The Hills of Evendim RPG

[Elora]

Uien

It was as though an icy gale ripped through her, colder even than those that had pulled at her upon Caradhras. Swallowing pain, confusion and pride, Uien rose in that moment away and left Falowik to his solitude. For that was what he wanted, was it not? She did not know the answer to that question as she walked to where her horse nipped at the turf.

As she ran her hand over Thallion's neck, Uien could feel the seeping melancholoy of Fornost sink into her. She knew the tales of this once jewel of the Numenorian's northern kingdom. Arnor, it had been called upon a time, and Fornost like Annuminas had been filled with the light and music of the people who carved their cities from stone in the manner of Elendil's folk. For a time, all too brief as recounted by those in Lothlorien, the people of Arnor and the Elves had free traffic.

When war had fallen in the Second Age to darken the northern lands, Elves had stood beside the Men of Arnor to fend it off and hold it at bay. Yet time and darkness had crept past and Fornost had fallen into abandonment with the spreading malignant influence of Sauron's host. It was a lament, the all too brief life of Fornost and her people. Yes, Uien knew the tale of Fornost well.

Never had she thought to upon its doorstep now. Her mind and heart was restless and troubled. With a sigh, she retrieved the curry brush she had taken with her from her saddle pack brushed out Thallion's coat. The gelding whickered in delight, shivering and stamping at the care. The long, fluid strokes in a way also soothed Uien's mind as her brush passed time and again over his coat. She took her time about it, needing silence herself, and the simplicity of brushing down her horse.

Behind her, by the fire, people spoke. The evening meal was being taken, a watch was being ordered. Uien let it all pass without a word as she sorted through her thoughts. When she had finished with Thallion, she replaced the brush in her saddle pack and straightened. The sun was all but gone now, a ruby smudge upon the western horizon. Her mind drifted back to the withdrawn coldness in Falowik's eyes when last she had looked upon him and a great restlessness once again took her.

Without a glance back to the fire nor even a word, Uien slipped away into the growing twilight. I will not be long, she told herself. She could almost hear her brother's frustrated comment on her wandering feet even as she told herself that. I will not wander far. She let her feet carry her through the desolate lands into twilight's calm. After a time, she came to where she could make out a tumble of stones, twinned in battered ivy.

She stopped, on the outskirts of the ruin of Fornost. Then, and only then, did she let the silence and stillness slip from her. What was revealed was the full turmoil of her heart. To the weathered stones she spoke into the emptiness. Perhaps they held answers, shaped by mortal hands as they were. Perhaps they held some memory of the people who shaped them, some lore of their hearts.

"Is that he does not love me? I know it is not that he cannot love. Was that not what I saw in his face and heard in his voice? Was that not what I tasted upon his lips?

It must be, for I bring nothing to him of value."

The stones did not answer. Neither did the stars that flickered from the sky overhead.

"Is it my weakness, when I should be strength? All I possess is memory, and what use is that. Glad or grim, all I am is memory. All he has is the future, I am the past pulling him back. I do not know how to do this, only that I wish to above all else.

And that is not enough, clearly, to love him. He seeks more and should have it."

Her voice fell flat with despair. Uien's hands washed over her face, taking away the tears that sat upon her face, mocking her foolishness and ignorance. She fell silent, mind churning. The twilight seemed diminished as she absorbed it, empty and hollow. Uien knew why. It was becase it had been filled by the joy of a heart dearer to her than all else and now that joy pulled away and closed in.

Uien stood with her arms tightly wrapped around herself, cold as the stones nearby.

"In this mission will he find his future and be set free to follow it. I, who loves him dearer, will see to that. Even if it he depart. That is the path I am set upon, and I knew it long before now. I will not falter now, for he is my beloved though I am not his."

Beneath the mantle of her hair which spilt down her back and lifted on the evening breeze, Uien's shoulders quivered and her eyes shone with unshed tears. She should go back, but not yet. Not just yet.

Falco

The Shirrif had found himself warming to the business he was about. Individuals in the group seemed to be thinking for themselves, a promising sign. There were still some that adhered to Falowik and his word, predictably Uien amongst them. The business with the crow had tested his patience also.

The Elves had murmured amongst themselves about the import of the crow's strange behaviour. Falco, on the otherhand, remained determinedly practical.

"If it's a sign," he snorted in mild amusement that was a little forced, "then it's that the crow thought his talons needed sharpening for his next meal." That people wondered much as he did was a comfort to the Shirrif. Afterall, the prospect of being deep in the wilds with a group of gullible innocents was not a comforting one.

As the day had passed, Falco had been keenly observing Falowik. As Uien was often nearby, his observation extended to her also. What he noticed was truly curious. He had not seen words exchanged between the two, but clearly they were drawing apart. Was it some ploy to disarm the doubters or something else. He had unsaddled his pony with the rest of them at the end of the day. Uien had turned suddenly away from Falowik, pulling her horse with her.

The Elf had then busied herself with a desperate energy, unsaddling and then brushing down her horse. Then, with what could only be described as a sad sigh, she had simply walked off. If Falowik noticed anything of this, he gave no indication. To Falco though, despite her Elven nature, she seemed the picture of feminine upset. He could tell, from the way she carried herself as she walked away.

Either she was hurt and upset over something he had missed, or it was a fine act and the pair were up to something. Falco tethered his pony and stationed himself near the camp fire. The wolf pup gambolled blithely nearby and he idly played with it as he pondered things.

"Where is Uien," he heard someone ask as they neared the fire. Falowik had glanced up and around hastily at the question. It had been asked by Lira, Falco realised.

"She headed off over there," he furnished, pointing in the direction he had seen her walk off in. "She had a fair speed about her too, if I dare say so. Not running, nor strolling either." Falco threw that in for good measure, watching Falowik curiously. Falowik was watching the fire guardedly, it seemed to Falco. What was going on here? Those two have been as thick as thieves since they met.

"It's not wise to wander alone. Did she say where she was going," Thoromir said, brow furrowed.

"Not to me," Falco said. The rest of the group shook their heads. The wolf pup nipped lightly at his fingers in protest at the Shirrif's cease to their play. He ruffled the pup's fur between his ears by way of apology.

"Maybe she didn't think she needed to, this being an Elvish Riding Party after all. There's been no sign of trouble. Perhaps she doesn't appreciate the danger of wandering in a land reputedly filled with violent brigands, despite Falowik's earlier illustration," Falco said.

"I'm sure she'll find her way back safe and sound," the Shirrif said. "She seems capable enough, being a Big Tr... Folk and all."

Falco maintained a relaxed demeanour, smiling pleasantly, for behind it he watched the other Elves and Falowik closely. If there was something afoot, and the camp was unsettled enough to suggest Big Trouble was coming, then likely Uien would be in cohoots with her kindred and Falowik. He'd not be fooled by the pretense of cool distance between the two. The Shirrif prided himself on his powers of observation and for good reason, it had to be said. He'd seen the expressions on their faces when they thought noone was paying attenion. That sort of sentiment did not cool so quickly.

The pup tumbled over his hand, stalking it and pouncing in it's game. Falco watched through it all, as the Elves glanced at each other and Falowik stared at the fire.

"What's for dinner," he asked, inwardly pleased with his cleverness in appearing to not be taking any note of anything. Thoromir was still frowning and Lumiel looked at the Shirrif in surprise at the sudden change of topic.

"I think we'd all feel better with a full stomach," he added. Gorby and Anson nodded at his traditional and well founded hobbit wisdom.

[ November 22, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Lumiel]

As Gorby changed the topic with his question, Lumiel gave a bright smile and shrugged her shoulders inwards to accentuate her reaction. "It is the most wonderful place I have heard of yet in my travels, few as they have been. I would greatly like to travel there someday, though I know the King's law prevents it. Though the Green Dragon was a lovely place, as close as I've come to the Shire. I've never been to a place so warm and friendly, full of life!" she said, laughing lightly. Gorby seemed surprised by this reaction, not expecting the Shire to receive the nomination of "the most wonderful place" from an elf of all people, though he himself agreed whole-heartedly.

"Really?" he asked. He gave her a look of near-astonishment and smiled.

"Oh yes. My childhood was very lonely...and when I finally did get to see the world, most of it was aloof to me and seemed to be out of my grasp. When I came upon the Shire, or rather its inhabitants at the Green Dragon, I felt welcomed, like I was coming home for the first time." she replied, sighing softly at the end of it as her face settled into an expression of softness and fond memories. "I would very much like to go to the Shire for a time after all this is done." She waved her hand in the air to signify their journey. "Do you think that you could show me how to fit in a bit better? Well, I mean make me...I guess the word is more "hobbit-ish". I want to truly fit in there and have a home, even if it can only be on the borders of your beautiful Shire." She paused, looking down at the ground and blushing slightly. She realized after she had spoken that she had imposed upon Gorby and it was not proper of her to do. "I mean, if you and Anson wouldn't mind of course."

Gorby wasn't quite sure what to say. Of course elves had come through the Shire, and even a few had lived at the Green Dragon and nearby there for a time, but he had never heard of an elf asking a hobbit to maker her more "hobbitish"! He smiled and almost laughed at how strange it seemed but kept it back when he saw Lumiel's downcast face. "I'd be glad to Lumiel! And I'm certain Anson wouldn't mind giving a hand!"

"Oh thank you!" she exclaimed as her face perked up again. She wrapped her arms around Gorby for a moment in a friendly hug and released him just as quickly, laughing softly. Gorby was taken back by her reaction, he had not anticipated it at all. He could only stare at her in surprise and noticed how almost child-like she seemed and wondered at it for it seemed very unlike the other elves here.

At that moment, Falco made his suggestion about supper, and all agreed that a bite to eat would be a nice thing indeed. As the camp woke up with the movement, Lumiel smiled. She would finally have a home!

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:02 PM December 09, 2003: Message edited by: Lumiel ]

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Finëwen seemed as though the days had gone by slowly. She kept mainly in the back of the group when they traveled, and she would only walk, leaving her horse to carry most of her provisions, although they were small. She didnt need much and could go without food for awhile. It didnt really matter to her.

While everyone was off in their groups, she mostly sat by herself. The cub had brought many together, yet many alone. She tried to follow what was going on, but found it hard. Sleep came hard to her; most nights she would stay up, even if it wasnt her watch.

Falco had just suggested dinner, and even when someone offered her something, she simply refused, not hungry. She patted her horse and then unloaded some of the things off of his back so he could rest without the weight. He whinnied gratefully and began to graze at what grass there was.

Finëwen sat near the fire, watching the flames dance about. The wood cackled, as if laughing at them all. The cub played about a bit. Finëwen watched it and a glint of happiness came from her eye. The mood seemed to be weary yet cheerful.

Lumiel had been talking about her childhood, and that made Finëwen think of her own. She had enjoyed her time with the elves, and because of it, she had elven qualities. Yet, she didnt fit in with many of the elves, or so it seemed, because she was human. Finëwen shrugged that off and listened to the conversation.

[Elora]

Uien

As the moon steadily rose, the night sky was alive with a bright glittering array of silver motes. Uien's silence though was not introspection of the stars that heralded the ending of Twilight. Something else pulled at her awareness, inexorable... whispering.

The landscape was awash with a fragile light which she slowly walked through, towards the ruined stones that had earlier bore quiet witness to her distress. Uien reached the nearest, wound about with ivy that had the print of a long summer upon it's dark leaves. They were dry and she brushed them aside with light fingers, brow furrowed. The murmur of night creatures rustled further along, deeper into the tumbled stones of the ruined city of Men.

It was not that which drew her forward, deeper into the night. Uien's long pale hair shone a delicate silver as she bent forward and pressed her cheek to the stone. It still held warmth from the day that softly radiated through her skin. Beneath that warmth, a thin patina of a day's passing memory, something older abided. It was that which intrigued her.

Her brow furrowed as she strove to listen to the memory of the stone. It was a sighing whisper, beckoning, slipping away and then tickling back as it returned. Uien straightened, bemused. Curiosity inclined her to go to the next stone. It was taller than she. Perhaps a door lintel, Uien wandered as she neared. Who had passed through? Who had lived there?

She pressed her ear to it, listening intently. The song it sang, sorrowful memory, lament at the burden of the lonely years, was similar to the one she had heard just before. It was the same at the third stone Uien harkened to, and the fourth. As Uien wandered about in a place of ghosts through the tangle of stone and night's shadow, she was staggered at what was emerging.

The ruins of Fornost were alive, with melancholy, memories so old as to be dust now, fine and fragile in the winds of time, yet kept alive, locked in the stones that had been shaped, raised and then abandoned. The melancholy flooded into her, and her feet strayed here and there as she wandered deeper into Fornost and the night.

