(Archive) Rorgan and the Wolven Fleece - Part II

September 26, 1999

*Note - log submitted by Rorgan*

Manor of House Hrugarth

Rich and glowing, dark heartwood from deep forestlands far to the north and unsighted east has been well utilized to floor this main hall, the one room where most action in the Hlaford of Forensvale\'s demesnes takes place. It is a quiet room when empty, the fire\'s crackling in the midst of the hall the only company to whatever thoughts might come. As one stares out a few shuttered windows around the room\'s walls which admit some light to mix with fire\'s luminescence, looking out onto the small village of Forensvale and the outlying plains, one might see little.

Looking around inside, little more might be seen: what light pours in merely confirms that the layout of the chamber is simple, yet not severe: here is a dais with two chairs upon it, opposite the carved doors leading in there the dais faces a long central fire pit in a deep trough of nearby-quarried stone, blackened by fire and ruinous age a long trencher table rests near tapestried walls depicting famed days of the Mark between the windows looking out.

You stand in the Manor House of House Hrugarth of Forensvale.

Contents:

Grima

Aelspeth

Maernus

Colinor

Dolwyr

Melethron

Obvious exits:

Carven Doors

\"A giant wolf, or many wolves, but they are not wolves of the normal stance, Wargs are what they should be called. I know some shall not sleep until the beast or beasts are dead.\" He glances are the new arival, \"However...\" He stops with that, not saying whatever it is, that he ponders.

Colinor purses his lips at that, nodding sagely as fingertips tap the tabletop in staccatto rhythm. His eyes are distant in thought, until they flicker up and touch upon Maernus\' face. Aelspeth is speaking to a messenger, and perhaps what he bears as far as news will have bearing on the situation, so he does not commit one way or the other just yet. He merely probes for more information. \"I take it you have fought wargs in the past?\"

The cloak is unfastened with white and shivering fingers, and, moving towards the fire as if in a trance, the storm-caught man warms himself slowly, saying nothing. Indeed, he seems to be a bit too bedraggled for words just yet, water dripping from his face, beard, and clothing as the wind howls outside. He finds a chair and seats himself at it, staring at the flames... .

Maernus shakes his head, \"No, I have not fought wargs, not yet any ways. I might before I leave Rohan, I plan on going north to try and find where these beasts have gone and I hope others will go north as well...\" He pauses, \"...I hope goblins are not with the wargs...\" He finishes absently as if he was saying that half to himself.

And Aelspeth remains nearby, the instincts of a healer-born aroused in the breast of the woman. Her earlier words bear great fruition in timely manner, for from a door leading off this main chamber, a young woman steps into view, bearing a great tray of steaming mugs and bottles. The girl, for that is really all that she is, pauses, eyes skipping from face to face before she settles on Aelspeth, to whom she walks quietly bobbing the half of a curtsy. \"Good fortune has brought you, m\'lady,\" speaks the healer, moving to guide the tray to the table, she standing at Colinor\'s side to retrieve a cup the man near the fire.

Dolwyr takes a looking at the man seated by the fire, before speaking to Colinor \"I\'ve heard of wargs in the East Emnet, a few months back. I now people who fought those beasts back then, I\'m sure they would know what we are dealing with here.\" he pauses as Aelspeth speaks to the man \"Anyway, I do not know where the bodies are now, but I know people who do. If you wish so, I can find that information for you, milord\"

The great doors to the hall blow open with a great crash, and standing there, in the storm, is a tall man in a cloak of the darkest green, now made nearly ebony by the absorption of the stinging rain. The cloak whips about the man\'s legs as he moves through the doors, brought forth on a gust of wind, but still he walks with a slight limp, immediately turning to help the servants re-close the doors against the raging fury of nature that is the storm outside.

Then, turning again and walking boldly toward those assembled at the table, the tall man throws back his hood, revealing his long greying-blond hair and the thin line of a scar upon his left cheekbone. The man then pulls off his mottled brown and green gauntlets, tucking them into his belt before he unclasps his cloak and pulls it free of his wet shoulders. And still the slight limp, as he gives those he is known to a brief nod in his passage to the fire, where he hangs his long cloak upon the edge of the mantle before turning to face the room.

Colinor\'s eyes burn with a fierce intensity as he broods there, one hand having moved itself to rest underneath his chin. He ignores the tray which is nearby, ignores the drinks, and keeps his eyes upon either of the men, switching from time to time. \"Have arrangements started, then, to organize the hunt?\" He asks that of Maernus, before Dolwyr\'s offer registers more fully. \"Yes...\" he intones, \"If there are others nearby who have experience fighting these...things...\" he says that latter word with distaste, \"We would be wise to learn from what they know. Anything you can do to enlighten us would help us to act in a more..\" he scratches his chin, containing his anger, containing the desire to just leap up and run out into the rain after these beasts himself, \"in a more..informed manner.\"

Already making the return journey to the vast hearth\'s warmth, Aelspeth remains frozen, observing with arched brow, the entrance of Rorgan. The man is familiar to her, and the guards as well, at least by sight.. so his entrance remains unchallenged. A shake of the lady\'s head prefaces new movement, she whipping about to deliver the warmed herbal concoction of mint and leaves to the storm-shaking man that sits before the fire before she turns about to eye the tracks of wind and rain upon the floor. It\'s a trait, possessed by all women, that attentiveness to homely detail.

Sipping at his drink just given him, the man sitting before the fire begins to regain some warmth, one hand releasing its clutchlike grip on the carven lion at the end of his great chair\'s oaken arm. He clears his throat and, hearing the words that the other people say, grows slowly darker in mood if sharper in seeming. \"It is no good news I bring to tell you, though,\" he says, standing and holding the warm drink as he strides toward the others a ways. \"By your leave.\"

Dolwyr scratches his chin \"Well, we can send a messenger to Lord Rananar, but it would take at least a weak to make the journey back and forth, and I fear we have no such time to waste. All I can tell you right now, milord, is that I had never seen such wounds before, and that they were not caused by a wolf\'s bite. It was something bigger, and a lot more violent, as if it killed for blood more than for meat...\" he then stops and turns to what the messanger has to say...

