Outracing the Flames RPG

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Osmod’s words sounded, and resounded in Sythric’s mind. ”I know I’m no longer the leader in here, but should we not get going?” Well, as I so much love these youngsters, and both trust and hope so much on them, this one really makes me disappointed, time after another! Either being the center of everything, or then being the martyr! So strong feelings from such discussable matters! So itchy about the tiniest scars on their self-image! Keeping one’s honour is one thing, being pricky about these kinds of small things is another. Oh, these young people... not that I wasn’t the same, when I was of that age, though. How many times have I told myself to remember that?

Then there were the words of Meghan in the air: "So, who is to be leader, now?"

This time Sythric’s light grin was just an inward one. Simultaneosly, he was hardly pondering about his words, to get this imminent leadership-problem solved the best way he could see. Why didn’t I come up with the topic with Raedwald when we were smoking under the tree during the night? I already asked Meghan the thing. Well obviously she was there too. So charming young lady, but could we have discussed this thing in her presence, in all earnest, anyhow? We would probably just have raised more problems, with others thinking, there is a some sort of a clique of latecomers’, with Meghan inside it, making decisions about leadership-issues, and what-not? Some of the others probably thought that way already... Youth sure is heroic, and paranoid, at the same time. As Raedwald’s expression seemed as baffled as his, Sythric decided just to go for it, and make his best.

“Please, Osmod! Wait a moment!”, he called back to Osmod. Osmod had already almost reached his packings, but when called, he turned around, and took a few steps towards the others, still clinging next to the fire. Sythric rose up and addressed him again, now with a more talkative tone.

“I heard last night, from my young friend Meghan here, that you have been the leader of the party. Then I believe, you must be the one to whom the March-warden gave the letter for the king? Things being that way, I really do think, that you should come forwards with your stature. You have been relied on this, you have been chosen as the leader. Now you just have to act like it! I believe, that I also speak with the mouth of my old friend Raedwald now: we two were sent here to help you, not to lead you. Rest assured, we will be giving you all the counsel we can, and we will be putting ourselves at risk as the first one’s to go. But you have been chosen, so take the lead!” He looked Osmod into the eyes quite seriously. Then nodded to everyone else, took the lamb and the wineskin, and took to packing his things.

Sythric felt that Raedwald was walking just behind him, to get his own gear in order. He turned lightly and addressed Raedwald. “Even if we might be in dead-dangerous situatiuons over the following days, we could make him, and his father, a service by helping to bring out the man from this youth. We’ll see, how this turns out. I’m sure, you will be helping in this. I quess all we would have to help him. As I told you during the night, he’s a good lad, even if as this morning’s show didn’t immediately raise such thoughts in you. I know, he is more than a whining teenager. Just trust me on this. And without someone of them rising to a rank, there will be just bad feelings and disruptions. I quess Osmod is the horse to bet on now. Let's try to encourage the others at their time?”

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn finished eating his breakfast quietly. Once more, things were getting awkward among his party. What had started as a simple party of four had escalated into a troop of six literally overnight. Meghan seemed fine with this: apparently she knew the two newcomers well. Osmod, however... Well, he wasn't exactly sure how Osmod felt about this. The morning had begun happily enough; he had seemed more cheerful than Fionn had ever seen him. But then, just as quickly, he had shown hints of discomfort. Now he was all but certain he had been demoted.

And what of this newcomer, this Sythric? Fionn recognized him somewhat; he could picture him speaking with his father on several occasions, but he himself had no reason to be aquainted with him until now.

Sythric was hiding his true feelings well, but Fionn had the sense that he lacked faith in them, at least to a minor degree. He probably throught they were too young and foolhardy for such an important mission. (Well, that's what Fionn's father would probably say, anyway.) But was it true? Fionn mused on this for a while as he rose, dreamlike, and absent-mindedly packed his belongings.

The thought hadn't really occured to him prior to this; yesterday he had the utmost faith in himself and his fellow messengers, and had assumed that the rest of Bregoware shared his opinion. But now, it seemed as though Bregoware was regretting their decision. Perhaps they had sent them merely out of desperation. Perhaps he and his new party WERE unfit for the task. Were they being sent to their deaths?

No, Fionn thought fiercely. It didn't matter what Bregoware or Edoras or Sythric or Raedwald or the March-Warden or ANYONE thought. Farmers or not, they were doing an important job, and they would not fail. After all, they were just going to Edoras.... Right?

A thought occurred to him. He looked over at the others. He had no idea how well any of them could fight. He had been absent during the hunting party, so he didn't know who was a good shot and who wasn't. He assumed that Raedwald and Sythric were adequate fighters, being Ex-Riders, but they were retired. And anyway, even if they were excellent with the spear, that would mean nothing if no one else could fight their own battle. They'd be around to protect Miss Meghan, though; that WAS the reason why Raedwald had come. Osmod probably knew what he was doing, and Miss Eostre... Fionn grinned wryly. Miss Eostre was fierce. He'd never seen her fight, but she could probably frighten away any approaching danger on her own. He'd never tell her that to her face, though, as he valued his life too much.

And then there was himself. He was a decent shot with a bow, although his experience with orcs and Eastern Men was severely limited. He hoped he could hold his own.

He was suddenly aware that a vote was going on. He looked up.

"Oh," he said, almost apologetically. "Well, I agree that Osmod continue as our leader. He's done well so far, wouldn't you say?"

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Hearing Fionn's remark, Sythric smiled slightly to Raedwald.

"Well: some unity and comradeship beginning to appear. Now is it, or am I just dreaming the things I hear? It's a good sign, and a winning horse..."

He smiled more openly and turned to pack his lamb and wine, calling Thydrë with his low whistle. Time to go, and we'll make this!, he thought.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


Meghan was a little aways from the rest of the group, securing the last of her few possessions to the back of her saddle. His horse already loaded and ready to go, Rædwald walked up along side her and helped her with the last of her knots. ‘I’m only here to see to your well being, little mistress. As your brother asked. I hope the others will not think I’ve come to take over the group itself.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Of course, if keeping you whole means keeping them whole, that will simply be a side benefit for them.’

She frowned at him and he tried to pull his face into a more contrite expression. ‘Just fooling around a bit!’ he offered as an excuse. ‘Give an old Rider turned goat herder some leeway won’t you?’

He glanced up toward the rest of the group. Some had mounted up and it seemed as if they were proceeding forward, though they were bunched together and he could not see who had led off.

Rædwald took the reins of Meghan’s horse and held her steady for the woman to mount up. He handed up the last small leather bag for Meghan to secure to the front of her saddle, within easy reach. Then he mounted up himself and tsk’d to his horse, urging him on. With one last look at the 'door for luck' as Osmod had called his drawing in the dirt, he sent up a silent little request to what powers might be that luck indeed would ride with them.

He kept pace beside Meghan sharing a few words her brother had spoken to him when he’d gone. It would be a considerable ride to the ford as he recalled, settling himself into the pace of the other riders.

[Farael]

Was it the comment or the song what had irked them? It mattered not, whatever it had been, he had been ‘rewarded’ with a renewed vote of confidence for his leader role. He sighed and tried to look serious, but deep inside he recalled his dreams and could not help it to smile. They were hardly an eodred, but they were brave enough.

After everyone had saddled up, Osmod nodded his head towards the road and with a silent prayer he started riding again. A moment later he turned around and asked Sythric to ride by his side. “It gets too lonely here ahead of the rest, Master Sythric, and I thought you could entertain me with some good talk. Maybe a story or two, I’m sure riders like yourself must have many of those.” He offered his olive branch without making much fuzz and hoped the rider would take it. Sythric seemed to be a good man after all and his best bet at learning how to defend himself. His newly found desire to be a great, famous commander had nothing to do with it. Not at all.

[Maeggaladiel]

The horse's chesnut ears swiveled backwards as Fionn approached her with the saddle. Apparently she hadn't planned on carrying him for another whole day.

"I'm riding you. Get used to it," Fionn told her, plopping the saddle down on her back. "We have a long way to go yet, you old nag." He scratched her at the withers and then patted her on the neck as he went to work. He pulled on the girth strap that wrapped around her stomach and held the saddle in place. The horse did not protest.

After several moments, Fionn tightened the girth strap once more. As he expected, it was already loose. She had held her breath when he first put it on. Had he tried to sit in it, it might have slid sideways and thrown him off. He grinned.

"Hah," he told the horse, waggling a finger in her face. "I'm not that dense, you mule. Thought you were going to dump me as soon as we broke into a trot, didn't you? Didn't you?" The mare avoided eye contact. "You'll keep me on my toes for the entire journey, won't you madam? Just remember who it is who'll be grooming and watering you."

