Outracing the Flames RPG

[piosenniel]

Wulfham


The iron bell that hung in the wooden tower above the Lord of Wulfham’s mead-hall rang out in the dark watches of the night. Aldwulf, the march-warden for this far eastern area of the Riddermark, sat in his carved chair giving orders to his wife and sons. They moved quietly and efficiently about him – pushing back benches and tables to make room for the crowd they knew would soon be there; heating up kettles of water for the hot tea the cold and tired villagers would need to hear the news.

Aldwulf rubbed his thumb along his coarsely bearded jawline. It was a nervous habit of his, helped him keep his focus he told himself. Tonight that was a lie. He couldn’t focus, not yet. The news was still too fresh. It made his gut ice cold to think of the horror that was coming their way.

A messenger had come earlier in the evening from one of the small hamlets a week’s ride north of Wulfham. The smoke they’d been seeing on the far hills now had a hideous face he’d told them. Orcs and men from the east-lands had made their way near to The Great River. A number of Outlander villages that lay in their path had been razed – the houses and barns burned to the ground, the people killed. The headman for the messenger’s village had sent him and a number of other messengers out to warn those who dwelt near them. And he, himself, had been sent by the headman to let the marchwarden know what was happening.

Questioned by Aldwulf, the man told him that many of the villages were heading to safety. A number to small fortressed hills further westward and some even making the long march to Edoras. ‘It is said,’ the messenger told him, that some great power to the south and east of us presses against the Mark and would swallow us one by one, until his shadow covers the grasslands and we are no more.’

The man would not stay once his message was delivered and the lord’s questions answered. He took a quick meal, a cup of ale. and then was on his way, riding back to intercept his own village’s flight to a place of safety.

‘Rouse yourself, Aldwulf,’ he heard his wife say as he considered the choices before him. ‘The crowd is come through the gate and will soon enter the hall.’ She handed him his thick vest to put on, for it was still cool in the hall, thought they’d piled the grates with wood and the flames licked at the offering hungrily. He tied back his grey shot hair with the piece of cord she gave him next and stood up before his chair as the villagers entered.

^*^*^*^

Brand squeezed along the south wall of the hall, making his way to a place nearer the raised platform where the Lord stood, talking to the heads of some of the more prosperous families in the village as well as the man who captained his small company of warriors. Brand waved off the offer of tea, focusing his gaze on that core of decision makers. Something big was happening and those who saw to the welfare of the village were discussing what should be done.

Aldwulf finished speaking to the men near him and motioned for the crowd to attend him. With an economy of words he explained the situation – that a messenger had come and the news bode ill for Wulfham. In the space of a few days, he would expect the villagers to pack up their belongings and be ready to move themselves and their animals to the safety of the King’s own city. The warriors would ride with them for protection, he told the people, many of whom were already muttering about the plan, both from fear and from the tumultuous turn they knew their lives would soon be taking.

Many questions were shouted at Aldwulf. And he took them as calmly as he could, giving as much assurance as he could to his frightened and angry people. When the asking was all done, and the ruffled feelings smoothed over for the moment, he raised his hand again, calling for quiet.

‘I have need of a small party of volunteers,’ he said, his gaze going about the room. ‘Fast riders to bring this news to Edoras. The King will want to protect his people and to do so he will need to know what we have learned. I would send some of my own armed men, but I want them all with us as we travel.’

His eyes rested on a number of folk about the hall and then moved on. ‘Four young people, those for whom others can pick up their responsibilities is what I want . . . what Wulfham needs.’ He nodded toward the captain of his men who began moving through the crowd with three other of his warriors.

Brand watched as three of them clapped their hands on the shoulders of a young villager each and led him or her . . . for there were two females he noted with some astonishment . . . to where the march-warden waited. ‘Poor sods,’ he murmured to himself, thanking his lucky stars that he did not stand among them.

Much to his surprise and dismay a voice rang out behind him. ‘There you are!’ the captain, himself, said, drawing near. He grasped Brand’s shoulder and urged him firmly toward the others.

A short while passed and villagers began to return to their houses, most to begin the long job of sorting through what they would need to bring; many to weep at what they must leave behind.

Brand and his chosen companions were told to go home and get what rest they could. Aldwulf would see them back at the hall midmorning to instruct them on what he wished them to do. ‘Bring your horses and what weapons you might have,’ he told them. ‘My house will fill your packs with food for traveling and with drink for several days' journey. You will leave directly then for the King with my written message.’

He nodded to them once he had finished speaking and then wishing them well, dismissed them to their beds.



-- Arry

[piosenniel]

Wulfham


Naria's post

Incana and her mother were getting ready for bed when her father and uncle came crashing through the door. "Something is going on in the town square" her father exclaimed. "We heard the bell ring, must be very important." said her uncle. With their night dress on and lanterns in hand , Incana and her mother hurried outside with her father and uncle leading the way. "It's a good thing that we reside nearby else you ladies would be catching a chill this night." her uncle said trying to lighten the mood.

Approaching the centre of town they noticed a large group of people had already arrived. Some they recognized some they did not. "I wonder where these people have come from that I have not seen before." Incana said with concern in her voice. "Oh don't worry, I'm sure it's nothing that we should be too concerned about." her mother said not quite convincing herself of that.
The four of them walked through the crowd and into the town hall where there were even more people that they had and had not seen. Incana was starting to feel overwhelmed and scared. She took her father's hand and held it tightly. Her father, straining to hear, heard what sounded like a plea for help from an older man in the sea of villagers. With Incana's hand still tight in his they weaved around people until they were closer to the stage.

The MarchWarden had given his speech to everyone and after listening to him, Encana's parents couldn't believe what they had just heard. "He can't be serious Sending our young ones out like that." Her father said in obvious disdain about the idea. There was some quarreling back and forth among some other parents and it was getting louder and louder. The MarchWarden banged his staff on the stage floor twice. All went silent. "I implore all of the young people of Rohan, come forth if yea shall volunteer for this task." Incana felt a pain in her stomach and a pull in her that she could not ignore. She slowly loosened her grasp of her father's hand and walked even closer to the stage. "NO!" cried her mother "I won't let you do this." Incana picked her mother up off of the floor, wiped away her tears and whispered into her ear, "I'll be ok. Don't fret mother I will come back to you. I have to do this." And with that Incana raised her hand.

----------

With barely any sleep Incana awoke the next morning to find that it wasn't a dream that had kept her tossing but a cold reality. Her mother had been up before her daughter that morning and prepared and packed some food and extra clothing for the journey. Her father came inside and wiped away some dirt off of his face. Incana couldn't help but notice that the dirt had smudged even though it wasn't hot enough outside this time of year. She felt tears well up in her eyes and threw herself into her father's arms. He pulled her back and told her that the horse was ready while he walked into another room. Incana heard muffled sobs; she wanted to go and be with her father but she changed her mind. Her mother hugged her only child and said good-bye and told Incana that she loved her. Incana put the food pack around her waist and went outside where her horse was waiting tied to a post. She fastened her weapons to the side of the horse sighed deeply, mounted and made her way to the town.

[piosenniel]

Wulfham


Valier's post

Vaenosa turned her back to the crowd and grasped her mother's hand firmly, leading her towards the small stage that was set up in the town hall. "Vaenosa you must go child! Do not worry about this old woman, I will be fine. I will go with one of our kindly neighbours,do not fret!" "Mother I will not leave you,not in your condition! Who will care for you? You are not strong enough,you need me here with you."

As they approached the stage, the MarchWarden was requesting volunteers to ride ahead with a letter for the King. Vaenosa felt a slight squeeze in her hand. Sighing deeply she turned around again to her ailing mother. " No mother I insist I stay here with you!" But the look of determination in the sick woman's eyes, melted Her heart. Before she could try and reason with the woman again,she felt a push from behind. Hands grabbed her from the front and lead her away.With one last look at her mother, Vaenosa raised her head high and walked towards where the other volunteers stood.

After receiving praise from the March Warden, he dismissed them all to their houses, to return in the Morn with weapons and horse. Then he would fill them all in on their duties.

Vaenosa was dazed. Almost walking in a fog, she found her way outside without looking for her mother.The cool air hit her face, bringing some colour back to her ashen cheeks. Then came the small frail arm, touching her own. "This my daughter is all I ask of you before I go......Please save this town,Get help while we still can! Your Father loved this town, as I do. I would love for this to be your place. For you children and your children's children. Please go."

With shoulders slumped and head hung low, Vaenosa let herself be led back slowly to the place she called home.

----------

Awaking the next morning to he mothers wracking coughs, the day before came flooding back."Well there's no chance I'm getting out of this now,I may as well make the best of it." Vaenosa was reluctant to put all her energy into the thought of the long road ahead,for if she did she would be set to accomplish what ever was asked of her, to the fullest extent. This scared her to her very core. Yet she would put on a brave face and say goodbye to her mother,maybe for the last time.

After a teary goodbye and a promise to stay safe, Vaenosa packed a travelling pack with some extra clothing and equipment. She was accustom to carring only what was essential, to let Nay go as fast as he pleased. Walking out to the stables, lifted her spirits some due to the slight Autumn breeze.

Nay was prancing in his stall and throwing his head back in anticipation. She had not let him run the day before and now he knew she was taking him out. "alright my friend,lets go." She jumped smoothly on to his blanketed back and without another look back, she started down the road to the town.