Maernus begins, \"I, do not plan on waiting more than for maybe half a day, but I do not know...\" turns to Rorgan, \"Friend Rorgan, you would know better than me, have arrangements for hunting of the wargs begun?\" He hears the messanger and stands silent.

Dolwyr\'s words ring true in the ears of Colinor, and his frown deepens, for he knows that the man speaks sense. In a case such as this, time is of the essence, more often than not, and to sit about and plan and replan is not an option, if lives are to be saved. It is then that Maernus speaks, and his attention is brought again to Rorgan, though he had been so engrossed in thought at the time of the man\'s entrance as to have scarcely noticed. Right now, though, the fullness of his emerald gaze is upon him, though he is not deaf, and his ears search for another voice...that of the messenger. It will be by Aelspeth\'s leave that the man speaks.

She remains by the hearth, cast in gold by the diffused light of the shimmery-tongued fire, but Aelspeth listens with all the contrated focus of the men that here have gathered. She is still soaked, fingers trembling enough from a chill that she takes to rubbing her hands together without actually thinking about the gesture. \"Speak, mi\'lord.. then return to your resting, lest you take ill as will the rest of those that heed not well my words.\" That is directed toward the messenger, even though he has looked beyond her and to the others. There is a hint of wryness in its deliverance as she steps but one pace forward and nails the side of the man\'s face with her violet gaze.

Thinking he has Aelspeth\'s leave and has missed it, the messenger pauses and allows the others to turn toward him before he speaks. And speak he does, saying, \"What you talk of grieves me. Great wolves, dead bodies. . . for I bring a similarly saddening bit of news. The lady Kerowyn is lost, and none know where to find her.\"

He stumbles a bit back, as if he is going to go oncemore to his seat, but he remembers something and speaks on, standing tall if wearily in the middle of the room, the fire at his back. \"I have travelled from Edoras to Dunlostir, then from Dunlostir to here on horseback. In all that wide swath of area, the entire Westfold, none have heard of her whereabouts and reports say that in the East, too, the case is the same.

\"The King in Edoras,\" he goes on, \"is much grieved, and has sent out many such messengers. It may be, soon, that he will give a great reward of coin and honor to whoever is able to find her and send her back.\"

A moment in front of the hearth is all it takes the tall man to seem freed of the storm raging outside. He seems heated by some inner fire that was missing when last he was seen by his host and his hosetess, and with a few great strides that barely yield the slight favoritism the man has for his left leg, he is standing by the table, both palms down upon its surface as he stares across at the brooding countenance of his host.

Only now does this tall man finally speak, and when he does, his voice is the same clear, true voice that spoke at the funeral of the Drihten. \"I have come to rid this world of the leader of those beasts, Colinor, so that I may enjoy my own union of love.\" The man\'s face remains stern, his tone sharp as he addresses the Man at Arms known as Maernus, \"Arrangements were made ere the Drihten fell.\" And again his eyes are upon Colinor, not impolite, but burning nonetheless as he speaks a few words more, \"My quest and the needs of your people, it seems, coincide, friend. Whatever riders can be gathered shall be a welcome addition to the hunting party which returned your kinsman to you.\"

Finally his visage softens, and Rorgan takes his hands off the table, but his eyes refuse to leave Colinor for even another moment as he awaits the man\'s reaction to his words, and he heaps more upon them, \"My fair brother, your neighbor in Dunlostir, it seems, is far too busy to assist us in our mutual need. I and mine will do whatever we can to assist you, but under one condition: I am to slay the leader of these beasts with my own hands. The leader will be easily marked by his black coat and silver collar. This one beast I claim as my own, no matter how it is slain I shall have its coat and its collar and its head.\"

Hearing that no one has listened to him with any great attention, the messenger--outspoken--seats himself down and nurses upon his drink.

Now turning to the messenger by the fire, the eyes of Rorgan narrow slightly, \"Then more\'s the reason to be after these beasts. And soon.\"

The messenger is far too hasty in his observations.. for one here has heard him with such clarity that it has shocked right down to her core. Aelspeth is torn between both trains of conversation, but permits the one to go as it seems all of the others tend that rather the other. \"Kerowyn is gone?\" Pivoting on her heel, she returns to the fire, hovering now over the seated man like some angel bent well on avenging a slight she has yet to truly find. With her eyes narrowed and the warmth of the fire drying the strands of her hair and lifting them upwards, she scans this stranger\'s face for some trace of deceit.. or hope. \"Where last was she seen? Know you that, mi\'lord?\" Brusque she can be when upset by something.

Dolwyr opens wide his eyes, in shock, and seats back on his chair \"If Lady Kerowyn is missing, then finding her must be our priority. But I feel like the two events are somehow correlated. Where last was she seen is indeed the right question to ask, milady...\"

Answers the messenger, gratefully and fearfully, \"I know not my lady. The king himself does not know where last any one has seen her, and those in the other areas say she was last at Dunlostir. Aethelwigend Fiordor, were he available for comment, might know something--but alas, I fear he does not.\" He sips on his drink and then says, throat further refreshed, \"It has not occurred to the king that her missing might be due to these strange beasts that have been ravaging the area. If this is some malign sorceror\'s work, or...oh, lady, I so fear for us all!\" He stands, and looks to Colinor. \"You have heard the people of this land complain of the beasts, have not you? It is so, I will take it: where there are woes in Dunlostir they are not far from this land I know.\"

\"Yes, as soon as the hunters can be gathered, as quickly as possible I would say, if we need a message carried to another place, I have been idle for days, I\'ll go.\" Maernus says and he means everyword he says. \"If these beasts have this Kerowyn and have not killed her, then something must be with the wargs or they have an intelligent leader.\"

