She felt the symptoms early in the evening while she was walking past the stables near the West Gate in Bree.
The passers-by of the busy street didn’t notice anything. They saw a woman who could have been anything between twenty and thirty, dressed in a tattered midnight blue outfit, a cloak and a plumed, wide-brimmed hat. She had a fair-skinned, moderately pretty, nondescript face with some scarring on the forehead and cheekbones; and deep blue eyes. The most noteworthy thing about her were the two swords strapped to her waist, and even that didn’t draw much attention in Bree, a city accustomed to all kinds of travelers.
Hellrien felt the symptoms again after she had nodded her greetings to Bill Rosewood and walked past the stables: she had a shooting pain in her abdomen and a strange experience of derealisation at the same time.
Hellrien had to stop and clench her teeth together. She had slept poorly during the past week. Her life had turned comparatively peaceful and uneventful of late: she stayed in the Dawnhall in Towerglan, practiced to keep her fighting skills sharp and sometimes rode to Bree to get drunk. But for some reason the events up in Evendim wouldn’t leave her alone, and as the external stress factors had disappeared from her life, the flashbacks, nightmares and other symptoms worsened. She had not dared to mention any of this to Taala or anyone else in the Dawnhall; she was afraid that they would deem her broken, burned out, useless, and pension her off.
She would be all right again. It just took some time to heal, that was all.
For some reason Ernil’s maniacal scream penetrated her mind like a drill and remained there, powerful and thrilling. Hellrien felt it again when she stood next to a notice board: she felt completely powerless.
Hellrien cursed and turned so that nobody could see her face. She felt how her forehead was soaking with cold sweat. Again she thought she could hear Ernil’s insane sniveling in her ears.
Something was happening. The tones of voices behind her had turned concerned, alarmed. Hellrien turned around and saw a rider in plate armor hanging against the neck of his horse, barely managing to stay on the saddle as the horse slowly walked up the street. A lantern light hit the rider’s face and Hellrien knew she was imagining things that couldn’t be real. The rider was Burwod.
The rider lost his grip and fell down the street with a loud clang. Hellrien acted faster than the by-standers and rushed towards him.
She knelt down by his immobile form. He was badly wounded and malnourished, his face was dirty and covered with unkempt beard, but there was no doubt about it. She could never forget that face.
”B-Burwod…?”
The man’s eyelids opened, shivering, and a glint of recognition ignited deep behind his eyes. ”I’ve failed the Brotherhood…” he rasped.
”Burwod! What happened?”
But the man didn’t answer anymore, his eyes were closed again. A small crowd of curious onlookers were gathering around them.
”I know this man”, Hellrien explained, ”I’ll take care of him! Bill! Take care of his horse, will ya! You can add it to my bill.”
Hellrien grabbed Burwod by his armpits and began dragging him towards the Prancing Pony. His heels clanged loudly against the cobblestones.
Their arrival stirred some attention in the common room. ”Hoy!” Hellrien shouted at Barliman. ”I need a room, fast!”
Barliman had seen all kinds of things over the years and reacted quickly. He circled around the bar and began heading towards the back. ”Follow me, lass!”
Once they had managed to lay Burwod on the bed, Hellrien said: ”Thank you, Barliman. I can manage from here.”
”Are you sure? If you need anything, just give me a shout.”
”Thank you, Barli.”
When Barliman had closed the door and left, Hellrien began to carefully examine Burwod to find out the extent of his injuries. Burwod coughed, and a couple of drops of blood sprayed to his chin. Internal injuries? Broken ribs? She removed his helmet and began unfastening parts of his plate armor, careful not to cause any further injuries. His clothes were stiff with dried blood. Hellrien found several piercing wounds. Mostly bolts, some arrows. A few blunt injuries and cuts. He was hurt badly, but a strong person like Burwod would survive it. The elven blood in Burwod’s veins would help him heal.
”Burwod”, Hellrien said quietly, almost in a whisper. ”Burwod, can you hear me?”
The man opened his eyes slightly.
”You are hurt, bad”, Hellrien continued. ”Burwod, what happened? Where have you been? Where… where are the others?”
”D-dead…”
Hellrien’s head sank. She knew it – had known it all along. But she had to know what had happened to them!
”But you still live, Burwod! What happened?”
Burwod coughed. ”We… were…”, he coughed again, ”a-ambushed.”
”In Fornost?”
”S-spirits… dead ones… all around us…”
”How long ago did this happen? Where have you been all this time?”
”P-prisoner… only me…”
”Alright, Burwod. I’m no healer, but you will pull through, you hear? All you need is a good rest!”
”I… cannot rest…”
”Is your life in danger? I mean… is somebody after you?”
”Some… athelas… will help.”
”Hold on, I have some with me!”
