalita spun around and ran over to where Énien was crouched by Tareth. Énien moved out of the way to make room for her to look at the the wound. It wasn't very deep, or life threatening but blood kept pouring out.

"I need some water," she said carmly.

"Here," said Énien, handing her a small canteen of water.

"Thanks," Carmalita said as she wiped the cut clean with a piece of clean cloth. She then instructed Énien to hold the cloth firmly on Tareth's as she went to get her medical supplies. She picked the bag up and brought it back. She opened it and was greeted by the smell of sweet herbs. She took out a small white bottle filled with a white liquid, that smell alot like alcohol. She got another small cloth and tipped a small amount of its contents on to it.

"This may sting a little," she said to Tareth as she took Énien's hand away and place the doused cloth on. He wincinced and looked down at his arem.

"This will stop it from getting infected...." she said as she proceeded to tie a bandaged around his cut. "There you go.."

"Thank you," he said as she packed her things back into her pack.

"Anyone else wounded?" she called out to the company. No one answered, "There's no point playing the hero if you are!" she laughed and walked back to collect the rest of her things.

[The X Phial]

Bregand was never so ashamed in his entire life. When the call came to stand and fight he had felt his blood freeze in fear. Hestitating while the others sprung into action, Bregand fingered the hilt of his father's sword. He drew it slowly, dread in his heart. Finally snapping out of his stupor, he went to join the others in the line of defence. Unlike the others, however, he had managed to wound none of the enemy. Bregand's entire energy had been spent blocking blows, though he had managed to trip one of the wild men in time for Calimir to dispatch him. Even his blocking of blows hadn't been entirely successful. Bregand had suffered a small cut under his left ear. The blow would likely have taken his ear clean off if he hadn't had the quickness of youth on his side.

He heard Carmalita ask if others were injured and, after a pause sheepishly raised his hand. The wound was not deep and was quickly attended to, but Bregand's face burned with shame. No one had mentioned his deficiencies, but he was certain they must have been noticed. With the egocentrism of youth he interpreted every downcast eye and murmur as directed at him and his lack of skill with the sword.

Quickly, and without a word to anyone, he gathered his belongings and made ready to set out again. They were moving camp. Bregand resolved within himself that he would make it up to the company somehow. He also felt a blaze of anger mixed with his shame, he would show them all that he was worth more than his skill as a fighter.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[Arvedui III]

Rangar walked quickly, the company following behind. He wanted to get away from the spot as soon as possible. They had kicked the corpses into a ditch, resolving it was too risky to burn them. They came into a little clearing, then Turthol and Enien started a small fire, well, it was really just a smoldering pile of sticks more than a fire.
Rangar went and sat down next to Tareth and Bregand who seemed very off. The blacksmith had a dazed look in his eyes that made Rangar uncomfortable.The look in his eyes, thought Rangar. shock, compassion, remorse. Rangar envied the blacksmith, if only those feelings could have come to him the first time, well, maybe they had. "First kill?" He offered. "Yeah." Said Tareth slowly. "It's hard, but good. Don't ever lose the feeling." Said Rangar quietly "Why?" "Because then you truly lose, maybe not your life, but something else." Whatever I lost though Rangar, now getting up to stand with Turthol.

Bregand got up too. "So, um, what road are we taking?" He asked tentatively. "The southward one" said Rangar, kneeling to feel some of the fire's heat. "Ok. Um, Rangar. I'm sorry." "For what?" But Rangar already knew the answer. "For back there, I, I know I wasn't much of a help." The boy began, head hung. "Neither was I, but we did all right; We'll do better should there be a next time." Said Rangar softly, "Get some sleep, I'll wake you up if we need your help on the route plan." And nodding, the boy went back to where he was sitting. Rangar shook his head. Then, Turthol came over, "Well," he said, "Well?" "Well, they're all pretty burnt out, me too. Now that it comes to it." "Yeah." "So, I take it we're going south?" "I guess." Rangar mumbled, he really wanted to sleep right about now. "I'll tell the guide to fight the road out amongst themselves. I'm too tired for this. "Ok, get Wren and Bregand, and the two elves. Any road would be good so long as it doesn't have wild men on it." "Yep." Said Turthol, and he walked off to get the guides. Rangar lay down. A long night, and many more too come, this journey hadn't gotten off to the best off starts.

[Everdawn]

Énien saw Bregand standing alone for a while. "He is still young in the world, though I to him am old, I too am still young in the eyes of the elves. I bet he has never been attacked in ambush like that before." she said to herself. She resolved to converse with the boy who had been so interested in her since she met him in Bree.

