Truth in a Dark Place RPG

[Everdawn]

It had been some while after the scouting party had left, and Rangar had told them to wait. Never have i seen weather like this! she thought to herself. To pass the time, she had sang, as she always did. In this mist her elven sight was useless. Where are they, have they gone astray? Calimir, le ab-dollen!! where are they!Énien thought.

She stood up in frustration. "They should not be so long" she snapped. "And what if they have come to grief? we are left sitting here like no-brains waiting for them to return?!" Now Énien was frantic with worry. Then she heard it. Footstepps.

At least my ears are not decieved by fog She faltered on the remark her mind made. just in case, she took out her dagger from around her waist. Another figure had gotten up from the ground, she guessed it was Rangar, for it bore his stature. They waited...

[ May 10, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Arvedui III]

Rangar stood up. The footsteps were getting louder, and he was getting more nervous. Finally, he decided he could wait no more. He couldn't see what the others were doing, but all of them seemed to be waiting as well. "Hello" He called. "Hello."Answered another voice. "Friend or foe?" The voice added, cautiously. "Friend!" Cried Rangar at once, relief surging through him "Turthol?" "What?" Suddenly all that relief was sucked out again. "Your name, sir."Called Rangar hesitantly. Least, he thought it was a sir. The voice was getting closer now. "My name?" Answered the voice in a sort of bemused way. "Well, it's not Turthol. That's for sure, where are you, and business have you on the downs?" Suddenly both Enien and Tareth were beside him, and they both whispered, "Don't answer" with one voice. Rangar thought for second. "I'm waiting for," What? Think, think. "For my brother to catch up with me." He called, struck by a random inspiration. "Really?" Called the voice. "Brothers are slow, aren't they." "Um yes, sure. Um, why are you here?"Said Rangar, awed by his good luck.

"Well, I won't bother you, but stay on the lookout. There is a band of men, very dangerous men mind you, lead by a fellow named ‘Rangar'. I'm looking for them." Suddenly, Rangar became mute, stunned. Then someone, Enien probably, kicked him in the leg. "Sure" He called hoarsely, but as if it was a natural reaction. "We'll stay alert. Be careful on the downs in this fog." "Thank you, I will." Called the voice and slowly, all too slowly, the footsteps faded out of hearing.
About two hours later, the scouting party returned saying they had found the road. "Great." Said Rangar shakily. "Let's get on it." The group, now lead by Turthol, made their was out of foggy downs that night. And all the time, Rangar thought. Why would someone be looking for me?

[maikafanawen]

Wren walked up towards the front as the group made their way out of the Downs. The fog began to subside early the third morning and the temperature had risen considerably. The noblewoman rolled up her cloak and tied it to the bottom of her sack. Then she pulled the her hair out of her face, clasping it behind her neck with a clip. Water supply was lessening quickly, and everyone had perked their ears for the sound of a stream.

“The last one was a days journey back up the trail. If we don’t find anything by nightfall we should turn back, we can’t go on without water,” said Bregand. Wren heartily agreed but Rangar didn’t.

“There’s water ahead, and we can’t chance another encounter with the Wild Men.” The company followed their leader on faith until dusk when the they were threatened greatly by dehydration. Finally, the sound of a trickling brook reached the ears of the elves and they led the group to a pure and fast running creek that was three feet wide and about two thirds of a foot deep. Wren filled her water sack so full it was in danger of popping.

“You might want to lessen the amount of water you have there,” advised Turhtôl, “you don’t want it to explode on you later on.” The noblewoman reluctantly drained a bit of the water back into the cool creek. Bregand meanwhile stood there looking confused at the water and followed it around a bend a few paces and then south the same amount.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he declared, “it’s not on any of the maps.”

“Well you know Bregand,” said Enien smartly, “not all the little creeks will be labeled. This could have just been a little trickle a month ago and was flooded during last weeks rain. You of all people should know to take things like that into consideration.” Bregand ignored her last remark and shrugged, also filling his canteen.

They decided to make camp by the stream that night and continue early in the morning. Carmalita made a fire and Rave began stirring a stew. Since Wren had never cooked so much as a cracker in her life, she told them that her sword needed sharpening desperately and excused herself from being of service. When dinner was consumed, and the group sat around the dying fire, Wren decided that it would do some good to have a bit of entertainment to loosen the tense feelings among them all.

“Bregand!” she called, “I know many scholars in Gondor, and a favorite pastime of theirs is to baffle their friends and adversaries with riddles and conundrums. Why don’t you test our cleverness?” The group turned towards the youngest member of the company who looked back excitedly.

“Alright, now that you mention it, there is a good riddle that my tutor enjoyed to tell about a rich merchant who had two sons. As do we all, the man grew old, and he knew his time was short. He called his sons to him, saying he could not decide which of them would be his heir. This they would determine by a race. The sons were to set forth the next morning for Pelargir, some fifteen miles away. The son whose horse was the last to arrive would be named his father’s heir.

“In the morning, the two men ready for the race upon their prized steeds. Their father gave them his blessing and wished them well, and the race was on. Each son employed every method he could think of to remain behind the other, while the animals grew restless and the sun sank low behind the mountains. By the end of the day, the two men had gone less than a hundred paces!

“Deeply troubled, the two brothers took shelter at an inn. There they shared ale and discussed their troubles. Each man was wealthy by his own labors, and each had business affairs and families to tend. The task their father had given them had no clear end in sight. In pursuing their inheritance, the men were in very real danger of perishing in the land between their father’s house and Pelargir. The men told the innkeeper their dilemma. After a moment’s thought, the innkeeper gave them two words of advice.” Bregand stopped and looked around at the faces of the members of the company. They all looked back blankly, waiting for him to tell them the innkeeper’s words. “Change horses,” he said as though it was quite obvious. “The father said that whoever’s horse got their last would be his heir. That way, whichever son got to Pelargir first upon his brother’s mount would be the heir.” Hoping that everyone would be awed at the enigma he had just presented them with, the scholar was sorely disappointed when Turthôl spoke up.

“Oh yeah, I have a good one. Bregand, you can’t answer this one.” (The scholar nodded smugly. Pleased that the ranger assumed he would know the answer). “You invited five trolls that lived on top of a mountain to your house for tea. There was one perfect path from their cave to your house that ran right down the side of the mountain, yet they were still unable to go. They had no other plans, weren’t ill, there were no obstacles, and wanted to go. What stopped them? Oh yes, and the weather was perfect.” Everyone in the circle shared glances and a few threw out a few guesses. Turthôl shook his head at all of them. Then Enien broke through answering impatiently.

“Trolls turn to stone in sunlight.” The rest groaned at the obviousness of the answer, and Bregand guffawed.

“Really, that one was popular when I was still waiting for my back teeth to grow in.”

“Then hush, and be thankful you’re not missing any,” warned Turthôl good-naturedly, holding up his fist. The scholar gave him a snide look.

“Anyone else going to show us a bit of talent?” asked Rangar. Wren pulled forth her lute, and touched the delicate strings with her fingers.

“I will.” She sat the beautiful instrument on her lap and began to play a lilting tune. The music filled the air like magic, and the noblewoman began to sing:

“The wind in the sails, takes us along
It’s here on the seas, where sailors belong
We hear the crash of waves on the bow
Tomorrow we dock, should Ulmo allow

“Gods of the earth hold us dear in your hands
Guide us through night and through day
We look towards the horizon, searching for land
Guide us to the harbor, we pray.” Wren vocalized as she played, the silver strings catching the random beams of moonlight. Then she continued her song.

“Stars wheel above, and sea churns below
Storms rip at our hearts, and hurricanes blow
Through nights of sure death, we tow along
We’ll sail on ‘till dawn, still singing this song.

“Gods of the earth hold us dear in your hands
Guide us through night and through day
We look towards the horizon, searching for land
Guide us to the harbor, we pray.

“Port is in sight, we’re ready to dock
We smooth into landing, without any shock.
Though danger was close, we turn to the sea
It’s our sailor’s curse, we’ll never be free

“So Gods of the earth hold us dear in your hands
Guide us through night and through day
The sea’s power and might have taken their toll
They’ve captured and imprisoned our souls...” She finished the song with a quiet thrum of the strings and an owl hooted in the distance making the noblewoman shiver.

“Nicely done,” commented Carmalita. “Your friend wrote that?” Wren nodded. It was a powerful song, and it was the first time she’d played it on her lute. The lute itself was mysterious. The sailor who gave it to her couldn’t explain its origin; it was what she liked most about it. The power of the old song had expressed itself thoroughly through the instrument and it had left Wren breathless.

“Yes, yes she did. Whoo,” she chuckled a bit, “pretty powerful when its this dark at night eh?” She set aside her lute and leaned back against her pack. “Anyone else want to give us a show?” No one answered so Rangar stood, stretching.

“We need to get some rest anyhow. Rave, you take first watch, and Tareth, you relieve her in about two hours, then Wren’ll take third watch and we’ll be off after that. Goodnight everyone.” No tents were erected for the small canopy of trees they were under was protection enough and there was no threat of rain. The fire was doused and all but Rave curled up atop their traveling cloaks and fell asleep.

[ May 11, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Carlas]

Maika's post

Second Watch
Wren awoke late in the night, during Tareth’s watch. He sat against a tree,
glancing around at the surroundings every now and then. Wren sat up and brushed
her hair out of her face. Something had woken her and she wasn’t sure exactly
what it had been. Standing silently, she walked over to Tareth.

“I awoke and will not be able to go back to sleep. You only have a half hour to
go so I’ll just take over now, all right?” Tareth nodded sleepily, allowing
Wren to take his place early. The first hour went smoothly, with only the hoots
of hunting owls and the calls of nightingales breaking the silence of the night.
Then an unnatural sound reached Wren’s ears. They were footsteps, though very
silent ones. They crept ever nearer without showing any sign of the person or
thing that made them. The noblewoman's sword was still by her pack.

“Who’s there?” she whispered firmly to the night. Suddenly a figure emerged
before her, draped in what seemed like night itself. A cloak so black that it
looked as though it fell from the night sky was draped around its shoulders. A
cowl covered the head, so that none of the face was discernable...

Carlas' post

The hooded man walked towards the girl, his steps silent upon the dark earth. She stood up quickly, reaching down to take out her sword, but with a quick flash he grasped her hand and twisted it sharply, taking her sword from her side and tossing it to the ground a couple of yards away. She watched it as it fell to the ground and twisted her wrist out of his grip, rubbing it hard with her other hand as she backed up a little, her eyes still on her sword.

The man smiled under his hood, as he motioned for his men to step forward out of the darkness, one picking up the girl's sword and pulling it away. She ran towards the man with her sword, but was stopped by a large pain in her side as she was kicked in the ribs by the hooded man. She fell to the ground and looked up at him, her hair falling in her face. He smiled and snapped his fingers and all around him and the camp lights flickered into view.

"So," He said looking down at the girl. "Let us find this Rangar!" Then horns started to blow about the woods and a flurry of wild men ran into the camp.

[Carlas]

Maika's Post

Wren narrowed her eyes as she looked into the cowl, trying to see the face of the man that bent over her. Failing, she kicked her leg forcefully out from under her, hitting the man behind his knees, making him fall to the ground. She rolled away from him and stood, running at the man with her sword. Shocked at her speed, he brought the sword up and swung at her. Unaware of the lightweight nature of the sword, he flung it away in his attempt to slice at her. The noblewoman caught it by the hilt and held it before her, daring the man before her to attack. He was caught off guard at first but then grinned sadistically as he pulled two long knives out of their sheaths on his belt. Wren fidgeted nervously. The man leaped towards her and she met him quickly, knocking one knife from his hand and slicing his wrist. Screaming in pain, she leapt again; Wren skewered him in mid-air. She pulled her sword from his chest and turned again to join the fight.
Men were everywhere. The company was fighting well, but they were greatly overwhelmed. Wren searched vainly for the man in the cloak as she quickly eliminated her adversaries. Then she saw Rangar fighting with the grace of a falcon. He seemed to have a sixth sense that informed him when his enemies were upon him allowing him to parry their attacks and overtake them with surprising ease. The noblewoman was very much amazed at his skill and was distracted for a moment from the fighting. Then a dagger whistled by her ear bringing her attention back. She ducked the airborne weapon and brought her sword about to meet the next dagger. It was deflected and fell to the ground. Wren tried to leap out of the way of a charging wild man but he caught her by the leg and brought her down with him. Rolling over on her back she ran her sword through him as he leaned over her ready to slice with his scimitar. She pulled her rapier free just as another attacker made his move. Severing his head easily, she ran to where the rest of the company was. Enien had a nasty gash on her brow that made Wren cringe. She saw where Turthôl was fighting near Rangar and Bregand and Tareth were holding their own not far from them. The rest of the women in the group along with Calimir had been attacked in the trees and were just coming into the clearing, having just disposed of their first onslaught of foes.

