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Old 10-20-2003, 03:34 AM   #109
Elora
Shade of Carn Dûm
 
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Join Date: Apr 2003
Location: Kalrienmar
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Elora has just left Hobbiton.
Sting

Vanwe

Vanwe stood, forgotten it seemed, as the three men clashed. Desperately she cast around her for anything of use. Rocks, branches, anything! Barrold was pinned and Maethor, the Ranger from the Inn, was extracting answers from him. Vanwe's hands throbbed still with the surge of blood back into their circulation. Yet they siezed around a good sized stone. Vanwe straighted, flinging hair back from her face to clear her sight.

"No!" Her cry of denial was futile. The stone she threw at Avanill sailed past him as he bent over Maethor and thudded softly in the undergrowth past them. Maethor struggled and then slumped, Avanill heaving the Ranger off and Barrold spitting and growling. With a hand proferred to help to his feet, Avanill pulled Barrold up as Vanwe went in search of another stone.

She had it raised as Avanill turned to her, Barrold spitting blood and dirt behind him to clear his mouth out. The kind expression on Avanill's face was but a cold memory now. He held his cloth still. Barrold was breathing hard behind him.

"Told you it were a mistake, Princess," he wheezed unpleasantly. Vanwe's gaze flicked between the two men and to Maethor who lay sprawled on the ground, unmoving and senseless. It occured to her to drop the stone, turn and run like before. With her hands know free she could move faster, even if her legs did tremble with fatigue. But it was different before.

"What have you done," she demanded accusingly as her senses drifted towards the prone Ranger.

"I don't see as how you're in any position to ask questions," Avanill replied softly as he stepped forward. Yes she could run now, and abandon this Ranger. Was he dead? She did not know! Had he died? Noone should die for her! She did not even know his name. Only his face did she vaguely recall, from the inn. He had been at Hanasian's table, she remembered, and he had smiled kindly towards her. She recalled that too, as she stared at his blank face, stricken.

Vanwe looked up at the stone in her hand and then back at the two men that stood, closer still now.

"What you planning to do with that? You only have one and there are two of us..." Avanill's voice remained soft and dangerous. Vanwe's arm remained aloft in a vain hope to stave them off a little longer. She had to somehow aid the Ranger whose name she did not know. Her senses quested out further for him and she remained rooted to the earth.

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Barrold

"I'll take care of the wench this time," he spat at Avanill. His jaw ached abominably and he had lost more of his precious few teeth on account of the Ranger, Avanill's lapse and the Elf who stood frozen with eyes unfocussed. One long stride and he had a hand wrapped around her wrist and her arm pulled savagely around and behind her again. The rock he forced from her hand.

"Got more rope," he asked flatly as Vanwe twisted. His patience snapped when she attempted to send her knee into his stomach. He lifted his hand and sent a stunning blow spinning across her cheek. Her head snapped to one side with the force and Barrold grunted.

"Shoulda done that before," he said, accepting Avanill's rope from him and securing her hands whilst she still struggled to pull her wits together. From the way she managed to hold her voice, he gagued that she was familiar with this sort of encouragement. Barrold was rough this time, even by his standards, as he cinched tight the last knot.

He let her weight sag to the ground, her head drooping and his hand print livid against her cheek. There was one more thing to take care of.

"Thanks," he said awkwardly to Avanill whose brows rose in surprise. "I woulda been able to look after meself and all," Barrold asserted quickly. Avanill nodded amiably, pleased to have something owed to him by the other. He stowed that knowledge away with his bottle.

"I'll let you do the talkin' at Tallas' place," Barrold added.

"We'd best get started," Avanill said. "There'll be others about soon, I'll warrant, and she's pulled us off course some. But not by as much as she may hope to have." Avanill scowled at Vanwe, who remained lax as she gazed strangely at the Ranger.

"Right-o then," Barrold said, hauling Vanwe to her feet. She clenched her teeth against the pain. He paid her no heed. "After you, boyo."

They moved with as much haste as they could, dragging Vanwe after them. She twisted at first, struggling to get a glimpse back at the Ranger. Once Barrold had levelled another blow at her, she staggered after them, dazed for a while.

By the time they regained Tallas' small lodgings, she was silent and panting with exertion. Her flight had caught up to her. Avanill and Barrold crouched for a while, watching for any more surprises the day would bring them. When none seemed forthcoming, Avanill stood and moved out. Barrold followed near by. He paused to divest himself of Vanwe, making use of one of the many nearby trees to lash her to it, before rejoining Avanill.

Vanwe, Avanill and Barrold could all hear the repetitive wooden creek, like a chair rocking.

"Tallas, Old Man, come out! We wish to... trade with you," Avanill called. At a faint sound from the tree, Barrold spun and sent a murderous glance to Vanwe. Once again, she seemed possessed of a raw desperation and she strained at the rope.

Barrold drew his dagger and hissed to her, "Be still, Princess, or I'll me other ways to pin you there." Avanill shot Vanwe a glare and then repeated his call.

"I said, come out Tallas. We wish to trade with you!" The creak continued and then stilled. When Tallas did not appear shortly thereafter, Barrold's hackles rose. He leaned in to Avanill and whipered, "We'll 'ave to deal with this one my way, boyo."

At the tree, Vanwe felt a black despair rise. It was born of exhaustion and the grief that already one may lay dead. The dawning horror that she was about to witness the death of another this day hung heavy over her. She sobbed, a soft and broken sound of grief, and pulled again at the ropes. Blood now thickened around her wrists and her head pounded. Her legs and lungs burnt with their exertion, but try as she might she could no more tear her eyes away from the scene before her than she could tear herself from the tree.
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Characters: Rosmarin: Lady of Cardolan; Lochared: Vagabond of Dunland; Simra: Daughter of Khand; Naiore: Lady of the Sweet Swan; Menecin: Bard of the Singing Seas; Vanwe: Lost Maiden; Ronnan: Lord of Thieves; and, Uien of the Twilight
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