"Hello Bregand", she called to him. It was the first time she had called him by name, other than reffering to him as "boy".

Énien saw he was a little alarmed by her talking to him. She stood next to him and stared out at the hills. "I have killed goblins, orcs and mirkwood spiders by the dozens- but the first time I killed a man- I broke my bow and threw it into the Anduin. Later I realised how stupid I was, armed only with a daggar and with a horse, hundreds of miles from Rivendell..."

Énien paused looking at Tareth, who seemingly looked quite disturbed. "It is different, killing a man, for me than it is for you. I am an elf, and none will kill another, but men, In their hearts grace lies so deep sometimes it is lost. It causes them to turn to evil."

She smiled. "Now, we better find Calimir and Wren and discuss which road we have to take, time we cannot waste."

[The X Phial]

Bregand managed a small smile, glad that his skills were being recognized by an elf as previously distant as Enien.

"I'd be honored," he said, bowing slightly and missing her amused expression. "I stick by my original assessment that the greenway is the best way to Harad. The question at this point is whether to backtrack to Bree proper and take the south road from there or to cut across the land and join the road just north of the South Downs. Backtacking is safer, but we will lose a day of traveling. Let's find the others and make a decision."

He was grateful for the confidence placed in him and in the apparent willingness of the party to ignore his earlier deficiency. He spotted Wren and called her over and saw Enien signal to Calimir.

[ May 06, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir walked over to join the group. He'd been watching them keenly from a distance. Bregand didn't do so well in the fighting it seemed. Calimir understood that feeling, he'd backed away from one more than once. He glanced with compassion toward Tareth who was talking on the side with Rangar, the haunted look barely subsided even after several hours.

As he came up to the elf and the young man he held his hands out to them. "What is it, my friends?" he asked, his spirits having lifted considerably since the fight. He was in a spectacularly good mood in fact. He shot a smile at Bregand, who still looked faintly uncomfortable.

[maikafanawen]

Wren had failed in getting all the blood of her clothing was utterly disgusted at the unsightful marks they left. Shuddering with defeat she leaned against a tree, watching a few members either make a fire, stare idly into the woods, or studying their hands, the latter consisted of the few who had killed a man for the first time in their lives. Wren hadn’t noticed the horror stricken faces of Tareth and Bregand. Sure she noticed that they seemed a bit more concerned about the events than the more experienced, but she didn’t contemplate on the topic long. She was a bit surprised with herself.

The noblewoman had been surprise at the ease in which she killed the men. She had done many illusional practices at Gondor, but none had involved the expressions the men had right after she ran her blade through them and just before they died. Wren had killed four total, and three discretely. As far as the others knew, she had disposed of a single cannibal—Which was good in Wren’s case, so she wished to think. So used to the popularity and respect of home, the disrespect and annoyance she had received from the companions whom she traveled now was very disappointing. Her conceded side of her (the mind) had vanquished over her common sense (the heart) and she had resolved that they were simply not worth her time.

“Wren,” called Bregand from a few yards off as he spoke with Enien, “come over here.” She rose and meandered over to where the two elves and Bregand stood. Wren was very surprised when Enien greeted her with a faint smile. The noblewoman stuttered as she answered Calimir’s question.

“What is your opinion on our path?” he asked as if they had long been working together. Wren was very confused at this point and decided to shrug it all away for the moment as they discussed the route.

“Well,” she said, producing a map from her bag and opening it before them, “We’re somewhere just outside of Bree between the Old Forest and the South Downs, about here,” she said, pointing to place near the Andrath Greenway. “Now, if we were to go by Rivendell, which I would love to see, but this is not a tourist trip, we should find the East-West Road and travel thusly. Were that to be chosen because of its safety that would take us down the Misty Mountains which we would most definitely cross into the east elven territories such as Mirkwood and Lorien. If we’re to head straight south, then the obvious choice would be to continue down the Andrath Greenway until it turns into the North-South Road. That would take us over the Tharbad bridge of Greyflood,”

“Gwathló,” added Enien. Wren nodded,

“Precisely. Then we’d be traveling through Enedwaith which would consequently lead us through Dunland and pass Isengard, a nice tourist attraction if I do say so myself. But then again—”

“This isn’t a tourist trip,” interrupted Bregand impatiently. Obviously he had the map memorized and was getting annoyed with Wren detailing the possible routes they could take. The noblewoman ignored him temporarily and continued.

