Outracing the Flames RPG

[Undómë]

Setting off after the first group...

While Leod saw to the wounds of those who would be traveling in the slower group, Meghan and Incana made sure the horses were packed and ready to go. And when they were, Incana held their mounts steady as Meghan lent a hand to Sythric and to Vaenosa.

Lady, Meghan could see, was attempting to hold as still as she could while Brand figured out how to mount up by himself, with his one good arm. Meghan winced as she saw him clamber up, his left arm having to assist him anyway to maintain his balance. His face was pale when he sat up at last, his lips set hard in a line. But he soon regained a measure of calmness and she was relieved that she saw no blood beginning to stain his tunic. Still, she thought, she would ask Leod to see to his dressing.

She fell to the back of the line as they made their unhurried way from the hilltop camp. Vaenosa and Incana rode along together just in front of her. The three men were strung out, not too far distant from each other or from the women, at the head of the little column.

Meghan wrapped her cloak about her against the early morning’s chill. ‘Well, Ash,’ she murmured to the grayish mare. ‘We’re on our way again. And the Fates willing, we will reach the Golden Hall soon.’ She patted the horse on the side of her neck, cautioning her in a low voice to be cautious as she picked her way down the hillside . . .

[Folwren]

Athwen was thankful that she didn’t have to ride back, slowly, with the wounded. Had she been appointed the position of staying with them, she would have obeyed without question or murmur, but to ride ahead, running, trotting, cantering at will, or going slowly and gently when necessary, seemed in itself to comfort her. She didn’t know how, nor why, but it did.

She was riding to Osmod’s right, and Dorran was her companion. They rode parallel with each other with a couple yards’ lengths in between. At first, they were silent as they rode forward, sobered by the morning funeral, and (at least on Athwen’s part) dampened by the grey sky. But, as the morning passed on, the clouds began to break apart and blue could be glimpsed here and there. Long streams of sunlight poured down and the world was brightened in their eyes.

Athwen looked up and her hope rose upon seeing the clean, bright light. She glanced sideways towards Dorran and then closed the space between them to a few feet.

‘You don’t think we’ll be meeting any more Easterling’s do you? I’m not sure how many were left by the time they finally left us alone. Do you know?’

‘There weren’t very many, I don’t believe,’ Dorran answered. Athwen paused a moment. She didn’t really want to pursue that topic. There were other things to talk about, and one thing in particular was pressing in Athwen’s mind.

‘Dorran,’ she said, slowly and half timidly. ‘Tell me about your sister. You said she and you were the only ones to escape after. . .after that. I would like to know what she’s like.’

[Tevildo]

Leod had decided to ride his horse at the back of the line. He was more interested in keeping an eye on the riders to make sure that none of them were encountering any trouble than in leading the group or even watching out for dangers along the trail. He would leave that job to others. Even with the slow pace there was a chance that one of their number would find the ride on horseback too difficult to bear.

Leod reminded himself to say something to Brand about his dressing. He had managed to check everyone that morning: to change most of the bandages and to dole out the salves and potions that the wounded would need for the morning trek. But Brand had been so intent on making sure that the two groups got organized and started that Leod had not had a chance to do anything more for him than making sure that the bleeding hadn't started again. He would insist that Brand let him change the dressing at the first place they stopped along the trail.

Leod was grateful to Osmod for his idea about splitting the group as well as to Brand who'd at least had the good sense to go along with the plan that was suggested. It was a far better idea than racing the wounded relentlessly along the path or simply leaving them behind in the woods. Leod wondered if Brand had found it difficult to admit he was one of those who might need a bit of help. In any case, the young man had taken his place among the wounded with a modicum of good grace and not let false pride get in the way of making a good decision. Tough times were not what anyone would choose, but sometimes difficult circumstance pulled out the best in a person and taught them things about themselves they might otherwise never had leaned.

But what about his own situation? What was he to do when their trek was over? His village was gone, his neighbors lying under the soft earth, yet his own life continued on. It was the first time that Leod had considered what might happen at the end of the journey. Times seemed to be going from bad to worse. It was possible that a healer's skills might be of some use to the Riders and those who defended Edoras. Or should be set out with one of the villages when they decided to resettle and rebuild their homes? But who knows when that might be, or even if they would want someone as grumpy as himself coming along to lend a hand. He would need to think on it and perhaps see what others hand in mind before making his decision. There would be time enough for that at the end of this journey. Just let him get all of the wounded to Edoras alive and in one piece, and he would worry about the other later.

[Nogrod]

The forward group had left, and slowly the slower ones got on the move also. The air was crisp, but not so moist as it had been yesterday. Cool day, predicting a winter coming in. Leod had given Sythric another dose of his potion, and he felt the warmth of it still clearly in his body. Sythric looked around. Ragged band of injured patients! What an impression we will give out at the Kings hall!, he thought, but then saw Brand riding in the front of the party. He‘s having tough times too... Maybe I should? He spurred Thydrë to take on Brand and Lady. Brand noted Sythric coming to his side and nodded to him.

