Legacy of Traitors RPG

[Amanaduial the archer]

The man sneered yet again, showing a yellow tooth at one side. "Stop me? I don't think so."

A mistake. "Careful. I wouldn't like to have to fight you," Atharen's voice was now very soft, dangerous. The man now laughed out loud and Atharen smelt the alcohol on his breath.

"I bet you wouldn't, boy" the stranger scoffed. "Few people would want to cross blades with me."

On the last word the man lunged forward suddenly, but not aiming directly at Atharen - he was aiming at Crystal. Atharen didn't have to think about it: he shoved the woman to the side out of the way, crossing his blade in the way of the stranger's. The clash resounded throughout the room, causing a sudden silence to fall around the Inn Common Room as over fifty men suddenly sobered up very fast. The room was suddenly bristling with concealed weapons and every customer had the exits marked out in a second.

The stranger's sword had been knocked jarringly out of his hand by the sheer force of Atharen's blow and he had stumbled back, hitting a table and nearly falling, clutching the table edge. He looked back at the ranger who swivelled his sword around slowly to face diagonally down, tensed to move again.

"The same could be said of me," Atharen replied to the man's last statement, then he gave a small wry smile, his black eyes flashing. "Boy? I have wandered the wilds longer than you might imagine, and that is not done without learning a few things. Tell me your business and I will not harm you, but threaten or insult any one of my companions, especially my fiancee, and a fight you will have well-earned."

[Kransha]

Idruil sat, very calmly and studiously, at his small rickety chair across from Roryn, leaning down and stooping over a tin tankard, nursing the drink he’d gotten as he stared into the frothy foam that cascaded in a narrow river over the side. Even as he heard the clashing of sword on sword, he didn’t bother to look up. He’d heard the sound all too many times, coupled with the curt twang of bowstrings and the whistling of jagged bolts through the still air. It brought no memories now, as Idruil’s mind became more wistfully murky as he returned his faculties to the present, glancing up at the conflict, brief and impatient as it went. Atharen had won the upper hand already, and seemed to bear a clever grin upon his face as he spoke to this stranger who had accosted Miss Crystal. Idruil scowled pensively as he swung his creaking chair sideways and raised a flat hand towards Atharen, trying to distract his attention momentarily before the fight grew.

“Though I hate to be the voice of reason, perhaps it would be better if we did not emulate this man’s hostility. If he leaves us be, we may do the same for him.”

The man of Minas Tirith looked about coolly; an otherworldly look of beleaguered weariness plastered over his face as he shook his bearded head to recover some sense and overviewed the crowd as a bristling sound rippled over the inn strangely, like an eerie shockwave. Suddenly, the glint of metal shimmered in many places, peering out beneath coats, cloaks, and frocks that muffled the gait and silhouettes of the inn-goers. Idruil pushed his mug down the table, watching it skid to a fractured but prompt halt at the other end. Oddly enough, even though the few visible faces with their rotten, yellowed teeth, deep and rough pallor, and sinuous, burly airs looked hostile, there was a spot of grotesque glee embedded in their obvious expressions. It seemed that they wanted a fight. In fact, it seemed that they would become just as hostile and aggressive if their was no brawl, their eyes gleaming in spiteful anticipation.

“Or, perhaps we should.” He whispered, almost smiling to himself as he fingered the icy metal of his hilt beneath the table’s concealing shadow, he traced his rough-skinned thumb down the hilts spiraling cylinder and onto the lacquered scabbard below, prying the blade out minutely by its cross-guard if he was called upon to take up arms. He felt another mildly sensational twinge in his hand, a flickering pulsation as he told himself doggedly to yank out the weapon, overturn the table and its held contents, and challenge the boorish oaf, but he knew that would be foolhardy, since Atharen could handle any ailing brute such as this. Now, Idruil pulled his seat at another faulty angle and shot a calm, but still venom-tinged glance at the stranger.

“Sir, no matter your prowess in battle, I highly doubt you can defeat my companion in combat, or any of us, for that matter, so why don’t you make this easier for all of us and tell us what you want and why you want it, so we don’t have to besmirch this inn’s good name, hmm?” This elicited an invisible chuckle from Roryn, who was busy theorizing over his smoky pipe.

[Everdawn]

This man laughed suddenly at Atharen and tapped his arm. “Had you going for a second there didn’t I?” Atharen was taken aback in surprise.

Maén had slipped the shawl off form around her head. “How did you know I was here?” she said. The man stood up and bowed.

“Hittai is the only horse tied up outside bearing the mark Mi.IG. The mark of the Il Galoth household. Besides, I know Hittai when I see her. Bloody aweful creature. You would do well to cover her if you wish not to be seen, as I think thats what you wanted to achieve." He smiled and turned and shook Atharen's hand and bowed at Crystal, "Im sorry if I caused you any trouble."

The others looked at Maén questioningly. “Maén, who is this man!”

Maén looked from the ranger to the man. “Well, do you remember how I told you that I had been engaged once? Well, here he is, this is Arridan” she said with some bitterness.

Arridan did not smile this time. “Are you to stay here tonight?” he said looking around the Inn. Maén nodded. “Its not becoming of you my lady ,no for Maén this will never do.”

Maén looked towards the ground. Arridan continued “No, You must stay with my father and I this evening, we will give you everything you need for the night, then you can tell me why you are here, because clearly I can see you have not come to take me back. Or have you?” he his smile quickly faded.

“I would rather speak of it with your father, I was ever politer than you Arridan.” She turned her back on him and faced the company. “This mans father is respectable, a friend of my fathers, he is the lord of this town. Shall we stay there for the night?”

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn was astounded. He was grateful that this had come at the time it had, for he had been about a second away from loosing an arrow into the man's chest. He sighed and went back to puffing at his pipe. Bloody hell Maen...tying up your horse under the mark of your true name...He skook his head slowly and muttered something incomprehensible under his breath. He had been amused at Atharen's attempt to glean the inn's name from the stranger, but it didn't really matter, as long as they were gone, and soon.

Cursing again he put his feet up on a chair and leant back. He was stupid to be so worried, actually now he wasn't...it was in his breeding to be careful. His grandfather, Owacyn, was always very careful, so was his father Seon...Gah, that old humbug of a man, never good enough for him, anything that I do...perhaps he just wants rid of me...well I've joined the right venture to do that for him...I wonder what his reaction will be when he finds out I'm dead...wouldn't surprise me if it was joy really. Well I'll never be there to find out. Ferethor is plotting something, but I'm not sure what. After all this he'll stop Maen I reckon. Ah, we'll see when it comes to it...

[Eorl of Rohan]

"Great Grief, for the sake of Iluvatar..." Ferethor sheathed his blade again reluctantly, but did not sink down back to his stool. His brow was furrowed in distrust and anger, his youthful countenance creased with a mistrustful scowl as he watched the man appraisingly and said softly and deliberately so that only the newcomer could hear him,


"Arridan, I think you named yourself. You would do well, boy, to not address Lady Maen so publicily if you want to stay alive yourself. That is, unless you are suicidal. Our friend Roryn here was about to put an arrow through your neck, I noticed, and I wasn't too far away from running you through with my steel either. Whoever you are and whatever relation you have towards a member of our company, keep it to yourself if you don't want to die. I am not unskilled in the arts of fencing and swordfighting any more than you are."


A candid threat, but not one of the blustering ones since Ferethor was in a position to fulfill it. Sinking slowly down on the stool as if nothing happened, but his hand still pointedly on the hilt of his jewel-encrusted knife, he turned to Maen and said as he nodded brusquely but courteously in seeming meek submission, "As you wish, my lady." He may as well try his best to take the others off their guard by being meek and submissive instead of argumentative and quick-angered like he usually was. But Ferethor had doubts that this would work.

[Everdawn]

Arridan glanced at the Gondorian man “Sir, may I remind you that my father is the Lord of this town, and I may do what I please, and that you sir, and that Lady whom you are protecting from me” he chuckled. “…are guests here. Imagine what trouble you will cause if you kill me then?” Arridan knew he had a point. “Well Maén, will you stay with us. I know it boils your blood to see me, but you were always fond of my father, he will be glad to see you.

Maén narrowed her hazel eyes at him “It depends upon my companions.”

“If it is a safe place to stay miss Maén, I see no reason why we cannot.” Said Roryn. Maén knew that the old ranger was right.

“Very well” she said. “You may take us to your estate Arridan, but we leave in the morning.

She followed Arridan outside to where the horses were tied up. The young woman glanced at Hittai’s side where she had completely forgotten the mark of the Il Galoth house was branded. She could have kicked herself for not knowing. The obvious frustration must have been showing on her face because Arridan laughed at her. “Could happen to anyone.”

“It shouldn’t have.” She answered. She did not know what was going on with the others, other than they followed silently. It was nearing nightfall when they reached the Cast Iron gates and the long pathway to the home of Jacobe’s Run’s lord Arriten.

The manor was huge, bigger than the Il Galoth manor in Minas Tirith and it was made of grey marble, making it blend in with the solemn feeling of the town. Several servants met them at the front doors as well as Arriten himself.