Tying Nay outside took alot longer than it should have, Vaenosa was still nervous about the whole thing. There was three other people she would be traveling with, and she was sure they would just get in the way. Taking three deep breaths she walked up the steps and through the door.

[piosenniel]

Wulfham


Tevildo's post

Dorran sat up with a start, threw off the covers, and leapt to his feet, hurrying over to the door and throwing it open. The sun had risen several hours before. He had managed to sleep through the cock's welcoming cry and all the hustle and bustle that had gone on in the courtyard, an area that stood only a short distance from the doorway of their tiny shed. Quickly sweeping his eyes over the area in front of the main hall, Dorran could see that preparations for their journey were well under way. The horses had been saddled and were snorting with impatience to be off. Several of the party had already arrived and were saying their final goodbyes to well wishers and friends.

Pummelling his fist into his other palm in frustration, Dorran turned and glared back at Criede. His sister was seated at the small table and was putting the finishing touches on a large sack of provisions that she meant for her brother to carry with him. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?" Dorran demanded. "I intended to be up and about. And what are you doing with all that food? The Master said he'd supply us with whatever we needed."

"Perhaps so," retorted the younger girl. "But this may be the last time for a while that you get a taste of my biscuits and apple tart. I thought you might like it." She stared back at him and then boldly stuck out her tongue. One moment Criede could be serious and adult, and the next moment acting just like a child.

"Alright, alright." His tone had softened considerably. "You've got me there. But still, I should have been up at dawn. What about the watering and feeding of the horses?" He stopped for a moment and shook his head, "It isn't like me..."

Criede interrupted before her brother could say another word, "The Master said I was to let you lie abed. You were up late helping him to gather the things that the group would need today. He wanted you to get some sleep before you began your journey. Anyways, it's only a few steps out to the courtyard, and you'll be ready to leave."

"Well enough, I suppose," he conceded with a sigh. "Promise be you'll be good, Criede, and do what the Lady says, and that you'll mind her on the road. She says you're to sleep in the hall with the other maids until you all leave together so you won't be out here on your own."

"I'd rather stay here," she objected. "This is my home."

"No more trouble now. Just do as the mistress says. When she says it's time to leave, you must go with her. She has always been kind to us and I expect you to behave. I'll see you soon in Edoras so you have nothing to fear."

"Alright, I promise. But why are you going early? You don't have to, you know. The Lord wouldn't make you. I'm sure of it."

"No, he wouldn't make me. But I want to go. I would never feel right being here and doing nothing, not knowing the danger the whole realm is in. Anyways," he muttered through gritted teeth, "not if I could do something to strike a blow at the likes of them."

Criede glanced up sideways at her taller brother, "You don't expect to see any of. those, those.... things on the road."

"I don't know but I don't expect so. They're still off to the east, or so I heard the Master talking. But if I do meet one, he won't live till another day. They are evil through and through. They have no soul, no heart, only blackness." There was real animosity in the lad's voice, the tone of one who knows more than what he says.

"Promise me, Dorran." his sister responded. "Promise me that you won't do anything foolish. You're the only family I have."

"I promise. I'm not a fool. And being dead isn't something I want to do for a long time. Anyways, dead men can't fight Orcs."

With that final thought, Dorran reached down and gave his sister a final hug, and raced out into the open courtyard to join the others who were just mounting up.

[piosenniel]

Bregoware


Farael's post

The long, slow wail of a horn arose those living close to the Town Hall. The sound of horns was taken up and repeated by others as they awoke and soon all the town had rose to the sound of alarm. The March-Warden Horwald was calling for a town meeting. It had not happened since the times of Brego King, many lives of men before, that this emergency call had sounded in the middle of the night. There was no man alive who had been born then, but still the villagers responded as they had trained themselves to do.

Upon receiving the disturbing news in the middle of the night, Horwald had ordered his eldest son to sound the alarm but he had not shared the dire news with anyone. It was the right of all the townspeople to learn about the incoming dangers at the same time. After making their respective horn calls, the people of Bregoware had started to make their way towards the Town Hall. As this town was mostly a farming community, it had been the best part of two hours before all the families were represented. Mostly men had answered the distress call, but in dangerous times like these some brave women had joined their husbands and fathers.

With a sigh, Horwald raised his hand to ask for silence. He was proud to see the look of worry in the faces of men untainted by fear. Soon that would be no more, as the news he had to tell them were ones no March-Warden had ever been forced to say in this town. A tense silence was finally achieved and so Horwald, son of Leodwald addressed his people. They were his, his responsibility. As he repeated them the words of the messenger, who at the time had long ran off to meet with his own townspeople, he saw even the bravest of his men frowning. Bregoware had been harassed by easterlings and even a party of orcs before, but the news were that of a marching army not a wild group of bandits. The people had followed him through the hardships of living outside the boundaries of the Kingdom of Rohan and they trusted him. They would follow him if he ordered them to abandon their houses. They would follow him if he ordered them to retreat into the fortified city and prepare themselves for what could be a long siege. But as he looked into his people’s faces, he could not bear the thought that in the next weeks some of them would die, no matter what choice he made.


Osmod was awaken by the alarm cries of his own family’s horn. He ran up to his father’s chambers to find him standing by the window, blowing at the horn that had belonged to his grandfather. He could hear the distinct sound of other horns at the distance, but more worrying to his mind was the sound of his mother crying. Leofwen had always been a strong woman; she had even ridden against an invading group of bandits in her youth.

The alarm sound was soon picked up by other families and father and son readied themselves for the ride to the Town Hall. They chose their fastest horses and carried their swords with them. Osmod did not have a sword that belonged to him and so he ‘borrowed’ his grandfather’s. It had been hanging on the wall since the day Osbearn had returned from the ranks of Thengel King.

They were one of the last people to arrive, as his father’s lands were far outside the town, but many of the men present allowed them to make their way closer to where the March Warden was standing. Horwald’s face was grim and soon they learned why. First there was silence. Then the yelling started. The opinion that was voiced the loudest was that of war. They had defended themselves from those orkish bandits before, they would do it again. Yet soon common sense sank in and they realized they would fight a loosing battle that would be over before it even got started. The men still wanted to fight, many of them were gripping their swords hilts already. Yet as they looked around the room and saw the women present, they understood they could not let their families die for their pride. Soon the room was silent and the March Warden announced what they all dreaded. The city was to be emptied by noon on the following day. They would march towards Edoras, protected by the warriors of the town.

As everyone was reading themselves to go back to their houses and start preparing for the long escape, a voice was heard on the back of the room. Osmod could not tell if it had been a man or a woman who had spoken, he could not tell even if it had been any older than himself. Yet the words were true. Marching armies could run faster than retreating towns and even if they left on the first light the following day, they might not make it to Edoras before the orcs caught up with them. At least some riders would need to be sent to alert The King and bring back help.

Silence fell upon the room again as they saw the March Warden deliberating with his main counsellors. When he looked up, his face was stern and decided. Four of their fastest riders would go ahead of the main group. Yet he could spare none of his warriors and so volunteers would be needed. Osmod’s hand moved towards the hilt of his sword even before Horwald had finished the call for volunteers. Never before had anyone but the March Warden heard those words and never before had they been meant for anything other than teaching the March Warden his duties and responsibilities. “Who among the people of Bregoware will answer my call? Who among us braves will show to be the bravest? Who will risk pain and death for the greater good of his people?”

The room fell silent, interrupted only by the sound of a sword being unsheathed. One volunteer had accepted the call. Soon two more swords were raised over the heads of their brave owners. One last volunteer was needed yet the room had fallen silent again. Osmod closed his eyes and tensed his grip on the sword. Almost without him knowing, he unsheathed his grandfather’s sword. He had answered the call for help.

Voices were heard at the back of the room and spread out quickly towards the front. Soon all the gathered townspeople were discussing the names of the volunteers. Everyone seemed to want to talk to Osmod and grab his arm. He had shown to be as brave as his grandfather Osbearn had been, they said. He had shown to be great among the great of his town. But Osmod knew he had shown nothing yet. He was still safe inside the walls of the village and there were many dangers to confront before he would even consider himself to be brave.

Horwald dismissed everyone but the volunteers and their families – it would have been pointless and cruel to force them appart now when they would be parting soon enough, perhaps for ever- who stayed and gathered close to him. He praised the volunteers sincerely and offered them his help in anything they needed. He would provide them with food and water, as well as fast horses if they lacked one. Of course, they all had good horses, but it was a great compliment to be offered a horse by the March Warden himself. After the March Warden had spoken, Osmod asked of him only one thing. The sword he carried was old and the edge was dull. He wanted to carry his grandfather’s sword and would very much appreciate it if the March Warden could have it sharpened for him. Horwald granted him his wish, as he granted everything the others asked. They stayed until it was long past midnight discussing the best strategy for their ride, but they all agreed that there was no way of knowing what they would find and so no way of making accurate plans. The town of Bregoware would have to trust on their rider’s skill and intelligence. And as most of them made their way to their respective houses, they knew their trust had not been misplaced.

