3. INTO THE KINGDOM OF THE ROHIRRIM

Lac stopped, looking out over the Lands of Rohan , then whistled. Soon a whinne could be heard faintly. After a short period of time across the plain ran Lightning accompanied by the other horse he had sent back at the edge of Fangor Forest. Smiling Lac said "Our feet will welcome the rest, speed is once again our companion."

As Lighting approached and nuzzeled Lac , a howl could be heard behind them. Shape with his companions bounded out of the forest.

Jin, huddled deep within the recesses of her cowl, looked out upon the majestic view that was the Lands of Rohan. It was a welcomed sight for her pained eyes. Yet there was one of their troupe that would have mixed emotions. Standing almost precisely next to Brianna, the Drowess turned ever so lightly to glance upon the human woman. There were many emotions written upon her face and reflected within the depths of her eyes. While Jin was never one to offer comfort of any kind to others in the past, she leaned closer and spoke softly to Brianna. The faint glow of her red eyes in the darkness of her cowl told the human woman she was looking directly at her.

’Tis never easy returning home after a sojourn. Especially when one knows the homecoming will be bittersweet. Know you are not alone in your journey, Brianna. We are as one, all of us. We shall celebrate and mourn with you when the time comes. For now, concentrate on the trail ahead.”

Hearing Lac whistle, Jin squinted to look upon the horizon. Knowing it wouldn’t take long for what she was looking for to appear, she let a true smile ease onto her dark skinned face when she saw first Lightning then the other sturdy, dependable mounts following the lead horses path.

”I never thought I would say this, but it is good to see our horse companions. While I do not care to bourdon Wally…..”

The drowses paused as she remembered the pet name the horse had been given by her fallen friend.

”….I….welcome his ability to help us reach our destination faster than we could on foot alone.”

Jalisa still had that nagging buzz in the back of her head and for the most part she was able to ignore it. It still didn’t set well with her that she didn’t know what it was or why it was happening. But she tried to brush it off and move on with the troupe.

When the Lands of Rohan came into view she took in a deep breath of clean air and exhaled slowly. They were far from being out of danger but at least now, in the wide open spaces, she would feel less confined and able to do what ever she would need to do in order to protect Lac and the others.

When the horses and wolves came bounding out of hidden places at Lac’s whistle, Jalisa arched a fine brow over her left eye.

”Well now….what’s this? Animals come at his bidding? How delightful! And what fine specimen of animals at that. Quite admirable indeed.”

Of course no one could know that Jalisa was speaking of in a food like capacity when she referred to the animals. After all, to her these were just the sort of prey she would normally be hunting down for a meal if she were in her true form. However, in this form, she couldn’t jump on the horse and start gnawing away. The others would think she had totally lost her mind. And to reveal her true form now would be…well…not a good thing to do. In fact, she didn’t want to expose herself at all, if at all possible.

She would make due with what ever she could find to fend off her appetite but when the time came, she would have to think of a crafty reason for leaving the travelers and seeking out something she could have as a fresh kill in order to keep herself from…well…not being very nice.

Sighere stood high upon the boulder staring out over the vast plains that were the gap of Rohan. His home. His golden blonde hair shone in the sunlight when he removed his helmut and cast his eyes down the ridge to where the strangers had gathered. They were at least a quarter of an hour's ride away and the rider knew that it would take a pair of sharp eyes to spot him, but he did not fear being discovered. Wearing the gleaming armor of the 'Horse Lords', he did not seek to hide in his own lands and knew that those who were wise would take caution at his sight for the the Rider of Rohan were not to be trifled with.

Satisfied that he had seen all that he needed, the Rohirrim warrior descended to the ground and expertly mounted his fine horse. He rode eastward for nearly half of an hour at a pleasant gallop until he paused in the middle of a flat of expanse and turned his blue eyes to wall of large free standing stones. Sighere patiently waited and then he saw the sentry rise, his form silhouetted against the horizon as he stood atop the tallest of the rocks. He then raised his arm above his head and let it fall slowly to his right, keeping it extended. The sentry copied he motion, only he used the opposite arm. A simple signal but one that had proven to prevent infiltration by those who allies to Rohan.

The rider then proceeded onward to the stones and crossed through a highly defensible narrow pass which eventually opened up into a valley. There beside an ancient ruin of his people, a small party of riders had made their camp and were preparing a meal over an open fire.

As Sighere approached the group, a large man rose and strode toward him. Nearly a head taller than most of the others, his Lord was an intimidating man but a better friend, he had never had.

