Bor\'s Folly: Into the Druadan

The eaves of the Druadan block the yellow moon so much so that the only lighting comes from a single fire situated in the midst of the Gondorian camp. The camp is mostly silent, save for a wind whistling amongst the trees.

Imrakhor sits near the fire before a small wooden table with a decanter of brandy and two glasses. Only one glass is filled but it is yet untouched.

\"Lord...\" Menelglir has come by, scant glance to the brandy, more so to the other knight.

\"Know you where your Squire and the White are? \"

\"I do not,\" responds Imrakhor, turning a glance to Menelglir. His tone is unconcerned and he gestures for the Knight to take a seat beside him.

Taking the decanter into his hand, he pours a second glass of brandy.

\"Are you concerned?\"

Voices. From inside her tent, Calenloth stirs, only to see the Lady Cwen fast asleep. Rising, she tiptoes around the sleeping lady, taking her cloak to pull about her shoulders. She appears from the door of the tent, spying the figures around the crackling flame of the fire. \"Sirs,\" she says, stepping towards the fire, her hands moving to twist her hair around her head.

\"Somewhat. But...no, not really,\" Menelglir says, then shrugs. \"No matter.\" He sits instead.

It is now that there is a small disturbance outside the camp nothing more than some bushes rustling. And Conalmir and Lominzil pushing through them, out of the dark woods and into the somewhat lighter camp. They stand there a moment, then walk towards their tent.

\"Lominzil has traveled far darker roads than this,\" says the Bragollach almost off-handedly, taking and raising the filled glass to his lips. It returns to the table empty and is filled anew, as is the second glass. \"Once you have the measure of a man, you know from how far he is able and willing to return.\"

His attention then shifts to Calenloth, and he nods as she approaches.

Calenloth steps softly through the camp towards the fire, but her eyes glance in the direction of the bushes. She stops, suddenly, slowly scanning the shadows. Probably another animal, she thinks, and she moves to join the two men besides the fire.

\"He is your Squire. I think I have an idea,\" Menelglir says. He looks to the glasses of brandy, pointing to the second. \"May I?\"

But even so his eyes flit to the sides of the camp, perhaps taking in the presence of Calenloth, Conal and Lominzil.

Perhaps not.

\"Restless, Lady Calenloth?\" asks the Bragollach, his eyes following that woman. \"Come. I have something to warm the bones and calm the heart.\"

The first glass is left untouched. The second, he pushes towards Menelglir.

Calenloth sits by the fire, saying only, \"Restless... yes.\" She pulls the hood of her cloak up over her head.

After a few minutes, Conal re-emerges from the tent and comes over to the fire, standing there and holding his hands out to the wamrth of the flames. His gaze goes to Lord Bragollach and rests there for a moment enigmatically then drops to the coals in the heart of the fire.

\"Still restless?\" Menelglir says, reaching for the second glass, but not yet picking it up. \"And the cause of it?\"

\"Conalmir.\" A nod toward the White Squire. \"There was some confusion--some thought you and Lominzil were missing from camp.\"

\"There is brandy,\" says the Bragollach. It is clear now that the first glass is intended for Calenloth, as his eyes pass to that drink. \"And fire.\"

Then his attention is turned to Conalmir and he is silent.

\"Sir,\" Conalmir says. \"We were scouting as ordered. It took a little longer than expected.\"

\"Cause?\" Calenloth looks up in surprise. \"I am not sure,\" she continues thoughtfully, watching the smoke dance above the flames. \"Perhaps there is no... cause. Lady Cwen sleeps through the night, every night. But I suppose I do not...\" She smiles.

\"Conalmir,\" she greets the Squire warmly.

To Lord Bragollach, \"Thank you,\" reaching for the glass to take a small sip. And sneezes.

Lominzil does not appear for the rest of the night it seems he has gone to sleep, for once.

