Legacy of Traitors RPG

[Kransha]

Idruil’s head lowered as he saw Roryn emerge from the woods alone. As far as he now knew, the others were all dead, lost somewhere behind on the roadside as they prey of foul bandits. He could feel no true pain for their passing, no real sting in his heart at this symbol of their loss. He looked to Crystal, who was obviously crying beneath her hood. He almost wanted to shed a tear, but found he could not for the life of him. It would be pathetic to try, so he merely let his stony face remain cold and unemotional. No new expression of supreme sorrow soured his gait and he merely sat there in the saddle, motionless and calm.

There was an unsettling silence that had descended over them all. It was getting to Idruil as well, though his face remained straight and lacking of any hint of sadness. He wheeled Ecthelion around slowly and carefully, surveying the shroud that covered him and his companions. He took a deep breath, composing himself as a saddened look crept across his features. He began speaking in rhythm, at first under his breath, but later just loud enough to be heard. His gruff vocalizations became smoother as the verse slowly formed within him.

“The empty ruin of warriors felled
Now left, untouched, by life
Spirits mighty may ascend
To halls that bear no strife

The tears we shed for comrades slain
Their lofty biers we bear
Are needed not by those who fell
For peace at last is theirs

The sun may rise, the sun may set
Each day may come and go
But they shall see the sun eternal
And golden rivers flow”

He halted at last, the song fading gently into the bristling wind. He took another solemn breath, and spoke again in a tranquil whisper, “By the grace of Illuvatar, may any valiant soul who met their doom this day find peace in the timeless halls and be remembered in what way they wished. Bring them safely to your domain and let their rest be a sound and peaceful one, undisturbed by war and death.” He said, lowering his head again. His calmer voice faded and, as he finished the utterance, it returned to its stronger, sterner self.

Idruil’s cold eyes looked up again from the barren ground, looking first to Crystal, then to Carathir, then to Maen, and finally to Roryn, who still sat atop his horse scanning the area in the opposite direction. He could not fathom whatever Roryn was doing, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care anyway. From what had been indicated, Atharen, Ferethor, and Delphinious had all been slain by those ruffians and nothing could be done about it. No sense in deluding oneself, he thought. When the time came they would all return to the mission at hand and this incident's stabbing pain would evaporate. The dead were dead and naught could be done to undo that state. Idruil didn't plan on getting lost in misery. He had lost dear friends, his parents, most of the people dear to him. He barely knew Atharen, Ferethor, or Del so it would be insulting to pretend that he was heartbroken about their passing.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor came to his conciousness painfully, as the sun sank behind the snow-crowned peaks of White Mountains. Passing a hand over his fevered brow, he slowly rose to his feet. Ferethor was faint with loss of blood and in great anguish, so that he had taken but few steps before he swayed and grasped a tree for support in dismay. After a moment of strife with his weariness and grief, he sank down by a young birch to comtemplate his next move as darkness gathered.


"A bitter end is this to all my hope!" He cried out in bitterness. "Yet while my strength remains I must go on." Indeed it was only his stern will that aided him as he crept from the eve of encircling trees to the scene of battle, which was terrible to behold.


Foul carrion dwimmered o'er the deserted battlefield their fey and desolate cries echoing around the barren hills. Raiders of Harad have not bothered to bury or cremenate their dead and their limp forms made Ferethor slightly afraid as he stood alone swaying. So it was that Ferethor came upon Del in the midst of slain as he crept upon the scene.


"Del!" Ferethor knelt down, clasping his hand. "Awake! We are alone." At his call Del stirred and opened his eyes, bright and moist but foreshadowed with death."Ferethor, my time has passed. Falling valiantly in battle was my desire, rather then fall prey to old age and die witless and alone." Del winced as he slightly raised his head to meet Ferethor's concerned gaze, speaking in a low voice strained with effort and anguish. "Such desire is fulfilled, and I am content. Do not mourn for me. I have only this to bid you - watch over the company in my stead. Farewell, until we meet again beyond the circles of this world!" So ended Del, not the least valiant of the warriors of Edain. Ferethor fell silent stricken with sorrow, utterly regardless of his own pain and weariness.


At last Ferethor gently took the hilt of the sword from Del's lifeless hand and saw that it had broken asunder. Laying it at his feet wiht all the other weapons of bandits that he could gather, Ferethor laughed as one fey with bitter anguish of mind, crying "Thus have you been enmeshed in the Doom of Illuvatar to children of Men, and have escaped the circles of this world."


Ferethor then sang a song of lamentation softly to aid the dead as was the custom in Gondor his voice clear and carrying alone in this hill of death.


As sunbeams of golden hue besprangled the day
Outlaw raiders from Harad did we have to face
Their drawn blades of steel gleaming fey
Wrathful counternances full of grim menace


From peril of the blades and fire and ravenous foes
Del fled not in terror but would fain rather stay
For proud was this child of Atani and valourous
As he sought to open for us an escaping way


If it was not for him we would no be here hence
Yet there fell and passed away he - Del of Gondor
How halls of Mandos does he wander and glance
Yet we who are doomed to stay lament forevermore


Then Ferethor ceased to sing softly and laid the lifeless hand down with what amounted to almost reverence echoing his last words "Farewell until we meet again beyond the circles of this world!" Then he fell silent.


He sought to cool his fevered brow as he took his flint and kindled a bundle of leaves, gazing at the fiery flame as if hypnotized by it's rhythmic movements before casting it down. The barren dune was set aflame and wreathed in smoke, as consuming flame devoured the bloodstained field. Turning, he left the charred and blackened field behind him, naming it the Plain of Immeasureable Lamentation.


Ferethor then took to tracking the lost company through the woods, spent with grief and the wound ever sapping his strength. He had little hope to follow a horseback company in such a state. Indeed Ferethor would have fain laid himself down and embraced death had he not been driven by Del's bidding to watch over the company in his stead.

[Everdawn]

“Its just like the men, you know.” Stated Maén hurriedly, “Fight first, ask question later. For all we know, those riders may have been simple traders riding on their way to Gondor.” She could tell that Idruil had chosen to ignore the remark.

Hittai shifted restlessly beneath her. The surrounding brush seemed quiet. Maén dismounted and stood at the animals side.

“It’s quiet” she muttered. “Too quiet.” Pacing now around Hittai she began to survey her surroundings, it was getting dark. Carathir too had dismounted his handsome Thaoura and began to peer into the wood as well.

Upon the air Maén began to hear the fain sounds of a horses hooves on hard ground.

“Maén, do you her that?” Idruil asked still atop his horse.

“Indeed.” She said almost in a whisper. There was little time to prepare for any attack when it was Roryn not a Haradrim who passed beyond the entrance of the grove. He was alone. Maén frowned. Her look of anger was apparent to those present. Roryn dismounted and approached the small corss-armed woman with a respective nod.

"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. "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."

Roryn turned and rode in the other direction. Maén’s face was still hard and cold as stone. “I regret to inform you all that one of our companions is dead.”

More tears fell from the eyes of Crystal. Maén was used to being informed of deaths, so this task was not totally alienated from her, it was one of the many downsides to being of military breeding. “Del has been slain in battle.” They were the words which she had so often heard repeated to her in times of war.


“ Captain Salome Il Galoth- slain in battle, Mircent Il Galoth-slain in battle, Gracon Il Galoth-Slain in battle, Captain Miradan Il Galoth-Slain in Battle …”

Maén sat upon a pew in the citadel, a black veil covering her little face next to her was Lysia, young, beautiful aunt Lysia. As if by some magic the years of time had attacked her features, she made no sound when the name of her husband was called out by King Elessar, she was still. Maén returned her attention to the king as the names of their house were read out one by one.