Colinor arches a brow at Dolwyr, shaking his head minutely, fingertips resting upon his chin and just below his lips, \"The disappearance of Lady Kerowyn saddens me, yes...and perhaps these events are somewhat related, yet..\" he turns his gaze to Aelspeth then, as if asking her whether his words are correct. They come from the heart, though..and they come. That is what matters, for anyone who lends them credence, \"...the people, the commoners of this land are in danger, and I can not ignore them to look for but one. My loyalty, whether I am but a rider, a bard, a Lord, or a nobody, is to this land, to do my best to protect those whom my cousin so dearly loved. We shall take your terms, Rorgan. It matters not to me who kills the leader of these beasts, merely that the deed be done.\"

\"Aye.. the woes of Dunlostir and Forensvale are intertwined.. as would be those of the Deeping Coomb and every other holding in the lands of the Westmark that had befallen such evil.\" Aelspeth speaks to one and all, though does not lift her silken voice to overlay that of the others. Leaving the messenger behind with the touch of her hand upon his shoulder, she steps slowly to stand behind Colinor, letting the fingers of one hand rest behind his neck. Her eyes though, they are greatly troubled, and darkened by the words her husband speaks. \"Spoken well, my love,\" she echoes, though draws a deep breath and looks off toward the storm-battered windows. \"The people of these lands must be protected beyond the finding of one, though that one holds a place akin to sister in my heart and must be found. Would I the wherewithal, I should go for her myself, whether the heavens should bring down a blizzard next to hinder the search. Kerowyn needs be brought home.\"

The burning blue eyes of Rorgan fall upon the messenger, but he answers the question of Maernus first, even as his gaze lingers upon the man by the fire, \"An intelligent leader they do have, and old and cunning is he. By all rights, he has a name in the tongue of men and has been known to speak in such as well.\" Now the man\'s eyes narrow again, the gleam of the flames in the hearth adding to that which is there naturally this night, \"Though I doubt that this creature would be one for taking captives, while he still roams the Mark, then the lady is indeed in the gravest of dangers, for if no one knows where she has gone, then most assuredly, as did I, she goes alone.\"

A shake of that greying-blonde head and more words pour forth, \"Fiordor, my brother, has not been seen in Dunlostir for some time as well. This fact, among others, has caused me much grief of late, and has cost me much wasted riding. He would be far more likely prey to these beasts, friends, than the lost lady, but as with the ways of Goblins, we can only guess what purposes these Wargs would have with either. The hunt must begin as soon as is possible.\"

Dolwyr ponders evry word spoken in the room, before saying \"Killing those beasts must be done as soon as possible, for the sake of the people, if not for ourselves. But this is a task for riders and hunters, not for an eoscealc like me. I have lived in Dunlostir for the past year, and Fiordor is my liege. Finding Lady Kerowyn remains my priority. Furthermore, I would never let a Lady like yourself, Aelspeth, wander around the plains alone in a situation like this...\"

Maernus stands in silence waiting for something to unfold. He stands there uneasily as if the silence he is creating pains him.

Aelspeth considers Dolwyr, having to drag her eyes from the darkness and spattered droplets which are the sole view possessed by the window. She is nodding when she speaks, slow words.. that only hint of how torn the lady is. \"It would seem to me that M\'lord Fiordor is most probably missing as a result of his lady\'s loss. More than likely it would be that he, himself, is seeking her out, unaware of the dangers that have so recently come to be.\" Her eyes dart fleetingly to Rorgan, Colinor and Maernus, before returning to the man to whom she speaks. \"The only course of action that lies open to any of us, is to eradicate with swift speed the evil of these.. these.. giant wolves, and then to pursue the cold trail of Kerowyn. I might only hope in my heart that the Lady has kept her hale and whole and will bring us to her safely.\" She is not happy with that proclamation, it shows where shadow caresses the fine delicacy of her features, but her slim shoulders pull back with definition.. decision made, at least for the present.

Dolwyr shakes his head at Aelspeth\'s words \"Although it is not the path my hard guides me to chose, I know your decision is right, milady\" he turns to Rorgan \"I\'ll be joining the hunt, then. I know much is at stake, but it\'s the only choice we have, I fear...\"

Silence now comes as well from the tall man known as Rorgan, unasked questions about his family lingering upon his lips for the longest moment before a dark sigh passes between them. His eyes still hold the fury that seems to be driving the man as he listens to the words that are spoken first by Aelspeth and then by the Eosealc, before he finally does add some words of his own, but the joke falls flat ere it is spoken, \"You are probably as much a horse trainer, sir, as I am a tailor.\"

\"Pray, maybe more can be gotten to join the hunt from other towns, as I have said, I\'ll go if you wish a message taken or a request taken.\" Maernus seems worried at the aura of the room, \"I think these people you speak of must be found, but maybe it would be better to send a small unit to search for them, as to not delay the hunt?\"

Colinor stands, then, planting the flats of his hands upon the table before him. He manages to contain his feelings somewhat, but spirit..fire..can be seen in his eyes of emerald. \"Then let us be done with this. With the dawn, we shall hunt these fell beasts, and then join to find the lady. With any luck, they shall be one in the same.\" He pauses, then, looking once to Aelspeth, a question in his eyes, before turning back to those assembled here. \"The call shall go out for any who live in the vicinity, who are able to assist, and they shall come, as shall I, Rorgan. Brother to brother, in remembrance of the bonds shared by yourself and my cousin.\"

He turns to Aelspeth again, before looking to the guard which stands at the door. \"My friend, if you would...make the rounds of Forensvale...rouse all hale men that would ride for the honor and protection of their families, for the safety of the King\'s people. We shall leave at dawn, and thereafter, if we must, every subsequent dawn until these dark, foul spawn are gone from the plains.\"

Now Rorgan turns to Maernus, \"And you as well, go warn the camp that everyone who would join the quest and those who would assist our allies will ride at dawn. These spawn of the Dark One will perish ere we return. Once you have done that, return here at once. You spoke of being idle these past few days, well, my friend, you shall be idle no more.\"

\"My heart bleeds as well to delay the search for my sister, m\'lord,\" Aelspeth\'s countenance remains directed toward Dolwyr for a time before her head cocks and her eyes turn to the sound of Colinor\'s speech. \"There yet remains a messenger in Edoras as well. Let us hope he has expanded his quest to locate and inform us to others, and that men will already be headed northward from the King\'s city.\" That is all her comment, a certain calm determination limning her profile as she tightens her hand upon her lord and nods in affirmation of Rorgan\'s words.