"Three leagues to the West, I spotted a small group entering our lands." Sighere reported in his native tongue as he dismounted on the run.

The tall man, nodded, his pale hair hovering softly on the wind a stark contrast to his hardened and stern features. "Let them come." Replied Ceolwulf in the Rohirric language, "We shall ride out to meet them when the time is right."

They had come in the night, always in the black and those few that lived to tell the tale of their passing said they could see in the darkness as well as a man in the day. So well in fact that they would withdraw from torch light, shielding their yellow eyes as if it pained them, but their were too many to hold them at bay with fire alone. Ceolwulf's men knew well the stories, but they themselves had never crossed swords with creatures. It was the source of the pain from guilt, that haunted every last one of them — they were not their to defend their town, their homes, their families from the marauders.

The day the warriors had left a heavy fog was rolling in from the White Mountains. A common sight for the town of Ironglade, but many of the men recounted an unnatural cold that accompanied the mist but none of the gruff men would make note of such a trivial fact. They were off to war once more against the Hillmen of Dunland who had once more dared to raid their livestock. An example would have to be made and so Lord Ceolwulf saddled his steed and lead his men to battle, leaving behind more than enough men to defend the town in their absence should anything arise. He and his twenty five finest soldiers rode with him. Seasoned warriors, each able to alone best four of the barbaric Hillmen and with vengeance in their hearts they plagued the Hillmen villages, killing and burning all before them, until balanced was restored and the scales once more tipped in their favour.

The twenty five would return victorious. Not a man lost and with the honour of Ironglade restored they looked forward to much feasting and celebrating upon their return but as they rode up the ridge and crossed over the first low bastion of their beloved home they were met with a gruesome sight. The ruins still smoldering in the morning light, not a building was left standing. Body parts were strewn about the vacant streets and some had been gnawed upon.

They found one survivor, who before he died told his grizzly story of the creatures that came with the fog. Beasts that he swore were not Orc nor were they Troll, but some kind of grey skinned creatures that at times moved on all fours, but they were indeed man-like. As he described them further and told the returning soldiers that the creatures began to eat the dead, even the mettle of the brave warrior's was tested and they shuddered as they recognized what the monsters were. Wights. It had to be. Once these undead creatures were all over the land, emerging from the barrows of the indigenous people that once dwelled in what would become Rohan. It was their curse, and the monsters swept across the steppes like a plague until the ancient warrior Thaydren Raegenharr found away to cast them from their lands forever. Forever, it seemed, had fallen short and now the Barrow Wights had returned to once more feed on the Rohirrim and in the face of this problem, many simply decided to remain behind closed doors and not bid them enter to their homes. Unfortunately these undead creatures needed not invitation to cross the threshold and they were only driven away by a daring attack performed by Ceolwulf's ancestor and so he set out to do the same.


Ceolwulf sat at the fireside eating his meal. He listened to some of his men tell old stories of battle and a few even laughed at some playful mockery. It was good to hear, but the joy was quickly stifled by the gloom that weighed down the survivors of Ironglade and the lord's head hung low. He longed for a song but none had the tongue for it and he felt that he would only know joy once more when he had last joined his family in the otherworld.

Sighere, his trusted lieutenant as usual was trying to lift the spirits of the men. Strong in both body and mind, he had perhaps lost more than most but he believed with out a doubt that he would see his loved ones soon. All he had to do was seek out and destroy the Wight-King and all would be restored, at least that's what Ceolwulf believed and while he trusted the lord with his life, he doubted it would restore what he lost. At best they would have their vengeance, but after that, life would still be just as hollow; like his lord and the rest of the other twenty-our soldiers he refused to follow the word of the king. They would not bury their heads in the sand and pray for the best. No. Ceolwulf meant to take the fight to them rather than awaiting them to attack.

Brianna at first, was shocked at Jihn's kind words to her. She would have sworn that the drow had little use for her and liked her even less. It was pleasing to know that this was not entirely the case. She gave the woman a sad smile.

"Thank you, Jin. Your words mean more to me than you know."

She sighed once more as the horse and wolf approached Lac. Something that she realized she'd missed more than anything, more than she'd thought possible. Home. Seeing the horse approach Lac, she knew then that regardless of where she came from....regardless that she wasn't like the rest of her people.....Rohan was her home and always would be until she found her true people.....if she ever did. Right now, evil was at hand and destroying it took precedence over finding them.