“Lormhand Il Galoth- Slain in Battle, Crainden Il Galoth- Slain in Battle, Craindan Il Galoth- slain in battle, Crainwell Il Galoth- Slain in battle, Captain Riondel Il Galoth- Slain in battle, Peruvial Il Galoth-Slain in battle, Aeromir Il Galoth-Sliain in Battle, Aeroden Il Galoth slain in battle.”

Maén shook her head clear of the memories. “The others are alive as far as we can tell, true to my word, twenty-five thousand in gold will be payed out in full to any remaining member of his house. A grievous and regrettable tragedy.” She sat down abruptly, like always in these times, there was absolutely no show of emotion to be found upon her fair face.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal's head snapped up at the faint sound of Ferethor's voice wafted from out of the safety of the shadows from the trees. He stood leaning against one of the many tree trunks, it was clearly evident that he was wounded. A shed of hope filled her heart as she galloped away from the company. Maen called out to her in confusion, but she continued on until she had reached Ferethor's side. She jumped down from her stallion and put a hand upon his arm.

"Ferethor! You look horrible. Please, I know we are somewhat of enemies, but you need some sort of medical attention. We are too far away from any town at the moment. You are going to have to trust me to save your life. Otherwise, Ferethor you will die," Crystal said quickly as her eyes assessed the damaged. Ferethor nodded weakly. With amazing strength she pushed Ferethor up on top of the stallion and got on besides him. She hurried back to the company.

"Someone find a truffle root. Six or more should do. Please hurry. Ferethor does not have much time remaining," Crystal yelled as she hurried back over to them. She stopped her horse quickly and jumped down. The men came over and helped her lay Ferethor on his back.

Crystal hoped that he wouldn't flinch when she took out her dagger. She took it out slowly, trying to be as unthreatening as possible. She knew that she would have to cut his clothes to get to his wounds, but she was afraid. She swallowed her fear and eased her knife through his clothes. It teared easily. She opened the opening and gasped. The wound was deep. She hoped that whomever decided to get her the herb that she needed would be back shortly.

She shifted through her pack and found the small set of other herbs that the travellers had given to her. She put some of them together in her hand and grabbed a rock. She began to smash them, trying to make them fine and smooth as not to hurt Ferethor any more. She grabbed her cantine and poured a droplet of water over it to give it a more paste like substance and gently rubbed into Ferethor's wound.

He yelled out in pain and Crystal pulled her hands away.
"I am sorry if it hurts, but it is the only way," Crystal said softly. She continued her work. Ferethor would wince and his muscles would move under her fingers, but he refrained from crying out. When the paste was done she looked around. Surely someone had found them? A hand handed her the herbs that she had desperately needed. She mumbled a thank you and put them in her mouth.

This remedy could be thought as crude, but saliva and truffle roots were one of things that would save him. She took the mushed up truffle roots out of her mouth and forced herself to cry on them. Droplets of her tears splashed and remained on the mush. When she was done she placed the mush on the wound and rubbed it in once more.

The task was tedious, much more so then the last mixture of paste she had rubbed into him. It took time and Crystal was afraid that their time had run out. Finally after what seemed like years the mixture was rubbed in enough. She opened her cloak and ripped off one of her sleves. She used it as a bandage for Ferethor.

When she was completely done she sat back, heaving. She had never done this before under the imense stress that she had been experiencing in her mind. She had never knew that weary, mind straining toll it took upon a person to try to save another.

"He shall be alright now."

[piosenniel]

Eorl of Rohan's post

Crystal? Ferethor's wavering senses clarified for a moment as he fell onto the tufts of long grass dazed. And in the next instant, Ferethor was aware of the vulnerable situation he was in and tried to rise to his feet but failed to do so. Gasping in bitter pain that flashed through his shoulder, Ferethor raised himself into a sitting position after much effort and found himself staring into concerned eyes of Crystal.

Her voice seemed dim and far away, somehow. "You are going to have to trust me to save your life. Otherwise, you'd die. Death. What a welcome proposition it seemed. Wincing in anguish, Ferethor tried to pull away but found not the strength to master his own body.

I could have died instead of Del. Crystal began yelling, but Ferethor did not hearken to what she was saying or anything else. He was younger then me and had a whole life ahead of him. I... I live for vengeance only which is scarcely a worthy cause. Yet why?

Ferethor's vision focused after a while and he could see Crystal kneeling next to him with a slim blade in her hand. Then bitter pain coursed to every senses and the Guard pulled away with a low cry of anguish. Why can't everyone just leave me alone to die? Crystal withdrew her hands for a moment in hesitation and whispered, "I am sorry if it hurts, but it is the only way." And Ferethor fell silent and let her work.

Even though time and pain were subjective it took long, Ferethor realized that his wound was probably more grievous then he first thought. But at last Crystal was done with what she was doing and bandaged the shoulder with white substance he did not recognize. Sighing in relief, Ferethor curled up like a wounded dog and unclenched his frozen fists.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal watched Ferethor's pain. As much as they didn't get along and as much as she was weary of him she didn't like to see him in pain. She placed her hand on his forehead, it was cold. She took her cloak off and put it over him.

"Sleep, Ferethor. Sleep dreamless dreams. You are safe," Crystal whispered softly.

There wasn't anything else she could do for him. The only thing that had brought her any amount of luck in her life was the necklace that was buried underneath her clothing. It was her mother's and she loved it dearly. It had seemed to keep her alive through sickness and wounds and was just plain lucky at other times. She wasn't very superstitious, but she believed in the necklace.

She unclasped it and put it around Ferethor's neck.

"May it bring you the luck that it has brought me," Crystal said gently. She backed away and sat next to him, staring off into the distance.

[Everdawn]

Maén had watched Ferethor wander into camp wounded, she said nothing but her eyes followed him across the camp. She had not taken the liberty to sleep for the few hours in which they were waiting. Her arms folded, Maén surveyed the members in the camp, and Crystal who had gone to Ferethor to help him. A new matter was posed in her mind, where was Atharen and Roryn?

Her attention turned from the injured one, to Carathir. He had a strange look across his face, it was a smile. She hardly lingered on it, supposing that he was happy that Ferethor was found.

“What are you thinking Miss?” came the voice of Idruil who was seated upon a log near her. She snapped her head around and stared at him for a moment.

“Im thinking that our ranger friends should come in a while, I t would be a shame to have their loss as well as Del. It is a hard truth that we cannot stop to give him a proper burial. He fell behind, the bandits will see to him. Is all im thinking.”

“Grievous thoughts for a lady as you ma’am.” He replied and went back to his own devices.

“Indeed, but they are mine all the same.” Maén once again looked over at Crystal who was sitting beside Ferethor. “I see you have resolved your differences.” She observed. “You are a good woman Crystal, I wont deny that.” Crystal nodded.

Maén once again rolled up the sleeves of her tunic and removed her cloak and sat on the ground opposite them. She at once caught Crystal’s eyes searching her arm where her dreaded scar was. She moved her arm away from sight. “What happened to you?” she asked.

“You want to know?” Maén said gravely, Crystal nodded. “It is Guriel who caused this. When I was a girl I went into my father’s study when he was not there and he caught me looking through the very documents that I have in my possession now. I was knocked into his fire place.” She went on to tell more but stopped herself. “Satisfied?”

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn gently moved through the trees. He had left the camp some minutes before, and he hoped that none had noted his departure. He was going back to look for Del's body, and to try and give it some sort of dignity. He trekked for several more minutes, wary of making noise at all, as he knew there were bandits still around, and he was on his own this time.

