The Lingering Darkness Fan-fiction

[Everdawn]

“Right, the horses” muttered Avanill after Rauthain. It was the first time he had thought about his own horse which he had left in Bree, and for the first time in his life he wished he had Amathalay there with him, still the elves had offered their services and a horse of the elves would in no doubt work harder, be faster and stronger than his mother’s old horse. His mother… Avanill paused on the path to the stables intent on fulfilling Rauthain’s request. He had completely forgotten that he would have to tell her about this. He swore under his breath and grinned nervously. “Just think” he said “Its self preservation also.”

Being around the ranger’s quarters that day had unnerved Avanill, which anyone who knew him would say that that was near impossible because he wore a frown for quite some time. He now knew what part he had to play in all of this. And anyone would have thought this enough to settle any man uncertain of his fete, but not Avanill. Sure, all he had to do was hit Naiore with a dart, but getting within the vicinity would be hard enough, not to mention shielding himself from her mind games.

Wandering thoughtfully to the stables a thought struck him. He knew a potion which would cloud the mind to an almost waking dream. If he could find some way to dilute it he may be able to inject her himself. “Damn!” he cried out loud, scaring one of the horses. He realised that his satchel was still with the other rangers. “Thankyou for making this easy for me.” He said sarcastically upwards as if talking to the roof. As if in answer a lantern fell from the roof narrowly missing the young man who had jumped out of the way to avoid being hit, he landed lightly upon the hay but it was what rolled out of a pocket that surprised him the most.

Rolling away from him in the hay were two tiny phials, both light blue in colour. Avanill’s face lit up. He looked at a horse who had peered its head over its stall. “I hadn’t even thought of that one” he admitted picking himself up, grinning. “That one will come in handy.”

Once he had all horses saddled he took them in turn to the front of the rangers quarters where he had prepared his own belongings and sat down on the steps and waited.

[Nerindel]

Vanwe

In another room in the house two elves packed in solemn silence, all that had needed to be said had been said, concerns aired, fears confronted until father and daughter had come to a solemn understanding. Vanwe emptied the contents of the pouch that Lespheria had returned to her onto the bed, lifting the crumpled notes scrawled in her hand she read over them sombrely, a silent anger spread over her as she saw the depth of her denial in the words she herself had written, so long ago it now seemed but a distant memory, a fleeting fantasy! Screwing up the notes she tossed them defiantly onto the cold black coals of the unlit fire and then turning back her deep blue eyes fell on the dark twisted leather, that served as a reminder of what lay behind. Golden strands of fine elven hair had become caught up in the leather braiding, the hair of her mother that Hanasian had given her, the irony struck her as she picked it up and held it delicately in her hands. It had been Naiore who had abandoned her , the Harad camp a prison of her mothers design were she could be left and forgotten. Closing her hand around the twisted leather she felt her fathers concerned gaze on her, putting the truth of her past back into her pouch, with the little copper she possessed she turned and smiled in his direction, but his gaze had already dropped. Fastening her pack and tying her pouch securely to the elven belt she now wore, she walked up and laid a comforting hand on her fathers shoulder.

“It will be ok,” she whispered softly.

“You can’t possibly know that, You do not know her as I do!” Menecin replied after a moments silence, turning, his eyes studied her gravely, “I do not know if I can protect you?” he admitted regretfully.

Vanwe nodded smiling sympathetically. “I know the danger we face, but you do understand why we must go, don’t you?” She asked looking up at him.

Menecin nodded and took his daughter into his arms “We need this to end!” he whispered, affectionately kissing the top of her head. Vanwe remain in the warmth of her fathers embrace comforted and secure like a small child for several moments before gently pulling away.

“I’m so glad I found you,” she whispered as she turned and reached for her pack, her father smiled down on her but a small glimmer of fear and sadness still shone in his eyes as he too took up his pack and adjusted his weapons. Vanwe slipped the small knife into her belt then they were both ready to leave.