“My dear girl!” he cried taking an unwilling Maén in a hug. “Its has been four years since I have seen you! Not since you broke your engagement to my poorly son over there.” Maén felt a pang of anger. She had not intended to say yes to Arridan in the first place. Her family wanted her gone, and Arriten was not the kind of man that Maén got along with. He was pretentious and arrogant, womanising and worst of all he had been a soldier. Maén hated the soldiers.

“I did apologise” she said weakly.

“Well, its all in the past!” said Arriten with a hearty laugh. “Tonight we feast and you will tell me why you have come here.” Arriten observed the group that had come with Lady Il Galoth. “And your friends, they must come too.” He ushered them inside. “You will find everything you need, clothes, bathrooms, and bedrooms. You must have a good sleep. We will have a mighty feast Maén just like old times” laughed the old man.

[Amanaduial the archer]

As they rode from the Inn, Atharen cleared his throat gently and turned his head slightly to Crystal. She was sitting more tall and stiff than before - stiff and straight. Oh gods, now I've offended her...

"My lady, back in the Inn, when I called you my fiancee...." he paused uneasily, then rushed on. "I did not mean to offend you. It was simply a....well, I wanted to protect you, you needed to have some status for travelling purely with men."

There was a pause, then she murmured back, "That is all? That is the only reason why?"

Her voice was giving nothing away, and Atharen suddenly got a rather ironic glimpse of how frustrating it must be when he veiled his feelings in talking to people. However, he was quick to affirm his story - what, does she think I see her as that man insinuated?! "Yes, my Lady," he replied quickly.

"I see." Another silence fell between them, and Crystal seemed even stiffer than before. Inside, Atharen ached to say more, to come out with why he had said fiancee rather than simply sister, or cousin, or...

If only she knew...

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn opened the door to his room, there was a beatifullly made bed with silk sheets, and a large portion of the floor was sunk several feet down and filled with steaming water. He smiled, it was going to be blissful. Pulling off his leather armour he threw it onto the bed, then hoisted his tunic over his head and took off his boots. He unded the drawstring around his troos, and walked over naked to the bath. He slid in, the warm water easing the muscle pains that he was feeling from all the riding. He dunked his head under, and the water swooshed in a spiral over his hair. He came up and took a gasp of air in, the water trickled down as he swept back his hair. He allowed himself to lie in the bath for almost five minutes, before getting out and drying himself with a towel. Walking over to the bed he noticed several patterned robes on the pillow. He took one and slipped it over his head. It fell to his ankles, the green cotton was heavy and warm, and Roryn smiled. He shook his hair and rubbed it with the towel, then slipped on a pair of sandals.

Walking down the stairs he met Crystal coming up, she strode past him, but he caught the expression on her face. Extreme sadness, Roryn suspected that Atharen had said something or done something wrong and sighed. For all his charm Atharen had little tact on occasions. He walked back up the stairs and as he passed Crystal's room he heard a quiet sobbing from it. His mouth curled down at the edges and he took in a larger than normal breath. He knocked gingerly on the door and heard Crystal cough and rummage around for a few sconds before saying "Yes?".

Roryn turned the knob and opened the door. He saw Crystal sitting on the bed, trying to look normal, but her eyes were red, and a patch on the sheets was damp. "What?" she enquired curtly, and Roryn was taken aback by her manner. He walked over and sat down next to her. "You need not keep pretence Crystal, I'm quite harmless." Crystal laughed, and in that laugh Roryn heard the sound of a sob, cleverly disguised, but there nonetheless. "It's all right Crystal, now talk to me, eh?"

[Kransha]

Idruil concealed his relative surprise after finding out the actual identity of the newcomer. He scolded himself swiftly, as he so often did, for even considering lashing out at a man he didn’t know. Before he knew it, he was up again, leaving his not yet imbibed tankard of ale behind, still brimming after his solemn session with it, on the table that had narrowly avoided being upturned and littered with Roryn’s acute arrows. For Idruil, the short, cross-town ride to this new, more comfortable abode passed quickly and mellifluously, Idruil himself too caught up in a subtle moment to pay attention to anything else. When they arrived at the home, as grandiose and splendiferous as it was to the naked eye, Idruil still seemed strangely detached from the spiraling reality. He headed in, as the group began to split up and go their separate, conspiratorial ways throughout the mansion. Idruil, alone at the time, did not head off to inspect the place, see to his room, and do some much needed exercises of hygiene. He could get to that later, though.

The man of Minas Tirith found himself, at long last, in the dining room of the manor belonging to Arridan’s patriarchal parent. He sat back, enjoying the feel of supple cushions relaxing his pained back, arched and hunched after days of horse riding and sleeping on the cold ground. He laid his gloved hands on the great, oaken wood table, smooth and polished with a multicolored cloth laid carefully over it. Smiling a withered smile, Idruil peeled his leathery gloves from sweat-soaked hands and laid them in a pile beside him as he leaned forward on the table. He relaxed, removing his heavy woolen cloak for the first time in several days and lay it in a cloth heap on that table. Without it, Idruil’s more slender silhouette was visible; his more colorful garb could be seen as he sat back again. He placed his arms on the carved arms of the chair in a regal fashion, puffing his chest out playfully, trying to mimic the solemn sternness of a throne-seated king.

He was annexed from his daydream by a flitting figure, who wasn’t truly flitting. It was Atharen who entered the room through the door opposite him. Usually, the entrance of a cohort would not have deterred Idruil from his single, treasured moment of splendor, but as his own eyes turned to the lowered ones of Atharen, he detected a look of dejection on the ranger’s face. His eyes were turned down as he stalked forward, just as contained as Idruil had been in a personal shield that would not take in the dim fluorescence of the room around. Idruil could not detect his usual ample warmth.

Though Idruil was not a man who understood such things, he had been near Atharen to see the apparent. He knew rangers of Atharen’s ‘caliber’ held much grace and courtesy, but Atharen had been visibly more than courteous to Miss Crystal, indeed. As much as Idruil tried to tell himself that he should not male foolhardy assumptions, his mind kept nagging him with the truth that he knew, or at least thought he knew. The way Atharen acted around her, though he never seemed to flinch from his ranger persona, the things they talked of. [i]‘Perhaps I am merely being foolish,’ thought Idruil calmly as Atharen paced by, ‘I have not experienced this quality of companionship in ages, so perhaps I am blurring the difference between love and graduated friendship…but…’ He was almost sure at this point, and his thoughts seemed affirmed as he looked across the table into Atharen’s down turned eyes. He was firmly resolute in belief, but he needed to know if he was right or not. Daring to stir Atharen from his new mood, Idruil spoke up at last.

“Atharen, something troubles you?” he murmured as softly as he could without being unheard completely.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal ran over the events of the quickly passing night in her mind. Roryn stood, wanting to hear her troubles. It wasn't something she was use to, but at this moment she needed a friend.

"You may not want to hear this, but my troubles are not of normal consequence. I love the ranger, Atharen. I have since our meeting. I wished so hard that when he called me his fiancee tonight that it was because he loved me as well, but when questioned he said that it was just for safety. I have walked through life wondering if a man would come along and love me once again. I have been a walking corpse lately, until he came. And now all my heart's wishes have come to show that they are just that, wishes. There will never be a day where I will be the lucky woman who is loved so truly by a man for me and not my status. I had wished he was, wished he knew. I," Crystal said in a rush as she began to sob.

She took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes. She had wanted to talk to Atharen and she knew that the festivities were still going on downstairs. She got up off the bed and walked past Roryn.

"Where are you going Miss Crystal?" He asked her. She turned around softly.

To do what I know I must do before my heart breaks once more," She answered. With that she turned and left and headed down the hallway towards the room that Atharen had ducked into. She crossed the floor and headed straight for Idruil.

"I need to speak with Atharen alone. May I have a moment please?" She asked him. He nodded. She took Atharen's hand and made her follow her out of the room. She walked in another room that was empty, her heart racing. There wasn't anything that she could do to turn back now. She had made up her mind and she wasn't going to back down. He had to know. This tension, this incredible pain that she was feeling wasn't what she wanted any more.

He turned, his eyes filled with a surprise that Crystal hadn't noticed before and wasn't inclined to wish upon at the moment. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

"It's not enough that you said that I was your fiancee for protection. It's not enough any more to ride behind you on Sacriheart. It's not enough to watch you walk ahead of me and wish this anymore, wishing that you knew what you do not. It's not enough. I love you, Atharen. I have since the moment you put your arm on my elbow and led me away. You don't act frightened or turned away by who I am. When you said I was your fiancee my heart soared. I thought I finally knew that you loved me as well, but now I know I was wrong. I just wanted to tell you that I love you so deeply that I hurt inside. I hurt so badly that I can't even think. Every time I get close to you I just don't have any idea what to do or to say. I don't even remember time passing. These days have gone by like lightening. All I remember is you and that's all I want to remember. I just wanted you to know that I loved you before I left the quest. Maen would do much better without me tagging along, as will you."

Tears sparkled in Crystal's eyes. They fell down her cheek as she backed up, unable to turn away from his eyes. She fumbled against the door and her hand shakily looked for the door knob. She found it, but found she didn't have the strength any more. She slid down the length of the door to the floor and sobbed.

[Everdawn]

Maén was felt a strange sense of relief spread over her as she was alone in the room which Arriten had assigned her for the night. She ran a hot bath and lay in it for some time taking deep breaths. She was not happy to be in Arridan’s home, even if his father was here. She knew that Arridan had loved her name more than herself, she had always known that and no matter how hard Arridan had tried, he could not hide this well enough.

