Rider on the Road

The little camp (not so little now that the two dwarven caravans have met and merged) is stalled still along the road. No one, it seems, can decide what to do. Some are for pressing on at once, bringing their swords and axes to the aid of the good men and dwarves of Dale and Erebor. Others are for turning back at once! Still others seem to hope there may be another road - one that will lead around the conflict.

Gidon is sitting hunched up with his back against a tree trunk. He has compromised between being right out in the middle of the small open area (where a dragon might get him!) and being right in the middle of the eerily dark forest (where goblins and who knows what all might lurk) and is in the shadows on the edge of the clearing, near where a huge bonfire still smolders sullenly. There is little flame now, merely a pervasive warmth, and wisps of smoke.

[Brev(#30997)] Soft footsteps tread across the ground, crumbling brittle leaves to powder. Brev halts by Gidon, regards the youngster in silence for a moment, then quips, forcing the corners of his mouth up in a lopsided smirk, \"Doing a little cooking? No need to build the fires up tonight, eh?\" Likely he is as shaken by recent events as Gidon he has a few more years experience at concealing it, however.

Gidon\'s head jerks up. He is clearly nervous, though he too is doing his best to stay calm. His best just isn\'t quite as good as the Dunlending man\'s. When he sees it is Brev, he relaxes a little, managing to smile even. \"Just keepin\' warm,\" he says. \"I ain\'t hungry.\" He looks back at the charred pile of trees. \"Least it din\'t burn ever\'thing,\" he says, trying to make it sound light.

[Black_Figure(#28583)]

The light of the smoulder reaches far into the treeline, and there can be seen the glint of eyes as whatever woodland life yet lives after the dragon\'s attack scurries about. But for those who care to look, beyond the reach of the light the shadows stretch and pool, a deepening darkness that may for the moment escape notice.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev shrugs to that, moving a little closer to the fire himself. \"I\'d be hungrier if there was something worth the eating. Don\'t really fancy a mouthful of black squirrel. Everything here\'s ... tainted.\"

He kicks away ash from the ground so that he can seat himself beside the lad, and glances sidelong at him. \"Your Da said what he\'s going to do now? The Elf with the leaves in his hair - their Chieftain I think - said the road is cut. Goblins ... and worse.\" He trails off, staring into the fire - in a place as black as this, where each man carries his own fears, the darkness outside is not mentioned aloud.

\"I heard that,\" Gidon says after a minute. \"I dunno what we\'re goin\' t\'do. Da... he keeps askin\' folk, ain\'t there a way around.\" His quiet voice, the fear squashed down manfully, but still evident, stops. He glances over his shoulder and edges a little closer to the glow that shows through in cracks and crevices of the pile. \"I - I want t\'go home,\" he says at last.

[Brev(#30997)] \"Kiern!\" Brev shakes his head at Gidon\'s first remarks. \"If we leave the road, damn Elves will kill us even if the goblins don\'t.\" He scowls fiercely, broadcasting his opinion of Owain freely for a moment. Unlike the lad, he does not turn his head - there are sentries on watch, after all, it\'s their job to sound alarm of any danger - but at the final admission he swallows and his head dips in a nod. \"Aye. You\'re not the only one. Rather be back across the Mountains - men I can deal with. Not Elves. And not this ...\" A gesture round at the rustling forest. \"Can\'t go alone, though.\"

Gidon nods, jerkily. \"One,\" he starts, then swallows and starts again. \"One of th\'elves, he said we ought t\'go back t\'them B\'ornings. If - if Da come, and us, an\' Colby, d\'you think we could get there?\" Unconsciously, he is rubbing his left arm where a corded and twisted scar is hidden beneath cloth.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev\'s mouth pulls down at the corners, and there is a long silence before he shakes his head, sharply. \"No. Your Da any good in a fight? Colby\'s never touched a weapon. Then there\'s you and I. There\'s safety in numbers.\" He waits a little longer, then shrugs. \"Unless some of the Dwarves are headed back that way. They\'d be fair company for the road.\" The corners of his mouth curl up briefly as he adds, \"Don\'t think they like Elves any more than I do. One of them started reaching for his axe - then the other one, the old one, stopped him.\"

The boy is still. Then he takes a deep breath, and nods. \"I don\' know \'bout Da. I never seen him fight.\" Apologetically, he says, \"Ain\'t much call for it, back home. He\'s good with a bow, though, huntin\'.\" Looking down, forcing his hand down where it starts to fiddle with his bag of stones, he says, \"All them dorves that I hear, they be sayin\' they want t\'go on an\' help with th\'fighting.\"

[Brev(#30997)] \"Ah.\" Brev considers that, loosening his cloak slightly as the fire\'s warmth starts to make itself felt. \"Suspect that means we\'re headed on too. In which case I suppose I\'d better start making myself useful. Fix up any broken wagons, throw a few spears, try to stay out of the worst of it - and if they insist on getting themselves cut up, I\'ll help stitch them up after.

