Flight from Rohan RPG

[piosenniel]

Himaran's post

It was a rowdy night at the White Horse Inn. Flushed faces laughed uproariously as card games (and money) were won and lost, and rounds of drinks bought for the victors and the vanquished alike. The fire blazed and stung the eyes of those who came too close to its hearth. Outside it was quiet as the stars shone down on the still night in Rohan. A stray breeze whistled through the tall grass as if to signify that something was about to occur.

Inside three brothers sat bemoaning their misfortunes at the card tables for the night. The small birdlike member of the party turned to the one in the center, as if he was the natural leader of the group. “Fréa, we need to be going.” “Aye,” the other answered. Rising from his chair he turned and paid their fee, borrowing a few coins from the silent one of the trio, whose facial lines marked him as the eldest. As he made his way to the door Fréa was met by a stumbling, gray-haired man who fell heavily against his shoulder knocking the pair to the ground in the doorway. Fréa’s eyes blazed as he gathered himself up off the floor. “Thou art an old drunken fool! If your own eyes cannot guide you perhaps you should obtain a walking stick and use it to find your way!”

The old man looked through bleary eyes at him and shook his head. “Young one, you have much to learn…” He drawled off as Fréa’s hand rose, only to be caught by his eldest brother. “Come Fréa.” Cursing, Fréa was led outside. As the youngest of trio passed the old man, he gave him a shove that sent him out the doorway.

The three were walking somewhat unsteadily when they were hailed from behind. Rapidly approaching them was the old man, demanding an apology. He grasped Fréa’s collar, asking in loud tones if this was how they treated all of the men who had done their time in the King’s service. Fréa’s eyes turned bright red, and his memory went hazy as his fists flew into the man, pummeling him into the ground. His boots found a target and ribs cracked.

When he regained his senses his two brothers were dragging him behind a shed. He was covered in blood, his own and that of the man. “Fréa, that was incredible!” His younger brothers eyes were shining. “Fool! You’ve killed a man, you’ve killed old Folca.” his older brother snapped. Fréa found that his hands were shaking nearly uncontrollably as he rose to his feet. His fingers were dripping red. Walking over he found the old man lying in a pool of blood. He had to act. He had to act fast. “Help me.” He ordered his brothers. Neither of them moved. “Help me!” Slowly they followed him and helped him sling the old man over Fréa’s shoulders.

They passed stealthily through the rest of the town following their leader until he arrived at their destination. “This is the hut of the scoundrel that cost me a month’s wages tonight,” Fréa explained. Pushing the door open quietly, they filed in, the youngest holding a lit candle. They placed the old man so that he would appear hidden, but could easily be found with a little effort. Cleaning up their tracks they exited. Fréa suddenly felt calm, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He allowed himself a soft laugh. “This may even work to our advantage.” Behind him his younger brother gave a cackle but the oldest wore a mask of grim defeat. Fréa turned. “Come, I believe father still has a few old bottles of last year’s brew left. Let us celebrate our card victory.”

And as the trio walked off towards their distant home the moon shone red on a young Rohirrim saying goodnight to the barmaids before he left for the evening.

^*^*^*^*^

“May I see him now, sir?”

“Yes, but remember; he may be your brother, but he is a criminal and a murderer. Do not think that he will be at all pleased to see you. He knows his fate; the penalty for murdering a former servant of the king is death.”

Pushing the guard’s words aside, as well as the man himself, Brytta Hildeson strode into the dungeon where his brother Heldór was being kept. As he sat down on a block outside the cell, his brother looked up and gave him a faint smile, attempting to throw some levity into his dire predicament. “Glad to see you, brother. What is life like outside this box that I’m living in?”

“Keep your voice down. It will be far better once you’re out of here.”

“What do you mean by that, Brytta? I’ll be out of this cell soon enough, but not by your hands.”

“Listen, Heldór. I can’t explain right now, but I know who murdered old Folca, and it certainly was not you. Several of my friends and I are going to break you out tomorrow. I’m not going to let you be executed just because of the cowardice of a lone man and his wretched siblings.”

“It sounds lovely, but where shall I go? If I am caught…”

“We’re going north. I have a plan to help us get you safely out of Rohan, and from there we will follow the Old South road to a small town called Bree. I can find you a place to stay there. Hopefully, I can prove who the true murderer was, and have you pardoned.”

Reaching through the bars, Heldór clasped his brother’s hand in a tight grip. “Thank you Brytta, thank you for everything you’ve done to help me; before and now.”

^*^*^*^*^

That night, Brytta ran along a path toward the White Horse Inn, stumbling over rocks and rotting logs in his haste. In his cloak the Knight carried a crude map of the prison area, complete with the markings of an escape route he had created.

Finally reaching his destination, Brytta hurried inside and found a booth in the back of the Inn, a virtually deserted area. Retrieving the map, he looked over it one last time while he waited for the others to arrive.

[ July 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Envinyatar’s post

‘Osric! Lend me a hand here, man! I can’t lift these wheels myself.”

The bright midmorning sun blazed down on the square before the smithy, throwing the shadow of the straining man into stark relief against the packed earth. Aldwulf wiped his forearm along his brow and looked up, frowning, for the whereabouts of his younger brother. He was nowhere to be seen, and Aldwulf grew increasingly irritated at being left to wrestle the huge oak wheels himself. Shirt off to catch what breeze he could, sweat glistened on the straining muscles of his arms as he fought to pull the cumbersome wheel from the flat wagon’s bed and stand it on its rim to be rolled into the smithy.

They had come to the outskirts of Edoras, the city proper, to have the great wheels of the hay wagon rebanded by the blacksmith. As was usual, Osric had seen a group of his acquaintances and gone running off to see them, promising his older brother he would only be a moment. Moments stretched into quarters and halves of the hour, and still no sign of him. Aldwulf commandeered the smithy’s boy to give what help he could and together they got the two wheels into the blacksmith’s shop.

It was late afternoon by the time the smith had finished and the wheels were secured in the wagon for the trip home, an hour’s ride south along the Snowbourn River . . . and still no sign of Osric. Aldwulf sat on the bench in the shade of the spreading elm, calming himself with a pipe full of Westmansweed and a pint of local ale brought out by the smithy’s daughter.

A fair one, that one is! he could hear his mother saying, and her father’s only child. She’ll bring a large endowment into the marriage she makes. And the forge along with her when the smith looks to hanging up his hammer! he could hear his father chime in. He ran his pipe-stem along his bottom lip, watching her as she smiled at him, then hurried away. Pretty enough, he thought to himself, idly, wondering how she would fare away from the city, on their farm.

His thoughts were cut off with the hurried arrival of his prodigal sibling. Words of remonstrance were on Aldwulf’s lips until he noted the paleness of his brother’s face and his wide eyes. ‘Sit down,’ he said to the out of breath Osric, pulling the younger man down beside him. ‘Tell me what’s gotten you so upset.’

Over the next few moments, Osric delivered the news he had learned from Brytta just previous to his returning to Aldwulf and the wagon. A murder had been committed – old Folca had been killed, and Heldór stood accused of it. He had been arrested by the city guard and thrown into the dungeon to await execution.

Aldwulf’s face was grim as he listened to the news of his friend. ‘This cannot be!’ he said in a low voice. ‘Heldór is no craven to have murdered an unarmed old man, and one who had spent time in the service of the King.’

‘Brytta shares your faith in his brother, Aldwulf.’ Osric looked about for any unwelcome listeners. ‘He has asked me to tell you he would like to meet with you tonight . . . to discuss the situation. The White Horse – he said you would know the table.’

Aldwulf rubbed his chin, thinking quickly. He bade his brother take the wagon back to the farm. ‘Tell them nothing of what you have just told me, Osric. Just say that I met some old friends, with much new to catch up on. Tell them I will return soon, and not to worry.’ He clapped his brother on the shoulder. ‘Make it convincing.’

He saw his brother off, and sat for a long time, thinking, on the bench beneath the elm. When the sun had set, he stood and tapped his cold pipe out against the trunk of the tree. Placing it in the pouch that hung from his belt, he drew his cloak on and made his way quickly to the Inn.

There in the dark, back corner sat Brytta, his hands cupping a pint of ale – gazing into it as if to discern the course of events he was about to set in motion. Aldwulf advanced toward the table, and catching Brytta’s eye, nodded briefly to him.

‘I’m here,’ he said in a low voice, leaning across the table as he sat down. ‘Heldór – what are we to do for him . . .?’

[piosenniel]

Novnarwen's post

"What? Is it true?" Liol's voice was both alarming and desperate. She just couldn't believe it. The lady stood talking to herself. A note had just been left at her residence by her cousin Brytta. How can it be? she thought. In the little note, Brytta had left for her, was about Brytta's brother. "You have to come, we are saving him from the prison," she read out quite loud. She felt the rage inside her grow, and Liol discovered that she was growing quite red. She looked at the note, and knew exactly what to do. She had to go, follow Brytta and save Heldór. This situation was caused by a false accusation and Liol felt she had to get a grip on this whole thing. Liol wasn't going to sleep properly before she had her cousins safe and sound, not in a prison, just anywhere else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About thirty minutes later she was on her horse, riding very fast. "How could this possably happen?" Liol couldn't think about that now, anyhow. She had better not wasting time on finding an answer now, she had to wait, until she met Brytta Liol concluded and rode on.
Brytta had sent word for her, she had to wait and see, and then they both could figure out what to do, that was all she knew for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The White Horse was seated right by the road, taking every traveller in, as it was a good Inn for resting. Liol jumped off her horse, and walked for the door. Inside it was quite dark. Only a few lamps in the roof, which gave a little idea where the tables, chairs and the fireplace was. Liol stepped forwards and met an old man standing behind the desk.