You say, \"Fetch me Lord Indilzar and Sir Melethron and Lieutenant Galdorim as well, if they can be found, and if not send runners for them.\"

\"By your leave, lady,\" says the messenger, \"I will go to sleep. Have you a room that I can sleep in?\" he asks, obviously tired, being wet to the bone and only now drying off notwithstanding.

Dolwyr says \"So shall it be then\" He stands up \"I might want to be the messanger bearing the news to Dunlostir, since I come from there. I shall leave at once, milord, if you wish me to do so\" he pauses for a second, then adds \"I shall inquire about Lady Kerowyn while I\'m there, if it\'s your will...\"

Colinor nods, ignoring the \'my Lord\', for he knows the man\'s opinion, and takes such as a compliment. \"Indeed...please, make it so, my friend. And may you ride with the wind at your back.\"

It honestly takes a moment for the voice of the messenger to get through to the healer, but it eventually does. \"There are many rooms in which you might take your peace, mi\'lord,\" she speaks, lifting a hand to gesture toward the girl who has hovered, unsure of how to proceed, about the edges of the room while the tea she bore has grown as cold as the ashes upon a morning hearth. \"Maegwyn,\" the name is pulled from memory as Aelspeth summons up a smile for her, it holding no mirth or enjoyment.. just a touch of reassurance. \"Please, would you show this find Rider to his rest?\" And she waits, until the other lady has moved to direct the man at the fire.

Upon hearing mention of Dunlostir, Rorgan turns to that volunteer, \"See if you can bring back word of my brother as well, sir. Any news would be better than the none I have available to me now.\"

\"As you want Rorgan, I\'ll wake the campsite. I shall go with you, to Dunlostir, if I am allowed.\" Maernus states and he stands solemnly, in his sable clothing waiting for the answer to his question, before he goes to rouse the campsite.

Into the house, steps a cloaked woman. Rain streams down the grey velvet and droplets cling to the Isilrim Crest that makes up the clasp. Pushing back the hood, firey hair spills forth revealing the woman to be the Master Healer of Gondor, and steward of the House Isilrim, the Lady Maeghan herself. Raising a slender hand she brushes away a damp lock of hair, looking about her she manages to get the attention of a servant and asks in soft tones, \"Know you where I might find the Guildmaster Rorgan?\"

You say, \"I have already made what journeys I will to Dunloster, unless the tracks of those beasts lead us there.\"

You say, \"But you may accompany the Eoscealc, if it pleases you both.\"

Dolwyr seems confused by the sudden agitation in the house \"It is already night, and I have to be back for dawn. This journey will be a long and tiring one, Maerus, and I will be back in time only if I change horse in Dunlostir. You can come with me if you want, but I fear for the wellbeing of your horse... make a decision now, for I\'ll be leaving at once\"

Off to one of these many rooms does the messenger sleep...but he casts a mournful glance Colinor and Aelspeth\'s way as he walks thither.

Eyeing a seat, Rorgan shakes his head, finally showing some sign of the strain that is upon him. \"May I?\" he quietly asks with a small gesture of the hand toward the char and his eyes upon his hostess.

\"I shall go and I\'ll see about getting a change of horse there, or head to Edoras to see if I can gather more hunters there if I can not get an exchange of horse.\" Then Maernus continues, \"Do not worry for me falling behind or for my horse, if I fear my horse shall fail, I will take a different path and try to gather more Hunters.\"

The messenger is led off, at least.. he is handed off to Maegwyn\'s ministrations, and that is sufficient for the Lady Aelspeth, who turns, pushing back drying tendrils of hair from her face with one forearm. A note is made to check upon him, the storm and his journey having lodged a concern in her breast, but now.. there is just too much going on. \"Of course.. take your comfort and enjoy what hospitality this house has to offer, Mi\'lord Rorgan,\" she speaks.. turning then toward the door and allowing her eyes to rest upon Maeghan. A smile comes, short and fleet, though fraught with warmth for the other lady. \"Come in from the weather.. what brings you out at such an hour, my friend?\" The men are left, her slim form moving itself closer to the door before she pauses again, hand reaching for the cloak of grey velvet.

Grima has left.

As Aelspeth approaches, Maeghan manages a smile for her friend, but it does not reach her eyes. The normally warm and compassionate emerald orbs are now blazing with fury. Her face, pale with anger is set into polite lines. She says softly, \"I need to see Rorgan my friend....\", she hands the other healess her damp cloak, \"There is something of great import that I must discuss with him...\"

Colinor has seated himself again, brooding there with the knowledge of what must be done. Idly, he fingers the band of gold which encircles the ring finger of his left hand, eyes falling down to gaze upon the thing.

\"So be it\" says Dolwyr. He takes a bow \"I shall return soon, milord Colinor, with better news, I hope. See you at dawn, Rorgan of Gondor.\" he turns to lady Aelspeth \"and take care of you, milady\" and takes a look at the stranger who just entered the room, and takes abow \"milady\"... then to Maernus \"Shall we, my friend?\"

Drawn upward, the gilt curve of Aelspeth\'s brow serves as the only outward acknowledgement of Maeghan\'s strange demeanor. There is liquid warmth melted into her voice as she closes the distance between she and the other woman and takes the cloak from out of her hands. \"He is here, friend.. warming himself by the fire, for great tidings of unhappiness have been shared this night.\" There is a pause, lashes dropping lower as she studies her fellow healer sidelong, \"Would you take tea and comfort beside him for a time?\" Those words are almost cautious, though she turns and leads the way back to the hearth, setting out the velvet of the other cape beside her own.