“That, of course, will lead us through the Gap of Rohan. By then we will all be exhausted from walking and very short of food and water.” The elves and Bregand nodded in agreement. “So, we could ask shelter from King Eomer at Edoras. From there, we’d follow the mountain range onto Gondor. Minas Tirith or Osgiliath.” She took a deep breath. From there I leave you, she thought. “From there we could do two things. My father has a ship in Harlond—”

“I thought you were from Minas Tirith,” interrupted Bregand. Wren was shocked. Bregand was turning out to be a very observative and intelligent boy—It frustrated her.

“I am, but my father has connections in both cities, and a merchant ship in Harlond. May I continue? Good. We could use that ship and sail down The Great River,”

“Anduin,” Calimir pointed out. The noblewoman was near exploding but wisely kept her calm.

“Therefore following the coast to Harad, or we could travel the Harad Road, which would be the most dangerous course by far. Although that last route is for a later time of discussion. Right now, it is the first course we’re debating.” She finished and looked towards her guiding companions.

“I stand by the South Road course,” Bregand said firmly.

“I agree,” offered Enien. Calimir stood in thought for a second. He had just left Rivendell and returning would cause him more pain of having to leave a second time.

“South.” Wren looked down at her map again. The Andrath Greenway would lead them through the Downs, and the South Road through Dunland. It was extremely dangerous. Wren was known for her luck and easy going attitude—not her courage. If they made it through that, they’d be fine after conquering the Gap of Rohan and arriving in Edoras. With Arien along, they would surely be greeted warmly in King Eomer’s halls. She hid her feelings and nodded in agreement.

“It’s settled. South we go.” The group split and Bregand left to inform Rangar. Wren speculated on her thoughts before the discussion. They had been full of anger because she had not been welcomed with open arms into this group of strangers. Well of course not, her heart argued. Maybe I should just stop thinking. Wren picked up her sword drawing it from its trendy, midnight black scabbard. It was newly forged to fit her tastes: light, thin, and extremely aerodynamic. Its ability to swish through the air at a single flick of her wrist was her favorite quality. She liked the dark green, leather hilt with a delicate imprint of a rose. The rose was her favorite symbol and it was on her pouches, arm guards, and in a small place just to the left of her heart on her jerkin. She ran her fingers lovingly over the sword’s hilt before standing on-guard with it before her. Wren was about to practice when someone behind her said...

[ May 25, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Earendil Halfelven]

"Thats quite a sword. It bears the look of Elven smiths, but the lack of Elven characters tells another tale." Turthôl said.

He had been listening in on the group from the outside. He didn't want to interrupt, unless they chose a completely stupid path. They had chosen going south, which was fine with him. He had listened to each one input their opinion. He was surprised that Wren had so much knowledge of the area. He had guessed that her knowledge would lie in the paths in Gondor and Rohan, not the north. From what he had observed, this was her first time up here.

The sword had really caught his eye. He was surprised at how well she handled it. I guess she took lessons or something, he thought.

"My family's private smith forged this. Its custom made for me," she replied.

He had watched her in battle. He felt that it was his responsibility to watch over the "greenies" of battle. He was glad that they weren't so "green" after all. He saw her slay her first man in the battle, and how she had reacted to it.

"This was your first time to wield it in battle?" he said. He already knew the answer, but it was for the sake of the conversation.

"Yes," was all she said. She looked at the sword. There was some crusted blood on the little rose symbol on the hilt. She rubbed at it with her finger.

Turthôl looked at her clothes and the blood stains on it. By the look of it she had killed more than one man, which he had already guessed.

"Well, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for the way I acted back in Bree. I didn't mean to come off like that. Its just that after..." he stopped himself.

"What?" Wren asked.

"Nothing," he said. He didn't want to tell her about what had happened years ago. He had almost told her back in Bree, he remembered. Something about her made him just feel as if he could talk about things around her.

She looked at him with a look of disbelief. She obviously knew there was something that he had almost told her, but he had stopped himself.

Turthôl thought quickly for something to say. "Umm...good fighting. You could use a little work, but it wasn't bad for your first time." He hoped that she wouldn't take it the wrong way.


"Well then, I'll say goodnight, my lady," he said as he added a bow. He laughed at the joke. It was an inside joke from when they were in Bree.


He went off in search of some wood to keep the fire going, but mainly to scout the area for anything else. He was going to be gone for a few hours. That would give him enough time to scout the area, and to think about things.

[ May 06, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[ May 06, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Everdawn]

The rest of the night had passed without foes returning to the camp. The dawn had come. At lastÉnien thought to herself. The new sun crept over the trees in the clearing in which they were camped. Énien had spent most of the night on further watch. For she seldom grew tired, even without days of sleep.

A stream flowed to the side of the clearing and through the forest. Close by her horse was drinking in it. quite an adventure we have had"Melliant" she said to the giant black horse, "You are melliant." Finally she had decided on a name.

