The Bloody Dawn

Taala had not experienced anything as peculiar since the day the Orc climbed over the wall at Eaworth and Cook had panicked and thrown a pot of stew over it.

Deorgast sat on the edge of a small cliff, observing the peaceful plains and hills of Rohan. He had his usual relaxed smile on his face as he looked around idly, a lot going through his head. He was fully recovered from his ugly wounds that almost had him killed a long time ago, back in the outskirts of Bree. It was the second time he got caught and beaten by his own kin, who judged him a deserter.
From that time, Deorgast kept the scar

Taala had reflected, analyzed and held herself culpable for the predicament that she was in, but it was time to focus and escape.

It was probably the blow to the head that granted Taala some sleep that first night in captivity, though her dreams were tormented.

Hookworth, Bree-Land, 24th June

Dear Ravondir

This is of course no letter, and you will not read it. But I find that if I set pen to paper as though to write a diary then no words come; if I think that I am speaking to you, then all pours forth upon the page. I wish that I could unburden myself to you, as I always used in the past; but I know that you would despise me for the things I have done. This letter will not be sent, but will sit in my chest beside the others that I have written to you.

Taala was no fool, but she would play the game and act like she was.

It is high time I wrote something about the dearest friend I have, his name is Fiontann and I just hope that you get to spend many years getting to know him.  Most of my friends are sellswords son, and as such the risks to their mortality are great.  But if the Gods are just, they will keep Fiontann safe for he is one of the best men that I know, if not the best.

Annsuel grew tired over the days. Attacks upon attacks, injuries upon injuries. She could only take it for so long. She gave up. Completely to the point she was ready to die, willing to die. A man who had attempted to murder her before found her once more, his name Fallang. When he held his knife to Annsuel, she wasn't afraid. She didn't even move.  He punched her and wrapped his hand around her neck, but Annsuel had neither the strength northern desire to fight back. 

She just sat there.