RP 🎲 RP 36: Redemption

The company had gathered around Maedhros and were speaking in hushed tones. They all felt the loss of the brigand - each in their own way, for their own reasons. But Turig remained apart and would not speak. He knelt by Henrick's lifeless body, head bowed almost to the ground. He was grieving, not for the loss of his captain, but for the loss of something else - something inside himself. He was thinking back to an another life, to a quiet farmstead by the shores of Lake Nenuial...

The farmer was in a merry mood as he made the long walk back from the village. The harvest was in, and he'd struck a good price for his crops at the fair. He had spent the evening in the local tavern, drinking a little too much, laughing a little too loudly. But life had been kind to him lately, and he was in a mood to celebrate. His wife would be waiting up for him at home, but the two of them were young and still very much in love - there would be plenty of time for shrewishness in years to come. Besides, he had bought her a gift, a small silver broach inlaid with a green stone. It would help smooth things over...

It was the Dunadan, Alfirin, that broke the silence.

'On your feet Brigand!' His voice was harsh and unfeeling, he of all the company felt no grief at bandit's death - only a sense of rightousness, of justice being served. 'Put your captain in the earth, and make ready. We have a long road ahead of us and little time to waste.'

Turig unclasped his cloak and threw it over Henrick's charred body. Then he stood and turned to face the others. 'Leave him for the wolves - I care not. The dead need no shelter.'

He picked up his spear then, it's shaft blackened by dragon-fire; and before the company knew what was happening, Turig had gone. With a speed born of desperation, the brigand was away, running northwards through the trees.

Nildadari and Caimare glanced at each other then bolted after Turig. He ran with all the desperation of one distracted. Swiftly they gave chase and Caimare surged ahead , leaping upon Turig's back,he bore him to the ground. Turig struggled violently and would have escaped had Nildadari placed her slender blade against his throat.

Caimare then let him sit up and Nildadari, her point never wavering crouched at his side. "Have you gone mad? What makes you flee like a wild-man into the forest?"

Alfirin turned away from the direction that the last of the outlaws had ran. He looked at Maedhros, "They know not the ways of civilized folk... they could have had work, you know. Our cheiftian, lord Argonui, is trying despiritally to raise moral around the lands. He is hiring groups of men who are working to restore parts of the old cities, so that we may have pride again... but alas, he will not succeed. He is not the Elessar of prophesy, although, some beleive his grandson, Arathorn the second, may be he, but he is a wee one still... I bore you with this talk, I know. Tell me, where is it that you wish to go first in all of this wide earth? Soon we shall reach the ruins of fornost, and from there we shall travel the old road, to Bree, my village. There we may choose east or south.

Barahir ran swiftly after Caimare and Nildadari. Coming upon Turig, he spoke kindly, "There is no need for you to flee this company; you have done no wrong here, and no wrong has been done to you. My companion Alfirin does not seem to notice in what manner Henrick died. Whatever path he trod in his life, he died nobly. What you feel at your companion's death I know not, but be glad that in the end he was redeemed. Regardless of the grief I have against you, I wish you might be redeemed before your own death."

'Yet in his companion I felt a hope of better things, but in him I percieve the shadow lies more heavily.' Eäritila said quietly. 'Did we not say we would slay him if he would not serve us? Yet now when he seeks to run, who amongst us could do such a deed? I do not wish to bring death in judgement to him, and hope that he may find his way to the light. But I fear it shall not be so, and we will rue it. Who can choose, for all ways seem wrong to me?'

'Damn you all!' Turig muttered between clenched teeth. 'What do you know of darkness? I bring death and ruin on all those I walk with. You would do well to slay me now, before this curse falls upon you. But know this - I care not a whit for redemption. I seek only revenge, then and only then will I find peace.'

Camarie raised Turig to his feet and together they made their way back to where Maedhros and Alfirin stood waiting. The others followed behind, shaking their heads and exchanging troubled glances. The brigand was becoming a problem.

"On whom do you seek revenge?" Barahir asked Turig, "I would seek revenge on those who drive men to such evil deeds, rather than on you."

Alfirin looked off to the east, distaste growing for this whole scheme of things. "People often seek revenge, and most often it is upon themselves, and most often they acheive it. By some means or another."

