RP 🎲 RP 36: Redemption

The members fell asleep, and would have been glad that they had. Wolves roamed the grounds at night, and through ways to tight for men to fit they came through the ruins. They smelt the blood flowing through the veins of the elves, and it had been long since the wolves had tasted elven blood, for Rivendale was barred to them. They waited outside the doors, making sounds that would resemble those of a hurt animal. When they saw that their cunning was being of no avail, for they did not understand sleep in the night, they proceeded to try and destroy that which stood in their way...

In the morning the companions woke, and each had had nightmares, though none spoke of them. The sleep had not helped them much, they all looked just as tired and ragged as they had the night before. In Alfirin's room everyone had made ready, and were sitting around making idle conversation. He told them that he would be back in a minutes. He drew his sword and quickly opened the door and shut it, so fast that it drew the attention of the companions as being rather odd behavior.

In the hallway, Elessar sighed to himself. The wolves were gone, but not forgotten. It seemed that they had tried to tear down the walls and door, but to little avail. He went over to the other door, knocked, and opened it. He poked his head inside. "Good morning all! If you shall get ready to leave we can catch the morning meal down below, it will be better than using what rations we have for the journey." Elessar left the room and returned to the other, "Come, now. Once the others are ready we may go to breakfast below." In drowsiness, the companions made their way out of the room, and into the hallway. The others were waiting for them, in much the same way. Elessar walked over to Barahir, and they whispered to each other. "Barahir, do they not notice the hallway? For surely they have seen little of the like!" He answered, "No, Alfirin, they do not notice it. I perceive that we have all had rough nights, and they have had worse than we have, and-" Barahir was cut off by a high pitched scream. Eve was looking in awakened shock about the hallway. There were bloody scratches along all of the walls and doors, often accompanied by bloody fangs that were pulled from the hideous mouths of their masters. The doors were bent and nearly broken from the outside, and there were thousands of paw-prints along the floor, accompanied by spontanious piles of wolf-dung.

Nildadari pushed past them all in her eagerness to escape the confines of the tower. She was filled with revulsion at the sights and smells that had assailed her nostrils. What had ever persuaded Iluvatar to create to common a race as Men, she wondered as she stepped out into the sunlight. She inhaled deeply the fresh morning air and was glad.

The others were following her, looking about at the damage done by the wolves in the night. She also noticed that Turig had glanced her way. Feeling her face flush, she turned hastily and walked away from the tower, her brother watching with disapproval the silent exchange between them.

Caimare, paused as he noticed the muted exchange between his sister, and this outlaw, Turig. How he hated that Turig had not been killed earlier, but who was he to doubt the Lord Maedros' wishes?

As he followed, he too felt the same thoughts of almost all of the company. He remembered the tales of the treachery of Men, and wished that their presence could soon be forgotten, and left behind. Could they really trust this outlaw, or even those of the line of Elros?

Maedhros was in a foul mood as he emerged from the Rangers safe-house. A night full of foul visions filled his thoughts and he strode quickly as though trying out-distance them. In his heart he wished that he were alone on this quest, that these others were not here to distract him. Their emotions and constant bickerings recalled to him many councils he had endured in the presence of his father and kin. Sorrow swept through him and he almost longed for the cool silence of Mandos' halls.

Herugurth while following the group, noticed the sulking Maedros. A sorrowful leader makes a quest fail, and the quest laid on the shoulders of this mighty Elf. What could cause him to bear any more pain that he already had?

Herugurth reached his hand toward Maedros' shoulder as the great Elf sighed a breath of dissatisfaction and dissapointment. "Lord Maedros, Im sure you will cheer up when we reach some more orcs, and leave this cursed place. The air reeks of humans, and we must go on if we wish to face the Dragon. Your full might will be needed, and your sorrow will only cause more pain for the group. They sense your dissapointment and worry."

After this short little chat, he fell back with the group. His eye must remain on Eve.

Up ahead of the group Nildadari walked, trying to keep her thoughts on what lay ahead, instead of the handsome Man in their midst. She shook her head in disgust. She had NEVER felt this way toward anyone. Why now and why him ? In her distraction she never saw the first wolf as it leapt upon her, dragging her to the ground. It went for her throat, but she managed to get her gauntlet-covered arm up in time.

