Resettling the Lost Kingdom

[Meneltarmacil]

Althoughhe was still recovering from his injuries, Thoronmir managed to keep up a conversation with some of the settlers. The talk was getting all too familiar. News about the hillmen had filtered in and rumors were going around about an attack coming soon. Thoronmir filled the settlers in on what had happened during his patrol with Awyrgan, and it only made everyone more worried.

"I've noticed it's always been you rangers who have been getting into trouble with them," said an older man with grayish-black hair. "I think you're the ones who should be blamed for what's been happening here lately."

"Now wait a minute," Thoronmir replied, "We're only trying to protect this settlement from harm, not cause it. We don't just ride about seeking trouble with the hillmen."

"That's what you all say," the man retorted. "If you hadn't been going on all those little 'patrols' and stirring up trouble with them, we'd probably still have game aplenty and there'd be no need for this hunting contest."

"Now look here, good sir, I do not want to start any trouble--"

"I'm not finished yet," he went on. "This isn't the end of it, Ranger. Those men are going to do far worse things because of you. You just watch."

Thoronmir did not want to start an incident in the middle of a feast, so he got up and left the table.

"That's right. If you really want to help, you can just get out of here and never come back."

[Himaran]

Olin wandered through the ancient buildings of the crumbling, stone city. No one seemed to notice him, and he avoided the taskmasters descreetly. The dwarf was tired of collecting fresh blocks; he had gathered more than most, aye, and been nearly injured more than most, too. And so he spent his time surveying the broken walls, although vines had grown up around them and choking much of the beautiful scenery. Then, he tripped.

Olin landed facedown in a dark pile of thick mud, which enveloped him into its waiting and uncomfortable embrace. The dwarf struggled for a moment, finally standing and seeing the small stone block that had caused his "accident." Grabbing it, he made as if to hurl it angrily but stopped. Olin suddenly realized tha the stone was covered with odd drawings. Stepping out of the mud, he sat down on a large rock and wiped dust off of the tablet. Sure enough, he could make out intricate symbols scratched into its surface. Strangely, they resembled many that he had seen on pillars and the like throughout the city. Tucking it under his arm, the filthy dwarf returned to his wheelbarrow, promising to ask someone more knowledgeable than he about the odd artifact.

[VanimaEdhel]

As soon as one thing was fixed, it felt as though another thing broke. Barzûn was in a fatal mood. He marched among the Dwarves, barking at those that seemed to feel as helpless as he was beginning to feel.

"Curse the Fates," he grumbled, "It is almost as though we are not supposed to return to the camp before tomorrow arrives."

Barzûn kicked a pebble in frustration. He gave a hoarse bark of frustration, then surveyed the Dwarves around him. Some still appeared determined, but most appeared sullen and a very few even appeared indignant at Barzûn's persistence. There were one or two Dwarves missing from the work, it seemed, but Barzûn gave up trying to find and reprimand the deserters. They were, no doubt, observing the architecture of the city. The area was, in fact, magnificent. Barzûn wished he could have had more time to explore.

"Oy! Did I call for a break?" Barzûn barked at an unhappy Dwarf, who looked longingly at the water that sat within five feet from where he toiled. "Oh," Barzûn said reluctantly, "Fine. Get some water. Then back to work. All of you."

Barzûn grumbled as he took some water himself. He looked up at the sky and sighed.

"We should be getting back soon," he said out loud, more to himself than to the Dwarves around him. He directed his next comment to the Dwarves. "I am going to search for the others. I will let them know that we are going to prepare to leave soon. In the meantime, you all should ready for the departure. Take what stone you can. I doubt we can get everything, but we will come back tomorrow if necessary."

The Dwarves nodded, looking relieved that the tedious work was almost finished for the day. Barzûn wound his way through the streets of the city, looking for the other Dwarves. When all of the men were accounted for, Barzûn allowed one more rest before they were to set out. He wanted to reach the camp without stopping. Barzûn sat on a boulder with his wheelbarrow, looking one last time over the city. The Dwarf Olin, looking a bit muddy, happened to sit next to Barzûn.

