Blue Sky, Night Thunder: The Fool's Errand

[Kettle of fish]

The boy looked at the three with a little trepidation after the last reply by one of the women. He looked at the man again, as if reappraising him. The lady had said 'our daughter'. So this was one of those outlandish men who had two wives. The boy was starting to wonder if he had gotten in over his head.

First he had to find out more.

"Why don't we move to a dryer spot instead of standing out here and looking like crazies."

If they did turn out to be a bit turned in the head, he could always nick off. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a young'un just slip out of sight. Good, so the word was out that he was with three strangers. Street rules meant it was his turn to leave a message detailing if they were under his protection, people to be avoided, or good targets to be fleeced.

[Susan Delgado]

"Certainly!" Eolinda cried. At this suggestion, she considered the boy more than halfway convinced, if not completely convinced. "Where's the nearest inn? We'll discuss it there."
"This way," The boy said through clenched teeth. He was becoming a little annoyed with this woman's enthusiasm.

The inn the boy led them to was the Pig's Ear and it actually wasn't the nearest in absolute terms, but rather the nearest that wouldn't get him locked up, or worse.
When they reached it, they all went inside and took a secluded table in the back corner.
The innkeeper did recognise the boy, however, and diligently ignored them, no matter what Remdil tried to do to get his attention. Eventually he gave up and sat in his corner, glumly drinkless.

They began with introductions. The boy seemed startled to learn that Dineniel was an Elf; apparently he'd never seen one before.

[Cimmerian]

A week was too long indeed, Ozracles grumbled. Now was the time to strike for his well honed battle instincts kept him wary of the fact that the party was being followed, albeit by some great distance. Himelilek had sensed it too, but she had faith in her own skills with her deadly blade and chain. And what she recently witnessed of the barbarian, she knew there was no chance for anyone against them in a melee. Thorondruin however coule prove to be the weak link in the chain for already he seemed to have softened towards the vagrant boy and the green elf maid.
Himelilek's eyes flashed as she thought up of ways to manipulate Thorondruin and Carathon. Ozracles already seemed to be under her will and Carathon would be easy. Thorondruin would, however, be another matter.

Suddenly one of the sacks on the stolen horse wriggled and a soft moan emitted from it. Both the elves heard it clearly and Hithundiel raised a questioning eyebrow as Himelilek stiffened. Ozracles steered his large black back to where the stolen horses cantered behind the party. Livia had regained consciousness and the barbariab could not afford that.
Thorondruin and Carathon were too far up ahead to notice anything as Himelilel distracted the other elf. Ozracles silenced the startled innkeeper's daughter with a sharp crack at the sack.

"This horse has a bad stomach... it will pass," the bald man grinned.

Himelilek sighed slightly and glanced at Hithundiel, who hastened to ride away from the two barbarians and towards their leader.

[Kettle of fish]

At the Pig's Ear, the boy made sure that the sat where he could see the rest of the room. His left foot shifted uneasily as though preparing to take flight.

Without consciously thinking about it, the boy had already mapped out the three easiest ways out of the inn, knew which tables could be tipped over, and that the dandy drinking himself stupid on the other side of the room had twenty five silver pieces in his belt pouch.

His eyes flicked over to the innkeeper who was studiously ignoring him. If it hadn't been for these three people with him, he would have gotten him thrown out before he could take three steps into the door.

Of course, the boy thought with a grin, Within two steps, he could have swiped the money bag of the man closest to the door, picked up his ale and tossed it to the other side of the room to cause a distraction, and tweaked the innkeeper's beard.

He was still having trouble with what they were trying to tell him. The one called Dineniel was something called an Elf. Did that mean she grew antlers at night time or something - no wait, that was an elk.

The man was looking miserable and trying to get the innkeeper's attention.

"Take out a silver piece" he told him, ignoring the immediate suspicion that anyone gave him when he told them to take out their money. With obvious reluctance, a silver coin was handed over. The boy could see the eyes of Dineniel watching his fingers closely. But he wasn't about to snitch this one - not when it would jeopardise his chances of earning more. That would be stupidity.

Leaning forward, he spun the coin on the table top, pretending to be completely entranced by the delicate pattern of the coin's whirling. Out of the corner of his eye, he could almost see the innkeeper's ears prick up at the sound.

[ October 05, 2002: Message edited by: Kettle of fish ]

[Belin]

Hithduiniel sat straight up on her horse and pretended not to notice anything. The horse knew better, just as she knew its disdain for them, and for her. They were cruel; she was incompetent. She had this in common with the beast, however: it remained dignified and unexpressive, obeying what it was told until it had a chance at something better.

She took inventory of the company. There was only one other elf, a wild-eyed Sindar whose face she couldn't read any more than if it had been an orcs. For the matter of that, perhaps there was something orcish about her taken as a whole. Hithduiniel glanced at Himelilek's wrists and neck, looking for the scars they said that orcs often bore, but was discouraged by the other's suspicious glare before she could tell for certain. The rest were of a race she'd never seen before: Men, or so she assumed. The casual onlooker might take the big one for an orc as well. Then there was the little foxy fellow, who was about as disgustingly pathetic and abject as anyone she'd met. He would have done well to take the horses' example as she herself did. And the other man? Ah, it mattered not. She tossed back her hair in contempt of all of them and their ugly smiles. They would lead her to better things, whether they cared to or not.

And then there was the bag, which had stretched out slightly with what Hithduiniel thought was a resigned sigh. Ah, yes, the bag. She reined in the horse slightly and was surprised when it obediently slowed. She would very much like a better view. Ozracles, however, had sharper eyes than she'd given him credit for (though everything she had ever learned had told her that Men were half-blind as well as half-deaf). "You admire our bag, do you, elfmaiden? Perhaps you'd like one?"

She didn't flinch. "Surely it would be a grievious discourtesy to take your bag, when you've already had to supply me with a horse and food?"

"Who said anything about food?"

And there he had her; she was most certainly at their mercy in more ways than she'd cared to consider. She could think of no better retort than to smirk haughtily at him and ride on ahead.

And to look ahead. The huge empty treeless expanse of the plain stretched out before her. She fought the impulse to shut her eyes and stop the horse. "O Orome," she whispered, as the horse slowed of its own accord.

Himelilek noticed her pallor and began to laugh. Thorondruin rode up beside her and kicked her horse, which began cantering again, without a start at the assault.

"Do you think you're in a walking party?" he asked roughly.

Yes. "Where am I to think I am? You've told me nothing."

"Very true. Keep it at a canter," he answered, speeding up himself. Hithduiniel made a face at his back. Orcs, all of them. Who did they think they were dealing with here?

Not, she answered herself, someone who didn't realize how much would have to be revealed when they camped.

[ October 11, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[Phoenix Solitude]

Carathon leaned forward to get a good look at the newcomer. He rode up to her, silently, so she did not know he was coming.
"Hello." The girl jumped. "You shouldn't ride with us. They are bad. They'll hurt you."
The girl seemed surprised by his way of speaking. He repeated it in elvish. Still she looked confused.
"Do you not speak our language?" he whispered. He shook his head slightly.
"I'm Carathon. who are you?"

[Susan Delgado]

Throndruin rode his horse brusquely between Carathon and Hithduiniel, to separate them. "No talking!" He shouted as he rode past.

Hithduiniel followed him to the front of the group. "What do you mean, 'no talking'? I can talk if I want!" She said with Elvish ire.

Thorondruin threw back his head and laughed. He said, "Not when I'm in charge! Right now, you do what I say, and that's ride!"

Ozracles rode up behind the girl and grabbed her reins. "Want me to teach her a lesson? There's some trees over there. It'll be nice and private."
He started to lead the Hithduiniel's horse in that direction, but let go with a sigh when Thorondruin said, "No, Ox, there's no time. Right now, we ride!" He spurred his horse to a full gallop and the others followed, some with less enthusiasm than others.

Sorry for my long mental absence (that is, for not posting)

[Childlike Empress]

Lenilos watched the thieves carry off not only his sister, but half the winter store of food as well. For a minute he couldn't do anything but stare at the horses' departing tails, then he ran toward the main house to get help. Halfway there, he remembered that no one was home other than him and his sister. He kicked a rock and ran back toward the barn. Looked like he'd have to just follow on his own.

He started to saddle his horse, but realized that if he wanted to sneak behind them and not be noticed, he'd have to go on foot. A horse would be too noticible. he quickly packed some food and supplies and started after them.

He followed at a distance until they left the trees and started riding across the grasslands East of the forest. Now what was he supposed to do? There was not a tree or bush for hundreds of leauges, almost to the foot of the Ered Luin. Where were they going, anyway? Osiriand? What would a bunch of men want in Osiriand? Nervously, he pranced from foot to foot. What was he to do? If he left the trees, they'd notice him for sure. Maybe he should have taken a horse after all, risked being noticed so he could ride up behind his sister's horse and grab her and ride away before the others could catch him. It was too late now though, he didn't have a horse and that was that. If only he could steal one of their's! They had a lot more horses than a group that size would need.
The decision was finally made for him. It was either follow them at a greater didtance than he had been so far, or stand here forever and let them go completely out of sight, even his Elvish sight. With a sigh, he started off carefully, slowly and quietly, hoping he wouldn't be seen.

