Vaarion

IC character blog of the character Vaarion on LoTRO/Laurelin. Please note that this is not open RP, but feel free to send asks or requests for RP if you are interested!

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"No... not a table... a tombstone. I wonder what the runes say..." "It's some kind of dwarfish... I can not read it." "Me neither. Who wrote them, and when? And what was the fight in this chamber about? Were they adventurers like us... and what fate befell them?"

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"This place is huge... How are we ever going to find anything here?" "We will find enough...I fear. Hopefully as well the one thing we came for." "But how?" "We must look...and not give up"

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"Awake already?"

The girl kneeling in front of the chest flinched guiltily, quickly moving the stack of folded clothes behind her.

Andswaru looked over her and the chest silently for a minute.

"I assume today is the day... that you're finally going, then?" he asked, finally.

Vaarion glanced down guiltily, then pushed her chin forward and stared him in the eyes. "Y-yes."

She tried to look fierce. "Don't try to stop me."

A thin smile played around Andswaru's lips. "You know I can't."

"I know you have been saying I should leave it to you and the Riders... but I can't. I'm going to rescue Father. I'm not staying here to wait for you..."

The man sighed. "And I'll be there to rescue you, while you do that..."

Vaarion shook her head minutely, a resigned look on her face. "It's probably safer if I go alone." She had to clench her fists and fold her arms to stop her voice from shivering.

He chuckled, folding his arms in turn. "I know you can conquer the world by yourself by now, I know you can...but wouldn't you like some one who could see it, to tag along?"

Vaarion shrugged, resigning. "But I couldn't ask you to..."

"You don't need to... silly." He put his hand under her chin, grinning. "Besides... if you go, I would rather face a horde of murderous orcs than your mother..."

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The fields were studded with flowers and the grass was long, shimmering silvery in the moonlight as they rode through it silently.

But the smell and the sounds only told them what their heart already knew.

They were in Rohan.

They were home.