As the bath water got colder and colder Maén decided that it was best to get out before she caught a chill. She had brought with her a bare minimum of luggage, but what she did bring were dresses fit for a lady. This was one tradition that Maén did not resent. She dressed in a blood red one which she had brought with her and arranged her golden hair on her head and lay back on the bed until there was a sharp knock at the door. “Come in” she called suspecting that it would be Arridan to annoy her some more. But to her surprise the dark figure of Carathir entered and bowed deeply.

“I was just wondering Lady, what the custom is to eat with at these places?” he asked. Maén sighed.

“Knives and forks.” She said sitting up.

“Knives, I see.” He said. “Ill go now, and prepare.” And Carathir left.

“Strange lad” said the golden-haired Gondorian before following Carathir into the hallway. He was nowhere to be seen. Maén slowly made her way to the stairs which lead to the rooms of the others. It was then that Maén wondered why her room was so far from the others.

When she walked further she found Roryn looking equally as puzzled as she felt. “Whats wrong with you?” she asked putting her hands on her hips.

“Oh, my dear, Ive just had the strangest conversation.” He said rubbing his head.

“As have I.” sighed Maén sitting on the nearby couch. “Pray tell... No wait. Let me guess. Crystal has finally gone to tell Atharen she is in love with him?”

“How did you guess?” smiled the old ranger.

“Well Roryn my friend, I observe, I know a lot more about most people than they know about themselves. Other than it was half obvious.” She gave a light grin. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Not bad, other than I would have caused trouble if I had put an arrow in that Arridan lad of yours.” Roryn said weakly.

“Lets not talk of him for the time being, I intend to spend as less time here as I can. There are some things that need to be worked out though. One, Lysia has a notice that Guriel may have purchased property near here. Arriten may be able to help me find him.”

“And when we do find him, well kill him” said Idruil joining them.

“I do want to thank everyone for their support, you have been wonderful, but why do I get the feeling that Ferethor and his companion Aelimur want to stop me?” Roryn and Idruil exchanged uneasy glances. “No lets not speak of that either.” Ordered Maén “All this scheming will do my head in. Shall we wait for them or shall we go straight to dinner?”


~+~+~+~+~

Carathir did not know exactly why he had gone to ask Maén about dinner, he supposed that it was Lysia’s force of habit. It was not long after he himself had gotten lost in the many corridors of the manor that he found himself eavesdropping on a conversation between two men.

“Surely she hasn’t come to take me back father?” said one. Obviously Arridan.

“She’s come after the traitor, son.” Said Arriten

“How do you know?”

“I do, she’s always been like that. Never cross an Il Galoth unless you are sure that you can kill them. No, she will find what she came for, eventually, and we may just help her.” Carathir wondered what they both meant by this but by the time he had decided he did not know both men were gone.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen turned sharply to Idruil as if only just realising he was there. Had his worry been that obvious? He was usually so good at hiding his emotions, was he losing something...

No, but you will if you wait much longer! Blast solemnity and mystery!

"It's the Lady Crystal," he replied abruptly, blurting out the words before they hid again. Idruil raised his chin very slightly, signifying that he was listening. Atharen turned, beginning to pace again, his hands behind his back, organising his thoughts. He spun around once more, his hands spread. "I think I lov-"

"Miss Heart, what is the matter?"

Idruil spoke over Atharen and the ranger whirled around yet again towards the door, something like guilt flashing with surprise in his eyes before it was hastily veiled. He shot a look of gratification at Idruil for warning him - but why? Rather keep this relationship than frighten her away forever...

"I need to speak with Atharen alone. May I have a moment please?" There was a desperate note that Atharen detected underneath her careful, polite words. Idruil paused, then complied mildly. "Of course, my Lady, of course. I bid you a very good night, Atharen, and you, Miss Heart. He is all yours." The last sentence was accompanied by a mock-conspiratorial wink before Idruil departed, chuckling slightly to himself. Atharen wasn't fooled. Is there anyone who doesn't suspect the thing I myself am not even sure of?! he thought wryly and with a little panic.

Even before the door shut behind Idruil, Crystal started towards Atharen…but after a few steps she stopped, as if unsure, then seemed to hesitate. Like a sparrow hopping a few feet away from a still human, she seemed intrigued, wanting to come close, but on the verge of flying away at any second. But there was never a sparrow so beautiful…

“My Lady, what is wrong-?” he started, stepping towards her with a hand out, but she shied away. Atharen felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart – not the heart as in the centre of the body’s life, that organ which pumps around the body blood, supplying oxygen and food to all areas – the second heart, the one that supplies the mind with far more than anything material could ever amount to. He stopped still, and his hand dropped slowly to his side as if it had never moved, surprise registering in his dark eyes as Crystal glanced up at him. Then, taking a breath which seemed to sob slightly, she began to speak, gushing out words that could have come from Atharen’s own heart.

Speechless, he could only watch as she turned away, somehow frozen although that second heart screamed at him to take her arm, to call her back. But somehow she seemed to lack all energy and suddenly slumped, sobbing, to the floor, curled against the door, her robe falling around her and crumpling, as her face crumpled into tears, the sobs of a child escaping her lips. Atharen flinched towards her as she fell, his reflex being to catch her before she fell, then he stopped, still apparently stunned from the verbal blows that he thought he may never recover from. She was of his race, and so close, and with no family or the like standing between them…but in that moment, Atharen felt that the barrier between them was more than was ever faced by Beren and Luthien, or Elessar and Arwen. To grab her…too rough, to harsh, to hasty. And there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to be more gentle than anything.

Moving very slowly, he knelt carefully beside her, his eyes always on her face. She looked up towards him, her eyes following his down until they were level. Moving one hand forward, he rested it on her elbow, as he had done before, gentle and kind, but less firm than before.

“Crystal…” He began to sentence that he didn’t know how to finish. But as he looked into her eyes, he realised there was nothing he could say which a single action could not make her realise – a single action that would, in this case, speak louder than any words ever could. She looked away again, dropping her gaze to the floor as she sobbed once more, still apparently thinking the worst. Taking a silent breath, Atharen moved his hand up her arm, coming to her neck and raising her chin gently until she looked once more into his eyes. Then, turning his head to the side, one hand on the side of her face, he leant forward and kissed her, his eyes closed, on the mouth.

After a few seconds, he broke away, lingering for a second before he opened his eyes. As she opened her mouth to speak, seeming stunned, Atharen moved a finger to her lips, then rose silently, extending a hand and pulling her to her feet.

“Good night, my Lady Crystal,” he whispered almost silently.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal stood up, her head screaming for words but there wasn't any coming out. He had called her Crystal, not Miss Heart as he always did, as everyone did. He had called her by her first name. And lady. She had only ever heard him call Maen Lady. Something had changed in that instant when he kissed her.

The feel of his kiss lingered on her lips. That had been the moment when she knew what his heart held for her. There was no denying the feeling that was there. She had thought he was going to tell her how much he liked her as a little sister or something of that nature, but never a real kiss from a real man.

She wanted to be in his arms so badly that every part of her hurt. She walked foward, stood on her tip toes and kissed him with a passion that she couldn't believe she even possessed. She held his face, not wanting him to pull away from her. She needed him as she had never needed someone before. There was a feeling there that she had never felt.

His arm came to rest on her waist, pulling her closer to his strong body. His hand cupped her face. The only thought that she possessed was not wanting to leave him tonight. She wanted to be with him. She wanted him to make her his wife. She wanted to know that nothing would happen as long as they were together and no harm would befall her in his presence. She wanted to know that she was safe from all harm.

Their lips finally parted. She gasped for breath as her eyes opened. She studied the face of the man before her. She had seen it every day, but never had she seen the love that lingered in his eyes. His beautiful eyes.

"I was afraid you didn't love me. Why did you hide it?" She asked softly, her lips whispering softly next to his chin. Even though the words had escaped her mind was screaming for him to hold her, to keep her there in his arms. She wasn't sure he could feel her heart, but she could feel the beat of his. It was rushing much faster then Sacriheart's fastest footsteps.

He answered her, but the words no longer mattered to her anymore. The pure fact that he loved her was enough.

"Don't leave me tonight, Atharen. Please," She whispered. I've never wanted anything more then him to stay. Oh please, if there is anyone that can hear my pray let him stay. Let him stay.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Don't leave me tonight, Atharen. Please."

Crystal's words startled Atharen and for a moment he stared at her, then, taking her hands, he shook his head. Her eyes widened and she looked so deeply, truly hurt that he wished that he could have said yes - but the ranger had always been a man of integrity, a gentleman.

"Lady Crystal, although I..." he caught himself and tried again. "Although I understand, and you must know that...my kisses are in earnest, I cannot stay with you tonight. You are upset, I wouldn't..." he looked away. Take advantage.

"No, Atharen - I am not so upset that I do not know-" her eyes were shining in the dark shadows of the room, but Atharen shook his head slowly, catching her eyes with his.

"It would be wrong, Crystal. I must say no. After the quest, I...but now? Things are complicated enough as it is." He looked into her fine, slightly tilted eyes, urging her to understand. "Please."

