Treachery of Men RPG

[Folwren]

The boy-elf wept bitterly. Uldor had carried no conception of the relative youth of Tathren until this moment, as he knelt above his fallen master. He understood his strange emotions even less than he understood the language in which Tathren addressed him by eventually.

“I am not leaving him,” he finally told the men standing around. “I did not stay with him and he died. I will not leave him now.”

Uldor stepped forward, and opened his mouth, about to ask ‘Will your remaining with him change anything now?’, but respect for the dead and the obvious grief for him kept him quiet. Instead, he changed his words to, “Very well. Two of the servants will stay with you. We will return and send a wain to bear him back in.”

Without waiting for any sign or answer, Uldor strode away.

What did this mean? Who killed him? Why was he killed? This could ruin all of his plans. What could he do now? What word could he send back to Lord Caranthir? What to the Great Lord Morgoth?

His fist clenched viciously at his side. This was a nasty turn of events for him and he knew it very well indeed.

“Ulfast, lord Lachrandir has been killed,” Uldor snapped when he reached his horse. He jerked the reins out of his squire’s hands and mounted impatiently. “We must return home at once.”

“How was he killed?” Ulfast questioned.

“How the blazes am I to know?” Uldor snarled. He glared at his brother, before turning his horse about to face his attendants. Two of them he told to go and stay with Tathren and the fallen elf. The rest he informed abruptly that the hunt was over and they were returning to the settlement.

[Mithalwen]

Tathren watched Ulfast for a moment as he went back the way they had come. For a while he would be alone with his master. He surveyed the Lachrandir's body, a distorted tangle of limbs, head cast back at an unnatural angle giving full view of the wounds on his neck. It was unbearable to see him thus. The image would ever after be vivid in his mind but he did not immediately register that the posture was one of someone who had fallen to the ground from a height rather than his own feet. Not yet capable of rational thought, Tathren followed some instinct to restore some of the the elf lord's dignity.

He gently manoeuvred the corpse so it lay straight, folded Lachrandir's long. slender hands on his breast so they rested on the Star of Feanor. He folded his cloak and placed it under Lachrandir's head.

Feeling the warmth fade from the emissary's body caused tears to rise again in the boy's eyes. He wiped his face with his sleeve and then remembered he had a clean kerchief in his pocket, an ignored token of his mother's solicitude. He refolded the dark blue cloth on the diagonal and tucked into the neck of Lachrandir's tunic it served to conceal his wounds.

Tathren stood and was satisfied with the result. He might almost be asleep he thought, save that there is no life in his eyes. It had not occured to the elf to close them.

He heard movement behind him and turned expecting to see the servants Uldor had promised. They were approaching but were preceded by Lachrandir's great grey stallion. Tathren did not know whether he had sought his master or just the company of the colt but neither beast had recoiled or fled and flanked the boy as he stood at the elf lord's feet. The young elf acknowledged the servant's arrival with a nod but did not speak and whether through respect or fear they dared not disturb his silent vigil with question or condolence.

[littlemanpoet]

“Ulfast, lord Lachrandir has been killed,” Uldor snapped as he mounted. “We must return home at once.”

That familiar hardening twinged in his gut in response to Uldor acting as if he had the right to command him. But Ulfast had a question.

"How was he killed?"

"How in blazes am I to know?" Uldor had asnwered hotly, and gave orders here and there as if Ulfast did not exist.

"Uldor, dear brother, you have no right to order my men about in my presence. Tell me what you want to do and I'll order my men."

Uldor favored him with a disgusted look and rode ahead.

Ulfast cursed. This was not going well. With each day it seemed that Uldor took a firmer grip of command, threatening to leave him as an afterthought. Ulfast cursed some more. He would regret it! He thought that he had the right to rule from father Ulfang, but Ulfast knew better. He and Jord had had words, close words, and he had been assured that Lord Morgoth looked upon him as the more favorable next lord of the Ulfings. The Great One had suggested that there would be rich reward in lands much greater and finer than these rough woods where they now lived. And he had hinted that this Jord would be his queen to own and give greater legitimacy to his claim as overlord of all Men in Beleriand. All he had to do was bide his time, and give command to his men in battle to turn against the arrogant Elves, and Morgoth and Jord would see to it that Uldor was taken out of the way and all the reward would go to him.

Where was Jord? Ulfast wanted to see her again. His mouth went dry and he licked his lips. He kicked his mount harder, urging it back to the hall.

[Gwathagor]

Jord stepped out of her room and shut the door behind her quietly. Then, with surprising quickness and lightness of foot, she glided down the flight of stairs leading to the main floor of the hall, and paused briefly at the bottom. She listened for a moment to reassure herself that her return had indeed been unnoticed, and then stalked out into the main hall. There, among the many-shadowed pillars near the great front doors she waited still and silent, unnoticed by the soldiers and villagers who intermittently passed through, going about their daily tasks.

Uldor and Ulfast would soon be back from their little hunt. Boyish games, she thought. Childish shows of power. Power! To kill a dumb animal! Ha! Jord laughed long and low. All their days were spent grappling for power, (like jackdaws after bits of broken glass, she thought) and yet they knew nothing of the thing they sought. Not as she knew it.

She would wait for them there, to speak with them when they returned from their hunt-game. There were new developments; the time was nearing. With her power restored to her, Jord felt that she could hasten the end of her labor in that petty, wretched little sty.