Énien's young face peered passed the horse and to the sleeping company. "I should wake them, it will be a long day" She told the horse. And went over to them. "It is dawn! wake, the sun smiles today! no longer does the menacing star stalk us overhead, be mooving!" she said, but she doubted any knew what she meant by the star.

[ May 08, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Carlas]

Darkness crept over the moist ground, and a fog started to lay itself across the land, making it impossible to see. A lone figure upon a horse trotted slowly down the path, the quiet clip-clop of the hooves reverberating through the woods.

As the rider reached the summit of a small hill, he heard another horse dashing towards him down the path. He turned his horse into the bush and waited silently for the rider. As the horse and rider came into view a few feet away, the man jumped out upon his horse causing the other one to rear in fright screeching.

The man that had just come comforted his horse, trying not to fall off at the same time. He looked over at the man that had pulled out infront of him, he wore a black hood covering his face but he could tell who he was.

"Ah, you gave my horse a fright! We did not expect you to be this close already!"

The other man smiled under his hood."I move quick Aranthan, now tell me of the attack, have you found Rangar?"

Aranthan frowned. "Im sorry sir, but they were better warriors than I thought! The troops retreited. They are regrouping now, and getting ready for another attack but they will wait for your return."

The man nodded and looked about him. The fog was getting better and they needed to move quick. He kicked his horse gently in the side and they rushed off, moving through the quiet woods, like phantoms in the mist.

[Arvedui III]

Rangar smiled behind Enien. The elf hadn't slept, yet she was the first one up, or active at least. "Yes. We should get moving!" Enien spun around, then seeing who had spoken grinned back at him. "You're up early." "Yes." He said, not offering any explanation, and walked back into the camp where he was met by a groggy Turthol complaining about the hour. "I got up to for you, and now you say 'get up'." He said, half teasing, half lamenting. "Forgive me if I'm a morning person." Chuckled Rangar "Sure, but I'll never understand how you get up so early." Turthol mumbled. "Well, don't try and match me then." "It'll be a cold day in," "Rangar?" "Huh?" It was Bregand. "Should we have a breakfast or not?" "Why not, I'm hungry." The company assembled by where the fire had been, and ate a small, cold meal before setting out toward the south road. Rangar walked for a good while in relatively good spirts until the road started getting foggy.

Great, first wild men, now fog. Someone clearly doesn't want us to make this journey. Thought Rangar right before he stumbled into Calmir. "Sorry." He mumbled. "No problem." The elf muttered back. "If this gets any worse, we'll have to stop." Said Wren. "Yeah. Everyone, don't lose your way; I think it's getting thicker." Called Rangar to the group, hoping they were all there, as he could no longer see them.

[ May 07, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[Everdawn]

Strange this mist was. Énien could barely see the road in front of her. The sky too, was darker than usual for daytime. This has never happened before. Nor have I taken this path. Is it possible that this comapny could have at least one day without something happenig? She thought to herself at the same time straning her eyes through the dense fog.

"Bregand" she called. "Are we still on the same road? for it is dense, I cannot be sure of the time of day either." Melliant started to get nervous she was leading him in fear if she rode him he could crush another of the company. Énien placed her hand on the horses face.


Melliant is as dark as black shaddows... perhaps.. if they can all see him, none will get lost. Where did this come from? Énien was now considerably troubled. "Can everyone see Melliant? He is black, darker than the fog, never loose sight of him and we will all be able to stay together."

They travelled on for some miles, the fog growing ever thicker. Now Énien could barely see three feet in front of her. "Calimir, hold Melliant" she called to her fellow elf, who came. He held Melliant as Énien mounted him to try to see what lay ahead. Énien sighed. "Rangar! she called, it is only thicker! the fog goes on for as far as I can see."

[Arien]

Great, fog! sighed Carmalita. She had placed her self in the middle of the company alongside Wren. She thought it be better to stay here just in case there was another attack. And she did not doubt that one bit. As she thought she played with the jewel around her neck, it was a Crystal that was givin to her by Crystal's father. She had kept it to remind her of her child and not to make too many mistakes in life. She had certainly lernt her lesson.

The fog grew thicker and she could just see the faint outline of Énien's horse about 7 foot ahead.

"Rangar! she called," it is only thicker! the fog goes on for as far as I can see."

"What shall we do?" said Carmalita speaking up, the company halted, " Should we go on not knowing were we tread, or where we go or into who's hands we play into. Or should we set up camp and have the risk of being attacked again? Rangar?"

