Outracing the Flames RPG

[piosenniel]

Wulfham


The iron bell that hung in the wooden tower above the Lord of Wulfham’s mead-hall rang out in the dark watches of the night. Aldwulf, the march-warden for this far eastern area of the Riddermark, sat in his carved chair giving orders to his wife and sons. They moved quietly and efficiently about him – pushing back benches and tables to make room for the crowd they knew would soon be there; heating up kettles of water for the hot tea the cold and tired villagers would need to hear the news.

Aldwulf rubbed his thumb along his coarsely bearded jawline. It was a nervous habit of his, helped him keep his focus he told himself. Tonight that was a lie. He couldn’t focus, not yet. The news was still too fresh. It made his gut ice cold to think of the horror that was coming their way.

A messenger had come earlier in the evening from one of the small hamlets a week’s ride north of Wulfham. The smoke they’d been seeing on the far hills now had a hideous face he’d told them. Orcs and men from the east-lands had made their way near to The Great River. A number of Outlander villages that lay in their path had been razed – the houses and barns burned to the ground, the people killed. The headman for the messenger’s village had sent him and a number of other messengers out to warn those who dwelt near them. And he, himself, had been sent by the headman to let the marchwarden know what was happening.

Questioned by Aldwulf, the man told him that many of the villages were heading to safety. A number to small fortressed hills further westward and some even making the long march to Edoras. ‘It is said,’ the messenger told him, that some great power to the south and east of us presses against the Mark and would swallow us one by one, until his shadow covers the grasslands and we are no more.’

The man would not stay once his message was delivered and the lord’s questions answered. He took a quick meal, a cup of ale. and then was on his way, riding back to intercept his own village’s flight to a place of safety.

‘Rouse yourself, Aldwulf,’ he heard his wife say as he considered the choices before him. ‘The crowd is come through the gate and will soon enter the hall.’ She handed him his thick vest to put on, for it was still cool in the hall, thought they’d piled the grates with wood and the flames licked at the offering hungrily. He tied back his grey shot hair with the piece of cord she gave him next and stood up before his chair as the villagers entered.

^*^*^*^

Brand squeezed along the south wall of the hall, making his way to a place nearer the raised platform where the Lord stood, talking to the heads of some of the more prosperous families in the village as well as the man who captained his small company of warriors. Brand waved off the offer of tea, focusing his gaze on that core of decision makers. Something big was happening and those who saw to the welfare of the village were discussing what should be done.

Aldwulf finished speaking to the men near him and motioned for the crowd to attend him. With an economy of words he explained the situation – that a messenger had come and the news bode ill for Wulfham. In the space of a few days, he would expect the villagers to pack up their belongings and be ready to move themselves and their animals to the safety of the King’s own city. The warriors would ride with them for protection, he told the people, many of whom were already muttering about the plan, both from fear and from the tumultuous turn they knew their lives would soon be taking.

Many questions were shouted at Aldwulf. And he took them as calmly as he could, giving as much assurance as he could to his frightened and angry people. When the asking was all done, and the ruffled feelings smoothed over for the moment, he raised his hand again, calling for quiet.

‘I have need of a small party of volunteers,’ he said, his gaze going about the room. ‘Fast riders to bring this news to Edoras. The King will want to protect his people and to do so he will need to know what we have learned. I would send some of my own armed men, but I want them all with us as we travel.’

His eyes rested on a number of folk about the hall and then moved on. ‘Four young people, those for whom others can pick up their responsibilities is what I want . . . what Wulfham needs.’ He nodded toward the captain of his men who began moving through the crowd with three other of his warriors.

Brand watched as three of them clapped their hands on the shoulders of a young villager each and led him or her . . . for there were two females he noted with some astonishment . . . to where the march-warden waited. ‘Poor sods,’ he murmured to himself, thanking his lucky stars that he did not stand among them.

Much to his surprise and dismay a voice rang out behind him. ‘There you are!’ the captain, himself, said, drawing near. He grasped Brand’s shoulder and urged him firmly toward the others.

A short while passed and villagers began to return to their houses, most to begin the long job of sorting through what they would need to bring; many to weep at what they must leave behind.

Brand and his chosen companions were told to go home and get what rest they could. Aldwulf would see them back at the hall midmorning to instruct them on what he wished them to do. ‘Bring your horses and what weapons you might have,’ he told them. ‘My house will fill your packs with food for traveling and with drink for several days' journey. You will leave directly then for the King with my written message.’

He nodded to them once he had finished speaking and then wishing them well, dismissed them to their beds.



-- Arry

[piosenniel]

Wulfham


Naria's post

Incana and her mother were getting ready for bed when her father and uncle came crashing through the door. "Something is going on in the town square" her father exclaimed. "We heard the bell ring, must be very important." said her uncle. With their night dress on and lanterns in hand , Incana and her mother hurried outside with her father and uncle leading the way. "It's a good thing that we reside nearby else you ladies would be catching a chill this night." her uncle said trying to lighten the mood.

Approaching the centre of town they noticed a large group of people had already arrived. Some they recognized some they did not. "I wonder where these people have come from that I have not seen before." Incana said with concern in her voice. "Oh don't worry, I'm sure it's nothing that we should be too concerned about." her mother said not quite convincing herself of that.
The four of them walked through the crowd and into the town hall where there were even more people that they had and had not seen. Incana was starting to feel overwhelmed and scared. She took her father's hand and held it tightly. Her father, straining to hear, heard what sounded like a plea for help from an older man in the sea of villagers. With Incana's hand still tight in his they weaved around people until they were closer to the stage.

The MarchWarden had given his speech to everyone and after listening to him, Encana's parents couldn't believe what they had just heard. "He can't be serious Sending our young ones out like that." Her father said in obvious disdain about the idea. There was some quarreling back and forth among some other parents and it was getting louder and louder. The MarchWarden banged his staff on the stage floor twice. All went silent. "I implore all of the young people of Rohan, come forth if yea shall volunteer for this task." Incana felt a pain in her stomach and a pull in her that she could not ignore. She slowly loosened her grasp of her father's hand and walked even closer to the stage. "NO!" cried her mother "I won't let you do this." Incana picked her mother up off of the floor, wiped away her tears and whispered into her ear, "I'll be ok. Don't fret mother I will come back to you. I have to do this." And with that Incana raised her hand.

----------

With barely any sleep Incana awoke the next morning to find that it wasn't a dream that had kept her tossing but a cold reality. Her mother had been up before her daughter that morning and prepared and packed some food and extra clothing for the journey. Her father came inside and wiped away some dirt off of his face. Incana couldn't help but notice that the dirt had smudged even though it wasn't hot enough outside this time of year. She felt tears well up in her eyes and threw herself into her father's arms. He pulled her back and told her that the horse was ready while he walked into another room. Incana heard muffled sobs; she wanted to go and be with her father but she changed her mind. Her mother hugged her only child and said good-bye and told Incana that she loved her. Incana put the food pack around her waist and went outside where her horse was waiting tied to a post. She fastened her weapons to the side of the horse sighed deeply, mounted and made her way to the town.

[piosenniel]

Wulfham


Valier's post

Vaenosa turned her back to the crowd and grasped her mother's hand firmly, leading her towards the small stage that was set up in the town hall. "Vaenosa you must go child! Do not worry about this old woman, I will be fine. I will go with one of our kindly neighbours,do not fret!" "Mother I will not leave you,not in your condition! Who will care for you? You are not strong enough,you need me here with you."

As they approached the stage, the MarchWarden was requesting volunteers to ride ahead with a letter for the King. Vaenosa felt a slight squeeze in her hand. Sighing deeply she turned around again to her ailing mother. " No mother I insist I stay here with you!" But the look of determination in the sick woman's eyes, melted Her heart. Before she could try and reason with the woman again,she felt a push from behind. Hands grabbed her from the front and lead her away.With one last look at her mother, Vaenosa raised her head high and walked towards where the other volunteers stood.

After receiving praise from the March Warden, he dismissed them all to their houses, to return in the Morn with weapons and horse. Then he would fill them all in on their duties.

Vaenosa was dazed. Almost walking in a fog, she found her way outside without looking for her mother.The cool air hit her face, bringing some colour back to her ashen cheeks. Then came the small frail arm, touching her own. "This my daughter is all I ask of you before I go......Please save this town,Get help while we still can! Your Father loved this town, as I do. I would love for this to be your place. For you children and your children's children. Please go."

With shoulders slumped and head hung low, Vaenosa let herself be led back slowly to the place she called home.

----------

Awaking the next morning to he mothers wracking coughs, the day before came flooding back."Well there's no chance I'm getting out of this now,I may as well make the best of it." Vaenosa was reluctant to put all her energy into the thought of the long road ahead,for if she did she would be set to accomplish what ever was asked of her, to the fullest extent. This scared her to her very core. Yet she would put on a brave face and say goodbye to her mother,maybe for the last time.

After a teary goodbye and a promise to stay safe, Vaenosa packed a travelling pack with some extra clothing and equipment. She was accustom to carring only what was essential, to let Nay go as fast as he pleased. Walking out to the stables, lifted her spirits some due to the slight Autumn breeze.

Nay was prancing in his stall and throwing his head back in anticipation. She had not let him run the day before and now he knew she was taking him out. "alright my friend,lets go." She jumped smoothly on to his blanketed back and without another look back, she started down the road to the town.

Tying Nay outside took alot longer than it should have, Vaenosa was still nervous about the whole thing. There was three other people she would be traveling with, and she was sure they would just get in the way. Taking three deep breaths she walked up the steps and through the door.

[piosenniel]

Wulfham


Tevildo's post

Dorran sat up with a start, threw off the covers, and leapt to his feet, hurrying over to the door and throwing it open. The sun had risen several hours before. He had managed to sleep through the cock's welcoming cry and all the hustle and bustle that had gone on in the courtyard, an area that stood only a short distance from the doorway of their tiny shed. Quickly sweeping his eyes over the area in front of the main hall, Dorran could see that preparations for their journey were well under way. The horses had been saddled and were snorting with impatience to be off. Several of the party had already arrived and were saying their final goodbyes to well wishers and friends.

Pummelling his fist into his other palm in frustration, Dorran turned and glared back at Criede. His sister was seated at the small table and was putting the finishing touches on a large sack of provisions that she meant for her brother to carry with him. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?" Dorran demanded. "I intended to be up and about. And what are you doing with all that food? The Master said he'd supply us with whatever we needed."

"Perhaps so," retorted the younger girl. "But this may be the last time for a while that you get a taste of my biscuits and apple tart. I thought you might like it." She stared back at him and then boldly stuck out her tongue. One moment Criede could be serious and adult, and the next moment acting just like a child.

"Alright, alright." His tone had softened considerably. "You've got me there. But still, I should have been up at dawn. What about the watering and feeding of the horses?" He stopped for a moment and shook his head, "It isn't like me..."

Criede interrupted before her brother could say another word, "The Master said I was to let you lie abed. You were up late helping him to gather the things that the group would need today. He wanted you to get some sleep before you began your journey. Anyways, it's only a few steps out to the courtyard, and you'll be ready to leave."

"Well enough, I suppose," he conceded with a sigh. "Promise be you'll be good, Criede, and do what the Lady says, and that you'll mind her on the road. She says you're to sleep in the hall with the other maids until you all leave together so you won't be out here on your own."

"I'd rather stay here," she objected. "This is my home."

"No more trouble now. Just do as the mistress says. When she says it's time to leave, you must go with her. She has always been kind to us and I expect you to behave. I'll see you soon in Edoras so you have nothing to fear."

"Alright, I promise. But why are you going early? You don't have to, you know. The Lord wouldn't make you. I'm sure of it."

"No, he wouldn't make me. But I want to go. I would never feel right being here and doing nothing, not knowing the danger the whole realm is in. Anyways," he muttered through gritted teeth, "not if I could do something to strike a blow at the likes of them."

Criede glanced up sideways at her taller brother, "You don't expect to see any of. those, those.... things on the road."

"I don't know but I don't expect so. They're still off to the east, or so I heard the Master talking. But if I do meet one, he won't live till another day. They are evil through and through. They have no soul, no heart, only blackness." There was real animosity in the lad's voice, the tone of one who knows more than what he says.

"Promise me, Dorran." his sister responded. "Promise me that you won't do anything foolish. You're the only family I have."

"I promise. I'm not a fool. And being dead isn't something I want to do for a long time. Anyways, dead men can't fight Orcs."

With that final thought, Dorran reached down and gave his sister a final hug, and raced out into the open courtyard to join the others who were just mounting up.

[piosenniel]

Bregoware


Farael's post

The long, slow wail of a horn arose those living close to the Town Hall. The sound of horns was taken up and repeated by others as they awoke and soon all the town had rose to the sound of alarm. The March-Warden Horwald was calling for a town meeting. It had not happened since the times of Brego King, many lives of men before, that this emergency call had sounded in the middle of the night. There was no man alive who had been born then, but still the villagers responded as they had trained themselves to do.

Upon receiving the disturbing news in the middle of the night, Horwald had ordered his eldest son to sound the alarm but he had not shared the dire news with anyone. It was the right of all the townspeople to learn about the incoming dangers at the same time. After making their respective horn calls, the people of Bregoware had started to make their way towards the Town Hall. As this town was mostly a farming community, it had been the best part of two hours before all the families were represented. Mostly men had answered the distress call, but in dangerous times like these some brave women had joined their husbands and fathers.

With a sigh, Horwald raised his hand to ask for silence. He was proud to see the look of worry in the faces of men untainted by fear. Soon that would be no more, as the news he had to tell them were ones no March-Warden had ever been forced to say in this town. A tense silence was finally achieved and so Horwald, son of Leodwald addressed his people. They were his, his responsibility. As he repeated them the words of the messenger, who at the time had long ran off to meet with his own townspeople, he saw even the bravest of his men frowning. Bregoware had been harassed by easterlings and even a party of orcs before, but the news were that of a marching army not a wild group of bandits. The people had followed him through the hardships of living outside the boundaries of the Kingdom of Rohan and they trusted him. They would follow him if he ordered them to abandon their houses. They would follow him if he ordered them to retreat into the fortified city and prepare themselves for what could be a long siege. But as he looked into his people’s faces, he could not bear the thought that in the next weeks some of them would die, no matter what choice he made.


Osmod was awaken by the alarm cries of his own family’s horn. He ran up to his father’s chambers to find him standing by the window, blowing at the horn that had belonged to his grandfather. He could hear the distinct sound of other horns at the distance, but more worrying to his mind was the sound of his mother crying. Leofwen had always been a strong woman; she had even ridden against an invading group of bandits in her youth.

The alarm sound was soon picked up by other families and father and son readied themselves for the ride to the Town Hall. They chose their fastest horses and carried their swords with them. Osmod did not have a sword that belonged to him and so he ‘borrowed’ his grandfather’s. It had been hanging on the wall since the day Osbearn had returned from the ranks of Thengel King.

They were one of the last people to arrive, as his father’s lands were far outside the town, but many of the men present allowed them to make their way closer to where the March Warden was standing. Horwald’s face was grim and soon they learned why. First there was silence. Then the yelling started. The opinion that was voiced the loudest was that of war. They had defended themselves from those orkish bandits before, they would do it again. Yet soon common sense sank in and they realized they would fight a loosing battle that would be over before it even got started. The men still wanted to fight, many of them were gripping their swords hilts already. Yet as they looked around the room and saw the women present, they understood they could not let their families die for their pride. Soon the room was silent and the March Warden announced what they all dreaded. The city was to be emptied by noon on the following day. They would march towards Edoras, protected by the warriors of the town.

As everyone was reading themselves to go back to their houses and start preparing for the long escape, a voice was heard on the back of the room. Osmod could not tell if it had been a man or a woman who had spoken, he could not tell even if it had been any older than himself. Yet the words were true. Marching armies could run faster than retreating towns and even if they left on the first light the following day, they might not make it to Edoras before the orcs caught up with them. At least some riders would need to be sent to alert The King and bring back help.

Silence fell upon the room again as they saw the March Warden deliberating with his main counsellors. When he looked up, his face was stern and decided. Four of their fastest riders would go ahead of the main group. Yet he could spare none of his warriors and so volunteers would be needed. Osmod’s hand moved towards the hilt of his sword even before Horwald had finished the call for volunteers. Never before had anyone but the March Warden heard those words and never before had they been meant for anything other than teaching the March Warden his duties and responsibilities. “Who among the people of Bregoware will answer my call? Who among us braves will show to be the bravest? Who will risk pain and death for the greater good of his people?”

The room fell silent, interrupted only by the sound of a sword being unsheathed. One volunteer had accepted the call. Soon two more swords were raised over the heads of their brave owners. One last volunteer was needed yet the room had fallen silent again. Osmod closed his eyes and tensed his grip on the sword. Almost without him knowing, he unsheathed his grandfather’s sword. He had answered the call for help.

Voices were heard at the back of the room and spread out quickly towards the front. Soon all the gathered townspeople were discussing the names of the volunteers. Everyone seemed to want to talk to Osmod and grab his arm. He had shown to be as brave as his grandfather Osbearn had been, they said. He had shown to be great among the great of his town. But Osmod knew he had shown nothing yet. He was still safe inside the walls of the village and there were many dangers to confront before he would even consider himself to be brave.

Horwald dismissed everyone but the volunteers and their families – it would have been pointless and cruel to force them appart now when they would be parting soon enough, perhaps for ever- who stayed and gathered close to him. He praised the volunteers sincerely and offered them his help in anything they needed. He would provide them with food and water, as well as fast horses if they lacked one. Of course, they all had good horses, but it was a great compliment to be offered a horse by the March Warden himself. After the March Warden had spoken, Osmod asked of him only one thing. The sword he carried was old and the edge was dull. He wanted to carry his grandfather’s sword and would very much appreciate it if the March Warden could have it sharpened for him. Horwald granted him his wish, as he granted everything the others asked. They stayed until it was long past midnight discussing the best strategy for their ride, but they all agreed that there was no way of knowing what they would find and so no way of making accurate plans. The town of Bregoware would have to trust on their rider’s skill and intelligence. And as most of them made their way to their respective houses, they knew their trust had not been misplaced.

Osmod rode back to his father’s estate. His father had been uncommonly silent since he had volunteered himself and they rode in silence towards the big house. After they left the horses in the stables, Osmod’s father asked him to wait on the hall before retreating to his own room. Osmod complied and sat down on the cold floor, feeling more comfortable there than on the sturdy chairs. He scrambled up to his feet as he heard his father walking back in and could not help to gasp when he saw what he was carrying. His father had his own longbow on one hand, the finest quality weapon his family had. But what surprised the son was the family horn in his father’s left hand. It belonged to his father, it had belonged to his grandfather before and to his father before then. “Son, it has been our family tradition that the father of the house gives this horn to his son on the day of their wedding. I know not if I shall live to see that great day and this is why I want you to have it. It may be of assistance to you and I know our ancestors will forgive me for breaking our long held tradition”. As Osmod laid sleepless on his bed, he told himself that nothing would go wrong as he had the protection of those who had fought the same enemy before and won.

[piosenniel]

Bregoware


Eowyn Skywalker's post

Jerked from a weary sleep by a strong wailing of an alarm, Eostre's eyes flickered open in the dark. An attempt to speak... her voice choked off and she leaned over to grasp a white square of fabric, rubbing some excess mucus from her mouth with a grimace. It took the adult woman sometime before she was able to place the harsh sound of alarm that drilled through her mind, chasing away all the flickering images of the dreamworld she dwelled in during her sleep. Something about... A chicken?

But, as was her custom, she didn't let anything sway her course from the choice to sit up and shove her bedding aside, yanking her nightshift off and changing hastily into full garb. By the time she was fully dressed—making the attempt to change in the dark hardly easy—the sound of the alarm had long leaned towards the houses far further away from the Town Hall, and in other rooms in the house, there came the sound of feet smacking against bare wood, her host family coming to wake her up.

Had they honestly thought the light sleeping Eostre would still be abed when alarms cried all through the town, the clatter of hooves passing through the streets and roads stretching far beyond the town to the adjoined lands? She could scarcely sleep through the sound of bacon frying in the rare mornings when she was ill, mainly from allergies. But it meant little; she was dressed, as were they all, and the bordering elderly Haodel and Gelwyn were insisting she ride to the Town Hall with them from their farm. Gelwyn wanted to stay with cousin Ieloa, Haodel wanted to go to the meeting... clamor. She didn't mind. There was no way she could ever have fallen asleep after such a racket! What was the world coming to? A full out war?

Needless to say, not being so far out of town, the two arrived quickly to the Town Hall, possibly after the first ten or so people had arrived. By this point the woman was well awake, sticking close to Haodel as they watched others arrive to the meeting.

An explanation...

Eostre exhaled. So. It did come to war, then. She felt no fear, only a vauge sense of intriege at the arguements being cast around the room, the voices raised and tossed from one hand to the next. The call for aid was too facinating; she didn't want to see any unnecessary death.

Metal cut against metal, and a sword was raised above one volenteer's head, held high in the crowd. She hardly hesitated after that. The mission screamed for fast riders, for those who knew the land, knew how to fight, and wanted to protect their land. She unsheathed her dirk, raised it above her head with just the faintest flicker of a challenging smile on her face.

Haodel threw her a glance. "Eostre..."

"They mayn't even allow me to ride along," she murmured in soft reply. "If they do, I ride hard. I shall return, and in the meantime you and Gelwyn will manage."

He only inclined his head, and she realized when he had spoken, he hadn't spoken in critisism. So. It was done, then. She glanced up at the flame-colored light reflecting off of her blade for a moment, then back down at the others surrounding her. Somehow, time seemed to blur past, others finally raising their blades in agreement of the mission.

Time passed...

The Marchwarden dismissed everyone beyond the volunteers and their families, but names had still spread. Her family recognized her involvement, remaining while Haodel returned to his family. Somehow through the plans, the clock passed well beyond the witching hour as they spoke, exchanged embraces with her family near the end, though they were unnaturally silent, Eostre noted.

She was silent through much of the planning, letting things sink in. And when she went to ride back to Haodel's family, her parents pulled her aside, insisted that it would be better if she spent one last night at home. As if she would never return, she thought...

And yet, as she lay sleepless abed once more, she felt no fear of death, only a desire to protect others of the potential same fate.

[piosenniel]

Bregoware


Maeggaladiel's post

The hall went silent as the call for volunteers rang out. Fion looked up at his father. The broad-shouldered man stared out over the sea of frightened faces, his own sun-worn face an expressionless mask.

Fion grimaced. Why so few volunteers? This was an important job! This mission required endurance, knowledge of the land, and speed on horseback. It practically screamed for Fion's involvement. Why, he could do this with his eyes closed!

There was a voice from the front of the hall, and people were nodding at him. That was when he realized his hand was above his head. Oh...

"Fion!" his father hissed in anger and shock. "You fool, what are you doing?" He grabbed the boy's arm and forced it to his side. "You cannot do this!" But it was too late. The boy's fate had been sealed.

"He's naught but a child!" his father protested to the people around him. Fion, feeling rebellious, pulled away.

"I have seen ten-and-seven summers; that is enough!" he said. He jutted out his chin, wishing that his "beard" was more than short blonde dandelion fuzz.

"And I am the fastest rider around!" he added proudly. "You said so yourself!" He held up the worn hunting bow. "And I can hit a bird's eye in the dark!" A mild exaggeration, but boasting never hurt.

His father stared at him, his expression odd but unreadable. Fion shifted uncomfortably.

"I can do this," he insisted, pleading with his eyes. "Please, let me try. If I don't go, we could all be in danger."

There was another long silence. His father stared hard at Fion; the boy tried hard to return the stare. After a moment, the elder man sighed.

"Do what you must," he said. Fion, wanting to prove himself mature enough to handle the task, refrained from letting out a joyous yell.

"I'll make you proud," Fion said. His father grasped his shoulders.

"You already have."

[piosenniel]

Bregoware


Undómë’s post

Meghan stood against a wall, on a chair she’d dragged over to give her some height. Had it been her choice, she would have stayed home altogether, minding her mother while Leof and Gudryn saw to the fuss at the town’s hall. Not that she wasn’t concerned about the horn call to gather, but the thought of so many people as they pressed in against her made her loathe to go.

‘I’ll just look after mama,’ she had told her brother, as he scrambled into his tunic. ‘And the babes, of course. You and Gudryn can find out the news.’

‘Nay,’ he’d told her. It was Gudryn who would see to the household while they were gone. It was he and Meghan who would represent their family at the meeting.

So, here she stood on her small island of wood looking out over the sea of her townsmen’s heads. Their faces were all turned to Horwald as he raised his hand to speak. And the words he spoke were chilling. A small current of cold fear ran down her back, making her shiver. Orcs! Worse yet, Easterlings! And in an organized group this time, not just some willy-nilly raiding. She wondered for a moment what sort of dark captain might have managed to make them work together. Given their natural hatred of each other they would have torn each other apart. She shivered again at the thought that somehow they were now acting together.

Her mind was racing as the march-warden laid out his plan to move the villagers toward Edoras. How would she manage her goats on the march? What supplies would she need to bring for the long journey? She would want to make sure they had enough to eat – especially the milkers, as they would provide nourishment for her family and others. She was making lists in her mind when she heard someone ask the question about sending for help. And looking up she saw Horwald nod his head at the truth of it and speak with his counselors.

Meghan flattened herself against the wall as he called for volunteers – four fast riders to make haste to the King himself. She did not intend to be one of them. She closed her eyes, willing herself invisible. Peeping through one eye she saw that swords had been raised as the volunteers made themselves known. Osmond’s blade was raised, as well as one of Fion’s weapons, and there across the room was the hand of . . . a woman, whose name she could not recall. Voices were raised praising the braveness of the volunteers.

But the march-warden had called for four – she only saw three . . .

Beside her, her brother made a shuffling sound as he readjusted his position leaning against the wall. She turned to ask him if he’d noted the fourth volunteer and saw with horror his own blade raised. In a quick, unthinking move she bent down from her perch on the chair and grabbed their father’s old sword from his hand. ‘You sheep-brained fool!’ she hissed at him, the sword upraised in her hand as she maneuvered it away from him. ‘Who will protect our mother and your wife and babies if you ride off westward?’

Murmurs of approval swelled about her. She stood upright wondering why her name rose on the current of voices. Her face blanched when she realized she still held her brother’s sword up and away from his grasp. She leaned back against the wall for support, her knees suddenly turned to jelly, as the march-warden pointed to her and nodded his head in approval.

The remainder of the meeting, after the greater part of the villagers had gone back to their homes, was a blur to her. Plans were discussed, as well as supplies, and horses. She recalled saying that ‘yes’ she would need a faster horse, as their old farm horse would only plod her way to Edoras and most likely arrive after the villager itself had got there.

Leof and she tramped home in a stony silence. He was angry that she had grabbed the blade from him and been counted among the volunteers; she was angry that he had thought to raise it on his own behalf at all.

o*o*o*o

Meeting at the Hall the next day

It was a tired Meghan who dragged herself to the Hall the next morning.

Her packing had not consisted of much – her few clothes, her cape, her stick and little bow, her knife, and of course, her knitting needles and her yarn. Gudryn had made her up a small packet of food for the day, knowing the march-warden’s family would see to her other provisioning.

She had said her good-byes, telling her mother not to fret. That she would soon be back and that Leof and Gudryn would take good care of her. Gudryn hugged her, whispering ‘thanks’ in her ear for making Leof stay with them. Leof, faced with the inevitability of her going thawed and clasped her fiercely to him. ‘You come back, you hear!’ he ordered her, his voice gone husky with emotion. ‘Or begads I’ll hunt you in the otherworld and drag you back to us!’

Meghan pushed herself a little away from him, and kissed him on the brow. ‘And you brother, take care of my goats! Else I give you a thump on that thick head of yours for everyone that’s gone missing.’

She pushed open the doors to the Town Hall and tromped in. Laying her pack and bedroll at her feet, she thumped her pole on the wooden floor to draw attention to herself. ‘Well, here I am; ready as I’ll ever be. Now if you’ll just show me to the horse you promised, I’ll get the both of us ready to be off . . .

. . . on this fool’s errand! she added to herself. Fools all, if we think we’ll make it . . . more the fool, if we think the King and his Riders will care about our outland problems at all . . .

[Arry]

Wulfham


What little there had been left of the night had escaped Brand altogether. He’d hauled out his old leather pack, the one he used when he was out in the summer’s moving from camp to camp as the sheep moved from one grassy area to another. Clothes were folded and rolled into small bundles and placed in the bottom compartment. A small wooden box with a few salves and bandages went into a side pocket. Opposite it, there were candles and his little box with flint and steel for fire. Cord snares and a few netted traps were rolled small and tucked into a small front pocket. A trio of waterskins, and the nested pots burnt black from many cooking fires were tucked into a canvas bag along with a small pouch of salt. Some rope, a small hatchet were secured to the pack. His short sword made ready. And of course, his bedroll.

His mother had made a pot of good strong tea laced with honey to keep them awake as the family got him and themselves ready to go. His father had groomed Brand’s chestnut mare until she gleamed and given her an extra portion of oats for the journey’s start. His sister’s husbands would look after his sheep, mingling them in with their own as they made their own journey toward the King and his protection.

‘And now who’ll be looking after Patch, here?’ he asked, his hand going down to scratch the head of his dog. ‘He’d best go with you, Da. He’s used to you. And you can use him to keep the flock in line. He crouched down and spoke softly to the dog. And for his part, Patch seemed to understand. With a gesture of his hand, Brand bade the hound sit by his father, telling him he must stay.

He mounted up, his family gathering about him, touching him as they spoke their farewells. His mother, he could see was near to tears, her daughters arms around her for support. His father, a man of few words, looked up at the cloudless morning sky and nodded his head in approval. ‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘best be off while the going is good. There’s a fair wind coming in from the west. Be good ridin’ weather.’ His voice trailed off; his eyes gone a little bright. ‘Darn near forgot this,’ he went on, handing up Brand’s oaken cudgel. ‘Go on now. They be waitin’ for you,’ he finished. And with a light slap to the mare’s hindquarters, he sent Brand racing toward the march-warden’s hall.

----------

‘Whoa up, M’Lady!’ Brand called to his mare as they entered the courtyard. The march-warden’s hall and yard were already a beehive of activity. To his right he saw one of the other chosen riders motioning him over. He picked his way carefully through the piles of possessions that Aldwulf’s family had set out to sort through.

‘Dorran, isn’t it?’ he said to the younger man as he dismounted. ‘Can you show me where we’re to pick up our food and water and such? And the march-warden, did he say if he had any final instructions for us?’ He looked about for a moment. ‘And have the women . . . that is, the other riders, gotten here yet?’

[Arry]

Bregoware


Farael's post

Osmod’s first thought of the day was “For the Lord of the Mearas I overslept.” Looking out his window, he could see the sun was already shining brightly on this chilly autumn day. He was supposed to be meeting the other riders in less than an hour and yet he had not even started packing. He knew not what to do and so he laid in bed for a few more moments. “If I am to be late, I might as well enjoy what could very well be my last awakening on this comfortable bed.” Yet the grim thoughts convinced him to wake up at last rather than stay in bed. With a tired sigh he put his traveling clothes on and made his way to the kitchen. It was a pleasant surprise to find not only a full breakfast set for him, but also everything he planned to take was set and packed by the door. His family was waiting for him and they called him merrily. They enjoyed breakfast together and then walked with Osmod to the stables. He had been expecting his father to ride with him into the town, but when he did not make any attempts towards his own horse, Osmod understood he would be riding alone. Holding back the tears he hugged his father and his mother. The neighbours had also come to wish him good luck and so it was a fairly merry group that accompanied Osmod outside of his father’s plantations. He knew they would all look after each other and found that thought comforting.

The ride to the Town Hall was slow and uneventful. He did not want to tire neither himself nor his horse and so he got there a few minutes late. It seemed no one else had made it any earlier and as Osmod was being greeted by the March Warden and his wife, he heard a banging noise behind him. “Well, here I am; ready as I’ll ever be. Now if you’ll just show me to the horse you promised, I’ll get the both of us ready to be off . . . “. He turned around, startled by the sound and the claim, and smiled at the woman that had recently arrived. He remembered her name from the meeting the night before and so he greeted her. “Miss Meghan, I admire your enthusiasm. I hope the other riders will be as excited as you seem to be about our… adventure. Myself, well… I must say, now that departing seems imminent, I’m all the more hesitant. Yet I hope you will bear with me through today, I’m sure I shall feel better tomorrow after camping on the outdoors.” He smiled at her and walked over to shake her hand. “I am Osmod, just in case you have forgotten.”

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

He loomed over her, offering his hand. She had the disquieting feeling of being a child, towered over by some giant. And the urge to grab one of the chairs that she might stand on it and meet him eye to eye was hard to ignore.

‘I am Osmod, just in case you have forgotten . . .’

She bit her tongue, swallowing the tart remark that threatened to spill from her lips. Forget him? The rich man’s son? . . . not likely. And more than that, from one of those families who owned a large herd of cattle. Cattle! Pah!! Great, dumb beasts that did nothing useful but eat up the pasturelands her goats liked to graze. The only thing dumber than cattle were sheep, in her opinion. Though a case could be made for sheep – they provided wool. Meghan looked him up and down, wondering if he were as soft as some of her girl friends had said. Pampered boy! Riding about on a horse all day watching those lazy, creatures.

‘No, indeed,’ she replied, gripping his large hand firmly with her own.

Well, now, that is a surprise! she thought to herself. His hand was callused as hers were from her long days of work. And his own grip firm and dry.

‘Hard to forget one such as yourself, Osmod. Or shall I call you Master Osmod? What do you prefer?’ As an after thought, she added, ‘Plain Meghan’s good enough for the likes of me.’

She glanced about the hall, wondering where the other two riders were. ‘Have you seen our other companions?’

[Tevildo]

"Aye, sir. That's me," Dorran tugged at his cap and responded respectfully to the sheep farmer. The young lad lowered his head to hide his smile. From the sound of Master Brand's words, the latter harbored at least a doubt or two because the other members of the party were female. It didn't bother Dorran in the slightest. His own sister was as tough and stubborn as anyone he had met. He expected the other lasses would be fast on their steeds and fit into their party just fine.

If truth be told, Dorran felt more comfortable with the girls than he did with Brand. They, at least, did not directly remind him of his own precarious position within the village. The sheepfarmer, by contrast, was a stout young man who had everything that Dorran lacked. His family was respected by all the townsmen. They had been in the area for countless years. Someday Brand would inherit the family farm. A lucky man, indeed, in the eyes of one whose parents had perished!

Dorran glanced up at Brand and shrugged his shoulders, "I expect they are still saying their goodbyes. They'll be here. Just wait. And the water and food are over here." Dorran pointed to a large pile of provisions that was set out in neat packets underneath the oak tree beside the stable. 'I helped get it ready last night. I think you'll find that the lord has provided everything we need."

At this moment, there was a clattering in the courtyard as the first of the women riders made their entrance.

[Naria]

Wulffham


Incana slowed her horse as she approached the town's courtyard. She dismounted and with a look of bewilderment on her face looked around for the rest of the group she was too ride with. Incana suddenly felt scared and apprehensive about what she was about to do. Thoughts of turning back and going home were entering her mind when she noticed two men eyeing her closely.

She tied her horse to one of the hitching posts and made her way over to the men. It seemed like it took this side of forever to reach them almost like she was trying to wade through a mucky bog. Incana took a deep breath and offered her hand to the first man "Hi, I am Incana" Dorran took her hand with a smile. She then turned to the other man and introduced herself to him. He too took her hand and smiled.

"Is there not supposed to be four of us on this ride? We are missing one member." Incana's mind was starting to settle and turned to what adventures lie ahead.

[Valier]

Wulfham


Vaenosa took one look back at Nay, and quickly entered the hall. She was not so sure how long Nay would stay tied to the post,He hated being tied up and usually bit through the rope quickly and wonder off.

Vaenosa took a deep breath to calm her nerves and glanced around the hall. She found the other riders already chatting with one another,which made her a little more nervous of having to introduce herself."Well I'm not getting any younger!""

Vaenosa approached the group,seeing the other woman first she held out her hand to her in greeting."Hello, My name is Vaenosa." She then turned towards the men,but she did not hold out her hand,instead she gave them a quick nod.

Vaenosa suddenly realized that the men and the woman who introduced herself as Incana,were staring at her! Thinking to herself How rude! Do I still have breakfast stuck to my face? When she suddenly realized they were not staring at her, but behind her. Vaenosa whirled around,and sure enough there was Nay. He had escaped his rope and followed Vaenosa into the Hall.

Her face turning red she rushed over to Nay."Oh you silly horse, you are not allowed in here!" She gave a weak smile to the group and led the young colt out through the front door, she would have to wait for the others out of doors.

[Tevildo]

Sensing the girl's embarassment, Dorran followed Vaenosa out into the courtyard to reassure her, "It's alright. Most of my day is spent working with horses. When a horse follows you like that, it means they're really attached to you. She's a fine animal."

Dorran ran his fingers over the horse's mane and then looked over at the girl, "Anyways, you'll need to pick out your provisions from those satchels under the oak. There's food and water in plentiful amounts. Hurry back then as soon as you load up. I have a feeling we'll be leaving shortly."


From what Dorran could tell, Brand was the oldest and most experienced of their group. Perhaps he would be the one to take charge of things. Dorran wondered whether Aldwulf would come out to wish them off or whether they were just to collect their belongings and leave without further instructions. Now that his goodbye to Criede had been said, he was eager to be on the road. The sun was climbing into the sky: it would do them no good to waste precious time, not when there were orcs hot on their trail intending to attack every village in sight.

[Maeggaladiel]

Bregoware


Fionn kicked his horse into a trot, seeing the two riders who had arrived before him. He was late. Very unprofessional, he repremanded himself.

It was his mother's fault, he thought glumly. She had seen fit to go through the bag he was taking with him at least twice, making sure "he hadn't forgotten anythin' important." And then of course his baby brother started bawling when he learned that Fionn was going away, and then his mother started to go teary-eyed, and his father had given him the same lecture on using a bow and taking care of him self that he had given him at least twice that morning, and he thought they'd NEVER let him get out the door...

He slid off the horse's back and walked towards his fellow riders.

"Hallo," he said. "Am I the last to arrive?"

[Farael]

“Meghan it is then, you can call me Osmod if you’d like. My friends call me Ossë but I would not expect you to call me that just yet” answered Osmod “as of the other riders… well,” -“Am I the last to arrive?”- Osmod was interrupted –“There we have one” he finished.

He was glad to escape that woman’s scrutiny even if for a minute as he greeted the newly arrived man. She seemed to be measuring him even as he addressed Fionn. Osmod politely introduced Meghan, yet he was not sure she appreciated that gesture. “Women,” he thought "I will never understand them. Yet I better be nice to this one, whether I like it or not we will be riding and camping together until we make it to the Golden Hall. We will make it to the golden hall”.

The March-Warden joined them, bringing the horse Meghan would ride on. Soon they were talking merrily about their horses, a topic no-one from Rohan or Bregoware would object. Yet the shadows loomed outside their little town and even more prominently in their hearts. They all feared for those they loved and wondered for maybe the hundredth time if they would ever see them again.

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa was completely surprised to see one of the male riders following her outside to the court yard.She once again tied Nay to the post, and turned to the rider who was trying to comfort her with kind words."My horse young sir,she said with distain, is male!" And I am sure I would have found the food and water without your help!" She said with a snarl.

With that said she turned her back to the man, grabbed for Nay's rope and headed quickly towards the stock pile. Stupid Man...thinks I need comforting over a silly horse, I need no help, from no man! The start of her day was turning from terrible to wretched. She knew she would have to converse with these so called Men,and the thought made her stomach turn. She was not sure what she should take so,she thought she would wait here either for the March warden or the woman Incana.

[Tevildo]

Wulfham

With a curt nod at Vaenosa, Dorran stepped back, "I am sorry, young miss. I meant you no harm. The road will be long and hard, and I thought if might be helpful to offer a hand in friendship before we start. But if you prefer otherwise, I will keep my distance."

With a shake of his head, Dorran wandered back inside the great hall, where the others were still waiting. This morning was not going well. His hopes of kindling a friendship with one of the young girls appeared to have hit a wall. He yearned greatly for Aldwulf to appear or for Brand to give the word that they would be setting out. He had not even left the courtyard, and already he was missing his sister Criede. She was feisty and spirited but not so hot tempered as Vaenosa. Impatiently, he stalked the hall, waiting for the word that it was time to leave.

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

Fion, she thought, had seen about as many years as she had. She nodded at him as Osmod introduced her. ‘Welcome to our little band.’

The arrival of the last rider broke off any further conversation. The last rider, Eostre, had come. Meghan and the others watched as she dismounted and joined them.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

An exhausted expression coating Eostre's face in a vague shadow, hardly even the whinnies and clatters indicating the nearness of horses stirred her from an almost blank existance. She wanted to sleep, and even liberally splashing her face with cold water hadn't removed the mental desire to shirk away. The task didn't scare her. It was simply the fade of adreneline.

In a few hours, I shall be more than awake enough for my own well-being, the woman reminded herself before guiding her dark horse to where all the other riders gathered.

She shivered. It was a cool morning, whispering of mild threats and distaste. Dismounting off of her ride, she steeled herself. Already having received a series of lectures, tearful farewells, and embraces, all she wanted to do by this point was just fit in. Scanning the others—it seemed she was the final arrival—they all looked so much younger in the morning light.

Fire always made expressions seem that much more intense, but now it was too strong of an awareness. They were all barely adults in some ways, yet fully grown in others. This would test that to the limits, she feared. Or perhaps more she didn't fear.

That could have been more dangerous than terror. Quickly tying her mount to a nearby pole, she raised her right hand in salute before moving towards the other riders. "Hail. Am I the final arrival, then?"

[Arry]

Wulfham

Departing three days prior to the Riders of Bregoware . . .


‘They’re all here, Aldwulf! Best you get them sent on their way while the day is fresh.’ The March-warden’s wife handed him his leather vest and motioned to where she’d put his newly cleaned boots. ‘Out of those old slippers now, husband mine. There is business to be done.’

Aldwulf groaned as he settled himself on the bench by where the boots stood. ‘Woman, these days are getting harder on my old bones with each passing year. Come help me get these blasted boots on. It wouldn’t do if I hobbled out in my woolen socks to send the riders off!’

-----

Brand fidgeted as he stood with the others waiting for Aldwulf. His thoughts were on his little herd. Had his sisters’ husbands already penned them in with theirs; would they remember to take his remedies kit for them? Old Aegan, the bellwether, had a festering ear needed seeing to.

Thinking of the injured sheep prompted him to check the leather pack he’d brought with him. Yes, there it was, his box of salves and bandages. He grinned as his fingers drew out a small leathern roll, tied with cord. Brand only had to lift it near his nose to smell the twists of dried herbs his mother had put in it for the riders’ use.

-----

Aldwulf strode out to the little area where the four stood – Brand, Dorran, Vaenosa, and Incana. He thanked them for their willingness to do this service for their village, promising that he would see to the safety of their families while they were away. Since none of them had ever traveled to Edoras, Aldwulf gave them what he hoped would be clear and easily remembered instruction. They were to travel south along the Great River until they had cleared the Downs. Then, make for the west, the direction of the setting sun, across the grassy plains, he told them, until they came to the Entwash. ‘The Starkhorn should be slightly downriver from your line of sight. You can ford at the Entwade. If you’ve arrived too far down river, where you can see a smaller stream, the Snowbourn, running out of the trees on the other side of the Entwash, just work your way north until you come to the ford. Then ride for the Starkhorn on your left. Edoras lies at the foot of it and the Snowbourn empties from it.’ A few more words were spoken privately to each rider by Aldwulf, as he came down and clapped them one by one on the shoulders.

-----

Brand secured his pack and the leather bags he’d filled with food and other of the supplies Aldwulf had left out for them. Since they were riding down river for a while, he took four waterskins – two filled and two as extra that might be used when a source of water might be more scarce. His sword he secured to his saddle before him to one side, as well as his oaken cudgel to the other. He mounted up, as had the others, and raised his hand in farewell to the march-warden.

‘Some one of you should take the lead once we leave the village,’ he said, as they urged their mounts toward the high wooden gate. ‘I’ll take the rear and watch out for us from behind for today.’

He watched as they passed the gate and spread out into a line, turning south. The position at the back of the group was a familiar one for him as a shepherd, though he reminded himself it could well be more than the odd hungry animal they might face. He must keep eyes and ears alert.

[Valier]

Wulfham


Immediately when the group left Vaenosa pulled Nay into the front.She was not in the mood to chit-chat and wanted to take awhile with just her, Nay and the road ahead.She leaned down and whispered to Nay that he could go as fast as he wanted. She used this command regularily and to Nay it meant to run his heart out.

Off he went with a quick snort, the wind rushing through his mane and Vaenosa's hair streaming behind her. Running was sort of a release for her, nothing to think about but the moment. Vaenosa was feeling really tense and need the release. When she looked back the group was barely visible,She smiled.

She pulled back on the reins and slowed Nay to a walk, his sides heaving from the quick sprint. She looked behind once more then, leaned her forehead on Nay's neck and led him plod his own way.

[Tevildo]

Dorran pulled his horse aside to get out of the way of Vaenosa's horse who had begun racing down the trail. His own steed was going forward at a steady trot. He watched as Vaenosa disappeared around a bend in the road, totally lost to the view of the rest of the party.

Dorran shook his head in keen disapproval. Horses were the one thing he really knew. Most of his day was spent caring for the mounts in Aldwulf's stable. However swift and sturdy a horse might be, the animal could be severely strained by letting him gallop flat out without first giving him a long warm up. But that was not the only reason that Vaenosa should not be racing ahead of the rest of the riders. Dorran could not see her horse anymore; for all he knew Vaenosa was so far ahead that they would not even hear her cries if she got in trouble.

Dorran pulled back his mount to ride alongside Brand and spoke in an angry tone, "What does she think she's doing? We've been told there are Orc parties loose in these parts. The worst thing we can do is to split up. Anything could be lurking in these bushes. Maybe Vaenosa knows nothing about Orcs and their ways, but I certainly do. I wouldn't want to face an Orc or two without a comrade by my side."

Dorran scowled and looked away. He had perhaps said too much. But he felt that something must be said before they got in worse trouble.

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘What does she think she’s doing?’ Brand repeated the question Dorran had asked with a half exasperated sigh. He shaded his eyes with his hand straining to see where Vaenosa had gone. Only the dust settling along the ground was left in her wake. He bit back the urge to say she probably hadn’t thought at all; she was after all . . . female.

‘Look, Dorran, I agree with you . . . she might not know anything of Orcs and how they act. Let’s pick up our speed a little and see if we can catch up to her. At least be in sight of her.’ He kicked his heels lightly against his mount’s flanks. ‘And aside from Orcs, we have a long, long way to travel. We must keep our horses healthy, uninjured. It would slow us down no end to have to ride double because someone had been foolish.’

‘Incana!’ he called out to the woman who was a little ways ahead of them. ‘We need to catch up to Vaenosa. She’s too far ahead. It’s not safe.’

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana was in shock! Why would she take off like that without the protection of our men. She wheeled her horse around and rode over to Brand's side. "I will go to her and see why she left us." Incana said with a timid smile. She gave her horse a quick squeeze with her thighs and they were off. It didn't take Incana to much riding to find Vaenosa for she was right around the bend. Vaenosa had brought her horse to a walk and Incana was able to have her horse walk beside.

Incana plucked up some courage and asked Vaenosa "Why did you speed off like that? Surely you know that these lands are no longer safe."

[Farael]

At last the four young riders were ready to go. Eostre was the last to arrive, and shortly after they were all packed and ready. The March-Warden excused himself for a minute and came back with two letters. The first was meant for the King’s eyes only (although Horwald acknowledged that a counsellor would most likely read it before it was mentioned to Theoden King). The second, more vital to the rider’s needs, was a letter addressed to Sabert, son of Eafwyn the raft keeper. It would ensure a fast and free crossing of the river. It was a long way to where Sabert and his people worked the rafts, so with a few good-luck wishes, the March Warden sent them off “to adventure, venture and a safe ride back home”. Then they rode, away from the town and the people that had watched them grow since they were all but babies.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Osmod waited patiently for the March Warden to be done speaking. Then, without looking back, he set off with the other riders. They rode without a specific order and soon they were shuffling back and forth as they talked to each other. At least three of them did, as Osmod stayed just slightly further ahead than the rest. He was not avoiding them and would answer if someone adressed him, yet he did not feel to eager to talk just yet. They were strangers after all.

Almost right after leaving the small town he had started feeling that familiar tickling in the palm of his hands, the knowledge that lots of campfires and moonlit dinners awaited. Yet he forced himself to stay focused on their mission. If it was up to him, they’d ride in big circle for days on end, just to enjoy the wild life. The lives of those he loved might very well depend on his mission, so he swore to himself he would not sway from it.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

As the four riders’ had disappeared behind the hill, and the couple of well-wishers’ and onlookers’ had turned back towards their homes to continue packing their belongings, the March-warden turned around, and said to the village-elders’ standing around him. “All right. The dice is rolled, let us hope, it will turn out be a winning throw. Now let’s get inside, we have lots of planning to do, and I quess there’s something to eat there too.”

He took a couple of steps towards the Village Hall before realizing, that the old counsellor Hugebryth was still staring at the direction the company of riders’ had disappeared. “Dear Hugebryth, let us indoors. We don’t exactly have time or reason to become too emotionol with this right now”, said the March-warden wryly, and turned again towards the Hall. He was tense, and not quite controlling his voice, or manners'. The overall mood of the village had stuck to it's leaders' too.

Hugebryth’s voice was calm and quiet as he turned after the others, only half addressing his words to them. But everyone heard and understood. They understood them just only too well. “We sure have rolled four dices’ this morning. Sad, that we may never come to know, which numbers they turned out to be, or what would have been the sum, they would had to have added up to win...”

The March-warden almost stopped, but immediately continued inside, without looking back. “Too emotional, not seeing the way of reason here...”, Hugebryth murmured to himself, this time quite intentionally keeping his voice low. But the sigh he made, was loud and clear for everyone to hear.

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

It had taken a number of walks down the line of horses the March-warden had picked that she might choose from. Too tall, many of them. She would have to pack a step stool to saddle the beasts or to mount. Too broad in the back most of them. Just looking at those made the muscles in her calves ache. ‘I’ll be bow-legged if I have to ride to The Golden Hall on you!’ she told one chestnut mare, who eyed her haughtily in return.

At long last, it was the March-warden’s wife who solved her dilemma. A small woman, much as Meghan, she came leading a young mare up to her. ‘I saw you eyeing those great beasts,’ she laughed. ‘And them eyeing you back as if you were some pesky fly to be flicked off with a swish of their tails.’ She brought the horse forward and laid the reins in Meghan’s hand. ‘Tis one of my mounts. Ash, I’ve named her. As you can see she’s a chestnut beneath but it looks as if someone scooped out the sooty ashes from their hearth and poured them over her back. Good spirit, she has. And can outrace the wind if she wishes.’ She ran her hand down the side of the mare’s neck. ‘Just keep a firm hand on her; let her know who’s riding whom!’

‘I’ll bring her back safe to you,’ Meghan called out to her as the group began to move out. Ash snorted and shook her mane, almost as if laughing. ‘Quiet, you big grass eater!’ Meghan whispered to the mare, leaning down along her neck. ‘And don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking – that it’ll be you bringing me home safe.’

From the little rise on which the village and much of its surrounding lands were perched, the great river could just barely be seen. It shimmered under the bright morning’s sun, like a broad, silvery ribbon. The group was moving at a comfortable pace, comfortable enough for talk. Meghan urged her mare forward a bit, pulling up beside Eostre.

‘Eostre . . . yes?’ The two rode in easy silence for a few moments after brief greetings were exchanged. Meghan nodded up to where Osmod rode at the head of the group. ‘Think he’ll take the lead every day?’ It was a guileless enough question, though the accompanying grin belied its innocence.