This ongoing battle of horsey and human wits had lifted his spirits significantly since this morning's occurrences. It really wasn't much to brag that you had outwitted a stubborn animal, but it kept him focused on the task at hand, always expecting some mutinous maneuver from the beast he was now mounting. She started to walk sideways as he climbed into the saddle, but he grabbed her reigns and held her steady.

"You're no match for Fionn of Bregoware," he said with a grin. "You and your kind are beneath me." He looked down at the horse he was straddling and grinned larger. "Literally, in this case."

[Naria]

Wulfham


She was walking into camp with Brand at her heels when she saw Vaenosa come through some trees and into view. She had something heavy and big on her back. Incana hurried her pace to see what the young woman had brought them. Incana was thrilled to see that Vaenosa's surprise was meat. She thought to herself that this amount of wild boar should last them a few days and immediately began to think of ways to prepare the animal.

As if her mother's voice was reading aloud a recipe in her head, Incana remembered, To roast wild game you will need to have a very hot fire; after you have made sure of this dig a shallow pit in the centre of the hot coals. Then you would find flat rocks and line the bottom of the pit with them and place the meat on top of the rocks covering the meat with the remaining flat rocks and coal. Incana remembered also that the hot coals and the fire will heat the rocks thus cooking the meat inside.

This of course would take all day to cook the wild boar but Incana started preparations towards getting the animal ready for their supper. After Brand had skinned the animal Incana took over, once again thinking that she hasn't done much to help the group so far, she used her knife and made a swift upwards stroke and opened the pig's belly. Its innards spilled onto the ground, the blood quickly absorbed by the dry soil. She was sure that her mother had taught her another recipe on how to prepare and cook an animal's stomach, but she couldn't remember. It would come to her eventually that was one meal Incana enjoyed eating. She finished separating the different parts of the animal and placed what she could fit into the fiery grave. Not knowing what to do with the remaining pieces of meat she asked Dorran, "Do you know a way in which to dry meat? There is still some wild boar left here." He nodded at her question and Incana could tell, by the quizzical look on his face, that the young man had something in mind.

After Incana had rinsed her hands and blade of blood with water she took some lunch and sat down next to Brand. She ate her last spoonful of stew and rinsed it down with tea that Dorran always kept fresh and hot for them. Incana then made a bold move and started a conversation with the man sitting next to her. She was nervous and hesitant to do what she was about to do, but after a period of uncomfortable silence she spoke to Brand. "Since Vaenosa is asleep and will probably be this way for awhile I thought I should let you know as to why she is acting the way that she has been lately." Incana paused to clear her head and brushed some stray hairs out of her face with her fingers and continued, "You see my mother and her mother knew eachother through their different duties they had and spoke quite often in the village market. My mother would bring in clothing that she had made or mended for certain villagers and Vaenosa's mother would bring in fresh vegetables to the market. There were a lot of people in the village that both of our mothers knew and in turn they knew of us. When we were younger I never talked or played with Vaenosa, she always seemed to be in her own world most of the time. I was close with my mother at that age, but Vaenosa was very close with hers and panicked it she lost sight of her. I never understood why she acted that way and it bothered me for many years." Incana took another sip of her tea and went on. "My mother had talked to me on several occasions about Vaenosa, but I had a feeling that she never was telling me the whole story. I finally got the whole story the night we returned to our homes after I volunteered for this journey. She had recognized Vaenosa in the village square that night and wanted me to know the truth before we set off." Incana swallowed hard and with a slight quiver in her voice she proceeded to go into Vaenosa's past.

"Vaenosa's father had taken in a stranger that was in need of a place to stay for awhile before moving on. One night the stranger went mad with rage and killed her father, beat her mother and with no one around to help her he took advantage of a very young Vaenosa. So, do you see why she would act the way that she has been?" Incana went on, "I have talked with her in passing when we see eachother in the village market however, it has been at least two years since our last encounter and that is why I wasn't sure if I had recognized the right person at the beginning of our trek." She thought to herself and said, "I think it was the way that she rushed into camp, so bold and angered. It is a behavior that she has shown me before in the village, it has been a couple of years now but it hasn't left my mind. This is why I have tried to defend her actions and why I have tried to talk with her since that night." Incana paused and picked up the twig that she had earlier and pushed some dirt with it, then softly peered into Brand's eyes and said "I know she means well bringing back a gift of food shows this. Maybe she will let her guard down with the group, I will talk to her when we are on our way again." She smiled at the man feeling a weight lift off of her shoulders.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Finally on their way, Eostre thought to herself, a slightly rueful expression on her face. Certainly, she had been eager; even desperate to abandon the seeming exaggeratedly long stays, but whatwith the two newcomers to their party, suspicions were rising in the already cynical woman's mind. She wanted to know more about the whys, the hows, the wherefores...

She wanted to ask Osmond why he had sang, and ask why it seemed to be so directed towards Meghan. Perhaps he liked her. No one likes me, she had thought softly while saddling up her horse to prepare for the ride out. She had went through the motions almost mindlessly before mounting once more and preparing to follow the group out.

By this point, she was already strongly aware she was probably the least trusted member of the party. Perhaps because she lived with her uncle, perhaps because she seemed cynical and uncaring...

Perhaps because Meghan had utter control over the party. Meghan, the cheerful member who (Eostre supposed) could never stand in the face of chaos. Meghan, the one who could very likely destroy the party if she remained so naive... why was every one of them so ridiculously naive?!

At least the two new ones seemed well hardened to destruction, if they were trustable...

With these thoughts in mind, Eostre followed the party out from the camp.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


‘Now, lass, I’ve been thinking . . .’

They had traveled in companionable silence for a while, letting the miles slip by without comment. Meghan had leaned over Ash’s neck and murmured a few sweet words to her. The March-warden’s wife had chosen well; the horse was a gentle ride and seemed attuned to what her rider needed. ‘A measure of oats for you, my dearie, when we reach our campsite for the night,’ Meghan had said to her.

Rædwald’s words broke in upon her thoughts of what her family might be doing now. Did they have all the belongings loaded on the hay wagons? Had they gotten one of the neighbor lads to help herd the goats along? The herd would probably number two score and ten or so now with the addition of Rædwald’s goats.

‘And what have you been thinking, Rædy?’ she asked, focusing her full attention on him now.

He was only a few more sentences into his thoughts when she pulled her horse to a stop and looked at him in a horrified manner. He was going on about the bargain he had made with her brother Leof, and she was aghast at what he was saying.

‘What do you mean . . . When you die?’ she said in a loud voice. ‘You’re giving me your goats should you not make it through to the end of this journey. And what store of coins are left from days as a Rider for their keep!’ She fumed and spluttered, her cheeks turning bright red in anger and disbelief. ‘Don’t even think on it! You’re going back just as I will, hale and well. And if we’re lucky our two herds will have increased by several more with the interbreeding. But that’s it . . . And don’t say another word about your being killed. I won’t hear of it!’

But go on, he did . . . his helm and mail shirt, the thick leather vest for padding beneath it, and his oaken lance with the sharp iron tip . . . well, they, he hoped, she would save for her first-born son as a present from his late Uncle Rædwald. And yes, he knew they looked a bit worse for wear at the present. But he’d brought his oil and polishing cloth and at the first opportunity would set them to gleaming once again.

Meghan choked and coughed as he finished his list for her. He’d brought his horse up close to hers and pounded her lightly between the shoulder blades with one hand as he offered her a drink from his waterskin with the other.

‘First-born son!’ she squeaked, her brows inching up toward her hairline. ‘Are you mad! That would require a husband to be got and I don’t see one in my near future nor farther down the road, either . . .’

‘Now lass, I’ve been giving that some thought, too,’ he said, nodding his thoughtfully at her. And with that began a litany of various eligible males from the village that she ought to seriously be considering.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath letting it out slowly. Perhaps the earth will open up and swallow me whole! But no, there he was, ticking off the good points of Gareth, Grindan’s son, the one who farmed near the eastern edge of the village proper.

Oh, this will be a long, long ride to the river . . .

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric answered Osmod’s call and rode to his side. Then he turned to Osmod and said. “Riding with some company is always preferable to riding alone, that’s my opinion too. Riding alone you easily fall to idle fantasies or soul-wavering nightmares.” He looked at Osmod with a smile, but then got more serious: “To begin with, I’ll tell you here and now, that I do trust you. Do not be doubtful of that. And because of my trust, I think we have some things to talk. Come!” With that he spurred Thydrë to a somewhat faster pace. After making a little headway to others, and feeling Osmod coming beside him, Sythric turned to him again.