Osmod rode back to his father’s estate. His father had been uncommonly silent since he had volunteered himself and they rode in silence towards the big house. After they left the horses in the stables, Osmod’s father asked him to wait on the hall before retreating to his own room. Osmod complied and sat down on the cold floor, feeling more comfortable there than on the sturdy chairs. He scrambled up to his feet as he heard his father walking back in and could not help to gasp when he saw what he was carrying. His father had his own longbow on one hand, the finest quality weapon his family had. But what surprised the son was the family horn in his father’s left hand. It belonged to his father, it had belonged to his grandfather before and to his father before then. “Son, it has been our family tradition that the father of the house gives this horn to his son on the day of their wedding. I know not if I shall live to see that great day and this is why I want you to have it. It may be of assistance to you and I know our ancestors will forgive me for breaking our long held tradition”. As Osmod laid sleepless on his bed, he told himself that nothing would go wrong as he had the protection of those who had fought the same enemy before and won.

[piosenniel]

Bregoware


Eowyn Skywalker's post

Jerked from a weary sleep by a strong wailing of an alarm, Eostre's eyes flickered open in the dark. An attempt to speak... her voice choked off and she leaned over to grasp a white square of fabric, rubbing some excess mucus from her mouth with a grimace. It took the adult woman sometime before she was able to place the harsh sound of alarm that drilled through her mind, chasing away all the flickering images of the dreamworld she dwelled in during her sleep. Something about... A chicken?

But, as was her custom, she didn't let anything sway her course from the choice to sit up and shove her bedding aside, yanking her nightshift off and changing hastily into full garb. By the time she was fully dressed—making the attempt to change in the dark hardly easy—the sound of the alarm had long leaned towards the houses far further away from the Town Hall, and in other rooms in the house, there came the sound of feet smacking against bare wood, her host family coming to wake her up.

Had they honestly thought the light sleeping Eostre would still be abed when alarms cried all through the town, the clatter of hooves passing through the streets and roads stretching far beyond the town to the adjoined lands? She could scarcely sleep through the sound of bacon frying in the rare mornings when she was ill, mainly from allergies. But it meant little; she was dressed, as were they all, and the bordering elderly Haodel and Gelwyn were insisting she ride to the Town Hall with them from their farm. Gelwyn wanted to stay with cousin Ieloa, Haodel wanted to go to the meeting... clamor. She didn't mind. There was no way she could ever have fallen asleep after such a racket! What was the world coming to? A full out war?

Needless to say, not being so far out of town, the two arrived quickly to the Town Hall, possibly after the first ten or so people had arrived. By this point the woman was well awake, sticking close to Haodel as they watched others arrive to the meeting.

An explanation...

Eostre exhaled. So. It did come to war, then. She felt no fear, only a vauge sense of intriege at the arguements being cast around the room, the voices raised and tossed from one hand to the next. The call for aid was too facinating; she didn't want to see any unnecessary death.

Metal cut against metal, and a sword was raised above one volenteer's head, held high in the crowd. She hardly hesitated after that. The mission screamed for fast riders, for those who knew the land, knew how to fight, and wanted to protect their land. She unsheathed her dirk, raised it above her head with just the faintest flicker of a challenging smile on her face.

Haodel threw her a glance. "Eostre..."

"They mayn't even allow me to ride along," she murmured in soft reply. "If they do, I ride hard. I shall return, and in the meantime you and Gelwyn will manage."

He only inclined his head, and she realized when he had spoken, he hadn't spoken in critisism. So. It was done, then. She glanced up at the flame-colored light reflecting off of her blade for a moment, then back down at the others surrounding her. Somehow, time seemed to blur past, others finally raising their blades in agreement of the mission.

Time passed...

The Marchwarden dismissed everyone beyond the volunteers and their families, but names had still spread. Her family recognized her involvement, remaining while Haodel returned to his family. Somehow through the plans, the clock passed well beyond the witching hour as they spoke, exchanged embraces with her family near the end, though they were unnaturally silent, Eostre noted.

She was silent through much of the planning, letting things sink in. And when she went to ride back to Haodel's family, her parents pulled her aside, insisted that it would be better if she spent one last night at home. As if she would never return, she thought...

And yet, as she lay sleepless abed once more, she felt no fear of death, only a desire to protect others of the potential same fate.

[piosenniel]

Bregoware


Maeggaladiel's post

The hall went silent as the call for volunteers rang out. Fion looked up at his father. The broad-shouldered man stared out over the sea of frightened faces, his own sun-worn face an expressionless mask.

Fion grimaced. Why so few volunteers? This was an important job! This mission required endurance, knowledge of the land, and speed on horseback. It practically screamed for Fion's involvement. Why, he could do this with his eyes closed!

There was a voice from the front of the hall, and people were nodding at him. That was when he realized his hand was above his head. Oh...

"Fion!" his father hissed in anger and shock. "You fool, what are you doing?" He grabbed the boy's arm and forced it to his side. "You cannot do this!" But it was too late. The boy's fate had been sealed.

"He's naught but a child!" his father protested to the people around him. Fion, feeling rebellious, pulled away.

"I have seen ten-and-seven summers; that is enough!" he said. He jutted out his chin, wishing that his "beard" was more than short blonde dandelion fuzz.

"And I am the fastest rider around!" he added proudly. "You said so yourself!" He held up the worn hunting bow. "And I can hit a bird's eye in the dark!" A mild exaggeration, but boasting never hurt.

His father stared at him, his expression odd but unreadable. Fion shifted uncomfortably.

"I can do this," he insisted, pleading with his eyes. "Please, let me try. If I don't go, we could all be in danger."

There was another long silence. His father stared hard at Fion; the boy tried hard to return the stare. After a moment, the elder man sighed.

"Do what you must," he said. Fion, wanting to prove himself mature enough to handle the task, refrained from letting out a joyous yell.

"I'll make you proud," Fion said. His father grasped his shoulders.

"You already have."

[piosenniel]

Bregoware


Undómë’s post

Meghan stood against a wall, on a chair she’d dragged over to give her some height. Had it been her choice, she would have stayed home altogether, minding her mother while Leof and Gudryn saw to the fuss at the town’s hall. Not that she wasn’t concerned about the horn call to gather, but the thought of so many people as they pressed in against her made her loathe to go.

‘I’ll just look after mama,’ she had told her brother, as he scrambled into his tunic. ‘And the babes, of course. You and Gudryn can find out the news.’

‘Nay,’ he’d told her. It was Gudryn who would see to the household while they were gone. It was he and Meghan who would represent their family at the meeting.

So, here she stood on her small island of wood looking out over the sea of her townsmen’s heads. Their faces were all turned to Horwald as he raised his hand to speak. And the words he spoke were chilling. A small current of cold fear ran down her back, making her shiver. Orcs! Worse yet, Easterlings! And in an organized group this time, not just some willy-nilly raiding. She wondered for a moment what sort of dark captain might have managed to make them work together. Given their natural hatred of each other they would have torn each other apart. She shivered again at the thought that somehow they were now acting together.

Her mind was racing as the march-warden laid out his plan to move the villagers toward Edoras. How would she manage her goats on the march? What supplies would she need to bring for the long journey? She would want to make sure they had enough to eat – especially the milkers, as they would provide nourishment for her family and others. She was making lists in her mind when she heard someone ask the question about sending for help. And looking up she saw Horwald nod his head at the truth of it and speak with his counselors.

Meghan flattened herself against the wall as he called for volunteers – four fast riders to make haste to the King himself. She did not intend to be one of them. She closed her eyes, willing herself invisible. Peeping through one eye she saw that swords had been raised as the volunteers made themselves known. Osmond’s blade was raised, as well as one of Fion’s weapons, and there across the room was the hand of . . . a woman, whose name she could not recall. Voices were raised praising the braveness of the volunteers.

But the march-warden had called for four – she only saw three . . .

Beside her, her brother made a shuffling sound as he readjusted his position leaning against the wall. She turned to ask him if he’d noted the fourth volunteer and saw with horror his own blade raised. In a quick, unthinking move she bent down from her perch on the chair and grabbed their father’s old sword from his hand. ‘You sheep-brained fool!’ she hissed at him, the sword upraised in her hand as she maneuvered it away from him. ‘Who will protect our mother and your wife and babies if you ride off westward?’

Murmurs of approval swelled about her. She stood upright wondering why her name rose on the current of voices. Her face blanched when she realized she still held her brother’s sword up and away from his grasp. She leaned back against the wall for support, her knees suddenly turned to jelly, as the march-warden pointed to her and nodded his head in approval.

The remainder of the meeting, after the greater part of the villagers had gone back to their homes, was a blur to her. Plans were discussed, as well as supplies, and horses. She recalled saying that ‘yes’ she would need a faster horse, as their old farm horse would only plod her way to Edoras and most likely arrive after the villager itself had got there.

Leof and she tramped home in a stony silence. He was angry that she had grabbed the blade from him and been counted among the volunteers; she was angry that he had thought to raise it on his own behalf at all.

o*o*o*o

Meeting at the Hall the next day

It was a tired Meghan who dragged herself to the Hall the next morning.

Her packing had not consisted of much – her few clothes, her cape, her stick and little bow, her knife, and of course, her knitting needles and her yarn. Gudryn had made her up a small packet of food for the day, knowing the march-warden’s family would see to her other provisioning.

She had said her good-byes, telling her mother not to fret. That she would soon be back and that Leof and Gudryn would take good care of her. Gudryn hugged her, whispering ‘thanks’ in her ear for making Leof stay with them. Leof, faced with the inevitability of her going thawed and clasped her fiercely to him. ‘You come back, you hear!’ he ordered her, his voice gone husky with emotion. ‘Or begads I’ll hunt you in the otherworld and drag you back to us!’