Wren parried attacks as she made towards Turthôl. (Rangar had moved further away, his skills inconceivably advanced). Shouting above the clang of steel, the noblewoman told Turthôl about the cloaked man as she defended herself.

“It is not by -- chance that these -- wild men -- fall upon us. They have -- a leader. He’s looking for Rangar. Couldn’t tell -- what he looks like thought.” Turthôl nodded but continued to fight, obviously trying to make his way over to Rangar. Wren glanced around quickly and noticed that the group was slowly being singling off and getting further away from the center group.

“No!” she yelled, “Stay together!” Her voice was strained but Enien had heard her and repeated it so that all could hear. The company began to move together again. There are so many thought Wren as she fought, her arms tiring very quickly, I don’t know about the rest, but I’m not going to last very much longer. As soon as she had thought that a hard kick in her back sent her sprawling on the ground. She gripped her sword in both hands and swung it up, rolling over on her back again. The rapier met the large shield with a deafening clang. The collision numbed her arms and knocked her sword from her hands. The man in the cloak stood over her again. She brought her foot up between his legs giving him a mighty kick that gave her plenty of time to get away and get her sword. She grabbed the weapon and turned to face him but he was gone. Wren cursed and turned to join the fight, but she wasn’t given a chance. Something heavy and hard hit her in the back of her head, making the stars spin around her head. Being stunned for that split second cost her dearly. Two pairs of strong arms grabbed her from behind her and punched her hard in the stomach. She fell limp into the arms and was dragged away into the forest.

“Now we’ll see what you know girl,” said an icy voice. Then it went dark.

[ May 13, 2003: Message edited by: Carlas ]

[Everdawn]

The quietness of the night was interrupted by the yelling of wild men coming into their camp. Énien lay still in her swag. She could see well the man coming out of the side about to stab her slender body in its sleep.

Énien took her arm out and stabbed the man in the shin. She always slept with the daggar given to her by Elrohir, son of Elrond. The man screamed out in pain. Énien casually got out of her swag and stood before the man. "Who sent you!" she yelled at him, but he refused to answer. The man was down on the side of his stomach.

"Who sent you!" she yelled again, and still he did not answer. Énien kicked him hard in the stomach. He lurched for her leg. Overcome with anger Énien brought the daggar down on the back of the mans neck. He was dead.

Still with the yelling around her. She casually looked up in the sky. The star was out again. "Tiro! Êl eria e môr" she yelled to the others. "A star, It is returned, bring again foes!" This time Énien was caught off guard as one man jumped at her from behind holding a knife to her throat. "Where is Rangar?" he said.
"I know not of who you speak!" she said in a disgusted tone.

She kicked the man in the shin, but she was too slow, the man managed to slash her across her fair face. A large cut now ran from her foehead down over her eye. She was stunned. Blood. She felt sick to her stomach. It was her blood. She took her daggar from the ground and stabbed at the second man again and again.

Blood was falling over her face. "What now!" she yelled at the rest of the party.

[The X Phial]

Bregand shot awake to the sound of wild cries. He rummaged quickly through his blanket and found his father's sword and his own small dagger. The camp was being overrun by men, he could not tell how many. He heard metal on metal and the twang of bowstrings; his companions were already fighting back.

Gripping the sword in one hand and the dagger in the other, the young man stepped backwards into the foliage. He hadn't been noticed yet, and he knew that his only chance to wound or kill the enemy would come with surprise. His chance came quickly. Two wild men ran past and one stopped to kick through his blanket.

Without stopping to think, Bregand launched himself at the man's back. Not an honorable way to fight, perhaps, but a smart way. The man, hearing a sound and turning, caught Bregand's sword in a glancing blow off his arm. He howled and dropped his own weapon. Bregand kicked it away while trying his best to keep a grip on his sword. The blow had hit bone and the shock had gone back up his arm. With his good arm the wild man grabbed for Bregand's sword, but the scholar had quickness on his side and the wild man wound up grabbing the blade, howling once again. Not believing his luck, Bregand kicked his opponent backwards and watched as he hit is head on a stone and fell unconscious. He knew he should finish the man off, but he couldn't make himself deal a killing blow.

He heard a shout behind him; he was being charged by the other man who had run past him earlier. Bregand fended off the man's blows, backing up until he ran into something behind him. The man attacking Bregand took a step back then, for what the scholar had run into was an ally, Tareth. Together, the two men pushed the wild man back over the ground they had just covered. The wild man stumbled a bit over his fallen companion and Tareth took the opportunity to lunge at him. The wild man had other ideas, however, and managed to land a blow to the back of Bregand's head with the flat of his sword while dodging the blacksmith's attack.

The world spun and rang, and Bregand's eyes swam out of focus. The last thing he saw before falling into unconsciousness was the blood of the wild man on Tareth's blade.

[ May 12, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[Durelin]

Tareth looked up in surprise when he heard a horse trotting up beside him, but did his best to hide it as he saw Aerin ride up beside him. "Hey Tareth," she began, smiling at him, "I just wanted to say...uh..thanks for that decent apology earlier. Sincerely." Tareth knew he couldn't hide the surprise this time, as hard as he tried. "Well...I'm gladdened by that, Mistress Aerin." The woman chuckled at the title, and Tareth felt his face grow hot. Her warm smile only made it worse. "No need for titles, Tareth. Please, I am in no way a Mistress, though I am flattered that you would regard me so." Tareth returned her smile uneasily, and the woman trotted back behind him. He mentally thanked her for that; he didn't like being alone, but he was never sure of his footing around strangers. Especially ones as strange as the ones he rode with.

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

Tareth was amazed by the billowing fog. He was used to mist, but never dense cloud cover. He could barely see the grey gelding he rode on's head extending out in front of him. He could feel his companions grow uneasy by the minute. They shifted nervously in their saddles, or fingered the reigns. Their mounts, sensing their mood, periodically stamped or whinnied, the sound muffled, seeming the stop abruptly, diminished by the fog. It seemed that it couldn't be chance, that evil was pressed upon them, that something sheltered a dark threat. Tareth shivered, cold running down his back. His neck itched, as if there were eyes on them. He was about to believe that there really was something out there, but then the feeling was gone, as abruplty as it came. You're letting weather get to you. It's just bad weather. Still, he couldn't stop the feeling of dread weighing down upon him. A scouting party of Turthol, Wren, Bregand, and Calmir went off ahead in the mist, and the rest were left to wait. Tareth helped make a fire, then sat down and took out a cloth to clean his axe to pass the time.

He heard them, footsteps. At first he thought he was imagining it, the sounds were so strange in the fog, but then he noticed his other companions reacting to it. First he felt Enien tense, cutting off after her outburst of frustration. Then Rangar rose, scanning the swirling dark around him to no avail. "Friend or foe?" he called. Tareth rose, axe in hand. He walked as silently as he could over to where Rangar stood. There was no sense in giving whoever was out there an idea of how many there were, and there were few, at that, with out scouting. He had been so intent on his stealth that he missed much of the shouts from the man, or men, among the mist. "That's for sure," he heard from within the fog in front of him as he stepped up beside Rangar. "Where are you," the voice continued, "and what business have you on the downs?"

"Don't answer!" whispered Tareth, and was surprised to hear Enien do the same. Rangar paused for a moment, and Tareth watched him; the man seemed on the verge of saying something, but not sure what. ""I'm waiting for," he said finally, then paused for an instant again, continuing, to Tareth's shock, with, "For my brother to catch up with me." What was the man thinking? Couldn't he think of a more reasonable response? Tareth did have to remember that he was under pressure, but, all the same... The man in the fog seemed to believe him. "Really?" came the voice again, "Brothers are slow, aren't they?" This was getting stranger and stranger, Tareth couldn't believe it. They were talking like they were sitting down over a pleasant cup of tea! And Rangar was losing his cool, calm severity, replying with, "Um yes, sure. Um, why are you here?" Tareth shook his head sharply. Surely he was dreaming? But he was not, and he knew it. "Well," the voice began again in answer, "I won't bother you, but stay on the lookout. There is a band of men, very dangerous men mind you, lead by a fellow named ‘Rangar'. I'm looking for them." Tareth couldn't help but gasp. Who was looking for Rangar? Did Rangar know? Was he holding something back from the company? Tareth wasn't about to ask, but... "Sure," Rangar said. He sounded surprised, but he hid it well, his voice sounding natural. "We'll stay alert. Be careful on the downs in this fog." Tareth stared in amazement toward the place where source of the voice should have been, even if he could not see it, as it answered, "Thank you, I will." The footsteps began again, the sound growing softer as they walked away. Tareth was shocked, so shocked that he couldn't think of a thing to say. Rangar seemed to think it as of little importance, though he was a bit shaky. He told them they should move on, and as they moved out of the downs, the scouting party returned. The fog also shrunk a bit, becoming less dense, but it was still there, and significantly.

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

To Tareth's dismay, the fog still remained when Rangar announced it was time to set up camp. The first watch went to Ravenne, and Tareth was chosen for the second. When he took his post, Tareth couldn't help but wonder what would result from an attack on the company in this weather. He looked around him, trying to find a break in the swirling fog, or any signs of movement. But, as hard as he tried, he couldn't see a thing beyond a few yards. And if their enemy came that close, it was far too late. It was time for Tareth to rely on his ears. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, opening his ears to the smallest sound. He had always had good hearing, but he needed to concentrate for his hearing to be best. He knew he risked the coming of sleep in closing his eyes, so he put himself in the most uncomfortable position he could, leaning against a tree. Slowly the time crept by. Crunch The sound rang in his ears, it was small, but it triggered the coming of someone. Tareth's eyes snapped open and he whirled around wildly, searching for the source of the sound. Then he realized it came from the direction of the camp, and he turned to see the faint outline of a figure. A woman, he thought, but he still held his axe at the ready. He relaxed as the person came into view, revealing Wren. She came over to take the watch, saying something had awoken her. Tareth was mildly surprised, but he was happy to comply. He had to admit he was tired, and he hoped that sleep would help take his mind off things.

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

Tareth lay on his blanket roll for quite a long time. How long, he had no way of knowing, except that it had to be a good hour or so, since the fog was almost completely gone. His thoughts drifted to home, to his father's shop. He could hear the clanging of iron on iron, feel the heat, smell the oil and grease and flames. It was blissful, until his thoughts went to why he was not there. He remembered the battle. As quick as it had been, it was imprinted in his mind as an immense event. He had killed. The emotions rushed on him, hitting him like he had walked into a stone wall. The pain, rage, grief, anguish, loss of humanity, all the wild emotions burned in him as if he had just killed the man. Killed the man... The thought drifted on the outside of a wall of fog inside his head, much like the deep mist surrounding his body. The feelings overwhelmed him, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. He immediately wiped it away, cursing himself for being weak, and the fog shrank away. He would kill in the defense of himself and others, kill if it was right. Evil had to be stopped, in all forms. Even men some are evil, if you are a man too. He would. But what did I lose? He wondered if it had been what Rangar had spoke of. Or was he yet to lose that? Thoughts swarmed his head, and the wall of mist threatened to return, but then he heard it. Another cursed sound...

Wild cries rose around him in the dark. Tareth jumped up, grabbing his axe. Men like those that had attacked earlier, with wild hair and dirty, scraggy clothing, with weapons of all kinds. A man came at him, swinging a spear wildly. Tareth lost all thought, all feeling, and he began to swing his axe as if in a dance. Dodging a swing, blocking the next, forcing the spear back, then stabbing in with his knife. Dark blood poured forth from the man's stomach, covering Tareth's hand, splattering on his shirt. But he hardly noticed, and took advantage of the seconds that the wild man stared in shock to decapitate him with a swift stroke of his axe. The head flew off, and the blood splattered Tareth in the face. He took no notice. Then he noticed Bregand. Bregand The name was stray a thought drifting into his head. It didn't matter. He charged over. Bregand turned on him, mistaking him for an enemy, and Tareth blocked the blows, thinking it an enemy. Then, the stray thought drifted back. Bregand

He stopped; Bregand stopped. A split second and they turned to face two wild men together. Tareth dodged a crazed swing of a broad - bladed sword, only for it to hit Bregand sharp on the head. With a howl of rage, Tareth lunged at the wild man, slashing and hacking. The blood stained everywhere. He fought off another, receiving a wound in the leg. Ignore it. The fighting paused for Tareth, at least, and he was able to check on Bregand. A large welt was on the young man's head, and a small trickle of blood ran down his face. It wasn't bad, but... "Bregand!" he called t him, shaking him a bit. He had to gain consciousness, or his situation would worsen. "Bregand!"

