The Sprinting Mare

[vanya]

She looked in his eyes and the green gloom shone bright. It was no offending staring, just a quick checking glance and then she casted her eyes down and smirked. "No name to give but trying to get the name of a Lady," she teased him. A quick eye of hers was thrown in direction of the woman before lowered again. "Well, I am not from Rohan but it is quite a comfortable place I heard and after all I saw I have to agree. So you are a wanderer? And of course as just like your name which remains hidden, we don't get to know where you come from, not to mention what is your purpose and your destination, am I right?" She laughed softly. "Clad as a warrior prince and behavior like a scoundrel." Their eyes met again and a twinkle was in one of hers to let him know that she felt his excitement.

[Envin]

Both of the warrior's eyes twinkled as he returned Gaurwyn's gaze. He cocked his head slightly to one side, as though he was thinking. He was indeed mulling over the prospects of divulging his identity. And as he had just brought himself into the lives of these two women, he did not think it proper to keep things such as that hidden. He leaned back in his chair, and brought forth a metal pipe from a crook in one of his pauldrons, and tamping it and lighting it quickly with a practised air, he smoked contentedly. He was prepared to tell Gaurwyn what she wished to know, but his mischievous spirit would make her wait. When he had settled himself, he said this to Idrial and Gaurwyn, his eyes taking careful note of how the latter received the news.

"Know ye then that I am a member of the brotherhood which has until now been known but little in this Middle-earth. I am a human, have no fear, but my order is one which through its devotion to our creator Iluvatar has learned of him holy talents and spells, and magnificent skill with weaponry. It is called the Holy Paladins of the Light, and I am one of the Council of the order. Through years of training, Paladins are able to master the techniques of any weapon, and are able to learn well-honed spells of offense and of healing. I am also able, by the force of my will, to project what are known as auras to those with whom I travel, auras which increase strength and defense, or resistance to the elements of the earth. The armor that I wear is the armor of the Paladin Council, and is called the Judgement Armor. This mace is one of the maces that Council Members may bear, and its name is Herald of Woe. I have trained in the use of the mace for twenty years; there is no one alive save the Ainur who is able to wield it better."

He paused, and took a lengthy pull at his pipe, then continued. "I am the Council Member whose task it is to govern the Paladins in all efforts of war, and ever and anon I go forth into the world to combat evil and bring the cause of justice to Middle-earth. I am a crusader, and be ye assured that if evil is within miles of me, my training and devotion to my Creator shall allow me to sense it, and bring it into my grasp, where it shall be defeated."

Envin's eyes did not leave off glancing at Gaurwyn throughout this pronouncement, and as he said this last, they did not cease to gaze at her face.

[vanya]

Gaurwyn smiled friendly without any sign of fear or worry. "You are very well with your mace I saw. Scary for all evil being's." She pointed to the ground where the last victim of the mace fell. "So this poor drunken guy was somebody of the evil breed, if I understand you correctly. I am so glad you rescued me before him, I had no idea how dangerous he was." She relaxed on her chair and said to the Lady: "It is very fortune that we have this shiny member of the brotherhood in our mid. No harm can reach us now."

[Envin]

Envin smiled, outwardly at the woman's compliment, though inwardly he applauded her for her deft handling of his subtle accusation. Something about this Gaurwyn did not sit well with Envin, but he would let her know. Oh, no. Not yet. "Nay, the drunken fellow was guilty of no evil, save perhaps for the poor judgement requisite to leave off the ale. If he was truly evil, of the kind I venture forth to seek, his blood would be pooling at our feet by now." He congratulated himself at this again subtle rejoinder, but followed it up swiftly with "But now I have told ye all my life's story. What of yours? Have you a home? A family? Why travel abroad when such a strikingly beautiful woman could have all the life she desires at home?" He smiled again and drew on his pipe.

[vanya]

"The same I could ask you, my lord. What draws a handsome man into a brotherhood instead of a family. Why searching for a different duty than to raise children, please your wife and build your crop? These are honorable duties for a man in the eyes of the Valar and Iluvatars. The answer will be the same for you like for me, I guess." Gaurwyn said in a calm thoughtful tune.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

As his destination came into sight, he tossed from his horse onto the plains his bloody knife. He was now well into the realm of Rohan, and could not risk being caught so far from home. As he looked back casually, his eyes caught a quick glance of the gleaming dagger before it was swallowed by a hill.

The moon had set long before now, and it flew high above the plains of Rohan. From afar, a man watched patiently, surrounded by four-legged figures shrouded in shadow. Riders of Rohan patrolled the fields, even at this time of night, and they came into his sight even as he stood there. Sliding from within his armor came a knife, which caught the light of the moon and playfully glinted, teasing the Riders. One caught sight of it, as had been planned.

