(Archive) The Woods by Barad Nimothan

Elendor - Sunday, July 30, 2000, 10:19 AM

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Anorien: Great West Road

You stand amid the westernmost reach of Gondor, in the land called Anorien, or Sun-land. The Great West Road cuts a swath through the rolling hills which appear on either side the ground here being very rocky and covered with a thick brown grass. South rises the might Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains, soaring vast and high above your head, while to the north the faint outline of the river Entwash may be seen, though one\'s eyes must be great indeed to see over such a distance. East and west the road, which is broad and well-travled, continues onwards as far as the eye can see.

The moon hangs high in the sky overhead, as night has fallen.

Contents:

Erinhaim

Eilessa

Thorondur

Obvious exits:

South leads to Below Barad Nimothan.

North leads to Anorien: Open Fields.

East leads to Anorien: Great West Road - North of Druadan.

West leads to Anorien: Great West Road.

Thorondur\'s head turns toward the source of a sudden snapping sound, harsh in the chill air of winternight.

Starlit, the hooded figure raises his eyes, looking toward the wooded eaves. It is cast in silver tones, washed out black and grey and blues for the night has masked the storm of fiery color that the Fall has left in her passage into Winter. And through this viel of darkness sounds can carry far, for the birds have all now fled to warmer climes, returning to the home of the gay clad knights. And so the woman\'s presence is betrayed. The hooded man rises to his full height and in the midnight hours his form is given greater girth.

Eilessa moves further back into the tree line for she now notes not only the riders, but the hooded man. Her steps are taken with recklessness now. She\'s no urge to meet anyone upon the road and does her best to meld into the darkness. Moving parallel to the road as she pulls her hood close over her fair hair, the girl\'s anxiousness finally fully betrays her presence as she give no credence to staying hidden and now only seeks to evade.

Following his friend\'s glance toward the roadside, Calladan squints against the starlight -- yet if the puzzlement writ loud on his face is any guide, he sees nothing. \"\'Twas nothing, like as not,\" he says, looking to Thorondur for guidance. But the Knight-Herald shakes his head, and lo! There rises a tall hooded man!

\"Not one, but two,\" the fair knight says as if instructing the other. \"See there, the ghostly shape behind him?\" Pointing, Thorondur indicates some flurry of motion, but Calladan only looks searchingly, unable to locate whereof the other speaks.

\"Cal?\" Thorondur looks to his companion, and sees the perplexed look there, the striving to locate something he cannot. \"Take this one,\" he gestures to the hooded man, nudging his horse into a slow trot parallel to the fleeing shadow\'s path, or the best he can guess it. \"I\'ll try and find the other -- and if they be friends, we\'ll have ourselves a laugh indeed!\"

This of course leaves Calladan staring down at the hooded man, and saying aloud, \"And if they be otherwise...\" He scowls at the tall fellow afoot, and asks, \"What is your name, sir?\"

It is not a goodly hour to be abroad within the woods owned by Barad Nimothan. For events have now raised up the ire of its lords and men are oft abroad in search. And it seems this hooded figure is one of such adventure. For his long legs carry him quickly across the sward of grass that separates the forest and the road. Soon he stands before two large beaches that bend to form an archway. Within the dark cathedral of the silent naked boughs beckons.

He enters without answer to the knights that now accost him. The noisy trail the girl has left in flight draws him.

\"Oh, for all the Valar--!\" Cursing, Calladan hies his horse back down the road, now easily keeping a parallel pace with the loping strides of Erinhaim within the wood. To Thorondur, some distance ahead of him, he calls, \"The hooded scoundrel\'s running as well! Might be you can cut them off!\"

Eilessa\'s flight has taken her further into the murkiness of the wood, she begins to stumble in her haste. Pale arms rise upwards to ward off the myriad branches that impede her progress and she no longer looks behind her, escape is her only concern. Suddenly she stops in her tracks, and hoping the noise of harness and horse will cover her endeavor, the girl quickly climbs the limbs of a pine. Sap sticks to her fingers as she wends her way upwards, not glancing downwards to check her progress or that of her pursuers.