[ May 12, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

[Arvedui III]

Horns. Rangar without even thinking was on his feet. They has returned. He'd feared it. Struggling to see through the blackness he could make a swarms of wild men, quickly engulfing the camp. Already the others were fighting, so Rangar felt almost at ease as he drew his sword and deftly sidestepped a man lunging toward him. Rangar began striding around the camp, slashing and jabbing at the innumerable wild men as he went. He felt something lean against his back and heard Turthol's voice. "How the hell did they find us." He called over the din of battle. "They're looking for me." Rangar said, almost casually as though it was completely ordinary to be tracked down and attacked by wild men. The strangest part was he did not know or understand why he was suddenly so at ease. "What!? Why?" Turthol's reaction was very different.

Clang. Both Rangar and Turthol turned sharply and saw Bregand hit the ground. Rage flared inside Rangar. It was one thing attack skilled warriors, and another to attack an innocent boy. Abandoning his back to back stance with Turthol, Rangar rushed several wild men before getting to Bregand. Tareth was trying vainly to rouse him. "Get him out of here, Tareth!" Rangar barked. The blacksmith nodded and grabbing Bregand, made for the road just due east of the clearing. With renewed fury Rangar attacked the still dense group of wild men.

They fought for seemed like an eternity, making Rangar's arms sore. Then, another horn blew and the wild men retreated once more. "Everyone ok?" Rangar called. After numerous assents, Camalita went around checking that they all were seemingly in one piece. "What now?" Ravenne asked. Rangar stood in thought for a moment. We can't stay here. But then, where can we stay? He sighed. There were no answers, and certainly not enough information to make a good decision. "Let's get back to the road. Tareth and Bregand are there." They all nodded and Rangar was glad of it. At least they trust his judgment, even if they didn't trust him. Especially those who'd heard the conversation he had with the man in the fog. The same thought kept soming to his mind.

Why? Why is someone looking for me? When the company got to the road they found Tareth standing over Bregand, who lay limply on the ground. The nurse rushed over to him, along with some of the others. But Turthol took him aside, as Rangar knew he would. "We need to talk." They walked away from the company as Rangar related all of what had happened while Turthol and the other were scouting. "And you have no idea." "None." Said Rangar bluntly. That was the worst feeling. He felt just as he had that day on the hill; Numb, disbeileaving. "Well, we'll just have to try and outrun them until we get to Rohan." "Yeah" Said Rangar, and then as if to avoid the topic he looked back towards where the others were.

Suddenly, "Turthol?" Said Rangar in a panicked voice. "Yes" "Where's Wren?" " I dunno, you don't think," He did. Without bothering to consider the matter, Rangar cried. "Rave, Calmir, Tareth. Come with me and Turthol. I think they have Wren."

[Earendil Halfelven]

He lay there wrapped in his dark cloak. Its color made him almost as dark as the night. He watched Wren walk over and relieve Tareth, but still Turthôl did not sleep. Instead, he meditated. His body was relaxed but his mind was alert and refreshed by every passing minute.

He heard a snap somewhere in the dark. His eyes snapped open. His right hand went for his sword while his left went for one of his daggers at his belt. He heard a man's voice in the dark. Turthôl glanced over to where Wren was, and he saw her kneeling on the ground with someone in front of her. Turthôl stood.

Horns sounded in the dark; they were under attack! Men came in from the surrounding darkness. Turthôl tried to make his way to Wren but a shadow blocked his way.

"ARISE! ARISE AND DEFEND YOURSELVES!" Turthôl cried. The man in front of him didn't come far. Turthôl bent over the body and yanked the dagger out that he had thrown. Another man came behind him. He turned and blocked the man's sword with his own. With his left hand, he slashed the man in his neck, piercing the major artery. Blood shot out in a steady stream, hitting Turthôl in the face. He didn't care. Let it be a warning to those who get in my way! he thought. He had been fighting back to back with Rangar, but Rangar was no longer there. He kept fighting.

Suddenly, his memory flashed back to that night, many years ago..."Arise! Arise and defend yourselves!" he cried. The orcs swarmed in from all over... He swung upward, slashing another man's stomach, the bowels spilling out. The man cried and staggered onto the ground. Turthôl finished him off, and turned for another one to kill.
Many of his companions were cut down; orcs were desecrating the bodies. Sartir stood there, laughing...

Another man charged forward. Turthôl laughed outloud into the dark. This man's confidence was amusing to him. Turthôl picked up a branch and stirred the dying campfire to life. It blazed and the coals caught the branch on fire. He swung his sword down to the left, knocking the man's own weapon to the ground. Turthôl swung the branch into the man's face. The man screamed; the fire blinded him in the eyes. He staggered and fell. Turthôl laughed again. He would save this man for last. "Sartir...Sartir, help us! He looked around. He felt the crusted blood on his face. Sartir laughed at him. "Turthôl, you are a fool!"

Another man died at Turthôl's sword. "Sartir, what are you doing?" Turthôl cried. His companions were falling. Sartir laughed and shot an arrow, hitting Turthôl in the leg. The fight was almost over. He couldn't tell what the outcome was or who was left or not. He saw Tareth guarding Bregand. Turthôl ran over to the two. As he reached Tareth, Tareth's sword came up in defence. Turthôl raised his hands, "Tareth, it's ok. Its Turthôl."

"Oh, then you must be wounded. Your face is covered in blood. I'll call Carmilita!" Tareth said.

"No need, its not mine." Turthôl replied.

After seeing that Bregand was alright, Turthôl sought for any remaining enemies. The sun was barely rising, and its light was welcome to the company. The fog had dissapated.

____________________________________________

He stood above the man he had blinded.

"Tell us who sent you!" Turthôl yelled.

"Never! You will have to kill me," the man replied. He groveled on the ground, blind.

"With pleasure..." Turthôl said. He raised his sword to behead the prisoner.

"Turthôl, No!" It was Rangar. Enien and Calimir came up behind him.

"we need to question him to find out what he knows," Enien said.

Turthôl looked at the pathetic excuse of a man groveling on the ground, defenseless.

"What are the causalties?" Turthôl asked.

"We don't know yet. Bregand will be fine, but we are still searching for the others. Some are not accounted for, including Wren." Calamir replied.

"We need to spare this man," Rangar replied.

"And what are we supposed to do? Take him with us? Look at him, pathetic. He will serve no purpose. He knows that we probably won't kill him, so he will not tell us anything." Turthôl argued.

"Still, have mercy..." Calamir replied.

"Yes, please, have mercy upon me. Spare me, please..." the man begged.

The orcs bound his hands tightly. Four other companions were captured...the rest were dead. Sartir had betrayed them. Sartir had bandaged Turthôl's wounded leg, and he had asked him why. "So that you are strong enough to be tortured longer," Sartir snickered. Turthôl had spat in his face. He was going to track down Sartir...he was going to escape...and he was going to kill Sartir for what he had done...he was going to have his revenge.

Turthôl looked Calimir in the eyes, then Enien, and then Rangar. He saw the look of horror on their faces at Turthôl's appearance: the dried blood of another man all over his face. The look on their faces became even worse as Turthôl turnned and plunged his sword through the man. He kept forcing it down until he felt it pierce the ground beneath. He kept going until the hilt was a foot above the ground.

Calimir gasped. Enien turned away. Rangar just stood there.

"Excuse me while I clean myself off," Turthôl growled. He turned and walked off.

"We need to talk." They walked away from the company as Rangar related all of what had happened while Turthol and the other were scouting. "And you have no idea." "None." Said Rangar bluntly. That was the worst feeling. He felt just as he had that day on the hill; Numb, disbeileaving. "Well, we'll just have to try and outrun them until we get to Rohan." "Yeah" Said Rangar, and then as if to avoid the topic he looked back towards where the others were.

Suddenly, "Turthol?" Said Rangar in a panicked voice.

"Yes"

"Where's Wren?"

" I dunno, you don't think,"

Rangar cried. "Rave, Calmir, Tareth. Come with me and Turthol. I think they have Wren."


Sartir lay dead in the room that he had rented. Sartir was surprised...it had been one year since Turthôl was captured...one year since his remaining companions were tortured to death by orcs...it had been one year since he had escaped...it had been one year, but he had his revenge.

[ May 12, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir had lain low during the fighting, stirking out with his dagger should anyone come close. He thought he had killed three, maybe four, but he couldn't tell.

When everything had calmed down a bit more, Calimir watched with sharp eyes. Turthol had one of the attackers at the point of his sword. Enien rushed over, with Rangar only a step behind. "No!" he heard Rangar cry as Turthol went to slay the man. Wren was missing, the three reasoned, we must question him, make sure we've searched everywhere for her.

Turthol looked unconvinced. "What are we supposed to do? Bring him with us?"

"Have mercy," Calimir said softly. But it was to no avail, as Turthol plunged his blade into the man. Calimir shuddered in horror as he watched the man die. He stared keenly at the ranger, Turthol, as he pushed the blade past the man's body and into the ground.

What kind of journey had he gotten into? Calimir wondered as he turned away from the grotesque scene. I wanted to travel and see this world. He leaned heavily against a tree, running his fingers across its rough bark. This galadhremmin ennorath... he thought, recalling the words to the old song. But here he was, it seemed, beneath a death-horror after all. A tiro nin, Fanuilos... he thought, echoing the words of the song once more. A sharp voice brought him out of his musings.

""Rave, Calmir, Tareth. Come with me and Turthol. I think they have Wren." It was Rangar calling. Calimir straightened abruptly. Joining the others he headed for the woods from which the wild men had appeared. His sharp eyes scanned the ground for signs of a struggle. Surely if Wren was captured she wouldn't allow herself to be dragged off helplessly. The irony of that picture hit Calimir and he managed a small smile. No, unless Wren was unconscious she would not go quietly. But as Calimir's eyes raked the ground the tracker saw no signs of struggling. He frowned. Where had she gone?

[Arien]

Rave, Calmir, Tareth, Turthôl and Ranger departed and went in search of Wren who was now missing. Probably caught by who ever had attacked them. It had been quick and sudden, she had slain several but injured herself in the process. The slash across her stomach still dripped with blood and through her top seeped a deep crimson liquid, but it would be fine. She first attended to the other wounded, there were not many thankfully.

But then Turthôl had murdered that man even when Rangar and the others pleaded with him not to. Why he had done it Carmalita had no hope of knowing, and she wasn’t sure that she really wanted to know. She walked to where her pack lay next to the dead man Turthôl had slain, she pulled his limp hand away from her things and stared at him for a moment. It did not disgust her or make her feel ill. Too many times had she seen dead men, women and children. Eaten by disease, mauled by animals, punished by their families this was no different. She thought for a moment and looked over those who were left, Enien, Bregand and Arein. They all sat apart around the camp as if afraid to talk. Carmalita could not bear the silence, her life was always filled with noise. Noise of Crystal, of the Pony ,of Bree. She never really had time to herself and she hated not talking or listening. She decided to speak.

“Why do you think they came?” her voice trembled over the thinning fog and the other three slowly raised their heads.

“I don’t know? For Rangar perhaps?” Arein said quietly.

“I doubt it, unless we travel with an outlaw that does not even know himself as one!” she smiled. “Shall we light a fire? Or do you think the enemy might attack us again?” she waited for a reply. None. This was going to be a long wait. Hopefully they would find Wren soon and come back. She could not bear the silence.

[Durelin]

"Bregand!" Tareth still shook the man, thinking the worst. He had never known much about healing. He had no way of knowing in what condition Bregand was in. Tareth's heart skipped a beat when he heard a murmur from Bregand. His head had moved. Good, at least it is something Tareth searched the area around him. The battle was over, a few wild men retreating into the dark. He couldn't see any forms that could have been one of his companions on the ground, besides Bregand's. Tareth hoped that meant they all had remained unscathed, or at least could walk. "Carmalita!" he called, "Bregand is injured!" As the nurse came rushing over, he rose and told her, "If there is someone else who needs the help more than Bregand, please go to them." Then he noticed the slash at her stomach, and his eyes widened. "Like yourself." But Carmalita assured him that she was fine, and bent over Bregand.