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The chase

The sky above them was still dark, shadowed by the encircling hills and the smoke spewing from the cracks of the pit all around them but to Vaarion no air had ever seemed sweeter. She took a deep breath, turning to Andswaru and the prisoners for direction. "The only gate is to the south," he pointed, "but how..." But Vaarion's spirits were high now that she was beneath the sky again. "I'll think of something." She stole a look at him and the fellow prisoners, seeing the exhaustion in their bodies. They would not make it much further. "Was there a stable near the gate?" she asked, knowing that even the servants of a wizard were going to have to use horses sooner or later. Andswaru nodded, guessing her thoughts. "On the left side of the gate." "Then we go there." She bit her lip. "Can you speak with the guards? You speak better Westron." "I will, " he whispered. "I will distract them for you if you help the others on the horses... I'll..." She knew what he was trying to say and cut him off before he could finish. "Don't even think about it. We are all getting out or none of us is." They had barely stepped onto the wide, paved road leading through the gate when two large orcs came out of the guardhouse, brandishing spears. Andswaru stepped forward, addressing them in the same accented Westron the guards had spoken. "Orders from the captain. The slaves for cleaning the stable." The Orc looked at the hooded figure suspiciously. "Didn't order no slaves." "That's because your filth wouldn't smell a pig-sty over your own stench! Move aside now, and let me do my work, and you can return to yours." The orc grunted. Then he shrugged and turned around, returning to his gate-house. Vaarion could see them settle down behind a table again and breathed a small sigh of relief. She hurried over to the horses, quickly putting reins on them and leading them out of their boxes. They were Rohan-steeds, nervous but proud; Vaarion could calm them down with a few horse-trainers' words of her own. The only saddles Vaarion could see were heavy, wooden contraptions hanging on the wall; but there were horse-blankets and straps they could use to make shift. As quietly as she could, she told the prisoners to mount up - two to a horse, the healthy ones paired with the hurt and sick ones to protect them. As on cue, there was a horn being blown at the gate, and the guards came rushing towards it. "Now!" Vaarion yelled, jumping up on the last horse and kicking her heels into its side. The horses neighed wildly and sprang into action, almost as if they knew their freedom was too at hand. The gate was still open, the orc-guards huddled in a cluster towards one corner, fighting - something. Vaarion felt the cold lump in her stomach again, but she made sure all the prisoners had left the gate before she turned around her own horse. She threw her hood back and drew her sword, hollering at the top of her voice as she galloped towards the group. The orcs scattered before her, trying to get away from the whirling hooves and the biting blade as she dug her heels deeper into the belt around the horse's belly to keep her balance. She clutched the reins with her left hand, and took a great swing at the Orcs to her right; and then she saw Andswaru, crouched with his back to the corner of the gate. She turned the horse and stopped in front of him, reaching out with her blade as she stretched her other hand out to him to help him up behind her. Then the horse sped up again with another kick of her heels and they were out, out of the gate with a hail of arrows coming down behind them. The sound of horns and bells echoed from the mountain walls as they sped down the brick road from whence they had come. The horse was doing its best, and Vaarion was a good rider. Already they had caught up to the prisoners. Vaarion urged them and their horses on eagerly. She did not dare to look around at what was behind them. But she felt Andswaru turning around and heard him exhale with fear, and spurred the horse on again. The road was long, too long. The pillar of the white hand flew by, almost without their noticing it. There was something more pressing on Vaarion's mind: the sounds of the hunt behind them were getting louder, closer. They were all tired and had no saddles. How long until the host of Orcs would catch up? The gate to the valley flew by, and the road tapered out into an unpaved path. Vaarion thought she could hear arrows whistling by them now, heard the baying of great dogs - or wargs? The horse, hearing the same, shuddered and increased its speed again of its own volition. Vaarion hung on, her hands cramping around the reins. Just a bit longer... please... She rounded a hill, saw the camp in the distance - far, too far away, too far to make it, she knew it. Despair came over her as she realised that fact. She pulled on the reins of the horse, turning it around to face the host. "If you want us... come and get us" she whispered as she drew her sword again, ready to fight to the death. At that same moment, she heard horns answering from above. The Orc leading the chase looked up and started to scream something. Suddenly, he let go of his reins and fell, an arrow piercing his throat. More arrows followed, then the sound of hooves, thundering down the hill. Vaarion looked up to see the Rohirrim riding down the Orc hunting party, splitting their host and scattering them into every direction.

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((OOC: Sorry for the long break, was very busy in RL...)) The blade crashed down onto the Orc's shoulder, releasing a trail of dark blood in its wake. The Orc had no time for anything but a surprised gasp before it fell to its knees. "The coast is clear." Vaarion dispatched the Orc with a cut through the throat and turned around to her charges. The other prisoners were in worse shape than Andswaru for the most part; many were wounded and none of them had seen a proper meal for weeks. They stared at her with little hope left in their eyes. "We'll have to be quick," Vaarion said, pulling the tattered cloak off the Orc 's body. She handed the cloak to Andswaru. "Now we both look like Orc overseers." Andswaru nodded and pointed to the corridor leading up out of the prisons. "They brought me in this way. I think I can remember the path up." Vaarion nodded. That had been her greatest worry. She had fallen down many levels and had no idea about the way out. There was no point in asking if they were able to hold up for the long journey up and out of the pit. They just had to try. "Then let's go." The road was winding along the pit on its way up. There were few orcs about. From far above them, pale daylight filtered down the vertical shaft. It must be morning outside, Vaarion thought. She had not thought of the hours since she had entered the pit. Her arms felt leaden now as she lifted the sword once more. "There is an exit to the outside at the end of this side road, " Andswaru whispered. "If we can pretend we are bringing slaves to work... " Vaarion bit her lip and nodded. That part was what she feared. Suddenly, the sound of horns blaring echoed through the pit. Vaarion almost stumbled in shock. "Morning bells, " Andswaru mumbled, steadying her. "Just move on. " They reached the gate just as a clutch of goblins tramped through it, led by two large, surly orcs of the same type as the prison guards. Vaarion kept her head down, ushering the prisoners past while pointing her blade. The guards did not care. There was more activity now, companies of orcs moving this way and that. Vaarion heard some words of Westron, barked in commands to goblins and other smaller orcs. So orcs also speak different languages, she thought. But that was not important now. For the first time in days, she felt the wind and saw the sky above her head. They were outside!

