Resettling the Lost Kingdom

[Carrûn]

Awyrgan had positioned himself with Hothem's group. He listened with a dull sort of indifference to the chatter surrounding him as the men made ready to leave. Many of the settlers voice held a shrill tone, angry and eager for revenge. He glanced around at the other rangers, most of whom were sitting still, waiting; veterans with nought more but a look of grim determination on their face. Even the youngest of them seemed old.



A quiet stirring among the men caused them to fall silent. Tane had ridden up and was addressing the group. "Hothem and I will be leading the two groups. Hothem's will be going in first, attacking head on while my group will spread out and try to cover as much perimeter as we can. Let me make it perfectly clear, this is not a retrubution blood bath! You are to kill only if the hillman will not stop fighting and you cannot disarm him. Get the warriors first. Bring them back to the perimeter where I will have several men there to hold them. When the fighting slows down, help those guarding so that the hillmen have no chance to overtake our men. Once the warriors are captured, gather the women and children. They are not to be harmed! We'll move them en masse back to the settlement where they can be held accountable for their actions. Let's go."



A pale moon highlighted the shadows of the forty or so men moving through the wilderness. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. Awyrgan smiled. The wolves hunt as we do. He mused their leader's instructions over in his head. They were noble, but the weathered man doubted they would work in practice. He deeply hoped he was wrong.



A small ray of light was beginning to break over the skyline as they approached the camp. The groups split into two again, with Hothem's group moving directly towards the camp. Awyrgan closed his eyes briefly, checked that his sword was loose it it's sheath, and notched an arrow to his bow. One of the men stepped on a branch, snapping it and a dog barked. The dam burst and the patrol swarmed forward into the village.

[VanimaEdhel]

Light was about to spill over the Western line of the horizon. Barzûn sat by a fire, smoking his pipe and musing at the miles they had yet to traverse before the break of day. Also, the carvings that had been brought to his attention the previous day kept returning as images in his mind. They were done recently. Who could have done them? Only the Hillmen he heard spoken of lived nearby. Were they trying to copy the old and glorious designs? Barzûn grunted as he stood, shaking off his thoughts. There was no way he would put all the pieces of the puzzle back just sitting there. They had to begin the trek back to the settlement if they wanted to reach the camp before midday so they could get back to building.

“Dwarves!” Barzûn grunted, moving amongst the Dwarf bodies, some sitting others reposing. Soon, they all stood awaiting Barzûn’s command.

“The sun will rise soon,” Barzûn said, “I want to get back to the settlement before midday. We have to start now. We still have a few miles to go yet, and getting there before midday would be better.”

With sighs from various members, the Dwarves stood, packing and preparing to leave as quickly as they could. Barzûn oversaw the progress, grunting corrections to the Dwarves’ methods of carrying the stone.

“We cannot stand for any more delay,” Barzûn said, “So be careful with those wagons. Alright, Dwarves, let’s move out.”

The train of Dwarves moved along over hills steadily moving back towards the settlement. As he pushed his own wagon, Barzûn pondered the stone carvings more. Say the Hillmen did draw the images: why would they do such a thing? Was there something about the men they envied? Or did they merely admire the designs? Barzûn wondered if the men knew about these carvings. Perhaps the Hillmen wanted to be more like the other men in their designs, valuing the delicate strokes required for such intricate impressions. Barzûn decided that he would ask one of the men about such things. To think that the men expressed worry about the Hillmen! Perhaps they could live in peace after all.

“Oy!” Barzûn said, seeing part of the train falling behind, “Catch up, Dwarves! Come on! We need to make time!”

Barzûn intentionally sped up, moving at about twice his previous speed. The Dwarves grumbled and struggled to keep up. They made good time as the sun began to poke its head out and the dark shadows became fewer. Light began to illuminate Barzûn’s face as he pondered the carvings and their origin.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Kestrel had left most of their belongings behind in the hut, since she could not carry both her children as well. Flint was ensconced on her shoulder, his head resting by her cheek and his tiny fingers gripping her hair, which she ignored even when he accidentally pulled. Rain had been riding on her hip until dawn, when the light woke her, and now trotted alongside her mother, clutching at her leather tunic with a grubby hand. They made a pitiful sight, all told.

The buildings in straight lines that had so amused and puzzled the warriors the previous night did not look so grand now. Perhaps that was because of the rubble that surrounded them, and the scorch marks from the previous evening's fire. Perhaps it was merely that Kestrel was less interested in the architecture than in asylum.

