Resettling the Lost Kingdom

[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.

[The X Phial]

Borgand had seen to the distribution of prizes, and was about to take Illith and the now sleeping Bregand back to the tent when the shouting started. As one of the least drunk men in the hall, he was almost the first to his feet when the giant hillman burst inside, followed by more than a dozen...no, two dozen... warriors. All were armed and had a sort of berserker rage in their eyes. Borgand's thoughts flew to the women and children still populating the hall. They had to run! Thankfully, there was a back entrance to the hall. It had been planned as an entrance for bringing in food and wine, but it would do as an escape route with the other doorway inaccesible.

Through the shouting, his deep voice rang out...desperation making him louder than even the screams of the terrified children.

"Women and children, out the back. Roland, Cuilad, guard them with your lives! Make for the horses and run to Bree as quickly as you can!"

He caught the eyes of the two boys, frightened and determined. Maybe they would be spared the worst of the fighting now. They were young, but both had proven to be strong, and Borgand needed people he could trust to guard the innocents, but also people who wouldn't be too missed in an all-out battle. He watched them spring into action and had to force his mind back to the issue at hand. He had done what he could for the innocents, it was time to deal with the guilty. He wished he had told Illith once more how much she and the boy meant to him, but couldn't spare the time now. Nor did he want her to stick around so he could tell her. He watched the women stream out the door behind him, thankful that most of them seemed to be keeping their calm in spite of everything.

Borgand drew his sword and advanced on the hillmen. Already, the air seemed thick with fighting. He engaged a wiry young man who was chasing a girl on the cusp of womanhood, buying time for her to escape with the others. The hillman was clumsy with his weapon, but strong in general, and fast. Borgand disarmed him, but wasn't able to cut him down. Something was interfering with his sight, and his breathing... SMOKE! Aware of the threat to everyone in the hall, he shouted once more.

"Everyone outside, the hall is on fire!"

Those who heard him pushed toward the entrance. The others would figure it out soon. Smoke was quickly filling the space, making defender and attacker alike cough and hack. It was an unusual tactic, running into a burning building. Borgand didn't understand these hillmen at all. Did they -want- to die?

Borgand lost track of individuals as he fought his way to the door. He slashed at the hillmen, injuring at least one as he went, trying not to lean too much on his false leg. He had heard no alarm. That meant the guards were likely dead. He wondered, briefly, if Calumdril was among the dead. He had slipped out before the attack and failed to raise the alarm. It did not bode well. Still, perhaps he was simply engaged in the fighting. Borgand sincerely hoped this was the case, had grown rather fond of the ranger. Thinking of rangers, he noticed that they were none of them too drunk to put up a fight. He wondered how much more effective they would be if they hadn't been drinking for several hours.

Borgand dodged an attack, a close one, and parried another. This was bad..he was trapped and his air was slowly failing. He stabbed out in a rather non-graceful, but effective, manner and watched as the wiry young hillman from before fell down dead. His path was clear, and he took it as quickly as his one leg would allow.

He entered the open night, which seemed cold and crisp to his smoke-filled eyes and lungs. Coughing and hacking still, he fought the urge to let his guard down. The hillmen had also made it out, and the fighting was thick out here as well. Borgand looked around, trying to identify their leader. They wore no rank or insignia...cowards. He assumed the largest man must be the leader. The others certainly seemed to rally around him. There was another rallying point as well. A smaller man, older..he might also be the leader. Borgand decided the giant was his best bet, though. These hillmen would value physical power.

The one-legged man advanced toward his target. Take out the leader and dishearten the enemy; it was a well-known and proven tactic. He heard the roof of the town hall collapse as he threw himself into battle; all their work up in smoke. The anger flamed within him, rivaling the heat of the actual flames behind him, and he attacked the large hillman with a vigour he had not mustered since the fields of the Pelennor. Slashing, shieldless, he let his body surrender to the battle lust.

[Carrûn]

Rangers

"They came across the lake..." Thoronmir panted out as best an explanation as he could while the Rangers from the outpost moved as rapidly as they could towards the commotion. His patrol had spotted the two dozen or so attackers as they were swimming and had sprinted around the settlement. Engaging them with four men would have been suicidal. Still, Awyrgan was fuming; to have hillmen slip into the town unnoticed even if he was not the one on patrol was a personal insult. Rherrin and one of the younger rangers had been left at the camp in the event more hillmen arrived or tried to escape. The settlement was well within the range of their bows.

The moon had hid its face, and the darkly clothed men moved like shadows past the dead sentries into the village, pausing only briefly to check in case any of them still showed signs of life. None of them did.

As they approached the city they ran into a mass of people fleeing. The billowing smoke in the center of the town told all to clearly where they had come from. Thoronmir directed them towards the ranger camp, instructed the two lads who led them to have Rherrin escort them to Bree.

As they drew nearer to the main hall they could hear the horse shouts of battle mixed with the screams of the dying, wounded, and innocent. They quickened their pace until they were right next to the burning walls of the hall. The battle was moving outside, but most of the combatives were still in the building which was quickly filling with smoke.

Awyrgan looked at Thoronmir, who guessing his mind, shook his head defeated. "No Awyrgan, no." Awyrgan gave a dark chuckle, green eyes glinting in the firelight. His companions watched in shock and then followed as he leapt through the remains of the burning wall into the fray.

The crashing arrival of the six rangers caused a momentary lull in the battle, giving Thoronmir enough time to skewer a hillman who had been pursing one of the remaining children in the hall. Having failed to draw his sword before entering Awyrgan simply grabbed the nearest hillmen he could find and threw him against the burning foundation stakes he had leapt over. The brutal attack worked with gruesome effectiveness.