\"Wretched Southron bandits, most like,\" Thorondur growls to himself, spurring his warhorse to a swifter pace. Having heard Calladan\'s cry, he leaves the pacing of the apparent fugitives to the younger knight -- himself riding ahead to foil escape. Steel now glitters in his hand as the hooves of Amrandir thunder upon the road, and some distance ahead, he pulls back on the reins and wheels around.

Sword flashing quicksilver as he thrusts it out into the evening sky, Thorondur cries, \"Halt, an ye be men of honor, and mind the Laws of Gondor!\" And with that warning -- that identification -- given, he sends his mount plunging with a mighty and awful crash into the wood, seeking to cut off the predicted path of the suspected bandits.

The shouts of the knights on horse back do not halt the hooded figure\'s pursuit of the girl. His dark eyes try to pierce the black night that hangs like spider houses on the trees. It is not hard to miss the sounds. It is almost like a din in the silence, the only other sound is that of the sighing boughs. But then, it stops and the russle of the sappy branches is almost drowned in the shouting of the men ahorse.

This alone will stay the hunter. He stands stock still, enshrouded. It is then the giant charger crashes through. And the dark figure in his hood withdraws to the shelter of a thick girthed trunk.

The sun slowly rises in the sky, spreading its brilliant light upon Gondor.

\"Very well then,\" decides Thorondur when he gains no reply. \"\'Tis no lawful Men we hunt tonight, Calladan,\" he cries aloud, his voice clear and strident in its melody despite the muffling branches and evergreen trees. \"No quarter is given to bandits.\" Cold-eyed now, he vaults down from horseback, making no secret of his presence, no attempt to hide himself, naked steel in hand.

And he begins down the track, narrowed eyes and heightened senses scanning to left and right, everywhere but upward.

Thorondur With a steely ring Kathrek Goru is brought from it\'s scabard to defend both the life of it\'s owner and the values that he holds dear.

Eilessa is perched quite high up the massive pine. She dares not move and her eyes seem to betray her, she sees naught... until she swipes aside a cone. Timely enough to see a shadow slip behind a tree and a mighty destrier enters the wood. Biding her time, the spanse of a moment, she notes the glint of steel which the rider wields. And considers climbing the tree yet higher.

Calladan, meanwhile, spurs his mount several paces, back and forth down the road his own eyes, he shades with a hand from the glory of the rising sun -- but such light can only aid the hunters. Now he begins to study all the trees from the vantage of the Road ... and slowly, his attention creeps closer to Eilessa\'s pine, ever closer.

Hunters do not shout at their prey to break them from the bush. Hunters of skill, at least, do not. The man who seeks the woman hiding here is one who\'s sat for hours waiting for a deer to pass. He will not betray his presence so that some feckless knight will have his way.

The tall man takes to his haunches once again, narrowing his silouette and concealing his form between the gnarled roots of the ancient giant. Meanwhile, his dark eyes follow the night-hid movement of the knights, as the hooves of their horses make great crunching noises in the drifts of leaves piled on the forest floor. And so, the hunter plays his game, waiting for the rabbit to bolt its hole. The knights are his hounds and he shall be ready for the desparat dash of the frightened girl.

At last, Calladan calls out from the Road, \"I\'ve got one, m\'lord! In the trees above you!\"

The words of the shout seem to startled Thorondur, and he glances upward, searching only momentarily -- once he looks up, it is easy enough to spot... well, someone. From where he stands, it is impossible to say what, exactly. \"Orome,\" he laughs, \"We\'ve treed a kitten!\"

\"There\'ll yet be another,\" warns Calladan from the Road, kneeing his mount slowly toward the treeline. He, too, now steadily draws his sword.

Eilessa\'s green eyes narrow as she hears the men below. \"Kitten?\", this murmured softly to herself as she quickly snaps off a pine cone. Tucking herself to the opposite side of the tree trunk, which takes some effort on her part and she nearly slips to her death!, she eyes Calladen as he looks upward.. and lets loose with a hard armed throw of the cone, her target? His uplifted face.

The hunter\'s eyes find the tree as well. Slowly, he moves away from the coiled roots. Taking a circuitous route, he uses the crowded trunks to screen his movement from the meedlesome horsemen. With careful stealth, the tall man slips through the night to approach the pine.

