Following on from "A New Home and Roads Ahead (Kin RP - Entry 01)"
Setting: Post-War: The Prancing Pony → Trestlebridge → Esteldín → Othrikar
Featuring: Alairif, Guriwen, Naridalis, Raspi, Ness, Sotired, Tornimrad
The Road Goes Ever On…
It began as most tales do in Bree: under lamplight and with a low murmur of voices in the common room of the Prancing Pony. It was early still, and rain tapped gently at the windows, with the scent of pipe smoke and ale still lingering from the night before. Members of the Company of the East Road had gathered, their moods buoyant from yesterday’s celebrations. Naridalis had not rested much that night, owing to some late conversations and ramblings about the town, but she was joined again by Raspi and Alairif, and by Guriwen when they neared the same table.
The four of them had arisen early from slumber, given the full day ahead of them (at least); but there was yet to be any sight of any of the others of the Company; and perhaps there wouldn’t be. The previous night of drinking and cajoling had taken a rather high toll indeed!
“Hope your heads do not spin too much after yesterday!” said Raspi, giggling voraciously. The four greeted one another. Guriwen looked troubled. Naridalis couldn’t quite tell why. She had seen her grapple with the uncertainty of leadership yesterday, but this had seemingly come and gone. Had it returned overnight? Perhaps it was Raspi’s comment, or perhaps, as Naridalis now thought… it was the distinct lack in numbers that were now present. Perhaps Guriwen was relying on a strength in numbers after all, greater numbers.
“We seem to have lost most of our fellowship after last night.” Alairif said. “I believe it is just us who are ready to depart, and we simply cannot afford any further delays”. Guriwen nodded and calmly, she unrolled a parchment across the table, still sticky with spilled mead. It was a map. She began to trace out a route with her finger.
"Esteldín…" she said with quiet clarity, her fingertip landing on the mark. "I have discovered the Woodworkers Guild can be found there and they hold timber of the highest quality—and more importantly, they're known for dealing fairly."
Naridalis had suspected as much; her path had crossed through Esteldín before—it was a quiet but substantial Ranger outpost nestled in the hills of the North Downs; something of a base of operations for the Dúnedain as she had later discovered. She had always held the people there as resolute and stalwart, and certainly had had no poor dealings with them to date.
Eager to be underway Naridalis said “I imagine our kinsfolk will follow us whenever they can. I shall leave a note with Butterbur here of our intent to head north to Trestlebridge today at any rate; for any to follow. We can breadcrumb our whereabouts thereafter as needed I should hope.” With agreement in hand, the fellowship of four departed, making ready their steeds and the provisions thought necessary for the journey northward.
‘It will be good to ride north again’ thought Naridalis as she stepped out into the cool morning. Much of her prior concern over threats that may yet remain in those lands seemed to be just distant memories now; thanks to the consolation and support voiced by Alairif last night.
Bonds and Banter
They rode through the morning beneath skies clear and blue, the scents of spring heavy in the wind. Their steeds clattered over the stone bridge of Bree and onto the Greenway. It was a road well-travelled by those who had served with the Company. She rode alongside the others on Sylva, her elk from the spring wood, rare in these lands. She wore her hunter’s calm like a second skin, her senses attuned to the world around them.
“Nice trees here.” Guriwen said from the lead position in the procession. “I don't suppose we could chop these down, save us a trip?” exclaimed Alairif. “Bah, I didn't sign up for log hauling” chimed Raspi jokingly.
“The trees of this land are a lot older than many people would think.” Naridalis felt she had to say this them all, especially as they made their way passed such ancient groves. “Their silence holds the memory of the land.” she said almost imperceptibly in Sindarin. Perhaps realising this, she supplemented more loudly with a practical point, “It is why I expect the Woodworkers Guild possess the expertise that they do—they are able to tell the difference between good quality and bad at a glance, but also how to work the material best before even felling it… but will they part with that knowledge easily I wonder..”.
