ROHAN RPG

[Leighlei]

Arenia looked at the ground, she had not been anyone's decoy ever, and much less anyone's accquantence or friend, nonetheless, shelooked around. "I will go." She said Determindely. "Although, I cannot remember How to mark the words."

[Thenamir]

Thenamir rubbed his hands together in grim but glad anticipation. "Another good idea, master Dwarf. It is some comfort to know that Taradan and I can rely on the brains of others when ours fail us! Now if we just knew how long the Rohirrim were going to take in udging Guthrin."

At that moment the men surrounding Guthrin, who was still tied securely to his tree, stepped a few steps away from the tree, still facing it. Taradan approached the knot of people where Thenamir was still seated on the ground with the map.

"Thenamir," said Taradan deferentially, "the circle is undecided. Some think Guthrin should be killed for his cowardice, others think he should be given the fhiornach, a chance to redeem himself by accomplishing a great deed."

Thenamir answered, "Why do you tell me this?" Taradan smiled in reply, "more than one of the circle would have your opinion before deciding."

Thenamir frowned, then a light dawned across his face. He jumped up so suddenly that the others over him barely had time to dodge. He walked briskly over to the circle of the men of Rohan watching to see what he would do. "Men of Rohan!" he began, "Last night you vindicated my interim judgement on Guthrin, and now you would have my counsel. Very well. I shall give it to you."

Thenamir removed the long leather gauntlet from one hand, and holding it so that the metal-beaded side would not injure, reared back and slapped the bound Guthrin full in the face with it.

He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "I am not one to shed blood hastily outside of clean battle. Some among you have counselled his death, and were the situation not so dire, I would agree. And yet, we may have need of just the kind of avoidance of battle Guthrin so aptly has demonstrated."

Thenamir bent down and cut the bonds from Guthrin's hands, and then stood straight with his hand on the hilt of Aranbold. "Guthrin, it is my judgement that you be given the opportunity to redeem your cowardice by the fhiornach! If the rest of the circle are agreed, you will accompany Leoden and Flandhere, where your skill at avoiding the enemy and climbing trees silently will be put to good use. You are to scout out the location and direction of the Dunlendings, get in front of them, and set fire to the forest in their path, and thus slow them, that we may get ahead of them."

Here Thenamir leaned into the face of Guthrin and said, "Although I am not of Rohan, and have no claim to judge your offenses to Rohan, yet these of Rohan are my honorable friends and allies. And so I charge you now: if you leave them, betray them, or demonstrate such craven behavior toward them as you have thus far exhibited on our journey, *I* will be the one to shed your blood if we ever meet again...not for Rohan, but for myself. What say you, O Circle of the Rohirrim?" There was a shout of assent.

--------------

The Rangers of the North examined the livery of the great horse which had come into their midst so unexpectedly. One of them recognized it as a saddle and gear from the stables of Rohan, which amazed them even more, for Rohan was many leagues indeed from where they stood. Though the beast had obviousl just run a long distance, it seemed ready to take off again, anxious to go somewhere.

Before Telefax could run off, one of the men, knowing the love of the steeds of Rohan for their masters, packed a rough leather sack with such food and medical supplies as they could spare, along with a packet of athelas leaves, and a map of the area showing their location, and tied it securely to the saddle of the horse before they released it again. It looked at each one in turn, as though trying to remember them to recognize them should they meet again. Then with a mighty neighing, it reared, turned, and galloped off again the way it came...

[ April 07, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[shieldmaiden]

Baranthôl stood up.
"I agree with the punishment. I'm against killing one's kin, even though he is a coward. I don’t know if we should trust him but I promise you, Guthrin, if you betray us you won’t live long enough to enjoy your treachery.” - She gave him one of her looks that made every man feel very uncomfortable, it made Guthrin think about harps with his bowels as strings.
“Now, about the plan. Is it safe to send Arenia after the Dunlendings? She is very young and cannot speak their language. I don’t know if they would believe that Saruman had sent a wild girl with such an important message.”

[Thenamir]

Ulfwine spoke up for the first time in awhile. "Saruman often used illiterate mutes to carry his secret orders to Borleg. It keeps them from reading, or telling others. The sad part is that he raises them himself, in despicable conditions."

Thenamir nodded, then said, "Arenia will be better than most to play that role, but we still have not found Kalohern's horse. Nim is a strong and fine steed, but cannot pass for one of Saruman's stable. We can only hope he finds his way back soon."

"Taradan," Thenamir continued, "if a suitable horse is not found within a day, we should at least send Guthrin and the others to execute that part of our plan. We will need all the help we can get, at the slower pace we will have to maintain to help the wounded recover. What are your orders?"

[Leighlei]

Arenia looked at the ground, overhearing their talk about illiteracy, and her inability to speak properly. She had not made the words in a long time, and for the first time felt ashamed of her inadequacy. She bit her lip, now feeling more than a bit inferior and much lower than the men and women who could use the language better than she.

[Thenamir]

Thenamir looked at Arenia. "You know, I am not speaking bad of you. You will be a great help to us, but you must keep silent, and find the bad men, and give the words to their leader. You understand? It will help us."

[Leighlei]

Arenia looked up, smiled, and nodded. If there was anything she could do well, it was tracking, and it was riding. She twisted her tongue around in her mouth, contemplating. "Best to leave when sun leaves sky." She uttered. "That way we arrive when sun shows." She ticked some things off on her fingers. "Tommorow, dark. Time to rest for us until then." She received weary looks. Obviously they wanted to leave as soon as possible. "Would you rather fight at full strength, or right away and die?" She waved her arm as best she could. "I cannot ride like this."

[Thenamir]

"Arenia is right," Thenamir said, "we have just come off a sleepless night and hard battle against the wargs. We are wounded and weary. A day to rest and treat the wounded, to recover our strength and prepare for a quick-march north, is something we sorely need. In the absence of a compelling need, we will leave as Arenia suggests, tomorrow at dark. If Nim is the only horse available, so be it."

There were disgruntled murmers of grudging agreement, and they dispersed to their tents to rest and try to recuperate. Elwood's healing abilites were sorely put to the test, but by late afternoon, most of the wounds had been tended and the bites banadaged.

At Thenamir's insistence, Elwood came last to Thenamir's tent. "Thenamir, are you here?" he called from outside. Thenamir who had been napping, awoke, and groggily opened his tent to admit the elf, and winced visibly as he sat again on his blanket. Elwood probed Thenamir's ribs gently, an fortunately none were broken, but there were some dark bruises where the weight of the warg had driven the shield into his chest.

"Elwood," Thenamir began as the elf examined him, "what are we doing here? I know elves seldom give counsel, but I begin to doubt myself. Are we on a suicide quest, to no good purpose?"

[Leighlei]

Arenia stood outside, although they had welcomed her into a tent, she had opted to sleep outside. They had offered her bedding, but she had declined. Now she stood a little ways outside the camp,on a small grassy knoll, staring at the stars. She wrapped her arms around her legs and leaned her head on her knees. She had a lot of thinking to do. Elwood had not gotten to her yet, mostly because she had been avoiding it. She couldnot sleep, however tired she was. There were people here, and now that the battle was over, she needed to think about all these new feelings that boiled over and over inside of her, feelings that she hadn't ever felt, and if she had, she could not remember or recognize...

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin stood up and surveyed the scene. The injured were being tended to, and everything was being prepared for the struggle ahead of them. After all the events Dwarinneeded some time alone. As he wandered in the forest he heard the unmistakeable sound of hoofbeats. The dwarfs stomach dropped. Dwarin did not like the prospect of a Dunedling scount finding about their little party. Dwarin readied his ax once more to to take down another man, but he did not need it. Much to his great surprise and delight he recognized the horse as telefax, kalohern's horse. The horse immediately caught sight of the not-so-camoflauged dwarf. "Glad to see you've come back. Where did you go any ways?" Telefax didn't answer. "Well whatever the case we've got job for you" Dwarin said as he started walking back to camp.

