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Old 12-17-2003, 12:29 AM   #178
Everdawn
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
 
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Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: On the sand dunes outside of Ilium, watching it burn.
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Silmaril

Nerindel's post

Toby

After reporting to Naiore Toby huddled himself against the bowl of a nearby tree, but he could find no comfort. The closer they got to this place Naiore called Imladris , the more uneasy he had become. With the revelation that she was bringing reinforcements, which should have abated his anxiety, he found it only increased it, bringing the dawning that they where now dispensable. He had no doubt that if things went awry she and the others would leave him to his own fate, without a second thought.

He fumbled about in his pack for something to eat, food always helped to calm his nerves enabling him to think clearly. "Keep quiet, my hill rat," Toby turned at Barrold's hard words and narrowing his eyes he crunched hard on the apple, but as Barrold shifted he leaned back against the tree, "Hill rat!" he snorted indignantly, "Least I'm no murderer!" he mumbled to himself. Staring hard at Barrold’s back.

As he chewed through the apple, he thought about their pursuers. Dúlrain had now joined the Bounty hunter Kaldir and his two female companions, one of which to his surprise was a hobbit. A ranger that Toby was acquainted with, he kept his thoughts on this group, although he feared the bounty hunter, he knew the ranger Dúlrain was a just sort. When the ranger him thrown in the lock holes for thieving, he had made sure that the judgment was fair and fitting with his crime.

Casting a scrupulous gaze over the others, he wondered if some reward would be placed on Barrold and Avanill for killing the old man, Tallas. Moreover, if he could use their crimes against them, after all he was a victim of mere coincidence, a prisoner of his fear and had committed no crimes that would warrant his death! Perhaps during one of his scoutings he could secretly treat with the ranger. Then his gaze fell on Vanwe and he shivered, not from the chill night air, but from the images of Naiore's assaults on her own flesh and blood, if she did this to her own what evils would she bestow on someone who betrayed her?

However, as he looked at the young elf, he felt himself pitying her. The first time he witnessed Naiore’s brutal treatment of her daughter he had been physically sick. Never before, had he seen the like and he found himself several times after fighting the urge to cry out for Naiore to stop, his cowardice the only thing keeping him in check. Before he even realised what he was doing he had lifted his water skin and was walking towards Vanwe.

At his approach she looked up, he shivered violently as her serene expression matched that of her mothers. "Here you should drink something," he fumbled holding the skin out to her, but her blue eyes just stared at him blankly. "It's just water,” he said taking a drink to assure her. "You should keep up your strength!" he whispered looking over his shoulder to make sure no one else could hear him. Hesitantly she took the skin and drank deeply, with what were the beginnings of a smile on his lips he turned to leave, but stopped as the elf spoke.

"Thank you."

He did not turn back, but those two little words stirred emotions in him that he thought were long dead, killed when he had betrayed his fellow hobbits and listened to the honeyed promises of old Sharky, now so long ago in his memory. Guilt, pain and regret soon followed. After the scouring of the Shire Toby had only helped himself. but this night Vanwe’s words had made him feel good and as he lay down to sleep he resolved that if he should happen on one of the rangers he would leave some clearer clue for them to follow, that they may save the young woman from the fate her mother was shaping for her.

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Everdawn's post

Avanill

If there was ever a time in his life where Avanill had been in regret, there ne’er was a time then now. Avanill had doubts on whether Naiore was going to raid the Shire at all, rather than break some war against Rivendell and the elves who still dwelled there. It was not what he wanted. Avanill told himself every night why it was that he had agreed to Barrold’s venture, and that was what gold was left for it.

Avanill had no wish to become some Lord of The Shire, where Barrold might. He had friends form the days of old who were unfortunate enough to be caught delivering goods to the servants of Sauron when at last the shadow was defeated. An event which he was too small to remember. His friends were just like him, free agents belonging to no greater kindred other than their own, and like them, it Avanill’s conscience had been eclipsed by his own greed and it had landed him in a perhaps dire strait.

There would be no way for him to back out now, for it would be Naiore who would surely hunt him down and kill him, and he knew this well, how else had she been able to evade the soldiers of Gondor and the rangers of the north for so long? If he were to escape what would he then do? Go to the rangers which were trailing them? Perhaps. He would have to think harder about it.

The nights were filled with broken sleep, and Avanill was beginning got become more weary about those who tracked them. However this night was one in which he slept soundly.

“Avanill, my son!” he looked up, now he was in a room not out in the open, across the way was his mother, she stood straight, a look of dreaming on her face.
“Mother!” cried Avanill stepping forward, but his mother raised her hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice cool like Avanill’s, he could tell that she was angry.

Avanill bowed his head. “Im sorry mother.” He muttered. Atantri stared at him.

“What have I told you? Never get involved!” he voice hardened and her eyes narrowed. “You disobeyed me, and all I have taught you.!” She stepped up to him until she was looking up at her son. “You are just like your father!” Avanill felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, he glanced down and there was a knife embedded in his flesh, the sickening sight of blood came through his shirt.


Avanill jerked awake with a cry. He checked his stomach. No Blood. It had been a dream. “Good Evening, Your Radiance.” Came the gruff voice of Barrold Ferney under the light of the moon, Naiore was nowhere to be seen and the others were in a depp sleep. “What’s got you in a twist boyo, someone trying to kill you in the night?”

Avanill shook his head. “No, just a bad dream, is all.” He was still shaking. and a lot of bad dreams to come ill think

“Is all?” laughed Barrold handing him a flask. “Whiskey, to soothe the dreaming beast, take some Avanill, ‘Till make you feel better and put the fire back in your belly.” Avanill took it gladly and drank it dry. “I feel your pain boyo.” Said Barrold observing this, “Been a long time since either of us had a good drink, or a good sleep.” He said rubbing his back. “Though, when we take the Shire- “

“If” corrected Avanill his eyes now alert.

“Why you say that? Come now, You know it’s just a detour.” Barrold shifted uneasily.

“Do you really think that Naiore of Mordor really means us well? What can we offer her in the end, im just a Black Market Trader and you, well, no offence Barrold, but your not the sharpest knife mate. Do you really think that She will give Vanwe to you? Lawks! I would have the nerve to rescue her than see her condemned to a life with you!.” Barrold did not know whether to be offended of whether he’d began to suspect the same things, but either way, Avanill knew he had a point. “Its only a matter of time before we are done away with. Mark my words Barrold and be prepared.”

Last edited by piosenniel; 03-18-2004 at 09:26 AM.
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