Slowly, she nodded. "I understand."

He smiled tenderly, and leant down again, tilting his head to kiss her, more gently this time, on the mouth, then he let go of her hands. "Then I bid you goodnight, and shall look forward to tomorrow..."

"As shall I," she replied softly. With a smile and a nod, he slipped into the shadows and away.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal understood what he was saying. Atharen was a gentleman. She wasn't upset as he had thought, she was in love but she understood. It would be wrong at this moment.

She left the room shortly after he did and returned to her room. The light was still on and laying upon her bed was more appropriate attire for an evening of celebrations and the like. She looked at it, then picked it up. It was the most beautiful gown she had seen in many years. She couldn't remember the last time she had wore something as fancy as this. She stood in the room debating if she should go downstairs. She decided on going and put the dress on.

She looked in the mirror, unsure of what she saw. She looked so much different, so alien to her eyes. She sighed deeply and headed downstairs to the party, wondering in the back of her mind who had left the dress on the bed for her.

[Everdawn]

Maén was no longer aware whether the men had followed her down to the dining hall, the young woman was all to aware though of the absence of many servants. She supposed that it was a possibility that Arriten had let them go home early, he wsas like that, a kind old man with a love of the people around him, unlike his son. Arriten had served in the military during the war, he was honest and loving, but Arridan, Arridan was a soldier like his father, but he was arrogant and selfish. Maén snorted at the thought.

“Maén! My girl” said the jolly old man offering the blonde his arm and lead her inside where Arridan already was seated, a dark look about his face and the food already set out. Maén did not acknowledge his existence. “Now my girl, you must tell me why have you come so far, surely your father and mother wouldn’t let you come this far? How is your father?”

“I wont beat around the bush Lord Arriten, I am here because im looking for Guriel Il Galoth, my parents don’t know im gone. They think im at Lysia’s manor. They wouldn’t care if I were gone im afraid and as for my father, well, he’s no better.” There was silence from the table. “Lysia told me there was information here. I intend to find it.”

Arriten raised his glass. “And I assure you Maén, I will do all within my power to help you.”

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal walked down the stairs gracefully, in such a way that none of the others would ever recognize. Her natural grace combined with the coaching of her mother shined through in each step she took. Her head was held high and she walked with an air of regalicy.

She came into the room and curtsied to the leader of the feast before settling herself down in her chair. She ate quietly, just observing the others.

Even though it seemed as the woman, now known to some of these people as Miss Fallowheart, the fiancee of Atharen, was at ease with her surroundings but in actuallity she was not.

There was too many memories that associated themselves to occassions such as these. Too many memories of her time spent with her father at his state conventions or his wild parties.

She brushed away those memories. Now was neither the time nor the place to be thinking about such things. She could compromise the mission of the company if her memories revealed who she truly was. Crystal Sandrine Heart was being hunted for all over middle earth by her father and her father's men.

She began to create the new alias for her being as she always did. There was never any doubt in her mind that no one would believe it in this new group of people. They had no idea who she truly was, unless there was a spy within their company.

She watched, waiting for someone to show their hand and allow them to know that they are the traitor within their midsts.

[Everdawn]

Maén stern hazel eyes looked over the old man, she was so intent upon his response that she did not notice Crystal join them.

“Then you would be so kind as to tell me where this house of Guriel’s is?” Maén raised an eyebrow. Arridan glared at her from across the table.

Arriten looked up from his plate. “How do you know he is here my girl?” his voice was harder than usual.

“The fact that Lysia acquired some information; you are the Lord of this place, aren’t you? I would think you know where people live.” Her voice became more excited. As Arriten seemed to tense.

“Yes, a Lord should know, but alas I do not, though I do have lists. Arridan will take you into the cellar after dinner there you may look, but now lets eat and be content.” He nodded to his son who frowned. “But only you will I allow there, no one else, Privacy matters must count for something.” And ever so artfully the old man changed the subject. “You noble sirs, tell me of yourselves and your reason for being in this young ladies company.”

[Amanaduial the archer]

Smoothing his shirt a little self-conciously, Atharen regarded himself a little dubiously in the mirror. Clothes suitable for a smart dinner had prudently been laid out on a chair in his room, obviously not deeming the ranger's rough garb appropriate for polite society, and Atharen knew it would be rude not to comply by putting them on. Nothing too smart mind: dark brown breeches of some soft material, a white, cotton swordsman's shirt, the sleeves loose and baggy until the cuffs, and a black jerkin made of the same material as the breeches. Pulling his own nearly knee-high, black leather boots on over the soft trousers, he took another glance at himself in the mirror, rising. To his surprise, he actually felt quite dashing - in the naive, foolish sense that aristocrats might romantically aspire to, he added cynically. Still, he would do. It isn't often that I get to play fancy dress...

Realising that to wear a sword at his sword would be too obvious, he debated for a moment, then attached it anyway. Frankly, with the Lady Maen's safety at risk and he her protecter, Atharen was taking no chances. And the same stood for Crystal. Walking down the corridor to the dining room, his face softened as he thought of her, of their kiss earlier, then he pushed open the door into the room, where the other guests were already seated. They all turned to look at him and a wave of self-conciousness took over Atharen: still, he didn't show any of it, no blush showing on his pale skin as he lifted his chin proudly, smiling charmingly to all there.

"Apologies for being late, Lord Arriten."

"Ah, not at all - and just Arriten will do. You are...Atharen, are you not?" Atharen couldn't help taking a liking to the man, and the ranger was a good judge of charcter. He had too much experience not to be.

"Aye," he replied, his Rohirrim accent coming out strongly as he shook back some hair from his forehead. Seeing Crystal on the other side of the table, he simultaneously saw two free chairs: one seat just a place or two down from Arriten's arrogant young son, the other opposite him, beside Crystal. Remembering his...fabricated past with Crystal, he caught Crystal's eye and grinned. As her fiancee, there was one obvious place. She smiled back, a slightly mischievous glint in her eyes as well. This should be fun...

Moving around the table, Atharen passed behind Crystal, his hand trailing across her shoulders casually as he passed, a natural, affectionate gesture. Leaning down, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before seating himself. To her credit, Crystal didn't flinch, and smiled back up at him. The whole scene would have seemed perfectly natural...to all except the few of their confused companions who exchanged baffled glances. Atharen suppressed a wicked smile and, under the table, he gave Crystal's hand a quick squeeze before releasing it, not looking at her but with a smile meant for her.

"How do you know he is here my girl?" The suddenly sharper, less indulgent tone of Arriten's voice drew the ranger's eyes instantly to the man's face. He didn't need to have been there earlier in the conversation: it was obvious what was going on. Maen pressed on easily though, her voice calm but her fiery eyes and passionate face coming alive as she realised she was onto something.

"The fact that Lysia acquired some information; you are the Lord of this place, aren’t you? I would think you know where people live."

Arriten was tense, worringly so Atharen deemed. Turning to his meal calmly, he kept the corner of his sight always surreptitiously on the Lord of the household.

"Yes, a Lord should know, but alas I do not, though I do have lists. Arridan will take you into the cellar after dinner there you may look, but now lets eat and be content." The look that passed between Arriten and his son was unmissable, as was the stunning unsubtlety of the suspicion in Arridan's returned look. Arriten continued, "But only you will I allow there, no one else, Privacy matters must count for something."

Instantly, Atharen was on-guard. Alone? I don't think so, my Lord...she is going nowhere out of the sight of myself or one of my companions... Arriten was unaware of the ranger's unease though, and smoothly changed the subject. "You noble sirs, tell me of yourselves and your reason for being in this young lady's company."

It was more a demand than a question, and the man's eyes instantly turned to Atharen. "You are a ranger, are you not?"

Atharen laughed softly, a delicate sound, and he exchanged a look of with Crystal, a natural, easy look. "Aye, but 'tis not why I am with Maen. She and my fiancee, Miss Crystal Fallowheart, are good friends, have been for several years, and when Maen took off, Crystal insisted on following! Why, I am merely along for the ride!" Atharen gave another little laugh and, catching on, Maen and Crystal followed suit. Crystal even went so far as to roll her eyes, squeezing Atharen's hand where it lay on the table. The ranger had to restrain himself with all his might from kissing her again, the shock of her touch shooting through him.

"Aye, indeed, Atharen." It was Arridan who replied this time. His voice was civil, but he was evidently after something. "But surely it must be of some consequence that you are a ranger on such a dangerous mission?" There was more than a hint of mockery in the man's voice.

But Atharen was more easy with deceit than he was sometime comfortable with. He shook his head, with maybe a hint of regret. "Nay, well, if Maen wanted a ranger for protection, she could have chosen a better one than myself."

"Why is that? I mean, if you don't mind my asking..." Arridan added, to soften the bluntness of the question.

"Why, because I am hardly much experienced."

"But your scar...?"

"Ah, a childhood wound, I'm afraid - much as I could dress it up as a battle wound!" Atharen replied cheerfully, smiling and rolling his own eyes as if the thought of the scar's true nature was a ridiculous concept.

"Your childhood..." Arridan paused, but subtelty was evidently not a strong point of his. Atharen neither liked not disliked him - yet - but he certainly didn't trust the man. "When was that?"