\"Brandy can help with your sleep,\" Menelglir says. \"As long as it is not too much nor too often. And it can help with a cold, as well.\" He sets his own glass down, though, and gestures toward it. \"If you would like this glass instead, Sir Imrakhor?\"

\"No, sir,\" Conalmir answers.

\"Good evening, Lady Calenloth.\"

\"I shall remember that,\" Calenloth says softly. \"Would you like to share?\" she asks Menelglir, offering her own glass. \"Lady Cwen said that it was an... acquired... taste.\" She grins. An interesting evening, that certainly was...

\"This forest gives me a strange feeling,\" she observes.

\"Good.\" This to Conalmir.

\"Yes, thank you.\" This to Calenloth, as Menelglir takes her brandy glass, \"I suppose it is an acquired taste, but..do not acquire it too much,\" he grins--the expression fades fast. \"You did not go into the woods, did you?\"

\"It is a strange place,\" says Imrakhor, taking a drink.

\"Full of memories.\"

\"No... not...\" Calenloth stumbles. \"Not far. Just to...\" She swallows, catching herself. \"Never out of view of the camp. I promise!\" An edge of disappointment to her voice is apparent.

\"Sir,\" she says to Imrakhor, \"You have been through these woods before?\"

\"Oh.\"

Menelglir sips at the brandy, handing the glass back to Calenloth and fixing her with a stare. Then he turns to Imrakhor in silence.

\"Once.\"

\"I was but a Squire then, under the care of Prince Imrahil. We did not see any of the supposed inhabitants of the forest yet, there is always the feeling that they are there,\" says Imrakhor. \"With little love for the Dunadan, it is said.\" The Bragollach\'s eyes are colored by brandy and suspicion.

\"Please do not be upset,\" Calenloth pleads. \"A few feet, that was all. I promise! I could not ask an escort for...\" She takes the glass back, but looks to the ground, turning the glass in her hands.

\"Perhaps that was the feeling,\" she continues. \"Perhaps we should... look?\" She pauses, thinking a moment before another sip of brandy. Another sneeze.

Conal\'s gaze goes from one to the other in silence, and then returns to the fire. He watches the flames a few minutes, then lifts his eyes to the dark forest around.

\"I am not angry,\" Menelglir says. \"There is only so much I can do. And, after my conversation with that healer the other day, well, in truth, it is not my missive here to protect everyone. I cannot be responsible for what those who have agreed to go along on this journey choose to do. I am sorry.\"

He looks now to Imrakhor. \"And yet...we go to the coast, to the forests of those same people. Who may or may not have once sheltered a Queen of Arnor.\"

\"Is it curiousity that brings about such restlessness, Calenloth? Locked in a life of words and songs, but never seeing the world. Is that why you come?\" asks Imrakhor, rising. \"Or is it pride? Do you wish to show you are man\'s equal?\"

He pauses.

\"Whichever, I shall go with you into the forest.\"

\"I /did/ want to go further,\" Calenloth says to Menelglir, not quite ready to give up. \"But I would not go back on my promise to you. I do listen,\" she insists. \"And I thank you for the protection you promised me.\"

She pauses at Imrakhor\'s statement, considering the question for a moment. \"An equal?\" she asks. \"I should not have to show that. I am who I am. There is nothing to prove.\" With growing intensity, she also rises, \"Curiousity, most definitely.\" But she stops to think to herself, admitting, \"But likely also pride. How could I simply wait for life to come to me, after all?\"

\"The brandy, if you please,\" Menelglir says, requesting Calenloth\'s glass that they are share. His head he inclines to the woman, glancing between her and Imrakhor now.

The squire remains silent, watches Calen as she speaks. The firelight flickers on the side of his face and shadows his eyes.

\"You wish to run to fate,\" says the Lord Bragollach. His eyes survey the camp before stopping upon Calenloth and Cwen\'s tent. \"Rather than from it.\"

He produces a dagger from his waist and hands it to Calenloth.