Dwarin returned to camp the horse following faithfully. Dwarin cleared his throat, "I have something here that might interest some of you, not in the least kalohern." The boy looked up and gave a cry of joy. Kalohern ran and flung his arms around the neck of his horse. Telefax gave a soft neigh at his master as kalohern jumped on his back and proceeded to take a "victory lap" around the encampment. The party looked on with great delight as they boy and his horse were reunited. It was somewhat bittersweet since the young warrior knew tat his horse was to go on a mission that he would not be allowed to go on.

Thenamir brought Arenia out to the horse, and retrieved a pack off the horse back and then began investigating its contents. He took a moment to give her the message he had written for her to deliver. Kalohern looked like he was dying inside but he bore and hid it well. He brought Telefax to Arenia and introduced the two. He produced two horse treats and handed them to Arenia who in turn held them out palm up the horse. Telefax sniffed the treats and then ate them with relish. Arenia smiled when the horse gave her a small nudge in thanks. Willingly the young warrior helped the young girl get up on the back of the mighty horse. Kalohern then went around to the front of Telefax and put his forehead against the horse. He spoke soft and low to his beloved steed. The horse seemingly understood everything he was saying. Many riders understood the bond between the boy and his companion. For Telefax was truly a companion, not just an animal. He understood the boy and protected him. When the boy had finished he spoke a command and at that the horse neighed loudly and stamped his hoof. The resounding thunder was ringing in their ears as the horse galloped off to an uncertain fate. Kalohern wiped the tears from his eyes and squared his shoulders. Thenamir stepped up to the young man and clapped his hand on his shoulder. He spoke a few inaudible words as they watched the dust rise from the ground in the wake of the great horse.

Dwarin turned away from the scene and went to seek Haleth. He found her in her tent preparing for the journey ahead. He stepped into her tent and found her looking at a small object. Which she quickly hid underneath her armor. "What are you doing here?!" She said angrily as she turned to face him. "I-I-Um- Just came to thank you for returning Mim." He stammered. Dwarin realized that the red in her face was not from anger. She hastily wiped the tears from her eyes. "You're welcome. Now go!" She said. Dwarin could tell that she was working to keep the angry tone in her voice. "I err" the dwarf started, but he was cut off by Thenamir standing next to gurthden calling the camp to attention.

[Thenamir]

Elwood had had nothing much to contribute to Thenamir's thought processes, other than to say that he sensed that they were where they should be. Of what to do next, Elwood would say not a word, as Thenamir expected. His mind was made up anyway. Some of the puzzle pieces were still missing, but there was enough of the picture clear to know that whatever happened from here, few if any would come back alive, and none would come back unscarred. There was no way to fight a wizard of Saruman's power, but they might perhaps hinder him enough so that those who *could* fight the mad wizard would have a better chance.

It was then that Thenamir called the camp to attention. Taradan also stood weakly at Thenamir's side, to lend his position and authority to Thenamir's words. Thenamir and Taradan had spoken long into the night, and were agreed to what had to be done. The unexpected return of Telefax, and the contents of the pack it bore, had given their determination a direction at last.

Thenamir was still uneasy at taking the leadership position, but with Taradan's trust and agreement, there was really no other that could take the lead. "Men of Rohan, and Master Dwarin, and Ulfwine of Dunland, and Elwood of Lothlorien. Duty compels me to lay out what I know, and what I believe lies ahead. I do not know where Telefax found this pack, but it contained some exceptional healing herbs that Elwood has put to good use, and a map which appears to show more directly where to find the Rangers of the North." There was a murmur of surprise, then Thenamir continued.

"We will make for the Rangers with as much speed as we can muster. Guthrin, Leoden, and Flandhere will meet us there as soon as possible after attempting their task. Those who cannot keep up will ride as necessary in Dwarin's cart."

Theanmir paused, knowing what had to be said. "My friends and allies, if Saruman the White is responsible for all the devilry we have seen so far, we are fighting a foe much greater than Dunlendings, or Wargs. If he knows of our doings, he will crush us, and none can save us. We may only hope to slow him, or hinder him in some small way. And yet my heart tells me that this is the way we must go -- that there is a purpose in it, though we probably will not return again. If there is any hope that men can turn aside the plans of powerful tyrants, let us go forth to our fate, and yet ride in hope that we serve a purpose higher still."

"Make ready. We leave in one hour."

An hour later, the only trace of the band was the blood of the wargs on the grass.

[Leighlei]

Arenia rode quietly, uneasy. This horse meant a lot to someone, and she was in no rush for it to get hurt. Coming to a small outcropping of trees, she glanced back and then urged the horse foreward again.

[Thenamir]

[[Since there is no one currently playing Guthrin, Leoden, or Flandhere, I am volunteering to write for their group as well as my own character -- anyone who wants to add for them is welcome]]

The "fire trio" took off on foot just before the rest of the camp, making their way running in a more northerly direction than Arenia, so as to intersect the course of the Dunlendings before they reached the same point.

They spoke little at first, out of breath from their running pursuit. Guthrin might have been a coward but no one could say he was not fit. He kept up with the fleet-footed Leoden and Flandhere with no trouble, and was not the first to call for a rest. When they did finally stop for rest and a bite, Guthrin felt himself being shunned by the other two, and he could only blame himself. He did try to engage them in conversation.

"Perhaps we should try to strike more directly for their trail, and then follow them north." Guthrin offered.

Leoden replied, "You don't know your triangles very well. We will have to cover more ground that way than by angling towards them as we are doing now." He then took another bite of the breadlike item in his hand and gave Guthrin no further attention.

"But if we get ahead of them," Guthrin retorted, "then we do not know where they will cross our path. I don't want to burn down any more forest than I have to." Flandhere snorted without looking up, "He shows more concern for the forest than for his friends!"

Leoden had in fact been thinking about that exact question. The Dunlenders had quite a bit of a start on them, but they were burdened and slowed by supplies and equipment. The Dunlendings did have scouts on horseback, but the rest were walking at the pace of the carts. While he tried to guess which angle was best to pursue thek, he mentally bid Arenia good speed and favorable treatment from the barbaric men. At least she had a horse with good sense, like all the horses of Rohan, even if it did not look like a Shadowfax...

Flandhere was not happy about being paired with this coward Guthrin, but Thenamir seemed to know what he was doing. He would do his part, but that did not mean that he had to be civil to Gurthrin unless and until he redeemed himself in the fhiornach -- which he doubted Guthrin would.

Guthrin, seeing that the others were finished with their lunch, such as it was, offered to fill their water-skins before they resumed the pursuit. They unslung the skin bottles and handed them to Guthrin, who filled them in a nearby stream. It was the least he could do for now to begin turning over a new leaf. Thenamir's judgement and threat had given him much new to think about, and he wanted at least to try.

With their bottles refilled, they sprang back to the pursuit, following Leoden's path which, though Leoden would not admit it, bent a bit more directly towards the Dunlendings than before...

[ May 01, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Leighlei]

After a good deal of riding Arenia slowed the horse. She didn't want the beast to tire. She glanced around the land of man that she had left. She wondered if it was still the same...

[ok...i have nothin to post...]

[Thenamir]

The next morning dawned rose-pale in the east, but Guthrin had his back to it scouting the west. "I see the smokes of their camp about two leagues west, and a bit north," Guthrin called down from a treetop on a small rise which commanded an advantageous view of the immediate surrounding area. "If we start now, we should be able to get ahead of them and start the fires before sunset."

"Well then, slither down here and let's get going!" said Leoden curtly as he hoised his already-packed gear onto his shoulders. Flandhere was already scouting the path ahead. Inwardly he was glad, though, becuase it meant that they were closer than he expected. It meant that they could slow the foul purposes of the Dunlendings and soon return to the main body trying to outrun them to the east.

===========================================

Thenamir was eager to find his long-sundered kindred of the Northern Kingdom, and seldom and grudgingly did he call for rest and food breaks. He had been leading the group at a pace barely under a run, and was frustrated that he himself was sore and wounded, and could not move faster.

Taradan and Baranthol, though able to walk, could not keep the pace, and so were riding in Dwarin's small cart being pulled by his recovered horse Nim. Dwarin, though short of height, was long in strength, and was able to keep pace with Thenamir, though he preferred to stay behind with Nim and the cart-riders.

