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Old 10-23-2003, 11:54 AM   #118
Nerindel
Spirited Weaver of Fates
 
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Sting

Dúlrain

"Your friend is dead," as softly as the words were said they rang loud in his mind, some part of him maybe but not all surly! he hoped desperately. As Kaldir continued Dulrain opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by his friends raised hand. "Keep it in his memory," Kaldir told him then turned to leave. As Dúlrain's head fell resigned to let his brother remain but a shadow of his past, his eyes fell on the narrow wooden carved whistle that hung round his neck, he used it to call Dir in time of need, but perhaps now it could aid another, he thought.

"Wait!" he called, pulling the strong leather cord that held the whistle over his head, as Kaldir turned back to face him , he smiled "If you will not take what is rightfully yours, then take this," he said tossing the whistle to his friend, who caught it instinctively. "I made and oath to that friend that even death cannot break, so if ever you find yourself in need, blow once and Dir will lead me to you, this oath I now extend to your wife and her friend also," he said bowing graciously to both women, then turning back to Kaldir, he whisper "If in need one Will..! find the other," he emphasised. But Kaldir merely nodded and turned his horse to leave.

Dúlrain watched till the three companions disappeared round the bend of the narrow alleyway, hoping that pride would not prevent his friend of old from using his gift if the need arose, but there was hope that if he did not use it then perhaps his wife would, the memory of her beautiful eyes filled his thoughts, but checking himself he shook them away and returned to the task at hand, he still had to check again with the gate wardens, before returning to the inn, where he would tell the others of his surprising encounter.

Still he could find no sight or sign of their quarry and his attention strayed now and then to Kaldir and his wife, perhaps it was best if he left his friend to his new life one as husband rather than the lonely life of a ranger, he sighed then again if I found one as beautiful as she I might too be tempted to give up this lonely trade, then scolded himself for indulging in flights of fancy, it is things much worse, I fear, that have pulled him from his old life not the beauty of his wife, but perhaps she is his strength in dark times, her eyes held a quiet strength, he thought smiling involuntary.

"Hail master ranger, you missed one of your brethren, he passed through sometime ago, seemed to be looking for something" the gate wardens words pulled him from his thoughts and he approached the gate, "What did this ranger look like?" he asked wondering If one of the other had found something.

"A lithe man clad much as yourself, with brown or maybe black hair and a coppery brown complexion, very well mannered I remember" the guard called down to him.

"Maethor," he laughed, remembering the courteous welcome he had received from the man at the inn, "The mans name is Maethor, how long since he passed?" Dulrain asked.

"Several hours now sir," the guard answered, at this Dúlrains brow furrowed slightly, if he was scouting like him he should have returned by now, concerned he thanked the warden and searched for sign of the ranger.

A slight way down the road the rangers boot prints veered left towards the woods, once in the woods an explosion of heavy boot prints mixed together, he made out Maethor's print, joined by a lighter companion, their prints showed that they ran, and the second heavier print were made by those who pursued he reasoned. Picking up his pace he followed the prints till he came upon signs of struggle, then turning he found Maethor lying still on the ground.

Oh, no! he thought, quickly dismounting and running over to Maethor's body, to his relief the ranger was breathing, he searched carefully for any sign of a wound, but there was only bruising and the faint sweet smell like crushed almonds, Sleeping draught perhaps he thought, as he searched for the root that would wake his fellow ranger, he came across of few broken teeth, at least he got in few good punches he laughed, then went back to his search.

Finally finding the plant he required, he drew his belt knife and dug into the ground revealing the root, cutting about and inch of the root he quickly covered the remainder and went back to Maethor, waving the exposed root under his nose. Coughing violently Maethor woke up.

"Vanwe!" he cried as he sat up.

"I'm sorry friend, she is not here," Dúlrain said shaking his head.

"What happened? why where you out here?" Dulrain asked, helping the still drowsy ranger to his feet.
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