Outracing the Flames RPG

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up in her bed roll, she had not slept well and her lower back was aching. Brand suggested to the men that they should try their luck at catching some fish. Frowning Vaenosa thought to herself why had he not asked her? Perhaps he thought now that there were three women, she would want to spend her time with them. Vaenosa was unsure as to how to approach the young girl, she felt for her, but crying girls was some thing she really did not know how to handle.

Standing now she searched for Nay. She hoped he was not being to much of a bother. He seemed to take a liking to the dog and was quickly following him and Brand to the waters edge. "Nay! For the last time, you are not a dog!" He turned his head, gave her a nicker then continued on his way. She did not want him splashing and prancing, scaring all the fish away. Hurring towards him she pulled his mane and directed him away from the water.
"Sorry boy, not this time. You will scare the fish!" She gave him a slap on the rump, directing him towards the other horses. "Go bother them for awhile."

Now mulling around, Vaenosa was unsure what to do with herself. She was not keen on conversing with the women and the older man Leod was slightly scary to her. So she decided to see if Brand knew of the way to tickle fish out of the water.

Heading slightly down stream she rolled up her leggings and entered at a shallow part. Her father had taught her this trick. It took a long time to learn, but the satisfaction of catching a fish was worth it. She headed towards a slight over hang where the fish would be lazing in the morning sun, with her fingers dangling in the water. She motioned for Brand to watch and be ready. Painstakingly slow she moved toward a shadow in the water. She odulated her fingers slightly with the current until her fingers touched the underside of the fish. With one quick motion she grabbed it by the gills and tossed it on to the bank, hoping Brand had seen her signal and would fetch it before it found it's way back into the river.

Hopping out of the water she pushed the cold water from her legs and headed towards Brand, who had his foot on the slippery fish." I know it's not as reliable as a line, but it sure is fun and refreshing!" She stated to Brand with a coy smile. " I would not mind helping with the fish,for awhile anyways." She said as she looked to see if the older man was coming towards them yet. " I uummmm can do something else if you think that the men can handle this." "She was beggining to become more familiar with the men at camp, but now there was a new unknown, untrustworthy, older man in their midst that made her uncomfortable.She was slightly embarrassed at the way she let her guard down around Brand, this was unacceptable and would no doubt lead to some mistake on her part.

Thinking again Vaenosa decided she best stay away from the men today in case her temper should flare. "uuummmm actually", she said to Brand. " I think I shall ready the horses and groom them as well, before we head out again." Taking the fish from Brands hands, trying not to touch his skin, she turned away from him quickly, almost like a shy child would and headed back. What did she care what this man thought of her. She hated men....yes that was it! She had no need for companionship, or even love, these were for the beautiful and well spoken women. Not a wretched, ugly woman such as herself. She was only a used up vessel of a woman, with no feelings towards others except distain." This is what you deserve! You need no friends! just remember that!" She muttered to herself as she wrung her hands around the fish tearing the scales from it's back. Looking down at what she'd done, she blushed. Now the fish was ruined and the meat bruised. "Perhaps it is good enough for our men!" Vaenosa said, the distain rising in her voice again. Her head was reeling with the thoughts of someone actually wanting to be her friend, let alone lover. " Perposterous! Stop this nonesense!" With that Vaenosa became quiet again.
She tossed the fish near the fire without looking at the others in camp and almost ran to get away from their questioning looks. She headed towards Nay who did not care who she was, or who she had been...He loved her anyways.

[Folwren]

Wulfham

Athwen woke the next morning a little after the sun had risen. She had slept without waking and without dreaming that night - completely worn out from the previous day’s actions and emotions. Every limb felt heavy as she slowly sat up and her head had a dull ache. For some minutes, she was aware of nothing, except the fire, at which she blinked at several times. Then she stirred herself and looked around. The places where everyone else had slept were empty, and no one was around except for Incana - the one who had seemed to take her under her wing the night before. The young woman knelt with a knife in her hand, deftly slitting open a newly caught fish and cleaning it. She raised her eyes briefly as Athwen stirred and gave her a small, half shy smile.

‘Good morning,’ she said quietly, almost testing her ground.

Athwen nodded in reply and answered out of habit, whether it was a good morning or not. ‘Good morning.’ There was a slight pause. Athwen pushed loose hair back from her face. She felt dull and heavy in thought and body and she couldn’t account for it. Incana returned to her work and Athwen watched quietly for a moment before asking, ‘Where is everyone else?’

‘The men are gone fishing,’ Incana answered, motioning towards the river with her knife, ‘and Vaenosa is over there with the horses.’

‘Leod is with the other two?’ Athwen asked.

‘Yes, he is. They all went down as soon as getting up.’ Athwen paused a moment, and her eyes rested on the fish. Her stomach turned with uncommon sickness at the sight and she drew back involuntarily. What was it? The sight of the entrails, perhaps. . .but it had never bothered her before. . .before yesterday. Incana noticed the slight reaction and she put down her knife quickly and wiped her hands on the grass. ‘Can I get you something to eat or drink? I think Brand made tea this morning and it’s still hot.’

‘Oh. . . no. . . but thank you. You are busy and I don’t really need anything right now.’ She got up quickly and brushed the stray grasses from her skirt. ‘I’m going to go look for him. Leod, I mean,’ she said. ‘Where are they again?’

‘They’re over by the river. A little down stream, I think, but I’m not positive. Haven’t left camp this morning yet and that was only the general direction they went in.’

‘Thanks. I’ll be able to find them now.’ She turned and walked slowly away. As she went, she absently combed the tangles and foreign objects from her long hair with her fingers. A natural, girlish thought rose in her jumbled mind and she snorted in disgust as she looked at a handful of the golden locks. ‘My hair is a mess,’ she grumbled aloud. With a slight sigh, she pushed it back over her shoulder and continued on.

