Truth in a Dark Place RPG

[Arvedui III]

"TURTHOL!" Rangar screamed wildly, not daring to believe what he was seeing as he watched his friend fall over the side helplessly. For one moment, sheer shock took him and time seemed to stand still. All that had come to pass registered with full force in Rangar's mind. His stupid mistake of being unarmed, Barodin, a seering rage began to build up, Aerin, no, no, he was not going to pass out. She had given the utmost measure of loyalty, no, don't cry. Turthol. His dearest friend. He had just watched as Turthol swayed limply under that rope, after all the ranger had done for him, he had just watched. Just watched. And for that reason, Rangar decided, he had failed, nay, betrayed his friend in the worst way. I just watched him die.

Suddenly, the rain pounded away at him and the deck veered dangerously beneath his feet. Men were shouting, someone was crying, and in that instant Rangar made up his mind. "HOLD ON!" He cried and half-ran, half-slid to the railing. "Rangar!" It was Ani Dao "You can't, don't!" The rage that had been building came over him, and the unsound reason of his plan outmatched the elf's clearer sight. "Like hell I can't, she-elf!" He yelled furiously, and threw himself over the side.

Rangar had the faint impression of salty air before he hit the water, causing pain like a hundred knives to pierce through to his bones. He was lucky though. The wave did not fall until he had breathed, any sooner and he would have been knocked out. But then another wave hit, and another, and though he foolishly wasted air on calling out to Turthol, Rangar saw no sign of his friend, and his strength to tread water was quickly waning.

Straining against the inevitable, a surge of hope reached Rangar as he felt his hand grip something... What is that? Squishy. Rangar gratefully grabbed hold of what he assumed was a piece of wood, noticing grimly how close he was to the ship now. Now! Let go! Find your friend! Let Go! His mind commanded, but his body would not obey. All Rangar could do was clutch the soft thing he held onto.

Something then hit him on the top of his head as yet another wall of water broke over him. The result was that Rangar was winded and the thing he had been so desperately clutching rolled away and began to sink a little. If he wasn't already in a state of shock, this did it. For a split second before the next wave broke, knocking him into the ship, he stared into two glossy, stunned eyes. Aerin.

Rangar wanted to yell, cry, do something other than bob helplessly in the storm-tossed sea, but he had not the strength. Something hit him on the head again, and from another world it seemed, voices wheeled above him. Rangar grabbed onto something that felt rough in hands, and had the distinct impression of being pulled upwards before the sea lashed out at him one more time and his head collided with something hard. "Turthol," He mumbled, and then welcomed the darkness.
----------------------
Something hot was being forced down his throat.

"No, no, I don't want another drink." A man came into forces. "You are no fun, you know that right?" A smile, he was smiling, so was his friend. He supposed it was his friend, he seemed amiable. "All too well." This man's name was Rolen. How did he know? Well, it sounded right. It made sense, after all, what else could the man be called?

The rain was pounding.

Pain, lots of it. Something hard hit his head and shattered. Wood was racing against the floor, large lumpy things were falling, screaming, the world spun out of focus and then another man came sharply into view. "Niggard, failure." The man taunted. He punched. It felt good. The shadowy man punched back. More pain.

And suddenly, Rangar woke with a start, the familiar sway of the ship confusing him further.

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

[Everdawn]

Énien was still in shock when she saw Rangar go over the side of the ship after Turthôl, he was struggling in the waves. This was a terrible storm, the worst by far that the elf had seen in all her years.
Wren, Bregand and herself managed to pull him up from the waves, after some time, with great difficulty.

Together Calimir and Bregand carried Rangar below deck. "Is he dead?" Rave asked, her wet hair covering her face. "No" Énien answered "Get Carmalita, this is a job for a nurse."

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Rangar came around. Énien stood over him. "Fine way to get yourself killed" she frowned. "And just like last time he attacked you, you have come off worse." she stopped for a second as Carmalita came into the room.

Despite this Énien kept talking, "I know, why you did it though, and heaven knows i may have done it to for a dear friend, but you must remember that you are the reason why we are here, and the reason we are going to Harad. If you had died, our journey would have been a lost cause."

Rangar tried to gt up and Carmalita pushed him back down. "You need to rest" she said sternly. Énien continued her rant, "...and as for Turthôl-" her tone softened "..they are still looking." the elf turned her head to see Wren, who seemed to be in shock.
"Aerin's body has been washed away. There is no way we can recover it safely."

[maikafanawen]

Wren wrapped her arms tightly around her body and bit her lip to keep from crying. Her stomach was knotted tightly and her head hurt. Tears welled up in her eyes, fogging her view. Without warning she bolted from the room and back to her own quarters. Throwing herself on the bed she sobbed and sobbed. They were gone. Just like that. Turthôl, unconscious, had fell into the sea. What chance did he have for survival? Aerin, who had grown to be one of Wren’s close friends was gone as well. Hatred for Barodin welled up inside her and she had to work to keep herself from doing the same as Rangar had.

Footsteps entered the room and Ani Dao sat beside her on the bed, caressing her hair tenderly. Wren felt like a little child being cooed by her mother. She felt helpless and pitiful. Then the captain’s expression changed and she pulled Wren into a sitting position looking firmly into her eyes.

“Come on board and help us search. You’re doing no good in hear.” Without waiting for an answer she pulled the noblewoman off her bed and dragged her from the room. In the hall, Wren wrenched her hand loosed and followed the captain without assistance. On board it was still raining and the crew—both watches—were doing all they could to mend the stays and keep the spars in tact. The sails had furled and the Silver Wyrm was bobbing purposely in the ocean.

Wren moved alongside the wall, and gripped the railing tightly in her hands, as she made her way down to the spar deck. Tears were streaming down her face, mixed with rain. Finally she grasped the edge of the railing and looked over into the churning sea below. Swells were no smaller than six feet and the whitecaps sprayed up the sides of the helm. Wiping her eyes clear, the noblewoman searched vainly for any sign of Turthôl. There was nothing else in the ocean as far as she could see.

“I can’t see anything,” she shouted to Ani Dao through the wind. The captain nodded absently as if in thought. Then she called to Thallick who had just jumped down from the foretop. “Wren is having trouble seeing anything, Mr. Thallick, what, do you think, would help her.”

“We’re all having trouble, Captain, unless she wants to go aloft,” he said, nodding upwards. Wren started at the suggestion and then pondered it a moment.

“Good suggestion Mr. Thallick. Would ye be so kind as to help her?” The man nodded and beckoned for Wren to put her foot on the first ratline interweaving through the shrouds up for the fore course. The climb was quick, Wren’s fear had vanished completely and she was set now on recovering Turthôl, and Aerin’s body. Mr. Thallick handed her a brass and she stuffed it into her jerkin pocket, grasping the top rail with both hands, white knuckled.

With the sails up she had a complete view of the surrounding sea. Looking behind every whitecap and down every swell, it was ten minutes before she saw something: the green of Aerin’s jacket. She yelled below, catching Mr. Thallick’s attention. He looked up and she pointed. Nodding, he summoned the captain and Ani Dao ordered her body be brought aboard. Wren couldn’t watch as they lifted the shield-maiden onto the deck. Symk and Corat wrapped her in the blankets from her room and laid her on the bed, barring the door.

Wren was shivering now, not just from the chill of the rain, but also from the feeling of death that settled over the ship. She guessed it was not uncommon for sailors to go overboard in a storm, but the past two incidents were not accidental, which made it worse.

After an hour of standing in the foretop with no sign of Turthôl, Wren’s knees felt like they were going to collapse. Mr. Thallick returned.

“Come down Miss, there’s no way ye can see anything now. It’s too dark and the tide’s moved us now for ten miles,” he shook his head. “I’m real sorry Miss.” Wren stood, frozen, not wanting to believe it. ‘No,’ she mouthed into the wind. She shook her head vigorously, ‘NO’. Ani Dao had come aloft and stood by Wren on the foretop.

“You must come down Wren. He’s gone.” Wren sobbed. So he was, he was gone. Unconscious in the ocean, he was probably on his way to—to—she shook her head, forcing the idea from her mind.

“He’s alive,” she whispered to the captain. “Still alive, an-and he’s going to be okay.” Ani Dao shook her head and watched protectively as Wren descended the shroud. She saw the rest of the company on the deck also, peering out into the gloom for any sign.

Wren didn’t go back to her room. Instead she went to where Carmalita and Énien were tending to Rangar. The nurse had made him a sedative out of valerian and wine, so that Rangar could sleep peacefully as he recovered from near drowning.

“Go ahead and sleep,” said Wren entering. “I’ll stay with him for a while.” Carmalita nodded her thanks and left the room, clearly exhausted. Énien stayed, leaning up against the wall behind Rangar. Wren thanked her mentally. She didn’t want to be alone.

The candle flickered, casting dreary shadows on the walls. Wren sat down in the chair beside the bed and watched as Rangar’s chest rose and fell slowly, beads of sweat ran down his head and his eyes looked sunken in grey toned flesh. She dabbed a cool cloth to his forehead, humming very softly just so she wouldn’t cry again. Finally, his fever subsided a little and the noblewoman sat back and looked around the room. In the corner she saw Turthôl’s bag, the fife poking out of the pocket. She knew she shouldn’t, Turthôl would be angry if he knew—the thought made her smile a little—but she took the fife and held it in her hands. She didn’t play it, just sat it in her lap and traced the lines of wood, and the circumference of every delicate hole. The noblewoman was still holding it when sleep overcame her, and she drifted into a haunted slumber.

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Calimir had worked automatically, the singing of the waters silenced in light of the events. After his shot that had released Turthol from the grip of the ropes, Calimir's hands hadn't stopped shaking. But somehow he'd managed to help drag the unconscious Rangar back on board, and stood back and watched while Carmalita worked over him.

The search for Turthol in the water was fruitless, and though Calimir raked his eyes over the water for nearly an hour, none of the crew spotted any sign of the ranger. His shivering becoming uncontrollable after the recovery of Aerin's body, he moved silently toward his cabin, slumping on the bunk and burying his face in the pillow.

It was a few minutes later when Calimir felt a hand on his back. He spoke into the pillow, "Enien, it was my fault that Turthol fell."

The hand moved rhythmically up and down his back. "How many times have I told you the same?" The elf raised his face, his hands still shaking. "The only thing you are responsible for is that Turthol didn't die still caught in the ropes. I've just been with Wren and Rangar. Nobody blames you." Calimir sat up slowly, his face closed.

"I know." Leaving the cabin and Enien, Calimir went back on the deck. Avoiding Ani Dao he went to his place at the prow, huddling against the railing as the storm came in. All night, he watched the lightning dance across the grey waters, felt the angry spray drench him, colder than his tears.

[ June 14, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

[Eruwen]

After leaving the room which Ranger was being treated in, Rave did not feel like being seen by anyone on the ship. Although she had not known Aerin nor Turthôl as well as others in their company, she still felt as if a hole had been dug into her heart---a deep hole which could never be mended. She walked slowly and quietly until she reached the door to the deck. Rain was still pouring down outside beating the ship tremendously hard.

Rave paused for a moment, but soon afterwards opened the door and quickly stepped onto the deck. At this point she cared not of whether it was unsafe to be out there or not, she just continued to make her way towards the railing at the side. She looked out over the sea...not hoping to see anything, just peering out over the widespread waters. Soon she felt herself drift down from her stading position until she felt herself hit the deck.