\"We go into the Druadan. Who wishes to come?\"

Calenloth takes the blade into one hand, murmuring, \"Thank you.\" She studies the small weapon thoughtfully. Remembering, \"My apologies,\" she says to Menelglir, handing him the glass of brandy from her other hand. She passes the dagger between her hands, looking up to say \"Now?\"

A small sip does Menelglir take at first from the brandy--but when Imrakhor makes his offer, he instead drains the glass, then pushes back and away from his seat, standing. \"Of course I will go. Unless the Lady feels it would deny her the benefit of the freedom she seeks. But otherwise, I am curious as to this forest and how it compares to the others I\'ve seen.\"

\"Now,\" says Imrakhor.

He heads into the Druadan.

Conal has seen enough of the forest. Hours of the forest, in fact. He continues to say nothing, most definitely not volunteering to return to that dank, dark, dripping place.

\"Please come,\" Calenloth says softly. Perhaps this is more of a leap than she expected... \"Squire,\" she turns to Conalmir, \"Another trip into the forest?\" she offers.

\"No, thank you, Lady Calenloth.\" Conalmir bows slightly. \"I stand watch in the morning. I am quite certain Sirs Imrakhor and Menelglir will be able to protect you should you need it.\"

You tread off the great path and into the thick of the forest.

As they enter the woods, the Lord Bragollach wields the blade hanging from his waist and cuts into one of the trees. In the cut, he deposits a crimson flag.

\"We must stay close,\" he says, darting his eyes from side to side.

\"You have many of those?\" Menelglir says taking note of the red flag that Imrakhor is using to blaze their trail. But he loosens his sword in its scabbard.

Calenloth, silent, but alert, walks slowly between the two Knights. She too casts long glances to the sides and ahead, her new dagger grasped firmly in her hand.

\"We only go as far as the flags last,\" answers Imrakhor. Another cut, and the Bragollach deposits another flag into a tree. \"Perhaps we find a way through.\"

You journey deeper into the forest.

There is a crashing of brush and suddenly, an unexpected figure crahes through the foliage. Standing before the group is the Squire Calarion, looking quite disoriente and a little confued. Seeing the others he speaks, \"Finally... I have found you.\" A slight smile crosses the squire\'s face.

Calenloth whips around at the noise in the brush, her weapon raised, her face tight and about as fierce as the young woman can manage. Recognizing the Squire\'s voice, she laughs, but the weapon remains raised.

Imrakhor continues to plant flags into the trees. The rustling foliage causes his glance to turn quickly to Calenloth, settling only when he catches sight of Calarion\'s face. \"Squire, it is good of you to join us.\"

\"My apologies, Sir. I got.... lost\" Calarion blushes a little. \"When you did not return, I believed you may have become lost, so, I entered the forest myself, set on finding you. I only made myself lost in the process.\" He sigh a little, eyeing Calenloth\'s weapon warily.

Calenloth lowers her dagger... slightly. \"Do they not teach you to travel a little more... subtly, Calarion?\" she teases. \"Although,\" she considers, \"had you snuck up on me, I may have stabbed you.\"

\"They teach us, but I don\'t use such lessons when be... subtle isn\'t my goal.\" Calarion says, \"As I said, I was lost. I figured noise was acceptable.\"

The trees pack themselves together tighter, squeezing out the light from the forest. Only a whistling noise can be heard as the Lord Bragollach leads inwards.

\"Come,\" he whispers, drawing his sword.

It\'s a small wose child, up in one of the overhanging trees. He looks at you with wide, scared eyes, and then scampers upwards into the canopy out of your sight.

Calenloth stops, her small feet almost noiseless over the ground \"There,\" she points, \"Is that...\" She pauses.

The face ducks out of sight hidden by leaves and branches. And then, slowly, ever so slowly, peeks back out again, wonderingly.

\"It can\'t be,\" says the Bragollach, his sword hanging limply at his side.