“You could make a good rider, master Brand! You did very well yesterday”, Sythric said to him, getting his attention. “You were very brave indeed.” Brand seemed to nod in appreciation of Sythric’s appraisal, but he wasn’t sure, what Brand thought of it in the end. For a while they rode in silence.

“Brand? I know you are carrying some grave thoughts with you. I don’t know how numerous they are, but I just thought, that I could try to help you out with one of them...” He looked at Brand, who turned his face towards him, waiting for him to continue. At the same time, Sythric was thinking fervently, how to put his words in the right way.

“Well... Killing a man is not easy. I mean, it might be “easy” in a fight, when you just act on your instincts, just going about like a beast defending yourself. And in this sense, some enemies are easier to kill than the others.” He made a small pause, gazing forwards, just to see the last scout, Athwen? to leave his field of vision.

“But there is another kind of bravery, that is required after the battle” he said, looking at Brand again. “I have killed seven men before yesterday – I do not keep a count of the orcs. So it seems to be nine now... my tally, I mean...” He went quiet again for a while, but then continued: “But believe it or not, I can remember all of them, quite clearly indeed. I remember, how they died. Of most of them, I also remember, how they looked, how they were, as they realized that they were dying... A dying man, the one suddenly realizing to die... You can see that in his eyes. And those eyes have haunted me ever since. Those last sights of someone dying by your hand will follow you too. They will penetrate your dreams, they will just pop up unexpectedly in between your everyday hassle. They will not let you to choose the hour of their arrival: they just come and go. They will be a part of you, whether you want it or not.”

Sythric looked at Brand carefully. His expression did not reveal any agitation or disturbance, but still Sythric believed, there was a storm inside. He decided to press his point to the end, before asking Brand about his feelings. “You probably met them last night? I have always seen those eyes the night after a fight. I did so last night too, in the middle of the fever I got through. I’m sorry to say this, but they will not leave you. You may forget a casual acquaintance, but you will never forget a person you have killed.” He paused for a moment, just looking around him. The party was moving along quite fast, being the “slow party”, but still its speed was far from what it could have been. Sythric cursed his wound – and felt it again! It was so painful. For a moment Sythric just saw blackness, and bright stars going around the darkness. In the end he managed to control himself, and addressed Brand once more.

“That’s something you just have to accept, my friend. By taking someone’s life, you kind of take him with you, to yourself. The more you try to fight it, the more those you’ve killed will haunt you. And in a way, that’s just right. It makes you ask the real questions: how do I live my life? Why am I alive and not him? He might have helped a poor man in his need, so what shall I do? He could have loved his near relations, but how do I treat mine? And so on...”.

Sythric took a swift gaze to Brand, and then spelled out his last thought on the matter. “Just as an advice from someone who has had to deal with these matters already. On the desperate hour, try to think of the situation the opposite way: how would things have gone if you were dead, and your adversary would continue living. What would be the balance of good and evil then? Do your best in your life, to make it so hard as possible to that fiend to raise any believable competition on that balance!”

Then the pain came again. Sythric was not sure, for a moment, if Brand had said something or not. And what was even more worrysome, the pain had spread to his hips too. Suddenly he felt quite numb. He made a fast corrective and balancing move to stay on the saddle, waiting for Brand to come forwards.

[Arry]

Brand shifted in his saddle, the better to see Sythric as he spoke. He wondered at first why the old warrior was speaking to him of this. The serious tone of Sythric’s words, and the underlying gentleness in which he sought to cloak them reminded him of his own grandfather; his father’s father.

His grandfather - imparting the lessons life had taught him to his son’s son. Brand smiled for a brief moment recalling a number of times the old man had taken an event in Brand’s life and shown it through his eyes and his experience.

But Sythric’s words this day were not the words his grandfather would have spoken. Of that, Brand was quite sure.

There would have been no counsel on the taking of a man’s life . . . because the Easterling was not a man.

He was not family, not from Wulfham, not of Rohan, and not an ally of the Men of the Riddermark. Those, in themselves, put him under great suspicion; but, the fact that he was a threat to Brand’s family, village, and King made him less than a man in Brand’s eyes. So he had learned from his father and his grandfather, and so he believed.

Brand shifted again, his shoulder was beginning to hurt from the jouncing of the horse as they went along. And uncomfortable, too, because he did not wish to contradict the older man.

‘I appreciate your good words, Master Sythric,’ he began as the man finished speaking. ‘And yes, I have grave thoughts I carry with me. But I must tell you they are worries about how we are to accomplish this task our villages have set for us without losing any more of our companions; and preferably without increasing our injuries as well.’ He looked Sythric full on, his eyes narrowing as he thought how to proceed.

‘The death of the Easterling does not give me concern, Master Sythric. He was no man that I should upset myself with his death. He was worse than a beast, really, as I think on him. Beasts at least attack for natural reasons . . . they hunger, they wish to protect their young, they wish to keep their little domain safe from intruders. I do not mourn him in the least. He was a foeman and would bring down my family, my village, and my King.’

Brand nodded his head a little as he spoke these last words. ‘I know most likely he thought the same as I . . . that is, that had he succeeded in killing me there would be no remorse on his part . . .’

