Legacy of Traitors RPG

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor was startled at the presence of a stranger that he had not noted before among the company, dismounting and reeling for a closer inspection. A Gondorian, I see, who has much experience in wild. Few indeed are left of our people who'd wandered ranging far and wide, for our people are dimnished and grown timid.


Apparently aware of Ferethor, Idruil turned his bright hazel eyes upon him and said "Greetings, Ferethor of Gondor." quietly. Maen finished saddling her own restless horse with some difficulty as she said, "His name is Idruil, and he desires to come with our expedition to Ithilien, Ferethor. But we must be gone from here swiftly if we are to be out of here ere the Great Gate is shut."


"And to you, Idruil." Even as Ferethor said that, he noted with some amusement that Crystal was already horseback on a fierce and resentful stallion that seemed to be ready to toss her off at the slightest provocation. But she is handling the steed well, that lass. Evidently used to riding, as all the youths of Eorlingas must be. The thought weighted on Ferethor for a moment, but he shook it off as he urged Apple on with a whisper.

[Melisil]

Aelimur was now feeling strangly like a child. Unbound by the world, carefree, but right now, silent. He walked Aaron, his horse out of the stables.

Aaron was a strong, proud horse. He was fit for the highest king, Aelimur knew this well. He was a loyal, magnificent horse. Many times had Aelimur's gaze fallen upon Aaron filled with awe and wonder. Why had such a noble beast chosen him to be his master? The question had formed in Aelimur's mind before. He was a large war horse, but at the same time, a gentle horse that you would give to a rich lady. He was wild, yet tamer then anything. Black was the colour of Aaron's mane, rich brown like the finest tree was the rest of him. Deep, earthen-brown eye's had he.

As Aelimur turned out of the stable, he quickly noticed two things. One, that Ferethor, Crystal, and Atharan had now joined up with them, and two, that there was now two newcomers with them.

"Greeting." he said after a moments thought, and from the look Maen had given him. "I am Aelimur, son of Dalemun. And you are?"

The first of the two men spoke. He was an easterling, Aelimur could tell, but he held no thought against the man for it, you were born where you were born. "I am Carathir, a friend of Lydia and Maen Il Galoth." Aelimur nodded.

Then spoke the second, taller, and well worn. "Greetings Aelimur." he welcomed, a small smile forming on his lips, he extended his hand, which Aelimur shook, "I am called Idruil. I have asked Maen here if I may join your company, and she has agreed."

"I see." he replied. He looked softly at Maen, his head did not turn though.

"We're going soon Aelimur, are you ready?"

[Eorl of Rohan]

Del examined the newcomer with a detached reserve before deciding that Idruil was not a bad guy. "Seems to be likable enough,' He thought. 'He's even got the moody Ferethor fellow to acknowledge his presence, which is quite an achievement.' After a chuckle Del swung himself over his own horse Ein. The red-brown horse playfully nipped at his hand and swished its tail. The pony was scarcly full-grown as yet but would be a good companion.


Munching on a mouldy loaf he found in the saddle-bag, Del made sure his rein was secure. Maen said quietly, "Hearken, the bell of the door-warden tolls already! Let us leave as swiftly as we may!" Del nodded along with everyone else and started for the eastern gate.


The stone-hewn Eastern Gate was of dwarven-smithwork, magnificent and towering tall. The guards waved them on without scarcly a single glance as they passed. Del looked back in time to see Ferethor tensly hurry his horse onward with a sharp word, after a wary glance. 'Wonder why that chap is always wary.' Del made a mental note to ask Aelimur.

[Eorl of Rohan]

The rainclouds dispersed in the heaven of Arda slowly as the expedition rode. Faint remnant of moonlight could still be seen lingering in the pale sky before fading into darkness. Heavy silence settled amidst the expedition and nothing but the steps of horses cantering along was heard.


Soon stone-paved road of Minas Tirith ceased to be. The way they took was a winding forest trail that weaved in and out of dark grooves of trees. The very strangling gloom seemed to choke them to silence for none spoke aloud. Ferethor thought, 'This brooding silence of the woodland does not bode well. I deem it strange that no usual forest sound could be heard, such as hooting owls and squirrels scampering.

But Ferethor did not speak of his doubts for darkness seemed to press him on all sides and he feared to shatter the heavy silence. All seemed to be immersed in their own dark thoughts and their countenance was shadowed by feelings Ferethor could not discern.


Even the very leaves seemed to droop as if like an aged men bowed down with grief, sorrow and long toil. The stumps cracked with time, sorrowful remembrance of the olden days when they must have stood tall and proud, was scattered among withered and scrawny pines and thorny trailing vines. Craggy and crumbling cliffs towered over them and dark shapes of ravens could be seen wheeling over the granite cliff ridges. Even Apple's ardour seemed dampened.


The expedition reached the end of the dirt road which opened out into a barren waste by the time Ithil was sinking. Yellow Nimphrendils were blooming amidst the fissures of the barren rocks and the golden blossoms brought a slight measure of gaiety in this desolation. 'Bloody Morgoth,' Ferethor thought, 'Void itself would be more full of life then this place...'

[Kransha]

Idruil goaded his steed, not as mighty as some of the others around him, forward. He sat, almost precariously, atop his former mount, the older horse which Idruil had named Ecthelion. It seemed a fitting name, considering the beast was just as white in hue as the tower he’d been named after. Ecthelion was dull white in color and dappled with grey. He had an unkempt mane and strong legs but his uses as a riding mount had lessened as he and his rider grew older with the passing of time as summers and winters flew by.

They were headed into a more desolate ruin of earth. The limpid and darkened palette of color here deeply contrasted the majestic fluorescence of the White City and surrounding lands. There were countless crags of rock and crumbling spires of cliffs and dulled peaks, surrounded by the dying embers of life in the form of withered trees and plant life that was shriveling away amongst the crevices. It was a depressing place, despite the few outstanding sprigs of lighter color that were nestled throughout the barren zone.

Idruil, by now, was beginning to understand what he’d prematurely gotten himself into. This was a quest, a mission to seek the man Guriel Il Galoth. Idruil had indeed thought this man to be some overblown myth, but the lady Maen spoke otherwise. She certainly seemed competent enough to know what she was saying and sensible enough to lead this motley crew of folk on such an expedition. The others had seemingly accepted her as a suitably firm and commanding leader, which she was as far as Idruil was concerned. The rest of the company was also a focus of Idruil’s. Since he had come so late and so abruptly into this band of wanderers, he had not had the opportunity to get to know any of them as they had gotten to know each other prior to his arrival. There were many to become acquainted with, all of different gaits and demeanors. By now, he knew all their names for the most part. There was, obviously, Maen, the first person who Idruil had become acquainted with by name. Also, there was the Easterling, Carathir, the dark fellow who had been the first to catch Idruil’s attention. He knew now of all the others, by name more than by gait. He would have to spend more time with each if he wished to know them.

The man, feeling the cold increase both in mind and body as all conversations of the company faded from hearing and a veil of unsettling silence fell over them all. Idruil himself yearned for such conversation, the obtaining of which had been one of his reasons for joining this endeavor. He did not speak at first, feeling that it would be unwise for him to be the first to break the icy silence that had descended. He did, however, begin quietly humming a traveling song under his breath, barely audible to the ears of the others. Hearing the calming and merry words in his head comforted him enough for his confidence to rise. He had mustered up the little courage he needed.

He pulled his horse up alongside the group’s leader, Maen Il Galoth.
“You have assembled quite a company here, Lady Il Galoth.” He said almost glibly, glancing at her only out of the corner of his eye. He paused momentarily, considering what to say next.