He did not move an inch as the Rider rode forward alone, straining his eyes against the darkness to scry for the source of the light. All according to plan, his silver hair caught the light of the moon, and the Rider called to the night, "Brothers! We are not alone!" As he spoke, his eyes never moved from the man in the shadows. A cloud moved across the sky, and the moons rays fully exposed the man but not his companions. "So he does exist..." The Rider whispered to himself in slight shock.

"Get them," The man muttered, and as if the fiery whips of the Valaraukar were at their heels, the figures bound from the shadows and into the moonlight. Wargs charged across the plains towards the riders, dozens of them. In the midst of the Wargs came a black horse, galloping with a liquid grace so smooth it seemed as if it were floating. It came just by the figure, at which time he grabbed a handful of mane and tossed himself atop the horse, silver hair fluttering in the wind.

Long fingers wrapped around the knife as he rode in the center of a pack of Wargs, and the havoc began before he even approached the Riders. Cries rang out into the air, shattering the silence. As he bounced upon his horse, in his other hand was drawn a sword, blacker than the night itself. He had not been surrounding by Riders a mere moment before a head came rolling to the ground.

In time, all had been exterminated, save one. Left and right, he cast Wargs into the ground. All was silent as he cast his blade through but one more Warg, and he sat upon his horse, facing the man. "Who are you?" He demanded, as the two circled each other.

"Who do you want me to be?" He taunted, malice dripping from a voice that seemed more likely to come from a serpent than a man.

Their eyes locked, and to the Rider it was as if it were impossible for him to look away. The man's gaze was mesmerizing...hypnotizing. To break the silence, a bleeding Warg rose to its feet, taking its last breath to pounce upon the man, throwing him from his horse.

A sharp laugh pierced the air, demented and hollow. The man slid from his own horse to kneel infront of the Rider, who was dazed from the blow. He sheathed his sword, wrapping his hand around the Rider's helm. In a swift movement, it was gone to the night, and the chilling breeze whipped through the golden hair it had hidden. Leaning down so that his thin lips were level with the golden-masked ear, he whispered, "I am Legion...for we are many."

Grasping a handful of blonde hair, he rose the knife and dug it into the Rider's neck, a river of crimson flowing from the gaping wound as he struggled for his last few breaths. "You...are....Morsereg?" The dying man asked.

"I am." He confirmed, "Know this, and despair. And drown in that despair. In the despair that you failed to protect your realm. In the despair that soon, everything you know and love, and lived to protect, will be mine." Turning the blade, Morsereg dug the knife's tip through the dying resident of Rohan's neck, exposing it on the other side.

Morsereg listened to the man's last heartbeat before he rose to his feet, taking his red-soaked knife with him. As his tongue reached for the blood, a ray of warmness struck the back of his neck...the sun was on its way. He hopped atop his horse, and rode on. All was not done yet.

Morsereg now found himself walking through the streets, green eyes surveying those enjoying the warm day. His horse had been stabled, and now he was to survey the life of Rohan. He had scarcely wandered this far into the heart of a civilization away from his Northern Sanctuary before now without the intent of a massacre. His hand found its way onto the door of a bar, and in moments he was greated by the sound of men and women slowly losing their sobreity, and the smell of alcohol and smoke festering in the air.

[Envin]

As Envin conversed lightly with the two women at his table, his honed senses heard the door creak open. And his trained senses felt the entrance of a presence, something which felt like a breath of the North Wind personified. The entire being of the Paladin stiffened, and such was the immense power he felt held barely in check nearby him that for the first time in his life his hand trembled. He calmed himself with an effort, pulling quickly at his pipe, and his heart beat slower after a moment. He turned to survey the newest entrant into the room.

The fellow was tall and silver-haired, an odd enough occurence in Middle-earth of itself, but when the great presence was added to it he was striking to the Paladin, though Envin thought it likely that no one else in the room gave this man a second glance. Envin swallowed, and nodded to the newcomer in greeting. He turned around back to his table, but then saw to his chagrin that as the evening had worn on every single other table had been filled with occupants. Here and there were scattered single seats, but the other folk at those tables were loud and rowdy. Envin knew in his soul that he was about to be much better aquainted with this fellow. Or, at least, with the identity that this fellow wished to present.

The Paladin grumbled to himself but then shook away the dread that had gripped him, for though this was the oddest and most dark presence he had ever in his life felt, it was not completely evil, at least as far as he could ascertain at first meeting. And, even if it was, he was Envin, Paladin Warmaster. He had never known fear, and he would not permit it to overtake him now.