"Rave, Calmir, Tareth," came Rangar's voice. He sounded distressed. "Come with me and Turthol. I think they have Wren." Tareth's stomach twisted. Wren had been captured. One of his companions. He shivered, and couldn't help but stare at Rangar. What would become of her? As Rangar moved on to where a few others stood, Tareth followed, trying to wipe his axe off on his shirt, but only smearing the blood all over both. He grimaced, then realized what it was for the first time. Blood. And not his. He was foolish to think that Turthol was wounded when he was covered with blood himself. But he hadn't realized... He now did his thoughts register the fact that he had killed two men. Or was it three? He shivered again, but no more. He was becoming more and more like Rangar and Turthol. That thought made him shiver all the more, but he was determined. He would do as he had said. Kill in defense of himself and others. Kill when it was right. And he would continue to hate it, continue to shiver over it, and he would not be shamed. He would not become like Rangar and Turthol, though he'd be as strong. Tareth pushed the thoughts away, and was surprised at how easily he did so. It was time to dwell on the present matter.

He surveyed the scene before him, and winced as Turthol stabbed the man through. He saw Calimir shudder. Strange... He never expected that from the elf. Elves always hid their emotions so well, as he had learned while traveling with two. Still, Turthol was a harsh man, and Tareth believed he had reason to be. With a will, he drew his eyes away from the man and back to Rangar. The man looked completely haggard, worried and tired, but he still had an air of being dangerous. He was still a strong fighter. "We will find Wren, Rangar. I know you will not rest until we find her, and I will remain by your side." The man gave Tareth a short nod, and the blacksmith was left to hope he had helped, not made Rangar's grievings worse by voicing them. Nonetheless, Tareth gathered his things, throwing his saddle bags and came across the shield his father had given him. He tied it with the bags. He would have use of it yet. Then he mounted his gelding, his three companions doing the same. I still have to think of a name- he cut the thought off. Not important. Rave, Rangar, Calimir, and Turthol were already galloping ahead of him, so he booted his horse forward after them. He hoped Rangar would not run the horses to death in his haste.

[ May 13, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

[Arvedui III]

Rangar sighed, it was no good on horses. No tracks. There were absolutely no tracks, Rangar couldn't believe it. Groping through the ever present fog, the party searched in vain for any sign of Wren. "No Struggle" Calmir commented solemnly, more to himself then to the group after two hours of searching the gloomy land. This was galling, no man could vanish into thin air, Especially one who happened to have Wren with him. "She must have been knocked out before the battle was over." Ravenne added quietly. "Of course." Muttered Tareth. "It was a ploy." "No" Said Rangar quietly. With every new theory a stab of guilt kept hitting him. Whoever they are, they're after me. Why did they take Wren? She's innocent. It was all he could do to believe that the attack wasn't planed, but a random assault by mindless wild men. Though, he knew otherwise. It was planned in great detail, and carried out perfectly. The mercenaries were just pawns, and so was Wren. They would take what they needed from her, then use her as a bait for him. And he would walk willingly into that trap. That was the scariest part. But if I run, Wren will die. It wasn't a comforting thought.

"Rangar!" Turthol's voice brought him back to himself. "Huh?" "Let's spit up. Whoever we're after is clearly alone, and we need to cover more ground. It will be light soon." Rangar nodded. "Ok, Rave, you head with Calmir that way. Turthol and I will head left. Tareth, you go back to the others and tell them we can't find Wren anywhere, and" He hesitated, "And to stay put until we get back." "Which will probably be at dawn." Calmir added, looked pointedly at Rangar. "Yes, we'll get back at dawn." So Rangar and Turthol headed to the left, scrutinizing the ground, hoping vainly for any sign of movement.

[Eruwen]

Rave and Calmir started off right in the search for Wren. For a short time there was no words spoken between the two, but eventually Rave spoke up.

"Why would this man want Wren anyway?" she commented whispering to the other. "She held no more significance than any of the rest of us."

Callo shook his head. As they walked on, Rave began to feel the real horror of the land around. The Barrow-Downs were not a pleasant place to be in by any chance...especially if you were living.

"Why did this man have to choose the Downs anyway?" Rave spoke aloud, yet silently. "Any other place...but this would make even the strongest of Men fearful."

"Just be glad we havn't seen any of those wights around," Calmir replied. "They are what you should fear. It is not simply the land which makes this place so evil...but the creatures inside the Downs."

"Very true," Rave said with a slight smile. Suddenly a noise was heard off to the left of them. They turned towards the sound, but Rave could see nothing due to the dreadful darkness surrounding their position in the wilderness.

[maikafanawen]

When Wren came to her senses she was on the forest floor, the dense fog of the downs hovering just over her head. Sitting up was strenuous due to the massive headache she received along with the blow to the head. She felt the back of her neck and found a very large bump, the size of a robin’s egg. Grimacing she stretched and adjusted her eyes to the dark, making out a single man before her. He was hooded, although two barely discernible black eyes looked out at her.

“Well hello,” she said innocently, “tell me, are you my savior or my captor? I can’t keep things strait these days, or it could be the amount of damage done to my head in that last attack.” The man stayed silent and stared humorlessly at her. “Quiet one, aren’t we,” she said as though they had just met at a social gathering. She shrugged dramatically and pulled vainly at her hair. “This damn weather is treacherous to this. Can’t do a thing with it honestly. I’m going to be spending weeks in hair-therapy when—er—if I get home.” Her last sentence broke the stranger’s silence and made him laugh sadistically, revealing his raspy voice.

“Good girl. No savior to you am I.” He chuckled evilly, though Wren counteracted him with an unexpected laugh.

“Oh good. I’d be devastated if my savior turned out to be the likes of you. I was hoping for someone more along the lines of dashing, charming, sweep-you-off-your-feet—”

“Shut up!” hissed the man. The sound of footsteps could be heard audibly through the mist. It was Rangar & Co. (as Wren had took to dubbing them). It would be foolish to let them know she was there because the man before her did not seem hesitant in the least to kill her. Sitting back against the tree she waited until they passed before trying to speak again, but when she opened her mouth he shushed her again. The stranger stood, and grabbed her arm, pressing a dagger into the small of her back and steering her forwards. “Be quiet, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes,” she muttered sedately, “it would appear so.” The noblewoman dragged a hundred paces away from they were, and came upon a low outcropping covering a dry area of ground. He shoved her under the rocks and ducked in after her, concealing the both of them in the shadows. The dagger pressed into her back, working a hole in the back of her jerkin. “Mind the fabric please,” she whispered. He shot her a menacing look before peering back into the night fog, tightening his grip and not withdrawing the dagger in the slightest bit. “Well really,” she huffed. “I don’t see why you’re so cross. Problems at home perhaps?” He ignored her comment and pulled a cloak out of his pack, covering the two of them, causing them to blend more readily into the shadows. “Ah!” said Wren, recognizing the cloak as the one that belonged to the man who had first attacked her. “Well I suppose that covers that topic.” She peered out into the darkness abortively. “It’s dark as hell out there. What are you looking for by the way?”

“If you say another word, I swear to Eru I’ll slit your throat.” Wren went silent and waited for a good half hour until the man relaxed her hold and leaned back against the stone, pushing her a good bit away from him. He held the dagger up so she could see it plainly. “If you make a single move that makes me think you’re about to escape this will be your end.”

“I haven’t even considered escape! Now that you have completely captured my attention I can’t wait to find out what this is all about. What a story I’ll have to tell when—ah ha! Oops—if I get home. That doomsday thought yet again,” she chuckled.

“If you continue to aggravate me, you won’t be able to do much of anything ever again.” The threat went over the noblewoman’s head with a foot to spare.

“Shouldn’t we be finding something to eat? I hate to be the voice of reality but I don’t know how much longer I can last on an empty stomach. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to see me hungry, I can be very annoying,” she winked at him, and he stared back at her in disbelief, cursing his bad luck at choosing a hostage. He pulled forth a ration of dried meat and handed a small handful to Wren. She recoiled in mock disgust. “You jest! I can’t eat this!” He began to withdraw his offer but the woman reached out quickly, snatching the measly portion of food from his outstretched hand. After examining the food carefully she popped a piece into her mouth and chewed. “Puts up a fight, doesn’t it?” She swallowed dramatically and unclasped her water canteen from her belt taking a large gulp. “Ew. Nasty stuff that meat is.” She ate the rest quickly and washed it down with her water. When she was done she leaned up against the rock. The man sat motionless across from her, glancing every now and then into the distant gloom. “Do you suppose we could light a fire or something? I can’t see a damned thing.”

“What’s there exactly to see? There’s nothing but rock, ground, and fog. A fire would draw attention you fool. Of course you’ve realized that,” he twirled the dagger between his fingers, the blade swishing through the thick air. Wren nodded.

“Never overlook the obvious. I suppose we could talk about something else.”

“Must we?” he said leaning in and twirling the knife exceptionally close to her face. “I’d prefer if you didn’t say another word.” The noblewoman sighed.

“Well if that’s how you feel on the matter of conversation, fine with me. Don’t want to waste my talk on such a negative person now do I?” Wren spoke as if she had greatly insulted him, and turned away in a pout. Then she sighed, clapping her hands on her knees. “Shall I take the first watch? Not that I could see anything, mind you.” The man snarled.

“First watch? You’re a hostage!” he pointed out. “I’d sooner trust a thief.”

“That says a lot about your disposition,” she mused. “But if you insist, I’ll just doze a bit if you don’t mind. Goodnight.” The noblewoman folded up her cloak and curled up as if she was lying on a satin sofa. Within minutes she was asleep, or so it appeared. The hunter growled and turned his attention towards the forest. He would kill her the moment he got what he needed. It was his usual routine, and her annoying persona only made him hate her more.

* * *

Wren lay awake in the darkness for an hour after she pretended to be asleep. Her mind swirled with fear and her heart beat frantically within her chest. The man not five feet from her frightened her unlike anything had before. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep her act up before one of two things happened: she was rescued, or he killed her. The latter thought made tears of dread well up in her eyes. Forcing them back the noblewoman took a deep, melodramatic breath as though she was dreaming. Sleep came slowly and trouble with nightmares.

[ May 13, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl stared into the ground, trying to see anything that could hint at the direction of the man they were hunting. He and Rangar had headed off to the left, out into the fog. But he couldn't see anything. Soon, he casually walked along and busied himself by cleaning the blood and dirt off of his sword. Rangar noticed his behavior.

"Aren't you going to help?" he asked. Turthôl looked up at him.

"I am," he said.

"It doesn't look like it. It looks like your cleaning your sword," Rangar replied.

"I am," Turthôl said.

Rangar sighed. "Are you ok? What happened back there?"

"You mean the-" Turthôl began but Rangar interrupted.

"Yes. That man you murdered. Why did you do that? You were like a Wild Man yourself!"

"It had to be done. That man could only do damage to us if we let him go. If a warg attacks people, do you simply wound it and let it go? No, you kill it before it hurts someone else."

"But that man was not an animal," Rangar said. "Now, everyone thinks your mental, probably." Turthôl shrugged. That thought really didn't bother him.

"Well, whethere he was an animal or not, it still had to be done." Turthôl said.

"It looked to me like you were out of your mind." Rangar answered.

"I was-" Turthôl replied. He didn't know why the memories of Sartir would come up now, but somehow, the attack on the company made him feel as if he was back there again, one year ago, being ambushed by orcs and being betrayed. For moment, he was back there again, defending the companions who had died beside him. His new companions had been ambushed, and he wasn't going to let them die.

Turthôl sheathed his sword, and said no more.
_____________________________________________

It had been an hour, and they still hadn't seen a thing.

"Do you realize that we have been quit stupid?" Turthôl asked.

"How so?" Rangar replied.

"If you had taken a hostage, where would you go to get out of the open? When daylight comes, where would you need to hide? Obviously, not in a clearing such as the Downs." he asked.

Rangar thought a moment. Suddenly, a look came upon his face which told Turthôl that he had realized the same thing.

"The forest. Of course!" Rangar said. The two men headed off in the direction of the woods.

"You know, I'm having second thoughts of this search." Turthôl said.

"And why is that, may I ask? Does it have anything to do with this being Wren?" Rangar asked.

"We don't need to search for her," Turthôl said.

"Don't you feel sorry for her at all?"

"I feel sorry for the guy that captured her! Think of how bad she is probably annoying him right now. He's probably going to abandon her in frustration." Turthôl started laughing at the thought of it.

Rangar stood there, dumbfounded. Then, their laughter cut through the darkness like a knife.

[Everdawn]

Énien somehow had ended up on the other side of the clearing, next to Claimir after first checking on Tareth and Bregand Bregand was in bad shape poor boy. The cut she had recieved across her face now rendered a steady trickle of blood. She ignored it. This last attack had been worse than the last. The men had caught them unprepared and sleeping.