Hellrien began digging through her pockets and found a vial with green substance in it. She began applying it on Burwod’s wounds. Athelas would soothe the pain, prevent infections and help with the healing process. Could Burwod get infections? Elves coudn’t, but Burwod was partly Man. Elves healed much faster and better than Men, they never got scars. The athelas seemed to have almost immediate effect… Burwod began breathing more deeply.
”Have you been a prisoner there… for all these months?” Hellrien asked.
”Yes”, Burwod coughed, ”but not by the wizard…”
”By whom then?”
”Dourhands…”
”Dourhands? In Fornost? And you escaped?”
”They… found me in Fornost… then took me to their camp…”
”And everyone else is… dead? Are you sure?”
”I… saw them all fall… around me…”
”Burwod”, said Hellrien, ”a lot has happened since you left. There’s no Stronghold anymore. The dwarves drove me away. I have no idea what happened to Ranesora, Jorgon and the rest.”
Burwod examined Hellrien’s face as if he saw it the first time – noticing the scars and the deformed ear. But there are many kinds of scars. Perhaps the most prominent scars on Hellrien’s face were her eyes.
”And… looks like many things happened to you… as well.”
”Yeah. It’s been a long time. I had it rough for a while. I am now part of a mercenary company called The Bloody Dawn.”
”I… don’t remember sanctioning you to go on missions alone yet… mercenary?” Burwod frowned.
”Ranesora sent me on a mission up in Evendim. After I came back… well, I found there was no Brotherhood left. I tried to find out what happened but it was of no use. Eventually I moved on, did what I had to survive.”
”I understand”, Burwod said heavily and pushed himself up. He sat on the bed, leaning his back on the wall.
”They are good people”, Hellrien felt the need to defend against Burwod’s judgmental tone. ”They helped me break free from some very bad folk. I always get in trouble on my own.”
”So… there is no Brotherhood now?”
”Seems so. Ranesora and Jorgon… gone to who knows where. Esteldin, perhaps? The rest… who knows? And as you say, most of us are… dead.”
”No home, no name, no honor. What am I to do now…”
”Maybe you could apply for the Dawn too?” Hellrien suggested. She bit her lip. Would they accept him? Would he even want to join a sellsword company? ”I could put in a good word for you”, she added, helplessly. Her word wouldn’t count for much, she knew that.
”Why would you do that? I’m no longer your superior.”
”No, but you are still… my friend. You taught me so much.”
”Yet not everything.”
”You and Ranesora both taught me well in how to survive.”
”I see it in your eyes, in your face – you are not yet able to survive on your own.”
”I’m not on my own anymore. I have a new family now.”
Burwod considered that for a while. ”Have you ever wondered how I am able to withstand the most brutal battles?” he suddenly asked.
Hellrien shrugged. ”I’ve reckoned it’s on account of your many years of training and experience.”
”Not just any training”, Burwod shook his head. ”In my younger years I set foot to Forochel with nothing but my sword and that old armor. That’s where i learned everything about killing and survival, everything you need to know to overcome the strongest of the enemies and armies of foes, all by myself.”
”I received my baptism of fire in Evendim”, Hellrien said gravely.
”I can see that in you”, Burwod agreed. ”But we have time for that later. I have much to do.”
”What are you going to do now, Burwod?”
”Gather what’s left of home.”
”Are you going back to your home? To Gondor?”
Burwod shook his head. ”Gondor was never my home. I wasn’t born there. I am going to the place where I grew up.” Burwod placed his feet on the floor and stood up slowly, carefully. Hellrien stood up as well.
”And where is that?”
”Falathlorn.”
Hellrien nodded at the memories the name conjured up in her mind. ”I know that land well. I resided there for a while once.”
”I am in no condition to travel or fight, but as you are a mercenary these days… I suppose I could hire you for a job.”
Hellrien thought quickly. ”Sure thing, I can escort you to Falathlorn. I’ll just let somebody from the Dawn know I’ll be traveling for a few days… for personal business. There’s no need to pay – we are friends.”
”That’s… very kind of you”, said Burwod, picking up pieces of his plate mail and beginning to gear up.
”Are you going straight away?” Hellrien queried.
”I would like to have something to drink and eat first.”
”Then let’s go to the common room.”
Hellrien walked right behind Burwod, ready to help him if he needed to be helped. The common room was busy as usual. Burwod let out a relieved sigh as he sat down.
”I’ll go order us the specials of the day or something, and a couple of pints”, Hellrien said.
”Thank you, Hellrien.”
Hellrien went to the bar to make her order. Then she returned and had a seat opposite to Burwod.
”I believe you would want to know what happened to us in Fornost”, said Burwod.
”I would, yeah. Very much so.”