They met Léspheria in the hallway and together the three elves made their way to the stables, where Léspheria was relieved to see her white mare had found her way safely into the care of the elven stable masters, Amandur’s dark charger was also there stabled in the next stall. Léspheria then spoke quietly with one of the elven stablemen who quickly left, returning a short while later with two more horses fully tacked and then handing the reigns to the two stunned elves he turned back to speak with Léspheria. Vanwe with her fathers help fastened her pack to the saddle of the grey mare she had been given, it was a beautiful creature and reminded her of devrion and the horses back at the inn, wondering sadly if she would ever see them again she adjusting the stirrups on the saddle and looked up to see Léspheria approach leading a white mare and a dark and noble looking charger that she recognised as Amandur’s mount.

“We will wait here for the others they should not be long,” Léspheria said as she loosely hitched both horses to a nearby post. Vanwe nodded as she stroked the long face of her mare, while Menecin watched intently the sway of the trees in the forest beyond.

[Nerindel]

Dúlrain

As the trail steadily became clearer Dúlrain realised that at least Rauthain was not far ahead of him, he was just bending to examine the trail again when he heard the familiar voice of the older ranger ahead, abandoning the prints he quickened his pace in the direction of the sound, hoping, no praying that all his fears were miss placed and Benia and Kaldir were safe with the older ranger!

Kaldir sword drawn was the first sight that greeted him as he stepped into the clearing. Instinctively believing danger to be near he let go of Dir’s reigns and drew his own weapon. Giving a cursory glance around the clearing to determine were the perceived danger lay his eyes fell on the still body behind his brothers feet a greying head slowly turned to one side and Rauthain’s grey eyes stared blankly out at him in silent warning that was lost on the unsuspecting ranger. Stepping back apace in horror Dúlrain again let his eyes search the clearing for signs of the rangers attackers.

“What happened, where is ….” he began, stopping in disbelief as his eyes fell on the blood soaked hands and sleeves of his brother, raising his sword defensively he stepped back apace.

“What has happened here?” he asked refusing to believe what his eyes were clearly showing him.

Kaldir did not respond instead he advanced with lightning quick steps, shocked by his brothers sudden attack he barely managed to bring his sword up in time to fend of the decisive blow of Kaldir‘s sword,

“What are you doing! Why are you doing this?” he questioned pushing off the attack and quickly side stepping to avoid the next, but still Kaldir did not respond.

Defending blow after blow he desperately tried to get through to his brother, to understand what was going on. The ringing of their weapons echoed through the forest. Their swords again locked and as they push heavily against each other, their eyes met and Dúlrain gasped in silent horror, his bothers cold empty icy eyes stared back at him devoid of all emotion or recognition.

“She was here!” He strained through gritted teeth, “And she has Benia!” he concluding knowing that she would be the only reason that his brother would give in to this enemy, a great sorrow and sadness swept over him, but still Kaldir said nothing, the battle the only thing driving him and in that instant Dúlrain knew that his brother was lost.

“Noooooooo!” he screamed finally pushing off the press of Kaldir’s attack. He stepped back, but the person that was once his brother would give him no respite and came at him again, this time though Dúlrain did not just parry the blow meant to kill him as he had been doing up until now, he took the offensive and pressed his attacker back. Kaldir was gone but Dúlrain was determined that Naiore Dannan would not have what was left to use as her mindless puppet, even if it meant severing those strings himself! With bitter irony he realised that this was the very thing that Rauthain had been trying to warn and prepare him for before, but he would not hear it and now it was too late for the older ranger.

As the battle ensued Dúlrain came to realise that although Kaldir was gone his fighting prowess had been left intact, his careful feigns time and time again repelled by the one person with the knowledge to do so, again and again he was forced to defend as the empty shell of his brother countered with precise precision. Anyone else would have been finished by now but Dúlrain knew his brother, their fighting style was one in the same only Kaldir’s years as a bounty hunter utilising more unorthodox techniques gave him the upper hand.

As Kaldir again gained the advantage and brought his sword down to bear, Dúlrain quickly raised his sword to defend realising too late the feign, expecting a dagger he turned to avoid the cutting blow, but instead received a boot to his now exposed, already wounded side.