Though she knew not, nor cared, how long she had been out there, Rave continued to lay atop the ship until she fell into a deep sleep. Many hours passed by until she was awoken again by a member of the crew. The rain had now ceased, but the sky was still dark from the night. The crew member suggested she return to her room for rest, but Rave declined and held her position above deck.

As Rave stood once again and gazed over the now peaceful waters, Énien came up behind her. "Have you been out here this whole time?" the Elf said joining her at the railing.

Rave nodded and soon replied. "I used to love it," she said. "the sea, I mean. But how can someone continue to love what aided in the demise of a friend? I don't know how you Elves do it."

"What do you mean?" Énien said with a hint of a laugh in her voice.

"What we spoke about a while back. How can you go on knowing that you shall see your mortal friends die?"

Énien quickly lost the smile from her face. "I try not to dwell on that thought," she said.

Rave nodded. "But you were also right about one thing..." she said. "The novelty of being on a ship does wear off...quite fast."

Énien laughed and returned with Rave below deck where Rave spent the remainder of the night.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Baroden rode to shore as the waves rocked the lifeboat. It seemed as if the storm was subsiding. He had failed to kill Rangar but at least he had killed two people. He loved the look that everyone had when he had killed that foolish girl. She had thought that she was a warrior because she had a sword, but he had taught her a lesson. Foolish little girl.

The lightning flashed and he could see that outline of the ship. He was a good distance away but he could still see outlines of their figures standing at the railing. They were looking for something.

They were probably looking for him, but he didn't care. He was out of range the elvish bows. But earlier, he had seen a splash of something falling overboard. He wondered what it was but decided that he should get back to shore as quickly as possible. He needed to re-plan, again.

He stayed where he was, however. His curiosity got the best of him. As soon as the ship started sailing again, he turned the boat around. But he felt something hit the hull of his lifeboat. The waves had driven whatever it was to him.

He looked over the edge and was surprised to see that it was a man-the one who had had talked to in the hallway. He had a rope around his neck but it had loosened up a bit. Let the man drown, he thought. But then another idea popped into his head.

He reached down and pulled the man onboard, and took the rope off. Good, the man was breathing, barely. He recognized him as one of the rangers, probably that friend of Rangar. Good, who better than to owe Baroden a life debt than the dear friend of his enemy?

[Arvedui III]

Enien had thrown yet another diatribe he could barely remember. The nurse mixed a potion. He slept, maybe even healed; But it made no difference. Rangar woke feeling empty, bereift of emotion. Painfully sitting up, he allowed the room to spin for several minutes, then shook his head to clear it. His eyes stung in the soft candlelight, then he noticed Wren was sleeping quitey in a chair by him, Turthol's fife in her hands. Even with her eyes closed, Rangar could tell she had been crying, a lot.

A fresh stab of pain hit him, but whether that was from his prolonged struggle in the water or from seeing her grieve for something that was by rights his fault, he knew not. Gingerly, Rangar got to his feet, making sure not to wake her. His whole body hurt intensely, but he just ignored the pain and walked onto the deck. The light was gray as the sea below, calm as glass yet as innocent as himself. Some of the company was asleep on the wood, or staring out to sea, giving no heed to the rest of the ship. The crew ignored him. A small mercy, he deemed.

Rangar knew he could not mourn in front of them. And he had to get them away from them. If not for the company's safety, then for Turthol's memory. No more of his friends would fall on his account. Rangar walked to the stern of the ship and looked backward toward the passing storm, now only a faint silhouette of dark clouds and choppy waves on the horizon. He would have it so. Mark me Barodin, whatever I did to wrong you, it is nothing compared to what you have dealt me. I shall see your blood upon my blade. This I swear to you, and to my friends whom you have taken.

And, for the first time in his memory, Rangar allowed himself to cry. Silently at first, salty water falling unheralded over the railing; Then as the dark spot on the horizon vanished, small sobs. Choking breaths then, and finally his burning legs gave way and he crumpled onto the deck.

Failure. You failed him by your damnable mercy. You should have killed when you had the chance! What did your mercy do? Kill your best friend, that's what! Stupid! No, there's more to this. I learned from this, I won't hesitate to kill. I know now what mercy is. At the expense of Turthol. And Aerin, for that matter. You just stood there. I was unarmed! You let your gaurd down. Mistake. I'm allowed to make mistakes! True, but mistakes have consequences...

"Don't be so hard on yourself." It was Ani Dao. "Why?" He asked bitterly, not even bothering to look at the elf, who was reminding strongly of both Enien and Turthol at the moment. "It was out of your hands." The elf started, "No. I had the chance to kill him. And I showed him mercy." Rangar spat. The elf-captain sighed, Rangar didn't care whether she knew who ‘he' was or not, or if she cared. Which she apparently did. "Mercy, little mortal, is not something to be ashamed of or counted as a weakness. I think Turthol knew that." She added gently.

That was it. She had touched the last nerve. "I won't ever know what he would have thought BECAUSE HE'S DEAD!" Rangar screamed. Several men nearby began to stare. The elf wasn't finished yet, though. She stared angrily at him, gritted her teeth, and retorted right back. "And it wasn't your fault. There are so many ways things can turn out, Rangar. You just can't think that everything revolves around you, because it doesn't. Some things, believe it or not, are out of your control."

Rangar face fell. That was it, then. Turthol's death was no one's fault, but then, that made it even more pointless. Pointless. "I'm sorry." Rangar mumbled. "I didn't mean to yell, or call you she-elf." Ani Dao merely smiled. "Count yourself lucky. The last person, well dwarf really, who called me she-elf ended up dead. And he was a much wiser fellow than you." Rangar grinned back. It hurt, but it felt good all the same. "Captain." One of the crew members said. It was his friend, Talon.

"Yes." Ani Dao answered and for the first time Rangar realized how tired she was. " Mr. , Mr. Yazven was found in the hold ma'am. He's dead." Rangar sighed. Another death, all because of that slimly bast-"Very well then. Wrap the body and put it in the other one's room." We'll bury them both tomorrow." "Yes ma'am." Came the meak response and Talon walked off. Rangar got up, and for the first time in a long while, felt very, very hungry.

Suddenly, a cry came from the forecastle. "LAND HO!" Rangar looked ahead, and saw the faint line of Harad in the distance.

[Everdawn]

Énien had been relieved that they had after all been able to recover Aerin's body.
It may have been to the others that Énien was strong. But how wrong they could be. She had cried, like them all, but in her own shame she had not let it show. It was always like this, this death. A sensless waste.

The elf no longer had tears to cry, though she was pale. They need me to be strong she though as she leant against the wall in Rangar's room where Wren sat watching and going through Turthôl's bag. Énien could tell that Wren was gald for her company, for mortals show their emotions so much easily. Wren was crying, holding Turthôl's fife. It was heart wrenching, Énien bowed her head. Soon enough she to was sleeping, as Rangar did. Like lambs, and about as strong as them now too... Quietly she tip-toed out of the room, which was not hard and she did not make any noise.

Down the hall was her room, across from Calimir, the door was partially open, he lay on his bed. Gently she lay a hand on his back. He blamed himself. And she knew all to well how that felt. Énien was never one for saying the right things, that was what Calimir had always done, for her.

The worst thing is that he said nothing at all, except "i know" and he left. This was horrible for her. As soon as he was gone Énien wept, and after what seemed a thousand tears, the elf composed herself.

Above deck she found Rave. They talked for a while about things, and their earlier conversation. She tried not to dwell on that thought, tried but the fact was that Énien did not have many mortal friends, thoes before the company had died a long time ago, but when Énien was hardened. She had not wept for them, she was a different elf. But now, it seemed she had changed, almost back to the old elf she had once been, placid, happy and content with her own world.

The elf and the woman went below deck, but Énien could not sleep, try as she did. Instead she went and sat in her dry nightdress, in the common room table, one leg crossed over another, eyes closed. As she tended to do on this ship.

[Eruwen]

Rave finally returned to her room after coming below deck with Énien. She slept for an hour or so, but an incessant rustle outside her door caused her to awaken suddenly. As she quickly dressed and ran out the door, she noticed a few crew members rushing to the deck.

"What's going on?" she said faintly, mostly still half asleep, but the men seemed to not hear her. Rave followed the men above deck where many were standing at the edge of the ship forever staring out across the ocean.

Rave stood back a little to where she could not see out over the side of the ship. A sudden uneasyness came to mind as she thought that they might have found Turthôl's body, but her heart dropped when she found that it was only the sight of land. Trying to turn her mind away from the previous incidents which had occurred, she forced a smile upon her face and walked to the edge of the ship.

"Finally...land," she thought staring out upon the country at her eyes. "Anything would be good to get me off this wretched ship...or, at least away from the sea."

The land of Harad soon became more visible as they approached the shorline. Finally, their destination was in view...and a splended view it was as well.

[maikafanawen]

The sight of land was unexpected. The crew had gone around the ship working fast to get all the necessary repairs done before another storm hit. The stays that had snapped were replaced and the mizzen topgallant was mended. Both the jibs had ripped free of their spars and the crew would need another day or so to finish maintenance.

Ani Dao was below in her quarters along with Ryeran and Rangar pouring over the maps and charts.

“The storm has changed our course by thirty miles only. Not that disastrous. Is there a certain place we need to drop anchor or once we’re here, the passengers will take jolly boats in?” The captain shrugged her shoulders and looked towards Rangar who answered.

“We need to get ashore now. You know exactly where we are?” Ryeran nodded and pointed to a place on the map.

“We’re about two hundred and fifty miles by sea to the mouth of the Harnen on this hump, not far from Umbar...” his voice trailed, and he glanced up, concern etched on his face. Ani Dao brushed it away.

“Umbar is not one of our major problems as of now Mr. Ryeran.” She turned back to Rangar. “Should we take the jolly boats up the Harnen and drop anchor there, or do you want to sail along more south dropping anchor past Umbar?”

* * *

Wren woke with a start. The Silver Wyrm had stopped. Dressing quickly, she went up to the deck where the crew was working on repairs. The noblewoman found Rave standing at the railing.

“Land,” she said as Wren approached. The Gondorian heaved a sigh of relief.

“Thank Eru.”

Mr. Yazven’s, and Aerin’s funerals were held later that day. Their bodies were wrapped in blankets from their quarters. The ceremony was led by the captain who said the ritual words and prayers for a safe journey to Mandos’ halls as would have been said in a regular land funeral. Except this time an extra part was added asking Ulmo to aid them on their journey. No one cried. It was as though they had no tears left. Instead their faces were hard and set for the part of the journey that was left to come. Before the makeshift caskets were sent into the sea, others had a few words they wanted to say...

[Durelin]

Tareth stood, hands folded in front of him, head down. His eyes were locked on the casket that held Aerin. Who cared about Mr. Yazven? He was some man on this ship. Tareth couldn't remember what it was called. He couldn't remember much, just Aerin. He had seen her die. That was all he had seen. And he saw it again and again. He wanted to scream. No, not cry, scream. But, how did you scream? He didn't know how, did he? He had seen another die...Turthol. He felt a stab of pain at not being able to remember the man's name for a moment. Just for a moment. Turthol. The murderer. Tareth couldn't help but snort, and some of the others looked at him strangely. He did not care, he hardly noticed. The man was not a murderer. He was a good man. He had killed with a right to. And what had the man thought of Tareth? That didn't matter, did it? He was dead, wasn't he?

