Legacy of Traitors RPG

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Roryn gently moved through the trees. He had left the camp some minutes before, and he hoped that none had noted his departure. He was going back to look for Del's body, and to try and give it some sort of dignity. He trekked for several more minutes, wary of making noise at all, as he knew there were bandits still around, and he was on his own this time.

Stepping into the clearing he saw Del's body propped up against a tree, a blackbird pecking at it. He swore, getting the bird away would create a huge amount of noise, shooting it would cause less...Drawing his bow he strung an arrow to it, and drew it back to his cheek. Aiming carefully he fired. The arrow ripped through the bird with hardly a noise, and pinned its lifeless corpse to the tree. Roryn spat at the ground, he had not wanted to do that...

Walking quietly over to Del he laid him on the ground, put the hild of his sword in one hand and his shield in the other. He crossed Del's arms, and laid his feet straight, then he began to dig with a buckler he had on his back...

After an hour's laborious work, it was ready. He said the funeral and placed Del's body in the grave, and covered it over. He was surprised even at himself when a small tear fell down his cheek. Turning around, he set off bck for the camp...

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal bowed her head at the knowledge that Maen had shared with her. They had been through even some what similar lives. She felt sorry for that fact.

"I had no idea and I certainly didn't mean to offend you," Crystal said softly. She pulled her other sleve up and showed Maen a deep, white line that went from her wrist all the way up, continuing out of sight.

The scar was from her father. Her mother had forced him in teaching her how to sword fight, but he had taken his anger out on her. The pain still seared at times.

"My mother made my father teach me how to sword fight. My father was very angry and took his anger out of me with his sword. It continues across my back in slashes. I understand pain of the flesh," Crystal said softly.

[Eorl of Rohan]

The sickle of the Valar swung in the northern night heaven of Arda , glimmering as if faded with grief and sorrow of Quendi and Atanatari. Star Helluin that Elbereth star-kindler had set there glistened unsullied with a pale blue light amidst the dispersing mists, whence sailed Earendil's vessel. Constellation Menelcamar blazed with splendor in the eastern firmament in glory, signifying the end of days when Belcha Morgoth shall be freed.


The starlit glade was silent and without movement, if dancing leaves in tune to the autumn breeze did not count. That is, except for Ferethor who was now aroused.


Ferethor recovered swiftly for fire of life was yet strong in this youthful captain of Minas Tirith and the wound was not too severe. Yet he was only sustained at times by his willlpower and would cry out in times of great aguish notwithstanding his endurance.


Yet Ferethor was no longer what he had been. Strange indeed have Ferethor grown of late, since his grievious injury in the encounter with the raiders of Harad. More wordless and enduring in silence with no verstige of his lofty manner remaining, and slow to hot flashes of anger that he had often shown. Depressed and seemingly unconcious of his surroundings at times, Ferethor would speak in a low murmur about things that directly related to himself and will not join in any discussion pertaining the next stage of their journey.


Ferethor was sitting awake, passing his hand over his fevered brow. His gaze strayed to the high heaven where gems of Elbereth Elentari sparkled in many-colored hues. He was alive and in full faculty of his senses, although he was not sure that it was a blessing or a curse. 'But it is not given us to decide the time or rule our own end.' He thought.


The anguish with which Ferethor suffered from ebbed down and faded with the passage of time, for which he was much glad. Then Ferethor noted with some surprise and doubt that something hung by his neck and reached out for it. Slender links of silver and bronze links clinked in his hands and a pendant of exquisite workmanship was fastened at the end. It was wrought of silver and Ithildin and inlaid with chips of sapphire and ruby, and gleamed in the likeness of Telperion's blossom.


Turning it over bemusedly in his hands, Ferethor noted tiny letters scratched in the silver-wrought petals on the metallic blossom. "May Lady of the Stars ward thee from peril, Crystal" Murmuring the words he could decipher, Ferethor was dismayed to learn that it was Crystal's and impulsively cast it down. The fair pendant, striking a stone in its descent, rolled into the mud and gleamed there still though it was half-buried in the mud.


This morn, the searing anguish was acute enough to threaten his very will and sanity, and Ferethor was too spent and weary to care about anything. But now fully aroused and looking back to this morning, Ferethor flushed in shame and anger and was wroth with his weakness. Allowing himself to be in a position of helplessness, utterly unable to resist anything or defend himself with wavering conciousness....


Captain Ferethor shook off such dark thoughts angrily and there was litte change in his grave countenance. Everyone seemed to his asleep with weariness from long toil and journey, or so it seemed to him. Sitting there rigidly and and unmoving as if he were wrought of granite, he wondered what would be passing through their minds. Worry? Anticipitation?