In a few minutes, she reached the river side. She climbed down the slight embankment to the sandy edge and looked up and then down river in search of the three fishermen. In a moment she caught sight of them and she quickly made her way towards them, following the river, but being careful that she did not touch the water and cause some sort of nuisance.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

As people had gathered around the fire to wait for the tea, Sythric addressed them all. “It’s nice to see we have all slept well last night, at least somewhat”. With that he looked joyously at Meghan and Osmod, and then to Raedwald. “we had quite a day yesterday, and I think we all feel it in our muscles still. But I have slept very well last night indeed. I don’t know why, but I have. It’s kind of a mystery to myself too.” He looked over all the others before continuing.

“I’m sorry, if I was a bit detached or melancholic yesterday. I was just tired and sore about all this going on. But now I think I could be of some help to us all, if you wish. I have my vices, but they could turn out to be my virtues this morning. I’ve dropped the habit of a morning-tea a long time ago. I prefer a sip of wine to wake me up. When you ride with a border-watch, you normally don’t have time or courage to make a fire, so some wine will have to do. And the effect is similar as it too warms you from the inside.” He smiled heartily, mostly to Raedwald, but to the others too.

“I could take a quick look at the Scyffold and what’s left of it. Just to have some idea, what has happened there, and more importantly, when it has happened? We still might have to bring these stories to the king, and just looking at the near future for ourselves, I would very much like to know, whether there could be an army of orcs within a day’s length of us, or just further away.” That last thought seemed to have silenced the others, at least they didn’t comment. So Sythric rose up.

“I could pack Thydrë just now. I would be leaving as the sun properly rises, and would give me some light to see around there. It’s up to you then to decide, whether you want to come in and have a look yourselves, or would you prefer to ride past those horrors and evil sights. If I don’t see you at the village center by the time sun climbs over those hills there”, Sythric pointed to the hills east from where they were sitting, “then I’ll be seeing you at the south-west corner of the village? That would give you something like an hour, or a bit less, to have your teas, to pack and get going. Would that suit you?”. He looked at Osmod, who had just received a steaming hot cup of tea. As Osmod seemed to be collecting his ideas, Sythric continued a bit more still: “Don’t you worry about me. I have seen enough corpses – friends and foes – that I can handle this one. It will not be a nice view to be had down there.” He made a pitiful try to smile with this last one, but managed to wink his eye towards Raedwald without others seeing it.

I hope this will work. It's always better to acquaintance yourself first with a dead orc, rather than one that's all alive and intending to kill you. Sythric thought to himself. Seeing some horror today would prepare them, and they would have seen, what the orcs generally look like, in reality, not just from the imagery of the tales and as visualized by wild imagination (which always seemed to underestimate the horror of real bad things in the end)... Hopefully Raedwald saw my intention in me kind of boasting my toughness, as a challenge to these young people? I'll count on him.

[Farael]

Sythric left the camp early and made his way down towards the burned village. Osmod had noticed the old man was thinking more than what he was saying, but could not figure out what it was. Surely he was not eager to go into that village, no-one would. Yet the village was on their way and so Osmod packed his things up and lead the group downhill. Sythric had given them plenty of time to get there and so they would have time to go around the burned houses and the dead orcs. ”Why? I have seen them once, and that is once too many times. Those wretched creatures deserve no better than to become food for any stray animal that will want to stomach them. If any ever do. He looked up to where Fion was riding and waited until the man looked at him before speaking ”I won’t be staying in the village today. We must not forget our mission and someone has to scout ahead. I know I did the same thing yesterday, but if you want to stay in the village and wait for Sythric I’ll just get ahead by myself. Let me warn you, it is not a pretty sight”

The group rode on, mostly in silence. The horses picked their way down the slope carefully, each of them feeling restless as they smelt the decayed bodies and torched houses. Not to mention burnt flesh. The riders also grew restless, their most primitive instincts blaring warnings their minds tried to put to rest. In Osmod’s case, it was to no avail.

At last, they reached the outskirts of the town. A big orc awaited them, with a defiant look on his face. He was leaning against what seemed to be the only wall left standing of what had been a small cottage, his sword was lying on the ground within easy reach of his hand. Osmod’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword before he realized that it would not be necessary. The orc was dead, an arrow lodged on his neck. Shuddering with disgust, Osmod wheeled around and looked at the rest of the group. ”I’ve made up my mind. Things look very different under the sun light, but not any better. I will ride through the town and out on the south side and get ahead while at least some of us wait for Sythric. I don’t want to ride alone, not now that these beasts may be are nearby. Would any of you like to join me?” He looked at their stern faces. They were all brave, there was no doubt about it. Osmod hoped he would not fail them, as he felt they would never fail him.

[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.

[Arry]

Wulfham

Brand knelt down by the water's edge, a large leather pouch open by his side. He’d gathered some moss and was dipping it into the cold river and then wringing out what extra moisture he could. He began to layer it in the pouch with the first of the fish they’d caught. Dorran and Leod were further down from him, checking the lines.

From behind him, he heard the soft crunch of boot-steps against the sandy, pebbly shore. ‘Done with the horses so soon?’ he called, still intent on the covering the last layer of trout. ‘Grab the net, why don’t you,’ he went on. ‘We’ll give the big pool a try . . .’ He stood up, wiping his wet hand on his thighs, and turned round. A look of surprise crossed his face.

‘Oh! Sorry! I thought you were Vaenosa, come back to help.’ A smile lightened his features. ‘Can I do something for you, Athwen?’

[Folwren]

Wulfham

Athwen returned the smile and bent to pick up the net he had demanded. 'No. But apparently I can help you.' She handed it to him. 'I was actually coming to look for Leod. Is he anywhere about?' Brand opened his mouth to respond as he turned and motioned with his hand, but Athwen caught sight of the two others almost as soon as she asked the question. 'Oh, never mind, I see them,' she said quickly. 'Are you. . .' she paused uncomfortably. 'You are Dorran? No, Brand, right?'

He smiled again and nodded encouragingly. 'Yes, that's right. Dorran's my companion there.' Athwen nodded, biting her lip slightly, a rather old and unconcious habit of hers when she didn't know quite what to say next. Leod and Dorran were in the middle of the river and there was really no way she could reach them conveniently. She decided to wait for them to come back, and until then, to speak with Brand.