[Kettle of fish]

The boy knew not to waste time, but to get down to business straight away. When life was uncertain, you ate your bread quickly to avoid it getting stolen.

"Where exactly are you going?" he asked, finger poised on the coin to spin it a second time.

As he waited for the answer, he mentally rearranged the top nine best ways to get out of the inn. With that huge block a man moving closer to the bar, number three and five had considerably changed...

[Belin]

Remdil stared at the ragged urchin for a few moments. What difference could one place or another make to a boy like this, who slept in streets and ate what he could get? What was destination to one whose alternative was to go nowhere? The question was as absurd as the boy's presence.

"We'll stay here, for the moment," he answered. "We had a late start, I'll admit, but we may have still arrived before the--the people we seek." The word that had come first to his mind struck him as unsuitable for one so young, not to mention undignified before elves. "Or they may be here already. You know the news of the town, of course?" he added as the boy suddenly began to strike him as at least modestly useful. Eolinda did think of everything, after all.

"Do you think they're stupid?" suddenly put in the Elf, who had been rather silent ever since they had reached Neniant. She was staring at him with an expression that (for once) more closely approximated curiosity than impertinence.

Remdil blinked blankly at her for a moment before answering.

"Only a great fool would leave a town with nothing to eat and anger behind him."

Dineniel rolled her eyes at him. "Is that you this time, or is that your grandfather speaking again?"

"Who are you to talk about my grandfather?" cried Remdil. Even the supposedly oblivious innkeeper flinched slightly.

"All right, you lunatics, enough," said Eolinda. She turned the boy, who had been watching attentively. "We aren't certain where we may end up," she told him in a very polite, almost apologetic tone. "But we'll follow our daughter and whoever is with her. We can't say where they're going" --Remdil sat up straight as a jolt ran through his memory-- "but such is the nature of our purpose, d'ye see?" She leaned toward him, and something about her hard, shrewish face struck him as suddenly... "tragic" was the word he would have used, had he known of such things.

[Susan Delgado]

Peering into her face, the boy suddenly remembered Blind Tobey and the other little kids back at the camp. He remembered his mother's face before she went away, when he'd been happy. He remembered a time when he was very young, before Blind Tobey had come, when he had watched in astonishment as his slender mother grew suddenly fat and then thin again and how she'd cried when she told him he wouldn't have a sister after all. He remembered the desolation he'd felt when he'd returned home and found her gone without a trace. And in the midst of this string of memories, he realised that this woman was looking for her own daughter. She and he were on opposite sides of the same gulf, staring at each other. If he'd known the terms, the boy might have said their feas were intertwined. As it was, all he could do was sit there and stare at this woman he'd never met, but whom he knew better than anyone in the world.

Eolinda got none of this, of course. All she saw was the boy staring at her wide eyed, saying nothing. It was very unnerving. She glanced around at the others, but it seemed she was on her own; Dineniel was studiously staring at the ceiling and Remdil nursed his ale as if it were the last he'd ever have. She cleared her throat to speak, but before she could, the boy woke from his revery.

"I'll go with you," the boy said, garnering the full attention of Remdil and Dineniel as well as Eolinda.

"You will?" Eolinda was a bit surprised. The boy had been so reticent!

The boy nodded. "I'll help you find your
daughter. But you have to help my family too."

Remdil snorted. "Can't be much of one, on the street," he muttered under his breath. One of the women kicked him under the table, causing him to wince.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Dineniel asked more politely.

"I want you to give food to Blind Tobey and some of the other children in the town."

The others stared at him.

Eventualy, Remdil broke the silence. "Food...for all the children in Neniant?"

"No, no, only a dozen or so. The ones that're under my protection. Look, do you want my help or not? This is my condition." He sat back and waited for the others' responses.

[ October 29, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Halbereth Diagona]

>Sorry if this isn't up to Sol's standards<
Carathon tried hard to stay in the saddle. It was raining hard now, and everytime he allowed himself to be jolted out of the saddle, it got soaked, and he would get wet. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky, and his horse reared, throwing him off and into a puddle of mud.
"What" he thought angrily, getting up amidst laughter (mostly Oz's) "Is it with me and muddy puddles?" He looked for his horse, but it was nowhere to be found. He ran behind for a while, but finally pulled up the courage to run up alongside Thoronduin's horse.
"Excuse me, uh, sir, uh,Thoronduin. My horse ran away."

[Kettle of fish]

"Nobody strange has come through yet. Cept for you lot."

The boy paused.

"I'm going with you. I have to, anyway, cos Gus tells me. And listening to Gus is what keeps you alive, everyone knows that."
He looked at the uncomprehending faces before him.

"You know, Gus." he continued, pointing to his stomach.

"I think he means 'guts'" Remdil interjected.

"Yeah, Gus. Gus is that little voice here," again he pointed, "that's real smart, even smarter than your brain sometimes. Which is obvious of course since the food goes straight there. Plus, there's more Gus than brains to think with."

The urchin had become very serious now. Some people say that everyone has a religion of some sort, that everyone deeply and fervently believes in something. And the boy wanted to show that while he was still cautious of the three adults before him, he was going to trust them for now because Gus told him.

"You always gotta listen to Gus. If you don't, he stops talking. That's why some of these fellows have big Gus but are stupid as rocks." He indicated a nearby pot-bellied oaf.

He was glad he had remembered about the food for his 'family'. That would also give him a chance to say last farewells and officially hand over guardianship to Blind Tobey by giving him the star shaped piece of blue glass he always carried with him. And of course he'd have to carve his name on the Great Wall...

[ November 01, 2002: Message edited by: Kettle of fish ]

[Susan Delgado]

Well, it's been a week and everyone involved seems basically ok with what I wrote, so I'm posting it. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

edited, per Belin's suggestions.

==========================================

"Excuse me, uh, sir, uh, Thorondruin. My horse ran away." He had to repeat himself several times before he spoke loud enough for Thorondruin to hear him.
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Thorondruin was already annoyed with the sudden downpour when he heard Carathon's twittering to his stirrup.
"What do you want?" He snapped.

Carathon nervously took a step back. "My horse ran away," He repeated.

"So? What do you want me to do about it?" Thorondruin didn't bother taking his eyes off the hills in the distance

"Well, I thought I could ride with you," Carathon answered. Reasonable enough.

Thorondruin looked down and stared for a moment before realising that the boy was serious. "Ha!" He laughed, "Why would I let you do that? There's half a dozen perfectly fine horses right back there." He gestured toward the remuda with his chin, then resumed his study of the hills.

Carathon looked doubtfully between the spare horses and the barbarian riding between them and himself. He started to take a step toward them, but Ozracles resolutely put his horse in Carathon's path and said, "Not my horses. Go back and find your own if you're so desperate to ride rather than walk. Carathon turned hopefully back toward Thorondruin and when he found no help (or interest) there, he went at last toward Hithduiniel. She seemed inclined to let him ride, but Thorondruin shouldered his mount between them before Carathon could mount.
"We said 'no'," Thorondruin stated and kicked his mount into a canter as if to make his point. He grabbed Hithduiniel's reins as he passed so she was forced to go along. Ozracles, Himelilek, and the horses followed and Hithduiniel gave him an apologetic look over her shoulder before they all disappeared over a rise.

Carathon stared after them in shock. Had they all just abandoned him in the middle of a grassland who knew where? Well, he'd just have to find that horse, though he wasn't at all sure he still wanted to be with these people.
He looked around to see if he could spot his horse, perhaps grazing not far away, but he didn't see it anywhere. It must have really taken off! The one interesting thing he did see he thought to be a mirage at first. It looked like a boy, a bit older than himself, walking toward him through the grass. As it drew nearer, he saw that it was a boy, or rather an Elf, albeit a very young one. He waited as the Elf drew nearer.

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

Lenilos wasn't sure he'd really seen what he thought he'd seen. Had the people who were holding Hithduiniel really left someone behind? Maybe it was her! Maybe they'd decided they really didn't need her and let her go! In his excitement, he broke into a run and promptly tripped over...nothing, as far as he could tell, but he did manage to catch himself before he fell completely to the ground. He hoped whoever was over there hadn't seen his lack of grace.

As he drew nearer, he could see that it wasn’t his sister, but a foxy little Man instead. Hoping his disappointment didn’t show on his face, he approached. He stopped a dozen paces away and the two studied each other for a few moments. “Hello,” He said at last.

The other looked at him blankly. Hmm. Maybe he didn't speak Sindarin. He tried again in Quenya, then kicked himself. How would a Man know Quenya? Lenilos considered for a moment while the Man gave him odd looks and stepped a few paces farther away.
The man said something in the common tongue and Lenilos shook his head in frustration. His knowledge of that language was rudimentary at best. The man caught the shake and repeated himself more slowly.