“That’s new!” he gasped in shock as he stumbled backwards, dropping to one knee as the sharp pain shot through his side. Forcefully biting back the pain he raised his sword to met the downward thrust of his attacker. Knocking it wide he quickly rose, stepped back to gain his bearings. He now leaned heavily, his sword raised he knew he would have to end this soon or he would not survive to save his brother from Naiore’s grasp. Kaldir was the better fighter he had always known this, but he could not leave his brother this way! Straining against the pain he surged forward, but unhindered Kaldir easily avoided the desperate strike and their sword clashed again.

“Please, brother fight her, you did it before, you can do it again! You are stronger than this!” He cried in a futilely desperate attempt to reach some part of the man that was his friend and brother. Pulling away again, he caught out of the corner of his eye the flash of Kaldir’s sword raised to deliver a killing blow that he realise he would not be able to counter in time, in that instant knowing that death was upon him he turned and swung with all his strength, if he was to die he would take his brother with him!

“Forgive me!” He screamed through tears as his blade cut deep into Kaldir exposed side, Rib bones crunched under the force and Dúlrain pulled sharply upwards as he drew the sword from his brothers body. Realising instantly that Kaldir had not delivered his blow, he looked up, to his abject horror he saw the flash of recognition in his brothers eyes, he had hesitated!

“Oh Eru!” Dúlrain gasped his sword slipping from his shaken hands, “What have I done?”

As Kaldir slumped forward Dúlrain dropped to his knees to catch him then lowering him to the ground he futilely attempted to staunch the flow of blood pouring from the deadly wound, the wound he had delivered. As the warm life giving blood of his brother soaked his hands he could not help but think that Naiore had in some way won two victories this day, even if she herself did not realise it.

“I am sorry brother it seems that I am destined to fail you always!” he wept in despair, realising that his efforts to stop the flow of blood was useless. He stared in horror and disgust at his own blood soaked hands unable to bring himself to look at his brother for fear of what he might see.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Rauthain

Rauthain’s body stiffened with pain at the blow, and he looked questioningly at Kaldir for a moment before his legs gave way and he collapsed heavily where he had stood. Another surge soon claimed his full attention as he lay awkwardly there. The grimace was brief, cut short, for it left in its wake a calm stillness that he had never known. No longer concerned with the Ravennor or Kaldir, or indeed with any of the workings of Middle-earth, but having a vague notion that in being so wronged, his own guilt equaled, it was receding from him. So satisfied, he felt no anger toward Kaldir, but rather a great relief that over shadowed his thready perplexity.

Truly he had lent the gloom dominating his existence a goodly part of their bulk. And as his life now subsided the shadows also fled from him, driven out by thoughts of those brightest moments of his life, of son and wife.

Opening his eyes, the ranger became aware that a haze had descended upon him and heard too a loud drone in his ears. He imagined his son to be before him in the mist, and turning his head, remembered with sudden clarity that some danger was nearby. At last he recognized the dim outline was Dúlrain. But now, growing confused, he lay on sodden ground with overwhelming pain trying to move. And groaning he thought himself struck down by a pool at Raven Falls, his hand trailing in the strangely warm waters, as the mist of the falls thickly gathered round. All that could be heard was the imagined roar of the river as it plunged down over steep rock, and the sound of clashing steel close by. Closing his eyes again, he found that his grasp on life grew weak, and he willed himself to remember his wife receiving him home, as she had may times after long separation. There with his son at her side. He longed to catch them in his arms, but found strangely he could no longer lift them. A thick veil closed in about him and felt as if he were now floating on the surface of the Mitheithel, the rushing water stilled into utter silence, quieted along with the breath of his body.


************************************************** ***************

Gilly

Truly, what had she been thinking? This whole mess was her fault, once you got down to it. If only she had gone with Benia she wouldn’t be running down this path to deliver a message and three people wouldn’t have had to gone off to search for her friend. But of course Benia would have strayed from the garden! It had been days since her friend had allowed herself the freedom of the outdoors. If only she had accompanied her, she could have talked a little sense into Benia, kept her from anything rash. But now after many slow hours had passed, she had to let Amandur know what was keeping Dúlrain, before she fell to pieces, as she felt she would. Tears were not far off.

