Nine for Mortal Men, Doomed to Die (Pontiff X Shiva)

[Shiva the Cat]

The sun was just beginning to rise over the eastern plains of Khand, but already a lone figure was leisurely strolling over the gray-green heaths, bending down occasionally to gather small bunches of early autumn plants in the little hollows that sheltered them from the driving wind. Still, Morniel shivered at the biting gusts, and pulled her lavender cloak more closely around her tall, slender form. She and her friends had spent so much of the past summer beneath the blazing sun of the south she had almost forgotten what it was to be cold. But now the little company of Prince Silrith was headed north to his home in Rhûn, and if they made it there before the snow fell it would be a miracle.

Judging by the sky today though, they would be in for more pleasantly sunny weather, though the wind showed no signs of dying down. And in this part of the world, the wind always came from the east, across Hildorien from the distant sea beyond, or from the chilly northern forests and plains of Rhûn. As Morniel turned back south slightly to shield her white face, her deep violet eyes fell upon the distant black wall of the Ephel Dúath, and unpleasant as that sight was (how all four of their party had managed to cross those jagged passes with barely a scratch between them, she could never quite believe), it was still far better than what lay to the west.

Despite the growing light of the morning, the skies to the west of Khand were still black as night, here and there illuminated by ugly red flashes vomited forth by the earthen pustules that pockmarked the land. For to the west of Khand was Mordor, and in all the lands of Middle Earth that was one of the few places where Morniel, for all her long years of wandering, dared not tread (and barely dared to look upon at that).

The sooner we can get north of the Ered Lithui, the better the elf thought, finishing her gathering and heading back towards the small ring of hills where she and her companions had camped the previous night. As she approached she saw a small curl of smoke rising into the sky, and Morniel frowned slightly. Breakfast she could understand, but they had been trailed by a company of Variag mercenaries less than a week earlier, and she couldn't be sure they had given up the chase entirely. If there were any scouts still on their tail--any good scouts, at least--the fire would be a clear indicator that the travelers hadn't quite escaped Variag territory. That would be the last thing they needed now, horseless as the party was, with both the terrain and the changing weather to contend with between Khand and Rhûn. They were all good fighters (possibly with the exception of Morniel herself, who, to be fair, was a very good escaper), but four against a hundred would be quite the challenge.

When she returned to the camp, she saw the red-haired northwoman, Ida, seated beside the fire turning a spit with two skinned rabbits over the fire. Morniel's scold died on her lips at the heavenly smell as she sat down beside her friend. “Where did these come from?” she whispered, glancing towards their other companions who appeared to still be sleeping deeply on the far side of the fire.

“Set a couple snares las' night, just in case,” Ida whispered back. “Looks like we got lucky. Got anything there that might go wit' em?” She nodded her tangled head towards the bag in the elf's hands that held the morning's findings.

Morniel shook her head. “No, just some medicinal herbs and things. I did find some old chamomile though, would you care for a bit of tea? There's a spring a little ways north of here.”

“Nah, better not. Was thinking we should eat and be on our way. I don't like the look of them clouds over there.” She raised a gloved hand to the west, where the lingering shadow seemed to frown at them over the hills. “Is that the dark land you and Fjolnir was talkin' 'bout the other day? The place all them orcs come from?” At the mention of orcs, Ida's hazel eyes flashed with an animalistic rage, and the curved scar on her face seemed to darken with her regards.

“Hush,” the elf hissed, glancing around as though an enemy army might materialize out of thin air around them. “It's not good to speak of such things so close to these borders. But you're right, we shouldn't linger in this land any longer than we have to. Hopefully the men don't sleep too long.”

“Oh, I can handle that,” Ida replied, fresh mischief and a wicked little smile twisting her mouth. “Oy, you lazy loafers. Morniel says get yer asses up or you won't get any breakfast!” she all but shouted at them. Reaching down to the ground beside her, she picked up a handful of tiny pebbles, and began to flick them one by one at the forms of first Silrith, then Fjolnir.

“Hush!” Morniel repeated, somewhat worried that the northwoman's powerful voice might draw even more attention than the fire. But still she smiled at Ida's antics, even going so far as to flick a pebble of her own at the prince's back.

 

[Pontiff]

The Númenórean stirred slowly at the booming voice of the northern woman and then suddenly felt or rather heard something hit the warm, thick pelt of his fur cloak that he used to cover himself up for the night. "We should of left before the sun ever began to rise if I'm being honest." Fjolnir sat up rather easily and without much of the morning drowsiness as if he had already been awake for quite some time now. Indeed he had been awake but silently laying still enjoying the peaceful morning of the two women doing the work and hunting for once instead of relying on him--though any mention of said thought would surely get an ass chewing from Ida.

The westerner stretched his arms above his head slowly and popped his neck a few times and back. His sheathed sword laying on the ground right next to him. He grabbed the weapon off the ground as he stood up. The sheath was a part of his belt and he wrapped it around his waist like it was second nature to him and tightened the knot together letting the weapon rest at his left side. Picking the fur cloak up off the ground and giving it a good shake to get some of the dirt off of it he approached the small fire that Ida had prepared with breakfast cooking.

"You look cold Morniel." Fjolnir said as he passed by the two woman sitting by the campfire and he draped the fur cloak around her shoulders before continuing to pass by them. "I'm going to take a piss." He said before they could ask him where he was going.

The Prince was a bit slower to wake of course, being royalty and not a true explorer it was quite hard to get comfortable and use to sleeping on the cold hard ground and being able to actually sleep at night. He had packed blankets and items to sleep upon and give him comfort when he first started his exploration but they were all taken from him or lost in his adventures. At first he started off as a naive child who took everyone at their word but now he was quite 'battle tested' with this life of adventuring now.

"Easy with the rock throwing Ida." The Prince slurred through a half whisper of breath as he rolled over onto his side and pulled his cloak up and over his face and curled into a slight ball. He never truly got to sleep in when he was a kid. A misconceived conception that all royalty was lazy but oh how Silrith wished it was the case. Up early at dawn every day when he was younger to practice his swordsmanship, archery, lance and studies. Now that he was his own man and out in the big open world he thought it meant he could choose his hours but how wrong he was when he gathered this rag-tag crew he called friends.

"Just a couple more minutes alright?" He tried to plead as if he was speaking to his Mother. The Prince's scimitar laid close by in case of a night attack of some sort but he had faith in his friends to protect him if such a thing ever happened. Waking him up in hopes of him fighting--well that was just never going to be realistic.

Finally after enough prodding and rock throwing the Prince threw his cloak up in defeat and sat up with bags under his eyes. "First thing I do when I return home is to sleep for an eternity. I don't know how any of you can sleep on the cold ground like this." Silrith groaned and slowly got up from his resting spot and dredged his feet over to the campfire where he promptly sat down in front of the females and waited for Ida to serve him. Last time she was cooking over an open flame and he reached for a spit she almost ripped his arm off.

"I see sleeping beauty is finally awake. Is breakfast ready yet Ida?" The voice of Fjolnir came up from behind as he approached them. He took a seat next to his friends and companions, reaching for one of the two rabbits.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Ida narrowed her eyes as she saw Fjollnir rise to his feet far too easily for someone who had just roused out of slumber. "Lazy bastard," she muttered, turning her attention back to the roasting meat but still keeping one eye on the westerner. The man wasn't like those she had known growing up in the Vales of the Anduin. He was taller for one, though the more she traveled the woman had come to the conclusion that the people of the north were in fact rather short compared to those elsewhere. They were still taller than the dwarves though, and that was some comfort. Interestingly enough, as she watched Fjollnir approach the elf, the northwoman noticed, and not for the first time, that there was a similar air about them. Like different trees in the same forest, she thought.

Morniel blushed slightly as the Númenórean laid his heavy cloak on her shoulders, but she was grateful for the gesture all the same. "Thank you," she murmured, snuggling closer in the warm fur that smelt like the grass it had laid upon. Clearly Ida had heard something in the elf's voice, and as soon as Fjollnir was out of sight the woman raised a curved red brow. The blush on Morniel's cheeks deepened. "What?" she asked, but her friend only shook her head and got to her feet to remove the spit from its frame. "Ida, what are you giving me that look for?" the elf pressed, sensing the woman was trying to hide a grin as she turned her back to her.

