Outracing the Flames RPG

[Nogrod]

They rode cautiously towards the blanket-covered thing, but had to soon leave their orientation to memory as they hit the lower ground of the grassland. The grass was so tall, they could only get an occasional glimpse of the the thing. Sythric was a bit ahead of the others at the right flank, his rider’s spear pointed forwards, every nerve directed to the imediate landscape ahead and around of them. Suddenly he stopped and raised his left hand, palm open. The others stopped too. Sythric was still for a moment, scanning the surroundings with his eyes only, not moving his head, not even breathing. Slowly he started to turn his head to left and right, looking for any signs of movement or unnaturally bended grass. His hand was still raised in the air, immovable.

Slowly and carefully Sythric made Thydrë to back a few steps. The thing was about 20 yards away from them now. He gave a fast glance to the right, as if he had seen or heard something, but then seemed to relax, lowered his hand and turned to the others. He addressed them in a low voice. “I managed to get a sight at the thing between some bent grass. That something under the blanket is a body, and it has not received it’s wounds but a very short while ago. The blood that has just a while ago run from under the blanket is still producing a faint vapour as it is warmer than the air around. And there’s lots of blood around the blanket too.” Sythric took a look at all the others, kind of thinking, how to word his grim forethoughts to them. For a moment he listened, with everyone else, to a blackbird giving a whistle somewhere to the south-west of them.

“In the grim instance, it might be one of our brave scouts, or then it might be a trap, made to us, or to them. Or with the worst scenario, it’s both of them: a body of our fellow and a trap to us. It’s so fresh a body, that I can’t imagine anyone other to have been going about in here, after them and before us. If they killed someone, why would they have covered him? Or why didn’t they come to tell us about this incident?” He paused again, but as Raedwald seemed to delve in his thoughts and was not saying anything, Sythric decided to finish his thoughts.

“This grass is so tall, it could hide almost anything, those mythical oliphants probably not included.” He tried to lighten the situation a bit, forcing a half-smile towards Eostre and Meghan, but clearly didn’t succeed in it – even though he himself was somewhat amused about the thought of an oliphant trying to hide in this grass here. “And so, if it’s a trap, we have been well sighted by now, anyhow. If there are someone waiting for us, they know to wait us, and most clearly know, where we are, and how many we are.” He tried to look somewhat comfortable, looking at Meghan and Eostre, but as he met Raedwald’s eyes, his expression was concerned enough for everyone to see quite openly his anxiety. Raedwald looked quite grim too, thoughtful.

Sythric had really had to fight against the urge to just rush on to the blanket-covered body, to see whether it was Osmod or Fion. Luckily I’m too cunning a war-horse to do that kind of reckless things... But how hard it is, everytime one really has to hold back one’s primal concerns and feelings! How near it was, that I just rushed to try and “save” Osmod or Fion from under the blanket, like a teenager worried about his mom being hurt? Remember, you are here to help these people from doing that kind of foolish things, so don’t you go tumbling into them yourself!

For a while it was quiet, everyone was just trying to hear and see anything out of the usual around. No-one dared to say anything. Should we just ride around that one, Raedwald and I, with some banging and noise made by the girls on top of it. If there are someone within the grasses, they might reveal themselves? The girls could shoot, we could charge... And we would be able to see, what there really is under that blanket in safety. But do I dare to see it?

[Tevildo]

What a fool I am. This is all my fault. Because of me, we almost killed two innocent men.

The words kept reverberating inside Dorran's head as he sat by himself at the far end of camp, trying to stay out of everyone's way. Dorran stared blankly over at the strangers wondering who they were and why they were here. Restless and disatisfied, unable to sit still, he had borrowed an axe and stomped off into the woods, hoping to find a tree to hack down that could provide them with some firewood as well as an outlet for his own frustration. He had not even heard the question that Incana had asked the men. Coming upon a mid-sized birch that had likely fallen in the last storm, he began whacking off some of its branches. While a few of his strokes were straight and true, others went wild, far off the mark, somehow mirroring the anger that simmered inside his soul. The blade of the axe deflected from the wood and hit the soil with a resounding thud.

"Having some trouble? Can I give you a hand?" The words came unexpectedly from behind Dorran's shoulder. Turning around, the young man was surprised to see the older healer who had joined them from the village. "Are you following me?" Dorran snapped peevishly, in a way that was very different than his usual calm demeanor. He swung the axe over his head and then in a downward arc, landed the blade squarely in the middle of the tree trunk.

"Following you?" For a moment, Leod sounded puzzled. Then he chuckled and shook his head. "No, no. Your friend Vaenosa was doing a fine job brewing up some herbs for the men so I came out here to find a few more plants I thought we might be needing on this trip. You couldn't hold off on that wood, could you, and give me a hand with these?" Leod pointed towards a large pile of herbs that looked like nothing more than a tangled mat.

"So many?" queried Dorran, forgetting his misery for the moment and wondering why the old man could want with such a large supply.

"Aye, I intend to take these back to camp and boil them down into a salve along with some other remedies I brought with me. From the look of things, I'm afraid we might be needing some strong aids for the cleansing and healing of wounds."

There was a hint of bitterness in Dorran's quick response, "Yes, I suppose you're right, especially if I keep making suggestions that have us going on a wild chase that does no one any good."

Leod stared back evenly at Dorran and shrugged his shoulders, "Mistakes happen. You told Brand what you knew to be the truth. And if the men had been slavers, we'd be better off knowing that ahead of time. Brand made the best decision that he could, and luckily no harm has come of it."

Dorran hung his head, avoiding Leod's eyes, "Brand.....he must hate me. I've put the whole group in peril."

"I don't think so. But if you're worried, go tell him it was an honest mistake and you're sorry. Let's get back now. I think the firewood can wait." With that, the two men turned and headed towards camp.

Dorran could see that Brand had finished taking care of their two guests. The young man sidled up and pulled Brand over to the side. Leod followed just behind him. He nervously cleared his throat and then spoke, "I'm sorry, Brand. I really am. I feel like such a fool. When I saw the Orcs and what they had done, it made me think of how it was in the past when I lived near the mountain. I guess I was wrong." He shook his head sheepishly, and sighed, before adding, "These men, the ones we kidnapped.... Do you know why they were here, and what they're doing? Are they survivors from this village? Or perhaps another? I'd ask them myself but I can't bear to look them in the eye."

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Having rode with her bow tight at hand, Eostre loosened her grip on her bow, letting it slip a bit down between her fingers. Not so loose as to allow for potential splinters, if the cold got to the well-aged and cured wood, but enough to release a bit of stress caught up in her expression.

The tiniest bit of cynicism crept up in her face. "The blackbird's whistle. For all we know it could've very well been an alert, the sign of an ambush about to be loosed. In which case we've been spotted by now," she wanted to say, but held back, letting the silence from the fear of being attacked and slain overcoming her need to vocalize a very seldom thoughtout opinion.

Silence, if nothing else, came naturally to her.

As naturally as the addition to the thoughts. Slain like Osmod and Fion. She didn't know. Perhaps they were dead, and they would swiftly follow, as well as their village and family... Or perhaps not.

For a moment, she desired a window to stare from, a limited vantage point through which she could observe and still remain hidden if the need was there. But she stiffled it, the same as the thoughts that the bird call may have been a signal...

Fingers tightened once more around her bow. Just try it.

[Undómë]

Meghan


As Rædwald and Sythric discussed what they might do about the bloodied bundle in the field, Meghan drew her horse a little to the side. The men had their heads together their eyes flicking up now and then toward their objective. She spoke low to Ash, giving the little mare a pat on the neck. Ash’s ears swiveled to the sound of her voice and the horse nickered low.

Something caught the grey’s notice and she startled, taking a few steps backward. Meghan’s head turned toward where the mare’s eyes stared. There in the distance to her right was a lone figure on a horse. A young woman, she was sure – small statured, long blonde hair, and yes, a dress. Bent over the dark-maned neck of her mount, the woman did not seem to notice the Bregoware group in the distance. Squinting in the light, Meghan took note that the woman did not seem armed.

Without thinking, Meghan turned Ash toward the woman and urged the horse in her direction. Maybe this person had seen or knew something of Osmod and Fion. She could see the woman had turned her horse about and was going slowly along. Allowed to go on, she would soon be out of hailing range.

Ash, at the bidding of her rider, was now at a full gallop. Meghan, her yellow braid flying behind her, stood up in her stirrups and called loudly to the other women. ‘Hey! Hey, you on the horse there! Wait up, will you?’ One hand on the reins, Meghan waved the other wildly in the air

Meghan’s spirited little mount ran as fast and as effortlessly as a prairie wind over the over the sere grassed ground. With a determined effort, she closed the space between her mistress and the other . . .

[Arry]

The man, Osmod, fell silent as he glanced from Brand to where his fallen companion lay. His eyes were wary it seemed and no answer was forthcoming to Incana’s question. Brand rubbed the back of his neck, an unthinking attempt to release the tension that knotted his shoulders.

‘Leod will see to your friend,’ Brand said, not pressing the man for any further information. He nodded in the direction of the burned village. ‘And yes, we know about the village to the north. We . . . we paid the villagers what honor we could with the pyre.’ He looked down at the ground, shaking his head at the remembrance. ‘My companions and I also know the fear that such a fate might be visited on our own village.’

He could see Leod and Dorran approaching the camp. ‘That older man, there, is Leod. He was the burned village’s healer. We are lucky to have found him, seeing that our few skills in healing are really meant for our flocks and not for us. It was he who dressed my wounds and tooke the fever and the fester from them.’ Brand rolled up his sleeve to show the long furrows from the cat’s claws that had scabbed over well now and were no longer reddened. His cheek still bore the bandage Leod had applied to it. ‘And Athwen . . .’ he looked about the camp, but could see neither her nor her horse. ‘She was the blond haired young woman, no taller than a cricket hardly, who lured you and your companions into our campground. She’s the only other survivor we found.’

‘Anyway . . . come have something to eat and drink with us while we wait for Leod to see to him. There’s some tea in that post set near the fire. You can use that cup to the side of it. It’s mine, but I’ve done with it and it’s rinsed out. Help yourself to one of the fish, if you’re hungry. We’re smoking some of them to take with us.’ He was about to ask Osmod if the two of them wanted to ride with them . . . strength in numbers, and all that . . . but he thought perhaps it might be too presumptuous to think the a man they’d nearly done in would want to trust them enough to travel with them. ‘Sort it out later,’ he said to himself.

Dorran and Leod had entered the camp as he finished speaking with Osmod. Dorran hung back a little until Brand was by himself, then spoke somewhat nervously, saying how sorry he was that he’d been wrong. ‘You weren’t wrong, at least from where I stand, Dorran,’ he told the lad after he’d heard him out. ‘You’re no more some wizard as can see into the future than I am. These really could have been those Easterling men you told us of. And where would we have been if you hadn’t warned us and they had taken us into slavery or killed us?’ He looked Dorran in the eye. ‘I’m sorry, too, that we had to find out in this manner that they were men just like us. I’m not sorry that we took action to keep ourselves safe and alive. I just don’t know how we could have done it any other way.’