What had Aerin thought of him? Tareth knew what he had thought of her. She had been kind, gentle, friendly, but strong. She had been an excellent companion, the one who had spoken to him at the beginning; he had felt comfortable speaking with her. He had seen her as a friend, and hoped she had seen him as one too. Now he saw her dead. Had seen her die. That was all he had seen, all he saw. Now she was to go to the sea. She had been so amazed by it, and had spoken often of how much she wished to see it. A fitting place for her to spend the rest of eternity in. She would find peace after being brought away from the waking world by a weapon of war. A fitting place. Perhaps he would see her soon. But until then...

Tareth knelt before the casket, speaking in a low voice. He didn't care whether the others heard him or not. "I am coming to understand why lives are taken in battles, Aerin. If there was no loss, we, the dominant creatures of Ea, would come to take pleasure in it." He paused, smiling a bit. I will miss you Aerin. We will." Rising, he lowered his voice to a whisper, keeping his eyes on the casket. "I will take pleasure in the battle that brings death to Baroden." Smiling, Tareth looked away from the casket for the first time since it was brought out, fingering his axe. "And that battle will come. Soon."

Death changes the lives of many. Tareth's life was all but gone.

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl coughed and spluttered. He woke with a start. He didn't know where he was. It was raining, and whatever he was in was moving around a lot. There was somebody with him also. He looked around and saw that he was in a small boat with a man rowing.

"I see your awake," the man said. Turthôl looked at him.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Turthôl said. His head and neck hurt.

"You are in my little fishing dingy. Unfortunately, I got hit by a storm and all my fishing equipment got swept overboard. I found you too. Lucky I did. You had a rope around your neck, as if someone was hanging you. So, the question is, who are you and what did you do to deserve an execution? After I know who you are, you shall know who I am," the man asked.

Turthôl thought for a moment. "I am..." but his mind was blank. "I am..." he said again but nothing came out.

"I don't know who I am," he said.

"Eh? You don't know who you are?" the man said.

"No...I don't remember anything!" Turthôl said.

"Not a thing, you say," the man said again.

Turthôl started to panic. His neck hurt for a reason he didn't know, and he was soaking wet. By what the man said, he had just saved his life.

"Well, I guess there's no harm in telling you, since you don't remember anything. I'm tracking a murderer, a man that killed my brother in cold blood. My name is Baroden."

"How did you find me, again? You said something about an execution..." Turthôl said.

"That's what it looks like. You had a noose around your neck. You were on a ship, I guess, because the murderer and his company that I was tracking was on that ship. From what I can tell, you probably got in their way and they were about to kill you. Luckily, the storm broke the rope somehow and set you free. Thats how I found you." Baroden answered.

"Say, friend, maybe you can help me to avenge my brother. You look strong enough. Can you wield a sword?" Baroden asked.

Turthôl shook his head. "I don't know, but I'll be glad to help you avenge your brother. After all, you saved my life after those murderers tried to take it. I am indebted to you."

Baroden smiled. "Good, I'm glad to have the company. It's been a lonely journey tracking these villians. Well, while I row to shore, I'll tell you about these people. The leader, and the one who murdered my brother, is a blond man named Rangar. They have a few elves with them. Despite what you know and heard about elves, these are killers. Their names are Calimir and Enien. Enien is a she-elf and Calimir is a male. Next is a man named Tareth. He's a brownish haired fellow. They have a young man named Bregand. He can't do much but don't let your guard down. They have two women named Carmilita and Ravenne. Again, don't let your guard down. Oh, and another women they have is a rich noblewoman from Gondor named Wren. She's the blond haired woman. Don't let her good looks and charm get you. As soon as she's got you where she wants you, your dead." he said.

Turthôl scratched his head. "How do you plan on avenging your brother if this man Rangar is surrounded by such dangerous people? And how can I help you?"

"Oh, don't worry. I have no doubt in your abilities," Baroden said. "No doubt at all..."

[Arvedui III]

No one cried as the two bodies were given to the sea. Rangar ignored whatever comforting words were said. It didn't matter to him anymore. He'd never quite understood prayer or faith, or how that would help Turthol and Aerin now. Begging Mandos, or whoever, to aid them seemed only to comfort the living, and since Rangar saw no tangible signs that any of it worked, he dismissed it, dwelling only on his friends as they were in life.

That afternoon, Ani Dao asked him about landing, and whether he wanted to wait until they had sailed past Umbar. The king has returned, we can risk Umbar He told her they needed to get ashore as soon as possible, and so the company began gathering their things as the ship headed inland. Rangar had very little of his own, so he set upon shouldering Turthol pack as well, save two things which he felt needed to be carried by someone else. As luck would have it, Wren came in just as he was wondering what to do. "Hullo." "Hi." "What, um, are you going to do with Turthol's things." She asked softly. "Keep them. But, there is something I think is yours in here."

He took off the sack and pulled out Turthol's jacket from his day as a nobleman, note still attached. "Here" He said, handing it to Wren. She nodded, and began to fold it up, but before she could, something fell out and onto the floor. "His fife." Wren whispered as she picked it up. "Yeah," Said Rangar in as an offhanded manner as he could manage. "I can't play the thing, so you can have it too." "He'll want it back though." Wren said, brows furrowed. She still hopes. "Well, you can give it to him when you meet again. I'd lose it." He said, hoping she couldn't read the wave of sadness that passed over his face. Then, to change the subject, "Dunno about you, but I'm getting out of this blasted cabin." He said, and walked out.

When he came on the deck, he found most of the company already gathered, the captain and crew fussing over a missing jolly-boat, or something. But, in the end it didn't really matter. After about ten minutes of preparation, the group got into three boats and rowed to shore. Harad was breathtaking. The land was harsh, heat from the sun seemingly bleaching all color from the terrain. Saffron cliffs loomed thousands of feet only to face the cruel lashes of the sea. And yet, it seemed shadowy somehow. There seemed to not be a speck of green, sand blowing softly between dunes in the distance. A dark place to live, but it does have a grim beauty to it. Rangar thought as he stepped ashore, glad that he stood and dry land once more. And dry this place most definitely was.

Now, where to begin? It took some time to get oriented. The ship was to stay at anchor for a week to do repairs from the storm damage, and if they had not accomplished their goal by then, the company would have to chance a journey back on the Harad road. Rangar was bracing for the latter, taking as much water and dried food as he could. The other seemed to have done the same. The group formed up, and as the jolly-boats headed back to sea, began walking silently ahead. Surely, the seer could not be too hard to find?

[Everdawn]

The next time she opened her eyes, Énien could see they had docked. How could i have not known we are at land already... I must be spending to much time away from home. The elf was very tired, she had not slept since the last night at the Chambiras.

The burial was a somber affair, no one shed tears- they had none left. And Énien's mind seemed to wander off into the distance. Calimir was saying kind words. Frailty, everything is so frail, and some are malicious killers. were the thoughts that came into Énien's mind.

Yes, across the sea is the place for me. she snapped back into the real world, and stood as they were buried at sea. Énien said nothing. But sang instead elvish songs which Calimir joined after the first. The songs were beautiful, but filled with sadness, still no tears were shed.

Énien got her things and left the ship as fast as she could. Looking at Calimir who had done the same, as they stood looking back at the ship. "That was not the best first time was it old friend?" she said. Her skin blanched and eyes dull.
"It was not the best" said Calimir. "The journey over the sea will no doubt surface these memories, which we will have to re live, mellon" he put an arm on her shoulder. "I dont think i can care anymore, Calimir."

It was then the elf had her first proper view of Harad. Her green eyes widened. It is a wasteland!she thought and let out a gasp. Énien had not been this far into Harad, only to the very north. This place was nothing like Rivendell, no sign of greenery or falling water. "How could anyone, man or elf survive out here?" she asked aloud to the group.

[Earendil Halfelven]

"So what shall I call you, friend?" Baroden asked.

"I don't know," answered Turthôl.

The two men trudged along the dirt road with the city of Umbar drawing closer with every step.

"Hmmm, let's see. How about..." Baroden began but Turthôl interrupted him.

"How about Turthôl?" he said.

Baroden raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't know, but it just came to me," Turthôl said. Baroden was silent as they walked along.

"What's wrong?" Turthôl asked.

"Nothing. It fits you just right," Baroden said. "Come, we need to outfit you for the coming fight."

Baroden and Turthôl entered Umbar and headed straight for the blacksmith.
_____________________________________________

That night, they stayed in an inn. Alone in a room, Baroden and Turthôl discussed what they were going to do.

"I know that they are looking for the Seer of Harad. I don't know why Rangar wants to see the Seer but I have a feeling that its for a bad reason," Baroden said.

"What do you mean?" asked Turthôl.

"The Seer will reveal anything to the person who askes the question. I know that Rangar needs the Seer for an evil plan. If they get to the Seer, then all is lost," Baroden answered.

"How are we going to stop them?" Turthôl said. "Somehow we need to get there before them."

"Don't worry, I know where the Seer is. The Seer lives in some hills about 10 miles outside of this city. We'll go there tomorrow."

"What do you plan on doing?" Turthôl asked.

"You stall them and kill as many of Rangar's people as you can. I'll deal with the Seer."

"You want me to kill them?" Turthôl said. That didn't sound very good to him.

"Well, either you can do that or as soon as they see you, they'll kill you. You'll be defending yourself."

"Alright," was all Turthôl said.

They planned late into the night, but Turthôl's mind was somewhere else.

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

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

[The X Phial]

They came ashore a half day's walk from where Bregand's maps put a fairly large settlement. They landed with the predawn tide in the hopes of missing the worst of the heat. For the first few hours, in fact, it was quite cool in the barren land. By the time they reached the town, though, all were sagging. The fact that they were all emotionally drained didn't help.

Rangar was walking ahead of the others, his face hard and cold. The rest of the company trailed behind, all silent, in varying degrees of despair. Bregand noticed that Rave and Calimir both spent a lot of time looking back while the sea was still in visual range. It was only concern for the others that kept them from running back to the sea, in Bregand's mind. For his own part, Bregand was relieved to be back on dry land, even if it was barren and dry.

Losing Aerin and Turthol had scared Bregand more than he showed. He wanted to be strong, and so he hadn't cried, but his heart was aching. The thing that scared him the most, though, was how happy he had been that it wasn't Carmalita who was gone. He was ashamed of his gratitude, but couldn't ignore it. He was also relieved that both of the elves and Tareth had survived. They were the closest friends he had ever made, and while he had admired Aerin and Turthol, he hadn't been especially close to them.

They trudged into town, more heartweary than footsore. They found an inn and sank onto a cluster of benches by the door. The Haradrim stared openly at the group, especially the elves. Bregand cringed at the attention, especially given the fact that the hunter was still about, and possibly in the area. Still, he thought as long as they were the center of attention anyway, they might as well get something out of it.

"Rangar, do you suppose these people know where to find the seer?" He queried.

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

[Arvedui III]

"Rangar, do you suppose these people know where to find the seer?"