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa was about to head back towards the small group of strangers behind her, when she suddenly heard someone approaching from bahind her. She lifted her head off Nay's neck to see the other woman Incana, pulling up beside her. She inquired as to why Vaenosa had sped off and didn't she know these lands were no longer safe. Of course she knew, she was no imbicile! She was planning on turning back and she had not gone that far.The odacity of this woman!

Vaenosa gave a slight sneer to the woman. "Of couse M'Lady' She pulled sharply on Nay's reins, making him stop. She slid gracefully off his back ans said "So shall we wait here for our heroic Men? Who would save us if trouble arose?" She said with a sarcastic tone. :I PROMISE I will not leave the group again Fair maiden!"

She turned her back on Incana. Vaenosa rolled her eyes, while leading Nay off to the side of the road.Searching through a bag at Nay's side, she extracted a canteen filled with water. She tipped her head way back looking towards the heavens,and drank deeply from it with her eyes closed, so she could avoid looking at the woman.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana was taken aback by Vaenosa's attitude, for Incana had never encountered a woman to be so brash. Incana brought her horse to a stop as well and got off. "I am sorry if I have offended you. I was merely trying to show concern for you and warn you of the dangers." But please do not address me as M'lady or Fair Maiden for I am not above you and need no graciousness."

Incana walked over to her saddle pack and looked for her water skin. She immediately froze. She could not find it anywhere. Oh my! I must have left it behind when I was distracted at the well while the March Warden was making his speech.She felt embarrassed and, since neither men were with them yet, She slinked over to Vaenosa while watching her drink thought to herself, I will ask her for a sip when she is done.

While waiting, Incana scanned the area for Dorran and Brand but they were no where in sight. Mumbling to herself, I hope nothing has happened to them. Thinking about the two men made Incana realize what Vaenosa had said about them. Incana waited for Vaenosa to take a breath from her drink and asked, "Why are you so cold hearted towards these men? They would after all be able to fight off a wild creature alone than one of us alone, would you not agree?"

[Tevildo]

Dorran had responded to Brand's suggestion by urging his animal forward, letting Brinn take the bit in his mouth and cantering speedily down the trail. After several more moments had gone by, he was rewarded with his first sight of Incana and Vaenosa. The two had drawn up by the side of the road and seemed to be having sharp words with each other. From the look on Incana's face, Dorran guessed that the young woman had not found Vaenosa any easier to deal with than he himself had earlier that morning.

Dorran drew up his mount and then shook his head in dismay. Someone like Vaenosa could do a great deal of damage to their small band. At some point on this journey, their lives could well depend on their ability to trust each other. Brand did not mind having the two women come along, especially since they were strong riders. But he could not accept the fact that one of them seemed wholly intent on showing just how nasty and self centered she could be. How had this young woman ever managed to survive in a farm family, where a premium was placed on cooperation and the willingness to set aside personal feelings for the overall good of the household? How and why had Aldwulf ever agreed to let Vaenosa come along? Had he been totally unaware of her shortcomings?

Watch it now, he sternly reminded himself. He had never been the type of servant to go questioning the decisions that Lord Aldwulf made. Better watch his tongue or he would end up doing as much damage as Vaenosa. Dorran sincerely wished he were older and stronger. He might try and discipline the girl for her churlish behavior. But as the youngest of the party, an outsider whose family background was clouded in shadow, he certainly lacked the clout or standing to do anything as presumptious as that.

Glancing over his shoulder at Brand, and wagging one thumb in Vaenosa's direction, Dorran commented with a straight face, "This one defintely seems to be high spirited. I had a run-in with her this morning myself."

[Eowyn Skywalker]

The barest hint of a cynical laugh touched Eostre's expression as she spared a glance over at the rider who had pulled up beside her. Of course it would have been one of the girls, the other female in their party. She had never greatly appreciated the company of girls, finding them so often limp minded and weak at heart, no matter how hard they made themselves out to look.

Reining in her horse just a hint to match the speed of the other woman... Meghan, was it? "Aye, that would be the name." She watched up ahead as golden sunlight parched the land of icy tones and bathed it in what seemed such innocent brilliance.

How wrong the sunlight could be, she realized with a smile, though humorless it was. "Meghan, was it not? Simply here to talk?"

She heard the patter of hooves from the other riders surrounding them, what seemed like unnatural hearing brushing it against her mind's eye for a moment and making her wonder what the outcome of this almost desperate mission would be. Death? Lingering in crimson for long moments as a shadow loomed overhead... would no one get through? Here, at this stage, there seemed so little urgency resting over the group, no desperation to complete the mission.

Things would change. What awaited? Nights of campfires and hastily decided watches? Or a frantic dash for their lives?

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘High spirited!’ Brand grinned at Dorran and shook his head. ‘What a kind thing to say! You work with Lord Aldwulf’s horses , don’t you? When I think of “high spirited”, I think of horses, filled with energy, to the point where there just about bursting from their skins, they’re so full of it. But it’s a good way to be . . . for a horse, that is.’ He looked appraisingly at Vaenosa. ‘No, she appears to me, at least, to be more like a large, sharp pointed burr beneath the saddle blanket. Irritating, maddening at times. And dangerous if she continues to be so prickly.’

He eyed the young man riding next to him, taking his measure. ‘There are only four of us, Dorran. We’ve never ridden this far together or in such dangerous times. We’ve got to be able to depend on each other, watch out for each other, and help each other as we can. There’s no room for someone who might put us in danger through foolish, self-willed choices. I’ll talk to her when I have the chance.’

Brand looked up at the sun, shining weakly in the hazy sky. It was warm enough now, he thought. But the night would grow cold out in the open. As the sun moved toward mid-day, he knew they would be nearing a small wooded area near the river. He asked Dorran if he knew of it. ‘We should stop there for our noon meal, gather a little wood for a small fire tonight. I’ve not been much farther than that down the river. I don’t know what sort of place we’ll find for our evening camp. Whether the land will be barren, or other stands of trees afford us some place to shelter.’ Brand frowned for a moment. ‘I suppose we ought to be watching out for any Orc sign, too. Avoid them if we can. Hmmm . . . I think that means, too, that a fire might be altogether out of the question if we suspect they might be near.’

With a restless gesture, Brand rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘I wish, now, I’d brought my dog, Patch. Could always depend on his eyes and ears and nose to warn of danger to the woolies.’ He smiled at the thought of Patch trying to herd this little flock in a safe direction. ‘As my Gran says, though, wishing don’t make it so. We’ll just have to be wary, won’t we Dorran. And pull together to finish the task the village has set us.’

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

‘Simply here to talk?’ The woman’s words were scarcely welcoming, nor was the cynical glance with which she’d greeted Meghan.

‘Nay. Simply a passing comment,’ she returned, reining back her mount. ‘I’ll trouble you no longer.’ Meghan bit back the rest of her thought – that the woman preferred her own nettlesome company over any other, it seemed. Well, what was it to her. Naught! She was not here to make new friends. Only to see the charge the March-warden had laid on them seen through. It would be a good thing, Meghan reminded herself, to keep that foremost in her mind.

Meghan fell back a good number of paces behind Eostre. She shifted on the saddle, easing herself into a more comfortable position. She wondered if Osmod, at the lead, would call a halt for a midday meal, or would they ride on ‘til evening? Either way would be fine for her. Her waterskin was close at hand, and at her belt hung a pouch her brother’s wife had filled for her. Strips of dried, smoked goat meat, some hard-baked journey bread, and good sized slices of dried apple from the summer harvest would see her through.

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Rædwald

It was late morning, the four riders would already be well on their way from the village. Meghan’s brother, Leof, had come earlier in the morning to ask a favor of Rædwald. Since Leof had his family and his mother to look after, would Rædwald follow after Meghan and keep an eye on her for him. After a short consideration, the older man had said he would do this, for a promise from the younger man. And so they met for one last word together before Rædwald left.

‘Now, Leof,’ Rædwald said, motioning for Meghan’s brother to follow after him. ‘I’ve milked the nannies and penned them in with hay in the rick. The two billys are in there, too. And I’ve given them all a measure of oats.’ He pointed to the small pen where his little flock now stood jostling each other for positions near the fence, vying for his attentions. ‘Now over there,’ he went on, pointing toward the little shed that served as his barn. ‘There under the tarps is the hay you can take with your own. Some of it’s loose; got most of it tied into sheaves. And in my hut are three oaken barrels of oats. Take them, too.’

He reached down and gave his oldest nanny a scratch between her ears. ‘I’ll see you in a couple turns of the moon, old girl.’ His hand came up to the back of his neck and he rubbed it slowly. ‘Now you remember, Leof, what I told you.’ He raised his hand to cut off Leof’s protest. ‘Nay, I mean it. You must make that promise to me, or I cannot take this task on for you.’

Rædwald saw Meghan’s brother to the edge of his little holding. The man had made his promise, and Rædwald knew his goats would be safe, whether or not he made it back to them. He pushed what clothes he thought he’d need in his old leather pack; rolled up a bedroll; stuffed some dried fruits and meats into leather packets, and filled several skins with water from the well.

He got down on his hands and knees and looked beneath his single bed. It was dark, and he got back up to fetch a candle stub. There they were – his helm, crusted with dirt and some straw where it looked as if a mouse had nested in it; his mail shirt, a bit rusted here and there; the thick leather vest that went beneath it, nibbled on, he noted. And there, rolled up against the wall his oaken lance, the tip of it having fallen victim to the same rust as had his shirt.

Rædwald gave them all a cursory cleaning, then stuffed the helm, vest, and mail shirt into a canvas sack. He secured everything to his dun mare. Giving his little holding one last look about, he mounted up and moved at a tempered pace out of the village. If they met no problems along the way this day, then he would come upon them in the evening as they camped.

[piosenniel]

Nogrod’s post


Sythric was tending a dying fire in the middle of the northern wilderness, when he heard the distant horns in the still air. The three young lads and the girl were sleeping a good nights’ sleep, and the horses were taking their well earned rest just a few feet away. He knew immediately, what the horns meant. All the things he had seen and recollected from other ranging peoples’ depictions during the last year, or year and a half, pointed to one direction only: a large scale orc raiding party would be up on their village one day or another, this autumn or winter, pillaging and plundering. Now it seemed to have come to happen.

He got so excited, that he almost bruised the lads, kicking and shaking them out of their happy dreamworld. One of them was his own son, Hunlaf, 12-year old kid, who still sucked his thumb while asleep. The other two lads were the youngest sons of his brother, Swithulf: Waermund and Waerferth (16 & 15 respectively), and the girl, indeed a handsome young lady, was his brothers’ still unmarried daughter Winflaed (17). He urged them to get up and on the road. There was alarm at Bregoware, an alarm that hadn’t sounded during the decades the Bregowarians remembered. It was time to ride, and ride fast. They rode south, towards the town, and Sythric pressed them forwards as if all the hounds of Mordor would have been on their heels. The youngsters started to sharpen, got alarmed, all senses open. It was a ride in a deep night and darkness the young had never encountered – or were never taught how to cope with. They would remember it for the rest of their lives.

Some time after the daybreak they reached the outskirts of Bregoware. They had not been as fast as Sythric would have hoped for, but they hadn’t been as slow as he had feared. The young had been quite good indeed. He should have to praise them to his brother someday. At the small hill, north of the town centre, he told his young companions to reach homewards, and bid them tell his wife and brother, that he would be accompanying them soon enough. Then he rode down to the Town Hall.

The March-warden was having a council with the city elders, when Sythric entered the Hall. They all fell silent at his arrival. Before they had time to open their mouths in a greeting, Sythric got straight into the business – as was to be expected from him: “So, an orc party, much larger than a normal one, now coming to pillage for real, not just probing, isn’t it? Today or tomorrow?”

“That’s correct, and sadly, at the same time incorrect, master Sythric,” said the March-warden slowly. Sythric had never quite catched the idea, why March-warden preferred to call him ‘master’. There was something playful or humorous in that honorific, but was it all? “It’s just much worse. A greater party, yes. Orcs, yes. But also easterlings. And not a raiding party... but a full army. We have already called for evacuation at noon.” The March-warden made a rhetorical pause to let his word sink in, deep down to the bottom of it all. Sythric felt his blood thrusting with such velocity through his rusting veins that he thought he could not cope with it for long. In the following silence he almost heard his own heart thumping, with ever increasing speed. So, it did come to this, he thought to himself, my skills were never needed here when I had them, and now, when they would be needed, I don’t have them anymore. I’ve defended many villages and run against many enemies, but never have I defended my own town, my own people. Now I am not able, not more than the other old battle-rags around here: some council, the last defense perhaps... His solitary thoughts were distracted by ever more urgent whispering by the council members. They were talking about him. He knew it.

“Master Sythric”, began the March-warden, as their discussion had settled. “Would you serve your town in a time of distress, in an errand both urgent and most crucial to our destiny?” Hearing the unexpected pledge in the middle of his self-depressing thoughts, Sythric only nodded slightly, and kind of wondered, whether this man was really asking, would he do something for the town, or was it again some rhetorical nicety. The March-warden started explaining the events of the night, but when he got into the riding party and those involved in it, old counselor Hugebryth cut in, a very cynical tone in his soft voice: “It probably was pure madness to send just four riders for an errand of that importance at times like these. But what should we say about the wisdom of choosing two boys and two girls whose experience can be compared to that of the kids? Would you send your son Sythric, or would you go yourself? What should we have decided last night? Let me say, reason can not be seen dwelling here, under the roof of this very hall. They sure can ride, and some of them probably can hunt or fend off foxes from their goat herds. But have they ever even seen an orc, or an easterling warrior in full armour, not to talk of confronting one, or ten? And even if they would make it to the Golden Hall, could they get an audience, or would anyone believe them, or even take them seriously? Just asking, old and tired man as I am...”

So, this is it, no use in real war, but ready to be sacrificed with a quest, that only a fool would hope to have an effect on anything, thought Sythric by himself. Aloud he said: “If it is the wish of the council, that I should trace and join them on this errand, so be it. You don’t have to ask, whether I’m willing to help my town. You know the answer. And if this is the way you see fit, then this is the road I will take. But first I must see to my family and my brother to arrange evacuation affairs. And because I have practically been riding since yesterday morning, both I and my horse need some rest. I could be off late afternoon and if I ride without pause, I should reach them early tomorrow morning. Is that all right with the council, or should I try to hasten?”.

“We are most grateful to you, master Sythric. Is there anything you would need on your quest, any gear you would like to upgrade? You are welcome to claim them from my armoury, ... or kitchen”, said the March-warden. “My spear is not in shape it used to be, and one could always do with some extra arrows. Otherwise, I do prefer my own equipment. Some dried meat would be useful, my share of our own would then go to my children and my brothers’ children. It may be a tuff journey for you all too.” Sythric answered. The March-warden called for the armourer to see these items to Sythric’s old farmhouse before noon.

As Sythric was taking his leave, the old counselor Hugebryth rose up from his chair and called him to wait. He took a couple of short steps towards Sythric and addressed him, looking straight into his eyes, kind of evaluating him as he spoke: “We all know you are a good man, and we also know that as a mentor for many of our young riders, you love and care for them deeply. Just remember, that this message to the King, no matter how slim are the chances that it will affect anything in the end, is the single most important thing on your journey. It’s more important than the lives of any one of those youngsters, and remember also this: your being alive is the best insurance we have for the message reaching its destination. Don’t try to be a hero of your conscience, be the hero of your people.” He took a step backwards and mumbled quietly, as to himself, even the words were at least half directed to Sythric: “If this would be done my way, you would have ten spearman riding with you – maybe we wouldn’t even need you then, other than just taking the youngsters safely back.”

Sythric bowed and exited the hall. He rode to his old farmhouse and ordered the farmhand to see to his horse. Then he negotiated evacuation-matters with his brother. His wife and children would of course go with his brother’s family, and with all the rest from Skara. It was just a question of some special items he would like to be taken with for him, if possible, and such matters. As he then told her wife about this new twist of his fate, they suddenly embraced, even hesitantly kissed each other. That hadn’t happen in years. There was a little shining tear in his eye, when he hugged his children, and demanded Hunlaf to defend his little sister, Cwen (9) in all circumstances, and her mom too. It was his duty as the oldest man in his family.

Then he started to gather his war gear in silence. No one said a word. The children were watching their father collecting and packing items slowly, but with precision of a life long experience. Hunlaf took Cwen by the hand, and they wept quietly together, without tears, just moist eyes gleaming ever brighter. Neither dared to look at each other. Ceolflaed turned her back to the room and just stared out of the window. Her shoulders were trembling weakly. Sythric tried to force a smile to his children when he was finished, but couldn’t. Slowly he bent himself down to meet his childrens’ eyelevel, looked them both in the eyes, took a strong grasp from both of their shoulders, and pressed them softly but firmly. “There will be a better world, one day there will be. You shall see it”, he almost whispered. He rose up and got out of the hall to the barnhouse to get some sleep.

In the dim light of the barn attic, laying on the hays, his tears flew openly. He was tired, frustrated, kind of offended, angry, and most of all, afraid of the fate of his children, his brother and his children, even of his wife. When he fell asleep at last, he was seeing images of burnt houses, screaming children and marauding orcs, fire and blood. And riding, all the riding... Things that had really happened, and things he hoped, never would.

As Sythric woke up, it was late afternoon. His horse was brushed and fed and looked quite lively again. March-wardens’ promised gear had been delivered to the door of the old farmhouse. Everything was quiet and empty. There was no one at sight: just birds singing their songs and the sound of the grasshoppers filling the air. Suddenly he saw a glimmer at the doorsteps of the old farmhouse. He took a closer look and found out, that it was a small wristband, made out of little pieces of glass. It was the band of Cwen, made by Sythric himself, when Cwen had her fifth birthday. He held it in his hand for a while, just staring at it and then slipped it carefully into his beltsack. He packed the rest of his gear, saddled his horse and rode out, into the empty fields.

[Valier]

Wulfham

"I agree Incana, those men are stronger than us and yes, we need them, but for conversation Men are not who I seek." She gave the woman a weak smile that belied her emotions that overwhelmed her insides. Her face blanched and her eyes focused on something and nothing in particular. Her mother was screaming and her father's sword was clashing against another. She froze when she rounded the corner Her mother was tied up and her father now lay on the floor bleeding. The man that was bent over his body slowly stood up and faced her. She screamed....... Vaenosa shook her head and her eyes refocused to see Incana still by her side and the Men approaching quickly from behind.


Frowning Vaenosa lept atop Nay, pulling him back on the road towards the men."There is a wooded area up ahead. I think it would be a good place to stop for awhile. It should be safe, it's fairly hidden off the road. I have been there before." Vaenosa paused slightly to see if they would respond and in what manner. She slowly turned Nay down the road at a slow pace, so as to not go far ahead.

Vaenosa had had very little contact with men since her father died. She had been afraid of them for a long time, now that fear had turned to distrust and hatred. But the other woman was someone who she slightly admired, not many would approach her when she was in a foul mood, which was quite often. It made her smile to herself slightly, dispite all efforts against it.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn shifted in his saddle, uncomfortable with the long silence. Osmod had taken the lead early in their journey and seemed preoccupied with watching the road. He himself had taken up the rear, and the two women seemed to be distancing themeselves equally between them.

Would it always be like this? Riding in single-file, staring at nothing but endless plains and the backs of people's heads? He sighed.

The horse's hooves hit the ground at regular intervals, adding to the monotony with a dull drumbeat. Leather saddles creaked and squeaked as the animals moved, bridles jingled, and Fionn's quiver of arrows thumped against his back in time to the horse's footsteps. Otherwise, though, the plain was silent.

Fionn couldn't stand it anymore.

"How much ground do you think we shall cover today?" he called.

[Farael]

In spite of their need to make haste, the group had left their village only two hours before noon. It was not time for lunch yet, but Osmod had gotten himself ahead of the group to scout for possible places to stop. He was still close enough to hear Fionn say, "How much ground do you think we shall cover today?" Turning his horse around and riding towards the group he waved to his partners for a halt.

“Well friends ” he said, “It seems I took the lead, but I would not want to impose my will and judgement over yours. In a few hours we should stop and grab a bite, maybe let the horses rest as well. Our mission is indeed urgent but we need to spend our energy wisely, it will not do to push ourselves harder than what we can manage. I would suggest we keep a steady pace until mid-day, then take a break and ride again until sundown. We will need to set up a camp and then rest until the following morning. I would advise we get going at sunrise so that we get to the rafts and cross the river by noon to-morrow.”

Smiling and trying to look more confident than what he really felt, he looked at all of them, silently inquiring what they thought. He spent an extra second looking into Eostre's eyes, as something seemed to be bothering her. “I hope I am doing the right thing” he thought, with a sudden pang of fear. “I have never lead a group of people in situations such as this. What am I supposed to do if they outright scorn me?” He still looked relaxed, but his horse feeling his master’s distress shifted his weight slightly and bumped Meghan’s horse. With an embarrassed look Osmod mumbled an apology as he waited to hear what the other’s thought.

[Arry]

Wulfham

Vaenosa led the way to the wooded area. She kept the group at a fair pace, but held back enough that the four had at least some semblance of riding together. Brand continued to ride at the back, his eyes taking note of the area along the way. For the most part, the ground was rocky soil, and seemed undisturbed by the passage of animal or man or other.

Clumps of low growing bushes grew here and there with the occasional shrubby tree. He had heard that in the long gone days this area had been heavily forested, a green and rolling land. There had been no stories he recalled from his parents or those gatherings at the Lord’s hall which explained it fully and Brand wondered what it was that had happened or who had caused it.

The small, forested area must be a remnant of that long gone forest, he thought as they drew near it and rode under the bare trees. Most of their leaves had already fallen, though a few still bore a few, sere remnants that rattled dryly in the little breeze from off the river.

Dorran volunteered to set up for the midday meal while the others gathered wood for their evening camp. Brand hauled out the coil of slender rope he’d packed and asked that the two women come with him.

The trio had been at their task for a good while - gathering the smaller branches, breaking them into arm lengths and binding them into bundles that could be secured to the horses. At one point, Brand drew near where Vaenosa was working and keeping himself at a distance still from her, he began to speak.

‘I’d ask a favor of you, Vaenosa. In this task the March-warden has set us, I’d like to keep my place at the back of the group as we ride. Shepherd as I am, that’s the place I think my skills can best be used. You’re a good rider, as you’ve shown this first day out. If you’ll set the pace, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for any unusual signs in the areas we pass through that might bode ill for us.’

He turned back to the bundle of wood he’d gathered and crouching down, began to bind it at either end. ‘Oh, and as we must all depend on one another to get through this journey safely,’ he spoke low, almost as an after thought. ‘We should try to stay in sight of each other. Should we be attacked from the rear, I would like to know you would be near enough to ride back and give me aid.’

Brand stood, flexing his back to work the soreness from it. He picked up several of the bundles he’d bound and balanced them on his shoulders. His stomach rumbled loudly, protesting its lack of food. ‘I sure hope Dorran’s dug deep and found us something good to eat. And tea,’ he said his steps taking him in the direction of their small camp. ‘It would be nice to have something hot to drink. The day grows colder . . .’

[Tevildo]

Dorran had managed to get a small fire lit and had pushed two long sticks into the ground, each with a Y-shaped prong at the end; a crosspiece was propped up between them. A small pot with boiling water hung down from the crosspiece. Dorran knelt beside the pot and set a small bag of herbs inside of it, watching it bubble merrily. Unlike some of the other young men he knew, Dorran had always enjoyed cooking. Learning to cook had been a necessity with both his parents gone and needing to care for his younger sister, epecially after their elderly kinswoman had first passed on.

A spot of hot herbal brew would do well at this point, he reflected, as he watched the steam rise from the pot and poured himeself a cup. The weather seemed to be a bit nippier than it had earlier that morning, or perhaps it was only the fact that a cloud or two blocked out the rays of the sun. Dorran was having a harder time finding anything to fix for the meal. He'd stalked around the campsite but could find no evidence of birds or small game nesting anywhere nearby. The absence of such wildlife was mildly upsetting. Usually, you could find such creatures hidden away in thick thatched grass that grew near the edge of a bushy thicket like this. But the ground here was too barren and rocky. He'd found one poor squirrel hiding in a hollow wooden log, but didn't have the heart to kill the only animal in sight, especially when it looked so puny.

In the end he stumbled upon a damp plot of land adjacent to a spring, a plot no bigger than a few feet across, where mushrooms grew in thick clumps. He harvested these and brought them back to make into a simple stew. He was not much on mushrooms, and all of the group still had other food in their packets that Aldwulf had given them. But it was probably wise to try and stretch the provisions they had by gathering things from the bounty of the land or hunting down small animals. They really had no idea how long it would take to reach Edoras, and it was best to be careful. His sister had given him so many biscuits in his satchel that he set these out on a plate to offer to the others. He thought there might be some berries nearby and hoped that someone had managed to find some. He went about his business and wondered when the others would be back in camp so they could sit down and eat.

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

‘Sounds a fair enough plan to me,’ said Meghan, urging her mount a few steps away from Osmod’s, giving his horse room to move about. She looked at the man curiously. There was a sense of unease about him, as if he were unsure of himself. Now isn’t that interesting, she thought. Her first thoughts about the rich man’s son were that he would most likely be overbearing, eager to gather what glory there might be to himself, make all decisions according to his whims. She pursed her lips, considering she might have been hasty in her judgment of him.

Fionn pulled up alongside Meghan. His horse was a spirited one and pranced about in a circle as his rider tried to rein him in. Meghan nodded to him, moving her horse again lest she be mashed between the two men’s mounts.

‘So, how about we get moving on,’ Meghan called out as she kicked Ash lightly in the flanks and set her moving westward. ‘We can talk more about our plans for when we’re across the river while were filling our bellies.’ She shrugged her shoulders, shaking off a feeling of apprehension. ‘I’ve never been across the river. Never saw the need to. Have any of you?’

[Eowyn Skywalker]

The words swirled around her, it seemed, lost to her ears and yet not to her mind. Eostre forced herself to focus on what was being said, distrusting of the people around her (for what would one expect of a woman unmarried by choice?). Osmond's eyes seemed to linger on hers for a far longer length of time than the other riders, though his words were hardly directed to anyone in particular.

"...Our mission is indeed urgent but we need to spend our energy wisely, it will not do to push ourselves harder than what we can manage... I would advise we get going at sunrise so that we get to the rafts and cross the river by noon tomorrow..."

Waiting until the other girl had finalized her reply, Eostre spoke up in a vaguely tired tone. "It would, yes, be better if we were off far earlier in the morrow. Time is of essence, but I doubt any of our group wishes to die of exhaustion rather than the sword." An ignominous fate that would be, she thought to herself. But what had left the other girl to abandon conversation that fast? Was she untrusted by more than just their leader as his lingering eye contact seemed to suggest?

"I crossed the river once before," she said in response to Meghan's remark. "But it was a few years back now. 'Tisn't hard, if that's what you fear."

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Rædwald

Líss walked along at a fair pace, but one that would not be hurried. She cared not that the man who rode her often nudged her with his heels, nor that he clucked at her with his tongue to get her to move faster. She came to a full stop, in fact, at one point, and swung round her head to give him a baleful look. Shaking her mane, she snorted, then stomped a fore hoof as if in comment on his irksome attempts. Her tale twitched in agitation, stinging him slightly as it slapped hard against his thighs. He noted though she was not vexed as yet to the point of turning round to nip him on the leg. Preceding that action would be the laying back of her ears and the drawing back of her great lips from those big teeth. Nay, he thought to himself, we have not got to that impasse yet.

‘Go on, then you great beast,’ he spoke to her, in an as authoritative a tone as he dared. ‘Set your own pace, you mis-named hunk of horseflesh. And I hope as when the Orcs and other beasties come near, you might be so gracious as to pick up your speed a bit then.’ Rædwald kicked at her flanks again, and was rewarded with a resumption of forward movement.

‘What was I thinking when I named you ‘Líss’,’ he spoke aloud. ‘You are no more gracious, sweet, kind, or peaceful than is a prickly, sticker bush.’ Líss nodded her head up and down as if to agree. ‘Your mother now . . . she was sweet as honey, and fast as a quick west wind.’ He leaned over and patted the horse on the neck. ‘And she had good manners, mind you, and always listened to what I wanted.’ The dun mare snorted at the listing of her mother’s attributes.

‘Ah, well . . . at least let’s try to get to their campsite before the fires gone out and the hot water for tea gone cold.’ He flicked the reins lightly, all the while speaking in his most encouraging voice. ‘There’ll be a measure of oats in your nosebag, my sweet, if we get there then.’

The pace picked up, if only a little, at the mention of oats. Rædwald drew his cloak closer about him. The brightness of the sun in the clear sky was belied by the chill autumn breezes.

[Farael]

They rode in an uncomfortable silence for the best part of an hour, until Fionn who had ran ahead to find a good place to stop came back with news that there was a small forest less than five minutes away. It might have been a forest a long time ago, yet this place had been cleared for the most part and not very recently. Moss grew on the withering stubs of what may have been great trees generations before. Osmod wondered absentmindedly if the rafts they were going to take had consumed this forest. It was not a pleasant thought but rafts were necessary, even more so for his quest.

They found a comfortable place, nearing the woods and yet with a few stubs they could sit on. The horses were unsaddled and set free to find some food for themselves, while the riders discussed their plans.

“I am concerned about Miss Eostre’s last comment. I did not think that making for the rafts before noon tomorrow would be much haste, but I’m not used to ride with other people’s company. Maybe you are not used to the same pace I am. I think we should all have a say on the pace of our group, we will do what ever most of us want to. Once that is settled maybe we could collect some wood for our meal. Soon it might be too dangerous to light a fire, but I think we are still safe enough.”

Having said that, Osmod grabbed a short branch that was laying nearby and drew a small pattern on the ground as the others considered their response. Whether the drawing was a name, a rune or a picture the riders could not tell. As the silence seemed to go on, Osmod looked up at them, finally making up his mind.

“Perhaps I am not the right person to lead us all. Miss Eostre, you seem to believe you know better while I doubt myself. I could not expect others to trust me when I have not the experience of being a leader. Maybe you should lead us.”

[Valier]

Wulfham


Vaenosa finished tying the last bundle of wood to take with them on their trip, she would wait till the last possible time to put them on Nay's back. He hated things on him for too long, which could be a problem on their journey.

Brand asked her if she would care to ride up front, and slyly hinted that she should stay with the group. Vaenosa was one who could not pass at the chance to pick fun of men so she said coyly and quietly. " Oh but good gentleman, that is how I would prefer it, me up front or rather...up wind.... from any foul wafting. I understand my sprint gave you all a fright, but I assure you I know what I'm doing. Piling the bundles in her arms she turned her back and walked away.

She pluncked the bundles not far away, but she did not head to the fire and the warm tea just yet. She had been here before and thought she was pretty close to a spot where there might still be berries clinging to the branches. She headed down a small rock path that lead to a slightly misshapen tree, left and just through a large earth overhang ,there was a large thorny bush of wild berries. Vaenosa pulled out her riding gloves from her belt, these would come in handy with those pesky thorns.

Vaenosa literally emerged from the bush half an hour later, with scratches to prove it. She had a broad smile upon her face, she had folded her tunic to cradle the heavy load she had produced. These berries were still fairly plump and juicy, the birds had not dared to venture that far into the thorny lair. She made her way back down the path that led to the small circle of people and horses.

She strode into the camp and made her way to Dorran. "Mistress Dorran, could you possibly find some use for these?" As she tipped her tunic slightly to show the young man the berries. "I will put them here" she said after reaching up and pulling a few leaves from a tree, she motioned towards a patch of grass, where she laid the leaves with the berries cradled on top.

All of a sudden she heard a squeal from where the horses were, wheeling around she saw Nay nipping one of the other horses, a female in the haunches chasing her around a nearby tree." Nay! you insufferable lout leave that Mare alone!" She started head long for her horse when she nearly ran right into Incana who was running to save her horse from the rambunctious colt.

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan

‘Well, none of us seem like the right person,’ Meghan spoke up before Eostre had time to answer. ‘We’re farmers and herders. What do we know about going off on some dangerous errand for the march-warden?!’ She bit off a piece of the dried apple slice she’d been eating and chewed on it thoughtfully.

‘What’s that you’ve drawn in the dirt, Osmod? Some kind of map?’ She looked at it, her brow wrinkling. ‘See, now I wouldn’t make a good leader for this at all. As I said I’ve never been to the other side of the river. I know we’ll be heading west at some point to get to the King’s Hall. But “west” - where? Do we go farther south, down the river first?’

Meghan walked round the little drawing, then paused and looked toward the wide expanse of the river. ‘I like the idea of each of us having a say in things . . . but, there should be some one, don’t you think who decides which things to pay heed to and which can be discarded. Keeps us heading in the right direction.’ She scratched her head and gave the others a half smile. ‘Look, Osmod, you seem to have done fine by us so far. And didn’t the march-warden give you the letters to carry? Why don’t you just carry on in the lead? We’ll help out as we can with suggestions and such. Won’t that work out?’

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

At first, Sythric rode through familiar grounds: there was Dunlaf’s manor, Grotting’s farm was there. He felt an eerie feeling, looking at these places with no living soul at sight. His head was filled with memories of almost everyone whose places he rode by. Young Dunlaf, for instance, had been his friend, until been taken to the March-warden’s guard as a junior trainée, at the age of fifteen. Sythric’s bitterness had been so deep (and Dunlaf’s prideful grin so arrogant), he decided never to talk to him again. That promise of a 14-year old, had kept all these years that had passed: he had never talked to Dunlaf again. Now where was he? Was his family safe? Why had they not talked this over during past years? Sythric’s mood was not getting any better with all these memories passing his head as he rode.

When even the farthest bregowarian dwellings were left behind, he fell into that half-dream – half-reality, that most of the riders fall in, during a long ride. His daydreams began to appear again, in front of his half-open eyes. Before long, he fell to the images of his last battle, about two years ago.

They had been rushing in with highest possible speed to make the maximum impact. There was the thrust his right arm could still remember. The tip of his spear had gone straight through the first orc’s upper chest, coming out immediately from its back, bursting blood all around. The orc had yelled in a high-pitched voice. The cry had mixed with the howls of other orcs and men, with the clash of armour, and the thunder rising from the charging horses. He had tried to wrench the spear free from the orc’s trembling body as his horse kept on pushing forwards. But another orc was reaching out for him, with speed, its’ spear aimed. Sythric had to let his spear go. He barely had time to draw his sword; duck, and swing the sword towards the onrushing one.

He never knew, which one of them had hit first. But there he was, dropped from his horse, his back and left shoulder aching so much he was crying out. The fast approaching figure of the orc got him immediately back to reality. His hands were empty and he saw no weapon around. The orc lifted its blade to finish him off. It was just a leap away from him. Sythric ducked desperately towards the orc’s legs. Just as he got hold of them, something hit his right side with a terrible force. He had had no time to acknowledge the pain this time. He felt the orc falling, while the orc’s iron boot hit his cheek like a bull’s bounce.

Fortunately, he had been the quicker to raise his head and managed to reach for the orc’s sword he saw laying beside them. As soon as he got a grip of the sword, he felt the orc’s fingers around his neck from behind. Desperately he swang the orc-sword, hitting back somewhere to just hit. He had been lucky enough, for the orc’s grip loosenend. He crawled to his knees as fast as he could, the sword in his hand. The orc was trying to rise up just beside him, its’ side bleeding from a fresh open wound. Before the orc had time to come to grips with the situation, he put all his remainig strength into the swing, and the orc fell flat on the ground, its head partly severed.

Coming slowly back to his senses on the saddle, Sythric remembered, that at that very moment, Aethulf had saved his life, running over a third orc that had had been coming on him from behind. It had been a close one. The horse almost run him over while Aethulf was charging it upon the orc, and the orc’s sword went on its way, spiralling in the air, just a feet away from his chest. He was all smeared in blood, only partly his own. There were dead bodies all around, and the wailing of the dying pierced the ear. And he was aching more than he thought he could bear.

Where was brave Aethulf now? Or Hríma who was allways laughing?

Sythric was fully awake now. He began remembering the overall situation. It had been a straight assault: they had rode through the hastily gathered lines of an small orc-party, just 16 orcs, but still it had turned on to a nightmare. They were 11 riders, many among the best fighters around here, but there were one dead, poor Baduth, and six badly wounded – himself included (he couldn’t ride for three months after the skirmish). The small band of orcs had really made a fight! Now there are four youngsters there, trying to make their journey through lands that could hide similar threats. I should hurry, I really should hurry! But simultaneously, he clearly acknowledged, that his hurrying might not be much of a help anyhow...

Just before the sunset, Sythric reached the lowest peaks of Emyn Baël. He took carefully to seeing the landscape. Straight to south-west, there was something that looked like a party of riders. After making some calculations, and remembering the March-warden telling him about the route he had instructed them to take, he felt somewhat assured, that this was the party he would try to join with. They seemed to be several hours in front of him. After walking Thydrë - his dear friend for already some time now - to a small nearby spring, he sat himself down, and carved some dried lamb and bread to eat, with sips of riding-cool wine to accompany them. Was this a breakfast, a lunch or a dinner? It was kind of like being in the Hird again, eating when hungry, resting when tired. No regular habits or timetables. Do what you have to do, when you have to do it.

The last rays of the setting sun made the plains glow that reddish-orange colour that had always caught him. The light and the colour were tense, bright and dark at the same time. There was something almost sublimely beautiful in it, but at the same time, it was kind of spreading out some dark secrets over the land, of a kind, we humans would never understand.

[Maeggaladiel]

"I agree with Meghan," Fionn said, digging half-heartedly through his pack for something that looked semi-appetizing. "If the march-warden gave the papers to you, well, I'd say that makes you the leader."

Sighing, he pulled out a biscuit he had saved from breakfast. It was just going to go stale if he left it. He took a bite and turned his attention to Osmod's drawing. He chewed thoughtfully.

"I'm curious, too," he said, nodding towards Meghan, who had just asked about it. "What's that you're drawing?"

[Eowyn Skywalker]

A hiss of air escaped between Eostre's teeth. Was Meghan always going to be so persistantly willing to step in to speak for everyone, or was that just a personality defect? But she resisted the urge to speak up in frustration, letting the conversation carry on around her as she considered both the proposition and the desire to get so frustrated...

No.

"Master Osmond," she finally said, her voice hardly betraying the hint of frustration she felt at being interrupted before she could even open her mouth to speak, "you were given the papers. In essence, that makes you our leader. It does not mean you have to lead, if you feel uncomfortable doing so, whatwith us being mere farmers." She couldn't help it. The sarcastic cynicism cut into her voice, vaguely mocking Meghan. "We appear to have a remarkably diverse group. Though you be the most important member of our party, if you feel uncomfortable in the lead, we could take turns. I would, if you'd rather it." And if it'll avoid my having to communicate with those appearing to be naive.

The speech had been a long one from her, but she had been cut off both attempts to speak. Why not actually speak a fairly long segement?

Digging around in her pack, she produced an apple left from breakfast, and bit into it thoughtfully.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan

Meghan could feel the color rising from her neck, burning upward until it flamed along her cheeks. She could not help but catch the sarcastic cynicism which mocked her earlier words as Eostre spoke the last of her answer to Osmod . . .

‘ . . . what with us being mere farmers.’

She heard not a word more as her blood pounded in her ears. For a moment, Meghan considered simply turning her horse about and heading back to the village. But what would that serve? The entire village would think her a selfish coward no doubt and she wanted no repercussions falling on her family.

So she had no choice but to continue on. She would however minimize her involvement with the others. It would be easier that way, she reasoned. Speak when spoken to; do as told; try not to offend. Though she thought that last might be difficult, since her very presence seemed to be an irritant. How she longed for the genial company of her goats and her dog; the open places in which she pastured them, without a single other human nearby.

Pull it together she chided herself. With the King’s aid, your little herd and your family will be kept safe from the Orcs and the Eastern-men. She took a deep breath willing the heated color to leave her face. Finish the task given you. You’re not here to make friends, Meghan . . . you’re here only to ride and see the village’s message delivered to the King.

She stepped back quietly, letting Eostre and Osmod make their decisions.

[Arry]

Wulfham



The mid-day meal is had . . .

From where he stood at the edge of the small clearing where they were to have their midday meal, Brand heard Vaenosa’s cutting comment to Dorran. The woman was bent on making it as hard as it might be for the two men in the group to feel any sort of camaraderie with her. Perhaps it would just be best to ignore her outbursts, he sighed. It had done no good to speak with her he felt.

He strode quickly to where Dorran stood with his jaws clenched, the muscles in them pulsing in irritation. Brand put a restraining hand on the young man’s arm, drawing him aside. ‘Can you leave it be for now, Dorran?’ he asked. ‘Keep the peace and let us get through this meal quickly. I’d like to be as far down the river as we can go today.’

A quick meal of stewed mushrooms, some way-bread the march-warden’s wife had made, a handful of last of autumn’s berries – all washed down with a cup or two of hot herbed tea. Then, Brand called for them to load up their ponies with the wood they’d gathered.

----------

A place to camp for the night is found . . .

This time, he led the way on Lady, with Dorran following and Vaenosa and Incana to be on the watch in the rear as they rode along. It was nearly sunset when they reached a place that satisfied him for a night camp. The river was on their left, less than a hundred paces away, as they approached the level, dirt clearing. To their right were rolling, brown grassed hills, and lowlying rocky outcroppings scattered here and there in the grassy fields. Ahead of them was a grouping of willows, their roots creeping down the river’s edge, their dried, brown leaves rattling in the chill evening wind.

‘We’ll set up camp there,’ Brand said, as the others drew up to him. ‘The trees will block most of the wind if we camp near them. And we can get fresh water to fill our waterskins from the river. Dorran, can you set up camp and get a fire going for us. The big rucksack on my horse has dried meats in it, I think, and some barley. If you dig deep enough, you might even find something extra from the Lord's goodwife. In the metal can with the tight lid, you’ll find a little salt. See what you can conjure up for us.’

He nodded to Vaenosa and Incana. ‘Take the waterskins and fill them, all of them. That way we’ll have naught to do tomorrow morning but load up the horses and be off. I’ll set some small traps over there in the grasses, and near those rocks. We’ll see if we can have some fresh meat for breakfast.’

The sun was just a finger’s width above the horizon as they hurried to see their tasks done . . .

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn picked at his biscuit uncomfortably. Friction seemed to be growing between Meghan and Eostre, and Fionn didn't want to be involved. He bent his head over his meal, as though it had suddenly become an incredibly interesting work of culinary art. Guh. It was an incredibly DRY work of culinary art. He coughed, accidentally inhaling a crumb.

He stood quickly, brushing his hands against the legs of his breeches. His waterskin was half-full, and he drank deeply. After the offending crumb had dissappeared, he weighed the skin in his hand.

"Well," he began uncomfortably. "Since that problem seems to have resolved itself, I'll go refill our water supply, shall I?"

[Tevildo]

As soon as Brand gave orders to set up camp and prepare the evening meal, Dorran went to work on the fire pit. He lay down a handful of dry pine needles to act as tinder, then an armful of thin twigs, and finished off with two good sized logs that he'd cut down with his hatchet. That should keep the fire burning well into the night, he reasoned. A fire was important not only for keeping them warm and cooking their food, but the flames could help scare away animals who might be lurking in the bushes. It was unlikely that they would have problems like these, since they were still so close to home. But, just to be sure, Dorran set two long branches on the ground beside the firepit that could be used as makeshift torches.

Dorran then turned his attention to clearing a space for their bedrolls. He gathered armfuls of pine needless to create a more comfortable place to sleep and cleared away a few rocks littering the ground. He made sure to put the womens' sleeping quarters protectively close to the fire on the northern side of the pit, while he and Brand would settle down on the opposite ourtskirts of the enclosure, some distance away. He simply did not feel comfortable sleeping right next to two attractive young women, and he knew from experience that his sister preferred her privacy at night.

He wasn't sure if the prickly Vaenosa would object to this sleeping arrangement, since it assumed that the men would be guarding the outside perimeter of the camp. If Vaenosa wanted to prove how tough she was, she was welcome to move her bedroll further away from the fire, as long as it wasn't anywhere close to where he was sleeping. He was doing everything he could to concentrate on his work and not think about what had happened earlier in the day. The men and women in Aldwulf's household were always extraordinarily well behaved. He had never had to contend with this kind of rudeness before. It had taken all his self control and Brand's supportive words for him not to lash back at the girl. He had simply let her run away and kept his thoughts to himself. Dorran would also have like to get to know Incana better, but with Vaenosa hanging about, he was extremely reluctant to take that chance.

In any case, he wished that Brand had not asked him to make the evening meal. After enduring the woman's taunting remark, he didn't want to put himself in that situation again where he was likely to get more teasing. But an order is an order, especially when they were off in the woods like this. Dorran began to get out the food and do what he could to prepare the evening meal.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana and her horse walked into their new camp. She dismounted and removed the reins from around the horse's muzzle, then took the riding blanket and packs off too. Incana then bent down to examine the bite that Nay had left. It had begun to fester, she wondered if any of Brand's salves would work the same on a horse as they as they did on a human.
She was a beautiful mare, one that had given birth to a foal a year earlier. Incana could tell that it was quite hard for Starlight to leave her yearling and reasurred the mare whenever possible. Incana's father did not like separating mother from baby but Starlight was one of the best horses for travel that they owned. She was a Waler breed with long black socks, a short black cropped mane and her coat was a coarse grey-beige; making her a Roan colour. She was stout in stature but made up for her short comings in strength, perserverance and loyalty. Still worried about the bite, Incana gave Starlight a quick slap on her rump and the horse was free to roam where she pleased.

Incana thought that this location would be just fine and couldn't wait for Dorran to complete dinner. She was very hungry and her tummy rumblings were proof of that. She thought back on lunch and remembered that she hadn't eaten very much of Dorran's fungi 'stew'. Incana loved mushrooms but without seasonings or much else in the meal, it proved to be quite unfulfilling to Incana. Dorran had a bit more provisions to work with this time and Incana was sure it would be a much better feed. Clearly, she has some things to get used to living in the outdoors.

Incana was about to ask Dorran if he needed any help when she heard Brand ask the two women if they could fill up the waterskins. Since she had begun to feel a bit useless she jumped at the opportunity and grabbed three of the five skins that were there. Wondering, why are there only five and not six skins. She felt her cheeks grow warm as she remembered why.
The water skins were a fair size and thoughts of lugging them back full of water was not something that Incana was looking forward too. Incana started off to the river and looked back to see if Vaenosa would comply with Brand's request.

The banks of the river had shown errosion where the water level had been higher in the spring and summer months. She would have to watch her footing if not to get swept away. Incana walked up and down looking for a good spot to fetch the water and found a small well used path leading down to the river's edge. These are definately deer tracks she thought to herself. Incana thought aloud, "I shall ask Brand when I go back to camp if we should try and take down one of these animals." She put two of the three skins down next to her and began letting the water drain into the one she held.
A breeze swept across the river and Incana had a sudden realization of how cold it was going to be during the night and was glad to have seen her bedroll close to the fire.

[Arry]

Wulfham


Settling in for the night . . .

‘There!’ he murmured to himself, laying the last of his loop snares along the faint path he’d made out where animals in the area had made their way down to the river. ‘With any luck a thirsty hare will be needing a drink tonight!’ The thought of fresh meat roasting over the fire set his belly grumbling fiercely. It had been a long time since the last meal.

Brand hurried back to the campsite. It was dark, now; the sun had gone down below the rim of the world. He glanced up at the night sky, looking at the patterns of the stars. The Swordsman of the Sky was rising above the western horizon and there to the north and high in the inky dome hung The Great Dipper. Its bowl had been leaning more and more toward the lands below, heralding a wet change in the weather as the last of autumn slid into early winter.

He could see the fire Dorran had made ahead in the distance. And over it hung several pots – one full of hot water infused with the herbs Dorran had used that afternoon; another bubbling away with a savory mixture of barley and dried meat. Brand rubbed his hands together in anticipation of a hot meal and drink before bed.

‘I’ve set the snare traps,’ he said, cradling the warm wooden bowl in his hands as they sat round the fire eating and drinking. ‘There’s an animal pathway that runs down to the river and looks to be used recently. With any luck we’ll have some nice fresh meat to break our fast in the morning.’ He finished up the last of the simple stew and cleaned out his bowl with a handful of dried grasses. ‘One more cup of your hot tea, Dorran and then I’m off to bed. And the rest of you should go, too. I’ll help with the meal clean up. Incana and Vaenosa can you see to the horses? Get them under what little shelter there is among the trees and make sure they’re loosely tethered. We don’t want them running off in the night.

The pots and bowls were soon cleaned and stowed away; the fire was banked so that it would burn low through the night. The water skins were stacked near their gear. ‘Just one last thing, Dorran,’ Brand said as he stuffed their food supplies into a large leather bag. Find some rope, won’t you, and we’ll hang this high in a tree and a ways from our camp. I didn’t see any tracks of bigger animals about . . . but I don’t want one sniffing around us as we sleep, looking for an easy meal.’

‘Ladies!’ he called out to the two women who were blanketing the horses and giving them a measure of oats. ‘Which of you is a good fisherman?’ he asked. ‘I was hoping one or better the two of you might see to getting us a few fish with the early morning rise. And Dorran, I’d be more than glad at a hand with the traps I’ve laid.’ He grinned, his eyes glittering in the firelight. ‘By one means or another we should have some kind of meat for the morning . . .’

[Farael]

By the time Fionn was back from the river, things seemed to have settled down at the camp. Meghan and Eostre were not talking to each other, but then no one was talking at all. Osmod seemed preoccupied with his drawing and looked up, startled, when Fionn returned his water skin. Standing up slowly, as if he were very tired, Osmod said that they should get going, seemingly to no one. He could hear the beginning of a reply somewhere to his side but he went on, feeling more confident as he decided on a plan. There might be times in which they would be forced to spend days without lighting a fire for warmth or food, he reasoned. He did not want to light two fires this side of the river, it would not do to alert anyone of their quest so soon, yet he was willing to light a fire that night. The smoke would be harder to see from the distance and it would keep them warm if the weather got colder. The others seemed to agree with, or at least accept, his reasoning and so the group packed their belongings and set off yet again.

Each of the riders was lost in their own thoughts and there was very little they wanted to share with the others. Osmod was the first to take the lead, riding ahead of the group to scout for unexpected inconveniences. Not only orcs could slow them down, he figured, but a pack of wolves could be just as disrupting. In any case, by the time he rejoined the group nothing had happened. He suggested Eostre for second lead and so she went ahead, her horse seemingly as proud as herself. When she met up with the rest, Fionn volunteered for the next lead. The sun was close to the horizon and so Osmod asked Fionn to look for a place to rest for the night as well. It was not long after when Fionn waved to them from afar. He was at the edge of yet another small forest. They had passed by many of those small islands of trees in an otherwise barren landscape. During spring, green blades of grass might have been seen all the way to the horizon, but as fall wore on and winter got closer, everything seemed dull, even dead.

As soon as they got off their horses, Osmod started detailing the tasks for the night. The water skins needed to be refilled and the horses had to be looked after. They would need to set up watches during the night and be sure to have an early breakfast the following morning. “Breakfast is good,” interrupted Eostre “but we have not had dinner yet and all those things can wait until we have eaten. And don’t forget the fire you promised us tonight.” Osmod flinched. While he had not forgotten dinner, he thought they could all have some of their dried meat and biscuits as they had had for lunch while doing other tasks. Soon he realized that both Meghan and Fionn agreed with Eostre, even if not her tone of voice. With a sigh he shook his head “Of course I have not forgotten Miss Eostre, but with time pressing on I had other plans. Yet you are right, we better save our dried food for times in which we can’t find fresh food.”

At Osmod’s request, Fionn stayed behind and prepared a fire with pine cones and branches he could find nearby. He’d be in charge of looking after the soon-to-be camp and the horses while the others were gone. Osmod slung his bow over one shoulder and his quiver over the other, then he smiled at the women. “I don’t know what we may find, but I’d like to be sure I can get it for dinner. Let’s all stay together; it will not do loosing one of us now that night is nearing.” Then, after Meghan and Eostre were ready, the group set off into the woods, hoping to find something good for their meal.