The men who were moving around the buildings looked very different from the men she was used to seeing. They were taller, straighter, and their clothing was very, very different. She felt more and more uncomfortable by the moment, but it was far too late to turn back now. Her absence was almost certainly discovered, and she somehow doubted that she would be welcomed back with open arms. More like drawn bows. If any of the warriors had survived the night, that is.

She held Flint tighter and reached down to clasp Rain's little hand in her own as one of the men glanced up, spotted her, and pointed, shouting something she couldn't quite make out.

[Himaran]

The long caravan of dwarves and carts continued towards the settlement, as if a trail of ants pushing their cargo across the ground. Like most of the others, Olin was tired a grumpy, but his spirits were lifted by the prospect of a few days rest back at the camp. He was, of course, sadly mistaken.

"What's going on here," the dwarven leader shouted upon entering the settlement. Everything was in a state of complete disaray, and a foul stench hung in the air. Olin looked around at one tent, which had collapsed and been trampled to the ground. Fighting, perhaps?

A man carrying a load of debris walked past them. "Hillmen attacked. They were fought off, but did some considerable damage. We'd be much oblidged if you could help us in the clean-up effort."

The dwarves, who had done nothing but pick up stone for days, were not exactly pleased with their new job. They did, however, set their carts aside and join the group fixing up the camp.

[Kryssal]

No hillmen were approaching Tane yet, and he hoped that it meant the captures were going well.

Soon after that thought had flashed through the Ranger leader's mind he saw a settler fighting with a hillman that was much larger, and another hillman was fast approaching from the rear. Kicking Skit into action Tane left his temporary post and charged the hillman coming from the rear.

They clashed swords and Tane quickly moved to turn Skit around for another pass. The hillman was faster than the horse, though, and Tane found himself wildly defending from a rearing horse that was trying to avoid the hillman's sword. The warrior was not giving Tane any easy in's to his weak points by keeping his sword low with quick jabs being his main assult. One of those jabs caught Tane's leg and blood started to run down his leg and onto the side of Skit, leaving an ugly smear.

The hillman took another swipe at the horses leg, trying to get it the beast to fall with over correction, and as Skit reared again Tane turned her into the hillman, knocking him over. Jumping down Tane brought his sword around to pin the man.

"Surrender!" Tane yelled, but the hillman tried to roll and grab a long knife strapped to his leg. As the long knife left its sheath Tane plunged his sword into and out of the man in two, jerky movements.

Breathing heavily and cursing Tane looked around at his surroundings. He was still at the edge of the village and the only men around him were the settler and hillman he had been fighting. The former leading the latter toward the holding guards at sword point. Tane nodded to himself in satisfaction. At least one hillman had given in rather than perish.

A tent opened next to Tane and he whirrled around, bringing his sword up in defense, but there was no need. The tent was filled with women and children who had thought it save to try and run.

"Come on out," he said as they looked at him fearfully. "I won't harm you."

A mother, holding a two year old in her arms, came out slowly and nodded at those behind her, beckoning her other two children to her side. Tane pointed his sword toward where the prisoners were kept.

"Walk slowly toward that small group up there. Don't try to run. We're not going to kill you or-"

"You have already killed us!" A young female stood proudly, pointing accusingly at Tane.

"Kite!" The mother of three sharply admonished the maiden. "Live for another day. There is time still..."

Tane raised an eyebrow at the girl and she jerked her head away from his gaze. He would have to keep an eye on her. She had an intense fire in her that wouldn't smolder easily.

"Go," he commanded, staying at the rear of them after quickly checking to make sure there was no one else in the tent. The small procession of four females and five children wound their way slowly toward their destination. Tane glanced over his shoulder once in awhile and saw that Skit was still following him, though a little further behind. Should he call Skit to him and mount? But then, they were almost at the guards. Sheathing his sword, Tane looked over his shoulder again and frowned at Skit, who had decided to stop and look at the village behind them where a scream had emitted from. He turned back just in time to see Kite poised with a dagger aimed at his chest. The only problem for the hillchild was that the she had an arrow in her chest.

The mother had turned around in time to see the girl fall and yelled, "Kite! No!", but the warrior child had already died.

Looking around quickly he saw Alearindu a bit off, with her bow still in firing position.

[The X Phial]

Borgand watched as the rubble and mess was slowly extinguished and the clean up began. Fueled by anger, he had driven the surviving men of the settlement hard this morning. Maybe a bit too hard, he suddenly realised, watching the men stuggle with the roof they had just erected the day before. His anger gave way to despair, briefly. All these people, relying on him, and he had failed.

The ex-soldier clamped down his self-pity firmly, there would be time for mulling over his failings later. Borgand was a firm believer in work as the antidote to sorrow, and only wished his body would allow him to throw himself into the clean up physically as well as mentally. He had hauled water with the rest of them earlier, but could not do the heavy lifting required now.