'I. . .should thank you for asking me to come with you,' she began again, dropping her eyes and looked at her feet for a moment. Glancing up briefly at intervals, she continued in a moment. 'I can't remember much of what you told me yesterday, though. You were going to Edoras, if I recall. What for exactly?'

[Folwren]

Farael's post

Osmod


Osmod hesitantly took Brand’s hand and stood up. The man seemed to be speaking the truth. ”Master Brand, I hope you forgive me if I’m not too pleased, even now that our misunderstanding has been cleared” He regarded the man with cold eyes. Then, he looked at Fion who was now being helped one of the women. At least they all seemed to be truly concerned. ”Is there a healer among you? My friend may need a little help after your warm welcome.” He shook his head, ”But I forget my modals, I’m Osmod from Bregoware. When we left, our village still stood a day’s ride from the river. After seeing what happened in the village to the north us, I fear the worse for my people” Then a light of understanding shone in his eyes ”You know what I’m talking about. You were there before us.” Osmod could see it in Brand’s eyes. He could not find any words to say, but he knew none would be necessary.

One of the women was helping Fion. She asked, almost casually, something about how many of them had left towards Edoras. Osmod was about to answer, when he realized it could be a cunning attempt at trying to milk information off him. Rather than answering, he walked over to Fion, who was still unresponsive, and asked the woman for help to move him closer to the fire. The violent woman, the one that had threatened his friend’s life seemed to be preparing some sort of tea. Judging by the look on her face, she was not about to apologise. ”Well,” Osmod thought ”I will not the first to talk. She almost killed Fion, I am not going to make friends just because her other companions seem to be sorry. I don’t even know if they are truly sorry or just better deceivers than her”

Still, he silenced his doubts for the moment. He could not take on the six of them anyway, and the rest of the Bregowares would probably follow his tracks. Sythric and Raedwald would know what to do.

[Farael]

Folwren's post

Athwen


The excitement seemed to be over. Tea was being made and the men who had been given a rather cold welcome were now being made more comfortable and a few questions were beginning to be asked. Athwen found herself trembling. She couldn't exactly say why, it was a strange, uncommon feeling for her. She felt sick at her stomach and her heart beat hard against her ribs.

Silently she turned away from the others and stepped to her horse. Without speaking to anyone, she gathered up the reins, mounted him in a single swift, agile movement, and turned his head about. A light kick with her heels sent him into a long, slow lope and she cantered away from them.

For the second time that day, she found herself blinking back hot, stinging tears. The wind in her face almost dried them as they escaped from her blinking lids, but it didn't clear her eyesight and she went blindly on, her horse finding his own path through the grass.

After some time, she pulled him to a stop. He slowed quickly and came to a stand still. She bent forward until her forehead rested on his black mane and she slowly caught her breath and composure again. 'You're a sight, Athwen,' she told herself aloud in a quiet murmur. The horse's ears swiveled about and he turned his head towards her slightly. 'It doesn't make much sense, does it?' the girl went on, shaking her head slowly. 'Why were you so frightened, so over come just then? Nothing terrible happened, no one was really hurt.' She struggled with a choking sob, but she pushed it back down, blinked back new tears and sat up. Gently, she turned her horse back around and started towards camp at a slow walk. She didn't understand, and somehow she thought she never would, after what happened yesterday. Life woudln't ever be the same, and neither would her emotions and reactions to things that happened. But she would like to understand. . .at least some.

'And yet maybe not yet,' she told the wind. 'Maybe. . .maybe I will, someday.'

[Nogrod]

They rode cautiously towards the blanket-covered thing, but had to soon leave their orientation to memory as they hit the lower ground of the grassland. The grass was so tall, they could only get an occasional glimpse of the the thing. Sythric was a bit ahead of the others at the right flank, his rider’s spear pointed forwards, every nerve directed to the imediate landscape ahead and around of them. Suddenly he stopped and raised his left hand, palm open. The others stopped too. Sythric was still for a moment, scanning the surroundings with his eyes only, not moving his head, not even breathing. Slowly he started to turn his head to left and right, looking for any signs of movement or unnaturally bended grass. His hand was still raised in the air, immovable.

Slowly and carefully Sythric made Thydrë to back a few steps. The thing was about 20 yards away from them now. He gave a fast glance to the right, as if he had seen or heard something, but then seemed to relax, lowered his hand and turned to the others. He addressed them in a low voice. “I managed to get a sight at the thing between some bent grass. That something under the blanket is a body, and it has not received it’s wounds but a very short while ago. The blood that has just a while ago run from under the blanket is still producing a faint vapour as it is warmer than the air around. And there’s lots of blood around the blanket too.” Sythric took a look at all the others, kind of thinking, how to word his grim forethoughts to them. For a moment he listened, with everyone else, to a blackbird giving a whistle somewhere to the south-west of them.

“In the grim instance, it might be one of our brave scouts, or then it might be a trap, made to us, or to them. Or with the worst scenario, it’s both of them: a body of our fellow and a trap to us. It’s so fresh a body, that I can’t imagine anyone other to have been going about in here, after them and before us. If they killed someone, why would they have covered him? Or why didn’t they come to tell us about this incident?” He paused again, but as Raedwald seemed to delve in his thoughts and was not saying anything, Sythric decided to finish his thoughts.

“This grass is so tall, it could hide almost anything, those mythical oliphants probably not included.” He tried to lighten the situation a bit, forcing a half-smile towards Eostre and Meghan, but clearly didn’t succeed in it – even though he himself was somewhat amused about the thought of an oliphant trying to hide in this grass here. “And so, if it’s a trap, we have been well sighted by now, anyhow. If there are someone waiting for us, they know to wait us, and most clearly know, where we are, and how many we are.” He tried to look somewhat comfortable, looking at Meghan and Eostre, but as he met Raedwald’s eyes, his expression was concerned enough for everyone to see quite openly his anxiety. Raedwald looked quite grim too, thoughtful.