\"Ai! Bloody hell--!\" Calladan scowls, snarling as a pinecone hits his shoulder! Though it bounces harmlessly away -- after all, it was only a pinecone -- he calls again, \"A kitten that spits pinecones, m\'lord! I think we can disregard this one!\"

\"Indeed,\" calls Thorondur, now dropping to a ready crouch, sword before him, pivoting this way and that as he scans the wood, searching for the second \'bandit\'. \"Cry out if you see him.\" Then, for that selfsame fugutive\'s benefit, he adds, \"You can have the woodcraft of Faramir himself, you lout, but if you value your life you\'ll surrender now.\"

Eilessa\'s face melds from angry as she\'s not a realized threat, to an express of complacity -- she takes another cone in hand and begins a slow and inconspicuous descent from the tree. With utter care.. such concentration in her movements that should there be a threat from the man beneath the tree, Calladan, she\'ll scurry upwards yet again.

Calladan watches the tree with eagle-like concentration, making certain of the one he -has- seen. As of yet, he seems unaware that it\'s a woman, or that she\'s moving slowly downward.

The night covers up the figure\'s face with her dark veil. Were it not, a blanching would be seen there, at the mention of Faramir. But, still he doesn\'t stir, as if to fulfill the prophecy Thorondur\'s remarks have made, that he should prove the worth of his woodcraft. So, patiently he watches as a few of the branches on the pine begin to quiver slightly.

The midnight hour hides his smile now, as well.

\"Very well,\" remarks the Herald aloud, embellishing on his one-sided dialog with the unseen foeman. \"Either one of our birds has flown the coop, or he\'s playing a game, sitting still. So be it. Cal,\" Thorondur cries, \"Let\'s flush the one we\'ve got.\"

Calladan nods grimly, and climbs down from his horse, staring up into Eilessa\'s tree, squinting, trying to make out a figure or form, a face even. \"Come down from there, you,\" the younger knight calls. \"If all you\'ve got is pinecones, there\'s no need for any of this just turn yourself over and save us all the trouble.\"

Eilessa continues her descent, abit more agile in her movements in her familiarity with the upward travel. She pauses to blow a wisp of hair from her eyes and perches upon a strong bough, eyes downcast to Calladan as he makes her request. She answers with another pine cone. This one, she hopes, will at least meet its mark.. for she is somewhat closer to the ground and hence, him.

With a wince, the younger knight is, indeed, struck! Cursing loudly under his breath, he finally storms to the trunk of the tree itself, glancing up -- and his jaw drops. \"Valar! M\'lord, it\'s a -girl-!\"

Unasked, the knights do all the work for the waiting man. He watches, hidden, as Calladan is target of the missle. The night hides his smile and he shakes his head. Dark eyes stare upwards into the branches of the pine, wondering what path the flight will take of she who hides therein. The stars wheel high above, their pinprick points vissible between the clawing branches of the winter canopy.

\"And you\'ve never seen such legendary creatures before, is that it?\" Thorondur\'s dry quip cuts the night like a dagger, and the momentary addling of Calladan\'s mind as well. For his part, the Herald does not yet glance up to see who this girl would be he remains on guard against the unseen foe.

Shamed for a passing moment by his lord and friend\'s verbal dart, young Calladan blushes, still staring up at the girl. \"It\'s alright,\" he calls out, rather softly. \"We\'ll not hurt you,\" he adds, rubbing his nose -- which does, in fact, bear the mark of a pinecone-induced hurt, itself.

Eilessa\'s begins a hasty /ascent/ ... as Calladan begins to climb her tree. She makes her way upward another few feet and settles in the crook of two mighty limbs. With an innocent smile, one which probably goes unseen in the darkness, she dangles a long leg. Calladan should surmise, should he have intelligence, that this girl will kick him into Rohan if he comes closer. \"I don\'t believe you...\" This she says in response to his soft assurance.

Calladan isn\'t climbing -- merely standing at the base of the trunk, staring upward into the boughs above. \"But you must believe us,\" he says, in what he doubtless hopes is a tone of reassurance. \"We\'re Knights of Dol Amroth,\" he adds, his wits apparently dulled by something. Off to the right, Thorondur sighs loudly.