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Lost and Found

There were more tunnels, and the stench became worse. The air was stale down here, and the flames of the torches dimmed and small. Vaarion felt a dread lying on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She bit her lip and drudged on stubbornly, wishing the tears forming in her eyes away with angry determination. She had to force herself to look into the cells now and not look away - but she had to, she told herself. She had to find Andswaru. Was her father in a cell as well, deep under the mountains where the orcs had brought him? The thought came unbidden and suddenly. She felt a hot tear run across her cheek as she stumbled against the rock wall, trying not to fall. Was that the fate she abandoned him to? No. She sniffled, wiping the tears away angrily. She might have failed her father, but she would not fail again. If she wanted the least chance to ever find him, she must finish what she set out to do. Now... She stumbled on back through the tunnel, setting one foot in front of the other stubbornly. Finally the tunnel looped around, bringing her up to more cells - and other contraptions. She tried to ignore the cages hanging on the walls and whatever was left in them. These were not prisoner cells for slave work or for ransom any more. A noise that was not quite a groan and not quite a whimper made her duck into the shadows. There was something - someone, a body - shackled to a table. She crept closer carefully, increasingly aware of the danger of discovery. The table was high enough for her to crawl underneath. There was red hair hanging over the edge of the table, caked with dark mud. She did not need to know more to know her search was at an end. Slowly, alert to vanish again at the slightest sound of alarm, she crept higher until her lips were level with the man's ear. "Andswaru," she whispered. "Andswaru." The man shivered, as in a fevered dream. He turned his head around slowly to face her. His face was bruised and swollen, a large bruise over one eye. He looked at her blearily, as if he could not quite believe what he saw. Despite her fear, Vaarion smiled. "Andswaru." His mouth opened in surprise. "Vaarion - but... how?" She put a hand over his mouth quickly, scared he would cry out and betray both of them, and nodded. "Shh. I'm here to help you. You've taken care of me for a long while - now let me return that favour."

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Oubliette

She opened her eyes to darkness. It was more quiet in the tunnels now, the steady drumming having slowed down and softened to a slow heartbeat. There was dim light filtering in from the ledge above her, up a jagged slope of rubble and dirt. The tunnels below showed no signs of light. She rubbed her neck, stiff where it had lain on the stones. How long had she slept? She felt less tired, but no more rested than before. Her throat was parched. She felt on her belt for her canteen and was relieved to find it unscathed. Allowing herself to take a careful sip, she stowed it away again. How long would she be in here...? Climbing the field of rubble would be suicide in this darkness, she decided. The tunnels must lead somewhere. She took a tentative step in one direction and was greeted by a musty smell of bad air. Nobody had walked there for ages, she was sure. The other direction it was, then. Keeping one hand on the wall and using the other to feel in front of her in the darkness, she started to walk. The air was better further up the tunnel. After a while, the darkness dissolved into a dim, flickering light painting the walls of the tunnel. She walked towards it, careful not to let her steps echo. Turning a corner, she found the source of the light: a large fire had been built in the middle of a domed hall, half-burnt down now. An orc was snoring near the fire, wrapped into a blanket. Vaarion tip-toed around the walls, looking at the paths departing from it. From the direction opposite the one she had come, she could hear distant talk and laughter, and she shied away from it quickly. The prisons would be in a secured area, she thought, far down. There were a few tunnel entrances with gates on them. Looking around, she spotted one behind the snoring orc, where the grate had been half-shut but not locked. The gate left a gap just big enough for her to slip through without moving it; she eyed the rusty angles suspiciously. It would not be beyong orcs to purposefully not oil them as a crude alarm system... Behind the gate was a torch-lined hallway, leading down in a series of large shallow steps. There was more dirt and debris here than in the other parts of the pit. A rat hissed at her from the top of a stinking pile of rags as she approached. She flinched back and hurried on quickly, trying to put the thought of just what was under the rags out of her head. There were less torches here, and the few left on the wall were sputtering pitifully. The stench was incredible. Vaarion was sure she was alone here; not even an orc would want to keep guard down here. But there was something else, in the barred caves branching off from the main corridor. Vaarion crept close to one, peering inside. There were men inside, men clothed in rags. Some of them were asleep or unconscious; the others were not doing much more, staring ahead of themselves and not acknowledging her at all. She felt a sting of rage. Even in the dim light, she knew they must be the missing Rohirrim soldiers from the camp. How many more had gone missing, how many were left? She swallowed, her throat feeling hard and dry. There was no way she could live with herself leaving them behind. But how could she free them - and even if she could, how would they escape? She had to admit to herself she hadn't even thought so far when she thought she would just find Andswaru. But first she had to find him. The thoughts of escape would come later...