"What happened to you, boy?" Barzûn asked.

"I had an accident, sir," Olin replied, looking down at the dirty garb.

"Well, we shall be back at camp soon. Then you may change, I suppose," Barzûn growled.

Olin seemed to be trying to determine something. He finally came to an accord with himself and spoke up. "I found something, sir. I was wondering if you would like to take a look at it."

Barzûn looked at the Dwarves resting around him. "I suppose I have time. What is it, then?"

Olin took something out from under his arm. The Dwarves bulky clothes had concealed it slightly. Barzûn took the object and looked at it. It was a stone that bore scratches and patterns. He recognized the markings immediately.

"This was done recently," he rumbled to himself. He looked back at the city, "But few people have been here lately. Why would anyone...?"

"What do you make of it, if I may ask, sir?" Olin asked Barzûn.

"I do not know. It appears as though someone has been making carvings recently." It also appeared as though the artist was not immensely skilled or used to the medium, as the lines were rougher than those in the city. The line quality improved as the work seemed to progress. "It is getting late," Barzûn finally barked, "We should get back to camp. We can look at this more there. Dwarves! We're going back!"

The Dwarves stood by their wheelbarrows. Barzûn gave Olin the stone block back, telling him to keep it safe. Then, Barzûn gave the order and the Dwarves began the slow trek back to camp.

[Kryssal]

Tane rode in and walked into the cabin to find Hothem gathering up some parchments. At Tane's entrance Hothem held up the papers and proclaimed, "I finally finished the Ranger rotations for the next two weeks."

Tane couldn't help but laugh at the irony. "My friend," he said as he went to one wall and grabbed a chair, carrying it over to the one already at the desk. "We're going to have to revise those. I need a group of fresh Rangers at the settlement and a couple to go out and watch for an incoming wagon train."

Hothem dropped the papers back on the table and sighed. "This is going to take awhile."

Many hours and several drafts went by before they were finished. Three relays had to be emptied, but since they were on the opposite side of the settlement and normally barren, it would be alright for the time being.

Hothem left the cabin and Tane started writing out the orders.

~

Alearindu and Ethiner,

You two are immediately reassigned. There is a small wagon train coming in on the same road that the settlement entered on. You are to watch for it, meet it, and lead it safely in. The local trader expects it within a week. For more information, contact him. Leave the settlement before noon tomorrow.

Tane

~

Awyrgan and Thoronmir,

Awyrgan is going to be lead Ranger at the settlement and Thoronmir his second. I'm sending in a new batch of six Rangers that you need to divide into groups of two. Set up a rotation and keep tabs on activities - Always have a patrol on the border between the settlement and the hillmen's camp. Speak with Borgand about crossing patrols to cover more ground. I will be coming in two days for reports.

Tane

~

The other orders were easier to write. Tane simply told all the Ranger currently in the settlement to come back to the camp and check in with Hothem or Tane for their new assignments. As for the Rangers in the camp, Hothem was already in the process of sending them out.

After stretching, Tane closed all the letters and went out to find a Ranger inbound for the settlement. That Ranger wasn't hard to find since one was riding past the cabin enroute. Tane hailed him, gave instructions, and watched as the Ranger rode off toward the nearest hill.

[Himaran]

Olin was relieved when the order to pack up and leave was finally given. He had been at the sight far too long for his personal comfort, and had suffered his share of injuries. The settlement was like a shining beacon of hope, and at last he was returning to it. But his trials were not yet over.

As the many wheelbarrows filled with stone were slowly pushed down the winding path, the dwarf was ready to collapse with exhaustion. And there were miles yet to go. Occasionally a cart would tip, and loud curses would echo throughout the valley. Finally, it became too dark to travel, and the dwarves stopped and built a small camp. Olin collapsed on the ground minutes later, knowing that the journey would end the next day. Finally, his work was over!