Meghan pushed herself a little away from him, and kissed him on the brow. ‘And you brother, take care of my goats! Else I give you a thump on that thick head of yours for everyone that’s gone missing.’

She pushed open the doors to the Town Hall and tromped in. Laying her pack and bedroll at her feet, she thumped her pole on the wooden floor to draw attention to herself. ‘Well, here I am; ready as I’ll ever be. Now if you’ll just show me to the horse you promised, I’ll get the both of us ready to be off . . .

. . . on this fool’s errand! she added to herself. Fools all, if we think we’ll make it . . . more the fool, if we think the King and his Riders will care about our outland problems at all . . .

[Arry]

Wulfham


What little there had been left of the night had escaped Brand altogether. He’d hauled out his old leather pack, the one he used when he was out in the summer’s moving from camp to camp as the sheep moved from one grassy area to another. Clothes were folded and rolled into small bundles and placed in the bottom compartment. A small wooden box with a few salves and bandages went into a side pocket. Opposite it, there were candles and his little box with flint and steel for fire. Cord snares and a few netted traps were rolled small and tucked into a small front pocket. A trio of waterskins, and the nested pots burnt black from many cooking fires were tucked into a canvas bag along with a small pouch of salt. Some rope, a small hatchet were secured to the pack. His short sword made ready. And of course, his bedroll.

His mother had made a pot of good strong tea laced with honey to keep them awake as the family got him and themselves ready to go. His father had groomed Brand’s chestnut mare until she gleamed and given her an extra portion of oats for the journey’s start. His sister’s husbands would look after his sheep, mingling them in with their own as they made their own journey toward the King and his protection.

‘And now who’ll be looking after Patch, here?’ he asked, his hand going down to scratch the head of his dog. ‘He’d best go with you, Da. He’s used to you. And you can use him to keep the flock in line. He crouched down and spoke softly to the dog. And for his part, Patch seemed to understand. With a gesture of his hand, Brand bade the hound sit by his father, telling him he must stay.

He mounted up, his family gathering about him, touching him as they spoke their farewells. His mother, he could see was near to tears, her daughters arms around her for support. His father, a man of few words, looked up at the cloudless morning sky and nodded his head in approval. ‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘best be off while the going is good. There’s a fair wind coming in from the west. Be good ridin’ weather.’ His voice trailed off; his eyes gone a little bright. ‘Darn near forgot this,’ he went on, handing up Brand’s oaken cudgel. ‘Go on now. They be waitin’ for you,’ he finished. And with a light slap to the mare’s hindquarters, he sent Brand racing toward the march-warden’s hall.

----------

‘Whoa up, M’Lady!’ Brand called to his mare as they entered the courtyard. The march-warden’s hall and yard were already a beehive of activity. To his right he saw one of the other chosen riders motioning him over. He picked his way carefully through the piles of possessions that Aldwulf’s family had set out to sort through.

‘Dorran, isn’t it?’ he said to the younger man as he dismounted. ‘Can you show me where we’re to pick up our food and water and such? And the march-warden, did he say if he had any final instructions for us?’ He looked about for a moment. ‘And have the women . . . that is, the other riders, gotten here yet?’

[Arry]

Bregoware


Farael's post

Osmod’s first thought of the day was “For the Lord of the Mearas I overslept.” Looking out his window, he could see the sun was already shining brightly on this chilly autumn day. He was supposed to be meeting the other riders in less than an hour and yet he had not even started packing. He knew not what to do and so he laid in bed for a few more moments. “If I am to be late, I might as well enjoy what could very well be my last awakening on this comfortable bed.” Yet the grim thoughts convinced him to wake up at last rather than stay in bed. With a tired sigh he put his traveling clothes on and made his way to the kitchen. It was a pleasant surprise to find not only a full breakfast set for him, but also everything he planned to take was set and packed by the door. His family was waiting for him and they called him merrily. They enjoyed breakfast together and then walked with Osmod to the stables. He had been expecting his father to ride with him into the town, but when he did not make any attempts towards his own horse, Osmod understood he would be riding alone. Holding back the tears he hugged his father and his mother. The neighbours had also come to wish him good luck and so it was a fairly merry group that accompanied Osmod outside of his father’s plantations. He knew they would all look after each other and found that thought comforting.

The ride to the Town Hall was slow and uneventful. He did not want to tire neither himself nor his horse and so he got there a few minutes late. It seemed no one else had made it any earlier and as Osmod was being greeted by the March Warden and his wife, he heard a banging noise behind him. “Well, here I am; ready as I’ll ever be. Now if you’ll just show me to the horse you promised, I’ll get the both of us ready to be off . . . “. He turned around, startled by the sound and the claim, and smiled at the woman that had recently arrived. He remembered her name from the meeting the night before and so he greeted her. “Miss Meghan, I admire your enthusiasm. I hope the other riders will be as excited as you seem to be about our… adventure. Myself, well… I must say, now that departing seems imminent, I’m all the more hesitant. Yet I hope you will bear with me through today, I’m sure I shall feel better tomorrow after camping on the outdoors.” He smiled at her and walked over to shake her hand. “I am Osmod, just in case you have forgotten.”

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

He loomed over her, offering his hand. She had the disquieting feeling of being a child, towered over by some giant. And the urge to grab one of the chairs that she might stand on it and meet him eye to eye was hard to ignore.

‘I am Osmod, just in case you have forgotten . . .’

She bit her tongue, swallowing the tart remark that threatened to spill from her lips. Forget him? The rich man’s son? . . . not likely. And more than that, from one of those families who owned a large herd of cattle. Cattle! Pah!! Great, dumb beasts that did nothing useful but eat up the pasturelands her goats liked to graze. The only thing dumber than cattle were sheep, in her opinion. Though a case could be made for sheep – they provided wool. Meghan looked him up and down, wondering if he were as soft as some of her girl friends had said. Pampered boy! Riding about on a horse all day watching those lazy, creatures.

‘No, indeed,’ she replied, gripping his large hand firmly with her own.

Well, now, that is a surprise! she thought to herself. His hand was callused as hers were from her long days of work. And his own grip firm and dry.

‘Hard to forget one such as yourself, Osmod. Or shall I call you Master Osmod? What do you prefer?’ As an after thought, she added, ‘Plain Meghan’s good enough for the likes of me.’

She glanced about the hall, wondering where the other two riders were. ‘Have you seen our other companions?’

[Tevildo]

"Aye, sir. That's me," Dorran tugged at his cap and responded respectfully to the sheep farmer. The young lad lowered his head to hide his smile. From the sound of Master Brand's words, the latter harbored at least a doubt or two because the other members of the party were female. It didn't bother Dorran in the slightest. His own sister was as tough and stubborn as anyone he had met. He expected the other lasses would be fast on their steeds and fit into their party just fine.

If truth be told, Dorran felt more comfortable with the girls than he did with Brand. They, at least, did not directly remind him of his own precarious position within the village. The sheepfarmer, by contrast, was a stout young man who had everything that Dorran lacked. His family was respected by all the townsmen. They had been in the area for countless years. Someday Brand would inherit the family farm. A lucky man, indeed, in the eyes of one whose parents had perished!

Dorran glanced up at Brand and shrugged his shoulders, "I expect they are still saying their goodbyes. They'll be here. Just wait. And the water and food are over here." Dorran pointed to a large pile of provisions that was set out in neat packets underneath the oak tree beside the stable. 'I helped get it ready last night. I think you'll find that the lord has provided everything we need."

At this moment, there was a clattering in the courtyard as the first of the women riders made their entrance.

[Naria]

Wulffham


Incana slowed her horse as she approached the town's courtyard. She dismounted and with a look of bewilderment on her face looked around for the rest of the group she was too ride with. Incana suddenly felt scared and apprehensive about what she was about to do. Thoughts of turning back and going home were entering her mind when she noticed two men eyeing her closely.

She tied her horse to one of the hitching posts and made her way over to the men. It seemed like it took this side of forever to reach them almost like she was trying to wade through a mucky bog. Incana took a deep breath and offered her hand to the first man "Hi, I am Incana" Dorran took her hand with a smile. She then turned to the other man and introduced herself to him. He too took her hand and smiled.

"Is there not supposed to be four of us on this ride? We are missing one member." Incana's mind was starting to settle and turned to what adventures lie ahead.

[Valier]

Wulfham


Vaenosa took one look back at Nay, and quickly entered the hall. She was not so sure how long Nay would stay tied to the post,He hated being tied up and usually bit through the rope quickly and wonder off.

Vaenosa took a deep breath to calm her nerves and glanced around the hall. She found the other riders already chatting with one another,which made her a little more nervous of having to introduce herself."Well I'm not getting any younger!""

Vaenosa approached the group,seeing the other woman first she held out her hand to her in greeting."Hello, My name is Vaenosa." She then turned towards the men,but she did not hold out her hand,instead she gave them a quick nod.

Vaenosa suddenly realized that the men and the woman who introduced herself as Incana,were staring at her! Thinking to herself How rude! Do I still have breakfast stuck to my face? When she suddenly realized they were not staring at her, but behind her. Vaenosa whirled around,and sure enough there was Nay. He had escaped his rope and followed Vaenosa into the Hall.