She crept past the prison cells and further into the darkness, hoping he was still alive.

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A Tumble in the Tunnels

Vaarion pushed the hood deeper into her face. Her thoughts were racing. If Andswaru's insignia were here... then he must have been here. There was no body. She dug at the warg's corpse again, checking. No - there was splintered armour and more rags, but no body. "Andswaru?" she whispered. She looked around a little, trying to spot something, anything. The ground was riddled with tracks, criss-crossing over the road. "Andswaru?" There was no answer. She walked a little further on the road, unwilling to give up just yet. The tracks leading away from the hollow all led towards the circle of rock, towards the tower. If he had followed it... "Maggots!" The woman flinched, freezing on the spot. There were dark shadows on the road in front of her, carrying no lanterns or light. Their eyes glowed an eerie pale where the moonlight struck them. "Thought you could creep away unnoticed, could you? Dodge work? Steal, steal, steal from Uruk-hai is all you maggots can do. Hurry up, and the last of you will feel my whip when we arrive!" She heard the sounds of more orcs nearby, some complaining and shrieking in protest, the others chuckling with guttural laughter. "No horse-meat tonight for you maggots, wargs took all the horses we killed. But horse-men, perhaps... yes, we have some tasty morsels down in the prisons. If you are good, maybe the foreman will decide to share with you." Vaarion did not understand enough Westron to decipher more than half of that rant. But there was enough for her to hear that there were horse-men - Rohirrim, imprisoned somewhere inside Isengard? She gripped the hilt of her orc-sword grimly. If there were prisoners, then maybe Andswaru was among them... and even if not, someone must help them before they all ended up as orc-dinners. She did not allow herself time to think about it. Stepping out onto the road, she fell in line with the other orcs. The orcs did not bother to turn towards her; they acknowledged their returning companion with a grunt and trotted on glumly. Vaarion shivered, but there was no turning back now. A crack of the Uruk-hai's whip made them all fall into a steady jog, which did not stop until they reached a wooden gate set into the ring-wall. There, the overseer counted them and nodded when he reached the full number. "Dismissed for now, my maggots! Now get out of my eyes, or I shall reconsider my leniency!" The orcs scattered at those words. Vaarion, for lack of a better thing to do, followed a group of them deeper into the barracks, lagging behind a bit so she would not attract their attention. She had not thought about her next step yet. When they had rounded a few corners, she dropped into a convenient shadow and tried to look at her surroundings. They were in a cave, leading around the outside of a large pit or crag. The thumping she had heard from the outside was louder here - there was machinery down in the tunnel, and the sound of many hammers and voices. Prisons, she thought. Where would they be - and how well guarded would they be? She could not hide in the shadows forever... One thing at a time. She stood up, walking deeper into the cave. For now, nobody suspected her. She had some supplies, and in time she could probably steal even more. And in the meanwhile, she could scout the pit for where the prisoners were kept. She rounded some more corners, narrowly avoiding being jostled into the pit by some orcs coming the other way. She shivered, taking a left where the road branched, away from the precarious drop. After a short while, she came to a crossroad where the road forked into many tunnels. She looked around, trying to decide where to go. The first tunnel seemed barred shortly ahead. The second tunnel seemed to lead into impenetrable darkness. She took a careful step into it, trying to feel her way into it when a cloud of black smoke belched out into the tunnel from beyond the darkness. She coughed, unable to see or breathe. For a moment, she saw nothing at all. Then she could feel the road below her feet give way and crumble. There was the feeling of earth and stones against her body, up and down changing direction in rapid succession. The light of the tunnel above her receded quickly. Then she hit the ground in an explosion of stars behind her eyes.