\"The Woses,\" Calenloth whispers... \"I wonder...\" With a quick look to the two men, she steps forward, slowly. Crouching to the ground, she extends one arm to the child, freezing into position. Her head tilted upwards, she gazes, a small smile on her face.

\"Careful!\" spits Imrakhor, but he does not move to stop Calenloth.

The child vanishes into the branches again, with barely a rustle. But after a little while, it reappears. One-half a face one eye part of a nose. It stares at Calenloth\'s hand as if it has never seen one, but makes no move to reach out itself.

\"I have heard of such things but I never thought...\" Calarion seems lost in thought an wonder at the child.

Calenloth hears the warnings of Lord Bragollach, but remains crouched. \"A child,\" she whispers. Wary, of course, but she holds her position. Perhaps if she were to offer some food? She reaches back slowly into her cloak, taking a small piece of bread from her stowed pouch. This she offers, along with a soft \"Hello.\"

\"It is not an animal!\" whispers Imrakhor imperilously. \"And I am loathe to go further. We are noticed and will be followed. That is never a good sign.\"

The child shies back as Calenloth moves again and this time, she speaks aloud as well. It is gone, vanished into the woods as if it has never been. Somewhere in the darkness, a distant drum begins to beat.

Thrust back into reality by the knight\'s words, Calarion looks up and speaks, \"I agree with Sir Imrakhor. I do not think we should continue.\" His ears raise as he hears the drums and worry begins to creep into his face.

Calenloth rises quickly at the sound of the drum. \"No,\" she whispers, \"Not an animal.\" Slightly louder, she insists, \"But either way, it did see us... So would it not be better to approach peacefully? If we were to be followed either way?\"

Sensing the worry, she too appears nervous. \"Is this the part where we... run?\" she asks te men.

The Lord Bragollach hears the drums. His decision is swift.

\"We retrace our steps cautiously,\" he says, drawing his sword. \"Back. Now.\"

\"The flags!\" Calenloth exclaims, though her voice is hushed still. \"They will be a trail right to our camp if we should leave them!\"

Heeding the knight\'s orders and slowly backing up, Calarion\'s hand moves to his sword. Carefully, he too draws it.

\"Collect the flags,\" commands Imrakhor urgently. His eyes flash from Calarion to Calenloth, then to the trees. \"They will know too much already.\"

Calenloth darts to the tree, tugging firmly at the crimson cloth to loose it from the tree. Quickly she flees back to the group, a silver glint of metal visible just past the sleeve of her cloak. Covered by the wool, her white knuckles grip the metal handle of the dagger.

Calarion falls silent now, saying nothing more, but still following the others as they make their way through the forest.

Imrakhor gathers the flags with increasing pace.

\"We are close. They will not pursue outside the bounds of the forest.\"

Calenloth moves swiftly to keep up, taking flags. \"And of the camp?\" she asks. \"They will not enter?\"

\"Not as long as our fires burn through the night,\" answers Imrakhor, moving briskly through the remaining boughs. \"They fear us, just as we do them.\"

Ahead, the distant light of the campfire brings some relief. \"More wood, then,\" Calenloth says, breathing easier. \"The night watch may be more harrowing tonight, I suppose...\"

The brandy will settle you,\" says Imrakhor, catching a glimpse of the light. \"And then you will sleep. Soundly. I shall see to that.\" He grabs a flag.

Calenloth cannot help but laugh. \"Soundly?\" she says wryly. \"I shall hold you to that.\"

There, at last, they arrive at the Great West Road. The lights of the camp burn to the east and that is where Imrakhor begins to walk. \"We are safe now.\"

A sigh of relief. Calenloth\'s pace too, slows to a brisk walk. Relaxed, yet she does glance over her shoulder once more.

The sun shines brightly overhead, shedding warmth and life upon the land of Anorien.

Thus they arrive back at the camp: Imrakhor, Menelglir, Calarion and Calenloth, all with flags in hand. The Lord Bragollach whispers to Menelglir.