Gidon shivers convulsively. \"Aye,\" he says in a low voice. \"I\'ll help you.\" Resignedly, he starts to get to his feet, then seems to realize it is dark. Very dark. \"Ah... tomorrow.\"

[Black_Figure(#28583)]

Not only that, but the darkness brings with it a faint chill cold fingers slipping upon any whisper of breeze to tug at their clothing. To the east, where the road winds on through the trees, a faint rumble of hooves can be heard approaching.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev nods at Gidon\'s qualification. \"Figure you\'ve a few skills of your own to offer, too. They say an army marches on its stomach, and a good hunter generally makes a good cook.\" There is a twinkle in his eye. It quickly fades, though, as he adds, \"But don\'t let them send you off alone, on pretext of scouting. Someone else can take the risks - not you. Or I.\" He too, gets to hsi feet, brushing away flecks of ash from the fire.\"

The chill is perhaps dismissed as the simple effect of moving farther from the fire the hooves, though, are heard and are real. Brev\'s cheek starts to twitch, and his hand slips toward his dagger. He is not the only one. Around the camp, some Dwarves reach for their axes whilst others turn to their neighbours, the half-ovals of beard-shrouded faces pale in the semidark as they exchange glances with their fellows.

Gidon nods again, managing a half-smile. \"Won\'t,\" he promises. \"Don\' want to, anyhow. I don\' like these woods.\" He stretches a little, then looks up, alarmed at the sound of hoofbeats, and backs up against the tree he had been sitting by. His good hand clenches around the length of sling.

[Black_Figure(#28583)]

The hoofbeats grow louder, stronger with each passing moment, and ere long it is clear that the unseen rider is high at hand. To the east a shadow looms, black and menacing as it melts from the lesser gloom of the night itself.

A dark horseman this way comes, his steed likewise the colour of jet, though not a feature of his face can be discerned hidden as it is within a deep, black cowl.

[Brev(#30997)] There is little more for Brev to say to his companion. \"Company?\" he murmurs to Gidon, one brow lifted in query then, \"Probably another of those bloody elves.\" Which perhaps explains the twitching in his cheek and the tension in his shoulders, if not the sudden coldness that seems to rob the very warmth from the bones, even beside the flickering flames of the bonfire.

Likely the Dwarves too, are caught by that creeping uncertainty, that sense of doom ... some raise their axes, but others gaze in silent suspicion or doubt. One, bolder than the rest, steps forward and calls into the darkness, in a voice that seems oddly quiet for that forthright folk: \"Who goes there?\"

Gidon blinks, looking towards the oncoming rider. It seems blacker than just the night can account for an ominous figure, though he can\'t tell why. Suddenly, he is shaking, as if chilled to the very bones. He tries to say, \'I don\'t think it\'s an elf...\' but his mouth is too dry for words and all that comes out is an inarticulate noise.

[Black_Figure(#28583)]

The horseman slows at the challenge of the Dwarves, reining in his mount to a trotting arrival before the travellers. Tall and dark he sits high atop the steed, gazing down at the others with unseen eyes. All about the shadows whisper and hiss between the trees, and the fingers of cold worm their way as best they can over the khazad\'s skin. Long moment pass by in silence ere a low voice, thin and rasping seeps from the depths of the cowl.

\"A guardian,\" says the rider, \"and a messenger. You walk in woods whose masters welcome you not. Who dares enter these borders?\"

[Brev(#30997)] Brev\'s hand is tight now round his the hilt of his dagger, which is concealed beneath his cloak. Whether it is that he cannot raise his weapon-hand, or simply that he will not against one who has provided no threat save words, who can say? He watches the horseman in silence, and though his cheek still twitches he does not lift a hand to massage the tic away.

The Dwarf who stands before the rider shivers, though there is no wind. Mahal\'s children are a doughty folk, however, and when at last he finds his voice the words are clear, though faint. \"Our folk you can see plainly, our errand is our own. We\'ve already answered enough questions!\"

The group of Dwarves who have travelled from the west show nothing more than inherent suspicion of strange horsemen, and the murmuring in their ranks is likely no more than righteous indignation. Amongst those from the east, a different murmur is running: a single word. A name. And on the stern features, here and there naked fear is visible.

Behind Brev, Gidon tries to stop his trembling - and cannot. His dark eyes are wide with horror, and fixed on the figure - who after all is just a man. Surely. A man, in a cloak, riding a horse. He has done nothing, said nothing threatening...

The boy digs his fingernails into his palm, and still shakes.

[Black_Figure(#28583)]

\"Then answer no more,\" hisses the low voice of the black horseman, and his horse stirs to face the bold Dwarf fully. \"Begone from here. This road is closed to you.\"

.

[Brev(#30997)] The Dwarf who has stepped forward to address the Rider, one Kori son of Kari, swallows hard before he answers the hissing figure before him, and when he speaks. \"So you have said. We are minded to travel to our Kin. Does the Elvenking go back on his word to allow travellers passage?\" This time, the murmurs of agreement are few and ragged - those of the eastern group, and those to whom they have spoken, stand frozen in place, weapons wavering. Fear, it appears, is catching.