Burwod drew in a deep breath before he began his tale. ”As we were approaching Fornost we left our horses behind. They are of no use in that place. We marched on foot. I and a couple of others went upfront to clear out some encampments. We managed to get some siege weapons from the orcs as we headed to the front gates. I gave a signal to the army to come forward. We had now entered inside the ruins of Fornost.”
Hellrien listened intently, the layout of the place still fresh in her memory. It was as if she could see the scene played out before her eyes. A waitress came with their pints. Hellrien suddenly remembered she was still wearing her hat and took it off for good manners. It was rude to wear a hat in dinner table.
”It was… too quiet”, Burwod carried on. ” I signaled my men to be ready for anything as I coordinated the perimeter. We marched forward inside. Suddenly the ghosts of oath-breakers appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the formation, as the Gaunt Men hit from the flanks. The formation repelled the Gaunt Men but many were lost fighting the oath-breakers’ spirits. Then a rain of arrows came down from the north. I saw it in time and called for shields. Then came a wave of orcs. We took them down easily. We marched forward only to find eight trolls heading our way. I slipped out of formation to take them down. They were heavily armored… nothing I couldn’t handle. One after another fell to my blades. Waves of orcs took our flanks… then the mage came. In a blink of an eye… he swept the front line. Rains of arrows and javelins, the orcs blocking the gate. I went back to open a way out… many fell to my sword. But they just kept coming. Orcs, goblins, Men. I saw how my men got obliterated by the numbers.”
Burwod paused his story, lowering his head. His voice almost broke as he spoke: ”Then she came.”
”She?” Hellrien interrupted.
”With a single blast she opened the way… my mother. Along with my father. I saw how my father, with nothing but his sword, his shield and his horse, opened a way to the front line, leaving behind a trail of bloodied corpses… My mother went to face the mage, I was right by her side. I still don’t know how… but she killed him. It was of no use…”
”So the warlock is dead too?” Hellrien asked quietly. Burwod only nodded.
”Our numbers were growing thinner… chaos everywhere… there were too many of them. I… saw how my mother’s… t-throat was slit…”
Tears were streaming down Burwod’s cheeks. Hellrien turned her eyes down. Burwod’s pain was too raw, too bare to face.
”My… father, enraged, charged to my mother’s body. But there was nothing he could do, or me, or any one of us there. My father… he took a spear to his chest, but kept fighting. And so did I… I took my swords and started killing whatever foe I saw. But they… kept coming. My… father kept taking arrows… bolts… javelins to his body. I don’t know how many I killed. I simply kept fighting. I… saw how my father fell on my mother’s body, finally succumbed to his wounds. At that point there were only few of us left. There was no place to retreat. We had… killed the mage… but at what cost?”
Hellrien only shook her head, unable to find the right words that would make it all right. Nothing would ever make it all right – not for Burwod. Never again.
”My parents had not been prisoners there, we fell directly in his trap. I fell on it. Aaverie… led us into a trap.”
”Aaverie?” Hellrien’s head snapped back up. She remembered the mysterious, often bad-tempered Beorning woman. ”Was she… a traitor?”
”It was Aaverie who told us that my father was imprisoned and my mother dead. I suppose there’s not much more to tell.”
”So that’s where the Dourhands found you”, said Hellrien quietly.
”I don’t remember much between the fight and when I woke up chained in their camp. Hellrien, when was the last time you saw Aaverie?”
Hellrien frowned, trying to remember. ”The last time… it was when I saw you all the last time. When you left.”
”She wasn’t with us in the army”, said Burwod glumly. ”But there is no point in tracking her now. She should be around North Mirkwood by now.”
Hellrien was still trying to remember the events of that day in the Stronghold, many moons ago. ”The last time I remember seeing her was when you and Ranesora had that quarrel, before you all left.”
Burwod grabbed his tankard from the table and chugged it down in one go. Hellrien downed a few gulps from her own too.
”Tell me”, Burwod said, ”what did he say about me?”
”Who? Ranesora?”
Burwod nodded.
”He didn’t say much at all, but you know what he’s like. He didn’t seem to have much confidence in you. I’m guessing he wanted to be in charge himself.”
”Of course he did. But it wouldn’t have made any difference if he had. It still would have ended the same.”
”I don’t doubt it.”
”Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
Hellrien thought about it for a while. ”I think I get the full picture now.”
”Tell me, Hellrien – did I do the right thing?”
”Of course you did, Burwod. What else could you do? You did slay the wizard. Who knows how many lives that saved.”
”But now, I’m nothing but a man with a dying name, with no honor, and nowhere to go.”
Hellrien shook her head. She couldn’t get a word out. She looked in his eyes and he knew she understood. Burwod was a doomed man – in the same way Hellrien herself was doomed.