Late in the afternoon, Thenamir saw a great smoke rising in the west to meet the setting sun.

==========================================

Once more Guthrin found himself at the top of a tree, but this time the sun was setting to his right as he peered southwards. Some distance to the south there was a break in the trees, and he could see the rough and careless Dunlendings tromping through. He signalled silently to Flandhere who was at the tree's base. Flandhere smiled. Guthrin might not be any use in a battle, but his scouting and sharp eyes were unsurpassed.

Guthrin jumped to the ground with Flandhere, and Leoden who was busy putting together torches of tightly bound cloth soaked in warg fat saved from the recent massacre. He looked up with something as close to a smile as Leoden could get, and handed each a set of torches. "Which way are they heading, Guthrin?" he asked, a little less short than before.

"If they maintain a straight line, they will pass us a half-league east of where we are now," he replied.

"Excellent!" Leoden whispered. "The grasses and leaves are dry, and the wind is blowing to the southwest. If we start the fire here, we will drag the fire in an arrowhead shape, from here eastward until we cross their intended path, then southeastward for a league or so. That will form a wedge of fire that the wind will drive towards them, forcing them back."

Guthrin asked, "Could we not enclose them further by splitting up and sending one of us southward? That one would have to run far and fast to get around the enemy to to South and outrun the fire, but I can do it."

Flandhere looked at Guthrin with a new respect. "You are volunteering for this South run?" Guthrin nodded. "Isn't running from the enemy one of my strong points?" He asked perfectly deadpan. There was a chuckle before Leoden said, "We don't have a lot of time. Let's get these torches aflame before it gets completely dark and move out!"

Leoden decided to have Flandhere travel with Guthrin, and then they would try independently to meet up with the slower moving company of the rest of Taradan's men. They shook hands in the Rohirrim fashion, and then within moments they were off, dragging lit torches along the dry leaves, and soon the forest was aflame.

[ May 03, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[shieldmaiden]

The cart was shaking and trembling on the uneven rocky road but it didn’t disturb Haleth from dozing for a few hours. She hadn’t had more than a few hours of sleep in the last few days and the chance to close her eyes for a few moments was a blessed gift.

Taradan was not asleep. He was sitting in silence, thinking. He glanced over Baranthôl’s face. Even in sleep Baranthôl looked worried , his mouth slightly opened , frowning and lids moving like he was dreaming something not very pleasant. Taradan remembered what he had thought of that night when he heard him crying over his dead horse. There was something strange about the young man. Now, in daylight, his thoughts seemed silly to him but still...Baranthôl’s face could pass both as a face of a man or a woman and his voice wasn’t particularly manly nor womanish , anyway, the man didn’t talk much . Strange he was, sometimes bloodthirsty and merciless and yet sometimes gentle and fragile. “My injury must have addled my mind when it makes me think about such insane things. It would be better for me to rest “.

[ May 10, 2002: Message edited by: shieldmaiden ]

[GreatWarg]

Unknown to Thenamir for the present, yellow eyes and fleeting feet were following the group silently, prowling, ever watching. The light landed on the large, white wolf momentarily before it moved swiftly back into the shadows. It watched as the forest burned with intelligent eyes, considering his next approach. ~Well, this is quite interesting~ he thought to himself. Then he shifted and knew it wouldn't be long before he was discovered.

~I'd better be more careful; I don't know exactly how the shrewd Man will think of me if I am discovered.~ The wolf crouched down against the grass, downind to avoid the heat of the licking flames, and watched stealthily.

[Thenamir]

Thenamir made maximum use of the available sun before making camp. He smiled to himself when he could see the glow of the burning forest some distance away -- Leoden, Flandhere, and hopefully Guthrin too, had completed their task and should be joining them in the next day or two. If they were successful, the Dunlendings should be turning back, if they had not already turned back from the message that Arenia was delivering.

Thenamir was startled from his musings by Elwood, who called his name quietly. "Yes, Master Elf?"

"We are being followed."

"By who, or what, and how close?" said Thenamir in a sharp whisper.

"I do not believe there is cause for concern. I thought I heard another warg padding behind us several times, but it has had plenty of opportunity to attack, and has not. In the dark now I see eyes off in the woods, but they are not the eyes of a warg. I would say it was a small wolf, or wolf-pup, but I do not know why he follows us."

"Elwood," said Thenamir, re-sheathing his sword, "none are more skilled with bird and beast than the elves. Can you approach this beast and discover anything?"

"I will do what I can." Elwood turned and quietly walked toward where he saw the eyes that Thenamir could not spot. In a few seconds, Elwood was invisible to Thenamir's sight as well.

[GreatWarg]

Khelek wakes up suddenly, startled out of sleep by an approaching Elf. He growls deep in his throat, then twitches his ear and sniffs the air. ~An Elf, of course, I should've known wuld be able to know I was following~ With tail swishing gently and low, he takes off in the direction of the main group from which the Elf had come. It wasn't far, and he drew near. ~The Elf will certainly discover my presence here soon, for none are better at tracking than their folk.~ Khelek had a certain amount of admiration for Elves, for they were close with the land and had sharp senses.

Khelek, for the moment seemingly safe, slipped into the shadows around the group and listened in with interest.

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

As they were marching along Dwarin could tell that Elwood was unhappy. Almost to the point of anger. He preferred to ignore the feelings of the Elf. He didn't care for him in the least. He would much rather have left him behind in a ditch or something. But he kept his thoughts to himself and didn't speak.

Elwood on the other hand was barely containing himself. He abhorred the idea of burning trees. He was sure that if they had taken just a little more time that they could have thought of a better idea. What's more it came from a Dwarf! That made it wrong at the start. When he saw the smoke coming over the trees he could no longer hide his irritation.

"What kind of foolishness is this?!" He said to the Dwarf.

Dwarin was a bit startled by the sudden outburst by Elwood. "Stop talking gibberish elf." He snapped back.

"I'm talking about the needless destruction of the trees." The elf replied angrily.

Dwarin was getting impatient. "First of all the fire is not needless. It is our only chance to get ahead of Saruman's men. Second trees grow back. It will only be a few years before that forest is as good as new. Besides, who likes trees anyways?"

Dwarin's last comment really set the elf off. "For your information, you ignorant rock brain dwarf, I do! Trees are-"

"Rock brain?! Well that's better than being some weak tree hugger elf who can't even grow a beard!" The dwarf retorted.

Kalohern listened as the pair continued to squabble. The young man was in no mood to listen to arguing. He had been worried ever since Arenia had ridden off that morning. Finally he couldn't take any more. The two were about to come to blows when he stepped between them. "Would you two stop!!!" He shouted. "This is pointless, quit your arguing." He turned to the elf "It would serve us well, if you would stop antagonizing Dwarin." Dwarin smiled smugly. The smile was quickly wiped off when Kalohern turned on him. "And you could stand to be a bit less inflammatory:" When he had said his peace Kalohern went to the back of the procession trying to soothe his own pain and deal with the situation he was in.

Both Dwarin and Elwood were embarrassed at their actions. Even though neither apologized, Kalohern's lecture quickly put an end to their argument. Each privately felt deep sympathy for the boy who had shown great courage during their present trial.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. With one exception Elwood had become aware of a small animal, most likely a wolf or a warg following them at some distance. When they were setting up camp the elf went to inform Thenamir, about the animal following them. When he received his orders he went out in search of the wolf.

It wasn't long before the elf spied the shape crouching in the woods. He was about to grab the animal when he slipped away into the shadows. It was a few more minutes before he found the wolf hiding from the light of the fire at the edge of the camp. He crept up softly to the wolf, for in the light he could tell it was not a warg. When he was close enough he sprung on the animal. He was very careful not to hurt him, for the animal had not shown any intent to hurt any of them. He had many chances during the march to catch a straggler or two. The wolf struggled to get away from the elf, but the elf held firm. When the others heard the commotion all of them came to see what was going on. They were all surprised to see Elwood wrestling with the wolf. Dwarin especially was amazed. He drew his axe immediately, but a hand from Thenamir stayed him. Elwood then spoke. "Thenamir, it would be best to decide a course of action. I cannot hold this animal forever."