Stepping into the clearing he saw Del's body propped up against a tree, a blackbird pecking at it. He swore, getting the bird away would create a huge amount of noise, shooting it would cause less...Drawing his bow he strung an arrow to it, and drew it back to his cheek. Aiming carefully he fired. The arrow ripped through the bird with hardly a noise, and pinned its lifeless corpse to the tree. Roryn spat at the ground, he had not wanted to do that...

Walking quietly over to Del he laid him on the ground, put the hild of his sword in one hand and his shield in the other. He crossed Del's arms, and laid his feet straight, then he began to dig with a buckler he had on his back...

After an hour's laborious work, it was ready. He said the funeral and placed Del's body in the grave, and covered it over. He was surprised even at himself when a small tear fell down his cheek. Turning around, he set off bck for the camp...

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal bowed her head at the knowledge that Maen had shared with her. They had been through even some what similar lives. She felt sorry for that fact.

"I had no idea and I certainly didn't mean to offend you," Crystal said softly. She pulled her other sleve up and showed Maen a deep, white line that went from her wrist all the way up, continuing out of sight.

The scar was from her father. Her mother had forced him in teaching her how to sword fight, but he had taken his anger out on her. The pain still seared at times.

"My mother made my father teach me how to sword fight. My father was very angry and took his anger out of me with his sword. It continues across my back in slashes. I understand pain of the flesh," Crystal said softly.

[Eorl of Rohan]

The sickle of the Valar swung in the northern night heaven of Arda , glimmering as if faded with grief and sorrow of Quendi and Atanatari. Star Helluin that Elbereth star-kindler had set there glistened unsullied with a pale blue light amidst the dispersing mists, whence sailed Earendil's vessel. Constellation Menelcamar blazed with splendor in the eastern firmament in glory, signifying the end of days when Belcha Morgoth shall be freed.


The starlit glade was silent and without movement, if dancing leaves in tune to the autumn breeze did not count. That is, except for Ferethor who was now aroused.


Ferethor recovered swiftly for fire of life was yet strong in this youthful captain of Minas Tirith and the wound was not too severe. Yet he was only sustained at times by his willlpower and would cry out in times of great aguish notwithstanding his endurance.


Yet Ferethor was no longer what he had been. Strange indeed have Ferethor grown of late, since his grievious injury in the encounter with the raiders of Harad. More wordless and enduring in silence with no verstige of his lofty manner remaining, and slow to hot flashes of anger that he had often shown. Depressed and seemingly unconcious of his surroundings at times, Ferethor would speak in a low murmur about things that directly related to himself and will not join in any discussion pertaining the next stage of their journey.


Ferethor was sitting awake, passing his hand over his fevered brow. His gaze strayed to the high heaven where gems of Elbereth Elentari sparkled in many-colored hues. He was alive and in full faculty of his senses, although he was not sure that it was a blessing or a curse. 'But it is not given us to decide the time or rule our own end.' He thought.


The anguish with which Ferethor suffered from ebbed down and faded with the passage of time, for which he was much glad. Then Ferethor noted with some surprise and doubt that something hung by his neck and reached out for it. Slender links of silver and bronze links clinked in his hands and a pendant of exquisite workmanship was fastened at the end. It was wrought of silver and Ithildin and inlaid with chips of sapphire and ruby, and gleamed in the likeness of Telperion's blossom.


Turning it over bemusedly in his hands, Ferethor noted tiny letters scratched in the silver-wrought petals on the metallic blossom. "May Lady of the Stars ward thee from peril, Crystal" Murmuring the words he could decipher, Ferethor was dismayed to learn that it was Crystal's and impulsively cast it down. The fair pendant, striking a stone in its descent, rolled into the mud and gleamed there still though it was half-buried in the mud.


This morn, the searing anguish was acute enough to threaten his very will and sanity, and Ferethor was too spent and weary to care about anything. But now fully aroused and looking back to this morning, Ferethor flushed in shame and anger and was wroth with his weakness. Allowing himself to be in a position of helplessness, utterly unable to resist anything or defend himself with wavering conciousness....


Captain Ferethor shook off such dark thoughts angrily and there was litte change in his grave countenance. Everyone seemed to his asleep with weariness from long toil and journey, or so it seemed to him. Sitting there rigidly and and unmoving as if he were wrought of granite, he wondered what would be passing through their minds. Worry? Anticipitation?


His wide-open and alert grey eyes scanned the woods, bright and intelligent but shadowed with some darkness no one can decipher. Ferethor recalled that Maen had said something about leaving. 'Since I 'm the only horseless person on the expedition, I shall be forced to tread the path on foot. Ferethor thought with some bitterness. Yet we can easily procure a horse in one of the Atani settlements. As a sentinel of Gondor on official mission I will have little trouble acquiring a emergency steed reserved for errand-riders.'


Ferethor arose then, wincing at the bitter pain that flashed through his muscles every time he moved his shoulder - the anguish that had been the reason for being awake in the middle of the night suddenly. He wandered over to the east until he came across a clear creek.


The little stream flowed down by a rocky crevice singing merrily like the music of Ulmo Lord of Waters unstained and seemingly unaware of grief and weariness in the world that beset the children of Iluvatar. Ferethor knelt down and cleansed his wounds by scooping up transparent water of cool tranquility for a while, but then he sighed and cried out, "Blood may be cleansed and wounds may heal, but who shall relieve us from despair and anguish of mind, save it be Iluvatar who dwells beyond our call for ever?"


It was almost dawn by the time he came back to the camp alone, limping. Few of the members of expedition were awake and could be seen in the shadows of darkness, others were still sleeping. 'A new stage of the journey opens before us.' Ferethor munched thoughtfully upon a piece of cram as he watched the new dawn. 'Will we survive it? Will any?'

[Kransha]

“Grievous thoughts for a lady as you, ma’am.” Murmured Idruil, half under his breath as Maen Il Galoth turned away. He knew that she was worrying about the others who had not yet returned. Once again, he pried every volume of himself apart searching for more visible concern, but discovered none.

He’d lost too many dear to him. His sense of loss had been somehow sterilized by his past. Memories that clouded his mind in shadow flooded back to him in gruesome detail. He saw himself through new eyes, looking down from the White City’s walls on the field of Pelennor. He saw a pale light descending on both him and the fading memory, wrought with blurred vision as the man of Gondor watched himself flitting by from place to place in the dream-like memory. From level to level he had gone, searching in vain on the field below for any sign of his family’s heralded banner held aloft.

Idruil’s father did not return from that field alive, but instead borne on a crude bier by his fellow soldiers. As much as Idruil had befriended his parent, he could not feel the pain in his heart any longer. Despite emotional devastation, he did not mourn, he did not weep, and he never spoke of his father again. When his mother passed less than a year later, crushed by the loss of her husband’s life and her son’s soul, Idruil still showed no concern. He did not consider himself soulless, though he knew that he had slowly become less human as death of friends and loved ones stopped affecting him.

“Rest in peace, all ye who passed this day.” He said, more to himself than the others. At least Ferethor was alive, though he knew not how Atharen and Roryn were faring now. Hopefully, he vile bandits had abandoned the field. He felt no shame, but great regret at not forcing the issue and insisting to stay behind and fight with the others as he should’ve done in the first place.

He spoke up, looking to Maen and Crystal, “How long must we linger here? This dark day is passing and we must leave it where it lies. There is no use in mourning eternally, for it will only darken our own souls with misery, which is something we do not need. When do we continue our search?”

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal looked over at Ferethor and saw her mother's pendant in the mud. She reached over him and took it out. The precious metal and jewels now had caked mud. She rubbed it away. Her eyes glared at Ferethor.

"You know Ferethor this was my mothers. She gave it to me. Had it reengraved. It brings me luck and somehow helps with wounds. I gave you this luck so you might be alright. You know you shouldn't treat the person that just saved your life like common scum," Crystal said softly to him, her anger apparent but her voice not loud.