Brand paused for a moment to consider Dorran’s questions. ‘He didn’t say too much,’ he answered, nodding toward Osmod. ‘About where exactly they are from. Not the burned village, though. His village is about a day’s ride from the river, though east or west I’m not sure. And whether there are any more than these two, he did not say. For my part, I told him what we were about. We’ll have to wait until they trust us a bit more, I think, before they tell us what they are doing here.’

He gave Dorran a reassuring grin. ‘I see you’ve been busy getting us some more wood. Let’s get the fire built up a little. By tomorrow noon, we should have enough fish smoked to travel on. If Master Osmod and his companion wish to come with us, we’ll welcome them. If not, then we’ll say our farewells and be on our way.’ He glanced northward briefly then back to Dorran. ‘We must think of ourselves, of Wulfham and our families’ welfare first.’ He shook his head slightly. ‘It sounds harsh doesn’t it? I wish it didn't have to be. But wishing won’t make it so . . .’

[Folwren]

Athwen had not seen the group of horsemen standing near to where Vaenosa and Incana had killed and left the deer. She would have remained completely oblivious to them, had she not been hailed unexpected by one of their group. She and her horse turned their heads at the same instant. He brought his head up and ears forward sharply and as his nostrels dilated and his eyes opened even wider, he uttered a low nicker.

'Hey! Hey, you on the horse there! Wait up, will you?' the rider called. Athwen checked her gelding, but he didn't stop and instead he turned on his hind feet and went trotting and prancing towards the oncoming stranger and mare.

'Why you insupportable animal!' Athwen scolded under her breath. 'Really, Parith, you're quite embarrassing.' The horses were drawing closer together and Parith's neck was arching and his feet were lifting more like a stallion's than a gelding's ought. She drew him in and made him stand still. He obeyed her admireably well and they waited as the stranger slowed to a canter and then to a trot and in a moment, stopped altogether in front of them.

Anyone might have told Athwen that to turn and meet a complete stranger at such a time as that was a rather empty headed thing to do. But the thought never occured to her. She felt she had little reason to fear anything, particularly a young woman who seemed to be only a little larger than her own tiny self and who, though armed, didn't appear to be threatening at all. Anyway, she had a descent look about her, and after seeing orcs and what they did, Athwen certainly wasn't about to compare such a person to an evil creature or being like that.

'Hullo!' Athwen said, much as she would have before all the trouble of yesterday came. 'Where do you come from?'

[Maeggaladiel]

A throbbing pain in his forehead was Fion's first clue that he was drifting back to consciousness. When you were out cold, as Fion had just now learned, you didn't feel pain. You didn't feel anything.

Voices rang out through the darkness, although he could neither understand them nor match them with faces at this point. His mind seemed fully occupied with the constant, fiery pulsing that tore through his skull.

He was beggining to become aware of the rest of his body, however. His back was pressed against something hard and uneven. The ground, most likely. Something wet was being poured into his mouth, and he coughed. His scalp ached, as though someone had grabbed his hair and yanked. It was, all in all, an overly uncomfortable experience.

His eyes still closed, Fion grunted in pain and tried to move his head. The voices were silent for a moment, and then spoke again, more urgently. Something touched his head. Were they talking to him?

By the powers, that hurt! he thought as he tried to move again. What... What had happened to him??

Then, like a flood, it came back to him. The ride. The tracks. The noises. The... sudden explosion of pain at his brow. And then the darkness.

He forced his eyes open. For a moment, the world was a kaliedoscope of colors and shapes, blurry and too bright. Where was he?! Something must have knocked him out while he was riding with Osmod. That meant... (his mind tried to piece things together, with limited success) That meant that somebody had attacked them! It was an ambush! Where was Osmod?!

"Osmod?" he croaked out. "Its... It's an ambush!"

His vision began to clear, and he was suddenly aware that he was in the company of strangers. Instinctively he tried to push himself to his feet, away from the people surrrounding him. He stood, wobbled, fell over, cursed sharply as pain and diziness washed over him, and began a hasty backwards crawl away. His mind wasn't running at full speed yet, and he tripped over himself. Groaning, he touched his hands to his temples.

"Who... Who are you?" he demanded to the people around him. "Where is Osmod? What have you done to my friend?"

[Undómë]

Meghan


Meghan drew Ash to a halt a few paces away from where the young woman sat. She did not wish to crowd her or seem menacing in the least. Ash turned a little sideways, as if to give the woman’s gelding a better view of her fine form, a move which Meghan found rather funny.

She laughed at the horse’s antics, and then excused herself saying, ‘Silly girl! She’s showing off for no reason!’ Meghan eyed the woman, wondering how it was she was out riding alone and weaponless, it seemed. Did she not know what had happened to the village so few miles away?

‘My name is Meghan,’ she said. ‘And this is Ash.’ She pointed her thumb over her shoulder to where she'd left the other three. ‘Those are some others from my village – Bregoware. Nearly two days ride north of here and a days ride on the other side of the river.’ She watched the woman to see what she might make of their village being across the river, outside the bounds proper of Rohan. ‘We’re loyal to the King in Edoras – his people, that’s how we think of ourselves,’ she hastily put in.

Meghan looked beyond the woman, far in the direction in which she’d seen her riding. ‘Two of our group had gone ahead to scout the land for us. Two men. They have not come back . . .’ She shivered, remembering the dead she seen in the funeral pyre. ‘We saw the village just back there and feared they might be dead at the hands of Orcs as were those poor people.’

A frown creased her brow. ‘But the Orcs must be gone, yes? For you to ride so boldly, alone and unarmed. That is a good sign.’ Meghan smiled and relaxed hoping to hear good news as she asked her question. ‘Have you by any chance seen them? The two men?’

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

Rædwald


Alarmed at first by her galloping away, Rædwald turned his horse from Sythric and Eostre and went after her. The woman in the distance did not seem threatening and she had turned back toward Meghan when she’d been hailed. He slowed his mount, seeing that no Orcs or armed men rose from the grasses to bring Meghan down as she passed through.

He’d put his lance back in its holder at the side of his saddle and rode with both hands on the reins, easing his own horse several paces back from where Meghan’s had stopped. He’d heard the last of her telling where they’d come from and the whole of her question to the young woman.

‘Rædwald here, mistress,’ he said in pleasant tone. ‘Meghan’s uncle-of-sorts.’ He ignored Meghan’s snort at this phrasing of their relationship. ‘We would be most grateful if you have seen our other friends and can tell us where they’ve gone.’

He sat at ease, hands on his thighs, as he regarded her. And what was one so young as this doing out here by herself and weaponless? he wondered. Was she battle-dazed, from that village perhaps . . . and not in her right mind?

‘Can we escort you back to your people, mistress?’ he asked in a kindly voice. ‘Somewhere more safe for you?’

[Folwren]

Folwren's post

The woman introduced herself and offered the information of where she came from quite openly. Athwen looked beyond her when she mentioned her companions and her heart skipped a beat. She must have been blind, or completely unobservant, not to have seen that the woman had companions! Too late now. She looked back at Meghan who continued to talk.

Athwen quickly got her thoughts together and her hand brushed her face unconsciously, searching for any stray tears that might still be there. There were none, thankfully, and she listened fully to Meghan. The two men they had ambushed and treated so roughly were part of this group, they had gone on ahead while the four here were in her village.

' But the orcs must be gone, yes? For you to ride so boldy, alone and unarmed. That is a good sign. Have you by any chance seen them? The two men?'

Athwen paused with slight embarassment. Yes, indeed she had seen the two men, but not in the particularly circumstances that she would like to explain. She was saved momentarily as one of Meghan's companions approached and spoke to her.

'Rædwald here, mistress,' he said, introducing himself. 'Meghan's uncle-of-sorts.' Athwen kept her eyes on the newcomer, though her quick ears caught some small sound from Meghan at the introduction that she really didn't understand. She blinked twice and waited for him to continue. 'We would be most grateful if you have seen our other friends and can tell us where they've gone. . .' a short pause, but still Athwen didn't speak, unsure if he was going to say something further. Something in his face said he wasn't finished, and in a moment, after he had seemed to consider her face carefully as though trying to see beyond it into her mind, he spoke again, and this time in a softer and gentler tone of voice, as though coaxing an animal. 'Can we escort you back to your people, mistress? Somewhere more safe for you?'

Athwen smiled a sad smile and bowed her head slightly before she replied. 'No,' she said. 'That you can not do, but I can give you news of your missing companions. I hope you won't take it wrong, but we. . .that is, they were. . .well.' Awkwardly embarrassing. She felt the blood rising to her pale face. 'We ambushed them,' she finally said, forgetting that they didn't know who 'we' were. 'We thought they were forerunners, or something, of a big group of Easterlings. Don't be alarmed though,' she added hastily as both Meghan's and Rædwald's eyebrows went up at her confession. 'They weren't hurt. . .I mean, they weren't damaged. . .too much. One of them was knocked out, that's all, and the other Brand netted and he managed to get across to us that he wasn't an Easterling, and so they let him out. But I don't know about your other companion. He got hit pretty hard on the head with Incana's rock and wasn't awake when I left.'

She stopped suddenly and bit her lip. Clearly her words weren't doing a very good job of convincing them that their companions weren't hurt too bad. Of course, she couldn't help but wonder what her mother would think if one of her brother's had gotten knocked out by some flying rock. She'd probably faint, or something. Athwen pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and tried to think of what to say that would help the two of them believe that they hadn't hurt the two men too much. A thought popped into her mind and before she considered to think if it was a good or bad idea, she said it. 'Do you want to come back with me? They're still at our camp, I imagine. Won't be leaving for a little while. You'll see - they weren't hurt too much. And we wouldn't have ambushed them at all if we had known they were loyal to the king,' she added, thinking it might help to say so. 'We just didn't know. Will you come back with me?'

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Undómë's post

Meghan


'We ambushed them.’

Meghan’s mouth dropped open as the woman fumbled to explain herself. Surely they did not think they were Orcs! Athwen’s further words concerning Osmod and Fion did little to comfort Meghan. Athwen and her companions had thought them Easterlings!

She conjured up how Osmod and Fion had looked the last time she’d seen them. They’d not been out in the rough that long, she thought, that they had begun to look outlandish and wild. But they were on this side of the river now, in the lands of the Mark proper where she’d never been before. Perhaps those who lived here were more sophisticated in their appearances and expectations.

Some assurance came as the woman continued, saying they had not been harmed and that the misunderstanding seemed to be untangled and on the road to being set right. And anyway, Athwen did not seem in the least antagonistic or of the devious sort. She seemed open and engaging despite the sorrow which hung behind her eyes. In other circumstances, Meghan thought, they might have counted themselves as friends once they’d gotten to know each other.