"I am looking for Brytta," she said in a low voice. Liol wasn't comfortable talking with strangers. An old man was the last on her 'want-to-talk-too' list. He looked at her, and laughed.

"What is a young lady, like yourself, here, at an Inn?"

How dared he, of all, say she wasn't welcome here? I have got to punch that man, she thought with herself. The old man stirred at her, actually expecting an answer, Liol thought. For a few moments she just stood there glaring at him. Are all Inn keepers like that, she thought. Liol remembered back, when she had visited another Inn, and she was actually kicked out. Liol shuddered. Well I am not going to be kicked out tis time, she thought by herself. I am a decent woman. Liol searched for an answer, while the Inn-keeper grew more and more imaptient.

"I want to talk to Brytta, not you," she said in kind of a harsh voice. The Inn-keeper didn't believe his ears, but could nothing else then to point at a table in the eastern corner. "There," he mutterd. She nodded and turned on her heels. The Inn-keepee gazed at her while walking to the pointed table with his mouth pen.

"Brytta," she cried at the man, sitting quite uneasy on a chair. He jumped up and greeted her.

"I got your note," Liol said, and the man gave a nod.

[piosenniel]

elven maiden Earwen's post

Rochil sat down to read the note left at his door. It was from Brytta. Rochil reread the letter. Heldór accused for murder! He would never do such a thing. Rochil read on. Meet me at the White Horse Inn . Brytta needed his help and Rochil new he had to go. Rochil got ready and ran outside to get his horse Rowan ready. He patted his chestnut horse, and he rode of towards the White Horse Inn.

Rochil hoped of his horse and let him graze.

“Well here I am” Rochil said not caring who heard. He entered the inn. It was filled with many people. Rochil squeezed around people until he reached the desk. Behind it sat the old innkeeper. Not the politest fellow.

“I need to speak with Brytta. Has he arrived?” Rochil asked in a demanding voice.

“Brytta sure seems to be popular,” He laughed “Probably because his brothers in jail.” Rochil was confused and not in the least bit amused.

“I do not care to be educated about his popularity. Now show me where he is!” Rochil ordered. The innkeeper stopped laughing.

“Over there” he said pointing to a table where Brytta sat. He wasn’t alone.

“Brytta” Rochil said as he neared the table. “I got your message. I’m sorry bout your brother, I know he would never do such a thing.” Rochil sat down.

[piosenniel]

Dain Ironfoot's post

Fréa stepped quietly into the cell and closed the door behind him. It was late in the evening; all the others on duty had already left except for old Balthor who was guarding the outside doors to the prison. Fréa could do or say anything he pleased to Haldór and there was no one to witness his actions or object.

Earlier that evening, he had seen Brytta stride into the cell block and talk privately with the prisoner. The two men had put their heads together in a conspiratorial fashion so that it was impossible for Fréa to hear what they were saying no matter how hard he strained. When he saw Brytta leaving the holding area, he’d gone up to the man and told him with a straight face and feigned sympathy in his voice that there was little help for his brother, and it was best if the family reconciled themselves to that reality and prepared for the worst. Brytta had not responded verbally, but had shot a vicious glance towards Fréa and clenched his fists quietly by his side.

As Fréa stepped inside carrying a torch to light the darkened cell, he glanced over towards the prisoner. “Not much longer,” he gazed steadily at Haldór. “I’ve been at these executions before. Usually, they come in the morning just before dawn to lead you out to execution. They place shackles on your legs, bind your arms, and blindfold you. Then, as you’re led down to the place where the scaffolding’s set up, the crowd will jeer and let you know how they feel about someone who murders an officer of the king. Such a pity you lost your temper and bludgeoned that poor man.”

Fréa acted as if he was about to turn aside and leave, then pivoted around at the last minute and spoke. His words did not hold a grain of truth, but then the prisoner had no way to know that. “By the way, there was something I needed to make sure and tell you. Oh, yes, I was with the commander today, and he mentioned that your brother Brytta was suspected of helping you hide the body. You know, the one who’s crippled. Someone denounced him, I believe. They’ll be charges prepared against him as well. Such a pity to see an entire family struck down. But then I guess you won’t need to worry about that since you won’t be here to visit him in prison.”

Fréa walked over to the shoddy, beaten mattress where Haldór was to sleep; the knight had taken off the chain he always wore round his neck and set it down nearby on the floor. The piece was a heavy silver chain of ornate workmanship with the insignia of the Hildeson family outlined on a golden crest. Woven in and about the frame of the crest were strands of silver hair, obviously from an older woman. Fréa reached down and fingered the piece of jewelry roughly, then picked it up and spoke with contempt, “What’s this? A family heirloom? And with your deceased mother’s lock of hair interwoven? Old Hilde of the famous Hildeson’s, the one who lost her life as Orcbait.”

Fréa lifted up the necklace and pulled out the misericord at his side, using its tip to strip out the strands of silver hair one-by-one. Then he held up the treasured locks near the flickering flame and watched as the fire totally consumed them. He halted for a moment to look over at Haldór and then pushed the jewelry deep inside his pocket. “We’ve got rules here. Prisoners aren’t allowed such trifles. This is mine by right. I don’t expect that you or your brother will need this back. See you in the morning.” Then he turned and left the cell.

[piosenniel]

First post for Archim Forgoil, compliments of Amanaduial the Archer

Fréa had returned from his duties as guard. Inside their father’s house, he, Graitwa, and Archim were celebrating ‘their card victory’ the night after Heldór had been arrested, with some fine old port which they had scavenged from the wine cellar.

“I can’t believe we pulled it off! Excellently done, Fréa.” Archim grinned at his older brother, holding up a glass to him before bringing it to his lips to take a sip, but Graitwa’s derisive snort made him stop, and his bird like eyes darted towards his oldest brother. Graitwa’s lip curled up.

“Excellently done? It was foolish, Crow, and you know it,” he spat.

Archim lowered the glass- he had not taken a sip yet, although both his brothers had been drinking. It paid for him not to get too drunk in their company, lest their drunken fists started itching for a fight. “It has been more than a day since Heldór Hildeson was taken in by the guards for murder,” Archim relished the last two words; it couldn’t have been more perfect that Fréa had chosen to frame Heldór, for he had long disliked Brytta, the man’s brother. “Did I not follow them in the shadows? If the fool had managed to persuade them he did not commit the crime, I think we would have heard by now.”

“Yeah, but if we had been caught, whose fault would that have been?”

Archim’s eyes darted towards Frea, who was grinning openly and wickedly, and his stomach tightened slightly. Subconciously, he began twisting a lock of his dark, greasy hair just behind his ear, a habit he had when he was nervous. “Not mine, surely, brother.” His tone was still jovial, but his dark eyes flicked towards the door for an instant, measuring the distance to it.

“Not yours? Why, was it not you who pushed the old man, Crow? Was that not the real reason why he came after us?” Graitwa was grinning now as well as he added his piece, shifting slightly in his chair. Frea stood casually, and Archim, knowing of what his brothers were like when drunk, checked the distance to the door again. Frea took the moment to take a swipe at him and his younger brother ducked quickly, his glass slipping from his hand as he did so, letting the rich, red port to spill across the stone floor. Graitwa laughed, amused at his little brother’s fear, and Frea sat as well. Archim stood disdainfully, stepping away from the mess on the floor- the maid could clear that up tomorrow morning. His stomach settled again, and he was thankful that Frea was still full of his success and the relief of getting the murder of his hands, but even so, now would be a good time to leave, before his brothers’ fists started truly itching- they would choose any excuse to pick on Archim, and murder was a good excuse.

“It’s late- I will leave you for the night,” Archim nodded smarmily to his brothers as if bowing to a master, before stepping up the few stone stairs as fast as he could, his black cloak swirling behind him.

“Hey, little brother,” Graitwa’s voice stopped Archim, and the little man flinched mentally as he heard his oldest brother stand. Swiveling slowly, he faced them, and, not to his surprise, but certainly to his unease, Graitwa was smiling wickedly again. “If anything does go wrong, it’ll be you the blame will be laid upon.”

Frea laughed at this and Graitwa joined in, and their drunken laughter followed the uneasy Archim up the stairs and out into the cool, early morning air, where he gave a sigh of relief. Yes, he told himself, they had got away with it. But in his sharp, indeed, bird-like mind, something told Archim that this crime would not be so easily dispelled as his brothers might like to think . . .

[ July 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Please remember to remove your signatures from your Game posts.

Will remove this once everyone has posted.

[Himaran]

Brytta did not wait long. Soon Aldwulf, Liol, and Rochil had all arrived. Worry shone on each of their faces; worry, and disbelief. Brytta knew that not one of the three before him thought Heldór to be an individual that would murder a man; and certainly not another member of the King's guard. [I]This will make my explanation far easier for them to believe.[I]

"Friends, I am glad that you were all able to come; it cheers me greatly to see three of my dearest friends all here in like mind to help my brother. Of course, I must first tell of how I discovered his innocence, before we discuss other matters."

He leaned in close before continuing, hoping desperately as he did so that he would not appear conspicuous. "I was there the night that Folca was slain, playing cards with Heldór. My brother was a frequent visitor at the inn, you see, though only on off duty hours."

"As I left the establishment, I saw Folca stumble against a man named Fréa Forgoil; who's two brothers were with him. The latter roughly pushed the man off, but I (thinking nothing of the affair) past by without so much as turning. Nearing home, I suddenly realized that I had left my coat at the inn, and hurried back to retrieve it. Looking down at the pavestones, I noticed several specks of dried blood. Someone must have cut his hand, I thought. But by the King, was I mistaken!"

The next morning, Heldór had been accused of murder after Folca's body had been discovered poorly hidden in his house. It was only then that I pieced together the evidence, soon coming to this conclusion: Fréa was the true murderer, probably slaying Folca in a drunken fight. He and his brothers hid the body in my brother's quarters, effectively covering up the crime.