She had stepped out on a limb with Ferethor. She had offered her healing skills and techniques and her mother's necklace. Her most prized possession. One of the last reminders of her mother. The last reminders of Arty. He had been there the day that her mother had given her that necklace. It had been her sixteenth birthday. A day that should have been a joyous time. A day that shouldn't have ended in tragedy.

Her mother's illness had taken over her and she had died at her side. There wasn't anything that she could do about it. There was belief that her father had slowly poisoned her so he could send his troops to war. Arty had even said he had seen her father do it. As soon as those words tumbled out of Arty's mouth she had wished they hadn't. Her father had been right there and Arty had accused them.

General Dorian's anger was incomprehensible. He had grabbed Arty behind his neck and had thrown him outside. She had ran after her father, pleading and crying for his life. That was the day the beatings started. He threw Arty aside and had taken out all of his hatred and anger out on her body. Arty tried to save her, but General Dorian had started in on Arty. In the end Arty lay on the ground, heaving when her father brought out his bow and arrow. Arty was slain right before her eyes.

Now here was another man that was vunerable, that could use this luck and he was casting it aside. That was how he was, she guessed.

And there was another man that held her attention, somewhere out in the woods. He hadn't returned and it was likely that he never would.

Crystal sat back and gazed out into the woods, hoping for a miracle.

[Melisil]

Aelimur had sat silently, and cold as stone as the news of all the deaths passed through his ears. He looked to the ground in dismay. Swirling thoughts of everything were passing through his head untill Crystal started to ride off.

He looked up. Crystal was returning already, Ferethor with her! He's alive! Aelimur thought quickly. His eyes scanned where Crystal had found him.

He watched the spot tentively, hoping that maybe one other wanderer, in turn, would show up. Namely Atharan or Del. He stopped himself before too long though, as the words Maen had spoken moments before Ferethor showed up returned to his mind. “I regret to inform you all that one of our companions is dead. Del has been slain in battle.”

"No." he said silently to himself, "Never trust a wish." he continued on in his own thoughts, 'Del is dead. Roryn saw him fall... I think. Did he? Maybe he did survive, maybe Del stayed behind, and with some miraculous feat defeated our attackers!' Aelimur shook himself, 'Stop it Aelimur, you fool. He died, that's all there is. Ah, at least no more fell.

Aelimur had found somewhat of a friend in Del, and he wasn't sure how many of those he would find in this company. Many aquaintances, yes, allies, maybe. But friends? Probably not many. He scanned the crowd; Maen, she was his employer, as of yet, nothing much more to him.. Crystal, she could be a friend, he wasn't sure.. Ferethor, slightly, yes. Aelimur and Ferethor were slight friends. Carathir and Idruil, neither of them he knew much of yet. Roryn and Atharan, well Aelimur didn't know much of them yet either.. probably they would know each other as no more then people that had traveled together though.

Aelimur shook himself. He stood up, and walked over to Maen, "My lady, are we to continue on when Roryn and Atharan return? Or camp here?" he asked this almost mechanically. Although it wasn't habit, the death of anyone, whether he knew them well or otherwise, tended to make him seperated from others, so he asked as a means of keeping himself going and in touch with the group.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Golden and orange color mingled into a suffuse glow in high heaven of Arda, announcing the arrival of dawn. Swirling clouds seemed as if kindled with fire and snow-crowned Eryn Luin could be descried amid flowing mist.


When Ferethor limped dejectedly back to camp after a while, he found a strange trouble awaiting him at his arrival. Crystal was awake and glaring at Ferethor, obviously incensed at his treatment of her silver pendant. "You know Ferethor this was my mothers. You know you shouldn't treat the person that just saved your life like common scum," She spoke.


As if one aroused from a deep reverie Ferethor turned to her, his thoughtful glance questioning. "Crystal, I would not have thought this necklace was of great value to you if you lent it to me of all people. Only yesterday you seemed fain to slay me where I stand, if my remembrance does not fail me utterly. And if it comes to the question of defilement, better mud then accursed myself." Ferethor said mildly.


Nodding curtly at Crystal, he circled the glade in search for a place to be alone in his grief and guilt without any untimely interruptions of these nature. Finding no such secluded place, he watched the dawn break with an expression no one could fathom. Ferethor wondered if he was crazed for a moment before discarding that forboding thought.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal watched as Ferethor tried to find a place of seclusion. She sat and thought. Yes, it was true she had tried to kill him only a day prior but current events had caused her to see the error of her ways.

A member of their company was dead. A kind and wonderful man that she had wanted to get to know. Who knows what he could have been if he had only been given the chance.

She applied that to Ferethor. Who knows who he really is deep inside, protected by his rough and tough casing that he wore so proudly? Who really knew the man behind the sword? Who really knew Ferethor?

She got up and walked over to him softly. She stopped behind him, but didn't make a move to touch him in anyway. She licked her lips and swallowed.

"Ferethor, I apologize for my rash actions the other day. You seem so much like the men that my father leads that I was afraid. Afraid that you were an assassain that was coming along for the ride and waiting 'til the opportune time to catch me and take me back as some sort of prize. It was my fear that clouded my judgement. The only thing that I had to be suspicious towards you with was the fact that you knew my father," Crystal said. She paused as she took in a ragged breath.

"If you know my father, if you want to take me back as a prize to collect the reward, if you want to see me dead I don't care anymore. The reason I lent you my pendant was a sign of a peace offering. It was my way of saying even if we do not see everything eye to eye, I am placing my trust in you. Ferethor, I could have killed you with my healing. You were weak and vunerable and I could have killed you. But I could not. You are human and each human deserves a chance to be trusted. Even though you know my father, I decided at that moment to trust you no matter where that may lead," Crystal said as her head bowed.

She had no idea what Ferethor would think of her words. She had no idea if her trust would bring her to her end. She had no idea what would happen from here. She could only hope that her trust wouldn't be in vain.

"I wasn't allowed to grow up normally, Ferethor. That is my flaw. That I still must grow up. A flaw I've been over looking. I hope you forgive me and I hope that you and I could become friends at one point some day," Crystal sighed as she turned away. The camp loomed over her senses. Somewhere deep inside her she knew that this was the extent of their company now. They had lost two fine men, Del and Atharen. Her heat sadened, but she lifted her head and started to make her way over to the camp.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Crystal's brutal frankness took Ferethor at unawares, he who had only come to expect from the maiden what he would of himself - proud, stern, unrelenting for good or for evil. Ferethor wondered at the sudden change that had befallen Crystal, and then with dismay cast his hood over his raven-black hair to hide his expression of both amaze and... admiration.


"Your fears were not wholly unfounded, Crystal." Ferethor spoke bitterly yet softly, his thoughts straying back to the time when wrath came near the edge of swords. "I've done worse things than sending a young lass to certain death, in the name of duty and the good of the state. I've betrayed those who trusted me onto a bitter end, assassinated foes by poison and blade and treachery, and set ablaze a whole village leaving all its inhabitants to perish inthe devouring tongues of leaping flame. In the sacred name of Gondor, anything is excused."


And a stunned silence fell, broken only by chirping birds that greeted the dawn with joyful chatter. "Crystal, this world is hard, harsh and callous. You are young and yet full of dreams and ideals, and I would not fain have you marred and scarred thus in this accursed ARda. Is life so hard to enjoy that you offer me your trust and life so easily? Would you not try to free yourself from the uttermost depths of the abyss of despair that enmeshes your very will with strangling darkness?"