[Imladris]

Corn fluttered wearily to Lira’s hand and rested his head in the hollow between her thumb and forefinger. Lira smiled, recognizing it as a sign to be petted. With the finger of her left hand, she softly ruffled his jet neck feathers, admiring the flashes of deep blue that glimmered and then disappeared in the wavering, flaring light of the restless fire. Lifting his head, Corn’s black eyes stared deeply into the blue pools of Lira’s. Remembering Corn’s strange action at the rock where Falowik had seen Eodwine captive and how he had flown to the north and then returned, Lira murmured softly in elvish, “What did you see my friend, where did you go?”

The bird stared silently at her, his eyes grew blacker and his feathers drooped. Sorrow flowed from him -- deep sorrow. Lira’s spirit sank when her premonitions of dread and danger had been confirmed by Corn. Whether the evil rested in Fornost or not, she did not know. “Cannot you not tell me?” she whispered, touching the bird’s head with her lips.

Corn suddenly sprang to life and began to frantically pace up and down Lira’s arm, crowing violently, breaking the peaceful silence of the night. His sharp claws left small lines of crimson upon her flesh, and his wings flapped vigorously in her ears. Pushing up from Lira’s arms, he flew to the north, then returned to her arm and stood as still as a statue, his black eyes glittering sharply in the light, staring at Lira, then facing towards the north. “Fornost,” he croaked.

Lira remained silent, thinking back to the day that they had found the rock. There had been no sign, no indication whatever of their enemy. Yet Corn had believed Falowik and Lira trusted the man himself as well. Kissing his head, Lira sang softly in elvish to him, thanking him.

[littlemanpoet]

Uien was gone, off to explore, probably. Falowik watched the others, and noticed that one other of them sat apart from the rest: Finëwen; which meant that she was probably not in on Falco's little conspiracy. She was human, and a ranger, Falowik recollected. And quiet, which he appreciated. He got up and walked a little ways from the camp where Corn was squawking loudly on Lira's arm; then he came back by way of Finëwen. He stood facing her where she sat.

"I have not spoken much with you, Finëwen." She watched him, saying nothing, giving nothing away by her guarded expression. He sat on the ground across from her. "You wandered in the wild, I believe you said. What sent you into the wild?"

[Esgallhugwen]

Falco's comment aroused Esgallhugwen, she stood up and wlked up to him gently picking up the pup 'wouldn't want him to pick up any bad habits' she smiled wryly.

Esgallhugwen stroked the pup by the fire light. It had been revealed in the morning after his finding that his coat was as white as pure gleaming snow with a silver grey muzzle. His yellow eyes which were once dull and lifeless had now become bright, blazing like two newborn suns.

He licked her fingers as she played with him, healing fast that is well, but you must take your time little one, all will heal in time. Despite the pup, people seemed to be shorn apart again, Uien had become upset taking leave of the goup for a time, Falco would not cease with his smart remarks, and Finëwen seemed to be sad yet not caring.

The food was done and yet she took none, Esgallhugwen gave the majority of hers to the wolf. When he had finished, she was about to move slowly towards the only mortal woman among them and casually place the pup into her lap, when Falowik walked past and tried to engage a conversation with Finëwen.

Seems he already beat me to it. On to other matters then, what should I call you? she questioned, the pup cocked it's head to one side and barked playfully trying to jump up and down but being still inhibited by it's broken legs it merely rolled along the dry turf and blanket. Esgallhugwen had to continuously busy herself with dusting him off but it proved to be futile he'd just go into the dirt again. Than he took hold of her tunic and refused to let go.

She laughed, a full hearted laugh, never in many years had she done so, her clear voice trickled out of her like the breaking through of a stream in the dead of winter. Her spirit had been lifted for a moment because of this little wolf.

Esgallhugwen stood up with the pup in her arms and made her way over to Lira, Corn had again calmed down after his frenzy. 'Mellon' she waved to get her attention 'we have talked little on this journey for we have both been deep in thought taking council with ourselves but let us take a break and discuss these things with one another'

She looked up at the fading night sky 'Corn senses something and at times even this little wolf cub becomes restless in my arms and I know it is not because he want's to play. It is something all together different' Esgallhugwen looked back down at the white bundle in her arms. 'I feel this animals wounds were no accident and it was not just chance he was left there by our camp. It is grievous to think that someone or thing did this to an innocent animal'

Lira nodded her head deep in thought, 'Eswen' Corn croaked fluttering onto Lira's knee. Esgallhugwen let her time to think, playing again with the pup on an endless errand to try to tire him out.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Finëwen did not know an answer to Falowik's question. He caused her to ponder on why she had. Recollecting her thoughts, she said, 'I guess I just wanted to get away. I loved it in Rivendell, and don't get me wrong, I really did enjoy living there, its just I felt a need to leave. I loved my elven caretakers, but... I just needed to leave.

'So I started roaming just around the borders of Rivendell, and it just slowly extended farther, to here, the place of my birth. I drove myself into the wild, with the yearning for adventure to explore places I haven't been before. Living with the elves you learn many things, but you learn so much more experiencing it yourself,' Finëwen finished. She hadn't opened up to someone in a long time, and she was surprised at herself a bit. She truly did love them. Yet, she felt not at home; her home was there, but her life her was suffocated all those years ago.

The man still sat there, Finëwen decided to ask, 'How did your adventures start? You seem so much like a leader, like you could lead the search party, yet you don't. Why is that so? You just seemed so hesitant about it.' Finëwen realized that the question seemed a bit rude, and she lowered her head a bit and waited to see what the man would reply. She figured his story would be much more interesting than her own, considering how many years he had lived in this world. Finëwen respected that, compared to her own short life.

[littlemanpoet]

Finëwen repeated the words, 'needed to leave', like a spell spoken. Falowik noticed that she called it Rivendell whereas Uien called it Imladris, choosing to name it as Humans did rather than as Elves. Why would she feel the need to leave the Elves? To live as Humans live, he supposed. Then she questioned him, driving straight to the heart of the matter on her mind. She lowered her head as if embarrassed by the directness of her question, but her eyes did not leave his face. Falowik allowed himself the shred of a smile. He picked up a dry stick and began peeling the bark away.

"Well asked." He shifted his position. "I will answer your questions, last to first. I do not lead the party because I am less than you think. I have not the skill to direct this one here, that one there and have them be willing. I have been a wanderer for twelve years. I was born in Bree, but fled when falsely accused of thievery. I have no skills save how to keep my own flesh and fëa entwined. And now I have a question for you."

Falowik paused, watching her face; her eyes widened a little, as if she were renewing her guard in case she were attacked. He looked at his naked stick, which still had a bit of moist life in it, and began picking at threads of marrow. He regarded Finëwen again.

"I will not pry, but ask instead what it is about me you name 'leader'?

[Elora]

Uien

At the sound of a boot scraping on stone, a tall man whirled. The harsh sound of steel being drawn accompanied his action. When he saw that it was his scout, he slammed his sword home and impatiently waved him forward.

"What do you have," he asked of the other man in voice that rasped in the night. Around him, the other men had stilled, their snatches of conversation falling silent at the return of the scout.

"They are half a mile south west of Deadman's Dike. A group of nine, mostly Elven women and Hobbits. Three were of the race of Men. Only a small number were armed. They have made camp for the night and are easily seen for their fire."

The scouts report came swift, and his news was good. Flashes of white teeth in the moonlight night gleamed amongst the dozen men that listened eagerly. The man to whom the scout reported fingered the hilt of his sword in contemplation.

"Half mile south-west," he repeated softly.

"We could take them tonight," another said. The grim chuckling of the men about him confirmed that he was not the only one with an appetite for some sport. The scout crouched and began to sketch out the location of the party of mostly defenceless Elves, Hobbits and Men. As he did so, the others fell to speculating on how much of a fight would be had.

"Elves are fierce, filthy fighters I've heard it told."
"The Hobbits give good chase too. There were two on Pelennor Fields, they said."
"Wonder if they're tarks, those others."

Their leader scrutinised the map drawn in the earth between stones deep in Fornost's ruins. An easy mark, probably some sort of adventuring tour. They could be easily dealt with, and any risk that they saw too much or brought more serious problems back would be removed. Besides, the men are bored. There's been nothing since that fool from Rohan.

"We'll move in two groups," he announced and once again his men fell silent. They strained to take in the orders for this nighttime diversion.

With the precision of a man long accustomed to ordering men in the field, he set out who would go on foot and who would be mounted, their route and the tactics for the attack.

"Prisoners," one man asked when it was done. Their commader paused a fraction of a moment and then flashed a broad smile that gleamed.

"None," he replied succinctly. Those around leapt to the tasks before them. Before an hour had elapsed since the scouts return, they were off. The half moon created a wealth of shifting shadows which they exploited with cunning as they made their way from the heart of Fornost's ruins towards the party. To them lay the mastery of this land, for they had been preying upon it's bounty for some time now. They knew every rise, every dip, every curve of the land and they hugged them with the stealth of men accustomed to attacks in the wild.

For a while, they wove through the tangle of broken walls and stones that had become Deadman's Dike. Unerring, they found their way through the dead ends and twisting turns to emerge into position. Then, with the silence of a fell wolf pack on the hunt, men splayed out around the beacon that was the fire of the camp the scout had been tracking at distance.

Swords had been drawn well before they fell into position, blades dark with blood spilt in the past, some notched with heavy blows of those few who could fight back. They sank into waiting, watching their quarry move about the camp. Horses were tethered to one side. They'd be welcome prizes. Hobbits lounged by the fire. Noone watched yet, for the camp had not put in for the night. Some sat in small groups, twos and threes, talking quietly in the night.

Easy sport, a welcome diversion to soothe bored men that were dangerous at their most disciplined. When the distinctive cry of a carrion bird that frequented the wilds was heard, the men on foot sprang into action. Screaming foul curses in a dark tongue that arose amongst men long ago, they fell upon the camp. The harsh loud cawing of a crow rose as a bird shot skywards in a black flutter of wings.

They ran into the reach of the fire light as the group drew in on each other, milling about in panicked chaos. The sudden appearance as if from the very night itself, of men dressed coarsely, naked and lethal swords and daggers clutched, fell words of death falling from their snarling lips, was as though a nightmare was brought to life.

Inexorably they advanced from all sides, intent on their sport and death in their cold eyes. At the sound of wild and dischordant shouts, Uien straightened in alarm. She turned in the direction of the noise, eyes wide in her face. Attack, she thought as her heart began to pound.

"Falowik," she moaned in anguish. Uien whirled, light feet running back through the stones she had wandered through. The thought of Falowik under attack leant her a speed that rivalled the wind, her mind intent on one thing alone. She would not be separated from her beloved as she had been from her family.

Her boots came to a sudden halt when a shadow stepped out from behind the tall lintel stone she had listened to first.

"Well now, what have we here? Do my eyes deceive me," it asked in a voice made ugly by promised violence. The shadow stepped forward, free of the stone and Uien saw that it was a man, a sword in his hand.

"My very own Elf, all to myself, " he said. Horror dawned in Uien's mind. She made no reply. She knew the notes of threat in his voice. She had heard them before. Without a cry, Uien turned and sprinted back into the rocks. The heavy fall of his boots sounded behind her.

"No," Uien whispered, falling into her first language. "Not this again." She twisted and turned, seeking always to elude. His pursuit was dogged though, and he took to crooning to her as he hunted her through Fornost.

"That's it, my pretty, run. I'll find you." Uien whipped in a sudden turn to her right, catching her arm, sleeve and hair upon the rough surface of the stone she darted around. In a flash of terror, it was as thought an orc's cold claws scraped past. She could hear his breathing.

"No, not again. Ai, Laurëatan!"

Deeper and deeper into Fornost Uien ran, desperately trying to out run her armed pursuer and the promise of new torment at his hands. Deeper and deeper into memories so dark that they reached to trip her, snare her, she also ran. Headlong into a hell that she had left behind beneath Caradhras. The stones became caverns, the Man became a large, brutish orc, and death seemed inevitable. Around her, though Uien did not heed them now, the stones sighed as new evil unfolded before them and evoked the grief of evils past.

[littlemanpoet]

They were being attacked! Corn flew wildly into the sky, giving warning. Falowik stood, as did Finëwen. She drew a sword that caught the gleam of the fire, and held it at the ready. Falowik fumbled with his belt and pulled out his dagger. He knew himself for a fool to have nothing better than a dagger, but it was too late now. He must survive, somehow. As Finëwen moved forward to join the fray, Falowik crouched and looked around. Under the moonlight and by the fire, he could see that they were being surrounded. The moment they attacked, arrows flew from some riders behind them. One arrow flew right by Falowik. He fell to the ground as if he had been hit, scrabbled under a fallen log, and stayed flat there. And waited. The soldiers on foot passed within a swipe of the sword, but they did nothing to him. He could make out a few mounted soldiers nearby; they were coming closer. Two near him were hit by arrows, apparently from one of the Elven fighters; a good sign, that. In another minute, he was outside the melee. He crawled away, making toward the relative protection of the ruins of Fornost.