“Ever since we first met,” he began, “I have been curious to know one thing. Perhaps you have told this to the others but I have not heard it if that is so. I was always under the impression that the person we seek, the traitor Guriel, was just a fabrication. I do not doubt now that he is real, but one question remains.” He paused again, prodding his slowing steed forward to keep up with Maen’s, “Since he is a relative of yours, I would assume you have met him some time in the past…Might I be so bold as to ask what he was like, if you ever knew him? I have been told that it is always best to know one’s enemy, so perhaps I could learn what I can about my current enemy, this traitor to Gondor and it's kin, Guriel Il Galoth.”

[Melisil]

Aaron plodded the path of the forest, much unlike his noble stature. Aelimur noted this, but did not do anything to change it. He could tell why his horse's head was lower. It was this dreadful place, this horribly dark, damp, spirit infested place.

His eye's past by almost all, though it wasn't much to see. Everything was cold, lifeless. He focused his mind on just going forward, this place scared him, it was horrid. He pitied the trees, they had to live here. He pitied the ground, so seemingly rarely it had a use. He pitied the air most though; Full of death and haunting quiet. Filled with forgotten spirits.

"This place is possesed." he whispered silently, "We should travel through it quickly." he had not truly directed this at anyone, but Crystal Heart had heard him.

"I have not heard a truer word since this journey began." she replied, just as silently. Aelimur looked to the tops of the trees, conversation was good, it lifted the gloom oh so slightly.

"I thank you for agreeing. Conversation lightens this land, and it is also nice to have someone say that you are right." he smiled slightly as he said this, and then asked a question that had been there for a while, yet no one had noticed it. "Why did you care to join, Crystal?"

The young woman hesitated, before answering flatly, "I joined because I needed the money."

"Really?" asked Aelimur in slight surprise, "I thought from you there would be more of a reason."

[Eorl of Rohan]

Del urged his pony Ein over to Crystal and Aelimur's direction in recalling his question a while back. "Hey, Aelimur, I've been wondering about something or so. Your silent pal, Ferethor, why is he so nervous about the citadel guards? Is he an outlaw or exile of Minas Tirith or something?"


The man turned half in his sti'rrups before answering levelly without any visible change of expression, "No, of course not. That Ferethor, an outlaw? He is more of a law-abiding stern type, you see. Can't even pluck an apple from a nearby tree without him lecturing about honesty."


It was a ridiculous thought. Del smiled to himself at allowing such an absurd and improbable fancy to enter his usually logical mind. Foolish! I must really be getting paranoid - if I wasn't already so.

[Melisil]

Aelimur looked to one side, and up trotted Delphinious. "Excuse me one moment Crystal?" Aelimur asked as he looked to Del.

"Hey, Aelimur," he started, "I've been wondering about something or so. Your silent pal, Ferethor, why is he so nervous about the citadel guards? Is he an outlaw or exile of Minas Tirith or something?"

The question suprised Aelimur, as he had not been thinking of such things, (he later kicked himself for seeming so surprised) "No, of course not. Ferethor, an outlaw? He is more of the law-abiding stern type, you see. Can't even pluck an apple from a nearby tree without him lecturing about honesty." Aelimur thought it would be best to say a bit more, as Del did not look completedly impressed.

"Right now I would say he's etchy because he's on a horse, haha! But the guards probably worried him so, because his greatest fear (though he hides it well) is that of breaking the law. And I also have a feeling he has been in some scraps with the law before" Aelimur added.

Del nodded his head. Aelimur smiled for a moment, thinking he had done fairly well. He looked back over to Crystal again, "My apolagies miss. But I've been thinking, and as I said before, I would think you'd have joined for more then money." Aelimur shook his head, "Then again, half of why I joined was money!" he laughed slightly, but quickly ended it. This forest was making him feel sick, he hoped they would be gone from it's darkened path soon.

[Everdawn]

“Once, I have met him once, when I was a small girl. He looked so much like my father. And for what he’s like, I can no longer remember, nor do I care as much as I would see his hands covered in his own blood.” Hittai gave a throw of her head as if in silent approval.

She did look rather odd, Hittai and her mistress, both so small but best suited to one another, along side the larger horses. But what Maen’s valiant steed lacked in stature, she made up for in utter cheek.

“What do you mean his own blood?” asked Idruil his eyes wide. “Are you going to fight him?”

Maén shook her head, “I intend to kill him, yes. I’m not a fighter; my father never saw the reasoning in teaching his daughter the art of war, the art of men. What he did not know is that my brother Omerin taught me to look after myself at close quarters, my father never knew, my brother risked much to teach me. If I could only get close enough to Guriel to wound him…” she shook her head.

“I would not begin to wonder how you would achieve that my lady.” Called Ailumr from behind them.

“Never underestimate the power of a female sir. I will warn you once!” she called. “My brothers, they would not come here, Marrlad especially, I never bothered to tell them because I knew father would not approve, and since when have I cared what he thought.” She shrugged. “It would have been fortune at it’s best had I thought that my brothers would have come along. Three fantastic soldiers, well, according to my mother. They were in the army for a long time-” Hittai took it in her liberty to then bite the back flanks of Atharen’s horse.

It took the ranger by surprise. “Miss Maén!”

Maén did not smile. “Don’t look to me, obviously Hittai still recalls your earlier attempt to slit my throat on the road.” Atharen opened his mouth to speak and shut it again.

“Excuse me Miss Il Galoth?” asked Roryn looking at the two of them in surprise.

“Yes, that was how I ran into this ranger. He scared Hittai right out of her skin, then he tried to kill me.”

“Being fair Maén-” Atharen began to defend himself only to be cut off.

“Truce, I will not speak of it again, unless you try to kill me again.”

[Eorl of Rohan]

The stars were sunken in the depths of dark heaven of Arda like gems of surpassing fairness, besprangling the grey night. Soft breeze sighed as it passed under tall evergreens and rustled long grass laden with crystal dews. Snow-crowned mountains wreathed in pale mist could be seen afar towering high.


The horses were off nipping at some grass that could be found growing in this barren land. Some of the people were curled up in sleep already, and others were murmuring to each other about their future plans. The night deepened.


Ferethor had taken the chance to seat himself as a self-appointed sentry. Ravenous beasts and outlaw bands still roamed the wild regions beyond Minas Tirith and the land was unsafe. Leaning on a golden-barked tree, he stared at the tall and proud trees and silvery moonbeam glistening on their young leaves. He was also fully aware of soft footfalls.


"Crystal." Ferethor said without turning, "the night is passing. Get some rest while darkness endures for tommorrow's need would be sterner still." Crystal retorted defiantly, obviously incensed by his patronizing tone, "Why are you awake then, Ferethor?" He decided to not to answer her dry inquiry and turned back to scanning the dark and dreary wood. He had little mind to argue with the lass.


Recalling something, Ferethor drew a keen dagger from his belt and reeled to lock his grey gaze with Crystal's smouldering eyes. "I thought I would keep this dagger that you threw at me, since it is unwise to cast away any weapon. Especially such a fair weapon of exequisite workmanship." Then Ferethor casually tossed the slim blade at Crystal's direction, thinking 'And here I sign my death warrant.'

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal looked at Ferethor in surprise. Someone that she had feared had given back her dagger. She was quite surprised far more then she could even say. A true enemy would have kept the dagger and used it against her in their last and possibly parting battle. He had given it back. What odd things were going through his mind?