Brev, beside Gidon, moves a hand to lightly touch Gidon on the shoulder. There is a chill that it is hard to banish - his hand goes on, toward the fire, and he pulls out a part-burnt branch to act as torch to burnish the shadows. He makes no attempt to approach the Rider, leaving the bandying of words to others.

The touch, that of a warm, human hand, pulls Gidon partways out of his trance. His eyes flicker towards Brev, and he swallows, breathing hard as if he has run a race. The fire too is comforting, and the boy edges a step closer to it. This is all he can manage, though, before his gaze is drawn inexorably back to the rider.

[Black_Figure(#28583)]

A laughter fills the night air at this, and two ruby fires flash within the depths of the cowl -- perhaps merely the light of the bonfire reflecting in the rider\'s eyes? A gloved hand raises to point at Kori, and when the low voice speaks next it is thick with scorn.

\"The ways of Elves are beyond your ken,\" mocks the horseman. \"With one hand they offer, and with the other hand dismiss. It is not for you to understand them. Begone I say again! Turn back the way you came, or brave the darkling forest itself. The road east is closed, and you shall find thither only death and pain richly deserved for your presumption.\"

As the rider speaks the shadows grow and claw at the firelight\'s edge, the fingers of cold now stabbing at the faces of the gathered Dwarves.

[Brev(#30997)] Beneath the direction of that pointing finger, Kori\'s words seem to dry in his throat. From elsewhere in the group comes a brusque voice. \"You\'ve delivered your message, now leave us in peace. Can hardly pack up a whole camp in the middle of the night.\" The speaker is, of course, one from the western caravan. Lower-voiced, to a silent companion, he murmurs, doubtfully, \"What Brarin is going to say about this ...\"

Brev holds his makeshift torch up, watching tendrils of smoke drift slowly away. When he can tear his gaze away from rider - and horse, for the beast receives as much of his wary attention as its master - he turns his face toward Gidon, his lips shaping a single word, though it is not voiced aloud. \'Friendly\'.

The boy sees Brev\'s movement out of the corner of his eyes and looks towards him. The unexpected word makes him blink, startled, and then his mouth moves in what is almost a smile. The growing chill makes him start to shiver again the fire barely warm enough to keep ice from forming inside his bones, it feels like.

[Black_Figure(#28583)]

The defiance of the brusque Dwarf is not missed by the rider, and as though a terrible shadow of menace the unseen gaze comes to rest upon the bold fellow. The night closes in about the khazad, seeking entrance to his heart and filling his ears with the whisper of fell deeds. The ruby fires blaze on a moment longer, and as the voice replies a wave of menace sweeps through the scene.

\"Fool!\" the rider rasps. \"Over these woods watches a power more deadly than you know. Seek not to anger it, lest your heart and wits be laid bare to its wrath. One final warning I grant you pack up what stores you have and turn away from this path. I, Lord of the choking dark, command it!\"

And with that the figure opens wide his arms, still wrapped as they are in the black cloak, and the night fills with dread. Cruel spells of ruin and malice roam amid the shadows, stealing forth to close in upon the light of the bonfire until it is all but quenched. A wash of despair seeps between the gathered throng and all the while the figure upon the horse appears to grow taller and blacker.

Rage flames up in the hearts of the dwarves, and they stir, murmuring angrily among themselves, axes starting to lift. But one voice, cooler than the others and louder, snaps, \"Remember what Lord Bifur said!\" And even as he speaks, a chill that is that of ice and the void between the stars creeps over them, stilling arms, freezing weapons. One dwarf still tries to lift his weapon, but it only comes halfways up before it sinks back again. The same voice replies to the Rider then, \"If the road be closed, we cannot pass it. We\'ll go - but we\'ll be back, then look you to yourself!\" And if his voice is not so brave, nor so strong at the end of his words as at the beginning - well, he managed to speak them, which is more than many.

[Brev(#30997)] The torch Brev is holding flickers and goes out, leaving man and boy in darkness. As the aura of despair and doom washes over the camp, the man stumbles a few steps away from the fire, in apparent obedience to the command. And there, in the shadows, he halts, doing no more unless violence erupts and all are involved in the fray. He does not relinquish the burnt wood, failed as it may be as weapon against the darkness.

Gidon can stand, as long as the torch is burning. But when it goes out, he crouches to the ground, covering his head with his hand. There is a small sound, as of someone whimpering.

The darkness roils behind the treeline a moment longer, ere the cool voice of this new Dwarf speaker seems to assuage its wrath. The shadows about the dwarves recede and shrink until they are not more than the cast of bough and trunk upon the ground, and the chill fades gently as though chased by the wamrth of the fire.

The rider stirs then, cowl turning to face the Dwarf, and the gloved hand points anew. \"Look to your own kin, longbeard,\" the voice rasps. \"Lead them hither once more, and cause their deaths. You have been warned by the masters of the forest -- the road will remain closed.\"

And with that the black horse whinnies into life, a dreadful neigh bouncing about the roadside ere the rider steers it eastward. With nary another word the horseman sets off back along the trail, the rumble of hoofs heard for a long while after his shadows melts back into the gloom of night.

The travellers are alone once more.