Quickly drawing up to the rangers’ quarters, she saw sitting on the steps that the same tan and dark haired man who had been in their company a few days earlier as they left the battlefield. He nodded to her, and she nodded in return, but approaching the steps, she did not stop to greet him as would have been proper. She felt too pressed for time. Instead, she mounted the first step with determination, and swinging his knee around to make way, he watched her in silence as she passed by, to knock on the door behind him.

“Who you looking for?” came a voice at her back. Gilly turned around to meet the deep blue gaze leveled at her, and thought to herself that it may not be wise to say too much to this stranger. She still hadn’t the presence of mind to sift her words. “If it is Amandur your after, he’s not here, nor Rauthain.” He lifted his chin toward two saddled horses waiting close by. “I am expecting them myself at any time, though I can’t say when they might show up.”

“You are going with them then?” Gilly ventured timidly, looking at the horses.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he said standing up, to tower over the hobbit. “When ever Kaldir and Rauthain return.”

“Why, where have they gone?” Gilly asked, shrewdly trying to gauge just how much this fellow knew.

“Rauthain had said he was off to find Kaldir. And Kaldir? Well the old man said he was looking for your Miss Nightshade,” Avanill said dusting himself off.

“I see. Then you know as much as I, and they have not returned yet,” the hobbit said, relieved at least to find that Rauthain trusted this man, leastways enough to tell him such things, and an idea began forming in her head. Let these rangers, these men, look for her friend if they will. But she would not stand idly by. She could not. She had come too far, all three of them had for that matter. Hadn’t she found her friend when she disappeared from the Forsaken Inn? She could not longer fret alone doing nothing but tatting in her anxiety, and trusting Benia’s safety to others.

“Sir,” she said her eyes beginning to glisten from the worry that weighed down her heart, spurring her decision. “I’ve been given an important message from Mr. Dúlrain to tell Mr. Amandur. It is urgent, mind you, but truly, I have no time to lose here. Would you be willing to help me and give it to him for me?”

“I don’t see why not,” he replied. “But as I said, I expect him soon.”

“Unfortunately, I hadn’t figured out just what needs doing until just now, and have dawdled too long. It can’t afford a moment’s delay,” Gilly said. “And not knowing you, still you see, I feel forced to trust you. But if you’ve been raised to have any sort of honor of all, you’ll see Mr. Amandur gets this message.”

“I don’t know that honor has anything to do with messages,” Avanill said, sitting down once more. “But let’s have it then.”

“Thank you Sir! I can’t tell you how much it means to me! Tell him that Mr. Dúlrain has gone after Miss Benia and the others. And that he said not to wait for them, but that they will catch up and join him, just as soon as they can.”

“Is that it?” Avanill asked the hobbit, who biting her lower lip, gave him many a rapid, shallow nod. “Then I will tell Amandur as soon as I see him,” the man said. “Easy enough.”

“Many thanks,” Gilly said, her voice wavering as she hurried down the stairs. “You have no idea how much help this is!” And without waiting for his response, she jogged up the path, tears rolling down her face the moment her back was turned. Passing through the garden once more, she was on her way back to the guests’ quarters to fetch her sword, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around she saw through blurry eyes, that Toby stood holding out a handkerchief to her.

“Mrs. Banks!” he was saying. “What could have happened to you, to make you weep so. I thought it near impossible to be gloomy or depressed in a place like this.”

“So the stories say,” Gilly said sniffing, and gratefully taking the handkerchief, she dabbed her eyes. “But it is not Imladris that has brought me to tears, but my own stupidity and Miss Benia’s continued ill-fortune. It seems even in such a lovely place as this she must still be haunted by trouble. It is just not right that she can’t ever find a moment of real peace.”

“Then have you had an argument?” Toby asked.

