[maikafanawen]

Okay here's Dryea's final post for the game:

Dryea's kicks and clawing weren't as futile as the guards would have liked them to be. She left a very nice gash on the shorter one's jaw and the stocky one limped from a good kick to the knee.

"You can't do this to me!" Dryea screamed at the oak door after it had been locked. "I was framed! I-I," she paused to catch her breath, "I'm in mourning!"

"You keep an eye on that one," she heard one of them say to the warden. "She’s a tricky one, she is. Don’t let her wheedle you into anything!"

She screamed again good and loud and the stones overhead seemed to shake with the resonating cry. Then the wooden covering was slid over the square barred window in the door and their voices were cut off. Unwilling to give up hope just yet she began to search around the floor of her cell for any sort of hint that could get her out. Her hands still bound, Dryea dug at the mortar between the stones on the wall and stood up on the bench chained to the wall to see out the slit of a window in the back wall.

There was no way out. She jumped down off the bench and stamped her feet in incorrigible fury. Her fists pounded the door and as she yelled and pleaded for mercy, anything to get out and have a go at escape.

When that failed she backed up to the bench and sat down with a force that shook the chains and flakes of mortar fell into her hair.

"Errr—Damn it!" she said slamming the palm of her hands down on the seat. Breathing deeply she pressed her head against the stone. "Oh man, think, think.... Curse you mother! Leaving me to perish for your errs! You should have seen this coming! I knew we'd be betrayed!" Tears of aggravation slid down her cheeks and she stood again, searching fruitlessly for a way out.

A key was slipped into the lock on her cell door and opened it. Dryea crouched behind the door as it opened, ready to pounce on whomever it was that entered. A slender figure wrapped in a fine black cloak entered with a basket on her arm. She instinctively backed up towards the vacant side of the door and shut it so that her foot kept it open and she could see who hid behind.

Dryea stood and advanced quickly ready to claw the person's brain out if she had to. Anything to get free.

"Wait!" the person hissed and she pulled back the cowl to reveal herself.

"Mari!" Dryea gasped in shock. The maid's eyes widened as a signal to hush. The warden entered the cell behind her.

"I've brought necessities," she said deliberately. "Gaeran has let me in to give them to you." Dryea's eyes expanded. Mari nodded, an enigmatic twinkle to her eye.

"We haven't much time," Gaeran said taking off his helmet and setting it on the bench. "You'll have to take my clothes to get out of here." Dryea nodded and began to undress hurriedly. The warden turned his back respectfully as Mari helped Dryea don his clothes so that they gave her a manly appearance.

"Were we under different circumstances," Mari said, tying the warden's belt around Dryea's waist, "I might laugh at you." The respectful tone of voice she'd harbored as a maid in the Morthaniawen's house was gone. She spoke as an equal to Dryea: a friend. Dryea rolled her eyes.

"Maybe I should make you wear my dress and stay here in the cells in my place?" she said threateningly. Mari didn't even blink.

"I don’t think so, because then how will you find the weapons and real clothes I've hidden for you just outside?" Mari smiled. "Besides," she said, picking up one of Dryea's silver soled heels. "Gaeran's offered to do that for us." In one fluid movement the maid had hit the warden over the head, drawing blood, and the two women watched emotionlessly as he slid to the floor unconscious.

"How nice of him," Dryea mused. They wrapped him in the black mourning gown and stuffed him into a sleeping position in one of the corners. "Sweet dreams," Dryea whispered.

"We don’t have time for corny jokes," Mari said handing her the helmet. "We've got to go." Dressed as the prison warden and a love interest on her arm, the two women left the prison, dropping the keys beside the sleeping Forlong. Adopting the prideful stride of the prison warden, Dryea successfully 'escorted' Mari from the prison and out of sight.

Once they had reached the place where Mari stashed their things, she discarded the basket and gave Dryea her leather bag. The fugitive looked inside and beamed. "Very nice Mari, well done!" Slipping behind a tree to change into the more suitable clothes, Dryea listened as Mari relayed to her the plan.

"There's a ship docked at Harlond waiting to take us to Umbar. Drian sent a message ahead to Tr Dalon, the captain, and he's waiting for us there. We'll be back in Umbar by the end of the month at latest."

"And what of my mother?" Dryea asked indifferently. Mari shrugged, "I don’t think she knows of Tr Dalon's attendance at the docks. She'll probably miss the boat unless you want to risk your neck looking for her." Dryea scoffed.

"She's a big girl, Ruiel can take care of herself." Dressed now in her native black leather clothes, Dryea emerged tying her sword to her belt. "So where are the horses?" Mari laughed and the two made their way to the stables. Black horses were ideal for night travel and luckily the two women were able to find them and tack them up quickly. Then they were off at a furious gallop towards Harlond and safely out of harm's way.

The women rode their horses right onto the ship where it rocked and strained against the hawsers which held her at the end of stone wharf that jutted out into the choppy water. "Ahoy Dryea!" first mate Dawser acknowledged the first rider.

"Alright Captain Dalon!" Dryea shouted up to where he stood by the helmsman. "We'd do well to be off now!" The man nodded and shouted orders for the men to cut the hawsers and lower the boats to guide them through the harbor.

"Quickly and quietly men!" Dawser relayed Tr Dalon's orders. Dryea and Mari handed the reins over to one of the younger sailors who took the enervated horses to the ship's small stable. Then they mounted the stairs to greet their captain. The wind blew thunderously and the flags whipped and cracked.

"It's good to have you aboard Mistress Dryea," Captain Dalon said bowing respectfully. "And you Mistress Mari. Your company is always a pleasure. Make yourselves comfortable. Your quarters are adjacent from mine just below where I stand here. You should find things appropriate for a woman's stay on a ship. Your request is my command."

Dryea nodded her thanks and gazed out over the ship's stern as it sailed out of harbor. The wind caught her auburn hair and blew it magnificently about her as she watched the Morthaniawen's failure in conquering Gondor grow distant. Mari came and stood beside her then, her eyes hard and dark and wishing the same fate for the traitors to Umbar. Soon they'd have their vengeance and Gondor would be theirs at last!

It's been fun guys! I'd be interested to see what a sequel to this would look like.

Cheers!
-Maikafanawen