Turning his back on the rubble, he slowly hobbled to the makeshift camp kitchen where the younger boys and walking wounded he had put in charge of making sure there was food while the women were away had already nearly finished preparing the noon meal. A message had been sent after the women, telling them they could return in a few days when the clean up was mostly complete and the problem of the hillmen would, hopefully, have been dealt with. In the meantime, it would be military camp conditions. He spoke his encouragement to the men there. None liked this duty, women's work, but he reminded them that each had comported himself bravely and that they were doing vital work even now.

He sent one of the youngest boys to run the village and announce time for a meal and a rest. Even fueled by their anger and hurt, the men would have to take a break soon. Borgand had no use for a soldier who drove himself blindly to exhaustion.

Sighing, he took a bowl of stew for himself and decided to walk the perimeter of the settlement once again. Despite his feelings about exhaustion in his men, he could not, himself, rest. Paranoia and a nagging sense of loss kept him from sitting still while the hillmen were still out there, free. For the hundredth time he wondered how things fared with Tane and the rangers and stifled his eager hope for their destruction. It was an unworthy thought, and he knew it. Hiding behind this idea of a trial lurked his darker need for revenge. A part of Borgand hoped he would not be in control of it by the time the rangers returned. The dominant part, however, knew that he would be haunted by his actions if he acted rashly. Maybe the missing leg was a good thing after all, he mused angrily, forcing him to come to grips with his fury before the next confrontation.

Borgand paced the camp, eyes and ears wide open. When he reached the southeast border he stopped. Something was on the horizon, and coming toward them slowly. He squinted at the figures, trying to quell the instant feelings of panic that arose in his throat. He could hear them but they seemed to be too far away for that...but...no..they were closer than he had thought, but shorter than he had expected. The dwarves! A sigh of relief escaped him and he was glad there was no one around to hear it. These were not enemies, but his own contracted workers returning. He glanced over his shoulder at the mess that was his village, wondering what the dwarves would have to say about the battle.

Standing tall and squaring his shoulders he called a greeting and waved. Maybe, with the right explanation, they would be willing to join his revenge. He knew, at least, that he could not allow them to get in his way.

[Kryssal]

Belin's post

Cleft was still sunk deeply in the semiconscious, meditative state in which he spied upon the gods. In this state, oblivious to ordinary sight and sound, he had been searching for some omen, any omen of hope for long fight ahead. He wanted to know that the feeling that had awoken within him at the news of the successful battle was a justified one, and so he was searching, not for promises, but for hope. All was yet confused and uncertain when the smell of the horses, strange and distinctive even through the cloud of smoke from herbs he burned to ward off that particular sensory weakness, roused him from his meditation. So strong was the other world’s hold on him that he wondered for a moment what such a smell could mean, before he remembered that smells did not exist here, and with that thought the smell was broken and the old man was slowly and carefully stumbling to his feet. Now he could hear the horses’ hooves, and, gradually, as he sometimes heard thunder, the sounds of calm foreign voices and panicky familiar ones.

Cleft stumbled to the door of his hut and peered out, careful to keep his body hidden in the shadows. The scene that met his eyes was one of chaos. All the members of the village—men, women, and children—were milling about in total confusion, some of them striking against the strangers whose experience and superior numbers made short work of their attacks by means of captivity or death. Others were either fleeing the village or being dragged from huts to which they had apparently retreated in order to hide, and several, to Cleft’s surprise and reflexive shame, had willingly surrendered. At the moment they were too preoccupied to notice him or his unobtrusive hut, but it was only a matter of time, and the confusion was already dying down as their strength and their intentions became clear. They were evacuating the village.

The choices of an old man were few. Cleft had no desire to die valiantly in battle; he was a priest, not a warrior, and death seemed a singularly pointless outcome at the moment. An old man’s broken body added to the growing number of them would benefit neither the living nor the dead. Running away on his stiff, skinny old legs was absolutely out of the question. He could be captured, then, either hiding in his hut or out among his people. Cleft cast an eye upon the instruments of his trade, most of which he had crafted himself. Should he not spend his last free moments as near them as he could?

A proud, strong voice rang out: “You have already killed us!”

Turning his head for the source of the voice, Cleft saw first the pale face of his sister, Crescent. Unthinking, he moved toward her—though two of her children were standing near her, she looked so alone and so in need of comfort—even before his gaze followed hers and he saw Kite fall.