Eilessa has absolutely no intention of coming down the tree. At least, not yet. \"Go away. Far.. far.. away. Get on your horses and leave.\" This is the girl\'s soft voice drifting downwards from the midst of the pine. The hearty \'snap\' is heard .. another cone close at hand is now, literally, in her hand.

Time is turned upon its head for the hunter. Decades melt away like the tide of red that has fallen from canopy above. For many were the hunts that this one had within another wood. And so, no longer within the eaves of Druadan crouches this one. He has been transported back to the age when his locks were not yet greyed. The clamorous knights are transformed into silent companions working their skills with invisible precision and the treed figure is like a captured faerie. For as a waking reverie it holds more akin to dream than to memory.

The dreaming man, sits silent still. Waiting for the elf to join he and his companions.

Calladan is about to answer when, instead, Thorondur\'s impatient tone cuts again through the chill night air. \"Not until we have you and your friend, and your stories,\" he snaps, cool and in control of his situation -- in marked contrast to his former squire. \"You\'re no bird to sit up a winter tree without freezing, milady.\"

Of all in this little play, Thorondur himself is closest to the Firstborn, though his noble features are writ with a trace of consternation, concentration. And then, of a sudden, he announces, \"He\'s still here, Cal.\"

Eilessa hadn\'t noticed the chill air and now, perversely, pulls her cloak closer about herself and once again, nearly loses her perch upon the branch. \"I do not trust you, sir.. as I requested, go hither.. way, way, WAY hither, and I will descend. Maybe. I will. Perhaps.\" There\'s a bit more bite in her voice, and she enforces her renewed strength with another pine cone, this one in the direction of the other rider. \"Go, please! Don\'t make me come down, I\'ll... \" a studied pause, thoughtful. \"I\'ll call the King!\"

Calladan\'s head whips around, forgetting the girl as his sword comes around to the ready again. \"What?\" Well-trained reflexes ease into relief, knees bending, gloved hand hefting naked steel experimentally.

\"The tall man, our hooded friend,\" explains Thorondur, the grim smile of the veteran coming over his features now positioned in a shaft of silvered starlight, he takes on the countenance of a chill and vengeful Elflord. A pinecone tumbles impotent to the ground, some distance away from him. \"Rohirric, then,\" he says quietly. \"How odd that she trusts us not.\"

The wind sighs, breathing its whispered tales of the dying year. It speaks of the trees and the creatures that have passed between them. It speaks of the scene of these four figures locked in the binds of purpose: Pursuit, Knowledge and Escape. And upon them all it breathes, slipping through the sap-filled pines that hide the girl. It plays upon hood of the dreaming hunter and tugs at the cloaks that drape the knights. Its cold touch chills the flesh, carrying on its back the scene of the fires in Nimothan\'s hearths.

The sky begins to lighten with the dawning of the day. And a greying mist comes into view, obscuring the trees not near at hand into wraith shapes, sentinels to these events.

\"Cal, guard against our little shadow. I\'ll speak with the girl myself,\" the Lord Girithlin says, his tone brooking no disagreement. The brother knights exchange places, and as Thorondur peers up into the boughs of the tree, the disappointed Calladan begins staking a perimeter, marking a circular route of watch -- on a path that leads directly to Erinhaim\'s hiding place.

Eilessa has nothing on her hands but time, so she starts to make a collection of pine cones. Those nearby are dropped into her lap. She half-rises upwards to reach a few on the next limb and manages to drop two which she previously collected. She notices not, and continues, ending up with a total arsenal of six cones. \"I\'ve alot more of these up here,\" she threatens in a loud voice to the man below her. \"So, go \'way! I\'ll use \'em!\"

\"I\'ve no doubt you will,\" replies the Lord Girithlin, Thorondur, coming about to the base of the great pine, and sheating his sword. Shading his eyes from the rising light of the dawn, he looks up searchingly, trying to discern a clearer picture of the girl. \"And I assure you, I don\'t wish to be hit with the things. But lady, \'tis cold, and the folk of our land are welcome in ours. Why have you fled from us? What crime have you done?\"

Thus far, he has not seen her, only vague colours and stirrings.