“No, no. It is just that she has gone missing, when, had I been a better friend, I should have been with her. And now Mr. Kaldir, Mr. Rauthain and Mr. Dúlrain have all gone off to find her and none have come back yet. I am so worried. It was near noon when Mr. Kaldir left. I don’t know what has happened, though I can think of any number of horrible things. But I do know that something is terribly, terribly wrong! And I am off to find her myself, once I get my sword and hers.”

“Alone? You can’t do that Mrs. Banks. There are foul things around, maybe even close to where we stand. Why don’t we alert the elves? They know this place better then anyone.”

“You are right, Mr. Longholes, I’m sure they do. And it’s not as though they haven’t been extra vigilant these passed few days. But you know that if something’s to be done right, you must do it yourself. And I will not fritter away anymore time, I’ve thrown too much away already.” She paused, seeing that Toby looked unconvinced, “Of course, you are free to tell them if you’d like.”

“You can’t do this, Mrs. Banks! After all you aren’t a ranger, or an elf!”

“I’ll thank you not to tell me what I can or can not do, Mr. Longholes! My feet can be just as quiet as yours, and I can track as well, too. I’ve learned a few things on this journey, and for all his eccentricities Kaldir has been a very good teacher. But don’t hinder me now, I must be off,” Gilly said picking up her skirts to climb the steps back into the building.

But Toby followed behind, trying to reason with her. He knew what might lie in wait. “If these men have gone off and not returned, how can you believe your efforts might go any better?”

“I don’t know that they would, only that I must try!” Gilly said. “But please do go away and stop plaguing me. I won’t change my mind, you know! Shoo!”

“But I can’t let you go alone, like this. And if I cannot talk you out of it, well then, I will just have go with you, though I would rather not. Frankly, you are in no state to be traveling, and your crying alone is bound to get you discovered!”

“Suit yourself Mr. Longholes,” Gilly gave in, hoping that Toby would change his mind. “And I promise to stop crying if you promise to stop lecturing.”

“Agreed.”

"Then we are off," Gilly said, handing Toby Dulrain's companion sword as she swung Benia's weapon over her shoulder once more.

[Ealasaide]

Kaldir

As he fell to the ground, Kaldir struggled to breathe. The blow that Dúlrain had struck with his sword had broken two or three of Kaldir’s ribs, ripped through the muscle of his chest wall and pierced his lung. As Kaldir slumped forward, Dúlrain caught him and lowered him the rest of the way to ground, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood from Kaldir’s side with his hands.

“I am sorry, brother, it seems that I am destined to fail you always!” wept Dúlrain in abject despair.

Scarcely hearing him, Kaldir pushed the other man’s hands away from him and, curling his body around his pain, tried to force himself upward upon his knees. Dúlrain had not failed him. Kaldir had let him strike the killing blow. His own sword raised to finish the younger man, Kaldir had hesitated as a shred of memory caught upon the jagged edge of his mind like a gossamer handkerchief upon a thornbush. Dúlrain. At one time, he had called this man friend, even brother. The one who lay dead behind him was Rauthain, another friend, murdered in the name of that treacherous bitch, Naiore. Kaldir knew that he must be stopped before he could finish even one more heinous act, but unable to free himself completely from Naiore’s thrall, did the one thing that he knew would be effective. He had hesitated and left his side unprotected. Dúlrain had done his part with lethal accuracy.

Unable to rise, Kaldir lurched forward, his scarred face landing in the soft earth of the forest floor. With blood filling his wounded lung, his breath had already begun to gurgle in his chest. He had not much time.

“Murdered,” he growled, falling heavily on to his side. He coughed, spraying the ground with a fine crimson mist.

“Yes, I have murdered you, my brother,” groaned Dúlrain, again trying to do what he could to stop the rush of blood from Kaldir’s side. “Forgive me, I - “

Hearing him this time, Kaldir reached out and closed Dúlrain’s wrist in a still powerful grip.