Brytta sat back, giving the information time to sink in. Then Adwulf said; "Well my dear Brytta, why have you not said anything of this to the authorities. Are you going to let Heldór go to his death at the Executioner's block?"

Brytta glanced around him, making sure that no one was watching his table. Then he leaned forward again. "No, Adwulf, that would do nothing. It would be the word of a man and an accused murderer against that of three brothers with a stainless criminal record. You see, friends, that is why I have summoned you here. The only way for Heldór to live is for him to escape."

"I have developed a plan to ferry Heldór through the Gap of Rohan and up north, where he will be safe. But to do this, we must first spring him from prision. I want you to all take a good look at this; it is a map of the prisons of Edoras.

Brytta removed from his tunic a tattered sheet on which a crude outline with several notations written beside it. It showed a simple rectangular room, with prision cells on one wall and stools for visitors on the other. At the far end was a barred window. A door led out of the cell block, into another, smaller room where steps ascended into the main level of the Golden Hall.

"From this we must develop a plan to break Heldór out of Edoras, and down the hill to a wagon that will be waiting. We will then conceal Heldór inside it, and take him west towards the Gap. Once their, we destroy the wagon and continue north on horseback. But we must stay focused; study this map carefully, and tell me what you think would be the best way to free him from the prison area."

Brytta sat back and watched as the three looked over the map intently. He was playing on the hope that they would discover something which he had not; a reliable way out!

[ July 15, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Envinyatar]

‘Which cell is Heldór kept in, Brytta?’

Aldwulf leaned back in his chair, a considering look on his face. His eyes glittered in the dim light of the candle lantern hung on the rafter above their table. ‘I have had the dubious honor of guarding the prisoners held beneath the Hall. It will not be easy to get a man out of there.’ His finger traced the smaller room that held the stairs to the main Hall. ‘We cannot go out this way. There will be too many guards placed here, protecting the entrance to the King’s Hall.’ He leaned forward and pulled the crude drawing closer to him.

‘Here, where the barred window is, is the south end of the Hall. The steps leading up to the Main Hall are on the north. The cells are here along the western wall – one large common cell in the middle with five cells to the north of it and six cells to the south. The last, and smallest one, is at the southern end, nearest the wall that holds the window. A dingy, hopeless little room – it is usually reserved for those facing the trip to the gallows.’

‘Aside from the lamps inside the prison hall, the only light comes through that barred window.’ He tapped his finger on the southern end of the rectangle. ‘That window may be Heldór’s saving grace. There are five bars in it, one inch rods, about three feet long, set into holes drilled into the wooden frame. It shutters from the inside. And they are just latched not locked.’

Aldwulf drummed his thick fingers on the table. ‘Two of my big draft horses could do it, I think.’ He tapped on the inside of the larger rectangle. ‘The window is set just a man’s height above the ground, not a far drop once the bars are gone.’ He looked round at Brytta, Rochil, and Liol.

‘Can you three get inside and get Heldór out of the cell? And to the window? And I’d need to have someone set the ropes about the bars for me.’

His voice dropped off at the end as a serving maid brought round a pitcher of ale, filling the patrons’ mugs as she went. She smiled invitingly at Aldwulf, brushing her hand against his as she took his mug to fill it. He winked at her, drawing her attention to him as his hand went out casually to cover Brytta’s map of the prisons.

‘Three coppers for you, darlin’ mine,’ he said to her, ‘if you’ll just leave the pitcher for our thirsty little band.’ The girl crimsoned prettily, and set the ale near him. He fished in his pocket for the coins and placed them in her plump outstretched hand. She smiled saucily and curtsied, leaving them to pour their own drink.

‘There is another problem once we get him out of the prison itself. There’s only one gate that passes through the dike and wall surrounding the city. There will only be a short time before they begin to pursue us. How are we to get him through . . .?’

[ July 16, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Himaran]

Brytta listened intently to Adwulf's plan, mentally weighing the odds of such an escapade. At length he spoke; keeping his voice low and wary. "It is a sound plan, Adwulf. Here is how I propose to execute it."

The Rohanian began to scribble furiously on the back of the original map, ripping through the thin parchment several times as he did. He then placed it before his friends for them to study.

"Liol, you and I will actually free my brother, as it will be the easiest for us to do so enter being suspected (as we are relatives). You will need to distract the cell warden outside the room while I knock out the guard. Of course, we will give similar treatment to the Warden in order to get the keys. After releasing Heldór, we shall signal to Rochil below, who will hand us a rope through the bars. I will attach it to them, and then Adwulf will pull the team and wagon (holding the other end of the rope) and rip the bars out of place. After locking and the warden and guard in the cell and gagging them, Heldór will exit through the window while Liol and I return the way to came to avoid investigation.

As for leaving the city, it will be up to Rochil and Adwulf to distract the guards. I recommend feigning a robbery, and telling the guards to hurry to a given area. This would give us time to leave; with no witnesses. However, the manner in which this is done will be completely up to you." Brytta sat back and waited for a response from his friends.

[ July 17, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[elven maiden Earwen]

At the Inn

Rochil listened intently as Aldwulf proposed a plan. It was highly dangerous, and if we got caught we would be executed, Rowan thought. Rochil listened as Brytta began to speak of how he planed to execute the plan.

“After releasing Heldór, we shall signal to Rochil below, who will hand us a rope through the bars,” Brytta said. Hand a rope though the bars. That shouldn’t be too hard.

“As for leaving the city, it will be up to Rochil and Aldwulf to distract the guards. I recommend feigning a robbery, and telling the guards to hurry to a given area. This would give us time to leave, with no witnesses. However, the manner in which this is done will be completely up to you." Feigning a robbery. That’s were it gets a bit tricky.

“It doesn’t seem all too hard. I think we could pull it of. But after we escape with Brytta where north are headed?” Rochil asked taking a sip of his ale.

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

[Himaran]

"It doesn’t seem all too hard. I think we could pull it of. But after we escape with Brytta where north are headed?"

I wish I could tell them that I knew.

"Well, Rochil, I looked over a map of the lands west of Rohan, and found that a long trail known as the Old South Road will take us from the Gap of Rohan to a small town named Bree."

"Of course we will not enter it, passing by it and continuing north until we reach the North Downs. There we shall hide Heldór. We can erect a dwelling, and there I and my brother will stay; and you as well if you wish. We can get what we need and find work in Bree, and thus will be easily able to support ourselves."

...

Evening passed into night as the group debated the plan. A cold gust of wind blew into the the inn as a shadowy figure entered the inn. The man moved quickly over to the bar, ordering a drink. Looking around casually, he scanned the various tables and booths for a sign of the man he sought to find. And soon his target was spotted.

Brytta was talking to three others at at his table, a woman and two men. They were discussing something, occasionally pointing to a scrap of parchment before them. They are hatching a plan; they want him to escape. If only I could get that map...

The man was unable to get a decent look at the faces of the others at the table, but the meeting appeared conspiratorial to say the least. Knowing he had all the information he could get without endangering himself, Fréa Forgoil finished his drink and slipped out of the inn. One thing was certain to him; he would have to be extra careful while guarding Heldór the following day.

The man will escape over my dead body.

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Dain Ironfoot]

1 day later

Fréa walked purposefully over to the window that faced the northern side of the main hall, the room where the guards stayed when they weren't patrolling the cells in which the prisoners actually stayed. Leaning over the ledge and peering out between the heavy bars, he had a good vantage point from which to view the courtyard. The sight brought a wry smile to his lips.

In the dim moonlight, immediately adjacent to the prison, he could make out a wooden scaffolding that had been erected that afternoon to prepare for the execution slated to take place at dawn. The noose hung limp and empty with steps leading up to the central platform on which the condemned man would be asked to stand. A thick rope had been strung about to cordon off the area and make sure that any curious onlookers would keep their distance to permit the soldiers to carry out their task. A single piece of cloth had been tossed haphzardly down on a nearby bench; the executioner would use this to bind Haldór's eyes.

It was only a matter of hours until the square would fill with people and the guards would escort the murderer to his deserved punishment. Only a little while till Fréa could breath a sigh of relief and go about his regular business again.

Fréa cocked his head suspiciously towards the cells; for a moment he thought he heard a suspicious noise almost like the rustling of clothing or the sound of muffled footsteps. But, when he went and hastily unlocked the heavy gate, all was quiet and peaceful. Fréa yawned and stretched. It had been a long day, and he could certainly use some sleep. But there was no way he would relax his vigilence even for a second. Too much hung on the events of the next few hours.

He took his sword out of its scabbard and laid it across his knees, sitting alert and wide awake on the bench beside the door. With only a single torch to light the tunnel, he peered out into the semi-darkness, listening for any suspicious noises and scanning the southern wall for any movement of shadows. Yet still, all was silent and unmoving.

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: Dain Ironfoot ]

[Envinyatar]

Once the meeting in the Inn was done, Aldwulf took the horse his brother had left him and made a speedy trip back to his family’s holding, slipping into the stable with only a wag of the tail from the family dog. ‘So, this is how you guard your charges is it, Cheorl,’ he said to the grey muzzled hound, who rolled back on his side and went promptly to sleep.

He stabled Osric’s horse, and brought out his own, as well as the two grey draft horses that pulled the haywagon. Hitching them to a smaller transport wagon in the yard, he set about putting a small load of hay and several old blankets in the wagon’s bed.