[Naria]

Wulfham


As Incana had thought the waterskins were indeed heavy and took away what energy she had built up since lunch. She was looking forward to the meal that Dorran had conjured up when Brand asked the two women if they would settle the horses for the night. There was very little enthusiasm this time, but she obliged his request.

Incana could not see Venosa or Nay so assumed that they were together somewhere. The men's horses were nibbling on some tree leaves, but where was Starlight? Incana thought that it would be a good idea to get the men's horses out of the trees before looking for hers. She approached the two with caution, not knowing what to expect from them, humming a tender tune that her uncle had taught her. The horses answered her approach with a low nicker, she ran her hands down the sides of both horses urging them to follow her. They followed her out towards the camp and tied them to separate trees. Once she had fed and watered them her mind quickly began racing as to where Starlight had vanished. Incana did not want to venture to far away from the light of the fire, for by now the sky had darkened too much for her to see. She wouldn't have minded if one of the men would have assisted her in her search, but looking back at the fire she didn't want to disturb them.

Incana walked away from the tied horses and into the dark. Fear immediately took her and she began to have waves of shiver. "Damn woman! Stop this nonsense you need to find your friend," She said out loud trying to find courage. She squinted her eyes into the night hoping that this would help her see better. Incana took a few more steps and stopped dead in her tracks she heard some howling in the distance and thoughts of going back to camp were entering her mind. Her heart was pounding in her ears which sounded a lot like hoofbeats, then she heard it. A loud whinny. Incana whistled sharply for Starlight to come to her. Her horse drew near and it was a reunion of sorts; Starlight gave Incana a rough nudge with her muzzle and Incana hugged the mare around her neck. The two made there way to camp and she tied and bedded her horse for the night.

After all of that Incana felt that she was deserving of some hot tea and some good food. She approached the men and gave them both a nod. "I am done with what you have asked, Brand." She took a bowl of stew and a cup of tea and sat down beside the fire to eat.
Once Incana had finished her dinner she was ready for sleep. She got up and dusted herself off, she had taken her first step towards her bedroll when she had remembered the deer tracks. She hadn't really spoken to either of them very much, so making a suggestion was unnerving to her. She stood beside Brand and after a few moments of foot shuffling said, "I had seen some deer tracks at the river's edge earlier, and was wondering if we should try and hunt one early in the morn." While she waited for the two men to think about it she longingly stared at her bedroll.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald

The horses were unattended as he led his own up to the perimeter of the camp. Were he a brigand or an Orc or even a hungry predator, they would be run off by now and probably one or more dead or injured badly.

By the bright fire crouched a young man. Fionn – yes, that’s who he would be. The man about as old as Meghan. He could see none of the others nearby. Rædwald spoke softly to the horses, and gathering them up by their leads, brought them in toward the fire.

Stepping out of the shadows at the edge of the camp he called out to the figure at the fire. ‘Where’s Mistress Meghan, Fionn? Rædwald’s my name. Her brother’s sent me to ride with you.’ He held out the horses’ leads to Fionn. ‘Might want to tether them in a little closer for the night, eh?’

[Valier]

Wulfham

The night was beggining to deepen when Vaenosa walked Nay towards a bunch of low growing vegetation. She was looking for a certain plant, with a nasty taste that might help keep Nay away from the female horses. He was still fairly young and the female horses smelled enticing. "Ah Ha!" She exclaimed as she bend down to pull up some plants by their roots. "These should work!"

Heading back to the camp Vaenosa noticed that Incana had already tied and fed the other horses, but was nowhere to be found. Knowing well that Nay would not stand to be tied up, she decided to keep him close to her. He would have to sleep by her side tonight. She plunked herself down on her bed roll, which the men had placed beside the fire and pulled from her bag a small bowl. She took the plants and began to crush the roots and leaves with the knob of a stick. The smell began to eminate up and hit her in the face."Whoa! this stuff stinks!" Nay put his muzzle down close to the bowl and gave a snort. The stuff must have made it's way up his nose and was now making him sneeze and run around her in circles.She let out a hearty laugh that continued as she watched Nay roll around on the ground, legs in the air.By the end she was holding her sides while tears threatened to squeeze out the corner of her eyes.

She then realized she was not alone.She had momentarily forgotten the others. She straightened her tunic, gave a small hiccup, then composed herself back to the wretched woman who hated everything. She looked towards where the men were gathered and saw Incana approaching Brand after tying her own horse to a nearby tree. Incana looked towards where Vaenosa was, towards her bed roll with longing. Vaenosa smiled at her, even if she was not sure she saw. She was in a good mood after that laugh. She had felt so constrained with the men around.

Not feeling at all tired she decided she would take the first watch. If of course the Men did not mind. She rose up from where she sat and made her way towards the small group. "I wish to take the first watch for the evening. Nay will not settle down for awhile yet and I cannot tie him up like the others, escape artist that he is! I also made a salve for the other horses, if Nay won't leave them at peace. It smells real strong, but it tastes great on meat. I know where to find more, if it turns out you all like it.

Vaenosa walked back towards her sleeping roll, picked it up and moved it to a place close to the outskirts. She gave a stern look at Nay telling him to stay put, grabbed the bowl of salve and walked back to the group. "Here, I think it is called Hot root or something of the like." She said as she handed the bowl to Dorran. It should keep Nay out of things as well as keep him from nipping your horses even more. She gave Incana an appologetic smile, for the damage Nay had caused Starlight.

With that she walked back to her bedroll, sat down and placed her bow beside her with her battered quiver. She secretly pulled out her two small daggers, placing them close by. They were not good at armed combat, but it would keep anyone from sneaking up on her, she knew just how to slide a blade in between two ribs,deadly if accurate. Sitting cross legged with her back slightly to the fire, she shivered, it was going to be a cold night.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn rose and spun, taken by suprise. Blast; he hadn't been paying attention! Had this man been a bandit or an orc, he would have been dead and horseless by now. Well, at least the others hadn't been around to witness his mistake...

The boy wiped his ash-stained hand on his trousers before taking the horses' leads from the man.

"Thank you," he muttered in embarrassment. "Aye, they should probably be tethered."

He went to work, securing the animals.

"Miss Meghan is off hunting with Master Osmod and Miss Eostre," he said. "They should return shortly, I'd imagine." He cast a glance over his shoulder at the newcomer. Fionn thought he recognized him from around the village, but he wasn't certain. Well, he knew his name.

"Forgive my asking, but... Who did you say sent you?"

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Not so far away, the oblivious remainder of the party found themselves searching the foliage for food and any vegtables that may have survived the hints of frost indicating an oncoming winter. Eostre didn't believe it would be too long before snow set in, but she thought it might wait a little bit longer; perhaps til they were back from this mission.

She threw a glance at her silent companions, each and everyone of them focused enough on the idea of getting meat for supper that they for once weren't squabbling or making stupidly self-critical remarks over every possible thing that could be said and done. At least sometimes they could all get along.

A crackle in the branches: a rabbit lept from the underbrush and, in a fit of panic, bounded straight towards Meghan.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


The rabbit was down before it understood the worn leather boots before it were not simply part of the brush. Not dead . . . the arrow had pinned the doe through a hind leg. Meghan slipped the knife from her belt and grabbing the creature firmly by its ears, she slit the throat with a single cut. It bled out quickly, the back legs twitching and kicking for a moment, then going limp.

Another, smaller male rabbit had hared off in another direction. The smell of blood driving it hard away from the site of slaughter. Meghan concentrated on her own kill. She gutted it, taking care not to nick the scent glands as she removed them, and placed the unwanted remains beneath a bush. She’d set the liver aside and before it had a chance to cool, she cut the large, dark red organ into three pieces. It was still warm as she stuffed one of the pieces in her mouth. Delicious! She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.

Meghan stood up, her kill secured to her belt with a leather thong. She held out the other two pieces of liver, skewered on the tip of her knife, toward the other two. ‘Care for a piece before it’s gone cold?’

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


Leof sent me, Master Fionn. Meghan’s brother.’ Rædwald smiled, recalling his talk with Leof. ‘I believe he’s still a bit peeved that she managed to get chosen instead of him. And worse yet, of course, is the fact, she’s his little sister.’ The older man shrugged his shoulders. ‘Got a wife and babies to look after, Leof does. And so, here I am, in his stead, and to see that she makes it to and from the King’s hall safely - like a little niece that girl is to me.

Fionn had finished tethering the horses, and Rædwald gave an approving nod. ‘Better to have them closer in, as you’ve done,’ he said. ‘They’ll give alarm if anything is coming near and you’ll be able to get to them quickly should you need to.’

He unloaded his own mount and stacked his pack and weapons near his bedroll. The evening was getting cold and Rædwald was glad of the fire Fionn had built up. He drew near it and warmed his hands over the flames.

‘I’ve got some potatoes Leof sent along, over there in the burlap bag inside the canvas one,’ he said, pointing to where he’d piled his equipment. ‘They were busy packing up all the foods they could, you know – getting ready to set out. They’d just have been left for the birds and rodents to peck at.’ Rædwald retrieved a number of them and set to poking them in beneath the ashes at the base of the fire. He looked about, a frown on his face. ‘You have a little kettle somewhere? We can fill it with water and have something hot to drink by the time they get back.’ He fished about in his pack and pulled out a small pouch of dried mint leaves and rose hips. ‘Too bad we’ve no honey. I like my tea with honey. Ah well, I suppose we’ll just have to make do.’

Rædwald sat crosslegged on one of his blankets, poking the potatoes occasionally with a long stick he’d found. ‘Be interesting to see Edoras again,’ he said, keeping his eyes on the flames. ‘Never thought I would again. Served with the Riders back . . . well, a good number of years ago really. Not in the King’s own éored, of course. But still, we’ve seen some battles, my lance and I along side them.’

‘What about you, Master Fionn? You’re a young man . . . and fit enough. You ever thought of being a Rider?’

[Tevildo]

Dorran did not object when Vaenosa offered to take the first watch of the night. Nor was he surprised when the woman stubbornly moved her bedroll from the protected warmth of the fire to the far end of the encampment. Dorran had finished his dinner, assured Brand that he would help him with the traps in the morning, and then slipped inside his bedroll. Tired from the lengthy trek and the bickering that had marred much of their day, he had fallen asleep in just a few minutes.

When Dorran awoke, the camp was still and filled with shadows. The fire had burned down to a few glowing embers. He could see Brand and Incana curled up inside their bedrolls. There was no sign of Vaenosa, who was apparently still on watch, perhaps seated amid the trees and bracken that encircled their camp.

Dorran strained his ears but was surprised that he could not hear the chirping of small insects or the croaking of frogs that usually provided a pleasant backdrop to a night spent in the woods. He suddenly felt uneasy. The frogs had been lively enough when he'd first fallen asleep, and he wondered what had happened to them. He dug deep inside the blanket, pulling it over his head, and tried to will himself back to sleep. His efforts met with little success. He tossed and turned this way and that, trying to find a comfortable position.

Lying on his back, with the covers still tugged over his face, he was surprised to hear a strange sound he could not identify cut into the silence. At first, he could not be sure what it was.

Just an owl hooting! Go back to sleep. He dug his head deeper into the blanket but the sound did not go away. Instead, it became louder and more insistent as if something or someone was coming closer. Dorran sat bolt upright in his bedclothes. A chill howl rang out over the camp: a sound like a woman wailing and weeping. Again, it rang out, loud and demanding. There was no question now. Someone was out there, either a live person crying out for help or some ghastly apparition that had come to plague them.

His heart cold with fear, Dorran sprang to his feet and raced over to where Brand was sleeping. He reached out, grabbed Brand's shoulders, and shook him vigorously, "Wake up, wake up. Someone's out there in the bushes....a woman, I think. We have to help her." The eerie cries reverberated through the entire camp.

[Envinyatar]

Wulfham


Her long, thick tawny tail twitched angrily as she looked toward the intruders’ camp. The big cat (http://angeles.sierraclub.org/sage/ss-slide/images/wildcat-cougar.jpg) growled low at her year old cub and hissed, warning him back from where she crouched on the rocks west of the little forest.

The presence of the two-leggeds irritated her, and in several ways. They were camped on the trail the deer often took on their way to the river. The deer would be skittish, moreso than usual. Hunting would be poor tonight and she was hungry, as was her cub.

Beyond that was her hatred of them and their biting, slashing weapons. They had killed two of her cubs. Just two full moons ago. And for nothing more than the two addle-brained sheep she had dragged off. It was her right to trim the herds in her range. How dare the two leggeds deny her! How dare they threaten her family!

She screamed (http://www.acoustics.org/press/143rd/sound001.wav) out her anger and frustration beneath the slivered moon.

Then, her nose took in the scent of the horses . . . their fear . . . and the promise of rich, bloody meat . . .

A sleek, tawny ghost, she moved among the shadows . . . her green-gold eyes intent on her prey . . .

[Arry]

Wulfham


‘Wake up, wake up. Someone's out there in the bushes....a woman, I think. We have to help her.’

Dorran’s voice broke through the thick fog of sleep. That and the accompanying screams that tore among the trees. Brand scrambled out from his blankets and jammed his feet into his boots. ‘A woman?’

The sounds of the panicking horses grew louder. They were whinnying in fear and moving restlessly against their tethers. ‘No human that,’ he said picking up his oak cudgel.

‘Fetch your bow,’ he called to Dorran. ‘Vaenosa! Incana! To the horses with your weapons. They’re under attack!’

Brand grabbed up one of the long branches that lay by the fire and lit it, wielding it in his left hand. He and the others fanned out from each other just a little as they made their way quickly to the now screaming horses . . .

[Maeggaladiel]

"A Rider?" Fionn echoed, the corners of his mouth curving into a wry smile. "Oh, I've thought about it, to be sure. Most of the village lads have thought about it, when they were younger." He stood and stretched, and went to the party's saddlebags. He dug through their packs, looking for a kettle or something that would serve as one.

"Most've us would have done anything for a chance. But the fact is, we're farmers," he continued, as though the concept of becoming a Rider were but a silly childhood dream. "I don't weild a great lance or ride giant horse; I raise chickens." He grinned over his shoulder at the man and held up a small copper kettle.

"Found one," he said, waving the kettle. "Don't suppose the others will mind us using it; they'll be drinking from it too." He dissappeared for a moment, going down to the stream. He came back a few minutes later with the pot filled with clear water.

It had been a lie; Fionn would have jumped at the chance to join the Riders. Yes, he knew it sounded like the stereotypical young hero story. A farm boy from nowhere in particular rises to greatness in the service of his King. But it was much more appealing than the story of his life thusfar: amateur archer and lord of a vegetable garden and a bunch of brainless chickens.

Despite his apparent naiveté, Fionn knew when to keep some dreams to himself. Otherwise, they were trod upon. This was one of those dreams.

Fionn set the kettle down by the fire. The smell of cooking potatoes made his stomach growl.

"I don't think plain potatoes have ever sounded so appealing," he said with a laugh. "Although hopefully the others will have had some luck hunting, and then we'll have some meat to go with 'em." Still, he thought, some butter would be nice as well.

Fionn reclaimed his seat by the fire.

"You said you've been to Edoras?" he asked suddenly. "As a Rider? What was it like? I've never seen it."

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana had just go to dreaming in her warm bedroll; when she heard Brand's panicked voice, "Vaenosa, Incana! To the horses with your weapons they're under attack!" Fully awake at that point she heard Starlight. The mare was making a horrible snorting scream. Incana quickly jumped up and grabbed her knife that had been tucked under her bedroll. It was still dark and very little could be seen, but she heard everything including a low catlike rumble that came from the trees as she passed them to get to Starlight.

Incana reached her horse and went to untie her, but because the horse was so spooked and scared the lead that was around the tree had been tightened. Incana tried to untie the knot but to no avail. She brought her knife to the lead and began hacking at the leather straps. Incana's actions were making it worse for the mare and she started to pull back even harder and whinnying louder. Incana ignored the protesting horse and kept working at the lead. She finally had freed Starlight and held the remaining strap in her hand. Incana approached the other two horses, this time she did not take as long on their leads as she had on Starlight's. Now that she had all three nervous equins in her grasp she headed towards the dying firelight. Suddenly Incana heard another yowl from the animal in the trees; Starlight became spooked again and reared up almost bringing Incana's arm with her. The mare's hooves came down witht a thud her right front hoof grazing Incana's thigh. Incana let out a blood curdling scream of pain, she desperately wanted this night and this wretched beast in the shadows to be gone.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric

After finishing his modest meal, Sythric just sat motionless for a time, staring at the landscape and the diminishing light. As the light really started fading, he finally rose up and called Thydrë with a low whistle. She appeared from the deepening shadows, and Sythric walked to meet it half-way. After securing the packing, he patted her gently on the neck. Thydrë lowered and turned its head a bit to better meet the man’s face, watching him with her large, dark eyes.

“I’m sorry my friend. Yes, I am.”, he said with a soft voice. “And yes, I had a choice. The March-warden would have given me a rested horse from his stables, yes he would have.” Sythric sighed, and run his fingers through her mane. “But here you are with me, my friend. I couldn’t think of getting to a journey like this without you.” Thydrë shaked her head, just a little. Like she would have said, that she understood. Sythric wasn’t quite sure about this mutual understanding in this case though. “Not this night, but the next, we will both sleep well. That I’ll promise to you, if it is under my power. And before the morning, you will eat well too.” He patted her twice, and got himself into the saddle.

“Now, let’s ride swiftly to gain some rest at the early hours, before tomorrow’s ride.”

[Valier]

Wulfham

After a short while of sitting on her bedroll leaning up against Nay, Vaenosa stretched her legs out of the cross-legged position. She was getting drowsy and thought she would find somewhere less comfortable that had a better view point. She placed her daggers back in their sheaths and shouldered her bow and quiver. Grabbing Nay's reins she led him towards a large tree that overlooked the fire and the sleeping people. She left Nay to graze at the bottom while, she scrambled her way up to a large branch. She leaned her back against the bark and stretched her legs out in froint of her.

She was enjoying the brisk breeze and the darkness that crept up on the borders of their camp, when Nay began to prance nervously with his nostrels flaired and his ears back. Then came the low growl and the horses screams. Vaenosa squinted in the darkness and made out a tawny outline and the flash of feline eyes. It was a female and she was stalking the horses with the intent of eating at least one of them.

Vaenosa stealthily pulled her bow and a single arrow from her back. She quietly lined up and pulled back on the string. She would take her time, kill the animal as it crouched in the longer grass. She let out a slow prolonged breathe, she was aiming directly for the cat's head. When out of the corner of her eye she saw Dorran jump up from the sounds from the horses. He ran towards Brand, shaking him awake. Now both men were on their feet, shouting for the women to get the horses.

Vaenosa's eyes faultered from her target and she let the arrow go with a twang, it went wild, off in to the bush. Incana screamed and the cat vanished.

Thouroughly enraged with the actions of the group. She shouldered her weapons and lept to the ground, sprinting towards the camp.

"You mindless Fools!" Vaenosa screeched, red faced and out of breath. What did you think I was doing all night? brushing my hair? I saw the cat! I was just about to put an arrow through it's head, but all your screaming scared it away! Now it will be lurking in the shadows waiting for another opportunity to pounce.

We have but two choices; We cower by the fire and hope that we don't fall asleep or it sneaks up at unawares. Or we can hunt down the beast now and put an end to all this! If the cat is that hungry she may follow us a distance hoping we will stop again. Vaenosa stood chest heaving eyes blazing at the people who had ruined her shot.

[Tevildo]

"Are you mad, truly mad, to turn on a wild beast alone without even bothering to wake the rest of us?" Dorran muttered through gritted teeth. He had finally reached his breaking point, and his anger spilled over onto the woman. He stared out into the night but could neither hear or see the cat. "I do not pretend to have faced such a creature before, but I do know he is swift and ferocious and outweighs you by many stones. I don't doubt that you are a good shot, Vaenosa, but you are no professional hunter. And a creature like this has not been seen anywhere near our village in the past ten years."

"If you had hit him, but failed to strike a fatal blow, he would have turned on you or, more likely, murdered us as we slept in our bedrolls. There would have been no one to back you. You are lucky that you missed him and that he ran away."

"I am sorry," growled Dorran, "but ever since this day began your only aim has been to show us exactly how tough you are. We know you're tough and bright. Aldwulf would never have let you go on this trek had you been anything else. But our group will never reach Edoras, not one of us, unless we stop battling each other. And if we fail in our mission, many innocent people may die, struck down by these Orcs. You have never seen these creatures, but I tell you they will make mincemeat of us unless we start acting and thinking like a team. Orcs care not whether you are woman or man: they will rip your body apart and devour the flesh raw. I know. I have seen them do it."

With anger still glinting in his face, Dorran placed his hand over his eyes, rubbing away something that looked suspiciously like a tear. Then he glared down at the ground, knowing he had said and shown too much, "This creature is hungry and knows our horses are easy pickings," he continued in a calmer tone. "Surely he will be back. Will he not? So what do we do? How do we prepare? How do we take him on as a team?" He looked around the circle at the others, waiting for someone to speak. Except for the sound of the human's voices, it was deathly silent in the camp. There was no howling cat who sounded like a woman, but the usual background noise of frogs and other small night creatures was also ominously absent.

[Valier]

Wulfham


Vaenosa stood with fists clenched answered Dorran with obstinance in her voice, "Mad you say? The choice I made was not mad infact I thought that I was doing the right thing by everyone. I realized while I was in the tree top that the cat was not ready to attack and I had enough time to take a kill shot. My shouting would have given the animal more targets than just our horses. I may not be a professional hunter but I have succesfully killed my share of large prey in my journeys with Nay. With the time I felt I had before the cat sprung, I was sure my arrow would have flown true."

"Are you suggesting that I was not acting a team member? Looking back I truly believe that I was making the right move until you guys messed it up with your hollering. Now look what you have done, you've scared it off into the shadows and Incana is hurt. I will tell you this only one time, I will never take on an Orc by myself. If I did then you could call me mad."

Vaenosa glared at the two heroic men and asked "Now what shall we do, oh wise ones with one member injured and a hungry cougar on the loose. Seeming as you have messed up my hunt I will do what you wish in order to get the beast," Vaenosa said bending low with outstretched arms towards the bushes.

[Envinyatar]

Wulfham

The smell of the woman’s blood inflamed her. The cat circled around in the shadows beyond the camp. Several of the two-leggeds were speaking loudly to each other; their attention focused away from her for the moment.

The horses were in disarray. It did not take much to come sprinting up quickly in silence and frighten one enough that it pulled away from the injured women. The chestnut mare went galloping wild-eyed from camp. The cat, her ears flattened against her skull, made powerful strides to close the distance.

Her cub by this time had moved in despite his mother’s warning and crawling low along the ground began stalking the bleeding woman. Once he was in range he would make the killing leap . . .

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


‘Edoras,’ sighed Rædwald. ‘It lies at the very feet of the White Mountains. And before it spreads out the waving seas of grass, all green and lush upon which the great herds of the King’s horses run.’ He nodded, looking into the heart of the fire. ‘And when the sun shines, its rays strike the golden roof of the King’s Hall and are thrown out like a beacon of hope and glory for all to see.’ He took his stick and turned the potatoes in the hot ashes. ‘The banners of the King snap proudly in the breezes. You can hear them before you even reach the gates of the city.’ He looked at Fionn, his eyes shining with the memories of the first time he had seen the city. ‘A great pride swells up in you . . . seeing the white horse upon its field of green. You know the King is within and his authority holds sway over his lands.’

‘It’s an honorable dream, you know,’ he said softly. He kept his eyes focused on the potatoes as if they were the most important things in the world. Despite his joking attitude, the young man seemed to pay close attention to his words. ‘My family were goatherders. I, myself, have taken up that honorable profession now. ‘But in between those two points in this man’s life, there was the dream lived.’ He looked over at Fionn.

‘How old are you, lad?’ he asked, giving the young man an appraising look. ‘I had just seen my sixteenth year through when I left to ride in the ranks of the Riders. It was, as I said, not in the King’s own company. But it was in the eored of a Lord whose land abutted up against Edoras.’

‘Well, now, those days are over for me, eh? But you look a likely enough man to learn to ride and wield the lance . . .’ He gave Fionn a conspiratorial grin. 'That is, unless your chickens will not let you go!'

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘What I wish, Vaenosa,’ hissed Brand through clenched teeth, ‘is that you had never come with us.’ He was fed up with her insufferable attitude and her inability to act together with the other of her companions as a team. He was angrier with her than he had ever been at anyone else. He could not fathom someone who was so self-centered and grudging.

‘You’re a danger to us, woman. A selfish, grudging snake of a companion. I can’t trust you to have our best interests at heart. You’d as soon sink your fangs into us than act with us as a team. Your need to put yourself first, prove yourself better than any of us, makes me sick.’

The muscles at Brand’s temples pulsed with his irritation. A near blood lust had risen in him. He was done being nice to her. He had himself and the others to look out for. His eyes narrowed and glinted dangerously at her. ‘Keep your counsel to yourself, woman. I’ll have no more of your acid tongue. It cuts us as hard and deep as any foul Orc blade.’ The fingers of his right hand flexed about the handle of his sword. ‘I swear on my Father’s good name - if you act in such a manner again, I’ll have you bound hand and foot and take you back to Lord Aldwulf myself.’

As his hand dropped away from his weapon, he heard the horses begin to neigh and stamp in panic again. He turned from Vaenosa, and began running toward where Incana stood near the dying fire. One of the horses . . . no his horse! Lady! She had broken free from Incana’s grip and galloped from the camp, the big cat in close pursuit.

His first impulse was to sprint after Lady, or at least to mount one of the other horses and go after her. He had no real hope of killing the cat, but he could at least drive her away with his club or sword.

But then, he caught sight of the other cat creeping in toward Incana from the opposite side of the fire. Much as he wished to save Lady, his thoughts were now on his wounded companion.

‘Incana!’ he shouted, running quickly to get to her side. ‘Let go the horses! Another demon cat is stalking you . . . there!’

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana had had enough of the squabbling between the three riders and wanted to put an end to it. She looked over at the two men who were clearly showing anger towards Vaenosa and said, "Please try not to be so upset towards Vaenosa for surely there is something that is driving this woman to be like this. Brand I would ask you to give her another chance for as Dorran said, Lord Aldwulf would have not chosen her to take this journey if she had nothing to offer." She then spoke to Vaenosa, "If there is something that has happened to you that you would like to talk about some time, I am here for you. But in the meantime could you try to hold your tongue and keep some amount of peace between us."

Incana was feeling rather nauseous by this point and had started feeling the chills come over her. She was thinking about sitting down when Lady jerked hard and Incana lost her grip of the horse's lead. She tightened her grip of the other two horses straps in her hands and turned around to see Lady running full stride away from camp. She knew with a predator around that the horses would want to be free to defend themselves but she kept them close anyway. Incana had thought that that was what Lady had wanted but why so suddenly. She quickly got her answer out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the female. The cat had come into full view passing by the fire and the camp she was picking up speed as she went after the mare.

"Brand, Brand Lady has taken flight. The beast in the shadows is after her!" Incana wanted to get onto her horse and take after Lady but every time she moved the searing pain was a reminder of the injury she had. She turned her head to see Brand running towards her and thought that he was after his horse when she heard him scream, "Let go of the horses! Another demon cat is stalking you...there!" His arm outstretched pointing towards some long grass on the other side of the fire. Incana immediately had a feeling of panic well in her. She dropped the leads of the two horses; made a stern click with her tongue slapped both of them and watched them turn and run.

Her attention then focused on the stalking cat that wanted a quick meal. Her mind became a blurr all she could think of was to freeze and don't run. Her father had taught her this when she was a young girl. 'Incana if you find yourself in direct conflict with an animal, don't run! They will think you to be prey that they normally eat and find the chase exhilarating.' There were many other teachings that her father had given her, but right at that moment none came to Incana.

She kept her head straight at the rustling grass and only moved her eyes to watch the approaching Brand. Incana had her knife in her hand, but she wasn't sure of her strength if she could take on such a big animal. To spite her inner turmoil, she readied herself as Brand came to her side.

[Arry]

Wulfham


Brand could see that Vaenosa would soon be in position to help Incana from her dangerous predicament. The younger cat had slowed his approach, but had not given it up altogether. His eyes were still on the wounded woman and his tail twitched in anticipation of taking her as his prey.

Backing away slowly from Incana, Brand motioned for Dorran to follow. ‘Can you call back your horse?’ he asked the young man. ‘I don’t think we can get to Lady on foot.’ Brand’s expression was grim, and a certain level of panic had crept into his voice as he spoke of his horse.

Under Dorran’s soft encouragement and gentling hands, his horse returned and allowed the two men to mount. Brand could feel the nervous excitement running beneath the animal’s skin, and he was glad of Dorran’s skill in handling the frightened horse. They urged Dorran's mount to a fast pace, the horse growing increasingly nervous as they came near the cat.

Dismounting, the two pressed forward on foot. In his hand, Brand still bore the flaming brand; at his belt hung his sword. He’d managed, too, to secure his stout oaken club from his shoulder by the thick leather strap loop at its handle end.

‘Let’s follow the trampled bushes and dried grass,’ Brand said, holding the brand to throw a flickering area of light upon the dark ground. ‘She’ll run and fight as long as she can hold out . . . she’s done it once before with a wolf.’ He looked hard into the enveloping night. ‘We must hurry, Dorran . . . please. I can’t bear to think of losing her.’

[Tevildo]

Dorran raced madly forward, his bow clenched tightly in his right hand and his quiver of arrows slung over his back. The boy was smaller and lighter than Brand and managed to overtake him, keeping a short distance ahead on the path. As Brand had thought, Lady had run a considerable distance from the camp. Relentlessly sprinting forward, Dorran covered nearly half a mile when he finally heard the hideous sounds of two animals braced in mortal combat.

Dorran scrambled over a fallen log and pushed through a thicket of bramble bushes, finding himself in the middle of a small clearing with large oak trees circling about on all sides. At the far end of the glade, he could see Lady pushed back against one of the trees. The horse was rearing up on her hind legs, with her forelegs striking out against her attacker. The cat was snarling and opening her mouth wide, her eyes flaming bright with hunger and rage. Now and again, the cougar raced forward, low to the ground, and tried to pounce on Lady's flanks, while attempting to avoid the horse's sharp, flying hooves.

Both animals showed the effects of their fight. There were deep scratches on Lady's flanks and withers. The cat had suffered an even more serious blow to her left side; blood had begun to ooze out onto her tawny coat and drip down to the forest floor.

Almost instantaneously, Dorran let out a shriek to let Brand know where he was and quickly cocked an arrow to his bow. He hesitated, afraid to let it fly, because the cat and horse were so close intertwined that it was impossible to aim at the one without endangering the other. He waited until the cougar slunk backwards to avoid Lady's flailing hooves and then let his arrow loose. It sped forward straight and true towards the cat's breast, but at the last minute the animal swerved abruptly, twisting her body to the right. With a thud, the arrow struck the cat's left haunch. As stinging pain registered on her crazed mind, she turned about from Lady and, howling in madness, leapt at Dorran.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Eostre accepted the proferred piece of liver, giving it a thoughtful glance before eating the piece of warm meat. "Thank you greatly." She realized for a moment that she was surprisingly hungry; her stomach grumbled ever so slightly at the smell of the fresh meat from a newly killed rabbit. Eating the piece carefully, she wiped the blood off of her fingers on the edge of her tunic.

There was, for a moment, a hint of a grin there. "Shall we make an attempt to snare one more and keep excess for breakfast, or return to the others?"

She glanced off into the bush, listening for the potential rustle of another creature, but the fresh smell of blood kept them fairly distant, wary in the scent that could only read as death. They wouldn't snag another if they hung around too long.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana stood alone as Brand and Dorran left her to find Lady and kill the female cougar. She felt overwhelmed and scared wondering what to do about this big male hiding in front of her; she stood quietly with not a sound nor a breeze to be had in the air around her. She then heard footsteps approaching from behind and thought that one of the men had come back to help. Incana turned her head slightly to the right and saw Vaenosa come into view.

Incana had a sudden thought come to her, she had no idea if it was delerium from the pain or what was going through her head. She whispered to the other woman,"We are the same height so I don't think that the cat saw your approach. I will be the bait so we can lure him out into the open. Then you can take him out with one of your arrows." Incana nodded at Vaenosa and hoped that this other woman was as good as she had boasted. Incana took a deep breath and with a painful shreek dropped to the ground.

[Valier]

Wulfham

Everthing had now becoma a blur to Vaenosa. There were two Cats! How could she have been so stupid! She was sure there was just the female. Now images were flashing through her mind of the group being torn apart because of her lack of vocal warning. She should never have thought she could kill the cat and awaken the group, showing them her great deed. She was ashamed. She would not make a poor decision again. She was going to protect the injured woman even if it meant harm to herself.
She approached the woman from behind and as she neared Incana turned to her and whispered, "We are the same height so I don't think the cat saw your approach." She offered to be the bait, while bravely stating that Vaenosa should fell the beast with an arrow. With a shreek she dropped to the ground.

At that exact moment it was like time had slowed and Vaenosa's mind cleared. She raised her bow, swiftly readying an arrow. Then as if on cue the young male feline sprung with a snarl upon the fallen body of Incana. But Vaenosa was ready.She let the arrow fly. It hit it's mark with a sickening noise, she had pierced its eye.It was all over in the wink of an eye.The cat fell onto the body of the brave fallen maiden like a sack of heavy potatoes.
Without a second thought Vaenosa ran forward and rolled the carcass of the dead cat off of Incana. She began to panic, she was not sure if Incana was breathing. "Incana! Incana!" She screamed shaking the limp body. Then she heard a moan escape the woman's lips. Vaenosa smiled. She would be alright, as long as they tended her wounds soon.

Turning back to the cat Vaenosa took one of her daggers from its sheath. She gave the beast a swift kick in the ribs, then grabbed it by the back of it's head.She used her dagger to pry from it's jaws the fangs that could have been Incana's demise. Wiping her blade she placed it back away and tucked the fangs in her pouch that hung at her side. She turned to face the delema of what to do with the unconcious woman.

Grabbing Incana under the arms, Vaenosa tried to smoothly half drag the woman back towards the now cold fire. She propped Incana's head on her bedroll and covered her with her own. She checked the woman's breathing, then satisfied that she was just asleep, she quickly hurried to the small stream.

Vaenosa washed the blood from her slender fingers and splashed the chilling water on her face, then she cleaned the fangs letting the blood flow away from her with the current. The adrenaline was leaving her and she was beginning to be concerned with where Nay had run to. She walked back to the camp like a person who is sleeping while walking, she had not yet slept and she was almost exhasted from all the emotions that had coursed through her this day. The day seem to never end, like she was going to live these moments forever.
Incana was still as she approached. Vaenosa bent down and opened the womans fingers and placed the fangs in her palm, then closed her fingers about them. They were rightfully hers, she had sarificed herself.

Vaenosa rose, then scanned the area for her horse. She found him leaning against Starlight for comfort like he would his mother, not far from where she was. She lead them back towards the camp, while picking up wood along the way. They would need a roaring fire so the men could find their way back and Incana's wounds could be treated.

Within minutes she had a fire started and began to add larger fuel. All she could do now was heat some water and wait for the men to return. She had only rudimentary knowledge of healing. She hoped one of the men knew more than she did or, Incana could be in trouble if the wound festered. She could clean the wound and keep it covered that was the least she could do.

[Farael]

“I don’t think another rabbit will be necessary, Eostre” Osmod said as he took an arrow from his quiver and nocked it on the bowstring. He then drew the string slowly, aimed at what seemed to be an empty branch on a nearby tree and released the arrow. The arrow missed the snake that was perched on it, but hit the branch hard enough to shake it loose. Osmod grabbed the reptile after it fell to the ground and a cut close to its head finished the struggle. It was by no means a large animal, just over three feet long and two inches thick, but it would do given their need to hurry.

The group agreed to go back to the camp, they had left Fionn alone for too long and Osmod worried the fire might have brought unwanted attention. As they neared the camp, he stopped abruptly. “There are tracks of a single horse going towards the camp. I might be overreacting but I fear we have been followed. We don’t know whether it may be friend or foe, so I’d suggest we prepare for the worst. Ladies, the March Warden would have not let you join us if he thought you were not ready for fighting and I trust his judgement. Let’s approach camp with our weapons ready and our eyes open.” He drew his sword slowly and with a stern look on his face, he walked towards the light of the fire. He was not close enough to see clearly, but it seemed that Fionn was not alone.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


‘Snake!’ Meghan’s mouth was watering as they made their way back to the campsite. The rabbit would have made a mouthful each for them, just enough to take the edge off her hunger. Truth be told, she could most likely have eaten half of it herself. But a nice, fat snake! There would be enough meat to satisfy her grumbling, empty belly. And plenty yet to smoke over the coals for breakfast.

She was last in line as they walked along. Her thoughts drifted from her hungry gut to wondering how her goats were doing. Had Leof remembered to separate the two billies? The younger one already had a barely healed gash from trying to move in on her old fellow as “lord” of the herd.

They had come to a stop and Osmod was talking. His words barely registered as she worried over her problem. ‘. . . prepare for the worst.’ She nodded her head in agreement. There’d be a great deal lost if the young billy was mortally injured. She had planned on splitting her flock; she had enough nannies now, to do that. And with him at the second group’s head, there would be more babies of good stock.

‘Let’s approach camp with our weapons ready and our eyes open.’ That phrase and the slight snick of his blade as it was pulled from its sheath snapped her to full attention. Meghan drew close behind Osmod and followed him into camp. Her bow was at the ready should it be needed against the intruder.

She peeked around Osmod as they entered the camp’s perimeter. How odd, she thought. ‘If he is a danger to us, why does he sit so comfortably by the fire, tending it with a stick?’ she thought to herself.

The man turned his head for a moment as if speaking to someone on the other side of the fire. In the darkness her blood rushed to her cheeks in surprise and in anger.

‘Son of a three-horned ram! I can’t believe Leof would do such a low, stupid thing!’

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn was about to reply to Raedwald, but an angry voice cut him off abrubtly.

"Son of a three-horned ram! I can’t believe Leof would do such a low, stupid thing!" Startled, Fionn turned and saw Meghan, Osmod and Eostre approaching the camp. Meghan did not look overly pleased to see the newcomer.

Of course. Now it was TWICE that Fionn had been left alone, only to be taken by suprise. Luckily these past two times it had been friends who approached him, not enemies. A dark smile crossed his face. It was a good thing he was nothing but Fion of Bregoware, son of a farmer. He'd be the worst Rider that Rohan had ever known.

"Welcome back," Fionn said to the others. "We have company." He grinned. "He brought potatoes, and he showed up faster than you lot did, so I had to let him in. I was practically starving."

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric

Night had falled, but the moon was shining brightly. As the path was quite familiar, Sythric found no reason to slow down the pace. The earlier he would catch the party, the more hours of sleep he and Thydrë would gain for tomorrows’ ride. That was a simple equation.

After his evening “meal”, he had not passed over to those trance-like memories, he had done during the early evening hours. Most of the time, his head was just blank. But every now and then, thoughts and remembrances sprang into his mind. Especially the words of the old Hugebryth seemed to be recurring: “They sure can ride, and some of them propably can hunt or fend off foxes from their goat herds. But have they ever even seen an orc, or an easterling warrior in full armour, not to talk of confronting one, or ten?”

Sythric was not doubting the bravery of these young riders. Quite on the contrary: all the youngsters he had teached in the arts of war, had been magnificiently ready to go for every possible trouble and danger to just learn more. Now how about in times of a real need? There was no doubt in his mind about that either: Bregowarians were no cowards! He was just doubting their reactions, and their actions, if a real danger would come upon them. What your heart says, and what you actually do, are not simply the same thing. One does not know beforehand, how one reacts in a critical situation, not until the proof of reality shows it to you. You can train yourself over the years - via experience, toil and labour, and basically painful memories of the times when you have failed - to get those two things closer together. But it still is hard, at least for everyone I know, myself included, every time it’s tested.

He got halfway back to the here and now of the real world, and tried to think in a more controlled manner. One thing seemed clear enough. They would have to count on stealth, and if coming up with enemies, then on speed. We would propably be quite good in that. Oh, we will be! At least Swithulf’s children were good last night. And Hunlaf! ... Was is just last night? Not even a full day ago? Was it about this time when the horns were blowing? Maybe a bit later, maybe a bit later...

But then again. Even if that last night’s ride was truly demanding for the youngsters – it was a fast ride in the dark of the night, through paths quite unfamiliar to most of them – it still wasn’t real. It wasn’t real in the sense of, say, easterling light cavalry being after us. One mistake last night didn’t mean brutal and instant death, but just some bruises and the nuisance of being a little more late. There is a certain difference between running for your life for real, practising it, or just generally trying to ride fast, for a reason or another. Sythric grinned amiably at the thought, having his own particular memories about being nauseatingly late, for reason or another.

But had any one of these young people ever really had to scare for their lives? Not just daydreaming about it, but actually feel the energy pushing through the veins: clinging to their lives, feeling it so dear for the first time, so on the edge, so fragile, so here and now? Or how about really felt the after-the-first-shock –feeling in a battle: being kind of an outsider, like in sleep, away from oneself and still being “ me”; in real world, but still somewhere else, not trying anything, not fearing anything, not thinking anything. Just acting and reacting: just a pure instinct, an underlying desire to live, and the vague hope of making the difference. But how to act? After hours and hours of rehersal, a soldier could act instinctively about the right way. How about these youngsters?

As he was just about to fall really deep into his memories, a small correcting move of Thydrë woke him up. They had just leaped over a small ditch, and Thydrë was avoiding the small boulders spread over the grass around a big artifically carved menhir. Wise horse you are, and seemingly worried about me, falling out of this world again. “Thank you my friend”, whispered Sythric aloud, near Thydrë’s ear, patting lightly its neck. Then he rose to his normal riding posture, letting Thydrë know, it was bussiness as usual again. He was awake once more.

Before long, he came to think about his earlier thoughts. Where did I start these mind’s wonderings the last time? It was the youngsters’ ride last night. That was it. Was it?

He remembered Waermund and Waerferth, he remembered Winflaed, he remembered his brother. He remembered Hunlaf. He remembered Cwen, he even remembered Ceolflaed. Sythric had passed the Bregowarian evacuation-caravan readily before the afternoon had turned to a dusk. He had passed them from about a half miles’ distance. He just wasn’t in a mood to any more farewells, or tough enough to meet his childrens eyes one more time, just to let go again. He had indeed recognized Skara-people from the long line of the refugees marching slowly south-west. Then he had spurred Thydrë to change from easy canter to a steady trot. He would not want to see this unhappy sight any more! It was far too personal and humiliating sight to be looked at. Now his mind dwelled in these last sightings of the evacuation: a line stretching over like a snake, made of tiny little bees, crawling slowly forwards, ahead of a fire that would burn... It was already a defeat, before anything had actually happened.

But there was something else, he had been thinking of, before these personal distractions. Oh yes, we would be fast, and rely on stealth. Surely. But what if...? What if we get surprised, what if we are run over off-guard? The thought chilled every bit of him.

He hurried Thydrë to run for it. He was awake now, up to his every cell. The moon lit their way over the grassland.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


‘Now lass . . .’ Rædwald stood up his arms out to his sides, fingers splayed open. ‘Is that any sort of greeting for an old friend? And here among those I have not had the opportunity to greet properly.’ He took a few steps forward hoping she would not skewer him with an arrow.

He stopped and put his hands on his hips, his teeth flashing in a quick grin at the approaching trio. ‘Rædwald, at your service,’ he said, nodding to Osmod, Eostre, and lastly to Meghan. ‘And yes, Leof has sent me, little mistress. But only to secure the ongoing health of his herds.’

She snorted at his explanation. But he waggled his finger at her saying, ‘Yes, it is true. If you do not make it back, he fears your goats will wither away for the want of you. And so melancholy will they be that his goats will catch the wasting sickness . . . and then the chickens will all go into molt . . . and who knows where the winds of disaster will spread from that.’ He shook his head dolefully and wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. ‘The entire village of Wulfham could be nothing but grieving ghosts if you do not make a safe return, little mistress. And then what good would all this riding to the King be?’

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

Meghan


Meghan’s shoulders began to shake; a laugh broke from her though she did not will it. Shoving her arrow back in the quiver at her belt, she slung her bow on her back and ran to give him a quick embrace.

‘I never could stay angry at you, Rædwald. You old dog! I guess you can stay . . . that is if the others will have you.’

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

Rædwald


It was the potatoes, he thought, that most likely won them over. That and perhaps the stories he could spin. It had been a long time since he’d had any new ears to hear old stories of campaigns and battles and rides for glory and such. Meghan, of course, had heard most of his tales, but she was as accommodating as ever – laughing at the old jokes urging him to tell another.

The night grew late; the fire was banked. And a watch was set for the first hours of sleep. Osmod volunteered for it and took his position a short ways from camp on a little rise. Before settling down for the night, Rædwald walked out to where the young man sat on a flat rock. He had wanted to offer his pouch of pipeleaf in case Osmod wanted a smoke as he kept vigil.

‘Now, what’s that,’ he said, peering over the man’s shoulder at the design he’d drawn in the dirt. Osmod shrugged off the question, as if to say it was nothing really. A few pleasantries were exchanged, then Rædwald bade him goodnight, asking if he would wake him for the next watch.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric rode towards the fire. Well it’s safe enough here, and really helps me, but is that wise?, he thought, and kept riding. After coming to a distance a shout would cover, he slowed down Thydrë’s pace and continued with easy canter. There was someone, a shadow lit by the fire being on guard. Well, they have a guard. Good thinking, he thought. He saw the shape of the guard rising up and coming to alert position. He then stopped and yelled.

“People of Bregoware! I’m your friend, sent by the council. Don’t be afraid of me, but come forwards!”.

After voicing himself, Sythric leaped off Thydrë and came walking down, some 200 ft. away from the fire. Sythric saw the guard’s shadow moving around, and heard him shouting something back to someone he hadn’t seen yet. Quite soon he saw figures rising up. Just shadows against the dying fire, but still, human beings, rising up and coming towards him.

Sythric walked leniently towards the gathering party, and finally got the glimps of the first man standing in front of him.

“Raedwald! You old war-horse! How come am I seeing you here?”

Sythric let go of the reins of Thydrë, and embraced the other man amiably. They both patted each other to their backs quite heavily. The others had gathered around them by the time the embrace was done with. Sythric and Raedwald both looked to each others’ eyes and seemed happy to see one another. The others’ were standing around, like question-marks in a sentence.

[Arry]

Wulfham


The cat, Dorran’s arrow stuck in the left haunch, leapt at her tormentor. Brand raced toward his companion, a growing fear that he would not come soon enough. His oaken cudgel was held high in his right hand as he reached the now downed Dorran.

The force of the cougar’s leap had knocked the young man down and her jaws sought his throat for the kill. Dorran blocked the cat’s mouth with his bow and his arm as best he could.

Brand swung his club knocking hard against the cat’s left shoulder, driving the sharp teeth from their target. The cat rounded on him, snarling, and he strove to drive it away with the burning brand. It proved only a momentary deterrent.

With one swipe of her mighty paw, she knocked the brand from his hand, her claws raking down his left arm. Brand dropped his club, there was no room to use it; his sword, still in its sheath could not be drawn quickly enough.

And then she was nearly upon him . . .

The razor sharp tips of her left paw cut deep gouges on the right side of his face from temple to chin, missing by only a little his eye and the unprotected place at the side of his neck where the pulse beat rapidly. The cat crouched low, her muscles quivering with deadly intent. She sprang up and toward him, covering the short distance in less than the blink of an eye.

Brand barely had time to draw his knife with his right hand, and set it as a last defense against the cat’s mortal attack. The weight of her drove him backwards; he felt her hot breath upon his face. The knife, held in a near death grip in both his hands, sank deep into the cat’s chest. He felt the warm blood of her rush over his fingers.

She bore him down, pinning him between the unforgiving hardness of the ground and her self. His head struck hard against the dirt and darkness took him . . .

[Tevildo]

Dorran groggily pulled himself up off the forest floor, his head throbbing with pain. The world spun crazily about him. The force of the cat's attack just moments before had sent him sprawling onto the ground. Tentatively stretching out one leg and then the other, he was relieved to discover that he had not been seriously injured. Still, when Dorran attempted to stand and come over to Brand, the young man showed signs of being dazed and disoriented, and had some trouble walking. The wind had been knocked out of him.

Lady, who had sprinted boldly out of the thicket when the cougar attacked Dorran, now threaded her way through the bracken to stand beside her master, gently nuzzling his head. Despite the shallow cuts on the horse's flanks and withers, she looked to be in decent shape. The wounds needed cleansing, but that must wait till they returned to camp.

With great effort, Dorran knelt down beside Brand. The young man was not a healer, but he had plenty of experience caring for sick and injured steeds. Dorran reached his hand out to Brand's chest, felt the steady beat of his heart, and then began to examine his body and limbs. His friend had been knocked unconscious by the weight of the falling cat and had suffered a number of injuries. Fortunately, these wounds did not seem to threaten his life. There was little that Dorran could do for Brand since he did not even have water or clean rags. It was unlikely that Brand would wake up immediately. Moreover, Dorran's own wounds, though relatively minor, made it impossible for him to carry Brand on his own. He had no choice but to try and make his way to the main camp and get someone to help him.

Dorran took off his coat and placed it over Brand's upper body, and then dragged the carcass of the cougar well over to the side, beyond the ring of trees, so that no scavenger would bother his friend's fallen body. Dorran thought of trying to mount up on Lady but that did not seem like a practical idea. Glancing about the clearing, he found a stout branch on the ground that he could use as a staff and slowly began to make his way back down the long path as quickly as he could. The distance back seemed infinitely longer than when he'd gone running after the cougar. After what seemed like a very long time, he thought he recognized some familiar sights not too far from their camp. Dorran cried out in the darkness, "Incana, Vaenosa? Anyone there? Can someone help me with Brand?"

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa sat gazing at the fire waiting for the water to boil. She picked up her pack and rummaged through it, she had brought no first aid supplies. She was sure one of the others had brought some, but she did not want to rummage through their packs, they distrusted her enough already. She instead pulled a wad of fabric that had once been her childhood blanket. When she left, she had to take it....to remind her of her mother.But now it was all she could find that was clean. She took the now boiling water from the fire with two sticks she had fashioned as tongs and placed it aside to cool.

Incana was still unconcious and it had been at least an hour since the attack. Vaenosa lifted the bedroll and sat deciding how to get the woman's pants off. After a second look she saw the horses hoof had ripped them substantially. She pulled out her dagger and slit the woman's trousers from the hem to above the wound. Dipping the blanket in the water and ringing it out Vaenosa began to sponge the wound for a better look.The cut was not too deep but, there would be a painful bruise. She cleaned it as best she could, then trimmed a strip off the hem of the woman's trousers and wound her leg tightly through Incana's moans.Hopefully she would awaken soon.

Vaenosa stood and looked around the camp. It was still fairly dark but, the fire lit a large part of it.She was beginning to wonder what had happened to the men. They had only left Wulfham not one day ago and they were already in trouble. Vaenosa was afraid they would never return and if they did what condition would they be in?

She paced back and forth infront of the fire awhile, until she felt a wet nose on her neck, it was Nay and he needed her to comfort him. Starlight was not far behind. "I am sorry my boy! I forgot this must have terrified you two!" She placed her forhead on his neck, with his neck stretch over her shoulder. Starlight approached and leaned against Vaenosa for comfort. She stood holding them for a long time it seemed. Then tired she sat down again and added more logs to the fire. She leaned back against a log. The exhausted maiden fell asleep.

The figure that bent over her Father stood and faced her...she screamed. The man rushed towards her with a manic smile and picked her up like a rag doll, throwing her over his shoulder. He headed towards the cellar where it was cold and damp. He stumbled down the rickety steps and threw her into a corner.The friendly man who came calling asking for a bed and a warm meal in exchange for some handiwork was gone. All that stood before her was a manic, demon man who had planned this along. He stood panting and gasping before her , his eyes like deep dark black pools. He ripped from her small body the dress she wore and advanced with intent...Then he began to change...He was now becoming the cougar with teeth bared. He sprang for her neck.....