And what was Rædwald thinking about all this? His face had take on a serious look as the woman had spoken. Was he thinking to ride back for Sythric and Eostre. A battle plan already forming in his mind to rescue the two men. Meghan nudged her horse near his and placed her hand over his clenched one as it lay on his thigh.

With a bright smile, meant she hoped to allay his displeasure at Athwen’s description of the incident, she spoke in a light tone to him, saying, ‘Thanks be to those that watch over us! They are not hurt! I’m just thinking they’ll want to know we’re alright, too. Don’t you think so?’

Without waiting for him to answer, she turned back to Athwen, smiling at her also. ‘Yes, please. Take us to where they are, won’t you. The sooner we’re back together, the sooner we can be on our way.’

She turned to Rædwald for a brief moment and saw in the distance that Sythric and Eostre were drawing near. ‘Go back and let them know what we’re doing, why don’t you?’ she urged him. ‘Athwen and I can start off at a slow pace . . . you’ll catch up to us in no time.’

[Farael]

The man, Brand, had said that they had been the ones to look after the bodies of the dead villagers. He also said that someone would see to Fion but that had not happened yet. In any case, Osmod decided that a cup of tea would be a good idea and helped himself to some. These people seemed to be civilized enough, but he did not feel trusting towards them just yet. The dull ache on his chest was a good reminder that, for all he knew, these men and women were still possible enemies.

The ache on his chest. He had hurt himself while pulling the barge across the river and only made it worse while tossing and struggling to free himself of the net. Caught like a fish he had been, and he was lucky not to be dead like a caught fish as well. Shaking his head he crouched next to Fion and tried to give him some of the tea. Osmod was already feeling its effect and he thought it would be good for his friend.

He carefully put his arm around the man’s shoulders and propped him up so that he would not choke on the concoction. Then Osmod carefully let a few drops of the tea make their way down Fion’s tongue. His friend seemed to awaken almost immediately, although the first hint at consciousness was a low, growl-like complaint. Then he opened his eyes, but was unable to see clearly. "Osmod? Its... It's an ambush!" He pushed Osmod aside then, before the man had had a chance to calm his friend down. Fion was panicking, as he tried to run away, failed and then attempted a crawl. At last, he asked at the group of people that had gathered around him "Who... Who are you? . . . Where is Osmod? What have you done to my friend?"

Osmod smiled at the others, trying to reassure them –and himself- that it would be alright. Then he motioned for them to give him some space to calm his friend down. He walked slowly towards Fion, trying his best not to startle him, and crouched by his side. ”Fion, it’s me, Osmod.” He started, looking at the others pleadingly for more space. ”We were attacked by men, who say to be loyal to Théoden King. They say it was an accident, and I believe them from now. There is not much we can do in any case, they outnumber us. Try to calm yourself down, we are safe for the time being but remember; if they ask about our other companions… well, it is better we keep that information for ourselves” He looked at the riders from Wulfham who were glancing at him anxiously yet far enough to be out of hearing range. ”I will help you back close to the fire. They say one of them is a healer and for Eorl the young I shall see that he heals you.” He motioned for Leod to come over and help him support Fion as they walked towards the bedroll next to the fire. ”Rest now, my friend, soon you will be feeling much better. It sure is a blessing to see you awake already.”

[Folwren]

Athwen looked from the woman to the man when she finished. The 'Uncle-of-sorts' didn't appear too pleased by her rather unclear description of the ambush and she dropped her eyes rather guiltily from his face as he continued to sit in grim silence. Meghan appeared to hear her story with more lenience and accepted her invitation to come to the camp ahead of the rest of her group. Athwen lifted her gaze again to the woman's face and a small smile came to her face. She didn't like being mistrusted, and though she understood why Rædwald might doubt her tale and believe that their misunderstanding was indeed real, she was thankful that Meghan was at least willing to trust her a little bit on the matter.

'Athwen and I can start off at a slow pace. . .you'll catch up to us in no time,' she said.

Athwen turned her large, blue eyes towards Rædwald, wondering what he would have to say to that idea. He wasn't looking too enthusiastic about it, and she could hardly blame him for feeling a little doubtful. Once again, she dropped her gaze. She didn't like feeling guilty when the crime in question wasn't her fault.

But Meghan, not caring what Rædwald thought of her idea, immediately urged her horse forward towards Athwen. Athwen lifted her head again, cast one last rather anxious glance towards Rædwald, and then turned Parith's head about and started riding back towards camp once again. Meghan rode by her side and they went at a walking pace.

For a little while there was a silence between the two of them. Athwen didn't know quite what to say. She wasn't even sure exactly why Meghan had agreed to accompany her back alone. 'Are you-' she began, but then stopped. What to say? 'Where were you from again? You mentioned across the river. . .you mean from outside the border, didn't you? Not that it matters too much,' Athwen added rather absently. She had never been one to care one way or the other in such matters and she didn't pay attention to such politics. 'What are you on this side of the river for? It's a long way from your home town, isn't it?'

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Eowyn Skywalker's post

It startled Eostre to see Meghan go running off after some... foreign woman like a lit branch had been tied to her horse's behind. It didn't seem right. Who knew what this woman was? Perhaps she had slain whatever it was underneath the bloodied blanket.

But somehow, in that time, Raewald appeared to go after Meghan (she hardly blamed him), and her and Sythric were left alone with... whatever it was.

In the end, they had ended up poking the covering off, peering underneath to observe nothing more than a dead deer, much to the dismay of the cynical Eostre. What was the reason to be suspicious about that? Though it hardly let her suspicions run away... she still doubted the safety of this situation. After all, the village had been—

Her thoughts cut off, not wishing to bring back the memories as the two brought their horses around and made towards Raewald and whatever news that would have to offer. At the very least, she thought, no one had been impaled, brutally murdered, or bound hand and foot yet. There was a start. Perhaps whatever Meghan had chosen to go galavanting after was a friend...

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

Nogrod's post


So,a deer. Thank the earth! But killed by whom? Why is it covered? Who’s that girl? What is going on? Sythric was relieved and baffled, full of questions. ”Shall we pack this thing on your horse, as mine is quite loaded already?” Sythric asked Eostre. She agreed, and they lifted the deer behind Eostre’s saddle, tying it just loosely. Sythric took the bloody blanket. Then they mounted.

They went after Raedwald and Meghan, who seemed both now to be talking to the young girl. Then happened something a bit curious. Instead of waiting for them that little moment it would have taken Sythric and Eostre to reach them, Meghan and the girl started towards the edge of the forest. Raedwald again started towards them.

”It was a deer! But no sign of Osmod or Fion there. What’s going on in here?” Sythric called to Raedwald from a couple of yards away. Raedwald turned around, towards the girls riding away from them, and nodded both Sythric and Eostre to follow him. As they rode, Raedwald told them about the fate of Osmod and Fion, and about the girl, Athwen. They were taking on the girls quite fast now. Raedwald really seemed to be worried about Meghan. No wonder, for she seems to have been quite reckless today…

Sythric was amazed by this easterling thing. These people, whoever they were, clearly hadn’t met an easterling before. Or then there was something else there. He remembered the easterlings he had met in his life: there was no way to confuse Osmod or Fion to them!

There were the roving bandits he had met a couple of times as a rider. They all had long black hair that was tied – he hadn’t met even one with the hair open. And they seemed always to carry something in their heads, either some sorts of weird hats or at least some ribbons. And their eyes! They were dark but at the same time also shining, almost flaming. But the thing that was most curious to Sythric,was, that no matter how filthy they might otherwise be, they seemed to be always wearing beads of some sort, neclages, bracelets, ear rings, headbands…

And then there were the easterling soldiers. He had only met a small light cavalry unit once on a daring scout mission to the east. And what a sight they were! Bright colours, shining leather, all the garments beautifully adorned; real gentle craftsmanship comparing to Outlander-art. All gold, silver, deep blacks, burning reds, shining yellows… And what about their horses! Smaller and gentler than Outlander-horses, but their agility was just astonishing and their speed downright incredible. Add to that their marksmanship, and you really have a mighty foe. We were just poor and ragged beggars compared to them… and almost got all ourselves killed back then. There were four dead on our side, and only one on theirs... Sythric got the shivers a reasonable-sized compartment of easterling light cavalry would just butcher a refugee village in no time, with no more effort, than it would take a full grown man to poke a child down.

They caught the women. Sythric nodded to Athwen as she turned to look at the newcomers. Raedwald rode beside her and said something to her Sythric didn't hear. THen Raedwald turned to Sythric and Eostre, suggesting that they should sheath thweir weapons.

"Aye, you're right", Sythric answered, ans stuck his riding sprear to Thydrë's side, taking hold of the reins with both hands. They all slowed down and slipped into the woods.

[Undómë]

Meghan


‘. . . you mean from outside the border, didn't you?’

Meghan turned a little in her saddle and gave Athwen an appraising glance. Was she one of those people who considered those who had settled on the east side of the river as highly suspect? Perhaps not . . . since she had followed up with, ‘Not that it matters too much.’ It was the “too much”, though, that had sent her wondering what the woman’s real feelings about those from the “wrong” side of the river were.

She did not want to nitpick the point, however. Athwen seemed a little fragile and a loud argument might send her flying. Then what would they have to do find where Osmod and Fion were? Instead Meghan grinned at her, a conspiratorial look in her eye. ‘Yes . . . outside the border proper. My village is called Bregoware. About two days north of here and a day’s journey east of King’s Ford.’ She drew up closer to Athwen and leaned toward her, pitching her voice lower as if to keep the lone bird flying overhead or the mice in the dry grasses below from sharing in the confidence. ‘We’re the good King’s secret, you now . . . we villages across the Great River. He’s set us there to take the first blows should enemies come.’

Meghan’s expression turned to one of sadness as she recalled the burned village she’d so recently seen. She sat up in her saddle, face gone pale. ‘Though, all light jesting aside, it seems we did not prove the bellwether for these new assaults.’

She cast her eyes down an overwhelming feeling of sorrow taking hold. ‘There was a village just to the north . . . it was horribly destroyed. Some grace spared Bregoware this time, and some ill-spirited luck of the enemy put those people in the path of dark death. It could have been us raised in that funeral pyre, our good lives destroyed and us scattered on the winds.’ She wiped the back of her sleeve across her eyes where tears threatened.

‘Ah . . . enough. Tears will do no good. Let’s ride a little faster if you don’t mind. Once our two companions are with us we’ll be on our way.’ Meghan hesitated for a moment. Ah well, in for a coin, in for the whole purse . . .