"You mean, how old am I?" Atharen replied, quite as frankly. He looked straight at Arridan as he replied. "I am but twenty four years old, Arridan. Hardly an ancient old warrior, hmm?" He smiled genially and took a sip of wine. The deceit was complete. Both men believed him, he was sure. Looking across at Arridan, he settled forward a little, moving into the conversation. "And yourself, Arridan? I heard from Maen you are a soldier... I suppose you will have served much?"

'I heard from Maen'...sure, a little flattery never did any harm...

[Kransha]

Idruil sat forward, having trailed Arridan, Arriten, and Maen herself into the immodest dining room of the manor, in his comfortably arranged chair. As his eyes, half glazed over with a dose of weariness, sparkled more fervently as his face contorted into a sly and voracious grin. He hadn’t seen such a supply of food in a great while, and the site of the many brimming platters decked out on the table before him was quite a site to behold. He quickly slid his limp jaw back into place before it’s out of place position was notice and pulled back, arching his cricked neck and grinding a ovular index finger against his sore temple, which was, for an unknown reason, filled with a steady and painful drumbeat that thumped in rapid succession against the hollowed wall of his skull.

The glint in his gaze fading as the pain of a cranial ache became more apparent, Idruil looked up, his nostrils flaring several times as he imbibed the savory wafting plumes of fine odors emitted from the table’s luscious array. He looked quickly towards the master of the house and his son, then to Maen, who was speaking with them, and finally to Crystal Heart, who was descending to another seat with a most noble air, almost an aura surrounding her as it would a woman of power and the command of great respect. It was a look that Idruil, in the time he’d spent near her and Atharen, had not seen before and was thoroughly unfamiliar with. He gave her a pleasant nod of acknowledgment as she sat and turned back to his occupation of staring at his plate.

Soon enough, his gaze went up again, this time to see Atharen walking down the length of the stretching table, looking strangely cunning, like a fox who was about to do something particularly clever. It wasn’t, though, something particularly clever that Atharen did. Idruil couldn’t help but smile when he saw the concealed shock on the faces of his brethren, all save he and Roryn, when Atharen leaned down and gave Miss Heart a prompt but well-aimed kiss. Arriten and Arridan took it in stride, of course, since Atharen’s reason and acting was satisfying. Atharen sat and quickly engaged in an uncomfortable discourse with Arridan, which again elicited a scathing grin from Idruil. He’d never seen a ranger’s tricks, and he hadn’t expected theatrics and false pleasantries to fall into such a category. So far, Atharen’s façade was totally successful. Of course, Roryn and Idruil were the only ones who knew that the ranger’s affection towards Miss Heart was by no means a façade.

As the dinner continued, Idruil, becoming self-conscious at this point, noted the tense air surrounding Arriten and Arridan. They had shot more than enough suspicious glances at each other to pique Idruil’s curiosity and surely that of the others. Atharen continued with his calmed pleasantries in conversation, but the Lord and his son continued to seem as if they were hiding something, possibly a simple nervousness, but it seemed to be more. Already, most of those at the table had worked their way through most of the food, leaving only threadbare leftovers on each plate, all but a few. Finishing the last remnants of edible material on his plate, Idruil cautiously leaned over towards Maen.

“Lady Maen,” he said quietly, his conservative whispers overruled thankfully by Atharen, who raised his voice very slightly to conceal the words, “perhaps you and Lord Arriten should see to his lists in the cellar. Something is not right here.” Idruil had no intention of standing by while Maen was escorted, alone, into an unknown place without protection. He knew she could handle herself, but, as overly suspicious as the man of Minas Tirith was, he had already nurtured a great deal of suspicion for the two men sitting across from him. As he finished, he swiftly recoiled back to his own seat and turned to Arridan, heaping more flattery to augment what the ranger had said.

“Yes indeed, Arridan. What of your soldiering exploits? Are you as much the warrior as we were told or was all that we heard of you merely exaggeration?”

[Everdawn]

Arridan folded his arms. “Warrior? If that’s what you will call it yes, I was a captain and a very successful one at that. After the three houses were abolished by Guriel I was fortunate enough to be called into service by the Steward.”

“Whey are you not a soldier now?” Idruil asked.

“Because, your gallant leader left me heart broken. Yes little, fair, Maén Il Galoth left the day before our wedding. Ill tell you, good luck to the lad who happens to tame that one, she was lucky to get me.” He coughed. “I simply came home and served my father, I head his guard now.”

“Do you see? Do you see! lucky to get him! you couldn’t handle me Arridan, everything you ever did was for yourself, and what’s more is you proved me right when you ran back home.” Maén said annoyed. “Its in the past now anyway, you have irritated me for long enough.”

Maén nodded at Idruil who was seated beside her as a sign that she was going to take his advice. “Lord Arriten, I am growing anxious of what may be hidden below, you must understand that it is in my interest that I know as soon as possible.”

Lord Arriten smiled a little. “As you wish my child, as impatient as ever I see.” He said with a slight chuckle as he rose and offered his arm to the young woman who took it, her hazel eyes glancing sharply at her companions.

“I shan’t be long.” She said as the young woman accompanied by the old man left the room. It seemed that they had been walking for an age around narrow stone catacombs until she was sure that they were underground. Arriten stopped to light a torch and lead the way which was only wide enough for one person. Finally he opened a narrow ebony door and went inside.

What Maén saw there when she entered was amazing, rows and rows of shelves filled with parchment and old documents. Immediately Arriten began looking through rolls of parchment and spread what he did have over another table.

“Are you sure you want to do this Maén?” the old man asked to which the young woman nodded. “very well” Maén rolled out the first roll of parchment, which was a list of all the townspeople and where they lived on a map. Eagerly scanning it was not long before she came across a name which she had been looking for. Here eyes widened in amazement.

“Guriel Il Galoth!” she cried, her finger hovering over a space on the map which was not far south of Jacobe’s Run. She turned to the old man who was still. It was then that she felt the pit of her stomach drop and a cold sweat overtake her. “You… You knew.” Arriten nodded. “How could you!” she yelled but before she could yell some more Arriten had her by the neck.

“Its easy my dear, You ruined my plans to get your family form the inside, I was his wish, you refused my son. Arriten may have been an old man but Maén was a small woman, his hands tightened around her throat. “Ive tried for so long to destroy the last of your family but have never succeeded, and now, perhaps now I will have a chance to live up to Guriel… He took great joy in killing your family, and great joy in torturing your father until he was a blubbering mess able only enough to tell the steward of what happened.”

Maén could feel that she was loosing strength, the world around her was going black, the torch which Arriten had put behind on the wall was glowing steadily dimmer, but the gleam in his eyes was still in her mind. With her last strength Maén pulled, concealed in her skirts the dagger given to her by Lysia, unsheathed it and drove it into the side of the old man’s neck. Almost instantly she felt his grasp loosen and she began to breathe. “Go and succeed in dying, it will give me more satisfaction.” She said raspy, still catching her breath. There was a steady flow of crimson on her gown, but it did not worry Maén, her priority now was to get back to the others, perhaps in time to save them from Arridan.

She dragged herself back through the winding passages and into the main part of the house. Her hear was pounding, she tripped and fell onto the carpet of the hallway. With a cry she got up and continued on her way to the dining hall where she threw open the doors breathing heavily, covered in blood. “We’ve been tricked”.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

As Maen ran back up the stairs, twisting and turning until she finally reached the door that lead into the dining hall. She burst into the hall and cried "We've been tricked! Roryn, Atharen! Arridan is-", "dead?" enquired Roryn. Maen looked ot where Arridan was sitting, she hadn't noticed it in her hurry, but he was slumped over the chair, an arrow pierced right the way through his head through his right eye. Ferethor was sitting in shock, Atharen had a broad grin across his face, Roryn was impassive. Crystal was sobbing quietly into a napkin.

"He went for Crystal first, he lunged at her with a knife...but it seems age hasn't dimmed Roryn's speed or accuracy." Atharen said bluntly. Maen gasped, then sank to the floor, "He was a horrible man, but no man should die like that...", Roryn muttered and sat back into his chair.

...

[Crystal Heart]

The prospect of the entire night was too much for Crystal to handle, especially another assasination attempt. She grabbed a napkin and sobbed, not knowing what else to do.

She consoled herself quickly then looked up. She was angry. She hated being tricked. She got up quickly and reached up into her skirt and produced her small dagger that she had been carrying within her boot, but couldn't wear in the delicate shoes that she had been given to wear.

"Even if he didn't deserve to die, there wasn't anything else we could do. He would have killed us all if he hadn't been stopped," Crystal said as she went over to Maen. She looked her over, the poor woman before her was covered in blood.

"This blood isn't yours is it Maen?" Crystal asked her worriedly. It was everywhere. She hadn't seen so much blood since the day her father killed Arty right in front of her then sneered at her screams of horror. But that was a long time ago and it was clear that Maen wasn't dying in any way, but the sight itself disturbed Crystal more then any thing. Maen shook her head no, relieving Crystal from her fears. She stood up and turned away.

She could usually stand the sight of blood, of nasty bruises, of deep wounds that showed bone and muscle. Yet at this moment she couldn't handle any of it. She had no idea why. She knew she wasn't sick to her stomach, but her eye sight started becoming fuzzy. Before she knew what was happening she started to fall. In her mind she thought she was still standing and didn't realize the darkness that was overtaking her.