His wide-open and alert grey eyes scanned the woods, bright and intelligent but shadowed with some darkness no one can decipher. Ferethor recalled that Maen had said something about leaving. 'Since I 'm the only horseless person on the expedition, I shall be forced to tread the path on foot. Ferethor thought with some bitterness. Yet we can easily procure a horse in one of the Atani settlements. As a sentinel of Gondor on official mission I will have little trouble acquiring a emergency steed reserved for errand-riders.'


Ferethor arose then, wincing at the bitter pain that flashed through his muscles every time he moved his shoulder - the anguish that had been the reason for being awake in the middle of the night suddenly. He wandered over to the east until he came across a clear creek.


The little stream flowed down by a rocky crevice singing merrily like the music of Ulmo Lord of Waters unstained and seemingly unaware of grief and weariness in the world that beset the children of Iluvatar. Ferethor knelt down and cleansed his wounds by scooping up transparent water of cool tranquility for a while, but then he sighed and cried out, "Blood may be cleansed and wounds may heal, but who shall relieve us from despair and anguish of mind, save it be Iluvatar who dwells beyond our call for ever?"


It was almost dawn by the time he came back to the camp alone, limping. Few of the members of expedition were awake and could be seen in the shadows of darkness, others were still sleeping. 'A new stage of the journey opens before us.' Ferethor munched thoughtfully upon a piece of cram as he watched the new dawn. 'Will we survive it? Will any?'

[Kransha]

“Grievous thoughts for a lady as you, ma’am.” Murmured Idruil, half under his breath as Maen Il Galoth turned away. He knew that she was worrying about the others who had not yet returned. Once again, he pried every volume of himself apart searching for more visible concern, but discovered none.

He’d lost too many dear to him. His sense of loss had been somehow sterilized by his past. Memories that clouded his mind in shadow flooded back to him in gruesome detail. He saw himself through new eyes, looking down from the White City’s walls on the field of Pelennor. He saw a pale light descending on both him and the fading memory, wrought with blurred vision as the man of Gondor watched himself flitting by from place to place in the dream-like memory. From level to level he had gone, searching in vain on the field below for any sign of his family’s heralded banner held aloft.

Idruil’s father did not return from that field alive, but instead borne on a crude bier by his fellow soldiers. As much as Idruil had befriended his parent, he could not feel the pain in his heart any longer. Despite emotional devastation, he did not mourn, he did not weep, and he never spoke of his father again. When his mother passed less than a year later, crushed by the loss of her husband’s life and her son’s soul, Idruil still showed no concern. He did not consider himself soulless, though he knew that he had slowly become less human as death of friends and loved ones stopped affecting him.

“Rest in peace, all ye who passed this day.” He said, more to himself than the others. At least Ferethor was alive, though he knew not how Atharen and Roryn were faring now. Hopefully, he vile bandits had abandoned the field. He felt no shame, but great regret at not forcing the issue and insisting to stay behind and fight with the others as he should’ve done in the first place.

He spoke up, looking to Maen and Crystal, “How long must we linger here? This dark day is passing and we must leave it where it lies. There is no use in mourning eternally, for it will only darken our own souls with misery, which is something we do not need. When do we continue our search?”

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal looked over at Ferethor and saw her mother's pendant in the mud. She reached over him and took it out. The precious metal and jewels now had caked mud. She rubbed it away. Her eyes glared at Ferethor.

"You know Ferethor this was my mothers. She gave it to me. Had it reengraved. It brings me luck and somehow helps with wounds. I gave you this luck so you might be alright. You know you shouldn't treat the person that just saved your life like common scum," Crystal said softly to him, her anger apparent but her voice not loud.

She had stepped out on a limb with Ferethor. She had offered her healing skills and techniques and her mother's necklace. Her most prized possession. One of the last reminders of her mother. The last reminders of Arty. He had been there the day that her mother had given her that necklace. It had been her sixteenth birthday. A day that should have been a joyous time. A day that shouldn't have ended in tragedy.

Her mother's illness had taken over her and she had died at her side. There wasn't anything that she could do about it. There was belief that her father had slowly poisoned her so he could send his troops to war. Arty had even said he had seen her father do it. As soon as those words tumbled out of Arty's mouth she had wished they hadn't. Her father had been right there and Arty had accused them.

General Dorian's anger was incomprehensible. He had grabbed Arty behind his neck and had thrown him outside. She had ran after her father, pleading and crying for his life. That was the day the beatings started. He threw Arty aside and had taken out all of his hatred and anger out on her body. Arty tried to save her, but General Dorian had started in on Arty. In the end Arty lay on the ground, heaving when her father brought out his bow and arrow. Arty was slain right before her eyes.

Now here was another man that was vunerable, that could use this luck and he was casting it aside. That was how he was, she guessed.

And there was another man that held her attention, somewhere out in the woods. He hadn't returned and it was likely that he never would.

Crystal sat back and gazed out into the woods, hoping for a miracle.

[Melisil]

Aelimur had sat silently, and cold as stone as the news of all the deaths passed through his ears. He looked to the ground in dismay. Swirling thoughts of everything were passing through his head untill Crystal started to ride off.