"Thank you, Ferethor. Maybe you aren't truly my enemy. We shall see. It shall be more then interesting to say the least," Crystal replied. She leaned back against a tree and closed her eyes, wondering if sleep would even come.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Del watched the night deepen with the passage of time, awake for some reason he could not fathom. "Il Garoth... A traitor they say he is, and Maen seems confident about this matter. Even if we manage to trace this chap ere the end, what are we going to do?"


Roryn looked up from poking the dejected fire in hope of reviving the dying flame. "What else? We kill the turncoat Il Garoth and collect our reward."


Del pensively considered Roryn's reply before shaking his head. "Il Garoth would not fain hand us his life over a silver platter, Roryn. He must know that someone would be after his neck sooner or later and would have taken precautions enough to ensure that he lives to spend his legacy. This chap would have hired men all over his estate with the express purpose of protectiong his royal person."


Roryn grimly finished what Del had left unsaid. "You mean it is much more likely that even if we find him, it would be us who ends up traveling to Mandos rather than him." Del nodded silently, for that point had been troubling him for the past hour.


Then, Del shrugged and rose to his feet. "Why worry about the future? We'll deal with it when it comes. In fact, these wise chaps - Atharen, Maen, Ferethor - they'd take care of it." Then he threw himself heavily on a pile of dry leaves, desiring to sleep.

[Eorl of Rohan]

The tilted crescent of light sank into the western hemisphere graudually, indicating a passage of time. Stars that sparkled as a beacon of hope in the high firmament dimmed into mere wristful glimmer that seemed to lament the grief and sorrow od Men. Dawn would arrive soon, Ferethor surmised.


Ferethor did not allow himself to sleep but stood ever in vigiliance in fear of being assailed by wild beasts and foes. Almost all of his comrades were fast asleep, sprawled here and there in the campsite. Del for instance was sleeping on a pile of dry grass, so peacefully as if nothing worried him. Crystal was curled up in seeming sleep by the edge of the campsite.


His gaze strayed to Atharen, who was propped up by a huge boulder with his sword in easy reach, also fully awake and staring at him with a thoughtful expression. Ferethor sank into a silent reverie of his own.


Crystal had acknowledged reluctantly that maybe she would come to trust him. To be sure. Crystal probably thought of me too much of a fool to be any danger to her person. Ferethor thought in somewhat embittered fashion. What kind of a soldier hands his known enemy a deadly weapon and then turns his back upon the foe? My impulsiveness would be the death of me yet.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn sighed as he poked the fire again, vainly hoping to stir it back into heat. Failing, he doused the ashes and scattered them over the site. Taking new kindling in the place he put a tinderbox to the wood, and it leapt into flames again. Tenderly sloking it, as though it would go out, he glanced over at Ferethor. He, like Roryn, hadn't slept all night, though Roryn guessed for different reasons. Roryn had been pondering what Del had said, and he felt worried, for almost the first time in his life. This was different to war, in war it was always the man behind or in front of you, or to the side, never you. Here it was you if they wanted it to be you...and that disturbed him a little. Getting up he yawned deeply and shuffled over to where Ferethor stood.

"That was a good deed, giving Crystal her knife back...at least now she thinks you have some good in you..." the ex ranger chuckled dryly under his breath, and Ferethor turned he head almost violently, "What do you mean by that?", Roryn smiled. "Let's just say, Ferethor, that you could have made a better impression."

Ferethor muttered something Roryn didn't bother to hear and walked off a few paces. Roryn shrugged and went over to Atharen. "We should leave swiftly, just wokens are an easy target...and the Valar know Atharen we killed enough bandits for them to hate us..."

"Yes...we must move on swiftly...and cover the ashes of the fire..."

[Everdawn]

Carathir rode at the back of the company, silently taking the hours as they came. He had no need to speak with anyone, only Maén if she requested something, as she seldom did.

He silently hated being a doormat to the Gondorian, she appeared of everything he hated; Her well spoken manner, her officious nature in ordering them, her wealth, and even down to the lilac cloak which veiled her blonde tresses. A Gondorian noble. It would not do well to kill her off during the night, Carathir knew this. He would let her lead him to this Guriel, and he, surely he who is enemy of Gondor would still have friends in parts. The he would make his move, he would kill her then.

There would only be one problem; the company.


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

O the world that the traitor would turn up to me here in these places. I will not suggest to you that I have never begun to think on the off chance that Aunt Lysia may be wrong and that Gondor was right after all. But the same memory remains, every time that I see the scar on my arm it is an ugly reminder of the past, of when Guriel first came to my thoughts and, the actions of my bewildered father a night long before.

I saw it today, and the day before, and each time it showed and my eyes passed over it I felt the sharp pang of hot metal against flesh but each time I did not sway from it but rather let it pass through. If I had been weaker in mind it would have consumed me by now and they would be saying the same things about me that they say about my father “Mad”.

As if have said, dear Lysia is helping me find Guriel Il Galoth and in doing so has let me form a party many of whom are often at arms with each other. It is this same hotheadedness that makes my anger flow, though none would tell, I am afraid im being as blunt as ever in these days of stress. Only when it is that Guriel has paid for what he has done to me, to my family will I sleep in peace.


“What’s that your writing Miss Il Galoth.” Aelimur asked looking over her shoulder causing Maén to snap the leather bound journal shut.

“My soul.” She said shortly. Aelimur raised his eyebrows and nodded his head for a moment. “Here.” Said Maén reaching for her bag, removed a map. “We need to go a little way in south Ithilien I think.” She handed the map to him and he studied it for a while.

“Maén!” Called Roryn from her side. “We cant stay here any longer, I fear these are dangerous parts.”

[Kransha]

Idruil looked around, almost in a daze. The place he and the group now occupied was indeed barren and bleak. The rock was simply more depressing, jutting out bluntly around him. The cold palette of color was comforted only by the gentle warmth of the fire. Despite that soothing warmth, Idruil was sitting farther from the fire than most others, humming quietly to himself and indulging his own thoughts.

He whistled for barely a second, realizing after that that the shrill sound was not very pleasing when shrouded by the mists of this dark place. His tone changed back to humming an old and more melancholy tune under his breath, not entirely caring who heard him. He hoped that snatches of the calming verse would elevate or at least stabilize his own dampened mood. It was another of those mistrel-worthy ballads heard in the fief of Lebennin. Some more mournful tale about the ever-caustic theme of all lost glories and time in a state of decay. Many of the words to the piece had long slipped from Idruil's aging memory, but he did not need the lyrics to hum. Considering, actually singing the dark ballad would not have been helpful at all.

The man had attempted and generally succeeded in making conversation with the group’s leader, Maen. The others seemed ready enough to talk with him, but he honestly hadn’t tried to strike up other conversations. He was curious about each member of the crew in turn, but found himself strangely reluctant to speak with them. He supposed he would merely try to do so later, once he had found an appropriate topic to talk of. For now he was content to sit and contemplate until he had discovered more for himself about them all.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Truce, I will not speak of it again."

Maen's firm dismissal of the subject made Atharen glance at her quizically, even though he was used to irony. But a slight grin twitched at her lips as she slid her eyes across to his face, and he gave an almost inperceptible half-smile. "Ah, Lady, I will try to restrain myself in the future obviously - whirling swords in the middle of the night against fair maidens on vicious little ponies-" he sidestepped his horse deftly here as Hittai seemed to understand, then continued, "-is of cours in my nature but..."

Maen glanced sharply at the ranger as if not sure if he was mocking her, then laughed, and Roryn joined in. Atharen gave another thin smile, then turned back to his thoughts of his companions as he rode.