Or so he thought.

[Belin]

Unlike the news of Calem, the news of Bear spread quickly. Wolf saw to it. His war-leader was an effective one even when gravely injured; the rage of the warriors was spectacular and necessary, especially if they would have to fight without him. They could not hesitate. Perhaps, reflected Wolf, he should have waited for Flint to return with news of Rook, but they needed to attack soon, before the Southerners had established themselves, while they were perhaps still congratulating themselves on having injured such a dangerous warrior as his brother. In any case, he thought privately, Rook was just as likely to refuse as he was to join battle, or more so.

In fact, Raven’s presence and Bear’s seemed about equally likely. Wolf had to be ready to fight without either.

There had been little sleep for any of them, as Wolf had spent the evening gathering his warriors, anybody at all who was tall and strong enough to wield a spear and angry enough to fight. The second criterion was hardly a problem. Gently, he had had to remove spears from the hands of children and return them to their fathers or brothers or, in some cases, to some man who did not know the child but whose own weapons had been lost. Some of the old men, even more stubborn than the children, were allowed to remain, but Cleft’s niece Kite was firmly discouraged.

“In the very last attack,” Wolf had told her, “at that time when we know we are all going to die, Kite… then we will need your spear. But while we have some hope, I don’t want to weaken the village by letting you be killed.”

She was very young, as strong as a tree root that splits rocks and certainly no less brave than Bear was. “I won’t be killed!” she cried, indignant.

“Good,” he answered. “Don’t.” And he took her weapons and went back to his slowly gathering party of men.

It would have perhaps been desirable for them to have slept, but they needed the time to gather their weaponry and discuss their plans. They were admirable swimmers, and would need to use this to their advantage. He wondered whether the Southerners could swim. He supposed they would find out.

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

The preparations were nearly complete. As the light of early morning began to find its feeble way through the sleet, Wolf stopped by Cleft’s tent, peering in to see whether his brother was conscious and angry, or asleep and likely to be angry later on. Cleft lay in the tent, sleeping imperturbably, but Bear was nowhere to be seen. Wolf sighed in sudden exasperation. It would be just like him to have taken off on his own, the idiot. Didn’t he ever learn from his mistakes? Didn’t he care at all whether he ended up crippled from walking on a bad leg, or dead from slow reflexes? Growling to himself, Wolf turned—and came face to face with the very man he’d been thinking of, clad in that peculiar armor that nobody else could match.

“You look nice,” said Wolf, sourly. “Can you walk?”

Bear grinned. “Am I not walking?”

“Are you falling down and giving the enemy an advantage?”

His brother drew himself up to his full and impressive height, barely wincing as he did so. “I am Bear,” he said, simply.

“You are arrogant,” snapped Wolf. “But if you are certain, then I can certainly use your help. I was wondering what it would be like to go into battle without you.”

Bear was certain. They returned to the square together, and looked at their warriors.

They were hunters and scavengers. They were survivors of the land that less tenacious people had abandoned as worthless. They were flea-bitten, wet with sleet and armed with spears. There were twenty-seven of them.

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

About half of them had been sent off to silence the guards. The settlement was absolutely still. Its walls, still being constructed, had numerous weak spots, one conveniently located next to the river. They broke through, as quietly as they could.

Though none of them had planned on sightseeing, the inside of the settlement was unmistakably bizarre and exotic, especially to the many among them who had never been to Bree. These southerners made buildings the way the Bree-men did, with tall straight walls that required a very elaborate and impractical support system. They made the paths between their buildings straight and wide, a waste of effort that some of the younger warriors, either nervous or overconfident, found a source of humor. It was clear, much clearer than in their own village, which building was the most important, and they crept up to it with that careful quietness of which they were so proud.