Meanwhile the prince was reluctantly giving up his dreams, earning himself a none-too-gentle nudge in the back from one of Ida's buckskin boots. "Oh, aye, your mightiness," the northwoman replied in mock sweetness. "Shall I fetch some flowers for your bathwater in the meantime? And p'raps instead of eatin' roast coney for breakfast like the rest o' us commoners, you might like a fresh fish and sweet berry cakes?" She nudged him again, then turned back to the task of dividing up the rabbits. Still, she wasn't quite done rattling the prince just yet. While she might have distrusted and even feared Fjollnir somewhat (despite Morniel's obvious fondness for him), Silrith was another story. She had known boys like him her whole life, and even if their fathers weren't kings or mighty lords, they still tended to think themselves better than everyone else, either because they were stronger, handsomer, better hunters, or whatever other stupid reason might pop into their heads. Ida considered it her particular talent--nay, her duty--to relieve such gentlemen of their notions early and often.

"There's many in the wide world who manage just fine without featherbeds and embroidered coverlet, your majesty," she continued, "and there's some of us that even likes bein' out under the stars and breathin' good clean air, instead of shuttin' ourselves in grand houses, learnin' our curtsies and 'yes milords' and other such foolishness." Her knife cut violently through the roasted flesh of the rabbit as she plated a bit of the meat and passed it to Morniel.

The elf took very little of the rabbit (she never seemed to eat much, which was wonder considering how tireless she always seemed) before offering it to the prince. "Now now, let's not quarrel," she pleaded with the pair. "Prince Silrith did not choose to be a prince any more than you chose to be a huntress, Ida. It's not fair to fault him, especially considering how well he's proved himself over the past few months. I wouldn't mind sleeping in proper bed myself, if one were at hand." Turning her gaze fully on Silrith, she offered him a gentle smile. "I truly look forward to visiting your home, Your Grace," the elf remarked. "It has been far too long since I have laid eyes on the Sea of Rhûn. I only hope your family won't mind such a motley company as ours."

She glanced back towards Ida, and the recently returned Fjollnir, who was helping himself to the other rabbit as well as a pointed glare and stream of muttering in the northwoman's native tongue. After allowing the westerner to have the choicest cuts of the meat (as women were always taught to do among her people, annoying as it might be considering she was also the one who provided the meal), Ida took back the remainders and began to eat off of her knife alone.

"How much longer until we get to Rhûn anyways?" she asked between bites, looking at each of the three faces. She knew Morniel had traveled extensively in this part of the world, and she hoped Silrith would have at least some idea of how to get home. Fjollnir she wasn't sure about, but he had been a decent enough tracker so far, so she suspected he might know something about where they were and where they were headed. "In either case, it'd be nice if we could find some mounts to speed us along. Ain't there any villages between here and there where we might trade for a few horses? You got money, don't you?" she added, looking pointedly at Silrith.

 

[Pontiff]

"Thank you Morniel. I am glad someone understands that a royal upbringing isn't so easy--or fun for that matter." Ida may have a stigma towards nobility and 'highborns' from her race and how they perceive themselves to those that are considered lesser. He has given no such reason for her to feel as if he truly believed he thought he was above the crew that has been traveling with him for some time now. They had saved his life numerous of times and he was nothing but thankful but perhaps Ida was only jesting with him and his feelings and truly thought that maybe he was a good Prince.

With the return of Fjolnir, his only male companion that could sympathize with him on a gender basis. "Well don't look at me. I left my home to travel and learn about what is outside." The Prince replied when asked how much longer they had until arriving into Rhûn --partly due to the fact the Prince didn't know exactly where they were to begin with. If Ida handed him a map he couldn't tell her where they were let alone where his Kingdom was on the map.

Fjolnir reached for the dagger that he had concealed in his boot. A rather large hunting knife he used to start cutting the rabbit he had taken and into fine pieces to chew on while silently pondering as the three spoke and bickered among each other. Slowly cutting off a prime part of the rabbit with the tenderest meat and flavor he lifted his head up from his work to Ida. "Well. I would say at the current pace we are going it will be another couple of days, at least three, before we even reach the Rhûn border." Cutting through the rabbit he took the piece of meat he had just carved and reached over to Morniel with it.

"You need to eat, go on and take it." Fjolnir wasn't easy to argue with or disagree with even. Even with Ida's brashness and her cruel words and seemingly temperament to start a fight the Númenórean has always kept a level head and quietness about him when he spoke as if he was giving an order to soldiers that they had to obey.

"I'm here too you know, Fjolnir. Morniel says she doesn't need much to keep herself going but this armor isn't easy to lug around all day." The Prince spoke, trying to get Morniel to give over the piece she had just received from the westerner.

"That is your problem for coming so ill equipped. Wearing chainmail and metal is obviously heavier and more taxing on the body." Fjolnir's armor and clothing was made out of wool and leather. The vest he wore over his wool shirt was boiled and hardened as well as his vambraces and boots. The Prince on the other hand had brought some armor and clothing that was not suited for long travels--perhaps war but not traveling.

"I can't get rid of it all alright. I will not be defenseless if we are to be attacked!" The Prince had to sadly leave behind the breastplate, leggings and even his boots behind early in his travels because of the upkeep and toll they put on his body. He had kept the vambraces and chainmail, refusing to part with those items. "Armor is only good for so much. Your eyes are your true shield." Fjolnir responded before chewing on a piece of rabbit.

"Finish eating and let us be on our way. These lands are dangerous and the company we may find on the road ahead could be....sour." Fjolnir handed over the rest of the rabbit that he had been cutting from to the Prince who happily took what remained but was still disappointed he couldn't trade for Morniel's.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"I'm surprised his princeliness ain't rusted solid yet," Ida remarked rather cheerfully as she began to gather up the cooking and dining implements. Like Fjollnir, her own protection was primarily comprised of leather, although her bracers were reinforced with steel boning, and while the circlet across her brow might have led some to think she was some member of nobility, in truth it just served as extra protection for her skull. "Or that one o' them Harad bastards didn't catch him when we was south o' the mountains. You ain't much of a runner with all that extra weight, eh laddie?"

"I'll come help you wash up, Ida," Morniel cut in before the redhead could pick a fresh fight with the prince. She inclined her head towards the Númenórean. "Fjollnir, can you and Silrith two pack up the rest of our gear? We'll be ready to go as soon as we get back. We'll take your waterskins and fill too. If all goes well we should reach the Dúrduin within the next day or two, but we shouldn't be too careful."

"And then we can have a bath!" Ida sighed happily. Although she was far from vain, she had grown up on the banks of the Anduin and adored swimming and bathing in its waters.

"I doubt it. The waters of the black river are bitterly cold, and strange creatures dwell beneath its surface. But I've drank of its waters without consequence, so at the very least we'll be able to fill out skins. But we should hurry along," the elf urged, gathering up the waterskins and taking her friend by the wrist. They walked in silence to the little spring about five minutes from their campsite, but as they began to wash up the dishes and fill the waterskins, Morniel's gaze turned seriously on the northwoman.

"I wish you wouldn't antagonize the Prince. He hasn't done you any harm. Indeed, do you remember how he saved you from that spearman?"

The redhead sniffed as she roughly dried one of the metal plates. "I don't like them as puts themself above others on account of who they father is. That goes for kings, lords, and princes. If it weren't for you, and Fjollnir, and me, he'd not have lasted the summer. But I bet his mummy and daddy will welcome his return in his fancy house like a lost sheep brought back to the flock, and what of us then?"

Morniel laid a hand on her shoulder. Her friend's voice had grown extra bitter at the mention of Silrith's parents, and with no wonder: it might have been twelve years, but Ida still grieved her murdered parents and siblings every day. The idea that the prince might have a loving family along with all of this other privileges was too much for the woman to bear.

"Well when we get to Rhûn I'm sure you'll get your bath then, if not before," the elf replied. "And from there...we'll go where you like. Or at the very least, I will."