[GreatWarg]

Khelek struggled to get from the Elf's firm grasp, snarling savagely and turning his fangs on him. And the fact that a Dwarf had drawn his battle axe was even less appeasing to him. Wolves did not love Dwarves - for burning their forests and for taking their homes in the mountains. Khelek growled some more, but the Elf's hands stayed firm on him. He finally stopped and stayed lying on his stomach. The Elf did not release his grip.

If you do not want me to summon great beasts on you, I suggest you let go, Khelek said mentally to the Elwood. Elwood gave a little start, but did not release his grip. Khelek looked up at Thenamir. Tell him to release me or I will summon other beasts more powerful than you can imagine. Thenamir studied the wolf.

[Thenamir]

Thenamir was puzzled, sensing more than hearing the wolf, and wondering what this might portend. He drew his sword and held it to the wolf's throat as he said, "withdraw, Elwood."

The wolf stopped struggling as Elwood released him, but the elf stayed near. "I sense no evil in him, Thenamir, just surprise."

Thenamir was not yet convinced. He stared down the wolf with the swordpoint of Aranbold still close to the wolf's throat, yet the wolf did not flinch or tremble. "You have followed us with stealth," he said to the wolf, "you have tried to elude our elf-scout, and you took great pains to escape once you were caught. With a Warg pack behind us, a band of Dunlendings before us, and an evil wizard fighting against us at every turn, you will understand if I am not too trusting in these times. You seem able to communicate, though somewhat unclearly to humans. If you can speak in your manner to my elven ally here," he said indicating Elwood, "then go peacefully with him and make your business known. We are an honorable band, but there is the blood of more than two-dozen wargs on the grass of our last camp to prove how we deal with treachery."

[GreatWarg]

Khelek stared back with unblinking eyes, scanning the Man's face. The Dwarf in the background clearly protested against Thenamir's trust in him. Tell that Dwarf to sheath his blade, Khelek told Elwood, making his contempt clear to the Elf. Thenamir withdrew his blade slowly, allowing Khelek to stand up.

"Sheath your axe, Dwarin, he will not harm us," Elwood siad calmly. The Dwarf sheathed it rather reluctantly. Khelek moved away from the camp a ways with Elwood.

"Where are you from?" Elwood asked, stopping within sight of the camp.

Imladris, Khelek answered truthfully.

"Why are you here?"

On an errand to Lorien for Elrond, Khelek stated.

"And how did you come this far, and why are you following us?"

Khelek settled his wandering gaze to match the Elf's. I came upon a large band of Orcs and was waylaid near Moria. After escaping, I was once again forced to abandon my course by a pack of Wargs. I came upon your trail several days ago and decided to see what business a company of many folks were doing in such uninhabited parts, Khelek answered solemnly. Elwood could sense that no lies were spoken, but the full truth was not visible in the wolf's words. What was it's business in Lorien and what exactly did it want to find out from them?

[Thenamir]

Flandhere and Guthrin continued running southward, fording small streams and rushing over low wooded hills, their night illumined by the fires they left in their wake. Their lives depended on their speed, not only to outrun the fire they deliberately started, but also to outflank the enemy they hoped to catch within the opposing pincer of flame set by their companion Leoden to the north and east.

An occasional night breeze drifted the stinging smoke lazily towards them as they ran, but they were glad, for the wind would drive the fire into their enemies and away from their friends.

They stopped for a moment to drink and catch their breath at a larger stream which would afford them some protection should the fire move faster than they anticipated. Setting his torch carefully in the ground so as not to start a closer blaze, Flandhere gasped, "You run like a hart beset by hounds, Guthrin!"

"Hounds would be a mercy compared to either the Dunlendings or the flames," replied Guthrin after slaking his thirst from the stream. "Think me not any less in hatred for the Dunlendings because I fear facing live swords or spears in their hands." He sat down on a rock and sighed. "The old warriors always cautioned me in my arrogance, 'It is easy to boast of prowess in battle when one has never seen bloodshed,' but I never took their words to heart until this quest. I have a new respect for those who face such dangers repeatedly and willingly."

Flandhere responded, "Do not be over hard on yourself. Had you asked, many of those same warriors might have told you stories of times when their fear might have bested their resolve, but they would not volunteer them to you, lest your arrogance laugh at their fear, and you become yet more insufferable." Flandhere chuckled, and Guthrin smiled ruefully at his haughty poltroonery.

Flandhere surveryed the surroundings. "How far do you think we have run since we started? Do you believe we are ahead of those barbarians enough?" "Nay," returned Guthrin after a moment's thought, "I deem we run yet again as far as we have come before we turn and try to get across their retreat-path ahead of them. Then we might rejoin the company."

Flandhere nodded. He dunked his head in the stream once more, then caught sight of a glimmer of the spreading flames thru the forest some ways off. "We must leave 'ere the flames catch us here," he said taking up his torch again, and lighting a new one pulled from the pack on his back. He threw the old torch into the woods in the direction of the oncoming flames, starting a new flaming patch, and then he and Guthrin set forth again.

========================================

Leoden's thoughts wandered as he too ran, setting the opposing wall of flame that should turn back their adversaries. His pace was slower, but less urgent, since he was already well across the intended path of the enemy, and he began to curve away to the south and east. "And thus the fiery trap is set, and may we all be far away when it is sprung," he thought. "And may Saruman rot in his tower!"

[Leighlei]

Arenia began to tremble as she arrived at the place of men. Gruff, harsh voices from armoured people told her to dismount, she did so, and looked around. She could hardy contain her fear.
"Arenia." She said pointing to herself. "And Deliv..vering words..." She nodded as if she knew what she was talking about.
Oh! If only she had a companion!

[Thenamir]

Elwood learned all he could from the strange warg and reported back to Thenamir. "There is no lie in his story," Elwood ventured, "but I can sense that not all his story is yet told. I believe it is safe to allow him to follow his course, whatever it may be."

"Very well," Thenamir replied, "find out if he means to join us, or to continue on his original journey to Lorien -- the Lady of the Wood is none of our concern at this time. And should he decide to remain with us awhile, see if he might track down Leoden, Flandhere, and Guthrin, and lead them to us."

"And Elwood," Thenamir continued in a softer tone, "I have heard reports of your grief and displeasure at the burning of the woods, from Dwarin and Kalohern. Necessity drove me to endorse that option, for the fire gives us a mightier advantage over their numbers than our strength at present." Thenamir looked towards the area of the camp where their recovering wounded were being tended in Dwarin's cart.

"Remember, Elwood, the groves and forests will grow back and be replenished in time...the men and women that are murdered by these barbarous men and their leader will never be seen again in Middle Earth." Elwood nodded, and then both he and Thenamir turned towards the glow on the horizon.

=====================================

Leoden watched as his last torch sputtered and went out. He had run for several hours thru the night, but the first hints of dawn were not yet showing pale in the eastern sky. "Well," the exhausted man thought to himself, "that's done." He now darted off towards the east, to try to strike the old North Road, and then to catch up with Thenamir and the rest.

====================================

Flandhere and Guthrin had given up the fire-laying some time ago, and were now only interested in getting across their path and around the flames before they too were caught. They were now "between the pincers," and Guthrin once again climbed a tree on a small rise to see what was to be seen about their twin adversaries -- the flames and the warrior Dunlendings.

From his high perch he could just make out the trailing edge of the eastern firewall, somewhat to the north of them. Of the Dunlendings there was no sign. "In this case, he said to Flandhere after descending to the ground again, "no news is good news. We crossed their northward track some way back, and there is no sign that they have passed us going southward. Another hour's run, and we will have the advantage of both daylight and the flames to our rear, with our enemies caught in the middle."

"Let us hope that they recognize the danger soon enough for Arenia to outride the flames southward," Flandhere offered.

"If that horse Telefax is as fast as Elwood said it is, that should be no trouble," Guthrin replied as he started out running again...

[ September 04, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Rimbaud]

She had said the name of their Master repeatedly and it appeared to have thrown them. The taller looked at her suspiciously but fear appeared to have swayed him and he had given peremptory orders to stay their progress. The shorter Smrtan had stared at her with undisguised disbelief. When the noise and commotion caused within the party by the encroaching fire began, she was afforded enough confusion to make good her egress, noted only by Smrtan, whose eyes missed little.