Despite being half-Rohirrim and having the love of riding that comes from an upbringing among the Rohirrim, the ranger had not at that time actually got a horse - hence the reason that, when Crystal had met him he had been trudgings grimly through ankle-deep mud in the rain. The horse he thought of as 'his own' now belonged, technically, to one of his younger male cousins, a boy of about nineteen and the son of his mother's youngest brother. Namathir was a good boy though, and an excellent rider - a soldier, as followed the family tradition, but he did not treat Atharen as abnormal despite the fact his older cousin only looked a few years older than he himself although he was over a decade older - Atharen was glad his fine, powerful stallion had gone to such an owner, although Namathir let Atharen ride when ever he visited, although such occasions were sadly getting rarer as the ranger travelled ever farther afield. Still, the horse he had borrowed would almost match up to his old stallion - probably did, in fact, but that ranger was obviously inclined to look back on his first steed with somewhat rose-tinted glasses - it was also a stallion, but bay where Namathir's horse was bay, standing at nearly eighteen hands, but not appearing to be incredibly muscly. It was built for speed, a creature of careful breeding, of that there was no doubt, although Atharen was not sure it was entirely Rohirrim as it's looks would first suggest - it's more angular face and black, slightly more slanting and narrower eyes would suggest some trace of Haradrim breeding.

As they set up camp, Atharen tethered his horse carefully with the others, then set to rest. But his thoughts kept him awake for some time as he mused upon his companions - despite having far more knowledge and material on some, he dwelt on most of them though. An odd group, especially led as they were by a woman of high breeding who intended to fight and kill a blood-relative of hers. But stranger things had been seen from and in Gondor over the years, of that there was no doubt. Soldiers and rangers, travellers and women, exiles and outcasts...the ranger's eyes smiled dryly although they remained fixed on the stars; a fine companionship indeed.

Atharen heard the noise of a someone moving, but by the way the man approached him from the front, his footsteps casual and familiar, Atharen guessed it before he saw the other's face to be Roryn. His eyes flicked to the other man's, opening from the slits he had let them rest as so they widened to allow the man's face into his spectrum of stars. Roryn opened his mouth, holding up a hand, but Atharen realised what he was going to say before he actually said it as he straightened suddenly, straining his sharp sense of hearing. He turned quickly to Roryn and realised the man had heard already.

Roryn nodded confirmation then murmured, "We should leave swiftly, just wokens are an easy target...and the Valar know Atharen we killed enough bandits for them to hate us..."

Atharen paused, then listened again. Yes, there was certainly a group moving their way, and through the wood rather than on the path. Moving slowly and quite far off still, but quietly - stealthily. He nodded. "Yes...we must move on swiftly...and cover the ashes of the fire..."

Sliding over to Crystal, he came to kneel about a foot from her shoulder, strapping on his sword quickly with practised ease. "Lady Crystal?" he murmured softly, trying not to startle the woman and careful not to touch her. "My lady?"

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal pulled out of sleep slowly. She hadn't been sleeping well in quite a while and it had finally caught up with her. There was a man above her, that much she could tell. The voice of the man gave away his identity.

"Atharen? What is it? What tis wrong?" Crystal asked, finally coming fully awake. The evidence of fatigue was now gone from her features. Her danger sense was at full alert.

"We have been spotted haven't we?" Crystal asked as she sat up. She pulled her sword out of its sheath and smiled.

"Let us go then."

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor paled and tensed suddenly. He could not detect any strange movement or sounds in the forest, but he felt instictively that they were being stalked by some unknown enemy. Rising to his feet uneasily, he noticed that Roryn and Atharen has also felt the invisible presence.


Seeing that silence was vital, Ferethor locked his gaze with Atharen without words. The sky was already pale and lit with twillight gleam for it was almost dawn, and he could distinguish the warning steely gleam in the ranger's eyes as well as the evergreen trees and the barren campsite. "We should leave, now." Atharen whispered to Ferethor, who lost no time in shaking others awake and preparing to leave.


Maen and others were only as yet half-awake when Ferethor woke them and told them to get ready and flee if they wanted to preserve their lives. "Wha, what?" But they quickly assessed the situation and started preparing with Ferethor's occasional directions.


A midnight ambrush? Ferethor swung himself over Apple fully clad as he thought in anger. It must be one of the Haradrim outlaw bands that roam barren wastes east of Anduin. But such stealth!


But when the red sun began rising over the horizon and stain the snow-capped peaks of mountains with forboding bloody hue, the company was already on the road, though there was come grumbling from the others.


Ferethor purposedly led his horse close to Atharen's. "Ranger." The Dunadan turned his bright gaze upon Ferethor at his address. "The pursuers are outlaws, I deem, Atharen. Fierce and desperate have become the Haradrim outlaws in this region that preys upon unwary travelers, 'T is said, for their native lands have become barren and wasted with their long war against the Realm of Gondor. They have no homestead to go back to, no children alive to tend to, and no food enough to live out the winter. Is my guess amiss?"

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn answered before either of them had had a chance to say anything more. He did not turn his head, but spoke with his eyes forward, scanning the hedges at the sides of the road.

"Yes, I imagine you are right, Ferethor. Most likely Haradrim raiders indeed. Atharen and I killed many of their kin in the war of the Ring, I doubt they are after the rest of the party, although a Haradrim never passed off an opportinity for a kill..." He shot a backwards glance at Carathir, he was grumbling on his horse.

"Yes, Roryn..." said Atharen sarcastically, "I doubt they would not also kill Maen and loot her, and the others..."

"Then let us hope we do not meet them." Replied Roryn abruptly, and spurred his horse forward slightly...

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal had jumped up out of the dirt and had calmed her horse's fears that she could feel through the new bond that they had created almost instantaniously. She was rubbed the top of her horse's head and held her sword at the ready.

"Run Maen, I fear for you safety far more then anyone else in our company. You must ride!" Crystal whispered urgently as her ears seemed to stretch out to hear the barely audible sounds coming from what seemed to be all around them.

Every sense that she owned was on the alert and she didn't like it. There was an uneasy feeling of dread and danger looming in her mind. She hated these feelings. She had felt them too often in her past and it was a thing she had come to think of the worst memories when she felt danger and dread. Her memories of her father were tied to these feelings and she couldn't get out of her mind the thought that her father and his men had finally found her. She wondered if she had just put the lives of her new friend, Maen and her new found love, Atharen and the lives of the others in the company in grave danger.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen caught Crystal's wrist and she spun to face him. He moved out of the way of her swinging sword tip, then adjusted it gently so it faced the ground, seeking the woman's eyes. "There will be no fray here, lady, not if I can help it. Certainly I shall not let you be in any danger."

Crystal opened her mouth to protest angrily, but Atharen got there first, speaking quietly but over her. "I do not question your abilities or courage, Miss Heart - but I will not have you in danger."

Crystal glared at him fiercely, then turned back to her horse, away from Atharen. Hoping she would mount up as the others had, the ranger darted over to his horse, reassuring the stallion although it seemed quite solid and unafraid, and it's ears were pricked and alert, it's narrow eyes bright, rather than wide and terrified. Atharen was becoming ever surer that it was of Haradrim heritage, although that was not of much consequence at this time to anyone other than the man who had grown up in Rohan. Kneeling quickly about two feet from his horse's feet, still in it's midnight shadow, he placed the palms of his hands flat against the ground then lowered his head to the ground as if worshipping, but with one ear against the soil. Concentrating with everything he had from his father's side, he sought for the sound of the intruders. After only a second or two, he had them, and Atharen was dismayed - they were much closer than he had thought, and there were more of them. They were on foot it seemed, but still, there were...five, six maybe? Straightening quickly, his sword in his hand before he was fully standing, Atharen addressed at the group, spinning around to speak to all of them as he did so. "Go, we cannot afford a fray so early before we even have our own quarry."