"Hm?" Rangar said, wondering what had broken his thoughts. "Do you think they might know something?" Bregand repeated. "Mayhap, but," Rangar broke off, looking around at several Haradrim who were eying them in a manner that suggested their welcome had already been worn out. "It might not be the best idea." Finished Rave, also looking skittishly at several villagers. It was understandable. The last time they had asked a village for aid, they'd ended up being chased half-way 'cross Rohan; No telling what would happen in Harad. "We have no leads to go on, worst that can happen-" Tareth began, but Rangar did not want to know the worst that could happen. He got up, and not knowing fully what he was going to do, entered the small inn.

It was dank, almost murky, and very uninviting. The rest of the company didn't appear to be following, so Rangar took out his's pipe, more out of nerves than anything else, for he didn't smoke, and filled it with old leaf. A very lank, swarthy man on his right eyed the pipe with interest, Rangar noted. "Want some?" He said, offering the pipe toward the man. He laughed. Rangar wasn't sure if this was bad or good, but he hoped someone would say something soon, even a curse would quell his nerves a little. "You know this isn't Gondor, right?" The man chortled in surprisingly good Westron, as he took the pipe. It's a start. "It isn't?!" Rangar cried in mock-panic, which he hoped the man could read as humor. "Afraid not, friend." Friend, huh. "Ohh, well. Guess I'll just have to keep wandering around till I find it." Rangar sighed. Most of the rest of the inn were either smiling, albeit viciously, at Rangar or had gone back to ignoring him.

"Are you a leaf-selling?" The man now holding his's pipe pressed eagerly. "No, sorry." Rangar answered. Now, ask it. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have heard a story about some Seer 'round here?" The man's smile vanished. "Where did you hear of far-sight?" He asked seriously, though it did not disguise the shock in his voice. "Dunno," Rangar shrugged Don't want to set a panic. "Why? Is it true?" Said Rangar, trying to sound bemused. "Very much true." The man said, still very seriously. "Wouldn't go to him though, there's a high price for what he does. You'd best go find Gondor. Not many here like your folk." The man near growled. That can't be good. "I know. You wouldn't happen to know where to find this far-sight, would you?" Rangar asked anyway, trying to keep his voice level. "You are very stupid." The Haradrim said, openly angry. What now?"I know, I don't intend on going, but just for the good story this would make once I do find Gondor." Rangar said through a grin, silently congratulating himself on the fact that for once his false answer hadn't been stupid.

"Ah, well, it's a set of hills not that far from here. Small house, most curious, yet ordinary at the same time. We ignore it. Does that make a good tale?" "Yes," Rangar laughed triumphantly. "Wouldn't of change a word." "You need something?" A craggy voice said, very clearly in an annoyed version of Westron. The bar-tender. "No, no, just some shade." Rangar excused himself quickly, not wanting to linger. "Herm, go then." The Haradrim man handed him the pipe back as he got up. "Perhaps some other time, edain." He whispered. Rangar was a bit taken aback, and half-wanted to continue talking to this man; But then Enien and Calmir walked in, and by the looks of it, another long talk was in store for him. "Come on," Rangar muttered as he pushed them out the door. "I know where we're going."

[ June 18, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[Everdawn]

"Why do they stare at us so?" Énien asked holding her head high. "Why, i feel just like I am on display, and I dont like it." her voice was hard.

"Ignore them." Calimir had said looking at the ground. This place was haunting to her. The very stare of the villagers sent a chill up the elf's spine. Énien looked around, "where is Rangar?" she said. "Probably just gone for a walk." Tareth answered. "Oh, no, he cannot afford to go for a walk here, Look at them!" she had said this last part a little to loudly, and some of the inhabitants of the Inn started to look their way again.

Énien lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. "We have already lost two of the company, and i will not risk losing anymore, not while i am around!" and she left, coming onto the street. Calimir had followed her. "Well, it is not as if I can leave you on your own." he said.

"look, there he is, not so far away." Calimir said holding her arm, as she had gone to walk the other way. "what is he doing?" she said frowning. They approached Rangar, and Énien was about to say something to the other man, but was pushed away by Rangar, a bit too roughly. "I know where we are going." he said. Énien rubbed her shoulder, frowning, and looked up at him. "And where exactlywould that be, my dear friend?"

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl, dressed in the garb of the Haradrim, walked down the crowded street of the city. He didn't know what it was called. Baroden had sent him out to buy some rations. He didn't have enough for two men, so Turthôl needed to go buy some food for himself.

Baroden had told Turthôl to put on a Haradrim cloak so as not to attract attention. The people of Harad didn't like foriegner's. So, Turthôl pulled the hood of the cloak lower over his face.

He explored the bazaars of the market. The people of Harad were tanned people with dark hair. Must be from all the sun they get, he thought.

He looked up the street to see a shocking sight. A man, accompanied by two elves and followed by other people, were walking towards him. His breath caught in his throat. They were the company that Baroden had described to him! He saw that the man in front was that Rangar. He was accompanied by who must have been Calimir and Enien.

His mind raced. What should he do? If they recognized him, he was a dead man.
"Not if I can help it," Turthôl mumbled.

He backed up against the nearest building and pulled the hood even lower. His right hand went inside and gripped the hilt of his Haradrim scimitar. If they were to recognize him, he was ready.

As they drew nearer, he heard them say,"I know where we are going." That was Rangar. Turthôl looked up just barely enough to see them. The elf,Énien, was frowning.

"And where exactly would that be, my dear friend?" she said. Turthôl didn't want to risk being seen so he slowly looked down again. They passed by him slowly, discussing what they were going to do. All he could see was their feet.

They were almost passed him when they stopped. He could barely hear what Rangar was saying to the elves, but they had stopped. The others were waiting for them to figure out what they were doing before they proceeded. They were so close that he could hear many of the others talking amongst themselves.

"I need to replenish some medical herbs," said a woman. "I'm running low."

"Hopefully, we'll find an apothecary before we leave to se the Seer. How much money do you have, Carmilita?" said another woman.

"Not much, Wren. Do you think that these people take money from Gondor?" Carmilita asked.

"Probably," said a young man this time. "They must have Gondorian merchants comet through here once and a while."

"I don't know, Bregand. These people seem hostile to northerners," said Carmilita again.

"Let's ask somebody if they know where the apothecary is." That was the woman Wren.

Turthôl saw a pair of light traveling boots approach him. Then a voice said, "Excuse me, sir. Do you know where we can find the apothecary?" It was the woman Wren.

Turthôl didn't know what to do. His right hand was still in his cloak and he gripped the hilt even tighter. One swift stroke, and she'd be dead, but he'd be in a mess of trouble witht the rest of them. He didn't think that he could disguise his voice very well, so he just shook his head in the no response. The cloth around his neck shifted. What if they see the scars? he thought suddenly. The rope had wrapped so tight around his neck, that it had burned and cut him. With the shift of the cloth as he shook his head, he feared that the woman Wren would see his scar and become suspicious.

"Oh," she said. Without sticking around, he turned and walked off down the street.

"Hey! Come back!" she called but Turthôl ignored her. Had she seen? Turthôl hoped not.
_____________________________________________

Turthôl burst into the room.

"Baroden! Rangar and the others are in the city!" he said.

"Did they see you?" he asked.

Turthôl hesitated, then said,"No."

Baroden gathered up his stuff. "Come, our plan changes. We are going to follow them. Maybe we can end this before they get to the Seer. If not, then we'll have to get them one by one or beat them to the Seer."

With their gear in tow, Turthôl and Baroden left to find Rangar and Co.

[maikafanawen]

“Wait! Wait!!” The man ran down the alleyway, with Wren just staring after him, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, mouth slightly open. For a moment, when he turned to run, she got a glimpse of his face, not enough to be sure, but enough to stir recognition. She knew it was impossible, but if it was, why didn’t her heart stop pounding. Seeing that man’s face however, sparked the shred of hope she had, and deep within, she knew Turthôl was alive.

“We should get moving quickly or buy some Harad wear, we’re definitely not wanted here,” said Carmalita coming up and taking her elbow.

“C-Carmalita, th-that was, that w-wasn’t…nevermind.” If it had been him, why did he run? Surely he would have recognized me. Then it definitely wasn’t him…unless… She shook her head and rummaged through her money pouch that hung from her belt. The only thing she had left behind from her usual ensemble was her lute. Wren hadn’t played it since the storm, and didn’t feel a need to. She had five gold pennies, ten silver pieces, twenty-five silver pennies, and a hundred plus copper pennies: enough to help Carmalita should she need extra money, and for anything else she might need on her way home.

After Aerin had died, Wren swore that she would live. Now that the terror of death was so real, she feared it less. She had seen it, and refused its offer. It will not have her yet. The noblewoman also swore that she would do all she can to help the others, but wasn’t sure if that counted for much. Her only weapons were her reason and her sword. She was missing one crucial thing: experience. Wren was the only one who lacked it, save for Bregand, but he made up for it with his knowledge.

They found the apothecary close by, and were able to replenish Carmalita’s herbs, but not without remorseful glares and unkind words from some of its loiterers. Soon, they were on their way to the Seer’s house.

[Arvedui III]

The sand flew out behind them as the company quickly left the village. The ill-will of the Haradrim was near palpable, so all were glad to be gone, even if they were heading into the desert with only the obscurest of directions. Rangar supposed he should have pressed his luck with the Haradrim at the inn, but judging by the way these people felt towards them, he thought that they were lucky for the leads they had. After all, one man had flat-out ran when Wren asked for locations to an apothecary Then, there was the possibility that Barodin was still lurking around. Rangar felt guilty, but he hoped that he had survived. Drowning is far too good for him.

Bregand checked his maps, and two respective sets of hills existed in the area. One lay near what looked by the map to have once been part of the Harad road, and the other was positioned farther to the east. Both were roughly a good two days walk away. Curious, yet ordinary. They ignore it. Which one is it, though? "Let's try the one by the road." Rangar said, and there were no objections. Truthfully, everyone seemed to be too tired or too hot to argue. Soon though, the desert proved to be much harder to navigate then they'd thought. Wind swept up the sand before them, blocking the path Bregand outlined on his map, all the while the sun seared down upon them.

Finally, they gave up for the day and took shelter under the relative shade of several dunes. Night fell with no moon, and a deathly cold. Rangar took first watch after the group had agreed to set off a couple hours before the dawn. Not in the devilish heat, but not in the near frozen conditions, either. Rangar thought he heard footsteps several times during his watch, but they came from a distance, and the sounds might have belonged to an animal for all he knew. Quite frankly, he barely cared. It seemed with all the company, that there was a certain, kind of unspoken barrier in place that kept them from feeling too much or too strongly. At least, that's how Rangar felt it was. And what if this Seer can't tell me anything. And what of a price for this knowledge. I have nothing to offer. It will be for naught, but I've gone too far now. Forced too many good people to, oh, nevermind. Don't think about it.

No longer able to keep his eyes open, Rangar woke Tareth, and gratefully huddled underneath his cloak for warmth as sleep took him. The next day they made good time. Bregand was in his element, and despite the sands, he reckoned the company was only half a day away from their goal by the time the sun forced them to stop. They were better. Rangar did not have watch that night, and for once slept without dreams; So it was a surprise when he was roused by Calmir for the pre-dawn start of their march. By the time the sun had risen, very uncharacteristic heights loomed ahead, one with something large and pointy on top of it. They had found the Seer.