*********

Storwolos strode from the tent barking orders. The whole area was in upheaval. Raising his voice he exhorted the milling soldiers into order. The fear of Storwolos’ officers shuffled the men into ranks and they began an almost orderly retreat from the onrushing maelstrom. Smrtan caught up to his side as Storwolos took saddle and rode with his guard.

“Where have you been?” asked Storwolos. Smrtan did not directly meet his eye but mentioned that he had “taken care” of the peculiar female messenger.

“Do you not find it strange, my Lord,” added Smrtan with uncustomary obeisance, “That the woman-child arrived moments before this adversity?” His voice, as always, contained the faintest of sneers.

“Mayhap you find it within you to question our orders, Smrtan,” rebuked Storwolos. “Or yours. Indeed, I believe such instruction came to aid our escape from the fire.”

Smrtan made no reply.

The troop made its way upon the track and turned back the way they came at a fast pace. Little or no time was afforded to concealment; the flames were licking the sky barely half a mile behind them. Smrtan looked to their rear. A nebulous wall of black smoke rose vast in the air behind them, seemingly descended from the clouds of improbable malice. An unearthly orange hue burned along the horizon, the noise of falling trees and the roar of the flames became thunderous. Ash and debris fell upon the men as they broke into a disorganized run. They streamed out on the road, fleeing the fire.


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

Areina rode hard, Telefax keeping true, branches whipping her cheek. She gave the steed his head and the horse’s pace quickened, nostrils flared with fear as the heat from the fire scorched their backs. Unable to use the track for Storwolos’ men, she kept within the margin of the trees, yet Telefax tired fast on this terrain and threatened to stumble on many occasions. If she had known she was otherwise pursued she might not have slowed as much as she did, hauling back on Telefax’s reins, knowing this speed was untenable.

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

Barreling through the undergrowth, Guthrin and Flandhere became heedless of stealth, as the omni-present crackling sound pursued them. The fire was catching far faster than anticipated. Guthrin ran smoothly still, those superbly trained yet untested muscles carrying him so far effortlessly over the ground, despite the weight of his arms and armour. Only his face revealed his terror. Flandhere kept pace, yet barely, the ground threatened to sink from beneath his feet at any time.

The run continued and breathing became laboured as the air became acrid and gritty. Yet Flandhere felt a certain peace descending upon him, knowing that this was one of the simplest moments. He moved onwards but his legs were beginning to fail him. Guthrin ran on. His hand tightened around the stone that usually hung around his neck. Blood seeped from between his whitened knuckles.

Then without warning, when gaining the crest of a ridge, they were plunged into an out-riding party of the Dunedlings. All was confusion, the enemy in no lesser disarray. Flandhere stumbled as he withdrew his pitted blade. Guthrin fell to his knees, skidding foolishly into the legs of an adversary, toppling him. Ash fell, in small flakes across the hill. A blade flashed for his unprotected skull, yet the sword of Flandhere parried the strike and then the next and then the Dunlending was swept away.

Flandhere positioned himself between the Dunlendings and the cowering Guthrin as best he could but the disparity in numbers was such that soon encirclement would defeat them. He blocked and parried mechanically, feeling painlessly the mace strike to his thigh and the knife slashing across his abdomen. He knew this fight. He had dreamed of it night on night. He shut his eyes as another came at him yet still, Flandhere’s blade found its mark. The fell aspect of Flandhere the Rider of Rohan in these moments caused the enemy to become panicked in their assaults upon him.

Guthrin looked in awe as Flandhere wielded his sword with impossible speed and precision. The man was become a fatal windmill, three warriors already down before him as he turned aside blade after blade from the remainder. With some surprise, Guthrin realized his unblooded sword was in his hands, although his legs refused to bear him to the fight.

Then, impossibly, Flandhere was down. The leering fighter who struck him down raised his blade for the final strike at the Rohan horseman as others approached Guthrin with scorn. Their guttural words struck him with derision and he recoiled from his doom.

All was slowed, as the blade reached for Flandhere’s heart and the mailed fist inched toward Guthrin’s head, as if moving through water.

Trained perfectly in the arts of war as befitted the son of the richest man of the community, Guthrin had never struck at a foe in anger. Conditioned for physical hardship through all manner of sport and trial, he had never experienced hunger or battle. Untested as the newest, rawest of steel he was, and perhaps, as fate wove upon him in those moments, he would one day wish he had remained such.


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

“We must move,” said Thenamir with easy command, once the murmurings at the fire had died down. “We have distracted the enemy but are no match for such numbers.”

“Aye,” said Taradan and the weary travelers moved onwards slowly, seeking to evade the path of the enemy and of the vast inferno consuming the horizon.

Elwood moved apart from the group. Tears ran unchecked down the cheeks of the fair Elf, yet he said nothing.

Dwarin aided the flagging party on with his hardy strength and driven spirit. Thus they were moving ere any could have anticipated and wended into the woods, Baranthol and Ulfwine flanking outwards, eyes peeled for sign of their absent friends.

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

Little these parties knew of the importance of these events or of how closely they were monitored. Yet the guider of events was satisfied. The main threat appeared to have been almost extinguished and other thorns…well, a small push…

He put forth his will and the winds upon the great forest slowly bent to his fell purpose.

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

Stowolos felt the breeze upon his cheek as he reined in his mount.

“The wind changes, my Lord,” reported Voldog, an outrider in his entourage. Those who had supported Storwolos as he had gathered the disparate wanderings of Dunedlings, many of his former unit, formed a group around him at present and he rewarded them well for such loyalty.

“We must be off this path,” said Smrtan quickly. “The fire blows itself before us; we must head west!” The heat and confusion was such that it appeared that the fire surrounded them with its fierce leaguer and the air was thick and unpleasant.

Storwolos hesitated. He saw the faster path being to keep to the road. He motioned onwards, yet before they had moved ten feet, Smrtan was at his side.

“Sire, do not act a fool!” he hissed, and his eyes glowed unnaturally red in the firelight. “We follow a path to death!” Others in the party, who had not heard the words of Smrtan also counseled, in fearful voices, that digression west into the trees was their option. Storwolos took muster and felt again the breeze with his hand. The wind was indeed lifting and veering. He motioned on into the woods.

*******

Elwood in the van, the party from Rohan and their mismatched companions moved through the forests at an uneven pace. The tall, fair yet grim-faced Elf appeared troubled. When the opportunity arose, Dwarin moved to the head of the party and tried to speak with his uneasy companion.

“Master Elf, I spare thee little love but afford you much respect and I see something troubles you.”

Elwood looked down on the Dwarf expressionlessly and said, “The wind is unnatural and this breeze cools not my spirit. I feel power in the air.”

“You fear…devilry?” questioned Dwarin, meeting the eye of the taller firmly.

“Yes, and I believe it to be a very great sorcery.”

“You suspect Isengard,” said Dwarin, his mind racing. Thenamir moved to join them, only the tension in his jaw belying his calm countenance. A flicker across his face as he missed his footing revealed a vast fatigue within him.

“Isengard I believe to be our foe also,” said Thenamir quietly, and his companions noted his keen ears.

“Isengard is no foe of ours!” exclaimed Elwood. “Saruman is wise and has bought order to this area. Were it not for him the enemy we track would be far more numerous. Gandalf it is that I fear, for he is fey and his manner a mystery to me.”

“I trust not the Pilgrim,” said Thenamir. “I have heard tell of his wanderings, yet I believe Saruman to be the force of malice in these things.”

Elwood gave no reply, but the others had heeded his words and noted the change in wind.


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

The blade sped for Flandhere’s throat, yet never found its mark. Guthrin, amazed to find himself moving, evaded his attacker’s great strike and dived for his fallen companion. His thin, mail gauntlet caught the blade that would have carried Flandhere’s spirit from the circles of the world, and he wrenched it aside. He could hardly think as he stumbled for his feet. A dark blade streaked for his chest and the reflexes of his training outdid his fear and he smoothly parried the blow. He stumbled backwards, up against a tree and gasped, sweating and exhausted. His enemies closed on him.