“Well my friend. You know me. I’ve been with the riders from younger years than you are now, and I have taught young people, almost as the age of you, in the skills of arms and riding for almost ten years. I’m not boasting with this, don’t misunderstand me here. But I’m just trying to give you my reasons, why I said the things I said, back there at the fire. And why I feel it to be so urgent, that you’ll take the lead here.” He glanced rapidly behind them, happily noting, that the others were following them, not too far away, but not too close either. He cleared his throat, and continued:

“So, I know something about what it is to ride in a party with a mission, and I know a lot about, how young people can behave. Now the party of young riders is just off to a dangerous and important mission, and within a day, there are two old war-horses to help them. Now how does this feel? How does this affect you? It surely takes down your self-confidence, more with someone, less with others. Now how do you vent that out? Basically you either start to pick on others, or then you wrap yourself out from others, feeling more insecure every hour, whichever option you choose. Then you start to grumble, to accuse others, to whine, and at the end you don’t trust anymore. The party is not a team then. It’s just bunch of detached individuals. And if that kind of bunch faces trouble, it won’t work as a team, and the chances of failing rise too high.” He paused for a while, waiting for Osmod’s nod to continue, as if the things said had been followed.

“So we have to do everything to heal this possible wound, before it gets sour. And the best way I can see to attain it, is for someone of you growing some stature here. Showing the others, that you people are as well suited to this job as we oldtimers are. And to show, that we oldies’ are accepting the lead of the one of you. And I thought that you were the obvious one, as I don’t know very much about Eostre or Fionn, and as I know Meghan enough.” At that last remark he grinned joyously to Osmod, and winked his eye merrily.

“Don’t take me wrong with my last remark. She’s a lovely young lady, and I really understand why Raedwald is so attached to her. The world would be a better place with more people like her around. But surely, she is no war-band or scout-party leader, as you must know. And you had been the leader anyhow, before we got here.” Sythric looked, now quite seriously, straight into Osmod’s eyes for a second. Then he turned his head forwards, giving Osmod time to think about the things he’d just said.

After a while he turned back to Osmod again, and said: “You probably remember, I have allways called you a boy or a lad – as we have met at your father’s house, or at the village festivities. Now I say, that I truly believe you will be a good Man, a man worth of your mission. Do not let me down on my trust!”

[Maeggaladiel]

The horse was, for the moment, willing to obey commands. She had calmed considerably during the short time they had ridden, once Fionn had established that yes, she was going to carry him and no, she couldn't stop every five minutes to nibble at the grass. She now seemed perfectly happy to follow his orders to the letter. That made Fionn rather suspicious, but he decided to give the mare a chance.

Clicking his tongue and touching a heel to her flank, Fionn urged the horse faster to catch up with Osmod and Sythric. The prospect of being near others of her species seemed to please the mare. Fionn personally would have preferred to take their family's horse on this trip, but he was needed for their evacuation. So Fionn was left with this nag. Oh well; make do with what you have.

He brought her alongside Osmod's horse and slowed her to match his pace. He seemed to be coming in on the middle of a conversation between Osmod and Sythric, so he gave them a polite distance so not to interrupt.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric and Osmod both noticed that someone had rode alongside them. It was Fionn. Before Osmod had time to answer anything, that Sythric had kind of just thrown to his face, Sythric was greeting Fionn heartily. “Master Fionn, do join us with the ride. I would really like to hear, how you are feeling today, and what do you think about the mission we have”.

Hastily Sythric hissed to Osmod, so that Fionn could not have heard it: “You have something to say over the things I just talked you, let's have them later”.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan eyed the men, or that is the majority of the men as Rædwald still rode by her, who were now clumped together like ticks on a dog. There were two of them, at first, Osmod and Sythric. With Sythric talking quite seriously to the younger man. And then up came Fionn. She rather liked him; he was still boyish enough to make her smile with his ingenuous manner. Still, he was a male, and soon he would be sucked into that great brotherhood of males around which she might only stand quite prettily and quite demurely staring in.

And then of course, there was Eostre. And sometimes she almost envied the woman her fierceness. Meghan dug deep in herself and could not find an answering strain. Sure, she shepherded her little herd about and kept them safe as she could. But who was she fooling with her thinking that she could ride with such . . .

She looked hard at the group of men, her brow furrowing, searching for an image on which to pin her thoughts. Eagles. That was it. Great birds of war, all big and majestic, clear eyed and so sure of themselves.

And what was it that Rædwald and Sythric had called her. Ah, yes . . . magpie, and sparrow. Bothersome birds, the both of them. And who would think to put such a small creature among heroes. Certainly none of the tales told about the fire she’d heard had ever featured such.

‘Ash,’ she whispered, leaning low over her mount’s neck, ‘you should have nipped me hard on the leg the moment I mounted you. Woken me from this dream that I might indeed be equal to the task.’ You’ve been a fool, Meghan! she chided herself, straightening up in the saddle. Better to make the right decision now, before the river is crossed, before you become nothing more than a liability.

Rædwald’s horse nickered and bumped lightly against her boot. Meghan flicked her eyes toward Rædwald, noting with a certain irritated alarm that he seemed to be scrutinizing her. She cocked her head at those riding at the front of their little group. ‘Shouldn’t you be up there? Discussing strategy and such?’ she asked in a somewhat peevish manner. She waved him away from her, slapping his horse on the hindquarters to drive him off. ‘Go talk of plans and important matters with your fellows. I’ll hear no more of suitable husbands and first borns. My head is aching already from your idle chatter.’

She stopped her horse completely, watching as he and the others drew further ahead.

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘I thank you for your telling of Vaenosa’s story.’ Brand was quiet for a while, his face thoughtful, as he absorbed the horrid details Incana had told him. ‘It explains quite a lot about her actions.’ He put his cup aside and stood up. It was his habit when he was faced with something of a serious matter to walk about a bit. His thoughts were more easily collected and viewed as he paced, he’d found. And this was certainly something of a serious matter.

‘Someone should let Dorran know these things.’ He crouched down to where Incana still sat. ‘Will you do this? It would come better from you as her friend, I think.’

Brand raised his hand to his face, rubbing at the bandage over his wound. He stood back up again, excusing himself from her company as he did so. ‘I’ll be back before nightfall,’ he said, picking up his cloak from the ground where he’d been sitting. ‘I need to walk for a while. I have some things to think on.’

He pulled his cloak about him and nodded to her, then let his steps take him away from the camp.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn looked slightly taken aback at the jovial manner in which Sythric invited him into the conversation. He had halfway expected to be treated as an unwelcome intruder, although he had little idea why he had expected this. Perhaps it was because they were both older than him, and certainly more worldly. There was little reason for them to have become friends under normal circumstances. But this was hardly normal, was it?

"Ah," he began uncertainly. "Pardon if I'm interruptin' anything." He looked around him, and his face burst into his usual grin. "It's just that I'm usually stuck bringing up the rear of the party." He leaned back in the saddle. "It's rather nice having a view of something other than the back of your heads once in a while. 'Course, that's saying nothing against the back of your head. Fine heads, they are, to be sure." He grinned again.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Disheartened by the lack of feelings and response from Brand, Incana watched the man walk away from camp. She noticed that the day had progressed from lunch to the time she was done talking to Brand; evening was slowly approaching. Incana took some rocks off of the roasting boar and saw that it was almost done. She replaced the stones and thought to herself, we cannot just eat the meat by itself we must get something to go along with it.

Incana remembered that Dorran had found turnips earlier. She waited until he came back into camp with some more wood and asked, "Dorran if you are not too busy at the moment, could you show me where you found those turnips you used for the stew?" She also had a thought that if he was able to find turnips maybe there will be some potatoes as well.

[Tevildo]

Dorran took Incana by the hand and guided her over to the edge of camp, pointing to a tall pine that stood some ways off. "Just head in that direction and you'll find a small stream. Be careful there. The ground is tricky....filled with all kinds of gnarled tree roots. Follow it south no more than thirty feet and you'll see a patch of turnips growing near the bank. The clearing is well watered and the sunlight peeps through so I wouldn't be surprised to find other root plants there as well."

There was a moment of silence between them, as Dorran glanced awkwardly over at the girl, wondering how to bring up what was on his mind. He felt he had to say something. "Please, Incana, I hope you don't think ill of me, but I overheard a good deal of what you and Brand were saying. I was watering the horses and managed to come by at just the point you were speaking. I have been thinking a lot about all this. Vaenosa's so different from my sister that I can't make head or tail of her. And I admit I've been angry at her because of her teasing. Yet I do understand that past grief can turn people inside out. She's lucky to have her mother. Her hunting skills are extraordinary for such a young girl, and I am grateful for the food she's provided. Perhaps, she'll get to feel more comfortable with us. I hope so. It will make things easier for everyone, including herself. I just can't say these things to her directly, but maybe you could let her know that I've no wish to be her enemy or hurt her in any way. I've seen enough misery come down on people's heads, and I don't want to be the cause of any more grief for her."