[Everdawn]

What weather! Énien thought, as the company trudged over the desert. If only i had a horse. she then corrected her thought aloud "No horse could even begin to like this country, though, i think you may find some saddle horse or rockey pony who would galdly drag the carcasses of wiery travellers over this land." Her voice was not very optimistic.

"Here here" muttered Rave from behind her. "I still cannot believe that any man can live out here." said Énien, "its just too hot! and one would surely die of thirst after a while, yes, give me the falling waters and lushness of Imladris anyday!" she laughed, and then sung a lively elvish song, before stopping short. Something was not right. She turned sharply and looked around. Nothing.

They had camped two nights in a row, and Énien had taken watch only once. On a clear, cold night. The elf had looked up at the sky, gazing for hours, until she noticed something with made her whole body jolt. She stood up and gasped. The star! it is not there! she blinked and checked the whole sky again. Why would it just come and go like that?This thought had occupied her until she was tapped on the shoulder by Rave, which made her jump.
"woah!, are you allright." she asked, a smirk on her face. "I am, goodnight." was all she said and sat crosslegged under a tree.

The second night had been slightly more bareable, as Énien refused to look at the sky. And she would have slept allright, if it had not been for something... She did not know what it was, whether it was the hostile land and its people, the absence of the star, or somehting the elf could not seem to comprehend. Something which seemed just beyond her sight, and whatever it was, she swore she would be ready.

So came the end of their desert journey when they came to a house. "We are here." said Bregand, a satisfied look on his face, as he put away his maps. "well, what do we do now?" Énien asked brushing at some of the dirt on her boots.

[Earendil Halfelven]

They started to follow the company out of the city but Baroden stopped.

"Aren't we going to follow them?" Turthôl asked.

"Yes, but I have an idea. Come, follow me," Baroden replied. Even though the Haradrim cloak covered his face, Turthôl knew that he was smiling underneath it.

Baroden turned around and headed back to the nearest inn.

"We need some 'reinforcements' if you know what I mean," Baroden said.

Entering the inn, Turthôl was glad that they drew no suspicious stares. Their disguises were working. They seated themselves near some particularly mean looking men. After ordering some ale, Baroden struck up a conversation with the men.

"Have you men seen some foriegners head through here? They are led by a blond man. They are from Gondor," Baroden asked.

"Who's asking?" one man asked.

"Two soldiers from Umbar seeking some Gondorian runaways. They are seeking the Seer."

At the mention of "Gondorian runaways" and the Seer, several swarthy men looked up.

"Yeah, we saw them. They were in here asking about the Seer."

"What do they want with the Seer?" another asked.

"I don't know, but let's just say that if they reach the Seer, Harad is in danger of invasion from Gondor. They used you men to know where the Seer is."

The ale and what Baroden said worked its magic. Several men started yelling and saying how they need to track down the villians and kill them before they did their damage. One big man seemed to take the leadership.

"Yeah, let's go! To the Seer and to the death of the Gondorians! For Harad!"

Baroden was glad to see 15 men brandishing swords cheer and follow the big man, who was named Alamar. Alamar looked at Baroden and Turthôl and said,"Follow us, soldiers of Umbar. We'll take you to the Seer and we'll do your job for you!"

Baroden, Turthôl, Alamar, and 15 angry Haradrim headed out after Rangar and Co. They were only 2 hours behind.
_____________________________________________

That night, as they made camp and rested, Turthôl stared up into the sky. Fleeting thoughts invaded his mind but before he could grab a hold of them, they were gone. He had a feeling that they were his memories that he had forgotten. They were trying to come back. He began to drift into an uneasy sleep.

"Don't be bitter about your destiny. Few can change theirs, but you can always make the best of it." Goldrim had said jokingly.
"That's easy for you to say. You're going to live forever in a place few can imagine...a place few can go except for those of Elven decent. For us mortals, we must die after all we've done for this world. Haven't the Dúnedain earned their chance to live and see the Valar, as our fathers of old, the Númenóreans, had done?" Turthôl replied.
"That, my friend, is a question you should not be asking me." Goldrim said again.
"Well, you can ask the Valar for me when you get to Valinor..." Turthôl began but Goldrim interrupted him.
"Turthôl, you should not have these thoughts. You are a Dúnedain; you have great responsibility for these people. Middle-Earth belongs to you now. The Elves are fading into the West. We shall all be gone and forgotten soon.

His eyes shot open again. What was that? he thought. A memory from long ago. He struggled do to bring it back but it began to fade...Dúnedain...Ranger...Rangar

Then, without warning, a realization burst into his mind.

"I am a Ranger of the Dúnedain."

[Earendil Halfelven]

It was a two day journey from the city to the Seer, and they camped on the second night. Tomorrow, they were going to attack.

Again, Turthôl stared up into the sky, trying to remember. His mind started to wander when another memory entered his mind.

"Look, I’ll pick it up since I know what it is, and you just pay for it okay? I see you have enough." She stopped and pulled him around to face her.

“Here now! I’m a part of the company too so you mind how you treat me. I’m not beneath you.” Turthol snickered silently and continued walking, shrugging off the place where she had grabbed him.

“Oh no,” she said following him, “don’t leave me. Tell me exactly what we need and I’ll give my opin—”

“I don’t want your opinion. What do you know about journeys?” She opened her mouth to answer but didn’t know what to say. She thought for a minute and replied,

“Well then teach me what you know.”

What memory was that? he thought. It was one of him arguing with a woman. Her face was a little fuzzy and he couldn't recognize her, but for some reason, weird fluttery feelings welled up in his stomach when he thought of her. He felt that piece by piece, his memory was coming back. Then, another memory came back-

[I]“How dare you suggest such a thing—I never! Sorry if I’m just a friendly type of person but that doesn’t mean you’re any more special than the others!”

“If that’s true than why did you invite me outside!”

“I needed some fresh air!”

“Well it didn’t help ye did it?” They stopped their shouting just long enough for another voice to join the arguement.

“Oh, why don’t ye stop bickering and kiss her already?” said a man who was trimming the hedge. The woman blushed, stomped her foot in anger, and left.[I]

It was that same blond lady, and those same fluttery feelings came back, even though Turthôl did not know who she was. Whoever she was, she was someone he knew, and-someone he liked to argue with.

Gradually, his memory was improving.
_____________________________________________

They approached the house of the Seer. It was in the distance and they could see Rangar and Co. standing in front of the house. Baroden signaled to the men that they should hide behind the nearest hill. They were as quiet as they could be, and they were able to get only 30 yards away. To Baroden's delight, they had not been seen.

"Turthôl, come here," he whispered. Turthôl approached where Alamar and Baroden were planning.

"Turthôl, I want you to approach and confront them from this direction. They will certainly be startled to see you. While you are distracting them, Alamar and his men will sneak from behind and attack. I'll take care of Rangar."

Turthôl nodded and stood. He crossed over the crest of the hill. The hood of the cloak still covered his face. He approached the company.

"Hey! Look! Somebody is coming!" cried a woman's voice. It was that Carmalita.

"It's that man from yesterday," said the woman Wren.

Turthôl looked from under his cloak, and saw that the two elves approached him. Then he saw Wren. His breath caught. She beared a striking resemblance to the woman in his memories.

"Halt!" cried the female elf. Turthôl did not stop. He kept walking. The rest of the company was looking at him.

"Halt!" the female elf cried again. Only 10 yards away from them, Turthôl stopped.

"Who are you?" she asked. He did not answer. Instead, he reached into his cloak and gripped his sword hilt. Suddenly, Turthôl didn't want to draw his sword. He wanted to take off the hood and show them who he was. Something was stopping him from what he was going to do. He shoved that feeling away and ignored it.

"Who are you?" they demanded.

"Somebody who wants to kill you," he said. He drew his sword. At the same time, the hood fell from his face. The look on their faces made him glad-they were utterly stunned.

Turthôl struck.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Earendil Halfelven ]

[Arvedui III]

Rangar felt his grin would brake his jaw as they got closer to the hills. Even if it's for nothing, I'll still have the dreams. That's something, anyway. Enien's voice rang out, Rangar turned. A cloaked Haradrim was walking toward them, paying no head to the elf's shouts. Rangar rushed back, the man continuing to stride placidly ahead. Rangar gripped his sword hilt as the man finally came to a stop. Barodin?! Rangar thought, his mind panicking and racing wildly. His fears seemed to be confirmed when the figure coldly said, "Somebody who wants to kill you,"

That was it. Rangar drew his blade just as the man made a strike for Enien, but his hood fell, and he was unmistakable. Half the company gasped as one. Wren screamed, and Enien near lost her arm in the surprise. "Turthol!" Rangar shouted, and dropping his sword made a running hug for his friend that ended up being more of a tackle. Things couldn't have been better, Rangar decided as he grinned and pined Turthol's arms down while the man struggled frantically in what Rangar thought was mock-panic. "Where've you been?!" Rangar near sputtered, getting up, but to his utter bewilderment, found a cruel scimitar at his throat.

Turthol said nothing, but made his face hard, eyes full of a bizarre, quiet triumph."What are you doing?" Several of the company cried. And then, the look in his eyes was replaced with something else. A kind of lost confusion, a blankish stare. The hairs on the back of Rangar's neck began to rise. It was as if he was staring into a darker version of his own eyes. That look. What's going on? Gods, Turthol. He hasn't, but then, how. My friend, what's happened to you!? Suddenly voices brought him away from his thoughts and Turthol's eyes. "Turthol, that's enough." and then, "Are you alright?" It was either Calmir or Tareth, Rangar didn't know for sure; However, he did know they had to get away from Turthol, fast.

"Everyone, go on ahead. I need to talk to Turthol, alone." Please, please let this work. He thought as Bregand, Calmir, and Camalita began moving up the hill, smiles on their faces. But Enien, Wren and Tareth remained. Fools! "Now!" Rangar cried, gulping as Turthol blade inched against his skin. "Alright, geez, but Turthol, I have your fife, ok?" Wren laughed as she and Tareth began to follow the others. Rangar got the distinct impression she was crying, also. "Are you should you're ok?" Enien began, "No, he's far from ok." Said a icy voice from the right of them. Rangar's blood boiled as the figure coming toward them cast aside it's hood; And in perfect time to hear shouts from further up the hill. "Haradrim!" Someone cried, and blades rang as they were drawn. "Turthol," Barodin ordered as he drew his own sword. "Take care of the elf." With one look of hate that made Rangar want to scream, Turthol withdrew his scimitar and rounded on Enien. "Enien, go help the others!" Rangar barked while backing up to find his own sword. The elf nodded, and began moving slowly upward, Turthol's blade rushing her ascent.

Barodin laughed, and rushed Rangar as he bent to pick his sword up. He blocked, and the two circled each other like starving wargs. "You are disgusting, you know that right?" Rangar growled, looking for any opening in his enemy. "And why am I more disgusting than you?" Barodin spat back, complete malice in his eyes. "It's one thing to want revenge on me, but kill others? And then twist vulnerable men to lies that make them want to kill innocents!" Rangar shouted, about to see red. "I told him the truth." Barodin replied with a cold, satisfied smile. "You don't know the truth!" Rangar burst out. "And you do?!" Barodin laughed again. "I know enough." Rangar retorted, still searching for any advantage. "Then, you'll of course know how he died." Barodin said coolly. "No." Said Rangar, gritting his teeth. "Allow me to demonstrate, then." Barodin hissed, and lunged at him.