Ferethor paused and then said slowly, "If you will burden me still further by your trust, then I will not fail you in this. Yet would you for ever flee from General Dorian and your very linage, Crystal? He has the control of hundreds of soldiers at his disposal and you are bound to be caught one day or another. I say this to you, as a fellow person who have fortasted the bitterness of life, that you have to face up to him someday."


In the dread silence that followed, Ferethor took a deep breath and added, "If that time ever comes, there would be myself and the strength and power of soldiers of Minas Tirith behind you against his wrath. In this I promise not rashly or lightly." Ferethor added silently to himself, "If I live."

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal turned around and looked at Ferethor in surprise. He was promising his own strength, his troops, and his alliance. What he had just said could be considered an act of war against Rohan.

"You have no idea how much that means to me, Ferethor. I am placing my trust in you because I see now that you are only human. You have your fears as anyone else. I hope we can become allies or friends," Crystal said softly.

There was no hiding the surprise and amazement in her voice. Here was her first initial enemy at the start and now they were becoming an alliance. They were becoming friends.

Yet this change had started with in her. At first it had happened slowly, but when she was trying to heal Ferethor the end of her transformation. In her mind and in her heart she knew that she had no reason to jump to conclusions. She could own her fire, her spirit, her spunk without hurting another human being.

And that was what she had been doing. She had been inflicting her anger and mistrust against Ferethor. She felt sorry for that fact and regretted her actions.

"You are a different man, Ferethor. I would like to get to know you. I apologize for taking my anger, fear, and mistrust out on you. And I will make sure that you will live even if it takes my very life. You have that as my promise, Ferethor," Crystal promised.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Fair hemlock-leaves swayed to and fro gently in the breeze, and the dim darkness was driven out by mists of silver quivering and shimmering dawn-light. Stony and tarnished mountains tall could be descried afar off towering in barren majesty, crowned with whisps of cloud pale snow-woven.


"And I will make sure that you will live even if it takes my very life. You have that as my promise, Ferethor," Crystal whispered. "Let us hope that such things do not come to pass." Captain Ferethor answered, and then rose to his feet, fror he was afraid to speak more of his secret thoughts. Lord Dorian was overstepping his bounds if he actually tries to kill Crystal, though Ferethor was postivie that he would not do such a rash thing. Cruel and callous on some points, yes, but not crazy. If Dorian ever tries, though, he would be justified in...


Therefore he passed swiftly into the eves of the everygreen trees. Making his way through entangled vines of vivd green and passing by tall evergreens casting lenthening shadows, Ferethor came across a glade strewn with early fallen beechen leaves and adorned with wet yellow wild strawberry leaves. The golden-stained leaves of rowans danced to the rhythm of singing breese, and squirrels chattered as they fared about in a bustle of leaves. Sunlight gleamed through flitting leaves in patches of gentle light, and flowers blossoming seemed like beryls, rubies, and opals pale.


There Ferethor cast back his hood to allow for wider vision of this fair place, heedless of any peril that might assail him here. In there still the beauty that was wrought in ancient days seemed to linger and be preserved, unstained by passage of time nor lamentations uncounted. Then Ferethor stayed his steps in wonder, for Atharen the Ranger whom he deemed lost was thrusting his way through the lush woods.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal watched as Ferethor walked away. They had a friendship. Shaking and probably would not be without arguments as their views were so diverse in many ways, but a friendship nonetheless. She watched as he wandered and pulled his hood down from his head as if wanting to inspect the beauty of the land around them and their camp. She wondered what he was thinking about.

Crystal knew whom she was thinking about. It was starting to become dawn and there had been no sign of Atharen the Ranger, the center of her attentions. She had dispaired within the first hours that he had been killed, but her hope had slowly restored. She had held that hope until she saw the inevitable dawn.

Atharen was a ranger and would search for anyone that he believed was still alive, but he was also apart of the company and knew his importance to them. If he was alive he would have returned back to them much sooner. Crystal had finally given him up to the dead.

That is where, at least it seemed to her heart, where everyone she ever loved ended up. She waited here in the land of the living while the people that she doth love dwelled in the land of the dead.

She looked up once again and watched Ferethor and saw that he was concentrating his eyes on something. She saw the brush and trees and leaves move greatly and out of the woods stood Atharen.

Crystal gasped and her heart stopped. Atharen lived. He lived. Her love... She was sure she was seeing things. She watched as Ferethor and Atharen talked.

Her mind became unfrozen and helped her rise from her position. She stood and suddenly her legs started to go forward. She didn't run, she had no strength. Her knees quivered. She walked slowly over to them and stopped in front of Atharen. She pulled her hood off and swallowed hard.

"I believed that you had fallen to the hands of our enemies. Is it really you, Atharen or just a hopeful dream?" Crystal asked.

She reached out her hand slowly and touched his chest. Her hand recoiled. He was solid, proving he was not a dream. She stepped backward and fell to the ground as her legs tangled. She sat, looking up at Atharen in disbelief.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Arien's sun-vessel was climbing laborously into its zenith, its golden radiance illumining the aqua depths of high heaven. Pale birds that swells by the shores of blue Anduin circled overhead, flying far inland in seeking for food. Crimson and silver drops of flowers with their delicate stems and slender leaves flexed and wavered in the breeze laden with dews that reflected sunlight like silver and crystal flames.


"Thus we meet again, Atharen of the Rangers." Ferethor stirred and raised his grey gaze. "In this glade of encircling lush greenery in the midst of peace, as we did in the scene of flowing blood in the midst of strife! You return in good time, for others were already growing restless and new morn kindled high hope within us."

Ferethor was uncomfortably aware of his bloodstained robe and bandaged shoulder already drenched with blood, hastening to add with a wane smile, "As for myself, most of the blood is not mine anyway, and my shoulder is just a scratch." he would not wish to admit, least of all to Atahren of the Rangers, that he was ever grievious injured or showed weakness. 'Of course, he'd probably know without my telling, in all probability.'


Then Crystal, who had traced Ferethor's steps spoke with a slightly quivering voice that might have derived from amazement or joy. "I believed that you had fallen to the hands of our enemies. Is it really you, Atharen or just a hopeful dream?" Crystal asked. Ferethor's brow creased for a moment, then Ferethor clapped Atharen on the shoulder, saying, "Better deliver the news to the others, then." and leaving with a curt and brusque nod truely soldier-style.


Ferethor made sure that he didn't limp but walked with a desive, firm and steady step until Atharen and Crystal was out of sight. As soon as he did so, Ferethor winced and sat down by a silvery-barked tree to rest and wonder about Atharen's sudden appearance.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen smiled wryly as he shook his hood free of the dew from the low hanging branches, wet with dew and with the light rain of the previous night. Behind him, Roryn emerged from the trees, similarly pulling down his hood. Atharen shook his lightened hair slightly and grinned ironically at Crystal as he replied. "Hopeful dream? No, just me - come, I was gone for a few hours."

"Why?" Crystal replied very quickly, and a strange, unexpected tone in her voice made Atharen stop, examining her face with his eyes. She blushed and looked away which, in a way, made him even more suspicious.

"Myself and Roryn had...some business to attend to," Atharen replied quietly, meeting Ferethor's eyes. The Gondorian nodded, understanding, and inclined his head more definitely in silent thanks. Del was laid to rest. Atharen sighed slightly, then stretched, clicking his neck sharply before he turned in the direction Crystal had indicated before. "Come, I must tell Maen we are back and then we must be on our way. We have dallied too long - the Haradrim bandits were far out of their way, but there are others who roam these places."

"But we have you now."

Atharen paused and turned back to Crystal, thinking he must have misheard. "Pardon, my lady?"

Crystal hesitated, then ammended haltingly, "You two. Rangers. It makes it...safer. You know." She hesitated, holding Atharen's gaze, then gave a small, frustrated noise and moved past him.