‘We’re on our way to Edoras. To see the King and tell him what is happening here on his far borders. And to ask for his help. My village has packed itself up and is even now moving across the river and westward to the safety of the Riders. Our lord has asked us to deliver his request for help to the King, himself. So that some Riders might be spared to see us safely westward.’

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

Rædwald


As they neared the small encampment from which Athwen had come, Rædwald drew his mount up near her. ‘Perhaps you can ride at the head of this little column so that your friends know we have not come to attack them. And we will keep our weapons sheathed, yes?’ he asked looking to Eostre and Sythric. ‘So as not to look so threatening.’

At a slow pace the five riders rode into the camp . . .

[Folwren]

‘It could have been us raised in that funeral pyre, our good lives destroyed, and us scattered on the winds.’

Meghan didn’t know what she was talking about. She had only seen the remains of what had been done by Brand and Incana and the others the evening before. She spoke only from later observations, when only a little smoke still wisped up from the ruins.

Athwen had seen more. Much more. And she had felt more, too. She wasn’t expected her home to be mentioned so suddenly, and spoken of so sadly, and not only in passing. Meghan had been touched by what she had seen, Athwen was sure, but no amount of sorrow or pity from anyone could help put away the empty sorrow and fear that the burning and killing of the village had put into Athwen. Her calm mask she had somehow managed to wear while greeting them was suddenly and unexpected stripped entirely away. Tears darted into her eyes and the lump in her throat was choking. She dropped Parith’s reins and her hands flew to her face, covering most of it in her futile attempt to keep from crying in open.

Shooting a swift glance towards her companion, she saw that Meghan had not become aware that she had so affected Athwen. She herself was actually in the action of wiping her eyes with her sleeve, and she drew a deep breath before she went on. ‘Ah. . .enough. Tears will do no good. Let’s ride a little faster if you don’t mind. Once our two companions are with us we’ll be on our way.’

Athwen made no immediate response. She didn’t mind going faster. A quicker gait would mean less talking, and Meghan’s words had undone her enough. But before they did urge their mounts onto a faster speed, Meghan continued. ‘We’re on our way to Edoras. To see the King and tell him. . .’

Athwen started and looked up, surprised and so shocked at the words that she just about missed the rest of what Meghan said. When she finished and looked at her, Athwen was nearly gaping.

‘But that’s exactly what the others are going for!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s what they told me when they found me and we were going to start again tomorrow!’ Meghan gave her a swift, questioning glance. ‘I can’t explain it all, I don’t really understand all of it, but Brand will tell you. He’s the leader, I think.’

Meghan may have been wanting to reply, but at that moment, her three other companions rode up to them. Rædwald rode up to Athwen and told her she had better ride in the front of the column, a logical idea, which she immediately took the post of. It was an excellent place to ride, with her back to the others and her pale, teary face turned towards the wind and to no one’s eye. Perhaps it would look less as though she had been crying when they reached the camp.

In very few minutes at all they came to the trees and bushes. Athwen led them, threading her way easily through, and finally stopped. She slid from her horse and walked to his head.

‘I’ve brought some more people,’ she said to everyone there. She nodded towards Fion and Osmod. ‘They’re friends of them.’

[Farael]

Osmod got another cup of tea for himself. He was sitting by Fion’s side, sharing a comfortable moment of silence. Or as comfortable such moments could get in the midst of strangers. He felt safe for the time being, but he worried about his friends. They could not go back looking for them yet, Fion was not ready, yet he feared they’d think them dead and ride on without them. The strangers were busying about their camp, talking to each other.

It seemed no-one had noticed the figures riding towards them, and Osmod thought about warning the others. It was not too late to get ready to defend themselves, and nobody knew who roamed through the lands of Rohan anymore. Yet the riders did not look too threatening. As they got closer, he realized that the first rider had been in the ambush. She had talked to Brand, interceding in his favour. But it was not until he saw the second rider that Osmod realized who this group was. ”Meghan!!” he jumped to his feet and ran towards the others. They were all there, and he was glad to see them. Sythric and Rædwald went over to introduce themselves while Meghan and Eostre stayed behind. Osmod lead them to where Fion was sitting, and the young man seemed just as happy to see them all as he had been. They talked animatedly for a while, telling their stories to each other. Osmod grinned at Meghan when she told how she had met Athwen and praised her peaceful instincts. His hand wondered to his chest, where a dull pain still remained from his earlier misfortune. He was really glad to see them all, but he was specially glad to see Meghan again. Just looking at her reminded Osmod about the good things he had left behind. Perhaps he reminded him of something else his heart ached for, but he ignored the thought for the time being. Sythric and Rædwald were approaching and they would probably want some of the tea as they all decided what to do next.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fion was still a bit confused. First these people had attacked him (and judging by the pain on his scalp and the odd little cut under his jawbone, had dragged him around and pressed something sharp to his neck while he was out cold), and now they were fussing over him. An elderly man was pressing bandages to his head, and both he and Osmod were urging him to drink some strange-smelling tea that they claimed would help the pain. He wasn't sure he trusted these people, but he drank it anyway. (If it helped ease the throbbing in his skull, that was fine with him. If it was poison, well, at least his head wouldn't hurt anymore.)

After a moment, Osmod's attention was captured by something on the horizon. Fion considered looking too, but the constant drum-beat of pain at his brow kept his attention focused on the tea and the bandages. Whatever it was, he could let Osmod handle it.

The ambush had dampened his normally high spirits. Any other time, he would have taken this opportunity to joke that his own thick skull had saved him from any lasting damage. Right now though, all Fion wanted was to drink his tea, end the throbbing pain, and get away from these people.

The elderly healer tried to engage him in conversation, but Fion kept his replies short and vague. He wasn't in the mood to talk. Besides, Osmod had told him not to give any information away. He wasn't about to betray his friends. He would--

"Meghan!" Fion's head jerked towards Osmod, hearing him yell. His brow screamed out in protest at this action. The boy spent a moment clutching his head in pain, barely hearing Osmod talking excitedly to someone. Finally, he looked up. Meghan, Sythric, Eostre, and Raedwald! They had found them!

"Aren't you lot a sight for sore eyes!" He said, relieved to see his friends again. His spirits were lifted, and the next sentence out of his mouth was: "Although in my case, you're a sight for a sore brow!" His hand went to the bandage, trying to coax the throbbing to die down a little.

"Well, at any rate, I'm glad to see you!" He tried to stand up, but the healer grabbed his arm and scolded him. Ah well. Sitting was fine.

[Tevildo]

Leod had finished applying salve to the gash on Fion's head and carefully bandaged his wound. He had helped the man sit up, encouraging him to swallow a few mouthfuls of hot tea. The brew contained herbs that were intended to combat the pain so that he would hopefully rest easy when nightfall came. For the moment, however, since Fion wanted wanted to stay awake for a bit, he kept talking and asking questions.

Leod's hands moved deftly to tighten the bandages and to examine a small bruise on Fion's left side. Despite his dazed state, the injured man was alert enough to stay on guard, being very careful not to say too much about who he was or why he was here. Leod had tried to set his patient's fears at ease by explaining that he was from the nearby village and that the travellers had been welcoming and respectful, taking time to lay the dead to rest despite the urgency of their mission. But still the man was curiously silent. Leod began to wonder if perhaps the pair had something that they wanted to keep to themselves.

It was only when Athwen walked into camp with the other strangers following behind her that Fion's eyes had lit up in recognition and relief, and a torrent of words poured forth. For one moment, Leod felt a pang of yearning. If only a few of his neighbors could reappear in such a way that these folk had just done! But, alas, that was not to be. Their best hope was to get quickly on the road, to waste no more time in this distant glade, but to let the King know that a great new danger threatened their beloved land. If these strange folk were going to get in the way, it was best that their own party took off in the morning, leaving the others behind.

While Fion and Osmod were still talking animatedly with the strangers, Leod sidled over towards Brand, Athwen, and Dorran, who now stood in a small clump. Apparently forgetting that he himself was a relative newcomer to the band, Leod grumbled, "Is this all, or are there more? We seem to be encountering a surprise behind each bush and tree. And what are all these folk doing here? I never knew that romping through the woods could be such a common occupation for the young men and women of Rohan. In my day, young folks stayed put in their villages and minded the words of their elders! If we've a mission to carry out, perhaps we'd be better off splitting the group in the morning, and leaving these strangers behind. If our party gets any bigger, we may never make it to Edoras since the tramping of our horses' hooves and our loud jests and conversations will surely waken every miscreant between here and the king's palace."

[Folwren]

Athwen looked over at Leod as he spoke and then reverted her gaze back to the others. 'Come, Leod, be reasonable,' she said quietly. 'They might be minding the words of their elders. I don't mean to be rude or disrepsectful to you, but times are drastically different now than they were, and they-' she nodded towards them 'and these folks-' indicated Brand and Dorran 'had to go.' She paused again and her eyes looked over every person there swiftly. There were twelve in all, including herself.

'These are all of them, yes,' she said, in reply to Leod's first question. She turned to face Brand and Dorran squarely. 'They're on the same mission you are, I think,' she said. 'They're going to Edoras to the seek the King and his protection for their home and people. Meghan told me as we were riding back to here. She's the one there, almost as short as I am. I brought them so that they could see that we didn't hurt their companions too badly. I hope you don't mind. I stopped and talked to Meghan and told her that I had seen the two men and tried to say what had happened, but they weren't very happy with what I said, so I had to bring them. And she told me where they were going on the way.'

Brand and Dorran both turned their eyes towards the strangers, a new interest coming to their faces. Athwen stepped away to stand and wait to see what happened. She knew no more and had nothing further to offer.

[Nogrod]

Soon enough, they came into a small clearing with fire going on, and Osmod and Fion were there! What a relief! Both of them alive –although Fion didn’t seem so well with the heavy bandage on his head. There was an old man tending his wound. Osmod was standing beside them. And there were others there too.

These are strange times indeed. I thought that out party was a motley crue of youngsters and old warhorses, but look at these people here! Four youngsters, a girl and a grandfather! Are these the survivors of that unhappy village?

Athwen dropped herself from the saddle and took to walking, greeting the people at the clearing. All the Bregowarians dismounted too and headed to see Osmod and Fion: to embrace them, to ask what had happened. After patting Fion to the shoulder in encouragement, Sythric turned towards Osmod. He embraced him warmly, and with a great relief. “I’m really happy to see you two alive! For a moment we really feared you dead. Now I just hope, we are among friends, and not enemies.” Before Osmod could answer, there came others, hugging Osmod and asking about things happened.

Sythric stepped back and tried to configure the situation out. The old man that had been tending Fion’s wound had drawn aside, and was talking to three other strangers some ten yards away. The Deer! It must be their kill? Sythric walked back to the horses, took the bloody blanket from Thydrë, whispered some comforting words to Eostre’s horse and untied the deer from his back. He took the deer and the blanket, and walked towards the four strangers. He stopped about two yards from them and addressed them.