"As to the other question you asked me before, that's a lot easier to deal with. Unfortunately, we don't have enough time for drying the meat. That would take three or four days. But Brand has some salt. You can place some thin strips in a brine solution. Hang the jerky over a low fire until dawn. When we break camp, just pack up the jerky and continue smoking the next night. The whole thing takes about four to five days of smoking and is worth every minute. I remember my parents did this when we were on the run to the west, safe out of the dark lands so that we could light fires again."

Dorran stopped a minute, wondering if he should go on. But if he didn't say this now, he was likely not to have another chance. "Anyways, there's one more thing I must say. Incana, you have a gentle heart. You stuck your neck out for Vaenosa and that's says a lot. Whatever doubts or fears I have about your friend, I have none whatsover about you." With that, Dorran hastily dropped Incana's hand and hurried back towards camp.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


‘Well,’ he said to his horse as they plodded toward the lead group, ‘it’s a simple truth that women have their own ways.’ He patted his mount on the withers, more an assurance for himself as any comfort to the horse, who simply flicked his mane at the sudden touch. ‘She’ll get over whatever blue funk she’s sunk into and come round to her bright spirited self again. Just needs a little room to brood.’

His thoughts went back fondly to his mother, who had periodically thrown his father and her sons out of the house, suggesting they go do ‘something’, when she was feeling too hemmed in and bossed about. She’d say she was doing some deep cleaning and would they be so kind as to take the herd out to a far pasture for a few days or more. And it was true – the little cottage was gleaming and all in order when they’d come back, and she herself would be smiling and welcoming them with open arms. Perhaps that little space of time was all that Meghan would need to get her thoughts in order.

Rædwald kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and pulled up just shy of the group of men at the head of the group. ‘Private confab going on, eh?’ he called out as he neared them. ‘Or can another join and shoot the breeze with you?’

[Arry]

Wulfham

Brand’s footsteps brought him soon to the banks of the river. The shadows of the trees were long as they threw themselves across the wide waters. And with the sun low on the horizon behind him, his shadow, too, strained eastward, rippling on the currents. He knelt down and dipped his cupped hands into the frigid stream, letting the water at first seep through his fingers.

The little drops fell like a waterfall, like tears, even, as they returned to the water. What few were left, he brought up to his face and let their coolness refresh him as they could. He took the bandage from his wound and let the cold air of evening wash over it. A certain layer of fatigue seemed to slip away as he made his ablutions with the air and water.

Incana’s words were not so easily purged. He stood up, jamming the bandage in the pocket of his breeches. His feet turned south, taking him along the rocky uneven river bank.

How was he to think of her now? Vaenosa. And the awful things she had endured as a child. He was sickened and made sad by them. But it would not due to give her his pity. He, himself, would not want to be pitied; it would make him feel small, and somehow shamed. He could not imagine it would be different for her.

Sympathy? She would see right through that. He had nothing in his ordinary little life that would give him any basis for understanding the hell she must have borne through the years. And how would such a false offering ease her pain at all?

He clasped his hands behind his back. His pace slowed as he picked his way along the river’s edge now by moonlight. ‘Think, think, man!’ he grumbled to himself.

There was the possibility of friendship. But that would . . . or he should say . . . might . . . come over time. They had gotten off to a rocky start. And to be honest he had never been around someone as . . . well, prickly, as her. Yes . . .prickly, short-tempered, sharp-tongued.

Now, in a way, he supposed those could be excused, knowing her history. Or perhaps the better word would be, ‘understood’. He kicked a small stone out from under his foot, listening to it as it skittered across the rocky ground and plop into the river. Somehow that didn’t seem right to him. It took away her accountability, and in a way made her a lesser person, at least in his way of thinking.

He’d come to a wide part of the river, where it curved a little and eddied in a large pool near the bank he stood on. The water here was relatively smooth, and the moon, which had risen higher in the sky, was reflected in it, with almost no distortion. His eyes flicked from the reflection to the moon itself and back again.

Brand put his hands on his hips and laughed. He’d been looking in the wrong places. ‘You can’t do anything about what happened to her, you fool. Only about yourself. You’re a hasty one to judge, you know that. As set in your own ways as she is . . .

The walk back seemed shorter and less burdensome. Brand saw the small fire of the campsite and headed toward it. His stomach growled, letting him know it expected to be filled now that he was done with his wandering.

[Valier]

Wulfham


Vaenosa opened her eyes and yawned. The day was beginning to darken. She had not planned to sleep so long, she was slightly embarrassed. The others were sure to think her lazy. "After I had said that I would cook the Boar, I should have done just that and not gone to sleep!" She got up quickly and rolled up her Bedroll. Looking around camp she could not see Incana or Brand, but Dorran was busying himself by the fire. She was still a little unsure of how to treat the men they were travelling with. She was getting used to their presense and she could not help but think they were not so bad. She had come across much worse. Her nap had left her refreshed and content for the moment.

Vaenosa whistled for Nay, she had never seen him get along with other horses so well. He was usually pestering them mercilessly, until they pushed him away. Then he would find her and pester her till she played with him. It suddenly dawned on her that if Nay could get along so well with these strangers, she could as well.Nay come up from behind her and gave her hair a good snort."Hello My Boy! Come on, lets go for a walk. I bet we can find you a good stick to chew on. You dog of a horse! Come on!"She scratched him vigorously behind the ear like you would a dog and lead him towards dorran. As she approached her mouth began to water at the smell of the pig.Dorran looked up as she neared.

" I see someone has started that pig. I am sorry I slept late, I would have done it....It does smell good though!" She smiled at Dorran. "Uuummm I was just going to take Nay for a bit of a walk. He is really fond of big sticks...I know it's strange!" She replied to Dorran's questioning look. "I will be back as soon as I find him a good sized stick to keep him busy for awhile." She smiled again kind of shyly at her own boldness for talking to Dorran and walked away before Dorran could respond.

Vaenosa still found it odd to speak with the men. She never spoke to men when she lived alone with her mother. They either scared her or she thought them crude and unkempt. She thought she had been nice to Dorran and refrained from teasing about the cooking.But she was unsure if the same tactics could be used with Brand. He did not seem to care for her much. She could not blame him, she was retched in attitude and more than likely in appearance. She liked the woman Incana though. She seemed familiar to her, but she could not put her finger on from when or where she recognized her.

She lead Nay slowly into a glen that was to the right of the camp. Vaenosa spotted a large fallen branch not far off, lying on the ground. She dropped Nay's reins and broke out into a run towards it. Nay followed gaily behind her. She reached the stick seconds before Nay. She picked it up and raised it over her head, waving it around." Oh you want this stick do you? No way It's mine!" She hid it behind her back as Nay protested with whinneys and snorts. He pawed the ground and tried to push Vaenosa over. She dropped the stick and Nay swooped in and snatched it in his mouth. She sat down on the drying grass and watched as nay rolled on the ground, legs in the air, stick still in his mouth. She burst out laughing. She picked up handfuls of dried leaves and tossed them onto a pile. Nay stopped his rolling and came to investigate her pile. He bend down to sniff it, but before he could Vaenosa tossed the leaves in his face with a laugh. He jumped back and ran around in circles. Vaenosa could not contain her laughter as the Colt sped now around a tree. She lay back in the grass holding her stomach. Nay could never resist trying to squish her if she lay on the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. She waited trying not to giggle, for the big lug to get her.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

“Well, Raedwald my friend, do join us! We were just...”. As he turned to meet his old companions face, he had to turn his head back. And what he saw, was quite surprising to him – and the situation, or at least part of it, seemed pretty awkward. He was not sure, whether he should laugh or cry. He also noted, that both Osmod and Fionn had turned to look backwards. Readwald was watching straight ahead, to the other three riders. Sythric pulled Thydrë’s reins just lightly and addressed the others.

“Let’s not look like we are staring at them my friends. Just loose the pace a little.” He looked quizzically at Raedwald, and continued: “I’ve never been a woman, and so I don’t know how does it feel to be one. But I surely think, this is not looking good from the point of view of Eostre or Meghan. Indeed it’s not looking good from my own point of view either. It’s quite ironic, that me and Osmod were just talking about how to pull this party together – before it started to do so. Unhappily, it seems to mean only us men, for the time being. And this surely looks bad.” He had looked at all the others during his speech, and returned now his gaze on Raedwald. “Whatever has happened to Meghan, you only know – if even you.” He smiled helplessly after that last remark. “I’d be the first one to give her room for herself, but we just can’t leave her too far behind, neither can we just wait for too long.”

Suddenly he addressed Osmod personally: “Well Osmod, to me, it looks like it’s your time to enter. You surely remember, what we were talking about?”

[Arry]

Wulfham


He was nearly to the camp when laughter echoed from somewhere to his left and then faded. Brand did not recognize it, and curious he changed his course to find the source.

It was dark beneath the trees despite the fact that it was autumn and their limbs for the most part were bare. Still, their thick limbs and thinner branches wove in and out amongst each other, allowing only a spattering of moonlight here and there. At the inner edges of the trees, was a small glade, its grasses brown now as the promise of winter was coming nearer.