Her face turning red she rushed over to Nay."Oh you silly horse, you are not allowed in here!" She gave a weak smile to the group and led the young colt out through the front door, she would have to wait for the others out of doors.

[Tevildo]

Sensing the girl's embarassment, Dorran followed Vaenosa out into the courtyard to reassure her, "It's alright. Most of my day is spent working with horses. When a horse follows you like that, it means they're really attached to you. She's a fine animal."

Dorran ran his fingers over the horse's mane and then looked over at the girl, "Anyways, you'll need to pick out your provisions from those satchels under the oak. There's food and water in plentiful amounts. Hurry back then as soon as you load up. I have a feeling we'll be leaving shortly."


From what Dorran could tell, Brand was the oldest and most experienced of their group. Perhaps he would be the one to take charge of things. Dorran wondered whether Aldwulf would come out to wish them off or whether they were just to collect their belongings and leave without further instructions. Now that his goodbye to Criede had been said, he was eager to be on the road. The sun was climbing into the sky: it would do them no good to waste precious time, not when there were orcs hot on their trail intending to attack every village in sight.

[Maeggaladiel]

Bregoware


Fionn kicked his horse into a trot, seeing the two riders who had arrived before him. He was late. Very unprofessional, he repremanded himself.

It was his mother's fault, he thought glumly. She had seen fit to go through the bag he was taking with him at least twice, making sure "he hadn't forgotten anythin' important." And then of course his baby brother started bawling when he learned that Fionn was going away, and then his mother started to go teary-eyed, and his father had given him the same lecture on using a bow and taking care of him self that he had given him at least twice that morning, and he thought they'd NEVER let him get out the door...

He slid off the horse's back and walked towards his fellow riders.

"Hallo," he said. "Am I the last to arrive?"

[Farael]

“Meghan it is then, you can call me Osmod if you’d like. My friends call me Ossë but I would not expect you to call me that just yet” answered Osmod “as of the other riders… well,” -“Am I the last to arrive?”- Osmod was interrupted –“There we have one” he finished.

He was glad to escape that woman’s scrutiny even if for a minute as he greeted the newly arrived man. She seemed to be measuring him even as he addressed Fionn. Osmod politely introduced Meghan, yet he was not sure she appreciated that gesture. “Women,” he thought "I will never understand them. Yet I better be nice to this one, whether I like it or not we will be riding and camping together until we make it to the Golden Hall. We will make it to the golden hall”.

The March-Warden joined them, bringing the horse Meghan would ride on. Soon they were talking merrily about their horses, a topic no-one from Rohan or Bregoware would object. Yet the shadows loomed outside their little town and even more prominently in their hearts. They all feared for those they loved and wondered for maybe the hundredth time if they would ever see them again.

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa was completely surprised to see one of the male riders following her outside to the court yard.She once again tied Nay to the post, and turned to the rider who was trying to comfort her with kind words."My horse young sir,she said with distain, is male!" And I am sure I would have found the food and water without your help!" She said with a snarl.

With that said she turned her back to the man, grabbed for Nay's rope and headed quickly towards the stock pile. Stupid Man...thinks I need comforting over a silly horse, I need no help, from no man! The start of her day was turning from terrible to wretched. She knew she would have to converse with these so called Men,and the thought made her stomach turn. She was not sure what she should take so,she thought she would wait here either for the March warden or the woman Incana.

[Tevildo]

Wulfham

With a curt nod at Vaenosa, Dorran stepped back, "I am sorry, young miss. I meant you no harm. The road will be long and hard, and I thought if might be helpful to offer a hand in friendship before we start. But if you prefer otherwise, I will keep my distance."

With a shake of his head, Dorran wandered back inside the great hall, where the others were still waiting. This morning was not going well. His hopes of kindling a friendship with one of the young girls appeared to have hit a wall. He yearned greatly for Aldwulf to appear or for Brand to give the word that they would be setting out. He had not even left the courtyard, and already he was missing his sister Criede. She was feisty and spirited but not so hot tempered as Vaenosa. Impatiently, he stalked the hall, waiting for the word that it was time to leave.

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

Fion, she thought, had seen about as many years as she had. She nodded at him as Osmod introduced her. ‘Welcome to our little band.’

The arrival of the last rider broke off any further conversation. The last rider, Eostre, had come. Meghan and the others watched as she dismounted and joined them.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

An exhausted expression coating Eostre's face in a vague shadow, hardly even the whinnies and clatters indicating the nearness of horses stirred her from an almost blank existance. She wanted to sleep, and even liberally splashing her face with cold water hadn't removed the mental desire to shirk away. The task didn't scare her. It was simply the fade of adreneline.

In a few hours, I shall be more than awake enough for my own well-being, the woman reminded herself before guiding her dark horse to where all the other riders gathered.

She shivered. It was a cool morning, whispering of mild threats and distaste. Dismounting off of her ride, she steeled herself. Already having received a series of lectures, tearful farewells, and embraces, all she wanted to do by this point was just fit in. Scanning the others—it seemed she was the final arrival—they all looked so much younger in the morning light.

Fire always made expressions seem that much more intense, but now it was too strong of an awareness. They were all barely adults in some ways, yet fully grown in others. This would test that to the limits, she feared. Or perhaps more she didn't fear.

That could have been more dangerous than terror. Quickly tying her mount to a nearby pole, she raised her right hand in salute before moving towards the other riders. "Hail. Am I the final arrival, then?"

[Arry]

Wulfham

Departing three days prior to the Riders of Bregoware . . .


‘They’re all here, Aldwulf! Best you get them sent on their way while the day is fresh.’ The March-warden’s wife handed him his leather vest and motioned to where she’d put his newly cleaned boots. ‘Out of those old slippers now, husband mine. There is business to be done.’

Aldwulf groaned as he settled himself on the bench by where the boots stood. ‘Woman, these days are getting harder on my old bones with each passing year. Come help me get these blasted boots on. It wouldn’t do if I hobbled out in my woolen socks to send the riders off!’

-----

Brand fidgeted as he stood with the others waiting for Aldwulf. His thoughts were on his little herd. Had his sisters’ husbands already penned them in with theirs; would they remember to take his remedies kit for them? Old Aegan, the bellwether, had a festering ear needed seeing to.

Thinking of the injured sheep prompted him to check the leather pack he’d brought with him. Yes, there it was, his box of salves and bandages. He grinned as his fingers drew out a small leathern roll, tied with cord. Brand only had to lift it near his nose to smell the twists of dried herbs his mother had put in it for the riders’ use.

-----

Aldwulf strode out to the little area where the four stood – Brand, Dorran, Vaenosa, and Incana. He thanked them for their willingness to do this service for their village, promising that he would see to the safety of their families while they were away. Since none of them had ever traveled to Edoras, Aldwulf gave them what he hoped would be clear and easily remembered instruction. They were to travel south along the Great River until they had cleared the Downs. Then, make for the west, the direction of the setting sun, across the grassy plains, he told them, until they came to the Entwash. ‘The Starkhorn should be slightly downriver from your line of sight. You can ford at the Entwade. If you’ve arrived too far down river, where you can see a smaller stream, the Snowbourn, running out of the trees on the other side of the Entwash, just work your way north until you come to the ford. Then ride for the Starkhorn on your left. Edoras lies at the foot of it and the Snowbourn empties from it.’ A few more words were spoken privately to each rider by Aldwulf, as he came down and clapped them one by one on the shoulders.

-----

Brand secured his pack and the leather bags he’d filled with food and other of the supplies Aldwulf had left out for them. Since they were riding down river for a while, he took four waterskins – two filled and two as extra that might be used when a source of water might be more scarce. His sword he secured to his saddle before him to one side, as well as his oaken cudgel to the other. He mounted up, as had the others, and raised his hand in farewell to the march-warden.

‘Some one of you should take the lead once we leave the village,’ he said, as they urged their mounts toward the high wooden gate. ‘I’ll take the rear and watch out for us from behind for today.’

He watched as they passed the gate and spread out into a line, turning south. The position at the back of the group was a familiar one for him as a shepherd, though he reminded himself it could well be more than the odd hungry animal they might face. He must keep eyes and ears alert.

[Valier]

Wulfham


Immediately when the group left Vaenosa pulled Nay into the front.She was not in the mood to chit-chat and wanted to take awhile with just her, Nay and the road ahead.She leaned down and whispered to Nay that he could go as fast as he wanted. She used this command regularily and to Nay it meant to run his heart out.

Off he went with a quick snort, the wind rushing through his mane and Vaenosa's hair streaming behind her. Running was sort of a release for her, nothing to think about but the moment. Vaenosa was feeling really tense and need the release. When she looked back the group was barely visible,She smiled.

She pulled back on the reins and slowed Nay to a walk, his sides heaving from the quick sprint. She looked behind once more then, leaned her forehead on Nay's neck and led him plod his own way.

[Tevildo]

Dorran pulled his horse aside to get out of the way of Vaenosa's horse who had begun racing down the trail. His own steed was going forward at a steady trot. He watched as Vaenosa disappeared around a bend in the road, totally lost to the view of the rest of the party.