\"At once, Eoscealc, I shall take but a moment to go to the campsite, rouse the men and get my horse.\" He turns to exit out of the manor house, his cloak flaping in his haste. He says, passingly, to Rorgan, \"I shall return and hopefully with more hunters.\"

\"Actually, I would like to speak with him privately if you do not mind my Lady...your hospitality is much appreciated though, perhaps I will be able to enjoy a cup of tea after, for now I have much that I need to say that cannot wait...\", she pauses and then asks in a softer tone, \"If I would not be prying, what unpleasant news has been brought?\" Maeghan clasps her hands in front of her to keep them from trembling. It is not difficult to see that this young woman is distinctly displeased with something or more probably someone.

With no one denying his request, Rorgan seats himself at the table, a veil of silence surrounding him until the soft voice speaks his name. This, though, draws only a faint hmmm from the man as he, too, absently fingers the ring on his own hand, a ring of gold with many tiny emeralds and sapphires on the face of it. His blonde hair falls loosely around his features, partially disguising the fact that he is plainly lost in thought.

Colinor looks up as Dolwyr bids him farewell, staning and nodding, \"I shall be looking for your return, my friend. Be safe...\" the touch of...something undefinable colours his words, and he watches the man depart with an equally unreadable expression upon his face.

It is natural for Aelspeth to reach out and rest her hand upon the arm of the other woman. She does that, leaning her golden head closer and seeking out Maeghan\'s eyes with her own, worry lending a touch of amethyst to their darkness. \"Not tidings he brought, my friend, but tidings discussed. Of those who were so brutally murdered the few nights ago and the plans which will bring vengeance, as well. Lady Kerowyn has also gone missing..\" her expression twists into something more somber as she shakes her head, straightening, \"She will be sought after these wargs have been killed.\" A pause ensues, and a glance to Rorgan, \"Worry you not over privacy, lady.. take all the time that you wish, there will be time for us on the morrow.\"

Nodding and flashing her friend a grateful smile, Maeghan goes over to stand by Rorgan\'s chair. In the same soft voice she says merely, \"Rorgan, I need to speak to you...\", the smile fades into a tight line as she purses her lips. Emerald eyes burn as she studies the older man, her hands still clasped together. A gold ring with emeralds and sapphires, matching the one he wears is upon her hand and she begins to fiddle with it, sliding it up and down her finger.

The older man pushes his hair away from his face now and turns toward the younger woman, his features softening even under her sternest gaze, \"Milady! Of course.\" He indicates the seat next to him.

Shaking her head, Maeghan says tightly, \"No...I would that we go to another room and speak privately...\", she lowers her voice and continues, \"Unless you would like me to give you back this in public...\", she slides the ring of gold off of her finger and clutches it in her palm

Dolwyr silently takes his coat and puts it on, nesting his head deep between his showlders, preparing to fight the chilling climate. He asks the guards to open the doors, and leaves

Rorgan\'s eyes widen in what could only seem to be horror at the words the lady speaks, and his voice is the barest of hisses, as he rises to his full height, \"What on Arda are you talking about?\" The incredulity of his tone can be hidden from none, even still.

Icy is her tone as Maeghan begins, \"You said we were to go meet your family together, and you leave me at the camp, then you return drunk and making a complete fool of yourself...\", she pauses and then says, \"Shall I continue? Yes...I think I shall....\", her eyes narrow and she says, \"Then you escape your guards and leave for 3 days with no word to anyone, not even myself...not even a NOTE to say you would see me again...I thought you were dead! Then you come back without even bothering to apologize or even tell us where you had been or why you left!\", she sounds bitter as she extends her hand and uncurls her fist. The ring rests on her palm, \"I wish you to take this back...I can\'t give my life to someone who will just leave for days on end with no word, or who doesn\'t mind making a fool of himself or his family dead drunk in the square...\"

You say, \"Family. Dead. Interesting words, Milady.\" He shakes his head, and then dismisses the ring with a gesture of his hand, \"It was a gift and is yours to keep, should you choose to dissolve our relationship over those two words.\"\"

The Lady\'s face twists into a mixed expression of anger and hurt, \"Rorgan...I am sorry, but how can I help you unless you *tell* me these things...I thought we were supposed to be a team, a partnership...and you leave me out of it...the death of family members is something I unfortunately have experienced and I know how painful it is...I would have been there for you if only I had known\", she sets the ring on the table and says softly, \"I cannot keep it, it would hurt me too much...I love you and you said you love me, but this past week your actions have not shown it, in fact they have seemed to say just the opposite. People have come to me, wondering about you and what can I say other then I do not know why my own fiance is gone, and that I do not know where he has gone to. People searched and could not find you...\", her face screws up in an extreme effort, \"I was so scared you had been killed by the Wargs...\", she begins to back away, passing a hand in front of her face, choking out, \"Tell Aelspeth I apologize for not taking tea...I...I have to go...\", she turns and runs across the hall and out into the rain, her cloak forgotten on a hook by the door.

Rorgan shakes his head, \"That\'s just the trouble, Maeg. I don\'t know.\"

Rorgan speaks these words to the air, but no apologies will be given by him to the hostess, as he, too bursts out of the hall and into the rain, still calling out the name of the woman he loves.

The rain pounds against the window as the small ring of gold glitters in the light of the fire. No response is made, though if Rorgan knows his Maeg as good as he thinks, he will realize that Maeghan always goes to her horse when she is troubled, and at the moment it is stabled in the manor stables.

Knowing who his lady will seek in her time of trouble does little to help Rorgan know where the horse is kept, but his feet carry him to the most logical place, as he has not seen his lady\'s constant companion in the camp of late.

The stables are mostly dark, only one lantern hanging on the wall lights the place. The sweet smell of hay permeates the building. The horses for the most part are quiet or asleep, only the occasional sound of munching can be heard. The stableboys are no where to be seen, most likely they are in their beds sleeping.

A sound that is quite unusual breaks the silence. It is a soft, almost choked sobbing noise that comes from the last stall. The last stall is filled with a gigantic bronze stallion, huddled in the corner is a small figure, red head buried in her knees, crying.