[Osse]

Silence ran free throughout the settlement; the guards had been quietly eliminated. Without looking, Bear massaged the cramp from his stiff, sore fingers and peeked timidly around the corner of a canvas tent. The weak moon was hiding himself behind masses of cloud and the night was almost pitch black; light from many fireplaces cast long, would-be startling shadows across the open space that lay between his band of warriors and the large wooden structure they were making for. The night was crisp and cold, as the nights in the hills often were, causing his weapon hand to become almost numb.

Reaching inside his pouch, Bear retrieved a small bone square and squeezed it, as he did so, a high-pitch creak issued from it, sounding just like a cricket. Answering clicks were heard from a patch of deep shadow behind a wood hut off to Bear’s right where Wolf and his half of the warriors lay hid, completely indiscernible, like mist in the darkness.

Light suddenly spilled forth from the large wooden building; two men staggered out into the night, wheeling and singing as they came. One peeled off towards a tent, but the other kept coming on towards them. As he passed the group, Bear caught a whiff of wine.

The man stopped right next to the warriors and turned his back to urinate on a tree. Bear quickly nodded at Finch, who stole over to the man and arching his head back slit the southerner’s throat, his blood poured black onto the dew stricken grass, another man never to return to the flower-clad downs of the south.

Finch soon returned to the group, after dragging the man’s corpse into a small copse of firs; his face was void of any emotion, be it anger or hate or disgust, completely and utterly void – the hillmen’s anger was now beyond any reasonable emotion and they all now danced in a steel-like, mechanised waltz of death.

Without a backward glance, Bear strode towards the closed door of the great building, only going out of his way to stoop and pick up a burning brand from a nearby fire. Like a host of locusts, the hillmen descended upon the building. Suddenly Bear tossed his flaming brand high up above the roof of the building.

It came crashing down and smote itself upon the thatching around the guttering of the building. Other hillmen lobbed their torches onto the roof and if the hillmen had stayed to observe, fires sprang up all over it and began to consume it.

All twenty-seven warriors rushed their way into the hall. Southerners sprang up from their seats, many to Bear’s silent, private approval still wore their weapons, at least it wouldn’t be too much of a massacre.

Bear’s musings were suddenly broken when a tall man took a long, drunken swipe at his head with a club. Quickly ducking the blow, Bear slammed his axe into the man’s torso. The hit landed across his chest and he fell crashing back onto a fallen table. Torrents of blood mixed with spilled wine as Bear crashed through the southerners.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Kestrel hated waiting. She hated the uncertainty that came with waiting, and the knowledge that no matter what she did, nothing would or could change the outcome that the spirits had decided upon. She hated the wondering, whether all of her men would come home, or whether she would have to light the funeral candles for one or all of them. Oh, yes, Kestrel hated waiting.

It didn't help that, in addition to her worries about her husband and brothers-in-law, she was afraid for her children. Despite all of Cleft's herbs and chanting, the cut on Flint's leg was red and inflamed, and the tiny brow was fevered. Though already Flint was determined to 'be a man' and not show how much it hurt, he could not hide his wince whenever Kestrel tried to have a look at the cut. Rain's cough was worse too, and she slept fitfully in the corner of the hut.

A heavy sigh escaped Kestrel's twisted lips as she watched her children sleep and repaired the inexpert work on the basket that Rain had begun. Her fingers were quick and deft with years of practice, and it was not long before the basket actually began to resemble a basket, and not a bird's nest...

"Kestrel?"

"Oh. Be welcome, Kite. What is it?" This happened occasionally; women would come to Kestrel with their questions, as if by sharing the leader's hut she somehow automatically knew things that they didn't. Sometimes, this was true, but not this time.

"We're going to win... right? The spirits are on our side, aren't they?" Kite was some years younger than Kestrel, a difference in age that was never felt more than now. The priest's niece still had a stubborn belief that somehow, everything would be well, a belief that had died in Kestrel with her firstborn.