[Everdawn]

Maén gathered up herself off the floor, looking around wildly rubbing her badly bruised neck, taking no notice of anyone around her. “We need to go” she said, her voice raspy from the attempted murder. “We don’t want others to come after us. He- they’ve been with Guriel all along, I know where he is.” She said and ran up the stairs to her room where her things were, somewhat slower as it was hard to breathe. The young woman did not bother to change her dress, but gathered up al her things not forgetting Lysia’s knife.

Lady Il Galoth did not know whether the others had followed her, and at this point in time she did not care, all that was coursing through her mind at the present time was one world; Revenge. Hittai was in her stall, her saddle not far away. However weak Maén was at present, she did not think on it, breathing heavily she attempted to saddle Hittai. But in her weakened state it was a struggle.

“Here” came a voice, It was Aelimur, “Ill do this for you, you shouldn’t be running around like a mad thing.” He spoke as he saddled the horse before turning to his own.

“Haste… haste is needed… He’s so close now, so close.” Maén said through laboured breathing as she mounted her horse. She saw that Calimir was already ready to go. It was strange; she did not remember seeing him at the dinner. But Calimir was not important now; the golden haired woman was going to kill her family’s great enemy. At once she went off at a gallop, the sturdy little horse gladly obeying her mistress’s orders.

Maén looked back only once, the party was behind her, she felt a renewed sense of gall towards her enemy, and rode on.

It was not long that Maén came to a small shanty off a dusty beaten road. She pulled Hittai up and waited for the others.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor couldn’t be bothered to lose any longer time. He rose from his seat swiftly and impulsively, apparently unaware of the fact that his stool was knocked over at the impact. His fist was clenched as he followed Maen’s distraught footsteps, his countenance deathly pale with the worry of both Maen and the fate of Guriel. “I’ll be with Maen.” He called over his shoulder before he headed straight for the stables where Aelimur was saddling Hittai for Maen.


After seeing that she was off, Ferethor did not trouble to take the time to saddle a horse and swung himself up the nearest one with the swiftness of a soldier who had been in such circumstances before. His clear yet desperate voice rang out, with a metallic tint to it that left all in the hearing vicinity no doubt of his career. But probably all were still in the house.


“In the name of Gondor and the High King, Aelimur, I’ll have to pursue and stop Maen from killing the renegade Il Galoth. We cannot let Maen be slain by him, and still less have Maen kill him. Both would be disastrous. I don’t know what my presence is going to do to stop the two Il Galoths that thirst for the blood of their adversary, but my duty as a soldier of Gondor impels me to try my best. Damn the race of Il Galoth!”


Not waiting for an answer, Ferethor compelled his horse to move with a sharp cry and was off in the dry path Maen had taken. His injury was not quite healed, but that was forgotten in the concern for both the young woman and the duty he could not leave unfulfilled.


And Maen. The death of one of his companions and his own injury had wrought a slow change in him that he did not even notice, that of ... compassion, if it could be termed thus for such an unyielding, harsh and callous a soldier. It would not be good for Maen herself to throw her life away for the sake of the vengeance long forgotten, for blood did not wash away blood. It was better to forget the past, and to live and take joy in living. But would she see it? How can he convince her to see it when he wasn't sure that he saw it himself?

[Kransha]

What had been called at first a ‘dinner’ had deteriorated to the point that the word could no longer be used without the elicitation of a skeptic guffaw. Idruil, along with a number of the companions, seemed mostly unaffected when Roryn’s precise arrow found its mark in the skull of murderous Arridan. Of course, Crystal was affected, and Atharen seemed about ready to come to her aid in consolation, but time continued to fly at the speed of the Maeras, whisked by as cyclonic winds would whip through calm air. Maen materialized, having battled and slain a more homicidal Arriten, and bid all of the comradeship evacuate the manor and proceed to the last leg of their journey.

Idruil, like all the others, did not hesitate to rush to his steed outside. Ecthelion seemed to be prancing about and braying in variable anticipation, so Idruil was forced to be more blunt as he leapt into the sadly, groped madly for the reins, and gave his loyal steed more incentive to go speedily than he had ever done before, jabbing the animal sharply in the sunken haunches and leaning back involuntarily as the press of the wind and the ferocious velocity of Ecthelion, raging in two opposite directions, carried the steed forward and the rider back, leaving a trail of dusty plumes behind them in the dirt. The others were soon enough either behind or ahead, their speeds fluctuating wildly as his own was, but, to his discredit, the man of Minas Tirith paid the others no heed, as he and his glorified mound stamped and stomped their way over the oft-trodden paths after Maen Il Galoth.

Idruil, who had prided himself on being able to tail Maen adequately, found the fiery maiden far ahead by much. This did not deter him and he raced onward. He began surpassing most, considering many were preoccupied. Atharen was busy assisting Crystal, not yet fully recovered from the blatant shock of being attacked, Aelimur had taken a lengthy but somehow abrupt moment to saddle Maen’s steed, Hittai, and Roryn, one of the only others who was unoccupied, was not too far behind Idruil’s galloping speed. Idruil could barely see the steed of Lady Il Galoth as its silhouette, plastered against the darkening sky, shriveled into nothing on the forested horizon. Carathir was, in turn, not far behind her, which was to be expected, and Idruil nodded in understanding as he pulled himself miserable forward into the bouncing saddle, trying to keep steady.

But, there was but one thing amiss. As Idruil’s bereft head managed to swivel, he heard a rushing sound that resembled the whistling of an icy wind. As he cocked his cranium to one side, he saw the first unexpected thing. Ferethor! Ferethor and his steed had actually picked up incredible speed and breezed without a care past Idruil and Roryn. The horse’s hooves trampled over the earth, the vessel of the mount and mounted shooting after Maen at an unbelievable rate. This was not like Ferethor, not like him at all. He knew that the same bonds of inner companionship existed within him as they did with all others, but Ferethor’s passing gaze read as if the man was required to reach Maen before any others as he raced, with stunning resolve, after Hittai. This level of genuine concern had not been evident in the man before and Idruil could not calculate the sudden burst of energy. Prodding his steed faster, his own concern for the future beginning to swell within him, he turned the opposite way as Roryn’s horse closed the distance between them.

“Roryn,” he called across the seeming gorge between each steed and man, his voice barely carrying over the incessant drumbeat of horses’ hooves upon earth, “Something is wrong here. We must move faster!”

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal blinked away the darkness and found Atharen's face above her. She smiled softly. He helped her to her feet. The next few minutes passed so quickly that she couldn't remember what she had done. Everything around her seemed like a whirlwind of events. Before she knew what was happening she was outside with Atharen, helping him saddle Sacriheart for their hasty escape. Atharen jumped up and then turned to help Crystal up. She did so with ease and settled behind him. He kicked the horse and off they went after Maen who had somehow found her way ahead of the company once more.

They speed off. Before long she thought she heard someone say that something was wrong, that they had to move faster. She tightened her grip on Atharen as he speed up the horse. She had never moved so fast on a horse in her entire life. Yet she knew that they needed to move as fast as their horses could take them. They were in grave danger.

She was mostly concerned about Maen, who had suffered probably the most at the hands of the wild man that had tried to kill her. She could sympathize with Maen at this point. She understood what it meant to be near death. She had been in that position more then a couple of times. She could only imagine the fear that still remained in Maen's heart and mind and the renewed thought of revenge which would be embedded in her mind. She only hoped that Maen would be alright when the time came to carry out the revenge.

If Maen wasn't, she would be. She would destroy anyone at this point. This company had become her companions, her friends. She now knew the feelings of the man that she had loved since the beginning. She had become friends with Maen, something she never figured would happen in her entire life. She had made friends with Ferethor-when all seemed like they would never get along. Things had happened, things had changed her all because of these people. She wasn't about to lose another friend to the man or woman that decided to try to end their lives. She vowed this as they rode to the shanty that Maen had ducked into.

[Everdawn]

Maén dismounted her horse and stormed into the one roomed shanty.

“Guriel” she called. But was surprised when she was met by an old woman sitting in a rocking chair in front of the fire knitting an ugly grey jumper.

“Guriel? He aint here.” Said the old women in a croaky voice.

“Where is he then?” shouted Maén in frenzy.

“He’s over the hill, has been there for a while.” The old woman snarled. Immediately Maén stormed out and started walking as fast as she could.


There over the hill was a cemetery, nothing else, no house, not even a stable. Maén felt the blood pumping through her veins.

“What did she mean he is here?” Maén said shakily the temperature of her blood rising with anticipation “What did she mean!” she screamed looking wildly around.
Until she spotted the grim marker under a large tree.

There at the back an ill kept grave stone read:

“Here lies Guriel Il Galoth, Now of the East, rests: No legacy shall be found for it is in you. No house of Il Galoth will reap benefits”

“No” Maén shook her head. “It is not so, this is some other I-” she looked pleadingly to the others of the company. It was if some madness had overcome her.

“My life has been stolen from me!” she wept into the ground. It was a pitiful sight to see the strong woman reduced to the mere innocence of a small girl. Maén fell to her knees in utter despair, tears fell freely from her eyes and her body shook with new sobs of sorrow. She was not ashamed for the others to see her. She just- let go.