"My name is Carathon," he said, pointing at his chest, "What is your name?"

"Lenilos," The Elf repeated, mimicking the gesture toward his chest. He thought for a moment and said, "Why you here?" and indicated the plain.

Carathon continued to speak slowly, but to Lenilos' relief he didn't seem to be speaking any sort of pidgin speech. "I'm looking for my horse. Why are you here?"

Lenilos frowned. He'd lost his horse? How irresponsible of him.
"My sister. She is..." He paused. He didn't know the next word. Finally he continued with, "She is with Men. The Men...took her. She did not want them to take her."

"Oh!" Carathon exclaimed and then started speaking very fast. Seeing Lenilos' confusion, he began again more slowly. At least Lenilos could only assume he'd begun again. "Is your sister Hithduiniel?" Lenilos nodded excitedly. "I know her. I just escaped from those men myself!"

Escaped? What was that? OH! Lenilos took a step away. This was one of the Men who'd taken Hith! How else could he know who she was? He rose to his full height, which was considerably taller than Carathon and demanded to be taken to Hithduiniel at once. Unfortunately, he spoke Sindarin, so it was lost on the boy.

Carathon cringed. What had he said wrong? He'd realised who this Elf must be, that's all. Maybe he'd misunderstood a word, or, or... "NO!!" He screamed as Lenilos ran toward him, hands raised as if in attack. Lenilos stumbled to a halt a few paces away and stared at Carathon in disgust. He was babbling the same few words over and over and cringing like he thought he was going to die. Lenilos snorted and turned away. He'd find Hithduiniel on his own. He didn't need a groveling creature like that. As he waled away, though, he heard Carathon softly say, "Wait, don't go," and turned. Maybe the boy had something else to say?

Carathon was quite relieved when Lenilos stopped his approach, but when he started to leave, Carathon couldn't let it happen. Lenilos needed him to find his sister. "Wait," He called to Lenilos' retreating back. When the Elf turned, he continued, "The men took your sister. The men took me. I escaped. Your sister can escape too." He nodded vigorously to show Lenilos that he really intended to help him. Lenilos thought for a moment, then turned back. Carathon sighed with relief. He wouldn't be alone now, and he'd be able to help someone in need.

[ November 10, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Halbereth Diagona]

Carathon bit his bottom lip. Lenilos was taller and stronger than him, and to the small, scared boy, he seemed like Oz, only not as fat and with loads more hair.
Carathon straightened up like Lenilos and drew his knife.
"I'll be good. I promise." Lenilos seemed puzzled, but Carathon smiled and waved his knife.
"I like your sister. She was nice to me." He indicated Lenilos, then waved is knife in the air in the pattern of long hair, then pointed to himself.

[Childlike Empress]

Lenilos luged bacwards. Carathon was threatening him with a knife! What was wrong with the boy?
He had no knife, but he raised his hands, ready to fight, a wild look in his eyes. In one hand he held the vegetable sack, which might be heavy enough to disract Carathon long enough for Lenilos to disarm him.

Carathon was astonished. "Oh, no! It's not-I didn't mean-" He threw down the knife.

Lenilos was now extremely confused. He lowered the sack, but didn't come any closer. The boy was strange and unpredictable and Lenilos still wasn't sure he wanted to have anything to do with him.

[Halbereth Diagona]

Frowing, Carathon picked up his knife and stuck it in his belt. For one with the mind of a dim, good natured, extremly naive ten- year-old, Carathon was rather hurt by Lenilos' expression as he lay down the sack he was carrying. Carathon pulled out some herbs he had picked the day before (although it is doubtful he knew how to use them) and handed them to Lenilos with a small, shy smile. Lenilos took them, looking puzzled, but saw Carathon meant well, so nodded roughly. Carathon backed away to stand by a tree, twisting his fingers together. he did not want to make conversation, so there was an awkward silence for a while.

[Belin]

Remdil calculated. How long had it been? A couple of days, at any rate, and the horse hadn't gained him quite the advantage he'd hoped for. Certainly it had been long enough for them to get here. Were they loitering somewhere? Were they already in town, behaving quietly, so that this boy would never know they were there? Somehow he doubted it. Or possibly (a thought that gave him more pleasure than he had expected) their horses had fallen down and broken their legs and they'd set upon each other and they were all lying out there together, broken bodies in the rain, without Livia, who'd run away at the first opportunity.

"Stop that," said Dineniel, slightly disquieted by the unsettling and uncharacteristically grim smile that was creeping across Remdil's face.

He cleared his throat. "Are they coming, do you think?"

He was looking at Eolinda, but it was Dineniel who answered. "No, I don't. I think they're far from here and I think they probably laugh at us every day. I think we need faster horses, and someone who can track. Fortunately, you're traveling with me."

Remdil opened his mouth, but Eolinda was already nodding and counting the money. "We don't have much food with us," she was telling the urchin. "We'll have to buy some. And no," she added, in answer to her husband's groan, "I don't think it will take more time than we can afford. We need whom we need. And if you can't stomach the notion of feeding starving children, I may need to wake up your Gus."

"Right," said Dinenial. "I'll get some horses, you get some food, Remdil, you can... well, go with her and think about way east. I'll meet you outside the gates in an hour."

She moved off, quickly disappearing among the men. Remdil wondered if they'd ever see her again, but the next moment Eolinda was taking his arm and quietly leading him outside, the boy ahead of them.

[Belin]

Hithduiniel was attempting to master an art she had never before considered: silence. She rode slightly behind the others, listening to their talk. She understood almost nothing, since Himelilek was no longer translating for her. But she wanted to understand. She wanted something, some word, some clue as to where they were going. But they were a group of two men and one fairly fluent elf, and they didn't randomly lapse into talk she could understand.

It began delicately to darken. Hithduiniel was watching the sky with some eagerness. When they camped, everything would come out. It always did in the stories.

The two men had finally lapsed into silence. They had not been shouting at each other, but their voices had held some tension that was probably related to the departure of the fox-boy. It was Himelilek who finally broke in, with a wave of her hand for which Hithduiniel had great hopes.

The men barked at her. She answered, subduing them, but they continued to ride. Hithduiniel, with great effort, held her tongue.

She was rewarded. Himelilek had taken to occasional muttering in Sindarin, her native language, when she had things to say that were, well, not for public ears. She fell back on the habit now, forgetting Hithduiniel.

"Fool men and fool stones," she muttered, "if the Silmaril isn't what they say it is...."

Hithduiniel sat stunned. The horse, uncooperative as ever, slowed hopefully.

Thorondruin, of course, noticed and looked back at her. "Well?" he said. For the first time since he'd met her, all look of mockery had disappeared from Hithduiniel's face. Her lips moved slightly, but she didn't speak.

"What's wrong with her?" he demanded of Himelilek. She shrugged.

"The stones that draw madness," said Hithduiniel. Himelilek did not translate.

"What's she saying?"

"She's raving. Don't worry about it."

Hithduiniel closed her eyes, trying to remember what she'd heard. "Fast through the forest they found their way, noble and noted, princes of Noldor. Terrible they are to tell, the tales of the mighty, but now what I know: friendship they sought not." She shuddered.

"She's raving? What do you mean, she's raving? We've picked up a lunatic?" Ozracles's voice grew louder. Clearly, his quest was doomed always to be burdened by one fool after another.

"I think she's probably tired," answered Himelilek shortly. "What did I say about camping?"

"You're fools; they'll kill you, they kill everybody. Do you not know this?" Hithduiniel's alarm spoke through her dislike.

"Does she have to talk at all, Himelilek?" put in Thorondruin.

"Can we camp soon?"

"Fine. One hour."

Himelilek spoke quickly to Hithduiniel, strongly advising silence, and silence she got.

[Susan Delgado]

Fool women, Thorndruin thought sourly. He'd have to keep an eye on them. Though he didn't speak Sindarin, Hithduiniel's voice had sounded a bit too cadenced to really be the ravings of a lunatic. She'd almost sounded like she was reciting a poem. Which meant that Himelilek had mistranslated, which meant she and Hithduiniel were probably in collusion. He glanced over at Ozracles to judge his reaction, and he did seem agitated. That was no judge, though; he always looked agitated.
This time, though, he looked slightly more agitated than normal, but he wasn't looking at the Elves; he was staring around them at the plain and the trees. Since the barbarian had no thoughts to be agitated over, he had probably seen something amiss.

"What's the matter?" He called to the other man.

Ozracles looked around, apparently annoyed at having been interrupted. "What?"

"What are you staring at? You've been scowling at the trees for an hour now."

Ozracles shook his head. "Just wondering where that idiot boy went to. He took the horse too."

Thorondruin shrugged and turned away. They had other horses, and Carathon was a burden. They could get along without him. He turned instead to Himelilek. "Here, you said you knew where the Silmaril is. Time to pay for your passage. Where is it?"