He looked up. Crystal was returning already, Ferethor with her! He's alive! Aelimur thought quickly. His eyes scanned where Crystal had found him.

He watched the spot tentively, hoping that maybe one other wanderer, in turn, would show up. Namely Atharan or Del. He stopped himself before too long though, as the words Maen had spoken moments before Ferethor showed up returned to his mind. “I regret to inform you all that one of our companions is dead. Del has been slain in battle.”

"No." he said silently to himself, "Never trust a wish." he continued on in his own thoughts, 'Del is dead. Roryn saw him fall... I think. Did he? Maybe he did survive, maybe Del stayed behind, and with some miraculous feat defeated our attackers!' Aelimur shook himself, 'Stop it Aelimur, you fool. He died, that's all there is. Ah, at least no more fell.

Aelimur had found somewhat of a friend in Del, and he wasn't sure how many of those he would find in this company. Many aquaintances, yes, allies, maybe. But friends? Probably not many. He scanned the crowd; Maen, she was his employer, as of yet, nothing much more to him.. Crystal, she could be a friend, he wasn't sure.. Ferethor, slightly, yes. Aelimur and Ferethor were slight friends. Carathir and Idruil, neither of them he knew much of yet. Roryn and Atharan, well Aelimur didn't know much of them yet either.. probably they would know each other as no more then people that had traveled together though.

Aelimur shook himself. He stood up, and walked over to Maen, "My lady, are we to continue on when Roryn and Atharan return? Or camp here?" he asked this almost mechanically. Although it wasn't habit, the death of anyone, whether he knew them well or otherwise, tended to make him seperated from others, so he asked as a means of keeping himself going and in touch with the group.

[Eorl of Rohan]

Golden and orange color mingled into a suffuse glow in high heaven of Arda, announcing the arrival of dawn. Swirling clouds seemed as if kindled with fire and snow-crowned Eryn Luin could be descried amid flowing mist.


When Ferethor limped dejectedly back to camp after a while, he found a strange trouble awaiting him at his arrival. Crystal was awake and glaring at Ferethor, obviously incensed at his treatment of her silver pendant. "You know Ferethor this was my mothers. You know you shouldn't treat the person that just saved your life like common scum," She spoke.


As if one aroused from a deep reverie Ferethor turned to her, his thoughtful glance questioning. "Crystal, I would not have thought this necklace was of great value to you if you lent it to me of all people. Only yesterday you seemed fain to slay me where I stand, if my remembrance does not fail me utterly. And if it comes to the question of defilement, better mud then accursed myself." Ferethor said mildly.


Nodding curtly at Crystal, he circled the glade in search for a place to be alone in his grief and guilt without any untimely interruptions of these nature. Finding no such secluded place, he watched the dawn break with an expression no one could fathom. Ferethor wondered if he was crazed for a moment before discarding that forboding thought.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal watched as Ferethor tried to find a place of seclusion. She sat and thought. Yes, it was true she had tried to kill him only a day prior but current events had caused her to see the error of her ways.

A member of their company was dead. A kind and wonderful man that she had wanted to get to know. Who knows what he could have been if he had only been given the chance.

She applied that to Ferethor. Who knows who he really is deep inside, protected by his rough and tough casing that he wore so proudly? Who really knew the man behind the sword? Who really knew Ferethor?

She got up and walked over to him softly. She stopped behind him, but didn't make a move to touch him in anyway. She licked her lips and swallowed.

"Ferethor, I apologize for my rash actions the other day. You seem so much like the men that my father leads that I was afraid. Afraid that you were an assassain that was coming along for the ride and waiting 'til the opportune time to catch me and take me back as some sort of prize. It was my fear that clouded my judgement. The only thing that I had to be suspicious towards you with was the fact that you knew my father," Crystal said. She paused as she took in a ragged breath.

"If you know my father, if you want to take me back as a prize to collect the reward, if you want to see me dead I don't care anymore. The reason I lent you my pendant was a sign of a peace offering. It was my way of saying even if we do not see everything eye to eye, I am placing my trust in you. Ferethor, I could have killed you with my healing. You were weak and vunerable and I could have killed you. But I could not. You are human and each human deserves a chance to be trusted. Even though you know my father, I decided at that moment to trust you no matter where that may lead," Crystal said as her head bowed.

She had no idea what Ferethor would think of her words. She had no idea if her trust would bring her to her end. She had no idea what would happen from here. She could only hope that her trust wouldn't be in vain.

"I wasn't allowed to grow up normally, Ferethor. That is my flaw. That I still must grow up. A flaw I've been over looking. I hope you forgive me and I hope that you and I could become friends at one point some day," Crystal sighed as she turned away. The camp loomed over her senses. Somewhere deep inside her she knew that this was the extent of their company now. They had lost two fine men, Del and Atharen. Her heat sadened, but she lifted her head and started to make her way over to the camp.