[maikafanawen]

Wren almost fainted when she saw Turthôl. Rave had grabbed her from behind when her knees gave out. She didn’t understand though, it looked as though he hadn’t recognized them. He’s probably shocked to us them too, she reasoned.

"Everyone, go on ahead. I need to talk to Turthôl, alone," said Rangar. The situation seemed awkward. What was going on?

“Fine, but Turthôl, I have your fife.” She forced an unsure laugh as she followed Énien up the hill to the Seer’s house. Suddenly the sound of blades, ringing free of their scabbards reached the company. Wren turned just in time to see a dozen Haradrim running towards them, scimitars raised in challenge.

“What is this?” yelled Tareth, drawing his own weapon. Wren cursed under her breath, hand gripping her sword’s pommel.

“What do we do!” she shouted as the men drew closer. Énien took charge.

“Fight them. They’re with him.” The rest turned towards a cloaked figure who was approaching Rangar where Turthôl had left him. It was Baroden. Wren’s mouth dropped. Where was Turthôl? She had no time to think, the Haradrim were upon them. The advantage was with the noblewoman. Her blade was a good ten inches longer than the enemy’s weapon and her skill was at least thrice superior. The one rule that she had lived by and been preached in fencing lessons was never to kill an unarmed man, or attack when his back was turned. So she fought back with a purpose.

[Everdawn]

The day was different, and the wind whispered quietly to Énien, tidings of an enemy. I knew I was right, And now I am ready. she said to herself, feeling the daggar she held at her side and Aerin's sword which she had kept after the burial.

Now coming was a small group of Haradrim, two were at the front. She placed Aerin's sword on the ground. "Halt!" Énien cried. He did not answer. Not only do the Haradrim lack friendship, they also lack manners. "Who are you?" she asked again. This time, a a few of the company stopped.

"Somebody who wants to kill you," the man answered and lunged at Énien, who dodged the blow, missing her arm by millimetres, Rangar had met it. From the ground, the elf looked up at Rangar standing just in front of her. And now, you have saved my life.she thought. The look on his face, however was different, one of immence pain, who then dropped his sword and went to hug the man.

Énien saw who it was. She let out an alarmed gasp. "but youre dead!, but dear gods youre alive!" were her eyes decieving her? had Turthôl really returned? She got up form the ground.

Something on Turthôl's eyes made Énien stop fast as Rangar told them to leave. Rangar glanced at her, his eyes were pleading. You will be no Matyr for us Rangar. she spoke to herself. "Are you should you're ok?" she said to Rangar, as a cold but familliar voice echoed. "No, he's far from ok."

Baroden. Énien spun around to see the man and many other Haradrim. Baroden, so you have come back for more, I see, you missed impaling on my arrow the first time, and then jumped overboard the second, but now, you will die, Rangar will kill you. she said defiantly as Turthôl left Rangar and directed his scimitar on her. Why did I not draw my weapons when i could? was her first thought. "Take care of the elf." Baroden said coldly.

"Enien, go help the others!" She nodded, but Turthôl would not let her leave. She listened to what Baroden had to say to Rangar, as she was being backed up... "I told him the truth." said Baroden. Énien frowned. "What is he talking about Rangar?" she asked, but was cut off by the scimitar which was pointed at her chest.

Énien raised her hands, showing she had no weapons in hand. "You dare raise weaponary to a lady?" she smirked, to save face.

"Not to a lady, elf, but to a murderer." he answered. This hit a nerve. "You have no idea." she spat at him, and reminded herself of who this was. "And have you betrayed us Turthôl?" she knew he had not, becuase he would have recognised them, at least Rangar and possibly Wren.

"Of course you havent. But you dont remember us do you?" There was looks of confusion on his face. "No she-elf I dont." he growled. This was getting dangerous. As swift as Énien was, and smart with her weapons, Turthôl well than made up for with brute strength, she knew she may be in trouble. She shook her head. "Dont make me do this..." still he came foward. She had no other choice, she must defend herself.
"If a fight is what you want, a fight my dear, is what you will get!"

Faster than anyone else could ever have done it. Énien whipped out her daggar and a small knife, and helf them facing Turthôl. He was indeed surprised. "You know what this elf is capable of. If you could remember." he lunged at her. Striking her weapons. "You will die elf, make no mistake!" he raised his face to hers. "Do you really think that after 1891 years on this earth, I will alow myself to be killed by the man i saw grow? You are sadly mistaken." She pushed back, though Turthôl was not knocked off balance.


"You have gotten quicker" she said to him as he met his scimitar again and kicked him in the stomach. But he ccame back with a series of blows which were too strong for the elf. She was knocked to the ground and Turthôl stabbed her straight through her right shoulder. Énien cried out in the seething pain. She looked at her shoulder, blood was filling out from her tunic, the elf felt a little dizzy. She looked Turthôl in the eye and smiled evily, "Now you have your chance, finnish me you coward!" Turthôl looked at her and held back from the final blow. He looked confused and for a moment she saw something in his eyes which said he felt he had known her before.

[maikafanawen]

Wren had glimpsed the last few slashes of Énien and Turthôl’s fight. Then Énien went down and the noblewoman screamed. Taking the lives of the last three Haradrim upon her, she rushed over there, standing right between the shocked ranger and wounded elf. Turthôl glared at Wren, no recognition in his eyes. The Gondorian mistook the confusion for hatred.

“You’re a sick man, Turthôl, a very sick man. Betrayal? To Rangar? To Énien? To me??” The ranger stared at her, dumbfounded. “I thought—” she stammered, anger beginning to block her mind. “OH! No it all comes together! When you were ‘tracking’ Baroden to Tharbad! You were really going there to meet up with him! Very smooth! Well you certainly had me going! The way you risked everything you had for Rangar. I didn’t realize it until after you fell overboard, but there is a lot more to you than meets the eye, that you probably don’t even know about yourself! You were very strong in character, and you loved Rangar like he was your own brother. To betray him now is something that—” a memory sparked and she lashed out with all the malice he deserved for feigning friendship and handing them over to the enemy. “Something that Sartir would do!!”

[Eruwen]

Rave stood unable to move as the man revealed his true identity. Her heart felt like it stopped beating, and millions of questions began to race through her mind. She suddenly awoke from her frozen state of mind as Wren began to faint backward. Catching her from behind, she heard Ranger urge everyone on towards the Seer's home.

As Rave followed some of the company up a hill near the Seer's house, what seemed like an army of blades could be heard suddenly breaking forth. Rave turned to see many Haradrim men run towards them in immense anger.

"What do we do?" Rave heard Wren yell as the men soon approached.

“Fight them. They’re with him.” Énien replied turning back towards Ranger.

Rave stayed on the hill trying to fight off what Haradrim she could with her sword. The fight seemed more intense than with the wild men in the forest. She could tell something had raged the hearts and minds of these men to an extent beyond measure.

"Why---is---this--happening to us?" Rave shouted as she fought hard for her life and the lives of her company. Suddenly she stood still when the loud cries of an Elf came to her ears. She looked over and saw Énien beneath the very weapon of their old companion and friend. She watched as the Elf and Man faced each other eye to eye, but Turthôl froze as if haunted by some strange thought.

Suddenlt Rave's glare was broken by a sword which came hurling at her head. She ducked, but just barely fast enough for she could hear the wind of the blow rush by her ear quickly. She turned and stared at the man with her sword pointed at the ground. Slowly, she rose her sword and began to swing as she saw another Haradrim come rushing towards them.

The one she faced fell to his knees as her sword was thrust into his chest. Rave looked up to see the other Haradrim quickly coming at her at full running speed. She tried to remove her sword from the carcas as fast as she could, but it was not enough. This time, she had not been so quick.

Rave stared up at the stars thinking about her home, the company, and many other things which impacted her life greatly. She was not aware at this point of the world around her, nor was she aware of the gushing blood flowing out from her stomach. She looked to the side to see her company as they fought on what seemed like a hopeless battle, and she wished them well as she took her last glance and breath upon Middle Earth.

[The X Phial]

Bregand's mind was in an uproar. Turthol was a traitor, which made no sense to the boy. It was Turthol who had spent so much time with Rangar, who had risked everything so many times..only to betray them here at the end. It didn't add up. There had been ample opportunities to betray the group, times when Turthol was on watch, when the group was at his mercy and the hunter was close by. Why wait until he had risked his life so many times, given his own money to avert attack in Rohan and been injured nearly to his own demise? Something wasn't right...at all.

He grabbed his father's sword and stood to defend himself. Two Haradrim rushed him at once, and he managed to sidestep both attacks, taking a small wound to the left arm. He spun and managed to trip one of his assailants...his fighting skills had vastly improved over the last few months. He brought the sword hilt down on the Haradrim's head, rendering him unconcious and grabbed the swarthy man's shield just in time to bring it up and avoid a fatal injury from the other attacker.

The desert provided little cover, and Bregand's best weapon was his stealth and speed. He was also flagging in the heat, while the Haradrim seemed fine, accustomed to the weather and the harsh surroundings. Bregand backed away from the Haradrim, his shield arm tired and bleeding and his strength waning. He was a scholar and no amount of adventuring would really ever make him a fighter. He realised that he was probably going to die here in the desert. to his left he heard a short cry and a gurgle and turned to see Rave crumple over holding her stomach. He didn't know if his face was covered in sweat or tears, but it didn't really matter because the world was suddenly blurry. His attacker jumped forward, sword at the ready, and fell at Bregand's feet, dead. From his back was sticking a throwing knife, elvish...must have been Calimir. Bregand looked around for his saviour but everything was so confused, his mind felt like it was on fire.

Suddenly the crumpled figure of Rave turned into a vision of Carmalita in Bregand's mind. He ran at the Haradrim in a blind rage and his sword passed through the man's neck. The Haradrim fell away taking the sword with him. Bregand knelt beside the dying woman, who was now Rave again, and let the tears wash his sweat away. The fight was still on, but waning. He didn't know who was winning, but despair had taken him.

He heard a shout behind him. He turned to see Carmalita fighting off a swarthy desert man twice her size. He hadn't saved Rave, but he might still be able to make a difference. Still holding his shield, he rushed Carmalita's attacker and used his whole body to force the man to the ground. It was then that he realised he had no weapon on him. Thankfully, Carmalita was more prepared and Bregand saw a knife flash and felt the body under his go limp. He had done something, and it had saved his love. His despair was gone, but in its place was a mix of horror at Rave's death and his capacity to kill, elation at having survived, and terror for the others in the group. Bregand grabbed Carmalita's hand and rushed to where he could hear Wren shouting, a dune away.

"We have to help, if we can," he rasped.

[Arvedui III]

Rangar met Barodin halfway and exchanged a series of fevered blows, then their blades locked, giving the two enemies a change face each other eye to eye. "Does it hurt? Having to sleep every night not knowing why, only that you're an abomination? And then having to face another day." Barodin whispered menacingly. "Two years, and you still think you have right to walk this earth." "At least I sleep." Rangar growled back, tried to knee his opponent and missed. The two began to circle each other again. Get him seething, in anger he'll falter. "You stay up, consumed by your rage. And it makes you so blind as so to corrupt others to the lies you've learned. You have no more right than I to live and breathe."