Himelilek looked at him out of the corner of her eye and he frowned. She seemed to be laughing at him. She turned slightly toward Hithduiniel and said something in Sindarin. Hithduiniel looked surprised for a moment and then began giggling. She continued this irriting activity for some time, ignoring Thorondruin's scowls.

"Himelilek," He repeated with an outward calm he didn't feel.

"Yes, glorious leader?" She responded, still smirking.

Thorondruin ignored the disrespect. "Where is the Silmaril? What aren't you telling me?"

Himelilek reined in her horse and rose up in the saddle to look around. Ozracles paused and watched what she was doing. After several moments of staring into the distance, she said, "Oh, it's that way, I think."

"South? We've been going North. How long were you going to allow us to keep going in this direction?"

Himelilek shrugged and prodded her horse into moving again. She went North.

Ozracles frowned. "How far is it?"

She looked back and smiled sweetly. A terrible smile. "What?" She asked mildly.

"You heard me. How far away are we?"

She shrugged again. "Can't be more than a few hundred miles. They live far South, you know." She rolled her eyes at the mens' blank looks and explained: "Beren and Luthien. The people you're planning to steal the Silmaril from. Are you coming?" This time, she turned her horse South and urged it into a gentle canter. The others could do no more than follow, though some of the men looked slightly murdeous.
Only Hithduiniel caught a glimpse of Carathon hiding a distance away and watching them. He was all alone and she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He didn't even have his horse anymore. Wait...she looked closer. He wasn't alone at all, someone was watching with him. It almost looked like-She pulled her horse into a stop so quickly it nearly sat back on its haunches. That was Lenilos over there! He'd followed her! She nearly sent her horst toward him, then thought of the figure in the sack. She couldn't leave someone in such a situation, and anyway, if she left now, she'd be caught again and so would Lenilos. She'd do it tonight, when they all were asleep, and she'd take the sack-figure with her. Quickly she caught up with the others, acting as if nothing had happened.

[ November 15, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Susan Delgado]

Eolinda watched the Elf disappear into the crowd and wished her luck. For a horse thief and general ruffian, the woman had been surprisingly steadfast. With a flip of her skirt, she gestured for Remdil to follow and turned after the boy. He was already nearly lost in the crowd; obviously he expected them to follow.

They stopped at several stalls in the marketplace, buying what Eolinda considered good, solid, well keeping staples, potatoes, grains, beans, and others. She got some fresh fruit too, because everyone needed fresh fruit and she suspected the children had done without. She considered them more of a treat anyway; she thought they probably wouldn't last long.
After they'd finished buying the food, Eolinda asked for details about the children. The boy gave them, looking mystified. When she stopped at a stall selling clothing and bought enough clothes and blankets to last each child all the way through the winter, he could only stare. This hadn't been part of the deal! When he questioned it, however, she merely shushed him and kept buying.

Remdil stared too, but for a different reason. He considered his money hard won, and Eolinda dipped deeper into the sack with every purchase. He sighed...he knew from long years of experience that there was nothing he could do about it.

They delivered Eolinda's purchases to the children, who were much more astonished than the boy had ever seemed to be, and gave the boy a few private moments to say goodbye. The moments turned into minutes and Remdil chafed at the delay. Eolinda seemed perfectly serene, however, and content to wait. Finally, the boy returned, having expended nearly the entire hour Dineniel had given them. He seemed a bit sadder, but at the same time lighter, as if a weight had left his shoulders. Silently, the three made their way back to the gate, where Dineniel waited nervously. It seemed she'd nearly been seen and had been waiting for a very long time. She was eager to go.

They mounted their new, stronger horses and set off. The boy rode behind Remdil, who was none too pleased about it, but the boy refused to ride the horse Dineniel had procured for him.

At Dineniel's suggestion, they rode slowly back toward Garolin. Dineniel that she might be able to find where they'd turned off the trail, despite the time and the rain. She couldn't. After half a day's searching, they stopped halfway between the two towns and for the first time began to consider that maybe the kidnappers had never even travelled on this road but had struck a trail through the trackless forest instead.

They made camp. Over an expertly prepared rabbit stew, they discussed their options, but found mighty few of them. They went to bed without coming to a conclusion about what they should do.

In the morning, they did the only sensible thing they could. Since Dineniel said the brigands were after the Silamril, they rode hard toward Ossiriand, where the Elf thought Beren and Luthien lived, though she seemed not entirely certain. They rode hard all that day and the next.

[ November 17, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Cimmerian]

It started to rain again, but that hardly mattered to the big, bald barbarian. He was not a man of virtues and patience was one he would have least of all, if he ever had any.

"A hundred miles isn't too far. At full gallop we can cover thirty a day." Ozracles growled. "It is about time we laid claim on the jewels and make good it's bounty."

Himelilek nodded in agreement, carefully keeping away as much of the pelting rain from her as possible. The pack of horses they had gathered from the horse thieves tethered close to them, their bundled captive all but forgotten.

Thorondruin gave some thought to Ozracles suggestion, scratching his stubbled chin, he grunted, "Mayhap it is possible, I too grow tired of this journey. You had better be right, elfmaid," he added, glaring at Hithundiel, "I will not brook any treachery."

"Neither will we," sneered Ozracles, fingering the hilt of his savage blade.

Himelilek said nothing but her sharp, elven eyes detected the look of alarm in the other elfmaid's eyes. Though it was not quite from what the men had to say, but more from what she had sensed. She had seen something she intended to keep quiet about and Himelilek decided to keep a close look on Hithundiel. Something didn't quite fit in about her.

[Childlike Empress]

Lenilos and Carathon stared at each other for a few more minutes, until Lenilos suddenly perked up his ears and looked off into the distance over Carathon's shoulder. Horses, and voices. Carathon turned to see what Lenilos was looking at, then cried out in astonishment when Lenilos grabbed his collar and pulled him down into the grass. "What!" He nearly shouted, and was silenced with Lenilos's hand across his mouth.
Lenilos didn't have the words to say what he wanted to, but he would try. "Horses. There. You see?" He and Carathon peered over the tops of the grass and wathced as the horse riders went past. One of them stopped momentarily and peered at them. Lenilos thought he recognized his sister, but she spurred her horse on without acknowledging that she'd seen them. Now why would she do that? He shook his head and stood up. Carathon followed and said something that Lenilos couldn't understand, though he was addressing the Elf. Lenilos shook his head and Carathon repeated himself more slowly. "That was the Elf I was with."

Lenilos nodded. "My sister." He added her name for good measure.

"What are we going to do now?"

Lenilos hesistated to be certain he understood, then said, "We follow. In night, they..." he frowned, not knowing the word. "Stop to sleep," he finally concluded.
Carathon nodded and gave him the common tongue word for "camp". Lenilos nodded and tried the word a few times before continuing. "When they...camp...we go there and Hithduiniel can leave."

Carathon considered and then nodded. That ought to work. But he too had seen her look and them and continue after the others. "What if she doesn't want to leave?" He asked.

Lenilos frowned, not understanding, and Carathon shook his head. It really wasn't a concern he could translate. Lenilos shrugged and the set off after the others.

[Belin]

Hithduiniel followed the others miserably, thinking only of the water dripping from her hair and the constant ache in her muscles. She hated horses. She hated being silent, and she hated the languages of Men. Come to think of it, she also hated Men. Especially these ones.

The day did not pass quickly. The brigands insisted on keeping the horses at literally dizzying speeds. Hithduiniel rode with her eyes closed, trusting that her horse would follow the others.

The day did not pass quickly, but it did pass. They were nearing the forest again when Thorondruin called a halt. Gratefully, Hithduiniel slid off her horse. With some effort, and the aid of her elvish grace, she managed to remain standing, and within a few moments was struggling to resume some semblance of her customary look of scorn.

"Ready for dinner?" asked Himelilek, with a sneer. Hithduiniel turned a pale face and a rather vacant stare to her, as Thorondruin roughly pulled the sack off its own horse and opened it.

Livia, bruised and discouraged, stared out, unmoving.

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

The rain had abated into a drizzle, nothing serious enough to prevent them from making a small, furtive fire that they'd carefully extinguished before sleeping, and only the light of the brightest of stars shone through the clouds. Hithduiniel lay as still as she could, staring up at that one bright spark in the restless darkness and listening to Ozracles walk back and forth on the watch, which Thorondruin refused to leave to Himelilek any longer. She shivered in the thin blanket they'd provided, planning. Livia was once again in a sack, at a distance from her that would have seemed short under other circumstances. But Hithduiniel had great confidence in her own quiet feet, as well as the wooden knife she carried in her boot to fight off unfriendly beasts.

In the distance, another pair of travelers had used less care in making their fire. Ozracles stared suspiciously into the distance as the delicate odor of far-off smoke came to his nostrils. What would anyone be doing out here? He moved toward the smell, frowning. He knew that elf-girl would be nothing but trouble, and surely she was somehow responsible for this.