She half- awoke from her nightmare with a strangled scream, clawing the air at an unseen assailant.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana found herself moaning as she awoke. She lifted her head and found a fog in her vision. She put her head back down and collected herself before trying to sit up. Incana opened her eyes again with a much clearer sight and noticed that the sky had lifted its blanket of darkness that had plagued them for so long. It must be very early in the morning she thought to herself. She then went to move and was reminded once again of what had happened during the night--with jaws clenched she pulled herself into an upright position. Incana noticed that her right legging had been cut at the seam and found a piece of leather from her hem wrapped around her thigh. Since the men were nowhere to be found she assumed that the woman beside her had done what she could to help.

Incana had thought that she had dreamt of a woman screaming in terror and maybe it was herself but soon realized that it was Vaenosa. She was still muttering and reaching her arms into the air. Incana hobbled over to the other woman and noticed beads of sweat on her brow, she wanted to wake Vaenosa but wasn't sure if she should. While Incana fought with this little dilemma, her ears perked as she heard a familiar voice. It sounded like Dorran and he was just aways outside of camp. She turned her head away from Vaenosa to get a better listen and heard the man bellowing for help.
The woman panicked and all thoughts of not waking Vaenosa were gone. Incana shook Vaenosa quite violently and said, "Vaenosa get up, get up Dorran needs our help!"

Incana was determined to get to Dorran and put forth a valiant effort to do so. She made it past the fire and just to the outskirts of the camp when pain struck her yet again. She tried to push herself but could not go any further. She saw Dorran walking with a staff; with tears coming into her eyes she thought that not only Brand was hurt but so was he.

She was upset with herself and did not want to go back to camp, but she knew that she would be of no help and more a burden than anything if she went. Incana made her way back to camp and slowly laid back down on her bedroll. She looked over at Vaenosa and exclaimed, "Please go to their aid, they need help and I am not able to do so!" Exhausted from her effort Incana offered to stay and keep the fire stoked for Vaenosa's return with Brand and Dorran.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


Megan rolled groggily from her blankets and jamming her feet into her boots had followed the others to where Rædwald stood talking to another old man. She’d brought her bow along, not sure whether it would be needed. There had been no warning call from Rædwald nor sound of scuffling. In fact it was one of the others who’d waked her, shaking her shoulder and saying someone had hailed them from just at the edge of the camp proper.

The fire had burned down to coals and the only light was from the moon and stars. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried to make out who it was. Someone sent by the village council, she thought she’d heard him say.

‘Old men are springing up from the damp night earth like mushrooms!’ she muttered, watching them clap each other on the back. ‘Well, perhaps they can keep each other company.’

She glanced over to where Osmod stood. She could not see his face well, and she wondered what he was thinking. He had seemed the natural leader of their little group as they’d started this journey. Now what would happen with two seasoned, if older, Riders, who were sure to have plenty of opinions and suggestions to offer, whether asked or not?

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

Rædwald


‘Come closer, come closer my friends!’ Rædwald motioned them forward with his hand, a grin on his face. ‘This is an old friend of mine, a comrade from my younger days. We were Riders together!’

‘You must excuse them, I think,’ he said quietly to Sythric. ‘It’s quite a lot to have me and then you show up out of the darkness.’ He cocked his head a little to where Osmod stood. ‘From what I’ve gathered talking to the other young fellow, that one there has been their leader so far.’

[Nogrod]

"Well, you still can really brief people up to the point!" Sythric hissed to Raedwald, and smiled openly. "Oh. how I love to see you here, although I have no idea, why it is, that you are here in the first place. Tomorrow we may be wiser about many things, my friend." Then he realized, that they were not more alone.

“Good to see you safe and sound, ladies, gentlemen. I am Sythric, as you probably know, at least some of you will”.

He took a fast glance at Meghan and Osmod, nodding quickly to both of them, smiling a little. Then he looked at both Eostre and Fionn in the eyes, and nodded to them also. “You must be Eostre and Fionn. Good to see you. I know both of your fathers - not well, but enough - and if you be even a little like them, I’m sure, I’m in a good company.”

“Well, I answer your first obvious question right away, if someone didn’t hear it already: I’m here, sent by the March-warden and the council. I came back to Bregoware just after you had left. The council – mainly by Old-Hugebryth’s insistence, had come to second thoughts about your mission. Hugebryth would have wanted ten able and proved soldiers to do this run instead of you.” He glanced around, smiling slightly. “Well, I’m not ten lancers’, but still I’m here, because of the council’s decision. Or maybe they just couldn’t come up with anything more useful for me to do at this time of distress?” He exchanged looks with Raedwald, smiled a bit more openly, and then continued.

“Putting aside the sleep I had this morning, I’ve been on the saddle about two days in a row now. I’m tired, as is Thydrë, my dear fellow and friend. If I’m going to be able to ride with you when the sun rises, I would have to get some sleep quite now. We will have all the time to discuss everything during our ride, when the day comes around... Just please, wake me up, when you feel like going on again. I’m used to this kind of life, as is Raedwald here. Don’t you worry about us, old-timers’ as we seem to you, but believe me, we can manage this kind of a thing. That’s the way we have used to live. But if you allow me now, I would like to tend my friend Thydrë a good meal, and then have some sleep myself.”

He ended his monologue with a questioning look at his eyes, and as no-one replied immediately, he turned around, heading towards Thydrë.

[Farael]

It seemed he had just closed his eyes when someone’s voice woke Osmod up. It sounded like someone yelling and, worried that they might be in trouble, he reached for his sword. Cursing himself, he realized he had left the sword too far to reach, but by the time he looked around, he saw a lone rider walking towards them. Rædwald did not look too concerned and so he put his boots on and walked to meet the stranger. The other stranger, he reminded himself. What other surprises would this mission have in store?

The next surprise did not take too long, as the stranger looked very familiar. It was an acquaintance of his father, a former soldier. Sythric he said was his name and he had been sent by the March Warden to help them. So it was not only Meghan’s brother who did not trust them, the March Warden himself had his doubts! Well, it had only been one day but he had done a good job, hadn’t he? No, they all had, not just him. He looked around to the young faces of Fionn, Eostre and Meghan. Meghan seemed to be looking back at him and so he smiled. He had never wanted the responsibility anyway. And they knew what they were doing better than him.

The old man (he seemed even older than Rædwald) had been talking yet only the last words registered on Osmod’s mind. The stiffness on his legs reminded him that he should get some more sleep, and so stretching and yawning, Osmod told his fellow riders he would follow Sythric’s advice and get some sleep. He made it to his bedroll without looking back, then he realized the others might think that odd. “Let them think then,” he thought “I took the first watch, I am tired. It has nothing to do with the two old men”. Sleep came to him as soon as his set his head on the makeshift pillow. In his dreams, he found himself leading a brave eored in a valiant charge against an army of orcs.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Shoved awake, Eostre found herself tying her boots back up and standing up to examine the newcomers critically. So. They weren't trusted. Well, which one of them was the traitor, then? She innerly snorted. Did the marchwarden believe that desperately that they were unable to handle a mission with more than one experienced person to take the lead?

What was it now? She let herself mentally take the tally... Meghan's brother, and now one sent by the marchwarden himself, or so t'was said. She held silent through the tangle of words, language spoken, and seeming greetings.

Well, said some sadistic part of her mind, at least Meghan's brother is good looking.

She frowned and silenced that thought near to immediately. But already awake, she had a strong desire to follow after this... Sythric... and interrogate him. Why was he here? What was the council's suspicions that they would insist on sending them off... but she restrained herself, returning to sit back down on her bedroll. Perhaps I could take the next watch...

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


Rædwald felt the tiredness of a long day’s ride creeping on him, too. He motioned for one of the others to take the watch and waited as they retrieved what weapon and other things they might need to pass the time.

‘Wake us at first light, if you will,’ he asked. 'The sooner we’re to the ford and cross it, the sooner we’re heading down the river and toward Edoras.'

[Nogrod]

Sythric freed Thydrë from all the load she was carrying, gave her a quick brushing and tended her some oats. "Now try to rest my friend. We have miles to make when the sun rises. Good girl." He patted Thydrë's side and took his own bedroll. As he saw Raedwald also turning to sleep, he bade him good night and made a bed for himself, just some ten feet away from the other old man. When was it that they had camped together the last time? Sythric felt like asking, but was too tired to exactly go for it. Tomorrow, maybe, he thought, and fell asleep.

Even in his dreams, he was still riding.

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa awoke to Incana shaking her violently. "Vaenosa get up, get up Dorran needs our help!" Vaenosa's first reaction was to stike out at whom ever was shaking her. But her head cleared and she suddenly remembered where she was. She was not at home in her comfy down bed, she was lying on the hard ground in a clearing not far from the road. The sun was beginning to illuminate the sky, morning was approaching.

Vaenosa jumped up, her head was whirling. The men were back and they were hurt? what is going on? Vaenosa saw Incana attempting to make her way towards the lone figure that was hobbiling towards them. Incana stopped, turned and slowly made her way back towards Vaenosa and sat down, defeated on to her bedroll."Please go to their aid, they need help and I am not able to do so!" Vaenosa stood for a long second, then made her way silently to Dorran.

She came along his right side and motioned for him to lean heavily on to her. He obliged and they slowly made their way back to the camp. Vaenosa stayed quiet on the trip to the fire, but it was not strained. She did not want these particular young men to be injured or die, even at those times she had been bold and mocking towards them, she found them both intriguing and wanted to see how far she could push them. She knew at some point they would snap on her,as all men usually did, but she was always curious to see how long it would take them. She brought Dorran to Incana who was waiting anxiously.

"Where is Brand? Is he greatly injured?" Vaenosa asked. Dorran pointed towards the direction to where they had gone. "I left him a distance from here in a small clearing, he is covered in my coat. He is injured! Please hurry!" Vaenosa whistled for Nay, leapt upon his back and headed down the path Dorran had indicated. She found him not too far, lying beneath Dorran's coat. His face was bloodied, as was the ground around him. She slid from Nay's back and rushed to the fallen man.

She was unsure of what all his injurys were and was insure how to get him back without causing farther injury. "Nay my boy, I need you again. Come here." She motioned Nay to lay down and she tried to move Brand. She used all her strength and rolled him onto Nay in a sitting position. She did not want him to fall or injure himself even more on the ride back. Before she left, she scanned the area. She picked up Dorran's bloodied coat and a knife she found on the ground. As she looked to see where they had put the cat, she noticed a large Willow tree growing not far off from the dead feline. She knew that the inner bark was an analgesic or painkiller. Seeing as they would definately need some pain relief she gathered some with her dagger. She again went to the feline, grabbed it by the scruff and dug the fangs from the jaw bone. She wiped her hands on her slacks, pocketed the teeth and started back with Nay in tow.

She had to stop a few times to readjust Brand's position,and now when she pushed him back into place he let out a moan. They were approaching quickly and Vaenosa could see the fire. She motioned again for Nay to come to Brand's bedroll. She positioned Brand over her shoulder, for the quickest decent off the horse. She laid him down without to much strain and turned to face the two concious people.

"Here I found these." Vaenosa said handing Dorran his coat and the knife. "Also I brought back some Willow bark. It will help with the pain. Steep it with some tea and see if you can get him to drink some. You two should have some as well. I will be back shortly, I need to wash the blood from Nay now before he attracts any more predators." Vaenosa turned wearily towards the stream leading Nay behind her.

[Maeggaladiel]

"I'd take the next watch," Fionn began, "but people tend to show up unannounced whenever I'm left in charge. I'm too tired to make any more introductions. We'll end up with an army a thousand strong if I keep this up." He lay down on his bedroll and closed his eyes. A moment later, his eyes reopened.

"Which would apparently suit the March-Warden just fine," he added, quietly and not without some ire.

He held no grudges against either Raedwald or the newcomer Sythric; he had always admired those who rode in the Mark. But it was quite disturbing to think that the council, all of whom had seemed perfectly happy to send the small party out to Edoras, was now doubting their abilities.

Why did Bregoware send a retired Rider out as "aid?" Did they think they needed a babysitter? Were they regretting their choice in messengers? Did they expect his party to be hopelessly lost and crying like children right about now?

Fionn forced his eyes closed once more, and sleep descended upon him.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

The easterling cavalry was closing in, riding ever tighter around the perimeter of the refugee camp. They sent their lethal arrows one at the time, at least fifty arrows in the air simultaneosly. It was pure slaughter. The children were crying out in panic, their mothers wailing in agony. The men and the women were trying to find a shelter from the wagons, some of them trying to shoot back. Two or three of the wagons had already been lit by the flame-arrows, that a few of the easterlings used. The darkness of the night and the brightness of the flames made a stark contrast. Then there were those blood-chilling screams that came from the onfalling orc-army. It had emerged from nowhere, and was upon the people before they could come to grips with this new danger. Cwen was running towards her mother, face turned to despair, when the orc appeared from behind her, and swang its sword...

Sythric woke up, sweating, hearing his own heart bumping heavily and fast. It was quiet, and the stars shined calmly over the skies. He rubbed his forehead to ease the tension, but that didn’t seem to help. Slowly he rose up to sitting position and tried to relax. Nothing seemed to help: he was still shaking all over. Maybe it was just too little sleep or something...

As he seemed not to be able to get those images out from his head, he rose up, and thought of having a little walk. Maybe a chat with the guard, whoever he or she was, could release him from these dark visions. He would just have to occupy himself with something else. Sythric saw a figure standing, leaning towards a tree, some thirty feet away from him. He started to approach the figure carefully: not to make too much noise, but no to be perceived as stalking either. He would just need to have some company, not a third alarm for this party today.

[Arry]

Wulfham


Brand was barely aware as someone leveraged him up from his blankets to a sitting position and spoke to him. He could barely make out the words at first, but they were spoken in a soft voice, and he was very glad of that. His head was pounding from the fall he’d taken when the cougar landed on him. Brand struggled to open his eyes and he groaned as he raised his fingers to the back of his head, to the large knot there.

‘Drink this!’ he heard the voice urge him. It was a sharp taste on his tongue as he took a swallow of the warm tea. Willow bark! ‘Good!’ he said, his own voice barely above a whisper; the loudness of it as it rattled about his head made him wince again.

He took the cup in his hands, sipping at the brew. There was a bulky bandage of sorts on his left forearm he noted, and then recalled how the cat had clawed him. The gouges stung beneath the strips of cloth and he wondered if they would leave scars. Worse yet was his face. The right side of it felt on fire and the eye was swollen shut. Brand fingered the bandage that had been secure there. It seemed a little west, and drawing his finger tips away from it he noted they were stained with dark blood.

A grim laugh escaped him, causing him to groan again at the movement of his face. A bit of dark humor in the midst of present pain. Seeing as how he would most likely be scarred, perhaps his sisters would give up their quest to find a suitable wife for him. ‘Now that I am no longer suitable,’ he said to himself, ‘perhaps they will leave me be!’

He asked after Lady. And being told she seemed to have fared better than he, he heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Wake me at first light, then,’ he said. ‘We should get an early start.’ His voice trailed off as he lay back down; soon he was asleep.

-----

Next day . . .

He felt warm as he threw off his blankets. Opening his eyes, he could see the sun was shining brightly and already stood at the mid-day position. Brand raised himself up on one elbow and yelled out, ‘Hey!’ He was about to chastise his companions for letting him sleep when his head began to throb and his wounds ache. Brand lowered his voice and waved to someone on the other side of the fire. ‘Any of that willow bark tea left?’ he asked instead. ‘And am I still dreaming or do I smell something roasting over the fire?’

His belly rumbled hungrily with no accompanying wave of nausea. A good sign, he thought . . .

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan

In the end it was Meghan who took the last watch ‘til morning. It was not an unfamiliar thing for her to do, for often in the summer when her goats pastured far from home, it was she and her dog who shared the watches. She’d brought her small skin of water and her worn leather case with its cherrywood pipe her brother had carved for her, and the sweet pipeweed that came from far off Bree.

She sat a little ways away from the banked fire and the bodies in their blankets. She could hear Rædwald’s soft snore and she chuckled to herself. They often shared pastures for their small herds, and he would swear up and down he did not snore though she teased him good-naturedly about it often. Some of her present companions slept like logs, barely moving, and some, she noted tossed and turned as if demons from the dark forests of the north pursued them in their dreams. And perhaps they did . . . who could know, save the dreamer . . .

It grew colder as the night waned and she was glad she’d brought her brother's woolen socks and his thick wool breeches to wear. The layers of clothes hid her slender body, and about them all she’d draped a heavy wool cloak. She looked much like a small woolen mountain when she was sitting on the ground, a volcano of sorts, with her little pipe lit and the pipeweed tamped in it giving off a bright orange glow. Her herding pole lay at her side; her bow and arrows near to hand.

Outside the snores and rustling blankets, there was only the occasional soft scurrying of some small animal making its way across the frosty ground to break the night’s natural silence. And so to keep herself awake, she would rise from her sitting position and stamp her feet a bit to bring back the warmth to them and walk about a bit.

She was just thinking of resuming her seat after one such walk-about when her eye caught a hulking figure back lit by the fire’s little glow coming toward her. Her eyes darted to the quilt wrapped figures about the fire, naming each of them. There was one place where the blankets were empty.

‘Sythric! Is that you?’ she called out softly as the tall man approached. Her thick wooden pole she grasped firmly in her hand, as she always did when on guard with her goats. ‘Come closer, man,’ she said, the starlight now making his features more recognizable. ‘Was it you I saw having the bad dream? You tossed and turned like a leaf on a rushing stream. Come sit and talk and smoke a while with me. I’ll have to admit I’m tired and it would be good to hear the sound of another voice to keep me from dropping off.’

[Tevildo]

Dorran leapt to his feet, raced over to where Brand was sitting, and held out a steaming mug of willow bark tea.

"You're alright?" Dorran's voice was tentative and strained. Obvious guilt was written over his face. "Can I get you something? Anything at all. I still have some of my sister's biscuits. Or maybe you are cold? You can borrow my blanket." The young man went over to retrieve his pack, fumbled around inside, and pulled out a heavy woolen blanket, despite the fact that the day was warm and the sun shone brightly overhead.

Dorran pushed the blanket towards Brand and then confided in a lower voice, "It's my fault, you know. You wouldn't be in this mess, if I'd managed to get out of the way of that cat. I'm sorry....really sorry. I won't forget how you've helped me."

The boy ploughed ahead without waiting for an answer. "I feel so silly. I was angry at Vaenosa for making herself a nuisance, but now I've gone and done something even worse."

"Anyways, I thought I should tell you something. Vaenosa was a real help last night. Without her, we would have been in serious trouble. She brought you back to camp single handed, stoked up the fire, tended the horses, and made all of us a healing potion. Incana and I were too weak and wounded to be much help, although I'm feelng better this morning."

Dorran pointed down to his bandaged ankle and then looked around to make sure that the woman was not nearby, "I wanted to speak with her and thank her. But, truthfully, she still scares me a bit. Once or twice, I tried to say something, but she glared and I ran away." Dorran privately promised himself that, sometime in the next day or two, he would try and approach the young woman again. Out loud to Brand, he merely said, "I guess we'll wait here for today? And maybe tomorrow too? It looks as if you could stand some rest."

Before Brand could respond, Dorran added, "Oh, yes, one other thing. Do you remember those traps you laid yesterday? I haven't checked all of them, but I did find this in one." Dorran held up a good sized hare. "Would you like some stew for lunch? I found a patch of thyme and turnips just a short distance away." Dorran had resolved to plug his ears and cook the lunch, even if Vaenosa called him names.

[Nogrod]

Sythric recognized the soft voice. It was she. Well, that was a relief. Someone he knew. He had so many questions to ask her, but then kind of refrained on them. He truly was happy to see her here on guard at this moment!

"Good night my friend", he said in a low voice, "Well, it surely was me having terrible nightmares. I just had to get away from them". He looked at Meghan with a smile. "I don't know why Raedwald is here, but I do believe, that Leof was overhasty: you seem to be doing fine."

He was silent for a moment, looking at Meghan. She offered the pipe to him, and he took it.

"Then again, I 'm not sure whether I would have to say being happy to see you here or not. I just don't know, which one is the safer place: ours' here, or being with the refugees behind us. You may deduct, that my nightmares concerned those who were left behind. I really do fear for our people".

Sythric sighed, and leaned to the tree, watching Meghan intensively, pulling the pipe towards his mouth.

"But how has your ride been? Everythings' allright? I surely think, both of us "old timers" appearing from nowhere must have begged the question. But remember, that we are two more guys to wield the sword, if it comes to that. I know your father, and Raedwald is my friend. How should we go forwards? I don't have any idea, about how have you declared yourselves during the first day. So who is the leader, which are the tensions?"

He looked at Meghan, quite amiably this time. Took an easy inhaling from the pipe and puffed some semi-fine rings fron it.

[Arry]

Wulfham

Words tumbled out of Dorran like a spring freshet after a sudden thaw. Brand could not help but smile, and doing so, immediately regretted the action. ‘By the Burning Briar!’ he swore holding his hand to his face. ‘The tea, Dorran. Hand me the mug!’

When the sharp onset of pain had diminished, Brand took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘No need for “sorrys” and such,’ he told the young man. ‘You got the fiend away from Lady, and for that I’m very glad.’ He clapped the young man on the shoulder. ‘She was a beast of a cat, now, wasn’t she? We came away from it still breathing and her and her murdering get done for. There’s glad enough in that, isn’t there? And won’t it be a grand tale to tell family and friends when we get back!’ He was about to chuckle, when he thought better of it and simply nodded his head, eyes glinting mischievously. ‘Of course, we’ll have to agree on a few details, so as to back each other up. But a little fancy embroidery, as my gran used to say, always livens up a plain piece of cloth, don’t you think?’

‘Here . . . give me the hare, why don’t you. I’ll skin it out and disjoint it for us, if you’ll get the turnips and thyme you spied out.’ He took up his knife and pointed to the pot and the waterskins. ‘I can just get the meat going if you bring those to me. I’d get up myself, but things seems to swim if I move too fast.’

He settled himself in, humming a little as he worked over the hare. Dorran had gone off to gather the turnips and herbs. He’d left Brand one of his sister’s biscuits. Dipped in his tea, Brand savored the soggy snack.

It was a nice, fat hare and he could almost taste it as he put the pieces into the pot and covered it with a bit of water – cooked long enough, it would be tender enough for him to chew on. He pulled his pack over to him and fished about in one of the side pockets. There was a little leather pouch there his mother had sent along. Several large pieces of rock salt. Brand crushed a bit of it and sprinkled it over the pieces of meat.

By scooting himself carefully across the ground and pushing the pot ahead of him, Brand got up close to the fire without sending his head throbbing. He positioned the pot on some rocks right on the fire’s edge where it would soon grow hot enough to bubble and simmer.

Brand looked about the little camp, Vaenosa and Incana were nowhere to be seen. He wondered if they had gone off hunting. Picking up a long thick stick from the pile of wood they’d brought, he stirred the stewing meat a bit and readjusted the nearness of the stewpot to the fire. The effort of just that little work surprised him with how tiring it had been. He gave the meat one more stir and then leaned back against an old stump. Soon, the warmth of the afternoon and the tea he’d drunk had him drifting off to sleep.

[Naria]

Wulfham


It felt good as she opened her eyes; the sun was warm on her face. While she was having a stretch and a yawn she smelt something on the fire. Bending down she opened the lid of the pot that was positioned slightly off of the direct heat. Incana inhaled deeply, the water in the pot had just begun to boil and the rabbit inside made it smell irresistible. She wanted to take her mind off of food, just thinking about a nice hare stew was making her mouth water.

Incana wanted to see the damage her horse had left on her thigh. She unravelled the hemming and noticed a massive bruise that had already begun to change it's distinct colour and right in the middle was a perfect hoof print. It still hurt but Incana was no-worse-for-wear, so she decided to take a walk. She had not seen her horse since the onslot of the cats and wondered where Starlight was. She gave a sharp whistle and she slowly came plodding out of the bush. Incana once again greeted the mare with arms wrapped around her neck and Starlight returned the affection by nuzzling the woman's head.

Incana found Brand sleeping at camp in his bedroll and noticed Dorran picking something out of the ground; maybe for the stew she thought. She looked for Vaenosa next and remembered that she had gone to the river to wash herself and Nay after she had brought Brand to the safety of the camp the night before. Incana clicked her tongue for Starlight to follow and proceeded to find the other woman. She didn't have to look to long, Vaenosa was almost at the same spot that Incana had found the deer tracks. Incana approached the woman with caution, not sure of the mood in which Vaenosa was in that day.

Incana stood with Starlight beside her and cleared her throat to announce her presence. "Ermm, how are you today? Have you received any wounds from the events of last night?" Incana wanted to ask more, but thought better to wait and see how Vaenosa reacted to her query. The one thing that was on Incana's mind since very early in the morning was Vaenosa's terrible dream, she would need to wait and ask about it some other time.

She desperately wanted to talk with someone about the cats of last night or just nothing at all. Her family often did this, they would gather by the fireplace at night and converse about how that day had went and how the next day should go. Incana felt a sudden pang of loss and loneliness for her family and walked away from Vaenosa not wanting to wait there for a response. She had not gone too far from where the other woman was and found a big Elder tree and sat down. Incana felt tears come to her, partly an overwhelming response to the cat fight the night before but mostly to do with the isolation that she felt at that moment. She put her face in her hands and began to sob.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan

Perhaps it was the easy way in which he spoke to her, or perhaps it was just that fact that she was tired. Meghan lifted the ban she’d put on her tongue and began to speak with Sythric as if his questions were meant to be answered and not just polite convention. She took a long draw on the pipe he’d handed back to her and let the sweet smoke out slowly, as if considering where she might begin.

‘Well, Fionn is companionable enough, save that he seems so young. Now I know he and I are of an equal age, but he seems such an innocent. Were he my younger brother I would feel quite protective of him. And to be truthful, I do. I’ve never met an Orc or an Eastern man, but I think they won’t be half won over by his sweet, ingenuous smile or his guileless shrug. He is a dear . . . boy . . .’ Her voice trailed off as she looked to where Fionn slept soundly beneath his blankets.

‘And Osmod . . . hmmmm. Well, he seems our reluctant leader. That is, until you two old badgers showed up.’ She winked at Sythric, a glint in her eye. She was enjoying having someone to talk to, even though she knew he would sift through them and use what grains of truth he thought might be useful. ‘He seemed fairly sure of himself when we started out . . . but really, he’s a little too accommodating, if you ask me. Which you did, didn’t you? If I were as accommodating as him with my little herd of goats, then they would all have run willy-nilly the very first summer out to the far pastures and been picked off by the wolves.’ She raised her brows at Sythric, half expecting a reaction at her harsh assessment. But the old soldier simply puffed on the pipe she’d given back to him, nodding for her to go on. ‘I think sometimes he doesn’t want to offend anyone. That he wants everyone to like him, or if not like him, then at least not to rely on him too much.’

Meghan stamped her feet a little and rocked back and forth on them, trying to warm them. She’d stood in one place too long and the cold had crept in. ‘Come walk a bit,’ she said. ‘I need to get my blood flowing.’

They took a turn about the little camp, their eyes flicking here and there into the shadows and beyond. There was nothing untoward they could see, nothing suspicious. ‘I suppose you want to hear about us women, too, eh? The gentler sex as those story-tellers who sometime come to the Lord’s hall call us.’ She snorted and bit back too loud a laugh, looking guiltily about lest she had waked one of the others.

‘Well, we are . . . awful! Yes, quite alarming and appalling, really. Me, because I really did not want to come. It was a mistake I was chosen. I rue every foot step that takes me away from my family and my herd. And yet, it is my family’s honor that binds me to this task . . . that and my sincere wish for their safety and the safety of the village.’ She spit on the ground as if clearing her mouth of the bad taste of those words that voiced her unwanted obligation. ‘Aye, I’ll see it through . . . and then be glad at the end when I’m quit of it.’

She looped her arm through his in a moment’s act of innocent familiarity and ease, much as a daughter would do with her father. ‘I’m very glad you and dear old Rædy have come. I will feel safer with you two among us. And, no I’m not ashamed to say so.’ She scuffed a pebble out of her path with the toe of her boot.’ ‘It’s one thing to shepherd a flock of goats, dog by my side, make decisions of life and death as need be for them and for me. But . . . they are little things, really, in the light of what we are supposed to be doing here. I’m out of my depth.’ She dropped her arm from his and turned to look at him. ‘I’m glad to have someone to place my trust in.’

She walked along beside him, quiet for a while, caught in her own thoughts. He had to repeat his question twice before his words got through to her.

‘. . . the other?’ Her cheeks crimsoned and she was glad he could not see them in the dark. ‘Ah, yes . . . Well, I admitted to being awful, didn’t I. And I’ll take my part of burden for that. But Eostre . . .’ She grimaced slightly wondering if she should go on.

‘Well, the woman’s a sharp tongued witch and prickly as a cornered porcupine. I can scarce stand to be around her; and she, I think would be just as happy to see the ground open up and swallow me whole. We’ve only been out a day now, and my whole plan for surviving this little expedition has narrowed down to keeping to myself, keeping out of her way and keeping my mouth shut.’ She laughed softly and shook her head. ‘Which I haven’t done so successfully, now, have I? The keeping my mouth shut, that is.’

The two had come round to the place from which they’d started. Meghan sat down, drawing her cloak close around her. ‘I’ve talked your ear off, haven’t I? I wouldn’t be surprised you and Rædy hauled us all back to the village and told the March-warden he’d best pick out another group . . .’

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald

‘I knew it! Close my eyes for a few moments of well deserved rest and you two are talking about me!’ Rædwald came walking up to where Sythric and Meghan were sitting. He reached into the pocket of his breeches and pulled out a well broke-in pipe. ‘I smelled your smoke in my dreams, little missy. Reminded me of summers out in the eastern pastures.’

He grinned and reached out a hand. ‘Come now, hand it over to your old friend. Just a bowlful will do for me now.’ He tamped in the pipeweed and lit it with a strike from his little flint box. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said between puffs on the pipe, ‘I’ll break out my pouch and we’ll share it around.’

‘So Sythric, what’s got you up from your bedroll? Anything of interest?’ He grinned toward Meghan and then back to his old friend. ‘Or have you been letting the little lady talk your ear off.’ He stepped out of reach of her swing. ‘She chatters like a magpie if you’ll let her . . . her brother and I will attest to that.’

[Nogrod]

"Well, just bad dreams and fear. I wouldn't like to go back to them right now. But this young lady has been just as charming as I remembered her being. And most informative too." He glanced at Meghan and winked his eye to her conspirationally, smiling heartily. Then he patted her shoulder lightly. "We sure would do with some more sparrows like you during these gloomy days".

Then Sythric got to a more serious mood, addressing Raedwald. "So, what's your view of the situation? I do trust our sparrow here, as I count on Osmod. He's a good lad. His father is a friend of my brother and we've met a couple of times. Honest and hard-working boy he is. His father has taken good care not to spoil him. But how about the others? Fionn's father is a stern man I quite appreciate, so I'll have all the confidence on his offspring. But this Eostre-girl? I don't have a very clear picture of her family. I kind of think knowing her father, if he is the man I think he is. And isn't this Eostre living with her uncle or something? Meghan here told me nasty things about their relations. The one thing we can't afford, is us jumping on each other."

Sythric took the pipe that Meghan offered her again, nodded to her and puffed a fragile ring that ascended to the darkness surrounding the three of them.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald

‘Hmmm . . .’ Rædwald chewed on the mouthpiece of his pipe. There was a soft clacking sound as he moved it from one side of his mouth to the other and then back again; the stem of it sliding over the tips of his teeth as it slipped along. ‘Other than Meghan, here, whom I’ve known since she was a wee little chicklet, the only one I’ve more or less spoken with has been Fionn. Good boy, I think. Heart’s in the right place.’ He looked over at Sythric and grinned. ‘Wants to be a Rider, you know.’ He nodded his head as if considering Fionn for a moment. ‘Thought maybe once we get to Edoras I’d recommend him to one of the outer march-wardens . . . to be trained up to ride in their company.’

‘The other two, I just don’t know well enough to make comment,’ he went on, flicking his gaze for a moment toward Meghan. ‘Tis hard to be thrown together, to accomplish some task or order, with people with whom you have no natural or long term bonds. Save of course the fact that we are all from the same threatened village.’ His glance swept round to take in the group by the fire. ‘War makes strange bedfellows,’ he murmured, half to himself. Then reconsidering who was included in his statement, he added, ‘In the least offensive sense of the word, that is. And meaning no discourtesy to the ladies, of course.’

- * -

Meghan

They sat companionably, in silence, for a while; the smoke from their pipes rising in thin streamers in the cold night air. Soon, the moon set and that curious hour just before the sun’s rising was heralded in by the few birds left who had not yet flown south to warmer climes.

Meghan rose and stretched, throwing off what weariness she could. It would be a long ride yet to the river. And then there would be the crossing of it. Meghan shivered at the thought of doing that. The Great River had been the western boundary of all her short life, and the biggest piece of water she had ever seen. She’d heard many stories of its deep currents and fierce moods. ‘I’ll just stay in the middle of the raft,’ she thought to herself, not trusting her slight skills at lake swimming to be enough for an accidental dunk in the river’s water.

Rædwald had gone back to the fire and was coaxing the flames up with his offerings of wood. Sythric, too, had ambled back to where his pack lay and had begun to roll up his bedroll. There were stirrings among the sleepers as the morning noises began to intrude on their dreams.

Taking her little reed pipe from an inside pocket of her cape, Meghan played a lively little melody to welcome the new day. Her belly growled, adding its own chorus of hunger to her song. She walked back toward the fire, where Rædwald handed her a crispy piece of snake meat that had been smoking over the banked fire. ‘Eat up and see to your things and your horse,’ he directed her. He looked to the east where the first pale rays of dawn were now creeping across the land.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

After Meghan’s song, everyone was awake. The melody was catchy, and quite soon Sythric noted humming it by himself, whilst tending for Thydrë. He packed his things, but did not just yet load them on his friend. “Remember, I promised you a good night’s sleep this night, and I surely keep that promise. Just this day to carry on.” He whispered to her. Then he raised his voice a bit “Come to drink my friend!”, simultaneously he pulled gently from her reins and started walking towards the little stream that was running nearby. Thydrë followed him.

After Sythric had drank enough, he patted Thydrë to show her, that it was her own choice now, what to do next. They were ready, and they both knew that. They had been riding together for six years now, and had started to understand each others’ ways little by little, as it happens. Thydrë stayed by the stream, watching the other horses curiously.

Sythric came to the fire relit by Raedwald. Just as he was addressing the people around the fire a good morning, he saw a drawing in the sand, next to the fireplace. He stopped and studied the picture for a while. He smiled a little, and then, as he had just got an idea, walked briskly to his packings. He unpacked some of his stuff, and then came back to the fireside.

“Well. In the riding-parties, there is this old custom, that the newcomer will have to offer a meal with drinks to the seniors. So taste this dried lamb here: it’s straight from March-warden’s cellars! Carve as much you will.” He offered the lamb to Raedwald, who was sitting nearest to him. Then he produced his wineskin, offering it to Meghan sitting by the fire. “And the drink too. It’s not the best wine there is, but warms your blood a little after a cold night. I’m sorry, I can’t make offerings more lavish than these, for this seems to be the rate of splendour I have with me.”

He looked at everyone around the fire and smiled lightly. “It’s going to be a fine day, the gloom of our ride notwithstanding.”

[Arry]

Wulfham

He was sleeping soundly, a pleasant dream just running at the edges of his consciousness. There was music playing of some sort, a happy tune. He tried to catch onto it, wanting to follow where it led. But beneath the pleasant sound was one of sorrow. Someone, at a distance, was sobbing.

Brand pulled himself up from the depths of sleep, until he was completely awake. The nap and the willow bark tea had done much to take his headache away. He sat up carefully, and smiled just a little, noting that the place where the cat had clawed his face was not throbbing. Nor did he feel in the least dizzy.

The sobbing continued, and he stood up, orienting on the source. It was coming from somewhere on the river-side of the camp. Brand stood up and walked toward the water. To his right as he neared it were two or three elm trees and behind them some low growing bushes. He could see Incana’s horse, Starlight standing near one of the trees, her head bent down occasionally nudging a form huddled at the trees base. It was Incana . . . and she was the one who was crying.

Brand tred softly up to her and lowered himself to the ground so that he was sitting quite near her. She seemed so sad and so lonely.

‘What’s the matter, Incana?’ he asked softly. He extended his fingers tentatively and touched her lightly on the arm. ‘What can I do for you?’

[Naria]

Wulfham


Starlight was getting worried about her human friend and began nudging Incana. She had done this often when the woman was having a particularly hard day back home. Starlight did this as a form of comfort, not only to herself but also to Incana.
After several minutes of this Incana finally lifted her head and looked directly into the eyes of her persistent horse, "I know you love me Starlight, but leave me alone you are not quite what I am looking for right now." She gave the mare a shove and turned her head away.

Incana was about to to get wrapped up in her thoughts again when she felt a hand gently touch her arm, she heard a voice ask if there was anything that he could do for her. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that it was Brand. Sniffing back some tears she sighed and said, "I am sorry that my tears have awoken you." She paused to clear her head, "I am without family here, as so are you, but I couldn't hold back my emotions any longer when I thought of them. You see I look to you, Dorran and Vaenosa to fill this void that I have in my heart, but this didn't seem to be happening. I am not sure as to what you can do for me right now."

It seemed to Incana that Brand's presence and thoughtfulness was enough. She had stopped crying and stood to meet Brand. Incana took his hand in hers and said, "Thank you. You are truly a good man." She smiled sheepishly and started towards the camp.

[Farael]

The morning came and Osmod opened his eyes. He looked around and could see that Meghan, Rædwald and Sythric were up already, but Eostre and Fionn had not woken up just yet. He enjoyed a few more minutes in his bed-roll and slowly got up. He had gotten a good night of sleep and felt happy and good to go. He stretched and waved happily at Meghan and Rædwald who were around. Sythric was no-where to be seen, until he came back from the river. Someone had already taken the horses there to let them drink and they all followed Sythric and Thydrë back into the camp. Good horses they were, strong and smart.

By the time Sythric sat down by the fire, Eostre and Fionn started showing signs of life and finally woke up. Lucky for them, Osmod thought, that they woke up just when Sythric offered some food and drink. After a good breakfast, Osmod thanked Sythric and could not refuse to answer when he repeated his question about the drawing on the ground.

“My friends,” he said looking at them all gathered around the fire “you will think me crazy, and after too many a night slept under the stars, I might just be. But when I was little my grandmother taught me everything there is to know about camping, or so she said. She always reminded me that if I ever set camp close to a forest there were two things I had to do. One was to draw a ‘door’ for good luck and fun times to come into my camp. That door is the drawing you have seen. The other, was to sing a song to bid them welcome. I am not as good a singer as Meghan here but I hope my voice will do.”

He smiled at Meghan, and then stood up. As he sang, he paced around the fire, giving a quick glance to one of his fellow campers, a pat in the shoulder to another, just to jump ahead and sit for a moment next to yet another of them.

I now must tell, to you my friend
A story that concerns us men,
‘tis not for elves nor dwarves nor ent,
but rather ladies and us gent
Oh, Oh, Ho! ‘tis for good ladies and good men

It was one night, when Mister Fun
Tired of wasting time around
He walked into where trees abound
To spent the night upon the ground
Oh, Oh, Ho! to spend the night upon the ground

Then Lady Luck, who felt alone
And even though the moon light shone
Into the forest she walked on,
and soon enough from sight was gone
Oh, Oh, Ho! And soon enough from sight was gone

The man was searching, right and left
For a good place to get his rest
Sang to himself as he did best
For singing often helped him rest
Oh, Oh, Ho! he sang his best to get his rest

And Lady Luck who now was lost
She heard a song of beauty most
and answering with her voice, soft
she called the one she thought a ghost
Oh, Oh, Ho! she thought the man had been a ghost

But Mister Fun, who heard her song
And feeling that he must have found
The woman he had longed for long
Towards her voice, he then moved on
Oh, Oh, Ho! towards the one he longed for long

He found her there, standing alone
Pretty she was and he swore on,
The moon and stars that lead him on
To never from her side be gone,
Oh, Oh, Ho! he’d never let her stay alone

Taking a deep breath and slowing the pace of the song a little, he sang the last part looking into their eyes. Eostre came first, then Rædwald, Fionn was sitting next to him and Sythric second to last. He finally smiled at Meghan again as he sang the last line of his song

And why I tell you this, my friend…

‘cos Luck and Fun will come to them…

Who sing their song and do it well…

For they remind them of them-selves….

Oh, Oh, Ho… they bless all those who sing as well

Osmod sat down where he had began singing, his face beaming with a big smile. “Of course this is just a myth, and it mentions so many creatures that no longer exist among us. But I thought that we would need all the luck we could muster and well… having fun is always a good thing”

Still, having mentioned their quest seemed to dampen his spirits a little, and grabbing some more lamb to chew on he offered ”I know I’m no longer the leader in here, but should we not get going? I would like to be on the other side of the river well before the sun sets in the horizon”

Lead by example, he always thought, and forcing a smile on his face, he stood up again and started packing his things.

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa stood with her head bent. She was observing some footprints she spied that overlapped the Deer tracks from the day before. They were familiar to her. Her Father had shown her some just like these when she was young. He called them Warthogs. They could be visious if provoked, but they were good to eat. Vaenosa bent down and touched one of the prints, her eyes followed their direction. They led towards some underbrush.
Vaenosa was deep in thought when she hear Incana ask if she was unhurt from the day before. But before Vaenosa could answer, she was gone. A little puzzled Vaenosa figured she must have returned to camp. Looking again at the tracks, Vaenosa began to follow them. Not far into the bush Vaenosa spied what she thought she would find. A burrow, tucked under an overhang of earth. There were fresh marks around the hole. A plan was forming in her mind as she hurried back to the camp.

She hurried to her pack and pulled from it a length of rope. She was almost too occupied to notice the others. She saw Incana and Brand approaching from the direction of the stream. I better let them know I will be gone for awhile. I will keep all the details of my little plan to myself for now. The others could use a little surprise today after all that blood shed yesterday. " Incana, Brand! I would let you know that I will be gone for awhile. You should not worry, I will be not gone long and I will not be far. But could either of you keep an eye out for Nay? I don't want him following me. Without waiting for a response she gave them a sheepish smile and nod. Then she headed off without another look back.

Vaenosa stopped at the waters edge in search of a long slender stick.Peering around a fallen tree she found what she was looking for. She sat on the tree and produced her dagger, It had never seen such use. She twirled the stick in her hand, then began to shave the one side into a cruel point. Her dagger was sharp making it quick work. Taking the rope from the pouch at her side she said outloud. "Well here goes! I hope this works!" She headed back to the Burrow.

After about ten minutes had lapsed Vaenosa had fashioned her rope to a branch that hung over the entrance hole. At the other end she had a loop that stood head height for a Warthog. She crouched down in a clump off grass atop the burrow, with spear in hand. She took from her pouch some berries from the day before, squishing them in her hand she threw them in front of the noose. Then she waited...........

Even before the womans legs could cramp she heared snuffling from below her. She looked over and down to see two large tusks emerge. The beast sniffed the air, caught a whiff of the berries and headed towards them, pulling the rope taunt around his neck. He began to flail and squeel, panicking as his actions pulled it tighter. He was jumping into the air and with every leap Vaenosa was sure he would escape. She acted, Jumping down from her hiding place she thrust her spear into the animals neck. He thrashed and bit at the rope even as his life spilt forth onto the ground. He fell heaving his last breath as Vaenosa pulled the spear from his neck. She stood over the beast,her hair wild,cheeks red and heart racing....

She let out a Whoop! It had worked! Her plan worked! The squeels of the animal still ringing in her ears Vaenosa pulled the rope from it's neck and bound it's hind legs.She was covered in his blood so she heaved the animal onto her back, abondoning her make shift spear and headed back to camp with her surprise.

Walking back she could not wait to see the look on her fellow travellers faces. She had brought them food. They could count on her to provide for them even if their brave men could not. Approaching the fire Vaenosa called out. " Well I say I have a surprise for all of you! I caught us dinner and breakfastl! I would like to cook it as well, for in my family the women cook. She said looking towards Dorran. But you see this was just luck that brought me this kill and I have not sleep since I left my home, but for a brief fitful sleep last night. I will sleep now if one of you doesn't mind cleaning and preparing this feast. I shall awaken in awhile to cook it myself or to take over if you decide to start it......Well okay then." Vaenosa said after a little discomfort with the whole thing, she would rather do it herself but exhastion was threatening to take over. She turned toward her bedroll, she climbed in and passed out....

[Arry]

Wulfham

What a curious breed are human females! He found Incana’s reaction to his offer of comfort disquieting. She’d held his hand and thanked him, then turned from him with an embarrassed smile and walked away. Now, Brand had older sisters, but none of them were in the least shy or perhaps the word, ‘delicate’, would be closer to the point. And Incana seemed delicate, like a flower almost. He shook his head wondering what he should do, if anything. And decided in the end just to catch up to her.

Not too far away, he could see Vaenosa exerting some effort to haul an animal into camp. ‘Now what’s she got there?’ he asked, pointing to the largish animal that lay on the ground in front of her as she stopped to talk to Dorran. ‘We’d better go see,’ he said to Incana, giving her a quick smile. ‘Looks to me she might need help skinning it out.’

When they got closer, Brand could see the displeasure with which Dorran listened to Vaenosa as she spoke to him. Taking a deep breath, he simply shrugged it off.

His eyes went appraisingly to the boar. It was a large one and would give them much meat for the days ahead. He drew his knife and wiping the blade on his trousers' leg he went over to it and began to peel back the skin.

Someone might want to build up the fire,' he called out, intent on the task at hand, there will be a lot of meat to cook here . . .'

[Tevildo]

Staring doggedly at the branches and logs that they had piled up on the far side of camp, the young man squirmed uncomfortably as he tried to pretend he hadn't seen Vaenosa give him a look at the mention of cooking the meat. Frankly, he was sick of the references to his cooking. As someone acquainted with a considerable amount of loss and hurting, he'd already guessed that Vaenosa was angry about something that had happened in her past. Dorran could understand feeling like that. He had no wish to quarrel with her. He only wanted to get along.

The boy shuddered involuntarily and bit his lip as a sharp, unwelcome image of an Orc beating a woman with a heavy wooden cudgel studded with iron nails abruptly crept into his mind. Before his Aunt Raven had passed, she had once confided to the boy that his first few years in Wulfham had not been easy for either her or the other Rohanites. Although barely six at the time, Dorran had been angry and sullen, unwilling to speak about what had happened to his parents or the series of ugly events that had compelled them to flee to Rohan. But over the years, that anger had been crammed back into a tiny space in the depths of his mind, and he liked to keep it that way. It was only when he thought about Orcs that these feelings threatened to burst forth.

Maybe Vaenosa thought about men the same way that he regarded Orcs? Dorran shuddered slightly. He could not imagine being anywhere near an Orc. But he still could not figure out why Vaenosa felt this way about every single human male. And even more importantly, if she did hate all men, why had she wanted to go on this mission? Surely, she recognized how important this venture was for the safety of everyone in the village, including her own family and friends. Squabbling did nothing but get in the way. An unexpected, disturbing question raised its head. What if someday he was in a situation where he'd have to learn to cooperate with Orcs, or imperil the safety of someone he loved? But that would be ridiculous! Such a thing would never happen within his lifetime.

In an attempt to shake off his moodiness, Dorran rose to his feet, limped over to the edge of the encampment, and dragged back several logs and smaller branches, banking up the fire. All the while, he kept thinking how much he missed his sister Criede and her straightforward ways.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


. . . And Lady Luck who now was lost
She heard a song of beauty most
And answering with her voice, soft
He called the one she thought a ghost
Oh, Oh, Ho! she thought the man had been a ghost

But Mister Fun, who heard her song
And feeling that he must have found
The woman he had longed for long
Towards her voice, he then moved on
Oh, Oh, Ho! towards the one he longed for long

He found her there, standing alone
Pretty she was and he swore on,
The moon and stars that lead him on
To never from her side be gone,
Oh, Oh, Ho! he’d never let her stay alone . . .

‘Well now, that is a pretty little song!’ Meghan lifted her pipe to her lips and played along with the last verse. ‘Who knew,’ she said, grinning impishly at him when the song was done, ‘that someone who spends his time among those great dumb beasts of cows with their out of tune voices, would have such a fair voice himself!’

Her good mood was overshadowed with his next words. ‘I know I’m no longer the leader here . . .’ She watched as he seemed to force a smile to his face and went about the business of getting ready to go.

Despite the fact she would feel better if one of the more seasoned warriors were to take the group in hand, Meghan wondered what sort of resentment this might breed in the group. Forgetting she had laid it upon herself to keep her opinions and questions to herself, she voiced the question that had formed in her mind. Her eyes darted around the group . . .

‘So, who is to be leader, now?’

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Osmod’s words sounded, and resounded in Sythric’s mind. ”I know I’m no longer the leader in here, but should we not get going?” Well, as I so much love these youngsters, and both trust and hope so much on them, this one really makes me disappointed, time after another! Either being the center of everything, or then being the martyr! So strong feelings from such discussable matters! So itchy about the tiniest scars on their self-image! Keeping one’s honour is one thing, being pricky about these kinds of small things is another. Oh, these young people... not that I wasn’t the same, when I was of that age, though. How many times have I told myself to remember that?

Then there were the words of Meghan in the air: "So, who is to be leader, now?"

This time Sythric’s light grin was just an inward one. Simultaneosly, he was hardly pondering about his words, to get this imminent leadership-problem solved the best way he could see. Why didn’t I come up with the topic with Raedwald when we were smoking under the tree during the night? I already asked Meghan the thing. Well obviously she was there too. So charming young lady, but could we have discussed this thing in her presence, in all earnest, anyhow? We would probably just have raised more problems, with others thinking, there is a some sort of a clique of latecomers’, with Meghan inside it, making decisions about leadership-issues, and what-not? Some of the others probably thought that way already... Youth sure is heroic, and paranoid, at the same time. As Raedwald’s expression seemed as baffled as his, Sythric decided just to go for it, and make his best.

“Please, Osmod! Wait a moment!”, he called back to Osmod. Osmod had already almost reached his packings, but when called, he turned around, and took a few steps towards the others, still clinging next to the fire. Sythric rose up and addressed him again, now with a more talkative tone.

“I heard last night, from my young friend Meghan here, that you have been the leader of the party. Then I believe, you must be the one to whom the March-warden gave the letter for the king? Things being that way, I really do think, that you should come forwards with your stature. You have been relied on this, you have been chosen as the leader. Now you just have to act like it! I believe, that I also speak with the mouth of my old friend Raedwald now: we two were sent here to help you, not to lead you. Rest assured, we will be giving you all the counsel we can, and we will be putting ourselves at risk as the first one’s to go. But you have been chosen, so take the lead!” He looked Osmod into the eyes quite seriously. Then nodded to everyone else, took the lamb and the wineskin, and took to packing his things.

Sythric felt that Raedwald was walking just behind him, to get his own gear in order. He turned lightly and addressed Raedwald. “Even if we might be in dead-dangerous situatiuons over the following days, we could make him, and his father, a service by helping to bring out the man from this youth. We’ll see, how this turns out. I’m sure, you will be helping in this. I quess all we would have to help him. As I told you during the night, he’s a good lad, even if as this morning’s show didn’t immediately raise such thoughts in you. I know, he is more than a whining teenager. Just trust me on this. And without someone of them rising to a rank, there will be just bad feelings and disruptions. I quess Osmod is the horse to bet on now. Let's try to encourage the others at their time?”

