Memories of Nen Harn

Nen Harn was a fateful place. Ryheric felt it, Winnie felt it. Cwennie felt it. Atharann surely must feel it too, when the elusive ranger finally arrived.

It was the place Ryheric had, in pain and urgency, led Winnie and an unconscious Tarsorel to take refuge two years before.

That was the day he and Winnie rescued Tars for the first time.

Tars had decided to give up the drink cold turkey, and had ventured out to do so alone against the counsel of Winnie, Lav and even Silver. From withdrawals, he collapsed and in this helpless state, was attacked by local bandits.

These thugs would have presented little threat to men like Tarsorel or Ryheric usually, except they were lying in wait in a group of more than a dozen. Tars had been beaten and robbed, and under those conditions with his life hanging in the balance from withdrawals, Ryheric and Winnie had found him after noticing the man was missing.

The day had different meanings to each of them. For Winnie, it was the first time she had been put in the position of field-healing. Make or break; if not her, no one. She became the Mender that day. 

For Tarsorel, it was his first major effort to gain sobriety. However, it was also the first time he had displayed what became a pattern of ill-fated antics. He fell in love with Winnie that day, instantly drawn to the young woman who laid hands on him in practice of healing. One vice exchanged for another, booze for love. The young Rohir mountain lady would tragically never return Tarsorel's sentiment in full. Tarsorel would go on to miss many important signs, both from her and from his other friends, for the choices he came to make in her name.

For Ryheric, it was the first day he had ever fought for anyone he cared about. He fought for the incapacitated Tars, a man he held on a pedestal like a father. For being Gondorian, for being much older. For being a former soldier.

He fought for Winnie so that she could drag the man's deadweight out of there. He bought time for Winnie to make and get Tars onto the stretcher; the stretcher onto the horse. Bilberry, at the time. Ry was wounded and clumsier than he had ever been in a fight before, in his life. The distraction of having a stake in his friends' survival... pulled him into a state unfamiliar, and to the maximum of recklessness.

So it was that a simple Bree-land bandit struck Ry in the gut with a rusted blade that day. Ry took the wound, but in his retribution, the blade of the south was brought down in adrenaline and recklessness; striking not flesh but stone behind his unseen target. The strike so intense in its misaim that it sparked one chip out of that reinforced steel, permanently scarring the weapon like a reminder of that day.

They escaped, narrowly, with Winnie securing Tarsorel and Ryheric fending off the three bandits - the last of who ran to alert his friends. Ryheric resisted chasing him down. It took all of his willpower; not an act of mercy, but necessity for the sake of his friends.

There was a first time for everything.

They arrived that day in Nen Harn. A place Ry had explored in passing just once before. The place Ryheric's wound would fester, the place Tarsorel would fall in love. The place Atharann would defend all of them and show his true mettle, months later. The place Cwennie would remember for its waters. The place Winnie would first taste her full worth as a healer. The place Silver's "other" personality would drive a blade through Ry's flesh.

The place Ryheric would return to, much later, and receive what became his destiny from Silverstream, collecting violets for sentiments that would never see the light of day.

And the place he chose to take them, now. Seeing Eirik's eyes and the meaning behind that fierce, then solemnly soft stare through all the fire, steel and settling ashes. The new Clan Weaponmaster. Unafraid, and unapologetic to challenge; and to remind Ryheric of everything at once.

Yes, Nen Harn is where they would go, for now. It felt right somehow.

Eirik's nod and abrupt grin confirmed it.

The waterways and steep ledges suddenly felt much warmer this time. Richer, with promises in the air of a spring full of colour, music and love.