Hithduiniel silently got to her hands and knees and crawled over the wet stones to where the strange girl lay. Her knife was out before she got there, and, as carefully as she could, she sliced the bag open.

Livia started. The wet air came in upon her suddently, and a figure was leaning over her, whispering something she didn't exactly understand, and the next moment she was being pulled to her feet and a knife placed in her hand. "Who are you?" she hissed.

"Come on," answered the Elf, in a language that was almost Sindarin. Livia sighed suddenly, remembering Tannor, and the lessons he'd given her in that language. Home seemed infinitely far away, and she wondered if she would ever see him again. Bit Hithduiniel was tugging on her arm. The presence of mind Livia had picked up living in an inn did not abandon her. "Horses?" she suggested, pointing. The Elf only made a face and tugged her along, but Livia clicked quietly at one of the horses, and it came up behind them.

"Had enough of our company already, have you?"

Ozracles stood before them, glowering. Livia tried to suppress her sharp intake of breath as Hithduiniel seized her wrist and hesitated. The wind changed, and the sky rumbled.

It was impossible to say whose impulse had driven it, but suddenly Ozracles was much closer to them then he had been, as if he'd lunged forward, and the knife had leapt forth to meet him.

He wore no armor. The knife buried itself between his ribs. Two pairs of eyes in two pale faces stared at him in the suddenly pouring rain and the startling flash of lightning, as they all stood frozen and silent. Hithduiniel had never looked at the barbarian's face closely before, and was suddenly afraid of his clenched jaw and glazed eyes, barely visible in the close-pressing darkness. Livia's fingers loosened from the knife's hilt, and the barbarian tumbled forward with a horrible gurgling sound.

"You're a murderer," whispered Hithduiniel.

"Me? You were the one that--"

"O Oromë, he's still alive."

The bulky figure, prone and struggling, reached toward them. More moments passed. The lightning flashed again, and Hithduiniel hoarsely whispered, "Run."

They ran.

[ November 22, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[ November 23, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Belin ]

[Susan Delgado]

Thorondruin rolled away from the fire. He wasn't asleep, though he was trying. Stupid as Ox was, Throndruin was prepared to admit he probaably had enough experience as a fighter to keep a decent wary eye out. And it wasn't as if he himself could stay up all night at watch, nor could he trust that conniving Elf, so he didn't really have a choice about letting Ox stand guard.

He rolled over again, restless, still unable to sleep. He pullled out the large rock digging into his spine, but all that did was leave a hole, which was almost as bad. Then it suddenly started to rain. Great!
Growling, he started to pull the blanket over his head to block the worst of the waterfall when he stopped. Had he heard something? He glanced over at Himelilek but she seemed to be asleep. He made a similar glance at Hithduiniel and leapt to his feet in alarm. She was gone! Where was that idiot barbarian that he wasn't watching the prisoners? He'd started around the fire when the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started, but he gave it only passing attention because by that time he'd seen the body lying across the clearing. He also noticed the sack Livia had been in torn open and empty and cursed under his breath as he approached the figure on the ground.

Ozracles, sure enough. He nudged the body with his foot and was startled when it let out a weak groan. He knelt down and rolled the barbarian over, exposing the knife sticking out of his side. He pulled it out and examined it, peripherally noting the increase of bloodflow when he did so.

The knife wasn't one he recognised, and it wasn't the one they'd taken from Livia when she escaped the first time; it must have belonged to Hithduiniel.
He looked back at the man on the ground and growled. Why hadn't Ozracles been watching? He could have prevented himself from being stabbed at all, but now Thorondruin had to deal with his inattentiveness. Ah, well, nothing to do but wake Himelilek. She could heal him, surely.
He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping Elf and reconsidered his original plan to wake her himself. She was heavily armed and such an action would probably get him stabbed as well, so he threw a rock instead. Nice and distant, so when she sprang up fighting, he was still relatively safe. He called her over to examine the wounded man, and she came. Irritated or not, she was still the healer of the group.

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

"I can't heal this."

"What?"

"You heard me. Whoever stabbed him punctured his lung and severed an artery in his chest. He's bleeding, inside as well as outside. My herbs can do nothing for such a wound. If we were in one of the cities of my people, they might be able to do something, but as it is, there's nothing I can do. He's going to die." Himelilek sat back on her heels and embraced herself. Her arms were covered in blood halfway to her shoulders, and the front of her tunic was solidly red.

Throndruin didn't know what to think beyond, Damn those girls!
He said, "Well, can't we stop the bleeding? Just hold the wound there." He began to suit action to word, but the Elf stopped him.

"You don't understand. He's bleeding inside his body. There's no way to put pressure inside, so putting pressure outside would be a waste of effort."

Thorondruin frowned. What she said was beyond his comprehension. He thought for a moment, then said, "What do we do?"

She looked over at Ozracles and shook her head. He was unconcious from loss of blood and she wasn't sure how much longer he had.
"I don't know," she murmered. She may have been a thief and a murderer, but she was still an Elf with an Elf's love of life and beauty, and as a healer she hated being unable to help a wounded comrade.

Thorondruin stood up tall and pulled out his knife. "Well, if there's nothing we can do to save him, why leave him like this? Anyway, he'd be nothing but a burden until he died naturally."
He reached toward the man on the ground, but before he could do more than start his motion, Ozracles gave an odd, whistling sigh, twitched twice, and lay still again.

Himelilek leaned over to examine him, then got her feet and looked down at the barbarian for a long moment.

"He's dead," she said at last.

[ November 23, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Cimmerian]

"Quite Dead!" the elf reiterated, as the tall rogue leaned over in disbelief.

"A little dagger," Thorondruin mumbled, "That's all it took to kill this gigantic bulk. This heap of muscle who could take down half a cohort all his own."

"Ironic, isn't it," grinned Himelilek, standing up. She placed a hand on her companion's shoulder. "What do we do now, leader?"

"We'll wrap his body in some of these sacks and set it downriver." The lanky man mumbled, still shaking his head.

Himelilek agreed and began cutting up some of the older sacks. As she worked she wondered who could have pulled off this almost assassin like strike. Ozracles was not the brightest of men, but he had great skills with the broadsword. She was a witness to this herself. It had to be someone exceptionally skilled or just dumb lucky to get Ozracles.

"Done!" she said and walked over to Thorondruin as he proceeded to lay out the sacks on the ground.

Having placed the barbarian's large corpse onto its makeshift sarcophagus, Himelilek and Thorondruin placed the tightly bound sack over the dead man's large black horse.

"I'll take the stallion," Himelilek said suddenly, startling Thorondruin. The man nodded slowly, his thoughts resting on the two girls.

They made their way toward the nearest river.

[Belin]

Remdil pressed his horse ahead, resisting the temptation to think, since he disliked the directions he knew his thoughts would take. The situation was not, could not be hopeless; they had two guides and Eolinda with them.

These authorities themselves seemed less sanguine about their possibilities. Nobody had spoken for hours, and the silence was as grim as the boy's deathgrip on Remdil's waist.

On they rode, through the rain. As the days passed, Remdil grew more and more successful at avoiding the disturbing ideas that plagued the others. As the boy looked grave, as Eolinda grew tense and even Dineniel became moodier, Remdil simply gained in intensity. He didn't know whether it had been two days, or three, or four, but there was a hill, over there, which he could very well imagine, and a tree, under which sat Livia.....

Eolinda worried as much about him as about her daughter. His fevered, restless eyes troubled her, and there was something about his careless willingness to ride on all night, if she didn't stop him, that she didn't entirely like either. She wondered if he were ill, but she hesitated to speak to him of such possibilities in his current state of mind.

But the boy was delightful. He listened to every story she told at night, and as she stopped on this particular night, she hoped to hear some of his.

[Childlike Empress]

Lenilos and Carathon were hunched over their roasted carrots and potatoes, both trying hard to pretend they didn't want anything else in the world to eat, when Lenilos heard something and looked up.

Carathon looked around. "What is it?" he asked.

Lenilos put his fingers to his lips to indicate silence and got to his feet. He stealthily slipped into the woods surrounding the camp.
Carathon waited with baited breath the ten minutes it took for Lenilos to return. When he did, he wasn't alone; he had two girls and three horses in tow! Carathon got to his feet, surprised. He was about to ask what was going on, but the Elf held up his hand.

He said, "This is the sister," he frowned and corrected himself. "This is my sister, Hithduiniel. This is Livia. She, hm, left the men... with Hithduiniel." He was about to continue, but Livia put her hand on his arm, a move which startled the young Elf, and quickly explained everything to Carathon. The boy nodded in understanding and said something back to her. She responded, indicating the horses at one point, and the two had a conversation which the Elves could not understand much of, but which left them frustrated. They were not used to being unable to understand when people spoke.