Atharen watched her go, slightly bewildered. Had he offended her again? Such behaviour...He glanced at Ferethor, but it seemed the Captain found something amusing as he was smirking very slightly, before he followed Crystal. "Come, ranger - we must get back. And...thankyou," he gave a small smile, then followed Crystal briskly.

Atharen paused, waiting until Roryn was equal with him, then raised his eyebrows at his old comrade. Roryn simply grinned and moved on.

[Kransha]

Idruil stood, exercising his numb, chilled legs for the first time in long hours. The day had come, as he said the previous night when that veil of gloom descended. There was still a stinging darkness lingering in the air around him and the others, but the bright sphere in the sky brought sorely needed warmth as the seemingly barren wasteland of thought and land began opening up in color.

And that color began stirring in Idruil’s pallid features as he watched, one by one, his companions returning. He knew that Delphinious had perished, but the others had miraculously survived. Something alluding to a smile crept across the man’s cold features as he walked forward, assessing the ‘newcomers’ as they headed into the innards of the makeshift camp, chatting quietly amongst themselves.

He turned towards Maen, who was still sitting opposite him, and took a few small steps toward her. To the best of his knowledge, she was still brooding, but he could not tell. All of his comrades seemed to be enigmas all their own, and Lady Maen Il Galoth was no exception. Heading to her, he leaned down and spoke, trying to make his course, hard voice sound more pleasant in these hard times.

“Miss Il Galoth, all those who have survived the fray have now returned. There is naught to do but go on at this point and, if I might be so bold, I suggest we make haste. Though a friend has passed this night, he will not be forgotten if we continue on. Atharen and Roryn have returned, Ferethor is so far well-mended, and to linger here too long would only leave us all vulnerable to a possible counter-attack by the vile rogues that accosted us and took the live of your…of our friend, Delphinious.”

He pulled himself back up again, to his full height, taking a quick glance back at the others.

“My lady, it is time for us to leave this forsaken place.”

[Eorl of Rohan]

At Crystal's strightforward and direct questioning, Atharen seemed rather unwilling to answer. "Myself and Roryn had...some business to attend to," Atharen said quietly, his meaningful gaze turning to Ferethor. 'Del, I guess.' Ferethor nodded slightly in acknowledgement and some thanks as he met Atharen's glance with an alert and thoughtful one of his own. 'I should've done it... If my heart was not too heavy and sorrowful within me to think of such matters.'


Ferethor said curtly, as he looked over to the direction where others were waiting, "Come, I must tell Maen we are back and then we must be on our way." But Atharen and Crystal was conversing with each other still and apparently was heedless of his advice. Seeing Roryn roll his eyes and knowing that he must be thinking the same thing, Ferethor grinned and winked like a child whose prank has succeeded, a rare movement indeed for his grave countenance. "We're all human, after all." He whispered to Roryn. Ferethor's spirit was high indeed, for the journey would start again and all distrust and hatred was renounced and dissolved in this company.


But Ferethor was grim and morose again a moment later, as was benefitting one of a soldier and one who had tasted the embittered life. "If you will, ranger - we must get back." Hesistation. "And... I must thank you." Thank someone - how long it had been when Ferethor felt a genuine thanks and gratitude for one of his race, and when had he ever voiced it unless it was to Meren five years ago? Yet not only for Del's burial. The fact that Ferethor was a human with weaknesses, fruitless longings and with all the dark fruition of Atani that Morgoth sowed long ago - and Atharen never accused him of it. Yes, that was it... A great gift indeed, one that would make a man above a man.


Once again Ferethor wondered what might have Atharen been if he was the captain of guards of Minas Tirith instead of himself. Rule and order, strict to govern and justice without prejudice - that was what he had sought to achieve in the ranks of Minas Tirith and all his life. Ferethor had succeeded to some degree, but what in Arda has it achieved except for to inflict the ruled with fear for those that govern them? As a captain he perceived the minds of the soldiers with keen awareness but beyond that, to understand them, he'd never gone. Perhaps...


"Thank you." He said one more time under his breath, this time for giving him light where darkness reigned. But at the next moment he was Ferethor again, and he made towards the camp with his face drawn in deep thought as if he walked in timeless places of his memory.


Birds began chirping.

[Everdawn]

Maén had been lost in thought for the time which had passed. Another who did so was Carathir, she noticed him watching her. But she thought that it was the young man’s good heart and the pledge that he had made to Lysia which had made him do so. He was strange, and she knew this. Never in all her visits to Lysia’s house had she spoken to him, not a single time. It would not matter now, he was another of her protectors, and she supposed that he would stay true to his word, after all, it was Lysia who had begged the King to spare his life.

Idruil who also seemed slightly alienated from the bunch spoke to her again, surveying the landscape warily. “My lady, it is time for us to leave this forsaken place.”

Maén nodded. “Yes, We will.”

Atharen had returned to camp in the meantime. She would have spoken to him but for the excitement and a seemingly tender Miss Heart. In time though, Atharen came to her. He nodded in the way which he did when something was amiss, “My lady, Del is dead.” Sounding not sure of what context to phrase the death message.

Maén stood. “I know. Roryn told me.” There was silence in all who had stopped to listen. “Don’t look to be sad. I knew the man barely a week, he was a good employee during that time, and we shall miss him in my protection.” There were several sharp glances from some of her compatriots.

“Takes a cold woman” muttered Ferethor, though Maén did not acknowledge it. Rather she picked up her belongings and mounted faithful Hittai.

“We ride now.” She said.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn grinned at Atharen and whispered in his ear, "Never try to understand a woman, my friend." Atharen chuckled and nodded. Roryn went and sat down and started to build a fire. finishing it he struck it alight with two hunks of stone. Warming his hands against it he took a sausage out of his horse's pack, and stuck it on a knife. He toasted it over the fire for a moment, before biting off the end.

"We should move on..." he said, "There are still bandits, and it will not take them long to find us again. For now they are angry and confused, but they will soon become angry and focused. We must mvoe swiftly, and without trail."

[Eorl of Rohan]

The noon sun was straying towards the ground again by the time all assembled in the camp and readied themselves for the nect part of the great journey that lay hid ahead.


Ferethor broke off a dry branch for lack of anything else to do. Dead beechen leaves showered down from the stick as Ferethor cast it afar into the forest with a flick of his wrist. The shoulder seemed decently mended, at least enough to move it with ease, and it amazed him that it should heal so quickly when last time he recieved an arrow he wandered long in the threshold of death.


"By the Valarukar!" Ferethor swore softly when he felt for his blade and found it not. "Damn the fate, I've left it at the scene of battle. No use going back for it now... No use..." He was not a person who tarried with trifles.


Maen slung himself over her steed Hittai who persisted in jumping about like a pony, crying, "We ride now." A shadow passed over Ferethor's expression at that, as Maen had used the word 'ride' and he was not sure he could keep up with the company on foot in this status. But he shrugged nonechalantly as he knelt to check his bootlaces before leaving. Let tomorrow remain tomorrow!

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal heard Maen tell them to ride. She looked over at Ferethor. He was still injured and she assumed he was still in pain. She took her horse's nose and made the horse look at her.

"Now listen to me. I know you haven't had much time to get use to any of us. But there is a man that needs you to carry him much more then I need you. Be gentle with him," Crystal said softly. The horse snorted and gave a type of nod which Crystal guessed as he understood. She took the reigns and brought the horse over to Ferethor.

"I know you must be in pain. Please, take my horse. It won't hurt me to walk a while," Crystal said as she put the reigns in his hand. With that she turned away quickly, so he couldn't object and hurried off towards the others.