Falowik made his way to a wall of ruined stone undetected. From his vantage point he could see that not nearly as many soldiers were standing as had been at the start. Maybe I could have stayed with them and hung on. He looked at the dagger in his hand, disgusted at himself. Who had he thought himself to be, getting all these people involved in what seemed certain death, especially Uien?

Uien! She had not been with them. She was somewhere in Fornost, lost, or maybe they had already found and killed her! Or worse. His felt his stomach wrench as if he had been kicked there. He could not bear to think of her suffering, and because of him! He heard yells from the direction of the camp, and a scream. He feared what that meant. Falowik crouched low and slunk further into the ruins, listening carefully for any sound of footsteps or the scrape of steel against leather or stone or cloth. He kept himself hidden in the shadows, waiting for the battle to be done, and for the enemy to have picked over the corpses of the fallen, and to have left; and it would again turn to him to see who had died, and to report the failure of their task less than a week out. He buried his face in his hands and waited in his dark corner.

"Ai, Laurëatan!" Falowik's head rose. Uien! She was alive! And in danger, and too far away, he feared, for his aid. No, he could hear her quick breathing, and the heavy steps of boots, giving chase; they were nearing him. Falowik raised his dagger. You may yet serve, he said to it, and held it before him, waiting, listening. He hoped against hope that she would lead her hunter nearby; it did not occur to him to venture out and seek the villain, and so rescue her. He waited.

No. They were moving away again. Please survive, Uien, he whispered.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:39 PM December 07, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Elora]

Uien

At the sound of weapons being unsheathed to gleam in flickering fire light, many of the men smiled unpleasantly.

"This will be good," one said in a voice made ugly by bloodlust. Seven men circled the camp, feinting with their swords every time one of their quarry looked to make a break. One did so, a man who carried a dagger. One of the men marked him and turned to circle a little closer, the remaining six drawing in to resume their threatening.

If the group divided, they could be picked off all the better by the swordsmen on foot. If they remained densely packed then they'd be easy marks for the bowmen, though there's little sport in that. The tension built to fever pitch at the camp site as the moments drew on.

Elves and Men and Hobbits all drew together, turning this way and that, what weapons they had at the ready. But where would the attack come from, and how many waited beyond the firelight in the embrace of the night's shadow. Two of the six had particular interest in the Ranger. Take him first, deal with the others later. One or two of the Elves looked vaguely like they knew what they were doing, but still, they were women and Elves and they were alone in a wasteland that their aggressors knew as home in exile.

One of the men chuckled humourously as he circled with the others. His mouth distorted into a scream as he launched forward with a savage slice aimed at the Ranger. His men followed, and the attack was begun proper as the circle of swords closed in to slash.

Uien crouched behind a thick stone that towered above her, pressed against it's unyeilding surface and willing herself to absolute stillness. The scream from the camp split the night and obscured for an instant the sound of the nearby hunter's tread on the rocky ground of Fornost's ruins.

Her heart slammed in her hearing, and Uien fought against the rising fear that it's pounding would betray her location. His breathing was heavy, coming in gasps after being forced to pursue her into the ruins.

"There's nowhere to hide." Uien heard the clink of his sword as he scraped it past the stones he was walking by. "There never is. Each step leads you closer to where I want you, no matter where you run Elf." The agony of remaining still as he drew closer was almost unbearable. Worse yet was the thought that the scream that had broken the night was the herald of something too terrible to consider. Uien closed her eyes and held her breath.

His sword scraped closer to her stone, and then he was there. His slow, deliberate footfall passed, his sword dragging with his passage. Uien slowly twisted away, unable to remain still any longer and merely hope to elude him. With a burst of desperation, she was on her feet and sprinting. His yell was close to her ear, and a hand yanked in her sleeve.

"There you-" the man reeled back with a shout of rage as Uien lashed out and drove her shoulder hard into his leering face. He was forced to step back hard, his free hand rising to his now bleeding and rebroken nose. The material of her torn sleeve fell ignored to the ground. Uien allowed herself once glance over her shoulder.

"You'll pay for that," he bellowed in fury at her. She made no reply, turning her back and fleeing the way she had come. Her mother would perhaps have been horrified at her daughter's calculated use of her healing lore to inflict injury, but at that moment Uien did not care. She had to get to the others, to Falowik. It was why she had come, to heal, but not her love. She had come to heal Eodwine.

May the Valar guide you, my love. So desperate was she to find her way back to him, that the twists and turns of her path whipped by her. When a shadow, breathing hard, burst out before her, a cry of dismay escaped her and she stepped backwards as quickly as she could.

"Told you that this would end my way," the shadow said. His sword slashed through the air as if it thirsted to meet her at last. Uien whirled to the side, straight for the first gap on her left between a crumbled wall. With an oath, the man pursued her once again.

Frustration and despair circled within her. It was narrowly kept at bay by hope and a iron determination that this would not be the ending she chose for her or Falowik or any other. Uien scrambled over a wall that was nearly her height, a flung dagger bouncing off the stones inches from where she had been before she tumbled over the other side. Landing on her feet with instinctive elven poise, Uien was off again. No matter how she tried, she wound further and further into Fornost, hemmed by stones and shadows of men and past orcs. Yet her mind yearned elsewhere. Uien dove into the first refuge that presented itself in the unfamiliar ruins and gathered stones that lay about.

Again, her mother would be less than pleased with her daughter's proposed violence, but Uien hefted the first stone in her hand regardless. She had always been the best shot out of her siblings. A stone whistled to crash some yards away at the first glimsp of her hunter. It cracked into the ground and was quickly followed by another. He jerked to a standstill behind what cover he could. Uien paused, conserving what stones she still had remaining, one at the ready.

When she could see no movement, Uien lowered her arm and listened to the surrounds. He was gone. But where. Suddenly, her vantage seemed to be a snare. Uien slipped out over the lip of the stone wall she had been sheltering behind, throwing stone missiles from what once was perhaps a window of a family home. The eerie silence was worse than the man's taunts. Uncertain, Uien circled about, wishing ever more to have a weapon at her disposal.

The uncertainty lasted only an instant. Uien chose instead to try once more to get back to the camp and to Falowik. Once more she ran as fast as her feet could carry her over the stones and uneven ground. In the shadows, she never saw the heavy arm reach out to check her flight and send her rolling hard over the ground. But she heard the grunt of satisfaction that at last she had been brought down...

[Imladris]

Lira

Lira listened to Esgallhugwen’s fears for the wolf with sadness. Drawing her knees to her chin and clasping her hands around her legs, she nodded slowly and said, “I fear Fornost.”

Esgallhugwen looked at her quizzically and asked, “What do you mean?”

“It’s as if a sadness lingers there,” Lira murmured as Corn scrambled to her shoulder. “A dread feeling always comes to me when I think of the ruined city.” Dropping her hand, she stroked the cub’s chin with her long, skeletal fingers. She sighed and whispered, “He’s a cute little one.”

Suddenly, Corn flapped frantically into the air, cawing raucously the word of warning as men poured from the hidden refuge of the bushes, their swords gleaming with blood lust in the lurid light of the dying fire. Leaping to her feet, Lira stood frozen as she saw the men swarm around them. She could vaguely see the hobbits and men huddle around the fire swords and weapons drawn. With a swift motion, she withdrew the dagger, the gift of Esgallhugwen, and watch it brilliant whiteness glitter brightly in the dreamy, silver light of the moon. A passing thought rebuked her for being so thoughtless as to forget to bring her bow. Now she would have to fight almost hand to hand, at very close quarters with her enemies. Twirling the dagger easily in her hand, she shifted it to a more comfortable position in her hand as the company faced the tidal wave that fell upon them.

Lira was instantly torn from Esgallhugwen, who was lost somewhere in the screaming mess. A sword blade swung at her and she parried it with her dagger. Sparks flew, the blades screamed in agony. Her muscles tightened as his massive strength bore down upon her; blue eyes stared fixedly into his dark ones, the ones that froze with black hatred, his lips twisted in contorted scorn. Their blades rasped as they struggled to unlock the parry. Dropping into a half kneeled position, Lira twisted, slashing upwards at his face as she did so and with a final lunge thrust the blade into his heart.

Another was upon her before she had time to catch her guard. Almost instantly she was driven against the trunk of a massive tree, fending off the blows of her antagonist. For an elf, she was an able fighter and had great skills in weapons. However, she was a young woman against a man whose sadistic pleasure was to spill the blood of his victims and who lived for the joy of killing. He was stronger than she, and her strength was failing.

A livid form thrust himself between the elf and the man, his sable wings blinding him, causing him to stumble backwards. Onyx eyes hard as stone, Corn pursued him, his nails raking the man’s cheek until the blood flowed like rivulets down his cheek. Arms flailing wildly, he cried out in pain at the merciless onslaught of corn. Lashing out with his beak, crying hoarsely, the bird strived to tear his eyes out, eventually succeeding.

Glancing around, Lira saw the hobbits: Gorby was brandishing a burning stick wildly about him, while Anson loaded their small, wooden crossbows. Sprinting to them, Lira cried, “Behind that boulder, both of you!” She pointed to a stone and added, “I’ll protect you from behind.” The hobbits scuttled behind the boulder. Turning, to see if there were any who needed her aid, a searing pain ripped down her face, crossing her temple. Something hard hit her in the head, and she fell limply to the ground.

Gorby

I shivered as a chill wind managed to twist under my cloak and numbed my fingers. Huddling myself into a tighter ball, and grasping the quill feather which served as a pen, I continued my writing:

‘Tis mighty cold at night, here beside Fornoste. Thoronmere -- I scowled at the paper. I knew it wasn’t spelt right but I was to embarrassed to ask him how he spelt it -- is our leader. I think I heard that he was once a ranger. He realy is the perfect man for the expidition, since he has lived in the Evindim Hills.

Oh! I found an extra bottle of ink and some spare peices of paper (well wrinkled now, I can assure you) stowed away. I can only imagine that Doderic (fine fellow that he is) slipped them in when I wasn’t looking. Hence the reason I am writing.

It has been rather dull, to be perfectly honest. Not a sine of anything. The only jolly elf is Lumielle -- I know that‘s not right. The other elven lasses are too busy brooding and being depressed, subsequently extraordinarily dull company. Fin, I shan’t even try to spell her name (I have a hard enough time spelling as it is), is quite withdrawn.

And the fair is very poor. Nasty camp cooking. But I do supose it is better than starving, though my waiste has shrunk, since my trousers don’t fit nearly as well as they used to. But all in all I am enjoying this adventur. Every once in a while, one needs to be free of people, of village sounds, of seeing hobbits scurry this way and that, intent upon their business. To see a different of this world. When I think of Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck, I wonder how it must have ben to see those grand places: Gondorr and Rohan! And the king!

I stopped writing for my fingers had developed a cramp. Sighing, I put my things away and once more thanked Doderic silently to myself. I made myself promise to thank him whenever I got back to Buckland -- unless something else happened to me instead. Quickly pulling my things back out again, I added: Thank you, Doderic, for the extra paper and ink. Putting them back again, I flung the sack across my shoulder and stared deeply into the fire, toasting my hands as I did so. For some strange reason, I was not sleepy this night.

A crash rent the silence, and I glanced quickly up, bewildered as I saw men, armed with cruel swords, hurry towards us, screaming all the way. Climbing to my feet, I shook Anson awake and bawled, “Wake up, Anson! Wake up!” Turning around, I looked anxiously for my cross bow, but didn’t see it -- drat me and my tendency to misplace things! I darted around, looking for anything to use as a weapon against them. Finally, I took up a burning log, and brandished it about me. Anson was beside, loading our two cross bows -- good fellow. Always finding the things I loose.

An elf came to us and ordered us behind a boulder. I was only too happy to comply -- it was too dangerous in the open. I don’t like to consider myself a coward, but I did want to live, if you get my meaning. And having an elf watching you back -- well, it couldn’t get any better.

As we crouched behind the boulder, I peeked around it, about to gesture the elf to come join us. I recognized her as Lira. But she didn’t. She paused, her blue eyes sweeping the area. A man at came at her, his fell sword falling: her head the target. Raising my crossbow, I opened my mouth to shriek a warning, but froze as his blade met her pale hair. My finger on the trigger, I could only watch in dismay as she crumpled to the earth. My finger squeezed suddenly, and I shot the man as he circled around her.

Jumping from my hiding place, I ran to her and saw that blood gushed from a wound that cut across her forehead down her cheek, nearly catching her eye. I smiled as I heard her breath shallowly, slowly. Anson was with me, and together, we dragged her best we could behind the protection of the boulder.

[littlemanpoet]

For a while, Falowik heard nothing but distant fighting outside the ruins. Then he heard a heavy step coming closer to his hiding place from the opposite direction, accompanied by a snuffling nose and muttered curses. The man stopped in the shadow of an outcropping just ten paces away from him. He could just make out the man's words, about a cursed Elf and a broken nose, and threats of vengeance. Falowik allowed himself a glimmer of a smile. Uien had defended herself and was still alive. The man's sword was drawn, and he was too far off for a dagger thrust. There were stones about, but Falowik did not dare to make a move for fear of making a sound and drawing attention to himself.