A stealthy trip to his room, and he made for the door, rucksack in hand with a change of clothes, a small purse of coins, and his shortsword, knife, buckler, and helm. As luck would have it, his brother roused from the other bed, and looked up blearily at him. “Good luck,’ he mumbled, seeing what Aldwulf carried. ‘I’ll say naught to the family except that you were called away on the King’s business.’ He raised up and looked out the window to the yard. ‘Though what the King would need with a wagon and two of our big geldings will be hard to explain.’ Osric waved him off and returned to the comforts of his warm bed.

Aldwulf stowed his gear and weapons beneath the seat of the wagon, along with four coils of stout rope. He planned to spend the next day seeing old friends in the city, and retrieving what information he could about the passage west. Tying his mount and an extra one for Heldór to the wagon, he climbed up to the seat and clucked at the greys. They pulled in tandem against the harness, setting the iron rimmed wheels clattering down the road east to Edoras.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The day flew by quickly. Aldwulf spoke with a few of his companions and had a meal with in the Inn with several of them. Some of them had been as far as Sarn Ford and regaled him with tales of the Trade Inn there, and the exotic customers who passed through it with their goods. None had actually been any further north and west than that, but one of them recalled his Da talking about someone he knew who’d traveled through there, and that the Inn served some very fine brew.

The evening passed in a pleasant manner, and it was quite late when the party broke up. Aldwulf was the last one out, waiting long enough that none of his friends lingered to say one last word to him. He bought two skins of ale from the pretty barmaid, and stowing them safely under the seat made his way up toward the Golden Hall, giving its grounds a wide berth. Judging from the angle of the moon, it was nearly time for Rochil to appear.

The guards at the main gate had been surprised when the hostler approached them with his wagon. It was late night and most of the citizenry were tucked safely in their beds.

'You comin' in?' one of them asked, recognizing Aldwulf. 'Wotcher doin' up there at the Hall. Had some late night business or somethin'?'

The two of them were very young men, who had drawn the least liked duty - that of guarding the entry way to the Hall's grounds for the night watch. The chance to have some sort of conversation livened their night a little, and they latched onto the opportunity like pups to their mother.

Aldwulf smiled engagingly at them, and clapped them on the shoulders, calling them his comrades. Yes, he said he had late night business with the Hall. Something they needed doing right away for the horses he had brought in just last week to the stabler.

'Ordinary sods like us are at their beck and call, ain't we?' He scratched his head and yawned. 'Much rather be in bed with summat soft and pretty than standin' here waitin' on the King's business.' The two guards nodded their heads and sympathised, grumbling out their own list of injustices.

'Not much happenin' tonight, is there?' The yard was dark and quiet, and the night breeze had sprung up, bringing in a little chill. 'No use you just standing here gettin' cold, doin' nothin.' He pulled out the two skins of ale he had stowed beneath the wagon's seat. 'Might as well warm up with a little of this.' He tipped the skin to his lips and took a pull at it, then handed it and its fellow to the men.

'You keep it,' he said, glancing up toward the Hall as if something had caught his eye. 'Looks like they'll be wanting me soon, up there, to take out the goods they're wanting transported.'

He left them seated to one side of the gate, working on the first of skins, the other tucked close in reserve. They were toasting him, calling him a good fellow, drinking to his health, and the health of each of his family members.

Aldwulf, waved at them as he climbed back on the wagon, smiling as he heard the chorus of loud belches behind him.

He pulled the wagon into the shadow of a great oak that stood facing the barred window in the southern wall of the cell block. Hidden in the shadows of the spreading branches, he looked up to where Heldor was being kept. The dim lights from the lanterns within threw tall shadows in what little of the room he could see.

‘One of those should be Brytta, and one Liol,’ he thought to himself. For a brief moment he wondered what unlucky sod had pulled guard duty tonight. He reached into the bed of the wagon and brought the ropes into easy access. Hearing the clip clop of hooves on the path near him, he dared a look. It was Rochil, drawing near.

Aldwulf walked quietly to the head of the nearest horse, and taking hold of the bridle, brought the horses and wagon round to a space below the window. He had greased the axles well earlier in the day, and had wrapped leather about the metal parts of the harness and bridle so they made only small muffled sounds as they swayed and moved with the motion of the horses.

Rochil drew near, and Aldwulf waved him closer, handing him two of the coiled ropes, while he took the other two . . .

[ August 10, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[elven maiden Earwen]

After the Inn

Rochil hurried home. They foursome had decide to meet near the Golden Hall, early next morning. He tied Rowan up and gave him some food. Tomorrow Rowan needed to be ready. It was peaceful outside. The midnight stars twinkled and the air was cool. It was in this moment that Rochil knew that this night would be his last night in Edoras.

He slowly walked inside and pulled out a small bag. He dropped a couple changes in clothes and a small sack filled with coins. He stored his helmet and throwing knives in the bag, with some food and water. He hoped Aldwulf would let Rochil place his sword in the wagon.

The moon shone though the window, as Rochil lay in bed. Slowly he fell asleep.

!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

The Next Day

Rochil woke earlier than he usually did. It was still dark and the moon still shone. Slowly and quietly Rochil grabbed his bag and headed for the door. He grabbed a loaf of bread on the way. He knew that no one else was in the house but he was still wary. Silently he slipped outside into the cool morning air. All he carried was his bag and spear. He mounted Rowan and pointed him in the direction that he would be meeting Aldwulf.

The roads were silent as Rochil passed by. All you could her was the faint sound of hooves as Rowan rode by. Rochil breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the meeting place. Soon Aldwulf would appear with the wagon.

Not far away Rochil heard wheels. Aldwulf! He quickly rode towards the sound, but then it stooped. In the morning haze Rochil could see the dim outline of a wagon, sitting behind a great oak tree.
As Rochil reached Aldwulf, he handed him 2 coils of rope, while he kept the other two.

[Himaran]

After close to an hour of toil, Brytta placed a freshly sharpened knife into its sheath and tossed it into his traveller's bag. Collecting several articles of clothing, and his sword and bow, Brytta grabbed his light bag and hurried out of the house, locking it as he went.

The man walked swiftly toward the stables, soon arriving there. He soon found that the door was locked. Reaching into his bag, Brytta retrieved his knife and attempted to pick the lock. Failing, he kicked at the rug in front of the door in frustration; hearing a faint jingle as he did so.

Sheathing his knife, Brytta reached down and lifted up the map. Underneath was a set of stable keys, most likely left there for one of the early workers. Knowing that he had lost vabluable time, Brytta hurried to unlock the door and retrieve his steed.
___________________________________

Now leading his horse, Brytta walked swiftly toward the King's Hall. Arriving there, he turned off of the main path, and went instead around the back. Liol was there, and the two tied there horses and hurried up the hill toward the palace.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Novnarwen's post

Liol stood waiting around on the back side of the King's Hall, when Brytta appeared around the corner. The cousins trudged up the hillside and to the castle; none of them said a word. The building was large and looked a lot like an old barn. Liol looked up, the roof stretched up far above their heads. "Come on," Brytta muttered. "Lets do what we came here to do," he continued. The woman agreed with him, and was pleased to see he was eager to get started, just like herself.

Inside the light blinded them. Liol rubbed her eyes trying to see clearly. "Alright," she whispered and her cousin led the way. The hall was a stunning place. The golden walls were filled with pictures. They were carved into the wall, and the images were many. Liol got a glance at a woman from one of the pictures bending down to pick up a flower. Her eyes were deep and seemed to look out of the wall. Liol shuddered; it was almost as if the lady watched them passing the guards. Brytta and Liol continued, hoping no one would notice them. They walked with careful steps, looking around in the room to be sure there were no suspicious eyes.

"Oh dear. Where are you two going?" They had come to the end of the Hall. A tall guard looked down on them. Liol became suddenly insecure. Ouch, she thought, already noticed. Well, they had to explain their errand at least once, but to this guy? He looked like a rough guy who would cause problems, Liol thought. That one over there looks nice though. The woman looked around in the room, trying to get eye contact, maybe he would come over.

"I am Brytta, and this is my cousin Liol," Brytta explained. "We would like to see my brother Heldór," he continued. The guard looked at them with vicious eyes. "The guy who is going to be executed, you mean?" he said and gave a short evil, I-am-in-power laugh. Brytta grinned at him, while Liol just wanted to punch this nasty fellow. With some effort Brytta held her back, but Liol was stilled upset by this guard's reply. "You ain't getting anywhere with that attitude," he said at last, after watching their reactions. He was especially looking towards Liol.

Now I've done it. Liol gave an I-am-sorry look towards Brytta, but he turned away saying nothing. The tall proud guard set his hands to his waist and it seemed that he really expected them to turn around and go away. Liol was still mad but turned on the little charm she had. "I am sorry," she muttered while taking a step towards the guard. Liol made an innocent face, taking a hair lock and twinning it around her finger. "It's just that, this is my cousin, and he is going to die. Will you not let us see him one last time?" She folded her hands over her face and started weeping. From between her fingers she saw a crowd staring at the tall man, now looking quite embarrassed, and he let his hand slip down on her shoulder. Then the guard looked around to make sure nothing was wrong and that he hadn't done anything to upset the little lady standing in front of him. Brytta on the other hand was surprised by Liol's act, but also surprised by the guard's reaction. The vicious man seemed finally to loosen up. Liol dried her tears away from her eyes with the back of her hand, just letting the one tear left run down her cheek.

"Don't cry," the guard said at last, now desperate in his voice. He drew his hand roughly from the lady's shoulder and grew red. "Alright, you may see him. Just go down there," he pointed at a set of steps and continued, "You’ll find him, I guess."

Brytta grabbed Liol's hand and dragged her towards the steps leading to the dungeon. However, before Liol disappeared down and into the dark she could swear to have seen the guard pick up a tissue from his pocket and dry his wet eyes.

Brytta and Liol hurried down the curving steps. The light from the Hall grew fainter and fainter. As they were getting tired they finally reached the bottom. The light here wasn't too much to brag about; they were just able to see.