[vanya]

Gaurwyn also noticed the entry of the stranger and watched the reaction of the paladin with great interest. She looked up and saw the newcomer with the shiny white hair and almost smirked. This was going to be very interesting indeed.

"Seems we all need to shuffle ourself a bit closer together, the Inn is quite full," she said and draw her seat away from the paladin toward the Lady, pulling a chair into the appearing gap. She throw an amused glance toward the shiny hero and said: "Space is even in the smallest spot."

[Envin]

Envin saw that his reaction to the stranger's entry had not gone unnoticed by the woman who named herself Gaurwyn, and he inwardly screamed at himself for allowing himself such an indiscretion. He grunted and moved his chair over slightly to allow for the imminent addition of the silver-haired stranger. He smiled at Gaurwyn's comment and at her moving over a chair for the newcomer, as though she had made a fine joke, but inside he repressed a sudden desire to kick her in the face. He gripped his mace and his helm and moved them over, setting the helm on the table before him, and setting Herald of Woe on his right side with its head on the floor and the pommel facing up. He laid his hand lazily upon the end of the handle, as though at his ease.

[Idrial]

Idrial took in all that went on around her with interest. As the woman moved over and joined their table, an odd feeling settled over the maiden. One she did not like. Outwardly, Gaurwyn appeared to be friendly and amiable, but something strange and menacing seemed to shine from within her eyes. Idrial leaned back in her chair, distancing herself a bit from the conversations as the two tossed questions back and forth. Perhaps, the man could not see what lie behind the other woman's eyes, but if he did and chose to ignore it - or worse, accepted it - than Idrial decided he was not one to consort with.

When the warrior spoke of finding out her name, Idrial lifted her head lazily. "You never asked for it. Nor did you offer your own."

The maiden turned her dark brown eyes to view Gaurwyn as she spoke of the man's protection. A bit of irritation flitted through her. "Oh yes," Idrial replied. A twinge of sarcasm lay in her voice, but it showed freely in her eyes as she glanced toward the male. "I feel very protected indeed. 'Tis a wonderous thing that we have a valiant knight sitting in our midst." She shook her head ever so slightly and turned her gaze toward the crowd. Something about this woman frightened Idrial, but she couldn't quite decide what it was, and she wouldn't dare let it show through her expressions.

Idrial's brow furrowed with a mixture of curiousity and confusion as the man spoke his peace about the sort of life he lived. Why he was divulging it to them, she would never know. Tilting her head slightly, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the tabletop. "I wonder that you take such care to keep your identity hidden when you wear so flauntingly the armor and weaponry that is tied so strongly to your profession. It seems to me that if one wanted to hide, it would be best not to stand out so in a crowd." Her dark eyes watched him for a moment before leaning back in her chair.

Idrial glanced longingly over the crowd, wishing to join in their merriment and escape the chilliness of the table at which she sat. She watched as the other two glanced toward a newly entered patron, but said nothing of it. Instead, she lifted her glass to her lips and turned a bit away from the group, resting her chin on her fist.

[vanya]

Gaurwyn looked surprised of the Ladies comment toward the paladin and giggled. "That was a very question sharply pointed out from you my Lady, indeed." she grinned and raised her hands in the air. "No offense! But My lady hit the point."

She noticed that this man was full of anger and suspicion, but if he would really sense what he told her he could, then he would have tried to slay her right in the moment of her entrance into the Inn or at least when he decided to intervene in the bar fight with the drunken guy. But she also noticed that he was on the edge since the newcomer entered the bar and kept alarmed just in case she needed to take off a bit in a hurry. It was very inconvenient to do so since she really didn't like to ring a bell that she was in Edoras. Her intention was nothing else then to find the man who payed Villik for his quest. But her curiosity glued her on this table since she dearly wanted to know what would develop in the meeting of the white haired stranger with the paladin.

Gaurwyn throw an eye on the lady at their table. Yes, this one sensed something, too. Unfortunate, but not to change anymore. She was asking herself if she was to careless, but on the other hand here was a melting pot of many dangerous people. It didn't matter if normal people knew her nature as long the one she was interested in didn't learned that SHE was on his heels.

[Envin]

Envin no longer smiled, espcially at Idrial's words. "Did you not listen to aught I said, Lady No-Name? I said that until now my order has been but little known in Middle-earth. And as such do I wear the armor of it abroad, for few know of what it is. Or did you know of the Paladins? Did you know the moment that you walked in what I was? Nay, I think not. By your own example you have shown that there is no need to hide my equipment and appearance; any warrior can wear armor. I did not wish to tell you because there was no reason for you to know."