[Eorl of Rohan]

The automn-stained leaves overhanging the glade were swaying with the breeze as if waving them on. Each of them seemed to be wrought in living flame as it met the full ray of the sun, sparkling like gems of many different hue and shapes.


"Crystal..." Captain Ferethor called out and quelled his impulsive anger and resentment directly that did credit to his control, seeing as he was proud. He continued when she looked back.


“I thank you for taking thought for me, lass, but I am as healed as I am likely to be for weeks - and I will not take any favor from you, be it great or small. Therefore take your horse! We will have weary and long travail ahead of our journey and we wouldn’t have you straggle behind if you had to walk on foot and couldn’t catch up with us. As for myself, I’ve been through harder marches.”


“Besides…” And at this Ferethor smiled half-heartedly in an attempt for lightness as he handed the rein back to Crystal with nonechalance. “I think this horse likes you better then myself, for that matter.”

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal nodded and let out a soft, light laugh that seemed to ring through the forest. She bowed her head at Ferethor.

"If you insist. I'm sure the horse does like me better. At any time you want my horse, I will gladly walk. I'm not unuse to enormous amounts of walking. I've been walking around, trying to hide from General Dorian's men for over two years. A little more walking wouldn't hurt me. Please remember that my offer will stay for as long as you may need it," Crystal said. She patted the horse's face and jumped up into the saddle. She smiled at Ferethor then coaxed the stallion forward.

It was different for her to have let out that laugh, that much she knew. She hadn't laughed since over five years. She wasn't one that ever had the opportunity to laugh at any occassion. It had felt so wonderful to laugh once again. She had forgotten about laughter. She made a concious effort to try to laugh once again. There had been too much pain and sorrow in her life. There had to be time for laughter and happiness once again.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen looked up sharply as Crystal laughed. The sound was like intangible water, like immaterial gold flowing through the air...a few lines of a song sung by a sweet voiced minstrel who had once passed through his mother's Inn came to Atharen's mind as he looked at Crystal.

The lady of the wood is fair of face,
And gold spun fine around it flows.
Fair and chaste, her voice is pure,
She sings as nightingale in midnight grove.
Fair and chaste, her voice is pure.
Fair and chaste, her heart is yours...

The ranger blinked as the last line crept up on him by surprise, and he very nearly blushed at the foolish thought. Daft and fanciful, your mind is, fool, he remanded himself, then grinned slightly. As the company began to move, Atharen moved his mare forward to Crystal's side and bent slightly in his saddle to speak from a few inches above her head.

"My Lady Crystal," he murmured, and she spun around, shocked. Atharen continued, unphased, his dark eyes unmoved. "Crystal, you cannot walk whilst we ride."

"I am strong enough, Atharen," she replied proudly, and subconciously straightened up slightly, her chin rising: every inch the daughter of a warrior.

I do not doubt it, he replied mentally, but aloud said, "Aye, but 'tis impractical to wear you out: if we were to be attacked again you would be of no use and would not be able to get away to help Maen either. My mare can carry two - will you join me?"

His logical reasoning made it seem like purely a practical arrangement, but for once Atharen was not meeting the other's eyes as he spoke. As he finished, he lowered his gaze to hers, knowing they would give nothing away to either Crystal or his other companions, although he was secretly, ridiculously, a little nervous of what she would reply.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal looked up at Atharen in surprise. He was asking her to ride with him, something that she wanted to do very much. She would be in the closet proximity of him. Her heart raced and her face flushed.

"That makes perfect sense. I was going to walk beside my stallion so he wouldn't tire when Ferethor needed him. He refused my offer. I accept your offer, Atharen," Crystal replied.

She took a step backward and tried to figure out a way that she could ride. Would she ride behind or in front of him? She had no idea. She had never rode a horse with someone else before and especially not a man that held her very thoughts. She looked up at the horse and felt very small and swallowed hard. I must look like such an idiot, just standing here, Crystal thought sadly. Her red face deepened in color. She wanted to sink into the ground, but she stood there and hoped that Atharen would save her from her embarrasement.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen swivelled around to dismount smoothly on the other side of the horse, the side Crystal was not standing on. Coming around the front of the horse, he gestured towards the horse. "If you get on first...I will sit in front, if that is alright with you? It allows me to ride more easily..."

Crystal nodded quickly, apparently relieved then, after a moment's hesitation, she put one foot in the stirrup. The horse was obviously a few hands larger than she was used to though so, with utmost carefullness, Atharen put his hands on her waist. She gasped very quietly, and Atharen counted to three very carefully before boosting her jump. She mounted smoothly, and turned to the other side, fiddling with one stirrup, meaning Atharen was unable to see her face. As she gave him no indication that she was or was not ready, the ranger gave her a moment, then placed both gloved hands on the saddle in front of Crystal and one foot in the stirrup, and swung up carefully. The saddle was of one of the more old-fashioned and less fancy designs, and so had virtually no pommel, making it easier for him to slide back until he was just in front of Crystal.

Taking a deep breath and pretending he could not feel her prescence quite so accutely, he gathered the reigns in one hand and turned his head slightly over his shoulder. "Ready?"

A nod came in reply - Crystal seemed mute. Atharen set the horse walking and, as he felt Crystal's hands slip around his waist, he moved into a trot, hoping the sound of the mare's hooves would cover that of his beating heart...

[Crystal Heart]

She had gasped at his touch. So soft and gentle. She had been surprised. She now sat behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist. He started forward. She could feel the horse's rythm, but there was a different one as well. Suddenly she realized it was Atharen's heart beat. It was racing in such a way as if he had been running away from an enemy. She took a deep breath. Could he feel something for me? Crystal asked herself. She shook the thought away. There was no possible way that a Ranger and a daughter of Rohan....

She thought about it, but immediately stopped. She didn't want Atharen to have any guess of what she was thinking. She looked up at his face, but couldn't speak. Every thought in her head flew away. She just sat watching him, wondering what he was thinking.

[Everdawn]

CARATHIR

Carathir’s mind was laden with thoughts as he watched the small form of his mistresses niece ride in front of him. She had, he observed, the same demeanour of her aunt. In the soft light he remembered how he came from death himself.


“My Lord.” Came the voice from the far side of the citadel. At once there was a slight murmur from the crowd, harsh whispers and hurried undertones before Elessar raised a hand to silence the crowd which had gathered at court. A woman strode forward and bowed. She was in her forties, but he could not be sure, for there was something within her eyes which made her look young, and then there was something which had eroded her very soul.

“Lady Il Galoth” he remarked, giving her permission to speak.

“This boy my Lord, Why should he be put to death for being who he is? An Easterling, nay, he is a man, a man like all of you.” She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Then what would you in your wisdom have me do with him Lady Lysia? Let him away to form another alliance and another chance to overthrow the West?” Elessar answered.

“Like Guriel? Like he who slain my husband? No my lord, I would not. Let him come to my estate, there I shall make him learned in the ways of western men.”

“Lady Lysia- ”

“Please Lord! He is a child!” The women would not let him go.

“Very well Lady Il Galoth, he may be your charge.”


Lysia had been hard in her teachings, but never had he seen anyone with so kinder heart and passion for living. Maén as he had seen in the years he resided at Lysia’s shared them. So brighter child that she was Lysia’s pride; however scorned she was by her parents.

He to had been scorned; Scorned by everyone from the street sweeper to the king himself. Everywhere he went he knew there would be those who would follow him with their eyes, and he hated them for it. Carathir turned his sight from the Gondorian woman and spat upon the ground. The pure Gondorian woman, with her high blood, her noble brow and her powerful family; the same clan of men who were responsible for the downfall of the east. He would see to it that they would rise again, and if Maén Il Galoth could lead him to her renegade cousin, he may well in fact help him. Then he would slay the pretty Gondorian himself and pour her blood upon the steps of Elessar’s citadel for all of the west to see.

