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Old 12-01-2003, 10:14 AM   #167
Ealasaide
Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad
 
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Sting

Benia

Over the course of the five days that carried Benia, Gilly, and the bounty hunter east and into the Lone-lands, Benia found herself with a lot of time to think. The bounty hunter had relaxed considerably the farther they got from any towns, his manner growing decidedly more civil. He gave her back her father's sword and, more importantly, no longer threatened her or Gilly with imminent dismemberment or disembowelment. He even went so far on occasion as to engage one or the other of them in conversation. Usually the topic was either the local flora and fauna or a brief lecture on the finer points of tracking, but every once in a while he embarked on a tale of the olden days of Middle Earth, long before the War of the Ring. As fond of a good tale as the average hobbit, Benia enjoyed those very much. When he chose to speak in something other than threats and monosyllables, she found he had an excellent way with words.

Once, too, as she had ridden alongside of him as he walked, leading his horse, he bent down and casually plucked a strand of wild morning glories from the side of the trail. Without a word of explanation, almost absently, he handed them to her. She braided them into the mane of her horse, and they stayed fresh for most of the day.

As the journey progressed, she also found herself thinking of him less and less as The Bounty Hunter and more and more as simply Kaldir, almost forgetting that this was the same man who had abducted her out of her bed at the inn in the middle of the night and forced her to abandon her own plans in order to accompany him on what she was beginning to think would be his final journey. As the old ranger had said back in that odd encounter just before they left Chetwood, taking on Naiore alone would be folly. All she could hope was that Kaldir would come to his senses before they actually caught up to Naiore Dannan. Otherwise, she was sure they would all die horrible deaths.

As she rode near Kaldir, she noticed her eyes straying more and more often in the direction of the carved wooden whistle hanging on the leather cord around his neck. The old ranger in Chetwood had said that he traveled with Dulrain and one other. If only Kaldir had accepted the ranger's offer to ride together. Not only would she feel better about her and Gilly's chances of survival, but to see Dulrain again! She felt her pulse quicken ever so slightly at the thought of his kind face and clear gray eyes. Even so, he couldn't be far behind. If she could just get her hands on the whistle...

As luck would have it, on the fifth day out of Chetwood as they crossed the Great East Road, the pack pony that carried Gilly developed a limp. They stopped on the edge of the Lone-lands for Kaldir to examine the hoof. As he bent to pick up the pony's foot, the whistle swung forward on its cord, getting in his way. He tucked it into his tunic out of sight, but when it swung forward a second time a few minutes later, he pulled it off his neck and tossed it to the ground several feet away. Seizing the opportunity, Benia, who had already dismounted from her horse, edged over and surreptitiously picked it up.

Seeing her, Gilly raised her eyebrows and nodded subtly in the direction of Kaldir. Benia pursed her lips and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head no. Palming the whistle, she concealed it in the cleavage of her dress. Now all she had to do was hope that he would not remember he had discarded it.

She watched nervously as Kaldir extracted a small, sharp stone that had wedged itself between the pony's hoof and horseshoe. Having re-secured the shoe with a new nail and a small blacksmith's hammer from his pack, Kaldir had Gilly lead the pony in a small circle so that he could check the pony's gait. When he was satisfied that the limp was indeed gone, they all remounted and continued riding. Benia relaxed as Kaldir never looked for or asked about the whistle. For the next several hours, they rode quickly across the open ground, making rapid progress. When Kaldir abruptly slowed, it was only mid-afternoon, hours before the time they usually stopped to make camp. He seemed preoccupied by some tracks that had crossed their way a short while earlier.

Since seeing them, Benia noticed his expression had grown progressively more and more dark and threatening. His pale blue eyes scanned the horizons fore and aft as though he was looking for something or someone specific. Finally, he reined his gray horse to halt.

"We'll camp here," he said abruptly. The site he had selected for their camp lay halfway up a shallow hillside. Shielded on three sides by some vicious-looking black briars, it offered the best protection of anything Benia had seen since entering the desolate territory of the Lone-lands. She dismounted and began to remove her pack from the back of her horse, but stopped when she realized that Kaldir had not dismounted. Nor had he entered the campsite. He was still looking fixedly back to the west in the direction from whence they had just come. She looked at Gilly who shrugged in bewilderment.

Noticing them watching him, Kaldir walked his horse over to where they stood. "Don't make a fire," he instructed them. "There may be orcs about."

Benia and Gilly exchanged a frightened glance.

"The tracks?" asked Benia.

Kaldir nodded. "It was a small band of them, only four or five at the most. They were moving Northeast toward the Ettenmoors, though I can't imagine what business they would have there. My fear is that they were either messengers or scouts for a larger group. I’m going to ride back and see what I can learn from their tracks.”

Unconsciously, Benia’s hand reached for the whistle.

“Keep your wits about you,” he added. “I shan’t be long.” With that, he wheeled his horse and galloped off.

“Well, that’s wonderful,” sighed Gilly as they watched the trail of dust rise under the departing hooves of the gray horse. “There may be orcs about, so he leaves. And here I was looking so forward to a nice cup of tea.”

The hobbit looked so desolate and depressed that Benia actually smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be back. They are probably old tracks and the horrible creatures are miles away.” She walked over to her horse and took her sword and scabbard down from the saddle. Buckling them into place around her slender waist, she shrugged. “But we might as well be prepared.”

Pressing the hilt of her own dagger into her friend’s hand, she saw that it was almost a short sword for Gilly, and would constitute a much more effective weapon than Gilly’s own knife should events come to a fight, which she sincerely hoped they wouldn’t.

Gilly smiled ruefully. “While I appreciate the gesture, Miss Benia,” she said, tucking the dagger into her pinafore. “Wouldn’t it be smarter just to hide?”

Benia laughed nervously. “That’s Plan A. The weapons are in case it doesn’t work.”

“Oh, well,” Gilly nodded. “I guess we should have a second plan at that.” Then looking around the stark campsite, she sighed. “I guess it’s another cold supper.”
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