Water dripping from his tall frame signals the approach of the breathless tailor, but the man does not speak as he draws near to the last stall in the stable. Instead he stands mute, watching the red hair bob up and down with the woman\'s sobs.

Though the girl tries to keep herself as silent as she can, her sobs are still audible. After several minutes her cries wind down into sniffles. She rubs her eyes against the cloth of her skirt and remains there huddled in the corner. The large stallion exhales in a loud snort at Rorgan approaches. Maeghan does not lift her head, and does not say a word.

\"I didn\'t know,\" Rorgan\'s words are soft and to the point, \"and not knowing, I suppose, drove me crazy for a time.\" He sighs, \"I still do not know, Maeg, whether or not my brother lives. It took some time, but I found I could live with that bit of not knowing, as long as I knew we would always be together...\" He clears his throat, \"That is why I came back and have devoted myself wholly to fulfilling the tasks Sirion has set before me, Maeg. Without you, my world grows emptier every day. With you, it will always remain full.\"

\"I only wanted to ride ahead and be sure that you received the welcome you deserve, Milady.\"

Maeghan looks up, her green eyes watery and red rimmed, \"Why did you not tell me? You aren\'t a single unit anymore, you make up a pair...I am not some lady to be left out when things get rough...I told you I was in it for the long haul and you did not even bother to leave me even a note...do you know how hurtful that was? And when you just left for three days...oh Rorgan I thought you had died...and I thought I was dying inside...\", she sniffles and rubs her eyes with her fists as if willing herself not to cry, \"And then to be told by someone else in the camp that you had returned and were at the manor...\", her scentence trails off and she buries her face in her knees again

Another sigh, \"It would not have been a surprise had I told you where I was going. I wanted to see your eyes light up when the whole town turned out and greeted us like returning heros.\" He shakes his head, \"As for after I returned, I have no excuse. All I could think of was to leave, to get away from everyone and anyone before I took someone\'s head for a trifle. I gave the guardsmen the slip, intending to either find Fiordor or the Warg on my own -- I feel I have grown complacent and dependent upon my men, Maeg. Until I got away from them and spent some time alone on the plain, I did not know whether or not I was even sane anymore, Maeg. I had one purpose, and followed it. Only this time I turned around before it turned into history repeating itself.\"

You say, \"This time I had a reason not to get lost.\"

Maeghan cries softly, \"How can I marry you when you will not let me share in your pain and trials? I appreciate the suprise that you wished to give me...but Rorgan, is it that hard to come tell me when you are hurting so that I can help you bear the burdan? Again you turned to the bottle...do you know the stories that have reached my ears about what happened to you in the square?\", she shakes her head, and says softly, \"My heart grieves for you and the loss of your family...I know what it is like to lose your loved ones...\"

Rorgan shakes his head slowly, \"Because I have been alone for so long that I am having trouble training my mind to act as a part of a pair. Because when I am alone I am empty and I would do near anything to forget that feeling, just for a while.\"

All Maeghan can say is, \"But you are not alone....\", she blinks back the tears and struggles to her feet, bits of hay clinging to her soaked gown, and in her hair. She seems quite heedless of her bedraggled and very wet, probably cold state.

\"Aren\'t I?\" the tailor\'s face certainly should have been dry by now, and his clothes still cling limply to his body, his boots caked with dust-coated mud. \"You don\'t want me anymore, this much is clear to me.\" He still stands at the end of the stall, the ground around his feet is damp from his dripping and his hair hangs in limp strands spread across his shoulders, \"But now I can no longer call off the quest and go on back home as if nothing has happened. The ring is where you left it. The decision is yours to make.\" His jaw sets, but he says nothing more for the moment.

Trembling, Maeghan says quietly, \"No....it is not that I do not want you, it is that it appears you do not need me...I just do not understand how you can forget me and think you are alone...\", she pauses just a moment and then continues, \"I love you Rorgan, I have never loved anyone like this...it scares me the depth of feeling I have for you, the power you have to hurt me...like now...I want to help you and be there for you, but this is twice now that you have left me in the cold to deal with your burdens alone...what do you want me to do...\", she takes a step closer, looking up at the older man a mixture of emotions battling each other in her eyes.

Blinking back the moisture in his own eyes and swallowing hard, Rorgan says, \"I want you to realize that I am not wholly set in my ways, but that changing the ways I have dealt with things in the past will not happen overnight.\" He smiles thinly, \"With nothing more than that, we could have a wonderful life of loving each other, Maeg. With anything less, I might as well take my ring in and leave it with yours.\"

Swallowing she says softly, \"But do you not realize how much it hurts me to hear from other people how much you are hurting but not knowing how to reach you or help you?\"

\"How many times will this happen Rorgan? You have been there for me many times, yet I have only been able to help you once...when you first came to the door of the House of Healing so long ago...\"

You say, \"Sometimes, when the rage wells up inside me, Maeg, I can do nothing more than get away from those I do not wish to hurt. When I gave my guards the slip, it was more to save their lives than out of any selfish need I might have to be alone. One more \'I\'m sorry, m\'lord.\' or \'Are you feeling better now, Master Rorgan?\' and I would have slit their throats. I kid you not. I _HAD_ to go. It does not happen often, but when it has in the past, that is how I\'ve dealt with it. If you\'d rather I sought you than the solace of the wilderness, then so be it.\"\"

Maeghan nods, \"Yes, I would rather that....Rorgan I have *been* there...Each of my cousins have passed on, my parents died of a sickness...I have been left by those who claimed love...I KNOW what it is like to hurt and to want to lash out at someone....beloved, I want only to help you and be there for you...I will never offer you trite sympathies, I will offer you my love and my arms and let you rant and cry and rage as much as you wish...\", she sighs and her words trail off, only to pick up with, \"I only wish to be a part of your life, in all its aspects...\"

You say, \"Then I will do my best, Milady, to see that your ring is never intentionally left upon the table again.\"

Nodding, Maeghan says in a small voice, \"Rorgan...can I...will you please...may I have a hug?\", she looks up at the older man wistfully...\"Before we go back to the manor to get my ring...\"