Again, her thoughts strayed to the man from her village whom she'd admired from afar. Was he still alive? Was he married now? Would he remember her? Then her thoughts strayed again to her parents and how they wouldn't be there to welcome her home. A stray tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. She would be strong for that is what they would expect of her. Jin was right....she needed to concentrate on the trail before them. She would deal with her loss once she reached her village.

Again, she stood there and watched the exchange between Lac and the beautiful horse, envying the connection they clearly had. It was something she'd never mastered....being able to call the horses at will and it always reminded her that she was not Rohirrim. She had had her own mount in the village, a beautiful buckskin mare with a black mane and tail. Her father had told her that Bella was perfect for her, not just in temperment but in looks as well. She'd trained Bella herself but the mare was the only one who would come to her when she called. It would be good to see her friend again.

Augustine was eager to see Rohan, he knew of the horsemen that dwelt there, by reputation only. The stories of the horse masters and their fierce fighting spirits had reached all the way to Augustine's monastery by the great White Lake.

As the group traveled, the druid was sure that they had crossed into the borders of Rohan, surely some of the famous horsemen (and women) would come to investigate. Augustine hoped to see them, it was said that most of them had hair of gold and wore intricately decorated armor and carried beautiful detailed weapons with accents of gold and silver. Most of all they were amazing riders, their talent for mounted combat was well known, and well feared.

The druid took a moment to check his own talent, his thoughts drifted to the ground all around him. Brambles, prairie weeds and a few thistles grew, trees were few and far between now, growing in small clusters, these clusters were spread apart from each other as the land here was rockier and much more flat than the muddy mountains they had left behind them.

The air was sweet and many birds swirled overhead, the breezes that blew here were cool. Augustine trailed behind the rest of the group, not too far to be missed, it helped him to do so, it allowed him to meditate as he walked sometimes, a trick that could only help if his talents were required at a moments notice. Augustine eyes were closed as he walked, his lips moved as he remembered sacred texts that he had studied at the monastery, all destroyed in Verin's storm of death and fire.

This kingdom of Rohan felt like a safe place, all the threats that seemed to be closing in around the druid and his companions in the mountains seemed less imminent in this well guarded land, Augustine welcomed these thoughts, perhaps they could rest their minds as well as their bodies here.

Tiphereth and the Dwarf patiently awaited an answer from their leader but the ranger, Lac'Nal had remained silent. Moving away from them he whistled across the plains, the shrill call echoing across the mist covered grass until it was answered by the whinny of horse. Moments, later the fine black form of the ranger's fine steed emerged, rising over a hill like a dark shadow, streaking across the steppes.

The stallion, Lac'Nal, called Lightning was accompanied by another mount and Tiphereth considered that some of the others would double up as they continued their journey. He himself, would not require the luxury and the Dwarf had retained his sturdy mount, the giant, black mountain ram.

The Dwarf, huffed and turned away from the ranger who apparently had no tongue for plans that morning. It was just as well. Orthargren, himself was weary and could only think of dining in fine Rohirrim hall, savoring meat right from the bone and enjoying a tankard of malt beer.

"Com'on ye leapin' sprite." The Dwarf called to Tiphereth, "Lets be off! I crave the dark of a hall, the warmth of fire, and food in my belly!" he roared loudly, "Let us see if the hospitality of the Rohirrim rivals that of the Dwarves." The mighty ram pushed forward and lead the way into the vast plains not turning to see if any followed, but he didn't stray far.

Sorrelwind stood for a moment watching the loud Dwarf upon his ram bound into the vast landscape, his long fair locks waving in the wind like a golden flag. He relished the cool of the wind upon his pale cheek as his kind were far more adapted to the cold.

Caring not for the tales of Dwarven fires and battles at the moment, the Phaerie sought more tranquil company and descended upon the lagging druid. Unmounted he could not keep up with the swifter mounts and it was not possible for their entire party to be carried across the backs of two horses. It would not be safe for the man 'o the oak, to journey alone so the energetic Phaerie decided to accompany, Augustine who seemed lost in his own thoughts. Meditating, perhaps? Yes, that was it. The man entered trance much more than the bard was accustomed to, but he was content to merely stroll along with him in silence for a time, his own silent foot falls detectable only by the brush of the grass across his legs.

With each step they took into Rohan, the bard could hear more of the land's lore. It whispered to him of legends and stories old and new. Tales that he could not readily make sense of the older they were, but one in particular resounded clearly.