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn finished eating his breakfast quietly. Once more, things were getting awkward among his party. What had started as a simple party of four had escalated into a troop of six literally overnight. Meghan seemed fine with this: apparently she knew the two newcomers well. Osmod, however... Well, he wasn't exactly sure how Osmod felt about this. The morning had begun happily enough; he had seemed more cheerful than Fionn had ever seen him. But then, just as quickly, he had shown hints of discomfort. Now he was all but certain he had been demoted.

And what of this newcomer, this Sythric? Fionn recognized him somewhat; he could picture him speaking with his father on several occasions, but he himself had no reason to be aquainted with him until now.

Sythric was hiding his true feelings well, but Fionn had the sense that he lacked faith in them, at least to a minor degree. He probably throught they were too young and foolhardy for such an important mission. (Well, that's what Fionn's father would probably say, anyway.) But was it true? Fionn mused on this for a while as he rose, dreamlike, and absent-mindedly packed his belongings.

The thought hadn't really occured to him prior to this; yesterday he had the utmost faith in himself and his fellow messengers, and had assumed that the rest of Bregoware shared his opinion. But now, it seemed as though Bregoware was regretting their decision. Perhaps they had sent them merely out of desperation. Perhaps he and his new party WERE unfit for the task. Were they being sent to their deaths?

No, Fionn thought fiercely. It didn't matter what Bregoware or Edoras or Sythric or Raedwald or the March-Warden or ANYONE thought. Farmers or not, they were doing an important job, and they would not fail. After all, they were just going to Edoras.... Right?

A thought occurred to him. He looked over at the others. He had no idea how well any of them could fight. He had been absent during the hunting party, so he didn't know who was a good shot and who wasn't. He assumed that Raedwald and Sythric were adequate fighters, being Ex-Riders, but they were retired. And anyway, even if they were excellent with the spear, that would mean nothing if no one else could fight their own battle. They'd be around to protect Miss Meghan, though; that WAS the reason why Raedwald had come. Osmod probably knew what he was doing, and Miss Eostre... Fionn grinned wryly. Miss Eostre was fierce. He'd never seen her fight, but she could probably frighten away any approaching danger on her own. He'd never tell her that to her face, though, as he valued his life too much.

And then there was himself. He was a decent shot with a bow, although his experience with orcs and Eastern Men was severely limited. He hoped he could hold his own.

He was suddenly aware that a vote was going on. He looked up.

"Oh," he said, almost apologetically. "Well, I agree that Osmod continue as our leader. He's done well so far, wouldn't you say?"

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Hearing Fionn's remark, Sythric smiled slightly to Raedwald.

"Well: some unity and comradeship beginning to appear. Now is it, or am I just dreaming the things I hear? It's a good sign, and a winning horse..."

He smiled more openly and turned to pack his lamb and wine, calling Thydrë with his low whistle. Time to go, and we'll make this!, he thought.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


Meghan was a little aways from the rest of the group, securing the last of her few possessions to the back of her saddle. His horse already loaded and ready to go, Rædwald walked up along side her and helped her with the last of her knots. ‘I’m only here to see to your well being, little mistress. As your brother asked. I hope the others will not think I’ve come to take over the group itself.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Of course, if keeping you whole means keeping them whole, that will simply be a side benefit for them.’

She frowned at him and he tried to pull his face into a more contrite expression. ‘Just fooling around a bit!’ he offered as an excuse. ‘Give an old Rider turned goat herder some leeway won’t you?’

He glanced up toward the rest of the group. Some had mounted up and it seemed as if they were proceeding forward, though they were bunched together and he could not see who had led off.

Rædwald took the reins of Meghan’s horse and held her steady for the woman to mount up. He handed up the last small leather bag for Meghan to secure to the front of her saddle, within easy reach. Then he mounted up himself and tsk’d to his horse, urging him on. With one last look at the 'door for luck' as Osmod had called his drawing in the dirt, he sent up a silent little request to what powers might be that luck indeed would ride with them.

He kept pace beside Meghan sharing a few words her brother had spoken to him when he’d gone. It would be a considerable ride to the ford as he recalled, settling himself into the pace of the other riders.

[Farael]

Was it the comment or the song what had irked them? It mattered not, whatever it had been, he had been ‘rewarded’ with a renewed vote of confidence for his leader role. He sighed and tried to look serious, but deep inside he recalled his dreams and could not help it to smile. They were hardly an eodred, but they were brave enough.

After everyone had saddled up, Osmod nodded his head towards the road and with a silent prayer he started riding again. A moment later he turned around and asked Sythric to ride by his side. “It gets too lonely here ahead of the rest, Master Sythric, and I thought you could entertain me with some good talk. Maybe a story or two, I’m sure riders like yourself must have many of those.” He offered his olive branch without making much fuzz and hoped the rider would take it. Sythric seemed to be a good man after all and his best bet at learning how to defend himself. His newly found desire to be a great, famous commander had nothing to do with it. Not at all.

[Maeggaladiel]

The horse's chesnut ears swiveled backwards as Fionn approached her with the saddle. Apparently she hadn't planned on carrying him for another whole day.

"I'm riding you. Get used to it," Fionn told her, plopping the saddle down on her back. "We have a long way to go yet, you old nag." He scratched her at the withers and then patted her on the neck as he went to work. He pulled on the girth strap that wrapped around her stomach and held the saddle in place. The horse did not protest.

After several moments, Fionn tightened the girth strap once more. As he expected, it was already loose. She had held her breath when he first put it on. Had he tried to sit in it, it might have slid sideways and thrown him off. He grinned.

"Hah," he told the horse, waggling a finger in her face. "I'm not that dense, you mule. Thought you were going to dump me as soon as we broke into a trot, didn't you? Didn't you?" The mare avoided eye contact. "You'll keep me on my toes for the entire journey, won't you madam? Just remember who it is who'll be grooming and watering you."

This ongoing battle of horsey and human wits had lifted his spirits significantly since this morning's occurrences. It really wasn't much to brag that you had outwitted a stubborn animal, but it kept him focused on the task at hand, always expecting some mutinous maneuver from the beast he was now mounting. She started to walk sideways as he climbed into the saddle, but he grabbed her reigns and held her steady.

"You're no match for Fionn of Bregoware," he said with a grin. "You and your kind are beneath me." He looked down at the horse he was straddling and grinned larger. "Literally, in this case."

[Naria]

Wulfham


She was walking into camp with Brand at her heels when she saw Vaenosa come through some trees and into view. She had something heavy and big on her back. Incana hurried her pace to see what the young woman had brought them. Incana was thrilled to see that Vaenosa's surprise was meat. She thought to herself that this amount of wild boar should last them a few days and immediately began to think of ways to prepare the animal.

As if her mother's voice was reading aloud a recipe in her head, Incana remembered, To roast wild game you will need to have a very hot fire; after you have made sure of this dig a shallow pit in the centre of the hot coals. Then you would find flat rocks and line the bottom of the pit with them and place the meat on top of the rocks covering the meat with the remaining flat rocks and coal. Incana remembered also that the hot coals and the fire will heat the rocks thus cooking the meat inside.

This of course would take all day to cook the wild boar but Incana started preparations towards getting the animal ready for their supper. After Brand had skinned the animal Incana took over, once again thinking that she hasn't done much to help the group so far, she used her knife and made a swift upwards stroke and opened the pig's belly. Its innards spilled onto the ground, the blood quickly absorbed by the dry soil. She was sure that her mother had taught her another recipe on how to prepare and cook an animal's stomach, but she couldn't remember. It would come to her eventually that was one meal Incana enjoyed eating. She finished separating the different parts of the animal and placed what she could fit into the fiery grave. Not knowing what to do with the remaining pieces of meat she asked Dorran, "Do you know a way in which to dry meat? There is still some wild boar left here." He nodded at her question and Incana could tell, by the quizzical look on his face, that the young man had something in mind.

After Incana had rinsed her hands and blade of blood with water she took some lunch and sat down next to Brand. She ate her last spoonful of stew and rinsed it down with tea that Dorran always kept fresh and hot for them. Incana then made a bold move and started a conversation with the man sitting next to her. She was nervous and hesitant to do what she was about to do, but after a period of uncomfortable silence she spoke to Brand. "Since Vaenosa is asleep and will probably be this way for awhile I thought I should let you know as to why she is acting the way that she has been lately." Incana paused to clear her head and brushed some stray hairs out of her face with her fingers and continued, "You see my mother and her mother knew eachother through their different duties they had and spoke quite often in the village market. My mother would bring in clothing that she had made or mended for certain villagers and Vaenosa's mother would bring in fresh vegetables to the market. There were a lot of people in the village that both of our mothers knew and in turn they knew of us. When we were younger I never talked or played with Vaenosa, she always seemed to be in her own world most of the time. I was close with my mother at that age, but Vaenosa was very close with hers and panicked it she lost sight of her. I never understood why she acted that way and it bothered me for many years." Incana took another sip of her tea and went on. "My mother had talked to me on several occasions about Vaenosa, but I had a feeling that she never was telling me the whole story. I finally got the whole story the night we returned to our homes after I volunteered for this journey. She had recognized Vaenosa in the village square that night and wanted me to know the truth before we set off." Incana swallowed hard and with a slight quiver in her voice she proceeded to go into Vaenosa's past.

"Vaenosa's father had taken in a stranger that was in need of a place to stay for awhile before moving on. One night the stranger went mad with rage and killed her father, beat her mother and with no one around to help her he took advantage of a very young Vaenosa. So, do you see why she would act the way that she has been?" Incana went on, "I have talked with her in passing when we see eachother in the village market however, it has been at least two years since our last encounter and that is why I wasn't sure if I had recognized the right person at the beginning of our trek." She thought to herself and said, "I think it was the way that she rushed into camp, so bold and angered. It is a behavior that she has shown me before in the village, it has been a couple of years now but it hasn't left my mind. This is why I have tried to defend her actions and why I have tried to talk with her since that night." Incana paused and picked up the twig that she had earlier and pushed some dirt with it, then softly peered into Brand's eyes and said "I know she means well bringing back a gift of food shows this. Maybe she will let her guard down with the group, I will talk to her when we are on our way again." She smiled at the man feeling a weight lift off of her shoulders.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Finally on their way, Eostre thought to herself, a slightly rueful expression on her face. Certainly, she had been eager; even desperate to abandon the seeming exaggeratedly long stays, but whatwith the two newcomers to their party, suspicions were rising in the already cynical woman's mind. She wanted to know more about the whys, the hows, the wherefores...

She wanted to ask Osmond why he had sang, and ask why it seemed to be so directed towards Meghan. Perhaps he liked her. No one likes me, she had thought softly while saddling up her horse to prepare for the ride out. She had went through the motions almost mindlessly before mounting once more and preparing to follow the group out.

By this point, she was already strongly aware she was probably the least trusted member of the party. Perhaps because she lived with her uncle, perhaps because she seemed cynical and uncaring...

Perhaps because Meghan had utter control over the party. Meghan, the cheerful member who (Eostre supposed) could never stand in the face of chaos. Meghan, the one who could very likely destroy the party if she remained so naive... why was every one of them so ridiculously naive?!

At least the two new ones seemed well hardened to destruction, if they were trustable...

With these thoughts in mind, Eostre followed the party out from the camp.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


‘Now, lass, I’ve been thinking . . .’

They had traveled in companionable silence for a while, letting the miles slip by without comment. Meghan had leaned over Ash’s neck and murmured a few sweet words to her. The March-warden’s wife had chosen well; the horse was a gentle ride and seemed attuned to what her rider needed. ‘A measure of oats for you, my dearie, when we reach our campsite for the night,’ Meghan had said to her.

Rædwald’s words broke in upon her thoughts of what her family might be doing now. Did they have all the belongings loaded on the hay wagons? Had they gotten one of the neighbor lads to help herd the goats along? The herd would probably number two score and ten or so now with the addition of Rædwald’s goats.

‘And what have you been thinking, Rædy?’ she asked, focusing her full attention on him now.

He was only a few more sentences into his thoughts when she pulled her horse to a stop and looked at him in a horrified manner. He was going on about the bargain he had made with her brother Leof, and she was aghast at what he was saying.

‘What do you mean . . . When you die?’ she said in a loud voice. ‘You’re giving me your goats should you not make it through to the end of this journey. And what store of coins are left from days as a Rider for their keep!’ She fumed and spluttered, her cheeks turning bright red in anger and disbelief. ‘Don’t even think on it! You’re going back just as I will, hale and well. And if we’re lucky our two herds will have increased by several more with the interbreeding. But that’s it . . . And don’t say another word about your being killed. I won’t hear of it!’

But go on, he did . . . his helm and mail shirt, the thick leather vest for padding beneath it, and his oaken lance with the sharp iron tip . . . well, they, he hoped, she would save for her first-born son as a present from his late Uncle Rædwald. And yes, he knew they looked a bit worse for wear at the present. But he’d brought his oil and polishing cloth and at the first opportunity would set them to gleaming once again.

Meghan choked and coughed as he finished his list for her. He’d brought his horse up close to hers and pounded her lightly between the shoulder blades with one hand as he offered her a drink from his waterskin with the other.

‘First-born son!’ she squeaked, her brows inching up toward her hairline. ‘Are you mad! That would require a husband to be got and I don’t see one in my near future nor farther down the road, either . . .’

‘Now lass, I’ve been giving that some thought, too,’ he said, nodding his thoughtfully at her. And with that began a litany of various eligible males from the village that she ought to seriously be considering.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath letting it out slowly. Perhaps the earth will open up and swallow me whole! But no, there he was, ticking off the good points of Gareth, Grindan’s son, the one who farmed near the eastern edge of the village proper.

Oh, this will be a long, long ride to the river . . .

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric answered Osmod’s call and rode to his side. Then he turned to Osmod and said. “Riding with some company is always preferable to riding alone, that’s my opinion too. Riding alone you easily fall to idle fantasies or soul-wavering nightmares.” He looked at Osmod with a smile, but then got more serious: “To begin with, I’ll tell you here and now, that I do trust you. Do not be doubtful of that. And because of my trust, I think we have some things to talk. Come!” With that he spurred Thydrë to a somewhat faster pace. After making a little headway to others, and feeling Osmod coming beside him, Sythric turned to him again.

“Well my friend. You know me. I’ve been with the riders from younger years than you are now, and I have taught young people, almost as the age of you, in the skills of arms and riding for almost ten years. I’m not boasting with this, don’t misunderstand me here. But I’m just trying to give you my reasons, why I said the things I said, back there at the fire. And why I feel it to be so urgent, that you’ll take the lead here.” He glanced rapidly behind them, happily noting, that the others were following them, not too far away, but not too close either. He cleared his throat, and continued:

“So, I know something about what it is to ride in a party with a mission, and I know a lot about, how young people can behave. Now the party of young riders is just off to a dangerous and important mission, and within a day, there are two old war-horses to help them. Now how does this feel? How does this affect you? It surely takes down your self-confidence, more with someone, less with others. Now how do you vent that out? Basically you either start to pick on others, or then you wrap yourself out from others, feeling more insecure every hour, whichever option you choose. Then you start to grumble, to accuse others, to whine, and at the end you don’t trust anymore. The party is not a team then. It’s just bunch of detached individuals. And if that kind of bunch faces trouble, it won’t work as a team, and the chances of failing rise too high.” He paused for a while, waiting for Osmod’s nod to continue, as if the things said had been followed.

“So we have to do everything to heal this possible wound, before it gets sour. And the best way I can see to attain it, is for someone of you growing some stature here. Showing the others, that you people are as well suited to this job as we oldtimers are. And to show, that we oldies’ are accepting the lead of the one of you. And I thought that you were the obvious one, as I don’t know very much about Eostre or Fionn, and as I know Meghan enough.” At that last remark he grinned joyously to Osmod, and winked his eye merrily.

“Don’t take me wrong with my last remark. She’s a lovely young lady, and I really understand why Raedwald is so attached to her. The world would be a better place with more people like her around. But surely, she is no war-band or scout-party leader, as you must know. And you had been the leader anyhow, before we got here.” Sythric looked, now quite seriously, straight into Osmod’s eyes for a second. Then he turned his head forwards, giving Osmod time to think about the things he’d just said.

After a while he turned back to Osmod again, and said: “You probably remember, I have allways called you a boy or a lad – as we have met at your father’s house, or at the village festivities. Now I say, that I truly believe you will be a good Man, a man worth of your mission. Do not let me down on my trust!”

[Maeggaladiel]

The horse was, for the moment, willing to obey commands. She had calmed considerably during the short time they had ridden, once Fionn had established that yes, she was going to carry him and no, she couldn't stop every five minutes to nibble at the grass. She now seemed perfectly happy to follow his orders to the letter. That made Fionn rather suspicious, but he decided to give the mare a chance.

Clicking his tongue and touching a heel to her flank, Fionn urged the horse faster to catch up with Osmod and Sythric. The prospect of being near others of her species seemed to please the mare. Fionn personally would have preferred to take their family's horse on this trip, but he was needed for their evacuation. So Fionn was left with this nag. Oh well; make do with what you have.

He brought her alongside Osmod's horse and slowed her to match his pace. He seemed to be coming in on the middle of a conversation between Osmod and Sythric, so he gave them a polite distance so not to interrupt.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric and Osmod both noticed that someone had rode alongside them. It was Fionn. Before Osmod had time to answer anything, that Sythric had kind of just thrown to his face, Sythric was greeting Fionn heartily. “Master Fionn, do join us with the ride. I would really like to hear, how you are feeling today, and what do you think about the mission we have”.

Hastily Sythric hissed to Osmod, so that Fionn could not have heard it: “You have something to say over the things I just talked you, let's have them later”.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan eyed the men, or that is the majority of the men as Rædwald still rode by her, who were now clumped together like ticks on a dog. There were two of them, at first, Osmod and Sythric. With Sythric talking quite seriously to the younger man. And then up came Fionn. She rather liked him; he was still boyish enough to make her smile with his ingenuous manner. Still, he was a male, and soon he would be sucked into that great brotherhood of males around which she might only stand quite prettily and quite demurely staring in.

And then of course, there was Eostre. And sometimes she almost envied the woman her fierceness. Meghan dug deep in herself and could not find an answering strain. Sure, she shepherded her little herd about and kept them safe as she could. But who was she fooling with her thinking that she could ride with such . . .

She looked hard at the group of men, her brow furrowing, searching for an image on which to pin her thoughts. Eagles. That was it. Great birds of war, all big and majestic, clear eyed and so sure of themselves.

And what was it that Rædwald and Sythric had called her. Ah, yes . . . magpie, and sparrow. Bothersome birds, the both of them. And who would think to put such a small creature among heroes. Certainly none of the tales told about the fire she’d heard had ever featured such.

‘Ash,’ she whispered, leaning low over her mount’s neck, ‘you should have nipped me hard on the leg the moment I mounted you. Woken me from this dream that I might indeed be equal to the task.’ You’ve been a fool, Meghan! she chided herself, straightening up in the saddle. Better to make the right decision now, before the river is crossed, before you become nothing more than a liability.

Rædwald’s horse nickered and bumped lightly against her boot. Meghan flicked her eyes toward Rædwald, noting with a certain irritated alarm that he seemed to be scrutinizing her. She cocked her head at those riding at the front of their little group. ‘Shouldn’t you be up there? Discussing strategy and such?’ she asked in a somewhat peevish manner. She waved him away from her, slapping his horse on the hindquarters to drive him off. ‘Go talk of plans and important matters with your fellows. I’ll hear no more of suitable husbands and first borns. My head is aching already from your idle chatter.’

She stopped her horse completely, watching as he and the others drew further ahead.

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘I thank you for your telling of Vaenosa’s story.’ Brand was quiet for a while, his face thoughtful, as he absorbed the horrid details Incana had told him. ‘It explains quite a lot about her actions.’ He put his cup aside and stood up. It was his habit when he was faced with something of a serious matter to walk about a bit. His thoughts were more easily collected and viewed as he paced, he’d found. And this was certainly something of a serious matter.

‘Someone should let Dorran know these things.’ He crouched down to where Incana still sat. ‘Will you do this? It would come better from you as her friend, I think.’

Brand raised his hand to his face, rubbing at the bandage over his wound. He stood back up again, excusing himself from her company as he did so. ‘I’ll be back before nightfall,’ he said, picking up his cloak from the ground where he’d been sitting. ‘I need to walk for a while. I have some things to think on.’

He pulled his cloak about him and nodded to her, then let his steps take him away from the camp.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn looked slightly taken aback at the jovial manner in which Sythric invited him into the conversation. He had halfway expected to be treated as an unwelcome intruder, although he had little idea why he had expected this. Perhaps it was because they were both older than him, and certainly more worldly. There was little reason for them to have become friends under normal circumstances. But this was hardly normal, was it?

"Ah," he began uncertainly. "Pardon if I'm interruptin' anything." He looked around him, and his face burst into his usual grin. "It's just that I'm usually stuck bringing up the rear of the party." He leaned back in the saddle. "It's rather nice having a view of something other than the back of your heads once in a while. 'Course, that's saying nothing against the back of your head. Fine heads, they are, to be sure." He grinned again.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Disheartened by the lack of feelings and response from Brand, Incana watched the man walk away from camp. She noticed that the day had progressed from lunch to the time she was done talking to Brand; evening was slowly approaching. Incana took some rocks off of the roasting boar and saw that it was almost done. She replaced the stones and thought to herself, we cannot just eat the meat by itself we must get something to go along with it.

Incana remembered that Dorran had found turnips earlier. She waited until he came back into camp with some more wood and asked, "Dorran if you are not too busy at the moment, could you show me where you found those turnips you used for the stew?" She also had a thought that if he was able to find turnips maybe there will be some potatoes as well.

[Tevildo]

Dorran took Incana by the hand and guided her over to the edge of camp, pointing to a tall pine that stood some ways off. "Just head in that direction and you'll find a small stream. Be careful there. The ground is tricky....filled with all kinds of gnarled tree roots. Follow it south no more than thirty feet and you'll see a patch of turnips growing near the bank. The clearing is well watered and the sunlight peeps through so I wouldn't be surprised to find other root plants there as well."

There was a moment of silence between them, as Dorran glanced awkwardly over at the girl, wondering how to bring up what was on his mind. He felt he had to say something. "Please, Incana, I hope you don't think ill of me, but I overheard a good deal of what you and Brand were saying. I was watering the horses and managed to come by at just the point you were speaking. I have been thinking a lot about all this. Vaenosa's so different from my sister that I can't make head or tail of her. And I admit I've been angry at her because of her teasing. Yet I do understand that past grief can turn people inside out. She's lucky to have her mother. Her hunting skills are extraordinary for such a young girl, and I am grateful for the food she's provided. Perhaps, she'll get to feel more comfortable with us. I hope so. It will make things easier for everyone, including herself. I just can't say these things to her directly, but maybe you could let her know that I've no wish to be her enemy or hurt her in any way. I've seen enough misery come down on people's heads, and I don't want to be the cause of any more grief for her."

"As to the other question you asked me before, that's a lot easier to deal with. Unfortunately, we don't have enough time for drying the meat. That would take three or four days. But Brand has some salt. You can place some thin strips in a brine solution. Hang the jerky over a low fire until dawn. When we break camp, just pack up the jerky and continue smoking the next night. The whole thing takes about four to five days of smoking and is worth every minute. I remember my parents did this when we were on the run to the west, safe out of the dark lands so that we could light fires again."

Dorran stopped a minute, wondering if he should go on. But if he didn't say this now, he was likely not to have another chance. "Anyways, there's one more thing I must say. Incana, you have a gentle heart. You stuck your neck out for Vaenosa and that's says a lot. Whatever doubts or fears I have about your friend, I have none whatsover about you." With that, Dorran hastily dropped Incana's hand and hurried back towards camp.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


‘Well,’ he said to his horse as they plodded toward the lead group, ‘it’s a simple truth that women have their own ways.’ He patted his mount on the withers, more an assurance for himself as any comfort to the horse, who simply flicked his mane at the sudden touch. ‘She’ll get over whatever blue funk she’s sunk into and come round to her bright spirited self again. Just needs a little room to brood.’

His thoughts went back fondly to his mother, who had periodically thrown his father and her sons out of the house, suggesting they go do ‘something’, when she was feeling too hemmed in and bossed about. She’d say she was doing some deep cleaning and would they be so kind as to take the herd out to a far pasture for a few days or more. And it was true – the little cottage was gleaming and all in order when they’d come back, and she herself would be smiling and welcoming them with open arms. Perhaps that little space of time was all that Meghan would need to get her thoughts in order.

Rædwald kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and pulled up just shy of the group of men at the head of the group. ‘Private confab going on, eh?’ he called out as he neared them. ‘Or can another join and shoot the breeze with you?’

[Arry]

Wulfham

Brand’s footsteps brought him soon to the banks of the river. The shadows of the trees were long as they threw themselves across the wide waters. And with the sun low on the horizon behind him, his shadow, too, strained eastward, rippling on the currents. He knelt down and dipped his cupped hands into the frigid stream, letting the water at first seep through his fingers.

The little drops fell like a waterfall, like tears, even, as they returned to the water. What few were left, he brought up to his face and let their coolness refresh him as they could. He took the bandage from his wound and let the cold air of evening wash over it. A certain layer of fatigue seemed to slip away as he made his ablutions with the air and water.

Incana’s words were not so easily purged. He stood up, jamming the bandage in the pocket of his breeches. His feet turned south, taking him along the rocky uneven river bank.

How was he to think of her now? Vaenosa. And the awful things she had endured as a child. He was sickened and made sad by them. But it would not due to give her his pity. He, himself, would not want to be pitied; it would make him feel small, and somehow shamed. He could not imagine it would be different for her.

Sympathy? She would see right through that. He had nothing in his ordinary little life that would give him any basis for understanding the hell she must have borne through the years. And how would such a false offering ease her pain at all?

He clasped his hands behind his back. His pace slowed as he picked his way along the river’s edge now by moonlight. ‘Think, think, man!’ he grumbled to himself.

There was the possibility of friendship. But that would . . . or he should say . . . might . . . come over time. They had gotten off to a rocky start. And to be honest he had never been around someone as . . . well, prickly, as her. Yes . . .prickly, short-tempered, sharp-tongued.

Now, in a way, he supposed those could be excused, knowing her history. Or perhaps the better word would be, ‘understood’. He kicked a small stone out from under his foot, listening to it as it skittered across the rocky ground and plop into the river. Somehow that didn’t seem right to him. It took away her accountability, and in a way made her a lesser person, at least in his way of thinking.

He’d come to a wide part of the river, where it curved a little and eddied in a large pool near the bank he stood on. The water here was relatively smooth, and the moon, which had risen higher in the sky, was reflected in it, with almost no distortion. His eyes flicked from the reflection to the moon itself and back again.

Brand put his hands on his hips and laughed. He’d been looking in the wrong places. ‘You can’t do anything about what happened to her, you fool. Only about yourself. You’re a hasty one to judge, you know that. As set in your own ways as she is . . .

The walk back seemed shorter and less burdensome. Brand saw the small fire of the campsite and headed toward it. His stomach growled, letting him know it expected to be filled now that he was done with his wandering.

[Valier]

Wulfham


Vaenosa opened her eyes and yawned. The day was beginning to darken. She had not planned to sleep so long, she was slightly embarrassed. The others were sure to think her lazy. "After I had said that I would cook the Boar, I should have done just that and not gone to sleep!" She got up quickly and rolled up her Bedroll. Looking around camp she could not see Incana or Brand, but Dorran was busying himself by the fire. She was still a little unsure of how to treat the men they were travelling with. She was getting used to their presense and she could not help but think they were not so bad. She had come across much worse. Her nap had left her refreshed and content for the moment.

Vaenosa whistled for Nay, she had never seen him get along with other horses so well. He was usually pestering them mercilessly, until they pushed him away. Then he would find her and pester her till she played with him. It suddenly dawned on her that if Nay could get along so well with these strangers, she could as well.Nay come up from behind her and gave her hair a good snort."Hello My Boy! Come on, lets go for a walk. I bet we can find you a good stick to chew on. You dog of a horse! Come on!"She scratched him vigorously behind the ear like you would a dog and lead him towards dorran. As she approached her mouth began to water at the smell of the pig.Dorran looked up as she neared.

" I see someone has started that pig. I am sorry I slept late, I would have done it....It does smell good though!" She smiled at Dorran. "Uuummm I was just going to take Nay for a bit of a walk. He is really fond of big sticks...I know it's strange!" She replied to Dorran's questioning look. "I will be back as soon as I find him a good sized stick to keep him busy for awhile." She smiled again kind of shyly at her own boldness for talking to Dorran and walked away before Dorran could respond.

Vaenosa still found it odd to speak with the men. She never spoke to men when she lived alone with her mother. They either scared her or she thought them crude and unkempt. She thought she had been nice to Dorran and refrained from teasing about the cooking.But she was unsure if the same tactics could be used with Brand. He did not seem to care for her much. She could not blame him, she was retched in attitude and more than likely in appearance. She liked the woman Incana though. She seemed familiar to her, but she could not put her finger on from when or where she recognized her.

She lead Nay slowly into a glen that was to the right of the camp. Vaenosa spotted a large fallen branch not far off, lying on the ground. She dropped Nay's reins and broke out into a run towards it. Nay followed gaily behind her. She reached the stick seconds before Nay. She picked it up and raised it over her head, waving it around." Oh you want this stick do you? No way It's mine!" She hid it behind her back as Nay protested with whinneys and snorts. He pawed the ground and tried to push Vaenosa over. She dropped the stick and Nay swooped in and snatched it in his mouth. She sat down on the drying grass and watched as nay rolled on the ground, legs in the air, stick still in his mouth. She burst out laughing. She picked up handfuls of dried leaves and tossed them onto a pile. Nay stopped his rolling and came to investigate her pile. He bend down to sniff it, but before he could Vaenosa tossed the leaves in his face with a laugh. He jumped back and ran around in circles. Vaenosa could not contain her laughter as the Colt sped now around a tree. She lay back in the grass holding her stomach. Nay could never resist trying to squish her if she lay on the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. She waited trying not to giggle, for the big lug to get her.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

“Well, Raedwald my friend, do join us! We were just...”. As he turned to meet his old companions face, he had to turn his head back. And what he saw, was quite surprising to him – and the situation, or at least part of it, seemed pretty awkward. He was not sure, whether he should laugh or cry. He also noted, that both Osmod and Fionn had turned to look backwards. Readwald was watching straight ahead, to the other three riders. Sythric pulled Thydrë’s reins just lightly and addressed the others.

“Let’s not look like we are staring at them my friends. Just loose the pace a little.” He looked quizzically at Raedwald, and continued: “I’ve never been a woman, and so I don’t know how does it feel to be one. But I surely think, this is not looking good from the point of view of Eostre or Meghan. Indeed it’s not looking good from my own point of view either. It’s quite ironic, that me and Osmod were just talking about how to pull this party together – before it started to do so. Unhappily, it seems to mean only us men, for the time being. And this surely looks bad.” He had looked at all the others during his speech, and returned now his gaze on Raedwald. “Whatever has happened to Meghan, you only know – if even you.” He smiled helplessly after that last remark. “I’d be the first one to give her room for herself, but we just can’t leave her too far behind, neither can we just wait for too long.”

Suddenly he addressed Osmod personally: “Well Osmod, to me, it looks like it’s your time to enter. You surely remember, what we were talking about?”

[Arry]

Wulfham


He was nearly to the camp when laughter echoed from somewhere to his left and then faded. Brand did not recognize it, and curious he changed his course to find the source.

It was dark beneath the trees despite the fact that it was autumn and their limbs for the most part were bare. Still, their thick limbs and thinner branches wove in and out amongst each other, allowing only a spattering of moonlight here and there. At the inner edges of the trees, was a small glade, its grasses brown now as the promise of winter was coming nearer.

The moon shone bright in the glade. And there was Vaenosa’s horse, heading toward someone lying on the ground. From his vantage point, he could see it was Vaenosa. Not wishing to startle her, he stepped from beneath the branchy shadows and called softly to her.

‘Vaenosa, may I speak with you a moment?’ He did not wait for her reply, fearing her good mood might turn sour at the sight of him. Brand sat down on a fallen tree, a little ways away so as not to loom over her or appear threatening, and began to speak.

He took a deep breath and blew it out loudly, as his tongue tried to put words to his jumbled thoughts. He made a few false starts which trailed off into silences . . . ‘Geez! You know I’m really not all that good at talking to females,’ he confessed. ‘If only you were one of my ewes, this whole thing would go a lot smoother.’

You idiot! he chided himself silently. Now you’ve gone and wished her a sheep!

‘Right . . . then!’ he began once again. ‘Let me just try to speak plainly.’ He cleared his throat nervously. ‘We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot somehow. And I’ll be the first to claim my share of the blame for it. I haven’t been at my best when I’ve tried to talk to you, have I. It makes me very uncomfortable, this tension I feel when we try to have some sort of interaction. And I really hate the unpleasant feeling that I need always be on my guard.’ He reached up to rub the back of his neck then thought better of it and placed his hands one on each knee. ‘I’d like us to start over if we could.’

He cleared his throat again, this time gaining a little confidence. ‘Now I’ve done a little thinking on this, for my part. I’ll try to curb my plain-spoke tongue and try to respond to you in a less . . . well, hostile manner. I won’t crowd you too close . . . and please, make it known when this dumb shepherd tries to herd you in a way you just don’t like.’

Brand bit back the words of sympathy which had nearly spilled from his lips. He thought that perhaps Incana had spoken in confidence about her friend, and he didn’t want any bad blood between the two women.

She’ll tell me herself, or not, he cautioned himself, if she chooses and in her own time. And some secrets he knew were simply best left unspoken. There were some he held near, himself that would never see the light of day . . .

‘Anyways, that’s just what I’ve been thinking . . . ‘bout you and me, at least. Hope I haven’t talked your ear off and even more I hope you’ve made some kind of sense out of my bumbling thoughts and tangled words.’

[Farael]

Osmod looked back at Meghan. She was falling behind quickly, yet Osmod could not see any problems with her or the horse. He thought then that she looked sad; as if the dark thoughts that crowded on the back of his own mind had found a way into hers. He feared that she, as he had felt the day before, was feeling she did not belong with the rest. Why else would she stop now? There was no reason to feel more scared than the day before; the only thing that had changed was the two old ones. And they seemed to be decent people so far. Remembering how Meghan had encouraged him not so long ago, he decided that it was his duty to help her.

”Sorry Sythric, but if I am to be the leader I will need to start making choices by myself. Meghan is a smart woman; she needs not the condescending presence of ‘the leader’ to make up her mind. If I go to her now, I will only make her feel insecure as if we did not trust her. Let’s move on, do not look back again. Soon we will hear her call out for us, and if not, your job will turn a whole lot easier Master Raewald.” He smiled then, as his mind was made up. Looking around him he saw all the other men. Where was Eostre now? She was probably behind them, but he dared not to peek back for Meghan’s sake. He wanted her to feel that at least he trusted she would make the right choice. The others probably trusted her as well. Maybe even Sythric did. Why was that man so untrusting? Osmod wondered.

” He always seems to be second-guessing us, or is it just me the one he doubts? Does he really want the best for me or does he want a puppet to handle and then blame if things go awry?” His mind raced, but for every answer he tried to find, only more questions seemed to appear “Stop thinking like that right now, you fool. That old warrior’s body may be past his prime but his mind does not seem to have lost one step. You better find something else to talk about.”

”So Fion… " He started, hoping not to startle the boy "from what I understand your family has a farm, right? Do you own some cattle as well? I used to shepherd my dad's cattle quite often, and I have a few stories you might find funny. I know it sounds almost frivolous to talk about it right now, but why should we not talk about innocent things? Our mission sure is important, but let’s enjoy our company and leave the war stories to be told tonight by the fire.”

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


‘Better to make the right decision now, before the river is crossed, before you become nothing more than a liability.’ She voiced the words aloud, letting them hang in the air before her. Ash turned her head to the side, fixing an eye on Meghan. The mare’s ears swiveled backward, as if awaiting further instruction.

Of a sudden, an old voice echoed in the back of the woman’s thoughts. A plaintive and rather peevish voice. And with it she could just see a wrinkled old finger being shook right in her face. It was her mother’s mother . . . Gammer Bernia. And didn’t her name fit her! “Battle Maiden”!

The wizened old granny was the one who’d named her Meghan. And she never let the young girl forget the meaning of it. ‘We’re strong’uns, us daughters of old Freya. And so I named you . . . “Strong and Capable”. In you runs the blood of Freya, herself, and wasn’t she such a queen of power and glory that even the old gods bowed down before her when her step trembled on the earth!’

Meghan could see her bent over, her back bowed from her many years. And in her mind’s eye the old woman leaned on her twisted yew-wood cane and clucked her tongue at the cowardly thoughts of her granddaughter. ‘Put a little starch in that backbone, missy. You’ll be needed somewhere down the line. Be patient and be ready.’

The old woman snorted and seemed to cock her head toward the knot of men who rode at the head of the group. ‘Showy birds, ain’t they? Useful themselves, at times.’ She turned her head back to Meghan, fixing her with her clouded blue eyes. ‘Just you remember . . . just cuz they got some extra equipment on ‘em don’t make ‘em one whit better or smarter than you.’

Meghan could hear the old lady cackling uproariously at her own wit. And she could not help but laugh herself, though a crimson stain spread up her neck and cross her cheeks at her Gammer’s bawdy comment.

The voice faded in her thoughts, still laughing. And there were faint words that trailed behind.

‘Well . . . g’wan! Get goin’, girl!’

And as if she had heard them herself and taken them as a command, Ash leapt forward, carrying Meghan back to the odd assemblage of fated riders.

[Valier]

Wulfham


Vaenosa sat quietly and listened as Brand offered peace between them. She was a little taken back and was unsure as how to reply. A man had never apologized to her before, they always raged at her then never spoke to her again. She did not want to seem to eager to make friends with this man. His actions and words were strange to her. Dorran's actions seemed almost child like, she felt more compelled to laugh at him then argue with him. Brand on the other side had shown some authority over the group and Vaenosa felt slightly pressed to do as she was told, which went against everything she believed in.

She was unsure if he was being honest or just trying to get her to let her guard down. She bit her tongue and decided against a snide remark. She nodded at the man replying weakly." Sure, that would be fine. No hard feelings then....She paused slightly, uncomfortable, before saying." I am hungry though and that Boar sure smells good. I think Nay's done here so I am heading back." She managed a pretty enough smile before she turned her back to Brand and started back to the camp. Her stomach was growling, she could hardly wait to taste the pig.

[Maeggaladiel]

”So Fion…--" The lad straightened in the saddle, hearing Osmod's voice. "--from what I understand your family has a farm, right? Do you own some cattle as well? I used to shepherd my dad's cattle quite often, and I have a few stories you might find funny. I know it sounds almost frivolous to talk about it right now, but why should we not talk about innocent things? Our mission sure is important, but let’s enjoy our company and leave the war stories to be told tonight by the fire.”

Fionn gave a curt nod.

"We've a farm, but we've only got one cow," he said. "We got her as a trade, you see. Our farm is really more for vegetables, chickens, and geese than for sheep and cattle, but sometimes my father trades for livestock."

At that, his mouth bent into an almost embarrased smirk.

"It really doesn't sound like much, but we do quite well with what we have," he said. "Guess I'm something of the odd man out, hm? Among the herders of the mighty beasts, I am the one who prods geese with a pole and hacks away at weeds all day."

He was suddenly aware that he had been rambling. Embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck with a hand and looked down at the saddle-horn.

"But anyway, to answer your question, I do know something of cattle. And I'm sure whatever stories you had to tell would be much more interesting than The Chronicles of Fionn and his Amazing Poultry."

[Naria]

Wulfham



Incana didn't know what to make of the way Dorran had acted while he was holding her hand and then ran off. She thought to herself he is kind and gentle, but why would he be so shy with me?. She would think some more about Dorran as she searched for the vegetables he had directed her too.

Incana had found the turnips and much to her surprise, some potatoes. She had put them along side the boar to cook and before long they were done. She would have let everyone know that supper was ready, but there was only Dorran and herself at the camp. Incana took out two bowls and a set of two pronged forks and gave the lone couple some boar and potatoes.

She scooped a cupfull of tea out of the pot and sat down to enjoy her long awaited supper. Incana had finished eating and cleaned out her bowl with some grass, doing a better job would have to wait. Night had fallen and the woman was getting tired, she took her boots off and slipped into her bedroll giving Dorran a warm smile goodnight.

[Arry]

Wulfham

Day 3


The next day’s ride was a relatively peaceful one. They’d started early, before first light and taken turns taking the lead as they rode. It was their third day out, and they pushed themselves a little harder than they might have, had they not needed to take a rest day.

Their midday meal was taken in the saddle, and washed down with a few swallows of water. They’d packed what boar meat they could in moss from near the river bank, wet with the cold river water. It would be enough for the evening supper, along with some of the root vegetables they’d found in their last camp.

By the time they found a suitable place to camp, the four riders were bone tired and their horses were glad to be unsaddled and let rest. They were just beyond the slow, wide section of the river where the ford was. To their left, as they had passed, they saw the barge-ferry on the far shore of the river. It was said, Brand told the others, that in olden days the King himself had once crossed there and gone to see the lands of those villages who gave him their fealty though they lay outside his realm.

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

Day 4

On the fourth day, Brand rode ahead of the others. They had covered a long distance the day before, and this morning he led them out at a more leisurely pace. He was the first to reach the top of a small rise and look southwest to where the air seemed thick with smoke.

It was windy, and the smoke and ash swirled and eddied in the gusting breezes. Brand motioned for the others to ride up along side him. ‘A village has been burnt,’ he called out to them as they drew near. Below them they could see the wreckage of the houses and halls. From this distance they could see that the fire had destroyed most of the cottages and the larger lord’s hall. Amidst the ruins were many, many bodies.

The four riders stayed on their little hill for quite a while, their eyes sweeping the scene of ruin below. They saw no Orcs about nor did they spy any armed men. They let their mounts pick their way down to the now smoldering village. The scene that opened to their sight as they drew nearer sickened them.

‘We should see if there are any we can help,’ Brand said. ‘And take close note of what we see so that we might report it to the king.’

He urged Lady down one of the ashy ways; among the dead he could see the corpses of a few foul Orcs. And once he thought he spied the body of a dead Easterling warrior, though it was horridly burned, and the upper half of the man’s torso had been crushed beneath a falling beam.

‘Let’s stick close together,’ he urged the group. ‘We cannot be sure that all the enemy are dead.’

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa was horrified at the sight she saw. She could only think to herself that if they did not get help soon their own village could look like this upon their return. Nay was spooking a bit from the retched smell that arose from the town. Vaenosa almost gagged at the smell herself. "Oh" she said to the others. "So this what burnt orc smells like." As she covered her nose with her sleeve. " I think we should have our weapons ready. The Orcs may still be lurking somewhere...pillaging and feasting..."

Vaenosa was afraid, she had never seen an Orc, and the thought of meeting some alive here in this village was terrifying to her. She put on a brave face to hide her inner feelings and started surveying the area. "We could look for any survivors as well as some supplies that might not have been damaged by the fires." She said looking at the other three riders. "Maybe we should split up. Then we could cover more ground quickly, leaving this place sooner if we recover nothing. Or perhaps we should check out the whole village together, then split up to look for supplies and survivors." She looked imploringly at the other three, waiting as patientally as Nay would allow, before he bolted out of the village, for the others to reply.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

As Osmod and Fionn seemed to be getting to their discussions, the old timers’ saw the natural chance of coming together. The question of Meghan still loomed over their talking. Raedwald was not so keen to open up on that one, and Sythric was alert enough, not to pressure over it. So they remembered their common ventures, those days of glory, now so definitively behind. Maybe this was indeed the last ride? It would be good to share this one, then. They remembered common friends and foes. They remembered those who had fallen.

At the time, Sythric took a glance backwards, and saw Eostre riding steadily behind them, but also Meghan far, far behind, but riding towards them.

“Your Meghan is coming after us, after a piece of thought. Maybe we all should have had that piece of thinking before we really tied ourselves with this?” Sythric adressed Raedwald. “Maybe she’s the only one who really knows, what she is doing?”

But just as he glanced forwards, to where they were riding to, he was terrified. There were houses, barns and all. They were approaching Arnanaes. But there were no movement whatsoever. That was frightening.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

A naturally hard rider, Eostre almost found the pace taken to be slow, although with Meghan having fallen behind, perhaps it was right to move forwards like this. Even though she had a natural dislike towards the girl, she didn't like the idea of losing her. Perhaps they'd need her in the future.

Was that an honest way to think? She was certain that those... children... would break apart the party if they carried on their naive views and refusal to accept more world-wise patterns. Fionn was so the typical dreamer, she thought, even having not spoken much to the one male member of their party who wasn't in the lead. And Meghan... Eostre was certain Meghan already hated her. Not as if she had expected anything better. Why wouldn't they?

The trees passed by at a moderate rate, every now and again a few other things altering the forest. And then the forest had passed by and it was grass, grass, and more grass. Yellow and intense, it flickered a stark contrast against the mountains in the distance and the vaguest signs of a town up ahead. Arnanaes, she thought it was. Arnanaes or else possibly Hildegaes, though she had thought Hildegaes was further north, were her memories of the map correct.

And coming up to the town, things were so silent. She glanced forward, beyond the two older riders, closer to the town. There were barns, the signs of horses, a trail slightly beaten. Somewhere up there she knew was a town; the farms more clustered about, perhaps. And the river, she knew, lay up ahead quite near. We'll have to cross the river before we reach the town, I think...

But her memory was dimmed, perhaps by the overwhelming tones of frustration and suspicions overwhelming her. Against all wills, she urged her horse forwards a bit. "Master Sythric, do we reach the river before Arnanaes? My memory of the map is, perhaps, not quite as great as it should be for this location."

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric and Raedwald had both noticed the empty farmhouses. They were sharing the feeling of chill at the moment. Just before that, Raedwald had just told Sythric, that the brave Aethulf had died last summer, to an unknown disease. He had started losing his weight and hair first, then he started to feel cold, notwithstanding his rising temperatures. Then there was just the sudden end of everything. Raedwald had heard this from one of their mutual friends. Aethulf had died painfully, on his own bed. Sythric was just taking all this in, with these new bad omens of a deserted countryside, when he heard Eostre’s voice addressing him "Master Sythric, do we reach the river before Arnanaes? My memory of the map is, perhaps, not quite as great as it should be for this location."

Sythric looked at Eostre, changing his serious expression into a more comfortable one. “Well, master Eostre”, he grinned, kind of returning the compliment “We surely are reaching Aernanaes right now. Beside the town, there’s the river. And after river, Rohan proper.” He looked at Eostre questioningly, but as she didn’t reply, he continued, with a more grim expression: “As you see, the houses are quite empty. The town of Arnanaes seems to be evacuated. That is not a good sign. This land surely is at war, and I just hope, that those people coming behind us, including our families and friends from Bregoware, will meet these places as peaceful as we are meeting them.”

With that, he called Osmod to take the route a little more left. The center of the town would be there, and they surely should take a look at it. And anyhow, the ferry would be reached from there as easily as it would be, coming from outside the town.

The party entered the central road of the town quite soon. It was one of those towns to which you seem to be coming in, little by little, passing a farmhouse after farmhouse, and then very suddenly, you are at the center. That always surprises the wayfaring stranger. Sythric and Raedwald were no strangers to this place. It was so familiar, and yet, so unfamiliar. All things were at their places, but everything was out of place.

There was the smith’s shop, where Sythric had repaired his spurs so many years ago. The smith had been an old man – in his 60’s – and very helpful indeed, although he seemed to have no idea of the current prices... Sythric had had to persuade him to take a price that would have been at most half of what was taken normally around. Without his insistence, the smith would have been happy with a third of a normal price. The door was open and it was dark inside. Suddenly two big wild dogs run out from inside the house and curved around the corner, yelping as they ran. Sythric felt like stopping, just checking in, whether the old man could still be in there, being tormented by these scavengers. But no. They had a mission, and they would have to accomplish it.

Sythric felt like crying. He swallowed his tears, and tried to look forwards. There was the central square, just in front of them, and the town hall as well. All empty and deserted.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn fell silent as they entered the deserted town. It was so still here. It just felt wrong. There should be people in these houses, voices on the air. There should be the smells of cooking food and the sounds of people working. But there was nothing. The entire city was... dead.

That was it, Fionn realized. He knew what the empty town reminded him of: A skeleton. A great, lifeless skeleton, hollow and devoid of everything that made it a creature.

When Fionn was younger, he and his little brother had discovered a fallen bee's nest, abandoned and empty after the first frost. He remembered breaking it open and looking in wonder at the hundreds of empty little rooms and hallways. Together, he and his brother crafted a story about the lives of the bees who once lived there. This place was like that nest. Abandoned. Empty.

Empty. The word echoed for a moment in his mind. This city had been evacuated. His town, too, faced evacuation. Would little Bregoware share this fate? Would his home become one of the gaping skeleton-houses, left abandoned on the silent plains?

He wanted to speak, to clear the air of the heavy and deadly silence. But he couldn't bring himself to disturb the dead village. This place was like a graveyard, and it deserved respect.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Starlight was well aware of the smell that was emanating from the burned village before the group had even caught sight of it. She was getting more and more hesitant and nervous the closer they came. Incana prodded her mare on and kept reassuring her by whispering in Starlight's ear, "come on girl just a little further, I know you are scared" trailing off into light hisses. Incana had no idea what she was about to see, she had never seen so much destruction and very little death in her lifetime.

As her horse rounded a charred house it became all too clear to Incana what had taken place here. Bodies were everywhere; men, women and even children. Her heart throbbed with pain as she looked around, " so much destruction why have these fowl beasts done this?" The smell was too much for Starlight and the horse began to weave side to side and prance like she was on hot coals. Incana tried to calm her but the woman had no effect on the mare. Starlight had had enough and reared tossing Incana off of her back; she hit hard, knocking the wind out of herself. Coughing she got to her feet and tried to catch her breath for now wasn't the time to lay helplessly on the ground, inhaling deeply several times Incana took her horses reins and continued with her survey. The woman decided to walk her horse instead of riding, it would be much easier for Incana to deal with an anxious Starlight.

Incana took a few more paces forward and heard something. It sounded like a baby crying, she panicked and ran towards where the sound was coming from. It was another burned down home, but bigger. She thought to herself 'maybe this was a barn, if it was why would a baby be in here?' Incana cringed at the thought of how a young one would get from a house to a barn without the aid of an adult. This made her angry and she began to furiously dig at the charred remains of the building. The noise was getting clearer with each piece of blackened wood that she tossed aside. It was no longer making the sound of a baby but rather a....a dog?! Incana was relieved when she pulled forth the last plank and saw a charcoal coloured dog. The woman gently picked up the whimpering canine and walked towards her horse and the rest of the group. Incana retrieved her water skin and poured some water in her hand, the dog graciously drank and drank and drank some more. He showed Incana his thanks by giving the woman a big lick across the face. She stood up and was letting the dog go,after all we couldn't have a dog coming with us could we?Incana once again took hold of Starlight's reins and went forward, all the while looking for anything of interest they could use.

Incana heard Vaenosa say something about splitting up to find supplies. She thought about this for awhile and said, "That sounds like a good idea. I think that the women should split up and each go with one of the men." While she waited for the three to decide on what should be done and if her idea sounded good, Incana noticed the dog walking slowly up behind Lady. The woman laughed and wondered if this was to be one of their new companions.

[Tevildo]

There was a brief discussion and, within a few moments, everyone had agreed it might be wise for the group to split up. No one wanted to spend more time in this wretched place than was absolutely necessary.

Before the party split up, Dorran looked over his shoulder at Brand and, lowering his voice, hastily explained. "Maybe Incana's right. Maybe we should go in twos. But right now I need to go off on my own. I'm sorry. But I wouldn't be very good company for anyone, and I couldn't even promise to be a good protector. There are things I need to do and see by myself. I'll be back in a little while."