Turthôl had slain the remaining man. What is happening to you? Has your grace diminished? Énien thought to herself as she had watched him sercure the blade about the mans stomach. And let it pass not into your heart. She said silenced in her thought before turning her back on him completly. And it came to her in a flash, emmence sadness and betrayel in Turthôl's heart, so much she felt herself go numb.

It took a while for Énien to notice she was bleeding heavily. Énien put her hand to her face. The scene around her started to swirl. The others were talking, something about Wren. Énien doubled over resting her hands on her knees. Wren in their hands? i hope she can defend herself, or it will be her doom. Rangar called for Rave, Calimir and a few of the others to follow. Énien blinked her eyes, the world was now hazy. She put a hand on whoever's shoulder was near her now as she replied "yes... I... I... think i... will... stay here-" Énien now stood up straight, pain wreathing in her skull. "In case... she... comes back."

Now the others had gone leaving her behind again to protect the others, Carmalita and Bregand at least were at risk now. Énien was scared, for the first time in her life, and she diddnt care for it. She closed her eyes, the pain was unbareable, still she tried to keep watch. Whatever was wrong with her face, she thought she could bare it.

Énien looked again at Bregand injured. There was a strange look on her face, a single tear rolled down her other cheek.

This is all my fault! I had no need for rest! And i am an elf, i would have heard them coming, or seen them at least. And none of this would have happened, oh Bregand, forgive me!Her heart cried, but she uttered no sound. Énien couldnt help but feel responsible.

[The X Phial]

Bregand fought for control of his senses. Since regaining consciousness he had been lightheaded and nauseous. His eyesight was blurry, swimming in and out of focus, and he could swear he was hearing a swarm of bees behind his head. Despite all of this, however, he felt like his thinking was clear, or at least as clear as it could be. He was slowly trying to test his limbs, find any other places that might be wounded. After what felt like an age he determined that his head was his only injury. Somewhat comforted, he concentrated on taking in his surroundings.

They had decided not to start a fire. The risk was too great that the attackers would return. If they did, the remaining company members would not last long. Bregand was cold; in fact he was shivering. He pulled his blanket closer and steadied himself against the trunk of a tree. His hair and clothes were wet with condensation from the fog.

He managed to open his eyes and steady his vision. Carmalita was humming to herself and holding her stomach, obviously uncomfortable with the silence. Bregand could see blood drying on her clothes but no fresh blood flowing. He assumed she knew what she could handle, being a nurse, but he worried nonetheless. Enien had cleaned the blood off of her face, but an ugly red seam was in evidence, and her face looked drawn with emotion or pain, Bregand could not guess which. He could not see Aerin, but heard someone rustling through the packs. He assumed that was her.

Bregand used the tree for support and dragged himself to his feet, gaining a sharp look from the elf for his efforts. He took a tentative step toward Carmalita, and then another before losing his footing and landing on his hands and knees. Enien jumped to her feet and he had to hold up his hand to stop her from helping him up again. He looked at her, pleading with his eyes that she understand his need to do this by himself. She backed away, but looked at him dubiously, unsure.

Bregand calmed his stomach and climbed back to his feet. I was harder with no tree to help him. Finally, he managed to stumble his way to Carmalita's side with a weave in his step any drunk would have been proud of. He sat down heavily beside her, rewarded with a sharp pain in his temples and a fresh wave of nausea.

"Your wound is more serious than mine," he started, "and yet you cared for me before ever thinking of yourself. I thank you."

"Your wound is serious enough," she chastened in return. "As soon as we can risk a fire I have a tincture for you to drink that may lessen your dizziness."

"That would, indeed, be a blessing," he sighed.

They sat in silence for a while, and Carmalita resumed her humming. Bregand did not know the tune, but it was simple and lovely, like a lullaby. The nurse's voice was rough with pain, which gave the tune an eerie and haunting tone, and Bregand was enchanted by the simple beauty. He was loathe to interrupt her, and they sat that way for a while. Finally, when she was starting the tune from the beginning again, he broke in.

"I..I think you should take my horse when we get on the road again. You need to ride with that injury and I'm sure we can redistribute some of the weight she's carrying now. You don't look very heavy. She's a good horse, won't jostle you too much. Please don't say no. It's the only way I know to thank you."

[ May 14, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[Arien]

Carmalita looked at Bregand, how kind of him it had been to offer his horse. She would not rufuse him, infact she was glad he had offered her stomach hurt when she walked and she wanted it to heal quickly. She moved her hands away from her stomach and they were crimson again.

"It has started to bleed again, Bregand pass me my pack, if you will," she asked softly, he reach out for the pack and settled it next to her. "Thankyou, are you sure you want to stay here and see this?"

"It is only a wound," he said.

She lifted the top slightly and revealed a deep jaged cut smeared with blood. Bregand winced at the sight as fresh blood seemed to pump out. She cleaned it, then bandaged herself up and placed a few cleansing herbs in for good measure.

The she placed her things in her bag, as she did this she found a something soft inside. She pulled it out and looked at it for a second. It was one of crystals teddies, infact one of her favourite. Carmalita's hand smothed its fur and looked into the dark eyes. She would miss this dearly as Carmalita would miss her.

"What is that?" enquiered Bregand, "If you dont mind me asking."

"I don't..." she paused wondering whether to tell him, but what harm could it do. Less he could think she was a outcast. Hopefully he would not."..it is my daughters."

[Arvedui III]

Slowly the sky began to fade into the palest of blue, beginnings of the sun starting to creep over the landscape. When Rangar saw this, he pounded his fist into the nearest tree. Turthol did the same, adding on to the growing, grim reality that wherever Wren had been taken, it was beyond their reach. Neither one wanted to head back, and neither one had any idea about what to do, either. Rangar's head now started to ache, No sign, no sign at all. He heard Turthol mutter, "Come on Wren, give us something." in his anger. The sun now began to rise. "Well," Said Turthol loudly and angrily. "Things just keep getting better!" "Shut up, will you?" Muttered Rangar, vexed.

They both leaned against a rocky outcropping covering a dry area of ground. "Well, we have to get back to the others." Rangar muttered at last. It was no use. All he could do was hope that Wren would escape. "Do we?" Muttered Turthol, more to himself then to Rangar. "What?" "I mean, we, well, we could just, I dunno Rangar. Why can't it still be just the two of us?" Exactly. Thought Rangar Why couldn't it? No more company, no more leadership, no responsibility, no more feeling awkward and guilty. It was a tantalizing offer. But, there was the mother, the boy, the blacksmith, all the others who put their trust in him. "No." Said Rangar slowly. "We can't, no this time. Do you remember what it's like to lead, Turthol?" But Rangar already knew the answer. " No, I failed. Didn't I ever tell you?" He responded bitterly. "Only in your dreams." Rangar muttered. Then, a new question popped into his mind. "Are you afraid Wren will turn into Sartir, and this company will turn into," "No" Turthol near shouted, exasperatedly.

But, Rangar could see otherwise in his face, eyes full of pain. "Just drop it." "Fine." An awkward silence ensued. Then, just as Rangar was ready to suggest leave again, a small crack echoed from beyond the outcropping. "Did you hear something?" A muffled voice sounded from behind the rock. "Shut up!" Rangar and Turthol looked at each other for a moment, then drew their swords.

[ May 14, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir noted the direction that Rangar and Turthol took, as he and Rave travelled on a different course into the forest. The fog had cleared out enough that Calimir could see as much as he needed, and his keen eyesight continued to rake the ground for signs of footsteps.

He thought of Wren. How frightened she must be! She wasn't much different than Wilwarin, really, both adults, but so young. Calimir searched more carefully now, what would Wren's father say? He stayed fairly close to Rave as he searched, but the feeling began to grow on him that they were looking in the wrong place. He frowned. Ravenna looked at him curiously.

"Nobody has passed this way recently." he said to her. She nodded slowly. "We should search somewhere else." Just then, loud laughter rung out above the trees. It was Turthol and Rangar's voices. Rave's eyes went wide.

"Don't they know that whoever has Wren might kill her if they think we're getting close?" she said in a horrified whisper. She took off toward the sound of the laughter. Calimir followed. After a time the laughtere stopped and they slowed to a walk, Turthol and Rangar had moved on it seemed. They continued a while in the direction where they'd heard the voices, and shortly Rave caught sight of Turthol through the trees.

They approached quietly, sensing the seriousness of the moment. Rangar was standing by a large rock outcropping, sword in hand. Turthol motioned to them to keep quiet as they advanced.

[Earendil Halfelven]

They crouched behind the boulders and trees. He heard footsteps behind them, and he turned to see Rave and Calimir come up. He motioned for them to be quiet. Their swords glistened in the newly risen sun.

While Rangar observed the situation, Turthôl had a while to think to himself. Rangar had hit a sore spot in their conversation, about Sartir and the expedition. Rangar had accused him of bringing Sartir back to life in the form of Wren and the others. Thats why it was so hard for him to trust others-for the fear of being betrayed. He was bringing the past back to life, but he had to bury it. He had denied Rangar's accusations, but he knew they were true.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Rangar's voice. "Let's move forward. Steadily. Me, Rave, and Calimir will go around the left and bring attention to ourselves. Turthôl, you go to the right and search for Wren. I can't see any others down there. Can you?"

Turthôl looked forward. He couldn't really see anyone, but there could be some surviving wild men out there. "I don't see anyone, but still, some wild men might have survived the fight and could be out there."

"All right, let's move. Quietly now." Rangar said.

Rave and Calimir nodded and followed after Rangar, with weapons drawn. Turthôl looked after them, giving them a headstart, and then he headed to the right. Suddenly, the feeling that Wren had betrayed them, that she had told her captor about Rangar and of their journey swelled up inside of him. No, he thought. Let the past die. It died with Sartir. He shook that thought out of his mind and headed down the slope.

He had lost sight of the others, but he knew they were there. His eyes scanned the forest. Nothing, yet. If the captor had no other companions then he wouldn't stick around, not with a whole company after him. If he was here, then he had some support. Yes...as he stepped out from behind a rather large boulder, he could see someone. A wild man, with his back turned. This was going to be easy.

He snuck up behind the man. Turthôl leaped on his back, grabbed his chin with his left and the back of his head with his right, and twisted them in the opposite direction. There was a loud pop, and the man dropped to the ground, his neck broken. So there were sentries. Hopefully, Rangar, Rave, and Calimir were doing fine.

Suddenly, the sounds of yelling and the clang of steel came from the left. They had met the enemy. He glimpsed two wild men running in that direction. Turthôl stopped them with arrows in their backs. That was all he could do to help the others. He had to find Wren, quick.

He quickened his pace. He could hear Rangar's voice, and Rave and Calimir shouting. The noises become louder as he neared the fight. As he neared, he made out a pair of legs sticking out from the other side. Wren! he thought. He rushed in and sure enough, it was Wren Chambria. She caught sight of him, and shouted, "Behind you!"

Turthôl turned in time to see a wild man bring his sword down in a large swipe. He dodged to the left, and landed a punch in the man's face. The wild man brought his sword back up, but Turthôl blocked it with his own. They struggled with eachother, each trying to outdue his enemy. Turthôl knocked the sword out of the man's grasp. The man looked up and their eyes met eachother. Turthôl looked into the man's eyes for what seemed like an eternity. It seemed as if he could read the man's thoughts, until his swipe severed the head from the body.

He quickly turned to Wren and drew his dagger to cut her ropes.
"We meet again my lady," he said as he began on her ropes.

"Its about time too. My company was completely boring. He's probably antisocial." she replied.

"I don't blame him. His first mistake was attacking us. His second, and biggest, was kidnapping you." Turthôl chuckled to himself. Wren glared at him. The ropes were cut and she stood up.

He looked into her eyes, to read her soul, to see what he could see. He saw fear of death, but also courage undaunted by that fear. Let the past die. He had misjudged this woman from Gondor. That was the mistake he had made. What he saw in her eyes, as he became transfixed in them, was trust. She had not betrayed them after all.

"You did not betray us to the enemy. You were true to the company. I'm sorry for misjudging you, for taking you as just a rich woman with naive ambition. But now I see a noblewoman of Gondor, one with courage, and who can be trusted. Please forgive my doubt." he said.

Wren looked at him with a look of astonishment. What was this? He saw she was shocked and surprised at his change in behavior. No other feeling showed on her face. He hoped this changed their relationship in a good way.