Rangar barked, just as several screams came from up the hill. "Then let's finish this!" Barodin cried lunging at him, and nicking Rangar on the shoulder as he spun aside. Rangar made the next attack, and the swords locked again. "Just so you know, he died like a coward." Rangar hissed, not knowing truly what he was saying or who he was referring to, but it worked. Barodin howled and kicked him in the stomach. Winded, Rangar dropped his sword in time to see a great silhouette raise his blade. Rangar rolled aside and tripped his opponent. Dropping his sword, Barodin swore and scrambled to his feet just as Rangar did.

It was now a grudge match with no restraints whatsoever. Rangar yelled and tackled his enemy, but as he raised his fist to punch the dotard, Barodin flipped him over began kicking him repeatedly in the sides. Howling, Rangar lunged at his foe, no longer caring whether he had a weapon or not. Something inside of him was shouting that this man had to be killed in the most painful way possible. Every time he kneed Barodin, or managed to get a punch in, Rangar felt better, however his foe was in no way finished.

Just as Rangar lunged at his rival, something hard hit him, and his shoulder flamed, screaming in protest. "You should know by now that I carry daggers." Barodin laughed with a brutal smiled as he grabbed Rangar by his cloak and lifted him off the ground. "So do I" Rangar retorted, and found then thrust the dirk Barodin had used the last time they'd fought, which he had kept. Feeling cruel satisfaction as his enemy hit the ground, a knife in his side, Rangar kick the sprawling figure over, and turned to find his sword, still ignoring the dagger in his shoulder.

But Barodin still has fight left in him. The man roared, and grabbing the dagger from his side, began charging Rangar's unprotected back; And he would have won, impaling Rangar in his shock if he had not lost he footing on the desert pavement and, strangely enough, fallen through some kind of door. Rangar shook his head and struggled to see where he was, a dimly lit stone room with a wooden ceiling. From somewhere above he could still hear his nemesis yelling, "Coward! Come out where I can see you! I've waited too long for this!" "Hullo" Rangar spun around in a panic, and gaped in shock at a small, pale boy with golden hair and green eyes staring curiously at him.

"I'm Gram, who'er you?" Rangar gulped. Was he dreaming, or was he dead? "Where am I?" Rangar croaked."My house, come on. I'm sure you're hungry." "Who else lives here?" "Just my friends, do you know you have a knife in your shoulder?" The boy asked innocently. Suddenly, the pain returned with a vengeance. "Does it hurt?" The boy continued, now beaming at Rangar. "Yes." Rangar said, still far too shocked to believe that Gram, or any of this was real. "Well come on, then. You can meet my friend."

Rangar took hold of the dagger and pulled it forth with a loud grunt, Then, allowed the boy to take his hand and lead him through a series of dark passages before they came to another high-ceiling room with better lighting. Rangar gulped again. In front of him lay an old, apparently blind man, seated on a large, obsidian throne. The Seer Rangar thought in awe as he began to approach the man, and as he did so, his mind raced Was it real? Or was he just dead? What of the others? Barodin? And Turthol?

"A might of help, if you would, sir." A meek voice interrupted his thoughts, and Rangar felt inclined to pay it no heed, as the old man on the throne seemed to stir and blink at him. However, he turned and saw a man leaning against a flimsy rod, that then broke, causing him to fall to the ground. Gram seemed to not give the beleaguered man a second thought, and just simply continued beaming at Rangar, who growled in protest, then turned to help the poor figure. "Thanks" The man said as Rangar helped him to his feet. "This way, if you sir." "But," "Rangar looked back toward the man on the throne, who seemed to be beckoning to him. "Please." The cloaked figure said curtly, and his grip on Rangar's arm was surprisingly strong.

"Who are you?!" Rangar cried as he both lost circulation in his hand and was thrust into a smaller, dimer, room. The cloaked man sat down in a wooden chair, and made no reply; But Rangar could see Gram close the door. "Who are you, and why do you keep me from my goal?" "That old foggy is your goal?" The man said in a very amused voice, removing his hood just slightly so that Rangar could see two, deep blue eyes. "Is he not the Seer?" Rangar asked, now painfully aware that his shoulder was numb. "Sort of." The man said, still in that same amused tone. "Sort of?" "He's more of a poet. He'll spill out all kind of rhyming gobbledygook that'll take you the rest of your days to unravel. And in the end, it doesn't really mean anything."

"So who are you, then?" Rangar asked. This couldn't be happening. "Sort of a more straitforward Seer, though, I warn you right now, I can be intolerable." A chill ran up Rangar's spine, surly, this couldn't be him. But before Rangar could stop himself,"How many questions do I get to ask, and what's the price then?" The man laughed, and once again, Rangar wasn't sure if this was good or bad. "As many as you want. I'm not a genie. And as for the price, the price is knowledge." Rangar started at the riddle, and wasn't quite sure if it was possible for this man to be more entertained if he tried.

"Have to hand it to you too. Few find this place, let alone get past old annoying Malbeth there." And he nodded towards the room where the old man was. "What about the house on the hill?" "It's empty." The Seer replied nonchalantly. "Then, can I ask you something?" "I dunno, can you?" Rangar laughed dryly, the cloaked man grinned, blue eyes twinkling. "You tell me." "That's the problem with you people. You want me to tell you everything." "Could we start from the beginning?"

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

The shock of seeing Turthol alive barely registered with Calimir. The shock of seeing him die was still too new, and the fighting began in earnest so quickly.

Bregand was rushing about like a madman, his sword flailing the air. A few lucky blows brought one of the Haradrim down, but the boy was in trouble. One of his long knives was in hand before Calimir even realized it, and he'd thrown it. The man was down and the elf was beside him, pulling his knife from where it had lodged in the man's neck. Bregand nodded his thanks before dashing off in the direction of Carmalita.

Watching him go, Calimir thought to follow him, but nearly trod on a still figure on the ground. Dropping to his knees, he pushed the girl's hair away from her face. It was Rave. Her lips were still and bloodless. Rising angrily to his feet again, Calimir flung both his knives into the nearest of their attackers. He understood Enien's rage at seeing their companions fall and die. Another friend lost, for what? He wrenched his knives free of the body, wiping them on the dead man's shirt.

Raising his eyes, Calimir looked about to see if any more of them had been lost. Enien he saw, Bregand and Carmalita, Wren and Tareth. He heaved a long sigh. They were all safe then, all but Rangar. Calimir spun on his heel searching for the man's figure in the turmoil. Calimir's eyes caught sight of him on the other side of the group, just as he headed in Rangar's direction the man tripped. Calimir's eyes widened and he cried out as he watched Rangar fall straight through the ground and disappear from sight.

[Earendil Halfelven]

"Do you really think that after 1891 years on this earth, I will alow myself to be killed by the man I saw grow? You are sadly mistaken." She pushed back, though Turthôl was not knocked off balance.

"You have gotten quicker" she said to him as she met his scimitar again and kicked him in the stomach. But he came back with a series of blows which were too strong for the elf. She was knocked to the ground and Turthôl stabbed her straight through her right shoulder. Énien cried out in the seething pain. She looked at her shoulder, blood was filling out from her tunic, the elf felt a little dizzy. She looked Turthôl in the eye and smiled evily, "Now you have your chance, finish me you coward!" Tuthôl raised his scimitar to kill but then it hit him like a cave troll's punch:

"Why do I get the feeling you have gazed apon Imladris before?" Enien asked him.

He was still gazing into the fire as he replied. "I grew up there as a child. Since there are few of my kin left in the world, the Elven folk raised me in the Dúnedain ways. If your from there, we might have known each other once. It has been about 8 years since I last saw Imladris. I do not care to see it again."

"Yes, I think we did, but you were small..." She replied.

He had grown up in Imladris...an elven city and he had been friends with Enien there while he was a boy...

He looked at the fallen elf with a wound in her shoulder, a wound Turthôl had given him. What was he doing? Who were these people he had attacked?

Wren ran over to help the downed elf.

“You’re a sick man, Turthôl, a very sick man. Betrayal? To Rangar? To Énien? To me??” The ranger stared at her, dumbfounded. “I thought—” she stammered, anger beginning to block her mind. “OH! No it all comes together! When you were ‘tracking’ Baroden to Tharbad! You were really going there to meet up with him! Very smooth! Well you certainly had me going! The way you risked everything you had for Rangar. I didn’t realize it until after you fell overboard, but there is a lot more to you than meets the eye, that you probably don’t even know about yourself! You were very strong in character, and you loved Rangar like he was your own brother. To betray him now is something that—” “Something that Sartir would do!!”

It all rushed back to him. Everything...his whole life...when he met Rangar...the beginning at Bree...the attack in the Southdowns...their rescue of Wren...Baroden's attack on Rangar...his pursuit of Baroden to Tharbad...their journey through Rohan...the stop at the Chambria mansion...the rope on the ship...

Sartir. He had vowed to never betray his friends, but he had done the thing that he most hated. He was a traitor. He had betrayed everyone, and almost had killed his companion.

He knew who he was. He was Turthôl of the Dúnedain, friend of Rangar, and he had betrayed his friends.

Instead of striking Enien, he dropped his sword and fell to his knees. He looked at Enien and then to Wren.

"What have I done?" he muttered.

[Arvedui III]

"Can we start at the beginning?"

Rangar felt chills run down his spine as he asked. Dwarfed by this confidant, was he a man? Who, apparently knew about him. "Well" the cloaked figure began, "First there was the One who created the Anuir from his thoughts, and-" "No, I mean, my beginning." Rangar said irritability. If this Seer thought toying with him was funny, Rangar supposed he would have to deal with it. "Well, you were born, I guess. I think that's pretty-" "No! I, mean." Rangar sighed. This was going to take a while. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you telling me who I am."

The seer stared blankly at him for a moment, however Rangar got the impression those blue eyes of his were searching his face something. But what? "Well?" Rangar prompted. "Would you like a pear?" The man asked amiably, as if he had not heard Rangar's question, and reaching into his cloak pulled out a fruit. Rangar sputtered for a moment, then, "What?" "Pears, they're delicious, and rare too, I might add. You look like you need something to eat." "No, thanks." Rangar started, dumbfound. Is he stalling? I can't be that horrible. "Did you have a question?" The seer asked mildly. "Yes. Could you tell me who I am?" Rangar pushed, his voice rising. "Nope." The Seer said just as mildly, and bit into a pear. "What do you mean 'nope'?" Rangar was shouting now.

"Look, I just met you. You really don't think I can tell you 'who you are'?" He said the phrase as if it was ludicrous. "Well, isn't that what you do?" Rangar insisted, both baffled and angry. "No. And just for the record, no one can tell you 'who you are'. Not me, your mother or the King of Gondor. Only you know that. Now, really. I should be asking you that question. Falling down here unannounced, and bleeding, no less." Rangar put a hand to his shoulder, and it was indeed bleeding, but not badly. He speaks as if he is at some kind of ball, and that what he says makes perfect sense. But Rangar decided that if getting his questions answer before Barodin recovered was going to happen, he had to play by this man’s rules. "Well, um, I'm a man." "I hope so." Interrupted the seer between bites of his pear. Rangar ignored him. "The name's Rangar, though that's not my real name, I think." "Good start.” The seer said gently, "Keep talking."