"And leave Fjollnir all alone? You heartless vixen," Ida grinned, causing a fresh blush on the elf's pale cheeks.

And so the two returned with the cleaned dishes, laughing and teasing one another but instantly going silent once in earshot of the men (although for the rest of the day the redhead would occasionally elbow the elf and whisper something about the tall westerner). Before putting on her own pack, Morniel gave Fjollnir back his cloak, thanking him again but not wanting to be burdened with such a heavy article of clothing as they walked. By the time they vacated their campsite, the sun had just risen completely over the eastern horizon.

As Morniel had expected, the day was sunny but also surprisingly warm, at least when the wind stopped blowing. There was no sign of the pursuing mercenaries as they made their way north across the plains. Indeed, there was no sign of anyone, at least until midafternoon.

The little group had come across a rise in the land, and while off in the distance they could indeed see the thin black line of the Dúrduin, only perhaps a mile or two away a vast collection of bright colored tents--red, orange, and yellow--had been arranged in neat circles. Voices and bells were carried on the wind, and the elf, who had the best vision of the party, tilted her head perplexedly. "They're women, and children," she remarked, turning back to her friends. "More Variags I think, they're fond of vivid colors like that, and the adults are wearing bells on their ankles and wrists. If their men are there I cannot see them, but there are a large number of horses stabled to the west. Do you think we ought to see if we might buy a few? I don't think they're tied to the mercenaries that were chasing us--the colors are different--and even if they are, Variags value gold above vengeance. If we can buy and leave quickly, we might escape trouble before they know what happened."

 

[Pontiff]

Silrith stayed silent as the two women left them and the camp alone for the men to do the packing and heavy lifting while they were off giggling like little fairies and speaking about who knows what. The Prince was a mortal just like them and had feelings, and his upbringing shouldn't change how he is perceived--especially in another foreign country with no royal insignia of such or emissary accompanying him. He was just another man out in the wilderness that could be slaughtered like anyone else and his noble upbringing would mean nothing in the grand scheme of it all. "Why do you think she hates me?" Silrith asked Fjolnir as he watched the westerner kick some dirt into the fire and put it out as he started to gather gear and belongings scattered among the ground.

"She envies you. You have things she didn't have. The Northern lands are not a pleasant place to be born. They are a hardy, close minded people but she will come around eventually." Fjolnir assured his new friend and placed a hand of his on the prince's shoulder and gave it a squeeze of reassurance like a father figure before going back to gathering gear.

"Well you have nothing to worry about. They both swoon over you anyways." Silrith replied rather childishly as if this was some sort of competition. Fjolnir was crouched over shoving items into one of the packs. He chuckled at his friends comment and closed the pack and placed it with the rest. They were all packed up and ready to leave now, they just had to wait for the women to return.

"Good friend. I don't think Ida swoons over me at all--perhaps over my swordplay and the way I fight she respects but I believe you are mistaken." He left Morniel out of the conversation. He wasn't a fool and could tell that there was something between the two of them but what could it be he would have to delve deeper and discover. Perhaps the Elf is just a blushing maiden that was easy to make squirm with simple gestures and speech. "Her ability to tolerate my presence compared to your own isn't swooning. Now quit pouting and let us think of the fun we will have once we get you home." Fjolnir tried to cheer his friend up but stopped once the women returned as if both parties quit their secret conversation.

They didn't waste a single second to leave once they had all gathered their belongings and set off. Walking may be hard on the Prince but he was starting to get use to it. For months he had walked and it wasn't as hard on him as it was in the beginning. Still, a horse would be better suited for long travel but also more to maintain. Morniel spoke about what she saw and what the possible plan was, and Silrith was too hasty to agree. "I concur with that idea Morniel. Horses would make this journey faster and give our feet some rest. I believe I have enough gold left to buy enough horses for all of us." Silrith reached for his pouch but Fjolnir swiped it off of his hip and opened the sack by dumping its contents into his free hand.

"This will only be enough for a horse...maybe two if we can barter." Fjolnir knew the value of a horse and that Silrith could afford more horses but the party was in a foreign land and meeting with complete strangers who are going to be wary of the adventuring party. They were armed and one of them looked rather mean and dangerous--Ida. Of course the party was in need of horses and the Variag's aren't horse merchants trying to get rid of what they have. So it wouldn't be so cut and dry that Silrith believes it to be.

"I know you come from a different land friend but trust me. These coins are valuable to all. I will get four easily, maybe even five!" Silrith laughed and took his money back. Fjolnir didn't bother arguing or explaining his reasoning, deciding that Silrith would have to learn about the real world first rather than listen to someone else explain it.

"We shall see." Fjolnir responded with calmly and almost with a small small curling on the corners of his lips.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Two horses will suffice, if they're strong," Morniel replied. "We haven't been carrying much with us as of late, and it looks like the steeds are large enough to carry two. But the wandering folk are not known to be generous traders. Even only two horses may cost us a great deal. I think it is still worthwhile to ask, although I don't know of all four of us should go. It may be best for a couple to watch from here in case of trouble. Fjollnir, would you mind taking Ida and seeing if they'd be willing to make a deal? I do not think it would be wise for the prince to venture into the camp with only single guard, and I can keep a clear lookout from this point."

"Beggin' your pardon lassie," Ida replied, glancing skeptically from the camp back to her friends. "While I don't mind doin' a bit o' horse tradin', I ain't very wise to the tongues of these easterners. Unless Longshanks here knows the language I don't expect we'll be able to do much negotiating. Wouldn't it be better if you went, Morniel?"

The elf hesitated. "Elves are...conspicuous, in this part of the world. And while the shadow beyond--" she gestured to the dark land in the west. "--may not hold sway entirely here, I would rather not be seen by those who occasionally ally with the Unnamed One. Please forgive me," she apologized, then smiled rather sheepishly. "Besides, my own Variag is rudimentary at best. But I do know Satip alw Jilqi does translate to something like 'buy horse'. That with the coin should get you something, either a horse or at least a declination."

"Fair enough," Ida replied, slipping off her pack and setting it at Morniel's feet. She did keep her quiver and bow slung across her back, and her two long knives still shone in the late afternoon sunshine on either side of her sturdy hips. "Well, might as well give it a try. If your graciousness would be so kind..." With a lightning-quick move of her hand she snatched the coin purse out of the prince's hand and grinned mischievously at him. "P'raps I'll see about gettin' meself a new gown while we're down there as well. I'll need to look pretty for his majesty's great house whenever we get to Rhûn."

"You will do no such thing," Morniel snapped. "If they will not sell, come back immediately. I'd rather we not remain here any longer than necessary, especially considering they do have horses, and we don't."

"Aye aye," the northwoman sighed, rolling her eyes and looking at the Númenórean. "Shall we be on our way then?"

 

[Pontiff]

Fjolnir was resting his hands on the pommel of his sword, feeling the cold steel of the bland pommel against his thinly wrapped hand as the three of them discussed it over about who should go down there. His eyes could not see as far as Morniel's could but he didn't like the fact that only women and children could be seen. Silrith was rather protesting when his purse was once again snatched away from him as if they were somehow entitled to his money. "It is my money and I should be the one to purchase these horses! Once they know who I am, they will happily sell at the proper price--" Silrith demanded his purse back from the brutish Northern woman who seemed to refuse him.

"Or they sell it for even more, more than we could afford." Fjolnir interrupted Silrith's little outburst and patted the Prince on the back to ease him even if only a bit. "My Varadja is rusty but I will give it a try." He answered, knowing a little bit of the dialect but to what extent he didn't exactly go into detail on. Shrugging past the Prince and Ida, the westerner started to walk down the hill towards the encampment of Variags.

"Hurry up!" He called back to Ida, knowing that she was probably livid that he began to leave without her as she was flirting with the Prince. While Silrith believed Ida truly disliked him and hated his lineage, Fjolnir found it quite amusing to see Ida always picking fights with the Prince. He dare not say that out loud unless he wanted to hear a strong northern accent screaming at the top of their lungs.

"I'm sure you will have questions when I'm speaking with them, but please do keep quiet. We don't want to think of us as hostiles in their camp." He was trying to say that Ida was rather loudmouth and came off as a brute and could intimidate the children and women, who may sound some kind of horn if the men are in a nearby area. That is if there are any men in the vicinity.