"Thank you, Turthôl." she smiled. At her smile, he knew he had said what she had been waiting to hear, and that made him glad, glad in a way that he had not been in years.

"Come, Wren, let's get out of here." Turthôl said.

"What, no "my lady"? she asked

"I thought you didn't like that." he said.

"Well, I could get used to it," she said with a laugh. Turthôl smiled at this.

"Here, take my dagger. Your sword is back at camp." he handed it to her.

"Thank you." she said as they ran back towards the edge of the woods. They could still hear dim sounds of steel clinging, but nothing more.

"Were you wounded in the battle? Your clothes have a lot of blood stains on them that weren't there before." she asked. Turthôl thought he detected a hint of worry in her voice.

"No," he replied. "Its...not mine."

They hurried back towards the company. Hopefully, Rangar, Calimir, and Rave had faired as well as them.

[Everdawn]

Seeing Bregand on his feet again and sitting, and Carmailta still bleeding from the stomach. Énien wandered a little way from the company who were sitting by the fire. She wrapped her cloak around her and placed her hood over her head, in a pathetic attempt to hide the cut.

Where are they?... Dont they know im not good at this, this waiting! Every minute they are away my mind wanders... have they come to grief? Wren... Wren, oh now i am so full of remorse. YOu are probably dead and I was never nice to you. Nor was I ever truly nice to Rangar either, and I doubt the blacksmith has faith in me. Yes, I did let my guard down, and that is how all this happened. If id... If I had been alert, aware, Wren wouldnt have been captured! Her guilt was eating her.

Armed with her bow and arrow now having left her Daggar at camp, Énien began to survey the safeness of the area. Never again would she become lazy. Yes, from now on she would seek no rest. She had placed this on herself, it was her responsibility to look out. It was a long time since the others departed. Énien stopped by a tree. The sun was setting. She sighed. It was a long time since she stopped to watch it as it decended over a high ridge, sparing some last-minute rays whose hands shon towards her.

As if in utter irony she began to reacll a song of the elves, which she used to play harp to, in Rivendell, in her little eastern wing which overlooked the valley. Aloud she sang;

A Banwen! ethuilrín vain!
Aglar am meril im Belain!
Penna glorgalad o menel,
berio i amar in edain.
Le linnatha si i 'annel
Lasto 'lîr nîn, a Uineth!
an-uir, galss, nîth a meleth.

She had finished singing, and stood up straight. Her head felt better. She knew if she ignored it enough it would go away. The peace was interrupted by the sound of people, two. And they were coming straight for her. Thinking they were wild men, Énien concealed herself as much as she could by perching herself in a tree. Her eyes scanned the newcomers.

Breath escaped her body. She could not believe it. The comers looked like a man and woman. It was Turthôl! and he had Wren!. Like a huge weight had been taken off her chest, Énien lept down from the tree and walked towards them. She decided that she was embarassed enough by her injury that she kept her hood on. "Turthôl! oh, hannon-le she is back! Are you hurt Wren, Turthôl? are you allright! Here all is fine, Bregand is well, or will be soon." she said tapping them both on the shoulder.

Then it came to her. Where were the others? She became frantic, looking around. "Have you not brought the others?" she let out a half laugh, out of worry. "Did they decide to go home? please say they have not come to grief!" Her green eyes noe more child-like than ever. She stared deep into the others eyes. The sun had now set.

[ May 16, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Eruwen]

"How many more of these creatures will come?" Rave shouted while fighting off one of the men. Every time it seemed that they would be winning, more and more wild men would come out of hiding in the woods. She watched Ranger and Calimir out of the corner of her eyes as they continued to fight.

Dodging a blow to the head, Rave ducked and struck her foe in the stomach with her sword. Breathing heavily, she moved on to another. The number of wild men gradually began to decrease, but the remaining few fought back horridly. From her sight, Ranger seemed to be doing quite well. He was knocking one down on his left while cutting the one on his right with his sword.

Rave could not see what Calimir seemed to be doing at the time, but she guessed he was winning against his own foe due to the large amount of screams being heard from the wild men. Rave fought on killing one more by slitting his throat. She brought another one to a quick demise and noticed that all had been fought off except for one man that Calimir was fighting off.

As Rave joined Ranger, Calimir struck his enemy down and walked over as well.

"Shall we return then?" Calimir said trying to catch his breath. "I'm sure Turthôl has found Wren by now."

"But what if he was attacked as well?" Rave replied. "Who knows what sort of state he could be in right now...not to mention Wren."

Ranger looked at them both and took a deep breath. "Why don't we just head back to camp." he said. "If they haven't returned yet, then we'll go look for them. But there's no need searching now if we don't even know if they are alright or not."

Rave nodded her head and followed Calimir and Ranger back to camp. Hopefully Wren's rescue had been successful.

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, as the last of the wild men fell to the ground. Glancing around quickly he noted that Rave and Rangar seemed to be alright, though there was still no sign of Turthol or Wren. He wiped his knife on the grass, then reclaimed two others from the bodies on the ground. Calimir breathed heavily, trying to calm himself after the exertion and fear.

Glancing up at Rave he said "Shall we go back, then?" Her face twisted with concern that Wren and Turthol might still be in danger. He pressed his lips together. He judged that wherever Wren was, Turthol seemed more than capable of protecting her. Rangar seemed to agree as the three of them set out for the camp.

On arriving back they were met by Enien, her usually calm face alight with relief. "Calimir, my friend, they are all right! They have returned!" Calimir smiled at her, but he was weary. Going to his horse he leaned his face on it's neck and listened as Rangar and the others discussed what to do next. Bregand was still not quite himself, and with reason. Calimir looked with sympathy at the boy, and walked over to sit beside him.

"So, what obstacles will our road lead us through next?" he asked a smile creeping onto his face. "And may I sometime have a look at your maps?"

[Arvedui III]

The fight had been simple. Rangar had ducked and dodged and lunged and slashed his way around the camp. After a time, he Calmir and Rave had set on returning to camp. It seemed like the most logical thing to do anyway; They were the distraction and since there was no sign of Turthol or Wren he had to assume they'd made it out all right. What troubled Rangar was no sign of any leader. Well, maybe it was random. He thought during the walk back to camp. No leader meant no plan, no other motive, save senseless killing, and most importantly, no conspiracy against himself. Rangar's growing relief swelled even more once they got back to camp and saw Turthol and Wren, both fine.

"Had fun?" Turthol said cheerily as the three sat down. "Not really." Said Rangar. "Well, then it took you long enough; The sun's almost gone." Rangar chuckled, that was Turthol. Then he noticed the others looking at him. Waiting for me to say something He thought, hoping inwardly he didn't have to speak, but knowing also that he would. He sighed. "Well, erm, I think we should stay put for a bit. It's been a," he paused thinking. "Hard night." Grunts of assent sounded, making Rangar feel a little better. "Um, Wren? Can I talk to you?" The noblewomen looked up from her sword and nodded, getting up. Rangar followed suit and started walking away from the rest of the group, wondering about how to phrase what he wanted to ask. Wren followed a little way behind, then Rangar spoke.

"Um, I'm sorry about what happened, Wren." "It's all right." She mumbled, giving Rangar the distinct impression she didn't want to discuss it. "Look, um, I need to know, um, what happened after you were, erm" This was far too awkward. "Kidna, er, captured." Wren looked away, but spoke of all that had happened in a quiet sort of voice. As she spoke, a dead weight dropped into his stomach. It was too good to be true. Someone is hunting me. Then, she asked the question for him. "Rangar?" "Yes" He said slowly, dreading what was coming. "Why would someone be looking for you?" " I-don't know." He said softly, letting his head sink to the ground. "I honestly don't know." Thankfully, she did not pursue the subject, but it made him feel all the more guilty that he could not even offer an explanation as to why she was kidnaped.

The day went slowly after that. Rangar and Wren came back to camp, and then Aerin started a soup. Turthol came over and talked with him about what the next move should be, but Rangar really didn't care. So long as it got him away from this place. He checked on Bregand, who was doing better, then the group ate, and settled down for the night. "Ok, I'll take first watch, then Calmir, then Enien. Everyone just try and sleep. We'll get off to a new start in the morning." There was nothing else he could say. As darkness crept over the lands, the rest of the group settled down for the night, while Rangar sat on a log, staring blankly at the darkness.

Why? Why would some want to-to kill me? What did I do? The blood? Maybe, but was not that my own? Or was it? Erg, why can't I have any answers?! Then, quite suddenly the sound of soft footsteps reached his ears. Automatically, Rangar drew his sword while trying vainly to discover the source of the sounds.Through a pale mist to the right, a shadowy figure began to emerge. Seeing Rangar he turned, and almost involuntarily, Rangar followed. Stupid! You should have gotten the others! He thought as he strove to keep up with the shadow he was pursuing. The figure dipped out of sight, and Rangar stopped while breathing a sigh of relief, ready to except the figure as some trick of the downs or just as some innocent traveler who had stumbled on the camp. He turned, then suddenly, a icy soft voice near whispered from somewhere in front of him,

"Ahh Rangar, we met at last."

[ May 16, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[Carlas]

"Ahh Rangar, we meet at last!"

Rangar looked ahead of him, not seeing the dark figure infront of him, until he stepped out into the pale moonlight. His face was hooded and only his eyes could be seen through the darkness within. Rangar looked at him intently.

"Who are you?" He asked, not willing to make a move yet.

"Ah, where are my manners? You haven't met me before, or likely even heard of me, but for the past year I have been looking for you! I have traveled the land a thousand times over, searching, and now I find you, the poor man who found himself one evening on a hill covered in blood. You have no memory?"

Rangar stood up taller, but said nothing. The man smiled and pulled down his hood. He would have looked like a normal and good looking man, but his eyes were filled with a hate that Rangar had never seen. The man's dark hair fell about his face and he brushed it back slowly, as he pulled his long sword out of it's sheath.

"My name, Rangar, is Baroden, and you shall die fearing it!"

[Arvedui III]

Rangar stood routed to the ground. The hate in this man's eyes was the only thing keeping him from turning around and running as fast and far as his legs could take him. Fear and panic, such as he'd never known welled up and threatened to consume him. His mind was working furiously, Please, please give me an answer. Why? The blood? It was mine wasn't it? Why can't I remember this? Rangar gulped as time seemed to stand still while this man stared at him, his hungry eyes alight with malice. Act calm, maybe you can get away. He thought desperately, then Rangar chuckled, "Covered in blood. That's an exaggeration. And of course I remember it, you're just like the others, you know." He said, trying to sound as if the statement was neutral while cursing himself inwardly for another stupid mistake.

Things only got worse. The man yelled and charged at him, sword draw. Rangar sidestepped, but that was about all he could do. Before raising another muscle, the man spun round and charged him again, this time yelling madly. Taken aback, Rangar ducked only just in time as the man made a swing at his head. This is unnerving Rangar thought, stunned. The man chose not to remise his attack, but instead stepped away, circling Rangar like a half-starved warg.
"I do not want your blood." Said Rangar, unable to conceal the shock and awe of this man in his voice. "You may not, but I want yours." The man hissed back. There has to be a way: stalling, think, think!

"You shouldn't hold a grudge." Said Rangar softly, unable to think up anything better. "Its high time you've paid for your crimes." The man growled in response. "It was an accident, nothing was meant to happen" Yelled Rangar by sheer instinct. Wait, what was an accident? Rangar racked his brain, but, nothing. This time Baroden, or whatever he was called, did not answer, but drew himself up to full height, which was considerably tall. Then, he produced a dagger as well. Rangar gulped, took a steading breath, then set himself in a defensive stance. If this man wanted him to die, well, he'd have to get past his sword first. Rangar decided, stubbornly holding his ground against this mysterious hunter.

[Everdawn]

It was now dark, but the full moon loomed overhead. Énien was ocnsiderably glad when everyone returned safe, except for the odd scratch and bruise. Rangar had told them all to get some rest. Énien had not removed her hooded cloak since she suffered her cut. The elf, had trouble believing that she could be so careless. Énien had gone to Rangar after he had volunteered first watch. Keeping true to her new vow she was quick to hold it up.

"Rangar" she began. "I cannot let you, please, This last happening was all my fault, I do not need rest-" Rangar looked at her. "This was no one's fault." Énien frowned. "I am an Elf Rangar, and I know I am proud, and I know we do not always see eye to eye, but please do not take this as arrogance, I am an elf. I often travel days without sleep, I needed no rest, and yet I slept. If I were awake I would have heard them coming, I would have seen them, and Wren wouldnt have been captured. Bregand and Carmalita would not have been injured. And I wouldnt have this damned gash in my head that causes my skull to think its rattled!" The elf, now was considerably blanched.