The moon shone bright in the glade. And there was Vaenosa’s horse, heading toward someone lying on the ground. From his vantage point, he could see it was Vaenosa. Not wishing to startle her, he stepped from beneath the branchy shadows and called softly to her.

‘Vaenosa, may I speak with you a moment?’ He did not wait for her reply, fearing her good mood might turn sour at the sight of him. Brand sat down on a fallen tree, a little ways away so as not to loom over her or appear threatening, and began to speak.

He took a deep breath and blew it out loudly, as his tongue tried to put words to his jumbled thoughts. He made a few false starts which trailed off into silences . . . ‘Geez! You know I’m really not all that good at talking to females,’ he confessed. ‘If only you were one of my ewes, this whole thing would go a lot smoother.’

You idiot! he chided himself silently. Now you’ve gone and wished her a sheep!

‘Right . . . then!’ he began once again. ‘Let me just try to speak plainly.’ He cleared his throat nervously. ‘We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot somehow. And I’ll be the first to claim my share of the blame for it. I haven’t been at my best when I’ve tried to talk to you, have I. It makes me very uncomfortable, this tension I feel when we try to have some sort of interaction. And I really hate the unpleasant feeling that I need always be on my guard.’ He reached up to rub the back of his neck then thought better of it and placed his hands one on each knee. ‘I’d like us to start over if we could.’

He cleared his throat again, this time gaining a little confidence. ‘Now I’ve done a little thinking on this, for my part. I’ll try to curb my plain-spoke tongue and try to respond to you in a less . . . well, hostile manner. I won’t crowd you too close . . . and please, make it known when this dumb shepherd tries to herd you in a way you just don’t like.’

Brand bit back the words of sympathy which had nearly spilled from his lips. He thought that perhaps Incana had spoken in confidence about her friend, and he didn’t want any bad blood between the two women.

She’ll tell me herself, or not, he cautioned himself, if she chooses and in her own time. And some secrets he knew were simply best left unspoken. There were some he held near, himself that would never see the light of day . . .

‘Anyways, that’s just what I’ve been thinking . . . ‘bout you and me, at least. Hope I haven’t talked your ear off and even more I hope you’ve made some kind of sense out of my bumbling thoughts and tangled words.’

[Farael]

Osmod looked back at Meghan. She was falling behind quickly, yet Osmod could not see any problems with her or the horse. He thought then that she looked sad; as if the dark thoughts that crowded on the back of his own mind had found a way into hers. He feared that she, as he had felt the day before, was feeling she did not belong with the rest. Why else would she stop now? There was no reason to feel more scared than the day before; the only thing that had changed was the two old ones. And they seemed to be decent people so far. Remembering how Meghan had encouraged him not so long ago, he decided that it was his duty to help her.

”Sorry Sythric, but if I am to be the leader I will need to start making choices by myself. Meghan is a smart woman; she needs not the condescending presence of ‘the leader’ to make up her mind. If I go to her now, I will only make her feel insecure as if we did not trust her. Let’s move on, do not look back again. Soon we will hear her call out for us, and if not, your job will turn a whole lot easier Master Raewald.” He smiled then, as his mind was made up. Looking around him he saw all the other men. Where was Eostre now? She was probably behind them, but he dared not to peek back for Meghan’s sake. He wanted her to feel that at least he trusted she would make the right choice. The others probably trusted her as well. Maybe even Sythric did. Why was that man so untrusting? Osmod wondered.

” He always seems to be second-guessing us, or is it just me the one he doubts? Does he really want the best for me or does he want a puppet to handle and then blame if things go awry?” His mind raced, but for every answer he tried to find, only more questions seemed to appear “Stop thinking like that right now, you fool. That old warrior’s body may be past his prime but his mind does not seem to have lost one step. You better find something else to talk about.”

”So Fion… " He started, hoping not to startle the boy "from what I understand your family has a farm, right? Do you own some cattle as well? I used to shepherd my dad's cattle quite often, and I have a few stories you might find funny. I know it sounds almost frivolous to talk about it right now, but why should we not talk about innocent things? Our mission sure is important, but let’s enjoy our company and leave the war stories to be told tonight by the fire.”

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


‘Better to make the right decision now, before the river is crossed, before you become nothing more than a liability.’ She voiced the words aloud, letting them hang in the air before her. Ash turned her head to the side, fixing an eye on Meghan. The mare’s ears swiveled backward, as if awaiting further instruction.

Of a sudden, an old voice echoed in the back of the woman’s thoughts. A plaintive and rather peevish voice. And with it she could just see a wrinkled old finger being shook right in her face. It was her mother’s mother . . . Gammer Bernia. And didn’t her name fit her! “Battle Maiden”!

The wizened old granny was the one who’d named her Meghan. And she never let the young girl forget the meaning of it. ‘We’re strong’uns, us daughters of old Freya. And so I named you . . . “Strong and Capable”. In you runs the blood of Freya, herself, and wasn’t she such a queen of power and glory that even the old gods bowed down before her when her step trembled on the earth!’

Meghan could see her bent over, her back bowed from her many years. And in her mind’s eye the old woman leaned on her twisted yew-wood cane and clucked her tongue at the cowardly thoughts of her granddaughter. ‘Put a little starch in that backbone, missy. You’ll be needed somewhere down the line. Be patient and be ready.’

The old woman snorted and seemed to cock her head toward the knot of men who rode at the head of the group. ‘Showy birds, ain’t they? Useful themselves, at times.’ She turned her head back to Meghan, fixing her with her clouded blue eyes. ‘Just you remember . . . just cuz they got some extra equipment on ‘em don’t make ‘em one whit better or smarter than you.’

Meghan could hear the old lady cackling uproariously at her own wit. And she could not help but laugh herself, though a crimson stain spread up her neck and cross her cheeks at her Gammer’s bawdy comment.

The voice faded in her thoughts, still laughing. And there were faint words that trailed behind.

‘Well . . . g’wan! Get goin’, girl!’

And as if she had heard them herself and taken them as a command, Ash leapt forward, carrying Meghan back to the odd assemblage of fated riders.

[Valier]

Wulfham


Vaenosa sat quietly and listened as Brand offered peace between them. She was a little taken back and was unsure as how to reply. A man had never apologized to her before, they always raged at her then never spoke to her again. She did not want to seem to eager to make friends with this man. His actions and words were strange to her. Dorran's actions seemed almost child like, she felt more compelled to laugh at him then argue with him. Brand on the other side had shown some authority over the group and Vaenosa felt slightly pressed to do as she was told, which went against everything she believed in.

She was unsure if he was being honest or just trying to get her to let her guard down. She bit her tongue and decided against a snide remark. She nodded at the man replying weakly." Sure, that would be fine. No hard feelings then....She paused slightly, uncomfortable, before saying." I am hungry though and that Boar sure smells good. I think Nay's done here so I am heading back." She managed a pretty enough smile before she turned her back to Brand and started back to the camp. Her stomach was growling, she could hardly wait to taste the pig.

[Maeggaladiel]

”So Fion…--" The lad straightened in the saddle, hearing Osmod's voice. "--from what I understand your family has a farm, right? Do you own some cattle as well? I used to shepherd my dad's cattle quite often, and I have a few stories you might find funny. I know it sounds almost frivolous to talk about it right now, but why should we not talk about innocent things? Our mission sure is important, but let’s enjoy our company and leave the war stories to be told tonight by the fire.”

Fionn gave a curt nod.

"We've a farm, but we've only got one cow," he said. "We got her as a trade, you see. Our farm is really more for vegetables, chickens, and geese than for sheep and cattle, but sometimes my father trades for livestock."

At that, his mouth bent into an almost embarrased smirk.

"It really doesn't sound like much, but we do quite well with what we have," he said. "Guess I'm something of the odd man out, hm? Among the herders of the mighty beasts, I am the one who prods geese with a pole and hacks away at weeds all day."

He was suddenly aware that he had been rambling. Embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck with a hand and looked down at the saddle-horn.

"But anyway, to answer your question, I do know something of cattle. And I'm sure whatever stories you had to tell would be much more interesting than The Chronicles of Fionn and his Amazing Poultry."

[Naria]

Wulfham



Incana didn't know what to make of the way Dorran had acted while he was holding her hand and then ran off. She thought to herself he is kind and gentle, but why would he be so shy with me?. She would think some more about Dorran as she searched for the vegetables he had directed her too.

Incana had found the turnips and much to her surprise, some potatoes. She had put them along side the boar to cook and before long they were done. She would have let everyone know that supper was ready, but there was only Dorran and herself at the camp. Incana took out two bowls and a set of two pronged forks and gave the lone couple some boar and potatoes.