Light running steps were coming toward them from beyond the man, who tensed, readying himself. His arm went out just as the figure came by, and Uien lay sprawled on the rough ground.

"Hah! Dow yer dud, Elf. But baybe I'll cut off yer arbs ad legs so you cet struggle. Pay you back proper for by dose." He laughed with evil glee and raised his sword. It was too much for Falowik. He hurled himself at the man, his dagger raised, his feet dashing against the broken rocks the only sound he made; loud enough to draw the attention of the man before he got to him. The man was fast, and he swung his sword around at Falowik; but Falowik was not slow, and had suprised him. He tackled the man just as the sword came down and slammed his back. The man was bigger and heavier than he was, and in a moment, Falowik's back was on the ground and the man was above him, his sword raised for the kill. Then the man fell on him heavily. Uien stood above him with a heavy rock in both hands. Falowik scrambled out from under the man and took the sword out of his hands. He raised it, but could not bring himself to kill the man. He had never killed a human.

"Let us get away from here." Falowik said.

[Esgallhugwen]

A heavy omen was in Esgallhugwen's mind, she had set down the pup and was plucking the string of her bow. She had decided on a name for him, Nimrómen white-sunrise, it seemed to suite him somehow, with his yellow eyes and white fur.

Then they came, and all became chaos. Esgallhugwen quickly shot up hiding the pup in her saddle bag behind a boulder, she came charging back swinging out her sword and sticking it in the fire. The men laughed thinking the Elf women had no brains in her pretty little head.

With a flick of her wrist she pulled forth an arrow from the quiver strapped to her back, with amazing skill she set one alight it sang through the air hitting it's destined target. Lira had fallen as Esgallhugwen yelled out sending four more arrows into the chests and necks of their enemies.

But they only seemed to multiply, harsh flashes stabbed through her mind rembering her home and the fires and the ceasless onslaught of treachery and orcs. She did not want all her arrows spent, taking up her sword from the fire, it glowed red hot ever stronger. Esgallhugwen stood before the men that came at her, Nàrkir glowing like a spike of fire in her hands, her eyes cold and harsh like ice.

A tremor of adrenaline swam through her whole body, slashing the face of one that dared to come to close, the hot blade seared through his flesh a shrill cry of pain went up in the night as he grabbed at the scorched wound. Esgallhugwen skewered another while an arrow went whistling by her ear. Parrying a blow that came from behind she raced over to the Hobbits and the fallen body of Lira to protect them.

Esgallhugwen tried to assure the hobbits that we all should stick together and to fire as many arrows as they could at the chest and neck if they could see in the dark.

[littlemanpoet]

"This way!" Uien's whisper was urgent. Falowik followed her. The man they'd left on the ground behind them gave a call. Falowik's heartbeat sped. Uien looked around them as she ran ahead of him, her eyes wide with fear and watchfulness. Falowik heard heavy boots running behind him. You should have killed him while you had the chance, old man! At least he had the sword, unwieldy in his unpracticed hand, his dagger carrried like an afterthought in his left hand.

Uien stopped. Falowik almost ran into her. There was a broken rock wall on their left, head high. On their right was a ruined cistern, and beyond it a wide gateway, the black iron gates hanging by the hinges like hands bent the wrong way off of their wrists. On each side of the gate posts was the foot of a statue, rubble strewn at the base of each; their limbs, torsos, legs, and heads could be made out, but were a jigsaw puzzle on the ground. Before them the walkway continued straight. But two men blocked it, swords drawn. A third stood amid the gateway. And their hunter stopped behind them. They were surrounded.

It was over. They were lost. Four seasoned cutthroats were too many for Uien, a healer, and Falowik, no fighter either, sword or no sword. Such were his thoughts. Uien looked around her in every direction for some kind of escape, glacing at him with pleading eyes, and back to the wall on their left. She was trying to indicate it as their escape. He could not imagine either of them making it up to the top of it before arrows or daggers struck one or both of them in the back or worse. Despair took him. As soon as it did, his mind loosened from his plight to the irony of his position, and he imagined Falco using the loss of Uien and Falowik as proof enough that Falowik had been in league with the evildoers. Now there was a thought. Hope kindled, born of likely failure at such a reckless dare.

"I've brought them to you just as ordered," Falowik declared. "Here's the first one. Watch out though, she's cagey." Uien turned and watched him, the despair of betrayal wide in her eyes. He kept his eyes on hers, cold and unblinking. It was important for these others to be convinced that he cared for her not at all. He hoped that she could find some way to save herself. "She might cast a spell on you if you look her in the eye. You never know with these Elves."

The four men looked at Falowik, and Uien, in varied states of suspicion, confusion, and uncertainty. Uien wasted no time and bolted for the wall, jumping to the top in a single leap, and was gone.

"I told you!" Falowik yelled. "After her!"

The two men who had blocked their way climbed the wall and gave chase. Falowik stayed rooted to the spot.

"Dod't you go eddywhere, liar. Sack!" He eyed the other man standing before the gate. "E's playid' us! Take 'ib out!"

"You do and you're a fool!" Falowik said. "My orders come from high up, and if the Master finds out, it'll be the end for you." Falowik had no idea if there even was a master, and the words coming out of him suprised him as much as it did these two men. Sack was stuck in his tracks, confused. He considered making a dash for it now that his way was clear ahead of him, but these two might be faster than he was.

"Give mbe the MBaster's ndabe, liar!"

Falowik thought fast and made a wild guess. "You don't even know it yourself, fool. He doesn't tell anybody his true name."

"That's true enough," said Sack. "Maybe he's the Master's man after all, Toad."

"Baybe ad baybe dot. So why'd you attack be?"

"I had to make it look like I was her ally, of course." Falowik heaped all the scorn he could into his words.

"That makes sense to me," said Sack, leaning on his sword.

"At eddy road we're takid' hib to Lieut. Let hib decide. Who kdows? If he aid't what 'e says 'e is, mebbe Baster'll wadt hib for the dext leechig."

Leeching? Falowik thought. Drawing of blood? What for?

"You break your nose again, Toad? What'd you do, fall on your sword?"

"Shaddup, Sack! The Elf lady got be." Sack hooted. "Give be back by sword, you!" It would be best to play along for now. Falowik handed him the sword, by the hilts. "I still dod't trust you, Baster's servadt. Tie 'is hadds, Sack. You better go williggly or I'll slit you right here." Falowik let them tie his hands. He was still alive, and maybe Uien had gotten away. After seeing her jump to the top of that wall, and over, he did not doubt that she could lose her pursuers.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 10:03 PM December 09, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Meneltarmacil]

Thoronmir heard heavy footsteps behind him and turned to face the noise. The intruders were large, mean-looking men holding long, curved swords. They attacked without warning, and soon the whole camp was in chaos. He drew his sword and rushed at them, running into one of them and knocking him to the ground with a hard shoulder bash. As another assailant came at him from behind, he tried to turn away, but the man's sword still left a painful gash in his left forearm. Thoronmir swung his sword in answer and the ruffian went down. He turned around and saw Lira fall unconscious, or what might be worse, from another ruffian's blow. The ranger tackled the man as he was about to stab Lira dead. The first ruffian he had hit with the shoulder bash came at him from behind and tried to choke him, but Thoronmir heard him coming, spun around, and neatly finished the job with a mighty two-handed stroke.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:32 PM December 07, 2003: Message edited by: Meneltarmacil ]

[Imladris]

Gorby

I notched an arrow to my cross bow and peeked carefully around. There were a few men fighting with the others but they were too far away to shoot. “Gorby,” came Anson’s, tense excited voice, “look at this.”

Turning, I saw that he was pointing to Lira’s wound. A scarlet river flowed in a deep gash from her jaw to her hairline staining the white hairs. It had almost taken out her eye. Dirt covered the wound and floated sluggishly along with blood that flowed profusely; her taught face was whiter than white, her eyes were closed and the mouth hung open. “Dear Eru…” I murmured. I glanced anxiously into Anson’s eyes.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said in an almost panicked voice.

I glanced at her and, prying the silver dagger that had fallen from her hand, I hacked a piece of her dress off and, handing it to Anson, said, “Stop the bleeding, Anson. Press down until it stops.”

While he did that, I kept a sharp lookout for enemies, but I’m afraid I was mostly in a daze. People could die here. Lira might die. I suddenly realized that I didn’t know any of the party very well. We had traveled together, grumbled together, and the only friend I had was Anson. “How is she?” I asked blankly. It was hard to sound concerned and look out for enemies. I gripped my crossbow harder. Glancing back, I saw that her eyes were still closed, that her breathing was slow and shallow. I remembered her as one of the gloomy ones, the kind that are wet blankets at parties. I looked at her again, and remembered the intuition of elves. Maybe she had felt the attack. Maybe she was troubled by other misfortunes. I shook my head.

“I can’t stop the bleeding,” Anson said.

I swallowed. “Just keep the pressure on it,” I muttered. What did they do when people couldn’t stop the bleeding. I didn’t know. I simply didn’t know. Out of all my readings, I had never studied medicine.

Eswen came to us, telling us to shoot the men with arrows. I heard her only numbly.

[ 1:20 PM December 05, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[Lumiel]

The night was peaceful and Lumiel was happy, happy to have friends even if there were together for a desperate journey for Eodwine. She was getting up to help prepare the supper when the harsh cries broke their camp and the brigands rushed forward. Although she had been in a sort of dream-like state, she snapped out in an instant and reached for her sword, drawing it quickly and readying herself for her first enemy.

It took only a moment and one came straight for her, swinging in a slow arc that carried lethal force. Obviously the man didn't know who he was dealing with. Her gay blue eyes had shifted to a harsh, cold fiery blue and she gave a battle cry in return as she flicked her wrist with amazing strength for her size and gutted the man below his navel. His eyes bulged and he attempted to at least finish his swing at Lumiel but she was already out of his reach as he clutched at his stomach where a deep gash was, bleeding darkly and coils near ready to spill forth. She turned to the next opponet who realized her skill and fought with more brains. The battle with him lasted about a minute, and Lumiel had saved her skin by quick thinking. The second man lay groaning with a cut in his head, Lumiel had managed to get behind him and give a quick blow towards his head.

Looking around, she saw Lira on the ground, being dragged by the hobbits. She turned to see how the others were and repeated Lira's mistake. Only the low victory growl of the brigand gave her warning enough and she turned, bringing her sword instinctively up to block, its dark surface shining. A clang was heard and her eyes widened in surprise at how close the man had gotten to her, since she had thought him down at least for the duration of the fight. The force of his blow knocked her back a step and he pressed his advantage, forcing Lumiel away from the group.

In a moment, she had regained herself and was now holding her ground against him. The man said crude things in an attempt to make her angry or fearful, so that she would make a mistake. She had been taught not to let emotion get in the way, and it wouldn't, even as she felt herself begin to shake as suppressed memories were touched by his words.

"Heh, the little elf lady plays rough...let me show you how to play!" he said, striking at her as she blocked it again, bleeding from a near-dodge away on her shoulder and on her stomach. "You're mine elf!"

"SILENCE!" she screamed and in a flurry of motions she parried to the left and right of him, forcing him to block and then swung upwards, bringing his sword to block again as he laughed at her, and she flicked her sword downwards again and forward to impale him below the sternum. He was quick and ducked to the side, getting lanced on his right side but not fatally. He fell forward and grabbed at Lumiel's shirt, dragging her down as she fell.

He gave a sigh of pain and Lumiel wretched her sword free from beneath him. She again turned towards the fire, hoping to see how the others fared and prepared to give help where it was needed only to be knocked down again by a heavy blow to the head. Her vision swam and blackness creeped inwards, but she stayed conscious, aware suddenly of a sharp pain in her gut as a foot connected sharply with her thus far minor wound, knocking her breath away and opening the cut wider. She gripped her sword, preparing to fight, but her hand was crushed by the same foot that had injured her. She grimaced slightly, but refused to let him hear her scream. Suddenly, she felt a sharp point at her neck.

"Silly girl, you'll hurt yourself with that sword, and you'll not hurt me again with it!" the brigand said sarcastically as he raised his sword for the final blow.

Sensing her danger, Lumiel wrenched herself towards the man and caught him off balance. She grabbed her dagger and lunged at the man, slicing at his throat. She missed and he punched full force at her face, having dropped his sword. She staggered back and he jumped on her and tried to wrestle the dagger from her left, undamaged hand. She reached with her bleeding right hand into her boot and took out her second dagger, stabbing him in the leg. He cried in agony and gripped her tighter, beginning to choke her. She had spirit enough left, but she was being worn down and was injured in several places, losing blood. She didn't know how much longer she could fight and the man was in better shape at this point than she.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:38 PM December 05, 2003: Message edited by: Lumiel ]

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Finëwen drew her sword. The others scattered under the attack. Arrows flew by. Finëwen made her way to the side of the group. A man charged at her holding a sword. She stabbed him before he could make a move. He fell to the ground, still dying. A bow and a few arrows were around his neck. She took the bow. It was in fairly good shape. Not as she was used to: elvish bows, but it would do. She took his arrows and began shooting the charging men.