Alairif seemed intrigued, “It is good that you came with us today. I must confess I know nothing about trees.” ‘In truth’, Naridalis thought, ‘neither do we’ (meaning her people… even to this day despite their long association).
At that moment, the fellowship was joined by a fifth rider on the road. As faith would have it, it was a fellow kinsman of the Company named Sotired who had been passing along the way. Sotired would accompany the fellowship north, though unfamiliar with its mission; the bonds of kinship alone were sufficient cause to lend aid should it be needed.
Leaving Word and Pressing On
The small hamlet of Trestlebridge came into view by sundown—half-rebuilt thanks to efforts of many in the Company in fact. Though she had herself lent aid to this effort in times past, Naridalis did think it most peculiar that the Company had taken up such a role at all in assisting them. It wasn’t exactly on the East Road… but perhaps a lucrative contract or two was reason enough. The Company after all was minded to conduct business alongside its more altruistic endeavours. Something Naridalis could abide, though her own motivations fell more to the latter.
There had been laughter on the road, and lightness in the air, but peace is a fragile thing. Guriwen, hesitant but resolute, led the group forward and they soon reached the main square.
Seeing the opportunity to leave word, Naridalis broke ranks to speak with the local Captain, leaving word of their purpose and destination for any of the Company who may follow in their footsteps. Captain Trotter was more than agreeable to accommodate this request; a sign of the Company’s enduring reputation it would seem. The word would be given that the fellowship rode north and east, towards Esteldín.
The fellowship took rest and resupplied. Though the ride was long, they had made good time already and decided to press on through the night.
Warnings in the Wind
As night fell, the fellowship rode further northward, chilled not just by the cold but also by the ominous Fields of Fornost, where fell creatures yet dwelt. The road had wound north and east through land wild and half-forgotten. They were tiring now, but these lands would offer no safe shelter until at least coming upon Esteldín to the east. They would need to press on.
Alairif rode often beside Guriwen, and though their words were few, the silence between showed an understanding shared… Alairif would often give Naridalis cause to wonder whether the poor man was head over heels in love with this woman. He would look to Guriwen now and then as if seeking assurance, acknowledgement and affection in her eyes, and as near as Naridalis could tell, Guriwen would offer a form of these things in return, if not them entirely… Naridalis felt no envy, rather a subtle sorrow in her chest made itself known… for it had been quite some time indeed since she herself had last set eyes on those whom she would describe as her beloved.
The road continued to twist gently through the low hills and wooded folds of the North Downs, and the night wore on forever. Fortune would favour the fellowship’s speed, helped too by a Hunter’s keen ability to find the quickest paths.
They rode in an easy line—half patrol, half procession. Naridalis kept to the outer edge, ever-watchful, bow across her back, Sylva’s hooves light upon the grassy path. As morning light dawned, all could tell that the green of spring had somewhat reached these lands; though still a far cry from the lush greens seen further south.
By early morning they crossed into Ranger-marked lands, where the trees receded, and old stone markers rose among the mossy tracks to give both welcome and warning. The hills climbed, and the air grew stiller. They would pass old farmlands, not tended to in some time before crossing the river into the Kingsfell proper. “I have asked Ness, who is a member of the Woodworkers kin to meet us up there”, announced Guriwen.
A Cold Welcome
Esteldín revealed itself only at the last, its walls nestled within the hills like a secret kept. The sight brought memories flooding back to Naridalis—of allies once met, of battles long past, and of a certain measure of sanctuary…
… but this was no sanctuary now. For as they approached the outer gate, they were greeted not by camaraderie, but by Rangers who said nothing and merely opened the way. The air was heavy. The streets hushed.
Guriwen was the first to say, “Do you feel like there are many eyes on us?”, as she glanced about. Eyes would dart away, so as not to catch her view, but would then return upon them when she looked elsewhere. “Even Daervunn back there…”, said Guirwen, referring to the notable Ranger of the north by the entrance. Guriwen was clearly uneasy with this cold reception.