He paused to spare a glance for Gaurwyn, and niether was this one polite. "I only chose to reveal myself to you that you might know that not all is ill with the world. Here at least is one who is willing and able to bring justice into everyday lives. One who is easily able to sense outright evil, but also one from whom even a mystery cannot hide." He said this last with a pointed look toward Gaurwyn, and there was much behind that look which revealed itself to Idrial. With his shrewd conversational skills and deft reading of body language and unspoken hints, Envin had come to the conclusion that Idrial did not care for Gaurwyn for some reason or other, and he was anxious to show Idrial that he also did not care for the strange woman. "There is no sexism or attempt at overlordship or condecension in my order. I do not patronize women or any other living being in Arda. I am simply here to protect as I pass through, and if folk are too proud to realize that I am in truth a simple man, if folk spurn offers of aid, from a valiant knight, as they say, even though they are freely given without reserve, then they are surely very protected indeed, and have no need to fear. No offense," he returned with the closest to venom he had spat into his voice in many days.

Envin was tired of being misunderstood. It seemed to him lately that wherever he went, his intent was misread and people rejected his simple attempts at help. Indeed, he was actually surprised that Gaurwyn had not grumbled or shouted at him for helping her, and had not stalked off fuming. He was not at all surprised that this haughty woman of Edoras should stick her nose up at him, but that did not lessen the sting, the same sting he had felt for these many years past. Anxious to turn the conversation to some direction in which he felt his skills at conversing should not be wasted upon folk who were unappreciative and too proud to accept simple help, he turned in his chair and hailed the newcomer of the silver hair: "Ho there, good fellow! 'tWould seem the night draws on, and even so this inn fills with drunken bores and proud, haughty folk! Come, sit you at this table, and let us have good conversation. 'tWill be a welcome enough change for me, indeed."

[Idrial]

Idrial turned her head ever so slightly to view the man as he spoke. His words were sharp, and for a moment, irritation glinted in her gaze as she sensed they were directed toward her. "Oh, on the contrary," she began. "I have listened to every word you've spoken. And it is they which caused me to wonder. Yes, it is true that I did not recognize you for who you were upon entrance, but it is not I that you need to fear. Surely those who seek to harm you are of the few who know of your origins. 'Tis they who would spot you in a crowd, not mere common folk such as myself." She tilted her head watching for a moment. Certainly, if he was as perceptive as he said, the man would have realized that the sarcasm in her words was directed toward the woman's wooing and flowery praise -- not toward the gentleman himself.

Idrial lowered her eyes to the table, heat rising to her face at the embarassment of the man's admission that the newcomer's company would be a welcome change. Would that they could have continued their mere sharing of a bottle of wine, then such rising of tempers certainly wouldn't have happened. Idrial shrugged and turned her gaze toward the window.

[vanya]

Gaurwyn bit heavily on her lips not to show a smirk about the offended reaction of the paladin and the not less offended answer of the Lady of Rohan. This behavior was quite immature in her eyes, but she didn't let them know and watched amused that both looked in different directions.

Gaurwyn raised her hand to call the waiter and he stepped to their table, drying his hands - wet from spilled beer - in his apron. "What can I bring for you my lady?" He asked friendly. Gaurwyn smiled at him and ordered a glass of wine. The lad looked to the other guests on the table and asked: "And you my Lady? My Lord anything to drink?"

[Envin]

Envin realized the diversion of the woman named Gaurwyn for what it was, a chance to redirect attention away from her, or at least such it seemed. He furthermore felt strongly that his undertone of dislike had been heard by Idrial, and that she had echoed it. His mood softened.

"My brown-eyed lady, I ask that you would forgive me any sharp words. Oft it is that I have been misunderstood in my many years of service, and to my sorrow I fear I have been too swift to conclude that you were like too many folk that I have met in my time. Would that we had been able to continue with a quiet glass of wine in peace, with no arguements. I might have learned your name by now," he added with a roguish smile. "And though you call yourself common, I think you of uncommon beauty. And if I can be picked out in a crowd, why then I am only too quite capable of picking out in the same crowd he or she who I deem to be an opponent of righteousness. Depending on my purpose, I may slay that person then and there, or ... I may bide my time until the moment is ripe for me to strike." His voice had been lighthearted as he spoke, until he said this last, and even though he was looking at no one in particular, both of the women took his meaning. He was quite aware that Gaurwyn was not all she seemed.

Envin asked the lad for a bottle of the inn's strongest whiskey, and to forgo the glass.