Dorran shook his head in keen disapproval. Horses were the one thing he really knew. Most of his day was spent caring for the mounts in Aldwulf's stable. However swift and sturdy a horse might be, the animal could be severely strained by letting him gallop flat out without first giving him a long warm up. But that was not the only reason that Vaenosa should not be racing ahead of the rest of the riders. Dorran could not see her horse anymore; for all he knew Vaenosa was so far ahead that they would not even hear her cries if she got in trouble.

Dorran pulled back his mount to ride alongside Brand and spoke in an angry tone, "What does she think she's doing? We've been told there are Orc parties loose in these parts. The worst thing we can do is to split up. Anything could be lurking in these bushes. Maybe Vaenosa knows nothing about Orcs and their ways, but I certainly do. I wouldn't want to face an Orc or two without a comrade by my side."

Dorran scowled and looked away. He had perhaps said too much. But he felt that something must be said before they got in worse trouble.

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘What does she think she’s doing?’ Brand repeated the question Dorran had asked with a half exasperated sigh. He shaded his eyes with his hand straining to see where Vaenosa had gone. Only the dust settling along the ground was left in her wake. He bit back the urge to say she probably hadn’t thought at all; she was after all . . . female.

‘Look, Dorran, I agree with you . . . she might not know anything of Orcs and how they act. Let’s pick up our speed a little and see if we can catch up to her. At least be in sight of her.’ He kicked his heels lightly against his mount’s flanks. ‘And aside from Orcs, we have a long, long way to travel. We must keep our horses healthy, uninjured. It would slow us down no end to have to ride double because someone had been foolish.’

‘Incana!’ he called out to the woman who was a little ways ahead of them. ‘We need to catch up to Vaenosa. She’s too far ahead. It’s not safe.’

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana was in shock! Why would she take off like that without the protection of our men. She wheeled her horse around and rode over to Brand's side. "I will go to her and see why she left us." Incana said with a timid smile. She gave her horse a quick squeeze with her thighs and they were off. It didn't take Incana to much riding to find Vaenosa for she was right around the bend. Vaenosa had brought her horse to a walk and Incana was able to have her horse walk beside.

Incana plucked up some courage and asked Vaenosa "Why did you speed off like that? Surely you know that these lands are no longer safe."

[Farael]

At last the four young riders were ready to go. Eostre was the last to arrive, and shortly after they were all packed and ready. The March-Warden excused himself for a minute and came back with two letters. The first was meant for the King’s eyes only (although Horwald acknowledged that a counsellor would most likely read it before it was mentioned to Theoden King). The second, more vital to the rider’s needs, was a letter addressed to Sabert, son of Eafwyn the raft keeper. It would ensure a fast and free crossing of the river. It was a long way to where Sabert and his people worked the rafts, so with a few good-luck wishes, the March Warden sent them off “to adventure, venture and a safe ride back home”. Then they rode, away from the town and the people that had watched them grow since they were all but babies.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Osmod waited patiently for the March Warden to be done speaking. Then, without looking back, he set off with the other riders. They rode without a specific order and soon they were shuffling back and forth as they talked to each other. At least three of them did, as Osmod stayed just slightly further ahead than the rest. He was not avoiding them and would answer if someone adressed him, yet he did not feel to eager to talk just yet. They were strangers after all.

Almost right after leaving the small town he had started feeling that familiar tickling in the palm of his hands, the knowledge that lots of campfires and moonlit dinners awaited. Yet he forced himself to stay focused on their mission. If it was up to him, they’d ride in big circle for days on end, just to enjoy the wild life. The lives of those he loved might very well depend on his mission, so he swore to himself he would not sway from it.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

As the four riders’ had disappeared behind the hill, and the couple of well-wishers’ and onlookers’ had turned back towards their homes to continue packing their belongings, the March-warden turned around, and said to the village-elders’ standing around him. “All right. The dice is rolled, let us hope, it will turn out be a winning throw. Now let’s get inside, we have lots of planning to do, and I quess there’s something to eat there too.”

He took a couple of steps towards the Village Hall before realizing, that the old counsellor Hugebryth was still staring at the direction the company of riders’ had disappeared. “Dear Hugebryth, let us indoors. We don’t exactly have time or reason to become too emotionol with this right now”, said the March-warden wryly, and turned again towards the Hall. He was tense, and not quite controlling his voice, or manners'. The overall mood of the village had stuck to it's leaders' too.

Hugebryth’s voice was calm and quiet as he turned after the others, only half addressing his words to them. But everyone heard and understood. They understood them just only too well. “We sure have rolled four dices’ this morning. Sad, that we may never come to know, which numbers they turned out to be, or what would have been the sum, they would had to have added up to win...”

The March-warden almost stopped, but immediately continued inside, without looking back. “Too emotional, not seeing the way of reason here...”, Hugebryth murmured to himself, this time quite intentionally keeping his voice low. But the sigh he made, was loud and clear for everyone to hear.

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

It had taken a number of walks down the line of horses the March-warden had picked that she might choose from. Too tall, many of them. She would have to pack a step stool to saddle the beasts or to mount. Too broad in the back most of them. Just looking at those made the muscles in her calves ache. ‘I’ll be bow-legged if I have to ride to The Golden Hall on you!’ she told one chestnut mare, who eyed her haughtily in return.

At long last, it was the March-warden’s wife who solved her dilemma. A small woman, much as Meghan, she came leading a young mare up to her. ‘I saw you eyeing those great beasts,’ she laughed. ‘And them eyeing you back as if you were some pesky fly to be flicked off with a swish of their tails.’ She brought the horse forward and laid the reins in Meghan’s hand. ‘Tis one of my mounts. Ash, I’ve named her. As you can see she’s a chestnut beneath but it looks as if someone scooped out the sooty ashes from their hearth and poured them over her back. Good spirit, she has. And can outrace the wind if she wishes.’ She ran her hand down the side of the mare’s neck. ‘Just keep a firm hand on her; let her know who’s riding whom!’

‘I’ll bring her back safe to you,’ Meghan called out to her as the group began to move out. Ash snorted and shook her mane, almost as if laughing. ‘Quiet, you big grass eater!’ Meghan whispered to the mare, leaning down along her neck. ‘And don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking – that it’ll be you bringing me home safe.’

From the little rise on which the village and much of its surrounding lands were perched, the great river could just barely be seen. It shimmered under the bright morning’s sun, like a broad, silvery ribbon. The group was moving at a comfortable pace, comfortable enough for talk. Meghan urged her mare forward a bit, pulling up beside Eostre.

‘Eostre . . . yes?’ The two rode in easy silence for a few moments after brief greetings were exchanged. Meghan nodded up to where Osmod rode at the head of the group. ‘Think he’ll take the lead every day?’ It was a guileless enough question, though the accompanying grin belied its innocence.

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa was about to head back towards the small group of strangers behind her, when she suddenly heard someone approaching from bahind her. She lifted her head off Nay's neck to see the other woman Incana, pulling up beside her. She inquired as to why Vaenosa had sped off and didn't she know these lands were no longer safe. Of course she knew, she was no imbicile! She was planning on turning back and she had not gone that far.The odacity of this woman!

Vaenosa gave a slight sneer to the woman. "Of couse M'Lady' She pulled sharply on Nay's reins, making him stop. She slid gracefully off his back ans said "So shall we wait here for our heroic Men? Who would save us if trouble arose?" She said with a sarcastic tone. :I PROMISE I will not leave the group again Fair maiden!"

She turned her back on Incana. Vaenosa rolled her eyes, while leading Nay off to the side of the road.Searching through a bag at Nay's side, she extracted a canteen filled with water. She tipped her head way back looking towards the heavens,and drank deeply from it with her eyes closed, so she could avoid looking at the woman.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana was taken aback by Vaenosa's attitude, for Incana had never encountered a woman to be so brash. Incana brought her horse to a stop as well and got off. "I am sorry if I have offended you. I was merely trying to show concern for you and warn you of the dangers." But please do not address me as M'lady or Fair Maiden for I am not above you and need no graciousness."

Incana walked over to her saddle pack and looked for her water skin. She immediately froze. She could not find it anywhere. Oh my! I must have left it behind when I was distracted at the well while the March Warden was making his speech.She felt embarrassed and, since neither men were with them yet, She slinked over to Vaenosa while watching her drink thought to herself, I will ask her for a sip when she is done.

While waiting, Incana scanned the area for Dorran and Brand but they were no where in sight. Mumbling to herself, I hope nothing has happened to them. Thinking about the two men made Incana realize what Vaenosa had said about them. Incana waited for Vaenosa to take a breath from her drink and asked, "Why are you so cold hearted towards these men? They would after all be able to fight off a wild creature alone than one of us alone, would you not agree?"

[Tevildo]

Dorran had responded to Brand's suggestion by urging his animal forward, letting Brinn take the bit in his mouth and cantering speedily down the trail. After several more moments had gone by, he was rewarded with his first sight of Incana and Vaenosa. The two had drawn up by the side of the road and seemed to be having sharp words with each other. From the look on Incana's face, Dorran guessed that the young woman had not found Vaenosa any easier to deal with than he himself had earlier that morning.

Dorran drew up his mount and then shook his head in dismay. Someone like Vaenosa could do a great deal of damage to their small band. At some point on this journey, their lives could well depend on their ability to trust each other. Brand did not mind having the two women come along, especially since they were strong riders. But he could not accept the fact that one of them seemed wholly intent on showing just how nasty and self centered she could be. How had this young woman ever managed to survive in a farm family, where a premium was placed on cooperation and the willingness to set aside personal feelings for the overall good of the household? How and why had Aldwulf ever agreed to let Vaenosa come along? Had he been totally unaware of her shortcomings?