She screamed, but the rest of the company soon found themselves fighting for their lives as a pack of ravening wolves ran at them from the woods..

Herugurth instinctly put his body in front of Eve as soon as he heard the harsh scream of Nildadari. He turned his head only to find a pack of wolves cursing in their hideous tongue. Why had these foul beings been created in the first place? They only lived to kill and destroy.

Herugurth soon began swinging his swords with a skill no elf in the company, barring Maedros, could possess. The wolves had no concern for simple wounds, their every thought was bent on grabbing the neck of their victims.

Herugurth quickly began to tire. His movements lacked the same force as before, but to fight on was the only thought in his mind. To give up would fail Maedros, and that failure would haunt him for all of time. He could not give in, too much was at stake.

Maedhros drew his sword and cut one of the wolves legs out from under it as it went for him and put himself back-to-back with Caimare. The younger Elf seemed to be holding his own quite well. To his right he saw Earitila in deep trouble. Two wolves were stalking her, driving her back toward the tower. With a cry he charged them, his sword singing as it cut into their flesh. He called to her to run and she fled for her life back toward the main body of the group, catching a dagger that Caimare threw to her.

As the company fought determinedly against the wolves, Turig came running from the tower toward Nildadari, who's screams were slowly fading as another wolf joined the first and they began to drag her toward the trees.

Turig sprinted across the rough ground, his black spear raised and ready to strike. One of the elf-wenches was in trouble, and regardless of what the company thought, the brigand had always shown kindness to women - if only a knife in the darkness; back in Henrick's lair that had been the ultimate kindness, though few had ever thanked him for it.

It was Nildadari - the pretty one. He could see her struggling to free herself as a pair of wolves worried at her, dragging her away towards the tree-line where another group awaited, baying for blood. With a yell Turig released his spear, it whistled through the air, taking one of the wolves through the rib-cage. The brigand was out of practice - he had been aiming for it's throat.

He was on the second wolf in an instant, throwing himself upon it, sending them both crashing to the ground. Tooth and nail they fought, rolling this way and that in savage struggle; yet Turig had the upper hand - locking his teeth upon the wolf's throat he bit hard, tearing flesh and sinew, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth, until finally the stuggle ceased and the wolf fell, lifeless, to the ground.

Earitila's heart raced, but it was excitement more than fear. She called to Maedhros: 'My lord! Fear not for me, but defend thyself!'

A wolf sprang at her, but she had rolled out of its way, and in the same movement grasped her spear with her free hand. She planted the spear and sprang upwards, using it as a pivot to spin around with one hand, she launched the dagger with venomous speed and it buried itself deep in the mouth of one wolf. A snarl choked in its throat as it felt dead at Maedhros' feet.

But another sprang at her, in the same instant. But she merely turned the spear towards it, and it skewered itself with its own force. Dancing away, almost in joy at her own skill, long practiced but rarely used, she abandoned her spear and took up her bow, firing arrows at the nearest wolves with astonishing speed. Wryly, she noticed the surprise of the others to see her fight so well. Did they think she had come from the Everlasting West as mere company for Maedhros?

Eve drew her sword. On her an eery, almost icy calm descended. She gritted her teeth, and as one wolf stalked her she spoke softly: 'Leave this place, evil hound of the black land! Your death is nigh!' And with a swift blow, she hewed its head from it, even as launched itself at her.

Alfirin had not joined in the frey with the wolves. He stood back, making quick glances to the surrounding woods. Herugurth saw him, and perceived that he was waiting for something... but he had no time to ponder it further. Near to a minute later the wolves retreated, running to the small patch of woods to the north. The company, for the most part, looked hagard. They sheathed their weapons, even as Alfirin drew his. He called out, and his voice came smoothly, like warm liquor, to their tired ears. "Wolves do not attack in daylight, and they do not retreat, they fight to the bitter end." As the final word rang out he side-stepped to the right, and an arrow wizzed by, making a dull thud as it stuck into the ground before the companions. It was orkish. "...Orcs and wainriders from the Misty Mountains... Let us not be defeated, let these servants of the east taste the might of the west. He pointed with his sword to the back of the company. They turned, and wolves appeared once again from the woods. Only now there were foul orcs, brandishing crooked steel, upon them. Alfirin drew his horn to his lips, and Barahir did likewise. They both blew three sharp blasts, and two long notes echoed back from the distance. Alfirins head was dropped after he blew the notes, and he raised it slowly. There was a fire in his eyes. It was not like the fire that burned within the elves, which was cool and methodic. This fire burned with ferocity, and was completely out of control. He turned from the company, and from over the hill he now faced ran orcs. There were only fifty or so wainriders from the woods, but it looked as though the new assault would be the main one. There were at least a hundred orcs, and probably many many more. Alfirin jumped into the saddle of his horse and rode to meet the foot-orcs. The mounted orcs behind the company charged...

