Truth in a Dark Place RPG

[Arvedui III]

Rangar stood staring at Barodin's body, oblivious to the Haradrim, the company, everything. He was only after revenge. It's my fault. You can't keep blaming yourself, his brother died attacking you. It's not your fault he loved overmuch. "YOU DID IT" Rangar looked up sharpy. Enien, right arm completely red, was grinning at him. Rangar, however, still caught up in all the events that just occurred, did not return the smile. The company began to gather around Enien, Camalita dressing various wounds. "What say you?" He heard the elf ask, though it felt like she was a considerable distance away. "Sure, 'course." Rangar responded, a slight crack in his voice as he looked towards Turthol. Great, another person horribly wronged because of me. How am I going to make him remember? Rangar knelt down next to Turthol, hoping the same blank, hateful look would not great him. But, when Turthol looked up, tears rolled down his check. He's back A rush of relief coursed through Rangar, and at the same time a great swell of pity for his friend, who must have come to terms with how he acted when they found him again.

"I'm-" He began brokenly. "I know. S'my fault anyway." Rangar tried as hard as he possibly could to shrug the statement off, but somehow it had no effect. "I betrayed-" Turthol agonized again, attempting to find words for his actions. "No, you didn't." Rangar said gently, his wound, grief, companions, the rest of the world, dissolving. "It was the last thing, the thing I loathed above-" Turthol still seemed indifferent to what Rangar had said. "Yeah, yeah." Rangar interrupted impatiently, not wanting Turthol to imitate him and begin blaming himself for everything under the sun. " Look, you've never betrayed me, or anyone else." "Then who struck Enien? Who put a sword to your throat?" Turthol retorted, bitterly. Rangar sighed.

"Barodin's cronie did that. That was Barodin's Turthol, some misshapen, confused man, but you, I think, came back. Barodin's Turthol is dead; And now you're here, a honorable ranger of the Dunèdain." Rangar looked intently at his friend, hoping his stresses on honorable had some effect. Turthol just stared for a moment. "Forgive," "There is nothing that I can forgive you for," Rangar said sincerely, then in an attempt to cheer him up, "' Cept maybe for being a hard-headed mule, and somehow I think that's not you're fault either. Your mother's, maybe" This earned a laugh. "Don't start. You're reminding me of Wren." Rangar joined in his laughter. " Sorry, I know that's not a pleasant- Oh, hullo Wren." "Are you two quite finished laughing at me?" "Yeah, just finished." Rangar said, and got up, letting Wren give Turthol back his fife and jacket, which he cradled for a moment, then Rangar smiled and looked away.

The company reformed and cleaned up, Camalita fretting over his shoulder, which he did not really care about any more, then gave Rave such a funeral as eight people stuck in the desert might be able to, however they left the Haradrim for carrion. Rangar buried Barodin that night while the others slept, and while this did not excuse any of his actions, Rangar felt that mayhap the hunter earned a quiet rest after all the suffering the man put himself, and Rangar through. The next day, Rangar dissuaded any further attempt to find the seer, after all, he had no inkling where the trap door was, and for all the good going to the man did, Rangar might as well have offered the company pears. So, with Bregand and his very useful maps in the lead, the company made their way back to the shore of Harad lacking in incident.

At first, they were not sure how to signal to the Silver Wyrm that they were back, or if the ship was even still at anchor. But fortunately, someone on board spotted the company from a distance, and brought them aboard. Ani Dao was quite pleased to see the group again, as she would have had to sail off the next day for fear of supplies. That night, the entire company spent a good portion of the first dog watch telling the elf captain, and for some parts, Turthol, of all that occurred in Harad.

"Wait a minute, some blond kid just comes up to you and says ‘hi'? " Turthol asked from the top of Ani Dao's desk, chewing contentedly on licorice. "Yeah, weird." Tareth added, towering in an armchair. "Well, it's true. And I swear he looked like a younger version of me who was untroubled by the fact I was in shock and had a dagger in my shoulder." Rangar said through sips of ale, the first time he drank since meeting Turthol. "A shoulder whose dressing needs changing." Camalita said pointedly, making Rangar groan. "Maybe he is a younger version of you. What's his name?" Wren voiced thoughtfully. "Gram, but-" "Much better name than ‘Rangar'." "Hey, I like my name."

About two hours after dawn the coastline of Harad vanished, and for the week, strong winds carried the ship and her passengers west. Rangar was relieved to have gotten the journey over with, and glad that he had made it. Dreams still came, horrible dreams, but he knew they bore his past, and even more reassuringly, he knew that one day the swirl of color would slow down enough for him to decipher them. Finally, the ship turned northwest, and the much more inviting shore of Gondor appeared.