[maikafanawen]

Wren had failed in getting all the blood of her clothing was utterly disgusted at the unsightful marks they left. Shuddering with defeat she leaned against a tree, watching a few members either make a fire, stare idly into the woods, or studying their hands, the latter consisted of the few who had killed a man for the first time in their lives. Wren hadn’t noticed the horror stricken faces of Tareth and Bregand. Sure she noticed that they seemed a bit more concerned about the events than the more experienced, but she didn’t contemplate on the topic long. She was a bit surprised with herself.

The noblewoman had been surprise at the ease in which she killed the men. She had done many illusional practices at Gondor, but none had involved the expressions the men had right after she ran her blade through them and just before they died. Wren had killed four total, and three discretely. As far as the others knew, she had disposed of a single cannibal—Which was good in Wren’s case, so she wished to think. So used to the popularity and respect of home, the disrespect and annoyance she had received from the companions whom she traveled now was very disappointing. Her conceded side of her (the mind) had vanquished over her common sense (the heart) and she had resolved that they were simply not worth her time.

“Wren,” called Bregand from a few yards off as he spoke with Enien, “come over here.” She rose and meandered over to where the two elves and Bregand stood. Wren was very surprised when Enien greeted her with a faint smile. The noblewoman stuttered as she answered Calimir’s question.

“What is your opinion on our path?” he asked as if they had long been working together. Wren was very confused at this point and decided to shrug it all away for the moment as they discussed the route.

“Well,” she said, producing a map from her bag and opening it before them, “We’re somewhere just outside of Bree between the Old Forest and the South Downs, about here,” she said, pointing to place near the Andrath Greenway. “Now, if we were to go by Rivendell, which I would love to see, but this is not a tourist trip, we should find the East-West Road and travel thusly. Were that to be chosen because of its safety that would take us down the Misty Mountains which we would most definitely cross into the east elven territories such as Mirkwood and Lorien. If we’re to head straight south, then the obvious choice would be to continue down the Andrath Greenway until it turns into the North-South Road. That would take us over the Tharbad bridge of Greyflood,”

“Gwathló,” added Enien. Wren nodded,

“Precisely. Then we’d be traveling through Enedwaith which would consequently lead us through Dunland and pass Isengard, a nice tourist attraction if I do say so myself. But then again—”

“This isn’t a tourist trip,” interrupted Bregand impatiently. Obviously he had the map memorized and was getting annoyed with Wren detailing the possible routes they could take. The noblewoman ignored him temporarily and continued.

“That, of course, will lead us through the Gap of Rohan. By then we will all be exhausted from walking and very short of food and water.” The elves and Bregand nodded in agreement. “So, we could ask shelter from King Eomer at Edoras. From there, we’d follow the mountain range onto Gondor. Minas Tirith or Osgiliath.” She took a deep breath. From there I leave you, she thought. “From there we could do two things. My father has a ship in Harlond—”

“I thought you were from Minas Tirith,” interrupted Bregand. Wren was shocked. Bregand was turning out to be a very observative and intelligent boy—It frustrated her.

“I am, but my father has connections in both cities, and a merchant ship in Harlond. May I continue? Good. We could use that ship and sail down The Great River,”

“Anduin,” Calimir pointed out. The noblewoman was near exploding but wisely kept her calm.

“Therefore following the coast to Harad, or we could travel the Harad Road, which would be the most dangerous course by far. Although that last route is for a later time of discussion. Right now, it is the first course we’re debating.” She finished and looked towards her guiding companions.

“I stand by the South Road course,” Bregand said firmly.

“I agree,” offered Enien. Calimir stood in thought for a second. He had just left Rivendell and returning would cause him more pain of having to leave a second time.

“South.” Wren looked down at her map again. The Andrath Greenway would lead them through the Downs, and the South Road through Dunland. It was extremely dangerous. Wren was known for her luck and easy going attitude—not her courage. If they made it through that, they’d be fine after conquering the Gap of Rohan and arriving in Edoras. With Arien along, they would surely be greeted warmly in King Eomer’s halls. She hid her feelings and nodded in agreement.

“It’s settled. South we go.” The group split and Bregand left to inform Rangar. Wren speculated on her thoughts before the discussion. They had been full of anger because she had not been welcomed with open arms into this group of strangers. Well of course not, her heart argued. Maybe I should just stop thinking. Wren picked up her sword drawing it from its trendy, midnight black scabbard. It was newly forged to fit her tastes: light, thin, and extremely aerodynamic. Its ability to swish through the air at a single flick of her wrist was her favorite quality. She liked the dark green, leather hilt with a delicate imprint of a rose. The rose was her favorite symbol and it was on her pouches, arm guards, and in a small place just to the left of her heart on her jerkin. She ran her fingers lovingly over the sword’s hilt before standing on-guard with it before her. Wren was about to practice when someone behind her said...

[ May 25, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]