She scooped a cupfull of tea out of the pot and sat down to enjoy her long awaited supper. Incana had finished eating and cleaned out her bowl with some grass, doing a better job would have to wait. Night had fallen and the woman was getting tired, she took her boots off and slipped into her bedroll giving Dorran a warm smile goodnight.

[Arry]

Wulfham

Day 3


The next day’s ride was a relatively peaceful one. They’d started early, before first light and taken turns taking the lead as they rode. It was their third day out, and they pushed themselves a little harder than they might have, had they not needed to take a rest day.

Their midday meal was taken in the saddle, and washed down with a few swallows of water. They’d packed what boar meat they could in moss from near the river bank, wet with the cold river water. It would be enough for the evening supper, along with some of the root vegetables they’d found in their last camp.

By the time they found a suitable place to camp, the four riders were bone tired and their horses were glad to be unsaddled and let rest. They were just beyond the slow, wide section of the river where the ford was. To their left, as they had passed, they saw the barge-ferry on the far shore of the river. It was said, Brand told the others, that in olden days the King himself had once crossed there and gone to see the lands of those villages who gave him their fealty though they lay outside his realm.

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

Day 4

On the fourth day, Brand rode ahead of the others. They had covered a long distance the day before, and this morning he led them out at a more leisurely pace. He was the first to reach the top of a small rise and look southwest to where the air seemed thick with smoke.

It was windy, and the smoke and ash swirled and eddied in the gusting breezes. Brand motioned for the others to ride up along side him. ‘A village has been burnt,’ he called out to them as they drew near. Below them they could see the wreckage of the houses and halls. From this distance they could see that the fire had destroyed most of the cottages and the larger lord’s hall. Amidst the ruins were many, many bodies.

The four riders stayed on their little hill for quite a while, their eyes sweeping the scene of ruin below. They saw no Orcs about nor did they spy any armed men. They let their mounts pick their way down to the now smoldering village. The scene that opened to their sight as they drew nearer sickened them.

‘We should see if there are any we can help,’ Brand said. ‘And take close note of what we see so that we might report it to the king.’

He urged Lady down one of the ashy ways; among the dead he could see the corpses of a few foul Orcs. And once he thought he spied the body of a dead Easterling warrior, though it was horridly burned, and the upper half of the man’s torso had been crushed beneath a falling beam.

‘Let’s stick close together,’ he urged the group. ‘We cannot be sure that all the enemy are dead.’

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa was horrified at the sight she saw. She could only think to herself that if they did not get help soon their own village could look like this upon their return. Nay was spooking a bit from the retched smell that arose from the town. Vaenosa almost gagged at the smell herself. "Oh" she said to the others. "So this what burnt orc smells like." As she covered her nose with her sleeve. " I think we should have our weapons ready. The Orcs may still be lurking somewhere...pillaging and feasting..."

Vaenosa was afraid, she had never seen an Orc, and the thought of meeting some alive here in this village was terrifying to her. She put on a brave face to hide her inner feelings and started surveying the area. "We could look for any survivors as well as some supplies that might not have been damaged by the fires." She said looking at the other three riders. "Maybe we should split up. Then we could cover more ground quickly, leaving this place sooner if we recover nothing. Or perhaps we should check out the whole village together, then split up to look for supplies and survivors." She looked imploringly at the other three, waiting as patientally as Nay would allow, before he bolted out of the village, for the others to reply.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

As Osmod and Fionn seemed to be getting to their discussions, the old timers’ saw the natural chance of coming together. The question of Meghan still loomed over their talking. Raedwald was not so keen to open up on that one, and Sythric was alert enough, not to pressure over it. So they remembered their common ventures, those days of glory, now so definitively behind. Maybe this was indeed the last ride? It would be good to share this one, then. They remembered common friends and foes. They remembered those who had fallen.

At the time, Sythric took a glance backwards, and saw Eostre riding steadily behind them, but also Meghan far, far behind, but riding towards them.

“Your Meghan is coming after us, after a piece of thought. Maybe we all should have had that piece of thinking before we really tied ourselves with this?” Sythric adressed Raedwald. “Maybe she’s the only one who really knows, what she is doing?”

But just as he glanced forwards, to where they were riding to, he was terrified. There were houses, barns and all. They were approaching Arnanaes. But there were no movement whatsoever. That was frightening.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

A naturally hard rider, Eostre almost found the pace taken to be slow, although with Meghan having fallen behind, perhaps it was right to move forwards like this. Even though she had a natural dislike towards the girl, she didn't like the idea of losing her. Perhaps they'd need her in the future.

Was that an honest way to think? She was certain that those... children... would break apart the party if they carried on their naive views and refusal to accept more world-wise patterns. Fionn was so the typical dreamer, she thought, even having not spoken much to the one male member of their party who wasn't in the lead. And Meghan... Eostre was certain Meghan already hated her. Not as if she had expected anything better. Why wouldn't they?

The trees passed by at a moderate rate, every now and again a few other things altering the forest. And then the forest had passed by and it was grass, grass, and more grass. Yellow and intense, it flickered a stark contrast against the mountains in the distance and the vaguest signs of a town up ahead. Arnanaes, she thought it was. Arnanaes or else possibly Hildegaes, though she had thought Hildegaes was further north, were her memories of the map correct.

And coming up to the town, things were so silent. She glanced forward, beyond the two older riders, closer to the town. There were barns, the signs of horses, a trail slightly beaten. Somewhere up there she knew was a town; the farms more clustered about, perhaps. And the river, she knew, lay up ahead quite near. We'll have to cross the river before we reach the town, I think...

But her memory was dimmed, perhaps by the overwhelming tones of frustration and suspicions overwhelming her. Against all wills, she urged her horse forwards a bit. "Master Sythric, do we reach the river before Arnanaes? My memory of the map is, perhaps, not quite as great as it should be for this location."

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric and Raedwald had both noticed the empty farmhouses. They were sharing the feeling of chill at the moment. Just before that, Raedwald had just told Sythric, that the brave Aethulf had died last summer, to an unknown disease. He had started losing his weight and hair first, then he started to feel cold, notwithstanding his rising temperatures. Then there was just the sudden end of everything. Raedwald had heard this from one of their mutual friends. Aethulf had died painfully, on his own bed. Sythric was just taking all this in, with these new bad omens of a deserted countryside, when he heard Eostre’s voice addressing him "Master Sythric, do we reach the river before Arnanaes? My memory of the map is, perhaps, not quite as great as it should be for this location."

Sythric looked at Eostre, changing his serious expression into a more comfortable one. “Well, master Eostre”, he grinned, kind of returning the compliment “We surely are reaching Aernanaes right now. Beside the town, there’s the river. And after river, Rohan proper.” He looked at Eostre questioningly, but as she didn’t reply, he continued, with a more grim expression: “As you see, the houses are quite empty. The town of Arnanaes seems to be evacuated. That is not a good sign. This land surely is at war, and I just hope, that those people coming behind us, including our families and friends from Bregoware, will meet these places as peaceful as we are meeting them.”

With that, he called Osmod to take the route a little more left. The center of the town would be there, and they surely should take a look at it. And anyhow, the ferry would be reached from there as easily as it would be, coming from outside the town.

The party entered the central road of the town quite soon. It was one of those towns to which you seem to be coming in, little by little, passing a farmhouse after farmhouse, and then very suddenly, you are at the center. That always surprises the wayfaring stranger. Sythric and Raedwald were no strangers to this place. It was so familiar, and yet, so unfamiliar. All things were at their places, but everything was out of place.

There was the smith’s shop, where Sythric had repaired his spurs so many years ago. The smith had been an old man – in his 60’s – and very helpful indeed, although he seemed to have no idea of the current prices... Sythric had had to persuade him to take a price that would have been at most half of what was taken normally around. Without his insistence, the smith would have been happy with a third of a normal price. The door was open and it was dark inside. Suddenly two big wild dogs run out from inside the house and curved around the corner, yelping as they ran. Sythric felt like stopping, just checking in, whether the old man could still be in there, being tormented by these scavengers. But no. They had a mission, and they would have to accomplish it.

Sythric felt like crying. He swallowed his tears, and tried to look forwards. There was the central square, just in front of them, and the town hall as well. All empty and deserted.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn fell silent as they entered the deserted town. It was so still here. It just felt wrong. There should be people in these houses, voices on the air. There should be the smells of cooking food and the sounds of people working. But there was nothing. The entire city was... dead.

That was it, Fionn realized. He knew what the empty town reminded him of: A skeleton. A great, lifeless skeleton, hollow and devoid of everything that made it a creature.

When Fionn was younger, he and his little brother had discovered a fallen bee's nest, abandoned and empty after the first frost. He remembered breaking it open and looking in wonder at the hundreds of empty little rooms and hallways. Together, he and his brother crafted a story about the lives of the bees who once lived there. This place was like that nest. Abandoned. Empty.