"Augustine?" Said Tiphereth, his trilling voice testing the druid's consciousness and only when the druid at last pulled his mind from trance and focused his eyes on the Phaerie did he speak. "I am sorry to disturb you, brother, but a strange tale stirs in these lands. Beneath the tranquility of this beautiful scene an ancient menace has returned to plague the Rohirrim. Creatures entwined with these plains in death have risen to reclaim what was there's in life. Their numbers are vast and they hate all who live and walk under the sun. All fear them. All but one, a great warrior stands against them but his bravery is regaled with contempt by his own people. This is a story upon the tips of tongues in this land of Rohan. They plague the night but have no power in the day."

Under the sun, Rohan was peaceful. Life continued happily enough, but as the sun neared the horizon people's thoughts would be consumed by fear. Fear of a gathering mist and the creatures that road along with it.

Augustine nodded sadly as Tiphereth spoke. These were dark times thought the druid, the entirety of this world seemed plagued with misery and woe.

"Does it ever seem to you my friend that the whole wide world is haunted with troubles, is there a place left that is spared these miseries?"

Augustine was very glum, perhaps fatigue was setting in, perhaps his thoughts of his time studying the ancient illuminated texts and their loss back at the monastery were still lingering with him.

"Please my friend tell me of these shadows that wait for the sun to set here in this land, have your unique insights allowed to see what manner of creatures are these?"

Augustine wondered what breed of creature would set out to make war with the Rohirrim, a race of men and women for which the life of a warrior was first in their nature.

"Your insight has always been true my friend and it has served us well, so I say with all honesty that I hope we make the halls of the people of Rohan before the sun has dipped behind the mountains behind us."

Augustine turned his face to the sun as it sat low to the Western sky, it's very bottom was just touching the dark mountains below it. it would not be long before shadow covered the druid, the Phariekin and their companions. Night was coming soon.

Ceolwulf stood alone, his foreboding face turned toward the setting sun, his armour glinting in the golden rays. Gripping his great sword he thrust into the ground before him, then taking a knee he bowed his head in silent prayer to deaf gods that saw fit to allow all those he loved die at the hands of the Gorrinvul — 'The dead that eat'.

At first sound of his trusted lieutenant's approaching steps he rose and sheathed his sword. Turning he looked down the narrow pathway that lead down to their encampment and saw Sighere climbing the worn steps crafted long ago by their ancestors. Steps that their own children would never walk again nor know.

"What news, Sighere?"

Sighere rubbed his pale beard in thought, a twinkle to his icy blue eyes. "They're approaching the western glen."

Ceolwulf nodded.

"Do you think they will strike tonight?" Wondered Sighere.

Ceolwulf shook his head. "No." He answered with certainty.

Sighere gave single nod. Though he did not show it, he was relieved. His Lord could not accurately predict where the Gorrinvul would next attack but he had a sense for their untimely arrival as if he were in tune with their comings and goings. What he could not predict, however, were the movements of the smaller raiding parties that did not travel with the larger army. These smaller rogue bands had been reported by other settlements to attack without warning, but because of their size were easily warded off. They were empty victories as all the Eorlingas knew they were only scouting parties testing their strength, the spear head of a much greater force awaiting in the dark. These scouting troops could attack at anytime, and in their wake would come the greater army at an unknown time in the future. A time that Ceolwulf could only predict within a range of days and so he and his men were ever prepared to move at his command.

Ceolwulf then donned his helmut and lead the way down the pathway. Sighere followed closely behind and when they reached the encampment, mounted up and road northwest from their position, followed by all of the Ironglade warriors.


"The dead that eat." Whispered Sorrelwind in response to Augustine's question. His tone was haunting as if he had channeled the words from somewhere else and he himself did not understand the meaning of them. "I know nothing else my friend, save the lore I have spoken but what is this?"

They had only been walking a short time, but as they descended a deep glen and traversed the other side the still smoldering ruins of walled town came into view. The grand structures of the Rohirrim settlement had been reduced to rubble and the blackened charred remains of burned homes shed their smoke in the wind. The others ahead of them stared somberly over the wrecked town, pondering what force could have done such a thing and why?

"Who were they Master Lac?" Questioned the Dwarf suppressing the anger in his low rumbling voice, "Who is responsible for this?"

Augustine and Sorrelwind already had an idea but knew not their nature, nor when they would strike again and where. Seeing the graves and memorials that had been laid, told them all that there had been survivors but they were no where to be seen. Only a murder of crows stirred and squawked on the remains of the demolished gateway.