Seeing Turig rip the wolf's throat out with his teeth, Nildadari rolled over and retched. Never had she seen anything that gruesome. Her arms were bleeding so profusely and in such pain she could barely move them. She tried to stand, but her blood-loss was taking its toll. She couldn't believe she could die this way.

Caimarë looked at Turig with distaste. For sure, these Atani were more base even than he had ever thought. Still, they had valour in plenty - Turig had without a doubt saved his sister's life, and put his own in grave danger. The Elf sprinted over to where he lay and helped Turig to his feet, whispering a quick word of thanks.
He looked up, and saw the approaching Orc horde. There was no chance of them surviving and he prepared to sell his life as dearly as possible. Then he heard the Ranger's horn, and the echoing replies. There was hope yet, if the Dunedain arrived in force. He gripped his sword fiercely, and stood ready with his sister to meet the charge of the mounted orcs.

Eve leapt to where her sister lay, and bent over her for a moment. 'Nildadari! Have strength! I will not lose you now! Alas there is no time to tend you wounds. But these orcs will not take you!'

She straightened, and readied herself. The first orcs that arrived fell swiftly.

'How many dunedain will come?' thought Earitila, as she put arrow after arrow to flight, each finding its mark. 'Even if it is enough, it will be too late! Then the odds must be levelled up!'

She dived and danced away from orcs as they tried to spring upon her, now sending more arrows flying to deadly effect, but she knew she had few left. Leaping almost in front of the mass of the orc band, then spinning past them, she lured many of them into a chase into the trees. Three score or more were on her tail, as she sprinted away on a swerving run. She slipped behind a tree momentarily to fell the foremost pursuers, before she continued. She was swifter than they, and her feet barely bent the blades of grass they touched, and she passed out of their sight but lured them on with taunting cries.

Then she leapt, and swung herself lightly into the canopy of the trees above and hid. But then as the orcs came crashing behind she called to them again, but this time she caused her voice to sound as if it came deeper yet into the woods. On they crashed, enraged.

Earitila smiled at her success, but then thought: Maedhros! How fares he? For he was still beset! Drawing her sword she returned, quickly but cautiously to the battle.

"No. I will not let it happen again. Wolves, creatures long ago perverted by our enemy Morgoth."
I still think of Henrick, the man who swore to help me and the one that was under my protection. I falied once, i won't failed again.
Suddenly all of my frustations came to me at once, and the fire in my heart was burning fiercely again.
"I will show these wolves the power of one who was seen the Light of the Trees."
With that, i threw myself at the wolves and I became more savage that the wolves themselves.

Alfirin came within fifty yards of the charging orcs. He jumped from his saddle and stuck his drawn blade into the soft earth. He pulled a whip from his saddle, it was nearly ten feet long, and had a strangely shaped blade on the end. The first orcs approached. He started to whip the long rope around his head, and, as the first five orcs came near him, he lashed out at them, and the blade cut into five orkish throats. He slew three other sets of orcs this way, until he missed and hit a steel helm, the small blade went shattering, and he threw down teh rope and pulled his sword from the ground. He ran to meet the next orc, a fierce cry on his lips. He parried a blow, and came back at what looked to be an impossible arc to slay the creature. The crooked sword of the orc flew through the air, and Alfirin caught it, and readied it in his left hand. He parried a blow with his left, and made an uncontested stab with the right. He fought on, not with precision and skill, as did the Elves, but he fought with ferocity, and reckless self-abandon. He killed many, and was smitten himself times beyond count, until finnaly he could barley lift his arms, and he fell beneith the weight of the orcs, dead and living alike. But a great thing happened in that moment. The Dunedain issued in from the path, behind the orcs. One hundred and fifty mounted men came at a full gallop, and the orcs were scattered, just as Maedhros finished laying to waist the last of the wolf-riders. The Dunedian rushed to the woods, and there gathered long sticks. They lashed them together along with sturdy cloth, making stretchers from teh two injured. Alfirin and Nildadari were raised on the contraptions and were carried between a pair of horses. The others stood still, looking around at the carnage around them.