"Oh hi there," Liol shrieked. Brytta got the hint and hurried over to the other side of the room, unnoticed. The Key Master got up from his chair and stepped forward. It was a young (probably new) man. She passed him, walking over to the small desk. "Your office, eh?" she asked, settling herself on the chair. The man looked as if he was relieved finally to have company, and also flattered that someone had called his desk an office. "Come here," she bade, and pointed at the desk. "Sit," she commanded. "Here with me."

The man stirred at her and grew pale, but did as she had asked. Brytta sat still in the corner listening attentively to the conversation. Just then when the Key-Master turned his back to the desk, to jump up on it, Liol grabbed the keys which were placed so nicely there. Brytta ran from the corner, got the keys from his cousin who slipped them over behind her back and continued to the cell room; the Key-Master didn't suspect anything!

"I want to know all about your job," Liol said after their crazy stunt. The young man did again as she bade and started telling all there was to know about the different keys, the prisoners, (and to Liol's rage he mentioned Heldór and called him an evil murderer). It seemed that Liol was listening very carefully to what the young man said, but the truth was that her ears were somewhere else. The cell room was close by, but she could still not hear anything from Brytta.

Minutes passed, and suddenly Liol heard a faint voice let out a small shriek. The Key-Master continued telling about his job. Now or never, Liol thought.

"Is that a rat?!," she screamed while jumping up on the desk. She was standing and pointing at a spot on the floor. The confused man stirred first at the floor then at the screaming lady. Liol held her fot ready and when he turned, she kicked him so hard in the face he fell on the floor unconscious.

[ July 21, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Dain Ironfoot]

Fréa was making his regular rounds of the prison. As normal procedure demanded, he'd gone into each of the cellblocks to empty out the slops and set down a fresh bowl of water. He hated doing such menial work. After his promotion was approved, he'd be able to delegate such thankless tasks to other men within his squad.

He’d brought the buckets of slop into the small anteroom just outside the hallway where the cells were located. He intended to carry them outside two by two and dump their contents into a backyard pit specially constructed for that purpose. Fréa bent over to grab onto the handles of two of the pails and hoist them off the ground; his back was squarely turned to the door.

Within a single moment, everything broke loose. Brytta had been standing in the stairwell for some time, hiding in the shadows and waiting for the right moment to strike. Now, he raced inside the room and, with a single motion, hurled his body through the air coming down directly on top of Fréa.

For several minutes, the two men rolled together on the ground struggling and clawing at each other. With one hand, Fréa pummeled at his attacker; with the other, he searched desperately for the stiletto dagger that he always wore strapped about his waist. He finally managed to wrench it out of the sheath and got a good hold on the hilt.

Fréa was the heavier of the two, but Brytta had the advantage of agility and speed. Fréa grabbed savagely onto Brytta's wrist and managed to wrestle his blade loose sending it harmlessly skittering over to the side. But when Fréa moved to plunge his own blade into Brytta's back, the brother instinctively wriggled loose, sprang up, and savagely brought his boot down on top of Fréa's hand. Stung by the blow, Fréa hesitated for a single instant cradling his injured hand. Instinctively Brytta lunged towards the bucket of slops that still sat on the floor nearby. Grabbing onto the handle of the nearest wooden pail, he reared it above Fréa's head and brought it down with a crash immediately rendering him unconscious.

Beating a hasty retreat, Brytta grimly reflected, It serves him well. A man with no honor. To be taken out in such a humiliating way!"

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: Dain Ironfoot ]

[Himaran]

Leaving the stunned Fréa lying on the floor, Brytta hurried over to Heldór's cell. Jamming the key into the lock, he turned it and the door swung inward. Heldór was sleeping on the cell floor, stretched out on a straw matress.

Shaking him, Heldór rolled over, rubbing his eyes. When he looked up and saw Brytta, his face cracked into a smile. "I knew you would come; but how did you do it, brother?"

Brytta ushered him out of the cell. "No time to talk; I've got to get you out of here."

Liol appeared from the other room, dragging the key-master with some difficulty. They gagged both him and Frea, binding the two with cord Liol had found and locking the pair in an empty cell. Brytta then signaled to Rochil and Aldwulf through the window, and several ropes were handed up.

Brytta and Heldór attached them firmly to the thin bars. They then stood back and waited. Half a minute later, the ropes pulled taunt. Brytta had a brief moment of worry that the bars would prove to be too strong, but these fears were soon erased from memory. The bars were torn out in one quick jerk, falling to the ground below. Heldór was helped through the window, into the waiting hands of Rochil who was standing below.

*********************************************

Novnarwen's post:

Liol leaned back against the cold prison wall. It had not been easy to move the man's body. With great effort she had dragged him through the door, leading to the cell room, where she stumbled over another body. Close by were her beloved cousins, Brytta and Heldór. They gagged the two new prisoners and locked them up in an empty cell. The signal was given by Brytta and in the window ropes appeared. A few moments of waiting and there were no barred windows anymore. The had attached the ropes to the bars and pulled as hard as they could. Liol gave a sigh of relief when Heldór disappeared through the window, happy to see him in good hands.

After she'd dropped to the ground, she turned to Brytta with a grin. "Have you noticed?" Liol asked Brytta happily.

"What?" he asked while making ready to leave.

"I, Liol, have almost become a social person," she laughed. Brytta wrinkled his brows before he too gave a laugh. He had understood.

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Himaran]

Envinyatar's post

Aldwulf unfolded the blankets he had brought with him, and, clearing a space in the piled up hay, laid one down on the bed of the wagon. He motioned for Heldór to lie down on the blanket, then he and Rochil spread the other over him and piled the loose hay on top of his reclining form, hiding him well.

‘Free the ropes from the bars, Rochil,’ he whispered to the other man, as he crouched down by the barred window frame as it lay on the ground. ‘Never know when we might need them again. And to be honest, I’d like to leave as little evidence behind as possible.’

Having said that, he coiled the now untied ropes and stowed them in the back of the wagon. Taking out a straw broom he had brought just for this purpose, he had Rochil lead the wagon a little way down the graveled path along with his horse; then carefully swept back and forth across the dirt, removing the impints of their boots and those of the horses and the wagon’s wheels.

Aldwulf climbed aboard and had Rochil sit beside him. He clucked to the pair of greys and they plodded slowly down the path to the gate. The horses of the two were tied behind the wagon and followed along, ambling close to the wagon’s bed every so often to much on the hay that hung from it.

At the gate, the two young guards were well into their cups. They hadn’t moved from the seated position he had last seen them in, and the two skins of ale were now quite empty and flat as they lay on the ground between the two. They waved weakly at the wagon as it approached, and called out a garbled greeting. Their eyes, quite red and bleary, could not seem to focus on the occupants of the wagon. And it was far too much an effort to stand and see if there were anything of import in it.

‘Yer business done?’ one of them yelled up to him. Aldwulf shook his head yes, and reached behind the seat as they came abreast of the pair. ‘Don’t need this tonight, I’m headin’ home. You two work on it. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.’ He handed down the third skin of ale into their eager hands. Aldwulf yawned widely for their benefit and waved at them as the wagon passed through the gate.

The wagon moved slowly through the city proper, looking very much like some tired farmers heading home after a night spent carousing. Once beyond the great gates of the city, they turned northwest, toward the Westfold and beyond it - the Gap.

At some point Liol and Brytta would meet up with them, bringing a mount for Heldór. The wagon would then be left behind, the greys set free to roam. Until then, they kept on their slow steady course away from the city.

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Himaran]

Brytta and Liol left the open window, surveying their work in the prison. Both Fréa and the key-master were bound and gagged, locked inside Heldor's cell. Casually glancing at the keys in his hand, Brytta tossed them out the window. I will have no further use for these, and hopefully it will be a while before they can be found.

The man turned back to Liol. "Cousin, it is time to go." The two hurried out of the cell block, slowing as they went up the stairs. They paced themselves as normally as was possible as the adrenaline of the escape flowed through them.

Reaching the door, the two were given an easy exit by the guard, who had lost all suspicion due to Liol's act. Once out of his sight, both dashed down the hill to where the horses were tied. Mounting, they rode slowly to the gate. Upon reaching it, they found two guards sleeping against the heavy supports, several half-filled wine skins set between them. Ignoring the drunken duo, Brytta and his cousin rode out of Edoras.

Several hours later, the two were reunited with Rochil, Aldwulf, and Heldor, who had dumped and destroyed the wagon and were waiting in a small camp with their horses. After a brief rest, the five fugitives mounted once again and began to ride west, leaving Edoras and Fréa Forgoil behind them.

[ July 21, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Dain Ironfoot]

It could not have been more than an hour later when Fréa groggily clutched his throbbing head and sat up inside the locked cell, instantly realizing what had happened. He looked down at the other guard who was still out cold on the floor, then grabbed the man's shoulders and frantically shook him back and forth. The guard groaned, reluctantly stirred for a moment, but sank back unconscious onto the matted hay that was spread out over the floor. There was no sense trying to get help there; the fellow would probably be out for at least another two hours.

With fear mounting in his heart, Fréa darted over to the locked cell door, savagely clenched a bar in his hand and, using his foot as an anchor, tried to yank it loose. His efforts proved totally useless.

Fréa cursed the day that Brytta Haldeson and his brother had ever been born. The one thing Fréa did not want was for the guards assigned to the morning shift to come inside and see him in this humiliating predicament. He might as well toss any thoughts of being promoted straight out the window of the cell. He had to get out of here and fast.