Lac stood silently looking out over the ruins his face masking the horror and dread that gripped his heart. Hearing the dwarf's words he said "An ancient evil that has not walked these lands for many an age. Not since the dark times of Melkor and Saron, have these creatures come forth. In many lands their name is forbidden to be spoken ...... The Gorrinvul — 'The dead that eat'. They are some of the vilest creatures ever to walk the earth Master Dwarf, they leave none alive behind them. Those they do not eat, they enslave ....... cursing them to a walking death."

Lac then looked to the setting sun and said to the others ...... "Quickly we must leave this place and find shelter before the sun falls and darkness surrounds us." He then led then southeast away from the ruins and towards the foothills.

Brianna heard Lac's words and couldn't stop the shiver of fear that slithered down her spine.

"The Gorrinvul. Vile creatures...Lac is right, we must leave here and quickly. We do not want to be here should they return."

Brianna looked at everyone in their small party, her dark green eyes showing her uneasiness. It was clear that Lac knew more of this area than she did and she made the decision to fall back and take up the rear along with Augustine. She unsheathed her sword, smelling the air.

"If you catch the odor of decaying flesh then you know that they are near. Please don't let this be what took my parents."

The last, she said more to herself than anyone else.

"The Gorrinvul?" Repeated the Dwarf, his deep voice echoing across the ruins. He then hefted up his axe and shouted, "I tire of the dark and hiding from 't! I pray these beasts cross m' path that I might hack these walking dead apart and return their bones to the earth from whence they came! Do here me!" The Dwarf screamed across the plains, "Show yourselves, that you might feel my axe tear through your cold flesh!"


Tiphereth had never seen the Dwarf so enraged. It was as if a flood gate had burst open and Orthargren's anger poured out freely. It was quite evident that there was not much else in this world that angered the Dwarf more than the killing of women and children and though his somber expression betrayed little emotion shared in his vow. He too would seek out these vile creatures and make them pay with whatever lives they had for what they had done to these fine people.

Listening to Lac'Nal's description of these creatures, the Phaerie knew that they were indeed, undead, but the fact that they consumed the flesh of men he found disconcerting. The dead needed no sustenance, but these things were different and with the growing evil in the world he feared that they would not stop with Rohan.

"Perhaps it was Morgoth himself who awoke this ancient evil. If this army grows by consuming the people of Rohan they could tip the balance in favor of the Dark Lord." Speculated Sorrelwind as he stepped between Lac and Brianna, his fiery eyes surveying the remains before them.

Turning to the Dunedain woman who called Rohan her home he bowed respectfully. There was little that could be said to console her, for if this is what befell her village the outcome was clear. "Take courage." he softly told her, then the Phaerie cast a concerned glance toward the ranger.He too detected the sounds of horses hooves but despite their early detection there was no where to run. In moments, they were surrounded by a troop of warriors in shining armour, the crest of Rohan upon their breast plates. They totaled twenty-six in all, and each thrust a lance toward the party forcing them into a tight formation until they had them completely surrounded.


One warrior road forth and raised his lance high. "What is your business in Rohan?" He demanded, "These lands are cursed. An ancient evil stirs and plagues our people. Speak, and speak true if you value your lives!"

Jin had been silent after speaking to Brianna. Something about the land of Rohan was not right. She could practically feel the unease in the air. Like a wet, woolen blanket laid upon you in the heat of the summer sun. While she remained upon Wally’s back, her red, glowing eyes were everywhere at once. She cast a detection spell to try and see if there was something about spying upon them but her senses came back empty. What ever it was, it was not within reach of her magic.

Still, as she rode on with the other, following closely behind Lac, Jin kept her left hand hidden beneath the folds of the cloak she wore. She wouldn’t let herself be caught short when they were attacked and she knew it was only a matter of time before they were.

Her sensitive ears picked up on the conversation Augustine and Tiphereth were having and Jin was glad to know the Pharie was at least akin to something amiss as well. Once more she was reminded of just how similar her race and the Pharie’s race really were and it brought a sense of comfort to the Drowess. But when she heard the words Tiphereth used to describe what it was they were all worried about, followed by the confirmation from Lac, Jin knew the enemy they spoke of was indeed a horrid clan. Even the dark elves cared not for their sort of battle field rituals.