The sight and smell of so many Orcs had awakened hard memories in Dorran and not even the prospect of being with Incana could stand up against the old shadows. He had the strangest feeling that someone or something was waiting for him within the tangled ruins of this village, and he must go out to meet that memory. Struggling to push back the panic that was threatening to paralyze him, Dorran decided to take immediate action. Anything was better than standing and doing nothing. Perhaps he could find them some extra horses. Without even waiting for an answer from Brand, he quickly walked off on his own. He hoped Incana would understand or that he'd at least have the chance to explain and make amends for what looked like very rude behavior.

Dorran sprinted off towards the remains of what appeared to be the largest building in town: a small Inn and an adjoining stable. He had hoped to find a horse or two still hanging about the stables. Yet everywhere he looked, he saw only signs of death. Half the structure was charred and smoking. The roof was caved in and tangled piles of Orc and human bodies littered the ground. He could not take his eyes off those bodies. He stood silent and immobile, unable to pull away.

Forcing himself to move, he came around to the stableyard and, seeing no living horses here, began to feel very foolish for having run off on his own. He pushed through the rubble at the far end of the yard and was rewarded with the sight of an even larger group of dead Orcs. On the ground, he saw the mutilated corpse of a young boy, no older than himself, a broken pitchfork still clenched in his fist; he'd apparently died trying to push open the door to let the horses escape. The lad had been killed by an Orc who had met his own bloody fate at the hands of another townsman, perhaps the father or older brother of the dead stable boy. Dorran turned aside, gripping his sides tightly, and began to retch, awkwardly falling to his knees.

As he did so his eyes caught sight of something so horrible and unexpected that it rocked him to the bottom of his heart. Lord Aldwulf had told them that the Orcs were attacking from the north. All those he'd seen had worn the ragged livery and insignia of the common Orc soldier. This one , however, and several beside him were very different. He reached over, grabbed the shield, and cradled it near his body. Then, in utter disbelief, he saw something gleam about the neck of the Orc that he'd never thought to see again. He ripped off the cord, discarded the rest of the attachments, and stuffed just one thing into his pocket. As he stared intently at the dead figure, the ugly face leered back at Dorran, and, with a shock of recognition, the lad remembered something he would have preferred to forget.

"Brand, Brand," Dorran yelled and raced back to where he'd left the rest of the group. "I must speak with you now. It is important." He grabbed Brand by the arm and yanked him to the side. "Lord Aldwulf was wrong. Or at least he knew only half the story. These are not common pillaging Orcs. Or at least some of them aren't. Look at this. It is far worse than we had imagined." Dorran thrust the shield into Brand's hand. "I tell you. This is the insignia of those Orcs who directly serve the Dark Lord. They dwell in the land of shadows and run the large plantations. They are cruel taskmasters chosen for their ability to inflict pain. These are no mere marauders, I tell you. They have been sent out by someone, perhaps the Dark Lord himself or one of those who directly serve him."

Dorran's voice dropped even lower, "The one who bore this shield went by the name of Hulgruth. He was in charge of the slaves on the plantation to the west of the great mountain. I know this for a fact"

Visibly shaken and upset, Dorran shuddered, his fingers drifting down to feel the outline of the small medallion he'd hidden within his pocket.

[Farael]

Osmod and Fion were talking quite animatedly as they approached the village. In spite of what Fion seemed to think, Osmod was quite interested on how to deal with geese rather than cows.

”You think your job is bad, my friend? Maybe when we come back we should spend some time at each other’s farm. I wouldn’t mind dealing with an animal I can actually prod into listening to me. Have you ever tried moving a cow when her heart is set on staying in place? Not to mention when her feet get trapped in the muddy bank of a river. Ha! No, Fion I much rather hear the Chronicles of Fion and his Amazing Poultry than reciting my long list of Cowly-mishaps.”

With a chuckle he looked ahead, at the quickly approaching town. Something did not seem right and at first he could put his finger on what it was. Everything seemed so quiet, so empty. He noticed Sythric was calling him over and at last he realized. The town was empty.

Following the old rider’s advice, Osmod led the group towards the centre of the abandoned town. Houses gaped with wide open doors to those riders who dared disturb their slumber. Here and there the things that had been left behind served as painful reminders of the people that had not so long ago walked those same streets.

They got to the central square and Osmod called for a halt. He could see his own thoughts reflected on everyone’s faces. Sythric seemed to be the most affected of them all and so Osmod felt it was his duty to say the words that needed to be said.

“This is a most painful reminder of what we are facing, my friends. I am not a born speaker any more than I am a born leader, but I think we will all agree of our need to make haste from this moment on.” He looked at the sun and guessed the time to be slightly past mid-day. ”By this time, Bregoware looks like this town. Our family and friends are following the way we have been taking and by now I would risk to say they have reached where we stopped for lunch yesterday. They are moving much more slowly than us and every day we spend riding takes us further away from them. I can understand why any of you may want to turn back and join those they care about. I will not stop you. But I will tell you that from now on we will need each and every one of us to carry out our task.”

Osmod took time to look into everyone’s eyes, both asking them to follow him across the river and trying to assure them that he would not oppose them should they decide to turn back. Maybe he was trying to do too much.

[Arry]

Wulfham

The Dark Lord . . . now there was a name to conjure his worst childhood fears. There were dark tales of this monster who dwelt in the land of shadows to the south and east. Across from Minas Tirith, it was said . . . with only the width of the River to stand between them. Even now, as he was a grown man, he could feel a cold chill race up his back and his knees tremble at the fabled demon now made real by Dorran’s words.

Brand clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder both to assure Dorran as he could and to reassure himself by with the feel of a friend’s real presence beneath his hand. He wondered at how Dorran had known the name of the dead Orc, or even that there were plantations in the shadowed land. And the mountain, what was that the he spoke of? Brand had never been more than twenty leagues from his village. Where had Dorran come from that he had seen such wretched and vile things?

He moved his hand then to take shield Dorran had thrust at him. It was ordinary enough in construction, but the very thought that some foul Orc had set it on his arm as he killed the people of the village with his sword or club made him cringe. He dropped the wicked-made thing, watching it as it tumbled to the ground and lay there face up. His eyes traced the insignia upon it . . . the crudely drawn red eye mocked him, and his stomach turned as he thought perhaps it had been painted in blood.

‘It is a filthy thing, Dorran,’ Brand said with a shudder. ‘And I would leave it here, save we should take it as a sign to show the King that the Dark Lord has already pushed this far into our fair land.’ Saying that, he picked up the shield and wrapping it in the singed cloak of a dead townsman, secured it to the back of Lady’s saddle.

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

The little group did break into two parties. Incana and Dorran went to search the western half of the village, while Vaenosa and Brand would make their sweep through the eastern half. Brand had seen the dog come walking up behind his horse and look about, its nose sniffing the air, then head toward Incana as if he’d found a long lost friend. It was a moment of ordinary pleasure to see the animal and he thought of his own dog, Patch, whom he’d had to leave behind.

‘He seems to like you,’ he said, smiling toward Incana. She told him the story of finding the dog and in the end it was decided that the hound should go with Incana and Dorran. ‘He’ll be an extra set of eyes and ears, and a good nose for you,’ Brand had said. ‘If he gets too tired or you have to ride, just let him ride astraddle the saddle. I often do that with my own dog when we’ve far to ride.’

‘Vaenosa, let’s you and I ride out to that small cluster of cottages to the southeast . . . the ones just outside the village wall. I’m hoping to find us a spare horse or so . . . and when the raiders passed through, the animals might have gone back to a part of the village that had been hit early and then abandoned by the attackers.

When they got there, it was a small enough area that they could go their separate ways to search and still be in hailing distance of each other. Some of the cottages had been burned, but it looked as if the job had been a hastily done, and there were still a few of the thatched roof dwellings intact.

The dead were not quite as numerous here, and Brand wondered if they had gone into the village center as the attack began, thinking that they would be safer there. A few chickens wandered about the cottages, picking in the dirt; they kept their wary eyes on the two new intruders.

Brand watched as Vaenosa and nay made their way to the opposite side of this small living area. He could see her begin her search through the makeshift lean-to’s that were their stabling areas and through some of the huts still standing. He began to do the same.

As far as he could tell there was no one left alive in this little part of the village. He’d found a bag of oats . . . it would be good for the horses and for him and his companions, too. One ham had been left undisturbed in another hut’s little smoke house. He poked about a few more cottages, then stood out in the open and called to Vaenosa . . . just keeping contact with her so they both might know each other was alright.

In the side yard of the last little cottage he came to, he was surprised to find a garden of late autumn vegetables mostly undisturbed save that it looked as if a single Orc had walked or run heavily though the middle of it in haste . . . the last of the potatoes were still there, kept warm in the ground by small hillocks of straw, and a few neat rows of kale, leeks, and cauliflowers beckoned. There was also a smaller herb garden planted close to the house. Brand recognized only a few – some that his mother used in cooking; some that she used for her salves and potions when someone took ill. But there were others he had no idea if they were edible or poison. He decided to gather only the ones he knew about from his mother’s own garden.

The door to the cottage was open. Brand peeked into the shadowy interior, his ears wide open for any sound; his eyes darting about the ill lit room. It looked quite empty. And there, neatly folded and stacked on a stool just across the room were a number of canvas bags. Brand made his way toward them, intending to use them to carry what vegetables he could harvest . . .

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


Meghan’s fingers ached from the hard, frightened grip she had taken on the reins. They were cold, too; the blood had left them as it had left her face when they entered the empty village. Arnanaes . . . that is how Sythric had named this town. She rolled the sound of it about on her tongue. She had heard of it, but never come here.

It was much like her own little hamlet. There was the Lord’s mead hall . . . there the forge, now gone cold, where the smith had worked. And little cottages, many of them, dotting the brown grassy plain. Their windows, unshuttered, were like blind eyes staring blankly ahead. For a moment the thought, like dead eyes, had crossed her mind in reference to them. But she pushed it away, not willing to give up hope as yet. The village still stood whole. There were no burnt down dwellings, no dead bodies, as she had heard whispered among those of her townsmen. Other places more outlying than Wulfham had been burned, all slaughtered, destroyed. Rick, cot, and fold! Everything . . .

She kept a little hope in her heart, banking it well against the day this great and awful thing that was beginning would be somehow be ended. That these soulless cottages would once again house life.

And now she was glad that she had kept to her word, and gone on with the others. Her little part for Wulfham and those she loved would be done as best she could. She felt, though, like some small little reed, bent low by a rushing wind . . . and behind that wind would come a fire of such hellish fury she did not know if she would rise to see another welcoming Spring

Meghan turned her gaze to the path directly in front of her; she nodded her head at Osmod’s words, giving her silent consent that she would follow. Kicking her heels lightly into Ash’s flanks, she urged the little mare forward.

‘Rædy!’ she called, coming up along side the man’s horse . . .


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


Rædwald


‘Aye, lass, ‘tis a grim site. I knew a number of those who lived here.’ Rædwald sighed. He was glad, though, that she had resolved whatever was in her mind and was riding with them again.

He was about to tell her something of the fellow from whom he’d bought his first billy-goat, when she pulled up quite near and whispered something low to him. She had composed her face so that none might note her discomfort, but the trembling touch of her hand on his arm and the flash of concern in her eyes made him understand the gravity of her request.

‘Of course! Of course! I’ll stick like honey to the comb to you.’ He patted her reassuringly on her hand. ‘Naught will happen and the river will be crossed without a splutter.’ He smiled and eased her into other areas of conversation.

She couldn’t swim . . . he eyed her small frame as they rode through the town. Ah well, he was as easy with water as any fish and more than twice her size. He would see her safely across . . .

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

"I can understand why any of you may want to turn back and join those they care about. I will not stop you. But I will tell you that from now on we will need each and every one of us to carry out our task.”

Osmod's words sounded in Sythrics mind. He totally agreed with him. “Seeing all this, kind of leaves us no options. Our mission seems all the more urgent now. At least some of us have to continue.” Sythric glanced at everyone, with serious look. “I will be one of them, and follow you Osmod, whatever it takes.” He added, and then made Thydrë back up some steps. “The ferry is down there, behind the townhall. I suggest we get there and have some lunch, before crossing the river. I sure wouldn’t like to eat in the middle of this hollow town and all the awe it arouses in me.”

Sythric’s mind got agitated. All the towns he knew at this side of the river: Brechast, Hrunting, Scefing... All those sharing this same ill fate! It was just too much. How he had wandered at the streets of them as a young man, drinking ale with his friends, gotten an eye over a nice girl and all. That had been life. All that lost now! Like he could never get his youth back, he would never even get back those places of his youth. Heorogar’s tavern in Hrunting would be no more, no more than a cold and empty shelf, sheltering only wild dogs and other beasts of the wild. Just wind calling in every now and then. Or Daeghrefn’s inn at Scefing. Just memories, just memories now, with nothing to bring them alive again. And no-one to live those lives and those places anymore. Lost all, totally lost. Sythric was looking into a void. And all the people making for shelter that no-one knew, where it would be, the caravans of refugees as easy pray for any army big enough. Sythric turned away from the others to not show his tears bursting out violently.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

A hint of a breath escaped sharply from between Eostre's teeth. Empty. Of course it was. Abandoned in the fear of the burning coming from beyond, abandoned in the whispered hope that somewhere there might be refuge. Refuge? In Rohan-proper? They were at war!

Who isn't? her mind whispered. Even beyond swords and things some might call sourcery... at war with emotions. Battling words.

She closed her eyes for a moment as they passed into the town, empty shells of buildings surrounding them, the gaping windows eyes staring into their souls. It was intense; painful, such a loss to see that it tightened her breath. A door slammed shut in the bits of wind, the tinkling of some chimes somewhere.

And the ever echoing clatter of their horse's hooves against cobblestones that may never again be touched by human feet. Eostre glanced back at Meghan for a moment; the girl had made it back to the party before they had entered the town. She looked so pale...

And Fionn, just as silent as the rest...

At least some of us will have to continue. She frowned, and her face stayed that way, as if pressed into the expression. Her mother had always told her if she scowled too much, her face would remain pasted into that position. Had her mother spoken of this little village as well? That if it stayed unaware, it would stay that way, all the people fled and leaving it to frown? Leaving it as a ghost?

[Nogrod]

Osmod led them to the river. Sythric stayed somewhere among the last one's, trying to hide his feelings. But then they all saw the situation. There was the rafter’s house, the boathouse, and the quay, where the ferry would be. There were a couple of sheds and a swing that had seen it’s best days long time ago.The swing particularly, gave rise to some more eerie feelings, thinking about the laughter and joy of the children swinging in it, now totally absent. Childrens’ voices echoed around the place as grim reminders of the state of the affairs.

But the ferry was not there! Looking at the other side of the river, they saw it. People had evacuated, leaving the ferry to the west bank of the river! The river was about 100 yards wide on the spot and the currents were a bit milder – that was the reason why the ferry had been built just here in the first place. But surely it would take quite an effort for anyone to swim over – horses anyhow probably couldn’t do it without drifting unforeseen mileages south. There was no sign of the ropes either, the ropes with which you could pull the ferry over. The wheels by which this had been done, lay idly by the quay, stripped naked of the ropes. And getting the ferry going without the ropes, would take at least three people: two for the “oars” and one for steering towards upriver – and thence balancing the currents.

“This is most unwelcome news, I must say.” Said Sythric, breaking the silence to which everyone had fallen. “Although it’s quite natural. No-one would leave a usable ferry to this side of the river, to be destroyed by a random orc-party. And when the next villages and towns reach this spot, they will have able-bodied and stern men enough to swim over, and get the ferry back here – even without the ropes. We surely can’t blame people of this town for being careful with the ferry. But now we are in trouble.”

[Tevildo]

Leod pressed his body flat against the rugged wall of the root cellar, shrinking back into the shadows. He had opened the outer door a scant inch or two in a fruitless attempt to hear what was going on above. So far, the strangers invading his house had not found their way down to his cellar. Leod was not surprised. The entrance to the underground chamber was so cleverly concealed that very few of his neighbors knew of its existence. He had used the room for many years, mixing and testing his herbal potions. Whatever their other advantages, the Orcs were rather short on brains and had been completely unaware that he had found refuge just a few feet underneath the cottage floor. He had huddled low in the darkness, silent and shaking in fear, as the mob had trampled through the village, burning and killing.

Since that terrible moment, Leod had remained hidden within his underground sanctuary, emerging only to snatch a few supplies and crawl back inside. He had finally decided it might be safe to go outside and see if there was anyone else alive. But just when he'd made that decision, a new party of invaders had fallen upon his house. Leod inched forward out of the cellar to get a closer look at the thieves. At least, they were not Orcs. Even so, they seemed to be human ruffians of the worst sort. One was pillaging through the sacks he'd placed on one of the chairs. Worst of all, they'd begun to steal herbs and fruits out of his garden. How dare they? That garden was more dear to him than anything he possessed. The village depended on his potions. Some of the herbs were extremely rare, useful in the treatment of many ailments.

Leod watched with growing anger as the man pillaged through the canvas sacks. He would not take it any more. Picking up the only thing that might serve as a weapon, Leod waited for the woman to go out the door, rhen rushed forward and, with a mighty heave, lunged towards Brand, grazing the side of his head with the shovel.

[Folwren]

Wulfham


Smoke. . .there was so much smoke. . .and ashes. Every gust, every breath of wind, caused whole handfuls of ash to swirl up in the air. Nothing was left of her home. Nothing, except for the ruined, stone fireplace against which Athwen cowered. One hand covered her mouth, the other arm wrapped about her head. Her tears were spent, and her eyes burned because of it.

Why? She couldn’t stop the question from turning over and over again in her head any more than she could answer it. They hadn’t caused any trouble, they hadn’t done anything wrong. They were a peace living people without an evil thought to share among them, why this? Couldn’t it have been somewhere else? And why had she been spared? She should have been home with her mother, she should have been baking the evening bread, but no! She had gone out to ride, and she had ridden a long way and come back oh, far too late.

A choked cry escaped from her mouth and she shut her eyes and drew her knees more tightly against her chest, trembling at the sound. Why? She didn’t know. Maybe the dead would hear her.

How long she sat thus, crouched beside the ruined fireplace, Athwen didn’t know. Time passed unnoticed, but seeming to take an eternity. The dead corpses of her family, and everyone she had known her entire life were strewn about the ground, some near, many others farther away, all lying amid the burned and smoking ruin of their homes, some untouched by fire, others half burned. She dared not lift her eyes. Not until a sound pierced the unnatural stillness. . .

Athwen’s eyes slowly opened, and then her arm, aching with having been clamped so long and so hard about her head, slowly relaxed and lowered. Her other hand dropped and she lifted her head; slowly, slowly - afraid to move, afraid to be seen. Upward by degrees, she raised her eyes and looked. A short distance away, two horsemen were walked carefully through the burnt ruins of the houses and buildings. She could not see their faces clearly, her eyes were bleary and weak, but she could make out the familiar form of horse and rider. They rode slowly towards her, down what used to be the main road through the village. Athwen forced her legs to move and she slowly and achingly stood up. Her hand shot outwards towards the fireplace to help support herself and a loose stone fell with a clatter.

A thought of caution flashed through her mind. Had they heard that? Would they hurt her, or help? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, really. Her hand dropped away from her support and she looked up again towards them. Yes, one of them had caught sound of the falling stone, and now they both turned their horse’s heads towards her. Her clear blue eyes watched them, and she waited in silence, neither worried nor anxious for them to finally stop and address her.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana and Dorran made their way towards the West side of the village, "So much destruction, it seems to have taken much more damage than the East side of the village. Do you think that this is where the onslot of the rampage had begun?"

Her boots were getting heavy with mud and ash and she had to stop and sweep the excess off every few steps. The one time that she was bending over to do this, however, she happened to spy something ugly and hopefully dead lying on the ground to her left. Incana hadn't seen any such creature before, thus not knowing its breed or type. All the woman knew was that it was hideous and it smelt bad. This one wasn't as badly charred as some of the others that she saw earlier, the smell was the creature itself. Incana's gag reflex went into action as she approached it, "phew this is truly horrible" waving her hand in front of her face looking at Dorran. She hesitantly gave it a quick kick in the foot, nothing. She gave it another kick, nothing. Courage was building the more Incana kicked the creature's feet, one more good hoof and she was satisfied that it was dead.

The reason for her even wanting to go near something that wretched was to retrieve an axe out of its head. Incana put one foot on its stomach and the other firmly planted on the ground, and pulled. The axe came out with surprising ease, she held out the tool and said to Dorran, "Look what I've found, we could surely use this to chop wood." Incana attached the axe to Starlight's pack and got back into the saddle to continue their survey.

The slow gate of the two horses didn't get the couple too much further from the found dead creature, when Incana heard what seemed like a stone being dropped or thrown. She immediately brought the mare to a halt and listened intently for any further disturbances. Incana looked down and saw that the dog had also heard the noise, he was frozen in his steps and had his hackles raised starring at the door to a cottage. She whispered to Dorran, "Did you hear that? I think that sound came from in there." A sudden fear rushed over Incana and thought that the noise may be one of those creatures that she came across. She decided to wait and see what Dorran wanted to do before investigating any further.

While Incana waited for Dorran to think, a horse came from what it seemed out of nowhere. She immediately noticed that it still wore its saddle and halter and thought this to be curious. She had yet to see another horse and wondered why would a horse let loose in a pasture have all of its equipment on. Sensing no immediate danger, the lone horse had very little problem approaching the two riders and greeted them with a low grunt. Incana did not make a sound, she gave the horse a rub on the cheek for reassurance and took hold of its reins and sat quietly.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn stared stupidly at the distant ferry for several long moments, his tired brain struggling to comprehend the situation. Half of his mind was still preoccupied with the horror of the ghost village, and another large slice was busy worrying about Bregoware and his family. That left a rather small section to wrap itself around the problem of the ferry.

Overwhelmed, the boy rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. At first he was willing to urge his horse forward anyway, letting the mare swim across. But luckily, a sliver of common sense slapped him in the face and pointed out the current. He and the horse would end up seven miles downstream before they reached the other shore. Fionn discarded that idea. The ferry was still the best way to cross the river.

But how to reach it? Slowly his mind let go of the images of the deserted village and turned to face the problem at hand. The sooner they crossed, the sooner they could get away from this place. And that suited all parts of Fionn's mind just fine.

They might be able to manage a crossing if they had some rope, he thought. But there was no way that anyone would be carrying that much rope with them. So how would this town handle such a problem? It was their ferry, so they had to have some kind of plan in case of accidents like this.

"Perhaps we should check the buildings around the river," Fionn suggested. He had to speak loudly over the rushing of the current, which made him uncomfortable. "The boat-houses and the ferry-master's quarters might have something we could use." Fionn knew nothing about boats, but he figured that someone else might.

He felt a little uncomfortable about rooting through someone else's belongings, but it might be the only way to cross the river and continue their journey.

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa stood outside the dwelling, staring in throught the open door for a long moment. Brand had disappeared into one of the cottages after she told him she was going in search of some supplies and hopefully some horses. She felt a shiver go up her spine as she held her breath and stepped inside. It was a small, cozy place, not unlike her own. In the center stood a large wooden table clad with settings for five people. The family who lived here must have been about to sit down to sup, when the attacks started. The food on the table was starting to turn, causing the air in the small space to be sicklingly sweet. Moving towards the cooking area in search of some food, Vaenosa's foot moved something on the floor. She bent to retrieve it when she realized it was a child's doll. It was made of straw, with horse's hair upon it's head. Turning it over in her hand Vaenosa fingered the dress it wore gently. It was worn and dirty from a child's hands, who had held it dearly. Perhaps the child dropped it in the panic to flee to safety. Vaenosa smoothed the dolls hair and placed it upon the table.

She had no desire to search the house further. Turning towards the door to leave Vaenosa spotted an interesting weapon planted firmly in the doors frame. It was three inches wide at it's fattest point, tapering to two and a half inches at it's rounded hilt. The handle was wood wrapped in worn leather." I will take just this, nothing other,for I am sure the bounty we have already taken is enough for many." She wiggled and pried as she strove to remove the blade from the frame. It was at Vaenosa's shoulder level, a large, tall man must have wielded this. After a few seconds of struggling to pry it loose, she resorted to placing her foot on the frame for leverage. With one large heave it came loose. Admiring the fine, sharp blade, she wrapped it in some stray cloth. Taking one last solomon look back, Vaenosa stepped back out into the sulight.

She decided she would stow the blade on Nay's back, but glancing around quickly she saw he was not near. She was sure his nerves had got the best of him and he bolted out of this burnt town. Shielding her eyes, she looked harder. There was Nay, no farther than an arrow's throw away, with his ears perked, trotting towards a wooden structure. She let out a low whistle to get him to come back. He stopped, looked at her....then continued on his merry way. Vaenosa stamped her foot at her horses disobedience. "OOOOhhhhh! I really should have gotten a horse who at least comes when I call him!.. I will sell you, you know!!!" She called after the prancing idiot.

Tying the blade to her back, She started after him, cursing his chestnut hide as she went. She was sure this was just one of Nay's strange games. She slowed as she approached the dwelling and peeked her head inside. There huddled in the corner were two male horses,one black, the other brown. Scared and probably hungry. They did not even seem to notice Nay's weird attempts to cuddle them. But Nay would be Nay.... He gave one of the horses a slight nip in the behind and they both bolted out the door and down the road at full speed towards where Incana and Dorran were searching."Great! Now look what you did!" She said to Nay giving him a small pinch in the flank, before she mounted his back.

She was sure Brand had heared her whistle. So she headed full speed towards the horses. Maybe she could give chase till they tired,then rope them. As she neared the horses they indeed began to tire. She saw to her left Incana and Dorran.And were her eyes right? Another, smaller figure was with them! She jumped from Nay's back and approached the horses, who's heads hung down heaving in exhastion.She slipped two ropes around their necks, giving each one a small treat she had in her bag. Leading all three horses now, she headed back towards The small group of people waiting.

" I have found two new companions! I see you have found one as well!" Vaenosa sized up the small woman, with knowing eyes, she had seen that look of despair before in her own face. She looked towards Incana and Dorran for an answer.

[Arry]

Wulfham


Brand entreats Leod

The blow took Brand by surprise. He had but barely seen the grey haired old man from the corner of his vision lunge at him and had tried to move away. But the flat of the shovel caught him a glancing blow on the right side of his face. The claw marks that ran from temple to chin there were already red and swollen; the force of the blow made him cry out in pain. His wounds broke open and began to bleed profusely.

Brand sat down hard on the floor of the cottage, his knees buckling under him from the sharp, pounding pain. He looked up and saw the old man raise the shovel as if to strike again. The fellow had a wild look about him, his blue eyes glinting with purpose. Brand reflexively raised his arms up to avert another blow. As if in sympathy, the long deep claw marks that ran down the length of his left arm began to ache and throb.

He cried out in the old tongue, speaking to the man as he did with his own grandfather, when that old man’s mind wandered back to his grandfather’s time.

‘Ná, ná! Fréond! Brand - afWulfham; afRiddermark!’ he gasped out. And then again in the Common Speech. ‘No! No! Friend! Brand – from Wulfham, from the Riddermark!’

He rocked back and forth his one hand now pressed against his bleeding face as he held out his other hand upraised, palm outward toward the man. ‘Help me, please! I meant you no harm . . .’

[Tevildo]

Hearing the familiar Rohirric words, Leod hastily drew back his weapon and lowered his arm to the side, letting go of the shovel and letting it drop with a clang onto the wooden floor. There was a gruffness in Leod's voice as he turned to talk with Brand.

"My pardon, but what did you expect, coming into my house this way? If yoy are one of our own Horse-folk, one of the Lohtûr, why do you rob my house, tear up my garden and trample my herbs? Can you not see this is all I have left from a lifetime of service? Would you take away this pittance to increase your own wealth? Is this what is means to be a man of Rohan? If so, I have outlived my usefullness."

Leod turned away, bitterness clearly written on his face, as he gazed off towards the far horizon. His voice dropped lower. "They came from there. The Orcs." He pointed a finger towards the east. "Hundreds of them flooding into our village. We have had a few plunderers before, rough bands from the north. But this was nothing like that. Many of these bore the symbol of the Eye. It was not enough to plunder and rape. They must kill every last one of us. I survived only because I had a place to hide. I doubt there are any others. How I would like to make them pay! I have had some experience with these monstors. But it is no good. I am past the age of being a soldier. I have only my skill with potions and herbs, and my instincts as a healer." Leod looked down at his own hands as if seeing them for the first time.

Leod hesitated for a moment and then bent lower, catching a closer look at the half healed wounds that criss crossed Brand's face. "You have not had it too well yourself, I see. And whoever has doctored you has done a poor job of it. Come over here. Sit at the table." He went out of the room for a moment and re-emerged, carrying a small bowl filled with a concoction of herbs.

"Come on," he growled. "I don't bite. You will feel better after I apply this to your wounds. And meanwhile you can tell me exactly what you're doing here, trying to rob my house."

[Arry]

Wulfham


‘It was a big cat . . .’ Brand said in answer to the man’s question of what had caused these wounds. ‘. . . the one that tore my cheek and arm. She was hungry, I guess; she and her yearling cub . . .’ Brand’s words trailed off and he clenched his teeth, hissing softly as breathed in. The man had washed his wounds, and that was bad enough as he peeled off the scabby edges and cleaned out the small amount of purulence that had begun to fester in the deeper places. But now he patted on the herbal concoction and the raw wounds rebelled. He fought back tears, swallowed a scream, and was rewarded with a feeling of a numbing, soothing relief as the poultice began at last to ease the raw flesh.

Brand rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and laid his left arm on the table. ‘Master Healer, if you would be so kind. These, too, are not doing so well.’

As Leod worked, Brand told him the stories their Lord had heard of Orcs and of Easterlings coming into the outlying villages, the ones just beyond the river. ‘Like your village here, we heard they were burning everything and killing all. Wulfham lies nearly five days’ ride up the river from here. We are not much bigger than you, and like you we lie near The Great River. Lord Aldwulf has ordered the village to evacuate; they are heading toward the King’s Hall for refuge. There were four of us young ones sent ahead to ride as fast as we might to ask the King to send Riders to aid the village on its way. The older men, some warriors, most farmers, went with the village to keep it safe should it be attacked on the way.’

‘We saw the smoke from your village when we rode up on the rise just north of here. We came down, Vaenosa, Incana, Dorran, and I . . . to see if any survived. And oh, Grandfather . . . Sir,’ he said, for Leod had not yet given his name. ‘We were struck dumb at the sight and smell and emptiness of this place. Our guts clenched and the blood ran cold in our veins thinking how our little village and our families, friends, neighbors, might meet this same fate.’

‘The only living thing we’ve found so far was a dog, and we thought to take him with us.’ Brand lowered his eyes, his unbandaged cheek blushing as he looked down at the table. ‘And when I found your little place, I thought that whoever lived here had been killed along with the others. I came to get a sack to take the rest of your winter vegetables to take with us. I did not mean to steal, but only thought that out of this horror we might salvage something to help us on our way.’

He looked up a fleeting smile on his lips. ‘My mother has a little herb garden, like yours, but much smaller. She has some way with the making of poultices and unguents and potions and such. And I thought of her as I looked at your neat little plantings. How you’d paired the herbs and the small walkways that make it easy to gather them . . . she has much the same orderly and practical mind about her wee helpers, as she calls them. I confess, I was intending to gather some your herbs, too, only the ones I recognized the uses for. My mother found me a poor student when in came to such things, and thanked goodness for her daughters. For my part, I know only those that are good in stews and teas and those helpful to my sheep . . .’

Leod had finished dressing the wounds and was busy cleaning out the bowl in which he’d mixed the herbs. Brand sat looking about the neat little place and remembering the destruction that lay all about it. ‘I’m very sorry I stole from you,’ he said to the man whose back was turned to him as he worked. ‘And sorrier still that you might think of me only as some thief. My father would die of shame if he thought his only son was thought of in such a way.’

He cleared his throat, not sure how to go on. ‘Grandfather, I think you’re not safe here any longer. Will you ride with us? Tell your story to the King?’

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric looked around him, over the whole party. There was silence. Everyone seemed to have fallen in their thoughts – well he was too. He remembered the last time he had crossed the river. It was a hot summer's day, almost four years ago. Had it been so long ago? There had been a gentle breeze over the river that eased the heat. There had only been a couple of travellers and one merchant with his wagons abroad. He had rode to Bregoware with the merchant, he was called Tricart, if he remembered it correctly. Nice guy he was, although a bit talkative. Sythric smiled a little. That day on the ferry was vividly in his mind. The sunshine and the warmth, the security of those days...

He hadn’t ever kind of made himself used to the water. It is for the fishes, as he had always accounted for his inconvenience with all things related to water. Now he was regretting, he never had really looked over, how these ferries really worked. The rope was kind of fitted to the ferry somehow, and then pulled from land with the pulleys. Well, we have no rope, and no-one to pull from ashore. Could anyone of us swim over, even if we had a rope and some genius to find out a way it could work? Getting into that current with Thydrë? No way! There had to be a solution for this one... there just had to be!

[Farael]

The situation was worst than what it had looked like. Just when Osmod was hoping to get across the river quickly, they found yet another difficulty. The rafts were waiting for them, albeit on the wrong side of the river. He nodded his head when Fion suggested they went looking through the boat-houses for anything that could help them cross the river. Osmod added that they should also look for any supplies that may be useful on the road to Edoras. The group stayed together for a moment, still hesitant to part ways even if for a moment. Then, still lost in their thoughts, each of them went searching through the houses.

Osmod chose an old house that stood by the river. It was small; probably nothing more than a storage room, but maybe there was something useful in there. Unlike most of the other houses, the door was shut. Rather than a lock, it had a length of rope tied in a complicated knot. He looked to the skies, his hopes failing. Instead, he saw a tree, with a pulley secured on its trunk. The tree was strong and the pulley was big, as if made for heavy work, yet there were no tall structures around. Nothing he could see would need such a big pulley. Until then, he had not considered how the rafts were manned. He looked at the rope, the door that was still closed and then at the pulley. He turned around and made his way back to where Sythric was waiting. “Pray tell, my friend, you have been here before, have you not? You said something about ropes to get the rafts across. Did you also say something about pulleys? There is a strong one on the tree over there, and I’m starting to think it may be meant for the rafts.” Osmod looked over the old man’s shoulder and on to the rafts on the other shore ” If we could get one rope across, with the help of the pulley, we may be able to pull the raft back to our side of the river. I wonder where we can find such a long rope…” His voice trailed off, as he remembered the closed storage room and wondered what laid on the inside.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

“It would be a tough job indeed, to pull a rope forwards over a running river?” Sythric smiled widely about the thought and patted Osmod to the shoulder. “That sure would be a deed worth recalling!” Sythric laid his hand over Osmods shoulder and they started walking towards the pulley. “Well we are all quite off-focus now, I am too. So don’t mind me jesting about. It’s just to wear off the melancholy that creeps to get you everytime you just stay quiet and serious.” He took a glance at Osmod, kind of studying Osmod’s feelings.

As they got to the pulley, they gave it a closer look. “I have just been cursing the fact, that I have never really taken an interest to learn how these are used. But if there’s another one at the opposite shore, this could work in a bit similar way as the lifts on building sites. You know: take a rope, double the lengtht of the river, and tie it to a loop going around the pulleys on both sides, and then just tighten it. Somehow attach the rope to the ferry and pull. Sounds easy, now doesn’t it?” Sythric looked at Osmod quizzically and then turned to look at the other shore. "There just might be one on the other side. Do you see that rounded shape just left of the ferry?” Osmod nodded. They both were silent for a moment.

“So we only need a rope, twice the length of the river and thick enough to get a loaded ferry across. Then one master-swimmer to get over, despite the current, with that rope around him – and with practical reason enough to find out, how to attach the rope to both the pulley and to the ferry so that it stays and carries the whole weight. Well, getting it around the pulley is the easy one...” He smiled again, but now not so wholeheartedly anymore. There sure was challenge. And to begin with, there was not even the rope as yet.

“I think we’ll have to think about this. Maybe Raedwald has a better memory, or Eostre, she has been on the ferry too. And I do believe, there is a ferry-rope here somewhere, maybe even more than one. They must have had spare ones, and they should have left some here to help the villages coming after them.” Sythric turned away from the shore, and took a few steps towards the horses. Then he turned around, and said

“We should really turn this place upside down, if we need to. At least I can’t see any other reasonable way across the river right now. But there seems to be enough of us to do quite a thorough search without me, in a relatively short time. I could get us a warm soup to be served after you’re ready. And maybe we should share some bread, all those of us who have some?” As Osmod nodded in agreement, Sythric took himself to it.


How many times have I done this in my life? It must be many hundreds, if not more? He spotted a place for the fire quite near the shore. There had indeed been fire there, quite a many times, before this day. The sand was a bit charred and there were some blackened rocks about, amidst the fading green grass of the late autumn. Like from habit, he had collected a neat bunch of dry branches of varied sizes and ripped some bark from the nearby birches, in just a couple of minutes. After lighting the smaller branches with the bark, he piled some thicker branches in a criss-cross way over the small fire, and got to Tyhdrë. Sythric unloaded all of her packages and went to his foodpack. He took out his small pouch of dried mushrooms, the dried lamb he had offered in the morning and a small box of seasoning. Then he got his pot and made to the river, half-filling it with cold Anduin water. After building a small stand for the pot, and hanging it there, he went to get some more wood, bigger ones now.

All the villages he knew! The thought kept filling his mind. It was so overwhelming an idea: all of the Outland being emptied! All those places he knew, and also those he didn’t. It was the end of the world as he knew it, well, the most of it. But it felt like the end of the whole world! Would we ever come back – I don’t mean, whether I will return, but we, the Bregowarians, or other Outlanders? Is it the end of our culture, our people at Wold and surroundings? Where will the Bregowarians live from now on, if they survive in the first instance? This last thought chilled him totally. If? Well, there surely was that possibility... He felt shivers all over as he returned to the gentle heat of the fire. The fire didn’t warm him at all.

Sythric had found some wild thyme, when he was picking the wood, and dropped them to the almost boiling water. Then he rationed out some dried mushrooms and seasoning to the pot, and started to carve pieces of lamb to be added to the soup just a little later, as the mushrooms would start to soften enough, and would have given some flavour to the broth-to-come. Where were the Bregowarians now? Osmod had counted that, but I probably was too deep in my thoughts to remember it anymore. Osmod had spoken spiritedly though, that I remember. His father should be proud of his son.

But will the Bregowarians be safe tonight? He remembered his nightmares from the last night, and was filled with a sudden urge to ride: to ride back as fast as he could. Just to guard his family and friends as well as he could, to die with them if it had to be. To die before them, even if it was just a fool’s hope to make a difference on anything. He stirred the soup where he had added the lamb, drowned into his melancholic mood. “Hope seems to be a refugee too these days”, he muttered half-aloud, just to himself.

[Tevildo]

"Grandfather, it is? Humpf! There was a time I could run rings around the likes of you. Still, I suppose you have a point. And I do have a connection or two in Edoras. Long years ago, I was a healer serving the needs of the Riders. I've heard a thing or two about the ways of Orcs that may be of some use to you. And how your Lord could send your band off without a proper healer, I'll truly never know. Wait here a minute till I get my things."

Leod quickly whisked about the cottage and then out into the garden, stuffing a variety of supplies and herbs into one of the canvas bags. Coming back inside, he picked up his wooden stave and slung the satchel over his shoulder, "We'd best have a look about the village." His tone was perfectly even. "Perhaps these blasted Orcs managed to miss a soul or two. I don't want to leave here until I am absolutely sure that no one has been left behind who needs the services of a healer."

With that, the two men walked through the door and out onto the deserted thoroughfares of the village.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


While Sythric made soup for the companions, some of the others of the group had ridden north a little ways along the river to where the river was shallower and the current a little slower. The others of the group had found several large stacked coils of rope in one of the small storerooms at the headman’s stable. And they transported them in a small cart they’d found to the place where Rædwald had decided he could best cross.

They spent a while securing the ends of the lines to each other with sailor’s knots, being careful to have far more than twice the river’s width of rope for the pulleys. Rædwald secured the middle of the loop to the back of his saddle and instructed the others to make sure the ropes played out smoothly behind him.

He stripped down to his breeches. ‘Now you just take these and stuff them into that oilskin sack there, Meghan. And bind it tight against the water.’ Rædwald handed her his boots, his thick woolen socks and his heavy woolen shirt. He watched as she tucked them in the sack and secured it to the front of his saddle.

Liss balked at first as she neared the river’s edge, but under his gentle encouragement she stepped into the slow moving currents and urged her to swim straight across the water. Her efforts pulled her forward just as the currents drifted her south toward the ferry landing. About midway, she almost floundered, but her rider guided her through the problem.

As Rædwald moved down the river, the others on the shore he had started from had now secured the two ends to a horse each, and their riders kept pace with his progress as he drifted southward. The rope, held between these two poles - Rædwald and the other two riders – floated in a large bend just on the surface of the river.

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

Meghan


Meghan’s hands were clutched hard around the reins of her horse as she watched Rædwald’s slow progress across the river. And she had gasped when she saw Liss falter in the current. She held her breath, eyes wide as he and his horse were carried a little ways south of the ferry landing. But soon she could see Liss gaining her footing on the little shoal that led down from the western bank to the water’s edge.

The rope now was quite sodden and heavy. And it was with great effort that Liss pulled it up a ways onto the bank and then headed back toward the ferry landing. An equal effort was made as Rædwald took the looped rope and finagled it onto the pulley. He waved and shouted at those across the river, indicating they should finish the job at their end. He opened his oilskin

Meghan waved back to him and rode quickly to where the pot of soup was simmering. A quick cup of it would be welcome in the chilly breezes. As she ate, she watched the taller of her companions work on securing the rope through the pulley guide at this side of the river. She shaded here eyes with her hand and looked to where Rædwald stood. He had put on his shirt and boots and stood near Liss, feeding her some of the dried apple slices Meghan had placed in his waterproof sack.

‘Well,’ she thought to herself, ‘All he’s got to do now he said is to pole the barge back while the others work the pulley.’ She looked to the landing near her, and saw they were almost ready . . .

[Tevildo]

Dorran was having a difficult time keeping his mind on what Incana and Vaenosa were doing. Brand had told them to get some horses, and it looked as if they were successful in finding several new mounts. He had answered Incana with several curt nods and single word answers when she had questioned him. Fortunately, Incana was so engrossed in her job of searching the houses that she seemed unaware of the fact that Dorran's mind was elsewhere.

Dorran no longer carried the shield he had found on the Orc. He just could not bring himself to touch the nasty thing. It had been given to Brand for safekeeping. Yet the memories from his childhood hung heavy over his mind. It was one thing to fight Orcs; it was quite another to take on the chosen band of the Dark Lord himself. Brand seemed to have some understanding of what that might mean. The girls had not heard their conversation and seemed not to understand what that gruesome shield with the glaring red eye might mean to their future.

When Incana had heard the noise and asked him to investigate, he had responded mechanically, going forward to investigate what the sound was. All his complacence had been swept away when he'd gotten a closer look at the young woman who now stood hesitently in front of them. Dorran had not said a word but gently reached out with one hand and gestured for the woman to follow them down the road way. Once, he had turned around and tried to ask the young woman who she was, but whether she did not understand or was too afraid to answer, the unknown villager had still not said a single word.

As Vaenosa had approached them, he had gone up to her and softly noted. "I don't know who she is. The stranger's said nothing, but at least she's not run away. She may have been a little frightened to see a man. Perhaps if you or Incana will talk to her, she will answer."

[Folwren]

Athwen followed the young man mutely to his companion. She kept her eyes down and her mouth shut, not really knowing what would happen if she looked a stranger in the face right now and spoke to him. But when he stopped, she looked up, and her eyes fell on her own horse, being held with his reins in the woman’s hands. Silently, she reached out for him, and she was handed his reins.

“Come, li’le one, come,” she murmured, drawing him near and placing her hand on his shoulder. He was trembling, and in the back of her mind she knew he was fearing the same thing she was - the dead and the burned. But she didn’t think about it. She buried her face in his mane, wrapping her arms about his neck, and shut her burning eyes.

Oh, the cruelty of wanting to cry and not being able to. Athwen became absolutely still again, as though frozen in her place. Her little chest rose and fell and her throat was choked up, but there were no tears and she made no sound.

After a moment, however, she seemed to come to herself. Slowly, she looked up, loosed her grasp on her horse and turned about. The strangers, there were three now, she noticed, were all looking at her. Somehow, she didn’t mind, nor did she feel threatened.

“I am sorry,” she said, her tone dull and quiet. The next moment, she realized she had nothing further to say, and so she didn’t say anything, and simply stood and looked at them, just as they stood and looked at her.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Of course they were almost ready. It wasn't as if she would've not taken the time to pack up anything that wasn't needed (which of course nothing was)... it wasn't as if they hadn't taken time to eat. But some things went unspoken, perhaps for the greater good of the party, and perhaps for not.

Eostre didn't care. This was only the first step, after all. Standing beside her horse, she stared across the river. It was a bit narrower here, a bit shallower, but still swift from the nearby mountains—fortunately it was late fall, not spring. There was no melted water runoff to sweep away the horses and riders into the icy maw of death that surely waited beyond the bends and rapids.

The river was their enemy, sure as the orcs and wolves preying upon villages.

The sun gleamed off of the river, as cold as the chilly wind. Eostre tugged her robes tighter about herself, sipped the remainder of her soup down and stashed the tin cup. Surely they'd leave soon...

[Arry]

Wulfham

Brand was very glad the older fellow was not going to be stubborn. He felt he owed the man on two counts – one for the vegetables and herbs he’d taken from his gardens and the second for the use of his healer’s skills to treat his wounds. It would have been very hard to leave Leod behind when it was time to go. And somehow he could not see them hog-tying the man and taking him along with them in that manner.

Leod led him to the cottages of his nearby neighbors. They poked about and Leod called the names of various members of the different families but only silence, or the echoes of their own voices met their ears.

He could not see Vaenosa anywhere in that part of the village, and Brand thought that perhaps she had gone chasing after some extra horses for them. ‘Let’s go to the western side of the village, Master Leod,’ he said after they had finished looking through yet another empty house. ‘My other companions are looking for survivors there. Though it was hit much harder than this little area. Most of the buildings are burnt to the ground and there are a great number of bodies lying about . . . villagers and Orc alike.’

Again Leod led the way, and Brand could see he was saddened and angered at the destruction that had taken place. Soon the could hear voices a short ways away. ‘It sounds like one of my companions, but there is another voice I do not recognize.

The two rounded the corner of a half burnt building and saw Brand’s three fellow travelers – Incana, Vaenosa, and Dorran. They had their backs to Leod and Brand as they approached. And as the two drew near the familiar trio, Brand could see beyond them another person – a very young girl, holding onto the reins of a horse.

Brand hailed his three companions and introduced Leod to them, saying that he had agreed to come with them. He stepped forward and smiled as best he could given his face was half in bandages. ‘And who is this?’ he asked cocking his head a little as he took in Athwen. ‘I see you have a horse, mistress. Are you coming with us, also?’

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric was brought back to the here and now by the oncoming steps. How long has passed, what’s happened? The bright voice addressing him got him totally awake from his thoughts. “Is the soup ready? Raedwald would surely use some in a moment – and so would I”. It was Meghan. She sat beside him with a cup in her hand.

Sythric looked back at Meghan, pretty unsure about anything just now. Then he took a look to the shore. Fionn and Eostre were bringing the rope to the pulley, and someone seemed to be tying the raft at the other side of the river. “What on earth!” Sythric almost shouted, turning back to Meghan. “It was Raedwald, now wasn’t it?”. As Meghan nodded, he smiled her back broadly.

“Help yourself with the soup, and give it a stir if you leave the pot. It would of course have been better if it could have simmered another couple of hours...” With that he winked an eye to Meghan and rose up, addressing her still: “Then again. I’ll prefer bad soup to the option of spending any more time in this hounted place that just throws grim ideas over you.” He grinned amiably and turned towards the shore where others were approaching the pulley. “I’ll see if I could be of any use down there. I’ve sat down enough for this day.” By that he went to the shore.

--------

The ferry approached slowly but steadily. It was hard work. The rope was totally soaked and the ferry had some weight too, not to mention the current that tried to push the ferry downstream – a force which they had to fight against too. As the ferry was about the midway over the stream, he remembered! Long time ago, he had been on the ferry, when it had been laid full with the autumn’s harvest. The ferry had been quite loaded indeed! Then the ferrymen had used a kind of reel that was attached to the pulley – so that the round movement of the pulley could be changed into a straight pulling movement behind the pulley. And they had used horses to pull it! And that cage-like thing surely was here somewhere! He remembered vaguely, how it looked like. Someone must have run across it while searching the sheds... It would be tough oaring, getting ourselves to the other side anyhow, notwithstanding us being already quite feeble after this one. Well, it is late anyhow. You should remember things in time my friend! Sythric addressed himself, and bit his lip to make another pull.

Of course Raedwald! The thought came to him while pulling the raft. That’s so like him! When others say, that we should think about a problem faced, Raedwald would solve it meanwhile – and not only solve it, but accomplish it also. He just kind of saw the solutions and then acted on them, not making a fuzz about it. That was one of the reasons, why Sythric thought so highly about Raedwald, and why he was so happy about their friendship. He himself might have been the more battle-hardened warrior of the two – having served mostly in parties that had frequent borderline skirmishes - and probably in a bit better physical condition, due to his continuos riding, shooting etc. while teaching the youngsters. But no-one could outwit Raedwald, or actually do the things he did. He is just a marvellous man! Even if, after the soldiering years he had abandoned all the military excercises, he clearly is the man to cross the river by himself! Of course there were other things, more important ones: all the shared memories, the hardships taken together, facing death side by side. Those things do bind people to each other. And anyhow. Sythric just loved the man: his personality, his humour. What an example of the Rohanian spirit he is!

“You never give others a chance to work things out, now do you?” That’s what he would say to him as he would come to the shore. And he would embrace him, embrace him hard. And I’m being the melancholic cooking-boy today as others have done the work? I’m tired, yes. Because of these days of riding with barely no sleep at all, yes. But still. Pull yourself together man!

[Folwren]

Athwen looked up at the man addressing her. Her blue eyes softened slightly as she saw his bandaged face, even now, in her present state, pitying someone without even knowing them.

‘I see you have a horse, mistress,’ he said with a gentle smile. ‘Are you coming with us also?’

‘I don’t know,’ she answered. She studying him a moment longer after her slight reply and then looked at his companion. Recognition flooded her face and she extended her free hand, a smile coming to her face. ‘Leod! You. . .you were not. . .’ she faltered, and her face twitched slightly. ‘That is good enough,’ she said, lowering her hand and eyes together. ‘You are alive.’

She drew a trembling breath and let it out slowly. There were so many feelings warring against each other inside. She didn’t know what to think, what to do, or even how to react. To despair and wish to die seemed to the easiest route just now, and the least miserable. What was living?

But no. She shook her head to her own thoughts, struggling with a battle within. There were people here and she wasn’t alone. She had to show strength . . . perhaps it would get her through, even if it was faked. But at least they shouldn't have to bear it. They had asked her a question, and she must answer.

She looked back at Brand, though she didn’t know his name. ‘I don’t know if I am riding with you,’ she said. ‘Where are you going?’

[Undómë]

Bregoware


Meghan


Her cup of stew was quickly downed; the rich taste of the lamb lingered on her tongue even as she washed it down with a long drink of water. Meghan ran to the Ferry-dock to see how she could help.

One of the men had climbed the pole from which the pulley hung and was securing the length of rope through its guides. Another of the companions, one on horseback, stood up on his horse’s back as another held the reins and handed up the end of the second rope, which after a few fumbles and twice as many curses was pulled as taut as they could get it and finished off with a sailor’s knot. Rædwald secured the barge to the pulley line with the rope that was coiled in the bottom of the barge.

A cheer went up from both sides of the river as that task was finished.