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A Blade in the Dark

Vaarion flinched and threw herself backwards into the mud, suppressing a scream. The warg's claws were inches from her chest, its teeth gleaming bone-white in the moonlight. There was a strong smell of rot around its body. She scrambled with her back against the stone, trying to reach for her sword before the warg would strike her down. But the attack never came. She reached out and touched the warg's muzzle. It did not react. A streak of congealed blood was running down the side of its face, darkening the fur. She pushed harder, lifting herself up again. The warg's head was cloven, struck by a bladed weapon that had cracked its skull. Vaarion breathed in audibly. It must have happened some time ago. During the ambush? The scare had made her feel more awake, but now fatigue was flowing back into her, making her limbs heavy as lead. She would have liked nothing better than to lean back against the stone again for a moment, closing her eyes... But she couldn't. She bit her tongue, forcing herself to stay awake. Not here. There was something else in the mud. Her questing fingers found a hard corner, then a piece of cloth. Ripped armour. It was something else to think about than how tired she was. She busied herself with pulling it free of the mud, until her knees would work again and her ears were no longer buzzing. She was about to climb back out of the hollow when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps again, tapping on the dark flagstones of the road. She ducked into the shadow just in time to see a pair of feet approach and stop by the spot where she had just been. A spear was lowered into the bushwork, poking around in the brushes beside her. She held her breath and ducked underneath the warg carcass again, avoiding the prodding tip. "Nothing here but a dead warg," a grunting voice said in accented Westron. "Must be foxes, likely." "Well, come then!" was the answer from further up ahead, in a deeper and rougher voice. "Damned maggots, always slowing the Uruk-hai down! We won't wait, make your own way back." "Ach!" The orc spat and sent a few choice insults after the other orcs, whose laughter was already receding in the distance. Vaarion's hand was right next to the orc's boot. Fascinated, she reached out and touched it, following an impulse she did not quite understand. The orc hesitated, noticing something. Then it stomped its foot, trying to shake it free, and slipped in the wet mud. It crashed into the brushwork, landing square on the woman. There was nothing else Vaarion could do. In the very moment the orc caught itself, surprised at the soft landing, she was already diving up underneath, driving her knife up into its jaw. Hot blood rushed down her hand and onto her clothes as the blade connected. The orc let out a surprised gurgle and lay still.

Vaarion stiffened, aware what would happen if her actions raised an alarm. But there was only laughter and more insults from the distance. She lay still for a while longer, the blood cooling and feeling clammy on her hands and clothes. Then she pushed the orc's body aside and rolled up from underneath it, peering into the moonlit valley. The orc patrol was already far ahead, walking up the road. Vaarion got up, pulling at the dead orc's cloak, trying to get it off him. It was too large and it stank, but it would hide her face and body shape from anyone who saw her. Seeing a large cleaver on the orc's side, she took it as well, belting it to her side. It was a crude weapon, but smaller than her sword and easier to wield. Her own sword was still strapped to her back and would not do her much good underneath the cloak. When she stood up, her silhouette in the moonlight was as orcish as any of the others moving down the road. She straightened up a bit, trying to find her bearings. Then her eyes fell on the other piece of cloth she had unearthed from the hollow. There was a Rohirrim insignia on it, and it did not belong to the company stationed in the valley. She knew it well. The same insignia had been attached to her own tunic, the one she had received from Andswaru.