When they came upon the decimated village, Jin felt a wave of disgust wash over her. To think these noble and proud warrior people had fallen victims to the Gorrinvul made her feel ill. Glancing at Brianna, she hoped the woman’s family didn’t meet their demise at the hands of those foul and retched creatures. Hearing Brianna’s voice, she nodded and spoke from beneath the folds of her cloak’s cowl.

”Agreed, Brianna.”

When Wally jerked his head and neighed nervously, Jin’s attention was quickly drawn away from the woman and the Drowess was even more glad she had gotten to know the horse. The sound of thundering hooves soon followed and by the time the warriors surrounded the group, Jin maneuvered Wally to protect Augustine as best she could with Tiphereth’s help and had her cross bow pulled from beneath her cloak and was drawing a deadly bead on the one who spoke to the group. There was no way she would be able to defeat this many warriors in this close range but she wouldn’t go down without taking a few of them with her.

She recognized the crest and knew her actions were nothing less than hostile, but given the circumstances and the condition of their surroundings, she knew they would understand why she did what she did. Still, she wasn’t about to lower her cross bow until the immediate threat of the warriors was no longer there.

Jalisa was strangely silent as they moved into Rohan. The air was foul with the stench of decay and death. Not exactly what she was expecting n such a lavish, horse warrior kingdom. Knowing the odor wasn’t coming from animals, she could only imagine what it was causing the stench. When she heard the mention of the Gorrinvul, she blinked and halted for a brief second.

She had no first hand knowledge of the creatures but, as with all dragons, the knowledge of their species is handed down from one generation to the next. And the knowledge she was recalling wasn’t favorable. They were more like a hoard of chaotic creature armies that struck with no mercy for they didn’t know the meaning of the word. Ruthless and unforgiving, they killed anything and everything in their path only to consume what they had killed. Sometimes even before it was fully dead.

The visual recall she was getting from the passed down knowledge made her humanoid skin crawl and Jalisa couldn’t help but shudder as the flashes played out in her minds eye as she surveyed the destruction the Gorrinvul had done to the village before them. Of all the things passed down to her, Jalisa had wished this were not one. But on the other hand, she was glad. If this knowledge was passed down to her, there was a reason. And now all she had to do was hope the knowledge of defeating them was passed on to her as well. And if not her, perhaps Loki.

So lost in thought was Jalisa that she didn’t realize the riders were approaching until they were surrounded. Blinking herself out of her strange reverie, Jalisa glanced around at the party then looked to the warriors. As the one spoke to the party, she looked to Lac, as did all the others. Jalisa’s blue eyes slowly moved from Lac to the horse warriors and saw a look in their eyes she hadn’t seen in some time.

Fear.

Tiphereth stood fast. These were seasoned warriors trained to fight as one and each of them were worth ten Orcs in battle. For a moment he cast his eyes upon, Jalisa studying her carefully and as he surmised she lacked what one would expect to find in a woman who did not carry herself as warrior. She lacked fear.

The Phaerie kept his sword-staff lowered and relaxed. If these warriors wanted them dead, they would have attacked instead of corral them for questioning. They wanted answers and something else that the he could not be sure of. Within each of the men he could sense loss. The anguish was clear to him, all had somehow suffered at the hands of this undead army that plagued their lands. They were only defending their lands and he would not raise up against them unless he was forced to defend himself or his companions.

As Sorrelwind stood silently, awaiting their lord and leader to respond to the Rohirrim warrior, he could feel their eyes settle upon him. 'Fair one', they said, one of the many terms for his kind, but it was quite evident that their kind had much reason not to trust those of the Faerie. The lore was heavy about them, story upon story of men, succumbing to the charms of what, Sorrelwind referred to as the Lesser of his kind, but his kind they were, nonetheless. The superstitions ran deep within them and in their confusion as to the return of this foul enemy the sinister magic of the Fair-ones was as good as reason as any.

Brianna held up her hand to the Rohan warriors, gaining their attention to her.

"Hold riders of Rohan. I am Brianna Rodreven and known throughout the land as the dark Rohirrim for I am of Dunedain blood but raised Rohirrim. I am trying to return home to my village and these are my friends. Please, can you tell us what has happened here? And, has this happened further into our lands?"

Brianna kept her dark green eyes focused on the leader, no fear in her eyes, only wariness and uneasiness. After seeing the boy or what was left of him, she only wanted to hurry to her own village and see if it was still there. Her heart, though, told her it wasn't.