For the first time, he looked at them clearly, and then the tip of his blade, steady between his eyes and them, dropped out of focus and as it had so many times in sparring, his blade became an extension of his arm and he forgot about it completely. The path through his enemies was so clear and they moved so slowly…

He sidestepped the first strike, allowing the blade to cut deep into the tree beside his head. Dancing around the trunk, his mind fogged with the vast doom upon him, he cut down the assailant and came at the Dunedlings from another side. His legs, although weary, carried him with his customary grace and his sword parried and struck with an economical poetry.

They fell back from him. His eyes were fey, his aspect fearful to view, and he came against them with lethal force. Fear grew within them as their blades failed to reach him and as another of their number fell.

For the first time since Flandhere and he had encountered this force he managed to take count and saw that Flandhere had taken three and he had dispatched two, leaving just two more standing against him. The odds did not seem so very great, he had stood against four in trials.

Such was the ferocity of his assault and the unearthly hue in which he appeared to be clad, his light armour shimmering red from the firelight and smoke billowing behind him, that they fell before him in short order. Sheathing his blade as he ran, he returned to Flandhere. Lifting him, he made his way onwards, whither he knew not, evading the fire his only priority.

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

Storwolos heard the shouts and drew his blade. Smrtan dismounted and ran before them a few steps. “Hold!” Storwolos shouted, and the men slowly formed groups. The under-officers cajoled them back into line. The fire had slowed yet pushed them further into the forest, their direction becoming a mystery.

Word came that the vanguard had fallen upon enemies and Storwolos dismounted and took a large party forwards.


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

As they descended a light slope into a clearing, Elwood and Thenamir instantly saw Storwolos’ party come through the trees.

Horrendously outnumbered, the group from Rohan prepared for their doom. The only light came from a gibbous moon and the red glow from the fire, dying though it was.

There stood Thenamir of Gondor, blade in hand, tired and sick but unafraid. Dwarin Thunderhammer stood to his left, battle-axe in fist, looking almost eager to engage. There was no retreat from this. Elwood fired arrows smoothly and with fatal effect. As the enemy neared he drew his blade. They backed against the tree line as the first soldiers came up the hill against them. Baranthol stepped forward and took the first with an upward parry and flashing undercut, his blade embedding itself within the Dunlending’s torso. The man crumpled with a sickening gargle. Ulfwine of the Dunlendings there was also, who stood true to his new companions. At the last before closing, Leoden loped from the trees and stood without a word next to Taradan, who clutched a sword with weakened hand but resolute will. A shadow to Thenamir’s right revealed the unlikely shape of the odd Warg who had bound his doom to theirs. Flanking these stood the men of Rohan, who had urged the horses back into the trees. The young Kalohern waited patiently hand on sword hilt, seemingly unfazed.

“This is the work of the wind,” muttered Elwood. “ There is no reason for them to be here.”

These were the last words said by that party before battle commenced.

*********

The fight continued and Storwolos’ impatience grew. How can it be so hard to take down these stragglers? The Warg was amongst his Dunlending men, causing panic, snapping at necks with fearsome jaws. His men scattered from him, fearful of his dark malice.

Storwolos had never seen such a thing. The chaos was not helped by the approach of the fire, coming at them with renewed strength. Suddenly, Storwolos found himself swept away by the tide of the fight and the confused milling of his men in the heat as the fire exploded around them.

Several men screamed as they failed to escape the furnace. Storwolos found himself sparring with a tall Gondorian, one who seemed familiar. The battle shifted and he found himself separated from the conflict by a wall of flame, as the fire cut through the woods, cutting them into groups.

Smrtan came up to him then. “Where are my guard?” shouted Storwolos above the roar and the clash of fire and battle.

“My guard,” said Smrtan grimly and slew his commander there, alone in the maelstrom of the fight in the fire. He ran to press the fight and to assume his rightful command, now that the blundering fool was removed.


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

Baranthol and Dwarin stood back to back, tired and stumbling as yet another wave of attacked crashed and foundered upon them. Thenamir moved from fight to fight relentlessly, his sword hewing down foes as if it were the fire and his foes but trees. The group tightened into a circle, surrounded by the Dunlendings.

All seemed lost and the blades of the enemy sheared into the party as they split, each fighting desperately for themselves. Small melees span off from the group as some sought to run. Kalohern and Leoden battled amongst the trees, simply defending now, no energy remained to them. Thenamir, locked in a struggle with two very tall Dunedlings feinted and parried; his sword deflecting most of the blows from their smaller, waspish blades. Most. He staggered and fell, blood seeping from a dozen wounds. With a great cry however, his would-be slayers were thrown from him and dispatched and Thenamir lifted his head in disbelief as Guthrin strode through the trees, Dunlendings swarming at him, surrounding him.

Guthrin's blades flick-flicked through them, a red mist trailing in their wake. He span, his hair trailing, smoke and fire all about. He held a long knife in his left hand, to pair with his blooded and glistening sword and to come at him was death. He bore no shield yet some Dunedlings turned from his face and ran.

They had taken Flandhere and killed him in front of him as he fought helplessly against them, a mile before. His face showed no trace of mercy.

Imperious, ethereal he seemed, above and beyond his mortal ken, yet Thenamir's keen eyes discerned a struggle on the face of the unexpected warrior. His eyes seemed somehow unfocussed.

This unexpected and terrifying arrival scattered many of the Dunlendings and allowed the remnants of the group from Rohan to make their escape. The chance to flee thus proffered, all took it, although so scattered were they that it would take quite some time to reunite.

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

Saruman sighed and looked away from the stone. It seemed the one he feared had escaped and worse discovered himself. He hoped that he had left enough protection in the great ruins for what was there hidden.

A knock upon the door startled his reverie…


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

[ October 22, 2002: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin saw the troop of dunedlings approaching through the trees. They would be upon them in seconds. He gripped his weapon tightly and smiled grimly. "Come and fight you filth ridden scum. You will not take this Dwarf alive." He said under his breath. In moments the battle had started and Dwarin had found enough enemies to satisfy his thirst for blood. Haleth dispatched the first attacker. Moments later his axe swept through the midsection of the second. He apparently didn't look down. Beside him stood Haleth Her face burning with rage as she cut through foe after foe with deadly graceful strokes. As the battle heated Dwarins ears heard the cry that had drawn his attention the very first night he spent with the company.

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

Kalohern waited for the approach of the dunedlings. The first came upon the boy with sup rising speed, but his progress was halted as soon as the boy's sword Found it's mark in the man's heart. Kalohern found himself missing his horse terribly. The confidence and power of his steed had comforted the boy in their previous encounters. That loneliness however soon turned to rage at the thought that these men might have hurt his horse and Arenia. With that thought lingering in his mind he plunged into the battle with the cry that shook the hearts of his enemies before

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

Elwood killed as many from a distance as he could. Soon enough it was hand to hand combat He drew a long knife and slit the throat of the first opponent that came. He moved with speed and accuracy unmatched by any of the company. The dunedlings thought he was a ghost. Through the confusion and bloodshed the elf saw a tall swarthy man raising his sword to strike Dwarin down. The dwarf wasn't even aware of his presence. Without hesitation Elwood hurled his knife at the attacker. With deadly precision the knife struck the unwary man in the spine he crumpled and fell on his own sword.

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

Not far off Arenia and Telefax were returning from their mission. Arenia was frightened and weary, but the horse was alert as ever. Suddenly a cry pierced the night. Telefax knew the call of his master. The horse neighed and took off at a blazing speed into the smoke an darkness. Arenia had no idea what was happenening. She clung to the horse's neck for fear of falling off, but there was no chance of that.

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

Wounded, Dwarin held his ground as the pool of blood on the ground beneath his and Haleth's feet grew. His concentration was full forward as wave upon wave of attackers came upon them. His footing gave way and behind him he heard the sound of a body falling. When he looked behind him he saw a Dunedling impaled on his own sword, but he also saw a knife sticking out of his back. An elvish knife. H turned his attention once more to the battle in front of him. His shield was becoming well used. A swift breeze passed through the forest surrounding him . He quickly killed a Dunelding who had stumbled from to Haleth's attack. Soon the dwarf and the lady were back to back surrounded by enemies.