Finally, Livia turned to them and said in passable, if strangely accented, Sindarin, "I told him how we got here and that I was kidnapped. Lenilos, he told me all you have to eat are some vegetables, well, when we took the packhorse, I made sure it was the one carrying all the thieves' food, so we've got enough to last us weeks and weeks if necessary. We should see what else it's carrying. Maybe we got their weapons too." She gave a somewhat feral grin and turned to unload the horses. The others helped and soon they had the brigands' possessions laid out near the fire, where they could see them. There were no weapons and no money, but lots of food, as Livia had said, and aparently the extra bedding, because there were several blankets and some clothing. There were also various small sacks filled with trinkets, some looking very expensive. All in all, a good haul. Add in the stabbing, which was sure to throw the group into chaos even if the barbarian hadn't died (though privately Livia wished he had), and it was a good night.

They put everything from the horse into a neat pile out of the way and used the blankets to get a comfortable night's sleep. Lenilos woke the next morning much refreshed.

[ November 26, 2002: Message edited by: Childlike Empress ]

[Belin]

OOC: Apologies, Childlike Empress, I just had to put something just before the last line of your post........

Hithduiniel was just as glad as Livia (or Carathon for that matter) for good food, a warm fire, and good company, as well as the interesting, though rather ill-fitting, change of clothes they’d found crunched into the saddlebags along with the food. A real adventure, finally—one with mysterious yet faithful companions and time to tell stories, and she was unwontedly silent for a while, as she drank in the welcome sounds of her brother’s voice, speaking sometimes her own language, and sometimes the other, which far less objectionable when spoken brokenly with a strong elvish accent.

And those she had left were nothing to her, really, any more than that pair of foreigners they sought, but it was a thought that preyed on her mind.

“Lenilos,” she said finally, as the dark was beginning to make itself an obstacle to conversation, “do you remember the story that Gaerdulin liked to tell us? The one with the dwarves, and the gray elves, and the terrible princes from across the sea?”

“I thought you didn’t like that story,” answered Lenilos absently, watching the elderly fire creep cautiously along the edges of its coals. “You never sat still for the whole thing, and anyway it didn’t have Orome in it.”

“I like other stories too , you know!” she cried quickly, in a slightly higher voice than usual. “And I did like it. I liked the bit about the princes; they were the scariest. I used to tell that to the birds.”

“They weren’t the scariest. The scariest was the part about the battle, when the newest soldier—you remember him?” She shook her head, but he continued without taking any notice of her. “The newest soldier stood in the hall of the king, and battled with three different dwarves, and they were about to---“

“No, listen ,” interrupted Hithduiniel. “I’m being serious . You remember the part about the stones that draw madness?”

“The Silmarils, how could anyone forget--”

“ Listen. I know something and I don’t know what to do. The brigands want that stone. They’ve ridden here from somewhere else--”

Livia, who was half listening and half understanding, in a dreamlike state of weariness that made the fire delightful, caught this last phrase and quickly put in, “Garolin. My home.”

“From Garolin home of Livia, and they rode into the forest looking for the foreigners, you remember, I don’t know their names, and they’ll probably kill everyone they see and burn down the house and maybe they’ll shoot the birds and I know that isn’t in the story, and do you think we should warn them, Lenilos? Because I don’t want to, but they’re so… you don’t know them.” She shivered.

“Wait, wait. They want the Silmaril?”

Hithduiniel leaned toward Livia. “He’s gone deaf,” she commented loudly.

“No, Hith, you’ve gone deaf. You’ve got to start paying attention to the ends of stories as well as the beginnings.”

She made a face. “But they’re always so sad.”

“Yet useful.” Lenilos smirked slightly, enjoying the moment of suspense. “If you’d listened you would know they’re all gone, years ago. They went away, we don’t know where, but they went off together, and Gaerdulin swears that right there ” -- here he peered up at the sky, and pointed at the brightest of stars that Hithduiniel had been watching the night before—“right there is a star that resembles it exactly. He’d seen the foreigners, you know, and their light, and he’d take no wife after that, nor admire any jewel. In any case, true or not, it’s gone now. They might as well look for Orome’s boots as that thing, silly.”

Hithduiniel leaned forward, with an incredulous sound that was almost a laugh. “Are you serious? Wait, of course you are, I forgot who I was talking to. By Orome’s bootlaces, that’s funny. Won’t they be furious?”

“And to think,” commented her brother dryly, “you missed the chance of telling them so yourself.”

“That’s what comes of being cheerful and preferring birds to doom, like a sane person, I suppose,” she answered, but a moment later she poked Livia in the shoulder to inform her, grinning, that, “My brother is smarter than the brigands.”

[ December 02, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[Halbereth Diagona]

Carathon kept his head down as the three Elves laughed. He gazed at the fire, chewing the meat he had been given and continually rolling back the sleeves of the shirt he had borrowed, to replace his tattered one. It must have been Oz's, for it was at least ten sizes too big.
He dared raise his head and look shyly at Livia. He found her very attractive, although he wasn't quite sure what that strange feeling in his stomach was that happened when he looked at her. Livia noticed him and smiled.
Carathon smiled back, and blushed deeply. He leant forward in embaressment, and his coppery red hair fell over his face.

>I was thinking it might be interesting if Carathon ended up in love with Livia, but obviously he doesn't know what it is he feels. Livia can either love him back, or only like him as a friend, or just not like him. Carathon is probably around 17 now I think of it, but he acts more like 10 cos he was raised by wolves.<

[Susan Delgado]

Thorondruin watched the barbarian's body float downstream, then turned away, brushing his hands together for a job well done. They may have lost Ozracles' sword, but he and Himelilek were both fine fighters and they were also rid of the barbarian's stupid recklessness and his impertinentness. He returned to his bedroll and went back to sleep.
He woke with the dawn, but it was not the sun that roused him. It was the decidedly unElf-like screeches of rage coming from across the firepit. He supposed he'd forgotten to tell Himelilek that the girls were gone. He rose and sleepily told her to shut her trap. He disliked being awoken by screaming.

However, it was not the absence of the girls that had upset her; she'd seen the empty bedrolls and taken it philosophically. What had her so worked up was what she'd found when she went to get breakfast off the packhorse. The two little thieves had not only killed Ozracles, they'd taken the packhorse containing all the food and barterables! They had left was Ozracles' stallion, which they'd long since discovered wouldn't let anyone but the barbarian touch him, and the five horses from the raid, and their own mounts. At least they could hunt, although hunting with swords and daggers might possibly be more trouble than it would be worth.

They mounted thier horses, then paused, unsure what to do next. Should they continue on toward the Silmaril, or should they try to find Livia and Hithduiniel and punish them while retrieving their stolen food? Thorondruin wanted to continue on, but Himelilek seemed inordinantly distressed about the loss of the food and wanted to find the girls. Logic finally won out over emotion when the man pointed out that they had no idea where the two had gone and no way finding them and they should save what little food they'd had in their clothing by not backtracking on a futile mission. Himelilek reluctantly agreed, but as they set out, she kept looking behind, as if trying to see something. Thorondruin ignored it.

They rode for several days with no more mishaps, until finally Himelilek stopped them at the base of a hill. She said, "On the other side of this hill is a lake. In the middle of the lake, there's an island. There's a cabin on the island, and there dwell Beren and Luthien."
They settled down for the night, excited that their mission was nearly over.

In the morning, they cautiously approached the cabin, only to find their care unnecessary: the place was deserted. Angrily, Thorondruin set on the Elf.

"Why didn't you tell me they wouldn't be here?!"

"How was I supposed to know?"

"You knew where the cabin was, why wouldn't you know they were gone?"

"Well, it's been a while since I got my information." She shrugged, not really caring very much, and started toward the horses.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

She shrugged again and mounted. "Home. There's obviously nothing here that I want." She took up her reins, then as an afterthought, grabbed Thorondruin's and the rope tying the spares together and went North at a full gallop. Thorondruin barely had time to get out of her way before the horses ran him down. He stared after her, unable to believe she would leave so precipetously, leaving him here. Alone. With no way to get back to civilization. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got, but he realised there was nothing he could do about it now. She had gone, and taken everything with her.

With a growl of irritation, he went into the cabin to avoid the rain, which had been off and on for days. Inside, the place was as shabby as the outside had promised. Dust covered everything and cobwebs adorned the corners. It was filthy, and there was nothing left of value that he could find. He curled up in a corner and spent one of the most uncomfortable nights he could remember.

In the morning he rose and shook the dust off his hair and clothing. He discovered that dust wasn't all he'd been lying on, either. Wadded into the corner was something soft and black. Clothing? He pulled it out to examine it. It was a cloak; black as shadow, it actually seemed to absorb the light coming in through the door. He put it on to protect from the rain and iimediately fell into a deep slumber. When he awoke, it was late afternoon and the wind had blown in through the door, causing the black cloak to slip from his shoulders. He picked it up and as he was about to put it back on, he felt the sleep start to come again. How odd. He put it down and felt no need to sleep. After a few more minutes of experimentation, he decided it must have a spell on it. Very odd! Still, even if he couldn't use it himself, it could be useful. He bundled it in his arm and left the cabin, on foot, but he had no other choice. Over the course of many days he made his way back to civilization, and if he was ever tired, he put on the cloak and slept peacefully for hours.