Sighere, stared down at the woman who spoke to him in their native tongue. "Rodreven?" he replied in the common language so that all might understand, "I knew of your father. I am sorry to inform you that Dresinton is no more. It was the first settlement to fall."

His heart hardened by battle and loss there was little sympathy in the man's words. He turned his eyes away and settled them upon the ranger who bore the look of the leader if indeed the band had one. The fact that they traveled with one of their kin did not sway them. These were dark times and even the familiar sound of their own language was not enough to lower arms. The Riders awaited an explanation for the intrusion into their lands and they would have it.

Lac raised his hand ......
I am Lac'nal of Oron_D_Narr, these are my trusted companions and allies. We enter the lands of Rohan as friends. " he said calmly as he jestured to each in turn "The Priestess Ssinjin Dalhar K'Nyan of Elistraee; Tiphereth Sorrelwind of the Deithir; Othargren Ironfist of the Orocarin Mountains; The Druid Augustine; Jalisa of Fargon Forrest and Brianna Rodreven of Rohan." He then bowed his head slightly in respect and continued ...... We journey to my home in Oron_D-Narr in the north, gathering allies to raise an army to battle the darkness that once again threatens all our lands. To once again renew the old alliances, alliances that once brought the peoples of earth together with your King Theoden and all the races together to defeat Saromon. ....... A shadow now grows in the east and spreads across the lands a shadow darker than any before. I sense Morgoth himself has awakened and means to rule over all."

Jin slowly lowered her cross bow when Brianna and the warriors exchanged words and when Lac introduced the entire group, she lowered the hood of her cloak to reveal her true heritage. While the sun was setting it still pained her eyes and she couldn’t help but squint in what could only be interpreted as a hateful glare. Still, she refused to pull the cowl of her cloak back up over her head now. But she still kept the cross bow laid across the horn of the saddle.

While the tension wasn’t as thick as it was just a second ago, it was still very prominent and tension had a way of leading to actions that should never take place. The Native language of the Rohan people sounded very articulate and while she didn’t understand it, she could respect why Brianna had used it. Jin herself would have done the very same thing had the roles been reversed.

When the Rohirrim leader spoke in the common language for all to understand, Jiin was just slightly relieved. At least now she would know when things were getting heated and could take the necessary steps needed to try and either defuse the situation or….prepare for a fight.

Just to be on the safe side, though, the Drowess moved her fingers in what could be seen as random, nervous motions but in truth, she was weaving a spell she could let loose should the situation call for such a thing. Of course, in the back of her mind, Jin was hoping it didn’t come to that. Diplomacy seemed to be the higher road to take at this point.

For now.

Jalisa remained perfectly still. Only her eyes moved and that was from one person to the next. She couldn’t directly see the Pharie but there was no doubt he was looking at her. Or at least, she could feel eyes upon her for a moment. And that insistent buzzing in her head grew quite annoying once more for a short time. If she could just remember what it was that caused that noise. She’d perhaps be able to find the source and quiet it. Forever.

When she heard the dark haired human woman speak to the horse warriors, Jalisa was able to understand the entire conversation even before they switched to the common tongue for all others to hear. It was something she cherished most with her kind. The ability to understand several languages as though they were natural to you. His words were meant to be sincere but the tone in which he used to deliver them was anything but. Jalisa knew the things that caused a man to lose his compassion and none of them were good. Obviously. Why else would he lose such a natural emotion for humans?

As Lac made introductions, the disguised dragoness let her strange blue gaze rest on the leader of the horse warriors. He pushed his fear to the back of his mind but the suspicion was still very prevalent. These brave, strong and noble people had suffered greatly in the recent past. Jalisa would love nothing more than to bring peace back to them but she dared not reveal her true nature. And somehow Jalisa knew the only way to help these people were to become that which they feared worse than the Gorrinvul.

Or did they?

Bah. She wasn’t going to take the chance. Besides. Her duty was to make sure Lac’Nala made it safely back to Oran-D-Narr. Once she delivered him into the safe talons of Loki, perhaps then she would return and see what she could do for these people, if they were still in need of her services.

Still, as she stood there, Jalisa could feel the current of magic moving around her and she wondered what, or more precisely WHO, was delving into it. Casually looking around at the others, Jalisa tried to find out who was casting a spell and it wasn't until her eyes passed by the Drowess a second time that she recognized the movement of the fingers. A small smile eased over her features then as she realized how clever the Drowess really was.

And how dangerous.