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

Kalohern was bloody and tired. He had taken several cuts and bruises from enemy clubs and swords. He was being pushed away from the rest of the company slowly but steadily. His feet hurt and his hands grew weak. Without warning the Dunedling in front of him fell with a muffled scream. He had a hoof shaped indentation in his chest. Such joy is rarely known as was in that moment. Kalohern looked into the eyes of his horse and his heart leapt for joy. Wordlessly he mounted his steed with skill and speed. Arenia by now had regained her bearings and was fending off the attackers with a small sword she had gotten from a dead body. Kalohern let out a second cry this time not of fear or pain, but of victory. Kalohern felt truly invincible on his steed. His body filled with new energy and the pain left him. He plunged back into the battle not as a boy not as a young man but as a full fledged warrior with burning eyes and cold steel.

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

Elwood was in the thick of everything. He had retrieved his knife and was once more at the attackers. He was being overwhelmed. Three of them were upon him at once. He warded off blows as much as he could. Taking hits and being beaten down. The circle surrounding Dwarin and Haleth was shrinking. All seemed lost. As Dwarin prepared for the final moments. He spied a strange figure burst through the trees. The Dunedlings were thrown into chaos. Haleth saw her chance at withdrew. Dwarin was unwilling but she grabbed him by his beard and dragged him off into the night. Elwood also saw his chance and dissappeared into the trees. Even kalohern knew this opportunity would not come again so he spurred his steed and melted into the night.

[Leighlei]

Arenia lowered her head as branches went whipping past...

((IM BACK!))

[shieldmaiden]

Dwarin And Haleth ran like all armies of Mordor were chasing them. Wind forced ash in their eyes and they felt the heat of burning trees.
"Me must... must not loose the others..." Haleth tried to speak while she was running.

[Thenamir]

Between the heat of his exertion and the flames which threatened to sear his lungs with each breath, Thenamir might be excused for jumping with such abandon into the stream which lay across his path. He was just thankful that the fire was well behind him enough to allow him the luxury, and grateful that his was not a heavy armor suit, which likely as not would have been the perfect oven to roast him to a turn.

Thenamir was, for the moment, alone. In that moment, though, all the rememberance of the last half-hour came back to him in a torrent. The battle, the fire, the Dunlendings, and most amazingly, Guthrin. Guthrin! Not only had he redeemed himself, he had given them their only chance for escaping the marauding enemies, such a charge as would have shamed any warrior in Gondor or Rohan.

Thenamir took stock of his situation. Not only was he totally alone, but without pack, supplies, or hunting gear. Having been trained in field survival by the best in Gondor, he did not fear for hunger or thirst, but for his friends, the allies for whom he felt a measure of responsibility. He had no way of knowing whether any of them were alive or dead.

And then there was that shift in the wind...how convenient that it shifted at the exact moment when it would foil his plans to slow the Dunland band, and drive his enemies towards him instead of away from him. He had overheard Elwood fearing devilry in the air, and again re-pledged himself to the thwarting of the wizard Saruman, even if he had to do it alone.

Thenamir plunged his head into the stream again to drink, and to let the stream wash some of the battle grime from him. He washed his wounds and dressed them as best he could, then stood up in the middle of the stream to assess his position. The wind, which had shifted again with a sigh as if free once more to go its own way after an annoying redirection, was now blowing the fire away from him -- that immediate danger was past.

Taking his bearings from the setting moon half-hidden in the hazy smoke which remained, he comforted himself that at least he had retreated to the north, which put him that much closer to his eventual destination. He pulled the map from his inner jerkin, the only item he had managed to escape with aside from what he wore, only to put it back again. The long and the short of it was that he was utterly exhausted.

He climbed out of the stream which had been so delightfully cool to his feet, even with the boots on, and scouted a place where he could sleep for a time without being easily seen, against a small rock outcropping near the stream itself, where leaves and a few fallen branches could be used as a temporary camouflage. Tomorrow he would scour the forest for signs of his party, and of his enemies, to aid the former and elude the latter. When all the preparations were made as he was able, Thenamir took a last look around, then he lay down on the ground and slept the sleep of the dead.

Morning had crept over the near hills and illumined the treetops when Thenamir was startled awake by the sound of a walking horse, muffled by the leafy ground cover. He moved quickly but quietly to a position where he could see without being seen, and waited...

[ September 03, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Ransom]

Volkmar Heidenhammer had awoken to the acridic smell of smoke and the bright rays of the sun. His first thoughts were on his fire from the night before. Yet, as he sat up and surveyed the campsite, he could see no fire in the clearing. Shrugging, he rose and packed his meager amount of gear on his steed, Ana. Breakfirst consisted of a few apples and a small piece of bread, for his stores were running low. Whistling to himself, he carefully scowered the campsite, burrying the firepit and scattering the twigs he had gathered.

For two weeks he had rode, comming south from Bree at the commands of his superiors. Word had reached the Dunedain of the North of stirrings among the Dunedlings, and sightings of orcs and other foul creatures. Yet their lord, Aragorn, had ordered the Shire protected. Not that Volkmar had a grudge against the halfings, save that someone had to investigate. Besides, this trip had given him some time to think. What more could a Ranger ask for?

Topping the hill did not reveal much, for the smoke had not been blown away by any wind. At least Volkmar would not have to worry about the fire spreading. He began to travel down the other side of the hill, coming upon a small stream. As he let his horse drink, he gazed downwards. Someone had crossed recently. Tieing his horse to a tree and pulling his warhammer from it's sheath, Volkmar began to follow the tracks. It lead to a low outcropping that had recently been slept in. It could not have been an ork, for orks did not travel the wilds alone. No dwarves travelled here, and Volkmar had no reason to believe that an elf would be so careless in their bedding arangements. That left two possibilities: the Dunedlings or the Rohirrum.

"Hail, fellow traveler. Do show yourself, for I mean you no harm. Perhaps you would be enclined to join me for some breakfast?" Volkmar made a show of leaning the warhammer against the rock, yet keeping it close enough to grab in an instant.

[Rimbaud]

Some distance away, Guthrin came to his senses. Acrid smoke wafted through the sparse and blackened trees. He could not find any area on his body that did not cause him pain.

Sunlight filtered weakly through scorched and broken branches. The humbled forest smelt of fire and death. He lay on his back, in the center of the clearing. He had no recollection of how long he had been here. His right hand gripped something tightly. Manoeuvering himself up upon his elbows to take stock, he realized the severity of his fatigue. He gasped as he raised his head. Everything began to spin and red pain descended upon him, blurring his vision. He could hear some birds nervously restarting their song but at some distance away. He also heard the slow and muffled cracking of the dying fire, still consuming areas of undergrowth. Several of the proximate trees smouldered and the smell from the damp wood filled the area.

His hair was matted and fell in his eyes as he wrestled himself to a seated position. His right hand was clutching the hilt of his sword, which was black with dried blood and dark roasted soil from the forest floor. His left hand was similarly dirtied but no trace of his long hunting knife could he find. His mail jerkin felt stiff and uncomfortable around his torso. He wiped his left hand on his filthy tunic, protruding from beneath his armoured covering and gingerly prodded and poked at himself. His body was aflame with bruises, yet he discovered no cut. He reached towards his face, noting with distaste the grime upon his fingers. His right arm lay still, the hand remaining upon his blade, forgotten.

His fingers traced his face, finding loose skin, as if he had lost much weight swiftly. He had a three-day growth of beard and he longed for the hot water basins of his father’s house. His face felt burned and sore. He found a wound above his eye. This was his own blood, he ascertained.

Suddenly he realized the exiguous nature of his cover and the need to move overcame the pain within him. He stumbled to his feet and entered the forest, not knowing where he headed. He longed for water and stumbled forwards for what felt like an eternity. His sword trailed uselessly behind him, still held in his fist, point cutting a furrow through the earth behind him.