As he pushed further into the midst of the battle Awyrgan notice Sulenar. The man was fighting well, abet drunkenly, but had neglected to put down the drink in his left hand. Finding himself suddenly back to back with the drunk man Awyrgan roared over his head that he might fight better with two hands. Sulenar replied that it would be a shame to waste such fine ale. A portion of the roof collapsed, driving the two apart.

A giant of a hillman stood solidly swinging an axe in the center of the battle. With somewhat of a start Awyrgan recognized him as the hillmen Thoronmir and he had encountered while on patrol several days before. He was not the only one to notice. The hillman's eyes followed the ranger as the pair moved closer in the heat of the fight. They glowed.

[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.

[The X Phial]

Borgand hurt, and it was more than just his arm. His attack on the large man had been ill-fated. As he approached the giant, another hillman had hit his right arm from behind with the dull end of a spear. This had jarred the arm to the point of numbing his hand and rendered his sword arm useless. It wasn't a permanent injury, but it had kept him out of the thick of the fight, and his pride was hurt. He supposed it was too much to expect that a one-legged man would be able to hold his own in an all-out fight, but he had expected it nonetheless.

He was away from the fighting now, which was still going on in knots around the settlement. Carried away by a men from the settlement after being knocked to the ground by the spear shaft, he had been forbidden to return to the battle, and was too weak to physically overcome the man who was guarding him. He didn't even know what had happened to the giant. Reports were coming in from around the village and they were depressing in the extreme. The hall was gone, he could see that himself. A smouldering pile of rubble was all that remained. And the guards had all been killed, it seemed. No one had seen Calumdril. On the positive side, however, the hillmen had mostly fled, and at least half had been slain. There were few civilian casualties, as well. Most of the women and children had made it out safely. He was just discussing with one of the other soldiers when it would be safe for them to return when he heard his name being called. He turned to see Tane approaching.

"Tane, I'm glad you're here. The fighting seems to be mostly over, but things are still very confused. I could use your help and that of your men to assess the damage and contain the remaining hostilities."

The ranger nodded, "Of course. Were you injured?"

Borgand looked down at his useless arm. "Not seriously, but it does keep me from wielding a sword. I've never felt more in the way."

"Your role is to keep your people focused. There are other people to do the fighting. Still, you are to be admired for wanting to lead your people in battle."

He simply nodded, thanking Tane silently for understanding and not making a big deal of his infirmaries.

"The most important task right now is finding out how badly we were hurt. We lost the hall, but it can be rebuilt. No one has seen Calumdril, and as much as I would like to, I cannot leave to search for him myself. Would you take on this task for me, or assign someone you trust? He may need medical or physical help. He can take care of himself, but this attack caught us all off guard."

"I'll do what I can," the ranger intoned, and turned to go.

Watching him walk away, Borgand felt a stab of envy. The smoke had left an acrid taste on his tongue, but the bitterness of defeat was stronger still. His heart burned within him for justice, fueled all the more by his utter inability to mete out this justice himself.


We'll make these animals pay, somehow, he thought to himself, and was surprised at his own vehemence. Pushing down his anger, he turned back to his personal guard.

"Now, about the women..."

[Kryssal]

Tane would go about searching for Calumdril, but he saw some Rangers coming in and wanted to send them on more specific orders than he had given at the camp. He hailed two that had already entered the town and led them to where the other Rangers would be coming in. When he had six Rangers he split them up. Four to be on constant parol around the village, two to go through the village to search for any hillmen that were left. If any saw other Rangers they were to tell them to help the villagers except for two more, which should join those patrolling.

As they went to carry out his orders Tane thought about how to find Calumdril and was at a loss for thought. Turning his horse he saw Rherrin come up to him, bloodied and limping.

"Tane!"

Tane dismounted and hurried over to the man, giving his arm for support.

"The hillmen slaughtered the patrols. Only two pairs of us had gone out and I only escaped because Athruin heard something and had me move off to the side just before they struck," Rherrin's eyes were wide in angry recollection.

"It's ok Rherrin. They're gone and now we need to help the settlement."

"No!" Rherrin grabbed Tane's tunic, causing the leader to fall forward a step before rebalancing himself. Rherrin blinked and quickly let go of Tane, sputtering "I...I'm sorry. I jus...I don't-"

"It's alright," Tane wanted to send the Ranger to his tent, but the settlement was safe yet and Rherrin seemed a bit unbalanced by the attack. He was one of the younger Rangers and hadn't seen a large battle, only small scuffles. He was trying to absorb all the images and seemed to be struggling. "I want you to come with me and help me find a settler name Calumdril, do you know what he looks like?"

Rherrin nodded. "Yes."

"Do you know where he might be?" Tane prodded.

Rherrin shook his head slowly. "I .... don't. I just saw people fighting..."

"Lets find someone to ask," Tane moved to start walking and Rherrin seemed able to support himself, though he was still limping.

People were still going through the streets at random intervals, but none had seen the settler. The two men had been walking and were soon nearing the edge of the town when they spotted two villagers carrying a dead third man. The carriers were struggling a bit and Tane hurried over to lend a hand and ask if they'd seen Calumdril. Just as he reached for the body and opened his mouth to ask, he saw the face of the man they carried. They had found Calumdril. Sighing heavily, Tane took the place of the one carrying from the arms and directed everyone to where Borgand was.