The great doors swung open suddenly with a long drawn out moan of rusty hinges, and Uldor strode in, followed closely by Ulfast and the hunting party. Ulfing guards held the heavy doors until all had entered, then shut them with a boom. Jord noticed that even once they were inside, the guards remained unusually close by the two princes, and whispered among themselves, casting furtive glances into the shadows. Extra torches were lit and placed in wall sockets, and guards were posted near all the doors. Something had them worried, and Jord knew full well that she was responsible. Let them worry! she thought. She had no desire to kill either Uldor or Ulfast. Not yet, anyway.

Jord stepped forward into the torch-light. Ulfast saw her first, and stopped where he stood, staring at her dumbly. She tilted her head and smiled slightly, then beckoned him over.

[littlemanpoet]

Ulfast glanced surreptitiously at his older brother, who had just noticed Jord also. Had he seen that little tilt of the head, that single finger beckoning? He gave no sign. But it would be untoward to talk to Jord in front of all these guards and his own brother. He gave one nod of his head and glanced meaningfully toward his private room, hoping she would understand.

Anydor, Uldor's chief guard, and Clegga, his own, vied with each other to give news of the captive who had been imprisoned for treason. The man called himself Thorn. Did Uldor and Ulfast want him brought out for questioning now?

Uldor was ready to question the prisoner right away.

Ulfast said, "First, brother, I would get out of this bloodstained tunic and eat and drink, for I am famished. I see blood on you as well. What say you? The prisoner can moulder another hour."

[Nogrod]

The two paused after they reached the peak of the hill. It was only then they realised they had been climbing slowly all the time as they ran. They were both panting heavily.

Embla looked at Fastarr questioningly and still frightened. Fastarr set his arm on her shoulder and nodded trying to look as comforting he could. "No... we're safe now... for a while." He glanced backwards and then continued his breath still heavy. "It's gone, it flew away...somewhere... And they're gone as well... They rode to the town. I heard them."

"Look! It's the elves!" Embla hissed suddenly pointing downwards.

In the distance below them they saw a wain pulled by two horses carrying Lacharandir's body and the other elf was riding slow behind him. Two men at arms were escorting them.

They followed them with their eyes until they disappeared behind a ridge.

"Do you think we should have tried to get the message to him?" Fastarr asked a bit confused nodding to the direction where they had gone.

Embla was silent for a moment still staring to where they had disappeared but then turned her head and met Fastarr's gaze. "No... he wouldn't have believed us... I'm afraid he wouldn't have even listened to us..." She frowned but still tried to brave a smile. "What a twisted world we live in..." she sighed and sat down.

Fastarr sat down beside her. They eyed each other feeling uncertain. They both knew they would have to make decisions but neither dared to open on the subject.

Finally Fastarr broke the silence.

"There's a war brewing and Borrim villages should be warned... and your village…and I should join the fight..." he almost whispered.

Embla looked at the man.

"Didn't Khandr already sent one of you to warn people? And how would you join the fight without a horse to get you there in time?"

Fastarr didn't answer. A light smile spread over Embla's face as he looked at the man trying to avoid the obvious discussion. And she decided to pre-empt it for good.

"And Thorn is not anymore within our reach either..." she added softly. "He's alone in that town of treachery and if he will be saved it's not his or our doing but that of the Song. And all the others we know are away already."

She laid her hand on Fastarr's and pressed it gently. "It's about what we will do now Fastarr. It's about us now. We can't do anything here or anywhere... don't you see it? There's nothing for either of us anywhere, but..."

Fastarr lifted his face and looked at the woman she had fallen in love with holding his hand and begging for him to say what he needed to say. There were tears forming in his eyes when he finally managed to open his mouth.

He put his other hand over Embla's hand holding his and pressed it firmly looking at her eyes through the tears already running.

"I love you Embla." he said silently. "I'm a failed retainer and bodyguard... and I have killed a man... but if you..."

"Of course I will you dolt!" Embla laughed and threw herself on him wrapping her arms around him. She moved her face close to his ear and whispered softly "I know that the men of your village are quite slow and simple but you must be a special one in that regard..."

Fastarr wasn't sure whether he should have taken that as a pun or as flattery. But he didn't care now. He took hold of her pulling her tight to his body. Their faces met just a few inches away from each other and their eyes were fixed. He felt her breath on his lips and opened his mouth slightly leaning an inch forwards. Their noses touched each other softly. His hand was shaking lightly as he gently stroked her hair.

"Would you love me forever?" Embla whispered her lips touching Fastarr's slightly. "Would you?"

*~*

Embla awoke to the sound of someone approaching. She turned quickly around grasping for Fastarr but he was not there beside her.

"I'm here and we're ready to go!" Fastarr said dropping the sack to the ground and kneeling down to kiss her.

"You shouldn't scare me like that... And what is that sack anyway?" Embla protested leaning away from the man.

Fastarr glanced back at the sack and smiled. "Oh, that?" He stole a kiss from her before continuing. "There's a smoked leg of a lamb, some dried meat, a few loafs of bread, a small cask of wine... hmm... were there something else? Some dried fruit, a few cabbages..."

"Now where did you get that... and where have you been? Leaving me in the first night just like that..." Embla tried to look irritated but failed as her smile shone through her eyes.

"Let's say I visited a farmer and... well I didn't dare to wake him up for such a minor bussiness" Fastarr flashed a smile and tried to steal another kiss.

Embla withdrew from him her eyes slightly startled. "You mean you stole it?"

Fastarr laughed now openly. "No. Good heavens no! I left some coins to his storeroom... I was quite generous as I had my payday just a few days ago."

"You men..." Embla sighed but then the laughter took her as well.

*~*

They walked away from the vicinity of the Ulfing town that morning after a generous breakfast and disappeared into the woods never to be seen or heard again around that part of the Middle-Earth.

Whatever happened to them is not told in this story.