One man made his way for two of the hobbits who seemed a bit preoccupied. Finëwen shot him in the back, he stopped from the blow, but didn’t seem to want to give up yet. He fell to the ground after an attempt to keep going after the hobbits.

Finëwen was about to stop and help Lira, but a few more men came up onto the camp. Why is our camp under attack? What happened? Finëwen wondered. It all seemed a blur to her. She stopped her wondering and took out another arrow and aimed it at a man.

[littlemanpoet]

Brigands were rushing upon their camp! Probably that Falowik had arranged to make them a flock of sitting ducks here by Deadmen's Dike, like as not. Falco's good ears were what saved him. His eyes were no help, for he'd been staring at the flames, and their afterglow made his eyes useless.

Falco heard the crunch of broken earth, and the whistle of a sword, and ducked. He was missing some hair on top now, but that was fine so long as his neck was still in place. He drew his sturdy dwarvish sword and, on quiet hobbit feet, scurried out of reach of the ruffian's second swing. Though he was stout himself, he was quick, and before the oaf could pull back, Falco had struck him on the shin bone hard as he could, and danced out of the way again. The man fell with a roar, and Falco let him lay. His eyes had adjusted to the half-moon-lit dark now, and he looked in all directions, ducking low until he could find an advantageous point to re-enter the melee.

This reminded him of the Battle of Bywater in more ways than one, except for the chaos. Whereas the Heroes of the War had organized their hobbit army well, few in their party had enough time to pay attention to what was happening to others; only themselves. So it was left to Falco to see that for all their superior numbers, the brigands were being mowed down by their smaller number.

Lira took one down, and her bird, Corn, blinded another. No sooner had another attacked Lira than Gorby shot that one with an arrow. Meanwhile, Eswen was filling the air with arrows that all hit their targets, and then took a heated sword and took out two more! Finëwen killed yet another!

These female fighters, both human and elven, were actually quite good! Falco was more of a realist than most hobbits, and that was saying something. So he quickly allowed his opinion to be altered regarding these fighting maidens' value to the group.

But Lira went down. And now Lumiel was the worse for wear. It was time to lend aid where he could. Falco snuck across the battleground, watching the mounted archers with one eye to make sure they didn't pin him to the ground, and came up behind Lumiel's attacker and split his head open. He deserved no better.

The melee changed now. All the ruffians on foot had been killed or wounded, and only the mounted brigands remained, numbering five. They moved away and took a position on higher land than that of their camp, behind a broken down wall. From there they began loosing arrows.

Thoronmir yelled out orders to douse the fire and take cover. Falco kicked the body off of the Elf maiden, whose face was covered with blood; her right hand was bloody too. Falco offered her his arm and helped her back to the others, and moved next to Gorby and Anson. Lumiel was shaky, but refused to lay down and rest. She wiped her face with her hood, and looked fierce and grim. Falco was glad she was on their side, but he kept that to himself.

[Imladris]

Lira

The elf’s blue eyes, glazed now from pain and loss of blood, slowly fluttered open as she looked around her. Esgallhugwen, a bloody Lumiel, Falco, and Anson were huddled with her. Corn was nowhere to be seen. Half rising, her head throbbing as she did so, Lira peeked above at the men that still encompassed them, circling like vultures, with the patience of wolves around them and their boulder of refuge. Where was Uien and Falowik? What if they had died?

Somebody held a leather flask to her lips, and golden liquid coursed through her, bringing new strength to her. It was Miruvor, and Esgallhugwen smiled sadly at her. Anson dropped the bloodstained cloth and said, “I tried to get the blood to stop, Miss,” he said.

Lira brought her fingertips to her head, tracing the cut. It was no longer flowing freely and had abated to a mere oozing. She rubbed it into her skin, and saw Gorby shoot at one of the shadows, missing. “Do not shoot unless the aim is true,” she whispered into his ear.

Taking the silver knife that Esgallhugwen had given to her, she cleaned the dried blood and dirt from the blade and handle. Crouching beside Gorby, she waited, struggling to resist the urge to lie down in blissful peacefulness.

[Esgallhugwen]

With most of the men dead there were still the riders to deal with. The camp had come together and the fire was doused, choking and spluttering from the hurried attempt to kill it's light. But where were Falowik and Uien, she worried for both of them worried that they had fallen amongst the bodies of those evil men.

Esgallhugwen had no time to think, the riders began shooting arrows. Thoronmir yelled out to take cover, Esgallhugwen the two hobbits and an unconcious Lira hid themselves behind the large boulder. 'I cannot tend to Lira's wound now, bind the cloth tightly about her head, I must leave to go retrieve some arrows from the bodies of the fallen' She cast her hood over her face; the cloak provided her well with the cover she needed to examine the corpses for undamaged arrows. She even took some that were not her own.

In cunning stealth she took to hiding behind the boulder again giving over what she could find of Anson and Gorby's hobbit arrows. Esgallhugwen had recovered much of her own, she picked up her sword it still glowed dimly from the heat.

They needed their horses as well, and the situation was already worse; Falowik and Uien were no where to be seen, Lira was unconcious, Lumiel is sorely hurt but her spirit still burned hot within her.
Esgallhugwen kneeled down beside Lira, the hobbit Anson did a very well job. Then she went to Lumiel and looked at her hand 'it would be best to bandage that mellon, it is difficult to grip a sword with a wet blooded hand' she wrapped a dry piece of cloth around her wound.

The men jeered and jested at them 'where 'as all the purdy ladies gone to, 'ope they 'avn't runs away on us' they laughed harshly, their horses champed on the cruel bits in their mouths.

Smoke was still rising from the dead fire, an idea dawned on Esgallhugwen it would be risky, but the men seemed dull-witted. She leaned over to Thoronmir, 'I have an idea and since it is my own it is my risk to take. I can call forth our horses, they will come quietly, I will be the bait as you would call it, whilst I distract them, you can come from any front you wish and attack them by surprise. But before you do this put Lira on her horse, Merkaliel will keep her safe'.

But as she spoke these words Lira awoke and Esgallhugwen gave her some miruvor to give her strength. She retold of her plan to Lira 'it is dangerous mellon' she said sadly trying to stay awake. 'We can not let them win now, this is only the beginning of our peril in this place' Esgallhugwen answered back.

She called the horses, they came quickly but quietly in the night hiding in the shadows of the ruined stone. Her quiver was almost full and her bow was on her back as she lept onto Morsereg.


They rode forward coming out of the smoke so to the men they saw that the rider and horse had materialized out of the dark mist by some witchery. Esgallhugwen already having a deep voice, that is sometimes heard in female Elves, lowered her voice further giving it a depth and age like that of thunder.

The men shared confused looks of amazement and fear unable to dicern and recognize that it was the ferocious elf woman that had slain seven of their men. Esgallhugwen called the men to her with carnage and bloodlust thick in her thundering voice.

And to the surprise of the camp three of the five came slowly to her. Horror took hold on some of the search party at the demonic and malicious change in one of their members who they had ever thought to put trust in.

'Oi! Who be you then?' one had the guts to inquire. Esgallhugwen laughed wickedly, hot ice seared through the horsemen and they cowered. 'You dare to question me?' she roared violently. The boulders almost quaked at her dark powerful form, she held up her sword 'this is the blade of the Elf that has been giving you much trouble, I have her body with me'.

That was the que to start the ambush.

[Lumiel]

A sudden release of pressure and Lumiel was freed. She looked up and saw the sturdy Falco behind her. "Thanks." she muttered as she quickly collected her two daggers and her sword and followed Falco carefully to behind a fairly large boulder. She knelt down on her feet, not wanting to give herself rest, she still needed to stay sharp. She mentally took a count of everyone and their condition. Lira was unconscious but awoke soon enough, somewhat bleary. Anson looked shaken and anxious but was doing his part, helping Lira. Gorby was keeping an eye on their perimeter, where brigands on horses still circled, with his bow in hand. She had seen Finewen not far off. Eswen was near and in good condition. But where was Falowik and Uien? She clenched her mouth for a moment and sighed out her sudden wrench of fear. Where ever they were, they would have to take care of themselves for the moment.

Eswen checked their wounds as she was the most skilled among them in medicinal arts. While Lumiel's face appeared fairly bloody, the wounds were minor, though they had bled a lot only because they were on her face. The cut on her shoulder hurt, but it was not serious. The gash on her stomach had begun to coagulate. Her right hand was bloody and had already started to swell with black and blue marks appearing. Eswen wrapped her right hand and Lumiel thanked her. "I can still fight with my left hand nearly as well." She was hurt, yes, but she had now had a chance to catch her breath so to speak, and she would not abandon the fight.

She listened carefully, tracking the movements of the riders. How many are there? she wondered. At that moment, she heard Eswen tell Thornomir of her plan. Indeed, it was risky, but it gave them a better chance than hiding behind a boulder. She gripped her sword tightly and leaned in close to the rock but stayed in a position where she could still watch the brigands. She had silently nominated herself to stay with the hobbits. Valiant as they had proven themselves, they were still in danger if several bandits decided to ambush their hiding spot, and a well-used sword would greatly increase their odds.

Eswen called the horses and they came swiftly yet stealthily. Esgallhugwen mounted her horse and rode forward. Lumiel assisted in helping Lira quietly onto her horse. She turned her head in surprise at what she heard and could barely believe that it was still Eswen. Her voice, already deep, became a sonorous boom, carrying with it a threat of power.

"Oi! Who be you then?" she heard somenoe ask in fear. She wondered the same thing. Eswen had changed in an instant in such a way that Lumiel could barely believe it. Yet her plan was working and Lumiel could find no fault.

"You dare to question me?" Eswen roared in the night. The air was filled with tension and Lumiel knotted her brow in concern. And then Eswen gave the the signal for the ambush.

[Meneltarmacil]

Thoronmir and the others had already come up behind the horsemen, and at the signal, they sprang forward and attacked. The ruffians were trapped between Eswen and Lira on one side and Thoronmir and the rest of the party on the other. Thoronmir shot one in the neck with his bow, then leapt up on one of their horses, knocking another rider to the ground. He wrestled with the man until the ruffian was unconscious. Seeing that the others were still engaged in combat with the remaining ruffians, Thoronmir got up and ran off to help them.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:02 PM December 09, 2003: Message edited by: Meneltarmacil ]

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik walked in front of Sack and Toad, uphill and out of the ruins of Fornost. He had no idea where Uien was. He hoped he had helped her to a good enough head start. He hoped that she was still alive. He hoped that she did not believe him to be a traitor. He could hear voices yelling over where he thought their camp to be. He wondered if that meant the fight still raged, or that the brigands were taking the pickings of the corpses of his allies. He banished that thought from his mind. Sack and Toad were making him go uphill, presumably to where the rest of their party waited, or at least had been when this fight had begun.

They came out from behind the last broken wall in time to see a horse and rider Falowik did not know, shouting in a deep, sinister voice at what seemed to remain of the brigands; and then there was Thoronmir, Lumiel, and Finëwen attacking the five mounted brigands from the other side, the three hobbits close behind. Who's side is that rider on? Falowik wondered. If it was the brigands', Thoronmir and the others were rushing to a quick death; if it was Falowik's allies, the brigands were in trouble. One brigand went down, and Thoronmir wrestled another rider off his horse and to the ground.

"Dhis looks bad, Sack!" It was Toad. Falowik snapped out of his reverie. His hands were tied behind his back, so he had no real choice but to play as if he was still their Master's man, whatever the consequences. It was either that or die.

"We better hide," Falowik said. "It looks as if we may be the ones who have to report back to the Master." Sack nodded, but Toad gave Falowik a suspicious look; but he nodded and the three of them snuck back behind the wall, and watched, and waited.

[Imladris]

Lira

Lira dimly realized that Lumiel was helping her upon the sturdy back of Merkaliel, who nickered anxiously as Lira’s pale hair met the tawny mane of her steed. Fog settle on her brain, dimming her mind and she only distantly heard the instructions of Esgallhugwen.. “Follow Eswen,” she whispered, scratching Merkaliel’s withers.

Forcing herself to sit up straight, Lira devoted all her strength and attention to sitting steadily upon the horse. Ahead of her, Esgallhugwen called to the men and, as her voice resounded through the hills and echoed within the ruins of Fornost, she seemed to morph into a shadowed phantom, dark with deadly power. Her sable cloak drifted in a billowy storm behind her, her voice, laden with chill horror, thundered through the hill; her sword, glinting with pale fire, glittered in her hand as she scoffed at the man who dared to ask her name.