A figure sitting still goes oft unnoticed. But, as if directed by the wind\'s soft touch, the hunter makes a slow circle around the pine. He stops at the point directly opposite the girl on the tree\'s far side. Heavy hands separate the branches, as the wide shouldered figure makes his way through a breach in the thick covers.

Slowly, he eases his large form up its length, sliding through the sappy web. Finding routes with instincts honed by age, creeping closer to the girl by inches at a time.

\"Tis none of your business, I think so, .. indeed I do, milord, if you\'re truly a lord. You can\'t prove it, so.. go away!\" Eilessa lets loose with another cone, ferocity in her aim. She doesn\'t look to see if she\'s hit her target, merely bundles the remaining cones in the folds of her cloak and does descend a few limbs, intent on .. well, utter confusion.

Eilessa\'s angry words, the next cone launched, the descent -- confusion enough, even without Calladan\'s simultaneous cry of triumph!

\"I\'ve found him, m\'lord! Amroth,\" Calladan cries, \"Amroth for Gondor!\"

And of a sudden the younger knight is rushing Erinhaim, the ruse up, Thorondur is whirling, gaze settling in an instant -- in but a fleeting moment, one knight will be upon the hooded man, and the other but steps behind.

Eilessa\'s eyes narrow at the scene which unfolds beneath her and she uses the diversion to slip further downwards in the pine. The cones drop from her cloak soflty upon the pine-ladden earth. Perched now upon the lowest branch, she pushes herself from the tree and towards escape.

The hooded figure jumps from the tree also, as the knights close in. His longer legs coil under him to take the weight of his fall. Quickly, he bolts forward after the girl, his deep voice shouting, \"Gondor! Gondor!\" As if he were in adventures far away in years long passed with those who now have fallen.

The shouts of \'Gondor\' from their quarry fail to fool the brave Knights of Dol Amroth Calladan is upon him in a flash, caring little for such subterfuge. Yet Thorondur, torn, finds himself caught between the onrushing hooded man, and the fleeing girl. Crying aloud, \"Here\'s the villain, then,\" he makes knock Erinhaim down with a flying tackle!

Thorondur says, \"makes to knock Erinhaim down, even...\"

Eilessa shakes her head, her hood falling back and exposing her sun-fair hair as she runs with all the strength her slim body can muster... when scared. Hearing the name of her homeland causes her to pause, a slight pause, but enough to throw her off balance and cause her to stumble, head-first into the loamy ground. A hand reaches into the bodice of her tunic and a sharp-edged dagger she removes.

Thorondur Seeing it\'s need has passed, the blade is returned to it\'s place at Nials\' side.

The heavy hands have taken hold on the fleeing girl\'s corset hem, his long legs closing the distance quickly. But suddenly he is taken at those same legs by the leaping Lord Girithlin. The girl stumbles, he leaps over her, tripped by Thorondur. The hooded figure plows head first into a deep bank of golden leaves and rolls a short distance. Coming up into a crouch, his dark eyes look upon the scene, still vieled in a dream of past memories. He hisses, \"Yrch!\" and draws a sword that would never have been held by those same hands in the time he dreams of now.

For it is of the ancient make forged in the younger days of Nimothan, when they were strong in works. Its silver length glitters and on the pomel is writ the Lay of the White Rose in Eldarin sigils.

Rolling back to his feet in time with the other, Erinhaim, Thorondur\'s own blade -- plain and unadorned, yet deadly in a master\'s hands as any ancient steel -- comes up between hunter and the Rohir girl, its master interposing himself between stalker and prey. \"You\'re a madman,\" he murmurs, amazed, and then more loudly, \"Lady, stay behind me!\"

Calladan, meanwhile, eyes the unfolding drama with repidation. He dare not join Thorondur in putting down this crazed hunter -- the quarters are too close -- and the burgeoning duel blocks his route to the girl. He can only stand back, sword in hand, and await the dread outcome.