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A Fang in the Moonlight

Vaarion swallowed, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Panicking would not help now. She reminded herself of all the things her father had taught her of surviving in the wilderness, hiding in the dark. She had been travelling and surviving in the wilderness before. This was no different. She had been stupid, running off without thought. But she could deal with it. She had to. The thoughts calmed her down a little. She realised that she had not eaten, nor slept, for over a day. First things first... She forced herself to sit down, leaning against the stump of a fallen tree, and fingered for her water flask. The smell of death was still lingering here, but there was not much she could do about that now. She put the flask to her lips and took a tentative sip. The moon rose as she was eating, bathing the area in a silvery light. She looked up at it with mixed feelings, realising she could be seen as easily as she could see others in its light. But at least, it gave her something to see by. The night was awake with the creaks and rustles of dry leaves; there were sounds of nightly animals about her, and from the direction of the tower Vaarion could hear a steady thumping and drumming sound, as of great machinery working underground. She thought she could hear snatches of words and songs as well, carried on the wind. She sighed, thinking over her options. Spend the night here: possible, though not comfortable. There was danger in walking the road in daylight, but just as much danger or more in the moonlight. But staying in this place, however forlorn, was also dangerous, especially with the proof of orc patrols about. She would return without having achieved anything, but that was something she tried to push from her mind at the moment. A distant animal scream, carried on the wind, reminded her that she was not alone in the valley. Flickering fires were springing up now, in places on either side along the road. Vaarion shivered. She did not want to stay here, she decided. Packing the rest of her rations, she pondered the path she had taken here. She had been stumbling around in the thicket, making noises for the entire valley to hear, that was for sure. But if she walked on the spots where the horses had trampled down the ground into mud, perhaps... She had not gone long yet when a sound nearby made her jump, diving for cover. She ducked into the shadow of a rock just in time to hear footsteps on the flagstones, so close she could have reached out and touched them. She shivered and retreated more, waiting for them to pass. She was certain they could hear the sound of her heartbeats. The hollow was just big enough for her to fit into. There was bristly grass tickling her leg, where it lay in the muddy ground. She shifted her leg and felt the grass give, her foot touching something soft. Confused, she turned around, trying to see what her feet had found. Her hands found more softness, covered by thick bristles. Then she shifted, and a ray of moonlight fell into the hollow and shone onto a row of teeth, sharp and white in a face of dark fur. The warg looked down on her, its face twisted in a grotesque grin.

[vaarion-blog]

Following the Patrol

The trail the patrol had taken was easy to follow, the hoofprints clear and obvious in the wet turf of the downlands. The woman ran along the bank of the river softly, hidden by her cloak and the long grass. Presently, the road became wider, the valley opening into a wide basin. Vaarion stared at the view that presented itself before her. There was a tower in the distance, larger than any tower she had deemed possible. It looked strangely out of place and out of proportion, looming above the valley inside a ring-wall. Only one gate led into it, and one road towards it, crossing the valley straight as an arrow. In the valley itself, many trees had been recently uprooted, their rotting branches still littering the ground. There was an air of smoke about that made her eyes sting. Dark billowing clouds issued from many sources. Beside the road, Vaarion saw a glimpse of white, strangely bright in the dusky twilight. She crept closer to see what it was. It took her a while until she could make out the shape of a hand, carved from white marble, pointing towards the tower. Someone or something had crudely painted the nails of the fingers a drippy blood-red.

