Outracing the Flames RPG

[Undómë]

She only allowed herself a short space of time to rest. And she dared not close her eyes lest the entire night pass away. Leod had asked her to watch over his charges while he was away . . . and that she would do.

Meghan drew back her blankets and sat up. She hadn’t bothered to take off her boots and now she swung her legs out from under the covers and leveraged herself up to a standing position. Her back bone ached and she cricked her neck and flexed her spine, grimacing as the bones creaked reluctantly back to a more suitable position.

Reaching up to where her hair was fastened at the nape of her neck with a leather tie, she unbound it, and let it hang loose. It was dirty and tangled and she could barely comb her fingers through it. With an effort she managed to corral it all back from her face and to separate it into three thick strands. Her fingers flew quickly along their lengths, knitting them together into a braid.

‘’Twill have to do,’ she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. She would give anything for a long hot soak in the tub and buckets and buckets of hot water to wash her hair. Oh for some of her mother’s rose-oil soap and a thick bristled brush to scrub the layers of grime from limb and head.

Meghan shook off these indulgent thoughts, chiding herself for dawdling away her time with such selfish concerns. ‘Grab the bucket, girl!’ she told herself. ‘And get some fresh, cool water for your charges.

She nodded at Athwen, at the perimeter of the camp, as she passed by. Meghan held up her empty bucket, giving the indication that she would fill it and return directly . . .

[Tevildo]

Leod had intended to go no more than a quarter mile away from the encampment. He had the benefit of a full moon as well as the lighted torch he carried. He expected to find his supplies quickly and return to camp within the hour. Yet, after meticulously searching the surrounding forest floor, he had reluctantly concluded that the herbs and lichens he required were nowhere in sight.

The healer wanted and needed to return to his companions. What if Sythric or Brand took a turn for the worse? Leod would never forgive himself if anything should happen to them while he was away. At the same time, he remained acutely aware that he was nearly out of certain potions and herbs, remedies that were essential for treating wounds that had festered. Since he had used up the remainder of his honey paste, Leod felt he had no choice but to continue searching.

Earlier that day, just before they had turned from the trail to reach camp, Leod had noticed a winding spring that veered off the pathway and spilled down towards the south. Its damp banks would surely be a place where moss and lichen would thrive, and he would find his needed supplies. Even better, with the spring to guide him, he could not possibly get lost. The healer promised himself that, whatever happened, he would not go more than a few miles away and would hurry back within the space of two hours. Meghan was a responsible lass and would surely forgive him for her loss of sleep and would continue to keep watch over their injured companions.

Once he'd reached the stream, Leod was able to move quickly along its banks. A little more than two miles south, he discovered several large and rotting trees fallen to the ground that had moss and lichen growing on the exterior of their trunks as well as on the rocky ground beneath. The healer bent over to scoop up several handfuls and stuffed these securely inside his satchel. By now, his torch had completely extinguished, and he tossed it aside after dowsing the last sparks in the stream. Happy to have found the needed medications, and confident that he could find his way back by simply following the waterway, Leod stood up and began walking again, anxious to get back to camp to check on Sythric and Brand. He took no more than a few steps when a loop of rope came gently curling through the air and encircled his head and shoulders, tugging him towards the ground. Leod struggled to find a firm footing on the muddy bank but with no success. He toppled to the ground, hitting his head against the tree trunk and immediately fell unconscious. The sack he carried was immediately wrenched from his grasp, slipped into the water, and, carried along by the gentle current, was soon swept out of sight.

[Child of the 7th Age]

"What think you? Who is he? Is he friend or foe?" The leader of the group queried, as he paced nervously from one side of the camp to the other. Haekánoion had finally agreed to stop for a few hours. They had eaten a quick meal and spent most of their time questioning the prisoner to find out why he was slinking around on his own in the middle of the night. The unnamed man had finally collapsed and was now sleeping in a huddled ball not far from where they were talking.


"I can not tell," Airerogion responded, with a confused look written across his face. "We grilled him for two hours until he was too tired to stand upright any longer. You heard what he said. He claims to be alone, making his way to Edoras where he has kinfolk and friends. He says he is a healer and that he was out looking for herbs to replenish his supplies. But I see no bag or herbs such as a healer might carry. Perhaps he is telling the truth, but he could just as easily be a spy, someone sent out to inspect the lay of the countryside and report on poor travellers who would make a good target for a band of brigands."

"I fear you are right. It makes no sense for anyone to be slinking through the woods in the middle of the night."

The eldest in the party, a woman with soft grey eyes and long black hair streaked with silver that was tied back from her face, smiled gently, "You mean the way we were slinking about ourselves in the dark? Hard times make choices difficult and some folk act in ways they normally do not."

There was an uncomfortable silence around the circle as each Elf took in the meaning of Nevtaliel's words. This description came perilously close to their own situation. It was not their custom to lasso strangers with a rope, to press them with a hundred different questions, or to raise up their swords in a threatening gesture. Elves may prefer to tread their own path but they normally do no harm to strangers.

Nihil shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "But what could we do? We must reach Rivendell and tell Elrond what we have seen before we depart these shores. Yet every step of the path, we are confronted by robbers or, even worse, by troops of Orcs and men from the East."

"Of one thing we can be sure," Nihil added, "this is no man from the East and no Orc." Several of the others nervously tittered, remembering with some embarassment that, in the dark, they had initially mistaken the stranger for an Easterling lord. His simple words and homespun garb had quickly proved them wrong.

Haekánoion glanced over at the silver haired woman who sat quietly by herself. "You have more to say, Nevtaliel. I can see it in your eyes."

"That I do," she affirmed. "What band of brigands sends out a member to spy who bears only a stave and a knive? Surely even brigands have the sense to arm their spy with a sword or an axe or a bow. And what spy is so inept that he stumbles into our path in the middle of a clearing, making no attempt to hide in the bushes? No, this man was deeply engrossed in something, either what he was doing or thinking. That doesn't sound like a spy."

"One other thing," she added. "I think you are right....that he is lying about something. But he is telling the truth about one important thing. This man is a healer. I questioned him about a number of herbs and simple remedies, and he knew his craft inside out. Indeed, I would say that he is not only a healer, but one of the better ones I have spoken to among the younger sons."

"Are you sure?" pressed Haekánoion. "That he is a healer."

"How could I not be sure? I have spent two ages learning my craft. I can certainly tell when I am speaking with another healer."

"That settles it then. I can not murder a healer armed with only a stave, even if he belongs to a band of brigands. We will take him with us, bound on horseback for a day or two, and then let him loose when we are far north and west from here..... That way he can do no damage."