The older man blinks his eyes, the vision slowly dissipating as the mist slowly rises with sunlight burgening. Finally, Thorondur looks more like himself and the weight of years resettle on the man once known as Beleglarion. Erinhaim lowers the sword in his scarred hands and frowns, \"Lord Girithlin...\" His deep voice carved in grave tones cuts through the crisp winter air like an axe blade, heavy and undeniably there.

\"Good morning,\" The Lord Minister Erinhaim Nimothan offers, bowing his head to the lady and the Lord before her.

Eilessa looks at Thorondur like he\'s as mad as the others. She considers her options, taking too long undoubtedly. With the \'blade\' stand-off between the hooded man and the proclaimed knight, she tucks her legs close and rolls to the side, pushing to her feet. She stands ackwardly and pulls a downed autumn leaf from the sharpened tip of her dagger. \"I had other plans this night!\" With that pronouncement, she pulls her cloak close and wipes her free hand upon .. .she looks upon Thorondur\'s tunic but he\'s out of reach, so she suffices herself to wipe it upon her own autumn-colored cloak.

Erinhaim\'s free hand pulls away the hood from his hoary locks. Quietly he watches the maiden and her blond hair, frowning.

Looking first to the Lord Nimothan -- who, sans cowl, is familiar to him -- and then the girl, standing there with a dagger and a bundle of outrage, Thorondur hir Girithlin merely stands silent and then, at length...

He laughs.

Quiet at first, but then like the rippling fall of water down the rapids of the distant Bruinen, Thorondur laughs and laughs, collapsing to the ground and propping himself against a tree-trunk. When he catches Calladan\'s puzzled eye, he exclaims, \"Oh, what a ridiculous party we look!\"

Eilessa raises a brow at the knight\'s amusement and utters a hiss of outrage. \"Fine! Chase me UP a tree, command I come down, then laugh?\" Tossing her head, her locks flying freely about her shoulders, she makes her way to the road. \"I heard the amusements were to the south. When I get there, I\'ll be sure to send them here.\" Slipping her dagger out of sight, she wipes her sappy hands on the trunk of each tree she passes enroute back to the road.

\"Some race, indeed,\" grumbles young Calladan, sheathing his sword and ambling toward the two lords and the girl. Aiming a dull glower at Erinhaim, he adds, \"A merry chase you lead us, m\'lord,\" but makes no mention of the other\'s odd affliction -- only now staring after the girl.

Nodding gravely, his dark eyes still set heavy in appraisal on the maiden. Erinhaim offers, \"I do not think \'twas she who slew those men... The girl mentioned nothing of a woman.\" And he is himself again. He calls out as the girl begins to leave, \"My Lady... Stay awhile. The Lord Nimothan would speak with you and offer you some shelter as apology for so rough a welcome.\"

The hunting Lord travels in her wake. \"He would know your name.\"

Calladan is joined in his staring by his friend, Thorondur, slowly sobering from his fit of laughter. They look to one another, and their eyes meet, grey and blue. All else forgotten, the younger one whispers, \"The south?\"

Thorondur replies, a light of mischief in his dancing eyes, \"The Prince\'s Tourney.\"

An eager nod from Calladan, and a murmured, \"She\'s beautiful.\"

Eilessa turns in her stride, her fair expression still angry as she faces Erinhaim. \"I will accept the apology, even though I think you in cahoots with these..\" A wave, wide wave, of her slim arm towards the knights, \"Men.. but I find it in poor taste to accost such as .. me. I. Whatever! Leave me be, please. Tis daylight and I think, if I run from the lot of you, I might make it safely to my destination.\"

And as if -that- is quite settled, the younger knight helps up the other -- who, fair and fey, seems no less youthful than his companion, until one looks closely. It is almost unnatural. Now they both step forward, and the taller -- Thorondur -- calls after Eilessa, \"Aye, we would know your name as well. Or if not that, then your destination,\" he adds as she makes to leave once more, \"For we guess it Dol Amroth, and that is our home.\"

Erinhaim slides his weapon back into its leather sheath, belted unadorned at his side. The words of the two knights are heard only by the trees that circle them.