"Maybe they were. Once. But I don't think they are anymore. Do you think they'd have let Bear be wounded if they were? Or Calem die?"

The younger woman was silent, digesting this. "I suppose not," she finally answered in a small voice. "Maybe I will fight after all."

"What?"

"Wolf said if we were all going to die, then he would need my spear. But I can't fight unless it comes to that."

That was very bad news. Wolf was not one to say such a thing, unless he believed that it would be necessary. Which meant that he was not optimistic about the warriors' chances of victory, or even survival. Kestrel looked back at her children.

"Kestrel?" Kite asked, when there was no answer.

"Return home, Kite. I need to think."

"Have I offended you?"

"No. Please go."

Kite nodded, and ducked out into the gloom.

Kestrel watched her go, and stared into the flickering light of the dying fire. If the warriors lost, which they probably would, those who were left would have to flee to the nearest village. Rook's, probably. She and her children would have to live on whatever the people of Rook's village didn't want, if none of the brothers survived. That meant that her children would get the worst of everything, if they got anything at all, which in turn meant that Rain would grow sicker, and Flint's injury would grow worse. They could die, even.

Cursed trespassers the Dunedain might be, but no tale she had ever heard of them told that they gave aught but mercy to women and children. It was considered an indication by some that they were weak. Whether or not that part was true, it meant that if she had to, Kestrel could count on finding aid from the Dunedain for her children, as much as it would stick in her craw to ask them for help. If she stayed here, either or both of her children could die. If she left, the cursed Dunedain might be able to help.

Rain coughed in her sleep and Flint moaned. Kestrel hunched her shoulders, wishing that she could see another way for the conflict to end. The warriors would lose, and the villagers would be forced to flee. If she fled now, she would have her choice of road, with none the wiser for where she had gone. The fire did not offer an answer, but the Hillwoman came to a conclusion all the same. She would go to the Dunedain, and cast herself and her children on their mercy. She only hoped that they would not turn her away.

[TheLadyAerowen]

Alearindu and Ethiner,

You two are immediately reassigned. There is a small wagon train coming in on the same road that the settlement entered on. You are to watch for it, meet it, and lead it safely in. The local trader expects it within a week. For more information, contact him. Leave the settlement before noon tomorrow.

Tane


Alearindu was leading Mornen in the direction of the livery stable as she read the order. She decided to find Ethiner as soon as she stabled Mornen. However, she found Ethiner coming out of the make-shift livery stable which was really just a makeshift corral, and called him over.

He jogged over to Alearindu and Mornen, and she handed him the order. "All of the patrols are starting out for tonight," He said, then opened the note up and read it. He visibly sighed, but nodded and handed the order back. Alearindu placed it in Mornen’s saddlebag. She knew that they both would have rather stayed in the settlement, but someone had to escort the wagon train.

“I wonder why we were chosen for this…” Ethiner muttered; voicing both of their thoughts. Alearindu shrugged and motioned for Ethiner to wait while she placed Mornen in the corral.

However, just before Alearindu opened the gate to the corral, Mornen stopped dead in his tracks and his nostrils flared. Shortly after, shouting came from the east of the corral and screams were conspicuous as well. Alearindu took no time in letting go of Mornen’s reins and grabbing her bow and quiver from atop Mornen’s saddle. She knew Mornen would run if danger came near him, so she sprinted towards the screaming and shouting. Ethiner caught on quickly as well; following closely behind her.

They ran past the make shift warehouse, turned the corner and dashed through the creek; passing the market square. As they came near to the town hall, Alearindu came to a quick stop, and Ethiner almost ran into her but he stepped around and was taken back by what he saw.

The entire hall was on fire. There were women and children running out of it from the back; coughing from the smoke. Out front there were about a dozen men that Alearindu didn’t recognize, pushing into the hall where she knew that a few men were eating and drinking before. The thought of mostly drunken men fighting didn’t go too well with the thought of fending off these people.