Her whole life had become revenge, and while she did not shudder at taking life, she now found herself in a hole which she could not get out of. There was bitterness within her heart, bitter at the fact that Guriel had gotten away with what he had done. She was now faced with the inevitable, her life would never change. Deep down Maén had truly believed that if she could undo the evil done to her that some how her life would go back to being normal. The thought of her life was unbearable, and the thought that it would stay this same way for the length of her life was excruciating.

It was as if she were doomed to live her life in shadows, the shadows of the Minas Tirith court and of the fading dynasty of the once mighty Il Galoth military clan. Guriel the Traitor represented everything that she believed to be the cause of her grief, and in a way it was. She had not been driven by gold to find him, but by a desire to set things right.

Lysia had too hoped that Guriel could be killed for revenge of taking her husbands life. Maén remembered the words of her aunt, “It could be nothing…” and so it was.

“How can this be?” she cried.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor slid from his steed with relative ease swiftly, and just as Maen sank crying onto the ground reached where the dilapidated tombstone was located. He did not bother to read the brazenly-engraved letters on the time-eaten granite gravestone because the reality suddenly flashed into his mind as vividly as if he had perused it thoughtfully. He felt a sense of incomprehensible relief for himself that there was no bloody end, of course self-centered feeling. He always looked out for himself and no one else.


But… Maen… It would be hard to lose what you have been pursuing for all your life, for did he not know it well? Especially vengeance. It seeps into your very soul, becomes your motivation and life force, and when it breaks into fragile lucent slivers like grass… Nothing remains but despair, and death. She was strong because vengeance supported her through the hard times, Ferethor realized. Maen was never this bloodthirsty and callous, but was made so by this fervent desire for vengeance and just retribution m- to return to her normal life. He wasn’t surprised to see her crying, and yet did not scorn her for it. If it was his circumstance – what would he have done? Probably cast himself down the next fire-filled yawning chasm he came across, like Maedhros did in the fulfillment of his vain oath and despair.


“Maen, hearken to me.” Ferethor sank down beside her yet didn’t dare to touch her or comfort her in any way, for not all tears were evil. It had the power to soothe and heal which was something that speech could not accomplish. He sought vainly for comforting words, but he was naturally a soldier who wasn’t good at words anyway, and kept relapsing into silence. “Guriel’s… dead. That doesn’t mean that you have failed in settling the score with the renegade, and its now time to forget and free yourself from the chain of the past that shackled you from enjoying the life. Look at the night heaven of Arda. The Menelcamar is sparkling, and the sickle of the Valar – Valarcirca – is luminously bespangling the sky in the sign of justice and hope and…”


Ferethor decided that words were just no use, and stayed beside her who stirred not immersed in her own grief silently, hoping others could excruciate him from this uncomfortable situation. But he felt the need to shatter the silence of the tomb. “Maen, I don’t pity you and I know you do not want to be pitied or comforted. Instead let me say this. I honor you because of all that you’ve gone through and the fact that you’re still living and strong and proud. If you let go of everything at this moment, Guriel would be the eventual winner after all because it was his desire to destroy your house and your kindred. But I trust you to make your way through your own despair.”


“But then, what right do I have to talk of hope and life, when I myself have no trust in either?” Ferethor impulsively rose with wry and bitter smile. “Others of the company would be here soon, who’d be more qualified to talk of such things to you then I.”

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal could see as they rode up Maen on the ground in front of a headstone. Sacriheart came to a stop, but she made no move to get down. The grief, the pure sadness that radiated from the strongest woman that she had ever know shocked her. She had no idea who it was that lay in the grave, but it had to be someone important. She squinted her eyes and saw the letters form into the name that Maen had been searching for to get revenge. He had already died or had been killed. Things clicked in her mind and she realized why Maen was distressed. Her life had been consumed by this quest and now it was over before she had been able to get revenge for her aunt. Her purpose in life had been revenge and she hadn't been allowed it.

Crystal could not relate to the pain because the one person she wanted revenge on she couldn't take out. Her father was just too powerful with too many follwers. But now was not the place or the time to think of his evil.

She just didn't know what to do for Maen, but she knew she had to do something. She got down from the horse and walked over to Maen. She didn't try to touch her. She just stood in silence.

"Life moves on from your want and thirst of vengeance, Maen. It may not feel that way now, but it will later," Crystal whispered. She didn't have anything else to say. She turned around and walked back to the horse where Atharen still sat. She got back up and put her head on his back, not knowing what else to do.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor looked a bit hopeful as Crystal Heart approached, trusting she’d know how to comfort Maen in her dismay and distress since he himself had no idea how to soothe and reassure anyone. Not surprising, as he had never any urge to do so in the first place. But Crystal read the tombstone, murmured few words of encouragement to Maen and then went back to Atharen. Sighing in half-melancholic despair, he sank back by Maen and said nothing. Just stayed by her, because he couldn’t bear to see her and he understood her grief and sorrow. Emptiness she must be feeling.

[Everdawn]

“Do you know what I have to return to? Nothing, nothing but a cold home and the atramentous walls of the Gondorian court. My life is a box, to live in silence, only to be seen and not heard. The thought of it alone is enough to wound you.” Maén looked gravely around her now and raised herself off the ground. “We are different you and I, You may do as you please and roam freely. But I- I had to run away in the middle of the night in order to escape. I had to go to the one person in the world who understands me, and who know by now I may have been disowned. I envy all of you. I envy your freedom.” She was bitter now, “But most of all I envy him” she pointed to the ground where Guriel’s body lay.

“Is it not enough that he torments me in life but also now in death, I still want him dead. I still want him to suffer as I have suffered. I envy that he defied our whole kindred. I hate the way Elessar pushed us aside, such a King as he that he saw it not fit to even inform Lysia that her husband had been killed by his own kin. There is nothing for me now, I might as well die.” She shrugged and wiped away tears.

“I imagine we have found what we came for. Now we will return to Lysia’s where you will get your money.”

[Kransha]

Idruil’s horse skidded to a halt, braying ferociously as earth and lumps of grassy mulch sprayed up in swift torrents beneath the hooves of Ecthelion. As the horse reared forward, maneuvering into a stop, the man wedged firmly into the saddle threw himself off, swinging his legs up nimbly and landing with uncharacteristic, catlike agility, upon the cold, hard earth. His feet flew beneath him as he followed the trail and the sounds of life over the crest of a sloping hill and onto the other side, beneath a wispy shroud of gloom that lay, floating as a heavenly buoy in the sky above.

What he saw on the other side of the hill, followed closely behind by Aelimur and Roryn, was something that stopped him most abruptly. Though he’d always known that his eyes could barely see the road before him, the dulled letters on the upright stone that Maen knelt beside stood out to him, blazing as if they were aflame. Idruil’s pace slowed weakly as he moved towards Maen and Ferethor. Looking keenly upon the two, he quickly bent over to inspect the grave, just to confirm, and then stood again, looking down at Maen. Though his wits were merely as dull as they always were, he tried to manufacture some consolation for the woman before him, whose purpose had been so twisted by the deceased fiend who lay in the ground she knelt upon. Slowly, as she finished and a cold silence surrounded them all, he spoke.

“Lady Il Galoth…Maen” he corrected himself soberly, “…Do not despair…The deed you set out to do is done, even if it was time’s hand that dealt the blow that was rightfully yours…Guriel is dead, and he left a legacy here, as it says there on that stone, a legacy of hate…But you don’t have to take it with you into the future. You can leave it here, with Guriel, and make a new and better one for yourself. Guriel’s death here was not his victory. It was, as he said, his legacy that he left. Let Guriel lie where he is and move on. His death need not dictate that paths of others’ lives.”

He finished on a wholly philosophical note, his voice ringing in solemnity as it faded and died in his throat. He took a step back, his hand inadvertantly flitting to his sword. He had never used it, not at any leg of the journey. His rough-hewn fingers caressed the cool, chipped metal, antiquated in age, and ran along the jagged section of the halved crossguard, broken on the hilt as his broad blade hung in its withered scabbard. When he'd joined this adventure, he'd been considering how many voracious fiends he would at last get to cut down with the ruined weapon, but now he no longer cared. His hand dropped limp from the sword as he moved back, walking past Roryn and Aelimur, the last two to arrive.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal heard what Maen said. She watched the broken woman. It broke her heart to see such a strong woman, so beaten in spirit. She knew she had to talk, had to say something. She wasn't sure if any would make sense or if it would only anger the woman more, but she had to say something. It was who she was.

"Death is not the answer to any such problem, Maen. That is one thing that I can contest to. I understand having to fear for your life. You are here, among friends. We shan't betray you. And I'm sure he is just where he needs to be, in hell rotting away-suffering for all that he has done to you and to your family. In the end he suffered more then you could ever have inflicted upon his mortal soul. He's there for all eternity, a much better and fitting end for someone as heartless as he. Never mind the King, he has never had any morals. He has never had any thought for his people. He is an evil king and one day he will have to live in the hell that he has created for others. Know those things and bask in the fact that you are pure, Maen. Yes, you wanted revenge-tis human to want revenge. Never regret that. But know that you went out on the quest for a noble cause-to avenge someone you loved, your kin. Never ever regret that. You're life's quest has not been in vain. You do not have to return to the life that you knew before this quest, you can start a new life. As I have chosen-I will not be going back to the travellers. My life with them is over. That is my decision. You must now choose what new direction you want your life to go in, or you can decided to go back to the old life that you've always known. The choice is yours, but do not fret. He got the fuzzy end of everything and always will for all eternity."

