[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric packed Thydrë with care and precision of someone, who had done that a thousand times. He talked to her quietly, pacifyingly, for he knew, what they were up to. If humans didn’t like corpses, neither did horses. He knew that all too well. Thydrë was indeed his fifth horse by now, almost the most longlived companion of his. That meant not counting the brave Gillsfang, the horse of his life, from his last days back with the riders and sometime back home too. She surely was the horse of the horses – at least to what Sythric knew of them! They really had been friends, not just a man and a horse, which was to say quite a lot with Rohan people, but they really were friends. But Thydrë here, was also the one to have seen the least of the bad things he had shared with his earlier horses. So he tried to be as gentle with her as he could, but still thought, she would have to do this, for her own sake, and for his. "Maybe there are bad times to come. You should acquaintance yourself with it, for one day, both of our lives may depend on it....", he whispered to her, quietly.

After mounting her, he waved to the others, that were just getting up from the fireplace, and left it to Thydrë to pick up the path downwards. He was even kind of teasing her to to make all the fun out of it. And she galloped, she surely did! Sythric had to really put his best to keep himself in the saddle. He laughed, and Thydrë seemed to be enjoying this one as well. But as they eventually reached the level ground, she also knew, what they were up to – and he knew, that she knew. He pulled her to a gait, and they entered the burnt village with a slow pace, Sythric leaning forwards, whispering to her all the comforting things he could come up with (strangely, it was an age-old tune he had not heard in ages that came to his mind, and which he hummed to her in the end).

As they reached the center of the village, Sythric left Thydrë to a place that was under the wind, so that she wouldn’t have to face the worst stinking of the beginning-to-rot orc-bodies. For a while, he thought of covering his own face with a linen, but then decided not to start to unravel Thydrë’s packages at this moment.

He went to the remains of the funerary pyre. It was still warm! If these good people had just piled and lighted this pyre, they still would be less than a day’s ride – or walk – away... and if they watched for the pyre to consume itself, they would be very near indeed! Even though Sythric was thinking about “the good people” , he realized instinctually to have stood a bit more upright, looking and listening for any signs from the envirovement, his hand touching the hilt of his sword. There was no movement, no sound anywhere, but that of the crows and other scavenger birds picking up to gather for their feast. No dogs either... That sent some gloomy ideas into his head, but he soon dropped them off.

These good people couldn’t be the people from Aernanaes. This was not on their path, as they seemed to be camping much more north-west from us. Were there any other villages, that would be nearby? Thingland indeed, but that was so much further south, that the people from that town would have nothing to do here, at least in times like these! And anyhow, the remains of the fire were quite modest, even if there clearly seemed to have been lots of souls to be freed with it. A whole village, paying honour to their fellows, would have had a more outstanding fire. That one would burn even now... But maybe there are some survivors? It would just fit. But where are they now, and should we go looking after them? Sythric looked around, in vain, to see for any movement even farther away, at any direction. It was just still – the crows notwithstanding. We have a mission, but then again, we could at least direct them to the nearest refugee-parties, and anyhow help them in someway: give them food, first-aid, anything. Who knows in what situation they are in?

Sythric got back from the pyre and started to inspect the charred remains of the house nearest to him. Not more than two days ago, maybe less? He scratched the ash from one of the logs to find, that it was somewhat warm still from inside. Glimmering ash, like a very new one, and warm wood inside. Should be yesterday morning, very early, or something... Lastly he took to see some of the orc corpses left around. They had the distinctive stink of an orc, but also the sweet and appalling scent of a body starting to decay. But that was not so bad, maybe two days, at most?

So what could he make out from this? The sun seemed to have risen to just climb over the hills he had shown the others as a mark. He would just wait for a little while, and if the others wouldn’t turn out, he would ride to the South-West corner of the town. He went to appease Thydrë, and thought.

Then he heard the familiar voices: chickens! It was not far away. He mounted Thydrë in an instant and took her to the direction of the voices. Thydrë seemed to have felt both the ease of getting a bit away, and the tension of Sythric. She really made a run for it. They found the couple of chicken quite easily. There were four of them. Sythric broke their necks quickly. Soon the chicken were tied together by their broken necks, on a small string. After that Sythric went on after the eggs. There should be some here, because it would be at least one day before this murder and plundering. He managed to find six eggs. Then he realized, he should be back, to meet the others.