"And whose quarry are you implying we are, Atharen?" Maen replied sharply, standing by her Hittai's head. Atharen turned to face her, stepping forward a few paces as he shook his head - he would not worry her unduly about Roryn's suspicions, and besides, he didn't want to possibly offend Carathir at a time like this.

"I don't know, Lady Il Galoth, but they are coming quite fast - it would appear they have been trailing us by the straight path they are leading towards us, or they have some other purpose to come to this place. At any rate, we must ride - now is not a good time to fight. I do not mean to insult you, Lady, but you understand, combat, especially in such circumstances, is more my area. Please." He nodded quickly to her, then addressed the rest again, all of whom were now awake, as he swung onto his horse's back, steading the beast as it stepped back a few paces with a shadow of skittishness. "Ride now, before they are any closer - Roryn and I will wait until all are gone, then follow you."

[Everdawn]

“We are under attack?” she said her voice going up in the last words, she was not nervous, more surprised and very annoyed at the interruption.

“Wh-Why?” she asked getting more irate as the moments passed.

She could see Del shake his head in her direction from where he was. Maén Il Galoth had never been under attack before, she had only ever been threatened by a weapon once than that little less than a week ago now.

Breathing heavily she managed to keep her temper under control, she composed herself and refrained from asking questions, she knew that she was no warrior and logically speaking she would get in the way of any major battle. And to die now was something she did not intend to do.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Raiders of Harad! Ferethor's countenance hardened. They'd have no trouble coming in pursuit of our expedition should they choose to follow us. Survivors of the War of Rings they are, most valourous and skilled of the Haradrim soldiers. "Ride now, before they are any closer..." Atharen steadied his mount and flashed a light grin. "Roryn and I will follow." Ferethor frowned in wonder and reeled to face him incredulously as he said, "Roryn and you, Ranger?"


Atharen leaned to whisper to Roryn as he expected Ferethor to take this attitude, before turning in his stirrups to face Ferethor's question. "Why would you want to stay and risk your life, Ferethor? You'd be of much more use in protecting the expedition from any other danger they might come across."


"I am versed in the speech of Harad, Ranger." Ferethor replied dryly to Atharen's challenging question, drawing forth his blade which mirrored the blurring evergreens. "We must earn such time as we could to allow others to get away safely, and I may succeed yet in persuading the outlaws to stay their swords. If that fails, another sword beside yours might be of great aid in battle. I am not unskilled in wielding of blade, as Roryn may know."


"Nevertheless..." Atharen was about to reply but changed his mind at the last moment, and turned fiercely to others still mounted and uncertainly tarrying. "What are you waiting for, Maen? Flee while the daylight lasts!" Del then to everyone's amaze spoke, lightly yet with confidence. "Atharen, I'd want to stay. I would not miss out of the fun, not by any price." At that, Roryn lost his temper, his will already strained by the oncoming battle. "No, Del. I doubt you can even save your own life let alone everyone else's."


Strangely, it was the usually rash Ferethor who spoke for Del. "Valour may come in many disguises, Roryn, cheerfulness not the exception as I've learned long ago from Lieutenant Meren. I've always admired him for his ability to smile and joke in the very face of death. Can we deny him his right to fight if he wishes?"

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal just nodded at what Atharen said and got up on her horse quickly. Her horse had remained saddled. She had had a feeling that they would encounter some sort of trouble as what always seemed of the norm now, at least in the pathway of her life.

"Maen I highly agree. You are our leader. Without you this quest shan't continue. You must ride. Ride with me to safety. No harm shall befall at such a great distance. Please my lady, Maen. Do this for us so revenge may be had at a later time in the future," Crystal said softly as she pleaded with Maen. She had no idea if Maen would come. She was just a strong willed and strong minded as Crystal. If it had been her she wouldn't have fled. She would have stood with these men and fought, but she knew her place. As a woman she knew that in a battle, not one on one as she was accustomed to, that she was not much help in a lot of ways if she was on the ground. She would be amazing on top of her stallion, but she wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't be knocked to the ground and that her horse would run away from the battle and onto safety.

"If you insist upon staying then please allow me to be your protection. Come up on my stallion. As long as you are there, there shan't be any harm to befall upon your head," Crystal said, giving Maen the choice.

She figured that Maen would take the former opposed to the later. They were similar of mind and strength. They wouldn't be taken over without a brutual battle of fighting for one's life. She sat in her saddle, waiting for Maen's answer.

[Kransha]

Idruil practically jumped up from where he sat idly on the ground. He heard all the quick-spoken discourse as it played out between the other group members. He, at first, was primarily unsure of his place in all this. So far, it appeared that Maen, with some others, would be proceeding away from the oncoming persons who were trailing the entire company. Atharen and Roryn had volunteered themselves to stay behind and keep these illicit folk at bay, but Ferethor and Delphinious apparently also desired to remain and hold off the Haradrim from reaching their leader. There was more then a little tension risen in the air, except, of course, for that jovial fellow, Delphinious, who seemed remarkably aloof to what was going on.

Idruil, bringing a rough-hewn hand to the cold steel of his hilt, stepped forward into the area where the group was most congregated. He did not know his place here, considering his seeming sudden arrival in this motley society of allies. The man of Minas Tirith had his only hope upheld, to meet all battle that came to him and do what he could for the future’s lore. He planned on accomplishing that goal.

“Ranger,” he said, with a blunt persistence in his gruff voice, “I too will stay. I have been thrust late into this company and I still know little of you, but I will stay true to this mission and see that it is fulfilled. I believe my sword may be useful to you and indeed I plan to use it if this situation comes to that. I trust you will not deny me this request, since it is my profuse desire to help this cause as best I can. If you will not have my sword you may reject its use at your discretion, but otherwise, let me remain and do my part.”

He firmly grasped the steel with one gloved hand, grabbing the reins of his steed, Ecthelion, with the other. He pulled the beast gently sideways, preparing to leap as nimbly as weathered legs could carry him into the saddle and do what he could. He realized, to some dismay and irritation, that he had not drawn a blade in true combat for years now. The last time he had done so was to negotiate with a pair of unruly hoodlums, hardly a fight worthy of tales. He suddenly found his mind scanning over every memory of combat, re-learning the art to his own satisfaction so he could at least attempt to hold his own in open battle.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Del looked with some consternation at Idruil, about to speak but deciding not to since Idruil's remark was addressed to Atharen actually. Who am I to interfere? However it was Ferethor who spoke, very persuasively. "Your decision is your own to make, Idruil. But we have others to protect and Aelimur alone would not suffice, I deem. You may have to do away with lone outlaw or so. I'm asking you for the sake of their safety and the success of the expedition for you to stay with them, though hard it may seem. Will you consent?"


Del raised his eyebrow at that for he did not think Ferethor was be a person with persuasive powers until now, as he caressed his well-worn buckskin sheath of his keen sword. That does have some sense in't, I perceive. Especially as this will not actually come to blade-in-blade combat and too much will only be hinderance... But he spoke not and waited. It would sort itself out in the end.

[Everdawn]

"If you insist upon staying then please allow me to be your protection. Come up on my stallion. As long as you are there, there shan't be any harm to befall upon your head," cried Crystal who in the meantime had ridden up on her large horse, significantly smaller than her own Hittai.


“Hittai will bear me, I will have no other.” She said in a strong voice. Crystal nodded at the young woman.

“Lady Il Galoth!” called a mounted Idruil from the direction of Roryn. “An escort.” He bowed atop of his steed.