Vaarion shivered, wondering if it was real blood. She crept past the eery pillar quickly. But something else had caught her attention, something more disturbing than before. Here, she could clearly see the paths of the horses spread out, the horses speeding up and rearing in panic. The trail turned around somewhere here. Her heart felt as if it stopped in her chest for a moment, then came back to beat even faster. The ambush. Trying to force herself to breathe slowly and softly, she crept forward, trying to make sense of the tracks. Which of the hoofprints were Ladhfóta's? Where had she carried Andswaru? Her foot found dead branches, cracking and rustling dangerously loud in the twilight. She stiffened. There was an answering rustle, not far from her. It took a full minute before she could force herself to walk again, creeping softly forward towards the noise. Two crebain stared at her reproachfully, their beaks stained with red. Vaarion's stomach turned. There was a dead horse in front of her, the carcass already beginning to stink. She closed her eyes, trying to fight down the nausea. There was something else there. She pushed herself forward, past the dead horse. The crebain continued their meal brazenly as she rounded it. At first she thought it was a bundle of green cloth, coloured a ruddy brown where it was stained with blood. But then she saw the helmet and the hair, spilling from it in crimson curls stiff with blood, and knew it was not. She had to know. Slowly, the seconds seeming to stretch like minutes, she forced herself forward and touched the dead man's shoulder, pushing away the hair from the face. The hair, underneath the dried blood, was fair. It was not Andswaru.

The last rays of sun had already left the tip of the tower when she could get up again. Her knees felt weak as jelly. She turned around herself, unsteady in the dimness, trying to get her bearings. There were many footsteps here, leading this way and that. The battle must have happened in this very spot. But there were no more bodies. "Andswaru?" she whispered, into the darkness. There was no noise, not even an echo, as if the night itself swallowed her voice. "Andswaru?" She could not see her path any more, or anything else. It was night, and she was in Isengard valley without a way of returning. The full extent of her thoughtlessness hit her and she sank to her knees again, hugging her arms. Her cheeks burned. She felt a sob creeping up in her throat but forced it down again, biting her tongue against the welling up panic. She could not return.

[vaarion-blog]

The sun had long passed the zenith when Vaarion next emerged from her tent, carefully looking around if anyone could spot her. She tiptoed behind the tent, where the horses were tied next to the few belongings left from their ride. "Shh, Witimanu," she whispered to her mare, who whinnied as she saw her approach. "I'm sorry, my dear, but you must be quiet now." Working quickly, she packed a small bag of supplies and a hip flask of water from the travel bags. Then she took off her Riders' robe, replacing it with the simple leather hauberk she had worn when training the sword in Rivendell. A small leather helmet covered her hair under a grey-green hood, obscuring enough of her face to make it shadowed in the low afternoon light. "This will have to do..." she muttered. Witimanu looked at her confusedly. Vaarion patted the mare on the muzzle, then hugged her impulsively. "I'm sorry... you can't come with me this time." She sniffled. "I... I just need to see for myself, see? I will be back... if I don't come back, take care of Ladhfóta and Apple and Pear for me, will you?" The mare whinnied again, uncomfortably. "No, I will be back, Witimanu. I promise. I won't be long." She stroked the mare's muzzle again, then straightened herself. "I will be back before the commander notices I'm gone." With a strong pull of her arms, she climbed on the crates stacked nearby, then up onto the palisades, landing on the soft grass outside with a thump. Then she was gone.

[vaarion-blog]

The patrol, part II

The night passed, but no one else returned to the camp that night. Vaarion was sitting in her tent, waiting. Sleep would not come to her. In the morning, as the sun was rising behind the hills and the noises from the camp reawoke, she girthed herself, brushed her hair and walked to the commander's tent.