With such unhappy thoughts lurking in his mind, Fréa crouched down and frisked the unconscious guard, hurriedly searching through his pockets and vest for anything that could help him pick the lock or pry open the cell door. His fingers scrambled frantically but he came up with nothing useful. He was about to give up and concede the whole game, when at the last minute another idea crept into his head. He reached down and wrenched off the boots that the unconscious man was wearing. To his enormous relief and surprise, a key came clanging out onto the floor. Fréa's heart bounded upward as he seized the prize in his hand. He went over to the cell gate, hastily unlocked it, and sprinted down the hallway, pushing open the outer door and running up the stairs.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he hesitated. Just exactly what was he to do? If he reported the prisoner missing, the King would authorize a search party, but he might or might not be assigned to it. And he certainly could not control the actions of the other soldiers. A horrible image came flooding into his brain. The King's officers would capture Brytta and Heldór, somehow discovering the true story of what had actually played out in the alleyway that night, and then turn their wrath against Fréa arresting him instead.

He must do whatever was needed to stop that from happening, even if it meant chasing down the brothers and murdering them. No price was too high to pay.

He came to the room where the two guards still sat who'd approved Brytta's entry to the prison. Fréa instantly turned on them barking out his indignation, "You idiots! You complete idiots! You admitted Brytta into the prison and he's run off with his brother who was supposed to be executed this morning. The King will have both your heads on a plate."

Fréa glared menacingly in their direction, neglecting to mention that the King might also have his own head on that same plate. Fréa snatched up a piece of vellum on the table along with a pen and hastily scribbled out a few words:

Archim and Graitwa,

Come quickly. Heldór has escaped with the help of that blackguard Brytta and a small handful of accomplices. Meet me in the back room of the White Horse in one hour's time. Bring your horses and all your gear. We must give immediate pursuit.

Your loving brother,

Fréa


He stared at the tall guard and thrust the message into his hands, barking out his orders, "If you value your honor, take this immediately to my brothers Archim and Graitwa who are staying in our family's house. Then report back to the commander. Tell him that Fréa will do his duty and recruit a band to seize the condemned man and his would-be rescuers. I will see them brought to justice even if I must go to the ends of the earth and slay them with my own hands."

The tall guard reached out to grab the sheet of vellum and saluted, reading over the note before folding it up and disappearing down the corridor.

Then Fréa turned to the second man, "You there, Hama, you will come with us to help corral these jailbirds. I will leave word with your squad leader. Take money from the cash box and go down to the market to buy provisions for our trip adn a spare horse. Then report back to the Inn, fully armed and ready to go."

As the young man turned to sprint out, Fréa shouted after him, "And be quick about it, unless you want to end up in the brink yourself!"

[ July 21, 2003: Message edited by: Dain Ironfoot ]

[piosenniel]

‘Who is that?’ he muttered to himself drawing the bedclothes over his head until only his dark eyes showed out in the pale light of the half moon that crept through his window. Someone was beating on the downstairs door, and the racket had wakened him from a pleasant dream – he was just about to win a fat purse and a kiss from a lovely woman as his horse sped over the finish line to victory. Archim was hoping Graitwa would get up and see to it, but he didn’t hear his brother’s footsteps pad past his doorway.

Hauling himself up from his tangled covers, he threw on a shirt and hastily pulled on his breeches. ‘I’m coming,’ he growled as he stumbled down the steps, barefooted, and threw open the door. His left hand was on the hilt of the knife at his belt, just in case there was trouble.

A guard! And from the Hall, by the looks of him. His stomach lurched at the site of the man holding out a piece of paper to him. Now what trouble could there be? The man, having thrust the paper at Archim, turned quickly on his heel and ran back to his horse, riding away in a great hurry, as if glad to be away from him.

Archim read the note quickly, his heart pounding rapidly. ‘I knew it!’ he muttered to himself, balling the paper up and throwing it on the floor. ‘This will be nothing but trouble for us! We should have hidden the old man’s body where it would never have been found.’ Thinking better of his actions he picked up the wadded paper and smoothed it out.

He ran back up to his sleeping quarters, taking the stairs two at a time. ‘Graitwa! Get up!’ He threw the paper at his older brother, saying ‘Get dressed! I’ll meet you there.’ Archim went quickly to his room and jammed his feet into his boots. In his belt he secured his two other daggers – one more beside the one on his left side and the other, hidden at this back. Grabbing his cloak, he rushed down the stairs and to the stable, and was soon on his Way to the Inn.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He could see the questioning look in Fréa’s eyes as he entered alone, but he brushed it aside with a curt, ‘He’ll be here shortly,’ and hunched down in a chair opposite him.

His left hand ran through his greasy hair, stopping to twist a lock of it by his left ear in a nervous manner. And his eyes darted furtively about the nearly empty room. ‘Now what do we do, Fréa?’ he whispered. ‘Just how much trouble are we in?’

_____________________________________________

Orofaniel's post

Graitwa heard some noises downstairs. He didn't bother to get up however. When he heard the his brother stumbling down the steps he fell asleep again.

Suddenly Graitwa woke by a screaming voice in the air. "Graitwa! Get up!" it said. It sounded a lot like his brother Archim, and when a moment later when he saw his face he realised that it was his voice. "Get dressed! I'll meet you there." Archim said as he want quickly as he trew a paper at him and went to his room. Graitwa was rather confused but read the paper in a hurry.

Archim and Graitwa

Come quickly. Heldór has escaped with the help of that blackguard Brytta and a small handful of accomplices. Meet me in the back room of the White Horse in one hour's time. Bring your horses and all your gear. We must give immediate pursuit.

Your loving brother,

Fréa

"What has he done now?" Graitwa thought while dressing. In a rush he took with him his dagger and a sword, just in case. He hurried down for his horse and rode for the Inn.

As he arrived, it was dark and cold. He enterd the back room and found his brothers there. He went with stern steps over to them, and asked in a harsh voice: "What have you done brother?" "How did he escape?" Frea didn't take long and explained carefully with all detailes. "So Brytta helped him out...... " Graitwa repeted thoughtfully when his little brother had finished. An anxious look was upon him, something that his brothers had never seen before. "What is there to do now?"

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Dain Ironfoot]

Fréa hesitated a moment before he replied to his brothers. With outsiders, he would have spoken flippantly off the top of his head. But, with his own, it was different.

Reaching over and affectionately slapping Archim on the shoulder, Fréa grinned reassuringly back at him, "I won't tell you there isn't some danger. But it's as much danger for Brytta and his men as it is for us." Then he went on and explained everything that had happened in the prison the past night, finally concluding, "So you see, it's a simple matter. We've got to find out where they are and chase them down. If we succeed and turn them over to the authorities, we'll not only have Heldór in our net but Brytta and the others as well. It's really a perfect situation, better than I expected. I think...."

Fréa glanced nervously about upon hearing the sound of approaching footsteps. As he looked up and saw Hama advancing towards the table, he cut short his conversation, rising to greet the guard and intending to ask him about the provisions he'd purchased.

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: Dain Ironfoot ]

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Hama hurriedly threw a few things together after being so summarily ordered to come along by Fréa. He didn’t really like the man, but—he was his superior and thus to be obeyed. Besides, Fréa knew what he was talking about, surely. After all, he’d had so much more experience than had Hama. But how was he supposed to know that the murde.rer’s brother intended a jailbreak? Wasn’t it customary to allow family to say goodbye? It had seemed only fair to him, but he still had much to learn.

He followed orders and took enough from the cash box to buy provisions for five. That should be more than enough for himself, Fréa, and anyone that the older guard decided to take along. He didn’t take just any spare horse, however. He took his own mare Lluagor. She was a tall, graceful bay whom he’d raised from a foal. He slid his sword into its sheath, crosswise on his back, strapped his longknives along his thighs, and placed his shield within easy reach on his back. He loaded Lluagor with his other things and as many of his provisions as she could carry without strain, then put the rest on a pack animal and proceeded to the Inn.

When he arrived, he found that Fréa and two other men were waiting for him impatiently. They didn’t even give him time to grab a quick drink before leaving. They seemed a little more anxious to capture this prisoner than he might have expected, but he supposed that it was just his inexperience. After all, they were chasing a murde.rer. Weren’t they?

He shook his head at himself. Of course Haldor was a murde.rer; he'd been tried and convicted. These silly doubts weren't worth bringing up with men who were vastly more experienced and surely wiser than he. He would have more than enough time to voice doubts of such things when he'd had as much experience as had they. Now was the time to catch this man and put him back behind bars where he belonged.

[Envinyatar]

It was slow going when they left Edoras with the wagon. They had been forced to take the roadway out of the city until they had crossed the River Snowbourne. Once beyond the river’s northern bank, they turned off the road to the east, and proceeded on a less used track that paralleled it. The track was narrow, bumpy and rutted.

A fair way down the path, Aldwulf pulled off into a clearing, well hidden by the surrounding trees. The wagon was broken up, its pieces scattered, and the great draft horses were set loose. Aldwulf, Rochil, and Heldór retrieved their horses and provisions from the wagon before it was dismantled and sat huddled around a small fire, awaiting the arrival of Brytta and Liol.

Aldwulf pulled one the blankets he’d taken from the wagon about his shoulders as the night grew chill. A breeze had come up, and clouds gathered thick in the sky. ‘Smell’s like a rain’s coming,’ he said, taking a deep breath. Heldór nodded his head in agreement. ‘It does at that.’

The new day was just breaking when their companions joined them at last, and soon they were off, making for the Gap. ‘We have about four days of riding ahead of us, Brytta,’ said Aldwulf, pulling along side him as he led them west. ‘How far shall we push it today?’

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[elven maiden Earwen]

Aldwulf, Heldór, and Rochil rode slowly in the wagon. It was a long ride. Soon the stopped and let the horses go and obliterate the wagon. Rochil grabbed his bag, and spear from the back. He tied the bag to Rochil but he kept his spear with him. He sat as close as he could to the small fire they had made without getting burned. The night was chill and the fire small. Soon Brytta and Liol would arrive and they would be of again.