The company sat and pondered their next move for a long while, but Turig sat in silence and would not speak. Foremost in their minds was the ever present danger of the dragon returning. Many leagues lay before them before they came again to the habitations of civilized men and a long journey through open land. 'Damn it!' Camarie yelled. 'We need to make haste, it will take an age to cross this barren land...'

'Perhaps the Dunedain could help you there...' Turig said in a hollow voice. 'They often travel by secret ways, and yet it seems that they care not to reveal them to friends in need.' The two Rangers stirred uneasily at this, but Turig continued, enjoying their discomfort. 'In the ruins of Annuminas you will find boats, the Dunedain keep them there for swift travel down the Baranduin. Do not deny it ranger. I have seen them! Let us see how far our friends' fellowship stretches or how easily it breaks...'

With that Turig return to his brooding silence, watching the troubled Dunedain with scarcely concealed scorn. Yet it seemed his words had struck home.

'We will lead you to the boats brigand.' Barahir said. 'Let it not be said that the Dunedain refuse their help to any in need; especially those to whom their word is given. Come, my lord Maedhros, it is not far and I dare say we could use the rest a journey by river will afford us.'

As the company followed the Rangers to their boats, Nildadari walked up beside Turig. "Why are you so bitter? What has happened in your short life to bring about such desperation? I understand how the loss of your leader might bother you but this darkness, where does it come from?"

Caimare scowled at his sister. She had always been far too impetuous, too head-strong. Now here she was, talking to a Man that had obviously killed before, without a second thought, as though he were a comrade. She felt him looking at her and glared back at him. When would he ever treat her as a warrior rather than a sister? His protectiveness rankled her and that made her the more determined to find out about this Man.

They rested for the night by the gloomy shores of the lake, and rose early in the grey of dawn. After a quickly taken breakfast they began their journey.

The dunedain led them to shady cove by the shores of the lake, where the waters were still and becalmed, and huge lily-pads grew far out into the water. Here a huge willow leant far out over the water and screen the shore, and the bank was overhung by tree roots. Beneath them were concealed canoes.

Alfirin led them down some hidden steps to the cove below, and they arranged themselves in three of the boats. The two rangers were to pilot two of the boats.

'I will handle the other,' said Eäritila eagerly. 'For I have sailed the wide seas all my life and I love all boats be they little cockle-boats or the great ships of my people.'

Nildadari was about to get in a boat with Turig, but Caimare stepped forward and said: 'You can go in this one, with me and Eäritila.'

'But...' began Nildadari hotly.

Maedhros looked steadily at Turig: 'Thou shalt come with me Turig!' He gestured to Alfirin's boat. Herugurth stepped forward, and stood between Turig and Nildadari, and looked him straight in the eye. But the brief moment of tension did not last as Turigs hunted look gave way to a casual shrug. 'I care not!' he said, and clambered down into the canoe. Maedhros sat behind, and Alfirin steered the boat out amongst the lilypads and into the lake.

Herugurth and Eve got into Barahirs boat, and followed. Last of all Eäritila steered her boat, containing Caimare, and Nildadari who would not speak.

They had a long way to go by the shores of the lake to reach the outlet where the Baranduin sprang from its waters and began its long winding route to the great Sea. So they paddled across the grey silent waters of the lake, and the sun rose high in the sky burning away the cloud until it burnt down on their necks and arms as they made their way.

At noon-tide they at last found the waters of lake flowing east, and they gradually needed to row less and less as the banks of the lake narrowed and climbed on either side and they were swiftly drawn through a narrow outlet, and the waters raced through a rocky passage at a great pace.

But Alfirin guided his boat with great assurance and the other followed his path. The dark way of the gorge was quite deep and they could see small trees high up the bank that shaded the way and they were thankful some respite from the sun.

Then suddenly they shot from the gorge and the river plunged down slope and they saw the wide lands eastward laid before them like a gleaming carpet in the summer sun. Miles of pleasant grassy heath on either side buzzing with the insect life and flower-bloom of sudden fragrant and wholesome. The wind was in their hair as their boats fairly leapt downstream. Eäritila laughed suddenly feeling joyous at the wide lands about her.

Gradually the river slowed as they passed into flatter lands, and they were obliged to paddle more and steer less, and it widened somewhat. They took advantage of the long northern summer evenings to make many miles that day, until they came ashore and made camp. Then they continued the next day, until they reached a great bend in the river.

'We make for the bank,' cried Barahir to Eäritila. 'For here the river turned southwards and begins to approach the land of the Halflings. Our road from here is east to Fornost, the Norbury of the Kings. Then we turn south for Bree.'

