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Old 12-01-2004, 06:42 PM   #313
Ealasaide
Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad
 
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Join Date: Sep 2003
Location: The Fencing Lyst
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Naiore

Naiore roused Barrold Ferny and Benia Nightshade well before the first light of dawn and urged them forward, bleary-eyed and stumbling, onward into the pre-dawn darkness. The path had leveled off shortly before they made camp the night before and now began a distinct and steady decline in altitude. Naiore smiled to herself. They would soon reach the far side of the Misty Mountains and she would be able to make her turn toward the south and safety. Once she had acquired a horse, she felt that her escape would be assured. She cast a glance back toward Ferny, who rubbed his eyes and spat over the side of the precipice. She would move more quickly, too, when she was again alone. Speed was now of the absolute importance.

Throughout the night as Ferny and his soon-to-be-awarded prize lay sleeping, Naiore had sensed the presence of Léspheria growing ever stronger, ever nearer. While ordinarily Naiore would have welcomed the pursuit of her kinswoman, would have savored the notion of a showdown between the two of them, Naiore felt now that the timing was all wrong. For one thing, Léspheria was no doubt surrounded by Rangers bent on Naiore’s destruction, which left the odds heavily weighted against the Ravenner. For another thing, Naiore had been put on the defensive. She preferred to dictate the time and place for her battles, never allowing others to gain the advantage. She would do so again. For the time being, she decided philosophically, let little Léspheria and her rangers follow her trail. She would lose them at the first opportunity, then circle back and attack them under her own terms. Under her own terms. The soft smile that had spread across Naiore’s fair features vanished as she turned forward again and increased her pace. She would control the terms of their engagement. No one else.

Behind her, Naiore heard Ferny swearing loudly as he momentarily lost his footing and slid several yards down the steep path in a hail of loose stone and gravel. As Naiore looked back, he gave the southern woman a sharp push forward as though she had been somehow to blame. He raised his hand to cuff her as well except that the southern woman lowered her dark head and quickened her pace, evading the blow. Naiore turned away and continued walking, knowing it was unlikely, once she left the woman in Ferny‘s hands, that Benia Nightshade would survive even a year. It would not take long before Ferny went too far and killed her in a drunken rage, but such was Benia Nightshade’s lot in life. It was not of any concern to Naiore. She threw her mind backward, into the darkness that still lingered over the west, searching for the presence of Léspheria. How far away was she? Had she gained any ground upon them in the night? No, it seemed not. The elven lady was still back there, but trailing just as far behind as she had been the night before. Naiore’s serene smile returned to her lips. Léspheria presented no immediate threat. Even so, Naiore knew better than to take the narrow lead she possessed for granted. Instead, she sought to expand it, pushing her companions to maintain a terrible pace.

Hiking steadily throughout the day, the three travelers paused only briefly for food and water. By early evening they had reached a distance far into the foothills on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains. By nightfall, the flat lands lay spread out before them like an open promise, the Old Forest Road just visible to the south, cutting across the open ground toward them from the direction of the great Anduin River. Gladden Fields, Naiore’s destination, lay only a few days’ march to the south... or an even fewer days’ ride.
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