“Very well” She said swinging into her saddle and surveyed the others. “Make them pay for disturbing our peace.”

Hittai was kicked into a fast pace away from the camp Crystal and Idruil close behind her.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal rode behind Maen, but in hesitation spun her horse around. She looked back and watched the men on their horses, standing ready for the inevitable attack. Atharen stood with Ferethor and Del. She swallowed hard and decided to go back. She ran over to Atharen.

"Shall you need help?" Crystal asked Atharen. He looked over at her and his eyes flashed. "Crystal! No, stay with Maen," He replied. Crystal nodded her head. She didn't want to let him see the fear that she felt for his life. He could die here. Any of these men could.

"Please be careful and come back to me alive, Atharen. I do not want to lose you yet," Crystal said softly to him.

"All of you come back to us alive. We don't want to have to bury any of you," Crystal said.

Her horse reigned back and then took off like a bullet after Maen and Iduril. Her heart ached at leaving Atharen behind, but she did as he had wanted. She would do her duty. She would make sure that their leader was safe. She pushed her horse against all possible means and caught up with Maen and Iduril fairly quickly. She knew that they were looking at her with questions in their eyes.

"I wanted to tell them to come back to us alive. We don't want to have to bury any of them. Although I have a fear in my mind that we will be," Crystal said as they rode away to safety.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn's keen eye heard a shuffle in the woods, and the unmistakeable sound of a bow being drawn back...he waited, wanting to let them have the first move so he could be the one reacting. He looked around the woods. A whistling noise, he moved a fraction to the left, the arrow thudded into the wood of the tree. Quick as a flash both Atharen and roryn had their bows drawn and fired in the direction of the arrow. A cry was heard, and a dark shape fell from a high treetop, two arrows clearly embedded in its chest.

Atharen smirked at Roryn. "Still a good shot." he chuckled.
"I was about to say the same of you, Atharen." Roryn replied. "Ah, but I am still a serving ranger." he chuckled.
"Maybe not for much longer..." Roryn said grimly as several bandits rode into the clearing...

[Everdawn]

“Utterly useless!” cried Maén, the three of them had ridden half a league from the site, in fast time to the cover of a surrounding thinly covered grove of trees. “I can barely see a thing, let alone know what’s going on there.” Her hazel eyes glowed contemptuously under her lilac hood.

“Patience Miss Maén” Idruil muttered from behind her.

Maén’s head snapped around. “We are under attack, do you expect me to be patient?”

“No Maén.” Replied Crystal her eyes downcast, as though she was in fear of something else.

Maén did not seem to hear, “Who are they? Haradrim? Easterlings? Cronies of Guriel?- now that would make more than enough sense. Don’t they know that im not carrying any vast amount of gold? I am not prepared to die before ive had my chance at vengeance.”

“Not to worry Lady Il Galoth, should worse come to worse you will still have Crystal and I. Besides, you have two rangers up your sleeve.” Idruil remarked.

[Kransha]

As Idruil road, firmly seated in the saddle born atop Ecthelion, he felt his old and familiar cynicism returning as he tried in vain to steady Maen’s fluctuating mood. He could understand her irritation at this incident; it was as ill-timed as unwelcome and seemed to serve no purpose but to hinder them. Of course, Idruil knew that there was more than rash impatience in his leader and the female Crystal, who had also accompanied them, but a more genuine concern. Idruil had no concern to show, as the two of them did. He had no comrade’s bond with the others or anything to make him feel any true sense of danger relating to their plight. He was certainly eager to prove his mettle and help them, but he had been given a blunt assignment which he planned to accomplish and not worry about the others, regardless of the dire straits or foul plight they might be in.

In all honesty, he was unsettled by Crystal’s words. He did not wish to bury a companion of his own new found brethren. They were slowly becoming friends, although he didn’t want to admit that he was letting his stern demeanor slip. It would not, though, be a great blow to him if something happened. He could only mourn in silence, as he had always done. He’d buried too many dear friends and was desensitized to the cold sting of death that lingered on a weary battlefield, ripe with the smell and air of doom.

He continued pulling Ecthelion along, listening as Maen spoke. For all he cared, she was merely letting out all her frustration in the form of complaints. She spoke of a number of things, many of which he couldn’t even hear in the commotion made by alarmed steeds. He responded curtly, “Not to worry, Lady Il Galoth, should worse come to worse you shall still have Crystal and I. Besides, you have two rangers up your sleeve.” He trailed off, realizing that Maen Il Galoth was probably not even listening.

He spoke up again after a few contemplative moments, now speaking more to Crystal than to Maen.

“Worry not about the others,” he said, with more gentility in his voice, “They can handle themselves; each one, and we should not doubt their combined skill. Surely a band of ruffians will not be able to contend with them and they will all return to us in time. For now, let us concentrate on what lies ahead, rather than the vile rogues that trail behind. Soon enough, we will reunite with them and this quest can continue unhindered. Do not fret, all shall be well. Indeed, I am quite certain we will see them again shortly..." he trailed off.

The man of Minas Tirith added, under his breath, "If not in this life, surely we will see them in the next. Illuvitar will judge soundly, and if they fall, it shall not be in vain."

Idruil wasn’t even sure if he believed what he was saying. He realized too late that his tone had become that of patronization as he spoke, but it truly didn’t matter. Petty squabbles were not to be brought up at a tense and uncertain moment such as this and he did not think Crystal would care, though he hardly knew her well enough to guess at such a fact. Dismissing his own words, he rode on near Maen’s steed, hoping deep within that all this hardship would pass in time as a new day dawned with more hopeful prospects for the future.

[Eorl of Rohan]

The thought flashed into Ferethor's mind at the soft but perfectly distinguishable sound of bowstring, Bows? Bloody Morgoth! But he needn't have feared, for as he stepped forward Roryn and Atharen both drew their own and slew the daring outlaw.


"Still a good shot." Atharen chuckled in a strained manner. "I was about to say the same of you, Atharen." Roryn flashed a quick smile back before his smile faded as several mounted and full battle-clad warriors of Harad were in their view.


"Greetings, fellow huntsmen of Harad! You wander far from your own land, we see. Why would you trouble us?" Ferethor spoke in the foul and uncouth language with ease, for he was versed in the speech of Harad. He struggled to keep his face expressionless and void of fury. but his eyes smoulderd with battle-lust.


"Fellow huntsmen, say you?" The man who seemed like a leader stepped forward, sneering derisively. "But we acknowledge no comraderie nor lordship with folk of Gondor. We live by our own laws and do as we wish."


Ferethor swallowed as he realized that persuasion was not going to work with these fierce outlaws. Some of the raiders have already notched the black-feathered arrows to their longbow, he noted. Atharen made a slight move and Ferethor knew that he had drawn his dagger. A little more time...


The leader, one who was clad in rough garments of leather and adorned with heathenish golden chains slowly raised his lance. "And my word is the law, Die, and curse in vain!"


Ferethor at once severed his lance-handle with an unexpected swift stroke of his own steel, crying, "For Gondor!" In the same, fluid movement, the blade buried itself in his chest and took his life. Instantly cries and uproar reverbrated the forest and echoed back in desolate sounds.


Ferethor wrenched his blade out and reeled to face others, trying to slash out of the scene of battle. Pinning a striken outlaw with his own spear to a tree and shattering his sable shield with foul designs engraved as if it was glass, Ferethor ducked from the arrows that whistled overhead. For a moment even as he broke out of the ring he could see Del holding a mounted raider at bay with a broken spear pole and a double-edged sword.