Alairif wasn’t too sure either. Though Naridalis couldn’t quite tell at first. It had been a long ride; they were all feeling the effects of it… Guriwen whispered to herself...’Just, your imagination is all...’
It was at this moment that Sotired announced, “Thank you for the safe escort to Esteldín, I now have to look after my brother-in-law who lives here and is unfortunately very ill. maybe we'll meet again on the next adventure and do not disappoint Deorla!”. With that, he took his leave, and almost before anyone could even bid farewell, he could be seen quickly trying to blend in with a passing group of locals before disappearing entirely… this only added to the strange feeling…
The remaining fellowship made their way to the heart of the settlement, to the wide steps of the Woodworkers’ Guild Hall. Craftspeople passed them with curious glances, some whispering to each other. The Guild Hall was home to many professions, but the Woodworkers were perhaps the most renowned. Deorla had rightly selected them as the best partners to help build up the new Kin Home back in Bree.
Naridalis noted Guriwen was smoothening out her dress and double-checking some rolled-up parchments that likely featured proposals for trade which she had carefully carried with her. Alairif placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and Naridalis, watched, saying nothing. She hoped that Guriwen would take strength from the fact that they were all here to support her in this endeavour, whether negotiation or transaction or both was required, despite their reduced number.
As the group tied up their steeds and stowed their travel attire, Naridalis couldn’t help but notice the guards lingering a little too long nearby, before darting out of view. She held her breath… Something was amiss. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the stillness was no longer serene—it was tense, as if all of Esteldín was also holding its breath as well.
“I think we should do what we can to mask our weapons, especially if we are here to talk terms.”, whispered Naridalis, as she unpacked and donned her cloak; doing a good job to mask her carrying her bow… and daggers. “You brought weapons??”, cried Raspi. “You might be right. They might get the wrong idea if we walk in armed to our teeth.”, Alairif said supportively. “I have my lute, it's heavy enough in a pinch”, Raspi twinkled. “Never underestimate a dwarf with a blunt object!”, Alairif joked. Despite the reception, the fellowship was holding on to its mood.
There was nothing more to do but step towards the Guild entrance together; so, they did. They waited. And then the doors opened.
Confusion and Accusation
The hall was warmer than expected, but no less severe. Stone walls polished to a sheen—a large area set for crafting of the finest textiles and carvings and jewellery and more; but there was no welcome for them. Only stillness; whispers, glances, shadows. Guild workers moved quietly through the chamber; eyes averted, hushed voices.
Naridalis took it all in at a glance—the tension, the caution, the faint shift of weight in the various guards’ stances. This was not a hall ready for trade. It was something else…
Near the back of the hall, on a raised dais, the Guildmaster stood with their associates.
Guriwen stepped forward with all the grace she could muster. Her voice was steady, if a touch rehearsed. “Greeting, good Guildmaster. We are here to make a rather large purchase of wood—for the kinhouse of the Company of the East Road.” Raspi, ever the bard, hoping to lighten the mood, began to play a gentle melody from a songbook likely well known…
Viola Brockhouse, a stern hobbit with sharp eyes and a face not given easily to warmth, gave them all a look that made the temperature drop a degree immediately. One of strings on Raspi’s lute snapped! The melody waivered…
Naridalis could instantly see it: the Guildmaster had recognised their name alright… Alairif caught it too and leaned in slightly, whispering: “Did you see her face when the Company was mentioned?” But the words had landed. And they were poison.
Naridalis, increasingly influenced by her time amongst Bree-folk, stepped forward and in a very uncharacteristic attempt at humour and said “...and we’ll throw in the Dwarf for free.” She smiled at Viola to show it was jest, but her heart was racing. Something was very wrong. The room’s temperature fell further.
Guriwen, sensing the shift, quickly added, “I assure you, it is on the up and up, dear lady.” However, the Guildmaster did not look convinced. Her face tightened. Her eyes swept over the group like a blade.
“I will not sell our lumbar to a kin full of criminals!” she flatly remarked. Neither expanding further nor meeting their gaze.