Watch it now, he sternly reminded himself. He had never been the type of servant to go questioning the decisions that Lord Aldwulf made. Better watch his tongue or he would end up doing as much damage as Vaenosa. Dorran sincerely wished he were older and stronger. He might try and discipline the girl for her churlish behavior. But as the youngest of the party, an outsider whose family background was clouded in shadow, he certainly lacked the clout or standing to do anything as presumptious as that.

Glancing over his shoulder at Brand, and wagging one thumb in Vaenosa's direction, Dorran commented with a straight face, "This one defintely seems to be high spirited. I had a run-in with her this morning myself."

[Eowyn Skywalker]

The barest hint of a cynical laugh touched Eostre's expression as she spared a glance over at the rider who had pulled up beside her. Of course it would have been one of the girls, the other female in their party. She had never greatly appreciated the company of girls, finding them so often limp minded and weak at heart, no matter how hard they made themselves out to look.

Reining in her horse just a hint to match the speed of the other woman... Meghan, was it? "Aye, that would be the name." She watched up ahead as golden sunlight parched the land of icy tones and bathed it in what seemed such innocent brilliance.

How wrong the sunlight could be, she realized with a smile, though humorless it was. "Meghan, was it not? Simply here to talk?"

She heard the patter of hooves from the other riders surrounding them, what seemed like unnatural hearing brushing it against her mind's eye for a moment and making her wonder what the outcome of this almost desperate mission would be. Death? Lingering in crimson for long moments as a shadow loomed overhead... would no one get through? Here, at this stage, there seemed so little urgency resting over the group, no desperation to complete the mission.

Things would change. What awaited? Nights of campfires and hastily decided watches? Or a frantic dash for their lives?

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘High spirited!’ Brand grinned at Dorran and shook his head. ‘What a kind thing to say! You work with Lord Aldwulf’s horses , don’t you? When I think of “high spirited”, I think of horses, filled with energy, to the point where there just about bursting from their skins, they’re so full of it. But it’s a good way to be . . . for a horse, that is.’ He looked appraisingly at Vaenosa. ‘No, she appears to me, at least, to be more like a large, sharp pointed burr beneath the saddle blanket. Irritating, maddening at times. And dangerous if she continues to be so prickly.’

He eyed the young man riding next to him, taking his measure. ‘There are only four of us, Dorran. We’ve never ridden this far together or in such dangerous times. We’ve got to be able to depend on each other, watch out for each other, and help each other as we can. There’s no room for someone who might put us in danger through foolish, self-willed choices. I’ll talk to her when I have the chance.’

Brand looked up at the sun, shining weakly in the hazy sky. It was warm enough now, he thought. But the night would grow cold out in the open. As the sun moved toward mid-day, he knew they would be nearing a small wooded area near the river. He asked Dorran if he knew of it. ‘We should stop there for our noon meal, gather a little wood for a small fire tonight. I’ve not been much farther than that down the river. I don’t know what sort of place we’ll find for our evening camp. Whether the land will be barren, or other stands of trees afford us some place to shelter.’ Brand frowned for a moment. ‘I suppose we ought to be watching out for any Orc sign, too. Avoid them if we can. Hmmm . . . I think that means, too, that a fire might be altogether out of the question if we suspect they might be near.’

With a restless gesture, Brand rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘I wish, now, I’d brought my dog, Patch. Could always depend on his eyes and ears and nose to warn of danger to the woolies.’ He smiled at the thought of Patch trying to herd this little flock in a safe direction. ‘As my Gran says, though, wishing don’t make it so. We’ll just have to be wary, won’t we Dorran. And pull together to finish the task the village has set us.’

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

‘Simply here to talk?’ The woman’s words were scarcely welcoming, nor was the cynical glance with which she’d greeted Meghan.

‘Nay. Simply a passing comment,’ she returned, reining back her mount. ‘I’ll trouble you no longer.’ Meghan bit back the rest of her thought – that the woman preferred her own nettlesome company over any other, it seemed. Well, what was it to her. Naught! She was not here to make new friends. Only to see the charge the March-warden had laid on them seen through. It would be a good thing, Meghan reminded herself, to keep that foremost in her mind.

Meghan fell back a good number of paces behind Eostre. She shifted on the saddle, easing herself into a more comfortable position. She wondered if Osmod, at the lead, would call a halt for a midday meal, or would they ride on ‘til evening? Either way would be fine for her. Her waterskin was close at hand, and at her belt hung a pouch her brother’s wife had filled for her. Strips of dried, smoked goat meat, some hard-baked journey bread, and good sized slices of dried apple from the summer harvest would see her through.

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Rædwald

It was late morning, the four riders would already be well on their way from the village. Meghan’s brother, Leof, had come earlier in the morning to ask a favor of Rædwald. Since Leof had his family and his mother to look after, would Rædwald follow after Meghan and keep an eye on her for him. After a short consideration, the older man had said he would do this, for a promise from the younger man. And so they met for one last word together before Rædwald left.

‘Now, Leof,’ Rædwald said, motioning for Meghan’s brother to follow after him. ‘I’ve milked the nannies and penned them in with hay in the rick. The two billys are in there, too. And I’ve given them all a measure of oats.’ He pointed to the small pen where his little flock now stood jostling each other for positions near the fence, vying for his attentions. ‘Now over there,’ he went on, pointing toward the little shed that served as his barn. ‘There under the tarps is the hay you can take with your own. Some of it’s loose; got most of it tied into sheaves. And in my hut are three oaken barrels of oats. Take them, too.’

He reached down and gave his oldest nanny a scratch between her ears. ‘I’ll see you in a couple turns of the moon, old girl.’ His hand came up to the back of his neck and he rubbed it slowly. ‘Now you remember, Leof, what I told you.’ He raised his hand to cut off Leof’s protest. ‘Nay, I mean it. You must make that promise to me, or I cannot take this task on for you.’

Rædwald saw Meghan’s brother to the edge of his little holding. The man had made his promise, and Rædwald knew his goats would be safe, whether or not he made it back to them. He pushed what clothes he thought he’d need in his old leather pack; rolled up a bedroll; stuffed some dried fruits and meats into leather packets, and filled several skins with water from the well.

He got down on his hands and knees and looked beneath his single bed. It was dark, and he got back up to fetch a candle stub. There they were – his helm, crusted with dirt and some straw where it looked as if a mouse had nested in it; his mail shirt, a bit rusted here and there; the thick leather vest that went beneath it, nibbled on, he noted. And there, rolled up against the wall his oaken lance, the tip of it having fallen victim to the same rust as had his shirt.

Rædwald gave them all a cursory cleaning, then stuffed the helm, vest, and mail shirt into a canvas sack. He secured everything to his dun mare. Giving his little holding one last look about, he mounted up and moved at a tempered pace out of the village. If they met no problems along the way this day, then he would come upon them in the evening as they camped.

[piosenniel]

Nogrod’s post


Sythric was tending a dying fire in the middle of the northern wilderness, when he heard the distant horns in the still air. The three young lads and the girl were sleeping a good nights’ sleep, and the horses were taking their well earned rest just a few feet away. He knew immediately, what the horns meant. All the things he had seen and recollected from other ranging peoples’ depictions during the last year, or year and a half, pointed to one direction only: a large scale orc raiding party would be up on their village one day or another, this autumn or winter, pillaging and plundering. Now it seemed to have come to happen.

He got so excited, that he almost bruised the lads, kicking and shaking them out of their happy dreamworld. One of them was his own son, Hunlaf, 12-year old kid, who still sucked his thumb while asleep. The other two lads were the youngest sons of his brother, Swithulf: Waermund and Waerferth (16 & 15 respectively), and the girl, indeed a handsome young lady, was his brothers’ still unmarried daughter Winflaed (17). He urged them to get up and on the road. There was alarm at Bregoware, an alarm that hadn’t sounded during the decades the Bregowarians remembered. It was time to ride, and ride fast. They rode south, towards the town, and Sythric pressed them forwards as if all the hounds of Mordor would have been on their heels. The youngsters started to sharpen, got alarmed, all senses open. It was a ride in a deep night and darkness the young had never encountered – or were never taught how to cope with. They would remember it for the rest of their lives.

Some time after the daybreak they reached the outskirts of Bregoware. They had not been as fast as Sythric would have hoped for, but they hadn’t been as slow as he had feared. The young had been quite good indeed. He should have to praise them to his brother someday. At the small hill, north of the town centre, he told his young companions to reach homewards, and bid them tell his wife and brother, that he would be accompanying them soon enough. Then he rode down to the Town Hall.

The March-warden was having a council with the city elders, when Sythric entered the Hall. They all fell silent at his arrival. Before they had time to open their mouths in a greeting, Sythric got straight into the business – as was to be expected from him: “So, an orc party, much larger than a normal one, now coming to pillage for real, not just probing, isn’t it? Today or tomorrow?”