The pulley apparatus itself was fixed on a stout pole that was driven deep into the ground just back from the bank’s edge. And in normal times, the strength of several donkeys would be used to turn the wheel that hauled in the rope. But their little group was unfamiliar with that more complicated mechanism and so they had to do the work by hand. Gloved hands – as one of them had cautioned, would maintain a better grip and save their hands from rope burn.

The bottom section of the long loop hung down far enough that several of them could grab hold of it and tug. The group formed a line along the length of it, spacing themselves out a little ways along the dock that extended into the river and began to pull steadily with their gloved hands.

Meghan, for her part, added her own slight weight to the team effort. As the rope began to move through the pulley guide, those at the back of the line would move forward to the front to take a new grip. And so began the long slow process of moving the barge . . .


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


Rædwald

He had tied Liss to the dock, giving her a last slice of apple and a promise he would soon be back. There were four long, thick oaken poles in the bottom of the barge. He picked one up as he boarded the barge and took a firm hold of it. He would be able to push with it along the river’s bottom to help the barge move forward.

It was slow going, but the combined effort of those on shore and his poling got the barge across. It would be easier going back across as three other of the men could help him.

Once back ashore, he gladly accepted a cup of Sythric’s savory soup, and in fact had a second one . . . ‘Just to fill in the empty corners,’ he said, with a grin.

The barge was big enough for all of them to fit in it. The horses could be tied to the back of it and could swim across as the companions poled. When lunch was done – the fire was put out, the bowls and pot cleaned and packed away and soon the barge was loaded

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘Well, we . . .,’ he paused for a moment his brow wrinkling. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.’ He stepped to the side and let his hand move from one to the other of his companions. ‘This is Vaenosa . . . and this, Incana. And here’s Dorran. Leod you seem to know already. And I’m Brand.’

He nodded northward, saying they were from a village about her size called Wulfham. ‘About five days ride from here,’ he went on. His eyes darted quickly about the still smoking ruins. ‘Our march-warden had heard tales coming in from the north across the river that villages were being attacked by small roving bands of Orcs and sometimes Easterlings. And that the attacks had grown more frequent. He ordered the village packed up and is moving them toward the King’s Hall in Edoras. That is where we’re bound. With letters to the king, asking for help as we move toward the safety of his own town.’ His voice trailed off for a moment. ‘What has happened to your village has made it all the more real for us.’ He turned toward the others of his group. ‘I don’t think we knew the Orcs had crossed the River; that they were even closer to us than we thought.’

Brand noticed her glance at his bandaged face and he raised his hand unconsciously toward it. ‘We had an unfortunate encounter with a big cat several days ago. Or fortunate, perhaps, in that she is dead and we are still able to move onwards.’

‘Anyways, that is where we are going . . . and Leod, too,’ he went on, nodding toward the healer. ‘To Edoras; to the King.’ He looked at her questioningly. ‘There’s the old goodwives’ tale – that there be safety in numbers. Or so my Gran says and in just that way, too.’ He chuckled, thinking of her. It was an incongruous sound as it rolled out of him and over the razed village and the corpses.

‘We’d be glad of your company, wouldn’t we?’ he asked his eyes going to his companions. ‘Come along, won’t you Mistress . . .?’

[Folwren]

Wulfham

To Edoras! To see the King? On normal occasions such words would spark a wild excitement in Athwen, but this time the words didn’t ring so much as they used to. But, still, he was asking her to go.

‘We’d be glad of your company, wouldn’t we? Come along, won’t you mistress. . .’ He trailed off and inside she felt half inclined to smile. She had neglected to give them her name.

‘Athwen. And don’t call me mistress, or ma’am, for that matter.’ Half heartedly, she smiled, thanking him for the kindness offered by his simple address. ‘I don’t deserve either, nor to be asked to accompany you. Leod is going?’ She turned and looked at the elderly healer. He nodded. She turned back to Brand and then looked at his companions. Finally, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin a little higher. By far the shortest of the group, she figured the thought had entered most of their heads that she wouldn’t be an excellent rider, and would likely hold them up, and whatever else if she accepted Brand’s quick offer. It wasn’t a ridiculous assumption, really, but she promised herself she would be able to show them otherwise.

‘I will accept your invitation,’ she said to Brand, setting her eyes on him again. ‘There is nothing left for me here-’ her breath caught momentarily, but she continued again almost immediately, though her eyes dropped away to the ground. ‘They were all killed. And though I would like to stay and hope for those words to be proved wrong, I can’t. I’ve looked and I’ve found them all. . .’ Her heart began to beat harder and faster and the panic that had first assailed her when she saw the destruction began to come back. She looked up imploringly at Brand, hoping that, maybe, he, or someone, might understand just a little. She took one step back, grasped for control over her feelings, and merely said in finishing, ‘I will come.’

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn bit down on his lower lip in concentration, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. This was hard work; harder than he had expected. He was glad that he had eaten some of Sythric's soup before starting this project, otherwise he was sure he wouldn't have had the strength. Setting up the pulley mechanism had been irritating and troublesome at first, and manning the pulley was physically taxing. The sooner they crossed this damned river, the better.

"I'd rather be a farmer than a ferry master, that's for certain," he grumbled. He'd spent many long hours in fields, hacking away at weeds and bending over crops, and chopping loads and loads of wood. He was strong, but this was still hard. His arms grew tired from making the same pulling motions over and over again, and his fingers grew sore even through the thick gloves.

The rope was heavy and wet, and the current tugged at the wooden ferry. The ferry was so close... And yet so infuriatingly far away. Was it even moving at all? It had to be. He grit his teeth and continued to tug.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana gave a nod to Athwen as Brand introduced each member of the group. This poor girl, she thought, I can't even begin to imagine what she is feeling with all that has happened to her. Incana wanted desperately to embrace this forlorn girl and tell her that everything would be ok, but she knew that everything was not ok and it would take kindness and time for Athwen to come around.

Incana's thoughts went back to her own family and wondered if they were safe and were able to make it out of the village in time. She caught her breath at this thought and shuddered to think of any of her family dying at the hands of these foul beasts called Orcs.

The woman had an idea just then and gestured the group away from Athwen for a moment to talk. "I think what this young girl needs right now is a form of goodbye to her family and friends. I would like it if you three men would gather all of the human bodies and bring them to the centre of town, if you will. Vaenosa and I will find wood, placing the logs and tinder on the ground for a start." It would be a grisly task, but Incana was confident that this would start the healing process for Athwen.

[Arry]

Wulfham

Dead sheep were one thing . . . the bodies of men, women, and children another. It was the natural course of things for sheep to be killed as they pastured. Hungry predators would come hunting them, waiting carefully for their chance to spring upon a straggler. Then the body of the sheep would be dragged off and eaten. And there was the difference. The sheep were food; they sustained the wolf, or cat, or even eagle carrying off a spring lamb. But these poor souls, they were killed for darker purposes, in the service of that Lord of the Shadowed Lands. And for sport, too. Brands stomach lurched a number of times at the ways in which the bodies had been hacked up and displayed. It was a depth of foulness he could not fathom, nor did he want to.

Brand pulled on his thick leather gloves and tied a triangle of cloth he’d torn from a clean sheet as a mask for his nose and mouth. The thought of touching the dead flesh made his skin crawl. Still, he steeled himself to the task, knowing that his family would not want to be left in such shameful disarray; it would dishonor them.

They found one large, low-sided wagon that looked as if it had once been used for haying. One of the men took charge of the horses, keeping them calm as they went slowly through the death glutted streets. The other helped Brand swing the bodies up onto the wagon bed, sometimes using a strong woolen blanket as a sling for the larger ones.

It was a slow job, and often they had to stop to drink a little water to soothe their ashy-parched throats, or to clean their eyes of sooty debris. Or sometimes it was simply that they had to retch . . . the sight of some horribly killed person just too much to bear. The grisly job of transporting the dead to the center of the village ate up most of the daylight hours left to them. And in fact the sun was already setting as they finished, leaving only a pink glow that created the setting for a somber mood.

Still in his ashy clothes, his face grimy with sweat, soot, and dirt Arry took his place near the still unlit pyre. He’d taken off his gloves and stuffed them in his belt. In the middle layers, near him, was the body of a man he guessed to be near his own age. The man’s eyes were open and he seemed to be staring upward toward the darkened sky. One arm was flung outward from the pyre as if reaching out for help. Unthinking, Brand reached out to tuck arm against the man’s side; and with his fingers he shut the poor fellow’s eyes. A few words, unbidden, came to his lips. He had heard his father say them when they had gone to the funeral of one of their close neighbors. Brand spoke them quietly now, and with a simple sincerity.

Wes þū hāl! Ferðu, ferðu . . . Be thou well! Go, go . . .

As he stepped back, from the corner of his vision he saw Incana step forward with a burning brand.

[Naria]

Wulfham

Incana looked at Athwen with tears in her eyes for approval before she used her torch to light the wood. The woman stepped back beside the young girl and watched as the flames slowly licked the wood and gradually became bigger swallowing what used to be Athwen's kin. Incana knew that their spirits were no longer with them, but this thought did not ease her aching heart. She felt for Athwen and hoped that in some small way this would help to ease her pain. Incana could not look at the fire anymore, she kept her eyes on the ground trying hard to block the sounds and smells that were emanating in front of her. She could not find the appropriate words to sooth her new friend, so she unfolded her hands and reached over taking hold of Athwen's and hung her head in complete silence.

The five of them stood with Athwen for a very long time, the sky had erased the pink hue and replaced it with darkness. There were but a few sputters and popping sounds coming from the fire now, and Incana thought it best if they were to leave the scene and get some food and much needed rest. With Incana still holding Athwen's hand the group left the ash behind and made their way to Leod's cottage.

[Farael]

It was slow, hard work but at last the pulley system was set and the raft was brought to their shore of the river. They were all tired but it was just a few hours after mid-day and they knew they had to push on forward. There was still some of Sythric’s soup left and Osmod helped himself to some, before the fire was put out and the pots cleaned up. He then offered re-filling everyone’s water skins while he went down to the river to wash his cup. While he did so, the rest of the group packed up and loaded the raft.

The horses would be tied to the back of the raft and swim after them, so each rider needed to secure their own horse, as the animals would let no-one else do it. At last, the horses tied and their belongings loaded on the raft, each of the men grabbed a pole and started pushing towards the other shore. Their first efforts were not very coordinated and they seemed to be drifting downriver more than moving across. It did not take long until each of them realized they needed to push together if they ever wanted to make it across and so, guided by their own grunts, the men coordinated their efforts. At last, they were across.

Osmod felt the crossing of the river had taken hours, but as he untied his horse and lead him out of the water he realized it had not been more than a few minutes. His arms ached and he felt as if he had somehow hurt his chest, but it was not time for them to stop. The horses would need to be looked after before the winds chilled them to their bones, and then they had to keep on riding. “This was never meant to be a pleasure trip,” he thought “but it is only our second day riding and I don’t know if I can take another step before collapsing. Still, I must try. It’s my job if I am to be their leader”. Osmod looked at the other riders and wondered because of what insane whim of destiny the March-Warden had chosen him to give the letters to. They were all able bodied and smart. They all worked as hard as he did and perhaps most importantly, they didn’t seem to need a leader. In spite of his best judgement, he started feeling like a burden to the group. Yet because of luck, destiny or misfortune, he had received the letters and neither of the older men had seen the need to take his place as a leader. So, Osmod decided, he would need to lead by example, work the hardest to earn the position that had been given to him by chance.

It was not long before the horses were dry, their belongings loaded and the group set to go. Before leaving, Osmod walked back towards the raft and untied the rope that had helped them bring it across on the first place. It would not do for them to leave the way open for a group of orcs to follow their tracks. Not knowing what to do with the rope, he decided to heave it on the water and let the river decide its faith. To his great relief, the rope got caught on something at the other end and, rather than drifting down river, it just flapped on the current but stayed put. Whoever came next would still need to get the rope across somehow, but perhaps this small difficulty would deter a band of the servants of the enemy.

Most of them had never been across the river Those who had had done so long ago, so Osmod decided they would need someone to scout ahead, to warn them of any problems they may run into. He volunteered himself for the first shift, saying that he would warn them either in person or by leaving a sign should anything happen. ”I will meet with you if I get tired, and then someone else can take the scouting duties. Give me a few minutes to get ahead and then follow my tracks.”

They needed to go due south, according to Sythric, so Osmod checked the position of the sun and set his horse on a quick trot. He didn’t look back at the rest of them, just waved his arm vaguely and rode on.

Two hours had passed and he had seen no signs of people, whether friends or foes. He hoped the other riders would understand that he was not planning on going back to them until they stopped for the night. He was tired as was his horse, but he needed time to think.

Hours passed by and night encroached the day but the group had not yet seen Osmod again. The tracks of his horse’s hooves were easy to find and from time to time he had left one of his drawings to let them know he was alright. Yet night was drawing clear and soon they would need to camp. As the sun was setting they saw a lone man on foot, bringing the horse by the reins. When they drew near, they could see it was indeed Osmod. Both him and the horse appeared to be unharmed yet the man seemed absent, as he looked up to the riders on their horses. When inquired about what had happened he just muttered ”Not fifteen minutes from here there is a small hill. I rode atop that hill and looked ahead. I cannot explain to you what I saw; you will have to see it for yourselves.” Without another word Osmod mounted his horse again and showed them the way towards the hill.

[Folwren]

Wulfham

Darkness had fallen. The same shroud that covered her heart and mind took possession of the world. Athwen stifled a sob and her hand tightened in Incana’s. A gentle return of pressure strengthened her once again, as it had during the burning, and she looked up a the woman who offered her support.

Incana offered her a small, encouraging smile and then gently turned about, leading Athwen with her. They all walked away from the smouldering fire and picked their way carefully through the ruined houses of the village.

Athwen took a shuddering breath and looked up as she walked. Above them, the stars twinkled coldly in the black sky. She remembered a couple years ago when she and the young man who she was supposed to have married (they were but boy and girl then) had lain together under these same stars and tried to count them. Her brother had been with them, too, and had laughed at their attempts and instead tried to show them the constellations.

But they were all gone now. She lowered her eyes again. They had been given a proper and honorable farewell, though, and that was better than nothing at all. It would have been torture to survive, knowing that they lay side by side with their killers, to be eaten by the wild birds of the air and scavengers of the earth. It was better. . .a little. And bit by bit she would recover.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric’s hands were quite numb after all the pulling and pushing. The two and a half days spent on the saddle with not much sleep in between, started to take their toll. He felt being in slower time-mode with regard to his surroundings. The world was a soft one today. He tried to keep himself alert by thinking. Trying to think clearly was a way to avoid falling to the half-sleep of remembrances and idle speculations. So he was thinking about this group once more.

Raedwald was just a head taller than the others – himself included. He would be the natural leader of the group, but because of the dynamics of the party, Osmod was better in that role. And Raedwald’s person was not the leader-person. He had shown it all the way by staying out of any conversation concerning these issues. Oh, how I admire his silent wisdom and fast action! What a man!

And surely, Osmod had shown his qualities. When Meghan had had her troubles at the morning, Osmod had shown better judgement than he himself had. He was really beginning to trust Osmod on this. Sythric was quick to believe in all the good with anyone – especially if they were young - but real trust was a different matter. Now he started to have some on Osmod.

The third one he was trusting somewhat, was Meghan. She was probably the only one of them to have really decided, why she was here and what it meant that she was here. She was the only one to have really chosen this task! That you couldn’t say about the others – himself included!

But how about Fionn and Eostre? He had talked with Fionn on their way to Aernanaes this morning, he had seen him working with the rope and they had been pulling it together, next to each other, and they had been oaring as a pair at the ferry. Fionn seemed quite reserved, very careful not to reveal his innermost thoughts or fears, turning it to a fun everytime, there was something bothering in the air. He also seemed very young indeed. Sythric did not know his exact age, but thought he was the youngest of them, by a margin. Still his earlier impression of a good lad, conscientious and quiet, held anyhow. He was only a bit worried about how he would react in a real stress – gods forbid them to meet any! He really symphatized Fionn, and hoped for this belief not being ungrounded.

But Eostre then? He hadn’t exchanged too many words with her. He also remembered Meghan’s doubts. On the top of that, she was the only one he knew not beforehand at all. That should have to change! The sooner, the better.

Sythric took a glance around. Eostre was riding alone, just behind him. He dropped his pace to allow Eostre to overtake him. As Eostre was about to pass him, he called her. “Do you mind having some company? I would certainly do with someone to talk to. I seem to be too tired and talking could help. And anyhow, we don’t know each other very well, so it would be a high time for us to become acquaintanced?”

Eostre seemed a bit distressed, but accepted the offer. They discussed about her parents, and the whole issue of living alone - and Sythric told her stories about his years, living alone too. The miles passed more easily this way.

[Arry]

Wulfham

Though they were tired, the thought of spending the night in the dead village did not sit well with any of the companions. Brand asked Leod if he knew of a place some ways south, where they could camp for a day, do a little hunting and fishing to replenish their food supplies and then move on from there.

Leod considered the question as they helped him pack up what he needed . . . his herbs and potions and unguents and other odds and ends of those sorts of things common to a healer. With his permission, they also gathered up some of the vegetables from his garden to take along.

When they were done, he thought perhaps he could show them a place where he went during certain times of the year to gather the wild plants that hid in the forested places along the river and would not be tamed to grow in his garden. The night was brisk as they rode out. Unclouded, the moon and stars shone down bright. With Leod in the lead, the horses picked their way along the uneven ground with a fair ease.

He led them a goodly distance to a little glade set in a small grove grown thick with cottonwoods very near the river. There was an old fire pit, ringed with stones in the center of it where they built a little fire to ward off the cold. After a simple late supper of dried meat, apples from Leod’s place, as well a loaf of whole grained meal washed down with a cup or two of chamomile tea, they were ready for sleep.

Brand took the first watch, inviting the dog they’d found to share it with him . . .

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

They followed Osmod to the top of the small hill. They were quiet. Osmod’s feeling catched on them all. Sythric thought, he knew, what it was: there was the town of Scyffold to be seen from the hill. He glanced at Raedwald, and saw the same sorrow in his eyes.

When they got up to the hill, the sun was already setting. The charred remains of Scyffold were silhouetting the night sky. They just looked and looked on it, silently, no-one saying a word. That was even more than Aernanaes. To the right, they could see fires lit towards the oncoming darkness. They must be the people from Aernanaes, maybe a day’s ride away from us, Sythric thought, but kept his thoughts to himself – as all the others did.

At last Osmod spoke: “"I think we should camp here. We will not be able to get much further before nightfall anyway and this hill should protect us from the wind as well as the sight of the town. Forgive me but I dare not sleep where the town can be seen.”

They all agreed to Osmod’s proposition and started to unpack their horses. Sythric got a leave from nightwatching, due to his lack of sleep. As most of the others gathered around a small fire to talk away the tension, Sythric just dropped off and slept away from this world.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


The moon was bright enough that the way to the ransacked village was well lit. Meghan left her horse behind and picked her way down the slope. Her boots kicked up the light layer of ash and soot the wind had blown from the charred remains. At the back of her mind she could hear a small voice of warning, that perhaps this was not a safe thing to be doing . . . by herself . . . much less at night.

The blackened and tumbled down walls of what had been some of the outlying huts were the first things she came upon. The moon’s light softened the ragged edges of them and threw wide puddles of shadow about them. It was so quiet. So very quiet, save for the occasional sound of the night’s breeze as it flapped a half hung shutter against a cottage’s remaining wall.

It struck her odd, this quietness. Even in the late watches of the night there were noises in Bregoware. The bleat of a baby goat, wanting its mother. Chickens squawking as they ruffled their feathers and then settled back to sleep. The soft slap-slap of someone’s feet as they headed for the privy. A child, crying out in a dream. A feeling of great sadness washed over her at the loss of these familiar sounds. This village must have known them, too. And now they were muffled beneath the fallen timbers and the ashes.

‘Is this what we will return to?’ she asked, thinking of her family’s home as her eyes took in the ruins of some farmer’s place. And next to it the burnt little pen and shed where his family’s animals had been kept. She had always felt safe, secure, in the little dwelling where she lived with her mother and her brother and his small family. Now she understood how insubstantial were those old wood walls and thick oak doors against the ravenous dark wolf from the east who would devours all if he could. She shivered, pulling her cloak tighter about her.

In the dirt pathways that led from the outskirts to the center of the village were strewn the bodies of the awful creatures who had wrought this destruction. The villagers, it seemed, had put up a valiant fight against them. But so many were the attackers that they had not a chance of victory.

A frown furrowed her brow as she walked along. Where were the bodies of the slain villagers? Her stomach revolted at the sudden thought that the remainder of these vile creatures, these Orcs, might have taken them for food. Surely not! She sent a quiet plea out that this would not prove true.

As if in answer to this, she found her way at last to the village center, the small square that had served these people much as the one in Bregoware. A gathering place where news both ill and good was told and joyous tidings celebrated, sad ones mourned. Some ones had taken the time to separate these good people of Scyffold, as Sythric had named it, from their murderers and sent them beyond the circles of this world. Brought back honor to them in this way; gave their spirits some measure of peace against the horror of their passing.

Where were these good people now who had done this last thing, she wondered. And who would do the same should the darkness fall on Bregoware?

A tear slipped down her cheek, looking at the charred remains of bones. From the inner pocket of her cloak she took out her little reed pipe. She fingered the small holes in it for a moment, recalling a song an old piper had once played to send off the spirits of a number of young men of Bregoware killed in a skirmish with a small scouting party of eastern men. She hummed the melody to catch the notes then put the pipe to her lips and played for the fallen . . . (http://www.tinwhistletunes.com/clipssnip/Audio/10-05/LamentforLimerickTonyH.mp3)

[Farael]

Osmod could not sleep. It was in part due to the pain on his limbs and his chest, but it was mostly because of another kind of pain. He had been the first one to gaze upon the burnt village and he had been all alone when he did so. His mind kept going back to that terrible moment when he saw the town from afar.

...His horse was panting, and so was him. He was trying to rid his mind of those doubts by showing himself just how far he could go without breaking. His horse seemed to have understood his master’s thoughts and did not complain when Osmod set a gruelling pace for the two of them. There was a hill and night was nearing, so Osmod decided to give his horse a rest while he went up on the hill to scout forward. After all, he still had to scout for the riding party. He grabbed a water skin and his sword and ran up the hill, until his legs ached and his temples throbbed.

He reached the top of the hill and breathed in a lungful of air. Something did not feel right. He thought it was because he was tired and so he bowed his head and breathed slowly, taking in big gulps of air rather than faster and smaller ones. It was still not alright. At last, he lifted his head and looked towards the horizon. There was a town, not too far ahead, and something did not sit right with it. At first, Osmod’s tired mind could not understand what was going on. Then he understood. That village was dead. Not just empty, as the other town had been, but dead. The enemy had reached it before the people managed to escape. The wind was blowing his way and carrying the scent of rotting bodies. The smell of death was what he had been breathing in.

Osmod fell to his knees and screamed. He felt like running down to the town and searching for anyone living, whether friend or foe. He wanted to help the people of the town first and foremost, but as his anger boiled over, the idea of fighting some orcs felt quite appealing. Yet common sense won the battle that time and he whistled for his horse to come back to him. He needed to get to his group and he needed to do so fast. It was no longer safe for him to be alone...

Osmod turned in his bedroll, trying to avoid a particularly annoying root and heard some footsteps going away from the camp. He sat up and looked around. Meghan was missing, he assumed she had gone for a walk. It was not safe to do so, not this late at night and alone, so Osmod thought he had to call her back. Yet maybe she needed some time alone, just like he had needed it that same afternoon. On second thought, Osmod dressed up, put his boots on, grabbed his sword and followed Meghan. He kept his distance and walked as softly as he could manage. He wanted to be able to protect her, not to interfere with her thoughts.

She went down the hill and into the burned town and Osmod thought of stopping her again. He decided against it, as he also wanted to see what had happened. Meghan walked into the village, stopping for a moment here, a second there. She seemed to be lost in thought and Osmod did not dare to interrupt her, even when he felt he needed some company. The mangled bodies of the orcs dead during the attack on the city were still laying where they had fallen. ”What kind of a heartless army does not look after their dead?”. Even the defeated villagers had collected their dead, as none could be seen. Osmod frowned as he realized the impossibility of what he had just thought. Someone else had been there before them.

There was no way of knowing whether that ‘someone’ would be their friend or foe, so Osmod hurried to catch up with Meghan. She had found her way to the village square and was standing next to a funerary pyre. Whoever had taken the bodies of the dead villagers had done so to make sure they did not become carrion for the animals. He approached Meghan. She was playing a slow, sad melody and Osmod waited until she was done. He understood this was her way to pay her respect to the dead, and he felt the need to do the same. He kneeled down and drew a pattern in the dirt. It was a different pattern from what he drew when they made camp. It was meant to symbolise a resting ground. His grandmother had told him it helped the deceased ones find their true resting places.

He stood up and cleared his throat. He did not know how to get Meghan’s attention without startling her, as she seemed lost in her own thoughts. He spoke, hoping she would not be too startled.

”Don’t worry Meghan, it will not be the same for Bregoware.” He forced a confident look on his face, even though he did not feel that way at all ”They are coming this way now, our families. Tomorrow they will be across the river and maybe they will meet with some of the other villages. The more people they gather, the more able men there will be. They will be ready and able to keep the orc bandits at bay”.

Osmod hoped his face would not betray his words as he offered Meghan his hand. ”Do you think we should head back now? Forgive me if I followed you, but I heard you leave and I did not want to let you come by yourself. The village might have not been empty. And I couldn’t sleep anyway” With a sad smile he looked at the hill where the rest of the group was sound asleep. Suddenly, Osmod realized they had left no guards to look for any signs of the enemy approaching. It was a bad oversight and he would not let that happen again, yet right there and then, his first concern was Meghan's safety, as well as his own.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

It had been interesting, Eostre thought, to speak with Sythric, albeit briefly. At least, she presumed he had no interest in her, her being greatly older, and he had been friendly enough... perhaps she was too cynical with all the party members. Just perhaps, though.

At the very least, she though perhaps she should be a bit kinder to Meghan. Somewhat.

And the town...

Burnt. Was that a surprise? Destroyed? Was that a shock? She found in a sense it was, almost drawing tears to hardened eyes. Too dangerous. Eostre sat at the fire silently, having withdrawn from the remainder of the party once more. Talking at the fire seemed so empty; the town watching over them no more. After she was excused for sleep after it was finally decided no watches would be set, her sleep was scarcely fulfulling.

Burnt... destroyed... gone. All the people...

It didn't take much to notice Meghan's leaving, not in her uneasy sleep. But she heard Osmod rise; her presense was unnecessary. Was it ever necessary? Hardly...

[Maeggaladiel]

Fion forced himself to close his eyes. He held them closed for several moments, but finally they opened again. It was no use. It was as though the image of the slain vilage had been burned into the retinas of his eyes. Opened or closed, they could still see the horrible destruction...

The image was terrifying. All those people... All those lives... Gone. Slain and burned by orcs or Easterlings.

Fion felt as though someone had slapped him across the face, waking him from a dream. This was reality. This horrible, smouldering scene was reality. People were dying. Fion felt suddenly very small, and very weak, and very alone. There had been men in this town; surely some fighters had lived here. And they had died. Died! If they had been slain, then how could he, Fion of Bregoware, farmer extrordinaire, even hope to survive should he run into orcs?

He just... would! a stubborn inner voice declared. Somehow, he and his party would pull through. They had to. It was their duty... But still, doubt began to cast its shadow over his mind. What if they failed?

Fion rolled over. Meghan and Osmod were gone, he noticed. They must have slipped off while he was busy trying to force himself to sleep.

Everyone else was asleep, although their slumber seemed far from tranquil. Fion quietly sat up. Sleep was unattainable now. He stared blankly off into the darkness, feeling strangely cold.

They were dead. The entire town was dead. A small, sleepy little town...

Like Bregoware.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


So caught up had she been in her own thoughts that she did not hear him approach. She gasped, turning quickly to face the source of the noise behind her. Osmod! He was talking to her, but she did not catch his words at first. The sound of his voice seemed so incongruous in this little sphere of silence she had entered.

‘. . . think we should head back now?’

She looked down at the little drawing in the dirt at his feet, wondering what it meant. It seemed more intricate than the last he had drawn.

‘. . . couldn’t sleep anyway.’

His words came to an end and he smiled sadly, his gaze turning up toward the hill where the others were. He was worried about them, it showed in his face. Yet, he had come after her and here he was, offering his hand to her. And then the thought struck her. He was worried about her, too. It was an oddly comforting thought; and in a way, somehow disquieting. This mix of unfamiliar feelings made her uneasy.

She laid her hand lightly in his outstretched one, using it for balance as she took a little leaping step over the pattern on the ground. Her hand dropped away, resting at her own side, as soon as her feet were steady on the other side. ‘My thanks!’ she said, nodding at him quickly.

‘Perhaps your right. We should get back.’ She matched her pace to his longer stride as best she could. ‘At least to rest, if not to sleep.’ She pulled her cloak closer about her, blocking out the chilly air. ‘Will we head south again tomorrow,’ she asked breaking the silence as they walked up the hill. ‘Or head west?’

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

Rædwald


‘There you are!’ Raedwald was halfway down the hill when he spied the two coming up. ‘Now how am I to hold up my end of the bargain with your brother if you go wandering off when I’m dead asleep?’ He rubbed the back of his head, looking at her. ‘If it hadn’t been for young Fionn, tossing and turning in his blankets, I would have slept right through ‘til daybreak!’

He nodded to Osmod. ‘My thanks for seeing her safely back to camp. I’m wide awake now. What say you if I take the watch for now, and you catch a few winks of sleep. Be daybreak in a few hours.’

Rædwald looked to Meghan. ‘Now look at you, lass. You’re shivering in the cold.’ Rædwald took off his own cloak and wrapped it about her. He was heads taller than she was and it trailed on the ground as she walked along.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

The gentle melody of Meghan’s reed pipe was taken up by the light breeze that alone wandered the forsaken alleys of the village. It carried it towards the hill, and with a gentle breath of wind it climbed up, to Sythric’s sleeping mind. Sythric was just passing from a light sleep to deep dreams, as the age old melody passed all his semi-conscious levels of awareness, without leaving a trace. It entered the unconscious levels of his being, bubbling like a small spring stream. It was both cool and smoothing, defying all the harsh remembrances and dark visions that had started to gather in his dreams. The melody carried him to his childhood, to love and security. To peace. He slep better than in months. He was at the arms of his mother, in the arms of a world that had no evil in it.

Sythric woke up before the others. The sun was not up yet, but it would be soon. He was full of energy and positive mind. There was no sign of yesterdays tired and gloomy Sythric. He tended Thydrë, checking carefully, that everything was all right with her. Then he took two apples and his pipe from his pack, and headed for the top of the hill in the dim light of the daybreak. As he had thought, the guard was sitting there. And to his pleasure, it was Raedwald.

Sythric sat beside his old friend, took a good bite of his apple, offering the other one to Raedwald. Then they were just silent for a moment. The sight of Scyffold surely was depressing. After his good morning, it took his spirits a bit lower. Well, he knew, he would have to face that sight before he decided to take his morningpipe up there. Sometimes it just was better to face the evil head on than trying to forget it. And the sun would be there, any minute now.

He tried to reconstruct the village out from memory, comparing it to this sight ahead of him. He thought, he spotted the town hall’s remnants, and then there was this large structure, only halfburned. He turned to Raedwald: “Do you think that big one there, quite at the center, could be Tryggr the Merchant’s villa? He sure was one of the wealthiest men around these parts of the world. But as rain falls over everyone, the good and the bad, the rich and the poor alike, so does war and it’s destruction. There is no escape from it, but resistance. And against orcs you can’t resist with gold, as you can with men. At the times of distress we are all naked, armed only by our fragile bodies to shelter one another.” He puffed yet a couple of rings from his pipe, and then offered the pipe to Raedwald. “You care for some this early?” he asked, and simultaneously heard some noises from down below. Someone seemed to have been waking up.

[Arry]

Wulfham


Brand had only slept a few hours of the past night. He had hoped they would be further along the river by now, but the incident with the cougar and the finding of the burned village had put them behind schedule. He lay awake for the most part, thinking what needed to be done before they could ride again.

The cat and her offspring had done more damage than just to his face and arm. One of the sacks of dried meats had been mauled and ruined, even though they’d hung it high from the branch of a tall tree. He had not been thinking of a hungry big cat as a predator when they’d done that. It had been easy for the animal to climb out to the sack and retrieve it. Now he filed that bit of information away for future use; though he hoped there would be no more encounters of that sort.

He was up before first light, and had stoked up their little camp fire into a good sized blaze. The river was near, and he was thinking of catching a number of fish. Split open and smoked near the fire, they would be a good source of meat for a fair number of days. He made a kettle of strong tea and enough noise to wake most of the others up at least a little.

‘What say we see if we can catch a few winter trout?’ He walked over to where Dorran sat still wrapped in his blankets, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. ‘Here! This’ll peel your eye lids open,’ he said with a little grin as he handed him a mug of tea. ‘And how about you, Leod? Think we can outwit a few of our finny friends?’

‘How about I meet you two down there?’ he pointed toward the river’s edge just east of their camp. ‘Was up early and sorted out my lines. I’ll start getting them set. The early morning rise should just be coming on. I hope a few of the fattened for winter fish will still be greedy enough to take the hook. And worse, comes to worse, we can try our luck with my small net in the eddies.’

The two nodded their heads at him, though whether it was in agreement or just an appeasement so that he would quit chattering at them so early in the day. He fetched a cup of tea for Leod, then took his leave. Curious and eager for company, the dog followed after.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


It was harder to see things in the distance he noted as he’d gotten older. Rædwald squinted his eyes toward the gutted, burnt out village, focusing on the central area. ‘Does look like Tryggr’s place. It had a nice, cozy little mead hall next to it as I recall. And there in that open square where the town would meet - well that was where Meghan saw the funeral pyre.’ He took a bite from the apple Sythric had given him and chewed on it thoughtfully.

‘You know, I doubt there was much left of the townspeople after the Orcs came through. I wonder who it was that took the time to honor the dead? Who else would have come through this way, do you think?’

Rædwald took the offered pipe and puffed on it contentedly for a few moments before handing it back to his companion. ‘Looks like the rest of them are beginning to wake up.’ He grinned, seeing Meghan rise from her blankets and give a mighty yawn, then rub her face in an effort to wake herself up fully.

He yelled over to her in a good natured way. ‘Bout time you got out of bed youngster! Us old soldiers be needing a cup or two of hot, strong tea, if you please. Been up early guarding you, you know . . . keeping you safe from dangers in the dark!’

She gave him an impudent look and stuck her tongue out in mock defiance; still, he noted, she picked up the kettle and took it along with her to the river. ‘Good natured little soul, that one. Smart, too. Good hand with her flock. Make some lucky fellow a good companion, I think . . . one of these days.’ He laughed out loud, thinking about how that arrangement might go. ‘Course, might be hard to tell who wears the pants in that family . . . has a mind of her own about things. Never knew her to be without an opinion on something.’

‘What say we go rustle up something to break our fast,’ he said standing up and brushing the dust from his breeches. ‘Don’t know if Osmod will want to poke around in the village or just ride by it. At any rate might be nice if we got on our way before midday.’

He saw Meghan carrying the full kettle back toward the fire. It was heavy and she carried it two handed. As she walked it banged against her shins, and even with his poorer vision he could see the look of exasperation on her face and that each step brought a muttered word or two. And he guessed that none of them would be the sort to say in polite company.

‘Good thing we don’t have milk for our tea,’ he laughed, walking along with Sythric. He raised his chin toward the struggling Meghan. ‘Else it would be curdled from the curses she’s let fly!’

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up in her bed roll, she had not slept well and her lower back was aching. Brand suggested to the men that they should try their luck at catching some fish. Frowning Vaenosa thought to herself why had he not asked her? Perhaps he thought now that there were three women, she would want to spend her time with them. Vaenosa was unsure as to how to approach the young girl, she felt for her, but crying girls was some thing she really did not know how to handle.

Standing now she searched for Nay. She hoped he was not being to much of a bother. He seemed to take a liking to the dog and was quickly following him and Brand to the waters edge. "Nay! For the last time, you are not a dog!" He turned his head, gave her a nicker then continued on his way. She did not want him splashing and prancing, scaring all the fish away. Hurring towards him she pulled his mane and directed him away from the water.
"Sorry boy, not this time. You will scare the fish!" She gave him a slap on the rump, directing him towards the other horses. "Go bother them for awhile."

Now mulling around, Vaenosa was unsure what to do with herself. She was not keen on conversing with the women and the older man Leod was slightly scary to her. So she decided to see if Brand knew of the way to tickle fish out of the water.

Heading slightly down stream she rolled up her leggings and entered at a shallow part. Her father had taught her this trick. It took a long time to learn, but the satisfaction of catching a fish was worth it. She headed towards a slight over hang where the fish would be lazing in the morning sun, with her fingers dangling in the water. She motioned for Brand to watch and be ready. Painstakingly slow she moved toward a shadow in the water. She odulated her fingers slightly with the current until her fingers touched the underside of the fish. With one quick motion she grabbed it by the gills and tossed it on to the bank, hoping Brand had seen her signal and would fetch it before it found it's way back into the river.

Hopping out of the water she pushed the cold water from her legs and headed towards Brand, who had his foot on the slippery fish." I know it's not as reliable as a line, but it sure is fun and refreshing!" She stated to Brand with a coy smile. " I would not mind helping with the fish,for awhile anyways." She said as she looked to see if the older man was coming towards them yet. " I uummmm can do something else if you think that the men can handle this." "She was beggining to become more familiar with the men at camp, but now there was a new unknown, untrustworthy, older man in their midst that made her uncomfortable.She was slightly embarrassed at the way she let her guard down around Brand, this was unacceptable and would no doubt lead to some mistake on her part.

Thinking again Vaenosa decided she best stay away from the men today in case her temper should flare. "uuummmm actually", she said to Brand. " I think I shall ready the horses and groom them as well, before we head out again." Taking the fish from Brands hands, trying not to touch his skin, she turned away from him quickly, almost like a shy child would and headed back. What did she care what this man thought of her. She hated men....yes that was it! She had no need for companionship, or even love, these were for the beautiful and well spoken women. Not a wretched, ugly woman such as herself. She was only a used up vessel of a woman, with no feelings towards others except distain." This is what you deserve! You need no friends! just remember that!" She muttered to herself as she wrung her hands around the fish tearing the scales from it's back. Looking down at what she'd done, she blushed. Now the fish was ruined and the meat bruised. "Perhaps it is good enough for our men!" Vaenosa said, the distain rising in her voice again. Her head was reeling with the thoughts of someone actually wanting to be her friend, let alone lover. " Perposterous! Stop this nonesense!" With that Vaenosa became quiet again.
She tossed the fish near the fire without looking at the others in camp and almost ran to get away from their questioning looks. She headed towards Nay who did not care who she was, or who she had been...He loved her anyways.

[Tevildo]

Dorran watched in silence as Brand headed down the path that led towards the river. The visit to the ravaged village had shaken the young man to the core. The harsh reality of the Orc raid had brought back harsh memories that Dorran thought he had lain to rest long years before. The night before, he'd sat quiet and alone, eating his meal and making little attempt to converse with anyone. Dorran wished his sister was here. He could have talked with her. Yet, at the same time, he was grateful that she had not seen the disheveled streets and houses with their ugly images of death and destruction.

Hearing Brand's request, Dorran gulped down the rest of his tea and scrambled to his feet, eager to be on his way. It would be better to do something rather than sit here and think about things that could not be changed.

"Leod, are you ready?" he called over to the older man who had just finished sorting through his satchel of herbs.

"Yes, yes, one minute," the latter replied. Stashing his bag under the bedroll, Leod quickly followed Dorran out from camp, both men walking in the direction that Brand had gone just a few minutes before. "I don't even have a pole," grumbled Leod. "I left it back at the cottage. I should have remembered to take it along, but I refuse to go back there."

"Don't worry" Dorran assured him. "I have a string and hook of my own, and Brand will probably have brought something from the supplies. He's very good at preparing things ahead of time."

Leod curtly nodded, and then added a brief question, "How long have you known Vaenosa? She seemed a bit skittish last night. I offered to bandage a small abrasion on her leg, and she gave me a look that would have curdled milk."

Dorran stifled a slight grin, "Not much longer than you have, Leod. Yes, it'll take a while for her to warm up. She's had a tough time in life, at least as far as men go, and I think it's rubbed off on her words and actions. She'll come around. Just give her a chance."

Leod wondered how long this "coming around" might take and just why the woman was so prickly, but then supposed that the whole thing was none of his business. Anyways, he had far more serious things to think about. They needed to replenish their foodstuffs and take off at a good clip to reach Edoras as soon as possible. Rounding the bend in the path, he could see Brand a short distance ahead. The latter had knelt down beside the river and now stood up to beckon to the men.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

It's a shocking feeling to wake up and discover that the sun is already peeking over the horizon when one is accustomed to rising long before the first touches of red begin to taint the upper horizon. It's even more shocking to wake up a cynic and feel a sense of grief at being unnaccepted, unappreciated, and someone scarcely there. Thus far, Eostre thought to herself, Sythric had been the only one to even attempt to speak with her politely...

And that had probably been just because of suspicion.

She rose, rerolling her bedding almost immediately into a tight bundle, and slipping her boots and belt on before stepping off of it. It was a chilly morning, although perhaps made all the more chilly by the overwhelming feeling of death that permated the land from the village beyond the hill.

Was there anyone even left on this side of the hill? No, it seemed only the two elder members of their party out of her sight now, she thought. But if any had taken sleep in easily, she knew no certainty.

It felt so empty here, now.

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘My goodness,’ thought Brand as he watched Vaenosa walk back toward the camp. ‘I’m going to put this down as a day to remember. We actually had a few light-hearted moments together!’ She had seemed relatively at ease as she’d shown him how to catch a fish with her hands. And she'd spoken to him in a companionable way. But now he could almost see her stiffen as she walked away, as if all the old pains and worries had her firm in their grasp again. ‘Well, perhaps tomorrow will be better,’ he said to himself. He was glad she had gone to groom the horses. She had a good way with them. And being with them, especially her own, seemed to bring her some measure of ease and happiness.

He decided it best not to brood over the 'whys' and 'wherefores' of her sudden mood change and went back to sorting out the coils of lines he’d brought. Each had a sharp little curved hook on it, and he was wondering what sort of bait the fish might take this morning. They were fussy little things, these trout, and just as apt to turn their noses up at something as to bite at it.

He heard Leod and Dorran as they crunched down the path toward him and stood up to greet them. He’d been kneeling down to secure his lines to some of the slender tree roots. Once there was suitable bait he could let the lines drift out from the bank, into the deeper pools where the wily fish gathered, resting from the current.

‘Well, gentlemen,’ he said, hands on hips as he turned to face them. ‘I suppose the fish are the same here as up north, but still, what do you think would be best to use for bait, Leod? Some of those shriveled berries on that bush there? Or would they like a little bit of dried meat on the hook, eh?’ He grinned at the both of them. Or shall we just plunge in and see about netting them?’

[Folwren]

Wulfham

Athwen woke the next morning a little after the sun had risen. She had slept without waking and without dreaming that night - completely worn out from the previous day’s actions and emotions. Every limb felt heavy as she slowly sat up and her head had a dull ache. For some minutes, she was aware of nothing, except the fire, at which she blinked at several times. Then she stirred herself and looked around. The places where everyone else had slept were empty, and no one was around except for Incana - the one who had seemed to take her under her wing the night before. The young woman knelt with a knife in her hand, deftly slitting open a newly caught fish and cleaning it. She raised her eyes briefly as Athwen stirred and gave her a small, half shy smile.

‘Good morning,’ she said quietly, almost testing her ground.

Athwen nodded in reply and answered out of habit, whether it was a good morning or not. ‘Good morning.’ There was a slight pause. Athwen pushed loose hair back from her face. She felt dull and heavy in thought and body and she couldn’t account for it. Incana returned to her work and Athwen watched quietly for a moment before asking, ‘Where is everyone else?’

‘The men are gone fishing,’ Incana answered, motioning towards the river with her knife, ‘and Vaenosa is over there with the horses.’

‘Leod is with the other two?’ Athwen asked.

‘Yes, he is. They all went down as soon as getting up.’ Athwen paused a moment, and her eyes rested on the fish. Her stomach turned with uncommon sickness at the sight and she drew back involuntarily. What was it? The sight of the entrails, perhaps. . .but it had never bothered her before. . .before yesterday. Incana noticed the slight reaction and she put down her knife quickly and wiped her hands on the grass. ‘Can I get you something to eat or drink? I think Brand made tea this morning and it’s still hot.’

‘Oh. . . no. . . but thank you. You are busy and I don’t really need anything right now.’ She got up quickly and brushed the stray grasses from her skirt. ‘I’m going to go look for him. Leod, I mean,’ she said. ‘Where are they again?’

‘They’re over by the river. A little down stream, I think, but I’m not positive. Haven’t left camp this morning yet and that was only the general direction they went in.’

‘Thanks. I’ll be able to find them now.’ She turned and walked slowly away. As she went, she absently combed the tangles and foreign objects from her long hair with her fingers. A natural, girlish thought rose in her jumbled mind and she snorted in disgust as she looked at a handful of the golden locks. ‘My hair is a mess,’ she grumbled aloud. With a slight sigh, she pushed it back over her shoulder and continued on.

In a few minutes, she reached the river side. She climbed down the slight embankment to the sandy edge and looked up and then down river in search of the three fishermen. In a moment she caught sight of them and she quickly made her way towards them, following the river, but being careful that she did not touch the water and cause some sort of nuisance.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

As people had gathered around the fire to wait for the tea, Sythric addressed them all. “It’s nice to see we have all slept well last night, at least somewhat”. With that he looked joyously at Meghan and Osmod, and then to Raedwald. “we had quite a day yesterday, and I think we all feel it in our muscles still. But I have slept very well last night indeed. I don’t know why, but I have. It’s kind of a mystery to myself too.” He looked over all the others before continuing.

“I’m sorry, if I was a bit detached or melancholic yesterday. I was just tired and sore about all this going on. But now I think I could be of some help to us all, if you wish. I have my vices, but they could turn out to be my virtues this morning. I’ve dropped the habit of a morning-tea a long time ago. I prefer a sip of wine to wake me up. When you ride with a border-watch, you normally don’t have time or courage to make a fire, so some wine will have to do. And the effect is similar as it too warms you from the inside.” He smiled heartily, mostly to Raedwald, but to the others too.

“I could take a quick look at the Scyffold and what’s left of it. Just to have some idea, what has happened there, and more importantly, when it has happened? We still might have to bring these stories to the king, and just looking at the near future for ourselves, I would very much like to know, whether there could be an army of orcs within a day’s length of us, or just further away.” That last thought seemed to have silenced the others, at least they didn’t comment. So Sythric rose up.

“I could pack Thydrë just now. I would be leaving as the sun properly rises, and would give me some light to see around there. It’s up to you then to decide, whether you want to come in and have a look yourselves, or would you prefer to ride past those horrors and evil sights. If I don’t see you at the village center by the time sun climbs over those hills there”, Sythric pointed to the hills east from where they were sitting, “then I’ll be seeing you at the south-west corner of the village? That would give you something like an hour, or a bit less, to have your teas, to pack and get going. Would that suit you?”. He looked at Osmod, who had just received a steaming hot cup of tea. As Osmod seemed to be collecting his ideas, Sythric continued a bit more still: “Don’t you worry about me. I have seen enough corpses – friends and foes – that I can handle this one. It will not be a nice view to be had down there.” He made a pitiful try to smile with this last one, but managed to wink his eye towards Raedwald without others seeing it.

I hope this will work. It's always better to acquaintance yourself first with a dead orc, rather than one that's all alive and intending to kill you. Sythric thought to himself. Seeing some horror today would prepare them, and they would have seen, what the orcs generally look like, in reality, not just from the imagery of the tales and as visualized by wild imagination (which always seemed to underestimate the horror of real bad things in the end)... Hopefully Raedwald saw my intention in me kind of boasting my toughness, as a challenge to these young people? I'll count on him.

[Farael]

Sythric left the camp early and made his way down towards the burned village. Osmod had noticed the old man was thinking more than what he was saying, but could not figure out what it was. Surely he was not eager to go into that village, no-one would. Yet the village was on their way and so Osmod packed his things up and lead the group downhill. Sythric had given them plenty of time to get there and so they would have time to go around the burned houses and the dead orcs. ”Why? I have seen them once, and that is once too many times. Those wretched creatures deserve no better than to become food for any stray animal that will want to stomach them. If any ever do. He looked up to where Fion was riding and waited until the man looked at him before speaking ”I won’t be staying in the village today. We must not forget our mission and someone has to scout ahead. I know I did the same thing yesterday, but if you want to stay in the village and wait for Sythric I’ll just get ahead by myself. Let me warn you, it is not a pretty sight”

The group rode on, mostly in silence. The horses picked their way down the slope carefully, each of them feeling restless as they smelt the decayed bodies and torched houses. Not to mention burnt flesh. The riders also grew restless, their most primitive instincts blaring warnings their minds tried to put to rest. In Osmod’s case, it was to no avail.

At last, they reached the outskirts of the town. A big orc awaited them, with a defiant look on his face. He was leaning against what seemed to be the only wall left standing of what had been a small cottage, his sword was lying on the ground within easy reach of his hand. Osmod’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword before he realized that it would not be necessary. The orc was dead, an arrow lodged on his neck. Shuddering with disgust, Osmod wheeled around and looked at the rest of the group. ”I’ve made up my mind. Things look very different under the sun light, but not any better. I will ride through the town and out on the south side and get ahead while at least some of us wait for Sythric. I don’t want to ride alone, not now that these beasts may be are nearby. Would any of you like to join me?” He looked at their stern faces. They were all brave, there was no doubt about it. Osmod hoped he would not fail them, as he felt they would never fail him.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric packed Thydrë with care and precision of someone, who had done that a thousand times. He talked to her quietly, pacifyingly, for he knew, what they were up to. If humans didn’t like corpses, neither did horses. He knew that all too well. Thydrë was indeed his fifth horse by now, almost the most longlived companion of his. That meant not counting the brave Gillsfang, the horse of his life, from his last days back with the riders and sometime back home too. She surely was the horse of the horses – at least to what Sythric knew of them! They really had been friends, not just a man and a horse, which was to say quite a lot with Rohan people, but they really were friends. But Thydrë here, was also the one to have seen the least of the bad things he had shared with his earlier horses. So he tried to be as gentle with her as he could, but still thought, she would have to do this, for her own sake, and for his. "Maybe there are bad times to come. You should acquaintance yourself with it, for one day, both of our lives may depend on it....", he whispered to her, quietly.

After mounting her, he waved to the others, that were just getting up from the fireplace, and left it to Thydrë to pick up the path downwards. He was even kind of teasing her to to make all the fun out of it. And she galloped, she surely did! Sythric had to really put his best to keep himself in the saddle. He laughed, and Thydrë seemed to be enjoying this one as well. But as they eventually reached the level ground, she also knew, what they were up to – and he knew, that she knew. He pulled her to a gait, and they entered the burnt village with a slow pace, Sythric leaning forwards, whispering to her all the comforting things he could come up with (strangely, it was an age-old tune he had not heard in ages that came to his mind, and which he hummed to her in the end).

As they reached the center of the village, Sythric left Thydrë to a place that was under the wind, so that she wouldn’t have to face the worst stinking of the beginning-to-rot orc-bodies. For a while, he thought of covering his own face with a linen, but then decided not to start to unravel Thydrë’s packages at this moment.

He went to the remains of the funerary pyre. It was still warm! If these good people had just piled and lighted this pyre, they still would be less than a day’s ride – or walk – away... and if they watched for the pyre to consume itself, they would be very near indeed! Even though Sythric was thinking about “the good people” , he realized instinctually to have stood a bit more upright, looking and listening for any signs from the envirovement, his hand touching the hilt of his sword. There was no movement, no sound anywhere, but that of the crows and other scavenger birds picking up to gather for their feast. No dogs either... That sent some gloomy ideas into his head, but he soon dropped them off.