The commander was sitting in front of the tent, breaking his fast with a few soldiers. He looked up when he saw her coming and nodded, but did not invite her to join. Vaarion could see that he looked tired. There were deeper lines in his face today, a dull look in his eyes that he as well was trying to hide. She stopped a few paces away, nodding in return. "Commander." "Mylady." The commander stood up, gesturing to the soldiers to continue eating, and walked towards her. "You wish to speak to me?" "I am missing my companion, commander." Her throat was dry, despite her calm words. The man nodded. "Come, mylady. We can speak in private." He gestured towards his tent. She forced herself to stare into his eyes, making no motion to follow. "His horse returned last night with a patrol, but he was not there, commander. Where is he?" The commander looked at her, not unkindly but nevertheless with the air of dealing with an annoying child. "Come." He turned away, towards the tent, forcing her to follow. At the tent, he looked around to see if they were alone, then turned to her again. "Your companion was a soldier of the Mark, mylady. I assigned him on a patrol last night. I am sorry, but he has not returned." So it was true. She felt a cold knot forming in her stomach. "That was not right, commander." She wished he would stop calling her a lady. "He was in my pay to escort me back to the Mark." "If he took your money, he should not have. His duty was to the Mark and I was well in my rights to call on him. We are short on hands here, and everyone must do their duty." The commander spoke quietly, but with finality. "Then what happened?" "You saw the soldiers who returned." The commander's voice was soft but wary. "They say they were ambushed near the Isen..." He looked up to watch the woman's reaction. "Of five who went, only three returned." She swallowed. "Then I shall help you look for him." There was a shimmer of compassion in the commander's eyes. "I'm sorry, mylady. There is no point." "What do you mean, there is no point?" She balled her fists. "We need to..." He shook his head sadly. "You will do nothing, mylady. We shall soon return to the rest of the garrison. Then you will find passage through the gap, as safe as we can make it. In the garrison, you will be likely to find escort to the Mark. That is all I can offer." Vaarion shook her head stubbornly. "But Andswaru..." He looked into her eyes, his body tensing. "The only soldiers who made it back alive are in their tents. Wargs are not likely to take prisoners. Is that clear enough for you?" For a moment he thought she would scream at him, fight or struggle. But she only paled, biting her tongue. He sighed. "We will keep you as safe as we can, mylady. It was his wish and it is also our honour. I swear this as a commander of the Mark. But..." "It is all right." She nodded. "Thank you." She turned around and walked back to her tent, her head held high.

[andswaru]

The patrol

“Run! Run to Vaarion!” Andswaru shouted to his horse, him knowing he couldn’t reach Laðfóta in time to get both in safety. He grabbed his sword and turned back to the warg that pounced Herniborn.

[vaarion-blog]

Vaarion returned to the camp with an armful of fresh herbs and roots, humming quietly to herself. She smiled at the horses eyeing her catch expectantly when her eyes fell on the toolbag, carelessly thrown aside with its contents spilled to the floor. She frowned, putting down the roots safely out of reach of the horses, and bent to pick them up. "Andswaru... what has distracted you now?" Sighing, she started sorting the tools back into their sleeves. The sound of hoofbeats from the entrance of the camp made her look up. Five horses rode into the camp, but only three of them bore riders. They seemed agitated, shouting something hoarsely to the commander. One of the horses was shying, neighing scaredly and not letting any of the riders near her. She thought it looked familiar. "Ladhfóta?" She jumped up, walking to the horse. "Ladhfóta, what are you doing here? And where is Andswaru -" She looked up, alarmed. The looks on the Riders' faces were stony. Vaarion turned to them, shouting in disbelief. "Where is Andswaru?" A man pulled her on the sleeve. "Lady, you have to stand aside. The horse -" "This is my horse, thank you very much." She grabbed Ladhfóta's reins, pulling them towards her imperiously. The horse whinnied some more, but stood still. "Come, Ladhfóta." She led the mare away, trying to push the unbidden thoughts from her mind, trying not to make the horse feel her worry. But she could not help hearing the words behind her, telling of patrols and ambush and death.

[vaarion-blog]

Speaking to the commander.