"I.. I...-" she stopped. Rangar's eyes showed that he at least could feel where she was coming from. "Perhaps you needed sleep after all Énien, or you would have been agile on your feet enough to escape that." he said pointing to the gash which was only slightly visible under her hood. "Rest. In the morning we will ride." Énien bowed her head and walked away from Rangar who had gone in the opposite direction.

The elf returned to her camp, picked up her bow and arrow and a smaller pouch form her bag. Calimir touched her on the shoulder. "Are you allright?" he asked. "Im fine, maar fuin" she wished Calimir a good night before walking away from the camp.

If Rangar will not let me watch over them, i will do so anyway... She perched herself down by a rock at the side of a billabong. She glanced down at her clothes, blood everywhere, as on so many of the company's clothes. Énien slipped off her bloodstained tunic and boots.

In her light blue dress (which came to her thigh, not easily seen under her tunic.) she washed her tunic in the water. The Elf looked at her reflection, in water which was now waist deep, and inspected the cut. Wild men wield harsh blows.She thought to herself. The elf walked around for a while bear foot in the moonlight. When her tunic was dry she put it on.

My, how the world has changed over time. When I was young I never would have wandered past foreign realms, If Énden had not died I would still be in Rivendell playing my harp and singing my songs.The elf laughed at the irony of her thought. ...And i would not have met these people... They are from so many walks of life, and yet among them there is so much despair and pain.

Énien sat for a long time. Before glancing at the sky. And as always, since she had left Rivendell the last time, the star was out, shining as bright as the moon. "Go away!" she yelled at it. Turned on her heel and made her way back to the camp's outer rim. Still she could not hear or see Rangar. Good thing I did not sleep... Rangar has left us to the wild! Énien sat on the ground by her horse Melliant and waited for Ranagr to return do she could confront him.

[maikafanawen]

Wren’s clothes and hair were disgusting. Blood and mud were caked on her skin and she had never felt so dirty. After the company had started the fire and Aerin had started the soup, she whispered something to Carmalita about cleaning off and Carmalita said she’d keep the others away from the stream while she did. Thanking her, Wren took her bag and carried it down to the water.

It was a cool and beautiful evening. There were a few misty clouds and the waxing moon shown on the water in a way that made Wren’s breath catch in her throat. Evening birds sang songs in the nearby trees, and the smaller animals were settling down in burrows for the night. After she had cleaned herself, she washed her clothes quickly in the stream, laying them out to dry afterwards on the grassy bank. The noblewoman now wore a crisp blue jerkin that made her eyes stand out and a cream-coloured blouse that tied up the sides to her elbows. Her riding pants now were black and a red sash was tied around her waist, covering her black belt from which she hung her pouches. Wren brushed out her hair and tied it up with a matching red scarf. Taking an approving look at her reflection, she gathered her things and moved back to camp. Once there, she hung up her things to dry and accepted the steamy bowl of soup Aerin offered her.

* * *

It was a sunny and breezy day in Osgiliath where Wren had traveled with her father on a business trip. Her tutor had come along and she had been excused from todays lessons and was permited to walk the streets. Sea birds flew overhead as they scavenged the riverside looking for scraps of food. Brightly colored scarves of purple and blue were tied around Wren’s waist and arms. Decorative jewels held up her hair that was covered by a wide-brimmed hat, adorned with a large blue feather. A trendy cape was draped over one of her shoulders and the strap tied just under her other arm. She was dressed to stun and stand out in a crowd of her gender. While dresses, skirts and bodices were usually suspected for women of her age and older, she had chosen the costume of a woman fencer for the day. The noblewoman needed a bit of a change she mused, though she enjoyed looking ravishing in the silks and velvets her dresses were made of. And instead of beaded shoes she wore black, knee-high boots that completed her valuable ensemble. In front of her she held her newly forged sword with a rose on the hilt. She had picked it up just that morning from the family metal worker’s shop. Before her stood a man also raising en guarde with his own weapon.

“Eh, come on Rhadûn. Ye can take ‘er! Look at tha’ size o’ ‘er! She’s barely ‘alf yer size!” The jaunt was given by a wiry boy whose first beard was a blond shadow upon his face. His un-calloused hands, which were covered protectively by expensive leather gloves, rested lightly on the hilt of his own sword. The boy’s poor language was a result of years past spent with rogue sailors upon his father’s ship. He was the son of Mauriace Chambria’s greatest competitor in the merchant field: Giyrth Fawret. The boy’s name was Giyrion. Wren would love the chance to face him in the fencing line, but knew that he’d find some way or other to get out of it. Plus, if he lost, Wren’s father would suffer drastically.

“You better not sire,” whispered Rhadûn’s page. “The guard will come by any second now on their rounds.” The man ignored the comments and advanced slowly then stopped, only to advance again and double retreat lightly on his booted feet. His first attack was high inside and Wren parried it easily. The two parried rhythmically back and forth for a while until Rhadûn went to parry and Wren disengaged, stabbing him slightly in his left shoulder. His face went white with pain and he crossed back, his sword dragging the ground.

“The guard!” warned the page. The small ring of university students that had been watching dispersed quickly as the guard and their mounts rode into the street.

“What has happened? What is your business?” asked the captain, glaring down from his horse at Wren. She tilted her head back, peering at him from under the brim of her hat. The noblewoman’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief and the captain recognized her immediately with a groan. “I should have known. Wren, this would have been the second time this week you’d have been arrested! Won’t you ever learn!? You there!” he said now, gesturing towards Rhadûn who was walking away. “Come here.” The student turned and shot a sadistic glare at Wren as he approached, sheathing his sword. “You both will come with us.” Wren and Rhadûn followed the guard up the street to their headquarters.

Once there, the usual routine took place. Both were questioned about the Who What Why When and Wheres of the situation. After answering them all truthfully, the guards found out that it was a simple misunderstanding between the two over pride and who was the better fencer.

“But,” said Wren, picking up her hat which she had laid on the desk. “That having been discovered, I believe we both can leave?” The captain nodded.

“You watch yourself Chambria. Your fencing games may be fun now, but someday you could make someone very angry with you and find out that perhaps you aren’t the best fencer.” The noblewoman ignored him with a dramatic bow and left the store in a flourish of black, purple and blue.

But when she walked outside she saw that the street was streamed with dead bodies and blood. Cries rang out falling upon deaf ears as the fighting continued. She could not identify the faces and the setting around her was no longer Osgiliath. The noblewoman searched frantically for an answer, a face she recognized, or a building. Finding none she turned to reenter the headquarters only to see a large house from which flames leapt and blared from the windows and roof. She screamed as it collapsed, crushing the family that had just run onto the porch . . . .

“Wren! Wren shut up! Wake up!” The noblewoman opened her eyes and looked into the face of Turthôl. “What happened?” She sat up, brushing the hair out of her face and looking around her. Then she rolled her eyes and leaned back on her elbows.

“It was—” she took a deep breath, shaking her head. “It was just a dream. Or rather, a memory and then it evolved more into a dream where it was kind of hazy and I didn’t know what was going on but it was . . . bad.” She stopped and absently fiddled with a curl, trying to compose herself after the disturbing dream.

“Want to talk about it?” asked Turthôl, who seemed surprisingly concerned. Deciding it would do her no harm, Wren told it to him in detail. He listened patiently until she was done.

“I’m not sure what it means but the symbolism doesn’t look good.” Turthôl said, pulling up blades of grass as he thought. Wren didn’t care to think about it, and the ranger, not being able to figure it out either, changed the subject . . .
___________________________________________

Maika

Please see your PM's.

[ May 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ May 19, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[Carlas]

The two men stood infront of eachother, their eyes, staring hard at the others. They waited only a few seconds before they charged at eachother, raising their swords high in the air. As soon as they collided the battle was on, each man intent though each with a different purpose.

Baroden jabbed at Rangar with his knife while slicing at him with his sword. He rolled onto the ground, and pulled his sword upwards, trying to hit him up his stomach but his attack was blocked, instead he used his foot to knock Rangar to the floor, before he stood up quick and jabbed at the ground where Rangar now lied. Rangar rolled away and stood back up quick but ducked back down as Baroden threw his knife at him.

Once he was standing, they charged again, sweat pouring down their faces. Baroden swiped at Rangar again and again, his movements smooth and skilled. Rangar fought back hard and strong, not willing himself to slow, if he did he would not last to see the morning.

[ May 17, 2003: Message edited by: Carlas ]

[Arvedui III]

THUD. Rangar rolled into the ground, momentarily stunned by this man's powerful blows. He didn't have any time to recover. With a flash of silver, the man made a slash at Rangar, only barely missing his chest. Rangar rolled away in time to avoid another stroke, and then tried to both stand and clear his ringing head. The man rushed him again, but this time did not achieve the same effect. CHANG. Their swords locked, and Rangar aimed a kick at his assailant. It worked. The man, completely winded, sunk to the ground, allowing Rangar to place his sword at his throat. With a triumphant cry, Rangar pulled the blade away to strike, Wait He stopped, and withdrew his sword. "I said I did not want your blood." He whispered "Be off, I- ARGH!" A searing pain hit Rangar square in his side. His muscles gave way, and he sank to his knees.

"But I want, and will have yours." Said the man, enjoying slowly drawing out every syllable menacingly. Rangar drew a sharp breath, and through a haze saw a shadow loom over him. Cluching his side, he tried desperately to master himself. The shadow raised something long and silver over his neck. it was Rangar's sword that he had dropped. Think, think! But Rangar couldn't think, the pain was overwhelming. Then, he felt something hard and cold. The dagger! Joy surged through Rangar as he pulled the keen dagger away, and flipped it into his right hand. As the long silver thing began its decent, Rangar rolled away again, and this time stood up tall. However, the hope was immediately taken back when a stab of pain hit him again, and he realized what was about to happen. The man turned and chuckled, and Rangar knew. He would charge, get past Rangar's meager defenses, and run him through with his own blade. Rangar gulped, and took a stance. There was nothing more he could do. Time seemed to slow as the shadow turned, smirked and set his feet. taking a deep breath, Rangar pointed the little dagger, determined on fighting to the last. But then, as the shadowy figure took his first step he halted, for from somewhere behind them, a voice yelled, "Rangar?!"

[ May 17, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[Earendil Halfelven]

"You know," Turthôl said. This was going to be the first time he ever spoke about this to anyone except Rangar. "I've been having my own flashbacks."

"Is that what has been bothering you?" Wren asked.

"Yeah. It happened three years ago," he said. "I was a member of an elite scouting group that was a part of the Gondorian army. King Elessar had assigned us a mission to scout out Eregion and ultimately Moria itself. He and the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain were planning on retaking Moria, and to re-establish trade routes. The dwarves wanted to begin re-mining the mithril there, and with the help of Gondor, they would be able to."

"So, our job was to observe Eregion and Moria. You know, observe the organization of the orcs there, so that way the dwarf army, with support of Gondor, would be able to plan the best way of attack. We were able to scout Eregion-it was clear of any dangers. But Moria...my company was able to find the caved in entrance that the Fellowship of the Ring had taken. King Elessar told us were it was that they had entered Moria, and the danger of the Watcher in the Water. We killed it, and cleared the caved-in entrance, but before we had even entered, we were attacked that night."

"It was a man in our company, named Sartir, that had betrayed us. I don't know how it was that he was able to make a deal with the orcs, but he had, and for a bag of Moria silver, he betrayed me and my men to their deaths. Five of us, including me, were the only survivors, and we were captured. I was wounded in the leg by Sartir's arrow. We were taken into Moria, and tortured. My companions died, but I escaped after their deaths. I still bear the scars of that torture. You can't imagine..."

"I don't know how long it took me to escape but I did. I came out somewhere on another side of the mountain, but I made my way back to Gondor. The attack was canceled until a better analysis could be made of the orc forces their. I retired from the army. It took me a year, but I finally found him. I killed him. I was wanted for his murder in Dol Amroth. I still may be a wanted man. After that, I made my way back north. Since then..."

That was it. He had told his story to her. Now she knew why he was the way he was.

"For some reason, this journey has brought back those memories. It has made me a little "out of it."

"What if your still wanted in Gondor? You might be captured while we're..." Wren began.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. We have more important things to worry about..."

"Rangar!" someone cried out.

Turthôl and Wren stood up. Something was happening...

[Everdawn]

The elf had waited and waited. But Rangar had not returned for his watch. Énien was getting restless and even so more annoyed. Something is not as it should be Énien picked up her bow and arrow and stood up. Melliant stamped his hoof on the ground. "shhh" she told the animal and he obeyed.