Knowing things were dragging out unnecessarily Jalisa finally spoke up then in an effort to prevent Jin from doing something they would all regret. Taking a step forward, she bowed respectfully then rose and placed her right fist gently over her heart before lowering her hand to her side.

"Beg your pardon, but we've been traveling for some time and grow weary. We humbly ask the Rohirrim people allow us to stay and rest up before we head out once more in an effort to reach the lands of Oran_D_Narr. We mean no harm to any of the citizens of this fine and beautiful land. Perhaps we may even be able to share some information we might have learned in our travels. As Master Lac'Nala has indicated, a shadow of darkness grows and it will be up to all of us to seek a way to defeat it. What say you, brave Rohirrim Warrior?"

Brianna's breath caught in her throat at the leader's words of her village. She quickly composed herself, the only thing showing her inner anguish were her eyes which had darkened with deep sorrow, her heart breaking at the news. To think of how her parents and village had suffered tore at her.

She heard little after that on what was spoken between Lac and the rider leader. She wanted to scream her grief and rage at the world but held herself in check. She gritted her teeth together, her hands forming into fists as she fought to retain control of herself, a myraid of emotions running through her. Oh, how she wanted vengeance now...more than anything she wanted the heads of the 'Dead who Walk' laid before her.

Augustine let his hands slip from his long heavy sleeves, he held them up for the riders to see, it was not a gesture of fear or surrender, it was a gesture of peace. The druids never carried weapons, it was forbidden and often they would let both friends and foes know that they were unarmed.

Augustine was next to Sorrelwind, he could sense the Pharie gathering lore from the Rohirrim, the Pharie was reading the pain and loss of these fine people, they carried it like a great heavy stone.

Augustine remained silent as Lac'Nala and Brianna spoke with the horsemasters, the druid was far from home and was not sure how the men and women of Rohan felt about druids and druidic magic.

The warriors seemed to recognize Tipereth for Phariekind, Augustine wondered if any of his kind lived in Rohan or had in the past.

The quiet mysterious Jalisa broke the ice as she formally asked the Rohirrim for their hospitality. Augustine thought that this was very forward and very brave. Keeping his hands up for the horsemen to see Augustine wondered how the warriors would react.

The apparent leader had yet to speak, he just sat quietly upon his mount and listened while the other Riders curiously studied the Drowess. Many of them had never seen a Dark Elf before and her presence aside that of one of the Fair Ones was regarded as a bad omen.

As Lac made introductions, the Rohirrim warrior scrutinized the names but did not reciprocate the gesture, he merely continued to stare down the strangers in his land. Only one among them seemed to catch his interest. His blue eyes settled on the druid, a holy man by their standards and such users of magic and wisdom were well respected in Rohan in honour of the White Wizard who long ago came to their aid.

When Jalisa began speaking, the warrior turned his eyes to her and by the time she was finished was quite bemused, in fact he laughed a little but it was not at her expense, rather it was the ruse that the Rohirrim often played. Turning behind him, the lieutenant bowed his head and backed his horse away, clearing the way for a larger, more striking man to come forth.


"I am Lord Ceolwulf Raegenharr." he told them, "We know of you, but one can never be too careful in these dark times."

Ceolwulf then turned and waved his hand across the ruins behind him. "Behold, the remains of Ironglade. Our home. We are the last and have sworn vengeance upon the Gorrinvul." he announced, then turned back and regarded each member of the party with his piercing eyes and sullen face. Only when he came to Lac'Nal in the end, did he bow his head respectfully.

"Come!" The Rorhirrim Lord bid them and he drove his horse into the lead and road eastward back toward their encampment.

All those without a mounts were offered rides by the soldiers, and the lieutenant himself who had originally presented himself to the group reached down and took the hand of the druid. "Up you come, Augustine. I am Sighere Sabertson. I'd be honoured if ye'd ride with me."

Lac bowed his head slightly and brought the fist of his right hand to his heart then said in the Roherician ( The native language of Rohan ) "We thank you Lord Ceolwulf Raegenharr for your hospitality. The halls of Rohan have not darkened and the light of Rohan still burns bright in these dark times." Lac and Ssinjin rode eastward, beside Ceolwulf, with Jalisa colse behind, Shape and three of his companions stood on a hill side and watched . Shape bounded down the hill, as the other three spead out across the plain. As Shape trotted next to Lac, the other three wolves seemed to vanish and only their holw could be heard in the distance as the patrolled the perimiter of the group.

Then in the common tounge of man Lac asked "How long has it been since the last attack?"