Fear took hold of Lira as she compulsively clutched at the fine mane of Merkaliel. This was not the wounded Esgallhugwen: this was a ferocious demon rising from the curling smoke of the dying fire. Blood lust tainted her voice, her crystal grey eyes laughed mockingly with cold disdain in the face of her enemies. Strength rang from her voice, power flowed through her arm as she flourished her sword.

Waves of dizziness drowned Lira: her mind reeled as she stumbled as she saw the Esgallugwen she knew become the shadowed, dread queen that grew before her. Merkaliel, with a flurry of flying mane and tail, reared to her legs, releasing a horse's scream that wailed with haunting fear. Falling from her perch, Lira fell to the hard ground. She could feel a trickle of blood seep from the bandage as the wound broke open again. Pain burned within her as Lira rose to her feet, the silver dagger clenched in her hand as Merkaliel marshaled herself beside her mistress.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:58 AM December 22, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[Lumiel]

As the ambush began, hope lived within Lumiel that they may yet win this battle. Yet fear dwelled in her as well, fear for Eswen. She did not understand the change, and it was a frightening one.

Lira and her horse were heading away when the horse's fear overcame its devotion to its master and it reared in terror of the changed Eswen. Down Lira fell, hard on the ground. Her horse, realizing its master's danger, stayed in front of Lira.

Without a thought, Lumiel swiftly ran to Lira, staying low to the ground, so that the brigands would not notice them; Lira was too hurt to battle. "Mellon, are you alright?" she asked softly of Lira.

"I...I am alright. My wound opened again." she said somewhat sluggishly as she put a hand to her head gently.

"We have to get you out of here. Here, I'll help you back on to Merkaliel." she said. Gently, she eased Lira up and then helped her up onto her horse. Lira gripped the mane tightly, but Lumiel was worried she would fall again. "I will come with you, two elves should keep faith in Merkaliel. Eswen and the others can handle the brigands left, I believe." she said with confidence in the others, though still she worried. But could she really leave Lira in her condition? No, she would have to leave the brigands to the others and keep Lira safe.

She whispered softly to Merkaliel letting him know that she was a friend and mounted swiftly behind Lira who spoke to the horse, urging him on away from the fight. Lumiel leaned forward and gave Lira support so that she would not fall again. She grimaced behind her as she saw new blood seeping behind the gash on her head, already bandaged.

[Imladris]

Lira

Lira gripped her silver dagger strongly, ready to fight if need be. Wavering unsteadily to her feet, she watched in fear as Egallhugwen, the Dark Queen, flourished her sword her powerful voice thundering across the plains inspiring fear in both friend and foe, clash blades with the first of the brigands. Gorby and Anson ran from their hiding spot and -- Merkaliel shuddered as Esgalhugwen cried her battle cry causing Lira to tumble to the ground. Tiny rocks stabbed her and silent tears trickled from her blue eyes at the pain. Scrabbling at the ground, the corpses of brown uprooted grass in her fingers, she encountered a small chain. With bleary eyes she saw that it was finely melded and glittered dully in the moon. Curling her hand around it, she breathed heavily trying to raise herself to her feet. With a sigh, her arms collapsed from underneath her, and she panted slowly and shallowly. She entwined the golden chain around her fingers: it reminded her of one her mother had worn…

Strong hands helped Lira to her horse and, turning, she saw that it was again the elf Lumiel. “I must fight,” she mumbled. A sticky liquid dribble from under the bandage and trailed to her chin, dripping to the ground. Dizzily, she gripped her dagger as Lumiel led her away from the battle. “Esgallhugwen and the others will be overcome,” she whispered.

Lumiel assured them that Eswen and the others could defend themselves ably and Lira urged Merkaliel away from the fight. Turning back, she could see the Dark Queen slay her enemies saving them from certain death.

Her head became light, and she slumped from the back of Merkaliel Falling into the arms of Lumiel, she lost consciousness. Her head was thrown back, her mouth partially open, perspiration dripping from her forehead.
*********
Gorby

I saw Eswen cry with a terrible voice. What had she become? I didn’t know and I frankly didn’t care. She was doing a smashing good job frightening our enemies and I was, frankly, rather positive that elf would not change sides. She was, after all, an elf.

Turning to Anson, I said. “May the Valar protect you, and may we meet each other again.” It sounded frightfully corny, but, after all, what else could I say? He was my best friend, and had left home and family for me. And, I would give anything to live through this fight to see him again…actually, I hoped more that he would live through it so that he could see his siblings again.

Shaking hands with him, I looked around for a weapon. A crossbow is a fine weapon certainly, but wasn’t much use at close combat. The wood hatchet was by the fire, stuck in a half chopped log of wood. Scuttling over to the wood, I threw down my crossbow, and, screaming like a mad man, I rushed into the midst of the battle heaving my axe at the air.

A burly man came at me, I tightened my grip upon the wooden handle, with a terrifying contortion of my face, I slashed at his knees and --- missed. Hurling myself into his belly (surely I could not miss at such close quarters!), I slashed the blade across his stomach and jumped away from the waterfall of blood and gut. I was absurdly pleased that I had not missed.

I looked around. No phantoms seemed to linger. Eswen seemed to dwindle into a flickering candle flame. We had won.

[littlemanpoet]

"This don't look good at all," said Sack.

"Keeb id dowd, Sack!" whispered Toad harshly.

"We should leave and report this as soon as we can," Falowik said.

"What about Lank an' Slout?" Sack asked. "We've heard nowise from 'em."

"We oughta wait for 'eb," Toad said. "They'll have kilt the elf lady by dow adyway. Wod't be log."

"So you think," said Falowik. "She's far more dangerous than you realize."

"Pig dug!" Toad retorted. "I jus' abou' had'er if'd you'd a let be alode."

"I saved your life, fool. We should leave, now!" Falowik let those words hang between them. He had been working his bonds, stretching and flexing the strands of rope. It was loose on his wrists now. He bided his time.

"Why're you id such a hurry to be god, 's wud I wad to kdow." Toad's suspicious eyes glowered at Falowik.

Falowik played a gamble. He felt pretty safe with it. "Fool. If any of that group returns and gives word, you've failed the Master."

"He's got a point, Toad."

"Shaddup, Sack! We're goid' dowhere udtil we hear frob Lagk a'd Slout."

[Imladris]

Gorby

I looked around and panted deeply. I couldn’t believe we had won, it didn’t seem possible. A broad smile lit my face as I gazed about our bloodied field of battle. Corpses littered the ground and a stink of blood filled the air.

Gripping my axe, I wandered around the camp, just staring at the ground. Suddenly I stopped in horror: two eyeballs were resting upon the ground, torn. I covered my mouth, my stomach turned all squeamish like, and I hastily turned away.

A man, one of our attackers, was on the ground, a tainted raven upon his chest. It was Corn, and I could almost see the blood lust fade from his eyes. Blood spilt from the man's eyes like a crimson river of gore. Shudering, I rushed to the man, I found that he was unconscious, but I bound his hands and covered his eyeless sockets with a bit of cloth. Dragging him to the fire, I let him be and looked around for Thoronmir and Falowik: they would give him justice.

A pair of elves stumbled through the brush: Lumiel was half dragging an unconscious Lira to te fire as well. With a quiet, mournful chirp, Corn fluttered over to her, combing his beak through her hair.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 3:05 PM December 17, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[Elora]

Uien

It seemed as though hours had passed since she fled through the wall. Uien settled down and let the panting men pass her by, guilt nearly swallowing her whole. Shee had fled and left Falowik behind. Had she mistaken his intent? Did it matter? She should not have gone. When it seemed that enough time had passed, Uien rose again and set off in a new direction, back to the wall. She set a blistering pace, hoping to set as much time between her and pursuers as possible, worn down with running endlessly through the tangled warren of broken stones. It wasn't hard to find the way that Falowik and the others had gone. The whisper of stones told her much.

Uien flitted from shadow to shadow, following their siren song to a place that was unfamiliar to her. [i]The stones care not if we live or die. Why follow them,[i] she asked herself. [i]What else would you follow,[/i[ she returned. It was the noise from within that was harder to move through.

Falowik's cold face by the wall repeatedly stared back at her as she moved along the whispering path. She trailed as fast she dared. The moon would shortly sink and before her yawned the moonless hours of pre-dawn, when the night was unbroken by light.

Her heart scudded hard in her chest. [i]Surely it could not be,[i] she reasoned as Falowik's flat and hard expression beat at her memory again. It made no sense. Betrayal, from Falowik? No, she would reject that. For he had held them all off from following, had he not? It would have been a simple matter to hand her across as she stood close by his side, held at quarter by the other men. He had felled her attacker when he could have simply wrapped his arms around her and thrown her to him. He knew she would not resist his arms.

Filled with her own thoughts and the memory of the stones, Uien came to a wide empty place. There was a square, now in ruins, with broken columns dotting it down each side. A small building, stone, stood at the far end. Uien paused, listening to the stones. They were in here... did she trust them? What else could she do? Uien crept forward, from column to column, waiting for attack to fall in the failing moonlight.

Uien crept forward towards the dilapidated garrison house with all the caution of a spooked deer. She walked light and lithe despite the travails of the night, swift and cautious to the last stone column. Men's voices could be heard softly and Uien held her breath and sank down into a crouch.

She heard unrest, doubt, uncertainty and impatience. There were two voices and that of Falowik. Suspicion shimmied through the two men that accompanied him. They waited, she deduced. The night had not gone well and those they waited for were delayed. It was some comfort, that deduction.

Uien crouched in the embrace of the remnant of what once had been a pillar. In an age past, she would have been hunkered down in the great square of the city, flanked by colonades of magnificent stone columns, surrounded by the music of water contained into clever fountains. A flag marked with the white tree of the Kings of Numenor and the seven stars would have fluttered in bright daylight. A green, lush sward of grass and carefully tended trees would have graced the square.

That was in ages past. Now, it was a ruin of wrecked stone, tangled growth of neglect and forgetfulness, and memories that whispered ceaselessly around her like ghosts. The building that the two men and Falowik made use of was once a garrison, a small one room structure whose roof now gaped at the setting moon and fading stars like an open, toothless mouth.

Uien waited for time to slip past, sluggish and slow, and then ghosted closer when she was reasonably sure the square was otherwise empty. Each step was painstaking, cleaving a way through stones and rocks and vines withered with the summer's heat, through memories of her own darkness and that which had visted Fornost. She moved as fast as she dared, which was not fast at all, harvesting pools of shadow and slipping through bare spaces of the last moonbeams like a silvery fish through water - barely a ripple.

It was like a game, she told herself, when she would hide from her brothers. Instead of stones and dead cities, there were golden trees. Instead of evil men, there were those she knew and loved. But one thing was here that was not in the Golden Wood, and she would not leave this dark place and him behind. For he had not betrayed her, her beloved. She refused to allow that and if that made her fool, then so be it.

Uien clung to that childhood memory and drew from it vestiages of strength that carried her closer, imagining that even now her brothers closed in around her, calling her name and laughing softly. When she came to realise that she stood in the shadow thrown by the back wall of the broken garrison house, Uien's eyes went wide with surprise and her breathing stilled. She was close now, very close.

The voices inside were those of the men, and Falowik's also. Uien's brow furrowed as she followed their talk. Yes, they were unsettled and they were waiting for help. That meant that there were others they expected to arrive. She knew of at least two that perhaps even now turned back for this place in frustration at not being able to find her. Uien's mind sped. She could not wait for that. She leaned her back against the aged stone wall and it's coolness spread through her tunic and undershirt down her spine.

If she had a sword.... then she'd provide them with the means to kill her and Falowik, her Brother replied for her. She was no warrior. She was a healer... and that meant that she could heal great injury - or cause it. The whispering of the stones rose in pitch, itching at her awareness. It was that whispering that enticed her forward into this nightmare, and drew in Falowik also.

A chill spread through Uien at the very thought, but it was that or consign Falowik and her heart to something worse. These men had a familiar reckless violence. Blood hung off them in the air. Death was in their voices and eyes. Swallowing her heart, Uien moved forward clinging to the wall. She gathered up a stone, sighted a nest of dried vines and shrubs and threw it directly into the growth. The stone make the desired impact and rustling as it rolled to settle. The talk within the garrison hissed to a halt.

"Ain't Lagk a/d Slout," said one nervously. The hesitant footfall of a man neared the door. As he peered out, Uien rolled another stone across the broken pavers and curled herself tightly. She heard his boots crunch on the rubble around the garrison, broken tiles that had long shattered on the cobblestones.

"Oo's 'ere," he called, his sword a sibilant hiss as he drew it. By pure chance, Uien's two stones had woken a resident of the tangle of vines and bushes and the growth shuddered with outrage. He neared, the back of his head and ragged clothing all Uien could see. From that angle, she deduced as he crept back towards the rustling leaves, she could reach his throat if she was swift and silent... and brave.