“Smell’s like a rain’s coming,” Aldwulf commented smelling the sky. Rochil agreed moving closer to the fire. Brytta and Liol finally joined them and they rode off towards the gap.

[Himaran]

Fréa was silent and thoughtful as the small group rode away from Edoras. They had gotten out easily enough; the guards at the gate were both drunk and asleep. Hopefully, there had been no witness to their escape; which would give them time to get out of the area before others could follow.

Fréa knew that his actions were justified by the law, but he still felt that irking feeling; that if Brytta managed to come into contact with the authorities, it was possible that the true murderer would be exposed. For above his pride, and the shame of allowing an important prisoner to escape, came the fear that his crime would eventually be discovered.

Fréa looked up and quickly realized that he had gotten ahead of the others. Turning back, he saw the other three off their horses; examining the ground. Dismounting, the man hurried over to them. "What is it, Archim, why have we stopped? Brytta has a full day's ride on us, and we must hurry if we are to catch up."

Fréa's brother looked up at him, shading his eyes from the sun. The grimace on his face showed the man's uncomfort. Spitting to the side, he looked at the ground once more, running his hand through the dusty turf. "Well, Fréa, I think we've lost them."

[Orofaniel]

They rode carefully out from Edoras, Graitwa and his two brothers, Frea and Archim. They all were in deep thoughts and didn't say much.

Graitwa and Archim, rode soon behind Frea. Suddenly there didn't seem to be a trail anymore. It was gone. Frea turned around and rode towards them. The horses and the two brothers were now examining the ground.
Frea had now reached them :

"What is it, Archim, why have we stopped? Brytta has a full day's ride on us, and we must hurry if we are to catch up." He said a bit irritated, while lookingat Archim.

Archim seemed uncomfortable, he spitted to the side and took some more time to examen the ground. "Well, Frea, I think we've lost them." Archim said finally.

"Lost the trail???!!??" Frea shouted angrily.

A loud discussion between the youngets brothers were at hand. Graitwa wasn't listening. He searched the ground all over again. Nothing to be seen however. Then suddenly he barked: "Would you stop fighting???!!" "We are not getting anywere with you fighting, and almost cutting over eachothers troat!"

Archim and Frea looked suprised. "Guess your right brother," Frea said while looking at Archim.

Frea's eyes were angry and he stared at Archim. Archim, however stared back at him with his own angry eyes. The arguing didn't seem to be over after all.

They all looked at eachother but they kept silent. All were wondering what they should do now. The smartest thing would probably be to follow the same road and try to find the trail again, but it was very risky. They may not find it, and if they didn't find it they would be several days behind, They woulød have to go all the long way back, and that they could not afford.

If they went backwards trying to chatch up with the place they lost the trail, they may never find it or they would be much delayed. So both things were undoubtful very risky indeed, and they would be delayed eaither way. That was now kind of obvious.

Frea grabbed the word: "What now?"

"We will be delayed and that means that they are several days ahead of us," Graitwa answerd after a while.

"Of course they will!" Frea said irretated.

"Oh, don't use that tone with me!" Graitwa barked back. "You got us into this mess, now it's time to fix it!" He continued.

Archim looked scared. Well, not scared, but he had a rare grimase on his face and he didn't seem comftarbel beeing there. Neither of them did.

"You say it's my responsible to fix it, don't you?" Frea asked Graitwa quite angry. His eyes were getting red and his hands were shaking with fury.

"No, I don't say it's your responsible, I'm just suggesting that you come up with a clever idea to get us back on the trail." Graitwa answerd, quite angry as well. "And that quick!" He added.

[ July 25, 2003: Message edited by: Orofaniel ]

[Novnarwen]

When they left the prison the two bounded men were locked up and still unconscious. Brytta tossed the keys out the window and turned back to Liol saying; Cousin, it's time to go, and they hurried out of the cell block and thereafter up the stairs. A smoothly as they coul, with no suspicious guards they were shown out the door, by the tall guard they had met just about half an hour before.

As they found their horses, they rode out of the gate, catching the sight of a couple of guards drunk, and now sleeping against the stone wall.

Liol was glad, the worst part was over. The King's Hall was small and ugly from here, Liol thought. It really looked like a prison.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For several hours they rode on, until the at last met Adwulf, Heldor and Rochil.They had found a small camp and settled down there with their horses. Liol thought it was a cosy place, and didn't mind at all resting there for a while before they rode, and left Edoras behind.

"Oh, I am starting to get tired," Liol whined. The others stirred at her. "Did I say that out loud?" she asked and grew red. Gosh, she thought. Her two cousins, Rochil and Adwulf gave a laugh, turning to her giving her are-you? look. Liol didn't want to show she was weak or anything like that. She was among men only, and it was hard in a way. Liol cast a short glance towards the boys, before she pulled herself together. She clasped her horse on the side with her hand. "Shall we not ride a little faster?" she asked, and sprinted forwards. The others followed.

[ July 26, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

[Himaran]

"No, I didn't say that it's your responsibility, I'm just suggesting that you come up with a clever idea to get us back on the trail - and quick!"

The words smote Frea in the face, and he turned on his brother in furious anger; the words flying out of his mouth in a fit of screaming rage. "If I did not lose them, it is not my job to find them, you dull idiot! I am no tracker, I am a prison guard. You will regret those words, Graitwa!"

His brother did not flinch at the verbal barrage; in fact, a thin smile slowly covered his normally impassive features. When he spoke, Graitwa spit the words out with obvious contempt. "Well then, dear brother, I suppose that since we cannot find them, I shall return to Edoras. I will not stand here and be insulted by my young and foolish brother; who got us into this fine mess in the first place."

As he turned to go, Hama caught the man by the arm. "Wait, Graitwa, I am sure that this matter can be worked out peacefully. We have not completely lost the trail, it has merely become difficult to see the shallow markings in this dim light. Why not make a camp, as it appears that a storm is blowing in, and leave these troubles for the morning."

The words had been woven skillfully, with the tact of a true politician. Frea knew that it would be unwise to disagree, for doing so would certainly cause Graitwa to leave on the spot. The man consented to the arrangement, though still smoldering inside him was a deep anger at his brother. And it was one that would not leave him for many days.

[ July 25, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[piosenniel]

Archim backed away from his siblings as soon as the words started flying. Heated words, he knew, often led to hard blows. He circled out a little further, on foot, looking for signs of the fugitives’ passing, choosing to range up a little further north, rather than the westward tack his brothers had been pushing them in.

‘Hey! Look here!’ he yelled, coming back to within earshot of the other three. I may have found something.’

The others followed him a short way and gathered round a slim clue. There in a small clearing were some green leafed bushes which looked as if something had been grazing on them. The ground was hard and rocky, affording no chance for hoof prints – but just north of the clearing under the trees were two fresh sets of large hoof prints leading north, which crossed a small section of soft forest loam then petered out once again when the rocky terrain resumed.

‘Perhaps they’re heading to Fangorn to hide, or even into the Wold. There should be more tracks we should see, but here at least is something . . .’

[Envinyatar]

"Oh, I am starting to get tired!"

Aldwulf smiled to himself as he heard the words drop from the woman’s mouth. ‘How like my sisters,’ he thought, smoothing his mustache down as he drew his hand over the upturned curve of his lips, hiding his smile. ‘She’s not so much tired, I’ll wager, as she is bored by this grim male company.’

He watched her as she urged her mount to a faster pace, and moved ahead of the group. ‘Be wary, m’lady,’ he said, pulling up near her. ‘There have been reports of shadowed creatures lately, coming down from the north. One or two have been sighted among the trees that forest the hills along the Westfold. No reports of any attacks on men, though one or two deer carcasses have been found mangled in a savage manner.’ He looked at her appraisingly.

‘I would not care to have you be the subject of the first report . . .’

[Himaran]

Frea inspected the ground where Archim had discovered hoof markings. Sure enough, the tracks of several horses could be seen plainly in the wet mud. Excellent; at last we have found their trail. Now it shall be a simple hunt, with a successful end.

The man patted his brother on the shoulder. "Archim, this is just the find that we needed. But it is too late to continue now. Let us follow Hama's advice, and make camp for the night."

________________________________________


The Following Morning


Brytta was the first up among the group. He hurried to start a fire, and breakfast was soon simmering over the glittering light of the flames. Rochil and Liol were soon awake, and Heldor followed, but Aldwulf had to be shaken roughly before he opened his eyes and muttered several illegible words about men needing proper sleep.

Soon, the cousins sat around the fire at attacked the hot meal, their first in two days. Brytta looked over a crumpled map of Rohan, doing his best to calculate their aproximate distance to the boundary of Rohan with the other lands of the west.

"From what I can see, we are within three days ride from the Gap. Of course, that excludes any problems we may encounter along the way. But it appears as though we have an excellent chance of escaping Rohan without meeting resistance; from the authorities at least."

Rochil chewed thoughtfully on a strip of bacon. "What other problems are there, if Rohan is behind us and the west ahead."

Aldwulf answered the question, filling his mug with tea. "Wargs. Although the orcs of Isengard were slain, many their steeds remain in Rohan. Like I said yesterday, it is rumored that a group of them was spotted somewhere north of here. And Wargs travel fast, especially without riders. There could be an entire pack of the beasts waiting for us at the Gap. But Wargs or no, we must continue. I don't have this hunk of wood for nothing." The man patted the bow sitting next to him on the ground, and proceeded to fill his empty mug a second time.

After their breakfast was finished and the discussion over, the group packed their things, scattered the embers of the fire and erased footprints. Mounting, they rode off west, hoping that their easy passage out of Rohan would continue.