These good people couldn’t be the people from Aernanaes. This was not on their path, as they seemed to be camping much more north-west from us. Were there any other villages, that would be nearby? Thingland indeed, but that was so much further south, that the people from that town would have nothing to do here, at least in times like these! And anyhow, the remains of the fire were quite modest, even if there clearly seemed to have been lots of souls to be freed with it. A whole village, paying honour to their fellows, would have had a more outstanding fire. That one would burn even now... But maybe there are some survivors? It would just fit. But where are they now, and should we go looking after them? Sythric looked around, in vain, to see for any movement even farther away, at any direction. It was just still – the crows notwithstanding. We have a mission, but then again, we could at least direct them to the nearest refugee-parties, and anyhow help them in someway: give them food, first-aid, anything. Who knows in what situation they are in?

Sythric got back from the pyre and started to inspect the charred remains of the house nearest to him. Not more than two days ago, maybe less? He scratched the ash from one of the logs to find, that it was somewhat warm still from inside. Glimmering ash, like a very new one, and warm wood inside. Should be yesterday morning, very early, or something... Lastly he took to see some of the orc corpses left around. They had the distinctive stink of an orc, but also the sweet and appalling scent of a body starting to decay. But that was not so bad, maybe two days, at most?

So what could he make out from this? The sun seemed to have risen to just climb over the hills he had shown the others as a mark. He would just wait for a little while, and if the others wouldn’t turn out, he would ride to the South-West corner of the town. He went to appease Thydrë, and thought.

Then he heard the familiar voices: chickens! It was not far away. He mounted Thydrë in an instant and took her to the direction of the voices. Thydrë seemed to have felt both the ease of getting a bit away, and the tension of Sythric. She really made a run for it. They found the couple of chicken quite easily. There were four of them. Sythric broke their necks quickly. Soon the chicken were tied together by their broken necks, on a small string. After that Sythric went on after the eggs. There should be some here, because it would be at least one day before this murder and plundering. He managed to find six eggs. Then he realized, he should be back, to meet the others.

[Arry]

Wulfham

Brand knelt down by the water's edge, a large leather pouch open by his side. He’d gathered some moss and was dipping it into the cold river and then wringing out what extra moisture he could. He began to layer it in the pouch with the first of the fish they’d caught. Dorran and Leod were further down from him, checking the lines.

From behind him, he heard the soft crunch of boot-steps against the sandy, pebbly shore. ‘Done with the horses so soon?’ he called, still intent on the covering the last layer of trout. ‘Grab the net, why don’t you,’ he went on. ‘We’ll give the big pool a try . . .’ He stood up, wiping his wet hand on his thighs, and turned round. A look of surprise crossed his face.

‘Oh! Sorry! I thought you were Vaenosa, come back to help.’ A smile lightened his features. ‘Can I do something for you, Athwen?’

[Folwren]

Wulfham

Athwen returned the smile and bent to pick up the net he had demanded. 'No. But apparently I can help you.' She handed it to him. 'I was actually coming to look for Leod. Is he anywhere about?' Brand opened his mouth to respond as he turned and motioned with his hand, but Athwen caught sight of the two others almost as soon as she asked the question. 'Oh, never mind, I see them,' she said quickly. 'Are you. . .' she paused uncomfortably. 'You are Dorran? No, Brand, right?'

He smiled again and nodded encouragingly. 'Yes, that's right. Dorran's my companion there.' Athwen nodded, biting her lip slightly, a rather old and unconcious habit of hers when she didn't know quite what to say next. Leod and Dorran were in the middle of the river and there was really no way she could reach them conveniently. She decided to wait for them to come back, and until then, to speak with Brand.

'I. . .should thank you for asking me to come with you,' she began again, dropping her eyes and looked at her feet for a moment. Glancing up briefly at intervals, she continued in a moment. 'I can't remember much of what you told me yesterday, though. You were going to Edoras, if I recall. What for exactly?'

[Maeggaladiel]

"I'll join you," Fion said to Osmod. He had no desire to remain in that charred village any longer than he needed to. And he had no desire to look weak and hesitant in front of Raedwald, Meghan, and Eostre. Fion suspected that most of them-- Eostre and Raedwald in particular-- saw him as nothing more than a foolish child. That morning, while he was trying to feign sleep for a little while longer, he had caught a soft and humorous exchange between Meghan and Raedwald: "If it hadn’t been for young Fionn, tossing and turning in his blankets, I would have slept right through ‘til daybreak!"

Young Fionn can't handle the horrors of war. Young Fionn should just go home and tend his chickens, as Young Fionn is just as silly and featherbrained as they are. That was pure angry exaggerating on Fionn's part, to be sure, but Raedwald's comment had hit a nerve.

Fionn thought Raedwald had been sincere when he asked him about joining the Riders. But now, he could see that it had all been a jest. And the joke was on him. They were all laughing at him, or shaking their heads in pity behind his back. Poor little Fionn thinks he can take on the world.

Were they laughing at him, or was it just his imagination? Fionn didn't dare look over at their faces. What did they really think of him? He had his own ideas about Eostre's opinion, and one or two new outlooks on Raedwald's, but what about Meghan and Osmod?

Fionn wasn't sure what he should do, but he did know that he'd be better off with Osmod while he thought about it.

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘Let’s get some use out of this net while we talk, eh?’ Brand pointed to a fair sized eddy pool just upriver. ‘My grandfather taught me this. He’d been down to The River’s bay, and saw some of the lesser folk fishing in this way.’ He held up the round net with its little iron weight-pieces tied all about the edge. It was nearly his height, its weighted edge just off the ground above his bare feet.

Athwen had crept to the pools edge and noted where the school of trout lay in the slow moving currents. Brand looped the retriever cord about his right wrist and gathered up half the net in practiced folds. With a smooth motion he threw the net out towards the water, aiming for the place Athwen had indicated. They both watched as it hung in the air for the briefest of moments then dropped to the river’s bed.

‘Here! Catch hold of the line!’ He motioned her nearer and showed her where to place her hands, near his. They pulled the retrieval cord steadily and were soon rewarded with a goodly number of fish.

‘Now, to answer your question . . .’ He crouched down opening the net to retrieve the wriggling trout. ‘We are bound for Edoras, to the King’s Hall, actually.' His dark blue eyes regarded her gravely. ‘Our March-warden, Lord Aldwulf of Wulfham, received news that bands of Orcs and Easterlings were raiding closer and closer in toward the borders. We four are sent to the King with letters asking that he send some Riders out to secure our village as we make the slow march toward Edoras and safety.’ He shook his head, looking out over the broad width of the river. ‘Lord Aldwulf did not know the foe had already passed the borders.’ His face was a mixture of great sadness and banked anger. ‘Your own village . . . its fate at the hands of the Orcs . . . has brought this fact, what was only grim words in tales told us, all too much to reality for us. The flames of war lick at our heels now, it seems. Once we have replenished our foods; then we must ride hard toward the Golden Hall.’

Brand looked up at her, his gaze taking in her slender frame, noting how young she looked. He wondered how well she would do on the ride. In the end, though, it made no difference, he supposed. She and Leod could not be left to fend for themselves. We men of the Mark cannot leave our own people behind.

He snorted quietly, his eyes narrowing. Now look at you Brand, son of Aidan . . . what’s come over you? Man of the Mark,eh? ‘Twill be some larger boots to fill. He gave a half smile, thinking perhaps this new thought might soon feel comfortable enough.

‘Best we stow these fish in the pack here before they flop themselves back to the water,’ he said aloud, grabbing for the wriggling forms.

[Folwren]

Athwen was quite aware that she was being sized up as Brand finished telling her what their business was. More likely than not, he found her wanting, though his face didn't betray such thoughts.

'Best we stow these fish back in the pack here before they flop themselves back to the water,' he said, looking down at their catch.

'Oh,' Athwen said, somewhat surprised. 'I thought. . .aren't you going to cook them first? I mean. . .' She blundered rather miserably over her words and Brand looked up. 'My brother and I used to alwayst put them on a sharpened stick to carry them home. Stuck it through the gill and then through the mouth. You don't?' She looked rather quizically at him.

But before he could answer her, they were hailed by Leod and Dorran who were returning. Athwen looked up and took a few steps away from Brand. 'Good morning,' she said, nodding to Dorran and giving Leod a faint smile. 'Brand just caught a whole net full of fish and we were about to go back to the fire. I guess you are coming, too?' Of course they were. But there was still the question of the fish. 'Leod. . .he's about to stick these raw fish, still alive, in that pack of his. That can't be right. Can it?'

[Tevildo]

Leod thought for a moment and then reassured her, "Either way will do. I think we'll be fine with the fish in the satchel. It's only a short walk to camp. We can clean and gut them as soon as we arrive. Now going back to our village is another matter because the walk is so much longer. I can remember many a time that I warned the Crawford twins not to stash the fish in their bags." There was genuine enthusiasm in Leod's voice as he continued his explanation, "Usually, I carry my fish from the river in a bucket of water to make sure they're nice and fresh. I have a small table in my yard where I clean and dress them. Then I gather some of the fallen branches from the oaks that grow at the far edge of Old Granny's land and...."

Abruptly, Leod stopped and stared down at the ground, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. There was an awful moment of silence. He had said too much. There was no village anymore. Both Old Granny and the twins had been killed, like all their other friends and neighbors. The last thing this young woman or the others wanted to hear was how wonderful it had been in the good old days before the Orcs had come.

Uncertain what to do or say to compensate for his blunder, inwardly seething with frustration, Leod snapped at Athwen in a peevish voice, "Enough of that nonsense. We've got more things to think about than fish. Let's just get back to camp quickly so we can get out of here as soon as possible. This whole place gives me the willies."

The group plodded down the path, with no one brave or foolhardy enough to try and start another conversation. As they finally reached the camp, Dorran grabbed the pack and curtly offered to clean and cook the fish. The young man seemed just as distraught as Leod. He knelt down a short distance from the fire and jerked out his knife, removing the heads and tails and then cutting and deboning the fish with a few swift hacks of his blade.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Now remaining to wait for Sythric, Eostre mindlessly found that she had to count the heads of those in their party waiting before she was able to slip into the dull, yet somehow demeaning stare she ordinarily wore. Three. Meghan, her (her being Meghan) brother's friend—or at least ally, and herself. A hint of a snort crossed her face. Meghan, who dispised her, and someone who surely wore the same contempt...

But just perhaps her view had altered the smallest bit over Fionn. He made himself out to be naive, from what she had saw of him. Naive, unable to handle the terrors war would surely throw at him.

He only went with Osmod to prove a point. To prove that he was more than a farmboy, she thought to herself. Perhaps to show off for Meghan—faugh, who doesn't love Meghan? Osmod seems to show some degree of facination with her, she seems to share that, or perhaps direct it towards little Fionn...

Eostre rubbed her fingers mindlessly over her mount's ears, beginning to feel the chill of winter setting in distantly, even in warm clothing. It would be a cold ride to Edoras, if they made it that far. If there wasn't an ambush staring them in the face.

It was the cynic in her that caused her to glance back, to make certain that her baggage was still on her horse, tightly strapped where the wind wouldn't blow it away. Perhaps it's not that I'm hated, simply that I'm feared. That's going to kill us if it comes to life or death...

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


‘Why exactly are we waiting here?’ Meghan readjusted the battered leather pack that held the most of her belongings, lashing it more securely to the back of her saddle. Let’s ride out and meet him.’ She mounted up and rode toward the center of the village, not caring who or if anyone followed after. She’d already seen the burned bodies in the moonlight and there had been no Orcs about then – even less chance that they would be a problem now. But just in case, hung her bow at the front of her saddle, close at hand, and nearby was her quiver of arrows.

Sythric had said he would be at the southwest corner of the town. ‘No need to go near the main square,’ she said as they entered the town proper. ‘Unless of course, you want to see where the dead were put afire.’

‘If not, then let’s head directly to where Sythric said he would meet us.’ Meghan kicked her mount lightly in the flanks and urged her on.

[Folwren]

Wulfham

Athwen went to where she had slept when they arrived at the camp. Having nothing to fill her hands with, she stood with them clasped behind her back, looking out across the gently waving grass. Unconciously her eyes were drawn in the direction that the village had once stood and in a moment, she became aware of it, and a wave of grief passed over her suddenly, catching her unaware. She caught her breath against sudden tears and clamped her mouth shut firmly.

Abruptly, she turned away, dropping her eyes and bowing her head as she did. A moment of perfect misery passed over her as she struggled hard not to break down under the utter feeling of loss and sorrow. It was over in a minute, but it left a shadow that she could not shake. She looked up and walked to Leod. Laying her hand on his arm, she asked quietly, though not quite in his ear as she was several inches too short:

'Where are the horses? I would like to check on mine.'

He glanced at her briefly and she knew by the expression in his eyes that he saw right through her feelings. But he didn't keep the gaze for long. He looked up and to his right. 'Over there, lass,' he answered, nodding in that direction. A brief, shadow of a smile crossed her face.

'Thank you,' and without another word she let go his arm and walked quickly towards them. In a moment she caught sight of one horse's hindquarters and tail behind some bushes and rounding them, she came upon the entire group. Her horse gave a low nicker when he saw her and walked rather lazily to her at once.

'Sorry, my little fellow,' she said, extending her hand as he sniffed at it eagerly. 'I don't have anything today. Do they treat ye well, lad?' And as she put the question to him she began to run her small, expert hands quickly over his body and legs.

Anything to keep my mind off it all, she told herself, pursing her lips as she felt his knee and then slipped down to the hock. Anything. But even as she thought it, she leaned forward into his shoulder, screwing up her face and begining to cry softly.

[Naria]

Wulfham


"Wonderful," she said as the group of fishermen approached camp, "this shall surely tide us over for a few days to come." Incana still wanted to put her rock thrower to use, so she and Vaenosa agreed that they would mount up and test their hunting skills. Incana brought her right leg over Starlight's back and settled into the saddle that was made to fit specifically for her by her father. While the mare's feet shuffled anxiously side-to-side, Incana declared "Vaenosa and I are off to test our skills. We will return before you could even begin to miss us!" She gave a squeal of delight and leaned into Starlight giving way to a full out run.

The wind in her hair and biting at her cheeks, it was all so exhilarating. Incana caught Nay out of the corner of her eye and slapped the reins against Starlight's neck advancing the couple into the lead once more. The two women did this kind of playful exchange for a little while longer until they felt that the horses had had enough. Incana brought her horse to a trot and then slowed to a walk. The woman was completely out of breath, this had always begged the question:Why am I out of breath? It is my horse that has done all of the work whilst carrying me.

Vaenosa and Incana were riding slowly beside each-other with only the sound of their horses hooves crushing the dry grass under them. Incana kept her eyes and her ears open with a regular turn of her head to scan in all directions for possible prey. She suddenly picked up a different sound, it wasn't in tune with the horses hoof beats, it was something smaller and quicker. Incana motioned to Vaenosa that she had heard something behind them. She brought Starlight to a halt and quietly pulled out her rock thrower readying herself for whatever was following them. The sound of rustling grass was drawing ever near and closer still, until out came none other than the dog. The dog was no longer the colour that he was back in the village, he actually had a very light colour to his coat; almost the same colour as the wheat fields back home. "Well hello there, you have followed us a long way my friend. You must have found that little stream a bit to tantalizing and decided to take a swim." He needed a name, but that thought would have to be set to the back of her mind for the time being.

The dog kept two strides ahead of the horses not wanting to get behind them for fear of receiving a rear kick, one that he surely would have got earlier if he hadn't been so noisy with his approach. Just then the dog gave a sharp yip and Incana immediately saw what he had flushed out. The woman glanced over at Vaenosa with a look in her eye as to say 'ready, let's go.' It appeared to Incana that it was a smaller deer, not a baby for it had already lost it's white spots, no it was an adult just smaller than she had known them to be.

Incana held her rock thrower in her right hand and Starlight's reins in the other and gave chase. She kept her horse in a straight line as the deer dodged back and forth across her path. As soon as Incana noticed that the deer was tiring she let go of the reins altogether and steadied herself in the saddle. She reached into the satchel that was used only for rocks and put one of them into the leather hammock of the thrower. Incana twirled the crude weapon in the air above her head and just when it looked like it was a sure kill, she snapped the wooden handle back to stop the motion and watched as the rock flew threw the air and hit its mark. The deer collapsed in a swirl of dust and grass. The two women got off of their horses and took measures to ensure the animal was completely dead. They were in the process of bleeding out the deer when Starlight and Nay began to whinny like they had seen or smelt one of their own. Incana lifted her head and looked in the same direction that the two horses were looking, "this grass is too tall for me to see through." She stood up and put her hand over her brow to block the sun and what she saw was frightening and panic immediately set in.
Incana felt the blood drain from her face and turned to Vaenosa, "We--we have to go Vae-no-sa, we have to g--go now!" She didn't wait for Vaenosa she just leaped onto Starlight's back and gave a loud "Ye-Ya" and headed for the camp as fast as her horse would run.

The dog arrived first and did not stop yipping and barking until Incana came into view. She barreled around the corner of some trees, bringing the mare to a dead stop. Incana jumped off and ran towards Brand, Dorran, Leod and Athwen. Trying desperately to catch her breath so they could understand what she was about to say, she inhaled deeply and said, "There are people out there in the grass--no, no riding through the grass" she paused to collect her thoughts. "While Vaenosa and I were bleeding out the deer we killed, I saw people off in the distance from where we were. It looked like there were two riders, but they could have others with them that we didn't see. I couldn't make out what they looked like, whether they were human or not!"

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa had enjoyed the race with Incana and Starlight.She had, had no childhood friends to race with, they all thought her odd and avoided her at all cost. She had always raced with just Nay. It was almost nice to think for a moment that she might find a friend in Incana. She was almost sure she recognized her now from Wulfham. She was one of the children who never teased her, but had ignored her all the same.She was almost too nice to her sometimes and it made Vaenosa a little uncomfortable. Why would she want a friend like me? But it the back of her mind Vaenosa longed for a friend who would like her no matter what her attitude may be. She had been very impressed with the weapon Incana had used to bring down the deer. It was effective with a small deer, but what other capabilities did it have? She would perhaps ask Incana later, if she could see it to examine it.

Suddenly Incana was speaking to her, but her mind was on the deer and the weapon, she had not heard what she said. Standing, clearing her mind she asked, "Huh? I did not catch that?" But Incana had mounted her horse and was speeding towards the camp. Confused Vaenosa muttered, "What have I done now? Great ! That is all I need another emotional woman in camp! Fine I care not!" She said plunging back to skinning the deer. Then she heard it.It was an unusual sound. This must have been what Incana was warning her about. Slapping her palm against her forehead Vaenosa felt foolish for not paying attention. She parted the grass and peered over the tops. There not far off, were two figures on horse-back. Vaenosa's first thought was to reach towards Nay for the large blade she had found in the village,I shall wait here in the grass, then when they approach..Wham! but she hesitated. There could be more of them. She decided against her rash plan, but she would not let the deer be wasted. Pulling Nay's riding blanket from his back, Vaenosa covered the carcass of the deer, they would have to come back for it later.

Hopping quickly on Nay's back she rode back to camp. When she arrived everyone was present as Incana told them of the men. "It is true!" Vaenosa piped up. " I have seen them as well. I say we surround them on horse back and ummm question them." I covered your deer Incana, we can go back for it later. What say you all?"

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Eostre followed silently, perhaps a bit reluctantly after their now decided leader. Though she supposed to herself it didn't matter, perhaps it was better if Meghan took momentary lead. She had no desire to, after all. At least, not through the village. It was a place unfamiliar, partly destroyed, if only for the emotions that trickled through the empty houses.

It could be destroyed, she thought to herself. It could be different. And Bregoware could be just like it...

She had no desire to see where the bodies had been burnt. They were just a reminder of what had gone on. "I have no great desire to see the location," Eostre said; voice a murmur, but not the sort of respectful murmur grieving the dead—the tone of grief was there, but overwhelmed by the simple need to remain quiet if she had to be. "Lead on, then."

It would be better, the sooner they reached Sythric and could carry on...

[Tevildo]

Dorran's heart thudded dully against his chest as he listened to the report that Incana and Vaenosa brought. Could this all be happening again? And so far from the smoking mountain? Did the hand of darkness extend out even over his beloved Rohan? How many slaves would it take to fill the plantations of Mordor?

Alarmed to hear about the men who were now in the vicinity of the village, Dorran had pressed the women with questions, trying to get a better idea of what the strangers looked like and how many there actually were. Unfortunately, neither Vaenosa or Incana were able to supply any more details, and Dorran felt he had little option but to speak out and say what he knew.

The young man glanced over at Brand, wondering if he should pull his friend to the side, but then decided it would be better to share his ideas with the whole group. Clearing his throat, he began speaking in a calm voice, "I must tell you. I am afraid. I lived once in those same lands from which these Orcs come. A great lord dwells there, one whose name is never spoken but whose soldiers bear the insignia of the eye, an eye shaped just like the ones we have seen in that village. My parents told me stories....."

Dorran hesitated, uncertain how to continue. He did not want to talk about what had happened to him. He would try to explain the real danger they were in but leave out the parts that had to do with his own village and family. Choosing his words with care, Dorran continued, "My parents told me stories they had heard. They knew these stories were true. This dark lord would send out bands of roving Orcs to bring havoc and death to the villages that lay to the south and east. Not a day behind them would come raidiing parties, plundering men who would strip away any remaining wealth from the town and drag off those few who were still alive. I think these human raiders were called Easterlings. The poor wretches they found were, were ...." He shook his head, stared pointedly at the ground, and lowered his voice. "They were sent to work as slaves in the great plantations along the far fringes of Mordor. I don't know who these men are that Incana and Vaenosa saw, but I am very afraid."

"I hope I am wrong. But I felt compelled to say something. I could not just keep this to myself."

[Arry]

Wulfham

Incana and Vaenosa had both been certain that they had seen only two riders coming towards them. ‘I’m worried though that if they did not see Incana flying back the camp, did they see you, Vaenosa, as you headed this way.’ He shook his head. ‘And how far behind them are others of their foul Easterling sort?’

What Dorran had said about the men who took other men back to the Dark Lord’s land to work as slaves made his skin crawl. It was one thing to kill an enemy, but to take another man into captivity and deliver him to be a thrall was quite another. Slaves to be worked to death if needed or beaten at their master’s whim . . . the thought sickened him.

‘They will surely have seen our fire and be coming this way already.’ He glanced to where the fish were spitted and cooking near the fire. ‘Let’s draw them in and ambush them; then ride like the wind away from here. Get your packs on your horses. Leave the fish by the fire.’

‘Incana’s good with her rock thrower and Vaenosa’s an able archer.’ He held up his net and his stout oaken club. ‘What say we three take our horses and position ourselves on the perimeter of the camp . . . say you two on one side and a ways from each other; I’ll take the other side. We can take cover behind those rocky outcroppings, there and there, and there. We should be hidden well enough by the tangles of bushes.’

‘It’s most likely they’ll come in over there . . . see our fire and what will look like a hasty retreat.’ He looked toward where Leod and Dorran stood. ‘And we’ll need some of you to make it look as if we are fleeing from them. It will keep their attention on you as a target and let us take them by surprise. Can you two do that? Be riding away from camp and let them sight you?’

It was a hastily devised plan, but they hadn’t much time before the two Easterlings would be upon them. He asked if any had comments or further suggestions.

Brand frowned as he finished speaking. He looked about, realizing the other woman was not there with them. ‘Where’s Athwen? I think she should be with the decoy group.’

[Folwren]

Wulfham

Having finished her short cry, Athwen roused herself sufficiently to set about completing her task of running her hands and eyes over her horse to make certain that nothing was out of place and that he was completely well. Her next thought was to attempt to hide all signs of having cried, and she quickly made her way down to the river.

There, she had hardly finished rinsing her face when she heard hoofbeats of a galloping horse. Athwen turned, hastily drying her eyes on her sleeve, and looked towards camp. She watched as Dorran grasped Incana's bridle rein and the woman swing easily from her horse. Where Athwen stood, she could not see clearly their faces, nor hear the words spoken, but a strange aggitation seemed to push its way into the small group. A few moments later, Vaenosa cantered up in haste. She dismounted quickly.

'Strange,' Athwen muttered to herself. 'I though they'd gone to hunt, or something. But they didn't bring anything back.' She shrugged slightly. 'Had better go and see what's up. . .' She bent and used the hem of her skirt to finish drying her face. She snorted at disgust with herself as she dropped it. 'Completely unlady like. If Mum saw you. . .well, yes. Go and see what's going on.'

She quickly trotted up the slight embankment and walked towards the others. As she drew nearer, she could finally begin to hear what they were saying, though it didn't make sense to her. Brand was speaking of some sort of ambush, she thought. She wondered what good an ambush would do with hunting. She had never taken much interest in that sort of work, but she hadn't thought that it had to do with ambushing. But then he asked where she was and she hurried forward the last several yards.

'Here I am. What do you need a decoy for?'

[Farael]

Fion joined Osmod and they quickly left the village. It was a terrible sight and both men were shaken, even if they had not stayed there long. They rode in silence, barely exchanging quick comments about the best road to take. Sythric had told them they should keep moving south, trying to stay close to the river but not following it directly.

After a while, Osmod started to feel better. The fresh air and wide open spaces quickly erased the gloom and horror of the burnt town. Looking at Fion who had fallen a little behind, he was surprised to see him looking sad. He assumed it was the village what kept him worried. After all, Osmod had had the whole night to come to terms with the cruelty and horror of it all. Not enough time, not nearly so, but at least enough so that it would not hold him back from the task at hand.

”You know, Fion… I understand how you feel. It is not easy, and I also fear that others will laugh at me if I talk about my feelings. I mean, look at me… I am supposed to be the leader and sometimes I just don’t know what I’m leading you all into. How would you all feel if on top of that I started to talk about my fears?” He chuckled, although it sounded forced, fake ”I even dreamt about it last night, my friend. The orcs and the fighting… and still I did not feel brave, I was scared. We are all scared, my friend… but it will do you no good to keep your fears bottled up inside you” Osmod slowed his horse down, almost to a stop ”Are you preoccupied because of what I think you are?”

Osmod smiled at Fion, trying his best not to look condescend. The burnt town had scared him greatly and he had had nightmares about it during the night. He felt as if he would never manage to forget the feeling of despair that overcame him when he saw all that needless death. It was not like the stories he had heard his grandfather tell.

Before Fion had a chance to speak up, Osmod turned sharply to his right. There had been the slightest of sounds, something he had heard so many times before that his brain was telling him to ignore it yet…. “Hooves!! That’s a horse and running away from us quite fast. Let’s go Fion, we need to get to those orcs before they reach their camp.”

Without looking back, Osmod sent his horse on a gallop towards where the sound was coming from. He had a lot of ground to make up for, but his only hope was to reach them before they managed to alert the rest. Whoever it had been, they could not be trusted.

[Maeggaladiel]

Osmod knew what he was feeling? Did Osmod too feel as though he was looked down upon? Or was he talking about the village?

"You say you feel the same?" he asked. "About what? I am... fine." He looked away, unable to complete the lie. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I have no right to complain. I am sorry if my mood is bringing everyone down..."

But he was interrupted as Osmod heard a sound. Orcs, the elder man said. Coming to finish what they had started?

All the shame and depression and fear that had been building up within Fion turned to anger as Osmod heard the orcs. It was their fault, he realized. If not for those hellish creatures, that village would be alive! Bregoware would be safe! He would be back home with his family, where he at least felt useful.

He had never faced an orc before. This was the moment he had been dreading. But at least he wouldn't be with Raedwald and Sythric, Megan and Eostre... Bah! He didn't CARE!

Baring his teeth, he urged the horse forward. He didn't CARE what they thought! He was going to avenge this village or die trying!

"Aye!" he yelled to Osmod. "Let's catch these fiends!"

[Arry]

Wulfham


While the others scurried about, getting their gear together, Brand took Athwen aside and explained what Incana and Vaenosa had seen. At the first mention of Orcs, her eyes had gone wide. He reached out and put his hand on her arm to reassure her, though he wondered how to frame what Dorran had said about the men who sometimes followed after the raiding Orcs . . . the Easterlings.

‘Not Orcs, Athwen. They’re just men, like us.’ He was about to tell her the whole of what Dorran had told them, then thought better of it. ‘We’ll take care of them.’ He pointed to where the likely place was that they would enter the camp. ‘I’d like you and Dorran and Leod to let them keep you in sight. So that they think you’re the ones they saw. You three will head out of camp going that way. And while you’re luring them after you, Incana, Vaenosa, and I will be the ones to ambush them.’ He rubbed his left thumb unconsciously along the left side of his jaw, a nervous habit. ‘It will all work out fine. All you have to do is your part, and leave the rest to us.’

[Undómë]

Bregoware

They found Sythric at last. A little beyond the southern edge of the village. And it seemed he had had a successful hunt. There were four chickens, dead, hung from a string from his saddle. ‘Good!’ she thought to herself. ‘At least we won’t be having any dried meat stews tonight!’

‘Where’s Osmod, Sythric?’ Rædwald asked, riding up along side Meghan. Sythric could give them no information; he had not seen either of the two men.

‘Perhaps we should try to catch up to them.’ Meghan looked from one to the other of the three. ‘The went south, didn’t they? Wouldn’t our greater number be more helpful against any foes they might encounter?’ She turned her mount southward. ‘They may already be in some sort of trouble; we really don’t know, do we.’ She kicked her horse lightly in the flanks and took off at a good pace.

[Valier]

Wulfhamers meet some unaware Bregowares

After giving a few seconds to go over Brands plan in her mind, Vaenosa turned to the others."I shall emerge first from the bush, after these strangers enter our camp. This will give you time Brand to come from behind and trap one with your net. Try for the one that looks in charge. Incana you stay hidden until Brand begins to move, then if you can stay your throw, render the other unconscious.It will be easier to question one not two people. The three of you decoys wait until the last possible moment to flee, we need these men to be almost in the middle of the camp before I step out and threaten them with my bow. We do not want them to fly and warn others of our presence here." The others looked at each other in silence, then nodded their agreements to Vaenosa's plan.

Everyone quickly mounted their horses and got into position.The tension in the camp was almost visible. They all sat quietly and the waiting began.

Then came the familiar sound of hoove beats drawing nearer. Vaenosa nodded to Dorran and the others, letting them know to wait patiently. Looking across the camp Vaenosa could make out Brand preparing his net. To her right side not far off knelt Incana, she was ridgid, but she gave an incouraging smile before she readied her stone.

The men where approaching quickly now, they had caught sight of the decoys."Hey there you! Stop where you are!" One of the strangers shouted.Vaenosa watched as the decoys began to turn and look towards the men. That's it...slowly now...not to fast.....come on....
When the men had entered into the heart of the camp Dorran, Leod and the young Athwen, sped from the camp. It was now or never.

Vaenosa nodded to Incana and stepped from her hiding spot into the open. Her bow readied she said, "You there! Who are you and what is your business?" She shouted loudly and with more confidence then she felt at the moment. The men seemed startled at her appearance and turned towards her.At the moment they turned Brand was out of hiding and gave the net a heavy heave, it landed over the man that had shouted earlier, with ease. Before Brand had secured the net a blur flew through the air. With a knock the stone hit the other rider square in the forehead, just as they had planned the man fell from his mount unconsious. Without a pause Vaenosa ran for the unconsious man and nudged him with her foot. Brand had secured the net and was breathing hard as he looked down at the man he had captured.

Moving towards Nay, Vaenosa pulled from his back her large knife. Grabbing the unconsious man by his hair Vaenosa drug him towards the man in the net, who was shouting and cursing.The moment he saw Vaenosa with the young man he became quiet. She got close enough so the man could see her face. She thrust the large blade towards the netted man. "You see this here blade?" She asked with a twisted smile. Proping the unconsious man up she placed the blade to his throat. " I shall cut his throat and make you watch him bleed to death before I turn this blade on you. You will tell us your business here and to whom you swear alligence! Hurry! My hand cannot be stayed forever!"

[Farael]

"Aye! Let's catch these fiends!"

That was all encouragement Osmod needed. He set his horse to a quick trot, then a gallop and riding hard he went after the lone figure that he could see ahead in the distance. Here and there trees obscured his sight, but it took some time for Osmod to realize he would never catch the enemy like that. They too had horses and had gained too much of an advantage. He reined his horse down to a trot and indicated Fion to do the same. Going more slowly, they could follow the other rider’s tracks. Soon they lost both sight and sound of the rider they were going after, but kept their horses moving as fast as they could manage, hoping to scout the enemy encampment and then go back to warn the others.

The trees and shrubs started to thin out. Ahead stood what seemed to be a wide clearing. At first a clump of trees obstructed his sight, but then he saw some riders fleeing what seemed to be a makeshift camp. "Hey there you! Stop where you are!” bellowed Osmod, as he hurried his horse back into a full gallop. He knew Fion was close behind him and this time he would not let the enemy go away. It seemed to be a small scouting party, maybe three of them. They were not orcs, that was clear, but maybe the enemy in his fiendish cunning had hired men to do his dirty work. ”Traitors,” he muttered ”I shall make sure they pay for their betrayal. Hurry Fion, For Rohan!!!” Yet his cry was cut short. Something heavy landed upon him and threw Osmod off his mount. As he struggled with the net, he saw Fion falling of his horse as well, while the enemy swarmed around the place. They had fallen straight into an ambush. He had lead Fion straight into it. He kicked and tossed under the net, trying to free himself enough to draw his sword and cuts his way out, but his efforts were short lived. A monster of a woman, her face contorted by anger and exertion was holding Fion and threatening his friend’s life.

”You will tell us your business here and to whom you swear allegiance! Hurry! My hand cannot be stayed forever!" She screamed. Then Osmod laughed. It was not a merry sound. It seemed to tear through his throat and out of his mouth. It was the laugh of those who know they are going to die and have given up hope.

”Why should I tell you, fiend of the nameless one?” Osmod spat at her feet, forgetting what her mother would say at such ungallantly behaviour. ”You will kill us anyway, as the monsters you work for did to the villagers. But I fear not, I know my death shall be avenged. Theoden King will never let his people die, his Riders will find you and you shall be defeated.” He let out another sour laugh. ”You will not be able to ambush the Riders of Rohan! It surprises me not to see such coward behaviour from the enemy. An ambush! Be a man, I say” He screamed, turning as much as the net allowed him to face the man who was holding him down ”Be a man and let me loose, I shall take a few of you down with me, for my King and for Bregoware!”

[Folwren]

When she heard shouts from behind her, Athwen pulled her horse to a stop and wheeled about. She did not go back, however, until Dorran rushed past her. She looked over her shoulder at Leod who was about to follow and she urged her horse forward.

They came to the camp in a moment and Dorran dismounted and took the strangers’ horses in hand. The animals were spooked and skiddish. Athwen stopped her gelding and dismounted quickly, too, though her eyes and attention were fixed firmly on the two prisoners. Out of habit, but done absently, she reached for her horse’s rein and held him.

The situation was uglier than she had expected. One man, half sat up, struggled vainly in Brand’s net, and the other, looking no older than twenty, lay completely unconscious, his head held up by a handful of hair in Vaenosa’s hand, and in her other, Athwen recoiled to see a knife.

‘You will tell us your business here and to whom you swear allegiance! Hurry! My hand can not be stayed forever!’ Vaenosa was serious in her threat and Athwen shuddered and shrank back against her horse’s neck.

There was a harsh laugh from the netted man and he gave another struggle, but Brand was at his side, now, and held him back from reaching either sword or knife, if he had one. ‘Why should I tell you, fiend of the nameless one? You will kill us anyway, as the monsters you work for did to the villagers. But I fear not, I know my death shall be avenged. Theoden King will never let his people die, his Riders will find you shall be defeated.’ He laughed again and Athwen stepped forward. He had mentioned her village, she knew that’s what he talked about. And he called on the king’s name. He couldn’t be - ‘You will not be able to ambush the Riders of Rohan!’ he went on furiously. ‘It surprises me not to see such coward behavior from the enemy. An ambush! Be a man, I say! Be a man and let me loose, I shall take a few of you down with me, for my King and for Bregoware!’

‘No!’ Athwen cried out, unable to contain herself any longer. Vaenosa had made a threatening move with that blade and Athwen wasn’t prepared for more bloodshed. ‘Don’t! For heaven’s sake, keep your hand away. Did you hear him? He’s not against us after all! Brand, tell her so!’ She looked desperately at him and took several more, hasty steps forward, leaving her horse to stand alone.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

As sythric saw the approaching companions, he smiled widely, pointing out the four chicken with his left hand, and came to meet them halfway. Raedwald was asking about Osmod and Fion, and Meghan seemed to be worried. She seemed to be so worried indeed, that she spurred herself to a good pace. All the others followed, Sythric remaining by the side of Raedwald and Eostre coming just behind them. Is that girl just worried about her companions, or is there something more in it?, he thought to himself, smiling lightly, feeling quite happy about this possible love-affair he was about to see taking root here. There's always hope and love, even in the ugliest of times! But soon, after gotten to some other thoughts, Sythric pulled himself a bit aside from the group – keeping the pace – and addressed the others.

“I think Osmod and Fion have gone forwards scouting ahead. Didn’t they mention anything like that to you? It’s kind of a risk for a scout to get into a trouble, but that’s, in a sense, the meaning of sending scouts to begin with. And I don’t kind of like this idea of two scouts, and will thence back Meghan's idea of hurrying a bit. We should have a scout, I agree, but one will suffice. We just can’t afford losing two people at the same time, if there is some trouble. One should lead the way and check it for us others to be safe, but two is too much. At least that’s the way the riders have it, and I can see that making sense. Or what do you think Raedwald?” After Raedwald nodded to this common rider-practise, Sythric spurred Thydrë to a swifter gallop, still letting Meghan to be the first on the now line they hade made.

As they rode forwards, Sythric slowed a bit, getting beside Raedwald, and said to him: “The real fight has taken place at most two days ago, possibly yesterday morning, or more probably the night before it. The ash was still a bit warm. But the villagers have been burnt just recently: yesterday evening quite probably. Now who do you think these good people might be? Would they be around, and should we look for them? There haven’t been too many of them as the fire has been quite modest. I know we have a mission, and that’s our main task, but I would hate to leave any survivors without some food, medicare and even a direction to head on – we know, people from Arnanaes are a bit north-west from us. They should know it, now shouldn’t they?”

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Eostre sighed, staying at a steady pace behind the others until Sythric fell in behind her. Meghan seemed in an abnormal hurry; simply fear for their other companions, she wondered to herself? She glanced back at the village for a moment, the burning ashes of bodies far behind them, yet the smell still seemed to taint the air.

And who's young Meghan falling in love with? she wondered softly. Fion or Osmod? She seems to have quite an attachment to the latter...

But Eostre quickly corrected her thoughts before they ran off on a possessive tangent. She had no reason to be falling in love, not in the midst of a frantic mission, not with the possibility of orcs hiding around the nearest corner... though of course orcs hadn't burnt the villagers. That was folly in its purest form. No orc would have that much heart; at the most they might borrow a few of the bodies for their next meal and burn the bones.

And, at any rate, Sythric's too old for you, Fion's scared of you, and Osmod seems to appreciate Meghan far too much for her own well-being.

She sighed, listening in to the conversation between the two older men almost mindlessly. Not as if it mattered. It was simply another conversation, another curiosity, another... just another. Glancing ahead, Meghan led the procession. The girl's growing up.

[Undómë]

Rædwald


‘I don’t think we should take time to look for them, Sythric.’ Rædwald’s gaze darted from Meghan’s position at the front of the line to the country side right and left of their group. ‘I know it sounds callous, but I think we should remember our first duty is to our Lord and our village. There will be a number of other villages, I should think, which will have heard the news of the increasing Orc raids and be heading toward the safety of the King and his Riders. Perhaps it was scouts of theirs who tended to this unfortunate place’s dead.’

‘One thing that does worry me, were the tales of the Eastern men coming along with or following after the Orcs.’ He turned in his saddle to look directly at Sythric. ‘It’s one thing to have the Orcs doing their foul deeds – they’re hardly more than savage beasts themselves. But those Eastern men – By Helm’s Hammer! They are counted as Men, and that makes their deeds seem all the more abominable.’

‘I remember stories of them raiding a village and taking the people off to be slaves, in the service of that black-hearted Lord of Mordor. And not just slaves. There were some terrible stories of how they’d use men for the making of more Orcs. As if they were just beasts for breeding.’ A shiver of disgust wound its way up his spine, and he twitched his shoulders in an effort to throw it off.

‘Whoa-up, Meghan! Come back here, lass.’ Rædwald’s voice boomed out as his eyes trailed over the ground in front of him, and then caught something on the ground to his right.

He motioned for Sythric to take a look, too. ‘Those two paused here for a brief moment; then went on. Fion’s horse has a small nick in the right front hoof. See there. I noticed that as we rode south, down the river.’ He pointed to where the two riders had been almost parallel in position. ‘Then, for some reason, Osmod’s horse took a sharp right turn and hurried off. See how his horse’s strides lengthen? Fion followed after him. They were in a great hurry.’

‘We need to be careful, now, I think. We don’t know what they were chasing or what they saw. And they haven’t come back to tell us. It worries me that perhaps the reason for that is because they can't. They could be hurt.’

He pulled up closer to Meghan, and motioned for Eostre to draw nearer also. ‘Let’s follow their tracks. And it might be best if we kept near each other. Just in case . . .’

[Arry]

The immediacy of the skirmish was fading; the press of emotions settling down into a space where he could think more clearly. Brand twitched his shoulders, throwing off some of the tightness and the welling hatred for the Orcs and Easterlings that had fueled his thoughts and actions for the past moments of the assault. Hatred . . . and fear, too. He could not deny that. Even as he’d thrown his net, he’d wondered would he die. And this time he’d mastered the thought and met what might have proved a fatal task with some degree of success.

But now, hearing the man’s words as he struggled in the net, Brand wondered if perhaps he should have used his head more and his gut-feelings less.

‘. . . fiend of the nameless one,’ the fellow had shouted out. ‘. . . enemy . . . Riders of Rohan . . . King Theoden . . . Bregoware . . .’

‘Did you hear him?’ Athwen had asked. And now Dorran came up whispering hurriedly that he didn’t think these two looked like the Eastern men he’d heard of.

Brand’s shoulder’s slumped, a sickening feeling washing over him. The little haze of battle had cleared completely from his eyes. And now he took in the two figures. They looked like . . . him . . .

‘’Vaenosa, stay your hand, please. I ask you. Lest we be like the Orcs and other fiendish creatures of the Shadow and kill our own.’

He turned to the netted man and laid down his cudgel. Crouching down beside him he looked him in the eye, words of apology and explanation spilling from his lips. ‘We are men . . . and of the Mark,’ he began. ‘We are sorry our actions have brought you harm. Like you we thought you were the enemy finishing up that gruesome task the Orcs had begun. Worse actually, we thought you were Eastern men come to take us into slavery for your Dark Lord.’ He began to loosen the cords that held the net tight, hoping the man was not so overtaken by his own anger that he would rise up and kill him.

‘My name is Brand,’ he said as his fingers loosed the fetters. ‘My companions and I are from Wulfham, two days north of the great ford. We are bound to the King’s Hall to ask aid for our village.’

He loosed the last knot, letting the net fall free. Brand stood up quickly and took a step back from the man. Then, thinking better of his actions, he stepped forward once again and extended the man a hand up . . .

[Nogrod]

“I agree with being careful, and I agree with keeping nearer to each other. But I would insist us to keep a fair pace anyhow. At least now, there seems to be plenty of open land in the direction those two have hurried to. Maybe we slow down a bit before those woods over there – if they are maintaining their direction, and we eventually end up there.” Sythric answered, looking at all the three others, trying to hide his suspicions and fears that had immediately started to pile up in his head.

“I propose Raedwald goes in front, for he’s a real wizard when it comes to tracking. Either of you, Meghan or Eostre, if you have any of those skills, ride beside him. I’ll leap first somewhat to the left flank of you three, just to be able to see, if there is anything nearer the river to be worth noticing. I’ll be back at your side in no time.” Sythric glanced at Radwald, who nodded in agreement.

Sythric took to full speed, riding towards the river, heading a bit backwards. Then, approaching the shoreline, he started slowing down a bit, turning little by little southwards. As he rode forwards, he studied the undergrowth and the surroundings with watchful eyes for any mark of an ambush being prepared from there. So it seems they were not running away from something then. Well, that’s the good news. And what might be the bad news then...If not away from, then after something? Soon he ended up riding at somewhat parallel line with the others – a little behind, some hundred yards from them, quite near the sparse trees and bushes by the side of the river. There seemed to be nothing of interest there. If not away from, then after something?So what could it be?What on Middle-Earth could they be running after then?He had been so sure to find tracks beside the river, some mop-up group trying to ambush the last survivors or scouts. But no, that clearly wasn’t the case. But they wouldn’t have rushed themselves over a whole orc-party either, they wouldn’t be such fools, even angered or depressed. Had they seen orcs, or easterlings, they would have turned back. Surely they would. Osmod would have turned. Fion would.

He started to increase his pace and to angle towards the others, encouraging Thydrë to make all the fun out of it. When she was not tired, she really loved to make some speed. And now she really made some.

[Naria]

Riders of Rohan reverberated through her head back and forth like an echo....

The group and herself were so caught up in catching one of those wicked fiends that Dorran had described that capturing a fellow man did not even enter their minds. After her heart had ceased its thud against her chest and her breathing slowed, Incana realized only then what they had done. She felt just in their final decision, afterall they couldn't have known what or whom these people were. It still was no comfort to her.

Incana noticed Brand offering a hand to the conscious man, in turn letting the others know that they could now let their guards down. The woman could not but help feel horrible and guilt ridden for the attack. Her gaze immediately left the one man now standing and went to the still unconscious man on the ground. Incana knelt down and brushed some dirt and leaves off of his face and saw what she had done to him. The rock that she threw had hit him squarely in the forehead and left a substantial lump and bruising.

Incana stood up and walked over to her horse and took the strap of her water skin off of the saddle horn and went back to him. She knelt down once again and tilting his head she let the water drizzle down the man's throat. She looked up at Vaenosa, "This man is going to need some of that medicinal herb you found earlier. We will make some into tea, for her will surely need it when he awakens."
Incana then looked the other way and addressed the man beside Brand, "Am I safe to assume that your Lord would not send just the two of you?"

[Valier]

Vaenosa had stayed her hand and dropped the unconcious man to the ground. They were from Rohan as well? How could they be sure? She decided to drop the subject and leave it to the others, she was afraid her temper would get the best of her and thought she would keep her mouth shut for now.

She was now unsure as to how she felt about having two more men in their camp. She had threatened them both and the one man had laughed..laughed!. She was certain he would hold a grudge against her, how could he not? Vaenosa moved towards Incana who suggested that she get some willowbark for tea. Vaenosa nodded and headed towards her horse who was chewing at the bark on a nearby tree. Vaenosa's head was whirling after all the excitment. She had been afraid, but the thought of being a slave to some evil over came any fears she may have had. She had just acted and she was still unsure...Should they trust these men so blindly?

Giving Nay a push gently from the side, she pulled out the willowbark she had saved from earlier in their trip, from his saddle bag. She decided she would leave the blade with Nay as well, but she made sure her trusty daggers were at her sides. She left nay to his bark, as she brought her bark to the fire and started the water boiling.

At this moment she decided to put on a bit of a sour look hoping noone would speak to her. She planned on being quiet and watchful. She would not be caught at unawares.

[Undómë]

Raedwald


Rædwald’s eyes narrowed as the group approached a wide grassy area. It was the end of autumn, but still the tall clumps of brown stalks and ragged yellowed leaves stood, like little sentinels waving their torn banners in the breeze. He raised a hand to halt the other riders and motioned them forward.

‘There,’ he said, pointing toward a space in the field before them where something large lay lumped beneath a blanket.

‘They passed here, Fion and Osmod. Osmod’s horse a little in the lead. And the tracks lead near the thing that lies covered in the grasses.’ He loosed his lance from the saddle holder and held it firmly in his right hand. The heft of it against his palm brought a flood of old sensations. And while they were familiar, not all of them were pleasantly recalled.

‘Loose your weapons and have them at the ready,’ he instructed the two women.

Sythric had by this time caught up to them. He drew up alongside Rædwald and perused the little scene before them. It was decided they would ride slowly across the field to where the blanket covered thing lay.

[Folwren]

Farael's post

Osmod


Osmod hesitantly took Brand’s hand and stood up. The man seemed to be speaking the truth. ”Master Brand, I hope you forgive me if I’m not too pleased, even now that our misunderstanding has been cleared” He regarded the man with cold eyes. Then, he looked at Fion who was now being helped one of the women. At least they all seemed to be truly concerned. ”Is there a healer among you? My friend may need a little help after your warm welcome.” He shook his head, ”But I forget my modals, I’m Osmod from Bregoware. When we left, our village still stood a day’s ride from the river. After seeing what happened in the village to the north us, I fear the worse for my people” Then a light of understanding shone in his eyes ”You know what I’m talking about. You were there before us.” Osmod could see it in Brand’s eyes. He could not find any words to say, but he knew none would be necessary.

One of the women was helping Fion. She asked, almost casually, something about how many of them had left towards Edoras. Osmod was about to answer, when he realized it could be a cunning attempt at trying to milk information off him. Rather than answering, he walked over to Fion, who was still unresponsive, and asked the woman for help to move him closer to the fire. The violent woman, the one that had threatened his friend’s life seemed to be preparing some sort of tea. Judging by the look on her face, she was not about to apologise. ”Well,” Osmod thought ”I will not the first to talk. She almost killed Fion, I am not going to make friends just because her other companions seem to be sorry. I don’t even know if they are truly sorry or just better deceivers than her”

Still, he silenced his doubts for the moment. He could not take on the six of them anyway, and the rest of the Bregowares would probably follow his tracks. Sythric and Raedwald would know what to do.

[Farael]

Folwren's post

Athwen


The excitement seemed to be over. Tea was being made and the men who had been given a rather cold welcome were now being made more comfortable and a few questions were beginning to be asked. Athwen found herself trembling. She couldn't exactly say why, it was a strange, uncommon feeling for her. She felt sick at her stomach and her heart beat hard against her ribs.

Silently she turned away from the others and stepped to her horse. Without speaking to anyone, she gathered up the reins, mounted him in a single swift, agile movement, and turned his head about. A light kick with her heels sent him into a long, slow lope and she cantered away from them.

For the second time that day, she found herself blinking back hot, stinging tears. The wind in her face almost dried them as they escaped from her blinking lids, but it didn't clear her eyesight and she went blindly on, her horse finding his own path through the grass.

After some time, she pulled him to a stop. He slowed quickly and came to a stand still. She bent forward until her forehead rested on his black mane and she slowly caught her breath and composure again. 'You're a sight, Athwen,' she told herself aloud in a quiet murmur. The horse's ears swiveled about and he turned his head towards her slightly. 'It doesn't make much sense, does it?' the girl went on, shaking her head slowly. 'Why were you so frightened, so over come just then? Nothing terrible happened, no one was really hurt.' She struggled with a choking sob, but she pushed it back down, blinked back new tears and sat up. Gently, she turned her horse back around and started towards camp at a slow walk. She didn't understand, and somehow she thought she never would, after what happened yesterday. Life woudln't ever be the same, and neither would her emotions and reactions to things that happened. But she would like to understand. . .at least some.

'And yet maybe not yet,' she told the wind. 'Maybe. . .maybe I will, someday.'

[Nogrod]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tevildo]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Eowyn Skywalker]

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

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

Silence, if nothing else, came naturally to her.

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

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

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

[Undómë]

Meghan


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

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

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

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

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

[Arry]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Folwren]

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

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

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

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

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

[Maeggaladiel]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Undómë]

Meghan


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

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

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

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

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

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

Rædwald


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

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

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

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

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

[Folwren]

Folwren's post

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Undómë's post

Meghan


'We ambushed them.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Farael]

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

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

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

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