Sythric had really had to fight against the urge to just rush on to the blanket-covered body, to see whether it was Osmod or Fion. Luckily I’m too cunning a war-horse to do that kind of reckless things... But how hard it is, everytime one really has to hold back one’s primal concerns and feelings! How near it was, that I just rushed to try and “save” Osmod or Fion from under the blanket, like a teenager worried about his mom being hurt? Remember, you are here to help these people from doing that kind of foolish things, so don’t you go tumbling into them yourself!

For a while it was quiet, everyone was just trying to hear and see anything out of the usual around. No-one dared to say anything. Should we just ride around that one, Raedwald and I, with some banging and noise made by the girls on top of it. If there are someone within the grasses, they might reveal themselves? The girls could shoot, we could charge... And we would be able to see, what there really is under that blanket in safety. But do I dare to see it?

[Tevildo]

What a fool I am. This is all my fault. Because of me, we almost killed two innocent men.

The words kept reverberating inside Dorran's head as he sat by himself at the far end of camp, trying to stay out of everyone's way. Dorran stared blankly over at the strangers wondering who they were and why they were here. Restless and disatisfied, unable to sit still, he had borrowed an axe and stomped off into the woods, hoping to find a tree to hack down that could provide them with some firewood as well as an outlet for his own frustration. He had not even heard the question that Incana had asked the men. Coming upon a mid-sized birch that had likely fallen in the last storm, he began whacking off some of its branches. While a few of his strokes were straight and true, others went wild, far off the mark, somehow mirroring the anger that simmered inside his soul. The blade of the axe deflected from the wood and hit the soil with a resounding thud.

"Having some trouble? Can I give you a hand?" The words came unexpectedly from behind Dorran's shoulder. Turning around, the young man was surprised to see the older healer who had joined them from the village. "Are you following me?" Dorran snapped peevishly, in a way that was very different than his usual calm demeanor. He swung the axe over his head and then in a downward arc, landed the blade squarely in the middle of the tree trunk.

"Following you?" For a moment, Leod sounded puzzled. Then he chuckled and shook his head. "No, no. Your friend Vaenosa was doing a fine job brewing up some herbs for the men so I came out here to find a few more plants I thought we might be needing on this trip. You couldn't hold off on that wood, could you, and give me a hand with these?" Leod pointed towards a large pile of herbs that looked like nothing more than a tangled mat.

"So many?" queried Dorran, forgetting his misery for the moment and wondering why the old man could want with such a large supply.

"Aye, I intend to take these back to camp and boil them down into a salve along with some other remedies I brought with me. From the look of things, I'm afraid we might be needing some strong aids for the cleansing and healing of wounds."

There was a hint of bitterness in Dorran's quick response, "Yes, I suppose you're right, especially if I keep making suggestions that have us going on a wild chase that does no one any good."

Leod stared back evenly at Dorran and shrugged his shoulders, "Mistakes happen. You told Brand what you knew to be the truth. And if the men had been slavers, we'd be better off knowing that ahead of time. Brand made the best decision that he could, and luckily no harm has come of it."

Dorran hung his head, avoiding Leod's eyes, "Brand.....he must hate me. I've put the whole group in peril."

"I don't think so. But if you're worried, go tell him it was an honest mistake and you're sorry. Let's get back now. I think the firewood can wait." With that, the two men turned and headed towards camp.

Dorran could see that Brand had finished taking care of their two guests. The young man sidled up and pulled Brand over to the side. Leod followed just behind him. He nervously cleared his throat and then spoke, "I'm sorry, Brand. I really am. I feel like such a fool. When I saw the Orcs and what they had done, it made me think of how it was in the past when I lived near the mountain. I guess I was wrong." He shook his head sheepishly, and sighed, before adding, "These men, the ones we kidnapped.... Do you know why they were here, and what they're doing? Are they survivors from this village? Or perhaps another? I'd ask them myself but I can't bear to look them in the eye."

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Having rode with her bow tight at hand, Eostre loosened her grip on her bow, letting it slip a bit down between her fingers. Not so loose as to allow for potential splinters, if the cold got to the well-aged and cured wood, but enough to release a bit of stress caught up in her expression.

The tiniest bit of cynicism crept up in her face. "The blackbird's whistle. For all we know it could've very well been an alert, the sign of an ambush about to be loosed. In which case we've been spotted by now," she wanted to say, but held back, letting the silence from the fear of being attacked and slain overcoming her need to vocalize a very seldom thoughtout opinion.

Silence, if nothing else, came naturally to her.

As naturally as the addition to the thoughts. Slain like Osmod and Fion. She didn't know. Perhaps they were dead, and they would swiftly follow, as well as their village and family... Or perhaps not.

For a moment, she desired a window to stare from, a limited vantage point through which she could observe and still remain hidden if the need was there. But she stiffled it, the same as the thoughts that the bird call may have been a signal...

Fingers tightened once more around her bow. Just try it.

[Undómë]

Meghan


As Rædwald and Sythric discussed what they might do about the bloodied bundle in the field, Meghan drew her horse a little to the side. The men had their heads together their eyes flicking up now and then toward their objective. She spoke low to Ash, giving the little mare a pat on the neck. Ash’s ears swiveled to the sound of her voice and the horse nickered low.

Something caught the grey’s notice and she startled, taking a few steps backward. Meghan’s head turned toward where the mare’s eyes stared. There in the distance to her right was a lone figure on a horse. A young woman, she was sure – small statured, long blonde hair, and yes, a dress. Bent over the dark-maned neck of her mount, the woman did not seem to notice the Bregoware group in the distance. Squinting in the light, Meghan took note that the woman did not seem armed.

Without thinking, Meghan turned Ash toward the woman and urged the horse in her direction. Maybe this person had seen or knew something of Osmod and Fion. She could see the woman had turned her horse about and was going slowly along. Allowed to go on, she would soon be out of hailing range.