“That’s correct, and sadly, at the same time incorrect, master Sythric,” said the March-warden slowly. Sythric had never quite catched the idea, why March-warden preferred to call him ‘master’. There was something playful or humorous in that honorific, but was it all? “It’s just much worse. A greater party, yes. Orcs, yes. But also easterlings. And not a raiding party... but a full army. We have already called for evacuation at noon.” The March-warden made a rhetorical pause to let his word sink in, deep down to the bottom of it all. Sythric felt his blood thrusting with such velocity through his rusting veins that he thought he could not cope with it for long. In the following silence he almost heard his own heart thumping, with ever increasing speed. So, it did come to this, he thought to himself, my skills were never needed here when I had them, and now, when they would be needed, I don’t have them anymore. I’ve defended many villages and run against many enemies, but never have I defended my own town, my own people. Now I am not able, not more than the other old battle-rags around here: some council, the last defense perhaps... His solitary thoughts were distracted by ever more urgent whispering by the council members. They were talking about him. He knew it.

“Master Sythric”, began the March-warden, as their discussion had settled. “Would you serve your town in a time of distress, in an errand both urgent and most crucial to our destiny?” Hearing the unexpected pledge in the middle of his self-depressing thoughts, Sythric only nodded slightly, and kind of wondered, whether this man was really asking, would he do something for the town, or was it again some rhetorical nicety. The March-warden started explaining the events of the night, but when he got into the riding party and those involved in it, old counselor Hugebryth cut in, a very cynical tone in his soft voice: “It probably was pure madness to send just four riders for an errand of that importance at times like these. But what should we say about the wisdom of choosing two boys and two girls whose experience can be compared to that of the kids? Would you send your son Sythric, or would you go yourself? What should we have decided last night? Let me say, reason can not be seen dwelling here, under the roof of this very hall. They sure can ride, and some of them probably can hunt or fend off foxes from their goat herds. But have they ever even seen an orc, or an easterling warrior in full armour, not to talk of confronting one, or ten? And even if they would make it to the Golden Hall, could they get an audience, or would anyone believe them, or even take them seriously? Just asking, old and tired man as I am...”

So, this is it, no use in real war, but ready to be sacrificed with a quest, that only a fool would hope to have an effect on anything, thought Sythric by himself. Aloud he said: “If it is the wish of the council, that I should trace and join them on this errand, so be it. You don’t have to ask, whether I’m willing to help my town. You know the answer. And if this is the way you see fit, then this is the road I will take. But first I must see to my family and my brother to arrange evacuation affairs. And because I have practically been riding since yesterday morning, both I and my horse need some rest. I could be off late afternoon and if I ride without pause, I should reach them early tomorrow morning. Is that all right with the council, or should I try to hasten?”.

“We are most grateful to you, master Sythric. Is there anything you would need on your quest, any gear you would like to upgrade? You are welcome to claim them from my armoury, ... or kitchen”, said the March-warden. “My spear is not in shape it used to be, and one could always do with some extra arrows. Otherwise, I do prefer my own equipment. Some dried meat would be useful, my share of our own would then go to my children and my brothers’ children. It may be a tuff journey for you all too.” Sythric answered. The March-warden called for the armourer to see these items to Sythric’s old farmhouse before noon.

As Sythric was taking his leave, the old counselor Hugebryth rose up from his chair and called him to wait. He took a couple of short steps towards Sythric and addressed him, looking straight into his eyes, kind of evaluating him as he spoke: “We all know you are a good man, and we also know that as a mentor for many of our young riders, you love and care for them deeply. Just remember, that this message to the King, no matter how slim are the chances that it will affect anything in the end, is the single most important thing on your journey. It’s more important than the lives of any one of those youngsters, and remember also this: your being alive is the best insurance we have for the message reaching its destination. Don’t try to be a hero of your conscience, be the hero of your people.” He took a step backwards and mumbled quietly, as to himself, even the words were at least half directed to Sythric: “If this would be done my way, you would have ten spearman riding with you – maybe we wouldn’t even need you then, other than just taking the youngsters safely back.”

Sythric bowed and exited the hall. He rode to his old farmhouse and ordered the farmhand to see to his horse. Then he negotiated evacuation-matters with his brother. His wife and children would of course go with his brother’s family, and with all the rest from Skara. It was just a question of some special items he would like to be taken with for him, if possible, and such matters. As he then told her wife about this new twist of his fate, they suddenly embraced, even hesitantly kissed each other. That hadn’t happen in years. There was a little shining tear in his eye, when he hugged his children, and demanded Hunlaf to defend his little sister, Cwen (9) in all circumstances, and her mom too. It was his duty as the oldest man in his family.

Then he started to gather his war gear in silence. No one said a word. The children were watching their father collecting and packing items slowly, but with precision of a life long experience. Hunlaf took Cwen by the hand, and they wept quietly together, without tears, just moist eyes gleaming ever brighter. Neither dared to look at each other. Ceolflaed turned her back to the room and just stared out of the window. Her shoulders were trembling weakly. Sythric tried to force a smile to his children when he was finished, but couldn’t. Slowly he bent himself down to meet his childrens’ eyelevel, looked them both in the eyes, took a strong grasp from both of their shoulders, and pressed them softly but firmly. “There will be a better world, one day there will be. You shall see it”, he almost whispered. He rose up and got out of the hall to the barnhouse to get some sleep.

In the dim light of the barn attic, laying on the hays, his tears flew openly. He was tired, frustrated, kind of offended, angry, and most of all, afraid of the fate of his children, his brother and his children, even of his wife. When he fell asleep at last, he was seeing images of burnt houses, screaming children and marauding orcs, fire and blood. And riding, all the riding... Things that had really happened, and things he hoped, never would.

As Sythric woke up, it was late afternoon. His horse was brushed and fed and looked quite lively again. March-wardens’ promised gear had been delivered to the door of the old farmhouse. Everything was quiet and empty. There was no one at sight: just birds singing their songs and the sound of the grasshoppers filling the air. Suddenly he saw a glimmer at the doorsteps of the old farmhouse. He took a closer look and found out, that it was a small wristband, made out of little pieces of glass. It was the band of Cwen, made by Sythric himself, when Cwen had her fifth birthday. He held it in his hand for a while, just staring at it and then slipped it carefully into his beltsack. He packed the rest of his gear, saddled his horse and rode out, into the empty fields.

[Valier]

Wulfham

"I agree Incana, those men are stronger than us and yes, we need them, but for conversation Men are not who I seek." She gave the woman a weak smile that belied her emotions that overwhelmed her insides. Her face blanched and her eyes focused on something and nothing in particular. Her mother was screaming and her father's sword was clashing against another. She froze when she rounded the corner Her mother was tied up and her father now lay on the floor bleeding. The man that was bent over his body slowly stood up and faced her. She screamed....... Vaenosa shook her head and her eyes refocused to see Incana still by her side and the Men approaching quickly from behind.


Frowning Vaenosa lept atop Nay, pulling him back on the road towards the men."There is a wooded area up ahead. I think it would be a good place to stop for awhile. It should be safe, it's fairly hidden off the road. I have been there before." Vaenosa paused slightly to see if they would respond and in what manner. She slowly turned Nay down the road at a slow pace, so as to not go far ahead.

Vaenosa had had very little contact with men since her father died. She had been afraid of them for a long time, now that fear had turned to distrust and hatred. But the other woman was someone who she slightly admired, not many would approach her when she was in a foul mood, which was quite often. It made her smile to herself slightly, dispite all efforts against it.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn shifted in his saddle, uncomfortable with the long silence. Osmod had taken the lead early in their journey and seemed preoccupied with watching the road. He himself had taken up the rear, and the two women seemed to be distancing themeselves equally between them.

Would it always be like this? Riding in single-file, staring at nothing but endless plains and the backs of people's heads? He sighed.

The horse's hooves hit the ground at regular intervals, adding to the monotony with a dull drumbeat. Leather saddles creaked and squeaked as the animals moved, bridles jingled, and Fionn's quiver of arrows thumped against his back in time to the horse's footsteps. Otherwise, though, the plain was silent.

Fionn couldn't stand it anymore.

"How much ground do you think we shall cover today?" he called.

[Farael]

In spite of their need to make haste, the group had left their village only two hours before noon. It was not time for lunch yet, but Osmod had gotten himself ahead of the group to scout for possible places to stop. He was still close enough to hear Fionn say, "How much ground do you think we shall cover today?" Turning his horse around and riding towards the group he waved to his partners for a halt.

“Well friends ” he said, “It seems I took the lead, but I would not want to impose my will and judgement over yours. In a few hours we should stop and grab a bite, maybe let the horses rest as well. Our mission is indeed urgent but we need to spend our energy wisely, it will not do to push ourselves harder than what we can manage. I would suggest we keep a steady pace until mid-day, then take a break and ride again until sundown. We will need to set up a camp and then rest until the following morning. I would advise we get going at sunrise so that we get to the rafts and cross the river by noon to-morrow.”

Smiling and trying to look more confident than what he really felt, he looked at all of them, silently inquiring what they thought. He spent an extra second looking into Eostre's eyes, as something seemed to be bothering her. “I hope I am doing the right thing” he thought, with a sudden pang of fear. “I have never lead a group of people in situations such as this. What am I supposed to do if they outright scorn me?” He still looked relaxed, but his horse feeling his master’s distress shifted his weight slightly and bumped Meghan’s horse. With an embarrassed look Osmod mumbled an apology as he waited to hear what the other’s thought.