Silrith watched as the two of his party members ventured forth down the slope of the hill and towards the Variag encampment. "Wouldn't it be wise to go with them? What if we are to be attacked out here alone?" The Prince was full of pride and ego when speaking but he knew deep down that Ida and Fjolnir were the best fighters of the group and if they were to perhaps be chased down by some horsed mercenaries without his money purse then things could look rather dire for the both of them. He figured Morniel could see trouble coming from quite a distance away but just how would they alert Fjolnir and Ida down below in a camp? They would be tracked down by horses faster than they could run to the camp.

"I hope they just hurry up." Silrith grumbled and folded his arms rather childishly like he was put in timeout.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Morniel smiled almost affectionately at the prince. It was hard to see anyone but other elves as more than children when compared to her advanced age, but Ida and Silrith in particular always seemed to emphasize their youth in way that, while they could be exasperating at times, still amused her in quieter moments. "Please don't worry, Prince Silrith," the elf remarked, sitting on a rather large boulder at his feet that overlooked the camp. One of her long, pale hands patted the warm surface of the stone, inviting him to sit beside her. "Hopefully they won't be gone long. In the meantime, why don't you tell me more about your homeland? It's so long since I have been in Rhûn, and I've never ventured through the gates of your city. What's it like? And does the north shore of the sea still produce such delicious grapes and wines?"

Down below the hill, Ida frowned and hastened to catch up with the man's long stride. "Listen you, I ain't sure how you folks treat your women in the west, or the south, or wherever it is you come from. But in the north men don't order lassies around unless they want cold meat for supper." And a cold bed at night as the saying went, but the redhead wasn't about to make any insinuating advances towards the tall man. For one, Morniel had her eye on him, no matter how she might blush and deny it. And for another, the northwoman suspected that while Fjollnir only appeared to be a few years older than herself, sometimes the way he talked made her think he was a good deal older than that. And she wasn't so desperate for a man yet that she would throw herself at an old one, tall and handsome or no.

Eventually she did catch up with him, but she needed to step quickly to keep up with his long strides. "They'll not be likely to want to deal with us if we come stomping in like Old Man Death hisself, grumblin' and glowerin' like you are. And unless they're all fools, to the last of em--and I'm sure they ain't--they're likely to be mighty suspicious." Ida grinned brightly at him, but her eyes were still hard and a bit unfriendly. "See this, Longshanks?" she gestured at the raised corners of her mouth. "It's called a 'smile.' People make them to show others they don't mean harm. You might try it sometime. Maybe you'll even make a friend."

By now the pair had come close enough to the camp that the inhabitants began to notice them. A few of the women stepped back into the circles of tents, grabbing the staring children by the hands and dragging them out of sight. But the three or four women guarding the horses did not move, and while it appeared they had been gripping staves as they went about their work, it became clear as the man and woman approached that they were actually gripping long, vicious-looking polearms, and had lowered them defensively.

Despite Fjollnir's warning, Ida took a step towards the women. If the Númenórean had spoken to her so rudely, she couldn't expect him to address the Variags with any more politeness. With only a slight glance over her shoulders (a mixture of smugness and apology), the redhaired woman held up her hands to the women.

"Hullo there! Fine afternoon, ain't it?" she began, calling out in the common tongue in her loud, clear voice. Lowering one hand, she pointed towards the corralled mounts. "Them horses for sale? My man and I--" Ida pointed back to Fjollnir for reference. "--Had ours stolen by bandits some time back. Might we buy a couple of yours? Erm, satip al jilky?" Clearly she had not commemorated Morniel's language lesson to memory.

Although the women showed no sign of understanding her speech, they did lower their weapons somewhat, apparently not thinking the pair much of a threat. The closest one did keep hers in a ready pose, but the other three began to speak quickly to themselves in their harsh accents. Several times the word aigul came up, and after a few moments one of the women ventured into the heart of the camp. The remainders all suddenly approached Ida and Fjollnir, their polearms lowered and their kohl-lined eyes suddenly looking fiercely at them.

"Whoa now...we didn't mean no trouble..." Ida murmured, stepping back until she was beside the westerner. Damn...guess he was right...I'll never hear the end of it. Still, she looked up to the man for some silent sign of what to do, one hand hovering towards the hilt of her knife while the other was slowly moving towards her bow.

"You two," a low voice spoke up in their shared tongue. "What business do you have here?"

The speak was a middle-aged woman dressed all in black, although her silk gown and headscarf were heavily embroidered with gold. In her youth she must have been a beauty, and even now she carried herself like a queen as she stepped past the corral guards to stand in front of the travelers. She was unarmed, but also not alone. More women had appeared at the edge of the camp, all carrying similar polearms to the three guards, or else small black bows with short, sharp little arrows knocked and aimed at the man and woman.

"You are strangers in this land," the woman concluded. "Normally we would let you pass, but we are preparing for a sacred ceremony. Have you come to spy on us? Speak!" she demanded, looking at first one, then the other.

 

[Pontiff]

The brash northerner had done it again and he was quite annoyed about the powerful voice that stood beside him and addressed the ladies so casually as if they were to greet the travelers with open arms and pecks upon the cheek. A soft sigh escaping from between sealed lips and flared nostrils as Fjolnir quietly listened to Ida ruin any opportunity they may have of purchasing a horse and all for what? Because she had too much pride to keep her mouth shut and let him speak and was it because he was a male giving her that order? If Morniel had traveled with Ida would of stayed silent like she was asked.

"Why don't you ever listen." The westerner mumbled under his breath in a different dialect that Ida was surely unable to know. Unlike his current friend he didn't make any sudden moves as the guards stayed close to the invaders, keeping eyes upon them until an elderly woman approached and spoke common tongue. A great deal of relief as Fjolnir knew his limited speech in the Variag dialect would be too rubbish and rudimentary to explain the situation to the crowd that was ever growing.

"Let me be the first to apologize about our intrusion into your sacred land, and burdening our self upon you in the midst of preparations." Fjolnir started and spoke clearly and concisely to the Elder that stood before him. He bowed his head in greeting as he spoke before standing straight and with a relaxed posture as to show no harm to the Elder or her people. "We are humble travelers in search for a horse to hasten our journey out of your lands and to head north into Rhûn." Fjolnir was hoping that Ida would keep her mouth shut as he talked and worked them out of the situation she had caused.

"We are in a party with two more, camped above on the hill waiting for our return and in our company is a Prince of Rhûn, returning home from his travels." The Variags have had past relations with those of Rhûn -- some considering the two lands allies but Rhûn has always purchased Variag Mercenaries and held good relations with them. Fjolnir hoped that the news of a Prince would ease their worries and trouble enough to consider selling horses.

"I beg for your forgiveness for our abrupt and rude interruption on your ceremony." Fjolnir bowed his head once more, hoping that Ida would follow suit and do as he did to appease to those around him. If his apology was accepted then they may be able to salvage the situation and still leave with a horse or two.

Silrith couldn't tell what was happening down below but he could see that activity had shifted in the camp below and that a mass of bodies had moved inward towards the point of his friends entry. Feeling uneasy as he took a seat upon the rock -- Morniel didn't seem concerned with what she saw below so perhaps it was for the best that the Prince stayed silent and ease his mind with passing thoughts of his homeland.

"Yes." He answered the question about wine and grapes with a rather soft smile and small laugh as he thought about the very vineyard she spoke about. Fond memories of his childhood ran through his mind as he remembered the one time he and his siblings had stolen a bottle of wine from the Cellar when they were there on business. Father was furious that they would dishonor him and the family name with actions and had them work for that visit to repay the owner for their disobedience and childishness.

"My home. My Kingdom, lays in the western lands of Rhûn, closest to the sparkling sea." Foreigner's have given the name Sea of Rhûn but others inside of Rhûn had their own name for the sea. "I don't even know where to begin Morniel..." He said softly as if he was at a loss of words on just how to describe his own home.