Empty. The word echoed for a moment in his mind. This city had been evacuated. His town, too, faced evacuation. Would little Bregoware share this fate? Would his home become one of the gaping skeleton-houses, left abandoned on the silent plains?

He wanted to speak, to clear the air of the heavy and deadly silence. But he couldn't bring himself to disturb the dead village. This place was like a graveyard, and it deserved respect.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Starlight was well aware of the smell that was emanating from the burned village before the group had even caught sight of it. She was getting more and more hesitant and nervous the closer they came. Incana prodded her mare on and kept reassuring her by whispering in Starlight's ear, "come on girl just a little further, I know you are scared" trailing off into light hisses. Incana had no idea what she was about to see, she had never seen so much destruction and very little death in her lifetime.

As her horse rounded a charred house it became all too clear to Incana what had taken place here. Bodies were everywhere; men, women and even children. Her heart throbbed with pain as she looked around, " so much destruction why have these fowl beasts done this?" The smell was too much for Starlight and the horse began to weave side to side and prance like she was on hot coals. Incana tried to calm her but the woman had no effect on the mare. Starlight had had enough and reared tossing Incana off of her back; she hit hard, knocking the wind out of herself. Coughing she got to her feet and tried to catch her breath for now wasn't the time to lay helplessly on the ground, inhaling deeply several times Incana took her horses reins and continued with her survey. The woman decided to walk her horse instead of riding, it would be much easier for Incana to deal with an anxious Starlight.

Incana took a few more paces forward and heard something. It sounded like a baby crying, she panicked and ran towards where the sound was coming from. It was another burned down home, but bigger. She thought to herself 'maybe this was a barn, if it was why would a baby be in here?' Incana cringed at the thought of how a young one would get from a house to a barn without the aid of an adult. This made her angry and she began to furiously dig at the charred remains of the building. The noise was getting clearer with each piece of blackened wood that she tossed aside. It was no longer making the sound of a baby but rather a....a dog?! Incana was relieved when she pulled forth the last plank and saw a charcoal coloured dog. The woman gently picked up the whimpering canine and walked towards her horse and the rest of the group. Incana retrieved her water skin and poured some water in her hand, the dog graciously drank and drank and drank some more. He showed Incana his thanks by giving the woman a big lick across the face. She stood up and was letting the dog go,after all we couldn't have a dog coming with us could we?Incana once again took hold of Starlight's reins and went forward, all the while looking for anything of interest they could use.

Incana heard Vaenosa say something about splitting up to find supplies. She thought about this for awhile and said, "That sounds like a good idea. I think that the women should split up and each go with one of the men." While she waited for the three to decide on what should be done and if her idea sounded good, Incana noticed the dog walking slowly up behind Lady. The woman laughed and wondered if this was to be one of their new companions.

[Tevildo]

There was a brief discussion and, within a few moments, everyone had agreed it might be wise for the group to split up. No one wanted to spend more time in this wretched place than was absolutely necessary.

Before the party split up, Dorran looked over his shoulder at Brand and, lowering his voice, hastily explained. "Maybe Incana's right. Maybe we should go in twos. But right now I need to go off on my own. I'm sorry. But I wouldn't be very good company for anyone, and I couldn't even promise to be a good protector. There are things I need to do and see by myself. I'll be back in a little while."

The sight and smell of so many Orcs had awakened hard memories in Dorran and not even the prospect of being with Incana could stand up against the old shadows. He had the strangest feeling that someone or something was waiting for him within the tangled ruins of this village, and he must go out to meet that memory. Struggling to push back the panic that was threatening to paralyze him, Dorran decided to take immediate action. Anything was better than standing and doing nothing. Perhaps he could find them some extra horses. Without even waiting for an answer from Brand, he quickly walked off on his own. He hoped Incana would understand or that he'd at least have the chance to explain and make amends for what looked like very rude behavior.

Dorran sprinted off towards the remains of what appeared to be the largest building in town: a small Inn and an adjoining stable. He had hoped to find a horse or two still hanging about the stables. Yet everywhere he looked, he saw only signs of death. Half the structure was charred and smoking. The roof was caved in and tangled piles of Orc and human bodies littered the ground. He could not take his eyes off those bodies. He stood silent and immobile, unable to pull away.

Forcing himself to move, he came around to the stableyard and, seeing no living horses here, began to feel very foolish for having run off on his own. He pushed through the rubble at the far end of the yard and was rewarded with the sight of an even larger group of dead Orcs. On the ground, he saw the mutilated corpse of a young boy, no older than himself, a broken pitchfork still clenched in his fist; he'd apparently died trying to push open the door to let the horses escape. The lad had been killed by an Orc who had met his own bloody fate at the hands of another townsman, perhaps the father or older brother of the dead stable boy. Dorran turned aside, gripping his sides tightly, and began to retch, awkwardly falling to his knees.

As he did so his eyes caught sight of something so horrible and unexpected that it rocked him to the bottom of his heart. Lord Aldwulf had told them that the Orcs were attacking from the north. All those he'd seen had worn the ragged livery and insignia of the common Orc soldier. This one , however, and several beside him were very different. He reached over, grabbed the shield, and cradled it near his body. Then, in utter disbelief, he saw something gleam about the neck of the Orc that he'd never thought to see again. He ripped off the cord, discarded the rest of the attachments, and stuffed just one thing into his pocket. As he stared intently at the dead figure, the ugly face leered back at Dorran, and, with a shock of recognition, the lad remembered something he would have preferred to forget.

"Brand, Brand," Dorran yelled and raced back to where he'd left the rest of the group. "I must speak with you now. It is important." He grabbed Brand by the arm and yanked him to the side. "Lord Aldwulf was wrong. Or at least he knew only half the story. These are not common pillaging Orcs. Or at least some of them aren't. Look at this. It is far worse than we had imagined." Dorran thrust the shield into Brand's hand. "I tell you. This is the insignia of those Orcs who directly serve the Dark Lord. They dwell in the land of shadows and run the large plantations. They are cruel taskmasters chosen for their ability to inflict pain. These are no mere marauders, I tell you. They have been sent out by someone, perhaps the Dark Lord himself or one of those who directly serve him."

Dorran's voice dropped even lower, "The one who bore this shield went by the name of Hulgruth. He was in charge of the slaves on the plantation to the west of the great mountain. I know this for a fact"

Visibly shaken and upset, Dorran shuddered, his fingers drifting down to feel the outline of the small medallion he'd hidden within his pocket.

[Farael]

Osmod and Fion were talking quite animatedly as they approached the village. In spite of what Fion seemed to think, Osmod was quite interested on how to deal with geese rather than cows.

”You think your job is bad, my friend? Maybe when we come back we should spend some time at each other’s farm. I wouldn’t mind dealing with an animal I can actually prod into listening to me. Have you ever tried moving a cow when her heart is set on staying in place? Not to mention when her feet get trapped in the muddy bank of a river. Ha! No, Fion I much rather hear the Chronicles of Fion and his Amazing Poultry than reciting my long list of Cowly-mishaps.”

With a chuckle he looked ahead, at the quickly approaching town. Something did not seem right and at first he could put his finger on what it was. Everything seemed so quiet, so empty. He noticed Sythric was calling him over and at last he realized. The town was empty.

Following the old rider’s advice, Osmod led the group towards the centre of the abandoned town. Houses gaped with wide open doors to those riders who dared disturb their slumber. Here and there the things that had been left behind served as painful reminders of the people that had not so long ago walked those same streets.

They got to the central square and Osmod called for a halt. He could see his own thoughts reflected on everyone’s faces. Sythric seemed to be the most affected of them all and so Osmod felt it was his duty to say the words that needed to be said.

“This is a most painful reminder of what we are facing, my friends. I am not a born speaker any more than I am a born leader, but I think we will all agree of our need to make haste from this moment on.” He looked at the sun and guessed the time to be slightly past mid-day. ”By this time, Bregoware looks like this town. Our family and friends are following the way we have been taking and by now I would risk to say they have reached where we stopped for lunch yesterday. They are moving much more slowly than us and every day we spend riding takes us further away from them. I can understand why any of you may want to turn back and join those they care about. I will not stop you. But I will tell you that from now on we will need each and every one of us to carry out our task.”

Osmod took time to look into everyone’s eyes, both asking them to follow him across the river and trying to assure them that he would not oppose them should they decide to turn back. Maybe he was trying to do too much.

[Arry]

Wulfham

The Dark Lord . . . now there was a name to conjure his worst childhood fears. There were dark tales of this monster who dwelt in the land of shadows to the south and east. Across from Minas Tirith, it was said . . . with only the width of the River to stand between them. Even now, as he was a grown man, he could feel a cold chill race up his back and his knees tremble at the fabled demon now made real by Dorran’s words.