He froze for a moment, stunned, and then with his healer’s instinct, Cleft strode unhesitatingly to Crescent’s side and took her hand. She gasped at the touch of another human, and stood still. He could do little for her or for the others until the soldiers had finished, but Cleft had found his place and made his decision. He would be captured here. His place was here, in his village... with his family.

~*~
Kryssal's post

The fighting had died down and the only life in the hillmen's village were the Rangers that Tane had sent through. They were to meticulously search all the tents and buildings for any last hillman.

Tane glanced over at Alearindu. She was still astride her horse, but she started blankley at the captives. She hadn't realized that Tane's attacker had been a young girl. "I just turned and saw - I didn't mean for - Tane, I'm sorry! I disobeyed and kill... killed... the..." Tane had tried to reassure her that he didn't blame her for anything, in fact he thanked her for helping him (trying to help her work through her clashing emotions). He knew that right now she needed to settle with herself and so had asked her to simply watch the captives with the other guards. She had been motionless since.

Hothem came over to him, one arm badly slashed. "They're not going to find anyone in there. If they didn't come out to fight they're not there," he said looking at the desolate village and slowly shaking his head. "Are you sure you want to take them all back to the settlement?"

"What else can we do?" Tane sighed and looked at Hothem, his eyes asking for an answer. If the hillmen were left another fight would erupt with more casualties on both sides. Tane would have to pull in all his Rangers for constant watch if they took the captives to the ranger camp. If they were in the settlement there were men to guard and tents large enough to house them until some kind of agreement was reached. What that agreement was, Tane didn't know, though he assumed it would end with the hillmen being pushed from the land. He just hoped that they would stay away and avoid further conflict. But where would, or could they go?

Tane came back to his senses when Hothem grunted in sadness. Two men were just arriving at the spot all the dead were being placed, carrying a large body in between them. All three were Rangers.

"It's Thoronmir...." Awyrgan spoke from behind the dead body, having just placed down the dead Ranger.

Tane's jaw clenched and his hands unvoluntarily formed into fists.I shouldn't have let them come! Tane was furious with himself. Awyrgan had gone on to explain how Thoronmir had fallen, saving a settler fighter beset by two hillmen, but Tane couldn't hear it above the rush in his head.

He had failed as a leader. The hillmen had attacked and killed the people he was supposed to be protecting, and in response he brought out his own men to die and kill....

Looking away from the dead bodies of the hillmen, which were far too many, that mingled with a few dead Rangers and settlers, Tane tried to gather himself. The sudden loss of control, Tane felt everything was cracking around him. Nothing he did came out as it should.

And what about the captives...? Should I take them to the settlers that are still hot with anger and blood?

Slowly, Tane shook his head, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes.

Hothem was looking edgily at Tane. He could see a struggle going on and didn't want to inturrupt. So when Tane suddenly turned and grabbed his good arm he started a bit.

"Get some men and get some of those tents. We're taking the dead back to the settlement for burial. All of them." Hothem knew how to make large temporary stretchers that could be pulled by horses and set off at once to find a few settlers to help.

Awyrgan had moved off to where the captives were, but Tane didn't follow. Instead he turned to where a small group of settlers had sat down to rest. Normally Tane would have asked for volunteers, but the orders came out before he thought about it. "You and you, go through the captives and bind any wounds you find, warrior, woman, or child. You two do the same for the Rangers and your fellows," Tane turned to the last five, who looked back slightly apprehensively. "Go through the settlement and gather enough for a small meal and distribute it to the hillmen first, then to the rest." Tane finished and stayed just long enough to see them move to start their respective jobs. They didn't look happy at serving to the hillmen, but Tane wasn't going to let anyone die on him from neglect, and besides, the settlers and Rangers should have brought some rations and binding kits with them in their tether bags.

~*~

It was late in the morning when Tane was satisfied that they could leave. He was still wound up and didn't talk to anyone on the uneventful ride back to the settlement, though he did acknowledge Alearindu and Hothem as they camp up to ride next to him.

The procession was much slower than it had been during the night, being so burdened by the captives and even more so by the dead, but they made steady progress and just after noon Tane found himself coming on the settlement.

There was a dark feeling about the land and a rancid smell of death mingled with cold ash. It stung Tane's nostrils and made Skit shake her head in disgust.

The settlement was very active, but cleaning and burial weren't the only things going on. Some carts that weren't there before now littered a few of the streets. So the Dwarves had come back to find a ruined town they had hoped to build upon. One could look at it as starting with an almost clean slate, but Tane knew that was stretching too far.

It wasn't long before the settlers noticed the slow moving procession and went to get Borgand. Tane didn't know what was going to happen once the settlers and hillmen were faced with one another.