They beached their boats on a gravelly shore and dragged them high out of the water and then concealed them beneath some brambles and gorse bushes nearby. As they laboured, Eäritila said to Barahir: 'The land of the Periannath is nigh? It is a shame we do not go that way, for I have heard no tale of them in the West and would gladly look upon such folk.'

The company began to stop, to make camp and begin an afternoon meal. Alfirin and Barahir had already marched a hundred yards before they turned around, wondering what was taking them so long. Alfirin took a sidelong glance at Barahir, and gave a small chuckle. They walked back and stood in front of the bustling elves with their arms folded. Finnaly, Alfirin spoke, "What on Earth do you think your doing? There will be no camps on this side of the lake, it is too hazardous. There are wolves, orcs, and such." Then Barahir broke in, "Come, we must get going. We will be in it deep if we do not reach the safehouse in Fornost by nightfall." With that the company tiredly got up, re-packed what they had begun to unpack, and set of at a horrid pace, nearly jogging to keep up. The elves had long been in Aman, and were not used to such harsh conditions. (while it was a bit better for Maedhros and any others seeking redemption, for they had done this many ages ago, while the others had done nothing like it since the great journey) It was not tireing, or painful for them, for they had still the fires of Aman burning inside them; it was boreing, and strenuous, and seemed to them an all-out waist of effort, for in Aman nothing needs to be rushed, notwhen there is eternity to do it. And in this grumbling mood they came, some two hours later, to the old road. It was once grand, but had been in disrepair since the fall of the kingdom, and was now no more than a raised, rocky path- one in which you had to pick a place to step each foot, lest you trip and fall into the surrounding marshlands. They traveled this road, in the same, unrelenting, pace for five hours, and the sun was just setting behind the Ered Luin when they reached the broken gates of Fornost. They were met by two guards, each one gripping a crossbow like it was golden. They were alowed to pass after Barahir identified them, and they made their way through the ruins of the city. Once, a few hundred years ago, it had been a thriving place in Arnor. It was centrally-located, and had been a great trading place, along with it's important military standpoint. The city was sacked somewhere around two hundred years ago, by Alfirin's reconing. It smouldered for ages afterwards, the cloud of dust and smoke had encircled it even when he was born. Now though it looked like a ghost town, all of the burnt things had been washed away by decades of rain, and there were omnious pieces of wall still lingering around here and there. A few great buildings stood still, and one in particular. There had been a great fortress in the center of the town, it had many great towers and walls. It was destroyed now, except one tower, one that was larger than the rest, and was set higher too. They walked twards it, adn when they came close to it they turned from it, and Eäritila asked why they were not going to the only grand structure left in the city. Alfirin answered only that there was a foul spirit of malice lingering there, and that it was so strong on the day of the assault by the witch king that the place was deserted, and not even the attacking orcs dared to assail it. They made their way down into what looked to be a river that had flown through the city, the artificial mote. There was a sewer drainage system that had flown into it long ago, and they made their way through it. It was a relatively clean path, up until they came to a place that felt more open. Alfirin lit a great torch on the wall, and it showed that they were now in a larger room, with raised platforms on either side of the drainage trench. They climbed up and went through a door, the smell of Ale and the laugher and singing of men was heard. These warm things filled the cold bodies of the companions, and the mood was lifted for a while....

Turig felt more and more unsettled the deeper he went into the Dunedain stronghold. At first it was a fear of recognition; there were many here who would know his name, and the black deeds that went with it. It was like walking blindfold into a dragon's den. But later, as he listened to the sounds of laughter and the snatches of conversation echoing through the the quiet halls, he felt a disquieting kinship. If he closed his eyes he could imagine himself back in Henrick's lair, laughing with his companions and telling tall tales of half-imagined deeds. It was becoming difficult to hate these men, yet hate them he must. His existence depended upon it.