Ash, at the bidding of her rider, was now at a full gallop. Meghan, her yellow braid flying behind her, stood up in her stirrups and called loudly to the other women. ‘Hey! Hey, you on the horse there! Wait up, will you?’ One hand on the reins, Meghan waved the other wildly in the air

Meghan’s spirited little mount ran as fast and as effortlessly as a prairie wind over the over the sere grassed ground. With a determined effort, she closed the space between her mistress and the other . . .

[Folwren]

Athwen had retreated and drawn back when Sythric asked Leod if they had come from Wulfham. She knew what the answer was and she didn’t like it. She didn’t want to be near when it was told that she and Leod weren’t initially part of the group riding to Edoras. Questions would have to arise, and they were already beginning to, but she didn’t want to have to answer them. It was too near, and too harsh. She actually feared their questioning looks and their pitying words - words that would try to put into understandable thoughts what the speaker was thinking but that would only end up causing uncomfortableness and remembrance of sorrow to deep to be fathomed yet by even the bearer, and far too fresh to be calmed by mere words from strangers.

Athwen was a coward and she knew it. She would have been able to face hardships and hunger and danger, so long as she had someone to go to during it and when it all was over. But now she had no one, and she couldn’t even face people who would like to befriend her.

She watched as Leod and Sythric walked to the fire, beginning to carry a conversation. They looked like they would get along well together. Meghan was fussing about Brand’s wounds, and the adventure of the cat they had met was being explained. Fion sat by the fire, and she couldn’t tell what he thought of everything. Eostre stood by her horse, and before Athwen had decided if she should approach her, Fion addressed her. She looked away.

Her eyes traced the trees and bushes towards the river. She remembered, as she looked, having seen Vaenosa and Osmod both head off from camp in that general direction. Briefly she wondered if they had met up with each other and how Osmod would have gotten along with Vaenosa. She sighed and looked back at the people near her.

‘Dorran,’ she said, walking forward suddenly. She knelt beside him. ‘I have absolutely nothing to do,’ she told him, holding out her hands, palms upward, ‘Can I help you? I desperately need something to do to keep my mind from working too hard.’

[Nogrod]

Suddenly all, at least all by the smaller fireside, nearer to the river, were alarmad by the stomping and neighing of a horse from the direction of the Great river. As Sythric turned his head with the others, he could see the figure of Osmod making his best with a strange horse - seeing who’s the master, principally - with one of the Wulfhamer girls checking out the result near them. It really was a show-off - even probably not intended as such.

Osmod, my dear boy! I already called you a man! And what are you doing now? Giving a show to a strange young lady about your horsemanship, while we really should be thinking about what to do! Leadership, Osmod, leadership! Now we would need it more than ever. We oldies shouldn’t do it, for we will have a company of miles to win in front of us. And we need all capable men and women in, wholeheartedly with this, not some grumpy oldtimers going on telling others what to do. It’s not a party then... C’mon Osmod, come to your senses! Or maybe this Brand-fellow could do it?Unluckily he seems to think very badly on me, and with reason, I must admit.

Simultaneously he heard footsetps approaching, and turned around. It was Athwen, who was coming to the fireside, clearly now following the match between the man versus the horse too, as she walked on. Their eyes met for an instant, and Sythric just had time to react with a symphatetic smile. Poor girl. Your life has just taken a direction anyone of us would fear as their worst nightmare! Athwen passed between him and Leod and addressed Dorran, clearly wanting to be of help. Sythric watched the two for a while – and then looked back to Fion, who was resting further from them by the greater fire, with a teacup in his hand, looking just nowhere in particular.

“Dorran!” He called, nodding to him as he raised his gaze towards him, “I am very much taken by this delicious fish you have produced us, master Dorran. If you know some fine ways to make chicken, I could provide us all with the next meal, for I found four chicken from Scyffold and have them with me. So maybe tomorrow... And if you need help in it, let me be the one to volunteer, I also know one or two things to do with chicken! We could exhange our ideas and have a perfect meal?” With that, he opened a wide smile, but as he met the eyes of Athwen, his face revealed a more serious attitude – although he tried to encourage her with his compassion. This is so wrong, that people so young have to endure things like this! Sythric felt the teardrop forming in the corner of his eye. He wiped his face hastily and turned again towards Leod.

[Naria]

Incana was not sure as to what to make of the new comers. She still felt bad as she looked over at the man called Fion. He seemed to be fairing quite well considering the blow that she had inflicted upon him. She struggled with what to say to him and wanted to aid in his comfort, but just as she made up her mind to approach him he asked a question of one of their female companions, stopping Incana's feet at once. She sighed and looked around in confusion where did Vaenosa get to now? Incana was so preoccupied with everything that had happened that she didn't notice the woman's retreat.

She immediately felt worried about Vaenosa. She must be horrified with all of the men staying at our camp and she had just begun to trust and get along, somewhat with our men. Incana headed off through some trees and found herself out in an open field with a clear view of the river. The woman noticed that Vaenosa was not alone, she was with a....a man! What was she doing? After all of the turmoil and grief she had put our men through, what did she think she was doing?! Incana couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and anger, why her? Why not me? I want and deserve a husband, Vaenosa certainly has shown that she does not!Incana shook her head,what foolish thoughts you have! It did, afterall, look like he was having fun with Nay and for once Vaenosa too looked like she was enjoying herself. Incana thought, maybe Vaenosa has found something in this man that she can identify with and likes.

Incana decided to take the long way back to camp as to clear her head. She was plucking her way through some small bushes when she suddenly came upon a horse. It seemed to be acting like it had not a care in the world, happily grazing and swatting at some flies. Incana cautiously approached the horse not knowing what it would do. She wanted to keep to the side of the horse so as to not be in a direct kick from the hind end and also to keep in the line of sight, so the horse would not get spooked. The woman made low nickering sounds and somehow put her body into a swaying motion as she got closer--this had worked on several occasions in the dealings with a new horse that her father brought home. As Incana got closer it became clear that the horse was a female and was still saddled. She must belong to one of the riders back at camp, I have to get her back. "Easy girl. Come now, we need to get you back to the safety of the fire." The mare was hesitant at first and walked away from Incana's advancement. The woman did not give up though, she quietly followed the horse and waited until she stopped. Incana once again made the same low nicker and this time added some kissing clicks. The horse did not walk away this time she just stood still and allowed Incana to let her hand caress the horses back until her hand made contact with the reins. "Good girl." Incana made another click with her tongue and with a nod of agreement from the mare the pair made there way towards camp.