“No!” he said fiercely. A thin trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. “I...murdered Rauthain. Would have...murdered you. This - “ he tightened his grip “- this is my peace. No murder. Peace.” For the last time, he fixed his pale blue eyes on Dúlrain’s, searching for a sign that his brother understood. Seeing at last a dawning comprehension enter the other man’s face, Kaldir closed his eyes. Already the pain had begun to recede and blackness begun to creep inward from the corners of his mind. He coughed again, sending another fine mist of crimson blood into the sparkling air. Somewhere in the darkness, he could hear a woman singing like a nightengale, in a Haradrim dialect, a song of warm desert winds and shifting sands. He could see her gentle face before him, her kohl-lined eyes, shining like gems... had he managed to save her? He couldn’t recall. He had tried. Remembering something, Kaldir released Dúlrain’s wrist and dug something out of his pocket. He tried to press it into Dúlrain’s hand, but found that his muscles no longer obeyed him. His fingers refused to open.

“Find her,” he whispered. “Save her. They go.”

Summoning a final deep breath, he murmured, “Gladden Fields.” And with that final breath, the pain that had haunted him for so many years departed Kaldir at last. The peace that he had been denied so completely since that fateful day when he had fallen into the hands of Sauron’s minions at Raven Falls descended over him, not so much like a shroud as like a woman’s silken veil, lowered over him with love. And forgiveness.


************

Barrold Ferny

Three times, Barrold Ferny started down the path toward the hidden entrance to Imladris and three times turned back, each time grumbling to himself and kicking at stones. The first time, he got nearly to the place where the path declined steeply downward into the vale. Then, remembering the value of the mithril book covers he had left in his open pack back in the camp along the ridge, he went back. Shouldering his pack, he started again along the path that the bounty hunter had taken. This time, he only made it a short distance before deciding that the pack was too heavy and cumbersome. If he did end up having to finish Kaldir himself, he didn't want to be burdened with the extra weight. Kaldir had always been dangerous with a sword in his hand, but after what Naiore had done to him, Ferny trusted him even less than before.

Thinking back on the cold, empty eyes of the bounty hunter and the thin trickle of blood that had dripped persistently from his nose when Naiore had finished with him, Barrold felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"Spooky," he muttered. "That's what that was. Right dead spooky..." With a nervous glance around him, he took off the pack again and hid it under a pile of brush. With his sword drawn, Ferny started for the third time back along the trail toward Imladris. Again, he paused where the trail took a steep downward turn.

This time, he was greeted not by silence but by the sound of clashing swords echoing up from the forest below. Then, abruptly, the sound of fighting stopped. By Ferny's guess, someone had just died, but whether it was an elf or Naiore's bounty hunter, he could not say. He hoped it was Kaldir. If so, it would save him a good bit of trouble. Maybe he'd just assume that it was. Of course, if he was wrong and Kaldir turned up again later on, Naiore would have his hide. But by then, Ferny argued against himself, he planned to be long gone and, if Naiore wanted to skin him, she would have to find him first.

"Wot about 'im," spat Ferny in disgust, mocking himself. Why did he have to go and open his big mouth back there in the camp with Naiore? Of course, the Ravenner was right. The bounty hunter was a dead man or as good as one. There was no way he was coming back, so why wait? It would be just another useless delay. Ferny turned his head and spat at a beetle crawling in the dust by his foot. If he had just been smart and kept his mouth shut, he would have been miles away from this place by now. The beautiful southern woman would be his to do with as he pleased, and that evil elf would be on her own. After what he had witnessed Naiore do to the bounty hunter, Ferny's only real ambition was to put as much landscape between himself and the Ravenner as possible. Finally, he decided he would not wait any longer. As far as he was concerned, the bounty hunter was dead. Sheathing his sword, Barrold Ferny turned and jogged back to the campsite where he had left his pack and the bounty hunter's gray horse.

Shouldering his pack for the second time that afternoon, Ferny eyed the gray stallion. He looked fast, that one, and could probably fetch a pretty penny on the black market.

