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Old 10-11-2006, 02:43 PM   #111
Folwren
Messenger of Hope
 
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Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
Posts: 5,228
Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Deren with his three men ran up the lane to the front entrance of the house. He greatly feared that the door would be locked and as he laid his hand on the latch, he whispered a sort of prayer under his breath that it might be unlocked still.

“It is!” he muttered, excitement leaping back into his face and he threw the door open. They rushed in. Deren strode forward, giving orders. “Check every room. Stop anyone you see.” He hurried forward, half running, glancing into the open doorways just briefly. The man who had met Eodwine and Garstand at the wall had come into the house. Deren wanted to find him before he got back out of it. He came to a stairwell and bounded up the steps, two stairs at a time. His hand clutched the sword hilt at his side to keep it from swinging out. At the top landing he stopped. A straight corridor stretched out before him, and the near the end, the man he pursued stood at a door, holding it half open and talking to someone inside.

“Yes, now you’ve got to stay in here! You’ll get hurt, do y’hear? They’re not friends.”

Deren turned half about and shouted down the stair again. “Up here, men! Up the stairs, quick now!” He looked back up. The man hadn’t been aware of his presence until he called. Now he slammed the door shut and stood irresolutely before it. Deren eyed him coldly. “Who’s in the room?”

“Nobody,” the man answered. “Nobody concerning you, anyway.”

Footsteps on the stairs. In a moment, Deren was joined by all three of the others. He nodded towards Osfrid and started forward. The man held his ground doggedly as they approached. “It’s not her, I tell you!”

“Be quiet,” Deren warned fiercely. “Step out of the way,” he jerked his head to one side with the indication to move. Osfrid didn’t budge and Deren reached out to shove him away.

In the blink of an eye, Osfrid made a swing with his arm and his fist shot out. Deren stumbled back under the force of the blow and before he had recovered, his three companions had leaped forward onto the infidel. A fierce struggle ensued. Osfrid fought for all he was worth, but to no avail. They soon overcame him and while two held him and his arms back, the third tied his wrists. Deren stood back, watching them, his eyes burning as he felt a trickle of blood fall from his lip to his chin. He wiped it impatiently away and then drew his sword. He stepped forward and laid the edge against Osfrid’s color bone. The struggling instantly ceased.

“Listen to me,” Deren said, his voice hard as steel. “You are not going to cause any more trouble for us, you understand. Hamolm, you and Grewith take him outside. Milon and I will get the lady and be after you in a moment.”

Hamolm and Grewith took their charge immediately and marched him away. Deren and Milon turned towards the door and entered. Standing with her back to them and her face towards the brightly lit window stood a tall, slender woman dressed simply, but not unattractively, in a dark dress. Her long hair fell loose down her back, well brushed, and black as a midnight sky.

“Lady Linduial,” Deren said, walking forward a couple paces into the room. The woman turned quickly, as though surprised. Deren paused a moment. She was unlike any Rohanian woman he had seen - dark, large eyes set in a pale face, slightly flushed with red, in turn framed in that ebony colored hair. It was a strange, new sort of beauty. He took a few more paces forward and dropped to one knee. She was royalty, was she not? The Queens niece. The lady half extended a hand and Deren took it without thinking. He rose after a short pause. “You will come with us?” he said. “Lord Eodwine is waiting outside and we will have you back in safety in little time at all.”

Muriel drew her hand back, a look of alarm filling her dark eyes. “Oh, no!” she cried. “You can’t do that! This is - this is. . .” she stopped, unsure. She had been mistaken for a lady of royal blood! If she spoke now they’d figure out who she really was and there would be no fun or glory in that. But if she went, she’d leave Osfrid, leave everyone she knew.

As the indecision showed clearly on her face, Deren relief at finding her disappeared as he felt a surge of impatience rise. Was this how all Gondorians acted? Did she like being in a rogue’s home -kidnaped and forcibly taken from where she belonged? He reached forward and took her hand, gently but firmly, and began to lead her from the room.

Muriel decided to play along, at least a little while longer. She’d tell them their mistake sometime. Perhaps by then, Osfrid’s precious boss would figure something out to do with the real lady. There would be good luck and generous feelings all around the house, and Osfrid may be paid something, and then he could buy her something. Or, better yet, perhaps Sorn would reward her for tricking the rescuers. . .
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