[The X Phial]

Bregand, who could barely see the horse he was leading through the fog, halted with the others. He heard Enien and Carmalita ahead of him asking for advice. He raised his voice, unaware that sound carries farther in the fog and was startled by the strength of his own voice.

"It seems to me that this is very much like the fog said to hang around the land of the Barrow Downs," he said, before lowering his voice again. "There is no way such a thing could be, however, since at the most we may have wandered too far south and entered the South Downs, similarly named but nowhere near as feared. There is no way we could have missed the road, even in such a fog.

"On the chance that this fog is unnatural, however, I suggest a scouting party. A few who know the land well, either through experience or learning should scout ahead while the others remain here. There should be good fighters in both parties.

"If both groups keep their wits about them we should all be able to find one another again, and scouting ahead will give us some idea of what lay before us. The group staying behind should start a fire if possible to help guide the scouts back to them."

Bregand then surprised himself by adding, "I volunteer to join the scouting party. I don't have the experience of some others, but I know the charts down to every curve of hill."

"Besides," he continued at almost a whisper, "I wouldn't be much help if someone attacked the stationary group."

[maikafanawen]

The fog was unbelievably dense, and Wren had trouble keeping on the path and trying not to walk over everyone before her, as well as not being trampled herself. All her belongings were strapped to her back or around her waist and she was constantly adjusting things so that the weight was proportioned all around her. She realized that it would probably be another week before she got used to carrying things like a pack-horse.

The group, annoyed at the fog as well, stopped to decide what to do. Bregand proposed splitting up and scouting ahead while the rest stayed put. It wasn’t exactly a clever idea because getting separated in this mess as well as being subject to wild men/cannibal attacks would not be to their advantage. However, they really had no idea what else to do, so Wren agreed without argument.

She was standing behind Bregand, when he confessed that he would be no good in a fight. The noblewoman gave him a single reassuring pat on the back.

“You are not so bad a warrior boy, I’ve seen worse. I should think to go with the scouting group as well. I have recently traveled this way, and could be of use with the sword, unless anyone thinks otherwise.” The fog disabled her from reading faces, but she didn’t think anyone doubted her so much. She had taken her first kill very well—too well—and people seemed to think her company a bit more useful now. Wren shrugged it off waiting for Rangar to decide if this idea was fine, and who would join which party.

“Let’s not stay separated too long. I have a whistle to sound if the scouting group finds anything. Does anyone else have one?”

[Earendil Halfelven]

He had scouted late into the night of the surrounding area, but he had found nothing. He did, however, find a few tracks that seemed newly made and out of place. The tracks were made of heavy marching boots, but there was no sound of anything else. He returned back to the company before anyone was up, but he didn't sleep. He sat deep in thought next to the fire. Soon, they were out and marching.
____________________________________________

The fog lay thickly around them. Turthôl didn't like it but it was part of traveling through the downs. He listened as the others talked. Rangar was at the front of the group while Turthôl was at the rear. He couln't see for, but he could hear pretty well, and there was nothing behind them, at least for the time being.

He wasn't so sure if Bregand's idea was so good. It wasn't smart to split up in such a dangerous situation. The other thing that they could do was make camp until the fog lifted. But if the rest of the company agreed to Bregand's idea, then he thought that they should just send out a few.

"I also volunteer to go out and scout. I've traveled this way many times on my journeys. But I think that only a few should go in the scouting party. Incase the scouts get lost, than we won't lose too many of the party. If the rest should light a fire, than that could attract a lot more than the scouting party."

He didn't think that this was the doing of a mortal person. The Downs, no matter what part you were in, always got foggy without warning.

[Arvedui III]

Rangar listened to the ideas, thinking hard. The downs get foggy without warning, but those wild men. There could be more, and in fog... "Fine." He called at last, " But light a torch, and whoever's staying light a fire. The downs can be misleading, so stay alert. Turthol, Wren, Bregand, and Calmir scout ahead. The rest of us will stay here." Then, to appease his desire to keep moving, he added, "Just make sure we're on the right path, we don't want to linger here."

As the scouting party left, a torch in Turthol's hand, Rangar and Tareth grouped around for more firewood. To stop himself from worrying, Rangar began to fiddle with a dagger. The others began doing similar things. Enien was singing softly to herself and Ravenne was prodding the small fire with a stick. For what seemed like an eternity the group waited, giving Rangar more time to think up horrible scenarios in his mind. Then, they began to hear footsteps in the distance.

[The Evenstar]

Aerin rode alongside Tareth.

"Hey Tareth," she said. "I just wanted to say...uh..thanks for that decent apology earlier. Sincerely."
She smiled and Tareth was relieved.

[ May 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]