“My name is Sythric, Sythric of the Skara, Bregoware, sergeant of the Rohirrim – not in active duty, as you can see from my age, I suppose.” He nodded politely to everyone of the strangers, Athwen included, for they had not been introduced to each other. “The other senior with us there is Raedwald, also a veteran of the rohirrim. We served at Croacht, under the warden Thygulf some ten years ago. I don’t know, what our leader Osmod, and this young Fion here have told you, but we are on an urgent mission to the king himself, and would not like to be distracted. So I find these latest happenings quite unfortunate. If you are good people, loyal to the king and Rohan - as I do believe - you should see, that it’s not wise to go on ambushing each other? Especially at times like these.” He studied the men quite boldly, except for Leod, for he had been raised to honour older people, and that lesson he had learned well enough.

Before they could answer, he threw the deer to their feet. “This must be your kill?” He asked, and then threw the bloody blanket after it, to cover the deer. The deer’s hind legs were sticking from under the blanket. Sythric lifted the blanket from the corner and kicked the legs under it. As he let the blanket fall, there were no parts of the deer to be seen: it was just a bloody body under a blanket. “This is what we found from the grass, as we were searching for our friends here. So please understand us being a bit upset. Thank’s to this young lady here, we didn’t attack your encampment and continue the misery you have started.” As he thought Leod to be the leader here, he then looked questioningly into his eyes.

[Arry]

Brand watched as the newcomers greeted their companions. He’d heard what Athwen said about them and what she thought they were doing so far from their homes. How on earth did we ever think they were Easterlings! He tsk’d at himself for having been so jumpy. One small crisis and your clear thinking turns all muddy . . .

His eyes flicked up toward Leod as the older fellow finished grumbling about the new happenings. ‘I agree,’ he murmured back. ‘And I’m thinking we’ll be on our way tomorrow morning, and they can continue on with their own journey.’ He paused for a moment, his thoughts rolling about in his head. ‘It is an out of sorts thing, isn’t it, for us to be traveling so far from our village; I’ll give you that. But then these seem to be out of sorts times, don’t they? Given my own wishes I’d be in the little rolling hills west of Wulfham. With my horse and dog to keep me company. Watching out over my woolies. Going home at night to the good company of my family and my dear mother’s cooking.’ He swept his arm in a short arc about the campsite. ‘Not here, in this unfamiliar place with these unfamiliar people.’ He rubbed at the raised pink tissues of his cheek. ‘And with my face scarred and hurting all the time.’ He shrugged his shoulders and took a deep breath. ‘But here I am. At the bidding of Wulfham’s Lord, until the task is done or I am dead.’ He looked wearily toward the west. ‘With any luck, he’ll set this all to rights and there’ll be an end to all this out of sortness.’

By this time, one of the newcomers, Sythric he called himself, an older man, had gone back to one of the horses, returning with a deer carcass. He’d thrown it at their feet and spoken in a harsh, accusatory manner, or so it seemed to Brand’s ears. Brand’s cheek’s reddened, his fresh scars burning with the sudden rush of blood to them. He bit back his first thoughts which were simply to tell them he would be more than happy to see the hind end of their horses as they rode out of the camp. The one young man, though, Fion, did not look in any shape to be traveling.

Brand schooled his tongue to some civility and apologized for the actions once again, the Wulfhamers had taken against the two scouts. He offered no excuses, as the man seemed not in the mood to hear any. To his own surprise, he found himself inviting the other group to stay for supper and to bed down with them for the night if they wished. ‘You’ve so graciously brought in the deer we killed, you might as well share in it.’

He stepped away from the older man, leaving him to speak with Leod. ‘I’m Brand, from Wulfham,’ he said nodding in greeting to the other older newcomer. Brand pointed round to his little group, naming each. Eostre was greeted next, and then Meghan. ‘Please do stay with us the night and share a meal,’ he said taking them all in with a glance about. ‘A simple journey meal . . . plenty of meat, I think, to satisfy hunger. And whatever else we can pull together from your packs and ours.’

[Undómë]

Meghan


Meghan was more than glad to see her two companions all in one piece. When Athwen had spoken about the ambush, Meghan had gotten the idea that while the two were still alive, they were quite battered. She grinned widely at the two and ran to see them.

Osmod seemed fine. She looked at him appraisingly. No nicks or big bruises. She smiled a little wondering if the incident had ruffled his feathers a bit though. Best not tease him at this point . . . she told herself. Not in front of anyone, at least.

To Fion she spoke gently. He’d taken the brunt of the pummeling, it seemed. ‘We should have all stuck together,’ she told him. ‘Taken them on as a group.’ She rested her hand lightly on his arm. ‘You were very brave to scout ahead for us, Fion. Thank you for taking that on.’ She leaned in close to whisper to him. ‘Sometimes I curse the ill luck that set me on this journey to the King. Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll stand up to an attack, if one comes my way. Sometimes I find myself thinking I’d just run off like when my little flock scatters at the first hint of danger.’

She was about to say more when one of the other group’s men came walking over and began to introduce himself to Rædwald and the others of her group. Brand, he said his name was. From Wulfham. She frowned for a moment, the village name rousing some dusty memory in her thoughts. She could not quite catch the connections and shrugged it off as just some odd passing thought.

Meghan’s belly rumbled as he mentioned eating. Her eyes lit up at the thought of roasted bits of deer meat, sizzling hot from the fire. ‘Well, I for one would like to accept your invitation.’ She turned to Rædwald. ‘Didn’t you say you’d brought a little sack of oats? We can make oatcakes to fill in the empty spaces.’ She looked about the entire group. ‘I’m sure someone here will give me a hand.’

She stepped a little closer to Brand, her gaze traveling over his cheek wounds and those on his arms. ‘What happened to you?’ she said, her voice sounding genuinely interested. ‘I hope whatever did that is dead now!’ Her hand traveled up toward his face, but was quickly recalled as she realized he might take the action amiss. ‘Sorry!’ she murmured, her cheeks coloring. ‘I didn’t mean to be so bold.’

[Nogrod]

"I’m Brand, from Wulfham", Sythric heard Brand introducing himself just after he walked out from the situation. From Wulfham? Wasn’t old Griawan at the riders from Wulfham? A good man he was indeed. Raedwald would surely remember him. But why this oldtimer and the girl? Are these the only survivors of Wulfham? Wulfham burned down with only six survivors!

He had been angry. He had had justification to it. They had been over-jumpy and attacked clearly innocent people – with possibly disasterous results, if Fion could not continue. Where could we leave him? We couldn’t wait anyhow... And the bloody blanket there at the grass just had kicked him into the belly with a force of ten bulls. Now this Brand was clearly offended by him. That should have to be repaired, and hopefully soon. We are all in this same mess, all thrown asunder by these rough times, and would have to co-operate. Maybe we should take the swift riders of them with those of us able to ride fast, to tell also the story of Wulfham, and the slower ones would try to join the next refugee village together?

He heard Brand inviting them to eat and overnight with them. It sounded promising to his ears. But still he was faced with the old man – and the other young man and the girl. They had said nothing – they were all listening to Brand making the invitations.

Sythric addressed Leod: “So you are from Wulfham? Are there any other survivors? These surely are dark times! I knew a Wulfhamer back in the riders, Griawan was his name. He was a good man, and so I trust you others to be as well. Forgive me my anger. It’s not so much us who talk and act like that, it’s the times and the disstress, that talk and act through us with that impatience. I think we all will have to talk about this, maybe at the fireside, with some roast deer to go with it?”

[Valier]

Vaenosa had tried to stay quiet and tend the fire, but she was becoming restless. Now there were even more strangers in their midst. She did not like the look of the lot and was getting more irratated with every second that went by. The last straw came when she heard Brand offer these people a meal and for them to spend the night in their camp. How can he do this? Is he daft? There is a young girl in this camp, as well as three other females. How can we be safe? The look of these men! I swear, I will sleep not while they sleep near!
Vaenosa shot a look towards Brand, then whistled for Nay. He had finished playing with the tree bark and was about to come bug her for attention anyways. Grabbing his reins, Vaenosa stalked towards the small river. She didn't care to tell anyone where she was going or what they would think of her.

Stooping Vaenosa picked up a handful of rocks and began to chuck them into the water with great force. She was as stressed as She had been in a very long time. She was prone to harsh actions and words as if they would protect her, but now she was scared that with all these strangers she might let her guard down and be hurt in some way. I think I'll stay here for awhile. I am sure they can cook the meat by themselves. I did not come here to make friends, only to save my Mother.

"Nay what do you think of all this? I guess you could care less, the more people the more trouble you can get into eh?" Vaenosa said as she stroked Nay's mane. "Well you will have to sleep with me, my friend because there is no way I shall doze long and if someone approachs you will let me know." Nay answered her back with a snort and a tug on her hair. "Oww you creatin! I hate it when you bite my hair! It leaves it all crusty with your drool!" Trying hard not to bite him back, Vaenosa resumed to whipping rocks into the water tring to regain her calmness, so she could return to the camp before someone came there to find her. She was almost certain no one would come to find her, they probably wished she would just stay behind or get lost on the journey..

[Farael]

His friends were all there, and as they made arrangements for what promised to be a good dinner away from home, Osmod drifted back into his silent self. Some of the men were busying themselves with the deer carcass and Meghan was asking Rædwald for some oats while Osmod and Fion rested for another moment. Then, Mother Nature made her call felt and Osmod excused himself from the rest of the group. He found a suitable clump of bushes close to the river, and then he decided to wash himself before dinner time. It was far too cold to take his clothes off and get into the river, but he kneeled on a big flat boulder on the riverbed and washed his hands and his face.

…plock.. sounded once. plick… plock… sounded again.

Osmod looked up to see the cruel woman –he could not force himself to think otherwise- throwing stones onto the river. For a moment, he thought that stone-throwing must be a popular skill wherever these people came from -looking at what they had done to Fion- but he disregarded that thought as silly. Dying himself as best as he could with his cloak, he walked over to the woman. Her horse was nearby and not knowing a better way to start a conversation, he approached the stallion and patted his neck slightly. He was bitten for his effort. ”Brute..” He muttered to himself, before regaining his composure and addressing the startled woman. ”Oh, I’m sorry… I did not mean to scare you. I saw you here and thought we never got a chance to talk, you know, after our… meeting. Sadly, your horse surprised me before I got a chance to say hello. I am Osmod, as you probably know, and I used to lead the Bregoware group. After my last mistake, I don’t know who could possibly follow me into yet another ambush.” He shook his head ”But that is not something you need to concern about, would you walk with me back into the camp? It is getting dark and we should all stay together.” He tried to smile, reassuringly and did his best to hide his feelings from this woman. She had threatened Fion’s life and that was not something he would forgive easily. But in any case, the other people in her group seemed civilized enough, and if she was with them she must have been useful in one way or another.