"I remember playing in the grand halls with my brothers. The playing never lasted long because my Father always wanted us to be up early and ready to take on the day. We started with sword and spear training early in the morning and I was never any good with a spear. My brother must of killed me a thousand times if it was a real fight." Silrith began to ramble mostly now, speaking of faint memories that lingered still. "I was never allowed to give up. Always being told that if I gave up on one thing then what would stop me from giving up on something else?" He recollected some of his childhood memories and some of the upper city that he explored growing up.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

The Elder narrowed her eyes at the mention of others, and her gaze turned to the far off hill. While her sight wasn't quite as good as an elf's, she did think she saw something moving around up there. Looking back at the guards, she barked out a few sharp orders to the armed women and pointed to the direction Fjollnir had indicated. With almost mechanically unanimous nods of assent, the three guards, plus four more selected from the others that had appeared, raced towards the hill, their dark hair and bright scarves flying in the wind, and the bells tinkling ominously on their wrists and ankles.

Her hunting party dispatched, the Elder looked back at the pair in front of her. The remaining armed women quickly circled around them, easily outnumbering the pair nine times over. "Your apology is pretty enough, stranger, but it does not assure me to know there are others spying upon us. Especially not a Prince of the North, which has been no friend to the People of the Plains. Your friends will be captured and brought before me as the Headwoman of the GrassFlames, or if they are not..." The sound of shifting spears and tightening bowstrings surrounded the man and woman. "We will settle for your heads instead."

"I told you to smile, not tell them where the others are!" Ida hissed as she glared daggers at the man beside her. The rage quickly passed from her face however, and was replaced by a look of embarrassed penitence. "M'lady...Headwoman...I promise, this is a big misunderstanding. We really did come to buy horses. Look, we even have money!" Reaching to her belt, she held up Silrith's bag of gold and offered it to the Elder. "If this will buy two that'd be enough. It's true there's four of us all said and done, but we was worried that if we descended upon you like a flock of crows you might not be so willing to deal. But as this idiot man here said, if you don't mind parting with a couple we'd just as soon be outta your way."

At the sight of the purse the Headwoman's dark eyes suddenly gleamed with a new light. Passing through the circle of guards, she greedily snatched the bag from Ida's hand. Opening and seeing the northwoman had spoken true seemed to mollify the Elder somewhat, and she conferred in whispers to a few of the nearest guards before looking back at the pair.

"Our people are not so wealthy we can afford to turn away coin. Ask the Prince of Rhûn about that," she said finally, spitting on the ground at Silrith's name. "But today is a day of prayer to the Wind Lord, and no business can be conducted until after sundown. If it is true you mean our tribe no harm, lay down your weapons and consent to being confined in my tent. Your friends must do the same. To show you we are not thieves, I give you back your gold until the sale is completed. And to show that Aigul of the Variag is no savage hostess, I will provide you with food and drink, should you desire it. After sundown you will give us your gold, and we will give you two horses, and return your weapons to you, and then you may depart. If you do not consent to this, we will kill you now. What is your decision?"

Up on the hill, Morniel tried to hide the alarm growing in her heart at the sight of the armed women appearing by pretending to pay close notice to Silrith's words. But when the elf saw the seven women racing towards them, she leapt to her feet in fear, and reflexively pulled the hood of her pale cloak over her head, concealing her pointed ears. "I think we are about to see how well that training paid off, Silrith," she said grimly, gripping her staff in both hands in front of her. "Get your sword, we've been seen."

Kicking their packs into a pile behind the prince, Morniel stood with her back to his, watching three women coming up her side of the hill while the other four went up his. "Ailis bolw! Stay back!" she shouted at their would-be attackers, and to her surprise the women did cease their approach. However, they didn't stop themselves from circling around the pair as the others had to Ida and Fjollnir down below, and while they didn't make a direct move to attack just yet, that didn't make them look any less ferocious.

"You come," one of them, apparently the leader, spoke in clumsy and accented common. "Or we kill friends. Come!" she shouted, jabbing the point of her polearm towards Silrith.

"Better do as they say..." Morniel whispered to Silrith, wondering how the prince would react to such an ambush.

 

[Pontiff]

Fjolnir knew what he was doing but the northern woman seemed to disobey him at every turn and continued to speak. He revealed the location of Silrith and Morniel because of the situation that Ida had caused them to be in the first place -- this woman believed they were spies and if a scout were to spot Morniel and Silrith atop the hill then what did Ida plan to say then? They would have to lie and say they were not a part of those two and their company or tell the truth and they would be killed on the spot. Fjolnir just gently shook his head as Ida so easily gave up the money on their belt and offered the whole bag of it. Now what was to stop the headwoman from demanding more gold, or saying it was only worth one horse? Were they to say give the gold back after they had been surrounded and weapons raised and ready to kill them in a moments notice?

"You must of forgotten all the gold that Rhûn has given your people." Perhaps this tribe was one of the many that refused to fight as Mercenaries for others? The Variag were full of differing tribes, so perhaps this one was left out in all those times the people of Rhûn threw money at the Variags to fight in battle and war for them. It was none of his business why she had a distaste for the Prince but she was mistaken if Rhûn was not a friend to many tribes.

"I apologize but we do not have time for the sun to set. We are in a bit of a hurry, perhaps this may help change your mind?" Fjolnir asked, making his movements slowly. He knew the importance of staying on the move -- after all they were being followed by a couple of mercenaries that weren't happy and while Fjolnir would allow the Variags to be at each others throat with blood, he wanted to stay far away from the fighting. The westerner reached into a pocket of his that was inside of the fur cloak and pulled out what seemed like a gold coin, like the many that sat within the bag the elder woman held.

Hoisting the coin up for the woman to see or take, he did not care but he wanted her to look upon the coin itself and not that it was gold. It was a coin he had received from a Variag Mercenary many years ago, a story that he hadn't told his party or would care to in the foreseeable future. The Variag Mercenary came from a particularly large and powerful tribe that an unnamed foe in the west that would not be named had paid for. He received this coin in good faith that if he had found himself in Khand and was in trouble, just to use this coin and he should be safe. Though the key word was should be safe in the story and Fjolnir was praying that this was a tribe that respected it.

"If you wish to discuss the coin in private and how I obtained it then I would prefer we do that privately." Everyone had secrets and Fjolnir had his. Even though he may appear as a friendly, calm-mannered friend and ally he had a dark past that was buried.

Silrith looked up when Morniel mentioned something about his sword and drew him from his memory. Fumbling at the waist, he gripped onto the hilt of the blade but stopped himself as the women approached but did not attack just yet. They spoke about following and friends being killed if they didn't listen, and while Silrith did not like to be ordered around he silently obeyed and released the tension in his body -- dropping his guard and following the women down to the camp below.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

The Variag women did not try to take Silrith's sword or Morniel's staff (judging their numbers and apparent skill to put them at advantage over the two travelers), but they did take possession of the luggage and stayed close to the pair as they herded them down to join the others. The leader of the guards informed the Headwoman that there had been no others, which seemed to satisfy her, but her attention was quickly taken back by the Númenórean, and the item he had drawn from his pocket.

Aigul warily took the coin from Fjollnir, turning it over slowly and raising her thick eyebrow as she recognized the engravings. "You have dealt with our kind before," she said finally. The Headwoman's face was thoughtful as she pondered the best thing to do. When she finally spoke again, there was a more polite tone to her husky voice. "With this, stranger, you have bought our trust. For now." The warning under her breath was deadly as she tucked the coin into the bodice of her gown. "If that trust is abused, your lives shall be forfeit. If your party behaves honorably, you have my word no harm shall come to you within the circles of our camp." Turning to the other women, she gave another order in their language, and moving as one all of the guards stepped aside.

"You will be allowed to keep your weapons," Aigul continued. "However, we cannot provide you with horses until sundown. This herd belongs to the Wind Lord himself, and they cannot be sold without his permission. Our Lord and the men of our tribe are conducting a ceremony that lasts until nightfall, at which time we will begin the grand festival. At that time I will intercede on your behalf to obtain mounts for your entire party. In exchange for gold, of course." There was no hiding the avarice on her lined face, but there was another curious expression growing, especially when her eyes fell on Fjollnir. "And perhaps...the Wind Lord would like to speak with you personally, stranger. I do not doubt he would be curious to learn how you came upon such a treasure." She lightly placed a hand on her bosom, indicating the secreted coin.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of a threat?" Ida muttered, growing ever more cross at the idea of being delayed.