With that, Guriwen visibly staggered backwards. As if the words had pierced her very heart.
Alairif stiffened. “A kin full of...? What is this?”
“Criminals! Bah, there was never a conviction at all!” Raspi quickly chimed in, seemingly having entirely missed Naridalis’ failed attempt at levity just before...
Viola’s silence held weight. There would be no deal.
Revelations
“What are you on about, Raspi? And where is Ness?” demanded Alairif. Guriwen stepped away, saying she’d go in search of Ness—perhaps someone who might yet speak sense on their behalf to the Guildmaster; she excused herself as politely as she could, though clearly reeling from the abruptness of it all.
“Well, I am just saying that, you know, there might be rumors but nothing solid”. Raspi seemed to be struggling to find the right words, and yet he continued… filling the gap in conversation. His voice echoed in the hall… He was avoiding eye contact while talking.
“Lies spread by our enemies, I am sure!” sprang Alairif. Raspi responding with “…And rumors…. bah, if I'd believe all the rumors, I'd be raising a few of someone else's children, pardon my language!” bearing a grin across his face.
The Guildmaster seemed to be totally unperturbed and more visibly affronted.
“Such attitudes are most unexpected for a guild as renowned as the Woodworkers of Esteldín,” Naridalis said softly, indignation now quietly threading her words. The Guildmaster’s remarks seemed entirely wrong to her, at odds with reality… entirely disrespectful of the good work the Company was known for… what they were individually known for…
But the Guildmaster seemed not to acknowledge these remarks in the slightest and stepped to the back of the hall, starting a quiet discussion with her people.
The fellowship saw the opportunity to regroup near the centre of the space. Surprise had turned to frustration between them at these claims.
“You will find no criminals in our ranks!” Alairif shouted weakly at nobody in particular, and nobody seemed to acknowledge him in return. Raspi and Naridalis were silent, though Naridalis could tell that Raspi was starting to grow increasingly stressed in demeanour. Dwarves after all are known to be easily insulted.
Alairif began pacing slightly. Time was passing. This was beyond strange. Where was Ness? Where was Guriwen? Surely they must have our kinship confused with another…
Naridalis tried to piece it together. She turned to Alairif just as a woman neared the three of them, from somewhere. Ness had arrived, breathless and distracted. Though Naridalis had never met her, it was clear Alairif at least had and recognized her face.
“There you are” Ness indicated to Alairif. “It is Guriwen, I’m sorry Daervunn has a bunch of Rangers there...” she muttered, rubbing her temples.
“Ness! What took you so long? This hobbit has gone mad!” Alairif pointed towards the Guildmaster, but turned to Ness and asked “what about Guriwen?? Is she Safe?”. Before hearing the answer, he tried to run off, but Ness stopped him. Nodding her head she said, “Aye for now, she and Daervunn are old friends...”.
“What happened here? Guriwen said something about needing to buy lumber…?” Ness asked.
“When we told the Guildmaster our purpose, she refused to sell us any! She claimed she would not sell wood to a kinship full of criminals.” replied Alairif.
Raspi hastily turned to light his pipe. Fumbling his hands dropped his pipe-weed, so he unpacked another one from his pocket. Ness looked to Raspi suspiciously. “What do you know, Dwarf?”
Raspi feigned a cough and hesitated, responding in a fast string of words thereafter… “Well, I know there are some rumours that “we” do shady business, but they are unfounded. That is all…. If you would hear half of what is said of those rangers at Prancing Pony, you'd stay away from them and don't even look their way….. If anything I have learned in the town of Bree is that sometimes people would push the burden of proof on others, but if they are claim that we are the criminals, they have to prove it….. It is not us that have to prove our innocence!!” he exclaimed excitedly, having to catch his breath. He took out another pipe and started smoking both at the same time! Naridalis raised an eyebrow.
Ness quickly relayed how Guriwen was friends with these Rangers, and that Guri, and she, would both assure us that they are ‘not criminals whatsoever’, picking up on what Raspi was intimating.