One rider loomed into his view, and he slashed his steel down forcefully. But the blade struck the steely band of the Haradrim's armour and glanced off, notched. Iluvatar! Ferethor whispered but the warrior crumpled suddenly beneath a green-feathered arrow, presumably Roryn's.


Del dealt a death stroke to one of the other bandits, crying "Flee!" as he battled. His splintered shield of earthen-bornw lay beneath his feet as he faced the others. Yet Ferethor stood transfixed on the spot, safe for now against the bandits. He was proud and his youthful heart was kindled with battle-lust born of vengeance, and would not leave his fellow comrade in the hands of their enemy.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn ducked as the arrows flew his way from the raiders. "Bastards!" he thought, "they couldn't care less about anyone else except me and Atharen." Straigtening up he fired another arrow, the bodkin head ripping straight through a bandit's throat, he toppled to the floor. One ran screaming at him, he dropped to one knee and rolled, evading the wild swipe of the heavy cudgel. Rolling to his feet he hit the man around the head with his clenched fist, and while he was reeling booted him to the ground. Looking over he saw Atharen fighting two of them. He sent an arrow through one of their chests. Atharen looked at him momentarily and nodded his thanks, Royn nodded back.

"Retreat!" Roryn cried,
"Flee! I will follow if I can!" shouted Del.

Roryn grabbed Ferethor by the shoulders and tried to pull him back, but he stood firm and shook him off. Muttering, Roryn sent a last arrow into a raiders chest before disappearing into the trees. Ferethor looked back and cried out when he saw Roryn had gone. "You coward!" a white fletched arrow whistled past his neck and slammed into the neck of a horse that was charging Ferethor, the horse buckled, tipping its rider off. As Ferethor looked at it he saw the Rider had a broken neck.

Looking up he saw Roryn in a tree with his bow drawn, he took a second to note how well he blended into the background before hacking down another raider. "There are more coming!" shouted Roryn, "Lots more! Get out of there while you can, I have no wish to tell Maen that you are all dead!"...

[Eorl of Rohan]

Del wondered why he was standing here now for a moment or two. His serious countenance was almost grim to look upon as he slowly drew his steel and gazed on it with what amounted to seeming nonechalance. Wandering free far and wide over foriegn terrains of Middle Earth one day... He thought with amaze at his own change. And Facing a bunch of stragglers in War of the Rings who failed to get themselves back to the their natives lands far to the south, next day... A drastic change indeed.


Then Del instictively lowered his head in a flinching gesture as two arrows arched over the clear sky with a shrill, piercing whistle, apparently loosed by those on our side. His train of thought was broken by a fey cry of the outlaw archer who had been hidden by the boughs of leaves, who thudded onto the rocky ground and fell silent with a broken neck


"There was no need to shed blood as yet, and methinks you reck too little of lives." Del said almost mildly as he surveyed the limp form of the outlaw with distaste. "Once the raiders have seen the blood of their brethren and comrade they'd come to assail us like ravening wolf packs."


Roryn exclaimed fiercely, "Our lives or theirs, Delphinous! That accursed archer was going to shoot us down first in stealth, have you not noticed? Tevildo Tibereth take them!" as he grasped the sable hilt of his damascened blade in a challenging gesture. Indeed already the raiders of Harad were appearing from the eves of the wood with their longbows strung and their metallic blades drawn.


"They'd not stop to parley, these." Ferethor breathed through clenched teeth and paled as he noted other soldiers mounted and in full battle gear also riding out of the other side and closing in. Del winced as he said, "Nevertheless we must make an attempt, however hopeless."


"Greetings, fellow huntsmen of Harad! You wander far from your own land, we see. Why would you trouble us?" Ferethor went to the direct point without dallying and acted as if he was the leader of the company, Del noted with some amusement even in this situation. Wonder how Ferethor learned to speak of it so well. Even I have trouble with pronouncing the foul language of these folk though I have little trouble in understanding. But the leader was not amused as was visible in his curt and angry reply, and there was almost a gloating sense in his voice as he raised his lance and cried, "And my word is the law here. Die, and curse in vain!"


But it was Ferethor who was swifter as it proved in the end, for he straightaway disarmed his opponent then plunged his blade into his chest, effectively silencing him for ever, crying out "For Gondor!".


In the uproar it caused Del found himself face in face with a mounted champion of Haradrim riding forth with a heavy spear at Atharen's back, who seemed unaware as yet of the dire peril he was in. Moving instinctively he raised his earthen shield to ward off the black-feathered arrows as he cleaved the horse's neck with the blade he held, who was harryed by the confusion in the glade. "Will death not be more sweeter if you have a comrade to go along?" His fieldish grin was directed at the dead horse as the rider fell with his steed, and he slew the man with his own spear.


The spear broke at the forceful stab and his shield was shattered by the dying man's thrust with his dagger. Del threw down the useless slivers of wood angrily. He did not fail to hear Roryn's cry, "Retreat!" but he had already been beleaguered by the other horseback outlaws who seemed very keen on taking revenge. He cried, "Flee! I will follow if I can."

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal listened to Iduril's words and tried to put them to use in her mind, but failed in vain. A deep sense of dread had caught a hold of not only her mind, but her spirit as well. Something terrible would happen this night that was changing into dawn. She only hoped that it was an injury not death. She could aid in an injury.

She urged her horse forward. Her mind wandered into thoughts of her past. She had only seen one other battle in her lifetime. Even though her father had taught her the ways of the sword she still hadn't been allowed to weild it outside of the safety of her home. She had gone against him one day when she heard that Rohan was under attack and its neighbors from Gondor had not come as of yet. She had taken it upon herself to help her city, the city that she at one time loved. She had dressed herself as one of the kitchen boys and had taken the sword that her father had given her. She had hurried to the front lines. Her disguise went unnoticed and she had been allowed to fight.

The battle had been brutual. Her sword had taken many lives that day. She had been quick and swift, much more so then any man. She could remember her dearest friend and love fall besides her. Arty had no idea that she was there. She had taken one of the horses that no longer had a rider and put Arty up on the saddle. She jumped up and had rode quickly back into Rohan and to his home. His father was out at the battle field and his mother had disappeared. She had stayed with him and took care of his wounds and prayed.

Those memories, even though if she spoke them out loud would sound simple, were anything but. They were the some of the worst memories that she had ever encountered. She had seen a lot of things that she never wanted to remember.

Yet, she had decided to run away. She had joined the travellers that saw many battles and she had when she was with them. She had taken lives of men that tried to rape her in the endless stream of Inns and bars she had gone into. She had killed countless of numbers of her father's men that tried to track her down and bring her back to Rohan.

This was different. She was fighting for the life of Maen, she was fighting for the life of Atharen. She was fighting for the life of the entire company. This was much more then just a city. So much more then just a place where one lived. This was a battle to keep Maen and her company safe so she can get revenge and live beyond it.

Crystal began to wonder if when the time arose for Maen to have her revenge if she would take it.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Even as Ferethor stood transfixed on the spot in the edge of battle gazing on the blurring and bloody scene, Roryn came up behind him. "Ferethor, let us leave!" He shouted as he tried to pull the Gondorian back into the shadows of trees but it was vain for Ferethor did not relent. Proud he was, for he was of the decendant of house of Hador and the valourous blood of Edain and Atanatari ran strong in his mind.


He muttered something urgently that Ferethor could not distinguish and sent another arrow in the direction of a fray. When he reeled and found Roryn vanished into the forest, he cried out in great wrath, "You coward!"