"Soo, then, let me get this strait.” The man said, sighing after Rangar hurriedly told his story, “You don’t know your real name, but you call yourself Rangar, and your friends are above us, dying” “They’re dying!?” Rangar cried, half-ready to forget the whole endeavor and find a way out of this place. “Yes, one of ‘em, err, Rave, I think, is already dead.” Rangar was struck dumb, deaf, and blind all at once, but the seer kept talking just as nonchalantly. “And this Haradrim attack was started by Barodin, who is mad because you killed his brother but you don't why or under what circumstances, because you have absolutely no idea who you really are. And you want me to help you put the pieces together. Is that about the size of it?" "Yes." Rangar mumbled, realizing for the first time the enormity of what he was asking this man to do.

"Alright then. Well first off, I hate to tell you, but I’m only gifted with far-sight. Told you that at the bar, remember?” “That was you?” Rangar asked incredulously. “Nope, friend of mine. Saducar, nice fellow. Buys me pears.” “Well,” Began Rangar, his spirit dropping several notches, “What is far-sight?” “Should really be called super-strength foresight.” The Seer snorted, startling Rangar. “Kind of like the Dunedain have, only much stronger.” He marveled at the man for one second. Too much was happening, he couldn't take everything in, but what struck home was the fact that this Seer couldn’t help him.

“Now, don’t be so forlorn.” The cloaked figure laughed. “Rephrase the question so I might be able to answer it.” Rangar thought for a minute. “Do you know if I’ll ever regain my memory?” Rangar mumbled at last. “Yes, you will. Eventually these things come back, just takes longer for some people.” The Seer took another bite of his pear. “Some are just luckier than others. Your friend Turthol for one, keep him around yourself and that Wren girl long enough, and he’ll tell you who he is.Shouldn't take more than a few minutes.” The Seer chuckled. “So, that knock against the mast-” Rangar started, “You got it.”

“Why did this happen?” The man laughed. “It’s not funny!” “Course not. Just, I’m sorry, you’re paying the price.” “What?” “Men have waisted away asking me questions I can’t answer, that no one can, and without eating pear, either." The seer almost whispered. "Here’s a tip. Answers only create more questions.” He winked. Rangar gulped. “I just hate to think this was all for nothing.” “No it wasn’t, or won’t be anyway. “ The Seer tossed his pear away. “Now, you could stay here and have a pear, which is perfectly fine with me. Or, you could get above ground and kill that niggard who took your friends.” Rangar felt the blood rising in him. “What if I can’t, what if show him mercy again.” Rangar mumbled, suddenly doubting himself. “You won’t. Mercy and ignorance is bad, and that is who you were. Mercy and honor is good, and that, Rangar, is who you are” And this time, there was not a hint of amusement in the Seer's voice.

Grinning, Rangar ran out the door and through the various corridors. He found the room he’d fallen into, and jumping, grabbed hold of a wooden plank, then pulled himself up. The trap door swung shut, and Rangar saw Barodin running towards Turthol, Enien, and Wren. Running franticly towards him, Rangar tripped over something, then picked it up. It was Aerin’s sword. Gripping it hard, Rangar hurled it towards his foe, and the hunter fell to the ground with an almighty THUMP.

[ June 20, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]

[Everdawn]

she gave a slight laugh, before Wren, holding her arm spoke to him "You’re a sick man, Turthôl, a very sick man. Betrayal? To Rangar? To Énien? To me??" The elf coughed. "Not betrayl, at least not his right mind. Could you not tell, be calm Wren, he can explain." Énien drifted into unconsciousness for a moment

The scene around the elf was hazy. Wren had come her her aid. Faintly she smiled at Wren, blood had now stained the top half of her tunic. "What have I done?" said Turthôl dropping to his knees. "A very stupid thing." said the elf trying ot get up, but to no avail, she was too weak.

"ah, Turthôl you fiend! my shooting arm!"
No longer could she hear the screams or sword clangs of fighting, which could mean one of many things. One being that the enemy was killed, another was that the company had met its demise. Turthôl and Wren were standing over her. The pain had subsided, but this did not mean the blood flowed any slower. "We best get something to stop this blood before I die from loosing to much." she said faintly.

"Rave is down!" came other cries. Énien did not know what to think, but emmence sorrow gripped her heart.
Another mortal gone. NO, another friend gone. " Im sorry im not much use." she managed to say, her voice quieter. Tears shon on her face. The elf was loosing too much blood.

"Carmalita!" screamed Wren at the woman who was fighting. "She is bleeding to death!" The nurse ran to the elf's side. "Énien, you need to stay awake!" she said, the elf did not answer. Carmalita cut open her tunic around the wound and stuffed it with bandages and herbs, then wrapped her whole shoulder in bandages, the blood still ran, but slowly subsided. "For once, my pride has not befallen me" she whispered in a slight smile. "Help me up please, i cant do it alone. Where is Rangar?"

[ June 21, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[Arien]

Carmalita lunged at the man in front of her but he was too strong knocking her to the floor. She grazed her arm against a rock, but ignored the stinging pain and got right back up. Once again she made a lunge for his chest and succeeded to stab him in the heart her instantly fell to the ground. She felt a sigh of relief come upon her, but it didn’t last long.

Next she heard her name being screamed, it was Wren. She seemed to be leaning over Einen. Carmalita rushed over, unaware of the fighting and fell straight to the floor beside her. She swiftly cut open her tunic around the wound and bandaged it quickly. It was not the best she could have done, but it would stop the bleeding for a short time. Maybe a few hours. She could see the wound was bad, and the bleeding would not properly stop, but she did her best.

"For once, my pride has not befallen me" Einen whispered in a slight smile. "Help me up please, I cant do it alone. Where is Rangar?"

Carmalita helped her up, but shook her head, “I don’t know where he is,” she looked around at the other but no sight of Rangar. She looked at Einen, she was able to stand, “are you able to fight?” she asked. The elf gave her a stern nod, but she could see the pain in her eyes. However she did not deter her from fighting.

So she continued to fight. As she fought she saw two quite large soldiers heading towards her. As she backed away from them, she tripped and fell on to the ground. The two men jeered at her, but she spat at them in disgust. Scrambling she tried to get up, but it was too late. One of the men had already plunged his sword into her left arm, and blood was slowly spewing out through her tunic.

“Bregand!” she shouted out, “help me….any one!” It was a desprate cry as the two of them drew closer.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]

[maikafanawen]

Wren didn’t understand what had happened to Turthôl and still believed he’d betrayed them when Carmalita ran to aid Énien at her summon. Throwing the ranger a disgusted look, Wren had resumed fighting the Haradrim. They were experienced fighters having lived in the brutal waste that was Harad all their lives. Since the noblewoman was unused to the immense heat, her strength began to wane, and sword became less and less accurate in its objective. Calimir, Bregand, and Tareth fought on. Once she had tended to the fallen elf, who had ordered to be helped to her feet, the nurse was up as well and fighting alongside them again.

The Haradrim were dying off as the faltered company fought on. Wren turned just then, in time to see Baroden collapse and Rangar make his way towards Turthôl and Énien. What is going on? The Gondorian fought until all the Haradrim were defeated or sent running back towards their town, then, keeping her sword in her burnt and calloused hand, ran to see what was to come to pass. Had Rangar seen the Seer? With Baroden gone, what were they to do?

[Earendil Halfelven]

Turthôl stood there; his mind totally blank. He had betrayed them-his companions.

"Something that Sartir would do!"

That phrase clouded his mind, clouded his ability to think clearly. He did not notice the rest of the battle around him or the cries of the others.

Something that Sartir would do...

He fell to his knees. Sartir had died for his deeds. Maybe death was befitting for him now...

“Bregand! Help me….any one!” He recognized it as Carmilita's voice. She was going to die and it was because of his betrayal.
No...not if he could help it.

He picked up his sword, still stained with Enien's blood and rushed to Carmilita's aid. Two of the Haradrim stood over her, one with a bloodied sword. Turthôl could only guess it was Carmilita's blood.

He rushed over to her. The Haradrim, hearing him, turned to face him.

"Look at what we caught!" the one with the bloody sword said.

"Yes, a dainty dish that we're about to scewer," said the other one laughingly.

They started laughing as they raised their swords to strike. Carmilita stared at Turthôl with an anxious look.

"Bregand!" she yelled.

With the men's backs to him, Turthôl raised his sword. With a swift and strong stroke, he plunged it into the man's neck. It stuck in the man's spinal cord. Blood shot out in a steady stream as the main artery was cut.

His companion turned with a shocked look. Turthôl left his sword in the man's neck and pulled his dagger. The man raised his sword in defense. With a yell, Turthôl lunged at him. The man swung the sword at him. Turthôl ducked and came up right in front of the man. He brought up his dagger and plunged it into the man's stomach. With a grunt, he dropped his weapon.

"Traitor..." he muttered as he stared up at Turthôl. Turthôl paused for a moment. Then a flash of anger swelled up deep inside him. And without remorse or mercy, Turthôl started stabbing the man repeatedly in the back. The man screamed as he fell to the ground, but Turthôl kept going. Even after the man was dead, he kept stabbing...

[Everdawn]

It took all of Énien's phyisical strength and mental strength to fight once more. And Carmalita let her. Good girl. the elf muttered under her breath. The elf turned her back on Carmalita and started fighting, only to kill one man and stop.

There was Rangar, standing, and a body on the ground, with a sword plunged into his back. It was Baroden. The Elf's eyes widened in amazement. "You did it Rangar." she said quietly, the fighting had stopped, the haradrim were dead. "YOU DID IT!" She cried. Rangar looked at her, no show of emotion was on his face. Énien turned to check on the company. Breathing heavily, she sat on the dusty ground.

"It is finnished." she said loudly. "Has everyone had enough?" The others stopped and glanced at her. "A funeral is in order, and then a trip home, I shall think." the elf replied, her voice laden with emotion. " The grandest one we can give her." tears were forming on her face. Without warning she cried out in elvish, cursing at what they had done to her mortal friend. Finally her wound had stopped bleeding. "What say you?" she asked them.

[Arien]

She screamed again for help and this time it came. But it was not Bregand, it was Turthol.

"Look at what we caught!" said the one who had stabbed her, laughing at Tuthol. The wind started to pick up and sand blew into her eyes and brushed her hair across her face. She could taste it in her mouth, a salty taste,. gritty. She continued to shuffle backwards along the ground, as now the three of them advanced on her.

"Yes, a dainty dish that we're about to scewer," said the other laughing too. He raised his sword high, and she gave a last desperate plea to Turthol. He showed nothing, so she screamed out again.

“Bregand!”

But she need not have screamed. In an instance Turthol stabbed one of them in the back and then the other. As the second one fell he continued to stab him.

“Turthol, Turthol… stop. He’s dead.” she looked upon the man he was stabbing but he did not stop. She reached out and grabbed his hand and tried to pull him away, but she was too weak only being able to use one hand. “Hes dead, there is nothing else you can do to him…he is dead.” He acknowledged her and slowly drew out his dagger. They both kneeled upon the ground and looked at each other for a moment.

“Turthol, thank you,” she whispered, he nodded and rose from the ground. She to tried to get up but fell back down her left arm buckling under her weight. So he reached out his arm helping her up. As he did so Einen cried out.

"YOU DID IT!"

Finally it seemed over.