Osmod just hoped she was not useful as a cold-blooded killer.

[Valier]

Vaenosa was busying herself trowing rocks when someone approached from behind, startling her. It was the man they had netted, Osmod she was pretty sure was his name. He appologized for scaring her and asked if she would walk back to the camp with him. He gave a weak smile, which Vaenosa knew held more then what he led on. She was sure he had came to seek vengence for the way she had treated them. No man in her mind would be able to let the shame of a woman beating them go unjustified. His words were a front, she was sure. But why would he even approach her? Was he just letting her know he had not forgotten her or was he mearly attempting to make friends? Well she would be weary every second she was alone.

" I was just about to head back myself, since I know how wandering off goes unappreciated with most of these people. I see no harm in you joining me in the quick walk back." Vaenosa said as she smiled coyly. "Just watch Nay if he's behind you...He likes to bite!" With that Nay bumped Osmond from behind as she said it, giving him a slight push. " So you were the Leader of your group then? Why do you say were? Have they all mutanied against you?" Vaenosa could not help herself, she always felt the need to try and belittle men. She intended this time to put on a smile and keep her enemies close.

Vaenosa flipped her long, slightly matted hair off her shoulder and looked back to the man who followed behind her. She looked to see if Nay was following still and sure enough he was, but he seemed to have other plans as well. He slowed almost to a stop then pounced towards the man landing him squarely in the back with his head. Osmond gave a slighty yelp as he was taken by surprise and fell forward onto the earth.

Vaenosa held her sides for a moment at the sight of the man on the ground with a crazy prancing, pouncing horse romping around him. She tried hard not to laugh, but let out a quick "Ha!" Vaenosa leaned over and offered her hand to the man. "Sorry, he just....he thinks he's a Dog... or maybe a goat...I do not know, but well sorry!" She waited to see if the man would erupt with anger and retribution or would he let the moment go and not be angered at his vulnerability.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

It was impossible for Eostre to help but falling into her traditional silent state, observing and taking everything in, but saying nothing. Her horse had carried in the fallen deer; walking back over to him, she rubbed him gently between the ears. "A slightly different situation, eh there? All these strange people?"

Leaving her horse to whatever he chose to do, Eostre sat down on a nearby stump. Of course Meghan would fit right in, making friends with everyone and probably winning all the men's hearts while she was at it. Friendly, chipper, naive... was everyone like that? Was she the only one who saw life and just knew it would turn around and bite you in the behind?

Hah.

She examined those who had previously been the rest of her party. Fion seemed to have taken the worst damage, but all in all, everyone was in tact.

Perhaps we'll be able to eat, then.

[Tevildo]

Leod glanced sideways at Sythric, and then nodded his head. "Aye, I've a mind to eat myself. And talk always goes better over food. And your questions will take some time to answer. Some of the others have already started to clean and dress the deer, but it may be a while till it is ready for us. But come with me. I think I can get us a bite while we're waiting."

He beckoned to Sythric to follow him to the far side of the camp. "That's Dorran," Leod explained. "That young lad is a whiz with the cooking pots and he's got some fish smoking over that smaller fire. Let's sit here and rest our feet. I'll try to explain the rest."

Leod went over and snatched up two plates from Dorran, depositing a large smoked fish on each. Then he handed the plate with the larger portion to Sythric and sat down beside the man to eat. The stranger looked to be about forty. He was a bit stocky and had his light brown hair pulled back into two braids. His steady demeanor and serious look, suggested that he was a householder of some sort, not simply a rag-tag wanderer. For a moment, Leod sighed. This man looked little different than the neighbors he'd left behind, lying still and silent in the dirt. Perhaps his sharp words had been too hasty, and there was less difference between them and the strangers than what he had first thought.

"I'm no Wulfhamer. So I'm afraid I don't know the man you mention. And thank goodness, Wulfham still stands whole, or at least Brand says so the last time they saw it," Leod explained. "No, I'm from the village upstream that met its end at the hands of the Orcs. I'm a healer by trade. That place is burnt to the ground. As far as I know, Athwen and I are the only ones who managed to survive. But I will say this. Brand and his fellows, even the women with their feisty ways, are not a bad sort. They've been kind and decent to me ever since I met them. They could have left me behind, but Brand would not hear of it. And this one....." Here, Leod pointed over to Dorran. "He's a good young 'un. Tries his best and can cook up a storm."

Leod reached out and helped himself to another fish before continuing on. "We do need to get out of here tomorrow and run lickety split down to Edoras, as fast as the horses will carry us. If not, we could have the blood of more villagers on our heads. And I've no wish to see that happen twice. The sooner we get word to the king about what's going on throughout the countryside, the faster help will be on the way, and the women and children will get some protection as they travel south."

"I suppose then, you'll prefer to go off on your own? But if you don't want to answer me, suit yourself. Either way, we'll get some of that roast deer a few hours from now and, hopefully, we'll both get a good night's sleep." Leod glanced over and wondered if Sythric would explain more about why they were here or what they planned to do.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fion gave a lopsided grin, hearing Meghan's remark about his bravery.

"You know, that's the first time I've heard someone label 'getting hit in the head' as 'bravery,' " he said. "Maybe I should take the scouting duty more often. I'll be decorated in medals of honor in no time at all!"

Ignoring this remark, Meghan leaned forward and whispered, ‘Sometimes I curse the ill luck that set me on this journey to the King. Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll stand up to an attack, if one comes my way. Sometimes I find myself thinking I’d just run off like when my little flock scatters at the first hint of danger.’

Fion blinked in obvious surprise. Meghan was... afraid? His mind tried to focus on what she had just said, but most of it refused to consider anything other than the throbbing at his brow.

"But it wasn't ill luck," Fion tried to say. "We're a Company; we'll watch out for each other." That's what he MEANT to say, but Meghan had already walked away to answer Brand's invitation. Now Fion was alone again.

He stared down into the murky depths of the tea. Apparently it was helping, the pain wasn't as bad as it had been. It was kind of the elderly healer (Leod, did he say his name was?) to help him. But that didn't mean that Fion trusted these people. They had practically bashed his brains out with that stone, and knocked Osmod from his horse. To top it off, Fion didn't know where his own horse had gotten off to; she was a skittish thing to begin with, and having Fion fall of the saddle must have frightened her. Those bedamned Wulfham Riders made him lose his only mode of transportation. He was just beginning to like that sneaky nag, too.

And now they were inviting his friends for dinner. "Pay no mind to the fact that we just ambushed your leader and scout; Why don't you have some tea and biscuits with us? We'll have a grand party, while little Fion can slip into a coma in the corner over there." "Oh yes, that sounds lovely! We can munch on this deer carcass you left in the middle of the field for Who-Knows-How-Long!"

His mood dampening again, Fion put the tea down and shifted his weight. He looked back up, noticing Eostre standing by her horse. She was silent, as usual.

"What do you make of all this?" he asked her.

[Farael]

”So you were the Leader of your group then? Why do you say were? Have they all mutinied against you?"

-She was doing it on purpose, wasn’t she? No-one would ever be so tactless, even if he had commented on it himself- Thought Osmod. ”Well Miss, they have not mutinied against me, not just yet… but after they see how easily I lead Fion and I into your trap, I don’t think they’ll…” he never got to finish his sentence. The horse pounced on his back and threw him straight into the ground. From there, he looked up at Vaenosa, who was offering him a helping hand. The whole scene struck Osmod as funny. There he was, thinking that the woman was evil, possibly a murderer, and walking towards the camp with her just because she was still part of the Wulfham group and her horse decided to show him what humility meant. The woman didn’t seem so bad after all, maybe a little uptight, but she was not evil. With a chuckle, he took her hand and thanked her for the help. Then, with a curious glitter in his eyes, Osmod excused himself from Vaenosa for the moment.

He turned around to face Nay, who looked pretty content about himself. Knowing that the horse might expect some foul play, he approached him slowly, smiling and trying to look as harmless as he could. The horse had his eyes fixed on him, and that was not what Osmod wanted. He extended his arm and snapped his fingers a few times, which caught Nay’s attention just like he expected. Nay tried to bite his hand, but Osmod quickly took his hand away and, before the horse could recover, he jumped on to his back. He secured himself as best he could without a saddle and got ready for what was to come. First, Nay seemed oblivious of the rider on his back or perhaps confused. And then it started. Kick… Jump… Kick… Kick… Turn, Jump…. Kick The horse tried his best to rid himself of Osmod, but the man had managed to secure himself firmly. The horse kicked and Osmod laughed. The horse jumped and Osmod braced himself, for Nay was a strong animal and many times he was close to rid himself from his assailant. Finally, they both calmed down, tired and sweating. Still chuckling, Osmod dismounted and patted Nay’s neck in a friendly way. ”You give good fight my friend… next time I might not be as lucky” he told the horse, forgetting that Vaenosa was standing right there. He looked up at her, with a big impish grin as he ran his fingers through Nay’s mane ”You have a great horse, Miss. A little playful maybe, but he is a strong one. I am sure he will help you through your mission. He smiled as Nay took another friendly bite at his shoulder and shook his head in disbelief. He would have thought the horse would be too tired to bother him, at least for a few minutes.

[Arry]

Brand stepped back a pace. He found the nearness of her somewhat disconcerting. Not unpleasant or off-putting, but rather an unfamiliar inclination or curiosity that made him uncomfortable with its presence. He could not tell if he was glad she had come to her senses and let drop her hand or if he were dismayed.

‘It was a big cat, a cougar, that attacked our camp some days back,’ he offered in explanation. ‘It was after Lady, my horse. I couldn’t let Lady be brought down by the brute, so I foolishly took the cat on. And she nearly did me in before I could best her.’ He rolled his tunic sleeves down, shielding the scars on his arm from her gaze. There was nothing he could do to hide those on his cheek. And so he simply gazed toward her with as unconcerned an air as he could muster.

And broke the brief silence that had fallen thick between them with a change in subject. ‘You know . . . I’m a fair hand at oat cakes.’ He nodded at her. ‘No, really, I am. At least Lady thinks so, as does Patch . . . my dog,’ he said with a grin. ‘And even my more well done, crispy sort are relished by my flock when we’re out in the summer pasture . . .’

[Undómë]

Undómë's post

Meghan


‘Burnt oat cakes, eh? Hmmm . . .’ She stepped back and hands on hips gave him an appraising look, looking him up and down through narrowed eyes, brows raised. Had she been taller, it might have proved more effective. Still she was a large spirit in a small body and what she lacked in stature, she made up for in words . . . which were often not well thought out aforehand.

‘I can only think of one sort of animal who goes about in a flock and who might be so daft as to think a lumpy, charred offering would be tasty.’ Meghan shook her head and snorted. ‘Sheep . . . those dim-witted great lumps of yarn!’ She laughed, saying, ‘The only thing more feebleminded than sheep is the herder!’

