Hellrien exited the Pony, carrying only a light traveling bag. A drunken crowd rumbled outside behind her, yelling and making noise.
Hellrien spotted a tall, broad man standing in the courtyard observing the crowd with an indifferent expression. A dense, dark brown beard gave him an aggressive appearance and bright blue eyes below dark brows were cool and observant. Hellrien had to smile.
”Burwod!” she said, walking over to him.
”You almost missed me”, answered the knight. ”I am not used to see you dressed like a... civilian.”
They started walking towards the Pony together. Burwod noticed that Hellrien kept glancing over her shoulder.
”Are you being followed?”
Hellrien told him about the knife thrower, dug the knife out of the bag and gave it to him.
”Could be Angmarian”, Burwod hesitated. ”I might be wrong. I will take it to my grandfather.” Burwod glanced at Hellrien and continued: ”Do you have the artefacts?”
”I gave two of them to Ranesora. One more left to find in Archet.”
”Well then, get your gear”, Burwod said pensively as they pushed their way through the crowd.
On their way to Hellrien's room she shortly recounted everything that had happened in the Lone-Lands to Burwod.
”All right”, Hellrien said when they were standing at the door to her room. ”Wait for me a bit, I'm going to change.”
”Wait”, Burwod said. The grim expression in his blue eyes told that he was ready for the rough-and-tumble. ”I'm coming with you.”
They entered the room together, ready for everything. But the room was empty, and nobody was hiding under the bed.
”Nothing here”, said Hellrien. ”Now can you wait for me outside a bit? I'm a little shy”, she smirked.
Alone in her room Hellrien quickly changed into black trousers, discolored shirt and black vest, a black hooded cloak over it and soft boots with no spurs. Her bow and sword were on her back as usual. Before stepping outside she also sneaked in a hefty chug of brandy from her bottle. It looked like it was going to be a long night.
Outside she was in for a surprise as a familiar figure strode up the stairs. ”Ranesora!”
”I just received a call for aide, what's the trouble?”
Hellrien brought Ranesora up to date with the latest events. He took the knife from Burwod and examined it closely.
”This is not possible”, he said in disbelief. ”This is a Dunlending knife! But there's no way a Dunlending could be behind this. They are trapped within the borders of Dunland.”
”It's been a while since I last set foot there”, Burwod pondered.
Ranesora re-examined the knife in his hands, as if to make sure his eyes didn't betray him. ”Hellrien, what was the man wearing? Or was it a woman? Dunlending assassins could be either.”
”I'm not sure”, Hellrien hesitated, trying to recreate the memories of those few short seconds. ”All I saw was a white leg of a trouser running out of the room. And no shoes!” she added, remembering how the attacker had literally ran over her.
”Dunlendings go barefoot”, said Ranesora. ”Yet so do many vagabonds.”
”Hobbits too”, Hellrien remarked.
”How tall was the figure?”
”I think it was man-height... so not a hobbit.”
”Beard or no beard?”
Hellrien shrugged. ”It was very dark in the room. All I saw was a black silhouette and that leg running out.”
”I see”, Ranesora said, sounding disappointed. ”This sure is a Dunlending knife”, he began voicing out his thoughts. ”However the chance of a Dunlending making it here undetected is impossible. Unless he was to dress in fine clothes and remove the paint marks on his body... no. Still impossible. However... a man in service of a Dunlending...”
”How about the Dunlendings of Enedwaith?” Burwod interrupted his monologue.
Ranesora shook his head briskly. ”No, the rangers of my kin and elves would not let them pass. The only plausible explanation is a Dunlending mastermind running a ring of assassins, who are not Dunlending.”
”Any idea who's behind it?” Hellrien asked. ”Who killed Theawynn?”
Burwod crossed his arms in reaction to Hellrien's question.
”I haven't found out the source of the attacks. I sense a foul presence coming closer every day. The assassins are getting bold. They tried picking a fight with me a few days ago. Six of them.”
”What happened?” Hellrien wanted to know.
”Details do not matter now, but I did get a good glimpse of their weapons. Small crossbows. Tiny bolts. Knives. Daggers. Small broad swords. And oddly... rope. A lot of it.”
”Maybe they wanted a hostage?” Burwod suggested.
”If they did, Theawynn would not be dead now.” Ranesora hesitated a bit before continuing: ”I believe it is time to tell you. What do you both know of Aragorn, my commander and chieftain?”
Hellrien wasn't familiar with the name, so she didn't say anything.
”Isildur's heir”, said Burwod, ”making his way to Gondor.”
”Yes”, Ranesora nodded. ”A child of Númenor, like Dorvairse. Only the blood of those of Númenorean line are a real threat to Sauron. The enemy knows we are looking for him, and want to stop us. The artifacts are a heirloom of the House Ordthrain. Put them together and on the back of the first crest is a map.”