He frowns more when turned on in this manner by the girl, \"Lady... You have tresspassed on matters of grave import. A mistake of identy and a hunt for unknown foes. I ask of you only that you prove me wrong of my worry by telling me your name.\" Looking towards the knights as they address the maiden, he pauses momentarily. His deep voice is like the bellow of the sea, compared to the clarion tones of Thorondur\'s own, \"Further, I offer food and escort. We keep a store of horses for the messengers to Edoras, you can ride with them on their return to Minas Tirith and gain passage through the Ramas, thither.\"

\"For I am Lord Nimothan... Lord of these woods.\" He finishes.

\"You are Lord Nimothan, a crazy old man,\" mutters young Sir Calladan, under his breath.

\"My name is not your concern, unless you care to \'tree\' me again, sirs. And should you so desire, I\'m certain I will have other plans.\" Eilessa directs this statement to all three men as she lifts a slender hand in anger to make an angry swipe at a thin wisp of blond hair that snakes over her lips in the early morning breeze. With a steel-eyed glance at all of them, she steps onto the road, in a southerly direction. \"Lords be damned\", she utters loudly enough to be heard.

\"Now Cal,\" Thorondur begins, warningly yet good-humoured, forcing his own grin at the younger man\'s words back, for the sake of courtesy. Yet then Eilessa speaks again, and he admits, \"She\'s a spunky one, I\'ll give you that.\"

Calladan takes a step, as if to go after her.

Thorondur adds, \"You heard what she said about lords. Let the girl go--there\'ll be others.\"

\"I assure you that it is, maiden.\" Answers Erinhaim, \"I will not let you pass, otherwise. And send word to the Ramas that you be kept thither until you answer to the will of Gondor.\" His dark eyes glower sadly at the woman, having been pushed to this by her recalcitrance.

\"Let her go, Nimothan,\" the Girithlin says, softly but with steel in it. \"You\'ve caused the girl enough trouble already. Let her go, if she be headed for Dol Amroth, Minas Tirith, or Mordor itself.\"

\"I caution you to leave me to my purpose, Girithlin... I have let my house be ruled without my council to pursue my duties to the Steward.\" Erinhaim looks back toward Thorondur with dark eyes, \"And as there is a menace on lands ruled by that house, I will have answer by this girl who travels on my lands.\"

Lord Nimothan\'s words reach Eilessa, but such only cause the girl\'s stride to widen, her steps to distance herself from the men increased. Not quite at a walk, more a jog... \"I need not anyone\'s protection!\", this she offers to the wind, not caring if it carriers over her shoulders to those behind.

Erinhaim says, \"You will be stopped at the Ramas, then. Farewell.\"

Erinhaim turns and walks toward the path to Barad Nimothan.

\"And you,\" Thorondur returns to the Lord NImothan, \"Will answer to my sword at the tournament.\" Calladan, this time, does not suppress his own thin smile as the pair of knights turn to seek their horses: girl and haughty Northern lord fput out of mind.

\"A kitten, indeed,\" Calladan needles his friend as they make their way out of the wood. Thorondur laughs, but the younger knight is not finished with him yet, continuing as they find the mounts crewing at the grass near the roadside. \"More like to a tiger-cat out of the Haradrim jungles,\" he says with a smirk.

\"One of these days, Calladan Telamarth,\" Thorondur warns his friend, in joking tones himself, \"you will go too far.\" Swinging up into his saddle, he glances down the road, after the girl.

Mirroring Thorondur\'s movements, Calladan too vaults into the saddle. \"Going too far? That Nimothan bastard went too far, if you ask me,\" he says, disgruntled. \"Draws steel on you, and then makes a threat? Have they no manners north of Lebennin?\"

\"The House Nimothan has hosted us fairly and well for two weeks,\" Thorondur reminds his companion. \"Now, I need you to ride back to their keep, and ascertain that they\'ll continue to do so until we finally depart.\"

A suspicious look comes into Calladan\'s eyes, even as he turns his mount about. \"Oh? And what of you, m\'lord?\"

\"I,\" states Thorondur, his voice too mild for his devilish smile, \"have a bit of convincing to do. You heard the lady -- she dislikes lords. And we can\'t have that.\"

Calladan groans.

And so the knights split at last, Calladan to the south, and Thorondur eastward.