She leaned closer to Atharen's ear and whispered, "I have chosen a life where I can get to know you more and maybe one day we will marry or one day we will not. I am not quite concerned on where this path will take me. I have chosen a life with you."

[Amanaduial the archer]

Something inside Atharen melted and for a second he seemed to be in a place far away from this hill... riding towards a house on the outskirts of the plains of Rohan. As he slowed to a trot, he shaded his eyes against the bright sun and watched as a woman came out of the house, fair and beautiful, the golds of her hair catching in the sun so she seemed to glow, celestial and idyllic. She smiled widely with a mystery that only Atharen could understand so well...

But it was only for a second. The ranger leant his head back against Crystal's, so he was leaning against her. She would age, he would not, yet the ranger knew that they would nonetheless grow together. "You make a fine choice, Lady Crystal," he replied quietly, happily. "And there is no choice I would rather make than to take that path with you, no matter where it will lead."

Reaching back, he felt for Crystal's hand in her lap and, as she took his, he squeezed it gently. "Thank you..." she said quietly.

Sighing contentedly, Atharen then let go and returned to the hillside, straightening up again and facing Maen from horseback where she stood, gazing out across the hills in the distance, her arms wrapped around her against the chill in the breeze and the cold of her 'failure'. "Lady Il Galoth," he said, a clear address. She didn't turn, but he knew she was listening. "Lady, I do not think I can say anything more than has already been said by these companions with whom you have travelled for the past weeks. Each from different circumstance, each from different origins...and look around and listen to us, Maen, and hark at this, will you? You cannot have failed: for all out differences, you united us in one cause."

"A failed cause, Atharen," she replied angrily, turning sharply, her face and voice bitter beyond her years.

"Maybe it was simply the wrong one, my Lady," he replied, quietly, calmly, then continued. "You say you have no reason to go on, Maen, but look at us: we are your way of going on. Oh, of course, the faces and the names may change: but your leadership skills will only mature as they do so. You formed us, for whatever reason, have united us, given us a joint purpose, and you have led us, Lady Il Galoth. And in a military family, in these still-changing times, that is your gift. That is your future."

Maen contemplated him silently for a moment, holding his deep, dark gaze for several long seconds. Then she seemed to smile, very, very faintly, so little that someone who didn't take quite so much care towards expression might miss it - but it was not lost on Atharen. Without another word, Maen moved towards Hittai - and even the fiery little horse seemed gloomy in the atmosphere - and mounted her smoothly. For a second, in his mind's eye, Atharen saw a glimpse of what she could be in the future: hair braided back, a sword in her hand, brandishing it towards an enemy, any enemy, a worthwhile cause that she would lead men against because she believed in it.

"Come - we shall return to Lysia's," she announced quietly, and although her voice was low and suppressed, still disheartened from such a crushing, the quiet, natural confidence in it was now obvious to all in the company. Atharen rode up to her side and, carefully, reached out and let his gloved hand rest on her shoulder, just for a second.

As they rode on, the rest mounting up again and following swiftly, Atharen turned his head fully this time and smiled at Crystal. "We all take our own paths," he announced clearly to the whole company, then dropped his voice so as only to speak to Crystal. "But better that we do not ride it alone."

[Eorl of Rohan]

“This was a fruitless cause indeed, but not something that yielded none at all. Let our camaraderie remain a peaceful remembrance, not that of distaste. We were united in a common purpose – although all for different causes, it is my belief. And that is the thing of import.” Ferethor put in mildly in a tone completely unlike his usual harsh and commanding ring, his gaze cast down.


And then Ferethor said quite innocuously after a pause, for he was feeling quite uncomfortable of the circumstances, “Back to your aunt, Maen? I don’t think that’s advisable, since I have to file out a report to Lord Elessar verbally about the death of traitor Il Galoth and...” His words trailed into silence, and after a pause he said somewhat lamely, “My colleague Lieutenant Aelimur and I would have to return to our duties in Minas Tirith. Therefore will you allow us to take our leave?” A dead pause, while Aelimur started and looked incredulously at Ferethor, mouthing soundlessly ‘Do you really have to declare out identity when everything’s over? Why not just keep it quiet? Maen might throw a fit, y’know.’ Ferethor ignored his imperative whisper.


“Not very surprising, as half of you know me and others must have all vaguely guessed.” Ferethor added with a wry grin, accompanied by a slight inclination of head as in the manner of a courteous greeting, “Captain Ferethor of Minas Tirith at your service, bearing orders from High King Elessar to seek Il Galoth the traitor and arrest him in the name of Gondor. Impossible to fulfill now, of course – my task is as not accomplished either.”

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn dismounted and walked over to the tombstone. Maen was kneeling, Crystal was conforitng her, and Athern was conforting Crystal...he let out a howl of rage and swung his sword hard into the stone. The old and cracked rock split and shattered under the force, and the top half of the stone flew backwards slowly, shattered. Maen looked up and gasped, Roryn was clearly seeting with rage. "We trekked all this way, lost friends and kinsmen, and you're dead! You useless beast!" Roryn took his sword, still covered in dust from the smashed tombstone and drove it into the earth up to the hilt. He felt it push through the ribcage of a cadaver, and stepped away from the shallow grave. He mounted up and turned to Maen.

"I will be just over the ridge, I'll wait for you, keeping lookout should any bandits come." Maen nodded and looked back at the grave, the now smashed tombstone and the sword in the earth. A small tear escaped the corner of her eye and splashed onto the ground. she stood up and turned away from the grave...

[Crystal Heart]

As Atharen turned the horse away, she turned around. The man they had been searching for was dead. Maen had not gotten her revenge. Her friends new friends were now going to be going in separate directions. Ferethor had admitted to working for the King all of this time. As was Aemulir. She had been shocked so much during this quest that she wasn't sure about any of it.

She had learned to trust once more. She had learned to let go the past and focus on the future. She had learned that life moves on. These people had taught her that.

She had fallen in love, had found out that he in turn had fallen in love with her, and now they would head in their own direction. They would follow a path together.

She had no idea where the others would go or what they would return to. These people were her friends and always would be until the time came when she had to leave middle earth and embark on a new journey-life beyond life.

She was young. She had her dreams and now she had someone to share at least the path with for a while. She knew that she would never forget these people even if she never saw any of them again.

They had been brought together by Maen's amazing leadership. They had been brought together by the prospect of reward. They had been brought together by duty. They had been brought together by ordinary means. But the woman that lead them was anything but ordinary. She had been strong through the entire journey.

They had lost one of their own. Had come through hell and back to get to this spot and now they were riding back-onward to their new lives. The lives that everyone knew would start after the quests.

"We were brought together for different reasons, but we are now bound together with the thoughts and feelings of love and friendship. We share an incredible journey that none of us could ever forget. We have lost one of our own, but we have not failed. We did what we set out to do-find the traitor. We may not have been able to take him into custody or to have our revenge, but we found him and on the way we found out who we were and who the people in the company were. We became a family, companions. This is our legacy that we all share," Crystal said to the company as they rode on, into the distance.

[Everdawn]

“You’ve been soldiers all along.” Maén said in a quite voice, knowing not what else to say. Ferethor nodded. “I have nothing to say to you, I loathe Elessar, and I will always. Nothing you can say can change that. You both have betrayed my confidence, and while I may call you friends, I will advise you that it is not wise in future. I will not come with you, Im going home.”

Carathir too was distressed, all along his only objective had been to find this Il Galoth traitor and get back his tribal rights, which were to become king of his people. He knew now that it would not happen. “Next time, there will always be another opportunity” he said quietly to himself as he rode a way behind the company.

Time passed quickly for the company on the ride home, Maén told the company that they were free to come to Lysia’s anytime they pleased to pick up their reward, as many still wanted to take care of other things first. So it was that Carathir and Maén rode into the estate of the renegade Il Galoth lady.

Lysia seemed to look more tired than ever as she ran out to meet them. Carathir immediately took Hittai and his horse to the stables to allow the aunt and niece to talk. Lysia threw her arms around her niece. “Did you find him?”

Maén looked gravely at the ground. “He had been dead all along. I had to kill Lord Arriten in the process, he was in league with Guriel” Her voice grew hoarse. Lysia nodded. And in turn began to speak.

“Your father came here, the day after you left. They don’t understand Maén, he was very angry. I think you should live here for a while rather than go back to that cold home.”

Maén looked her aunt in the eye. “Live here?”

Lysia nodded. “Estranged from your parents for a while. You have always been more like me than your own mother; she always despised me for it. You shall be educated if you wish, you shall do what you wish. And you will be mine; you will still have your title.” For the first time in her life, Maén was almost content, she was thwarted though to think that in the end it took a trip halfway across Middle Earth to gain her freedom. She had been driven by revenge, other by gold, other by orders. They had hoped to find more than what they did, but at the end of days, when the sun disappears into the west The Legacy of Traitors amounts to nothing.

[piosenniel]

~*~ To Elvenhome ~*~