An arrow whistled as it arched through the air and impaled a charging horse maddened with pain from earlier injury through the chest. It fell heavily and writhed on the ground in its last mortal agony as Ferethor turned and raised his gaze to Roryn who was hidden in a cleft of leaves above an elm. Good hiding place, that. But he had not time more to think as he faced another opponent, evading a series of blows and succeeding in taking his life with a skillful thrust of his steel already stained with blood.


"There are more coming!" shouted Roryn as he leapt down tot he ground with lightness that surprised him, "Lots more! Get out of there while you can, I have no wish to tell Maen that you are all dead!"


But Ferethor was steadfast in his denial to leave as was shown in his reply, "What about Del, Roryn?" And Atharen called out in a painful voice as he slashed a bandit down, "Leave him! As Roryn says, there are more supplements coming from the eastern side of the forest. WE cannot withstand them. Del buys us time to escape with his blood. Let us take it, and go! It is ours to live."


But still Ferethor hesitated in a dreamlike state, lingering. Only when Atharen, driven by urgency, cried, "Ferethor!" did he come back to full awareness. Turning with his hands clenched, Ferethor asked, "Leave him? Atharen..." He replied almost brutally as he mounted his horse, the inevitable reply "There is nothing we can do."


And Ferethor knew that it was true. He impaled a mounted raider who met a swift end at his already bloodstained blade, and leaped upon his horse. Others were disregarding them at the moment since they were all gathered around Del, who was stalling for time to give them a chance to flee. However a volley of black-feathered arrows followed him as he galloped across the open glade, and the arrowheads seemed aflame in the light of the sunset. The poor horse whinnied in pain and fell heavily on the ground as it was mortally hurt. Ferethor, narrowing avoiding falling with it, made for the woodlands on foot.


He winced as a searing pain cut through his shoulders, one of the parting gifts from a bandit archer. He hid himself in the shadows of trees as he clenched his teeth to escape from gasping out in pain. A few moments later, the raiders themselves came to look for him. That means Del has...


"Sir! He wouldn't have gone far." One said confidently, shouldering his longbow. "I am pretty sure that I got him." But thw man who seemed to be in command now turned. "We do not have times to search for a single man in the woodlands all night! We head back to our refuge by Anduin by nightfall."


The night fell on the forest slowly, casting its clinging web of darkness over the leaves and the bloodstained glade. Ferethor could not see clearly for his vision was blurred with his own blood from the arrow. Ferethor had tried to wrench the arrowhead out and found to his dismay and much anguish that it was buried deeply in his muscle and he could not wrench it out without help. With loss of blood and anguish and despair, his conciousness faded into sub-reality as the moon rose in its majesty.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Leave him! There is nothing we can for him now," Atharen yelled back, reigning his horse sharply to turn in the right direction, the direction Roryn had already started galopping in. Behind him Ferethor stood as if frozen, his hands spread. Atharen could understand his hesitation, torn between leaving another man behind, but the ranger also knew that there was nothing to do for Del anymore: he had seen the wound on the man's side as he glimpsed him between the riders, and he knew the traveller would not be able to move fast enough to escape anyway. Atharen hated a part of himself for it, but knew that it was that part that would allow Maen to complete her task yet. "Ferethor!" he yelled again.

The guard seemed shaken awake and stumbled towards his horse, swinging on. It was only when he had ridden past that Atharen himself turned once more to go, but before he went he had one last task to do. Notching with an arrow one of the bows which he had picked up after it had fallen from a dead Haradrim's hands, he sighted on Del, who was now on his knees, hemmed between several of the outlaws who were closing in slowly, savouring their victory. Atharen knew what the outlaws did to those who they caught alive - a swift, accurate shot from his bow would be far better, and Del would know it, he had no doubt. Still, this was an easterling arrow - maybe the vicious outlaws would think it was one of their own who had shot the traveller, and Del would not have to suffer too much for they would be too busy looking for whichever of them had supposedly shot him.

"May the Vala speed you on your way, Delphinous," Atharen murmured as he sighted carefully, then let fly with the arrow. He heard the thud and then a cry of outrage from one of the outlaws, before he wheeled around, his eyes closed for a second in silent prayer for the man who he had just shot, before he galopped away as fast as the horse could carry him.

~*~

As they came to another clearing after ten minutes of hard riding, Atharen slowed, calling to Roryn who was not far ahead of him, having waited for a few minutes when he had not seen Atharen following. Coming to a halt as he drew up beside Roryn, he patted his stallion on the neck gently and the horse whinnied quietly. The ex-ranger looked sidelong at Atharen. "What kept you?"

Atharen fixed a very clear, telling gaze on Roryn, then shook his head. Changing the subject a little, he looked over his shoulder as danced the stallion around a few steps, scanning the treeline behind them. "Did Ferethor ride ahead to Maen?"

Roryn looked puzzled. "Ride ahead? Nay, I presumed he was following you, Atharen."

"Following m..." Atharen stared at Roryn, then whirled back around. He swore under his breath. "He must have been taken down. Wait here, I'll go back. Roryn, please - go back to Maen, tell her...oh, tell her I have my horse has got something embedded in his hoof, and that I am fixing it."

"Atharen, will you not take longer than that?" Roryn replied.

Atharen hesitated for a second, then replied softly, "If I take much longer, you will know the reason."

Roryn held out his hand to grasp Atharen's, but the latter pulled away, grinning. "Nay, don't do that - I think my type are not meant to die so young!" With a last grin, he turned and rode back into the treeline.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn watched as Atharen rode back into the leaves, eventually he saw his green cloak disappear round a corner he had taken, and he wheeled his horse round. Maen should know...his horse cantering as fast as it could do through the dense undergrowth he ducked down close to its neck, protecting him from any low branches.

As he entered a small clearing he saw Maen, Crystal, Idruil and Carathir. Maen, seeing he was alone, looked glumly at the ground. Crystal let out a subconcious sob, Idruil rested his head in his hands, and the tiniest of smiles played across Carathir's face. Roryn flashed a quizzical glance at him, but didn't catch it.

Kneeling down next to the two women, he whispered in Maen's ear. "Atharen still lives, he went back to look for Ferethor, who we lost on the way here. I suspect they are both alive...we lost Delphinious.."

Maen nodded grimly, obviously trying to hold back a sob of her own. "He fought bravely Maen, he fought and killed many foes. He gave us time to go, and we repaid him duly for that...Atharen knows as well as I what Haradrim do to prisoners, and we knew Del would have appreciated a quick death..."his voice trailed off as he too fought back images of Del's death. "He died well, Maen, and his spirit will find its way to the great halls." Maen nodded slowly, and Roryn laid a hand on her back. "Yes, now is a time for grief, Maen. I will not stop you or tell you that it is not..."

He stood up slowly and walked back over to his horse. He mounted it. "I will watch in the forest for signs of Atharen. With hope, he will not be delayed much."

He turned his horse around and trotted back into the forest. Maen could still see him, just. The brown hair of his horse's tail was swishing, and Maen guessed that he too was trying to hide his grief, trying to drown his sorrows in mundane things...

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal watched as Roryn came out of the forest all by himself. She let out a sob. Atharen had perished. That much she knew. Her one person that she had allowed her heart to love after everything that had happened in her life was dead. She was beginning to wonder if every man that she fell in love with would die. Maybe she as a bad omen or something of that type.

She watched as Roryn said something to Maen. She lowered her head and pulled up her cloak's hood. Uncontrolled tears fell down her face like small rivers that were trying to find the sea. She hadn't felt like this in so many years. She had always been able to control her emotions especially in front of others, but she couldn't right now.

Atharen, Ferethor, and Del were all dead. She couldn't even put two and two together. Roryn was sitting on his horse, looking out over the forest as if waiting. She couldn't even think straight.