Abduction in Edoras RPG

[Firefoot]

It seemed to happen in slow motion. As Haleth stepped out the back door, he thought he heard voices and put his hand to his sword hilt. Almost immediately he saw two men emerging from the sought-for cellar door; he took a step forward, his boot crunching on some dry leaves, and began to draw his sword – and just that fast, one of the men was turning, dagger in hand, loosing it in Haleth’s direction, and though he saw it coming, he could not move quickly enough; a burning pain sliced into his left shoulder.

Haleth found himself incapable of clear thought; otherwise, he would surely have called for help. But now, with maddening pain in his shoulder and burning hatred at the sight of Linduial’s captors, he flew at them. Here, my Queen, is my chance to make up for my mistakes and do something right. I will kill these fiends.

Perhaps, if he had been closer to them, launching himself at them may have worked better; as it was, the great brute of a man had time to draw his axe and block Haleth’s onslaught. The other man appeared unarmed after loosing his dagger at Haleth, and Haleth tried to block him from getting at the dagger, but he could not do so and still keep the monster at bay.

He fought with fury, but Haleth could feel himself beginning to fade away as strength bled out his arm, which was rapidly becoming useless in handling his double-handed sword. His armor, so proudly worn, felt heavy as it never had before while the weight of impending failure loomed over his mind. He, who had been loyal all these years to the Queen, could not even complete this simple, most important service to her.

“You – will get – what – you deserve,” he grunted out as he continued to struggle…

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine and Garstan made their way back to the house, hoping to meet up with Haleth and his men. At least, Eodwine hoped that they would soon arrive.

When they cleared the last building before the front courtyard, there were many men milling about. Eodwine could make out Deren with him a young woman wearing fine clothing.

"Garstan, I do believe our errand is achieved. Look!" Garstan followed his direction and grunted his satisfaction, which was about all he could manage for the pain in his shoulder. "Easy now, we'll have you properly cared for before long, my friend."

But the closer they came, the less sure Eodwine was. Deren looked miffed, and the woman looked the less like Linduial.

When they had come up to the other men, Eodwine gave Garstan into the care of the Eored's herbmaster. Quickly apprised of the situation, Eodwine made a decision.

"I'm going in there!"

"But lord!" cried Garstan, his face a mask of effort trying to hide the pain. "Who is going to save your life if I'm not there?"

Eodwine grinned. "I shall have to save my own hide then! You three Eorlingas! Come! Deren! You come too!"

Eodwine was grateful for such good men. They slowed when they came to the place where Sorn had been hiding, and cautiously moved forward toward the house.

"Lord," whispered Deren," allow me to go first."

"Then how can you watch my back? Stay where you are."

They went inside the front doorway and were confronted with the relative darkness of the corridor. They squinted until their eyes adjusted, hoping not to be surprised by enemies in the moment of their weakness. No one could be seen.

"Voices, lord!" Deren said, "from down away!"

Eodwine nodded and led the men to a stairway.

[Firefoot]

"...Hunting with a bow falls under the realms of lady-like behavior, and I can shoot better than my lord Uncle's Master of the Hunt."

Scyld held his own doubts of this but did not protest it - what could he hope to prove? It meant little at this point, since neither of them had a bow to shoot, only knives. Scyld did not know whether to be reassured or disturbed at Linduial's limited skills with a knife. Of course, if she really wanted to kill him and make off towards her rescuers she would have plenty of opportunities that wouldn't require any particular skill - while he was sleeping, for example. He wasn't sure what he intended to do about that; he had to sleep, but he couldn't let her get away, either. Trust. It always came back to that. Why was it so difficult? Look at Linduial, just chatting away, so carefreely. She seemed to trust him, oddly enough.

Not even I would trust me. Such different worlds we live in, you and I.

It was uplifting, somehow.

"You had a happy childhood," he observed. Then he added with typical wryness, "And for some reason, I don't hate you for it." And such was his mood that he winked at her.

They had made a couple of switchbacks across a steep place in the terrain and had now come to a more level place where they could see out across the way they had come; Scyld realized it would be a good place to stop and eat (neither of them had eaten lunch) since they would be able to see anyone who might be following them, and he said so. He removed his pack and took out a bit of dried meat and an apple for each of them. The equal meals came unthinkingly and surprised him. Just how did he feel about her, anyway?

[Taralphiel]

The man charged despite the grave wound to his arm, and Sorn marvelled at his courage. He did not, however, forget he was outmatched with only two daggers hidden on his belt.

Sorn wove around the man as Gurth stepped forward with his axe. He struggled with his solid grip for a moment, and Sorn stood back with a contemplative smirk on his face. Sorn decided to make a game of him, swinging in to try to remove his dagger from his shoulder. He fought back, a desperate look as he tried to keep two assailants at bay. But it was wearing on him quickly.

"You – will get – what – you deserve," the man said through clenched teeth, before Gurth made a wide swing with his axe and winded him. Sorn put a hand on the beast’s shoulder and stood as the man stumbled back.

"What do I deserve? Should I be penalised for a crime? What do you think I have done? I am no usurper, no outsider claiming title to what is not their’s. You tell me the greater crime."

Sorn had grown tired of playing with this man’s life. In a swift step he was upon him, another dagger loosed and hitting it’s mark.