"I'll just take off and head west," he said to the horse. "Go back to Bree and make my gold off o' yer smelly gray hide. Forget 'er and 'er big promises." He spat at the ground, having no desire to hurry himself to rejoin Naiore, yet not wanting to hang about Imladris any longer either. The place would soon be crawling with Elven tracking parties. He had nearly convinced himself to flee back into the west on his own when he thought again of the bounty hunter's frighteningly empty eyes. Naiore would not be a good enemy to have lurking about out there. He might be able to slide by with a little white lie about the bounty hunter's death, but to desert or betray her outright? Thinking hard, he reached up and scratched his head, catching a stray louse, which he pinched absently between his nails. There was also the matter of the southern woman to consider. He pictured the smooth silkiness of her skin and the shine of her long, black braid. She had been promised to him, and, by garn, he wanted his chance to unloose that braid and roll around for awhile in the glossy veil of her hair. While she certainly wasn't no elf, she was definitely good enough for Barrold Ferny.

"Wonder if she can cook..." he mused, his mind made up at last. If she couldn't cook, he figured that a few well-placed kicks would teach her soon enough. She'd learn.

Thinking these happy thoughts, Ferny went to mount the gray horse and get on his way. Unfortunately, he had reckoned without the animal's ill temper. No sooner did Ferny get into range than the horse, with lightning swiftness, shot out a huge, ironclad hoof. It caught Ferny squarely on the hip and sent him sprawling. With a litany of curses flying, Ferny picked himself up and, momentarily forgetting the value of the horse, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. The horse whinnied and shook his head as though hugely pleased with himself. Barrold Ferny growled deep in his throat, but let loose of the sword. If he killed the horse, he would never catch up to Naiore. Cautiously, he edged his way around to the side of the gray stallion and pulled himself awkwardly into the saddle. The hip where he had been kicked throbbed mercilessly. Angrily, he gave the horse a solid kick in the ribs and flicked the reins. Instead of going, the gray stallion simply turned his head and eyed the man suspiciously, baring his large, square teeth. Ferny bared his teeth right back.

"I don't know what he called you," he snarled. "But I'll call you Dead if you...don't...GO!" He finished by landing a stronger more vicious kick into the animal's ribs. This time, the horse trotted obediantly forward and Barrold Ferny was on his way. Urging the gray stallion into an easy gallop, Ferny made his way southward to rendezvous with Naiore Dannan and to collect his reward.

[Nerindel]

Amandur

Amandur gazed again at the map laid out on the large oak table before him. After leaving Rauthain he quickly packed his things and headed for the library. Already he had determined that the passage south, west of the misty mountains was closed to the Revennor with both Rohan and Gondor watching for her passage and her diversion in the blue mountains would now be foiled and the Soldiers of Annúminas returning via the Shires borders would prevent her heading north.

“So were then would you go?" he whispered contemplatively, tracing his finger over the mountain pass, would she risk going so far east as to enter Eryn Lasgalen? No! he thought with a shake of his head. The Elven king would have heard of the attack on Rivendell and would be watching his borders closely, no that way is also closed to her. He smirked at the irony. “So what will it be north or south?” he pondered aloud, To go north would mean passing between the eyries of the eagles and the Carrock, but no one now knew weather either were still inhabited, but would she take the risk? He considered. We could skirt the mountains and cut her off at the Rushdown, he carefully contrived.

“And south?” he mused aloud, his finger following the course of the Anduin and stopping were the river Ninglor joined its course. “The Gladden!” He mused, their was something…. Stopping mid thought he abandoned the map and rummaged round a number of leather bound tomes that were piled beside his feet, finding an very dusty black leather bound journal, he put it on the table and dust rose into the air making him cough, but as the dust settled he opened the book skimming through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

October 1st SA 3434

We set camp on the banks of the River Nanglor, in the gladden fields.


Something or someone watches our passage, shrouded in an inky darkness. Elrond tells me he senses great anger and malevolence, but as yet all attempts to capture this creature have fail. It seems to know our plans before we even set them in motion. It moves leaving little evidence of its passage, If I did not know better I would think an elf trailed us! But the creature whatever it is must be caught be for it can pass what it has seen to its foul master!