They made their way past the drunk men and into a back quarters. The place was filthy, it had, long ago, been a huge underground storeage centre for the fortress, but now it was one of the many homes of the high-blooded homeless. Alfirin took them back passages that twisted and turned, so much that none of them thought that they could ever find their way out. The darkness was thick around them, and only the light of Barahir's torch kept their sanity protected from the darkness. They finnaly came to a staircase, and The assended it into a higher place that smelt of mildew and rot. They came into a hallway, and Alfirin lit a torch on the wall. The hallway was long, some hundred or so yards by the elves' judgement. There were numerous doors off to either side, and there was a shelf with many keys hanging on the wall. "These are the old servant's quarters, not the good servants, mind you. More the rat-catchers and whores who couldn't seem to find a bed with any of the rich men in the above chambers. We shall sleep in three rooms, the three best if I do say so myself. It is better up here, it isn't as damp. Sleeping in the damp can be hazardous to ones health, if they are not used to it. Anyway, Barahir will keep the key to the second room, and I the first. The doors must stay locked from the inside... you never know what will decend from the ruins in the night.

Earitila looked about her with distaste, wrinkling her nose at the decay.

'Why do you bring us to this dismal place? Could we not have lain hid in some sheltered place under the stars? We elves will not sicken from the damp so fear not! But I scarce see the necessity that drives us to tarry in these ruins.'

Elessar looked at her for a second, reminding himself that she did not know of events on middle earth. "Some of you will remember Sauron, yes? He lived past the fall of Morgoth, and became ever powerfull in the second and third ages of the sun. When the second age changed to the third age he fell, as most of his power was enstilled into a talisman that was taken from him. It was a ring, a ring more powerful than anything seen since the Silmarils, yes, lord Maedhros, I said since the Silmarils. He had numerous other rings, made to be subservient to his one. There were nine that were given to men, strong Black Numenorians from Harad. These men were twisted and turned to Nazgul, ringwraiths, or whatever you will call them. One fo them was the lord of the Nazgul, and is known to many as the Witchking. He made a fortress in the north, and laid to waist this kingdom, even the ruins above us. He was ultimitally defeated though, by the men of Gondor. But his foul creatures live on still, and Orcs come from the Misty Mountains in great numbers. If a band of orcs were to set upon us in the night all would be lost, for they are not extremely difficult, but will risk everything to take you down. They may loose six or seven to your blade, but when they throw twenty on you at one time six or seven will not avail. And, as I said, the places below are extremely damp at night and morning. You are no longer in the undying lands, sickness will be a factor from now on.

Nildadari laughed at Alfirin and both Caimare and Herugurth looked him quizzically. "Where did you ever get that idea, Alfirin. Nothing but grave injury can harm us!" She walked over and leaned against the wall as Alfirin decided which rooms were "the best". She hated this place with its dank smells and stale air. She wanted to be outside, under the stars. As the others began putting their gear in the rooms, she left her pack on the floor and went back to the staircase, eager to find out if it went all the way to the top of the tower.

"Door won't open, madame. It hasn't since shortly after the tower was built. Even if you could open it, there is a solid wall behind it, the entrance to the tower is unknown, even to us who have looked for it for our entire lives." With that he went into his room, and locked the door behind him. He shouted that the other room should do the same.

Angered by the Ranger's superior attitude, Nildadari joined Eve and Earitila in their room. They set their gear against the wall and the two sisters look at each other as an icy silence descends on the room. Glancing from one to the other Earitila sighs and leaves without a word.

"What did you think you were doing, going after that Man? He's a brigand, Nil! He's killed people, murdered them for money! Have you always been this foolish?"

Nildadari narrowed her eyes at Eve and said "You have no control over me sister! No one does! You will stay away from me and out of my business, I'm warning you!" She turned her back on Eve and went to the nearest bed and laid down, back toward her sister.

In a low tone that was scarce but a murmur against the dripping water from the roof of dank dark space, Earitila sang a lay from Valinor.

It told of the coming of the fleet of Ar-Pharazon to the West. In it she sang of how glorious and mighty that fleet was, and how the elves wept to see the splendour of Westernesse turned against them. For they felt pride and gladness at how great the Numenoreans had grown for the gifts of the Eldar, but sadness the moreso that they had departed from wisdom and hearkened to the whisperings of the Dark Lord. And it recalled the day the song-birds that had sang for Erendis returned to the West and that then they had first percieved a shadow falling on Numenor. And the elves stopped sailing to Numenor, for they were no longer welcomed. Then it told of how the Eldar fled from the city Túna, in fear for the first time since the Trees died. And it finished by recalling how the hills had crashed in ruin upon the army of Ar-Pharazon.

Then as the song faded the darkness and gloom seemed more dreary than ever.

'Sorry,' murmured Earitila. 'Maybe I should have chosen a lighter tale.'