With horse in tow, Incana walked through the last bit of trees that surrounded the camp and tied the horse to a tree next to her own. "You two are very beautiful, I must say." While she was tending to the horses she caught wind of fish and something else. What was it? She couldn't quite put her finger on it. As she was giving the last horse some water and a light brushing her stomach gave a loud growl letting her know that the smell of the food was not being entirely ignored.

Ahhh....the other aroma was oatcakes, or so it looked to her like they were. It seemed that there was not going to be enough to go around. Incana squatted next to the woman that had prepared and was in the midst of cooking some. "May I be of some assistance?"

[Folwren]

There was little to be done, Dorran had told her. The meat would have to be carved from the bones of the deer, but that was hardly work for a woman. He didn’t voice that thought, but Athwen somehow knew it. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it anyway. Then Sythric called them and they were introduced almost properly. She bobbed a curtsey, or something of the like, and looked him in the face. When their eyes met she saw what she knew would have to be there - pity, and maybe just a little understanding. They looked away at the same time and as soon as she knew she would no longer be wanted or needed, she turned and walked away.

There was nothing for her to do, and relatively nowhere to go. She would have offered to help make the oatcakes, for she could cook well, but Meghan already had the helping hands of two of her companions. Her eyes rested on Fion, now sitting silently, his head in one hand, staring listlessly in the fire. She wondered briefly if his head was hurting him a terrible amount and took a few steps nearer. Next she wondered what he thought about her and her companions for what they had done to him, and she took more steps towards him. Before she quite realized it, she stood by his side and he very slowly looked up at her, barely turning his head.

‘Do you mind if I sit by you?’ she asked. ‘You don’t look like you feel well at all and I thought that if you had someone to talk to, it might take your mind off things. Not that I’ll be a particularly jolly companion, like Brand or Incana, but I’m willing to keep you company if you’ll have me until dinner is ready.

[Maeggaladiel]

There was a sound behind him, as though someone was sneaking up on him. Fion tore his gaze away from the fire, giving a halfhearted glance at the woman who was slowly approaching him. What now? Oh, perhaps the Wolf-Hammers (as he had come to think of them as) had found another rock that needed to be forcibly introduced to his forehead! What fun! He could--

"Do you mind if I sit by you?" she asked, interrupting his grouchy thoughts. "You don’t look like you feel well at all and I thought that if you had someone to talk to, it might take your mind off things. Not that I’ll be a particularly jolly companion, like Brand or Incana, but I’m willing to keep you company if you’ll have me until dinner is ready."

Fion thought about this for a moment. As far as he was concerned, he had every reason to dislike these people. All right, perhaps he was being a bit harsh; they claimed it had been an honest mistake. But still! Rock in the forehead!! Mistaken for an ugly old Easterling!

On the other hand, though, Fion didn't like being left alone, either. He had in fact harbored secret fears that the others would leave him behind if he wasn't well enough to ride tomorrow morning. Certainly, the fate of Bregoware was more important than the well-being of one young man, and the message to the King couldn't wait. But he didn't want to be stuck here, in the skeleton of the old village...

"That's.... fine," Fion grunted to the woman, his eyes glued to the ground. There was a sound of rustling fabric as she sat down next to him. An uncomfortable silence settled beween them for a moment, and Fion finally broke down and tried to start a conversation.

"You're from Wulfham, then?" he asked in a monotone voice, swishing the tea around in the cup. There was a pause from the woman, and Fion almost thought she had left him. Then he looked up, and saw her staring at the cloud of smoke at the horizon. Why was-- Oh...

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he said quickly, realizing his mistake. "I didn't know... I'm so sorry!" He stared back at the ground. He felt awful; all this time he had been complaining about his forehead, where this woman had lost her entire village and said nary a thing.

She looked sad, but shook her head.

"It's all right," she said. She looked as though she was about to say something else, but then she seemed to push the idea aside and instead asked, "How old are you, Fion?"

Fion assumed that the conversation topic had been changed for a reason, so he didn't press her any further.

"Seventeen," he replied truthfully. Normally he would have lied a little and rounded upwards, but somehow he felt like he should just be honest this time. "I'll be eighteen come spring-time. And you?"

[Folwren]

The question was a simple starter for conversation, and Athwen sighed inwardly as she consciously kept tears from coming to her eyes. She looked up and glanced towards the horizon, biting her tongue for fear of saying anything and not being able to finish. She was aware of Fion glancing up at her and before she could quite get a hold on her feelings, he guessed the answer to his own question.

‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ She looked back at him quickly. ‘I didn’t know. . .I’m so sorry!’ Athwen tried to smile, she really did, but she couldn’t. Instead she just shook her head.

‘It’s alright,’ she told him gently. He looked back at her. Something else had to be brought up. The easiest thing that came she used. ‘How old are you, Fion?’ It was partly out of curiosity, that much was true. She hadn’t asked anyone their age and she had begun to wonder if she was so much younger than the others as she had first thought.

‘Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen come spring-time. You?’

‘Just turned sixteen,’ Athwen admitted. She leaned back on her hands and considered him. ‘You look older than seventeen. My - I mean, a friend of mine from back there was seventeen.’ A short pause. ‘I’m really sorry about what happened to you,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if anyone’s made any proper apologies, but we were all very frightened when we thought Easterlings were coming. You can imagine what we thought when Incana and Vaenosa came galloping back to camp saying they’d seen two riders who might be enemies. We were too hasty and clumsy to look before we shot, though, I guess,’ she said, lowering her eyes. ‘It could have been worse, though, you know. At least it wasn’t an arrow.’