October 2nd

The mornings scouts were attack, several good elves and at least a handful of Elendil’s men were lost. It was our shadow, those who escaped are stricken with some kind of madness and babble incoherently of a dark horror shrouded in beauty and darkness. I quicken our pace, but news of this horror spreads through the ranks and Elendil’s men dishearten. I double our efforts to capture this creature and prove that it is just flesh and blood and can be killed.

October 3rd

Another scouting party is lost as we leave the cursed lands of the Loeg Ningloran (Gladden fields), But the identity of our shadow has been discovered and it is more terrible than I could have realised! Our shadow is indeed an elf and a lady of my own court, one of the scouts a sentry of my house managed to mutter her name in my ear before passing on to death. I have said nothing of this to the others, the alliance is too important and is needed if we are to overthrow Sauron and his armies of Barad-dûr. The name of Naiore Dannan will not be allowed to poison this alliance with fear and doubt, no that secret for now I will keep to myself.

Gil-Galad.

“So it will end were it began!” Amandur mused dryly as he closed the journal, and turned his attention back to the map, strategically plotting how best to move against his fugitive. Totally unaware of the unhappy set of circumstances besieging his rangers.

The hour bell rang for the third time and finally realising the passage of time he cursed, quickly gathering up the map and ran with much haste through the corridors of the last homely house and down the path to the rangers quarters. He stopped short seeing the slight form of Avanill pacing back and forth in silent contemplation, a troubled frown fixed heavily upon his brow.

“Hail there Avanill, did I not say to Rauthain that we were to meet at the stables?” he queried, cocking his head to take measure of the young mans concern.

[Everdawn]

The thought passed in Avanill’s mind to infact load the other rangers bags onto the horses to save time for when the other rangers came back seeing as they were behind already. And he himself was not fanatical at the though of waiting, especially when he knew that each minute they were left waiting, was another minute of preparation Naiore may have to anticipate their coming.

It was only when he had begun to stack Amandur’s things upon his horse that he noticed an article which was very familiar to him, so familiar infact that it came to his realisation that it belonged to him. It was his satchel that the rangers had taken off him when they had first come across him. He sighed deeply before sitting on the ground examining it. He sat for a small while thinking over in his head the correct plan of action. He now had his weapons (as such) back within his reach, would he taken them back or leave them in the hands of the rangers? The question was trust. He knew that the rangers trusted him enough to let him wander alone, and keep his own weapons, but obviously not enough that they would give him back these particular effects. They had been right, Avanill thought, to keep them from him, afterall would he trust him in their position? Surely not.

But what if they did not trust him at all to administer the potion to Naiore? If he didn’t have his things at the right moment they could all be in dire straights. No, in order for him to be able to work successfully the young man needed his potions and powders by his side in case Naiore struck at an awkward moment.

As if a light bulb went on inside his head, Avanill realised a solution. He didn’t have to take back his whole stash, he only needed a little bit, and with what he already had he would now need to take even less. That way the rangers would be able to keep the satchel and not know if anything had gone missing. He flipped it open and began to search for that which he would need, the darts and the base ingredience, he could culture them on the road, he knew that. In not time he had what he wanted and had replaced his satchel among Amandur’s things.

It was not long after that the older ranger came to the young man. “Hail there Avanill, did I not say to Rauthain that we were to meet at the stables?” he said. Avanill’s head snapped around.

“Well, yes, that was the original plan.” Admitted the young man. “But no one came, call me impatient, so I decided id get the horses up here so we don’t have to carry our baggage too far.” He shrugged, handing Amandur the reigns of his horse.

“There was another thing, Mrs Banks…” Avanill stopped to remember exactly what it was that she had said and Amandur waited in anticipation.

“She said that Dúlrain has gone after Benia and the others. She also said that he said for us not to wait, but rather to continue and the others will catch up. Now heres my predicament, do we leave their horses? I suppose that’s the right thing to do after all, so they can infact find us again. I just hope they can…” Avanill began to stare into the distance once more.

“I just hope that we don’t run into her on our own.” He added.