Stifling another laugh, she glanced up and caught the change of expression on his face. Her mouth formed and ‘Oh!’ of sudden realization, her eyes opening wide. ‘Oh, no . . . tell me you’re not a sheep man . . . are you?’

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Arry's post


‘Oh, no . . . tell me you’re not a sheep man . . . are you?’

Now how was he to answer that one? Was he to admit to feeblemindedness simply because he kept sheep? He found himself on the horns of a dilemma . . . and there she stood a great grin on her face, her eyes snapping with delight at having bested him.

He wanted to be angry with her and found he simply couldn’t. Much as he composed his face into some semblance of seriousness, still he could feel the corners of his own mouth inching up into a similar grin.

‘And from the tone of your voice and the tenor of your comments, I’d say you are one of those . . . yes, those . . .’ He wrinkled his nose as if smelling something quite noxious. ‘Goat people.’ Now it was his turn to look down his nose at her . . . as if she were a bug of sorts. ‘Always butting into everyone’s business . . . that’s what goats do. And honestly, I’ve found for the most part their owners have quite similar temperaments. Nosy, bossy, demanding . . . and have you ever noticed how opinionated they are . . . goats and goat-herders . . .

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Undómë's post

Rædwald


Rædwald looked on with great amusement at the teasing play between the young man, Brand, and Meghan. He smiled at the words that passed between them; thinking all the while to himself that just such banter is how it should be between those their age. His eyes took on a certain sadness looking at Athwen as she knelt next to one of the other young men from Wulfham – Dorran. Pain and sorrow should not be the lot for these youngsters . . . it was not right. He spat on the ground thrice and cursed the lord of those dark lands who could not, would not, value lives such as these.

He untied the small sack of oats from his saddle and offered his horse a meager handful. ‘Sorry Lis,’ he told her. ‘But I fear the rest will be used to fill our own bellies, so best enjoy this little treat as there’ll be no more.

‘Come you two!’ he called out to Meghan and Brand. ‘For all your boasting of your cooking prowess, these oats won’t be mixed and seasoned and patted into tasty cakes by your words.’ He held up the bag, looking at them expectantly. ‘Time to put your hands to work and give your mouths a rest, eh?’

He threw the bag to Brand and winked at Meghan. ‘Time for the sheepman to prove his worth.’

[Nogrod]

Sythric really enjoyed the freshly smoked fish while listening to the old man. Fresh food really tasted after that dried lamb! At a moment he realized himself thinking, that the others should be offered some too. It would do good to all of them. Well I hope they notice this chance-lunch themselves, for this discussion will have to be made first.

Sythric started to get the hang of all this. It was at the same time more comforting but also more vividly tormenting. Wulfham might be still standing, even though without its people who were making their journey westwards – as were the Bregowarians. Hope they still were... But the picture was more real now. All of the eastern Rohan was on the move.

Leod fell silent. Sythric chewed the bit in his mouth and cleared his throat. He watched the old man seriously and said with some real compassion. “I’m really sorry about Scyffold. I did visit your town a couple of times, long time ago. It was a beautiful place, and the people I met there were goodhearted.” He took a small bite more of the fish, just looking at the old man who seemed to be in anguish after he had mentioned his town. No wonder, Sythric thought to himself.

“But anyhow. We rest are afraid for our cities and their people, and just hope the fate of yours hasn’t already turned on them – and to all the others. You might not know Bregoware, where we come from. It’s something like a bit more than a day’s ride north-east from the ferry of Arnanaes – or the King’s ferry, as some people call it. Our mission seems to be similar to that of the Wulfhamers here. So we share our destinies.” He fell silent again, just watching the slow fire, and Dorran handling the fish skilfully, as if he had done that all his young life. And young he was, just as Fion... But how about Fion? The thought came back to him, and he got concerned again.

“Oh, how about Fion, the young lad from our party who had himself shot in the head? Is he going to be able to ride tomorrow? This really worries me.” He asked lowering his voice, not wanting Fion sitting some ten yards away from them by the larger fire, to hear them, and looking at the old healer questioningly. Luckily the hassle and toil of Dorran made a shield of sound of some kind also. The words of old Hugebryth echoed in his head once more: “Just remember, that this message to the King, no matter how slim are the chances that it will affect anything in the end, is the single most important thing on your journey. It’s more important than the lives of any one of those youngsters”. Still he couldn’t think of leaving Fion behind, even with some others who would not be fast riders enough. He just couldn’t – even though he knew, that it might just be the thing required from them.

[Folwren]

Athwen had retreated and drawn back when Sythric asked Leod if they had come from Wulfham. She knew what the answer was and she didn’t like it. She didn’t want to be near when it was told that she and Leod weren’t initially part of the group riding to Edoras. Questions would have to arise, and they were already beginning to, but she didn’t want to have to answer them. It was too near, and too harsh. She actually feared their questioning looks and their pitying words - words that would try to put into understandable thoughts what the speaker was thinking but that would only end up causing uncomfortableness and remembrance of sorrow to deep to be fathomed yet by even the bearer, and far too fresh to be calmed by mere words from strangers.

Athwen was a coward and she knew it. She would have been able to face hardships and hunger and danger, so long as she had someone to go to during it and when it all was over. But now she had no one, and she couldn’t even face people who would like to befriend her.

She watched as Leod and Sythric walked to the fire, beginning to carry a conversation. They looked like they would get along well together. Meghan was fussing about Brand’s wounds, and the adventure of the cat they had met was being explained. Fion sat by the fire, and she couldn’t tell what he thought of everything. Eostre stood by her horse, and before Athwen had decided if she should approach her, Fion addressed her. She looked away.

Her eyes traced the trees and bushes towards the river. She remembered, as she looked, having seen Vaenosa and Osmod both head off from camp in that general direction. Briefly she wondered if they had met up with each other and how Osmod would have gotten along with Vaenosa. She sighed and looked back at the people near her.

‘Dorran,’ she said, walking forward suddenly. She knelt beside him. ‘I have absolutely nothing to do,’ she told him, holding out her hands, palms upward, ‘Can I help you? I desperately need something to do to keep my mind from working too hard.’

[Nogrod]

Suddenly all, at least all by the smaller fireside, nearer to the river, were alarmad by the stomping and neighing of a horse from the direction of the Great river. As Sythric turned his head with the others, he could see the figure of Osmod making his best with a strange horse - seeing who’s the master, principally - with one of the Wulfhamer girls checking out the result near them. It really was a show-off - even probably not intended as such.

Osmod, my dear boy! I already called you a man! And what are you doing now? Giving a show to a strange young lady about your horsemanship, while we really should be thinking about what to do! Leadership, Osmod, leadership! Now we would need it more than ever. We oldies shouldn’t do it, for we will have a company of miles to win in front of us. And we need all capable men and women in, wholeheartedly with this, not some grumpy oldtimers going on telling others what to do. It’s not a party then... C’mon Osmod, come to your senses! Or maybe this Brand-fellow could do it?Unluckily he seems to think very badly on me, and with reason, I must admit.

Simultaneously he heard footsetps approaching, and turned around. It was Athwen, who was coming to the fireside, clearly now following the match between the man versus the horse too, as she walked on. Their eyes met for an instant, and Sythric just had time to react with a symphatetic smile. Poor girl. Your life has just taken a direction anyone of us would fear as their worst nightmare! Athwen passed between him and Leod and addressed Dorran, clearly wanting to be of help. Sythric watched the two for a while – and then looked back to Fion, who was resting further from them by the greater fire, with a teacup in his hand, looking just nowhere in particular.

“Dorran!” He called, nodding to him as he raised his gaze towards him, “I am very much taken by this delicious fish you have produced us, master Dorran. If you know some fine ways to make chicken, I could provide us all with the next meal, for I found four chicken from Scyffold and have them with me. So maybe tomorrow... And if you need help in it, let me be the one to volunteer, I also know one or two things to do with chicken! We could exhange our ideas and have a perfect meal?” With that, he opened a wide smile, but as he met the eyes of Athwen, his face revealed a more serious attitude – although he tried to encourage her with his compassion. This is so wrong, that people so young have to endure things like this! Sythric felt the teardrop forming in the corner of his eye. He wiped his face hastily and turned again towards Leod.

[Naria]

Incana was not sure as to what to make of the new comers. She still felt bad as she looked over at the man called Fion. He seemed to be fairing quite well considering the blow that she had inflicted upon him. She struggled with what to say to him and wanted to aid in his comfort, but just as she made up her mind to approach him he asked a question of one of their female companions, stopping Incana's feet at once. She sighed and looked around in confusion where did Vaenosa get to now? Incana was so preoccupied with everything that had happened that she didn't notice the woman's retreat.

She immediately felt worried about Vaenosa. She must be horrified with all of the men staying at our camp and she had just begun to trust and get along, somewhat with our men. Incana headed off through some trees and found herself out in an open field with a clear view of the river. The woman noticed that Vaenosa was not alone, she was with a....a man! What was she doing? After all of the turmoil and grief she had put our men through, what did she think she was doing?! Incana couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and anger, why her? Why not me? I want and deserve a husband, Vaenosa certainly has shown that she does not!Incana shook her head,what foolish thoughts you have! It did, afterall, look like he was having fun with Nay and for once Vaenosa too looked like she was enjoying herself. Incana thought, maybe Vaenosa has found something in this man that she can identify with and likes.

Incana decided to take the long way back to camp as to clear her head. She was plucking her way through some small bushes when she suddenly came upon a horse. It seemed to be acting like it had not a care in the world, happily grazing and swatting at some flies. Incana cautiously approached the horse not knowing what it would do. She wanted to keep to the side of the horse so as to not be in a direct kick from the hind end and also to keep in the line of sight, so the horse would not get spooked. The woman made low nickering sounds and somehow put her body into a swaying motion as she got closer--this had worked on several occasions in the dealings with a new horse that her father brought home. As Incana got closer it became clear that the horse was a female and was still saddled. She must belong to one of the riders back at camp, I have to get her back. "Easy girl. Come now, we need to get you back to the safety of the fire." The mare was hesitant at first and walked away from Incana's advancement. The woman did not give up though, she quietly followed the horse and waited until she stopped. Incana once again made the same low nicker and this time added some kissing clicks. The horse did not walk away this time she just stood still and allowed Incana to let her hand caress the horses back until her hand made contact with the reins. "Good girl." Incana made another click with her tongue and with a nod of agreement from the mare the pair made there way towards camp.

With horse in tow, Incana walked through the last bit of trees that surrounded the camp and tied the horse to a tree next to her own. "You two are very beautiful, I must say." While she was tending to the horses she caught wind of fish and something else. What was it? She couldn't quite put her finger on it. As she was giving the last horse some water and a light brushing her stomach gave a loud growl letting her know that the smell of the food was not being entirely ignored.

