Fall of the North RPG

[Arry]

The man dissembles . . . and not well . . . Rôsgollo turned over the few statements Faerim had made. There was no need to read the young one’s mind, his emotions played across his face like heat lightning on a hot summer’s evening. Hirvegil had bound the boy with promises, or threats, more likely, and even now was using him as his informant. And to what purpose, the Elf wondered. Faerim looked torn with the consideration of whatever decisions he was asked to make. If Hirvegil were using him to hedge his bets about this mission, it seemed likely that Faerim would fare ill no matter the outcome, either by his own conscience or the brute hand of the captain.

What was it the young man had said . . . ‘I suppose it would not bode well for any of the parties concerned if the captives were not rescued and a Dunedan was killed, all because Hirvegil did not instantly send his troops with enough haste . . .’ Interesting choice of words. Does he imply that Hirvegil means to somehow weigh his options before committing to the rescue mission? Would he truly leave us to our own devices with no support. If that is so, then . . .

Brother? Gaeredhel’s query drove the tangled web of thoughts from Rôsgollo's mind. He asked if they had as yet found any sign that the Orcs had gone south since neither he nor Angóre had seen anything out of the oridinary as yet.

Faerim had ridden a little ahead, his gaze was bent to the ground, looking closely for any sign of movement the Orcs might have made along the stream. He shook his head as Rôsgollo drew up to him. ‘Let us range out a little farther from the edges of the stream, the Elf suggested. Motioning for Faerim to take one side while he took the other.

We have found nothing yet . . . Rôsgollo said in answer to his brother’s query. At least in the way of Orcs . . . but there are other thoughts I would share with you when we are together again. The Orcs may not be the only ones who wish us ill . . . who conspire to bring us harm . . .

[Nuranar]

Thinking... thinking... always thinking...

Lissi sat on the ground gazing into the little campfire, her mind far away from the cluster of tents huddled in the hills. Her heart ached in Faerim's absence. Why had he gone? She had not heard his discussion with the Elves. Carthor had seen him when he came to the tent, but he had volunteered little information and Lissi feared to question him, to imperil the tiny developments of warmth he was showing. She hoped that he was changing, but in the meantime... The man who should have been her shelter was shutting her out.

Her thoughts raced through the possibilities. Clearly the Elves and Faerim had gone to rescue those who were taken. But how many orcs were they pursuing? Where had the orcs gone? Why had they taken the Elves captive in the first place? What if they were trying to draw the refugees out? What if they were planning an ambush? Even now -

Forcibly Lissi tore her mind from the thought. Why was she so wrought up? She long had known and accepted the fortunes of war; at least, she thought she had. No - this was the power of a mother's love, this vital force that set at naught the philosophy and reason of her intelligence. She told herself that Faerim had gone because he knew he had to do it, just as he had known he had to rescue Renedwen and her child. She told herself he was doing his duty as he saw it, just as she was - trying - to do hers. She told herself all this and set her mind to strength. And still she was afraid.

Lissi willed her body not to tremble, not to disturb Brander. Her younger son sat at her side, head resting on her shoulder. Renedwen held her sleeping son in her arms, the child Gilly wrapped in a cloak at her feet and sleepily playing with his fingers. Carthor snored gently, propped against a box close to the fire.

Brander abruptly stiffened and raised his head. Startled, Lissi realized what his quicker ears had caught immediately: the quiet clank and squeak of armor. A soldier was approaching. He was unseen in the early dark of winter, doubly hidden from her light-dazzled eyes. Lissi laid a reassuring hand on Brander's arm.

A shape gradually loomed up through the smoky dusk. Lissi saw the vague outlines of a guard's helmet and dull glints of firelight on metal. "Is Carthor here?" the man said.

Carthor was immediately awake. "Carthor here, sir," he said, jumping to his feet. Too fast. Lissi rose swiftly and took his arm as he swayed, still weak.

"Captain Hírvegil requires your presence," the man said. Eyes adjusting to the dark, Lissi saw his face. He looked tired. Glancing around their circle, his gaze fell on Renedwen, beautiful and austere, and the children with her. "Madam," he said, bowing slightly, "the Captain wishes to speak with you as well. As well as you, ma'am," he continued to Lissi, "you and your son." He gestured to Brander, still sitting by the fire.

Lissi's fear returned in full force, but with something to do she could pretend to ignore it. Quickly she called a neighbor over to tend the fire and stay with Gilly. Renedwen's face never changed as she rose carefully and wrapped her son more closely against the cold. Within very few minutes they were following the guard back through the tents, Lissi at Carthor's side and Brander holding her hand.