The Greenway road which ran through the centre of the North-downs was considered to be one of the most dangerous roads in all of Eriador. Locals of Trestlebridge refused to travel after sundown due to the large amount of vicious bandits who would appear overnight. These bandits were no amateurs, they were families who made a living by poaching off innocents and selling their prized possessions off on the market. Their knowledge of the land was deep, they knew that should a stranger find themselves out in the open there would be absolutely no chance of escape. Although the locals would share this information with any travellers passing through they would often ignore the advice and continue along their journey. The majority of these people either returned the next day battered and broken or would end up dead within a ditch along the side road.
Farming families who were dotted around the land suffered greatly by this inconvenience. If the crops and cattle were not being stolen their time to trade was limited, especially during the winter. The Gibble’s were one of many families who refused to give in to intimation and remained in the home of their ancestors. It was local news however that Billy Gibble, the youngest of three, had become severally ill over the past few weeks. His mother believed that she would be able to cure him herself, though was swiftly proven wrong as his symptoms became worse. One night John Gibble, the father of the family, decided that the best thing would be for him to go to Trestlebirdge, in a hope that there may be a healer there to provide them with medicine.
The older son, Owen, prepared a small cart for his younger brother, placing pillows and blankets down to provide him with some form of comfort along their journey. The second born, Eric, was charged with gathering weapons, anything which could be used to fight off bandits such as pitchforks, knives and clubs. The father would be the one to pull the cart while the mother remained by Billy’s side along the journey. “A solid plan!” he announced as he went to lift the cart with a look of doubt etched upon his face.
The journey was slow and frightfully cold. Billy tossed and turned feebly within the cart as his mother walked alongside him with a hand placed upon his forehead. John was surprised that they had made it this far, very surprised in fact. The road ahead could not be seen for the night was dark and moonless. The lamp which hung from the cart’s post swayed slightly in the cold wind casting eerie shadows around them which struck constant fear into the hearts of the boys. “Not far now!” John spoke out of breath as he continued to pull the cart along the rocky road. “Just a few more miles!”
What happened next went so quickly the family didn’t even have time to react. There was a loud bang, followed by the sound of several unsheathed blades from the darkness. The carts wheels had fallen into a large ditch which had been dug across the centre of the road which sent John flying face down onto the ground. “Yer surrounded!” bellowed a hoarse voice from the darkness, “On yer knees now!”
There was a painful moment of silence before Eric charged at the source of the voice with his pitchfork raised followed by both John and Owen. The mother screamed as she wrapped her arms around Billy in the cart as the sounds of yells and laugher echoed across the land. The bandits seems quite amused by their attempt to fight, they toyed with the three by dancing around them in the dark. “You bastards!” John yelled as he thrust a kitchen knife at one of the laughing bandits, “I’ll cut you! I’ll cut you!” Within all the commotion and noise not one of them noticed that the mother was being dragged from the cart by one of the masked bandits who swiftly pulled her up by the hair placing a dagger to her neck. John turned as his wife’s screams were extinguished, blood soon pouring out onto the ground as her body was cast aside. “Olivia!” he yelled charging towards the murderer only to be tripped back onto the ground.
The three were disarmed, bound and thrown together as one of the bandits went to inspect the cart. “We’ve got us a nipper 'ere chief!” a female voice shouted as she pulled away the blanket. “He looks like he’s at death’s doors too!” After inspecting the cart. further depriving it of all coin and valuables the leader of the group knelt down beside John who lay motionless in defeat. “You thought we wouldn’t catch yer out here eh?” he whispered into his ear as he placed the tip of his short sword against his back. “Thought yer could outsmart us? You should have listened to the others, we aren’t to be taken lightly!” He climbed onto his feet, his blade tip still resting upon Johns back as he shouted “Have yer gathered everythin’ up?” “Yeah!” shouted the female who jumped down from the cart holding a small pack, “We’ve looted them clean chief!” The leader smiled a malicious smile as he pushed the tip into Johns back only by a fraction. “We leave no witnesses! Their blood will warn others not to underestimate us, soon we’ll have all these farmers beggin’ for their-” the leader paused, looking down to see a large throwing dagger resting in the centre of his torso. He coughed, sending blood from his mouth as he buckled falling beside the shivering family.
“Chief!” bellowed the masked woman who ran towards his lifeless body accompanied by two other bandits who seized John, Owen and Eric. Having established that their leader has been slain the three decided to form up in a circle beside the cart with their weapons drawn. “Come out and fight yer coward!” shouted the female bandit brandishing her weapon, “Or we’ll kill ‘em one by one!” Slowly a figure immerged from the darkness as though the darkness itself had created it. A man dressed in black walked towards them with his blade drawn by his side, his dark hair covering his features. “I have little interest in their lives I can assure you.” Spoke Drevorin who raised his blade into a two-handed stance. “Fortunately for them I hold very little tolerance towards bandits.” The two bandits either side of the woman charged towards Drevorin who sidestepped and cut the first across the chest. The second having missed his target aimed a stab towards Drevorin’s torso which was swiftly blocked, followed by a strike to his face which rendered the bandit unconscious. The woman gasped as the man clad in black dug his blade into her allies chest only to casually look up, fixing his piercing blue eyes upon hers.
“You don’t know who you’re dealin’ with!” She shouted in panic as she backed away slightly. “We’re the power in these parts, there are more of us!” Drevoin advanced, lifting his blood stained blade to point it squarely at her chest as she struck the cart behind her. “P-Please…” she whispered as though forcing the words from her mouth. Drevorin laughed coldly. “You shall find no mercy in me” he replied as he plunged his sword into her chest. She fell down beside her victim as Drevorin removed his blade without looking back at what he’d done. He sheathed his sword taking a moment to consider the three who were bound upon the floor. They were shivering and weeping upon the ground, he tilted his head.
Drevorin lifted one of the knives from the ground and severed the rope which bound the father's hands. “A little more caution from you and she would still be alive.” he spoke to John who lay upon the ground making no effort to stand. “A lesson well learnt perhaps.” he continued as he moved away from the massacre, refusing to examine what lay within the cart. Whatever it was it lay motionless, no longer breathing from what he could see. He paused for a moment to look back on the scene, the broken man began to cut the rope upon his remaining children who lay sobbing still. He lip curled as he walked away, pushing his dark hair from his face as he approached his steed which stood beside a tree.
As he rode on he was unsure why he decided to help these people. Perhaps it was because of his dislike towards brigands, or perhaps there was something else which drove him. As he defended them however he felt a peculiar emotion, one which he had not felt for a very long time. He shook this thought from his mind as urged his horse for speed, little good would come from dwelling in the past.