[ July 26, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[elven maiden Earwen]

Rochil woke up the next morning and ate with the others. It was a peaceful morning but soon they would be ridding off again. And not long until that time come. Soon Rochil was riding with the company towards the Gap of Rohan of his beloved horse Rowan. But his thoughts weren’t at peaceful as the mornin’.

Wargs, I’d hate to have a run in with them. Rochil had seen trolls and Oliphaunt as well as Nazgul on flying steeds, and plenty of orcs but he had never encountered wargs. Monstrous wolves of the northern lands, that during the War of the Ring became servants of Saruman and headed towards southern lands, which they now inhabit. A ferocious and intelligent race.

Rochil looked up and noticed to shapes in front of them. Soldiers! Two soldiers of Rohan were riding slowly towards the company.

“Brytta!” Rochil said urgently, trying to alert him.

“Look in the distance. Soldiers!” he said pointing towards the men drawing closer and closer. Brytta looked up in the direction Rochil pointed in

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

[Himaran]

Soldiers!

The word snapped Brytta back into reality, and he scanned the area Liol was frantically pointing to. Two men, presumably Rohanian guards, were riding toward that at a significant pace. One was pointing at them, the other nodding and turning his horse to a course that would lead him straight into the midst of the company.

If they find Heldor here, then Edoras will know of our position before dusk. we must hide him, and quickly.

Leaping from his horse, Brytta urgently tugged on Heldor's hand. The man understood, and climbed off the horse quickly. "Stop here," Brytta yelled to the company, "Look as if you are setting up camp!" Grabbing an empty pot from his saddle bag, Brytta and Heldor dashed off.

Running down the steep hill, Brytta searched the surrounding ground for a hiding place. Heldor spotted a group of rocks, and ran over to them; ducking behind the blessed cover. Brytta, hoping that the rocks would prove sufficient, continued down the hill to a stream. He filled up the pot and began to climb the hill again, hoping to reach the top before possible hostilities could occur.

Reaching the camp, he saw Aldwulf arguing with the guards in a manner which one could only discribe as 'passionately.' "Look, I swear by Eru that there is no fifth man among this company. Why would we hide him from you?"

One of the guards was thoroughly unconvinced by the story. "Oh, I see. Well, what happenned to that FORTH man that was here. Where did he run off to, eh?"

While Aldwulf searched for a believable answer, Brytta made the decision to intervene. "Just going to get a pot of water from the spring, sir. Why do you ask, aren't people allowed to set up camp in the West Emmet?"

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Himaran]

Envinyatar's post

The two guards drew near. Aldwulf could see their eyes dart about the place where the four of them now stood. The one on the right drew near his companion and said something, then pointed with his chin toward where Aldwulf and his companions stood.

Aldwulf was standing at his mount’s side, holding the horse’s leg in his hand as he picked at the inside of the hoof with his knife blade. He placed the hoof back on the ground as if he had finished his business with it, and turned smiling to the two men who had now drawn quite near, his knife held by its point hung casually from his hand.

‘Picked up a stone, the poor beast,’ he said shaking his head at the riders. Their eyes betrayed no friendliness and they glanced about the camp as if expecting to find something their search did not yet ferret out. ‘My three friends and I expected to make it to Halef’s holding by mid-afternoon today, but now it looks as if we won’t limp in until tomorrow.’

‘Your three friends, is it?’ challenged one of the guards, his gaze fixed on Aldwulf’s face. ‘We have been riding steadily this way ourselves.’ He raised a gloved hand, pointing west to a small rise just behind them. ‘We came down through there. Five riders is what we counted. Where is your other companion?’

Aldwulf said nothing, only noted that the guards had come closer by a few paces and separated their mounts. They had thrown back their cloaks, and he saw that their swords had been loosed of their clasps in the sheaths. ‘What can I say? There are only four of us. Perhaps it was just a shadow or a miscount – the trees are thick up there, our figures must have been cut from your sight as we passed along.’

The pommel of his knife came to rest on his other hand’s palm. They were close enough . . . one quick flick and he could take the man in the neck . . . the other could be dealt with quickly after that . . .

[ July 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Himaran]

Nova's post:

Liol grew almost motionless when she pointed towards two guards appearing and coming in their direction

Brytta hid Heldor and arrived when the riders were just about to unmount their horses. The others had set up a 'made-up' camp. The camp didn't really look like a camp, but Liol an the others tried to be as convincing as possible. The riders gazed at them, looking for something they could use against them. "My three friends and I expected to make it to Halef’s holding by mid-afternoon today, but now it looks as if we won’t limp in until tomorrow."

“Your three friends, is it?” asked one of the guards, having a threatening tone. “We have been riding steadily this way ourselves.” It was Aldwulf who spoke. "We came down through there. Five riders is what we counted. Where is your other companion?" asked the guard seriously, while haveing a stiff look in his eyes.

Liol felt a pain in her stomach; this was definitely going the wrong way. She couldn't see how they were getting out of this one. They knew they had been five, how was it then possible to fool them?

"What can I say? There are only four of us. Perhaps it was just a shadow or a miscount – the trees are thick up there, our figures must have been cut from your sight as we passed along." Aldwulf continued.

Liol stared at the guard, looking suspiciously at her and the others. "You, Milady, can you tell me what's going on?" the guard asked while pressing his lips together making it small and thin; just like a thread. Liol went all red, am I to speak, she thought.

"Well," she said in a frustrated voice. Liol couldn't breathe. What was she to say? The lady had no idea. And the warning looks from her travelling fellows didn't exactly help.

"The fifth man you saw, was.." she made a pause breathing like tired horse who had galloped for hours. An idea popped into her head and she said in a determined voice: ”It was my husband," she said, getting a glance of the others reactions. Brytta looked the most stunned, but Rochil was right behind, stirring down in the earth, trying not to laugh. Liol gave him a glare before the guard spoke again:" Then why did he leave?" The other guard laughed, thinking he had her, the place he wanted her; no escape.

"Well, his mother is sick, and I am going to my reletives, and he rode after me to say that, his mother had passed away," she answered, faking a couple of tears. The guard looked surprised at the lady. "Now, will you please let us do our business." she continued looking quite harsh at the harassing guard.

The man gave her a warning but also a pityful look, before seating himself on the horse again. "No trouble then?" he asked. Liol gave a nod saying: "You are a good man." But a stupid one too, Liol thought while turning around to the others.

As the guards disappeared, Brytta went to fetch Heldor. Rochil was the first to brake into laughter, Liol followed. "Guards are so stupid," she burst out. The others nodded. "I think the husband thing was funnier, though," Rochil cried out. The lady watched the man while he laughed. "Is it that impossible for you to imagine me, having a husband? I might have one in the future, you know" she snapped. "Am I that ugly?" she continued. Liol felt the rage inside of her just grow and grow. The man stared at her, quiet now. "But I didn’t mean...I didn’t.." he said quickly.

Brytta appeared with Heldor at the same time, and before Rochil could say more, Liol ran over to them.

It was really quiet when they continued, none said a word. Had Liol been too hard on him? Yeah, the lady thought. She had let her temper control her, and now, she was full with regret. The shield maiden rode right ahead of him, but she didn't look back. Liol was too ashamed.

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Himaran]

Orofaniel's post

It was Hama's idea to camp for the night and so they did. Next morning they had decided to follow their only trail, even though they would be days behind they were all relieved that they finally found something.

The night was drawing to a close and the darkness was creeping over them. The moon was rising slowly over the horizon. They got to bed, and they all slept the whole night except from Graitwa.

He found it very difficult to sleep, indeed. He lay with wide open eyes and let his thought flow with him like an uneasy stream. His thought were unclear somehow. They always were. Well, it would be a lie to say that Graitwa was a man that spent much of his time thinking about life, but this time he was. The unthoughtful man was thinking about his life situation for once!

The night grew dim and the morning fell over them as the sun was beginning to rise. The packed all their things in a hurry, because they wanted to to start going as soon as possible. They were heading north, and as they went, they all felt the burning sun in their faces. Graitwa was in the front, barking at the other to please follow.

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Himaran]

Tinuviel of Denton's post

Hama rode at the back. He was neither a tracker, nor was he the eldest. It seemed to be more appropriate for him to ride there, rather than at the head of the line. Graitwa--at least, he thought that the older man in the group was called Graitwa--had woken everyone rather rudely right before the sun rose. Hama hadn't complained. He'd somewhat expected to be the general dogsbody in the group and had not been surprised. The older men had ordered him to do the chores that were necessary when taking down a camp and he'd complied.

They rode all day, stopping several times to check their course against the trail of the horses. Archim relieved Hama as rearguard. Near noon, they stopped by a stream to water the horses and to eat some waybread.

"Poor Lluagor," Hama whispered to his mare, stroking her sleek neck. "So much work for you, my lovely one. Don't worry, we'll catch that man and then we'll go home and you can rest. I hate to push you like this though."

The older guard and his brothers were arguing softly about something, but when Hama came closer, they stopped talking and looked at him angrily. Family troubles, he surmised. The three of them, though they were brothers didn't seem to get along very well. He couldn't help but wonder why. If he'd been able to ride along, tracking killers with his brother, he would never argue with him. Of course, his brother was d.ead, so that would never happen.

They kept riding after the noon break, Hama behind the two older brothers, with Archim in the rear. Hama didn't like where this trail was going. Would the murd.erer and his rescuers really go into Fangorn? The forest was full of creatures that were said to be unfriendly to killers. The whole thing didn't make much sense.

Then they reached the edge of the Forest. Hama felt as though there were eyes on him. Unfriendly eyes. It seemed that either Graitwa and Frea didn't notice, or that they didn't care, because they immediately started looking for where the fugitives had entered the forest. Hama looked as well, though he didn't really know what he was looking for...

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]