The man stumbled and fell. Sorn looked down on him with measures of disdain, pity, and rage. "Some of us really have so little understanding. Loyalty clouds the mind, perhaps?" Sorn glanced sideways at Gurth. "We have to find the girl, she has more distance between us now. We must hurry."

Gurth wobbled a moment, peering towards the thick forest curving to the south from Sorn’s estate. Sorn smiled and nodded to his companion. "My thoughts are with yours, Helm. The easiest place to hide."

Sorn, now set with a hope of correcting his mistakes, eyed the dirt carefully. The marks left were muddled by the challenge of the man that had just confronted them. But what Sorn gathered was a clear path made by two people, one clearly female by the weight of the prints in the dirt. Sorn nodded.

The prints led over a small boundary fence and up the ridge to the covering dense firs. Sorn did not wait for Gurth to catch up. Sorn did not even hear the sounds of men bounding through his hallways as he and Gurth sprinted into the undergrowth...

[JennyHallu]

Lin looked down across the hillside, back down to the courtyard. Her eyes widened at the drama she saw playing its course on the packed dirt below, even Gurth's massive shape appearing like a puppet in the distance. She didn't hear Scyld's kind words, and the meal he handed her fell to the mossy ground, slipping unheeded through nerveless fingers.

"Fight!" she breathed through numb lips, and Scyld joined her, watching the battle below with a grim expression on his rugged features. Lin's hands clenched into fists as she urged her nameless champion to victory, but as the giant stepped into the fray and the unknown man's movements became haggard and desperate, the end of the duel became painfully apparent.

"No!" Lin cried in desperation, watching Sorn play with his opponent as a cat urges a mouse to its own doom. "The brute! the brute!" Hot and helpless tears dropped unheeded down her face as the man fell, and she pulled herself up tall and straight, the wind on the little knoll on which they stood whipping her stained and tattered yellow dress, that she'd took such shallow pleasure in only a few fateful days before, around her ankles and out into the air like a flag. Her eyes were locked on the fallen figure in the courtyard, and she saluted him gravely, tears adding more damp stains to her unfortunate frock.

Scyld, however, kept his eyes on the man's killers, and when they plunged into the brush just at the point where he had led Lin a scant half-hour before, he gripped his companion's arm roughly, jerking her back to earth and reality. "Look there!" he ordered, giving her barely enough time to see before pulling her back into the undergrowth, scrambling up the hill as swiftly as he could, food forgotten. He cursed himself for being so gentle with her; walking at a snail's pace, making allowances for her splinted arm. He knew, though, that even now, running breakneck through the brush, that they could not outrun their pursuers, and they were in their haste leaving as clear a trail as any amateur hunter could wish. He looked back and said as much to the girl.

"Then what do we do?" she asked, panting from the headlong pace, nursing the scratches the heavy brush had inflicted on her. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but the trust in them was clear, pinning Scyld to her like accusatory needles. He cursed that he couldn't just leave her; alone he might have a chance.

"We find a place to make a stand," he growled harshly, and she nodded and made to follow him where he led.

The chase was on, the endgame in the works. They dared not hope for any outside rescue.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine led his small bevy of men through the house, down the corridor, down some stairs, and into a cellar where stood a cage. Linduial's, no doubt, and now empty. There was a way out in the far wall, and they went to it. But all was now eerily quiet that way. Eodwine took the lead, sword drawn, as he slowly, crouching, took careful steps through the door. Then his hand fell and the swordpoint his the ground.

"Haleth!"

Eodwine rushed toward the broken man, whose blue eyes were staring up at nothing. Deep wounds still bled deep crimson from shoulder and throat. Eodwine looked up and about.

"Search the grounds for any sign of the killers!"

Deren and the others began looking carefully the ground near them. Eodwine hoped they might find something, anything. He looked out and saw the rise of land beyond the fence. In the distance he saw two men, one very large and tall, and the other of average height. They had stopped on a small knoll and the smaller of the men was looking at something on the ground. Then the two of them started running higher up into the hills.

"There! After them!" Eodwine cried. "Deren! Gather the others and ride to us!"

[Folwren]

“There!” Eodwine cried out, his voice sharp. All the men with him looked up. “After them! Deren! Gather the others and ride to us!”

“Aye, sir!” Deren replied, already running. He darted back through the cellar door and bounded up the stairs to the hall, two steps at a time. “Come, come!” He called out at the top of his voice to anyone who was still searching the house. “The Eorl calls! Follow him, we have spotted the villainous rogue!”

And without a pause he plunged back out into the daylight and ran up the walk to the rest of the men and the gathering of horses. Behind him, the last few stragglers who had been in the house came out, running forward as well.

Deren gave no explanation, except that lord Eodwine had bidden them ride after him. The horses were gathered together, the riders mounted, Eodwine’s horse and the horses that belonged to the men following him were led with them. Together, the large company rode out across Sorn’s property, cantering over the grass in the direction that Eodwine had taken.

The overtook Eodwine and the others just a little within the woods. The extra horses were brought up and the men mounted. Then, with Eodwine at their head, they plunged ahead. The horses ran on at a varying speeds as they dodged trees and leaped small rivulets. Onward, up the incline, and always in their minds eye, the picture of Sorn catching the young Linduial before they could reach her and protect her.