It was a gambit, she knew, but waiting was far worse. Not daring to breath, Uien darted out from the shadow of the back wall towards the man as he crept towards the weeds. The faintest sound of her soft soled boots scuffing against the cobblestones as she leapt for his back drew him up. Before he could turn and get his sword about, Uien's weight hit his back. The man sucked in a breath that was caught within his lungs as her deft fingers found his airpipe.

Her face was devoid of emotion, she dare not let it slip now, as she stopped his airway with precisely the right pressure. His eyeballs widened and expanded, as though they would pop and he hit the ground clumsily. Uien rolled over the stones hard, coming to her feet and shaking. He writhed, clawing at his throat.

She stared at him for a moment, expressionless, and then darted back to the cover of the back wall of the garrison. If she dared feel, she would likely be ill. If I am fast enough, I can unstop his breathing, she reasoned with herself. She had not killed, not yet...

The clatter of his sword as it fell from a nerveless grip had been unnaturally loud, bouncing and skipping off stones. Uien leant against the stone wall, unfeeling the chill now, surrounded by the whisperings once again. The man choked loudly on the stones and Uien squeezed her eyes shut. It would be a cruel way to die. His legs were kicking frantically. She had to be fast.

There was one other to deal with. The garrison was now quiet within, waiting. The noise of the choking man could not be hidden. Uien turned and crept along the back wall, away from the corner that she had been waiting in. She peered around the opposite corner and examined the edge of the square beyond, lest the others had circled around the square. Another gambit, but one she had to take. Uien slipped forward up the side wall, closest to the doorway. The silence was dragging all into its heaviness.

As Uien came to the front corner of the side wall, the moon failed utterly and set for the night. A darkness all but absolute descended upon Fornost and all was shadow now. But this made little difference to Uien, for she had endured shadow deeper and fouler than this and she had not something so precious at stake, merely her own life, before now.

She could make out the very tip of a drawn sword that caught the faint glimmer of retiring stars. Most had already cast a veil around their silver glory. It was well that moon nor star looked upon what she would do, Uien realised. The square was now silent. The other man was likely dead. His face would join other evils within her soul, but this one was earnt. This one was all her own. There was no innocence here. Only memory and death.

Uien moved forward in silence, elven feet elven light, face set in grim lines of fell beauty that noone could see in the darkness. The sword tip wavered as the one who held it shifted stance and attempted to pierce the pre-dawn murk with his mortal sight. Uien again stilled her breathing and reached into a lifetime of healing lore. Not death, she hoped, but incapacitation. In her hand was a heavy stone. All she had to do was dive through the door, beneath his sword and smash it into his knees. He would not walk then.

Her mind went blank as she launched herself into a low roll. She heard a roar of surprise and rage, and the crunch of splintered bone. She felt the shocking heat of steel as a sword sliced through her shoulder, narrowly missing her neck and head. She felt the warmth of blood and the touch of her now filthy undertunic as it settled on her skin. She felt him hit the ground, cracking his head on the stones and then the silence reigned supreme.

Uien gathered herself back from the fallen man, stone clattering uselessly to the ground, blank of purpose and words. The last sound, that crack of his skull, reberverated through her hearing. It was a wet and final sound. A sob shuddered from her lips as she realised what it heralded. It was death. She had killed another, she a healer, and for what?

Not what, whom...

"Laurëatan," she ventured within the darkness of the garrison. Uien's voice was light in that heaviness, and it floated. She heard the crack of skull shattering on rock and swallowed hard. There was movement by a wall, and Uien turned towards it.

"My hands are bound," he said and Uien nearly sat down with relief. Recalling the sword of the now dead man, she reached forward with numb hands and gathered it up. Working carefully in the poor light, aided by elven sight, Uien slit the rough ropes that had bound Falowik's wrists, heedless of the blade that cut into her own hands as she did so. It seemed right that she spill blood, little as it was, of her own given what she had wrought.

"There will be others coming," she whispered as the ropes slipped free. Falowik took from her the sword and stood. She rose beside him.

"What of the two here," he asked. The wet collision and crack of head on stone, the sound of a man choking...

"Dead," Uien replied as a wave of despair wailed through her. "I killed them. I did not mean too..." In the darkness, Uien pressed her now killing fingers over her mouth to keep that wail within her. Blood trickled down from her shoulder and hands. She felt a hand at her elbow and allowed herself to be pushed forward.

"We should go," Falowik said. She heard questions within him. He peered out the doorway as another who now lay cooling had.

"There is a place that is safe," Uien murmured strangely. She felt disembodied and disconnected. "The stones sing of it."

Falowik turned back towards her, troubled by the tone of her voice, hollow almost and great many other things.

"It is this way," Uien said as she walked past him on unsteady legs, out into the square without looking this way or that. Falowik stepped after her. The stones whispered of a place that had proved safe until all was lost upon a time. All was lost now, was it not? She was a murderer. Yes perhaps all was lost, and perhaps not, said a voice of reason through the growing numbness of shock.

Back towards the procession of broken columns Uien went, Falowik trailing uncertainly. He caught her up again.

"Is this a good idea," he asked, thinking of the others at camp and the two other men that he knew remained within the ruins. Uien did not answer, blank and listless. He set his hands on her shoulder and felt the cool wetness at her right shoulder. With alarm he drew his hands back and seized her own, also sticky with warm blood on cold flesh that was shivering.

"You're bleeding!"

"The stones are whispering," Uien murmured disconectedly. "They see everything, remember everything." Uien fell into a whispering singsong, words familiar and words unfamiliar to Falowik as she fell through the tongues of Men and Elves. Shock had her now, and gone were her walls against the memories held trapped in Fornost's ruins. Held in abeyance for so long, they poured into her, flooding her, filling her.

Uien stood, whispering and shivering, in the ruined square of Fornost. Memories of stone merged with memories of dark forgotten places beneath mountains. Only the tentative touch of Falowik's hands on her face through the track of tears that fell unheeded, brought her back for a moment.

"I am cold," Uien observed through her shivering before being swallowed by the memories, hers and others, again.

[littlemanpoet]

Uien had come back for him. She had killed twice to save him, even while her own life was in danger. She, a healer, who would not harm anything or anyone, had killed for him. Falowik, you old fool, she loves you not to please herself, she simply does. He was amazed. And chastened. Get out of your self made jail, old man, and live in the open!

Uien was bleeding - for him - and feverish with it, murmuring and whispering in a delirium. He touched her face, softly, gently, and found tears.

"I am cold." Her voice sounded far away. Falowik did not have the art to use Uien's packet of herbs and cloth. He had to get her back to the others. He slid his arm around her waist, and she absently placed her right arm around his shoulder. Holding a sword in his right hand, Falowik guided her slowly, carefully, as noiselessly as he could; there were still two villains left. She rested her head on his shoulder once when he paused, and his heart melted again. He would see her through this, and never let any doubts come between them again.

"The stones! The stones!" she moaned, and swerved around him, losing her balance, and fell into his arms. She struggled up and tried to move back into the depths of Fornost.

"Uien!" he whispered. "We must go back to camp!"

[Elora]

Falco

"... And I still say we go on and find the two who are missing. If there are more brigands, then they will be on their way here quick smart now that they know where we are. If we get to Fornost, we might be able to stop those two from sending more on!"

Falco stood with his hands on his hips, fists clenched, and his eyes blazing rightful anger at any who gainsaid him, which was most of the group to be honest. Others were injured and most wished to tend their hurts. There was a prisoner also, presided over the Elf's grim crow. Falco did not wish to go anywhere near crow nor blinded man.

"Now, who's to say it's their fault," Anson said wearily. It had been a long night.

"Look around you, youngster. Do you see Uien? Where did Falowik disappear off to when things got thick here?"

"That may well be, but 'tis too early to fling accusations about. We don't know if they have survived."

The Ranger, their leader, was predictable in his support of the other Big Folk - or so Falco thought. He folded his arms stubbornly.

"At least we will have more cover at Fornost then this forsaken hill," he persisted, dropping for the moment his suspicions concerning the source of the attack. He'd remember them when the time came again, as he was certain it would. The rest of the group mulled over matters and murmured amongst themselves.

"I think the Shirriff is right," one lone Hobbit voice ventured uncertainly. The group silenced, turning their collective attention on its owner. Gorby swallowed and reddened, uncomfortable at siding with the Shirriff now that he had such speculation.

"If those Men came at us in the ruins, we'd better be able to cover ourselves. Wouldn't we?"

"Or bury ourselves," Lumiel muttered. The idea of being penned by ruins under attack, stone coffins, was not pleasant.

"Perhaps," Thoromir said. Gorby resumed his intent inspection of the ground at his feet in what remained of the camp's fire. Noone had tended it since the onslaught began.

"Very well, those who cannot walk can be carried on the horses. We have two without riders at present. Fornost is a mile at the most. We should make it by dawn." A ripple of voices danced around the group and movement followed.

In the pre-dawn darkness, they filed warily, leading their horses and injured, and their blind prisoner, towards the ruins that were now called Deadman's Dike.

"Keep alert," Falco advised the two young hobbits nearest to him. "It would not be above them to come at us unawares even now, such filth as they are." A strange anger lit the Shirriffs gaze, and Gorby and Anson attempted to move forward a little.

"We'll soon see, yes we will," Falco muttered to himself as he imagined the reckoning when they found that scoundrel Falowik and his elven cohort.

Uien

Through the empty darkness came a voice. She knew it, that voice, and it reached for her. She reached for it, across the chasm and the coldness, and for a long frozen moment she thought she would not catch it. And then she did.

"... make for camp," the voice said.

"Falowik," Uien breathed in relief and recognition, as though she had only just realised he was present. She smiled, incongruous and unfitting as it was.

"It's you." After all the terrible things she had done, he was there. There was a warmth around her, turning back some of the chill that seeped through her. She shivered still, but not so much. The Stones whispered and sang still, but for the moment she was on an island. It was ricky and far from steady, but it was an island of some clarity.

"Yes," Falowik replied close in her ear. " And we should go, for camp, now."

"Of course," Uien replied pleasantly, at odds with the disarray of the sea that lapped at her island's shore, eating away her unstable ground.

"It is this way," Uien said, pointing the direction of the camp out. She belatedly noticed the bloodiness of her hand and she frowned at it.

"I am bleeding," she said, puzzled at how that could be. The sea lapped closer, churning and eroding her tiny island of clarity. Then they started moving, she and Falowik. Her island had shrunk to a small foothold by the time they made the outskirts of Fornost. Falowik paused, checking nervously over his shoulder and peering into the greyness that hinted at the coming day.

Uien sat on a stone, a mistake, for the song it held leapt up at her.

"My love," she started in alarm, but too late for her foothold was gone and the sea of memory, sorrow, war and darkness had her again. There were evil things in it, and she had to swim it or drown. Falowik spun from his inspection of their surrounds to watch Uien sag. He caught her up, catching the murmuring in Elven and long forgotten Aduanic that fell from her lips. Her eyes were closed and her head lolled forward.

There were evil things in that sea, and their horror brushed against her. It was too much, that burden and she pushed it away with leaking strength. It brushed again and the secrets burst over her like a thick, clinging mat of weed.

"Ai, no!" Uien whispered in a terrible low keen.

"What!" Falowik demanded in alarm. Uien shook her head, attempting to dislodge the secrets of Deadman's Dike, the evil that had followed in Fornost's failing footsteps. She was drowing in this sea. She could feel it sucking her under its black, briny surface. Falowik adjusted her weight up and started forward again.

"Terrible things have been done here, Laurëatan. Terrible crimes. I can see them."

"And we can see you," came a stronger voice through the fog of dawn.

Falowik looked up to see the shapes of horses loom through the greyness. All Uien could see was blood, blood spilt, and empty eyes starting blindly at the darkling sky.

"Well now, what have we here." Shirriff Falco Boffin strode forward and rocked from his heels to his toes as he took in the worn state of Falowik and Uien.

"There are at least two others still in there," Falowik said in a voice made hard by the suspicion in Falco's.

"Is that all? Running short of allies?"

Falowik glowered and tightened his grip on Uien.

"What's wrong with her then," Falco said, noticing the strange way the elf was standing. She was leant forward, head bowed and limbs slack. The stains on her shirt were dark. He peered at her and then at the sword in Falowik's hands.

"She's injured," Falowik said as he drove his sword point into the earth and unhitched her pack from where it hung over his shoulders. "There could be something in here."

Falco scowled, suspecting a ruse. Yet, there was too much blood for a trap.

"Give that to me then," he said reluctantly. Equally reluctant, Falowik handed it across. "Hurry up then! If she's hurt then there's no sense in wasting time."

"Where are the others?"

"They'll be along soon enough, though you might wish otherwise." Falco riffled through Uien's pack and pulled out odds and ends. "No idea what most of this is, but these will do well enough."