Alairif seemed to agree with Raspi, at least in-part, adding how “Bree-folk are not fond of Rangers, but I have come to trust in their judgement. That is what makes these accusations so worrisome. We will need to ask them directly”, giving the hint to Ness to step up and address the Guildmaster directly on their behalf. Where was Guriwen… was she safe…
With that Alairif decided to try and open the set of doors that the fellowship had used to enter the room. He wished to know Guriwen was indeed safe. While Ness approached the Guildmaster with a polite curtsey, asking what trouble the Kin was claimed to have caused.
The Guildmaster turned to speak to Ness just as the sounds of Alairif loudly banging on the doors echoed throughout the hall. They were seemingly closed, in fact they did not even budge.
“They have been barred from the other side!” he said aloud, “We are trapped!”
Turning from Alairif back to the Guildmaster, Naridalis said aloud “We came with trade in mind, not trouble. If it is trust that is lacking, tell us how it might be earned.” But the Guildmaster did not look up. She remained in close discussions with Ness.
Alairif shouted, “You'd better answer, and fast!”. He marched forward towards the group, clearly intending to threaten the Guildmaster himself. Feeling the tension was boiling over, and fearing for the safety of the fellowship, Naridalis subtly began to reach behind her cloak to her hidden bow. Though a skilled bowmaster, and practiced over centuries, she did doubt whether she could adequately retaliate quickly enough to protect all of her allies here assembled should the whole room erupt. There were many guards hugging the walls and corners; much more than would be normal in any such setting. That said, she knew she would have more than enough time to put an arrow past the ear of the Guildmaster, as a warning shot, should any such warning be necessary.
“Whaaaat!?!” Ness was heard say. “Our leader… and…?”
Turning to Raspi, Ness forcefully queried him about what he may know of the aforementioned rumours, and in more detail. Not accepting his deflection of being ‘just a bard’ she pressed him further. Talk of ‘posters’ that Alairif had seen emerged, and of reports bandied about by the Bree constabulary, alongside other parties, not least of which the Rangers themselves or so it would seem… a web of claims and allegations and vague misdeeds at the best of it.
“Those "wanted’ posters are lies!” cried Alairif. Recalling something of old…
“Well, I don't know maybe they have heard about smugglers on the East Road, but that is not us, we are the Company of the East Road, we protect traders and... you know... stuff like that. Adventures in strictly legal field” said Raspi; over-emphasising certain words… before his eyes lit up with an idea! “I will write to lord Dwalin, there will be a scandal, I tell you, scandal!” He seemed confident in the impact of this last assertion, but again the Guildmaster did not seem to care.
“There can't be some truth to those rumours…. can there be?” said Alairif, but he said this rather quietly... he was talking to himself.
“Why would Daervunn lie?” Ness asked Raspi directly.
Seeing an opportunity to de-escalate, Naridalis chose this moment to break in, saying how she knows some of these Rangers, “…and I believe they would not lie without reason. But it seems there has been some error in their judgment. If there are charges against us, against the Company, they should be made openly, not whispered in the shadows. If they are mistaken, let us speak plainly and resolve this in truth, as any honourable folk should”.
Alairif was the one to respond, “But what if they have already been made openly...?....”.
In the heat of the moment with the others’ talking, Naridalis had taken her eyes off Alairif. Since that time, since his first raising of the posters that he’d seen… it seemed he had changed. He now looked different. His face, his eyes, even his temperament, had all changed.
As if some new cruel understanding had begun to take root. He looked down as he asked, “Have you read the posters? Perhaps they were not lies after all?” Ness looked at him… and it seemed for a short time, a knowing look.
Just then, the doors open a crack. A crack only big enough to slip through, and Ness took it.
Alairif snaped to and was alert once more. “Only Nessta?.... Why?.... You will regret this!” There are hushed voices at the door which only Alairif can hear.
He bangs on the doors as they shut. He falls to his knees. “But what if they are right?”
Naridalis moves to kneel by his side. Raspi follows suit, stowing his pipes in the process.