”Ranesora, I already know all that”, Burwod interrupted impatiently.
”But she doesn't.”
”The less she knows the better.”
”It doesn't matter anymore. We are all in the line of fire. My son was attacked as well.”
”The artefacts I found”, Hellrien was thinking out loud, ”if you put them together, they form a disk. So what is the missing piece? Some kind of a cipher?”
”Probably”, said Burwod. ”We need to retrieve it and get it to Ordmir.”
”And your son?” Hellrien continued. ”Is he all right?”
”Jorgon is fine. He can defend himself, I taught him well.”
”Let's get moving then”, Burwod said, looking impatient. They went down the stairs.
”I suggest we ride to Combe first”, said Ranesora, ”and...”
”Hellrien”, Burwod interrupted. ”Go to that room to your right. And wait for us there.”
His tone of voice left no room for disagreements, so Hellrien entered the empty room in the end of a corridor to their right. She could hear loud voices coming from the corridor, but she couldn't make out what was said. It sounded as if they were arguing about something, though. Hellrien sat on the side of a table and used the opportunity to have a couple of clandestine nips of brandy while waiting for the men to conclude their disagreement.
After a while Burwod called her back. Hellrien walked over to the two men, facing each other.
”You are an inexperienced man, Burwod”, she heard Ranesora say. ”You may have the blood of your father, but you lack his skills.”
”Experience is gained, not given”, said Burwod. ”Now do as I command and return to the stronghold!”
Ranesora sniffed the air and turned his head slowly to the side. ”Stubborn children”, he whispered petulantly. ”Fine. But I will remember this.”
”Hellrien, let's go”, said Burwod, turned on his kneels and started marching along the corridor. Hellrien hurried after him, but threw a glance over her shoulder, wondering what was going on and feeling bad for Ranesora in spite of herself. The man's pride had evidently just taken a blow, and he was not feeling happy about it.
The night life of Bree was beginning to quiet down. The only place where music and ruckus could still be heard was the Prancing Pony. Streets were dark and deserted, lights barely broke the atmosphere of a balmy night in Bree.
”Mount up, Hellrien”, said Burwod.
The village of Archet wasn't located quite in the edge of Chetwood, but a little to the west, in the back of Archet Dale, a serene and secluded valley between Combe and Far Chetwood.
When Hellrien and Burwod slowly rode into the village, the morning sun had already started to climb up the eastern horizon. Hellrien felt a tinge of sorrow wash over her when she saw what had become of a place that had been a home to her for many years. The village she remembered had been a thriving and busy place, a small and cosy community, boring perhaps but snug and homely. Familiar. Safe. She had fled the place at the night of the attack of the Blackwold brigands and had never had the opportunity to see what they had done to it. She was almost shocked to see all the familiar houses burnt to cinder, the ones that were still standing at all, windows boarded shut and the pitiful trudging of sad figures on the streets. Hellrien pulled her hood deeper over her head. Archet was and had always been a small place. Everyone had known her here, and she had know everyone; but she hoped to avoid an awkward moment of having to chat up with somebody from her past. The past was in the past.
She dismounted and walked a few steps along the main street, looking around at the once familiar sights. She turned around and saw Burwod standing nearby.
”You know, this place used to be a home to me for many years. Such a sorry state it's in now.” Hellrien shook her head.
”Where to, Hellrien?”
Hellrien dug up the map and inspected it. ”Looks like it's hidden in the ruins south from here. Bronwe's Folly, it's called. Don't ask me why.”
”Let's go then.”
They rode over to the ruins and climbed up the stairs to Bronwe's Folly, just two travelers minding their own business. They could hear barks of wolves nearby. They glanced at each other.
”Look for anything amiss here”, Burwod said and started examining the wall for loose bricks. Hellrien followed his example.
They had been searching through the ruins for maybe a half an hour, when Hellrien saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see what it was. At first she saw a lone figure in the thicket nearby, retreating and waving a sword. Then more figures, all dressed in black and coming after the lone fighter. Four, six, nine... dozen of them, or more! At least one was hiding behind a tree and shooting the retreating fighter with a crossbow. The lone figure, now cornered against a tree, pulled out something and raised it to his lips. A blast of a horn sounded through the air.