"Hush!" Morniel hissed to her friend, but there was no need. Just as the northwoman had spoken, a powerful gust of wind tore through the camp, drowning the redhead's words beneath the roar. Unfortunately, it also blew back the elf's hood, revealing her fair face and pointed ears and earning Morniel her own spot in the Headwoman's dark gaze.

"An elf, hm?" Aigul remarked in genuine surprise. She approached the elf and raised a hand, examining Morniel as though she were a rare bird trapped in a cage. The Elder even went so far as to raise a hand and gently caressing her knuckles against the tall wanderer's face, causing the elf to wince slightly as though she'd been struck. That only elicited a laugh from the Headwoman, who dropped her hand and turned away. "I'm not going to harm you, girl. The Wind Lord will certainly be interested in such a pretty thing as yourself. We don't often see elves in this part of the world, and it's been a very long time since he's seen one...like you."

"And what of the rest of us?" Ida asked loudly, stepping protectively in front of Morniel and not allowing even the wind to diminish her words. "If you mean to bring them two before your great lord, you might as well bring us as well. We ain't accustomed to sending our friends off alone."

"No, I suppose you're more accustomed to leaving them behind," the Headwoman said dryly. "I do not think the Wind Lord needs to trouble himself with a loudmouthed country wench. With red hair at that. It's a sign of bad luck, you know." She seemed as unimpressed at Ida's looks as she had been astounded by Morniel's beauty. But her most vicious look was reserved for the last member of their party.

"And you," she snarled, looking upon the prince. "It is by my mercy, and your friend's honor, that we do not kill you where you stand, Prince of Rhûn. Your people have banned our tribe from your borders, left our women and children to starve in the winter, and stolen pay that was rightfully ours. The name of your country is cursed by our people, and the GrassFlames do not forgive slights easily. I will keep my silence in regards to your identity because I have promised to keep you safe, but I warn you: do not speak your name or origin to anyone within this camp. Of the women here, I am the only one who speaks your tongue fluently. There are many more among the men who speak it as well, and I will not be held responsible if you give them reason to pursue you beyond the bounds of our territory."

Having addressed all members of the party, Aigul gestured towards the inner reaches of the camp. "Please come now. I will have food and water prepared shortly, and you can rest safely within my tent. The women will ensure no one disturbs you, and when night has fallen, I will fetch you myself."

The tent of the Headwoman was placed in the innermost circle of the camp, and while was not the largest of the circular canvas-covered structures that created the mobile village, it could have comfortably accommodated at least a dozen guests (or captives). The canvas outside was a lovely sky blue and embroidered with images of horses, birds, and along the bottom the jagged red and green lines featured on all the tents of the GrassFlame tribe. Inside there were a few wooden items of furniture, mostly of Harad-make, as well as plenty of furs and carpets spread across the floor. The sun was shining through a large circular smoke hole in the roof, and a young girl was busy tending to a hearth in the middle of the room. She let out a cry of surprise at the entrance of the strange party, but at a few comforting words for Aigul, she calmed somewhat and continued her work.

"This is my granddaughter, Bibigul. She does not speak much of your language, but if you ask for me, she will fetch me. For now, I have business to attend to. I will return at nightfall, for you, and you." The Headwoman pointed first at Fjollnir, then at Morniel. "In the meantime, remember our arrangement. As long as you remain here, no harm will come to you. If you do not...I will not be responsible."

With that the Elder departed, though two armed women remained at the door of the tent, looking grim and fierce as ever.

 

[Pontiff]

Everything had happened so quickly and it all seemed like a blur that was just trying to clear itself out and make any semblance of sense. Silrith listened to the elderly woman speak about his identity and spoke of how his homeland banned her people from its borders. Did she speak about only her tribe or perhaps the people of Khand in general he didn't know and she would not let him inquire on this matter as they were corralled into the tent of the headwoman. The party moved into the tent for their own safety -- that is what the headwoman would want them to believe anyways but she spoke about taking Fjolnir and Morniel to appear before their Wind Lord and without much else.

Once the Elder departed from earshot, Silrith turned to look at his fellows with a look of bewilderment. "What did she mean about my home banning her people?" Silrith had been gone from home for almost three years now and much could change in that time frame, perhaps there had been a falling out between her people and his. She spoke of not being paid as well and perhaps that meant some sort of contract breach? Did the Khandish warriors not uphold their end of the deal and cause his Father not to pay, which spoke ire and flames of war inside the bellies of the tribe before being banned?

"Whatever she could have meant. Best not to dwell on it now." Fjolnir interjected as he took a seat slowly onto one of the furs. Certain that Ida and Morniel were curious about what coin he had handed over and when he may have dealt with Variags in his past. He didn't want to speak about the past to them, not now and not in the enemies hands. Even if they were neutral for now and willing to do business they were not their allies.

"What do you think they plan on doing....taking you two to the Wind Lord?" Silrith turned towards Morniel, asking her as Fjolnir seemed to be of no use at the moment. He seemed to be sitting on the furs, with his eyes shut as if he was meditating. Truthfully he was just ignoring Silrith and Ida from their questions they may have for him. He just wanted to sit in peace but that was never going to happen.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Morniel sighed as their hostess departed, glancing occasionally at the girl by the hearth, who seemed just as unhappy to be stuck with them as they may have been to be confined to Aigul's tent. The waif didn't seemed to understand any of their language, but all the same the elf kept her voice low as she picked up her bag (all of their luggage had been deposited in their makeshift prison along with their weapons) and began to check that nothing was out of place. "Variags have a difficult time forming alliances even between their own tribes, let alone other nations," she murmured to Silrith. "I would not think too much on whatever quarrel this band has with your people, Your Grace. It may be nothing more than jealousy, or a string of bad luck that they have chosen to blame on Rh...on their neighbors." It did not seem wise to mention the name of Rhûn even in the company of one lone Variag girl.

"If this is how they treat their customers, I can see why they don't have many friends," Ida commented, warming her hands near the fire. The girl warily moved to the far side of the hearth, her eyes on the northwoman's bright red hair distrustfully. Sensing the child's fear, the woman's eyes flashed and she gnashed her teeth at the girl, finally causing her to squeal and flee from the tent. Shrugging and clearly untroubled at the idea of scaring a little girl, Ida turned back to her friends. "Though I imagine if you hadn't give the old lady that shiny coin o' yours, Fjollnir, they might have shown us something worse than the inside of a tent. What was that thing, anyways?"

"Yes, I too was wondering about that," Morniel added, her eyes a little more piercing than Ida's casual interest. While the coin had changed hands too quickly for even her sharp gaze to get a good look, it still gave her an uneasy feeling. Despite how long their group had been traveling together, Fjollnir was the greatest mystery to her. Although her polite manners often led people to think the elf was far too trusting for her own good, in truth she rarely allowed others to get close to her. Until meeting Fjollnir and Silrith, the only person in the world she truly considered her friend was Ida, and that was mostly because she doubted the woman was capable of hiding any sort of nefarious purpose for longer than five minutes. She liked Silrith for the same reason; he was so straightforward and had the sort of knightly honor about him that one only heard about in stories.

But Fjollnir...he reminded her so much of Celion. Had she allowed that to cloud her judgement of him?

"Have you been among the Variag before, Fjollnir?" she asked quietly, searching his face for any sign of deception.

At that moment however, Aigul's granddaughter returned, along with two other girls around her own age. Two of them were carrying covered wooden platters, while the third had two ceramic jugs, one full of water, and one full of wine. The girls laid all the vessels on the table, then Bibigul dismissed her friends and set about gathering utensils and cups for the party. Finally she lifted the covers, revealing a large pot of spicy-smelling meat, and a plate of brightly-colored rolls in red, orange, and yellow.

Ida, who had risen to her feet at the entrance of the food, quickly approached the table but frowned at the sight of the exotic fare. "What's this then?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the meat.

"Is food," the girl said, trying to look brave. "Bread...and eski."