Now that was clumsy. Her eyebrows went up in surprise at her own words and she didn’t look back up at him. Apologizing was one thing, explanation and making mild excuses for the actions was, too, but saying that ‘it could have been worse’ and therefore assuming that he ‘shouldn’t take it so hard’ was absolutely another thing.

‘You have every right, no doubt, to be rather put out,’ she hastened to say. ‘But you will forgive us, I hope.’

[Undómë]

Meghan


Meghan drew Ash to a halt a few paces away from where the young woman sat. She did not wish to crowd her or seem menacing in the least. Ash turned a little sideways, as if to give the woman’s gelding a better view of her fine form, a move which Meghan found rather funny.

She laughed at the horse’s antics, and then excused herself saying, ‘Silly girl! She’s showing off for no reason!’ Meghan eyed the woman, wondering how it was she was out riding alone and weaponless, it seemed. Did she not know what had happened to the village so few miles away?

‘My name is Meghan,’ she said. ‘And this is Ash.’ She pointed her thumb over her shoulder to where she'd left the other three. ‘Those are some others from my village – Bregoware. Nearly two days ride north of here and a days ride on the other side of the river.’ She watched the woman to see what she might make of their village being across the river, outside the bounds proper of Rohan. ‘We’re loyal to the King in Edoras – his people, that’s how we think of ourselves,’ she hastily put in.

Meghan looked beyond the woman, far in the direction in which she’d seen her riding. ‘Two of our group had gone ahead to scout the land for us. Two men. They have not come back . . .’ She shivered, remembering the dead she seen in the funeral pyre. ‘We saw the village just back there and feared they might be dead at the hands of Orcs as were those poor people.’

A frown creased her brow. ‘But the Orcs must be gone, yes? For you to ride so boldly, alone and unarmed. That is a good sign.’ Meghan smiled and relaxed hoping to hear good news as she asked her question. ‘Have you by any chance seen them? The two men?’

---------------

Rædwald


Alarmed at first by her galloping away, Rædwald turned his horse from Sythric and Eostre and went after her. The woman in the distance did not seem threatening and she had turned back toward Meghan when she’d been hailed. He slowed his mount, seeing that no Orcs or armed men rose from the grasses to bring Meghan down as she passed through.

He’d put his lance back in its holder at the side of his saddle and rode with both hands on the reins, easing his own horse several paces back from where Meghan’s had stopped. He’d heard the last of her telling where they’d come from and the whole of her question to the young woman.

‘Rædwald here, mistress,’ he said in pleasant tone. ‘Meghan’s uncle-of-sorts.’ He ignored Meghan’s snort at this phrasing of their relationship. ‘We would be most grateful if you have seen our other friends and can tell us where they’ve gone.’

He sat at ease, hands on his thighs, as he regarded her. And what was one so young as this doing out here by herself and weaponless? he wondered. Was she battle-dazed, from that village perhaps . . . and not in her right mind?

‘Can we escort you back to your people, mistress?’ he asked in a kindly voice. ‘Somewhere more safe for you?’

[Folwren]

Folwren's post

The woman introduced herself and offered the information of where she came from quite openly. Athwen looked beyond her when she mentioned her companions and her heart skipped a beat. She must have been blind, or completely unobservant, not to have seen that the woman had companions! Too late now. She looked back at Meghan who continued to talk.

Athwen quickly got her thoughts together and her hand brushed her face unconsciously, searching for any stray tears that might still be there. There were none, thankfully, and she listened fully to Meghan. The two men they had ambushed and treated so roughly were part of this group, they had gone on ahead while the four here were in her village.

' But the orcs must be gone, yes? For you to ride so boldy, alone and unarmed. That is a good sign. Have you by any chance seen them? The two men?'

Athwen paused with slight embarassment. Yes, indeed she had seen the two men, but not in the particularly circumstances that she would like to explain. She was saved momentarily as one of Meghan's companions approached and spoke to her.

'Rædwald here, mistress,' he said, introducing himself. 'Meghan's uncle-of-sorts.' Athwen kept her eyes on the newcomer, though her quick ears caught some small sound from Meghan at the introduction that she really didn't understand. She blinked twice and waited for him to continue. 'We would be most grateful if you have seen our other friends and can tell us where they've gone. . .' a short pause, but still Athwen didn't speak, unsure if he was going to say something further. Something in his face said he wasn't finished, and in a moment, after he had seemed to consider her face carefully as though trying to see beyond it into her mind, he spoke again, and this time in a softer and gentler tone of voice, as though coaxing an animal. 'Can we escort you back to your people, mistress? Somewhere more safe for you?'

Athwen smiled a sad smile and bowed her head slightly before she replied. 'No,' she said. 'That you can not do, but I can give you news of your missing companions. I hope you won't take it wrong, but we. . .that is, they were. . .well.' Awkwardly embarrassing. She felt the blood rising to her pale face. 'We ambushed them,' she finally said, forgetting that they didn't know who 'we' were. 'We thought they were forerunners, or something, of a big group of Easterlings. Don't be alarmed though,' she added hastily as both Meghan's and Rædwald's eyebrows went up at her confession. 'They weren't hurt. . .I mean, they weren't damaged. . .too much. One of them was knocked out, that's all, and the other Brand netted and he managed to get across to us that he wasn't an Easterling, and so they let him out. But I don't know about your other companion. He got hit pretty hard on the head with Incana's rock and wasn't awake when I left.'

She stopped suddenly and bit her lip. Clearly her words weren't doing a very good job of convincing them that their companions weren't hurt too bad. Of course, she couldn't help but wonder what her mother would think if one of her brother's had gotten knocked out by some flying rock. She'd probably faint, or something. Athwen pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and tried to think of what to say that would help the two of them believe that they hadn't hurt the two men too much. A thought popped into her mind and before she considered to think if it was a good or bad idea, she said it. 'Do you want to come back with me? They're still at our camp, I imagine. Won't be leaving for a little while. You'll see - they weren't hurt too much. And we wouldn't have ambushed them at all if we had known they were loyal to the king,' she added, thinking it might help to say so. 'We just didn't know. Will you come back with me?'