[Kransha]

Idruil again sat nestled in the saddle of Ecthelion again, leaning forward and looking out in front of him and the group with cold, focused eyes. The horse’s bouncing along the rough terrain was severely subdued by the solemn demeanor of the rider, who steadied it and goaded it forward with more composure and reserve. He wheeled the low-headed steed through the ranks of his companions, over viewing them as he had already done so many times. The man of Minas Tirith looked pensive between the haunches of his mount. He took a deep breath and leaned back, reclining against the rear end of the saddle and contemplating.

Things were technically going well, despite the loss of Delphinious. The other thought dead had returned and many of his comrades seemed to have to dark shroud lifted from them, especially the girl Crystal, who was riding just in front of him on the horse of the ranger, Atharen. Idruil was not entirely contented, but he felt that he was still content enough, more so than some members of the company. The loss they’d felt in Delphinious was simply not as apparent to the man as he kicked his horse into a faster pace to pass Atharen’s steed and then slow to let it catch up with him. As he philosophized inwardly, the two horses soon ended up cantering along side by side. In a vague and weak attempt to get a conversation going amid the dreary atmosphere, Idruil goaded Ecthelion towards Atharen’s mount until he was directly flanking it. He looked past Crystal, who sat behind the ranger, to Atharen himself and spoke.

“You are certainly a dauntless man, Atharen ranger, and courteous as well. I must admit, having never met a ranger in all my days, I had not expected one to be so….so courageous and level-headed. The stories I was told of rangers in Pelargir made them out to be much more stubborn and chauvinistically righteous than you are. As a former soldier of Gondor, I can rightly say that I am glad to know a man in which all the chivalry of the last age still lives.”

He turned slowly from Atharen, noting in his mind that Ferethor was also oddly like that, but in a different way. The man’s eyes shifted down again, examining only the ground in front of Ecthelion’s bobbing muzzle as he wondered if the ranger would respond or not. His heavy eyelids were drifting closed, but he promptly realized it and the shot back open, blinking several times before settling back into their gaze.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Captain Ferethor steadily made his way through the thinning trees, without speaking to anyone or being spoken to. Most of the leaves were fallen, an hose that remained on the trees seemed withered and lifeless - at least, so it seemed to Ferethor.

Others were all murmuring to each other - probably about their future moves. That made Ferethor think... How would Maen react to when he revealed himself and forbade her to kill her worst adversary? Ferethor winced at the thought that continued on his way.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

“You are certainly a dauntless man, Atharen ranger, and courteous as well. I must admit, having never met a ranger in all my days, I had not expected one to be so….so courageous and level-headed. The stories I was told of rangers in Pelargir made them out to be much more stubborn and chauvinistically righteous than you are. As a former soldier of Gondor, I can rightly say that I am glad to know a man in which all the chivalry of the last age still lives.”

Roryn let out a snort of laughter from behind him. Idruil turned and frowned deeply, before turning back to Atharen. "Ah, Idruil." Roryn chuckled, "Trust me, Atharen is chauvanistic and stubborn, he just tries not to let it show." Atharen also shot a glance back at Roryn, and Roryn saw a trace on real anger there, but it soon passed as Atharen's face broke into a grin. "As are you, of course, Roryn." he retorted. "Oh I know..." Roryn replied swiftly, and chuckled...

[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen quickly covered the anger that had darted momentarily onto his face, berating himself for his foolishness. He jests, you fool, he doesn't mean any real harm...

"As are you, of course, Roryn," he replied quickly.

"Of course," came the equally speedy reply followed by a chuckle. Atharen shot a look across at Idruil to see what the man thought of the conversation, and saw the ex-soldier was smiling very slightly.

"Ah, I could tell a few stories about Roryn, certainly..." Atharen started, trailing away as he shot a smile at the other ranger who put on an exaggeratedly mortified expression, then wagged a finger at Atharen.

"Ah, now theres an area where you can beat me - keeps himself to himself, Atharen, ever a mystery man...but hey, if you want rumours!" All three men laughed and Atharen saw Crystal smile out of the corner of his eye. But what Roryn said was true - the ranger usually did keep himself to himself, and he hadn't been able to talk as easily for months, having been mainly on his own. Strange, it was, but not a bad thing, as his heart felt suddenly light, despite the seriousness of their expedition...

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal watched the woods around them, but didn't truly see them. She was thinking about the obsticles that were sure to arise as their journey continued. She now hated to think that anyone else could possibly be dead by the end of this quest. She especially hated the idea that it would be Atharen that scared her once again in to thinking that he had died.

Riding behind him was so much different then riding on a horse all by herself. Even though her face didn't show it, she was feeling very excited. Her heart was racing and her breathing ragged. She was the closet to Atharen that she had ever been since the journey. She was holding his waist for goodness sake! She thought, as a smile washed over her. Under normal circumstances she would never have done such a thing. It wasn't custom to the ways she had been brought up to have known and still followed, sometimes against her better judgment.

She wasn't sure she should be so happy about the situation, but she couldn't help but be elated. Somewhere deep in her heart she knew that this was her deepest wish, or at least one of them. She hadn't realized that she had wanted to be near him so badly, but there was the thoughts and the knowledge that they had existed deep within her.

She was afraid that Atharen would notice. She was afraid that he would sense her thoughts and stay away from her. She wasn't sure she could handle that. If he stop speaking or being kind to her then she wasn't sure her new happiness wouldn't cease into another depression that she was custom to.

If only he hadn't grabbed her elbow in the Inn. If he hadn't and had been so kind to her right off then she would have just ignored him and thought the same way about him as she did all men, that they were decietful and cunniving and something that you shouldn't triffle with. That was her perception until she had met Atharen. If anyone should ask then she would say that it had been Atharen that had started it all.

But that wasn't true. Even if he had never touched her, never spoke a kind word she still would have had some sort of an attraction towards him. There was something about his eyes and his ways that made her feel this way. He was different and she could see it by just looking at him.

Her thoughts wandered as they rode along.

[Everdawn]

Hittai kept a steady pace along the small winding road, they had been riding for a long time, and yet Maén had not seemed to notice that she was beginning to tire atop her steed. Still her resilience to make sufficient ground before another day had passed she would not allow her to yield to her body. Sighing she took a swig form her flask and attacked it back to Hittai’s saddle. The wind was picking up, and its chill was not welcomed by her, it seemed to call something which even she could not yet understand.

Turning her thoughts from the eerie becomings of the landscape she stopped Hittai in her tracks and waited for the others to catch up. It was Carathir, however who was right behind her and she had not noticed. He had a strange, almost psychotic glint in his eye, the one she had seen when Del had been killed. It caused her breath to be caught in her throat. ‘Twas strange to be suddenly shaken by the young man who had always seemed so coy and afraid of her, but none the less Maén was unsettled. She was about to speak to him when the wind picked up again this time causing Hittai to rear-up. Maén controlled the animal and looked back to Carathir for help, but he was nowhere to be seen, suddenly there was the familiar sound of horses hooves and the others passed the bend in the track, Carathir with them.

I am surely going mad she muttered under her breath.

“What is it my lady, you look blanched” asked Aleimur, a slight grin on his face.

“You would not believe me even if I told you.” She said wide-eyed.

‘Try me” he said riding his horse beside hers.

Maén looked back at Carathir who seemed to be glancing to the woods and thought for a minute. “Carathir, I saw him here a minute ago, he had the look of… like he wanted to kill me.”

Aleimur laughed before looking at the serious expression on Maén’s face which was serious. “My lady, even if you did, it could not have been, he was with us all the time.” Maén nodded and continued to wait for the remainder of the company.