”Burwod, it's Ranesora!” Hellrien shouted and started running. She leaped down the platform and saw how Ranesora got hit by a crossbow bolt, she wasn't sure where. Ranesora dropped his horn, staggered back but raised his sword to strike another blow to an attacker in front of him. Hellrien took cover behind a tree and nocked her bow while Burwod ran past her, waving his sword in the air. Hellrien released an arrow and saw one black figure stagger back and fall to his back. Burwod had reached the enemy and was swinging his sword like the death's scythe. One fierce swing split two of them in half. Another swing, and another figure dropped to his knees, staring blankly at his own arm lying in front of him. There were assassins everywhere. Hellrien saw three to the left of Ranesora, four to the right, four more farther back and at least two hiding behind a tree. Ranesora was in a close-combat with an axe-man. The axe-man fell down, but then Ranesora got hit with a few more bolts and dropped to the ground. Hellrien got an aim of one with a crossbow and released the arrow. Yet another enemy hit the ground. Hellrien pulled out her sword and ran forth.
”Hellrien, get Ranesora out of here! I can handle this!” Burwod was bellowing. Hellrien kneeled over Ranesora. The ranger was lying on his side, his mouth was distorted into a nasty grimace, blood was extruding between his lips.
”Where are you hit?” Hellrien asked. Ranesora didn't seem to hear her. He was clambering back up to his feet and already stretching the string of his bow. He released the arrow, but didn't hit anything. He fell against a tree, while Hellrien tried to grab him.
”Hellrien, get him to Archet!” Burwod screamed. There was more thumping of boots against the ground coming from another direction.
”Burwod! Your rear flank!” Ranesora bellowed. Burwod swung his sword over his head and enemies were dropping like flies all around him. Hellrien grabbed him by the armpits and started dragging him backwards.
”Is that all you got?” she heard Burwod yelling somewhere.
”We must get to the horses!” Hellrien said to Ranesora, who was squirming and waving at Hellrien to let him go. ”Rest, please rest”, he whispered faintly between pursed lips.
Rest? There was a word Hellrien had never expected to hear from him. She chewed on her lower lip. Ranesora's pale lips and bleary eyes told her the old ranger was in a bad way. ”He's in no shape for moving!” she screamed at Burwod.
”Get him to the ruins!” Burwod yelled. The sword swung again. Hellrien saw heads rolling and gritted her teeth.
”Come on, soldier!” she grumbled, trying to emulate Ranesora's drill sergeant tone. ”Just one last march, then you can rest!”
”Hellrien, the map!” Ranesora gasped. ”Hand it to me... quick...”
Hellrien took the scroll from her cloak pocket and handed it over. Ranesora took one quick glance at it and did something unexpected. He pushed himself up and started running towards the ruins! Hellrien gawped after him for a second or two, cursed and ran after him. Ranesora was going slowly, lurching and staggering, but he had gotten a good head start. ”Ranesora, stop! You're killing yourself!”
When she finally reached him, Ranesora had managed behind the ruins, where a steep rock face blocked the way. He collapsed on the ground and the map fell off his listless fingers. His mouth was moving. Hellrien knelt down and lowered her ear closer to hear what he wanted to say.
”It's... here... near the edge... of the wall...”
Burwod appeared from behind the corner, looking like an evil spirit out of a deranged madman's nightmare. He was covered in blood, head to toe. He had also taken a bolt to the shoulder. What other injuries he might have suffered was impossible to tell behind all that blood. His eyes looked so wild Hellrien couldn't look at them.
She turned away, only to see something out of place in the rock face, near the edge of a precipice. She went to investigate it while Burwod hunched over Ranesora. There was a loose stone, and a hollow behind it. Hellrien reached in and dug out the object. It was a smaller disk than the halves she had found in the Lone-Lands. It had also symbols carved on it, but they looked different. But it had to be what they had come here for.
”Found it!”
”Get your horse!” Burwod commanded. Hellrien ran to fetch it. Burwod hoisted Ranesora's unconscious form up on it's back.
”Will he survive the ride?” Hellrien asked, not too sure of it.
”I don't know. Go now!”
When they had reached Archet and took Ranesora down, he was still breathing. They dragged him in a smithy, where Hellrien received a practical lesson of field surgery. Burwod had Hellrien heat up the branding iron while he removed the bolts. When Burwod cauterized his wounds, Hellrien almost threw up as she smelled the ingratiating scent of burning flesh. A slight vibrating of his eyelids were the only signs Ranesora even felt it - Hellrien wasn't sure if it was because he was in a deep state of unconsciousness, or just too damn stubborn to show any pain even now. When they were done, they bandaged him up the best they could with the primitive equipment they had in their disposal.
”It will have to do”, Burwod said grimly. ”Put him on horseback. We'll take him to the Comb and Wattle!”
Dust was crunching under Hellrien's soft boots as she dragged Ranesora outside. All the townspeople were gathered around them to goggle, mouths agape and eyes like teacups. A thought kept reeling over Hellrien's mind, something Ranesora had said:
Dunlending.