“Then we address it Alairif. But I have not heard sufficient cause as yet to see any truth to it” said Naridalis. At this, Alairif recounts what he knows of the posters, of how years ago, Deorla was purported to have killed a Ranger patrol; how he had believed it was nothing but lies to disrupt the work of the Company and of its leader Deorla.
The discussion grows, and Alairif reveals more about Deorla’s alleged past actions. Naridalis is unsure what to think. Raspi chimes in, “Well what of it, if they can't have Deorla, they will have us instead, is that it? Nonsense! Dwalin will hear of this! You can't treat a good dwarf like that!”.
It was right then that the full weight of this situation came crashing down upon them all.
Ultimatum
The doors opened again—not to release them, but to admit a figure not yet seen: a tall, grim figure bearing the sigil of the North. A female voice was clear and cold.
“And here you are… I am Tornimrad, the tracker for the Northern Ranger. I have been assigned by King Elessar himself to seek justice for these crimes, long unanswered, and I intend to get it.”
Alairif paled. “King Elessar...!”
Tornimrad nodded and said, “Yes… We can have HER... It is high time SHE answered for HER crimes.”
“What crimes do you speak of?” asked Naridalis sternly. “You mention 'high time,' yet you offer no specifics. We have heard rumours and whispers only, but I have yet to hear the true charges. If there is truth in your words, then bring them to light, and let us hear them. Until then, these vague claims hold no weight with us.”
The Ranger calmly replied, “Murder of a Ranger patrol. Various assassinations. Carried out by your leader—Deorla—and one Mowine. The gold that bought your kinhouse? Stained with blood. I could go on…”
Raspi's expression soured as he hears the name Mowine and it seems like he lost most of his fire with which he was claiming his and others' innocence. Where had he put those pipes….
Alairif asked, “But... What proof do you have of this? How do you know it was them?”
Tornimrad replied, “Guriwen has been forthcoming... Mowine herself bragged about it is how the kin has become rich…. These explain it. They are signed by the King.” Tornimrad then handed Alairif a stack of weathered Wanted notices.
“Guriwen has begged for your lives, and I believe her that you’re all just going along with it all....” Tornimrad added.
Alairif took the stack of posters and gasped, “These are the same posters...” and immediately goes quiet…
“Murder... and assassinations?” Naridalis repeats slowly, almost as though testing the weight of the words in her mouth.
Raspi seeing an opportunity chimes in, “Well then. The accusations were heard, and notes are taken. We appreciate your honesty and would not overstay your welcome…. As you are not claiming ill done by any of us in particular…. we shall take our leave and be on our ways”, moving to see if he might pass around the Ranger. But there is no room to slip by. Tornimrad bars the door.
Alairif seems entirely dejected. The fight has left him. The posters fall to the ground from his hands.
“If our fates are to be determined by the king’s own hand, then so be it” said Naridalis. “But I warn you, Ranger, there is more to the Company of the East Road than these accusations. Many in the Company, myself among them, have joined with noble intent and conduct ourselves with noble actions. We ask that you allow us our leave this place to investigate further out in the open, where no shadow can cloud a just verdict on such claims of misdeed by Deorla.”
“Well now I'd rather see a trial first before I say HER crimes or whatnot” offered Raspi.
“You may go” Tornimrad said, “but tell your kin leader something for us… We know who SHE is…. We expect you as her kin to do the right thing. Have her face the punishment of her actions.”
Alairif looked up at this, and asked “You want to hold her in trial, do you not? And you need us for that.” The Ranger nodded.
Naridalis stepped forward then, slowly. She was taller than Tornimrad, but they showed no sign of intimidation. Her bow was still masked behind her, but her anger at this situation was now unshrouded. “You ask me to choose, Ranger,” she said quietly at first, but increasing in sound, “but I will not act on half-truths or the sway of fear. I trust in the King’s seal, and if these accusations are true, they will be known and they will be held accountable. But I will not betray my kin leader without first understanding the full depth of these claims.” Naridalis then knelt to pick up the fallen posters, her first sight of them since their mentioning. Tornimrad was chuckling.