Ahhh....the other aroma was oatcakes, or so it looked to her like they were. It seemed that there was not going to be enough to go around. Incana squatted next to the woman that had prepared and was in the midst of cooking some. "May I be of some assistance?"

[Undómë]

Meghan


‘Yes, please join us!’ Meghan scooted to one side and nodded for the woman to crouch down next to her. ‘Incana . . . right? I like the sound of your name.’ she passed one of the bowls to the women and showed her where the oats were. ‘Seems like he,’ she glanced over to where Brand was forming his dough into thin cakes, ‘makes his different than what I’m used to.’ She held out one of her own uncooked patties. It was thicker than Brand’s and had a peppering of herbs kneaded into it. ‘This is how my family has always made them. It will be interesting to see what you do.'

The three worked in a comfortable silence for a while; the pat-pat sound of the dough as they slapped it back and forth from hand to hand the only sound among the trio.

‘I remember learning to do this with my Grandma Ada when I was just a little girl.’ Meghan’s voice broke the silence as she laid her finished oatcakes in the pan over the fire.

‘She learned to make them from her Grandma, too. And she was very particular that we put a little pinch of thyme in it. Not just any thyme, either, but lemon thyme. She said her Grandma Gerdë insisted on it. She had a twin brother, Grandma Gerdë did. Name of Garan. He liked the lemony taste and so she always put it in her oat cakes . . . to remember him by.’

Meghan reached up and pushed and escaping lock of hair out of her face with the back of her arm. ‘Not that he was dead or anything like that. But he crossed the river one summer, saying he was going up north a bit to take his goats to newer pastures. And he didn’t come back. Nearly broke Grandma Gerdë’s heart . . . or so Grandma Ada said.’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I guess he did send a message back to the family once . . . with a Ranger who was going east. It seems that my long gone Uncle Garan met some woman, Eolyn, from another village and married her and stayed there with her. Meghan laughed as a sudden thought struck her.

‘You know . . . I must have an odd cousin or two somewhere out there that I’ve never met! Isn't that funny!’

[Folwren]

There was little to be done, Dorran had told her. The meat would have to be carved from the bones of the deer, but that was hardly work for a woman. He didn’t voice that thought, but Athwen somehow knew it. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it anyway. Then Sythric called them and they were introduced almost properly. She bobbed a curtsey, or something of the like, and looked him in the face. When their eyes met she saw what she knew would have to be there - pity, and maybe just a little understanding. They looked away at the same time and as soon as she knew she would no longer be wanted or needed, she turned and walked away.

There was nothing for her to do, and relatively nowhere to go. She would have offered to help make the oatcakes, for she could cook well, but Meghan already had the helping hands of two of her companions. Her eyes rested on Fion, now sitting silently, his head in one hand, staring listlessly in the fire. She wondered briefly if his head was hurting him a terrible amount and took a few steps nearer. Next she wondered what he thought about her and her companions for what they had done to him, and she took more steps towards him. Before she quite realized it, she stood by his side and he very slowly looked up at her, barely turning his head.

‘Do you mind if I sit by you?’ she asked. ‘You don’t look like you feel well at all and I thought that if you had someone to talk to, it might take your mind off things. Not that I’ll be a particularly jolly companion, like Brand or Incana, but I’m willing to keep you company if you’ll have me until dinner is ready.

[Maeggaladiel]

There was a sound behind him, as though someone was sneaking up on him. Fion tore his gaze away from the fire, giving a halfhearted glance at the woman who was slowly approaching him. What now? Oh, perhaps the Wolf-Hammers (as he had come to think of them as) had found another rock that needed to be forcibly introduced to his forehead! What fun! He could--

"Do you mind if I sit by you?" she asked, interrupting his grouchy thoughts. "You don’t look like you feel well at all and I thought that if you had someone to talk to, it might take your mind off things. Not that I’ll be a particularly jolly companion, like Brand or Incana, but I’m willing to keep you company if you’ll have me until dinner is ready."

Fion thought about this for a moment. As far as he was concerned, he had every reason to dislike these people. All right, perhaps he was being a bit harsh; they claimed it had been an honest mistake. But still! Rock in the forehead!! Mistaken for an ugly old Easterling!

On the other hand, though, Fion didn't like being left alone, either. He had in fact harbored secret fears that the others would leave him behind if he wasn't well enough to ride tomorrow morning. Certainly, the fate of Bregoware was more important than the well-being of one young man, and the message to the King couldn't wait. But he didn't want to be stuck here, in the skeleton of the old village...

"That's.... fine," Fion grunted to the woman, his eyes glued to the ground. There was a sound of rustling fabric as she sat down next to him. An uncomfortable silence settled beween them for a moment, and Fion finally broke down and tried to start a conversation.

"You're from Wulfham, then?" he asked in a monotone voice, swishing the tea around in the cup. There was a pause from the woman, and Fion almost thought she had left him. Then he looked up, and saw her staring at the cloud of smoke at the horizon. Why was-- Oh...

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he said quickly, realizing his mistake. "I didn't know... I'm so sorry!" He stared back at the ground. He felt awful; all this time he had been complaining about his forehead, where this woman had lost her entire village and said nary a thing.

She looked sad, but shook her head.

"It's all right," she said. She looked as though she was about to say something else, but then she seemed to push the idea aside and instead asked, "How old are you, Fion?"

Fion assumed that the conversation topic had been changed for a reason, so he didn't press her any further.

"Seventeen," he replied truthfully. Normally he would have lied a little and rounded upwards, but somehow he felt like he should just be honest this time. "I'll be eighteen come spring-time. And you?"

[Folwren]

The question was a simple starter for conversation, and Athwen sighed inwardly as she consciously kept tears from coming to her eyes. She looked up and glanced towards the horizon, biting her tongue for fear of saying anything and not being able to finish. She was aware of Fion glancing up at her and before she could quite get a hold on her feelings, he guessed the answer to his own question.

‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ She looked back at him quickly. ‘I didn’t know. . .I’m so sorry!’ Athwen tried to smile, she really did, but she couldn’t. Instead she just shook her head.

‘It’s alright,’ she told him gently. He looked back at her. Something else had to be brought up. The easiest thing that came she used. ‘How old are you, Fion?’ It was partly out of curiosity, that much was true. She hadn’t asked anyone their age and she had begun to wonder if she was so much younger than the others as she had first thought.

‘Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen come spring-time. You?’

‘Just turned sixteen,’ Athwen admitted. She leaned back on her hands and considered him. ‘You look older than seventeen. My - I mean, a friend of mine from back there was seventeen.’ A short pause. ‘I’m really sorry about what happened to you,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if anyone’s made any proper apologies, but we were all very frightened when we thought Easterlings were coming. You can imagine what we thought when Incana and Vaenosa came galloping back to camp saying they’d seen two riders who might be enemies. We were too hasty and clumsy to look before we shot, though, I guess,’ she said, lowering her eyes. ‘It could have been worse, though, you know. At least it wasn’t an arrow.’

Now that was clumsy. Her eyebrows went up in surprise at her own words and she didn’t look back up at him. Apologizing was one thing, explanation and making mild excuses for the actions was, too, but saying that ‘it could have been worse’ and therefore assuming that he ‘shouldn’t take it so hard’ was absolutely another thing.

‘You have every right, no doubt, to be rather put out,’ she hastened to say. ‘But you will forgive us, I hope.’

[Valier]

Vaenosa's eyes went wide at the sight of the young man attempting to trade wit with Nay, of all animals. Nay thought this had to be a game, so he kicked and jumped and tried to buck the heavier man from his back, without succeeding. Osmod leapt from Nay's back and gave him a friendly pat, and in return Nay bit his shoulder. " I am afraid you have now made a pesky friend forever!" Vaenosa sighed as she talked to the young man. She gave Nay a slap on the rump and he went speeding like a demon back to the camp.

Vaenosa almost felt the need to apologize for her rash choices when the ambush occured, but she did not know this man and thought she should keep her apologies for another time, perhaps they would choose to travel with them to Edoras, which would give Vaenosa time to judge his character.

The two of them stood uncomfortably in silence for a moment while Osmod brushed the dirt from his clothing." I uumm am going to head back now....sorry about Nay I hope he hasn't taken too much of a liking to you or you may never get a Nay free moment." Vaenosa produced a slight smile, then turned and headed back.

Everyone in the camp seemed to be busy preparing something for the meal they would share. Vaenosa had never really been too fond of cooking, she had left that to her mother as she roamed the countryside with Nay. Her mother had insisted that she learn some skills so when she married, she could cook for her husband. "Mother, I will never marry! Who would have a woman who hates to cook and can barely sew?" Her mother would always just shake her head and smile. Sometimes Vaenosa was sure her Mother had planned all along for Vaenosa to go on this journey. The march warden had called her name, she had not volunteered. She was sure her Mother had something to do with that.

Vaenosa felt a little lost with all these people around, she did not want to talk with Incana at the moment, who seemed to be fitting in nicely with one of the other woman and the prospect of introducing herself to the others was out of the question. Scanning the camp, she saw that they would be needing more wood for the fire tonight and for their journey. She whistled again for Nay, who was headed towards the group of horses, who were calmly eating grass. She knew he did not plan on just grazing, so she would use him to carry more wood back to the camp.

Staying close enough to see what was going on in the camp, Vaenosa began to break branches and sticks placing them in Nay's riding blanket to carry them back. Vaenosa began to notice as she was placing more wood on her pile, that it was slowly going down in size. She continued with her gathering but kept her eyes on the pile of wood. Sure enough when she turned to grab another stick, a big brown head reached into the pile extracting the stick she had just placed there. Vaenosa pretended to ignore him, until he reached in for another stick. She swiftly reached up and grabbed ahold of Nay's perky ears,"Hey you! Your making this much harder than it should be! Stop it! Go on go find someone else to pester then." Nay happily obliged, with a jump and a nicker he was off intent on causing more frustration.

Vaenosa was wondering what had gotten into her horse today, he was usually a little more tactful with his play, but the ride with the young man had gotten him all hyper and ready for fun. Vaenosa was lost in her thoughts when she heard someone yell. "Hey you dang horse, give that back!" Nay was prancing away from the fire with someone's drinking cup in his mouth. He had his head high, thinking he was so smart. Vaenosa gave a sigh, was she going to have to abandon all attempts at work today and just keep an eye on her horse?

"Nay! You drop that! You are not a Dog and that is not your cup!!" Vaenosa called to him as she attempted to get close to him to extract the now drooled up cup from his mouth. But of course Nay thought this to be a game of tag, so he ran around in circles, just out of arms reach. Vaenosa began to get a little put out by all his nonsense. "Nay, you drop that right now, or I'll...I'll.....Oh just drop it!" Vaenosa said with a stamp from her foot. She was sure that the people in the camp were all laughing at her, she could not even control her own horse. Embarrassed and infuriated she stood there in the middle of the prancing fools circle and waited for him to stop.