He looked away, his eyes unfocused in the distance. ‘Thank the one who writes our fates that I got the better of him. That the balance tipped in my . . . in our favor, that day . . .’

Sythric’s movements on his saddle as he tried to correct his balance, the seeming look of pain that crossed the old man’s face, made Brand pause in what he was saying. He drew up near to Sythric and reached out to steady him, halting both their horses as he did so.

‘Leod! Meghan!’ he called aloud, becoming alarmed at Sythric’s condition. ‘Come lend a hand and quickly. I fear he might fall!’

[Undómë]

Meghan urged her horse up to where Brand and Sythric had stopped. She could hear the concern in Brand’s voice as he called for her and Leod. And as she looked closely, she could see Sythric wavering in his saddle as if he might topple off at any moment.

She brought her mare alongside Sythric’s horse, on the side opposite to where Brand sat on Lady. The two of them hemmed in Thydrë as Meghan and Brand reached out to the older man to steady him.

Sythric was much larger than either of them. And Meghan was afraid that if he lost consciousness, she and Brand would not be able to hold up the dead-weight of him.

‘Leod! Come help us! We need to get him down to the ground safely . . .’

[Tevildo]

Dorran

"My sister?" A wide grin slipped over Dorran's face. "Her name is Creide, and she's twelve years old, but you'd think she was the same age as I am, the way she acts and carries on. She won't take no for an answer. I used to try and be a father to her, after our Aunt Raven died. But as Creide grew older, that wasn't going to work. I don't try to order her around now, but we still talk a lot. Anyways, I can't tell you how much I miss her."

"Don't mistake my words. Creide is a good girl. She works hard. She has to. She's a scullery maid in Lord Aldwulf's household, and has learned to do all manner of cleaning and cooking and sewing and can even read a little."

"My sister was furious, when I first told her I was going on this trip. She kept saying she was afraid for me, especially with all the Orcs about. That was the truth, but part of her wanted to come along too. She was fuming because she was only twelve, and the master refused to let her journey out from our village. When I get home......" Dorran sighed and then corrected himself. "If I get home safe, whether home is in Edoras or back in the old village, the first thing I'll do is take Creide out to celebrate and present her with a little gift. I even brought some money," Dorran pulled out a small wad of coins and showed them to Athwen. "I thought Creide might like a fine bolt of cloth from Edoras or maybe a piece of jewery."

Shyly, he looked over at Athwen. "You know I really know nothing about what girls want. Maybe when we get to Edoras, you can come with me and go shopping in the market and help me pick out something for Creide. That is, if it's not too much trouble." Dorran took a deep breath and then plunged ahead. "I don't know where you'll be going after all this ends. I don't expect any of us really know. But Lord Aldwulf has a heart of gold. If you've any skill at all, sewing or reading or just helping in the house, I'm sure he'd find a job for you.....someplace where you could stay a while and get your bearings before you decide how to go on with your life. Of course, first we have to get to Edoras."

With that, Dorran kicked his horse with his heels and picked up the pace as they continued down the trail.

____________________________

Leod

From the back of the line, Leod had seen Sythric falter and, even before Meghan called out for help, the healer was cantering forward, drawing up his horse so that he was even with them. Reaching over, Leod put a soft hand on the horse's harness and guided the animal to a halt, all the while helping to steady his rider.

"Let's get him down, Meghan, Brand!" Leod exclaimed. "He can't sit up on his own." Leod took most of the weight of the man over his shoulder, while Brand and Meghan held the horse still. Gently, Leod positioned Sythric in a sitting position on the ground, leaning his body against a large log. Although Sythric's eyes were open, his eyes were glazed over and his face registered considerable pain. He said nothing as the others moved him.

"We've got to do something," Leod growled. "Curses that we must ride today! This man can no more sit a horse than I can fly through the skies to Edoras." He gazed over at the side of the trail. For once, luck was with them. Two saplings had fallen to the forest floor in one of the many recent storms. Their long slender trunks would be perfect as poles to construct a sledge.

"Sit here, both of you!" Leod commanded Meghan and Brand as if they were his servants. There's reeds and small twigs that can be strapped together to make up the base of the sledge along with a large blanket that I have that we can tie on and wrap Sythric in. It won't be the most comfortable thing in the world, but anything is better than having him ride."

Leod ran off and came back with several armloads of materials that they would need. He showed Meghan and Brand and a few of the others how to twist and bind the twigs, although from the look they gave him, it was possible that some of them already knew how to do that. In a short time, the companions had managed to put together a makeshift sledge, and Sythric was resting comfortably on top of a blanket sling between the two poles.

As everyone remounted their horses to start up again, Leod confided to Brand, "The ride will be none too easy for him, and the sledge will slow us down. We should both try to keep an eye on the trail and make sure the ground isn't full of boulders or large tree roots. If necessary, I'll dismount and keep a hand on the sledge to steady it. Let's just hope that the weather holds and the path stays reasonably straight." It was some time later and several miles down the trail before Leod remembered that, with all the excitement, he had totally forgotten to check Brand's dressing.