The morning was still young as he reached the banks of the impuissant waters. At this point, the flow was little more than a trickle. He fell to his knees, hurting himself on a rounded pebble. He winced and gasped. His left hand slowly removed the offending rock and he slipped it into his leather belt-pouch, which had miraculously survived the night. Some memory returned and his left hand found its way to his neck, where he found his charm still hanging, a small white stone, in the rough shape of a five-pointed star.

Finally he looked down at his right side, and his arm hanging there. His eyes widened and his hand, shaking, reluctantly released its grip on the hilt of his sword. The blade slid instantly down the muddy bank and into the brook. He shook his head, not without pain, and reached for the sword – with his left hand, his right appeared locked still in its clenched position. He remembered watching others clean their blades. He had never before had to do such a thing, but he remembered that within his pouch was a rag for the purpose. He set to. Laying the blade down on the ground beside him, he refreshed his face in the water and tended to the cut above his eye. He struggled out of his mail, heedless of danger, and disrobed. He bathed as best he could, gasping as the cold water reached his soft and tender flesh. He had no wrappings or poultices for his bruises and he ached from head to toe.

Whilst washing his tunic, it all came back, an unbidden torrent of memory. The noise and the confusion and the combat…he groaned in memory of the violence. He shuddered for several minutes and then vomited, his bowels empty; dry retching; his body stretched in torment.


When his mind had cleared – to some extent – he again took stock of his surroundings. His eyes had skipped the carnage on his trip to the stream but now they heeded the corpses and the mutilation. His stomach turned again, and he realized what the cooking meat smell must be. His jaw hardened and he dressed himself in his wet tunic and trousers. His boots, well made that they were, appeared yet hardy. He thanked his father’s retainers anew.

He appeared to be very much alone. Neither friend nor foe could he discern in the murky, smoky morning light. He affixed his belt and scabbard around his waist and sheathed his poorly cleaned blade. He tied his armor into such a bundle as he could manage and held it awkwardly under his left arm. His mind fogged by the oppressive nature of his surroundings, he wended his way toward the sunlight, hoping to encounter others of his party.

His memories of the night's work were yet hazy; he felt as though he had been born again, through a red maelstrom of the night.

[ September 04, 2002: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]

[Dwarin Thunderhammer]

Dwarin and Haleth raced through the seared wasteland that once was a forest. The smell of battle lingered heavily in the air. The ground beneath their feet was scorched and dry. Dwarins eyes stung and watered from the debris in the air. Day was indistinguishable from night as the curtain of smoke closed about them.

As soon as they were sure they were not being pursued any longer the pair slowly came to a halt. Haleth collapsed at the foot of a black tree. Dwarin stood leaned on his axe. He suddenly realized that he hadn't released his grip for hours. The dwarf noticed that his companion had several serious looking wounds. He hooked his axe on his belt and retrieved a canteen of water from his pack. He handed the canteen to Haleth as he sat down at the foot of the tee. She accepted and eagerly drank. "Your wounds need tending" the dwarf said as she eagerly drank. She passed the canteen back saying "You should be one to talk. You look like a leaky piece of meat" Dwarin chuckled and put the canteen to his lips. Dwarin suddenly realized how thirsty he was as the water soothed his burning throat. As Dwarin drained the canteen he heard a horse approach. Haleth drew her sword instantly and Dwarin was on his feet in seconds. A wave of relief and joy washed over Dwarin as he saw Mim slip through the veil of smoke. Dwarin let out a little laughter and a exclamation as he embraced his horse. Even so Haleth noted that the horse was not alone and did not let down her guard. She was relieved too when she saw it was only Telefax bearing Kalohern and Arenia. "Your horse knows it's master well." Kalohern said. "We found her wandering on the other side of the fire. We found no sign of Taradan. She led us here, to you." "It is certainly good to see you my boy. I thank you very much for returning Mim. For now I think it is best we find the others. I hope they have been as fortunate as we have in finding each other. Let us be off." With a little effort Dwarin climbed aboard his horse, who had rather gotten used to being ridden over the past few days. Dwarin noticed that his horse had a few minor scrapes and cuts with displeasure. Mim had obviously been in battle. "I'll have to have a talk with Taradan about this" Dwarin said to himself. "What's this? Am I supposed to walk?" Dwarin apologized and held his hand out to haleth who gladly accepted it and mounted Mim behind the dwarf. Mim barely even noticed. As they rode off in search of the others Dwarin said over his shoulder to Haleth. "I was very impressed by your skill and courage today."

[Thenamir]

Thenamir eyed the new stranger closely from his vantage point, which was behind and to the left of Volkmar as he set his heavy warhammer to the ground, leaning against the rocks which had been his hiding place the night before. The stranger's dark hair and odd yet somehow familiar accent did not put him off his guard, but he felt he must at least address the stranger. But he would do so from a position of strength and not vulnerability -- the events of last night were too close in mind to allow that.

Thenamir stood out from his cover and shouted "Hail, good sir!" loud enough to cover the rasping of his sword as it slid from its sheath. Volkmar swung round, warhammer ready to hand in an eyeblink, and faced Thenamir, who held his sword Aranbold in a defensive, non-threatening position. "Hungry indeed I am," Thenamir continued, "but forgive me if I request to know my host better before partaking of his kindness. My escape from my enemy's traps is far too near to be trusting, and his spies are numerous, and cunning."

[shieldmaiden]

"Thank you master Dwarf, but keep your compliments for another time. I was just doing what I was trained for." said Baranthôl grimly.
“Do you remember the map Aspida gave you?” She continued. “You had it in your hands and I just glanced over it. I remember that there should be a stream that runs into River Gwathlo up north but I don’t know how far it is from here. Our water supplies are short and I’ve lost the sack where my food was when we were fighting.”
Incidentally, the only bag that Haleth had with her was the one that contained tha plain dress Aspida gave her and some other useless stuff. “That’s the first place that comes to my mind when I think about where the others could be.”

[Ransom]

“You are prudent not to trust any traveler you meet.”

Volkmar gripped his warhammer in both hands, slowly rotating it. “Let us be honest. I doubt that I could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am not in league with any evil. Yet, I will try as best I can.”

“I am Volkmar Heidenhammer. I live far northwest of here, though I am afraid that I do not stay in one place for very long. My line has long guarded the north from orks and other foul things. Several long months ago, a comrade from the south rode reported that their was uneasy stirring in the south, and my superiors were worried. I have been sent south to have a look around.”

Volkmar could tell that this man was not one of the Riders of Rohan that he had heard about, and he certainly did not look like a Dunedling. Telling him this information would normally be of great risk, save that this man was alone, for even the birds had fled the acrid smoke. He watched the man intently, scrutanizing his face for any indication of emotions or actions.

[Thenamir]

Thenamir tried to hide a rising expectation, a wild hope that perhaps Volkmar might be part of the group they sought to the north...for if Saruman could see their movements from afar, he might also see their thoughts. And what better to give Thenamir into the hands of an enemy than to pose as one of his highest hopes come true? Yet if he was indeed one of the Northern Rangers, he could be of inestimable assistance.

Thenamir stepped closer to the dark-haired stranger, noting anything that might help him should it come to a fight, like the way he favored his left leg. He was alone, but that mattered little if he was in league with a wizard. In a burned-out forest, though, he would find little to eat if he did not get it from this man...and he *was* hungry. He decided to risk it, sheathing his sword (though with a dagger hidden at the ready) and joining Volkmar near the stream with his horse.

[ September 17, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

[Ransom]

“I appologize for the amount of food I can offer you, for there is little game here and only a handful of towns.”

Volkmar opened one of the sadle bags upon his horse and realized that his stores would not last two men very long. He extracted a fair sized loaf of stale bread, several apples, a rather large chunk of venison, and a table cloth. The table cloth went on the ground, and the food on top. Volkmar set aside his warhammer. While not exactly fast, Volkmar still believed that he could draw his sword fast enough to parry a blow.

Their conversation lapsed into silence, for Thenamir was obviously hungry. After bearing the silence for a few minutes, Volkmar attempted to begin a conversation. “Now that you know something of me, may I enquire your name?”

[Leighlei]

Arenia Smiled as they rode. To be in the company of people again!

(00C- Is ee no great part to play in this..............................)