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Old 06-01-2004, 06:20 AM   #256
Ealasaide
Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad
 
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Kaldir

After leaving the battlefield, Kaldir went first to the stables where he saw to the care of the pack pony who had carried Mrs. Banks so faithfully across the countryside. Having handed the little animal over to the Elven stablemaster and his assistants, Kaldir took a quick look around the other stalls, locating both Benia Nightshade's bay mare and Dúlrain's gelding. There was still no sign of his own horse. Having exhausted every other possibility for the wherabouts of his mount, Kaldir accepted the knowledge that the stubborn beast had run off and was simply out there somewhere, that is, of course, if he had not been eaten by orcs by now, which was also an unfortunate possibility.

"Too bad, if that's the case," he murmured to himself, giving Dúlrain's horse a parting pat on the neck. Turning to go, he bumped his wounded shoulder against an open stall door and winced. He looked down and noticed for the first time that the injury had been bound with the lacy shreds of a woman's petticoat, no doubt the work of Mrs. Banks. Kaldir smiled wryly with the good side of his face. How ironic that he should owe such a debt of gratitude, perhaps even his life, to someone he had abducted and carried along with him simply because he didn't know what else to do with her. He remembered the feeling he had had soon after capturing her and Benia outside of Chetwood that the two women had something fundamental to do with him and his destiny. Now, he thought, he was beginning to see what that something was. The gentle presence of the two women was slowly but surely drawing the poisons of Mordor out of his system, Gilly with her hobbitsense and humor, and Benia with her patience and quiet courage. Both of them were fiercely loyal to each other and, he was touched to notice, to a growing degree, himself. Under their influence, he was beginning to feel like a living soul again, no longer a battered and empty shell.

Crossing the open ground between the stable and the halls of Imladris, Kaldir let his thoughts drift to Benia. While she had shown an open and marked preference for Dúlrain over the past several days, he still had hopes that he could find a way to convince her to remain at his own side when the time came to leave the shelter of Imladris. Perhaps Dúlrain, for whatever reason, would reject her affections. Kaldir could only hope. In the meantime, while he honestly wished Dúlrain a swift and complete recovery from his wounds, Kaldir still felt determined to do his best to win Benia over for himself, Dúlrain notwithstanding. If his profession as bounty hunter toubled her - and he was certain it did - he could give it up. He could change. With Benia beside him, Kaldir felt certain that he could begin his life anew... perhaps even rejoin the company of his former brethren if they would have him. He turned the thought over in his mind as he entered the Hall of Healing. There was still time. Perhaps if he could show Benia that he was serious about changing his life... maybe, perhaps, if...

"Aigh!" Kaldir groaned aloud, as he entered a small side room to await the attention of the healers. "It would be so much simpler if I could just drag her off by her hair."

"Who?" asked a voice behind him.

Kaldir turned quickly to discover that he was not alone in the room as he had originally thought. Amandur sat in a chair off to one side, also waiting for healers and cradling what looked like a broken arm. Kaldir smiled ruefully and nodded to the senior Ranger.

"Greetings, Amandur," he said casually. "My apologies. I thought I was alone."

The older Ranger nodded in response, but persisted with a smile. "My apologies as well for eavesdropping, but seeing as you have already carried off both Mrs. Banks and Miss Nightshade, I can't help but wonder what female you are thinking of abducting now."

Kaldir laughed softly. "Miss Nightshade again, if you must know," he answered. "But it would not be for a bounty, I assure you."

"No?" Amandur raised an eyebrow. "I understand that there are certain people about who would still pay very well for any remnants of the Painted Sand Tribe. Even the women."

"That's true." Kaldir nodded gravely. "But I find my interest in bounty-hunting waning of late." He paused, giving Amandur a considering look. If anyone would be able to tell him how the idea of his returning to the life of a Ranger would be received, it would be Amandur. Kaldir chose his words carefully. "I would sooner offer my sword to protect the desert lady than I would use it to bring her harm."

"That is indeed good to hear," answered Amandur. "Many people, including Lady Léspheria, were greatly troubled by the disappearance of your companions from the Forsaken Inn."

"I confess my motives were not so noble then."

"And now?"

"Now I owe them both a great deal, which I hope to repay someday if I can." Kaldir hesitated for barely a second, then added rather defensively, "When I spoke just now of dragging Miss Nightshade off by her hair, it was a joke. To myself."

Amandur nodded his understanding. "Then would I be correct in assuming that Miss Nightshade may have had something to do with your recent change in interests?"

Kaldir's pale blue eyes narrowed slightly as he considered his answer. To tell the truth and speak of his feelings for Benia to another would reveal himself in such a way that the pattern of caginess that had protected him so well for so long would be broken. On the other hand, if he was serious in his desire to leave bounty-hunting and return to the society of his traditional brethren, he could not begin by lying to his captain. For a long moment, Kaldir's two conflicting sides struggled for dominance, the old lean, wolflike instinct to survive against the new hope and optimism that had recently taken root within him. Finally, coming to a decision, he nodded.

"You would," he said quietly. "I have traveled a dark and twisted path since Raven Falls. When I stole Miss Nightshade from her bed at the Forsaken Inn, my intention was to kill her for the bounty. Something I did not understand at the time stayed my hand. Since then, I find myself increasingly unwilling to be parted from her." He gave Amandur a piercing look, trying to gauge the reaction of the older Ranger. "She brings light to a side of me that has not seen the sun in a very long time. Because of her, whether I am able to forge a life with her eventually or not, I find that I wish to be a better man again."

Falling back into his old habit of hints and innuendos, Kaldir stopped short of voicing outright his interest in returning to the company of the other Rangers. Instead, he waited quietly for Amandur's reaction, to see if the other man had heard the underlying message in his words.

************************************

Naiore

Naiore spent the hours of daylight that passed since she concealed herself in the tree behind the main hall of Imladris in stillness and silent observation. And in waiting. In the aftermath of the Battle at the Stairs, the place had become a beehive of activity, with a great deal of traffic moving about the grounds, and most especially back and forth between the stable and the main hall. The faintest smile traced around the corners of her lips as, at one point, she caught sight of the bounty hunter, Kaldir, who had once been at her mercy in Mordor. Fascinated by his strength of mind and his stubborn resistance to her will, she had let him live then in the hope of turning him to her purposes. She been so close, too close. But then Mordor had fallen and she had been forced to flee, leaving her work unfinished. Since then, he had become a dangerous foe. No, a worthy opponent. That was all. He thought he could destroy her, but she had wrought much change upon him during her time with him. Whether he was aware of it or not, he was still connected to her by a line of consciousness that bound him to her as if by a silken thread.

"And a mere tweak upon the thread..." she murmured, watching his tall figure move down the path toward the stable. "That fool orc said you were dead, Dunedan. I should have known better." Closing her starlit eyes, she reached out toward him with her mind, searching out his familiar aura of anger and hatred. Finding it, she arched a delicate eyebrow. There was something else within his aura now, too. Something new and very powerful.

"What is it, Dunedan?" Naiore whispered to his retreating back. "Have you fallen in love?" A chilling smile drifted across the elf's beautiful features. "Who is she?" the Ravenner asked as the bounty hunter vanished from view. "I wonder, my friend, if she is truly worthy of you."

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