Rorgan smiles and takes a step closer, holding out his arms, \"Of course, my dear. I would like nothing more than to hold you in my arms.\" And as they embrace, he whispers, \"I think those Wargs are going to return to where they took that family, love. I am going there tonight before the hunt begins. Do not be angry with me, please, because I must do this... I must have blood upon my blade again, and this time it will be the blood of the Wolf.\" His eyes gleam again with the fire of earlier in the evening as he speaks these words, \"I\'ve no doubt that if we find what we\'ll be looking for that we will need you ere the dawn.\"

Nodding, Maeghan says softly, \"Alright my love....I will be at the campsite preparing my things...please be careful, we are so close to our dreams being fulfilled...I need you...\", she smiles, \"I will go get my ring first...again, please be careful...\"

With a tight squeeze, Rorgan smiles more fully now, \"Of course I will. And you\'ll be needed by whomever goes with me, not me.\"

Rorgan gahs, \"That didn\'t come out right!\"

You say, \"I hope you know what I mean, Milady.\"

Maeghan grins and nods, \"Yes Rorgan, I know what you mean...\", she stands tiptoe and kisses her betrothed\'s cheek and then runs out into the rain towards the manor and her ring.

The tailor is hot on her heels, to retrive his own cloak and reenter the rainy night to hunt the beasts that lurk therin.

[Some time passes...]

Riding alone along the road to where the rest of his companions are, Galdorim sits in the saddle of his horse in a day dream. His mind seems to be racing over many things. His large hands hold his reins loosly as the Gondian mount trots idily towards his destination.

Green and tall is the grass on the plains of the Riddermark. It sways to and fro in the gentle wind hiding all that rests beneath it, providing shade and cover for those little creatures that burrow and scurry in the darkness of night. But on this day the grass holds even more...Things of evil nature, things unspeakable, things vicious and bloodthirsty...

The small pack of fell wolves is resting the day away, for there nights work is long, and fills the belly. A mouthwatering scent twitches the nose of one beast and in a second his heavily lidded eyes open and his ears rotate for mor information.

Galdorim sighs heavily as he looks at a handkerchief on his belt. He slips it off and studies the embroiderly as his horse leads him on the road towards the emcampment where his fellow Gondorian are. He shakes his head sadly and then slips it back on his belt.

A small group of men dismount a bit further up the road from where the lieutenant daydreams, and two remain with the five horses they have brought. The other three move into the grass, one tall and silent, dressed in the drab colors of the plains, and two uniformed men following a bit back and more noisily. The recent rains have washed away all but the freshest tracks in the ground, and the man at the lead, his long blonde hair tied back with a short length of bright blue ribbon, makes short work of checking for sign near the road. It is but a few short minutes before Rorgan and the two men escorting him turn around and begin to make their way back toward the road and their horses.

Gnashing fangs, dripping saliva, slashing claws, deep churning growls--covered in matted heaps of blackest fur.... The wargs golden eyes are abysmal and backlit by some haunted flame of malevolence--with hackles raised eternally, snarling grins come often and far too easily. Let there be no mistake, this creature is born and raised of wickedness, an incarnation of hatred and malice.

Black and wet and dreadfully scarred, the nose of the warg twitches and nostrils flare. The beasts mouth opens just slightly and a low growl escapes giving notice to the others. Nearly identical reactions from the rest of the pack as the group of four rise angrily, communicating through narls and terrible looks. Things are amiss, the days sleep ruined, early for a meal but not too early. The wargs begin to circle in the grass.

Galdorim has disconnected.

Not far from that small group of men rest another, a group of three, all Knight\'s of the Swan mounted upon steeds that differ in both size and color. The lead Knight, a tall man bearing the blood of old in his features calmly looks to either side as do his brothers, yet it is apparent that nothing has been found by them either.

Sighing softly to himself, the Knight known as Melethron wheels his horse, the other two following his lead, their path leading once more to Rorgan and his small band, \"Nothing,\" his words solemn, \"Nary anything as much as a track.\"

A nod from the tall man with greying-blonde hair, \"The rains have washed away anything that there once was.\" With a small gesture from Rorgan, the four Silver Guardsmen mount as one, and Rorgan, too is soon back upon his horse, \"Would that we had Indilzar\'s hound with us, Melethron. I bet the dog would find something here.\" He spurs his horse forward and a little down the road, repeating the procedure of dismounting and searching out a little ways into the grass. When he has again returned without finding anything he suggests, \"I think we need to find a new tactic. I don\'t think they would be moving this close to the road.\"

Dripping tongues now dangle and wag from the mouths of the giant wolves. Their hackels raised and senses reel with the thought of blood-wetted flesh. Soon they are in a calm frenzy, strangly calm and calculating. Eyes and ears turn this way and that as the packs speed increases in the tall grass. The sound of their padded paws drowned by the hiss of high-bladed grass upon their coats. Four in number they move swiftly in semicircle towards the road, speed increasing as they near their prey.

With a nod, the Knight speaks again, \"It is doubtful the beasts would move so close to the road,\" again his eyes look about for signs of passage, another attempt in the art of time wasting, \"But with these creatures you can never be sure.\"

Still standing beside his mount, one hand upon the saddle and the reigns in the other, Rorgan sighs, \"I\'m trying to think like a wolf, Melethron, but it has been far too long since I hunted other than Goblins and Trolls and the occaisional Corsair.\"

Strange it must look, as if a solitary gust of wind blows the tips of the greenery in an ever increasing rush towards the Knight of the Swans. The rustle hides the low growls until the pack is nearly arrived to their meal and as the last bit of cover disappears between prey and predator the wolves break into an ungodly song.

Three vile hounds race to the right in an attempt to pass and surround the warriors. One, the largest, leaps recklessly towards Rorgan, a hideous mouthfull of gnashing teeth tear a trail through the air seeking a soft throat to call home.

Vraash attacks Rorgan

..and he hits! Ouch!