Surveying the scene around him, Herugurth scowled as he looked at the carnage around him. He wiped his bloody blade on the beaten grass surrounding the company. How he wished that they would be able to leave this accursed tower, but here they were to stay as long as Nildadari could not journey. Maedhros would not be willing to leave with a member of the company lying ill.

Herugurth began to gather the wretched creatures lying at his feet, and gathered them in a pile in the edge of the forest. He cared not that there would be more coming to eat their remains. It was the Dunedain's problem, not his own.

Eäritila came swiftly through the trees, but so silently that they barely noticed her approach. Seeing her stricken comrades being carried thus she feared the worse and went to them at once.

'Set them down a moment!' she cried, her face full of concern. 'They are worsted, and we cannot wait for a house of healing. I will do wait I may with what power is in me. But stand back a little, so I may hear and see all that passes, and watch the road for foes!'

She looked upon them now and saw that though Alfirin had the more wounds upon him, he looked stronger. Whereas Nildadari's life ebbed away it seemed, and her flesh was torn woefully by the teeth of the wolves. She dressed the wounds, and sang softly to her, but in words that none could hear. Turning now to Caimare and Eve she said: 'Come now and hold her hands, she loves thee both e'en with her wild and wayward heart that bids her show thee not. From you she may take strength now.'

Eve came, blinking tears away, and held Nildadari's hand that seemed light and all but lifeless, yet perhaps less cool. 'Caimare!' she called to her brother.

Then Eäritila went to Alfirin, and knelt beside him. 'In him the fire burns brightly, perchance as in all the sons of Man, though too soon it burns out.' She cleansed his wounds, and looked upon him, and marked the bitterness that lay upon his brow. She perceived a great longing there for a return to greatness of his kindred. 'Alas, it shall not come to pass in your time, noble heart!' she whispered sadly. 'But take strength, for I forsee the years lengthen, and the chance may yet come.' Then she cupped his hands together and breathed into them, and lo! It seemed his strength returned somewhat.

Eäritila stood up, and smiling palely said: 'He shall recover! But rest he needs, and care.'

Then she wobbled slightly, and trembled. As though through a haze, Eäritila looked upon Maedhros and said: 'Alas, if I put forth my strength so for others, less do I leave for myself! I must rest awhile.'

Eäritila adressed Maedhros, but his eyes didnot focus on her for long. They moved instead to Alfirin. When he had been torn to the ground something had gained freedom that had been hidden. Around his neck there hung, on a chain of silver and gold, a small amulet. It was made of what looked to be flawless iron, and on it the symbol of the house of Feanor glinted dully in the noon sun. The Dunedian saw it also, and they had looks of exasperation on their faces. They abandoned the half-dressed wounds of Alfirin and turned to different tasks. The man who seemed to be the leader of the men came to Barahir. "What is this?!? You bring the Agarwaen (bloodstained) with you? You know that he is exiled!" Barahir could only look at the ground in silence.

Nildadari fought for her life as she felt her strength ebbing. she tried to open her eyes, but they stubbornly refused. Her thoughts began to wander and she felt someone take her hands in theirs. "Caimare!" She called out in her mind, not knowing if indeed she had spoken. Eve and Caimare exchanged looks of fear. Caimare brushed her hair from her face and whispered to her to he was there and their sister also.

Maedhros caught Earitila as she stumbled, picking her up in his arms. "She needs rest. Speak not so! Those of my companions are weary and wounded...assist me in this." He bore her then to a rgassy sport beneath the trees where a few blankets had been cast down. He set her down and knelt at her side, concern darkening his eyes.