[ December 10, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Susan Delgado]

Lenilos woke much refreshed. The thieves' blankets were very warm and when he rose to find that Livia had prepared a hearty breakfast of sausages and biscuits, he hurried out of bed and near the fire. Days of nothing but plain vegetables had given him a raging appetite for real food. Carathon seemed to feel the same way.

After breakfast, the had an argument about where they should go. Lenilos thought his self-imposed mission was over. He'd rescued his sister (in a manner of speaking. He didn't dwell too much on the way she'd really gotten away from the brigands) and that meant he and Hithduiniel could go home now. But they also had Livia to think about. Sometime she'd have to go home too, the question was when. Livia was tired of travelling and wanted to go home immediately, but so was Lenilos. Eventually, everyone realized that if they took Livia home first, they wouldn't have to do any more travelling later. That decided, they set off west toward Garolin.

================================================== =============

Eolinda watched as Remdil took himself more and more away from everyone else. It was worrisome, but she said nothing because discussing it might actually make it worse. He'd had these spells before and he always got over them eventually. Still, it was wise to keep an eye on him.
The fourth day of travelling dawned clear but cold. They rose, ate breakfast, and started on their way East. After several hours, Dineniel paused. She spotted riders on the horizon, four of them. She couldn't be sure if it was the kidnappers or someone else. They continued riding, cautiously.

As they approached, they could see that it was not the kidnappers. In fact-- with a cry of, "Livia!", she dove off her horse and ran toward the others, startling them. Livia jumped off her horse as well and Remdil, now that he'd realised what was going on, was not far behind. The three embraced and soft, tearful voices could be heard from the huddle.

After they separated and introduced each other to everyone else, the eight of them sat down to discuss what they were going to do.
There was little question about where Eolinda, Remdil, and Livia would go when the group spilt up. Few families had been so happy to be reunited. They were sitting a little way off, arms around each other and smiling.
Lenilos, too, was ready to go home. He'd left the farm rather precipetously and his parents probaly wondered what had become of their children.
Dineniel felt a little sad, watching everyone else in their happy families. She had no permanent home, though sometimes she wished she did.
Carathon, too, wished for a home. He wondered if it would be all right if he asked the Garoliners to take him with him when they went home. He was tired of living in the woods, eating whatever he could find, and he'd never seen anyone as pretty as Livia before.
The boy had considred what it would be like to return to Neniant, to go back to Blind Tobey and the other kids and live on the street the rest if his life, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to do that. Like Carathon, he'd seen the possibilities of relocating to Garolin.
Hithduiniel was not paying attention. She seemed to be watching a butterfly instead.

[Belin]

The butterfly was light on the wing, following the wind away toward the sun as she began back toward her own home. Home is where you sleep, thought Hithduiniel, not where you start. Home is where the sun finds its way back into the clouds in the west where Orome lived. Home is —and she watched the newly conscious joy of Livia’s face with a slightly bitter feeling of disapproval— home is the future, not the past.

Home is always far away.

She was just coming out of her reverie when she heard Lenilos, probably under the influence of that sharp-faced woman, volunteering to guide the family part of the way back toward Garolin—“that is, if none of you mind.”

“Oh, yes, let us come with you, Livia!” she put in, suddenly, in the sweetest tones of which her voice was capable. “I’ve never seen a city of Men before.”

Lenilos sent her a sharp glance. That tone usually meant trouble, in his experience, but, as always, she accompanied it by an eager smile that could not possibly be questioned.

Remdil groaned. “How many guides do we need?” he said irritably. “Haven’t there been enough adventurers wandering through our lives—no offense, you know, greatest gratitude in fact, but really, we’re not less intelligent than any old dog that can find its way home.”

“He means,” added Eolinda, more diplomattically, “that of course we’ll have you as guides, with our thanks, if you’re really so little eager to be off home yourselves.”

“It’s hardly worth seeing though,” remarked Livia, startled by Hithduiniel’s eagerness. “And it certainly isn’t a city.”

But the decision had been made, somehow, although it hadn’t been quite what anyone had expressed wanting. They traveled slowly for a day or two, often quiet, often speaking, often surprised at each other’s remarks.


Livia, despite her insecurity at the prospect of Hithduiniel seeing the small, rowdy inn in which she’d grown up, was glad that the elves were with them. Completely aside from her initial awe at the figure who had stood above the slashed-open bag in the thunder and the rain, holding a knife and setting her free, she had come to like Hithduiniel’s wild grins and her silly jokes, as well as the ability of Lenilos to recount any story she’d ever heard in ways that made her father scowl and correct him.

“What do you mean, they were cats?”

Lenilos shrugged. “They were cats. There were hordes of cats that came against the others, and Lenwe said—“

“Who told you this?”

“Everyone knows it,” said Lenilos, with a sideways glance at his inattentive sister, who did not know it.

Livia smiled. Lenilos would certainly have been welcome as a guest at the inn; it would be like the old days, before it had become a place for duels and drinking, before she’d been leered at by barbarians.

Carathon, on the other hand, she was less certain about. He spoke little, and she sometimes forgot that he was there, but when she turned to look at him, he was often watching her. It made her uneasy, in a way.

[Rosseiliantiel]

Dineniel was feeling decidely akward. She really didn't feel like there was much point in going with the rest of the band. Her other option was continuing with her wandering, thieving ways, but that was seeming distinctly less pleasent. It had felt nice to have some structure, some people who were at least not total strangers in her life. What was left for her to do?

Ah, yes. The Silmaril.

[Susan Delgado]

"No."

Remdil was aghast. "'No'? What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I'll not have that boy living in my house." Eolinda was quite firm on this point.

"Why not?"

She turned to face her husband, her expression shocked and unbelieving. She lowered her voice dangerously. "You want him living in our house? With Livia?"

Remdil shrugged. "What's the problem? He doesn't have any other place to go."

"No."

Remdil sighed. She kept saying that, without explaining herself. "Why not?"

"Haven't you seen the way he looks at her?"

Remdil peered around to where Carathon was riding behind them, just out of earshot. He'd asked Remdil if he could stay over the inn with the them, because he didn't have any home, in Garolin or elsewhere. Remdil had promised to talk to Eolinda about it.
And he had not, in fact, noticed Carathon looking at Livia in any particular "way". He looked back at his wife and said, "What way?"

With a snort of frustration, Eolinda kicked her horse into a canter and disappeared over the next ridge. Remdil frowned, but obviouly knew better than to follow her in such a mood.

----------------------
Lenilos had watched the whole thing with a feeling like sympathy. As a completely uninvolved bystander, he could see both their perspectives. It was true that the boy had no home, but he had noticed the way he stared at the girl and he understood where her mother was coming from perfectly. Judging from the way the conversation had gone, he thought poor Carathon was probably still out of a home. He rode back to Carathon and tried to cheer him up, but the boy wasn't stupid. He'd seen the way Eolinda rode away and knew that wasn't a good sign. He didn't want to talk. Hithduiniel was already deep in conversation with Livia. That left only Dineniel to talk to.

------------------------
"Hello."

She looked around, suprised to find her thoughts interrupted. "Oh, hello."

He brought his horse alongside hers and looked up into the cloudy sky. It wasn't raining at the moment. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

She gave him an appraising look. "Was there something specific you wanted to talk about, or are you just bored and want to bother people?"

He frowned. How rude! "Fine. If you don't want a friendly conversation, I'll just go." He turned his horse back toward the middle of the group, but paused when she said, "Wait," in a slightly more civil tone of voice. He turned back.

"I was just wondering where you were going to go after the Men get back to Garolin."

She shrugged. "Don't know."

Oh. They rode on for a while in silence.

[Halbereth Diagona]

&gt; [img]smilies/frown.gif[/img]&lt;

Carathon curled up into a ball by a tree. He didn't want to talk, or eat, or ride. He wanted to die.
"Do you really want him in our home? With Livia?"

What was wrong with him? He wasn't dirty, or bad. He liked Livia, he wouldn't hurt her.
Carathon pulled out his journal and slowly wrote:
i asked a ladee if she cud let me liv at her huse with liva but she sed no she sed i luk at her funee i wudnt hurt liva maibeee she thins im bad but im not im vereee sad

[Belin]

Remdil sighed. He wouldn't follow Eolinda--that did no good when she was in such a mood-- but he knew she wouldn't simply abandon them. He was in a mood to be patient; patience had brought Livia back to them (at least, it was easier to believe that it had been patience than Elves), so he simply continued to ride, biding his time and making his plans.

He was right, of course. After about half an hour, she was once again in sight, and she rode slowly and silently, allowing them to catch up, but not speaking. Whatever it was (and he guessed, now; he knew what people meant when they talked like that, and she did all too often), it had clearly upset her much more than it usually did. She stared straight ahead, either angry or lost in thought. Remdil hestitated a moment, steeled himself, and spoke.