The beast\'s leap strikes Rorgan across the back, a raking blow that does little more than push the man up against his horse for a moment, and even as his sword suddenly appears in his hand, the four men that have accompanied him begin to move into action as well, one pair moves immediately to the tailor\'s side, and the other pair turns to protect their flanks. Rorgan now faces the large, black-pelted creature, but he only stares at it, not attacking yet, looking for something as he holds his blade between his own person and the creature.

You forego your chance to attack.

Two Knights face three wolves who have now turned and begun the meticulous chaos with which these beasts kill with. Racing in, bounding with claw and fang, causing distraction so the next may do the same. An orchestra of death, sonnets of dismemberment, a violent poem to say the least.

In the front one faces three. Enormous this warg, pony size, with jaws that resemble a bear trap for than the mouth of any living creature. His eyes glow with hate and bloodlust and it is the man in the center he races after once more. this time the attack more calculated, a knee, a calf, who could know the mind of such a beast.

Vraash attacks Rorgan

..and he hits! Ouch!

The seasoned warrior with grey in his hair is willing to give his enemy a small bit of leg, especially the left one, if it means a good blow in return, and though he howls with pain as the beartrap jaws close about his leg, Rorgan brings his sword down even in the same instant, a blow calculated to strike across the spine of the creature.

You attack Vraash with your Longsword...

Vraash dodges your attack.

The two Silver Guardsmen at Rorgan\'s side strike out with their own blades as well, whenever the beast draws near enough to the trio for them to reach it. The other two fall back to assist the knights with the three that have begun to attack them, the grunts and panting of the armoured men nearly a match for that of the beasts they battle.

The battle with the wargs rages on all sides, the beast striking out at the Knights and Silver Guardsmen with a feriousity unknown to the humans. Yet through all this, the calm of the defenders is kept, for losing this would result in their deaths, though that might not be very far off.

With his glimmering blade lashing out at the skin of a larg demon dog, Melethron takes a brief glance to Rorgan to note his status in battle. Wheeling his horse, sidestepping the charging warg, the Knight makes his way to the elder man, only after making sure that his men and those of Rorgan are doing well in their fight.

Coming close to this massive beast, Melethron smiles, \"Time to keep a promise,\" he mutters to himself, thrusting the spurs into his mount charging forth at the pony sized creature, \"For Amroth!\" his voice cries out, even as his drawn sword lashes at the beast.

Melethron attacks Vraash with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm\'s length.

So quick the wargs attack, the instinctual hunting practices, it is more than a game to these fur covered demons, it is preservation. And so it served the greatest of these wargs--for it was by inches the tailors blade missed cleaving the wargs back...yet the blackest of all did not go unscathed as one sword grazed his snout in the foray leaving it cut, the wolves own blood dripping and mingling with the taste of human flesh into its snarling mouth. With heightened anger the renewed hatred the huge creature frenzies, lashing out this time at the last knight to strike out at him.

Vraash attacks Melethron

Vraash\'s attack misses Melethron.

Once the beast is turned away from him, Rorgan lashes out again with his own sword, thrusting it toward the flank of the animal as he mumbles something unintelligible to even himself. A version of a grin has pasted itself on his face, and his Silver Guardsmen are not far behind in pressing their own attacks, as the remaining four men face the remaining three wargs, and blod begins to flow from more of the humans than just Rorgan.

You attack Vraash with your Longsword...

Vraash dodges your attack.

But yet, even this mounted Knight is as agile, if not more so, than the beast for in the moment of it\'s attack, the horse and rider quickly and skillfully sidestep the beast, even as the blade of Melethron lashes out once more for the blackest of the wargs.

Melethron attacks Vraash with his Longsword, but he misses by a long shot.

A great and horrible howl echoes over the plains as the paw of one of the beasts to the flank is cloven at the second joint. Blood pours from the stump and stains the earth as the smallest of the beasts falls forward, struggling to escape. The wounded gray warg is ignored by its companions who seem to view it more now as bait than ally.

Meanwhile in the front of the fray the ebon monster twists and squirms beneath the hacking blades of Gondor. Mud flies as the fell wolf whips around lashing out and leaping at the mounted Knight.

Vraash attacks Melethron

Vraash\'s attack misses Melethron.

Even as the giant beast leaps again, Rorgan\'s blade is a blur of motion as he takes a step forward, seemingly ignorant of the blood staining his pantleg, his sword is a tight, sharp, upward arc, aimed at the belly of the beast.

One of the Silver Guardsmen at Rorgan\'s side moves to the opposite flank of the beast, narrowing its chance of escape.

Still a bit apart from this fighting, the other men fight on, but one taking the bait offered by the game warg, and loosing both his sword and arm at the elbow for his trouble.

You attack Vraash with your Longsword...

Your attack against Vraash moderately wounds him!

Again the horse and Knight are too quick for the black skinned beast, yet only just so for the smallest bit of air is the space in which the attacker moves past it\'s intended prey. But as quick as the horse and rider are, quicker still does the blade of the Knight move, even from the angle at which he strikes the creature of night, the blade moving now faster than before, while the look upon the weilders face is that of stone, the very substance from which his country draws it\'s name, yet within his eyes burns the lust of battle.

Methodical is his strikes, for now two of the beast charge at him, the alpha of the pack and another, sidestepping one and leaving it with a gash across it\'s hind section, attention is drawn once more the black beast, again the silvery blade lashes out to it.

Melethron attacks Vraash with his Longsword and lightly wounds him!

A gruesome sight to be sure... A three legged warg being nipped and clawed by its own kind. The injured beast lashing out, its jaws clamped on a freshly dismember ed forearm. Still the wounded beast has no place to go, and as such struggles and thrashes at the soldiers before him rather than face cackling growls of his cousins behind.

Vraash, having been struck at least twice retreats and then makes a wicked turn. Foam and saliva fly in a giant arc as the huge warg lifts his massive head skyward and howls. The two uninjured wargs take heed and slowly move backwards off the road and into the tall grass once again. The blackest of wargs only curls his lips and looks to the knights with glowing eyes of malice.