"Eski?" the northwoman sniffed at the meat.

"Is animal. Is...maa-maa!"

"Oh! Goat!" Ida cried, looking a good deal more relieved. She even smiled at the girl's impression of the animal, and went so far as to ruffle her hair. This seemed to assuage Bibigul somewhat, although she took care to avoid touching the red hair all the same. "Yes, goat. And wine. You eat. Aigul come soon." Bibigul waved the others over to the table, encouraging them to take part in the meal.

 

[Pontiff]

Fjolnir knew that the others would be curious as to what he had given the woman and even asked if he had been among the Variag before. His face stayed neutral as he glanced to his party who was all looking at him, curiosity dripping from their faces as they seemed to be holding back bated breath just for a response from him. "I have been in the company of the Variag before." He answered somewhat honestly. It was the truth he had been with Variag before but he didn't go into any sort of detail on just what they may have been as they were interrupted by the return of Aigul's granddaughter and food. Ida seemed more than happy to drop the subject as food and wine was brought to them and turned to the food itself and not to Fjolnir as Silirth and Morniel were still eyeing him.

"I could go for some food." Silrith didn't think that it could be poisoned. If it had been then why go through great lengths to ruin such food and not kill them when they were surrounded, even letting them keep their weapons to fight if it came down to it. It just didn't make sense for them to be killed through such cowardly methods, such methods he did not know the Khandish warriors to use. He joined Ida, grabbing some onto a platter of his own and filling his cup with some wine, something to help take the edge off of today's events.

Fjolnir sat silently and knew that some food would not draw Morniel's attention away from the conversation she was trying to engage in with him. She was very stout when it came to reading others and such the curious little elf. These were not perfect circumstances to discuss such matters but he could tell these Variags didn't understand other languages and wouldn't be able to pick out what language was being spoken.

"Morniel. I know you are concerned." He spoke in her native tongue. Who she was concerned for or what she was concerned about was something he did not know. Was she concerned about his safety perhaps, or concerned for her own safety and that of the friends she has made. "You are of pure heart. Mine is blackened...tainted by my actions of the past." He described a bit more in detail as he moved closer from his seated spot to her, so he could keep his voice just above a small whisper so Ida and Silrith would not be disturbed as they focused on the food currently.

"I am no longer that person Morniel. I am trying to become a better man and leave behind the taint of....him." Even though he spoke no exact words, he could tell that Morniel knew what he was speaking. It was common knowledge to the party that he was a Númenórean, but there was two factions of Númenóreans. His final sentence should have indicated clearly which side of the line he fought for, reasons unknown and perhaps he may have had no choice in the matter. All that mattered to him now was that he was here, away from his past and trying to become someone he could be proud of and with purpose in life. "I understand if you don't feel safe around me anymore. I wanted to tell you but...." His voice trailed off. He didn't want to admit that he was a little bit terrified of her being afraid of him.

"Hey what are you two talking about over there?" Silrith finally asked, stopping himself from eating more goat so he could hear. It sounded like Fjolnir was whispering but he couldn't make out a word so perhaps he was just chewing too loudly? He turned to look at Ida to see if she understood anything that was being said or if she had been paying attention to the both of them. Though it appeared the woman had less constraint than he did when around a good meal for once. Living off hunting game and berries for months would possibly draw this out of them.

"Huh? Nothing relevant." Fjolnir commented and stood up with a smile. He couldn't stop Morniel from distrusting him or telling the others about what she thought of his past, even with such vague detail. The Númenórean approached the mass of food and grabbed a platter of his own and filled it up lightly. He turned to Morniel and offered it to her, a small look of apology in his eyes as if he had betrayed her in some way.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Morniel did not help herself to any of the goat, having never quite acquired the taste for Khandish cooking in any of her centuries of travel (why did they need to spice everything to the point of burning?), but she did take a pale yellow roll and a cup of the sweet-smelling wine. After her first sip and nibble, she could not pick up any sign of poison, but she had doubted Aigul would go through the trouble anyway. Hostile as the Variags could be, they did have a sense of honor and believed in keeping their word whenever possible. If the Headwoman said she would keep them safe, it would be as great of a danger to herself to them to break her word.

At the moment, she was more concerned with Fjollnir than their hosts, particularly when he began to speak in the Elven tongue, which he knew neither Silrith nor Ida could understand (well, Ida knew a few curse words, but beyond that she was completely in the dark). "I am concerned you would speak to me in such a way, and hide your words from our friends. Particularly the prince. You know how much he trusts you, you should not slight him so," Morniel answered back in the same language, despite her hesitations. But at Fjollnir's explanation, she suddenly understood why he dare not speak in the common tongue. Ida might not have understood his words, isolated as she had always been, but Silrith was an educated man. He would know about the divisions of Númenór.

"I see. You were...or are...of the King's Men." That explained the shadow that always seemed so heavy on the tall man's form. "Yet you wander the wilds alone, away from your people. And your Lord. Has he truly granted you your freedom, Fjollnir of the West?" It was not a question she expected him to answer, even if she thought he could do so truly. The Dark Lord never granted freedom to anyone. Perhaps he was allowing Fjollnir to act as he chose, for now at least, but who was to say he would not bring his will down on the man whenever the opportunity seemed appropriate?

Like a frightened animal, Morniel suddenly shrunk away from the man, and an ancient mocking voice from the past suddenly seemed to fill her mind. There is no protection for those who turned away from the Light. So long as you linger in the East, Moriquende, the Darkness will come for you, sooner or later... and would Fjollnir be the conquering force that finally dragged her into the shadow that had swallowed all the rest of her people? Perhaps her sudden fear of him was a gift. Had she not known what he was, the Black Númenórean might have brought her into Sauron's service with little more than a smile and kind words. Now she was hardening against him, though pity still lingered in her heart. It was not a happy life for those that served the Dark Lord, and she knew her friend was likely to find scant peace in the world for the rest of his long days.

The elf needed to take a long drink of wine before she found the courage to look Fjollnir in the eye again. "You know little of my heart. I am grateful you told me this. I do think we should part ways eventually, but I see no reason we cannot see Prince Silrith safely to Rhûn first. Or at the very least, escape this camp." Her mention of the Prince's name seemed to catch his attention, but the other man was quick to deflect the inquiry, and Morniel was grateful when he finally departed from her side, and with a wave of her hand declined his offer of food.

"Flirtin', most likely," Ida whispered to Silrith, nodding her head at the pair while surreptitiously trying to steal a bite of goat from his plate. "Them two just needs to fuck already. Dunno why she don't just ask him. Ain't no man alive ever said 'No thank you,' to an elfmaid with her eye on him. Suppose they're just both too uptight to do anythin'
bout it. Meanin' we're stuck listenin' to 'em whisper 'n make all kinds of moony eyes. Much more of it an' I'll lose my appetite." That seemed unlikely, considering the northwoman had risen to her feet to help herself to more goat and another roll.

 

[Pontiff]

Fjolnir felt a pang of heaviness hit his heart as she replied to him, wishing to depart from his company once the Prince was returned safely. He ignored the whispers of Ida and Silrith about the emotions the two had for one another and perhaps it may be true for Fjolnir and how he felt about Morniel but those feelings she may have once had about him seemed closed off and gone already. He wished to explain himself better to her without drawing too much of a reaction from her and startling the party of what they could be discussing. If Ida convinced Silrith they are flirting with each other in her native tongue then that was fine with him as long as Morniel didn't give away the true conversation.

"When did he ever learn Elf?" Silrith didn't know the different races of Elf and the languages they had, but he was a bit surprised that his friend was capable of such a great deal of languages. He claimed to know a bit of Variag, his own language, common and now Morniel's tongue he could speak in. Perhaps the man was older than Silrith gave him credit for -- not knowing just how long a Númenórean could live for.