Alearindu and Ethiner simultaneously set an arrow to their bow, took aim, and shot. After a few arrows though, it became too hard to fire an arrow without possibly hitting some of their men that came out of the dining hall. Alearindu nodded to Ethiner and they dropped their bows and quivers where they were standing and withdrew their swords from their sheaths. They were about to run towards the town hall, but Alearindu quickly grabbed Ethiner's arm.

"Ethiner, wait." He turned around and looked at her. "Someone needs to tell Tane about this..." They looked at each other for a half second; both wanted to fight; but both knew Tane needed to know. Alearindu went to sheath her sword, but Ethiner stopped her.

"No, it's fine. I'll go." Ethiner said; sheathed his own sword and placed his hand on Alearindu's shoulder. "Fight well, and be careful." With that Ethiner nodded, and sprinted off towards where he knew Tane was. They'd stalled too long already, so Alearindu had decided not to argue. She pulled out her half-way sheathed sword, and sprinted her way towards the town hall.

[Kryssal]

Tane woke up to someone bursting into the cabin. He had fallen asleep at the desk and his body was cramped with the unwanted position he had been in for the last hour or so. His mind was blurred, but instinct was stronger than groggy eyes and he snatched a dagger from his belt before he consciously knew what was in his cabin.

"Tane!" Tane recognized the voice as being a friend and shook his head to clear his eyes, bringing Ethiner into focus.

Ethiner! He shouldn't be here. Tane stood up as Ethiner rushed around the desk.

"The settlement is invaded!"

Tane's eyes widened. The building conflict had finally broken out and the settlement was to pay.

"Come," Tane whirled around and grabbed his sword that was resting against the wall, strapping it on as they walked out. "Go around the edge and call to every Ranger in camp, tell them to meet back here, hurry!" He almost stumbled through his words in his haste. Ethiner nodded and started off as Tane went the other way, yelling for attention as he ran through the tents. Within fifteen minutes all the Rangers were at the cabin, some half dressed and most breathing heavy at the short run.

Tane's voice was hoarse, yet he raised it again to get through this order.

"The settlement has been invaded by the hillmen! We do not know how many or if they are still there. We do know there are casualties on both sides. Tonight I want Hothem and five Rangers to keep alert in the camp" Tane looked at Hothem and he nodded, then briefly touched several Rangers immediately around him to let them know he had chosen them. "The rest of you, get ready and armed and ride as fast as you can to the settlement. Be wary if the hillmen are still about and help the settlers as much as possible."

With that said Tane turned and went to saddle Skit, feeling the whole time as if he were to blame for everything. Tane cursed furiously as a saddle strap twisted, but kept on moving as quickly as he felt he could. As soon as Skit was ready Tane started out. Skit was tired from riding earlier in the day, but still up to Tane nudges and they raced to the settlement with a few Rangers already in line behind.

Smoke and a red haze haloed the settlement, causing a great swelling in Tane's chest. He would not five in to any emotions yet, the situation had to be stabilized. As they neared the town settlers were running out in panic just trying to get away.

Tane reined in Skit and turned to catch one of the following Rangers. "Get another Ranger and try to gather these people. Take them back to the Ranger camp where they can feel safe. Keep an eye." Then Tane turned again and left the Ranger behind.

He headed straight for the source of the fire and found the hall collapsed and smoldering into an inferno. The heat from the fire was intense and no one could get within ten feet of the once building. As Tane had come in he didn't see any fighting taking place, just settlers running, hiding, and helping each other. Tane had to find Borgand and get information on what had happened.

Tane hailed a soldier holding up an older man. "Where's Borgand?"

The soldier nodded his head, "He was there when I was last."

Tane nodded his thanks and pulled the reins to the right. It didn't take him long to find Borgand who was just down from where the soldier had indicated. Tane dismouned and called out "Borgand!" to get his attention.