Brand clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder both to assure Dorran as he could and to reassure himself by with the feel of a friend’s real presence beneath his hand. He wondered at how Dorran had known the name of the dead Orc, or even that there were plantations in the shadowed land. And the mountain, what was that the he spoke of? Brand had never been more than twenty leagues from his village. Where had Dorran come from that he had seen such wretched and vile things?

He moved his hand then to take shield Dorran had thrust at him. It was ordinary enough in construction, but the very thought that some foul Orc had set it on his arm as he killed the people of the village with his sword or club made him cringe. He dropped the wicked-made thing, watching it as it tumbled to the ground and lay there face up. His eyes traced the insignia upon it . . . the crudely drawn red eye mocked him, and his stomach turned as he thought perhaps it had been painted in blood.

‘It is a filthy thing, Dorran,’ Brand said with a shudder. ‘And I would leave it here, save we should take it as a sign to show the King that the Dark Lord has already pushed this far into our fair land.’ Saying that, he picked up the shield and wrapping it in the singed cloak of a dead townsman, secured it to the back of Lady’s saddle.

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

The little group did break into two parties. Incana and Dorran went to search the western half of the village, while Vaenosa and Brand would make their sweep through the eastern half. Brand had seen the dog come walking up behind his horse and look about, its nose sniffing the air, then head toward Incana as if he’d found a long lost friend. It was a moment of ordinary pleasure to see the animal and he thought of his own dog, Patch, whom he’d had to leave behind.

‘He seems to like you,’ he said, smiling toward Incana. She told him the story of finding the dog and in the end it was decided that the hound should go with Incana and Dorran. ‘He’ll be an extra set of eyes and ears, and a good nose for you,’ Brand had said. ‘If he gets too tired or you have to ride, just let him ride astraddle the saddle. I often do that with my own dog when we’ve far to ride.’

‘Vaenosa, let’s you and I ride out to that small cluster of cottages to the southeast . . . the ones just outside the village wall. I’m hoping to find us a spare horse or so . . . and when the raiders passed through, the animals might have gone back to a part of the village that had been hit early and then abandoned by the attackers.

When they got there, it was a small enough area that they could go their separate ways to search and still be in hailing distance of each other. Some of the cottages had been burned, but it looked as if the job had been a hastily done, and there were still a few of the thatched roof dwellings intact.

The dead were not quite as numerous here, and Brand wondered if they had gone into the village center as the attack began, thinking that they would be safer there. A few chickens wandered about the cottages, picking in the dirt; they kept their wary eyes on the two new intruders.

Brand watched as Vaenosa and nay made their way to the opposite side of this small living area. He could see her begin her search through the makeshift lean-to’s that were their stabling areas and through some of the huts still standing. He began to do the same.

As far as he could tell there was no one left alive in this little part of the village. He’d found a bag of oats . . . it would be good for the horses and for him and his companions, too. One ham had been left undisturbed in another hut’s little smoke house. He poked about a few more cottages, then stood out in the open and called to Vaenosa . . . just keeping contact with her so they both might know each other was alright.

In the side yard of the last little cottage he came to, he was surprised to find a garden of late autumn vegetables mostly undisturbed save that it looked as if a single Orc had walked or run heavily though the middle of it in haste . . . the last of the potatoes were still there, kept warm in the ground by small hillocks of straw, and a few neat rows of kale, leeks, and cauliflowers beckoned. There was also a smaller herb garden planted close to the house. Brand recognized only a few – some that his mother used in cooking; some that she used for her salves and potions when someone took ill. But there were others he had no idea if they were edible or poison. He decided to gather only the ones he knew about from his mother’s own garden.

The door to the cottage was open. Brand peeked into the shadowy interior, his ears wide open for any sound; his eyes darting about the ill lit room. It looked quite empty. And there, neatly folded and stacked on a stool just across the room were a number of canvas bags. Brand made his way toward them, intending to use them to carry what vegetables he could harvest . . .

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


Meghan’s fingers ached from the hard, frightened grip she had taken on the reins. They were cold, too; the blood had left them as it had left her face when they entered the empty village. Arnanaes . . . that is how Sythric had named this town. She rolled the sound of it about on her tongue. She had heard of it, but never come here.

It was much like her own little hamlet. There was the Lord’s mead hall . . . there the forge, now gone cold, where the smith had worked. And little cottages, many of them, dotting the brown grassy plain. Their windows, unshuttered, were like blind eyes staring blankly ahead. For a moment the thought, like dead eyes, had crossed her mind in reference to them. But she pushed it away, not willing to give up hope as yet. The village still stood whole. There were no burnt down dwellings, no dead bodies, as she had heard whispered among those of her townsmen. Other places more outlying than Wulfham had been burned, all slaughtered, destroyed. Rick, cot, and fold! Everything . . .

She kept a little hope in her heart, banking it well against the day this great and awful thing that was beginning would be somehow be ended. That these soulless cottages would once again house life.

And now she was glad that she had kept to her word, and gone on with the others. Her little part for Wulfham and those she loved would be done as best she could. She felt, though, like some small little reed, bent low by a rushing wind . . . and behind that wind would come a fire of such hellish fury she did not know if she would rise to see another welcoming Spring

Meghan turned her gaze to the path directly in front of her; she nodded her head at Osmod’s words, giving her silent consent that she would follow. Kicking her heels lightly into Ash’s flanks, she urged the little mare forward.

‘Rædy!’ she called, coming up along side the man’s horse . . .


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


Rædwald


‘Aye, lass, ‘tis a grim site. I knew a number of those who lived here.’ Rædwald sighed. He was glad, though, that she had resolved whatever was in her mind and was riding with them again.

He was about to tell her something of the fellow from whom he’d bought his first billy-goat, when she pulled up quite near and whispered something low to him. She had composed her face so that none might note her discomfort, but the trembling touch of her hand on his arm and the flash of concern in her eyes made him understand the gravity of her request.

‘Of course! Of course! I’ll stick like honey to the comb to you.’ He patted her reassuringly on her hand. ‘Naught will happen and the river will be crossed without a splutter.’ He smiled and eased her into other areas of conversation.

She couldn’t swim . . . he eyed her small frame as they rode through the town. Ah well, he was as easy with water as any fish and more than twice her size. He would see her safely across . . .

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

"I can understand why any of you may want to turn back and join those they care about. I will not stop you. But I will tell you that from now on we will need each and every one of us to carry out our task.”

Osmod's words sounded in Sythrics mind. He totally agreed with him. “Seeing all this, kind of leaves us no options. Our mission seems all the more urgent now. At least some of us have to continue.” Sythric glanced at everyone, with serious look. “I will be one of them, and follow you Osmod, whatever it takes.” He added, and then made Thydrë back up some steps. “The ferry is down there, behind the townhall. I suggest we get there and have some lunch, before crossing the river. I sure wouldn’t like to eat in the middle of this hollow town and all the awe it arouses in me.”

Sythric’s mind got agitated. All the towns he knew at this side of the river: Brechast, Hrunting, Scefing... All those sharing this same ill fate! It was just too much. How he had wandered at the streets of them as a young man, drinking ale with his friends, gotten an eye over a nice girl and all. That had been life. All that lost now! Like he could never get his youth back, he would never even get back those places of his youth. Heorogar’s tavern in Hrunting would be no more, no more than a cold and empty shelf, sheltering only wild dogs and other beasts of the wild. Just wind calling in every now and then. Or Daeghrefn’s inn at Scefing. Just memories, just memories now, with nothing to bring them alive again. And no-one to live those lives and those places anymore. Lost all, totally lost. Sythric was looking into a void. And all the people making for shelter that no-one knew, where it would be, the caravans of refugees as easy pray for any army big enough. Sythric turned away from the others to not show his tears bursting out violently.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

A hint of a breath escaped sharply from between Eostre's teeth. Empty. Of course it was. Abandoned in the fear of the burning coming from beyond, abandoned in the whispered hope that somewhere there might be refuge. Refuge? In Rohan-proper? They were at war!

Who isn't? her mind whispered. Even beyond swords and things some might call sourcery... at war with emotions. Battling words.

She closed her eyes for a moment as they passed into the town, empty shells of buildings surrounding them, the gaping windows eyes staring into their souls. It was intense; painful, such a loss to see that it tightened her breath. A door slammed shut in the bits of wind, the tinkling of some chimes somewhere.

And the ever echoing clatter of their horse's hooves against cobblestones that may never again be touched by human feet. Eostre glanced back at Meghan for a moment; the girl had made it back to the party before they had entered the town. She looked so pale...

And Fionn, just as silent as the rest...

At least some of us will have to continue. She frowned, and her face stayed that way, as if pressed into the expression. Her mother had always told her if she scowled too much, her face would remain pasted into that position. Had her mother spoken of this little village as well? That if it stayed unaware, it would stay that way, all the people fled and leaving it to frown? Leaving it as a ghost?