"No...I was never truly broken by him. He could not corrupt my mind so easily as he did others...my faith was strong. Yet I submitted willingly because he had found my weakness...My son." Fjolnir had a child once but it was not out of love or marriage. It was a drunken night that led to the events of his son being born and even though he was a bastard and his mother was more or less a whore he loved the boy all the same. Took him in and raised him to be a proper Númenórean just like his Father -- that was until the Shadow gripped his sons heart. "I never abandoned the Valar, but I did whatever I had to do to keep my son safe...but even my submission was not enough. They killed him anyways. Three Númenóreans that I once considered friends who turned Black." Fjolnir had fought and killed for the Dark Lord and for greedy reasons -- while they may not have been his motives he partook in the actions of the King's Men. He prayed his submission and loyalty would somehow relieve his son of the shadow and taint and only infect him but he was foolish to believe so.

"I killed them. All three....it took years to track them down but I did it....Now? I simply wander...but know this Morniel. He has no control over me and never will again." He could try to justify his actions to her all he wanted, but perhaps it was futile. Just his past and actions alone could be enough that she didn't want anything to do with him. Elves were fickle and cautious folks that once trust had been broken it was impossible, nearly, to regain. "I care a great deal about you Morniel....more than I have felt about anyone except for my son. I would never do anything to hurt you. That is why I am telling you this now, before we meet this Wind Lord." He could have told her anytime but he was trying to run from his past. To forget it somehow and became a different person entirely but he realized that wasn't going to happen. He had to live with his past and the choices he made. Reasons be damned he did horrible things and served the Dark Lord through submission.

"Alright you two. Quit flirting and eat. This is probably the last good meal we will have in a few days." Silrith interjected into what he thought was flirting, like Ida suggested. Why would they be so close, whispering to one another even when speaking another language? Ida and Silrith couldn't understand them anyways so why whisper in the first place the whole thing was bizarre to the Prince and he wanted them to just knock it off while in hostile territory.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"You're asking me?" Ida raised an eyebrow at the prince. "He's supposed to be your bodyguard, ain't he? You tell me. And how come you can't understand em either? Ain't your fancy teachers learn you all sort o' tongues in that great land o' yours? By the boulders, even I know a little of the Greenwood folks' speech. That ain't that though." She inclined her head towards the pair speaking Elvish. "That's the high tongue, what all thems west o' the mountains talk. Least I think so. Only other time I heared her speak it was when we met some fancy blonde fellow from somewheres near the sea. Come to think of it, she ain't looked any happier speakin' it to him than she does to old Fjollnir there. Maybe they ain't flirtin' after all. Or maybe everyone who talks like that just looks glum."

Although the words the pair were whispering were still mostly inaudible to the northwoman, and she wouldn't have understood them even if she could hear properly, over the years she'd learned to read something of the elf's expressions. Whatever Fjollnir had told Morniel, it had distressed her greatly, although she was doing her best not to show it, either for the westerner's sake, or possibly Ida and Silrith's. Poor lass. Once we lose these menfolks I'll have to see what's ailin' her so the northwoman though, turning her attention back to the food.

"You do not lift the shadow by causing more death, Fjollnir," the elf said finally. "And though I believe you would not have joined the Dark Lord of your own free will, I cannot help but think but that what worked on you once may work again." A slow smile crossed her face, but her eyes held no joy. "If what you say is true, that you do care for me--and I must admit, for a long time I had hoped to hear you speak those words, in any language--then perhaps it is I that am the danger to you." Morniel sighed deeply, then turned her gaze away from the Númenórean and stared deep into the fire at the center of the room. "Had we never met, He would still pursue me. I am the last of the Kindi, and He cannot abide the fact that I walk free when He has either slaughtered or seduced all the rest of my people. If the Dark Lord were to know that by taking me, He may also gain dominion over you yet again, I fear His efforts to hunt me down will grow all the more fierce. It is bad enough when Sauron takes even one person, we cannot risk giving him two."

She turned back to Fjollnir with sad determination on her face. "We will escape this place and take the prince back to his homeland. Then we must part, Fjollnir. For both of our sakes." One of her white hands reached over to lay on his rough one, and pressed it gently, yet lingeringly. "I am sorry."

By the time silence had settled into the tent, the smoke hole in the ceiling was dark and showed the first few glittering stars of the night. A few minutes later, Aigul returned, but she seemed much changed from the stern and authoritative Headwoman that had brought them into the heart of the camp. Instead her head was bowed, and when she spoke her husky voice was much softer, and spoke adoringly of and to the figure that followed her.

He was clothed in the style of the Variags, but instead of the bright colors they favored he had opted for a dull blue-gray color, trimmed in scarlet thread and black creban feathers at the edges. His face was young and beautiful, but his hair was shockingly white, and beneath the bulk of his clothing he appeared to be rather thin, almost sickly looking. Most startlingly, his eyes were blood red and seemed to have no pupil, yet they clearly saw and lingered on the face of each of the four travelers in the tent.

"These are the travelers, my Lord Gökhan," Aigul remarked in common, not looking upon them but keeping her face transfixed upon her lord. "They wish to purchase horses to speed them on their travels."

"Is that so?" Gökhan purred back. His voice seemed as thin and wavering as the rest of him, but there seemed to be a note of strength under it, almost like two voices speaking at once. "The Prince of Rhûn is returning home at last, is he?"

The red eyes fixed on Silrith, and the Wind Lord gave him a smile much like a cat might give a frightened mouse. "Yes, young man, I know who you are. And I apologize for the rudeness of my people. Particular that of my daughter." Gökhan nodded towards Aigul, which made Ida gasp aloud. Despite the white hair, if anything she would have thought the man to be Aigul's son, maybe even grandson, and not the other way around. But clearly the northwoman was not the first person to make that assumption, because the Wind Lord merely laughed it off and waved a thin hand in nonchalance.

"Yes, I know the years have been kinder to me than her. It has made little Aigul jealous, hasn't it Daughter?" She did not respond, but dropped her eyes to the ground while Gökhan looked back at the prince. "She is an envious woman in general. It is why she has fanned the hatred of the GrassFlames towards your country, I'm afraid. This is a difficult part of the world, and when she and the others see the peace and prosperity of Rhûn, like spoiled children they feel they must destroy what they cannot create for themselves. You must forgive her, Prince Silrith, and understand that I, for one, wish you and yours nothing but happiness. In fact, I invite you to take whatever steeds you like from my herd. The only payment I ask in return is that you give my regards to your father, and tell him that Gökhan, Wind Lord of the Variags, calls him brother."

As his hand dropped, the firelight glinted off something on his third finger. It was a silver ring, set with six small white stones, and a larger stone in the center that at first glance seemed completely transparent, but to Morniel's sharp eyes at least, showed to be shot through with black veins. At the sight of it, her heart began to beat a little faster. She had seen a ring not unlike that once before, on a hand she longed to forget.

Gökhan noticed her apprehension, and his smile softened somewhat. "And to you, Mistress, I bid the the warmest welcome to our village. It is long since I have looked upon the face of an elf-maid, and never have I seen one so fair." Before she knew what had happened, the Wind Lord was directly in front of her, and was running a single finger down the long black braid that draped over her shoulder. "I did not think many of your kind remained in this world. No light within you, and shadows all around, closing in every moment. I wonder...if you might be persuaded to remain with us a while." His mouth closed, but in her mind Morniel suddenly heard his voice maliciously speak a single word to her. Nathya.

"That'll be enough of that, thank you. Ain't you folks ever learned to keep your hands to yourself?" Ida jumped to her feet and instantly moved to her friend's side, even going so far as to push the Wind Lord's hand away. "Only a villain puts his hands on a lady without askin' first. If he forgets that crucial bit, he usually finds himself short a hand." Her own fingers brushed the hilt of her knife as she stared fearlessly into his red eyes.

For a moment, a shadow of rage passed the Wind Lord's face, but then he laughed again and stepped away from the two women. "I see you have a loyal handmaid with you, Mistress. Forgive my rudeness. I only wished to extend a welcome. My people would be eager to learn of any wisdom you might share with us. But perhaps I overstepped my bounds. Do forgive me."

Lastly, he looked towards Fjollnir, and he seemed to draw himself up to an even greater height, almost towering over the Númenórean. "And am I to take it that you are the leader of this little party?" he asked aloud.

But in the Númenórean's mind, Gökhan asked a different question. Welcome, Fjollnir. What business do you have with these people? Has The Great One sent you here with some message?