Falowik opened his mouth to first ask the Shirriff what he meant about the others. Then, when the Shirriff pulled a little knife from his belt and set towards Uien's shoulder, he thought again.

"What are you doing?"

"Can't bind if I can't see it, can I? Question is, what have you been up to tonight." The Shirriff sliced at the torn shoulder of Uien's shirt to reveal the injured shoulder beneath.

"Nasty, but not life threatening... Don't look at me like that, Wanderer. I've seen my share of sword wounds, great and small, tonight included. Know what I'm doing, I do."

Brusquely, Falco began winding cloth around Uien's shoulder and then set to work on her hands. In that time, Uien continued to murmur strange, lyrical words that belied the darkness they spoke of, faintly.

"Poisoned dart," he wondered aloud.

"No, not that, I think," Falowik said. His head darted up to again stare hard at the fog.

"There he is! I've found him," Anson called. "You shouldn't have walked off like that Shirriff. Thoromir wasn't happy at all."

The rest of the group soon gathered. The Shirriff stood once again, leaving Falowik crouched by the prone Uien.

"All's well as ends well. Look who I found!"

Falowik watched a worn, weary and bloodied group dismount and draw closer. Only one remained mounted, slung across a horse with his head bandaged.

"Valar be praised," said one Elvish voice and then faltered as the song of the stones that was drowing Uien lapped at their awareness also.

"Uien's been hit by a poisoned dart," Falco said.

"I think not," returned Eswen. "This is a dark place." As she listened to Uien's whispered words, her face paled. "Very dark. We should not linger here long."

"We will stay as long as we need to, and no longer," Thoromir said as he eyed the stones.

"Apparently there are two more of the scum in there. Is that right, Falowik," Falco asked blandly.

"Aye," Falowik said and turned to stare at the stones also and then back to Uien.

On horseback, those that lived to tell of the night's encounter sped with all haste west, for there was much to tell. Their Master would not be pleased, but it had to be told, for there were foes about capable perhaps to undo his long nurtured plans.

[Imladris]

Gorby

I wandered disconsolately about the remains of the camp. The fire had long died due to lack of attention, but a faint heat still came from the glimmering embers and somewhat scattered ash. I took out my scanty ink and dimpled paper and curled myself beside the stones that had encircled the fire. With my pen, I scratched a hastily drawn sketch: it was our campsite with the men attacking, a flurry of black that was supposed to be corn, the severed eyes that nestled like eery specters in the ground. I drew Lira and the axe that descended to take her life. I closed my eyes: it had been a dark night. I considered drawing Eswen in her horribly black form (now looking back, it was quite terrifying) but I decided to leave that for another day.

I looked around me: saw Lumiel dragging Lira and heaving her onto Merk, where the elf slumped upon the mare’s back, somehow maintaining a shred of gracefulness about her. I didn’t see Eswen and --

A groan escaped the man, and I turned towards him. His mouth was partially open, his lips cracked and bleeding. Splotches of blood formed upon the ragged cloth that covered the horror of the empty sockets. His hand twitched and I crept to him softly, looking at him.

Cruelty was carved into his features and his mouth, though open in misery, still managed to sneer with arrogant, brutish barbarity. I wondered what his eyes held: what poison filled their cup, what malign hatred leered from them. I glanced at the eyes that still laid neglected upon the wilderness floor: lifeless they were, empty was their cup, blankly they stared at me.

I turned again to the prisoner: he looked thirsty, I thought. My brain told me that I should be kind and bring him some, but I rebelled at the thought. He had tried to kill us. Yet what was the harm in showing a little kindness? But I would be dead if he had his wish. I shook my head. There was nothing forward. I decided to compromise and get some old water that wouldn’t taste too good. Musty and stale, that’s what I needed. I would take some from Anson’s water skin, because it was older than mine, which I had just filled but some time ago.

Pouring it into a small wooden cup, I held it to his lips and said, “Drink.” He wasn’t going to get any sympathy from me.

And apparently he didn’t want it, neither, because he fought the liquid that I forced to trickle inside his mouth. He spat it out and he must have had an uncanny ability to see me because it sprayed right on me. But it didn’t do no harm, really. The vest was already travel stained.

“Hobbit scum!” he snarled.

I ignored the insult and said, “Why? We have done nothing to you.”

I could almost see imaginary eyes roll under the bandage with scorn. “You won’t get any answers from me, little rat.”

And I didn’t feel like talking to him; besides, Falco was calling a meeting and I felt obliged to go over there. He thought that Uien and Falowik had set us up -- and my spirits crashed. What if they had? Where were they? It didn’t make sense. There were so many reasons for them to go off and disappear and who knew how many ruffians were about. Yet, they never should have gone off in the first place, I said to myself resentfully. We could have used them. Yet how could they have known we were to be attacked, unless they had arranged, yet why would they have arranged it since it didn’t really help them really, and why had they gone through all this trouble to gather a ragtag search party that nobody of importance would mind at all if we would meet death in the wild? It stumped me -- pure and simple. But I remembered Uien, elf maiden. You’d think that there’d be a hint of the evil that were so plainly visible in one so fair as her -- even in Falowik. I shook my head.

And then Anson stuck up for them: good for him. I flashed a small smile at him and then turned back to that arrogant, prissy hobbit. He wanted to move back Fornost. I shuddered.

“Or buried,” Lumiel muttered.

Now there was an interesting thought. Uncomfortable, unpleasant, morbid thought. So typical of an elf, I thought.

We were soon on our way to Fornost, however. No shadow haunted our steps, no arrow flew into our midst, and just maybe Falco was right to come here. Maybe, maybe not.

We found Uien wounded and Falowik too. I smiled to myself. So much for them setting us up…

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 6:32 PM December 30, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[Esgallhugwen]

They had won, after binding their prisoner, she retrieved the white wolf cub, Nimrómen, from the safety of a hollowed dead trunk of a tree. Eswen smoothed his fur back and headed towards the gathered members of their camp.

**************************
Esgallhugwen was one of the last to come from the mist to the borders of Fornost's ruins, her sable green cloak rippled and spread out in the cold air. Lira was on one side, the blind prisoner on the other spitting and cursing.

"This is a dark place." As she listened to Uien's whispered words, her face paled. "Very dark. We should not linger here long." She slid off the back of Morsereg and knelt by Uien's side, the stones moaned and sighed in Esgallhugwen's ears but she was able to resist the darkness of their tales, their whisperings.

Falco eyed her with distrust and caution taking a step back with arms folded. She pulled back her hood truthfully revealing a sorrowful Elf not a Dark Queen, 'get her off that stone and on the ground, a horse would be better, but not yet. The dark memories of this place are coursing through her, she cannot withstand them in her weakened state'.

Esgallhugwen warmly assured Falowik that Uien will recover, she read from both their faces what had befallen them, Uien had killed. She had killed for love.

[littlemanpoet]

For the first time in his life, Falowik did not care what others thought about him. Maybe it still mattered, for if the others doubted his loyalty to the group, it would be harder to work with them. But for himself it did not matter. There was one who would have given her life to save his, and her well-being was utmost in his mind. He was concerned for Lira, too. She had been brave, by all accounts, and had received a fierce head wound. Falowik was no healer, but he was determined to help them both as much as he was able, and was happy to hold the water cup for Lira to drink, and to hold the wet cloth to Uien's fevered brow. He did whatever Eswen and Lumiel asked, for they knew the most about the healing arts since Uien and Lira, the two most capable healers in their company, were unable.

Thoronmir came and knelt beside Falowik as he held a wet cloth on Uien's forehead.

"Next time we must not be separated," their leader said. "I do not ask how or why it happened this time, but I need you to help set an example for the rest. They look up to you. Stay by my side and we will hold better against the foe."

Falowik nodded. "You are right, Thoronmir. I confess that in all my years of wandering alone, I used and needed nothing but a dagger, for I stayed away from the lands of men, and trapped what game I needed for food. I need to learn the art of the sword. Will you teach me?"

Thoronmir was taken aback. "You know not the sword? Do you not think that it is overlate in our quest to ask for this?"

Falowik closed his eyes and lowered his head, then faced the Ranger. "It is true that we will have little time for lessons, and I am sorry that I did not prepare myself better for this journey. But I have never claimed to be a warrior or war leader, as you know. It seems to me that I would be of more use if I know how to use the sword better than I do."

"That is true," Thoronmir replied. "There will not be much time, but when there is, I and others among us can teach you what we may." Thoronmir looked around him at the swordswomen. "Truth be told, these shieldmaidens put me in mind of the Lady Eowyn for their prowess. You will find that there is much to be learned from them as well - as long as you are not too proud."

Falowik smiled. "You have nothing to fear from me in that regard. I am just a humble wanderer blessed with good friends and allies." He turned back to Uien and seemed on the verge of saying more, but closed his mouth. Thoronmir saw his expression soften and decided that it was high time to start ordering things about so that everybody got a hearty breakfast.

[Lumiel]

The battle had been fierce, yet they had all survived but not unharmed. Lira was still weak from her head wound and rode on Merkaliel as they headed deeper into Fornost. Lumiel stayed by her side, feeling a certain responsibility for the elven woman. As she walked among the stones, a strange feeling came over her, as though they were not alone. It was not the feeling of danger, but of unseen eyes of a place long dead that still lingers yet. Her bright manner was dampened by the very air around her and she was silent for the most part.

She tried to help take care of the party's wounds as best she could, but she was not a Healer by trade. Her own wounds were healing well and she had always been quick to recover. Her hand was scratched but fine, her nose was a bit sore, and the cuts on her abdomen and shoulder were nearly healed.

When they found Falowik and Uien, relief flooded Lumiel's heart. She had prayed for their safety and whether by the will of the Valar or simple luck, both were still alive. Uien was hurt, but not fatally. Rest and skilled hands would cure her ills soon enough. Falco doubted them, to say the least. Lumiel wondered about them, but did not doubt their intent. Naive as she often was, she knew truth when she saw it, and she knew that Falowik loved Uien as much as he may deny it to any other. And Uien she trusted.

Poor Uien, she thought. She's killed, but she had no choice. She looked out across the rock-strewn landscape and thought back to the battle. She had blocked it out until now because to face it would only hinder herself. She had never killed a man. She walked a distance from the group as she felt a retch in her throat. With a few deep breaths, she calmed herself and held her eyes to the horizon. Words came unbidden to her lips and she sang a lament for the men, wrong as they were. She could not hate them, she would forgive them and pray for a peace in death that they had never achieved in life. The others would think her a fool for it she knew, but she did not care. The others only heard a soft voice singing in elvish not in a beautiful voice, but in a sweet, young one in mourning.

She ended her short song and blinked away tears before returning to the group, who stared at her strangely. Only the elves and probably Finewen would know that she had sung a lament for their attackers. The others were preparing for a breakfast and she went about helping. She had not done the right thing, merely the necessary thing.

[Imladris]

Lira

Lira’s eyes slowly eased open as she woke into consciousness. She saw Uien and Falowik in the camp, as well as the others scurrying about the camp. She herself was resting in the hollow of boulder and her head had been rebound with soft cloth. A meager breakfast was being prepared, but Uien stood a little apart from the group, her head bowed.

Slowly, Lira stood to her feet but stopped as pain surged through her head. Clutching the rock to steady herself, she closed her eyes as she waited for the pain to drift away. When it merely throbbed as a dull ache, she found Lumiel and asked what had happened. Lumiel briefly told her as she continued her work and Lira listened with a frown when she was told of Uien‘s kill. “Thank you, Lumiel,” she murmured as she turned away and approached Uien.

“How is your shoulder, Uien?” she asked softly, standing beside the healer.

“It is better,” Uien answered absently.

Turning her blue eyes towards her, Lira said softly, “It is no wrong to kill to save another. If you had not done what you did, Falowik would be dead. If we have not slain them that attacked us, we also would be dead.” Lira paused and, gazing at the rising sun, said, “It is hard to kill, to watch a human’s life snuffed out. I understand your grief.” With a short nod, she turned away.

With a joyous caw, Corn fluttered to her arm and gazed with a beady eye at her, his beak open as if with a smile. Bringing his head towards her she whispered, “My brave raven.” Then she kissed his feathers, and whispered to him in Elvish.

A foreboding sorrow haunted the ruins of Fornost: death was close.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Finëwen cleaned her blade and set it back into its hilt as she listened to Lumiel's song. She then rushed to the wounded to see if there was anything she could do. They both seemed well and were walking, so Finëwen sat down next to her horse and rested for a bit.

Those men she killed she began to feel sympathy for. But, she did not regret it. She felt sickened inside at what she had done, yet there was no regret. She would have to get used to those feelings if she wanted to remain living safely in this world. She sighed, pushed the thoughts away and took a sip of water from her flask. She had only a few scratches, and they would heal quickly, but she saw a few of the others were staggering a bit, and hoped they would mend soon also. She took one more sip, and then got up to see what she could do.