"Eolinda?"

She sighed heavily and glanced sideways at him, not turning her head.

"How old is Livia?"

He had her attention now. Eolinda turned to him, full on, eyes blazing. "What?" she demanded.

"Fifteen, almost sixteen, I'd say," continued Remdil in a cautious voice, but one that refused to be intimidated.

"I'm in no mood to plan birthday parties, Remdil."

"I remember your sixteenth birthday," he went on, watching her carefully.

Eolinda's face tightened. "What are you playing at, Remdil?" she asked, her low, dangerous voice returning. Remdil's mind returned momentarily to the army of maurading cats, which must surely have made a similar sound just before attacking. He didn't back down again. This was astonishing.

"I wondered whether you regretted that--" and suddenly he stopped himself. She was staring at him, suddenly smaller, suddenly younger, and for a moment he did not fear her disapproval, but a sudden quiet concern had moved within him. He didn't want to hurt her. His voice became softer, more serious. "Eolinda, you and I were the only ones that wanted us to get married. Nobody else approved of me; I wasn't good enough. And your parents said, 'We'll not have that boy--' "

"Stop!" she cried. He wasn't sure whether she was angry or ready to laugh. Perhaps it was both. Certainly the glisten in her eye was a strange one. "Stop. Tell me what you're getting at."

"Well, they were wrong."

She did laugh, this time. "You, my friend are completly and utterly maddening. Wrong, were they? How do you know?"

"Well, I know. I know, don't I, Eolindenne? I know."

She rolled her eyes, but she was truly smiling now. "Maybe you do, at that. Maybe. And you suggest?"

"Oh, let them look. No harm comes of it. I don't think you need to send Tannor off, either, by the way. A good useful lad like that?"

"It's all about the horses with you, isn't it?"

"Oh, only to the extent that it's about that boy from Neniant for you." He studied her face carefully, looking for her plans.

[Susan Delgado]

Eolinda sighed. She saw Remdil's point, she really did, but at the same time... "Remdil, the difference here is that during our courtship, you were not trying to live in my parents' house. That's what I object to, not his very presence. Although I wonder at what sort of providence he would have for her."

"He'd work in the Inn of course." He obviously considered himself the voice of reason.

She considered this. As a policy, the Inn provided lodgings for all regular employees should they need it. This meant that Carthon would have a home and employment without actually living in the family apartment. Knowing this made his courtship of her daughter a good deal more palatable. She glanced back at Carathon. He seemed unhappy. SHe could guess the cause; probably he'd asked Remdil for a home and seen her riding off as a flat denial. Well, maybe she could do something about that. She turned her horse back, leaving Remdil to his musings, and confronted her would-be marriage-son.

He was relieved to find out that he could stay in the Inn and work, and although she didn't mention it, he seemed hopeful for hi future with Livia as well. The boy, though...She offered to have him ride behind her for a while. She wanted to find out what he wanted, what his plans were.

It seemed he and Carathon had been talking and had decided they should stick together: two orphans, loose in the wide world, they could lean on each other for support. She sighed. Two sons! Well, if he was going to be living in her house, they could hardly keep calling him "boy". She would call him...Brando. Yes, that would do.
He looked like he wasn't quite sure how to feel about his new name, but when she'd asked what his old name had been and he hadn't remembered, well, she had no choice but to give him one.
At his hesitant request to be put back on Carathon's horse, she happily agreed. He'd have to stop calling her "ma'am" though, that wouldn't do at all!

[ December 17, 2002: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]

[Belin]

"So the smith went..." Livia broke off suddenly and pointed northward, waiting for Hithduiniel to provide her with the word. "Yes. North." She flung a strand of dark red hair over her shoulder, relishing her tale and stumbling through her words. "Not yet to Garolin, yet close. His... helper-learner?... was lost in the war. But he couldn't live alone--he was very quiet, yet he wanted to choose it--therefore he searched another one, sons of men or no. And Tannor--his village had not burned, only later-- Hithduiniel, why don't you ride a horse? Aren't you tired?"

"Tired?" she sniffed. "I have been tired, from riding. Must you Atani judge everything by your own bodies? I could run like this for days and days, although it would be easier if you didn't stand on my fingers."

Livia readjusted her foot in the stirrup. "But Dineniel and Lenilos--"

"Would you call Lenilos a good rider?"

Livia glanced over at where the Green-Elf was attempting to make his peace with his beast. She leaned down and whispered, "The worst I've seen."

"You haven't seen me," retorted Hithduiniel. "I'm much more comfortable as it is. Who is this Tannor you mention?"

"He taught me your speaking. I met him at the-- where I live. He knows all about Elves"--Hithduiniel rolled her eyes--"and all about horses and dogs. He has a wonderful water-voice, like you do, and he's very handsome"--she suddenly blushed, remembering the lesson in which she'd learned that-- "nearly as handsome as your brother."

Hithduiniel stared incredulously, nearly stopping the horse. "My brother, handsome? Mine? Is that a nice way of saying he's nearly as ugly as a troll?"

"What's this about trolls?" called Lenilos from behind Dineniel.

"Who's that?" interjected Eolinda sharply, pointing ahead.

"It's one of your stupid villagers," announced Dineniel. "It's the one with the well."

"Gondeithel?" cried Remdil, exchanging a look with his wife. She seemed as alarmed as he. If Gondeithel were leaving town... Without a word, they broke suddenly into a gallop, leaving the others, bewildered, to catch up.

The Elf was not mistaken. Gondeithel looked as distracted as ever. His eyes searched northward, southward, eastward, and even after lighting on them briefly, did not rest. The stern lines of his perpetually worried face were so standard for him that his expression was completely unreadable. Remdil swallowed. Gondeithel would not leave the town, he was sure of it, not unless all was better than he could hope, or unless there was no longer hope of anything becoming better. "Gondeithel!" he called, and suddenly the bright, searching eyes were focused on him again. He was drawing near to them. "Looking for trouble, are you?"

"Nonsense!" snapped the man, without greeting or preamble. "That's you. I'm only looking for you."

"You're reasonably safe, then. I generally only find half of what I'm looking for, and the sweeter half at that." Remdil, with a grin, gestured toward Livia. The old soldier nodded at her, a small smile flashing across his face like a butterfly's shadow.

"Who else have you brought?" he said, eyeing the group with some suspicion.

"Well, the girl's very charming, you know; she can't go anywhere without making some friends. Where have you come from? Town burn down?" Remdil smiled jovially, hoping that this was not in fact the case.

Gondeithel glowered. "For all I know, it has. That idiot second of mine--well, the more we talk the slower we ride, if you take my meaning. It's your uncle."

"What?" broke in Eolinda. "What's he done? He always seemed so well-behaved, but you know he's an old man, I'm sure he didn't mean--"

"He's done nothing," said Gondeithel shortly. "What I mean to say is: he's died."

[Susan Delgado]

"What?"
"How?"
"Dead?"

Gondeithel shook his head wearily. "You all know he was getting older-" He ignored Remdil's interjection of, "He wasn't that old!" and continued as if the man hadn't spoken, "and there was another of those cursed bar brawls the other night and, well, you know..." He trailed off, too discouraged to continue. The others could finish the thought without his help anyway. Indeed, Remdil seemed to be in shock, but Eolinda was cursing loudly and creatively. Hearing her, Remdil woke up. He waited until she started repeating herself, then grabbed her horse's reins and started toward Garolin at a dead gallop. He was gratified to see that his sensible daughter was already a mile away. Gondeithel turned to follow and they left the Elves and Carathon to stare after them in confusion and consternation.
The Garoliners arrived to find the Inn closed, a natural state of affairs with the owner dead, and a small crowd waiting outside, apparently waiting for Gondeithel's return. They were relieved to see Remdil and Eolinda and when the wanderers had entered, they dispersed to their homes, confident the Inn would reopen in due time.

It was evident that a meeting of all employees and retainers was vital to the Inn's survival. The problem with the fighting had progressed gradually and no one realised how bad it had become. Someone suggested not serving ale anymore--that got a laugh--but no one could think of any really viable solution to the problem other than relocating to a quieter town, which of course was impossible, but therein lay the problem. No one had noticed the Inn getting rowdier because Garolin had gotten rowdier right along with it. It was a vicious cycle and nothing could be done about the town end. The Inn end, though, well, the best solution they could come up with was more and bigger bouncers (Remdil immediately thought of Gondeithel and found him willing to work in the Inn's comfort) and more watchfulness on everyone's part.
Carathon, Brando, and the Elves showed up about an hour after the meeting broke up. The Men were given permanentt rooms upstairs and the Elves seemed inclined to stay as well. It seemed they wanted to talk, or maybe just drink. It was hard to tell which, at least in Dineniel's case. Either or, Remdil and Eolinda were happy to oblige.

[ January 04, 2003: Message edited by: Susan Delgado ]