What was I thinking, Rangar is a man of honour, he would not walk off and leave us. She began to walk in the direction they had parted in earlier. There was nothing around, ghostly shapes moved against the moonlit landscape. Suddnely something was brought to her attention. The faint clang of swords. At least thats what she thought they were.

Énien edged closer concealed by the underbrush. She was suddenly stricken with horror, it was Rangar! She fitted an arrow to her bow, instinctivly and shot it at the other figure, thinking he was a wild man. "Rangar!" she called. Not knowing the fate of the man, (Énien supposed she had hit him) she ran to Rangar's side. Throwing her bow to one side she was on her knees, Rangar was clutching his side. The faint glimmer of blood could be seen. "Are you allright?" she asked feverishly. "Rangar, can you hear me, it is Énien."

He was in a bad way. Foresaking all shame of her previous embarassment of her cut, Énien removed her cloak and tried to wrap it around Rangar's side. The blood now was flowing more freely. The elf was at a loss. Shaking she tried to get Rangar to his feet. "Who was that Rangar? What did they want?, was it a wild man?"

Énien struggled to hold him up, for he was much bigger than she was. Rangar groaned. "Im not hurting you am I?" she asked again. The elf resolved it was easier to place him on the ground and go for help. But could she risk leaving his side. No.

She strayed a few feet from where he lay. "Turthôl!" she cried. "Turthôl! Rangar has been attacked!"

[Earendil Halfelven]

"Turthôl, Turthôl! Rangar has been attacked!"

The cry pierced through the dark fog like a knife into Turthôl's ears. He took off in the direction of the cry, with Wren behind him. He drew his sword as he ran, so as to be prepared for anything.

He saw two figures in the dark, and as he came close, he saw that it was Enien with Rangar. He was laying on the ground and seemed to be wounded.

"Rangar, are you all right?" he said as he came up.

"He's wounded...help me get him back," Enien said.

He turned to Wren. "Wren, go and get Carmilita. Quick!" Wren turned and ran back to camp.

"Are you ok?" Turthôl asked again.

"I'm...alright," Rangar muttered.

Anger swelled within Turthôl as they carried Rangar back to camp. Who was this that was hunting his friend?

"Do you know who it was that attacked you?" Turthôl asked.

"No, but he wants to kill me," Rangar replied.

"Not if I can help it," Turthôl said.
_____________________________________________

Rangar was wrapped up next to the fire. Carmilita was watching him and tending whatever wounds he had. Turthôl, however, was gearing up to head into the fog. He was going to track this hunter and maye kill him.

As he was slinging his quiver over his back, Wren and Enien walked over.

"What are you doing, Turthôl?" Wren asked. Enien also looked worried.

"I'm going to track whoever did this and make them pay If I'm not back by morning, go on without me. I'll catch up," he replied.

"I'll go with you," Enien said.

"No, I kill alone," Turthôl muttered.

"Hasn't there been enough killing?" Wren said. Turthôl could tell that she was frustrated.

"Yes, but it won't stop until this man is stopped. He will only stop if he is dead," he answered. He finished gearing up and he looked at the two women.

"Look what has happened to Bregand and now Rangar. Not another of my companion's are going to get hurt or die," Turthôl said.

As he turned Wren said, "Is this about Sartir again?"

Turthôl turned and glared at her. Enien looked confused.

"Don't bring that up!" he said. His anger was getting too much to handle. He turned and left into the fog.

Wren and Enien stared after him until he was gone.

"Who's Sartir?" Enien asked.

Wren proceeded to tell Enien what Turthôl had said about his past. After she was finished, she said, "I don't know if I was supposed to tell you that but..."

"He's murdered a man?" Enien asked, shocked. "I can't believe a Dúnedain is a..."

"Can you blame him though?" Wren asked.

"But murder is murder! So now he has murdered two people." Enien said.

"Two? What do you mean?" Wren asked confused.

"After the fight when you had been taken, he had captured a wild man. The wild man wouldn't answer any questions, so Turthôl killed him. The man was unarmed and blind...blind because Turthôl had put his eyes out during the fight with fire, and Turthôl...killed him."

They stood there in silence. After a few minutes, Wren said, "We can't judge him. He has been through things that nobody can imagine. The life of a Dúnedain is..." she didn't know what to say.

"Come, let's head back to camp. I'm worried where Turthôl will lead this company. Rangar must know." Enien said.

They headed back to camp.
_____________________________________________

Turthôl searched the ground. He could see the footprints of the struggle. He could see Rangar's prints. He saw Enien's prints as she arrived to help Rangar, and he saw the prints of the hunter as they headed off into the fog. He followed them. After a few yards he came upon an arrow, portruding out of the ground. He picked it up and examined it. By the look of it, it was elvish, so he assumed it was Enien's. He stowed it in his quiver.

He stayed low to the ground as he followed the footprints. He knew he wasn't making a good impression on the rest of the company. His disregard for life and recklessness was hurting his relationship with them, but he had to make sacrifices. He was willing to let them think he was insane, if it resulted in them being alive when this was all over.

The tracks led into the woods, and Turthôl followed.

[ May 18, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Arvedui III]

Blurs of faces passed in a swirl of color. Flashes. Flashes of light and places that were both familiar and foreign, and people. People whom he knew, yet had no idea who they were. And, fear. Fear of what he did not know, but fear of something, or someone. And still the swirling colors did not abate. It had to end; it had to give, somehow. Then it came. Blood, blood that flowed without end.
"Stop it." He groaned. "Stop, please."

"Rangar! Wake up!" Suddenly the swirling horror changed into a hazy dark blue. At first another stab of fear hit him, until he saw the stars. "Rangar, it was a dream." Rangar blinked in the night, and then he recognized Camalitia's voice. Relief swept over him, Just a dream. "Thank you" He replied hoarsely, surprised by his shaky voice. "Shh, sleep now." Rangar nodded, and felt his eyelids drop.
-------------------------------------------------------
When Rangar woke again, he was met his pain in his side. Groaning, he turned onto his hand and knees, and then tried to rise. Immediately, he felt a hand push him back down. "What the?" He rolled over and saw Wren, Enien, and Tareth staring down at him. He closed his eyes again, hoping he didn't have to talk. His head ached; Why couldn't they just leave him be? "Rangar?" said Enien, barely concealing the shock in her voice. "Yes?" "We need to-" "I know,” he mumbled. "Why?" that was Wren. "I don't know, but I'm sorry." He said, feeling a stab of shame. "For what?" "For-this. All of this." He didn't know why he was saying this, but it seemed important to do so. "For all of it. I'm a danger to you all." He mumbled. "No, no you're not." Wren said softly. "Just delirious, right?" He heard hear laughter. It made him feel better. "Where's Turthol?" "He-he left." Someone above said. "Why?" Said Rangar, bemused. He was about ready to go back to sleep, but he wanted to talk to Turthol first. No one else might understand.

"He-he went to find that man who attacked you." Said Wren, in the same concerned tone she had used with Rangar. His eyes snapped open, panic running through his veins.

"He did what!?"

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir had been close behind Turthol and Wren when he heard Enien's cry. Dashing after them he came to the place where Rangar had fought the strange man. Rangar's face was white and Carmalita wore an expression of concern as she and Wren arrived panting and out of breath.

Together the members of the company half supported and half carried Rangar back to the camp. As Turthol went rushing off after the attacker, Calimir drew Enien to the side.

"You are troubled, why?" he asked. "What happened out there, were you watching?" The look on Enien's face showed shame, and the gash from the earlier fight was puffy and red. Enien seemed hesitant to speak. Calimir touched the wound on her face gently. "Has Carmalita looked at this?" he asked her with some concern, "it should be cleaned."

"No. I'm fine." Enien closed her mouth firmly, and Calimir didn't push her. After a few moments of silence she began to speak. She told him about cursing at the star, and how she'd taken Rangar's watch. Then she told of Wren's words after Turthol had gone. But in the end she came back to Rangar. "I knew he was gone." she said quietly, "but I did nothing."

Calimir sighed heavily. "Would your doing anything have changed what happened?" he asked. "Enien, it is not your job to protect the world." Enien wavered for a moment, then walked away a few paces.

"What if it had been you, Calimir?" she asked levelly. "Would Glorenwen blame me if I had known you were in danger and done nothing?" Calimir's breath hissed out sharply through his teeth. It was not a scenario he wanted to think about. At a loss for words he watched Enien walk back toward the fire.

He leaned back against a tree, and slid down it to the ground, feeling the rough bark through his tunic. With his head in his hands he thought about Glorenwen. What was he doing out here? He who had everything. Everything important.

He stretched out his thoughts toward his wife and felt her respond. With a contented sigh, he knew she was sleeping. He could almost hear her voice, gentle and calm. He sighed heavily. Sleep would not come easily tonight. Striding back slowly toward the fire Calimir volunteered for the next watch.

[ May 19, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

[Everdawn]

Énien had sat by the fire. Calimir was right. It was not her job: But if i do not who will, can I trust them to live? She resolved no to think about it. Calimir wanted first watch. He stared at her. "Sleep Énien, tomorrow you can think and be stubborn." Énien frowned. "I am not tired yet, but I will be, im going to sit up for a while."

Already Turthôl had gone in search of the hunter. The elf knew exactly how he felt. Wren had told her about his episode with Sartir and it explaned it clearly. The Elf thought back two decades to Rivendell. Yes, she remembered the black-haired boy who used to run around teasing the elven horses, barely. From the very east balcony Énien used to sit playing her harp watching below, the scenes as they unfolded.

Énien was brought back to reality, the small boy, had turned into a man, and this man suffered a horrible tradgety. Now he kills in cold blood. She thought to herself. The elf gazed into the burning embers of the fire. She remembered how the word came to Rivendell, it had been Elrohir who had told her, that her brother Énden had gone missing;

"What do you mean, missing?" she had said. "I mean, he has not been seen in two weeks, last time anyone saw him was outside Bree." Elrohir had spoke to her.

"Well im going to find him, since you probably havent looked properly." She had said in anger, this was the first time Énien, normally placid had spoken out. With her parents long since passed to the havens, Elrohir knew there was nothing he could do to stop the young elf.

"Here" he had said, "At least now you can protect yourself." He had presented her with a daggar, one wich she carried even now. The memory was still sharp, the first time she had seeked out adventure had turned to an ugly blood bath. She strayed across the woodlands outside of Bree, seeing an elven button on the ground Énien knew that he was near. If only she had not seen. There covered in gashes and pinned up to a tree was the blackhaired, grey-eyed brother she always looked up to. He was dead. Énden was no more.

In a way it had hardened her and made her the person she was, but never did she kill in cold blood.

Énien took a sideways glance at Carmalita who was tending to Rangar. Now she felt guilty. Her cloak which she had used to attempt to stop Ranagr's bleeding was thrown to one side. She walked over and threw it into the fire.

[Arien]

“He did what?!” said Rangar, his voice was harsh and rasping.

Carmalita stood up from her place by the fire and picked up her bag and walked of to him, “He went to fight the man who attacked you”, she said softly. Carmalita knelt down beside Rangar and moved his hand from where it was placed over his wound. She gently rolled him over onto his back, he tried to resist but she pulled him over.

“Don’t try and be brave, you wont be, you’ll be foolish.” he rolled over with ease but did not say anything. He turned his head from her gaze as if he was humiliated and closed his eyes. She rolled back his top to reveal the most serious wound that that man had inflicted upon him. It was a deep rip across the left side of his chest. He was lucky, any deeper and it may have reached his heart. And Carmalita was sure that she could not heal this unless she possessed some kind of magical healing powers. Which she did not.

The bandage which she put over earlier was now saturated with Rangar’s blood. She unwrapped it and placed the sodden bandage to the side of her. She looked into the wound, she could see his ribs. “This is bad, but I should be able to stop the bleeding.” She turned his head towards her, “you will just have to put up with the pain.”

He nodded. She placed her fingers into the wound, and then withdrew them again. The blood was starting to thicken and clot already. It should be alright by morning. She washed the wound with some warm herbal water which she had on the fire, and then placed some alcohol into the wound. It stung because she saw Rangar wince slightly. But she knew he would not complain. She finally wrapped a new stronger and more absorbent bandage around his chest. She tended to a few of his other, less major cuts and the sat back as if to take a look at her good work.

“There,” she said. She rose from her place and walked back to the log where she and Bregand were sitting before. She handed him a cup and told him that it would ease his spinning head. Then she lay on the floor, her head facing the stars and looked up in awe.