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Undómë's post

Meghan


'We ambushed them.’

Meghan’s mouth dropped open as the woman fumbled to explain herself. Surely they did not think they were Orcs! Athwen’s further words concerning Osmod and Fion did little to comfort Meghan. Athwen and her companions had thought them Easterlings!

She conjured up how Osmod and Fion had looked the last time she’d seen them. They’d not been out in the rough that long, she thought, that they had begun to look outlandish and wild. But they were on this side of the river now, in the lands of the Mark proper where she’d never been before. Perhaps those who lived here were more sophisticated in their appearances and expectations.

Some assurance came as the woman continued, saying they had not been harmed and that the misunderstanding seemed to be untangled and on the road to being set right. And anyway, Athwen did not seem in the least antagonistic or of the devious sort. She seemed open and engaging despite the sorrow which hung behind her eyes. In other circumstances, Meghan thought, they might have counted themselves as friends once they’d gotten to know each other.

And what was Rædwald thinking about all this? His face had take on a serious look as the woman had spoken. Was he thinking to ride back for Sythric and Eostre. A battle plan already forming in his mind to rescue the two men. Meghan nudged her horse near his and placed her hand over his clenched one as it lay on his thigh.

With a bright smile, meant she hoped to allay his displeasure at Athwen’s description of the incident, she spoke in a light tone to him, saying, ‘Thanks be to those that watch over us! They are not hurt! I’m just thinking they’ll want to know we’re alright, too. Don’t you think so?’

Without waiting for him to answer, she turned back to Athwen, smiling at her also. ‘Yes, please. Take us to where they are, won’t you. The sooner we’re back together, the sooner we can be on our way.’

She turned to Rædwald for a brief moment and saw in the distance that Sythric and Eostre were drawing near. ‘Go back and let them know what we’re doing, why don’t you?’ she urged him. ‘Athwen and I can start off at a slow pace . . . you’ll catch up to us in no time.’

[Farael]

The man, Brand, had said that they had been the ones to look after the bodies of the dead villagers. He also said that someone would see to Fion but that had not happened yet. In any case, Osmod decided that a cup of tea would be a good idea and helped himself to some. These people seemed to be civilized enough, but he did not feel trusting towards them just yet. The dull ache on his chest was a good reminder that, for all he knew, these men and women were still possible enemies.

The ache on his chest. He had hurt himself while pulling the barge across the river and only made it worse while tossing and struggling to free himself of the net. Caught like a fish he had been, and he was lucky not to be dead like a caught fish as well. Shaking his head he crouched next to Fion and tried to give him some of the tea. Osmod was already feeling its effect and he thought it would be good for his friend.

He carefully put his arm around the man’s shoulders and propped him up so that he would not choke on the concoction. Then Osmod carefully let a few drops of the tea make their way down Fion’s tongue. His friend seemed to awaken almost immediately, although the first hint at consciousness was a low, growl-like complaint. Then he opened his eyes, but was unable to see clearly. "Osmod? Its... It's an ambush!" He pushed Osmod aside then, before the man had had a chance to calm his friend down. Fion was panicking, as he tried to run away, failed and then attempted a crawl. At last, he asked at the group of people that had gathered around him "Who... Who are you? . . . Where is Osmod? What have you done to my friend?"

Osmod smiled at the others, trying to reassure them –and himself- that it would be alright. Then he motioned for them to give him some space to calm his friend down. He walked slowly towards Fion, trying his best not to startle him, and crouched by his side. ”Fion, it’s me, Osmod.” He started, looking at the others pleadingly for more space. ”We were attacked by men, who say to be loyal to Théoden King. They say it was an accident, and I believe them from now. There is not much we can do in any case, they outnumber us. Try to calm yourself down, we are safe for the time being but remember; if they ask about our other companions… well, it is better we keep that information for ourselves” He looked at the riders from Wulfham who were glancing at him anxiously yet far enough to be out of hearing range. ”I will help you back close to the fire. They say one of them is a healer and for Eorl the young I shall see that he heals you.” He motioned for Leod to come over and help him support Fion as they walked towards the bedroll next to the fire. ”Rest now, my friend, soon you will be feeling much better. It sure is a blessing to see you awake already.”

[Folwren]

Athwen looked from the woman to the man when she finished. The 'Uncle-of-sorts' didn't appear too pleased by her rather unclear description of the ambush and she dropped her eyes rather guiltily from his face as he continued to sit in grim silence. Meghan appeared to hear her story with more lenience and accepted her invitation to come to the camp ahead of the rest of her group. Athwen lifted her gaze again to the woman's face and a small smile came to her face. She didn't like being mistrusted, and though she understood why Rædwald might doubt her tale and believe that their misunderstanding was indeed real, she was thankful that Meghan was at least willing to trust her a little bit on the matter.

'Athwen and I can start off at a slow pace. . .you'll catch up to us in no time,' she said.

Athwen turned her large, blue eyes towards Rædwald, wondering what he would have to say to that idea. He wasn't looking too enthusiastic about it, and she could hardly blame him for feeling a little doubtful. Once again, she dropped her gaze. She didn't like feeling guilty when the crime in question wasn't her fault.

But Meghan, not caring what Rædwald thought of her idea, immediately urged her horse forward towards Athwen. Athwen lifted her head again, cast one last rather anxious glance towards Rædwald, and then turned Parith's head about and started riding back towards camp once again. Meghan rode by her side and they went at a walking pace.

For a little while there was a silence between the two of them. Athwen didn't know quite what to say. She wasn't even sure exactly why Meghan had agreed to accompany her back alone. 'Are you-' she began, but then stopped. What to say? 'Where were you from again? You mentioned across the river. . .you mean from outside the border, didn't you? Not that it matters too much,' Athwen added rather absently. She had never been one to care one way or the other in such matters and she didn't pay attention to such politics. 'What are you on this side of the river for? It's a long way from your home town, isn't it?'