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Old 10-21-2004, 08:58 AM   #307
Ealasaide
Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad
 
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Barrold Ferny

As darkness fell, Barrold Ferny stumbled up to the hollow at the base of the smuggler’s pass where Naiore Dannan waited with Benia Nightshade. Breathing hard, he bent over and placed his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. It had been years since he had had to jog for such a distance and uphill to boot. His lungs weren’t quite up to it. He coughed and, unable to speak just yet, waved a greeting at the elf. She nodded sternly, watching him narrowing gray eyes. He glanced past her at the steep path that lay ahead of them. He had been such a dolt to think - even briefly - that there were only three ways to get through the mountains. Of course, the Misty Mountains were peppered with trails and passes, although many of them were cheats and deceptions that led nowhere or to bad ends. He’d used this particular trail a number of times himself, laden with smuggled goods and dodging the patrols of orcs. The moment Naiore’s tracks had turned into the east, he had known where she was going.

Ferny sighed. It was a difficult climb. Surely, Naiore didn’t expect him to accompany her through the pass. His plan was to collect his little prize and be on his way. He glanced over at the southern woman who sat quietly to one side, her head lowered and eyes closed, resting. She would be his soon...

“Where is the horse?” Naiore’s voice sliced through his thoughts.

“Wot?” asked Ferny.

“The horse. Where is it?”

Ferny turned and looked back over the dark lowlands behind him. “Run off,” he grumbled angrily. “Dern ’is hide. Bounty hunter’s dead, though. I ’eard ’im fall meself.”

Beyond Naiore, the southern woman stirred, then curled herself into a tighter crouch, her eyes pressed tightly shut. Ferny nodded in her direction. “I’ll be takin’ my prize, then,” he said to Naiore. “And, with yer leave, be gettin’ on my way.”

"Be getting on your way?" asked Naiore smoothly. "I believe you owe me a horse."

Ferny blinked stupidly as Naiore's fingers touched the hilt of her Noldorin dagger. “Wot’s that? An ‘orse?” he echoed in disbelief.

Naiore nodded. “You were to bring me the bounty hunter’s horse. Now that the horse is gone, I believe you owe me another one. You may have your prize and be getting on your way only when your debt has been paid and I have a horse.”

Ferny felt a flash of anger. “Where am I supposed to get an ‘orse out 'ere?”

“That is your problem,” answered Naiore. “You lost the horse we had. Now it is up to you to find another one. I suggest you steal one once we reach the other side of the mountains.”

“Thankless serpent...” muttered Ferny furiously under his breath, knowing that there would be no arguing with the Ravenner. If she wanted a horse, then a horse it would have to be. He squinted up at the steep path ahead of them and sighed. “Prob’ly just as well,” he muttered, sitting down. “Prob’ly too hot fer me in Bree anyways. Got me some friends ‘roundabout the Dale.... I’ll go there...” Ferny’s ongoing dialogue to himself trailed off abruptly as he noticed Naiore walk over and pull the southern woman harshly to her feet.

“We goin’ someplace?” he asked.

Naiore rounded on him, her eyes glittering dangerously. Ferny scrambled to his feet.

“Do you think we are safe here?” she answered coldly. “Shall we sit here and wait for the Amandur and his rangers to ride upon us in the night? I think not. We go until we can go no further in the darkness. Only then shall we rest.” She paused. “They do not know these pathways the way I do. The darkness will stop them long before they can catch up to us. Besides” - she smiled almost pleasantly - “There may be orcs about.”

Ferny grinned almost by reflex. Let ’em come. Naiore’s orcs will slow them down... Despite his tiredness, Ferny resettled his pack on his shoulders and followed as Naiore led the way swiftly up toward the smuggler’s pass, the southern woman walking silently between them.
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