Then there was silence. Long and uneasy.
“I will help you bring her to justice. But if you expect us to rise in arms against our own kin, you are deeply mistaken.” offered Alairif flatly, but with sufficient conviction on both aspects… to which Tornimrad nodded and replied, “That is not my problem”.
“You may go,” Tornimrad finally said, her voice dismissive. “Lady Guriwen has been sent back to Bree, she was...upset.” And with that, the Ranger turned and exited the room. The doors opened and there was stillness in the air.
The Road Back
And so, the fellowship, broken as it was in more ways than one now, left Esteldín—no wiser, no wealthier, and no longer welcome there.
They walked not as emissaries, but as exiles. Eyes followed them. None spoke. Mothers turned their children’s gaze away from the sight of them.
“Let us leave this place,” Naridalis said at last. “We may not have answers yet, but we will not stand idle either. The truth must come to light—and if the King’s justice must be met, it will be met in such light, not shadow. I expect this will be the Company’s greatest test to date. The King’s justice may come, but I trust no one to deliver it but us.”
“That we will, Naridalis.” replied Alairif, he was recollecting his former composure now to some degree… and then seeming to recover some more of his characteristic wit, he jokingly added, “I don't suppose we're getting that wood, are we?”.
Despite the situation, and despite herself, Naridalis cracked a smile and said, “The wood... no, it seems out of our reach for now. The Guild has set its own course, and the Rangers' words add dead weight to our present indictment. But the Company’s need for the wood still stands. We will need to find another way—perhaps through our own efforts, or a different path. There is no harm in trying again when the dust settles; if the dust settles.”
As the party readied their steeds, Alairif was contemplative in saying “I trust the King to make the right call, when presented with the truth.”
Raspi seeking to be constructive chimed in, “I suggest we go to Wildwood, there are woodcutters there, and not ranger kind. We can get good pine wood there and ship and by Brandywine and the by the East Road”.
“Yes”, said Naridalis, “The Wildwood would be a good choice indeed…. I have some contacts there, and it may provide us with both the wood and the time we need to reconsider our next steps. But we must be patient and deliberate. We cannot afford to rush into action. Let's return to Trestlebridge, gather our thoughts, see if any more of our Kin have been able to meet us there… and move forward wisely. No one should act alone on this larger trouble.”
“We can get beds and warm meals at Othrikar if you don't mind the road” Raspi suggested to them both. “And my kinsmen would be most hospitable!... But we will have to pay… I would rather not travel by Fornost Fields at night”.
The prospect of a shelter nearer at hand was irresistible to the three. Othrikar lay northward a ways yes, but much closer than Trestlebridge by leagues. Its stone walls and halls and no-nonsense dwarves would give a much welcome respite indeed.
The road stretched on ahead. The fellowship rode, silent but together.
Naridalis watched her companions closely—Guriwen had retreated to Bree, understandably so and likely shaken from it all. Alairif had grown more distant, changed, withdrawn but trying to rekindle something in himself. Raspi too seemed quieter, but there seemed to be something under that practiced veneer of his... something which troubled him or his perspective of the days ahead… The fellowship that had felt so warm and light only days before now bore a shadow.
And she could not shake that feeling.
The bond Naridalis had begun to share with Alairif and Raspi, indeed with the whole Company… now bore a weight—a shared burden, of not just companionship, but truth, lies, justice, injustice, murder and perhaps worse… and the bitter cost of what it all might mean…
What lay ahead, in Othrikar or beyond, none could say.
Naridalis’ memory of lighter days—the laughter on the road, the warmth of the Prancing Pony’s hearth, the hopeful talk around the new Kin house in the Bree homesteads—all would be called upon, perhaps more than she yet knew, in the days ahead.
And as they rode on beneath the lengthening sky, the fires of Othrikar now shining in the distance, she held those memories close. Very close.
Continues with “A Letter in the Night (Kin RP - Entry 03)”
